When the Storm Breaks by Heather Lowell

threw down the TV remote control and went to his car, resigned to the idea that he was going to work that night.
    First he would go back to the hospital and talk to Claire’s doctors. Maybe there had been some improvement in her condition. If not, maybe they could suggest some things to jog her memory—therapy, some type of mental exercises, drugs, anything.
    It was beginning to look like a woman with amnesia was their best lead on a murderer. That was a good reason to keep in contact with her, see how she was doing, ifshe remembered anything at all. If she was awake, they could talk.
    Shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling cheerfully, Sean chose not to examine too closely the reasons for his sudden good mood.

Chapter 15
    Washington, D.C.
    Sunday evening
    T he doctors Sean had hoped to talk to weren’t available at nine on a Sunday night, but Claire Lambert was. He flashed his badge at the guard posted in the hallway and paused in the partially open door to Claire’s hospital room. Knowing he was there after visiting hours, he did a brief check for roving nurses and began to close the door behind him. The security guard smiled and gave a thumbs-up sign.
    Sean turned to the bed, half expecting to find Olivia in the chair, but Claire was alone. She was asleep. Her hair was pulled back, and she wore a deep purple robe that was bright against the white sheets. Someone had brought in a reading light and set it on the nightstand, where it threw soft light across her relaxed face. A paperback novel lay nearby.
    The restlessness he’d felt earlier in the evening increased until tension once again filled his body. He hadn’t seen Claire since yesterday afternoon, and he’d hoped his memory had exaggerated her appeal to him. It hadn’t.
    As he stared at Claire in her jewel-toned robe, illuminated from the side by soft light, he was forced to admit that he wanted her. Big time.
    Down, boy. Didn’t we already have a discussion about this?
    He blew a breath up toward his dark bangs, trying to lift them from his suddenly damp forehead.
    It’s just because she looks like an angel , he told himself, lying under the light with her dark hair and pale, smooth skin. All I have to do is turn the light off .
    He reached across her for the lamp switch. As the shadow of his arm fell over her face, she jolted awake. Eyes wide, she jerked away from Sean with a frightened sound.
    “Hey, it’s just me. You’re all right.” Sean’s own heart was unsteady as he used his hand to soothe her.
    When the light fell across Claire’s face again, he looked down and saw that her eyes weren’t completely black. In full light they were a deep, dark brown that drew him in like a spiral puzzle. He stood there, unable to say anything else, even when she recognized him and relaxed.
    “Sorry, I’ve been a little jumpy,” she said. She wondered how long he’d been watching her sleep. Silence stretched painfully as he just stood there, staring at her.
    “Is anything wrong? Any news on the case? Helloooo?” She waved her hand in front of his face, causing him to pull his head back.
    He blinked and moved the novel on Claire’s bed. Then he sat on the edge, aiming for a casual note to cover his fascination.
    “Ah, no. We’ve been working all weekend, but unfortunately don’t have anything new. How about you? Have you been able to remember anything more?”
    “Not really. The feelings I had earlier are stronger, but I don’t have any real memories of the night of the murder. Sorry.”
    “What do you mean the feelings are stronger?”
    “I told you, I’ve been really jumpy. Like just now.” Her gesture took in the bed and Sean’s presence.
    “I think anyone would understand you being a little nervous—” he began.
    “No, it’s more than that. This morning I was standing at the window when a nurse came up behind me and touched my shoulder. I just about jumped out of my slippers.” She gave a humorless laugh and started to speak