Safe In His Arms. Christine Scott
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.”
The question sounded more like an accusation. Jessie’s eyes widened in surprise. Flustered, she blurted out a stilted response. “Atlanta…I’m from Atlanta, Georgia.”
“Humph—I coulda sworn I’d seen you before,” the woman said, her skepticism obvious. Then, with a dismissive shrug, she continued, “So, you’re a tourist, eh? The resorts are on the other side of the island. What brings you clear over here?”
“My car. I, uh, sort of had an accident. It’s being repaired.”
The woman tsked loudly. “That’s too bad. Not a good way to start a vacation. Some of the hotels have shuttle services. You might be able to get someone to pick you up while you’re waiting.”
“Well, actually, I’m not staying at any of the resorts.”
“That right?” The woman raised one graying brow. “Where are you staying?”
Remembering the stranger on the highway and his reaction when she told him of her new residence, she hesitated. Another customer, a middle-aged, blond-haired woman, stepped up beside her, waiting her turn in line. Feeling uncomfortable, wishing the conversation to be over, Jessie murmured quietly, “Gull’s Cottage.”
She might as well have shouted her answer. Their reactions couldn’t have been any more extreme. Both women appeared shocked by the news. They exchanged quick glances, their expressions guarded.
The blonde standing beside her was the first to recover. She gave a nervous laugh. “I didn’t know Gull’s Cottage was for rent this summer.”
“It’s not,” Jessie said, still trying to understand the reason for their reactions. “I own it.”
The gray-haired woman blinked, not bothering to hide her disbelief. “You bought Gull’s Cottage?”
“No, I inherited it. It was my mother’s.”
Silence followed her announcement. The words hung in the air like a dark and ominous cloud. The gray-haired woman stared at her. Finally she said, “I thought I recognized you. You’re Eve Pierce’s daughter…little Jessie.”
“Y-yes, I am. But how—”
“Lord, help us,” the blonde murmured beside her. Her face paled; she looked as though she’d seen a ghost.
The gray-haired woman stared mutely.
Jessie glanced from one woman to the other, confusion building inside her. “I’m sorry. Should I know you?”
“No, you wouldn’t,” the gray-haired woman said finally, her searching eyes never leaving Jessie’s face. “You were too young, just a little thing