If she only knew : Cahill Family Series, Book 1. / Lisa Jackson.
Series InformationCahill Family.
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- ISBN: 9781420124910 (electronic bk)
- Physical Description: 1 online resource.
- Publisher: New York : Zebra, 2011.
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She Woke Up With A New Face. . . Not only has Marla Cahill survived a deadly car accident, but her beautiful features have been restored through plastic surgery. She should be grateful. Instead, she's consumed by confusion. . .and panic. For the people gathered at her bedside--her family--are strangers. And so is the woman whose haunted eyes stare back from the mirror. . .She Woke Up With No Memories. . . Secluded at the magnificent Cahill mansion, Marla waits for something to trigger recognition. Yet the only thing she's left with is the unshakable feeling that she is not who everyone says she is, and that something is very, very wrong. . .. . . And She Woke Up To MurderDetermined to piece together the truth of her identity, she finds herself drawn to her brother-in-law, Nick--a man who seems both to want and despise her. And as her fractured mind slowly clears, Marla begins to have flashes of another life. ...
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If She Only Knew
By Lisa Jackson
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
All rights reserved.
She couldn't see, couldn't speak, couldn't ... oh, God, she couldn't move her hand. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids wouldn't budge. They weighed a ton and seemed glued shut over eyes that burned with a blinding, hideous pain.
Mrs. Cahill? There was a touch, someone's cool fingers on the back of her hand. "Mrs. Cahill, can you hear me?" The voice, kind and female, sounded as if it was carried from a great distance ... far away, from a spot on the other side of the pain. Me? I'm Mrs. Cahill? That sounded wrong, but she didn't know why.
"Your husband's here to see you."
My husband? But I don't have ... oh, God, what's happening to me? Am I going crazy?
The fingers were removed and there was a heavy feminine sigh. "I'm sorry, she's still not responding."
"She's been in this hospital nearly six weeks." A man's voice. Clipped. Hard. Demanding. "Six weeks for Christ's sake, and she's shown no signs of recovery."
"Of course she has. She's breathing on her own, I've noticed eye movement behind her lids, she's coughed and attempted to yawn, all goods signs, indications that the brain stem isn't damaged —"
Oh, God, they were talking about brain damage!
"Then why won't she wake up?" he demanded.
"I don't know."
"Shit." His voice was lower.
"Give her time," the woman said softly. "We can't be certain, of course, but there's even a chance that she can hear us now."
Yes, yes, I can hear you, but my name isn't Mrs. Cahill, I'm not married and I'm dying from this pain. For God's sake, someone help me! If this is a hospital, surely you have codeine or morphine or ... or even an aspirin. The fog closed in around her and she wanted to give in to it, to feel nothing again.
"Marla? It's Alex." His deep baritone voice was much closer. Louder. As if he were standing only inches from her. She felt a new pressure on her arm as he touched her, and she wanted to let him know she could hear him, but she couldn't move, not at all. The smell of cologne assailed her, and she instinctively sensed it was expensive. But how would she know? The fingertips on her skin were smooth, soft ... Alex's hands. Her husband's hands.
Oh, God, why couldn't she remember?
She tried to recall his face, the color of his hair, the width of his shoulders, the size of his shoes, any little trait, but failed. His voice brought back no images. There was a faint smell of smoke that clung to him as his sleeve brushed her wrist and she felt the scratch of wool from his jacket, but that was it.
"Honey, please wake up. I miss you, the children —" His voice cracked, emotion strangling him.
No! There was just no way she had kids and didn't know it. Or was there? That was the kind of thing a woman, even a woman lying drugged and half-comatose in a hospital bed would immediately realize. Certainly her intuition, the female animal in her would sense that she was a mother. Trapped motionless in this blackness she knew nothing. If only she could open her eyes ... and yet the cozying warmth of unconsciousness was so seductive ... Soon she would remember ... It was just a matter of time ...
Cold horror crept up her spine as she realized she couldn't conjure up one single instant in the years that were her life. It was as if she had never existed.
This is a nightmare. That's the only explanation.
"Marla, please, come back to me. To us," Alex whispered gruffly, and deep