Navy SEAL Rescuer
Page 22
Looking back at her rescuer she raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. It’s after midnight. What were you doing out here?”
“Waiting for you to get off work so I could try to talk to you again,” John said.
“How did you know my hours?”
“I asked at the information desk. That’s what they’re for. Information, right?”
“They’re not supposed to give strangers my personal schedule,” Samantha countered.
“Ah, but they could tell I was one of the good guys because I was still in uniform when I asked.”
She shivered. “Yeah, well, apparently you weren’t the only one waiting for me.”
“No kidding. I think I’d better escort you to the station to make a report.”
“For a purse snatching? I’d really rather not.” Especially since I don’t intend to involve Bobby Joe until I’ve made sure he won’t be hurt worse because of my statement, she added to herself, considering that decision totally rational under these circumstances.
“Why not?” John was scowling.
“Hey, don’t look at me like I’m some kind of criminal. I just don’t relish visiting Sheriff Allgood or Chief Kelso, okay? We don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
John still didn’t touch her but he did hover closer, making Samantha feel safer and more secure than she had in a long, long time. “Explain.”
She leaned against the side of her car because she was still unsteady on her feet and didn’t want him to suspect. “It’s not complicated. I see it as my duty to report suspicions of child abuse and the authorities don’t often take me seriously. It was bad enough before I became a CASA volunteer but it’s even worse now. You know what that is, right?”
“Court Appointed Special Advocates for children? Sure. What’s the problem? The people you report are guilty, aren’t they?”
“Sometimes. Like Bobby Joe was today.”
“And sometimes not?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s okay, Sam. I understand. You’re smart enough to catch clues that others miss.”
“Do you really believe that or are you just trying to get back into my good graces?”
“Maybe both. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said earlier. It pains me to hear you dropped out of church because of me. Is that actually true?”
“In a manner of speaking. People were so used to seeing us as a couple and expecting us to get…married…that they kept nagging me about it long after you’d left. I finally decided it was easier to stay home than to go through interrogation every Sunday.”
“That’s a shame.”
Samantha knew she’d already revealed too much for her own good so she changed the subject. “If you want me to make a police report I suppose it would be better to get it over with now, while your office is quiet.”
She jingled her keys. “I’ll take my car. You can follow if you want.”
When he smiled tenderly and said, “You couldn’t get rid of me tonight if you tried,” she was so touched by his evident concern she had to turn away to hide her emotions.
Don’t do it, Samantha, she warned herself. Don’t soften. Don’t start imagining that you can go back and pick up where you left off. It’s far too late for that. The romance is over. Period.
A basic truth struck her as she was climbing into her car. She and John had had more than a romance. They had shared a special friendship for years. And that, more than anything, was what she missed. What she grieved for.
Looking into the side mirror she watched him striding to his truck. There was a time when she’d believed that he was everything she’d ever wanted; that he completed her in a way no one else could.
The lump in her throat and rapid, thrumming pulse told her that she’d never changed her mind. But John had changed his. He had chosen his career over a life with her and the only way she could hope to protect herself from a repeat of the same pain was to guard her heart—no matter what.
ISBN: 9781459238787
Copyright © 2012 by Shirlee McCoy
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com