by Rita Herron
Collin’s face tensed, his eyes smoldering with emotions she couldn’t name. Anger, hurt, confusion?
“Goodbye, Mr. Cash.” She gave him a curt nod, wanting to escape to her house where she could be alone. Alone with her secrets. And far away from the attractive, unsettling Collin Cash.
But Collin surprised her by grabbing her hand. In a quiet but compelling tone he urged her to stay. “I’m sorry, Sydney. You’re right. But if you sit down, I’ll tell you how I knew Doug. I swear.”
The timbre of his voice drew her in, made her wonder at the tormented expression twisting his strong, chiseled face, and she couldn’t refuse him.
“Please, I know this is hard for you, and I know you were the one who found Doug’s body.” He hesitated, his voice troubled. Then she noticed the newspaper lying on the table and realized he’d probably been reading about the murder. “Tell me what happened that night, Sydney.” His hand trembled as he thrust it through his hair.
She sank back into the chair. “Not until you level with me.” Sydney narrowed her eyes. “Why did you come here? And what were you doing at the graveyard?”
Collin drummed his fingers on the table, the sound of a ship’s horn echoing in the distance. “I came to pay my respects. And I am sorry about your husband’s death. That’s the truth.”
“I don’t understand.”
Sorrow registered on his face. “I don’t know how to tell you this, except just to come out and say it. It may come as a shock....”
“What?” Sydney’s breath hissed out as the tension became unbearable.
“You were aware your husband was an organ donor?”
His change of conversation threw her. “An organ donor?”
“Yes, you know, on the back of his license, he checked the organ donor spot.”
“Uh, I...I didn’t know.”
Collin’s hands clenched and unclenched on the table in front of her. ‘You must have signed release papers at the hospital.“
“I don’t remember.” Sydney gestured with her hands. “I was in shock...the police, the doctors, everyone was talking at once.”
Collin caught her hand and stilled it. “Anyway, I told you that I recently had surgery and I came here to recover.”
Sydney wanted to scream. Why was he stalling? “Yes. But what does that have to do with Doug?”
“I had an accident last year and lost my eyesight. I underwent surgery, months of recovery while the scar tissue healed. Meanwhile, I’d been put on a transplant list.”
“I still don’t understand—”
“Bear with me, Sydney.” Collin angled his chair back, sunlight flickering off his bronze skin. “Three weeks ago I received a phone call. A man had died, and he’d donated both corneas. I had the transplant immediately.”
Three weeks? Her throat went dry.
“I wanted to know the name of the donor, but the hospitals and doctors won’t release their names. They try to protect the families.”
Sydney nodded mutely, her stomach churning.
His voice grew deeper, barely controlled. “I’d been through hell the last year. Thought I might never see again. I couldn’t work, couldn’t...” He let the words trail off, then started again. “Anyway, when I had the transplant, it was a second chance at life. A miracle.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Sydney asked in a shaky voice.
He met her confused gaze, his tone low and strained. “Because I did find out the name of the donor, Sydney. It was Doug. Three weeks ago I received his eyes.”
Chapter Four
“What?”
Collin braced himself for Sydney’s reaction. He wasn’t surprised when the color drained from her face. “I know it’s a shock, but I received your husband’s corneas.” He paused, giving his words time to register, then continued in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry to spring this on you, but being able to see again is a miracle to me and I wanted to thank you.”
Sydney’s hand trembled as she reached for a glass of water. His eyes were riveted to the plain gold band around her third finger, a definite sign she still loved her husband.
Her throat muscles worked as she tried to digest his news. Then her gaze swung up to his and locked. She stared into his eyes and he saw her searching...for what? Her husband?
His chest tightened with anxiety as the silence between them grew taut. An uneasy feeling seeped through him, a thread of recognition and familiarity, as if he knew her, as if he’d been close to her once but they had drifted apart.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered, bringing her hand up to her mouth, her eyes wide. Then she tilted her head sideways and crinkled her forehead as she studied him, and his uneasiness escalated. “I...it’s true, isn’t it?”
He nodded, his heart pounding as he searched her face for acceptance, for rejection, then for other feelings he didn’t want to put a label on.
“I thought there was some...something familiar about you,” she said in a husky whisper.
He exhaled a shaky breath, finding it odd she’d chosen the very word he’d used to describe his feelings toward her.
“But your eyes, they aren’t the same color as his.”
“No. In a transplant, you only receive the clear cornea, not the iris, so the color of your eyes doesn’t change.”
Her hand tightened around her glass. “Doug’s eyes. It’s strange, I can’t believe it....” Her words trailed off and she stared at him again as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t force the words out.
The intensity of her look cut him to the core. His palms grew sweaty. His pulse raced. What was she thinking? How did she feel?
“I didn’t come to Beaufort to upset you,” Collin said quietly. “But I needed to know about your husband.” He paused and saw her bite her lower lip. “I feel as if I owe him something, Sydney. And when I heard the man, my donor, had a widow, I thought maybe there was something I could do for you. Some way I could help, you know, with money or something.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” She twined her hands in her lap, absentmindedly pushing her wedding band in circles around her finger. “And I don’t want your money.”
Once again the silence grew thick between them. Collin watched her wrestle with her emotions. He reached over the table and covered her hand with his, hoping to comfort her. Instead, the warmth of her skin beneath his palm sent a spark of desire through his body. A desire he had no right to feel, and certainly couldn’t act upon.
“Yes, I do owe you,” he said, making a concerted effort to focus on the fact that she was a recent widow. He’d seen her sorrow at the graveyard. “You can’t know what it was like to suddenly be blinded, to have to give up everything, my job, my independence, and adjust to a world of darkness.” He shrugged, smiling when she started to shake her head. “I never thought about the donor before the operation—I was only hoping to have the surgery. Then when I had the surgery...well, knowing I had a part of someone else really shook me up.” His voice grew husky and he hesitated, realizing he’d told her more about the feelings he’d had over the past months than he’d told anyone.
Her gaze swung back to his again and he saw the compassion and understanding he’d hoped for. She was a remarkable woman, all strength and soft vulnerability at the same time. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears and her rosy lips parted in a sigh.
He cleared his throat and continued, “It’s a weird feeling, knowing I can see now because a man died. It makes me feel guilty.”
“I don’t know what to say.” She relaxed her fingers beneath his. “Except, rm glad you have your eyesight back. It must have really been an ordeal.”
“It was. And thank you for listening,” he said, glancing at their hands, fascinated at how her fingers seemed to fit into his. “But I am sorry that getting my sight back was at someone else’s expense. Mainly yours and your husband’s.”
Sydney grew quiet as she curled her hands into fists. Collin’s hand tightened over hers. He wanted to gain her trust. H
e wanted to believe she was innocent.
An image suddenly flitted through his mind, and his throat closed, the words dying on his lips as Sydney’s face appeared in his mind. Like a choppy out-of-focus video, bits and pieces of a meeting between Sydney and Doug scattered through his vision, obliterating the world around him.
Sydney arguing with him...heated words...his mocking laughter...tears streaming down Sydney’s face....
Collin’s gut clenched at the disturbing image. He pressed one of his knuckles to his temple, massaging his head, trying to bring himself back to reality. Somewhere in his subconscious, he knew Sydney was talking to him, calling his name. But then another image drifted into his mind.
Sydney standing in the dim glow of candlelight, a slither of silk floating over her soft, feminine curves as she smiled seductively, calling his name...calling him to bed...
He released her hand, his fingers suddenly cold and stiff.
Sydney’s startled voice jolted him back to reality. “Collin, are you all right?”
He scrubbed his face with his hands, then took a sip of water and swallowed, willing the images away. His vision retreated into darkness, then blurred for several seconds, shades of black and gray reminding him of the fear he’d lived with during his blindness. He blinked again and finally Sydney’s face and the restaurant slid back into focus, fuzzy at first, then slowly details sharpened—Sydney’s incredible blue eyes intense with fear, her sable hair falling like a waterfall around her shoulders.
“Collin? What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
He was surprised to see the look of concern on her delicate features. “Uh, nothing,” he said. “I had a...sort of a blackout.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine now,” he said to reassure himself, as well as her. “I just have these spells occasionally.”
“The operation—was it totally successful? Is your vision okay now?”
Collin gave a slight nod. “So far. Although there’s still a chance of rejection, and occasionally I have blurred vision, but it’s improving daily.” The concern on her face deepened. “My vision is really clear, considering that three weeks ago, I couldn’t see anything.”
“That’s good.” Sydney wrapped her arms around her middle. “I hope you’ll be all right now.” She stood up as if to say goodbye. “And please don’t feel you owe me anything. Actually I’m glad you told me. It’s nice to know that at least something good came of Doug’s tragic death.”
A lump formed in his throat at her sincerity, and he wondered again how deep her feelings ran for her deceased husband. He struggled for words to keep her near, not certain why it was so important, but knowing he had an urge to reach out and hold her hand again.
But she’d had a shock. First her husband’s death, then the accident, now his news. She needed time, he told himself. He mustn’t push her.
“I need to go now.” Sydney glanced nervously at the door. “I have some work to do this afternoon. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay, Collin.”
She was dismissing him. Too many conflicting emotions raged between them. Whatever reasons she had for running, he felt bereft at the thought of her leaving. He couldn’t let her go. “That’s right, you’re photographing the festival this afternoon.”
She checked her watch. “Yes, the activities should be starting soon.”
“It sounds nice. Mind if I tag along?”
She hesitated and took a step back. “I guess that would be okay. But I really have to work, Collin. I promised the editor photos for the morning paper tomorrow. And I have a photography booth set up. A friend of mine is running it. I may need to relieve her for a while.”
“No problem.” He picked up the check. “Just let me pay the bill and we’ll go.”
She twisted her purse strap in her hands, biting on her lip again. She was nervous about being with him. Was it because she felt this strange chemistry between them, too? Or was she hiding something?
“THIS AFTERNOON is going to be a scorcher,” Sydney said as they strolled down the sidewalk toward Bay Street. She slung her camera bag over her shoulder, grateful she’d dressed in a cool outfit. The sun was already blistering. No rain today. Only the beating rays of the summer sunshine and a gentle breeze off the water to stir the humidity.
The man beside her wasn’t helping matters, either.
Her nerves felt like frayed rope. Thank God he didn’t work with Steve. But a part of Doug lived in Collin. How was she supposed to feel about that? Goose bumps skated up her arms in spite of the heat. Making small talk after Collin’s bombshell seemed somehow ridiculous—and eerie. It was as if Doug had come back to stalk her from the grave, to haunt her. As if he was mocking her as he watched her learn about his betrayal.
They passed two elderly women from church. She waved, not surprised when they appeared startled that she’d caught them staring. She’d heard whispers and seen the odd glances people gave her. Some people felt sorry for her, others had morbid curiosity about the details of the murder—and others gossiped that she’d killed Doug.
“The townsfolk really get into this festival, don’t they?” Collin gestured toward the variety of booths set up along the town square.
“This festival is held during our peak vacation season.” She paused, smiling at two children eating cotton candy who stood enthralled by a clown tying balloons into animal forms. Wanting to capture the children candidly, she quietly raised her camera and snapped a few shots.
Balloons and banners decorated the storefronts, and tents had been set up along the watedront near the open park where a giant jungle gym provided entertainment for a rollicking group of kids. Adults and more kids roamed through the arts-and-crafts displays, some browsing, others buying decorative items for their homes or works from their favorite artists. She snapped pictures of everything, chatting with several families as she passed. Music wafted from a stage where local acts were scheduled for the day. Vendors sold everything from snow cones to funnel cakes to seafood plates. A country line-dance instructor called steps over a microphone, and people joined in the dance as the lively music picked up.
Collin seemed to be enjoying himself. But he kept watching her with those arresting dark gray eyes. Doug’s eyes had been a dull brown—emotionless, she now realized. But Collin’s were intense, searching, full of secrets and...passion. Sexy. Bedroom eyes. It was as if he could see inside her head, as if he knew things about her she hadn’t told him.
A heavyset woman in a red-and-white-checked apron called to them from a small refreshment stand. “How’re you doing, Ms. Sydney?”
“Fine, Lucinda. How about you?” Sydney snapped a shot of the woman serving two children.
“Great. If I can just keep myself from eating the merchandise.” She patted her round hips and laughed.
Sydney grinned, grateful the woman didn’t offer a comment about Doug. Then Collin stepped up beside her and Sydney introduced them, wondering if being escorted by him would feed the gossip vine.
Lucinda smiled in greeting. “What would you like this afternoon?”
Collin’s arm brushed against Sydney’s as she studied the selection. Sydney wiped a drop of perspiration from her brow, the afternoon heat becoming more unbearable with his nearness.
“The butter pecan for the lady and mint chocolate chip for me,” Collin said automatically.
Sydney’s camera bag clambered down her arm as she dropped her hands in surprise. “How did you know what I wanted? How could you possibly know I—”
“You always order butter pecan?”
Sydney nodded slowly, his husky voice sliding over her skin like a lover’s caress. Intimate, knowing. Too knowing.
She jerked her camera up and stepped back.
“I...don’t know. A lucky guess, I suppose.” He shaded his eyes with his hands, squinting at her. Then, as if he couldn’t bear the light, he slipped on a pair of aviator sunglasses, and she could no longer see his eyes.
Doug’s eyes.
No, the fact that he’d guessed her favorite kind of ice cream couldn’t be related to the transplant. The idea was preposterous.
But as he accepted the treats, tension tightened his jaw. A breeze caught the short strands of his dark hair, tumbling a lock over his forehead. His features radiated masculinity that reminded her of Harry Connick, Jr., a face she’d like to photograph. A dangerous thought—sex appeal oozed from Collin just as it did from her favorite musician. And it had been a long time since she’d felt sexually alive.
But he had Doug’s eyes—it was eerie.
On the heels of awareness rode guilt. She had no right to be thinking how attractive this man was when she’d recently buried her husband. But the marriage ended long before he died, a voice whispered. First they’d fought over Doug’s traveling so much, then she’d found hotel receipts and phone numbers in his pocket that had made her suspect he was having an affair. Several times she’d phoned his office to find he wasn’t where he’d said he would be.
“I’m impressed with the number of artists here,” Collin said, interrupting her thoughts.
“They come from all over,” Sydney said quietly.
He followed her down the steps and Sydney licked her ice cream, pointing out landmarks. “The bed-and-breakfast where you’re staying is one of the oldest houses in town,” Sydney said, trying to distract herself from watching Collin’s mouth as he licked at his own cone. “Although it’s only four bedrooms, it’s one of the most popular because of its mom and pop appeal.”
People milled along the sidewalk, couples hand in hand, women and men pushing strollers and carrying little ones on their shoulders. Sydney photographed a group of women working on a quilt, then moved on to a pottery-and-leather-goods exhibit. Finally they reached Sydney’s booth, where Kelly was working. Megan slept in her stroller under a tall oak tree.
Sydney stopped to brush her fingers over Megan’s chubby cheek, then introduced Collin to Kelly.
A slight frown marred Kelly’s face as she greeted Collin. “You sold a couple of prints, Syd.”
