Patient McHandsome—as Annie had nicknamed the mysterious man from room 4 in ICU—sat before me on the two-seater leather couch. His thick thighs naturally parted in a masculine wide stance. I reached down and touched my alarm—mostly to remind myself of my decision to respect my code of ethics and keep my hands off him—and a sense of relief washed over me. I watched as he fiddled with his nails and glanced nervously around the room. He was a far cry from the intimidating man of the day before, and so I relaxed a little more.

“So… Have you remembered any further details about the reason for your presence here?” I asked him. His eyes flicked up to meet mine and I inhaled sharply, immediately feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. Yesterday when I’d had that intense encounter with him, I’d seen a totally different glint in his eyes. Now sitting before me, looking a little afraid, his eyes were the most vivid, electric shade; almost cerulean. They didn’t look real. I was taken aback by them.

Lost in them even.

What could I do to make myself stop wanting him?

He broke eye contact and smiled down at his hands. “Not a damn thing, ma’am.”

Shit… has he just read my mind? My heart picked up its pace and a flush of blood heated my cheeks. Oh… hang on… it’s okay, he was answering my question. Fighting an audible sigh of relief, I cleared my throat. “Okay. Firstly I need to assess your emotional and mental well-being. This is done by the use of a questionnaire. I need you to be completely honest and not to think about the answers too much. If I’m going to be able to help you, I need you to trust me. And then I need to discuss a couple of matters with you. It may be a little disturbing to hear what I have to tell you, but… I need to talk to you about these issues all the same.”

He took a deep breath and seemed to brace himself for what I had to say. Leaning back a little, I tilted my head to one side. Despite my promise, I couldn’t help but notice how ruggedly masculine he was, viewed from any angle. I squeezed my thighs together, mentally reprimanded myself, and began to reel off question after question. “Would you say that since you gained consciousness you have had any feelings of hopelessness?” I gave him the list of answers to choose from:

a) not at all

b) some of the time

c) most of the time

d) all of the time

He nodded and began to answer with a firm determination as I bombarded him with one question after another. His answers were surprisingly positive, considering the circumstances in which he had been found; and the more I listened to him talk, the more I felt that there was a great chance that he had not attempted to take his own life.

And if that was the case, then that meant someone had tried to kill him.

I shuddered at the thought as the whole plot thickened before me.

Once he had completed my questions satisfactorily, I allowed him to have a drink of water before continuing on. “Okay, Cameron… I must inform you that the police will be needing to speak with you in the near future. They may go over some of the ground we have covered, and I apologise if this is frustrating for you, but it’s necessary to ascertain your identity and the reasons for your presence here. We’ve been putting them off, but the mystery surrounding your appearance in Scotland needs to be solved, and so they will no doubt have plenty of questions for you. There will be the matter of DNA checks too. They can do this with a sample of hair, saliva, or blood, but you need to consent to this. That’s why it hasn’t been done before. Human rights, etcetera. Once we have the sample, we can match it to databases here and in the USA.”

His nostrils flared and it was clear he was uneasy at the thought of having his DNA checked. “But… won’t I only show up on the databases if I’m some kind of criminal?”

“There are a variety of reasons that DNA samples are logged, Mr. Iss. And yes, one of them would be if you had been involved in any previous criminal activity.”

Why it bothered him so much was just as big a mystery to me as his very presence here in North Kessock. But the fact that it did bother him led me to believe he knew more than he was letting on. I tried to ignore the unease prickling my skin. “I must ask you again, has anything… however small… come back to you about your life? Any memories that may assist us in figuring out who you are and why you’re here?”

He frowned. “Last night… I had this vivid dream. It was filled with,”—he swallowed and I watched his Adam’s apple move; my hand started to rise as though to stroke it, and I made myself lower it and pay attention to his words—“violence. I… I was being beaten. There was this young woman… dark hair… blue eyes… beautiful… she was sobbing and screaming, ‘No!’ Then… earlier today… when I was in the bathroom… a name… not my name… at least I’m pretty sure it’s not my name…”

His words trailed off and he dropped his gaze.

A sudden spike of intrigue made me lean forwards as his crumpled expression told of his concern for this woman… whoever she was. I urged him on. “A name? That’s good. Go on.”

He brought his pained gaze back up to meet mine, and for a brief moment he was caught in some kind of trance, just staring at me. A shiver shot down my spine and goose bumps prickled at my skin. Was he feeling it too? This strange pull?

He blinked rapidly and the spell was broken. “Rosa. The name that came to me was Rosa. I don’t know who Rosa is or why that name is so significant but… it’s all I have.” He lifted his hands briefly and dropped them in his lap again. It was the gesture of a defeated man. He slumped back into the couch and rubbed his hands over his face. A distinct urge to comfort him—to just touch him—fought to surface from deep within me, but I squashed it down and gripped my pen so tightly I was sure it would snap clean in two.

Focusing on him once again, I watched as a deep sadness washed over his beautifully chiselled features, and my heart ached for the loss he must’ve been feeling, the shared pain of sympathy intertwining with illicit desire inside of me. I nodded and made a note of his breakthrough.

Then it hit me.

Rosa was the name on his suicide note.

I sat in silent contemplation for a few moments, wondering how best to approach the matter of the note. I felt his stare and met his gaze. “Okay… Now I have something to tell you, and as I said… it may be difficult to hear. But please know that you are going to be cared for and given all the necessary help.”

His brow furrowed and he nodded. I watched as he swallowed hard again and knotted his hands in his lap.

Experiencing more sorrow for this man than I ever had for a patient before, I took a deep breath. “When you were found… you were in a bit of a state to say the least. As I told you before, all you had in your possession was a tatty leather jacket, an iPod and a note. It… it was evidently a suicide note.”

His eyes widened and he stood a little too quickly. The colour drained from his face and his hands were visibly shaking as he ran them over his head then rubbed at his face again. “So that’s what she fucking meant. The risk. The razor. You all thought I was going to kill myself.”

First Annie, and now Patty and her big mouth strike again. “Well… you can understand our trepidation. You had a large amount of sedatives, alcohol, and other prescription medication in your bloodstream. You should’ve been dead, Cameron. How the hell you survived that with so little internal damage is something that none of the doctors can figure out. You must have an ironclad constitution, that’s for sure.” I immediately clamped my mouth shut. What the hell was wrong with me blabbing on like I knew the man? Hell, he didn’t even know himself!

He flopped onto the couch again and dropped his head into his hands. “But… I don’t…”

“Look, I apologise. That was very blunt and it must be difficult to have such information offloaded on you like that.”

His blue gaze met mine again. “No, no it’s fine. I get the feeling I’m a straight-up kind of guy. I’m glad you told me. So… am I allowed to know what the note said exactly?”

I hesitated and dropped my focus to the file at my side. The letter was in there. It was against my better judgement to show him the note at this point. I wanted his memory to return so that he could tell me why the attempt to take his own life had occurred—if indeed he had written the note. His surprise at the mention of suicide confused the issue. As if moving of their own accord, my fingers slipped into the file and pulled out the letter. I inhaled nervously through my nose as I held it toward him.

As he leaned forward, I caught the clean, fresh scent of body wash. A manly fragranced body wash—it wasn’t the hospital’s standard issue stock—and I wondered if it was something that someone had given him especially or if it was just the usual stuff and it just smelled so much more manly because it was mingled with his own unique scent. He reached and took the paper from my hands, brushing his fingers over mine. As our skin made contact, his eyes travelled rapidly up to meet mine as if I’d given him an electric shock. He stared at me for what felt like minutes, but eventually the spell was once again broken and he turned his attention to the letter.

A myriad of emotions flashed across his face, and his lips moved as he read. Those kissable lips that had been distorted by the ventilator only a matter of days ago. Those lips that had been so close to mine as he intimidated me and turned me on all at once. I watched him closely for any indication that he knew the note was written in his hand, but all I saw was confusion.

After what seemed like an age he lifted his gaze. “C-Cameron Iss… is… is that me?”

My heart broke at the lost look that had taken over his sculpted face. “I really don’t know. We’ve searched records and contacted the US embassy since you gained consciousness, but no one by that name has been reported missing. If the DNA results don’t bring anything up, we may have to wait until you regain more of your memory before we can determine your identity for sure. In the meantime you’ll need to stay in the hospital so that we know you’re safe.”

“But… I’d rather go back to the USA and try to figure this shit out. Can’t I, I don’t know, be transferred or something?”

I shook my head. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. You have no passport. Perhaps the reason no one in the US has reported you missing is because you actually reside here… In Scotland. Cameron is a very Scottish name, after all. Or perhaps Cameron Iss isn’t your name. Iss is very unusual and certainly not Scottish. In fact the name is very uncommon and found mostly around New York.”

He exhaled a long, loud breath and ran his hands through his dark, scruffy hair again. “So… what happens now?”

“Well, we wait. You appear to be dreaming about scenarios that could actually be flashbacks. We need to meet regularly in order to figure out if that’s the case. They may become more vivid and more frequent.” My mind involuntarily flashed back to my own vivid dreams. Images of him looming over me as he drove into me, pushing me toward ecstasy, appeared in my frontal cortex and I felt that familiar throb between my legs. My nipples pushed forward at the lace of my bra and I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the ill-timed fantasy.

He nodded and then fixed his gaze on me again. He stood and skirted around the wooden coffee table that sat between us and closed the remaining distance. Taking the space beside me, he sat on my couch. My heart responded immediately with a faster rhythm.

He lifted my hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there. “I’m so sorry for what happened yesterday, Kelly. I… I don’t know what came over me. I just seemed to… snap I guess. I’m a little scared that that’s who I am. Some dickweed who intimidates women. I… I don’t want to be that person. I hope you can forgive me.”

My heart pounded in my chest and butterflies set about dancing in my stomach. My free hand rested in my personal alarm and with an unsteady voice I replied, “I already said I’d forgiven you.”

A crease appeared on his forehead and he looked anguished. “But you’re afraid of me. I can see it in your eyes.” He stopped speaking for a moment as he stared at me… through me… into me. “You have the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen, do you know that?”

It wasn’t fear he saw in my eyes. Trying to remain professional and emotionally distant, I moved back slightly. “Mr Iss… seeing as that’s what we’ll have to call you for now… I most certainly do not know that I have the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen. Seeing as I don’t know you, how would I be party to such personal information?”

A smile played on his lips as he leaned further in toward me and inhaled through his nose. My breath quickened and I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “I love it when you get all feisty like that. God, I can’t help myself. You really do smell good.” His eyes fluttered closed briefly just like the day before. When he opened them again his pupils were dilated. He still gripped my hand in his and I sat frozen to the spot. Unable to move. Mesmerised by him.

Heat flooded my bloodstream and I swallowed. A wry smirk appeared on his full lips. “What I wouldn’t give for just a little taste,” he whispered, his lips perilously close to mine. My head told me to call for security or activate my alarm, but the heat of his breath so close to my mouth left me incapacitated.

I cleared my throat. “Okay, Mr Iss. That will be all for today. It’s best to keep our sessions brief for now to ensure we don’t tire you out too much. You can return to your room now.” I tried to project my voice in a way that exuded confidence but instead it came out husky and sultry.

I was under his spell. And I liked it.

He stood steadily. “Just in case you’re wondering, I have no desire to off myself. I do, however, have other desires. Shame I’m so weak right now. I have a feeling I could rock your world.” He covered the pronounced ridge in his jeans with the hand that had been clutching mine only moments before, pulled his bottom lip through his teeth and smiled. It wasn’t an arrogant smile though. It was a smile that told me he was messing with me, in spite of the inappropriate hand positioning. “Sorry, ma’am. Right now, that’s pretty much all I know about myself.”

I suspected he wasn’t sorry in the least. I pursed my lips and stifled the smile trying to break through.

I stood and smoothed my slacks down my legs as I stepped away from him. I needed the distance—especially since now I was imagining him running his hands along my thighs. “That’s good to know. Thank you. Goodbye, Mr Iss.” I bent to gather my papers and could feel his stare on my behind as I moved. I turned to face him once again, and with my gaze fixed firmly on his I called, “Patty, you can escort Mr Iss back now!”

The psychiatric nurse burst through the door as if she’d been listening at the keyhole—and I wouldn’t have put that past her.

Holding her arm out to Cameron, she said, “Come on, hon. Let’s get you back to bed.”

He smirked at her. “I bet you say that to all the mysterious, handsome yanks.” He winked over at me, and I couldn’t help but smile. Patty tapped his arm playfully and muttered something about his being young enough to be her son, but the blush on her cheeks gave her away. It apparently wasn’t just me that he had that effect on.