Time and Again Read Free Page A

could remember that, why couldn't he remember how he'd gotten here? Closing his eyes, he sat back and tried to think above the throbbing in his head.
    He'd wrecked his plane. That was what she-Libby-had said. He certainly felt as though he'd wrecked something. It would come back, just as his name had come back to him after that initial terrifying blankness.
    She walked back in carrying a plate. "Lucky for you I just laid in supplies." When he opened his eyes, she hesitated and nearly bobbled the eggs a second time. The way he looked, she told herself, half-naked, with only a blanket tossed over his lap and the glow of the fire dancing over his skin, was enough to make any woman's hands unsteady. Then he smiled.
    "It smells good."
    "My specialty." She let out a long, quiet breath, then sat beside him. "Can you manage it?"
    "Yeah. I only get dizzy when I stand up." He took the plate and let his hunger hold sway. After the first bite, he sent her a surprised glance. "Are these real?"
    "Real? Of course they're real."
    With a little laugh, he took another forkful. "I haven't had real eggs in-I don't remember."
    She thought she'd read somewhere that the military used egg substitutes. "These are real eggs from real chickens." The way he plowed his way through them made her smile. "You can have more."
    "This should hold me." He looked back to see her smiling as she sipped her ever-present cup of tea. "I guess I haven't thanked you for helping me out."
    "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."
    "Why are you here?" He took another look around the cabin. "In this place?"
    "I suppose you could say I'm on sabbatical. I'm a cultural anthropologist, and I've just finished several months of field research. I'm working on my dissertation."
    "Here?"
    It pleased her that he hadn't made the usual comment about her being too young to be a scientist. "Why not?" She took his empty plate and set it aside. "It's quiet-except for the occasional plane crash. How are your ribs? Hurt?"
    He looked down, noticing the bruises for the first time. "No, not really. Just sore."
    "You know, you're very lucky. Except for the head wound, you got out of that with cuts and bruises.
    The way you were coming down, I didn't expect to find anyone alive."
    "The crash control-" He got a misty image of himself pushing switches. Lights, flashing lights. The echo of warning bells. He tried to focus, to concentrate, but it broke apart.
    "Are you a test pilot?"
    "What? No- No, I don't think so."
    She put a comforting hand on his. Then, unnerved by the depth of her reaction, cautiously removed it again.
    "I don't like puzzles," he muttered.
    "I'm crazy about them. So I'll help you put this one together."
    He turned his head until their eyes met. "Maybe you won't like the solution."
    A ripple of unease ran through her. He'd be strong. When his injuries healed, his body would be as strong as she sensed his mind was. And they were alone- as completely alone as any two people could be. She shook off the feeling and busied herself drinking tea. What was she supposed to do, toss him and his concussion out into the rain?
    "We won't know until we find it," she said at length. "If the storm lets up, I should be able to get you to a doctor in a day or two. In the meantime, you'll have to trust me."
    He did. He couldn't have said why, but from the moment he'd seen her dozing in the chair he'd known she was someone he could count on. The problem was, he didn't know if he could trust himself-or if she could.
    "Libby-" She turned toward him again, and the moment she did he lost what he'd wanted to say. "You have a nice face," he murmured, and watched her tawny eyes turn wary. He wanted to touch her, felt compelled to. But the moment he lifted his hand she was up and out of reach.
    "I think you should get some more rest. There's a spare bedroom upstairs." She was speaking quickly now, her words fast and edgy. "I couldn't get you up there last night, but you'd be more