He liked Jordan so much. She deserved more than a big question mark.
He sat up. “You ought to be with a guy who takes you on real dates, not fact-finding missions.”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes and grinned. “All I’m offering here is a comfier bed.”
Despite his resolve to keep her at arms’ length for the time being, he desperately needed sleep. Besides, exhausted as he was, he had no energy for anything else. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“I don’t make this offer to many men.” She threw him a wink. Come on.”
He tamped down his reservations and peeled back the covers. “Thank you.” As he slipped into bed next to her, he felt her warmth.
“Night,” she murmured as she rolled onto her side.
“Good night.” He shut his eyes, but his pulse was racing. So much for the more comfortable bed. As long as Jordan was next to him—close enough to touch, all he could think about was the feel of her silky hair and the taste of her tongue.
“Hold me,” she whispered softly.
Had he imagined that? She appeared to be sleeping, her breaths coming in a steady cadence.
Harry propped himself on one elbow. “Jordan?”
She pushed aside the covers and faced him.
How could he have missed that white, lacy nightgown? He could have sworn she’d been wearing shorts and a tank top. “When did you?—”
Pressing a finger to his lips, she said, “Shh. Just kiss me.”
Was he dreaming? Had to be. So he grasped her waist and eased her on top of him. Every nerve and fiber in his body hummed with desire. In the back of his mind, warning bells sounded, but he couldn’t stop himself. For so long, he’d kept his carnal needs at bay. No other woman had tempted him, not like Jordan did.
She leaned down to kiss him, but instead of his mouth, she pressed her lips to his ear. “Sweet dreams.”
What?
He smelled coffee.
“Rise and shine.”
He’d only been dreaming. Relief and regret warred inside him as he peeled open his eyes.
Jordan sat on the edge of the mattress. Her hair was damp, and she smelled like fresh strawberries. Wearing jeans and a cornflower blue T-shirt the same shade as her eyes, she set a mug on the bedside table. “You talk in your sleep.”
He pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard. “Should I be worried?”
“Should I? You spoke my name.”
Stifling a chuckle, he grinned. “My dream was just getting to the good part when I woke up.”
She lowered her gaze, and a pink flush rose in her cheeks. “The town hall is only open until noon on Saturdays, so we should probably get going soon.”
“Of course.” He drank a few sips of coffee then went to take a shower. Less than forty-five minutes later, they arrived at the Cat’s Paw Cove town hall, only to find the place closed for a ‘special event.’
Harry’s mood clunked. “Dead end, at least until Monday.”
Jordan hooked his arm. “We can look somewhere else for now. What about that celebration? Some castle.”
“Right. I think we passed a poster about that.” He spotted the announcement on a lamppost near the town hall. “There.”
Jordan beat him to the spot. “In a small town like this, half the residents will probably be at this event. But…” Her lips bunched to one side.
He adjusted the backpack cat carrier. “But what?”
Jordan set her hands on her hips. “Perhaps you should disguise yourself.”
“In case whoever tried to kill me happens to be there?”
“Well, yes. And there might be others at the celebration,”
“You’re right. We passed a drugstore last night. I bet they’ll have something I could use.”
Jordan nodded. “Cheshire Apothecary. I think it’s on Whiskers Lane.”
At the store, they found what they needed—dark sunglasses and a baseball cap for him, and a wide-brimmed sun hat for Jordan. That done, they followed the signs to Coquina Castle.
On Sherwood Boulevard, Harry spotted a small sign pointing to a winding road. “This is it.” He drove slowly, offering up a silent prayer that the place would spark a memory for him. Harry parked in an overflow lot.
Jordan gathered her long hair into a ponytail then put on her hat. “How’s this?”
“You look like an adorable tourist.” He gave her a kiss before attaching Kitty’s leash to her harness and getting out.
Food stands and a few other vendors lined the grassy path that led to the entrance. Several small groups of people stood near the high stone wall, chatting, and taking pictures. Harry stepped up to a ticket booth manned by a middle-aged blonde. “Two, please,” he told the woman.
“That’ll be thirty-six dollars.” The woman handed Jordan a brochure.
Harry paid their admission then they went under a large banner announcing the hundredth anniversary, toward the open gate.
Jordan gasped as they walked through into an open-air, fortress-like park. “Holy cow!”
“You took the words out of my mouth.” Everywhere he looked, he found massive carved stone statues, chairs, fountains, and monoliths. The structures were arranged in separate areas, or vignettes, complete with topiaries, and formal gardens.
“Check this out.” Jordan led him through a stone doorway with a giant coquina ‘door’ hinged at the middle of the bottom and top. She pushed on the left side of the slab, which had to weigh several tons. Miraculously, the stone turned as easily as a revolving door.
Jordan sat on a chair carved out of the rock and read the brochure. “No one knows how the man who built this place, Charles Lingor, managed to move all the stone from a quarry ten miles from here, or how he was able to create the mechanisms like the one that opens that monster of a door with hardly any effort.”
“It’s amazing.” But Harry was more interested in the people milling around the site. A group of five young women—all wearing too much make-up and jewelry—strode past him, talking and laughing. Several families with young children took in the sights. A tall, middle-aged woman with jet-black hair narrowed her eyes at Harry, then blanched and ducked behind a moon-shaped topiary.
Harry’s gut tightened. Had the woman recognized him? If she had, why wouldn’t she have approached him? Nausea swirled inside him. He sat down next to Jordan until the feeling passed. He scanned the spot where the black-haired woman has been, but he didn’t see her anymore.
“Are you okay?” Jordan asked him.
He shrugged. “Maybe I need to eat, or maybe drink.”
“I’ll go get you some water,” she offered. She took the cat’s leash from Harry.
“I’m okay.” When he stood, a headache stabbed at his temples. “Let’s check out the food vendors outside.”
Harry found a picnic table near the gate while Jordan got him a calzone, an ice tea from the Pie in the Sky booth, a bowl of cool water for Kitty.
Jordan set his food down in front of him. “I’ll be right back.” She handed him Kitty’s leash. “Please don’t wait for me. Go ahead and dig in.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice. He was used to working in the Georgia heat, and he didn’t always eat breakfast the moment he got out of bed in the morning, so he had no idea why his head was pounding.
Jordan returned with a bag from Sugarland Bakery. “I got two black and white cookies and one toffee toll house square.”
He cut the calzone in half, and gooey, white cheese oozed from the scars. “Breakfast of champions, hmm?” He pulled off a small piece of cheese and fed it to his cat before taking his own bite.
Jordan ate a piece and moaned. “OMG, this is so good.”
After he’d eaten a few bites, his headache eased. “I saw someone in the gardens, a woman.”
“Yeah? Someone you know?” Jordan broke off a big chunk of the calzone and popped the whole piece into her mouth.
&n
bsp; “I’m not sure. She disappeared before I could speak to her.” Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he tried to recall the woman’s face: strong cheekbones, pointy nose, greenish-blue eyes.
Eyes that remind me of my own.
A chill rolled over his skin. He scanned the people milling about the area but didn’t see the woman.
Jordan touched his arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Not really. “Yeah, fine.”
“What do you want to do after this?”
Harry broke off a piece of the toll house square. “Let’s take another look around.”
Jordan folded her arms over her chest. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
She already knew him well. “The woman I noticed earlier…”
Jordan blanched. “Were you married to her?”
“No, nothing like that. Actually, she’s a lot older than I. It was her eyes.”
“Her eyes?”
Swallowing the sweet treat, he nodded. “They reminded me of mine.”
Understanding registered in her expression. “Perhaps she’s your mother. But if she is, wouldn’t she have spoken to you?”
“I don’t know.” He ate the cookie in a few bites.
Jordan set her hand over her stomach. “I’m so full.” She slipped what was left of the sweets back into the bag while Harry gathered their trash and threw it into the nearby can. “Let’s go back in,” Jordan said.
But after a half-hour search of the property, they didn’t find the woman. Jordan sat on a stone bench. “What now?”
“Wasn’t there something online about a local museum or history center?”
“Mm-hmm.” Jordan took out her phone and started typing on it. “The Shipwreck Museum is scheduled to open next year on A1A,” she read. “Until then, visitors can learn about the history of Cat’s Paw Cove at a temporary exhibit at Wilshire Park.”
“Let’s go,” Harry said.
As they strode toward the parking area, he noticed a tall brunette getting into a blue SUV. He wished she’d turn around so he could see her face. “That might be her.”
The woman glanced at them over her shoulder then yanked her car door closed and took off.
“Let’s go.” Harry picked up the cat, and he and Jordan ran the rest of the way to Jordan’s car. “I’d like to drive.”
She got in the passenger side and handed the keys to Harry. Driving as fast as he dared on the dirt road, he clenched his jaw. The SUV was gone.
When they reached the main road, Harry pounded his fists on the steering wheel. “Damn it.”
Jordan patted his thigh. “She could have only turned right or left. Pick one.”
He took a left. After driving several miles, he gave up. His shoulders sank. “The fact that she hauled ass out of there confirms that she knows me.”
“I agree,” Jordan muttered. “She looked…spooked when she did.”
Jordan was right. He wondered if she’d been afraid of him—or if he should be afraid of her.
“I guess we should check out the exhibit at Wilshire Park.” He made a U-turn and drove toward Whiskers Lane. When they arrived at the park, he noticed what he hadn’t the night before—a tall brick tower with an old-fashioned sailing ship at the top that was actually a clock. “Can’t be much of an exhibit.”
Jordan nodded her agreement. “It looks pretty small.” She twisted around to look at Kitty. “Really?”
“What is it?” he asked.
“That she recognizes the park.”
“I took her here last night.”
Jordan shook her head. “She means from years ago. Her siblings frequented the park and the waterfront.”
Harry scanned the area, not sure what he was looking for, but he had that weird feeling that he was being watched. When he didn’t notice anyone looking at them, he gestured at the building. “Let’s go in.”
His heartbeat raced at the notion of going inside such a small structure, but he clenched his jaw against his claustrophobia and put one foot in front of the other.
Thankfully, the interior of the tower was larger than it appeared from outside. A spiral staircase in the center of the open room led to an upper floor. Historical displays lined all the walls, and green footprints on the floor marked the sequence for visitors.
“It’s a timeline of the town’s history.” Jordan picked up the cat and carried her to the first exhibit. “Three families set out from Manchester to Barbados…blah, blah, blah…ran into a strong storm that pushed them off course. The storm-damaged ship eventually limped along the Florida coast but sank in more heavy winds just offshore in a hook-shaped harbor. Most of the passengers survived, but at least two perished.”
Harry read the next in the series of plaques, and in the interest of time, paraphrased it. “Infighting led to each of the families claiming their own large parcels in the newly established town of Cat’s Paw Cove. The Wilshire family built their settlement close to the harbor, the Bell family established themselves just to the south, and the Harrisons went west to the high ground of what is today known as Seaside Hills. Years later, a Wilshire married a Harrison, effectively merging the two great families.” He rubbed his chin. “I feel as if I’ve heard this story before.”
Jordan sucked in a breath. “Is something coming back to you?”
“Could be.” Moving to the next display, he continued reading about the town’s history. “Lawrence Harrison and his new wife, Matilda Wilshire Harrison, forged a partnership with the Yamasee people, a multiethnic confederation of Native Americans. Together, the natives and settlers grew the town and successfully defended it against the frequent pirate attacks. The Harrison family established a network of trading posts throughout the region. They built Sherwood House in 1759 (named after the breed of cats said to have come to Florida on the ship that carried the original families). The mansion was a family residence, which also covertly served as a safe haven for escaped slaves from the colonies of Georgia and South Carolina.”
“Fascinating!” Jordan craned her neck to look up the staircase. “Looks like the exhibit continues on the second level.”
They followed the green footprints up the narrow stairs to three final episodes of the town’s saga.
Jordan read the verbiage. “Over the next hundred years, members of both the Wilshire and Harrison family laid claims to Sherwood House, which by then, encompassed a huge parcel of valuable, water-accessible property. In 1962 part of the home was opened for tours by a local preservation society.”
Harry continued. “Today, Sherwood House is on the National Register of Historic Homes and is still owned by descendants of the Harrison and Wilshire families. The sprawling estate is also home to a large population of Sherwood cats, most of which are white with brown or grey ‘masks’ around their eyes.”
Harry and Jordan gasped in unison.
Jordan cradled Kitty in her arms. “Are you a Sherwood?” She met Harry’s stare. “She says that she is.”
Harry studied the photograph next to the plaque. A group of about a dozen people stood on the porch of what was apparently the Sherwood House. Several cats could also be seen in the portrait—all of which bore a strong resemblance to Kitty. He moved closer for a better look. One of the people looked a lot like a younger version of the woman he’d seen at Coquina Castle. And there was something familiar about that porch, and the house itself.
A wave of nausea stormed through him. A headache stabbed behind his eyes. He stumbled onto a small bench in the center of the room.
“Are you all right?” Jordan asked him.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he found himself in a large room with soaring ceilings and a grand staircase.
“You’ll do as you’re told!” a woman’s angry voice ordered.
But who was she?
“Harry?” Jordan touched his arm. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure.” He looked at the portrait again. “
I’ve been inside that house.”
“You have?”
A distant memory flashed in his mind. A strong hand slapping his cheek; shouted curses.
Chills rolled over his skin. “Sherwood House,” he said. “I was there. Something terrible happened there.” He was sure of it. And he needed to find out what.
Chapter Ten
Jordan took a left at the sign for the Sherwood House, but as soon as she drove past the imposing gates, she was sure that referring to the estate as a ‘house’ was the understatement of the century. “Holy cow!” Huge oaks and even a few willow trees lined the road leading to the mansion. The property reminded Jordan of grand southern plantations like those she’d seen in the movies.
Harry sat up taller in the passenger seat, and even Kitty seemed taken by the view. The cat set her front paws on the dashboard and trilled. “I’m guessing that this place is familiar to you, Kitty.”
It is, the cat silently replied. I lived here with my brothers and sisters. We went to the park a lot, too.
Jordan told Harry what the feline had said. “What about you?” she asked Harry. “Do you recognize it here?” She turned left into the visitor lot and parked the car under a stately laurel oak.
Harry’s knuckles were white as he gripped the armrest. Beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face. “I’ve definitely been here before. But I have the feeling that something happened to me in that house.” Tiny muscles around his jaw ticked.
She swallowed hard and grasped his arm. “Hey, it’s all right.”
Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Thanks for being here.”
“Of course.” She desperately wanted to help Harry—not only to recover his memory—but also to find out who’d kidnapped him four years ago. He’d never be safe if they didn’t figure out who was after him. On a purely selfish level, she hoped that when he stepped into his former shoes, he’d still want her.
Jordan attached Kitty’s leash to the harness. “Ready?” she asked Harry.
Throwing her a wink, he started up the path toward the house.
Courting the Cat Whisperer Page 10
