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 l
ooks 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.
But he didn’t.
Instead, despite the sultry heat of the day, he shivered. And he knew that the coldness that had enveloped him had nothing to do with the weather. It had to do with a chilling memory from the past.
Jessie Pierce, all grown up and beautiful…
What was she doing here? Why had she come back after all these years? Why couldn’t she have just stayed wherever she’d gone?
If she had, he could have kept the past where it belonged…buried deep inside of him.
Her image disappeared as he rounded a corner. Taking the curve too fast, his tires squealed in protest. His load shifted in the bed, slamming against the side of the truck. Belatedly Samuel slowed to a more manageable speed.
Jessie had almost recognized him. After all these years, she’d seen his face and wondered if they’d met.
It would be only a matter of time before she figured out the rest.
Samuel’s muscles tensed reflexively. His knuckles were white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Prudence Island wasn’t very large, but it was big enough for two people to steer clear of each other if they really wanted.
For her sake, as well his own, he had no intention of ever crossing paths with Jessie Pierce again.
Chapter 2
“How long will it take to repair the tires?”
After waiting over an hour for the tow truck to arrive, plus enduring a long and bumpy ride over the bridge to Prudence Island, Jessie was impatient to get to Gull’s Cottage before dark.
The mechanic lifted the brim of his baseball cap and scratched his head as he studied the BMW. “Well, it’ll take me a while to get the tires off. Then I’ll have to see if they can be fixed. If they can’t, I’ll have to find new ones to put on and—”
“Could you just give me a rough estimate?” she cut in, her patience wearing thin.
“Probably an hour, maybe a little longer,” he said with a shrug, seeming in no rush to get started.
“Great,” Jessie said, sighing, as she glanced at her wristwatch. The sun would be setting by the time she arrived at the cottage. Thanks to the handsome stranger who’d abandoned her along the side of the road without a word of explanation, she’d wasted precious time.
She should be miffed at the man and rightfully so. After all, it was his slow driving that had caused her near wreck in the first place. Then he’d had the nerve to leave her stranded. Most disconcerting of all, she didn’t have a name on whom to pin the blame. While he’d insisted that she identify herself, he’d never bothered to return the favor.
Somehow that omission of common courtesy seemed an even worse offense than his unexplained abandonment, striking a blow to her feminine self-esteem. It was as though she were unimportant, as though she didn’t matter to him.
No, Jessie told herself, with an uneasy frown, that wasn’t true. The stranger cared. In fact, he’d cared a great deal who she was. She doubted if she would ever forget the look in his eyes when she’d told him her name—that stunned, almost devastated look—and she couldn’t begin to understand its cause.
“There’s a coffee shop around the corner. And the beach isn’t too far, if you’d like to take a walk while you’re waiting,” the mechanic said, drawing her out of her thoughts.
Jessie considered the possibilities. “Is there a grocery store nearby?”
“Right down the street
,” he said, pointing to a weathered wood building a block away. “It’s just a local store, nothing fancy. But it’s got everything a person might need.”
“Thanks, I’ll be back when I’m finished.”
As long as she was waiting, she might as well kill time by doing something constructive. It had been hours since she’d had a meal. She would be hungry by the time she got to the cottage. Grabbing her purse from the back seat of the BMW, she headed for the store.
A rush of cool air met her at the door of the building, evoking a sigh of delight from Jessie. After sitting outside in the hot sun, the air-conditioning was a welcome relief. The building was older, nothing more than one large room. The wood-planked floor was worn smooth with age. But the store was clean, and the shelves appeared well stocked. Grabbing a basket, she made her way down the narrow aisles.
There was a handful of shoppers in the store. Since the store wasn’t close to any of the resorts, Jessie assumed them to be locals. Their curious stares at her appearance gave credence to her suspicions.
More than curiosity, Jessie corrected herself, their reactions were out-and-out odd. A woman at the dairy section nearly dropped a carton of eggs when she looked up and saw Jessie standing beside her. An older man rammed his cart into a display of stacked canned goods as he watched her pass him by. For the first time in her life, Jessie actually felt paranoid. First she’d been slighted by one of the island’s citizens on the highway. Now, for apparently no other reason than her being new to town, she was being ogled like a mermaid in a fishbowl by her fellow shoppers.
What was wrong with the people in this town?
Unnerved by the unexpected attention, she concentrated on composing a mental shopping list. Deciding it best to buy only enough supplies for a couple of days, she picked up a small carton of milk, fresh fruit and bread. For dinner she bought chicken, a potato for baking and greens for a salad. Satisfied, she went to the front counter to check out.
An older woman, with coarse, steel-gray hair and sharp, green eyes, rang up her groceries. The task was accomplished in a strained silence, until the woman narrowed her gaze and barked out a sharp demand. “Where are you from, young lady? You’re lookin’ awful familiar.”
Safe in His Arms Page 2
