Safe In His Arms

But this time there was something about the way the jogger moved—with a delicate, sure-footed grace—that held his attention. As she neared, he saw the dark hair and slender body in a red T-shirt and white shorts and knew it was the woman of his dreams.

Earlier he’d wondered if his day could get any worse. He’d just gotten his answer.

Jessie Pierce was headed his way.

Crossing paths with the woman who’d had such a devastating effect on his life twice in as many days was more than a man’s patience could bear. He felt an unwarranted anger stirring deep inside him. She had no business being here. No business invading his private sanctuary.

This was his part of the island.

Her pace slowed as she neared the docks. Raising a hand against the brightening sun, she scanned the pier, her gaze traveling from one boat to the next. Her expression was rapt, curious.

The tension in Samuel’s gut increased, tightening like a string on a bow, as her gaze closed in on him. He told himself to turn away before it was too late. But like a man caught in the path of an out-of-control vehicle, he couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there and let it happen.

Her gaze faltered then stopped as she locked onto his face. Her lips parted; whether she was surprised or about to say something, he wasn’t sure. Either way, her expression altered, the bloom fading from her eyes. Closing her mouth with a click, she stood staring at him, frozen by the chill of his gaze.

Slowly Samuel felt a tide of heat rise up inside him. A heat that had nothing to do with the sun or the warm summer morning. Heat that was born not only of an undeniable sensual awareness for the woman standing before him, but also of humiliation and anger…the very emotions he’d tried to put behind him all these years. That, and the hot frustration of knowing there wasn’t a damned thing that he could do to stop the past from coming back to haunt him, once again.

Heavy footfalls sounded on the floor of the deck as Jacob neared. “Here’s your coffee, Samuel.”

Startled, Samuel glanced at the approaching man. In his hand, Jacob held two steaming mugs of coffee. Murmuring his thanks, Samuel accepted the offering.

By the time he turned his gaze back to the beach, Jessie was gone.

He stepped forward, moving starboard on the deck. It took him only a moment to single her out among the passersby. Spotting the red T-shirt and the white shorts, he watched as she disappeared from sight.

Jacob stood beside him, following the direction of his gaze. He whistled his approval. “Not bad for a tourist.”

“She isn’t a tourist,” Samuel said without thinking, a lingering burr of irritation getting the better of his judgment.

Jacob glanced at him curiously. “You know her?”

“We ran into each other yesterday,” he said with a shrug, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

Jacob grinned. “Well, now I understand your sleepless night. I wouldn’t have been able to get a wink, either, not with such a pretty young thing on my mind.”

“It’s not what you think,” Samuel said quickly, hiding his embarrassment behind a sip of coffee. He winced as the hot liquid scalded his tongue. Muttering a curse beneath his breath, he blamed Jessie for yet another of his tribulations.

Jacob’s chin jutted upward and out. “Now, how do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Years of experience,” Samuel said, with a sigh. Forcing a smile, he placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, Jacob. We’ve got better things to do than to argue about a woman. Let’s get back to work.”

Reluctantly Jacob nodded.

With one last glance at the beach, Samuel turned his back on Jessie’s disturbing image and headed for the familiar safety of the hold.

Chapter 3

Never before had she felt such animosity directed at her from another person.

Reeling from the impact of the exchange, Jessie could think of nothing but putting as much distance between her and the man on the dock as possible. In her haste she almost stumbled on a large shell half-buried in the sand. She caught herself as she tried vainly to concentrate on the strip of beach before her.

She’d sensed his presence even before she’d spotted him. There’d been a prickling of awareness, a buzz of anticipation in her chest, telling her that someone near was watching her. She’d recognized him immediately. There weren’t many men blessed with that devastating combination of sun-streaked hair, pale blue eyes, high cheekbones and strong jawline.

Jessie couldn’t believe her own foolishness. She’d been on the brink of saying hello, of letting bygones be bygones. And then she’d caught the look in his eye. That look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

What had she done to deserve his disdain? He didn’t even know her.

Frustration churned inside her. She pushed herself, running faster, faster, willing the image of the man on the dock to fade from her mind. Her feet pounded the beach. Wet, hard-packed sand slid beneath her tennis shoes. The salty air whipped her skin, stinging her eyes. At least, that’s the reason she allowed herself for the tears blurring her vision. All she wanted to do was to go back to the cottage, where she could hole up and wallow in privacy.

Breathless, her heart racing, she slowed to a walk when she finally came to the boardwalk that crossed the dunes to Gull’s Cottage. Sea oats waved in the light breeze. A squirrel darted across the walkway, startling her. Pressing a hand to her breast, she laughed at her own skittishness.

Stepping back, she watched the reckless rodent scramble up a nearby oak tree. Once he’d disappeared beneath a thick canopy of leaves, she turned around and nearly collided with a woman blocking her path on the walkway.

Jessie gasped, her heart leapfrogging into her throat. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Instead, she stood rooted to the spot with fear, staring into the face of the other woman.

She looked to be in her midfifties. She was short and squat. Her hair was brown and straight, cut in an unflattering pageboy. Her face was wide and square. She wore round glasses that glittered in the sunlight as she studied Jessie’s face. When she spoke, her words were brisk and to the point, “So, you’ve come back, Jessie Pierce.”

“How did you know—” The words caught in her throat.

The woman smiled, seeming amused by Jessie’s flustered confusion. “Thelma from the grocery store called me this morning.” She nodded toward the wood and stone house a few yards down the beach. “I’m your neighbor. The name’s Dora Hawkins. I’ve been the caretaker of your house for over twenty years. Last night I noticed your lights on. Surprised me—I almost came over to check it out for myself. It’s been a long time since anyone’s stayed at Gull’s Cottage.”

“Yes, well…I’ve been living in Atlanta,” Jessie said, finally recovering her voice.

Dora took a moment to digest the news, then said, “I also heard you couldn’t remember anything about your mother, about Eve.”

Bad news traveled fast on the island, Jessie mused to herself. Sighing, she said, “No, I can’t. As a matter of fact, there’s not much about the first five years of my life that I can remember.”

“Nothing at all?” Dora asked, studying her curiously.

Jessie fought the urge to fidget beneath the woman’s scrutiny. She felt like a schoolgirl about to be caught in a lie. The troubling memory of last night’s panic attack flickered in her mind. Until she understood the cause of her fear, she could not share this information with anyone. She shook her head. “No, nothing at all.”

Abruptly Dora changed the subject. “How long are you staying?”

The conversation felt more like an interrogation. Jessie bit back another sigh at the woman’s tenacity. In the polite world where she’d been raised, Dora Hawkins would have been labeled as an eccentric. Which was a nice way of saying the woman was odd. Harmless undoubtedly, but still a kook.

Striving to be patient, Jessie said, “I’m not sure. Maybe for the summer. I need to get things settled here…decide what to do with the house.”

“So, you’re thinking of selling.”

Jessie shrugged. “Possibly. I live and work in Atlanta. There’s not much point in my keeping a house here on Prudence Island.”

“Probably for the best,” Dora said with a sniff. She cast a glance at Gull’s Cottage. “The house is full of bad memories. No need for you to become mired down by them.”

Uncomfortable with the conversation, Jessie searched for a quick way for it to end. She forced a smile. “I’d invite you inside for some coffee, but I forgot to buy any at the store yesterday.”

“No matter, I’ve got work to do,” Dora said, not seeming offended by Jessie’s dismissal. With a nod goodbye, she turned, the rubber heels of her shoes scraping against the wooden walkway. Then, with an abruptness Jessie was fast becoming accustomed to, she stopped, wheeling around to look at her. “How does it feel to be back in Gull’s Cottage?”

“I—I’m not sure,” Jessie said once again, taken aback by the woman’s brusqueness. “It’s quiet, a little spooky. I guess it’ll take a while for me to get comfortable.”