Christine Scott - Safe In His Arms

The air had grown colder, also. She was shivering—from the chill or from shock, she wasn’t sure which. But her heartbeat was steady, and her breathing had returned to normal. The soothing night air had worked its magic. She felt calm enough to go back inside.

Pushing herself onto unsteady feet, she walked slowly to the door. Her hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. Once again her heart jackhammered in her chest, telling her she wasn’t in complete control.

Unexpected anger surged deep inside her. All day long she’d backed down from one challenge after another. First she’d allowed the man on the highway to take advantage of her helplessness. Then, the women in the store. Because of her own timidity, she’d passed up an opportunity to find out more about her birth mother. She’d had enough of playing the part of a wilted Southern flower.

Forcing herself to face her fear, she threw open the door and stepped inside. While she didn’t suffer another panic attack, she wasn’t comfortable, either. Her appetite had fled, right along with her composure.

It had been a long day, she told herself. Perhaps the best thing would be to unpack her groceries and suitcases, then call it an early night. Right now all she wanted was a hot shower and a soft bed. Then she’d try to forget about what promised to be one of the worst days of her life.

“She’s dead,” a deep, male voice called out.

“No, she can’t be,” Samuel growled, refusing to accept the verdict. Stubbornly he turned the ignition one more time. Once again his attempt to start the engine of his shrimp boat was met with complete silence.

In the pilot house, he slammed his fist against the steering wheel. The sun was just a promise in the sky and already this morning he’d overslept his alarm clock, nor had he had time for his morning cup of coffee, and now the engine wasn’t working.

Dammit, what else could go wrong today?

“Give it up, Samuel.” A thin, wiry man clambered out of the hold, hoisting himself onto the deck. Scratching his salt-and-pepper beard, he shook his head in disgust. “The engine’s busted. Looks like we won’t be trawling for shrimp anytime soon.”

“Thanks, Jacob. Tell me something I don’t know,” Samuel said sharply.

Jacob held up both hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m only doing my job.”

Samuel sighed. There was no use alienating one of the few men on his crew he could always count on. Jacob was loyal and hardworking. More than that, he was a friend. In a town where memories were long and acceptance was short, friendships were hard to come by. Jacob didn’t deserve any unnecessary grief dumped on his shoulders.

“Sorry,” Samuel said. “Ignore me. I’m just in a bad mood.”

Jacob eyed him curiously.

Self-consciously Samuel rubbed a hand along the stubble of his unshaved beard. Maybe he could have taken a little more time combing his hair, too. But all the primping in the world wouldn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes.

Finally Jacob said, “Looks like you could have caught a few more zees last night.”

“Nothing a little coffee can’t fix,” Samuel growled.

“I can take a hint.” Jacob chuckled as he headed for the crew’s quarters. “I’ll fix us a pot of java before we tackle the engine.”

“Thanks,” Samuel called after him. Rising to his feet, he pushed himself from the pilothouse and stood outside on the empty deck. The boat swayed beneath his weight. Above him the heavy iron outriggers creaked in the morning breeze. Their raised arms formed a black vee, pointing toward the heavens. He lifted his face and let the growing sunlight warm the chill from his heart.

He blamed all of his troubles on Jessie Pierce.

Ever since he’d bumped into her yesterday, nothing seemed to be going right. As much as he hated to admit it, he hadn’t been able to keep his mind on anything but her. Last night, when he’d tried to shut his eyes and sleep, her image had haunted him.

It was as though she were there with him in his bedroom. Her hair black and shiny. Her dark-blue eyes glittering with an inner light. Her skin so creamy and smooth he’d wanted to brush his fingers along it. Even the thought of her full red lips, curving slightly, as though she were ready to laugh at his foolish infatuation, only fanned the heat of his ill-advised fascination.

Samuel blew out a breath, releasing some of the pent-up tension building inside him. What was wrong with him? He had more important things to consider than his beguilement with a woman. Not just any woman, he reminded himself sternly, but Jessie Pierce, of all people.

He had to focus on his future. If he wanted to make the mortgage payments on his boat, he couldn’t afford to lose another day’s work. He had to get the engine fixed—now.

With a sigh he turned toward the hold, ready to tackle the engine. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught an approaching jogger on the beach.

At this time of day, there was always an occasional walker or jogger passing by. Summertime on the island brought the tourists out of the woodwork. They all seemed fascinated by the sight of shrimp boats, thinking of them as a novelty, not as a man’s work, his lifeblood.

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.

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.”