sorry,” she mumbled, once she’d found her voice. He was a sailor. One tall and muscular sailor. As nonsensical as it seemed, he had the look of a pirate about him—bold and daring. His hair was as dark as his eyes. He wasn’t strikingly handsome; his features were too sharp, too craggy for that. Then his finely shaped mouth curved into a faint smile, flashing white, even teeth.
“I’m…sorry,” she stammered again, staring up at him, embarrassed at the way she’d been openly appraising him. She couldn’t help being curious. He seemed so aloof, so withdrawn that she felt forced to embellish. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She offered him a feeble smile, and when he dropped his hands, she blushed and looked away.
“You weren’t hurt?”
“No…no, I’m fine. What about you?”
“No problem.” His gaze swept over her, and he moved on without saying another word.
Following the brief encounter, Hannah decided it would be best if she stood in one place. She selected a vantage point that offered her a good view of the parade, which was just beginning.
With mild interest she viewed the mayor and several other public officials as they rode by, sitting atop polished convertibles. She lost count of the number of bands and performing drill teams that passed. A fire-flashing baton twirler was followed by a variety of enchanting floats.
Enthralled almost against her will, Hannah stayed until the very end, when it was well past dark. The crowds had started to disperse, and hoping the station wagon was no longer blocked, she headed down the steep hills toward the Mission House. Since there were still people about, she didn’t think there’d be a problem of being alone in a bad section of town. But as she neared the Mission House, she discovered there were only a few cars left parked in the area. Soon there was no one else in sight.
When she first noticed the twin shadows following her she was pleased, naively thinking there was safety in numbers. But when she turned and noted the way the two were closing in on her, with menacing looks and walks, she knew she was in trouble.
As she approached the street on which the Mission House was located, she noted that the pair was still advancing. Quickening her pace, she clenched her purse to her side. An eerie sensation ran up and down her spine, and the taste of dread mingled with a growing sense of alarm filled her mouth.
Although she was moving as fast as she could without breaking into a run, the pair was gaining. She’d been a fool to separate herself from the crowds. She hadn’t been thinking right. Again and again her father had warned her about such foolishness. Maybe she had a death wish. But if that were the case, then why was she so terribly afraid? She trembled, her heart was pounding like a storm trooper’s.
The instant she saw the lights of a waterfront bar, Hannah breathed a little easier. She rushed forward and slipped inside grimacing as she walked straight into a thick wall of cigarette smoke.
Men lined the bar, and it seemed that every one of them had turned to stare at her. Beer bottles were clenched in their hands, some raised halfway to their mouths, frozen in motion. A pool table at the back of the room captured her attention, as did the handful of men dressed in black leather who stood around it holding on to cue sticks. One glance told Hannah they were probably members of a motorcycle gang.
Wonderful. She’d leaped out of the frying pan directly into the roaring flames. Hannah sucked in her breath and tried to behave naturally, as though she often wandered into waterfront bars. It seemed, however, that she’d become the center of attention.
It was then that she saw him—the sailor she’d bumped into earlier that evening. He was sitting at a table, nursing a drink, his gaze centered on the glass. He seemed to be the only one in the room unaware of her.
Where she found the courage to approach him, Hannah never questioned. Squaring her shoulders, she moved across the room and placed her hand on the chair opposite him. “Is this seat taken?”
He looked up, and his eyes lit with surprise before a frown darkened his piratical features. The only thing that made him less threatening than the others in the room was the fact he wore a sailor’s uniform.
Not waiting for his reply, Hannah pulled out the chair and promptly sat down. Her knees were shaking so badly she didn’t know if she could stand upright much longer.
“Two men were following me,” she explained. Her hands continued to tremble, and she pushed the hair away from her face. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it made sense to scoot in here.” She hesitated and looked around her, noting once again the menacing-looking men at the bar. “At least it did at the time.”
“Why’d you choose to sit with me?” He seemed to find the fact somewhat amusing. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, but she wasn’t sure it was one of welcome.
Why had she chosen him? “You were the only one not wearing leather and spikes,” she said, but in retrospect she’d wondered what it was that had caused her to approach him. The fact she recognized him from earlier in the evening was part of the answer, she was convinced of that. Yet there was something more. He was so intense, so compelling, and she’d sensed integrity in him.
A half grin had widened into a full one at her comment about him being the only one there not wearing leather and chains.
He raised his hand, and the waitress appeared. “Two of the same.”
“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” Hannah said. She intended to stay only long enough to discourage the pair waiting for her outside.
“You’re shaking like a leaf.”
Hannah didn’t argue with him. It would do little good, and he was right. She continued to tremble, but she wasn’t completely convinced fear was the reason. Even then, something deep inside her had known. Not consciously, of course. It was as though some deep inner part of herself had reached out to this stranger. Intuitively she’d known he would never harm her. The waitress delivered two amber-colored drinks. Hannah didn’t have a clue what she was tasting. All she did know was that a small sip of it was potent enough to burn all the way down her throat and settle in her stomach like a ball of fire. The taste wasn’t unpleasant, just potent.
“Do you have a name?” the sailor asked her.
“Hannah. What about you?”
“Riley Murdock.”
She grinned, intrigued by the name. “Riley Murdock,” she repeated slowly. She watched as he raised the glass to his lips and was struck by how sensuous his mouth was. With some folks, Hannah had noted over the years, the eyes were the most expressive feature. One look at her father’s eyes and she could easily read his mood. Riley was different. His eyes were blank. Impersonal. But his mouth competently telegraphed his thoughts. He was intrigued with her, amused. The way the corners turned up just slightly told her as much.
“Are you here for Seafair?” she asked, making polite conversation. A second sip burned a path down the back of her throat.
He nodded. “We’re only in port for the next few days.”
“So, how do you like Seattle?” She was beginning to grow warm. It was a good feeling that radiated out from the pit of her stomach, and it had the most peculiar effect on her. It relaxed Hannah. The tension eased from between her shoulder blades and the stiffness left her arms. She was a little dizzy, but that wasn’t entirely
