Sally Berneathy - Private Vows

Cole’s lips thinned and his eyebrows drew together in an expression of anger. “Sam Maynard. Pete told me. Yeah, it could have been Sam calling, though that’s not what he usually does. Anyway, he’s harmless.”

He’s harmless! He’s harmless! The words reverberated round and round in the empty caverns once occupied by memories of her life, bringing a wintry chill incongruous with the summer day.

“No, he’s not.” The sound of a woman’s voice startled Mary, and she almost looked around for the stranger until she realized it was she who had spoken the words. She wasn’t sure where they’d come from or who he was or why she knew he wasn’t harmless.

Cole’s eyebrows drew even closer together and he studied her intently. “I guess it depends on how you define harmless,” he admitted, obviously assuming she’d been talking about Sam Maynard. “Sam likes to touch women, their hands, their hair, their shoulders…or whatever he can reach. He’s a sleazy pervert. I just meant he’s never physically harmed anybody. He doesn’t go out of his way to pursue his victims, either, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about from him.”

He was being logical and making perfect sense, but none of it in any way lightened the terrible sense of dread that phone call had left her with.

She nodded, knowing she had no legitimate reason to disagree with him and trying to make herself believe he was right.

“Can we go inside?” he asked. “Somewhere private? We need to talk about this diamond ring of yours.”

Her mouth went dry at the mention of the object.

He lifted his hands as if to ward off what he knew she was going to say. “I understand that you don’t want it back right now, but I don’t feel good about keeping it. I can take you to a guy I know who deals in jewelry and precious metals. Kind of an upscale pawnshop. He’ll lend you some money, probably one heck of a lot more than what I gave you.”

She looked back toward the shelter, reluctant to have him see her in such needy circumstances, to reinforce his concern and sympathy. “There’s nowhere private in there. One woman has a baby who cries a lot and someone else has a couple of young kids. Even the sleeping cubicles are open.” And she had no idea how she was going to sleep at night, exposed and vulnerable like that.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and uttered a soft oath.

“It’s not so bad,” she said hastily, contradicting her own thoughts. “And I won’t be here long. I’m going to see about getting a job at a fast-food place. I can’t just sit around while I’m waiting to remember who I am.” She had tossed out the plan without thinking, merely something to reassure Cole that she was all right, that she didn’t need his pity, but as she spoke, she knew that was exactly what she wanted to do…get a job, focus on something other than her problems. Then maybe she could forget to be afraid.

“How? You don’t know your social security number.”

Her resolve wilted. Beaten before she even got started. With a sigh she walked over to the curb and sat down again, resting her chin in her hands and trying hard not to give in to tears.

She felt him come up behind her, felt his approach in the warm tingles up and down her spine, in his wonderfully familiar scent that both attracted and frightened her.

He sat beside her. “Look, I know some people and can probably pull a few strings to get you a temporary job. That’s all you need, anyway…something to fill your time until your fiancé gets here.”

Another chill zigzagged through her, and she shivered in the heat. “If he’s alive,” she whispered. “Officer Townley said the blood on my dress was human.”

“Which doesn’t mean your fiancé’s dead. If they’d found any unclaimed bodies with that type blood, they’d damn sure have pulled you in for questioning.”

“They’re checking with the hospitals and the morgue today and they’ll want me to come down and look at…at anyone they find. Officer Townley said they don’t think the blood belongs to the man you saw me struggling with because there aren’t any other signs around.” She picked up a small pebble from the street and bounced it in one hand. “Maybe that’s why I can’t remember. Maybe it wasn’t the trauma of being hit by a car but the trauma of killing somebody. Somebody I know. Knew.”

“Killing somebody?” He caught her hand in a firm clasp. She let the pebble fall to the street and lifted her face to his. In the bright light, his eyes were more green than brown, searing every inch of her face as they flicked over it, bringing the blood rushing to the surface and more than replacing the heat that chill had stolen. “You didn’t kill anybody,” he said.

She swallowed hard and licked her dry lips as she tried to find her voice, to ignore the sensation of his fingers wrapped around hers, his thigh pressed against hers, the scent of danger that lingered about him and blended with the exhilarating, turbulent way his touch made her feel. “You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t, but I’d be willing to bet money on it.”

“Why?”

“Gut feeling. It’s never wrong, and it’s saved my life more than once.”

“Saved your life?” She pulled away from him and stood, trying to regain her senses. “You never did tell me who you are, what you do.”

He rose also and shrugged, looking down the street rather than at her. “I’m a private investigator. I find missing people who don’t want to be found, infiltrate big companies and risk terminal boredom to track down embezzlers, crash private parties to save insurance companies from paying false claims. Do you want to go with me to see my friend about the ring? It’s just a few miles from here. Have you had lunch yet? We could grab some while we’re out.”

She had a gut feeling, too, and that gut feeling told her that Cole Grayson had a lot of secrets…those that had caused the barren desert in his gaze and those that caused the aura of danger surrounding him. He hadn’t lied to her, but he hadn’t told her the entire truth, either. She did know one truth about him, though. He was not a man that the faint-of-heart could exist alongside.

And she certainly fell into the faint-of-heart category.

But she wasn’t going to stay that way.

“Yes,” she said, lifting her head and forcing the word. “I want to go to see your friend. And no, I haven’t eaten.”

“Great.” Cole strode over to the blue sedan and opened the door for her.

“This isn’t the same car you were in the other night,” she said.

“No, it’s not. This is my work car.” He shrugged. “And it’s got air-conditioning. I thought you might be more comfortable.”

His work car. The other car had been a restored Thunderbird, obviously a treasure. This car was nothing personal to him. Inviting her into this car was simply giving her a ride, an act of kindness. He wasn’t giving anything of himself. And that, she thought, was the essence of Cole Grayson.

She slid inside and Cole started to close the door, when one of the volunteers from the shelter came running out.

“Ms. Jackson! There’s a police officer on the phone who wants to talk to you.”

The terror again swept over her, swirling through her like a black, destructive tornado. Had someone from her past finally found her? Had Sam Maynard done something else? Had the police found a body?

Why did all those prospects terrify her equally? Shouldn’t the thought of recovering her past make her happy instead of frightened?

“I’ll go in with you,” Cole offered.

“No.” She desperately wanted and needed him to come with her. Therefore, she couldn’t let him. Somewhere along the line, she was going to have to learn to stand on her own.