Free Big Shot by Joanna Wayne Page A

a few minutes.”
    “What kind of personal things would you like to know? That you like country music and have every recording George Strait ever made on your iPod? That you live with a phone in your hand? That you have a serious crush on Hugh Jackman?”
    “Hugh Jackman.” She pictured him in her mind without any trouble. “ The Boy from Oz. Wolverine. And who could forget him with Nicole Kidman in Australia? ”
    Durk’s eyebrows arched. “You remember Hugh Jackman but not your sister?”
    “Evidently. Odd, isn’t it?”
    “Maybe not so odd,” Durk said. “Your memory may be starting with the impersonal.”
    “That makes it even more frustrating. I remember movies and plays, but not my friends and family. I remember songs, but not where I live. I remember that Christmas is on December 25, but I can’t tell you where I spent any Christmas in my life. And I don’t remember you.”
    “Perhaps I’m not that memorable.”
    She seriously doubted that. “Did I meet you through my business? Were you a philandering husband that I spied on for a jealous wife?”
    “I’ve never had a wife.”
    “Then how did we meet?”
    “I attended a charity fundraiser where you were working a case and pretending to be someone you weren’t.”
    “Since when do cowboys attend charity fundraisers?”
    “It’s a long story.”
    “I’ll bet.”
    Durk raked his fingers through his hair and leaned in closer. “What else do you want to know?”
    “What kind of person am I? Sweet and loving or bossy and demanding?”
    Durk laughed out loud. “ Sweet is definitely not the first word that comes to mind when I think about you.”
    “What is?”
    “Vivacious. Feisty. Professional. Sexy.”
    “Are you sure you don’t have me mixed up with someone else?”
    “I’m certain.”
    “I don’t feel any of those things today, and I sure don’t look the part.”
    “You will again. And it won’t take you long. You’re a take-charge kind of gal.”
    “What’s the worst thing you can say about me? Tell me the truth. I promise I won’t get mad.”
    “You break promises,” he teased. “And you take too many risks in your work.”
    He didn’t sound like he was teasing with the risk accusation, but Meghan didn’t necessarily see that as a negative. “Am I good at what I do?”
    “Exceptionally good.”
    “Then maybe the risks are worth it.”
    “You’re usually convinced that they are.”
    From his tone, she’d guess he didn’t agree. “Do you think those risks led to my being attacked?”
    “I think it’s highly likely.”
    But no one would know for certain until she could remember the man who’d assaulted her. That made regaining her memory all the more critical.
    “How old am I, Durk?”
    “Thirty-one. Your birthday was in August.”
    “Thirty-one and still single.”
    “That’s by design. You could have your choice of any number of men.”
    She wondered if he was one of them. “Are you married or engaged?”
    “No,” he answered quickly. “Also by design.”
    “So we’re both single but our relationship is strictly platonic? You must not find me attractive.”
    “There’s not a man alive who doesn’t find you attractive. We dated a few times a couple of years ago, but it didn’t work out.”
    “Did I break it off or did you?”
    He looked down and fidgeted with one of the handles on her bed.
    “I’m sorry, Durk. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just trying to get a feel for who I am.”
    “I’m not uncomfortable, Meghan. And there’s no reason not to tell you the truth. We were lovers, but we both realized early on that a long-term relationship wouldn’t work. You were actually the one who sent me packing.”
    They hadn’t worked out, but he was here with her now and couldn’t be more attentive. She was comfortable with him and found him incredibly attractive.
    Would that change when her memory returned? Was there a side of him she wouldn’t like? Or was there a side of her