Sighing, she picked up a shrimp by its tail and nibbled on the succulent shellfish. Nodding, she said, “You’re right. It is good.”
“I told ya.” Samuel smiled. He skewered another fry. “You know what they say, everything looks better on a full stomach.”
“I wish that were true,” she murmured.
Hearing the uncertainty in her voice, he lowered his fork. “Listen, Jessie. You’re getting your memory back. That’s good news, not bad.”
“Are you sure?”
He sighed. “No, I’m not sure. But it has to be better than this limbo you’ve been in.” He studied her face. “I thought you were the one who wanted to know the truth?”
“I need to know the truth…I’m not sure if I really want to know. There is a difference.”
He hesitated, considering his answer. With the return of Jessie’s memory, there was always the possibility that she could help him clear his father’s name. He’d never given up hope that someday this might happen. But in doing so, Jessie could be putting her own life at risk.
A risk he wasn’t sure he wanted her to take.
Samuel shifted uncomfortably at his unexpected change of attitude. For most of his life, he’d been a loner. The shame and bitterness he’d felt over the past had never allowed him to get close to anyone. Though he and Jessie were working together now, the arrangement was temporary. They came from two different worlds. Jessie was a woman of culture, used to the comforts wealth could afford. He was a shrimper, a simple man living a simple life. A life in which he struggled daily through hardships. Despite their differences, somehow she had been the one to break through his self-imposed wall of isolation. She had made him realize just how destructive his solitude had become. In caring for her, even if it was just for this brief moment in time, a weight had been lifted from his heart.
It was as though he were free for the first time to feel again.
Not caring what the other patrons in the restaurant might think, he reached across the table and took her hand in his. It was the hand of an artist, strong, yet delicate. Her skin was soft and smooth, making him all the more aware of his callused fingers, of the differences that would always shape their lives.
“Jessie,” he said carefully. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned. The more you remember, the more you’re putting yourself in danger. I don’t like the idea of you making yourself a target for a killer.”
“No one else knows that I’m regaining my memory,” she reminded him.
“Not yet. But what happens when you do remember everything? Once you start opening the door to the past, you can’t always shut it behind you.” He met her eyes, holding them with his. “Are you sure you’re ready to face the demons that might come out of the closet?”
Jessie shivered, slipping her hand from his grasp. “I don’t have a choice, do I? Like you said, I can’t go on living halfway between the past and the present. It’s too late to turn back now.”
Samuel pushed his plate away, his appetite abandoning him for good. “I’m not really that hungry, after all.”
“Neither am I,” she said, her tone resigned.
Samuel motioned for the waitress. When the young girl returned to their table, he asked for the bill.
“Is everything all right?” the waitress asked, frowning as she eyed their untouched plates.
“Everything’s fine,” he assured her. “We just forgot about a prior engagement. If you wouldn’t mind, we’re in a hurry to leave.”
“Sure,” the waitress said, flipping through her notebook for their check. Finding it, she tore off the page and handed it to him. “You can pay up front. I could get a doggy bag for you, if you want—”
“No, thank you,” Samuel murmured, anxious to be alone. Once the girl left, he looked at Jessie. “I don’t want to take you to Gull’s Cottage. There are plenty of empty rooms at my house. Why don’t stay the night and be my guest?”
“Thank you, but no.” She straightened her shoulders in what was fast becoming a familiar gesture of determination. Lifting her chin, she said, “I’m not running away. I’m getting too close to the truth to let anyone stop me now.”
Shaking his head, unable to stop a smile, Samuel said, “Did anyone ever tell you you were stubborn?”
A fleeting smile touched her lips. “I believe my adoptive mother might have mentioned something to that effect.”
“She must have been a very astute lady.”
“Yes, she was,” Jessie said quietly. Her face softened as her gaze drifted to the rain-washed view outside. “Sometimes I think she knew me better than I know myself. There isn’t a minute that goes by that I don’t wish she was still here.”
“I know the feeling,” he said, thinking of his own parents. More than anything he wished he could take away the guilt and the uncertainty those memories brought him. Though he’d never admitted it to anyone else, after all these years a part of him questioned his father’s innocence. What if he were putting Jessie through this turmoil for nothing? What if, when all was said and done, they discovered that his father had been responsible for Eve Pierce’s death, after all? What would he do then?
He pushed the unspeakable thought from his mind. Placing the money for a tip on the table, he pushed his chair back. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, then rose to her feet. Standing barely up to his chin, she seemed so small, so fragile. The delicacy was an illusion, he reminded himself. As he had witnessed firsthand, Jessie was a woman of immense strength and willpower.
But that didn’t stop him from playing the part of her protector. Their departure brought curious glances from local patrons. He could see the speculative look in the eyes that followed their progress through the restaurant. Samuel stayed close, keeping a hand at the small of Jessie back, mentally and physically warding off the unwanted attention.
Once he’d settled the bill, they stepped outside and made their way to his truck. The worst of the storm had passed; a fine mist was all that remained. Dusk had given way to nightfall. The vapor lights in the parking lot scattered the darkness.
Opening the door for Jessie, he was struck once again by how mismatched they really were. With her designer clothes and refined features, she looked out of place sliding onto the patched vinyl seat of his beat-up pickup truck. Samuel slammed the door shut harder than necessary, angry with himself for thinking there could be anything more between them than a mutual need for cleaning the slate of their pasts.
The differences in their worlds were too great. Once they’d found out the truth behind the death of Eve Pierce, there would be no need for their paths to cross ever again. Jessie would return to Atlanta, and he would remain here on Prudence Island. It would be best if he kept that in mind and guarded his heart.
A feat easier said than done, Samuel realized as he drove in strained silence to Gull’s Cottage. The delicate scent of jasmine, her perfume, filled the cab of the truck, wreaking havoc on his good intentions. By the dashboard lights, he could see the sculpted lines of her face, the smoothness of her complexion. She shifted her legs, drawing his attention to their shapeliness.
Muttering a quiet oath beneath his breath, Samuel pressed his foot down on the accelerator, picking up speed. As far as he was concerned, the sooner they were out of the close confines of the truck, the better.
Rain had slickened Jessie’s driveway, making the ruts even more hazardous. He slowed the truck, trying not to jar his passenger. Pulling to a stop in front of the house, he stared at the dark, uninviting cottage. “Are you sure you want to stay here tonight?”
“Of course I do,” she said, not sounding at all that confident.
Samuel sighed. “Then, I’m going in to check on the house first. I’m not leaving until I know you’ll be safe.”
She didn’t argue. Instead, she scrambled out of the truck and followed him to the front door. She stayed close as he walked through the house, turning on lights and chasing away the shadows. The house appeared just as they�
��d left it, empty and looking even more depressing.
While he hated the thought of leaving her, he didn’t see that he had much choice. He forced himself to return to the front door and step outside. Jessie followed him onto the porch. Moths batted themselves against the overhead light. Palmettos clicked in the soft breeze. The air felt heavy with the salty scent of the ocean.
For a long moment neither of them said a word. They simply looked at each other, their gazes uncertain, waiting for the other to make the first move.
Samuel wasn’t surprised when he lost his battle for control. The need to hold her close overwhelmed any lingering doubts. With a sigh of resignation, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
There was a tenderness in the embrace that hadn’t been there before. An undeniable connection had grown between them. Samuel slid his hands to her waist, pressing her soft body to his. Her lips tasted of wine, buttery shrimp and a flavor that was uniquely Jessie’s. With all his blustering about keeping his heart out of harm’s way, he knew it was already too late.
He could no longer deny the truth.
That he already cared too much for Jessie.
Knowing neither of them were ready to take this fledgling relationship a step further, reluctantly he ended the kiss. Pulling back, with Jessie still in his arms, he looked down into her beautiful face and lost himself in the depths of her dark eyes.
In that moment he knew he had never felt this way about any other woman. That he would never feel this way again. With Jessie he had found what he’d been yearning for…a reason to hope, a reason to live again.
Before he could put into words what he felt in his heart, he heard the phhht of something small and quick passing nearby. At first he’d thought it was a pesky moth, attracted to the glow. Then the light exploded over their heads, casting them in instant darkness, showering them with shards of glass.
Instinct told him what his mind refused to believe.
Someone was shooting at them.
Before Jessie realized what was happening, Samuel shoved her down onto the ground, covering her with his big body. The uneven stone floor bit into her chest and legs. A cold dampness seeped through her clothes, chilling her.
She had little time to think of her discomfort before another shot rang out. Followed by yet another. The shots thudded against the siding, sending splinters of wood falling about their heads.
Suddenly there was silence, a breath-stealing silence.
She shifted beneath his weight. “Samuel—”
“Shhh…” he whispered in her ear.
She strained to listen, but all she could hear was the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears. Then, in the distance, she heard footsteps. Someone was running toward the road, crashing through the trees and thick underbrush.
Before she could stop him, Samuel rolled his weight off her. He scrambled to his feet, heading toward the shooter and certain danger.
“Samuel, wait,” she called after him, clumsily struggling to her own feet.
“Stay here, Jessie,” he ordered, half turning to look at her as he continued to sprint away. “Go inside and call the sheriff…now.”
For a moment Jessie stood frozen, too stunned to move. She watched until Samuel disappeared from sight. Then, with a jerk, she snapped herself out of her trance. Spinning around, she did as Samuel had asked.
Leaving the front door open, she ran into the house, nearly tripping over bags of trash, knocking her knee painfully against a misplaced chair. The carnage of the house seemed minor in comparison to the danger Samuel now faced. He was out there, alone, trying to chase down someone with a gun.
Tears stung Jessie’s eyes. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth to stop a sob from escaping. Now wasn’t the time to lose control, she told herself. She needed to be strong. For her own sake as well as Samuel’s she had to call for help.
Her fingers felt clumsy as she picked up the phone and punched in the number for the sheriff’s office. It seemed like an eternity before her call was answered.
“Sheriff’s Department.”
“I need help,” Jessie said in a rush. The words sounded breathless, as though she’d just run five miles. “There’s been a shooting. Please, send someone right away.”
“Slow down,” the woman at the other end of the line commanded, her voice calm in the wake of Jessie’s frenzy. “Tell me your name and where you are.”
Jessie forced herself to take a breath, willing her pounding heart to slow. “I’m Jessie Pierce. I’m at Gull’s Cottage, on the north side of town—”
“I know where Gull’s Cottage is, Ms. Pierce,” the woman said. “You said there was a shooting. Is anyone injured?”
“No…not that I know of,” Jessie stammered, feeling the tension build inside her, wishing she knew if Samuel were safe.
“Is anyone else with you at the scene?”
“Samuel…Samuel Conners.” She felt as though she were about to explode with impatience. She’d never been this worried, this keyed-up before in her life. “Could you please hurry? Samuel went out looking for the shooter. I don’t know what’s happened to him.”
“A patrol car is on its way, ma’am. They should be there shortly.”
Footsteps sounded in the foyer. Footsteps, quick and heavy, running into the house. A scream welled up in Jessie’s throat. Numbly she turned toward the intruder.
And nearly collapsed with relief when she saw Samuel coming toward her.
“He’s here,” she blurted out. “Samuel’s back. And he’s all right.”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s good to hear.”
She heard the sound of a siren approaching.
So did the dispatcher. “I hear the patrol car. You can hang up the phone now, Ms. Pierce.”
“Thank you,” Jessie said, her voice thick with emotion. Returning the receiver to its cradle, she watched as Samuel moved toward her. She saw the disappointment in his eyes.
“Whoever it was got away,” he said, reaching out to touch her. But she slapped his hand away as anger and relief warred inside her.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” she said, trembling with pent-up emotion. “You had me scared to death. What were you thinking, running after a man with a gun? You could have been shot.”
“You were worried,” he said, having the gall to smile. He seemed pleased by her reaction.
“Of course I was worried,” she snapped, moving back as he stepped toward her. “If you’d gotten yourself shot, it would have been my fault. Even if it was your own fool idea to put yourself in danger.”
“I’m sorry, Jessie,” he said, not sounding in the least bit contrite. He continued to close the gap between them. “Next time I won’t play the part of a hero.”
“N-next time?” Her voice broke on the words. “For Pete’s sake, there’d better not be a next time.”
This time, when he reached for her, she didn’t push him away. Instead, she collapsed against him, letting him gather her into his arms. It felt so good to have him close, to know that he was safe. She didn’t know what she would have done if he’d been harmed.
Samuel rocked her, holding her tight, murmuring words she could barely hear. She pressed her ear against his chest and listened to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. All that mattered for now was that they were together.
Footsteps pounded in the hallway. Before either of them had time to react, the sheriff burst into the room, with his gun drawn and ready to fire. The look of concern in his eyes turned quickly to disgust when he spotted her in Samuel’s arms.
“What’s this about a shooting?” Sheriff Broward demanded, as he holstered his gun, impatience clearly written across his belligerent face. “Dammit, Conners. If you called me out here on a wild-goose chase, I swear—”
“This isn’t a joke, Sheriff.” Samuel released her, stepping away to face the irate man. “Someone shot at us while we were standing outside on the front porch.”
“Standing?” The sheriff snor
ted his disbelief. His knowing gaze traveled from Samuel to Jessie, then back again. The smirk on his face was unmistakable. “Are you sure that’s all the two of you were doing?”
Jessie drew in a sharp breath, appalled by the insinuation and by the man’s unprofessionalism.
Beside her, Samuel tensed. A vein pulsed at his temple, and his hands fisted at his sides. He had the look of a man struggling to control his temper.
Thankfully, a deputy strode into the room before Samuel could act on his emotions. Tall, with the body of a weightlifter, the deputy glanced at them, his gaze curious, before directing his attention to his boss. “Sheriff, I think you’d better come see this. We’ve found some bullet holes on the front porch.”
Looking almost disappointed, the sheriff irritably turned away. His booted feet pounded against the hardwood floor as he followed his man through the disheveled rooms of the house.
Samuel stood stiffly in the doorway of the kitchen, watching them leave. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m only making it worse.”
“Samuel, please. Don’t let him bother you.” Refusing to let him blame himself for the pompous sheriff’s behavior, Jessie laced her fingers with his. “You can’t leave now. I need your help.”
He hesitated. Then, with an uncertain nod, he led her to the front porch.
The baby-faced deputy, Purty, who’d answered their call this afternoon was shining a flashlight on the ground, searching through the shattered pieces of glass. He looked up and smiled a greeting when he saw them step onto the porch. “Evening, Miss Pierce. Y’all have been having a bad day, today, haven’t ya?
An understatement for certain. Jessie managed a strained smile. “I can’t recall a worse one.”
The other deputy shone his light above their heads, directing the beam at the holes pocking the wood siding. “Looks as though there were at least three shots. I’m betting the bullets are still in there, too.”
“Dig ’em out,” the sheriff said, his voice gruff. He narrowed a glance at Samuel. “Either of you two see who might have done this?”
Samuel shook his head. “I tried to follow them. But whoever it was got away. They must have had a car or truck parked nearby. They just ran into the underbrush and disappeared.”
Safe in His Arms Page 12
