Czytaj książkę: «Safe In His Arms»
“Tell me about yourself,”
Samuel said, breaking the strained silence. He met her surprised gaze without wavering. “You want me to help you uncover your past. I know who you were when you used to live on this island. I’d like to know who you are now, the person you’ve become.”
Jessie bit her lip, considering her answer. How much did she want to tell him? That she was haunted by dreams she couldn’t explain? That she’d never been able to make a relationship last because she wouldn’t allow herself to trust anyone? That she’d come to the island in search of a past, because she was desperate to save herself from a dismal future?
No, she couldn’t tell him the truth. No matter how much she might want to confide in him, she wasn’t ready to reveal that much about herself to anyone.
Dear Reader,
This is a very special month here at Intimate Moments. We’re celebrating the publication of our 1000th novel, and what a book it is! Angel Meets the Badman is the latest from award-winning and bestselling Maggie Shayne, and it’s part of her ongoing miniseries, THE TEXAS BRAND. It’s a page-turner par excellence, so take it home, sit back and prepare to be enthralled.
Ruth Langan’s back, and Intimate Moments has got her. This month this historical romance star continues to win contemporary readers’ hearts with The Wildes of Wyoming— Hazard, the latest in her wonderful contemporary miniseries about the three Wilde brothers. Paula Detmer Riggs returns to MATERNITY ROW, the site of so many births—and so many happy endings—with Daddy by Choice. And look for the connected MATERNITY ROW short story, “Family by Fate,” in our new Mother’s Day collection, A Bouquet of Babies. Merline Lovelace brings readers another of the MEN OF THE BAR H in The Harder They Fall—and you’re definitely going to fall for hero Evan Henderson. Cinderella and the Spy is the latest from Sally Tyler Hayes, an author with a real knack for mixing romance and suspense in just the right proportions. And finally, there’s Safe in His Arms, a wonderful amnesia story from Christine Scott.
Enjoy them all, and we’ll see you again next month, when you can once again find some of the best and most exciting romance reading around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
Safe in His Arms
Christine Scott
To my mother-in-law, Dutch.
Thank you for your wonderful son, and for being such a loyal supporter of my work.
CHRISTINE SCOTT
grew up in Illinois but currently lives in St. Louis, Missouri. A former teacher, she now writes full-time. When she isn’t writing romances, she spends her time caring for her husband and three children. In between car pools, baseball games and dance lessons, Christine always finds time to pick up a good book and read about…love. She loves to hear from readers. Write to her at Box 283, Grover, MO 63040-0283.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Prologue
Voices.
Loud, angry voices woke her.
Confused and uncertain, Jessie Pierce climbed out of bed. Stumbling, following a night-darkened, long and unfamiliar hallway, she hurried toward the sound of shouting. Her movements were clumsy, her feet leaden, as though she was walking in slow motion. She was disoriented, uncertain where she was headed. Her heart raced, fluttering in her chest like a butterfly’s wings.
The angry voices grew louder. Emotion distorted their timbre, making it hard for her to identify them.
A beam of light sliced through the inky night, blinding her, paralyzing her with fear….
A shape emerged from the shadows.
A shape large and frightening, coming closer, closer…
Her heart leaping in her chest, she stumbled back, one step, two, until she couldn’t go any farther….
And then there was nothing but darkness. All-encompassing darkness.
With a start Jessie’s eyes flew open. She was trembling. Her teeth were chattering—the only sound in the stillness of the night. Her lungs burned in her chest, and she realized she was holding her breath. Releasing the pent-up breath with a whoosh, she gulped in cooling drafts of air and desperately tried to still her shaking limbs.
Perspiration drenched her body. Her silky nightgown clung to her slender body like a second skin. The light from the bathroom cut through the darkness, reassuring her. She glanced from one shadowy corner to the next—nothing appeared out of place. Straining her ears, she heard no angry voices. No sound at all.
All was well.
Or was it?
Feeling foolish, she realized she’d been dreaming once again. A dream as familiar as life itself, as unwanted as uninvited guests who had overstayed their welcome.
A lump of emotion caught painfully in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to ease an overwhelming sense of dread, of loss. Jessie closed her eyes, fighting the fear that gripped her. When would she ever be free of the dream’s tenacious hold upon her?
At one time she’d sought professional help for the recurring nightmare. But the doctors had no answer, no cure for what ailed her. The thought chilled her, sending a long shiver down her spine. Opening her eyes, she noted the early hour on her bedside clock. It was only four in the morning, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. Tossing the blankets aside, she scrambled out of bed and reached for her robe. She tied its satiny belt securely around her waist, stepped into a pair of house slippers and hurried from her bedroom.
Muted light coming from a small table lamp lit the hallway leading to the living room. In her world there was never complete darkness. Since she was a child, Jessie had feared the night and what it might bring. As an adult she was embarrassed to admit to anyone that she’d been unable to overcome the weakness.
Snapping on the light over her desk, Jessie stared at the drawing she’d been working on before she’d gone to bed. It was a dark and mysterious illustration, one of many she’d been commissioned to draw for a children’s book. The book was a quixotic tale of one young boy’s quest to slay dragons. A tale of good overcoming evil, a tale of strength and courage. One that she found herself envying.
Goodness only knew, she had her own dragons to slay.
Jessie shivered, the memory of her nightmare still too fresh. It pained her to admit that she hadn’t the courage to face the monster of her own dreams.
Pushing the disturbing thought from her mind, she picked up one of the illustrations. Known for her eye for detail and her talent for bringing a story to life, she’d become quite successful as an illustrator at a relatively young age. It was a job that allowed her to work out of her apartment in Atlanta, letting her set her own hours. It also kept her isolated from others.
Which she desired most.
The truth was, she found more comfort in her art than she did with people. Jessie sighed. Her mother, bless her heart, worried about her solitary life. Since her father’s death one year ago, her mother seemed even more determined to push Jessie out into the world. She needed to make more friends, her mother often chided her, to open her heart to new relationships, to fall in love so that she wouldn’t ever have to be alone.
Jessie didn’t try to argue. She knew her mother’s intentions were good, though misguided. What her mother didn’t understand was that Jessie wanted it all. A husband, a family…someone to love, someone who would love her.
She didn’t want to live her life alone. But a solitary life was all she could handle. Opening up her heart, trusting others just wasn’t as easy as it might seem.
For Jessie it was impossible.
Just a few days ago, on their last visit together, her mother had seemed inordinately preoccupied with Jessie’s welfare, obsessing on her need for a secure future. Jessie had tried to laugh off the concern, telling her that, with a mother like her living nearby, she had all the love and security one person could handle. She remembered the worried expression that had flitted across her mother’s face at her flippant response.
Jessie pushed the disturbing image from her mind, picking up a charcoal pencil. Trying not to notice the trembling of her hand, she forced herself to work on the illustration. Purposefully she cleared her mind and focused her attention on the drawing, not stopping until she was finished.
Later, her fingers stiff with overuse, she laid her pencil down on the desktop and sighed with relief, satisfied with what she’d accomplished. Flexing her fingers, stretching the kinks from her muscles, she glanced outside the apartment’s large picture window and was surprised to see the early rays of dawn filtering through the cloud-laden sky. She must have been working for over an hour, though it had only seemed like minutes.
The phone rang, jarring her out of her reverie.
Startled by the early-morning call, she snatched the receiver from its cradle, anxious to still its insistent peal. “Hello?”
“Jessie?” It was Eugenia, her mother’s housekeeper. More than a housekeeper, she was her mother’s loyal friend, a valued member of the family. The pain shadowing Eugenia’s voice sent an arrow of dread darting through Jessie’s heart.
“Eugenia, what is it?” Jessie demanded. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s your mother,” Eugenia said carefully, regret lacing her tone. “She’s gone, Jessie.”
“Gone? I don’t understand. Gone where?”
A strained silence followed.
“No, you can’t mean—” Jessie’s voice broke beneath the heavy weight of disbelief. “She can’t be—”
“I’m so sorry, darling. The best we can figure, it happened early this morning. She went to sleep last night and never woke up. The doctor thinks it was her heart. It…it just gave out on her.”
Early this morning Jessie’s dream…she’d been awakened by an unbearable sense of dread, of loss. Her first thoughts had been of her mother. Surely it had been merely a coincidence.
Or had it?
Jessie closed her eyes against the hot sting of tears. Coincidence or not, her mother’s worst fear had just been realized. For the first time in her life, she was truly, completely alone.
Chapter 1
“I don’t understand.” Jessie pointed to the documents spilling out onto the shiny surface of the lawyer’s mahogany desktop. “What are you trying to tell me?”
The lawyer for her parents’ estate shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His round glasses reflected the light of the desk lamp as he looked to Eugenia for guidance.
Eugenia refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she sat stiffly in her chair, her faded-blue eyes, moist with tears, trained on the handkerchief clenched in her trembling hand.
Sighing, the lawyer began, “Miss Pierce, I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you—”
“I…I told Louise that you needed to know the truth,” Eugenia interrupted, her voice sounding strange, thick with emotion. “But she wouldn’t…she couldn’t bring herself to tell you.”
Jessie stared at the older woman in disbelief. “Then it’s true?”
“I—I’m afraid so, darling. Louise and Malcom Pierce weren’t your real parents. They adopted you when you were five years old.”
The admission struck with a stunning blow. Jessie couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Her life, everything she’d believed to be true had been built on a lie.
“Why—” Her voice broke beneath the weight of tension. She forced herself to continue. “Why didn’t they tell me?”
Eugenia hesitated, glancing at the lawyer. He shrugged, looking lost, discomfited by the personal turn of the meeting. Finally she said, “I don’t know all the details. But I suppose they were trying to protect you.”
“From what? Being adopted isn’t a crime.” Jessie noted that the pitch of her voice rose as she spoke. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. In the three days since her mother’s death, she’d been under an enormous strain. Grief had all but overwhelmed her. Now she had to deal with the fact that the parents she had believed to be hers weren’t really hers, after all. “Adoption isn’t the social stigma it might have once been. What’s the point of hiding something like this?”
Eugenia shook her head. “It wasn’t like that. Malcom and Louise didn’t care what others thought. Their only concern was for you.”
From the stack of papers Jessie picked up a birth certificate naming her as Jessica Pierce, daughter of Evelyn and Jonathan Pierce. Her hand shook as she read the document stating that she was born in Charleston, South Carolina. Not in Atlanta, where she’d lived all of her life. An unwanted anger built inside her. She felt betrayed by those who were supposed to have loved her most. “I don’t understand any of this. My name on my birth certificate…it’s the same as the one I have now.”
“It would be, wouldn’t it?” Eugenia said quietly. “Since Malcom and Louise were already your aunt and uncle.”
“My aunt and uncle?” She stared at the other woman, her incredulity growing.
Eugenia released an unsteady breath, suddenly looking older than her sixty years. “Darling, Malcom’s younger brother was your birth father.”
If she thought she’d been surprised before, nothing compared to the shock of that single statement. Tears welled in Jessie’s eyes. She blinked hard, fighting the flow. Now, more than ever, she needed a clear head, not one clouded with emotion. “I still don’t understand. Why didn’t they just tell me the truth?”
“Jessie, I’m sorry.” Eugenia started to reach out to her, then stopped. Looking uncertain, she let her hand fall helplessly onto her lap. “I know how upsetting this is…. I’m handling it so badly.”
Numbly Jessie shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”
“I…I just wish I knew more what to tell you,” she said. “All I can remember is that your birth father died before you were born. And your mother died when you were only five. When Malcom brought you home, you were terribly traumatized. Both he and Louise were beside themselves, at a loss how to help you—”
“The nightmares,” Jessie said, her voice trembling.
“Yes, they were horrible. Every night for months you woke up screaming, so frightened. And then the dreams came less often. It was as though you’d put whatever had caused them out of your mind. You even forgot about your mother. I truly believe Malcom and Louise were too afraid to do anything to upset the peace that you’d found.”
Not so peaceful, Jessie admitted silently. The nightmares still haunted her, the latest occurring only days before. Aloud, she murmured, “My parents were always too protective.”
“They loved you, Jessie. They tried to be the best parents they could.”
“I know they did,” Jessie said. The tears she’d fought so hard escaped. They filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She blinked, and a single drop trickled down her cheek. “Now what am I supposed to do?”
“Get on with your life,” Eugenia said, her voice firm yet gentle. Finally she allowed herself to reach for Jessie. She placed a hand on her arm, warming her with a reassuring touch. “Forget about the past.”
“How can I?” Jessie almost laughed at the thought. “I don’t even know who I really am. For God’s sake, how could I have forgotten my own mother…or the first five years of my life?”
“Perhaps there’s a reason for that, Jessie,” Eugenia said, her voice quiet, the warning unmistakable.
Silence filled the lawyer’s office.
The lawyer cleared his throat, cutting through the sudden tension. Adjusting the knot of his tie, he said, “There’s still the matter of the house on Prudence Island, in South Carolina. A place called Gull’s Cottage.”
Jessie frowned in confusion. “Gull’s Cottage?”
“It’s yours,” the lawyer said, holding up the property deed for her inspection.
Jessie stared at the document and wondered what other secrets awaited her.
Wearily Eugenia murmured, “Why Malcom wouldn’t sell the house, I never understood. Once he told me he couldn’t. That it was your legacy.”
“My legacy?”
Eugenia looked at her, regret shining in her eyes. “Gull’s Cottage belonged to your birth mother. It’s the house where you lived before she died.”
A fist of tension gripped Jessie’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. She couldn’t think, couldn’t respond.
“Miss Pierce,” the lawyer said, oblivious to her growing panic. “The taxes have been paid, and the house has been well maintained over the years. All that is left for you to do is decide whether or not you’d like to keep it.”
Shaking her head, Jessie said, “None of this is making any sense.”
“I know, dear. It’s been a long and trying year,” Eugenia said, her tone soothing. “Perhaps now would be a good time to take a vacation. Why don’t you go to Europe or the Caribbean? Somewhere that you can forget all about this and put it behind you.”
As tempting as the thought might be, Jessie knew in her heart she couldn’t run away. No matter where she went, what she chose to do, she could not alter the past. Nor could she allow it to rule her future. “It seems to me I’ve been hiding from my past for too long already. I need to find out the truth…I need to know who I really am.”
Alarm creased Eugenia’s round face. “Darling, I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.”
“I’m not sure, either,” Jessie admitted. “But it’s something I must do. There are too many questions and not enough answers.”
“Then, why don’t you let someone else handle this problem?” the lawyer suggested. “We could hire a private investigator, a professional to check into your background.”
“No.” Jessie shook her head. “This is something I have to do on my own.”
Eugenia gave an exasperated sigh. “Jessie, why must you be so stubborn? You don’t always have to be independent.”
Jessie brushed a tear from her cheek, smiling despite herself. “Now you’re starting to sound like my mother. Next you’ll be telling me that the only way I’ll be happy is to find a man to settle down with and raise lots of babies.”
“Lord help me, that’s one argument I won’t be a part of. I’ve been a bystander once too often in the clashes you two had over your differences of opinion on men and marriage.”
Jessie’s smile faltered at the memory. Her mother had wanted her to find roots—a husband to love, a home where she could settle down. She’d never understood why a woman of Jessie’s age hadn’t been able to make a relationship last. Why she hadn’t been able to find that perfect man, her soul mate.
Neither did Jessie.
When it came to trusting anyone, especially a man, something always held her back. She’d been unable to make that final commitment.
Perhaps there was a reason for her wariness. A reason that was hidden in her past.
“I don’t know how to explain it. But I’ve lost five years of my life, Eugenia. It feels as though there’s a hole, as though something important is missing.” She picked up the deed to Gull’s Cottage. “Maybe I’ll find what I’m looking for on Prudence Island.”
“And what if you don’t?” Eugenia asked, her silvery brows furrowed with concern.
“Surely I won’t be any worse for trying,” she said, feigning a confidence she did not feel.
The truth was, she had no idea what might await her on Prudence Island. All she knew was that something strong and impossible to resist drew her to the house that was her legacy.
Right or wrong, she was going to Gull’s Cottage.
The thick stands of loblolly pine trees that stood sentinel over the length of the narrow, two-lane road gradually gave way to the graceful stretches of moss-covered live oaks. Sunlight broke through the trees, dappling her arms, warming her skin. With the top down on her BMW convertible, Jessie knew she was getting close to the coastline. A salty sea breeze peppered the sweet, magnolia-scented air.
An unexpected thrill of excitement buzzed in her chest. For the first time in the month since Louise’s death, Jessie had no responsibilities. No lawyers to meet, no estate to settle. She’d even finished the illustrations on the book she’d been commissioned to draw. There was nothing to stand in the way of her quest for the truth. Before the summer’s end, she fully intended to find the answers to her past.
Then, perhaps, she could get on with her future.
Her future…Jessie’s heart thumped with an unwanted bout of trepidation. It wasn’t her financial well-being that worried her. Her adoptive father had been a doctor. Through shrewd investments, he’d been a wealthy man. Now, with both of her parents gone, Jessie had inherited more money than she knew how to spend. Even after seeing to Eugenia’s retirement, her future was financially secure. But she would trade it all, every penny of her estate, just to have her parents back.
Not to be alone.
Pain, sharp and unwanted, jigsawed through her heart, bringing tears to her eyes. She blinked hard, fighting the emotion. Oh, how she missed her mother, more than ever. She had been her best friend, her confidante. There was no one else to turn to, no one to lean on, no one who could explain her confusing past.
No one to make life worth living.
Impatiently Jessie ran a hand through her short, dark hair, trying to shake off the blue funk that threatened. If her mood sank any lower, she chided herself, she’d be stuck in the muck and mire of self-pity. She refused to allow herself to become maudlin. She’d shed enough tears this past month. It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself.
The narrow road curved unexpectedly. She tapped on the brakes, taking the bend fast but still maintaining perfect control. Glancing in her rearview mirror, breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she didn’t notice the beat-up, red pickup truck looming in front of her until it was almost too late.
She slammed on the brakes, causing her seat belt to bite into her shoulder. But it wasn’t enough. Her car still skidded toward a certain collision.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind the will to survive resurfaced with a vengeance. She jerked the wheel sharply to the right, aiming for the side of the road, narrowly missing the slow-moving truck by inches. Her BMW bumped off the pavement, hitting the shoulder with a loud thump. The back end of her car spun out behind her. Crushed seashells crunched beneath the tires. Thick clouds of dust rose up around her, nearly choking her. Before the car finally settled to a wobbly stop, she heard the pop-pop, then the slow hiss of two tires going flat.
Coughing, covering her mouth to keep from swallowing any more dust, Jessie thanked the powers that be for saving her life. And then the tremors set in. Blaming the reaction on delayed shock, her hands shook so badly she barely managed to slip the car out of gear and turn off the engine. Even before the dust settled, she threw open the car door and scrambled outside, feeling the need for the anchoring strength of solid ground.
Her legs nearly buckled beneath her as she tried to stand. She leaned both arms against the door, giving herself a moment to calm her jittery nerves. A thick coat of dust covered her black sleeveless turtleneck and her white jeans. She didn’t even have the strength to brush the grit away.
“Are you all right?”
Jessie whipped around, startled by the deep, male voice. She tore her sunglasses from the bridge of her nose and squinted at the man approaching her. The driver of the pickup truck, no doubt. Perhaps it was just a trick of the hazy sunlight, or perhaps it was just that—considering the circumstances—she was feeling a bit more vulnerable than usual, but he appeared larger than life, towering over her.
“I—I’m fine,” she stammered.
“You took a bad skid,” he said, narrowing his pale blue eyes as he scanned her body from head to toe. Jessie fought the urge to fidget beneath his assessing gaze.
“Really, I’m okay. There’s no need to worry,” she said, struggling to collect her scattered aplomb, wondering what it was about him that had set her body tingling and her mind racing with awareness.
He stood an inch or two over six feet and was a hard-muscled, tawny-haired and powerful male. But she knew it wasn’t only his size that drew her attention. There was something about the man, something that stirred recognition deep inside her.
She hesitated. Then, frowning, she asked, “Do I know you? You look so familiar.”
For just a second, irritation flickered in his eyes. Then quickly he hid the emotion behind a polite smile. “No, I don’t think so. I have that sort of face. So common, everyone thinks they’ve met me before.”
Common wasn’t the word she would use to describe the way he looked. Handsome, rugged, unforgettable, those were terms that came to mind as she studied him closely.
Realizing she was staring, she averted her eyes. What was wrong with her? No matter how good-looking he might be, it wasn’t like her to ogle a man. Especially when the man was a complete stranger. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I could have sworn—”
“It looks like your car’s the one that suffered most of the damage,” he said, abruptly changing the subject.
Not giving her a chance to answer, he strode past her, close enough that they brushed arms. She felt the heat of his body singe her bare skin. Sucking in a surprised breath, she inhaled the earthy, male scent of sweat and hard work. Jessie swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to ignore the sensations stirring in the pit of her stomach. What was happening to her? Never before had she experienced such a quick and intense awareness of a man.
The stranger glanced at her sharply, telling her he, too, had been affected by their brief contact. But he had the good grace not to comment. Instead, he focused his attention on her BMW’s flat tires. He gave the first tire a kick for good measure, then hunkered down on bent knee for a closer look at the second. Chewing nervously on her lower lip, Jessie tried not to notice the way his faded jeans hugged the taut muscles of his thighs.
“The rim’s bent on this tire. It’ll have to be replaced. Where are you headed?”
He’d been quiet for so long, the sound of his deep voice startled her. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one else was there, that the question was directed at her. Then, feeling foolish, the heat of embarrassment rising on her cheeks, she said, “I’m on my way to Prudence Island.”
His gaze slid from the BMW to her long legs encased in a pair of designer jeans, his lingering look one of pure male appreciation. “Are you staying at one of the resorts?”
“No, I’m not a tourist,” she said, her flush deepening beneath the heat of his gaze. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to make the distinction. After all, this was her first trip to Prudence Island. Her stay hopefully would be brief, since she had no desire to keep the house on a permanent basis. To all intents and purposes, she was a tourist. “I own a house on the island.”
Slowly he rose to his feet, a frown furrowing his brow. “I’ve lived on Prudence Island all of my life. I’m sure I would remember if I’d seen you before.”
It was a statement of fact. One that did not offend her. Instinctively she knew it wasn’t a matter of disbelief on his part. Rather, he merely seemed curious. “That’s because I’ve only recently inherited a cottage on the island. Though it’s been in my family for quite some time.”
“Which cottage is that?” he asked, his tone still polite, friendly, encouraging her to answer.
“Gull’s Cottage.”
His reaction was immediate. He flinched as though he’d been struck. She heard the sharp inhalation of his breath. His face paled beneath his tanned skin, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked stunned by the news. In a strained, almost harsh voice, he demanded, “What’s your name?”
“M-my name?”
He stared at her, not saying another word, his lips pressed in a firm, unrelenting line.
“It’s Jessie, Jessie Pierce. Why do you want—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. Turning on his heel, he strode toward his truck. Jessie stared at him in disbelief as he climbed into the cab and slammed the door behind him. When he gunned the motor to life, a hot flush of anger melted her frozen limbs.
Her Good Samaritan was abandoning her.
“W-wait,” she called out, following after him. “Where are you going? My car…I’ve only got one spare tire. You can’t just leave me here.”
Glancing at her briefly, he forced his gaze to the road before him. His face stony with suppressed anger, he said, “I’ll send out a tow truck, as soon as I get to town. That’s all I can promise.”
With that he threw the truck into gear and peeled away from the shoulder, sending up a spray of crushed shell and dust in his wake. Jessie waved a hand in front of her face, trying to clear the air as she stood at the side of the road, unable to believe what had just happened.
One minute the handsome stranger had seemed polite, friendly, ready to help; the next, he’d become cool, distant. He had abandoned her.
Growling her frustration, she stamped a foot in a useless show of self-righteous indignation. For his sake, as well her own, it had better be the last time she ever laid eyes on—
Dammit, she didn’t even know the man’s name.
Well, hell! Whoever he might be, he’d just better stay out of her way from now on.
Samuel Conners glanced out the side mirror of his truck at the woman standing alone on the shoulder of the road. An arrow of guilt pierced his heart when he saw how vulnerable she appeared. Tiny and petite, she couldn’t have stood taller than five-three, or weighed much more than a hundred pounds. He almost smiled when she stamped her foot in a show of anger.
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