“Aw, come on, man. Do me a favor, already. I nearly pulled something dragging your butt up here. The least you could do is be conscious.” He pinched the guy again. “Wake up!” Another harsh pinch later, the guy groaned. Now we’re getting somewhere.

  Gently shaking the man’s shoulder with one hand and patting the guy’s cheek with the other, Joe was about to smack him one more time when the guy popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

  Joe forgave himself for the inelegant yelp that escaped him. He hit the carpet with a painful thud. What just happened? He managed to suck some air into his lungs before the man landed on him, and he did his best not to panic by shutting his eyes tight and remaining perfectly still. Then he remembered the heavy weight pinning him down wasn’t a bear and therefore most likely not fooled by his playing possum. Were bears fooled by that kind of thing? Maybe this wasn’t the best time to ponder that. The weight shifted, and before Joe knew it, a forearm pressed against his neck. Suddenly, this all seemed like a very bad idea. Actually, bad was an understatement. He could just about hear Bea’s “I told you so.” He hated when she told him so.

  “Who do you work for?” the man demanded, his face red and his steel gaze pinning Joe to the spot. “Answer me!”

  Joe shook his head as best he could. “No one! Me! I work for me. I bake pies.”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Joe said, his hands up at his sides to show he didn’t intend to pull anything funny. He hadn’t exactly thought about what he’d do once the guy woke up. Smart, Joe. Very smart.

  It wasn’t like he was a weakling. He was six feet tall, after all, and though not overly muscular, still strong enough. Of course, the man above him was big and solid, at least twenty to thirty pounds heavier than Joe, with an added three to four inches in height. From the feel of hard thigh muscles pressed firmly against Joe’s ribs, the broadness of his chest, the strength in his arms, and a look that said, “Try it and I’ll throw you across the room without breaking a sweat,” Joe realized he might have bitten off a little more than he could chew. His best option would be to reason with the man. If all else failed, well, then, he would simply have to punch the guy and hope for the best.

  “My friends and I found you in the garden downstairs, just outside my shop. Remember? You went unconscious, so I tried to wake you up. You might have a concussion.” Joe hoped his smile didn’t look as shaky as it felt.

  The man moved his free hand to the back of his head and winced. Well, at least he knew Joe hadn’t been lying about that.

  “I’m Joe. And you are…?”

  “I….” The man’s dark brows drew together. He seemed to genuinely struggle with a reply. For a moment Joe thought maybe the guy was trying to bide himself some time to come up with some bullshit story, but when he turned his gaze back to Joe, Joe was stunned to see the panic there. “I—oh God, I don’t know.”

  Just when he thought things couldn’t get any weirder.

  The man jumped to his feet and backed up as he frantically looked around the room. “Where the hell am I? Why can’t I remember anything?” Spotting the window, he rushed over to it and squinted out into the dark streets. “What city is this?”

  Joe gradually stood, not wanting to make any sudden movements. “You’re in my apartment, above my shop in Manhattan. New York City.” He felt a pang in his chest as the guy went frightfully still.

  “New York City? Am I supposed to be in New York City? I can’t remember anything before… before now.” He closed his eyes tight and gritted his teeth. It was obvious he was racking his brain for whatever information might be in there. Joe wished there was something he could do, but it was out of his hands. It wasn’t as if he could offer any help. He’d never seen the man before tonight.

  “Let’s take things slow,” Joe said reassuringly. “You were out for a good while, and I’m guessing the nasty bump on your head has something to do with why you’re having trouble remembering. I’m sure it’ll come back to you. You just have to take it easy.” He motioned to the couch. “Come on. Sit down. You’re safe here.”

  The man eyed him warily. “I’m fine standing.”

  “Okay. My name is Joe Applin. I own the pie and coffee shop downstairs. I brought you up here because you needed help and you refused to go to a hospital.”

  Something seemed to have occurred to the guy because he marched over to Joe, his menacing growl giving Joe a start. “Did you call the cops?”

  Joe took a step back. “What? No. You said no cops.” Was it possible the guy couldn’t remember? Joe didn’t have a clue about this sort of thing other than what he saw in Hollywood movies or read about in romance novels. Amnesia? Really? This whole situation was like something out of one of Bea’s Hallmark movies. Joe couldn’t help his skepticism. “Listen, why don’t you rest for a bit? Don’t overdo it. My friend’s a nurse, but she’s at work at the moment. Are you feeling sick at all or dizzy?” The guy shook his head and Joe breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, then. Well, she said I need to keep you up for a while, and if you go to sleep, you need to be observed. We’ll see what she has to say when she gets here and take it from there, okay?”

  “Why would you help me?” The man took a step closer. Joe instinctively did the same before taking a step in the opposite direction. The guy sure had an imposing way about him, one that had Joe ready to bolt. It would be wise not to underestimate his guest. Lack of memory didn’t mean the man was incapable of who knew what. Maybe he wasn’t thinking this through enough.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You expect me to believe you brought me up here out of the goodness of your heart?” Something dangerous flashed in the man’s silver eyes. Before Joe had a chance to figure out what it was, the guy threw a hand out and grabbed Joe’s arm. He jerked Joe hard against him. “Maybe you brought me up here for something else.” His eyes dropped to Joe’s lips before moving back up. “I don’t have any money. Were you hoping I’d repay you some other way?”

  The realization of what the guy was saying boiled Joe’s blood, and he shoved the stranger away from him. Of all the nerve! “Are you kidding me? I drag your heavy ass up here, welcome you into my home, and you accuse me of trying to take advantage of you?”

  The man narrowed his eyes again, his head cocked to one side as he studied Joe. “Why else would you help me? What’s your motive?”

  “Motive? Who are you? Columbo? How about to help a fellow human being? I know it’s hard for you to trust anyone right now, so I’m going to ignore your insult, but you’re lucky I’m the one who found you because I’m probably the only one dumb enough to listen to you when you said no cops. I sell pies. I’m not an evil mastermind.” He motioned around him to his small but cozy apartment. “This isn’t exactly Meteora.”

  The man arched an eyebrow. “For Your Eyes Only?”

  Joe threw his hands up. “Oh, that you know? Great. I feel much better now. That’ll come in handy during our James Bond marathon.”

  “All right, I get it. I’m sorry.” Once again, Joe found himself under the man’s scrutiny, and it made him feel uncomfortable. It was as if the guy was mentally taking note of every hair out of place on Joe’s head or each tiny wrinkle in his pants. “Where’s your remote control Lotus Esprit Turbo?”

  Joe felt the heat rising in his cheeks, and he suddenly found it difficult to keep his gaze in one spot, especially on the grumpy—not to mention astute—mystery man standing across from him.

  “Holy hell, you have one?” The guy let out a laugh.

  “Maybe.” Joe crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at whatever-his-name-was. That’s what he got for helping a guy out. “It was autographed by Roger Moore and auctioned off for charity,” Joe replied with a sniff. “Besides, it’s not like I play with it.” Why the hell was he explaining himself to a guy he’d found facedown in the dirt? His expression must have said as much, because the laughing stopped.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. Here you are helping me, and I’m being a jerk.” The gentle words got Joe’s attention, and he found himself caught off guard by the man’s arresting smile. It was certainly a far cry from his previous menacing growls. It was like the guy had two personalities. Oh God, what if the guy had two personalities? “I think it’s kind of sweet, actually.”

  “Now you’re just messing with me.”

  “No, I’m not. I really do think it’s sweet. Then again, you seem like that kind of guy. I apologize for insulting you earlier. I don’t come across guys like you often.”

  If it hadn’t been for the completely open and honest expression, Joe would have thought the guy was trying to pull one over on him. “How do you know?”

  “I don’t know. Gut feeling. Feels like I should listen to it.”

  “Okay, well, there’s not much we can do until Jules has a look at you. Unless, uh… well, I suppose you can still go to the hospital. I could call a taxi and take you down there.” Was it too much to hope for?

  “Not going to happen.” There was no hesitation in his reply, and the light in those bright silver eyes dimmed. “No cops, no hospital. I know it sounds crazy, but all I know is that it’s really important they don’t know I’m here. If I go there, I don’t know what’ll happen to me.” He took a step toward Joe, his expression softening as he pleaded. “I promise to behave myself. I know you have no reason to trust me or keep helping me, but… just give me a little time. At least until something comes to me. Please. Whatever’s going on, I know if I go out there without knowing who or what’s after me… I’m not going to last. I need to remember.”

  Wow. Not ominous at all. “I don’t know.” Joe rubbed his hands over his face as he paced the living room. This was crazy. Helping the guy out one night was one thing, but letting him stay here until he recovered his memory? What if it didn’t happen? What if he was lying? Joe felt like a jerk for saying it, but he had to think about Bea, Donnie, and Elsie. Not to mention his customers. The last thing he wanted was for someone to get hurt because of him.

  “I want to help you, I really do, but if you’re right and someone out there is trying to hurt you, how do I know they won’t come after me and my friends? I can’t let you, or anyone else, put them in danger.” He hated how the man deflated before him, but it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Maybe it would convince his new friend to speak to the proper authorities.

  “I understand. You’ve done plenty for me already, and I’m grateful for that.” The guy walked over to the couch and sat to put on his boots before picking up his jacket and searching his pockets. He gave Joe a sincere smile that reached his eyes. He didn’t seem upset or even irritated that Joe was casting him out. “Thanks. I’ve gotten this far, right? I’ll be fine.” His expression turned to one of embarrassment. “I feel like a real jackass asking, but could you maybe spare a few bucks for something to eat? Looks like my memory isn’t the only thing missing.”

  Oh for crying out loud. Before Joe could put any rational thought into it, he nodded. “Stay.” What was he doing? Was he nuts? He didn’t know the first thing about this man. The circumstances of how and where Joe had found him should’ve been enough for him to walk away from this mess. Actually, the mention of “dead” should have had Joe speed-dialing the cops, but something about the guy, the genuine look of vulnerability and distress, had all of Joe’s wires crossed.

  “Really, Joe, it’s okay. You’re right. If I’m in danger, it’s possible I might bring that down on you.” He dropped his gaze to his knuckles and sighed. “From the looks of it, I can handle myself in a fight.”

  “Yeah, because that worked so well the last time,” Joe muttered. “Look, it’s fine. All I ask is that you stay up here. No wandering outside or downstairs. Not until we know a little more about what’s going on. Deal?” Maybe if he kept his new friend out of sight for a while, they’d figure something out.

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” Joe held his hand out. “Have we got a deal?”

  Joe stood stock-still as strong, muscular arms squeezed him tight. That, along with the feel of the guy’s breath against his skin, sent an unexpected tingle through Joe’s body. His new friend pulled away, his timid smile catching Joe off guard.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all touchy-feely on you. I’m just really grateful.” He headed back to the couch and the warmth Joe felt went with him. “Are you all right?”

  Joe looked at him blankly. “Huh?”

  “You were humming something, and you got this sort of faraway look in your eyes.” Despite the concern in his voice, the guy looked rather amused.

  “Oh uh….” Fudgebunnies! It’s a little early for him to find out you’re a nutcase, Joe. Keep it together. “Sorry, my mind just wandered. It does that a lot. Don’t worry about earlier. Say, uh, we should probably think of what to call you, until you can remember your name.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  “Me?” Joe looked him over. Tall, handsome, rugged, thick biceps, and a nice full bottom lip. A name suddenly popped into his mind, making him smile. “Chris. Like that actor. You kinda look like him. Darker hair, though, and uh, not Australian.” He motioned to his bicep. “It’s the arms.” Wait, did he just say that? Now that he thought about it…. He cocked his head to one side and frowned. “Except you don’t look like a Chris. You look more like a Tom. Yeah, I like that better.”

  “Um, okay. I remind you of Chris but look like a Tom. Tom it is, then.” Tom let out a husky laugh. He looked amused.

  What had he gotten himself into? Joe felt himself grinning like an idiot. “All right, Tom. You sit tight and stay awake. I’m going to go downstairs to check on Bea and the kids, then I’ll get you something to eat, if you think your stomach’s up to it.” He started toward the door, when Tom called out to him.

  “I hate to be a pain, because you’ve done so much for me already, but can I ask a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Would you mind if I shaved, maybe had a shower? I don’t like looking like I just crawled out of the gutter. Even if that’s sort of what I did.”

  At least Tom had a sense of humor.

  “Right. Sorry, with everything going on, it slipped my mind to offer.” Joe crossed the living room into the hall to the small closet. He grabbed a couple of towels and tossed them at Tom on his way to the bedroom. He returned with a pair of pajama bottoms and the loosest T-shirt he owned. “Here you go. I’ll see about getting your clothes washed. We’re roughly the same size. Except for the shirt.” He motioned the span of his own far less muscular chest. “That’s the biggest size T-shirt I own, so it should fit.”

  “Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay?” Tom asked, looking uncertain.

  “Positive.” Joe went back into his room unable to understand why he was being so accommodating. You keep telling yourself that, Joe. He promptly told himself to shut it and pulled out a warm blanket and fluffy pillow. Heading back out into the living room, Joe set the bedding on the couch. “There you go. I’ll be back in a few minutes, after I check on the shop and send everyone home.”

  “Okay.” Tom beamed. The guy really had one hell of a smile. It was hard to associate that with the evidence of violence marking the man’s skin. “And thanks again. This is really decent of you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  To think this day started like any other. This morning had been like any other morning, this afternoon like any other afternoon, and now? Now he had a tall, dark, handsome stranger in his bathroom, wearing his pajamas. Under normal circumstances, that alone would have been cause to celebrate. Except these weren’t normal circumstances, and Tom wasn’t upstairs on account of Joe taking him up on his flirting. As if a good-looking guy like Tom would even flirt with someone like him. Not that he was interested or anything, he was just—Joe didn’t get a chance to finish the thought. The moment he stepped foot into the empty café, he was ambushed.

  “So who is he?” Donnie asked, trembling with anticipation.

  Definitely time to cut back on the kid’s caffeine intake.

  “Ah, now there’s the question we all want to know the answer to,” Joe replied, looking around the shop, happy to see everything was in tip-top shape and ready for the next day. Not that he had expected any less from his motley crew. He could always count on them to man the ship while he was away. Beside him, Elsie wrung her hands nervously.

  “He didn’t tell you?” she asked him.

  “He didn’t know.” Joe sighed and leaned against the door.

  The three exchanged glances before Bea peered at him. “What do you mean he didn’t know? Didn’t know what?”

  “Anything. Poor guy can’t even remember his own name.” Joe walked over to one of the two large glass windows and pulled down the heavy canvas shade, securing the small ring over the tiny hook in the wooden frame. “Guess he got whacked a little harder than we thought.”

  The two youngsters’ eyes widened, and it was like he’d walked into some Broadway production. He went to the next window to pull the shade down on that one.

  Donnie looked a little too excited for his own good. “You mean… he’s got amnesia? I read about that.”

  “Baloney,” Bea huffed. “Amnesia’s something you see in those old Hollywood movies. It’s not real.”

  “’Course it’s real. Wouldn’t be a medical condition otherwise.” Joe smiled sweetly and pinched Bea’s cheek. “What you mean to say, my dearest, is that you think he’s full of it.”

  Bea slapped his hand away, her gaze boring into him as he headed toward the back of the shop. “He’s stringing you along, honey, and you’re letting him.”

  Joe waved his hand dismissively, ignoring that last statement. “Listen, don’t you fret your pretty little head. Jules will be here as soon as she can, and she’ll tell us what’s what.”

  “I tell you, there’s something sinister about that boy,” Bea insisted.

  “That’s why you shouldn’t watch so many soap operas. This isn’t some ‘wealthy heiress gets pregnant with the stableboy’s baby’ scandal. He’s just some poor guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Joe remembered the look on Tom’s face when he realized he couldn’t remember. How could Joe ignore the pain the man was in? “What am I supposed to do, huh? Kick him out? You should have seen his face. He looked so… lost. He’s a nice enough guy, I think. I can’t shove him back out into the gutter. Where would he go? What if something terrible happens to him?” The thought made him feel sick to his stomach. “I can’t picture him ending up sleeping on a bench or in some dank alley with rats and fleas, and what if he got sick and—”