Stranded with the SEAL by Amy Gamet Page A

wondered if he would suggest they sleep together for warmth as they had done the night before.
    Surely it must have been for warmth.
    She felt her cheeks flush. She might not remember the woman in the mirror, but she certainly remembered the pull between a woman and man, and there was one hell of a pull between them.
    When they kissed, desire had spread through her like fire through dry kindling. She got so aroused, so quickly, she was shocked by her own reaction. Just thinking about it made her body come alive.
    But she couldn’t have affected him the same way. It was clear he wanted to get out of the cabin at the earliest opportunity, and it was his guilt over the accident that required him to stay. In her current state, she didn’t care what kept him here, as long as something did.
    Olivia sighed heavily and opened a cupboard, staring at cans of soup but seeing only Hawk’s face inches from her own. She forced her eyes open wide. “Soup. Pick a can of soup, Livy.”
    She opened drawers and dusty cupboards, finding a can opener and pot and setting the soup on high. No one had been in this house in a long time, that was certain. She washed her hands, wondering when Trevor — Hawk — would be back.
    It was an appropriate nickname for the man. He paid attention. He’d caught her reference to the “all-but deserted mountaintop” before she caught it herself.
    How the hell did I know that?
    The hair on the back of her neck went up. Had she been in this area before? Did she live somewhere nearby? This remote location must be familiar to her in some way if she was making comments like that, yet nothing in this place seemed familiar at all.
    She dried her hands on a dusty and yellowed towel, throwing it in the direction of the counter with a grimace. This cabin would be so nice if someone just gave it a once-over.
    There were hardwood floors and high ceilings and strips of leaded glass in the windows, but any character it might have had was overshadowed by neglect.
    Even the slightest bit of housekeeping would go a long way, and it would give her something to do besides look in the mirror and feel like she was losing her mind.
    She began looking for cleaning supplies. Finding none, she wandered around until she discovered a broom closet near where she and Trevor kissed. She rested her head against the doorjamb, remembering the way his mouth had overpowered hers, lust coming quickly through her bloodstream like a drug.
    It was a good thing he’d pulled away, because she’d been so caught up in her own fierce reaction to his kisses she’d wanted to ride that wave all the way onto the seashore. That was truly frightening. It was like an override switch on good judgment had been thrown the moment his lips melded with hers.
    And they were stuck here — alone together — for the foreseeable future.
    I made sure of that, didn’t I?
    The distinct smell of smoke made her head turn sharply, the nearly forgotten headache slamming into her skull with the motion. She ran back to the kitchen.
    There, on the stovetop, was the yellowed kitchen towel, on fire. Without thinking, Olivia threw open a slender cupboard next to the range hood, knocked sugar and salt and spices out of the way, and withdrew a small fire extinguisher. She pulled the safety pin and sprayed the flames until nothing remained but the charred towel, covered in foam.
    Her heart pounded.
    She looked at the extinguisher in her hand as if it was a bloodied knife.
    Her earlier words came back to her. …all-but-deserted mountaintop…
    “Oh my God. Oh my God,” she chanted, her eyes jumping from the table to the refrigerator to the cupboard where she’d found the fire extinguisher.
    Her mind was playing tricks on her, keeping secrets while she desperately needed the truth. “If you know this place, you’d better tell me now,” she said to herself. “No more of this amnesia bullshit, Olivia.”
    She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her memories back into place, but