didn’t need Jamie’s psychic powers to feel the waves of panic rolling through her. The need to protect, a need rooted deep in his childhood, rose up, stronger than his government training of self-preservation. He held out one hand and stepped toward her. “I’m staying with a friend. His place is just up the beach. I could give you a lift back to your car if you’d like.”
“No!” She backed up a step. Her right hand slipped into the wide front pocket of the camera bag.
“What’s wrong? I maybe could be of some assistance to you.” He kept his voice soft, calming, letting his southern-gentleman drawl come on thick. That sometimes did the trick when he needed to get around personal defenses.
“No. I…I didn’t mean any harm. I didn’t see anything…. Just…let me go.”
“I’d like to oblige, miss, but my mama raised me to be a gentleman. She’d tear a strip offa me a mile wide if I left a woman on a deserted beach to fend for herself.” He smiled, hoping to reassure her.
It didn’t work.
Her right hand swung up and pointed a pistol in the general vicinity of his chest. “Please, just let me go. Forget you ever saw me.”
Ryan held both hands up, palms out. The gun was a matte black, 9mm Glock. Standard issue for the FBI and many other law enforcement groups. Not only didn’t she have the first clue how to use it, she was terrified of it. Both hands, knuckles white, clutched the grip. The gun dipped and wavered as she held it as far away from her body as she could.
He kept steady eye contact with her, not bothering to watch the gun. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Her shoulders hunched tighter and her eyes narrowed.
“Uh, miss? That gun isn’t going to do you much good, unless you’re fixin’ to throw it at me.”
A frown drew her dark eyebrows together. “You don’t think I’ll shoot?”
“Well, you can certainly try, but the ammo magazine is loose, the safety’s on and your finger’s nowhere near the trigger.” He couldn’t really tell about the mag from where he stood but the last bit, at least, was true. As long as she kept her finger off the trigger. He closed the gap between them with a single stride, wrapped one hand around her wrist and eased the gun from her trembling fingers. “Now, maybe you better tell me what this is all about.”
“Are you a cop?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’? Who are you?” She tugged slightly at the hand still holding her, but she didn’t struggle.
Her skin felt like silk, smooth, and warm. The pulse in her slender wrist raced against his fingertips. He stood too close but couldn’t bring himself to step away and break the physical contact with her.
“You know, for a trespasser, you sure do ask a lot of questions.”
“Wouldn’t you? Alone on a beach, accosted by a stranger…”
“One you just pulled a gun on.” He sighed and the tantalizing fragrance of something soft and tropical blended with the aroma of the sea and sand around them. The delicate scent teased his senses. The wrong kind of curiosity stirred again. He released her wrist and put a little distance between them. “Look, maybe we should start over.”
He tucked the confiscated gun into the back waistband of his ragged cutoff fatigues, dusted his hands clean of sand and perspiration and held out his right hand. “My name’s Ryan Williams.”
She gave his hand a quick shake, releasing it as though she’d been shocked. He sure had been. The quick voluntary contact had sent a tingle racing straight from the palm of his hand to his belly.
“How do I know you’re really who you say you are?”
Ryan grinned and shook his head. She was an intriguing mix of wariness and innocence. His fingers tapped a drum-roll against his hips as he thought for a moment. His grin widened and he snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. How’d a picture ID do?”
He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a thin leather case. Flipping it open, he handed it to her. He watched her reactions as she looked at his Bureau identity cards. Her shoulders loosened a little.
“Okay.” She handed the wallet back. “Unless of course it’s a fake.”
“No, ma’am.” He crossed his heart and held up his hand in the old Boy Scout salute. “I swear it’s genuine, certified real.”
She nibbled on her generous lower lip as she looked around. Ryan wondered what her lip tasted like. Sunshine and sea? Awareness zinged across his nerves, warming him at the thought. The silence lengthened as he waited for her to reveal her name.
When it became clear she wasn’t about to trust him with that bit of information, he pulled her gun from his waistband. She took a quick step away from him.
“Whoa, whoa. Take it easy.” He released the ammo mag, emptied the bullets into his palm and dropped them into his pocket. Reinserting the mag, he emptied the remaining round from the firing chamber before holding the gun out to her on the palm of his hand. “Here, why don’t you hang on to this. You really can’t shoot me now, but it might come in handy if you feel the need to hit me with something.”
A hint of a smile rewarded his small jest.
“Do you need a ride someplace? Or is there someone you want to call?”
She shook her head as she slipped the gun back into the camera case. He was caught for a moment, watching the sun dance off the silky ripples of her hair. Her soft sigh brought his attention back to her mouth. Dang, she was biting her lip again.
“You said you live near here?” Her words brought him back.
“My friend does. I’m staying in his guest cottage. Why don’t we go back there, have a glass of lemonade and, if you want, you can tell me what’s going on?”
Her pale gray eyes looked him over. Silence stretched between them as her study extended to their surroundings.
Ryan waited, tamping down his impatience. Some instinct told him it was important for her to make the decision without pressure.
“All right. I’ll come with you, but only long enough to call a taxi.”
“Fair enough.” Instead of pumping his fist in victory as he wanted, Ryan swept his arm in front of himself. “Right this way.”
They headed down the beach in silence. She kept up with him, walking with an easy grace in spite of the soft sand dragging at their feet. He was acutely aware of her slender form beside him, just out of reach, but near enough to keep his senses on red alert.
She was the perfect height, tall enough to tuck under his chin, but not so short he’d get a kink in his neck bending down to kiss her. Hold your horses, boyo. This is not an appropriate direction to be thinking.
The small bungalow, hidden among another bunch of palms, came into view none too soon. He held the back door open for her and she stepped past him. She stopped just inside the tidy little kitchen, inspecting her surroundings.
