Sudden Recall Page 15

  “But if it was a strong perfume, or she’d doused herself with it—”

  “No, it’s too subtle for that. And any woman who can afford this scent probably has better taste than to apply it too liberally.”

  She could see by the way Shane looked at her that he was impressed by her detective work. “It looks like your gut instinct was right and that mine was, too, when I said a woman could see, or in this case smell, what a man might overlook.” His mouth widened into a grin. “Do I have a smart wife or what? Remind me that I owe you a hug when we get out of here.”

  She felt herself flush with pleasure over his compliment. It was ridiculous of her to glow like this just because he had expressed pride in a wife who wasn’t his wife at all. Or at the prospect of a hug she had no business anticipating. But, wise or not, this man had exactly that effect on her.

  It wasn’t easy getting back to business, but Eden made the effort to do just that. “Don’t you see what this means, Shane? The third occupant of the Mercedes could have been a woman, not a man.”

  He nodded slowly. “Who called on Harriet Krause while the four of us were busy elsewhere.”

  “And whatever her visit was about, it had to have been important enough for Harriet to admit her when she was wearing that perfume.”

  “So important,” Shane said soberly, “that it could have cost Harriet her life.”

  A woman, Eden thought. But who? Harriet’s friend, Lissie Reardon, who had snatched Nathanial? Had she turned up at Harriet’s door this afternoon? Where had Lissie gone after she and Nathanial had disappeared from Savannah? What had become of her, and where was she now?

  They were fearful questions when Eden was faced by the possibility that Lissie Reardon, who had been in possession of her son, could have committed murder. Even more chilling was the realization that the Reardon name had an unknown meaning for Shane. That in some way he might not only be connected to a killer but that her son had come into his possession.

  Chapter Ten

  “You’d better let me have a turn at the wheel,” Shane had urged her.

  There had been no hesitation from Eden about her decision in this matter. “Absolutely not. You not only don’t have a driver’s license, you have no identification at all, and if for any reason we should be stopped by the police—”

  “I’m prepared to chance that. Come on, Eden, it’s been a long day heavy with action. You need to rest.”

  “Well, I’m not prepared to chance it. And I’m not tired.”

  How could she be when she was driven by this urgency to find her son? When now, more than ever, she feared that Nathanial was threatened by some mortal danger she and Shane had yet to understand? And even though in one respect it might have been wiser for them to spend the night at her house in Charleston before heading for Savannah, sleep was unthinkable to her.

  Besides, in another respect her house posed a risk. If those two gorillas, and whoever had accompanied them in the Mercedes, were still roaming around Charleston hunting for Shane, it wouldn’t take them long to discover who she was and where she lived. Even a quick visit to her place to collect their things and reassure her friend Tia had been risky. So, yes, it was much better to go on immediately to Savannah where, hopefully, they would learn the answers they needed.

  That had been over a half hour ago, and the city was behind them now. But though the night was young, there was very little traffic on the road. That was because Eden had chosen a less traveled back highway. It was a longer road to Georgia, but she and Shane had reasoned that if their enemies somehow learned they were on their way to Savannah, they were more likely to try following them on the major route.

  There had been no sign of any pursuit, but Eden remained vigilant at the wheel. Shane, too, had stayed alert. However, after a brief stop for a meal at a fast-food restaurant, she had managed to convince him that, if they were to encounter more trouble, he would be better prepared to deal with it in a fresh state.

  Shane was asleep now in the passenger seat, leaving Eden with her concerns. Among them was a lingering guilt. They had completed their search of Harriet Krause’s apartment without any further result, made sure the back door was locked again behind them, and slipped away into the night. Eden wasn’t happy about running off without sharing what they had learned with the Charleston police.

  “If we did that, they could end up holding us,” Shane had pointed out. “Me, anyway.”

  “I know, and we have to stay free if we’re going to unlock your memory and reach Nathanial.”

  “That’s a priority, Eden. Finding Harriet Krause’s killer can wait.”

  “But after we rescue Nathanial—” She wouldn’t permit herself to believe they wouldn’t.

  “Then,” he said, “you and I will do whatever it takes to help the police solve her death.”

  There had been nothing casual in Shane’s words. They had been spoken with purpose and determination. He was that kind of man, Eden realized. Promises were sacred to him. Whatever she had learned about him, which was a great deal considering the short span of time she had known him, this was one of the hallmarks of his character she most valued.

  Careful, Eden. If you don’t watch yourself, you’ll be in over your head. Anyway, how can you be so sure he’s a man who’ll go to any lengths to keep a promise?

  She just knew, that’s all. The same way she knew that the deep, rich timbre of his voice had the capacity to leave her with an aching longing. That the mole high on his lean, bronzed cheek intrigued her. That and the proud, erect way he carried himself, which might or might not have a military origin, stirred her senses.

  He’s gonna do things to you. Things that are gonna squeeze the life out of your heart and soul.

  Atlanta Johnson’s parting words to her at the houseboat came back to mock her. Joining that warning were the memories of her own suspicions about the man who called himself Shane. Those fleeting but potent feelings of mistrust she had experienced as recently as the moment in Harriet Krause’s apartment when she had been shaken by the realization that Shane might be associated with a killer.

  The headlights of a car behind them illuminated her hand on the steering wheel. A gleam of gold briefly caught her attention before the car turned off on a side road. The wedding band on her finger. It already felt familiar, as if belonged there. As if she wanted it to belong there.

  Here was another disconcerting awareness; this marriage of pretense. It was turning out to be far more emotionally difficult than she had anticipated.

  She glanced over at Shane. The light from the dashboard was sufficient enough to reveal the shadow of the day-old beard on his square jaw. Now why should that be so sexy?

  His hands as he slept were locked across his middle. A man’s strong, capable hands, the left one wearing the wedding band that matched her own ring. The sight of it jolted Eden. That’s when she understood that none of the warnings, either from Atlanta Johnson or herself, meant a damn.

  She was in love with Shane.

  How could that be? How could she be in love with a man she had met only two days ago? Two days. But so much had been crowded into these past forty-eight hours that it seemed a lifetime. She supposed people did fall in love in even less time than that. Still, to be in love with a man who was a mystery to both himself and her…

  You know the important things about him, Eden.

  Did she? Yes, she did. She knew he had a sense of humor in even the toughest of situations. That he was instinctively protective of her. That he operated by a code of honor that convinced her that whatever his involvement with her son, he would never harm Nathanial, would have done all in his power to safeguard him. All qualities any woman would prize, especially when they came wrapped in a package as virile as Shane.

  It’s too late, Atlanta. He’s already taken control of my heart and soul.

  That realization should have left her with nothing but a sense of elation. Then why was her joy shadowed by a sudden bleakness? Because she fea
red that Shane might not return her feelings? After all, there was no reason why he should be in love with her just because she was in love with him. It didn’t work that way. At least it hadn’t for her. Hadn’t she already learned that painful lesson?

  You can handle this. You have to. Just get yourself through this whole thing, find Nathanial, and then if Shane turns his back and walks away…well, you’ll survive. As long as you have your son, you’ll survive.

  It had begun to rain, a thin, persistent drizzle that in the glow of the headlights cast a sheen on the highway. Maybe it was the rain that accounted for her now dismal mood. She wanted to think this was the explanation.

  The rain continued to fall, making halos around the headlights of the oncoming cars. The combination of those auras, the flat, ruler-straight highway that stretched out in front of her and the rhythmic swish of the wiper blades on the windshield was mesmerizing. She found herself struggling to keep awake, to concentrate on the road.

  Eden had no awareness of nodding off at the wheel, of the Toyota starting to drift into the left lane. It was the warning shrill of a horn from an oncoming car that shocked her back into full alertness. Understanding the situation with a gasp of alarm, she corrected the position of the Toyota in time to avoid a collision. The other car swept on by, its horn still wailing.

  Shane must have jerked awake at the first sound of the horn. That, together with Eden’s sudden action, had him immediately conscious of what had happened.

  Or almost happened, Eden thought, angry with herself.

  “Pull over,” he said.

  He was calm about it, but there was a quiet authority in his voice that permitted no objection. Eden eased off the highway onto the gravel shoulder and brought the car to a stop.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized, turning to him. “I could have killed us.”

  “It’s as much my fault as yours. I should have stayed awake to keep you company. This settles it. License or no license, I’m taking the wheel, and you’re coming over on this side where you will close those sweet blue eyes of yours and not open them again until reveille.”

  “When is that?”

  “Sunrise.”

  So he did have a military background. Not that this was the time for them to try to probe that likelihood. Eden obeyed him without an argument, though she didn’t think she could possibly fall asleep now. Not after their near-fatal accident, not when her mind was active again with all those anxious thoughts.

  THERE WAS A RED GLOW in the sky when Eden awakened. It took her a moment to realize the car was stopped, the radio was on and tuned in to a country-music station, and it was still raining. Not until she sat up did she comprehend the red glow was not the sun coming up but a nimbus of light from a neon sign outside the car.

  “Where are we?”

  “The parking lot of the Sea Breeze Motel, though as far as I can figure out, we’re nowhere near the sea. Not that it matters as long as they have an available room.”

  “What time is it?” It couldn’t be anywhere near morning. The sky was still black above the roof of the motel.

  “After ten. I think we’re close to the Georgia line.”

  “Then why are we stopping with Savannah so near?”

  “Eden, it doesn’t make sense getting there at this time of night. There’s nothing we can do until morning. Besides, I’m having trouble myself keeping my eyes open.” He nodded in the direction of the radio. “Even Dolly Parton isn’t working for me.”

  “Reveille then for both of us?”

  “Yeah, reveille.”

  Taking their things and locking the car, they went into the motel’s office where the attendant behind the desk offered them a double.

  Since Shane had neither identification nor funds of his own, it was necessary for Eden to register and pay for the room. He said nothing, but she could tell by the little frown he wore that it bothered him to have to rely on her not only for tonight’s lodging but the food he ate, the clothes he wore, even the wedding band on his finger. It was evidence of an old-fashioned male pride. She liked him for that.

  There was a great deal more that Eden found herself appreciating about him once they were behind the locked door of their room. Shane wasted no time, or modesty, in stripping down to a pair of snug briefs.

  She had already seen that superb body the night she and Tia had removed his clothes and cared for his injuries. But he had been unconscious then and helpless. Now there was something vital, riveting about the way those long limbs, sleekly muscled shoulders and powerful chest looked as he moved around in the soft light from the bedside lamp. Even the scars he carried had the raw, elemental appeal of a warrior.

  Finding herself wanting what wasn’t hers, what she might never be entitled to, Eden escaped from the impossible complications of her longing by fleeing into the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and changed into a nightie.

  When she emerged, Shane was in his bed and already asleep. Quelling a pang of disappointment, trying to convince herself she was relieved, she turned off the lamps, left the bathroom light burning and the door ajar so there would be some form of illumination to guide them if one of them awakened in the night, and crawled between the sheets of her own bed.

  It had been a long, exhausting day and what sleep she’d had in the car was insufficient. She should have dropped off immediately. She didn’t. Instead, she lay there listening to the drip of the rain off the eaves outside. It was a sad sound. It made her feel lonely. Lonely for the son she had missed for three years. Lonely for the man in the bed next to hers.

  Another sound finally comforted her. The steady, reassuring rhythm of Shane’s breathing, which eventually lulled her to sleep. But sometime in the night her peaceful rest was invaded by a nightmare.

  Eden found herself in a maze of dim corridors. The Yorktown? Was she back on the Yorktown? Wherever it was, she was hunting for something she had lost, chasing frantically down one long gallery after another. There! Far ahead of her was a small, forlorn figure calling out to her.

  “Mom, help me! I need you!”

  “Hang on, Nathanial! I’m coming to get you!”

  But she couldn’t get to him. He wasn’t alone. There was the tall figure of a man with him, someone who was no more than a shadow. He kept drawing Nathanial away from her, farther and deeper into the maze until she could no longer locate them, until her son’s appeal was nothing more than a distant echo.

  Nathanial, where are you?

  It was a plea torn from the depths of a mother’s wildest fears. So intense in its silent cry of desperation that it thrust her out of the dream into a bewildering reality.

  Eden found herself awake. She was cold and trembling all over, her face wet with tears. She must have been sobbing in her sleep.

  “The door is locked,” said a voice that was deep, raspy. “You and I are alone here.”

  Turning her head on the pillow, she saw his tall figure looming over her like a threat. He was no more than a dark, faceless form against the subdued light from the bathroom behind him. A menacing shadow like the one in her nightmare.

  He spoke again. “Eden, it’s all right. You were shouting like you were being attacked, but you’re safe.”

  Then her cry hadn’t been a silent one. She cleared her head with an effort. Shane, of course. It was Shane standing over her offering reassurance. Not the figure in her nightmare who had been holding Nathanial, fleeing with him.

  But suppose that dream shadow had represented Shane. What if, unknown to him in his present state of amnesia, he had in actuality stolen Nathanial, was hiding him from—

  No! She was in love with him. He couldn’t be that man. He couldn’t.

  “Bad dream, huh?” Shane said, understanding what had happened. His words were gentle, but his voice was still gruff from sleep. “Want to tell me about it?”

  She briefly described her nightmare. She didn’t tell him about her fear that the man in the dream might be him. “It was so real,” she whis
pered with a shudder.

  “The worst ones usually are.”

  “And I’m so cold.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Move over. I’m coming in.”

  She hadn’t meant her complaint as a form of invitation. There were, in fact, several reasons for her to object when he slid his long body into her bed, most of which involved a mistrust of her own emotions. And every reason for her to welcome that hard, hot body pressed close to her side. Eden decided to go with the latter argument, wisdom be damned.

  “I promised you a hug back in Harriet Krause’s apartment,” he reminded her, his arm going around her, drawing her against him in a snug embrace. “Consider this the first payment on the debt.”

  His protective bulk was warm, comforting. But she couldn’t forget the nightmare.

  “Shane?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve got a feeling we’re getting close to the answers. To finding Nathanial. But I can’t shake this fear that I could lose him before that happens. I think that’s what my dream was all about. That I could lose him again, maybe this time forever. And I couldn’t bear it if—”

  “It’s not going to turn out that way,” he said fiercely, his arm around her tightening. “We’re not going to let it turn out that way. We’re going to see to it that your kid is back with you where he belongs.”

  Nathanial. She and Shane shared Nathanial. They had bonded over the subject of her son. Was that what her love for this man was all about? But it had to be more than that to be real and meaningful, a great deal more. She wanted it to be everything.

  “That’s my guarantee to you,” he said.

  He was talking about Nathanial. But Eden knew that nothing was a guarantee. And that loving Shane was a risk. Maybe that’s why she stiffened when he urged her over on her side and turned his own body so that they were facing each other.

  Aware of her resistance, he murmured a soothing, “Nothing is going to happen here that you don’t want to happen.”

  That might be true, but his self-control was already in serious conflict with his body. The evidence was there when he made contact with her bare thigh below her hiked-up nightie. She could feel his arousal straining against his briefs.