The Stranger In Room 205 (Hot off the Press! 1)

“She says she does.”

Sam shrugged. “Then maybe her dream is to accomplish something with someone she loves.”

“If that’s true, I hope her dream isn’t shattered when he dumps her for someone more likely to get him what he wants.”

“You think he’s a user?”

Serena started to answer, then hesitated. “I don’t know,” she confessed after a moment. “He and Kara had a whirlwind courtship before they took off for Nashville, and I didn’t have a chance to get to know him very well. He seemed very fond of Kara, but—”

“But cynical Serena, the small-town lawyer, can’t help questioning his motives and worrying about his character,” Sam cut in. “Much the way the good police chief feels about me.”

“I fail to see any similarities.”

Sam laughed softly and tugged at a strand of her hair. “Do you ever really fool anyone with that prim and prissy tone?”

Suddenly disconcerted, she looked away from him, noting that her cup was empty. She didn’t even remember finishing the tea. “If we’re going to work tomorrow, we should probably try to get some sleep first.”

“You’re right, of course.” He stood, rocking the swing, then turned to hold out a hand to her.

To prove again that he didn’t intimidate her, Serena placed her hand in his and allowed him to assist her out of the swing. He didn’t immediately release her, but stood smiling at her in the moonlight.

“What?” she asked, frowning at him.

“Nothing. I’ve just enjoyed talking with you.”

She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, especially since her pulse was suddenly thrumming and her heart seemed to have added an extra beat. She warned herself not to be influenced by the intimate atmosphere of the night and the roses. Not to mention the handsome, intriguingly enigmatic man holding her hand. “I really should go in.”

He seemed to be staring at her mouth, though it was hard to tell since he was silhouetted against the golden moon. His blond hair glinted in

the moonlight, and she was forced to moisten her lips, which had gone dry for some reason.

Sam made a faint sound—she wasn’t sure if he groaned or cleared his throat—and then he released her hand and stepped back. “Yes,” he muttered, his voice gruff, “you should definitely go in now.”

She found herself lingering for another moment. “Do you have any more pain pills to take if you need one?”

“I’ve replaced the prescription pills with over-the-counter pain relievers. I’m okay.”

He would say that no matter how he felt, she suspected. Sam was certainly not a complainer. “Well…good night.”

“Good night, Serena. Sleep well.”

She turned and walked toward the house, keeping her steps measured and unhurried. She didn’t want to look as though she was running away from him—even though that was exactly the way she felt.

She couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like to have been kissed by Sam Wallace in the moon-washed rose garden. And then she scolded herself for sounding all too much like her sister, who had allowed a romantic infatuation to turn her life—and her family’s lives—completely upside down. That was one example Serena had no intention of following.

Sam’s second day at work was no less demanding than the first, but he found it somewhat less difficult to get through his shift. The day after was even easier, as was the day after that. Either his injuries were healing or he was learning to deal with them better, but he wasn’t as exhausted when Marjorie drove him home on Friday. Telling him she had a garden club meeting to attend that afternoon, she asked him if he would be all right on his own, and he had to gently remind her that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

He appreciated Marjorie’s kindness to him, but he was beginning to feel a bit smothered by her solicitousness. Without a vehicle or money, he was completely dependent on Marjorie’s generosity. He wasn’t sure, of course, but he sensed this wasn’t a normal condition for him. If he felt this proud and self-sufficient now, it stood to reason he’d have been the same prior to his accident, didn’t it?

He rested for a while, then took a hot shower. Dressed in clean clothes, he wandered into the kitchen and put a cup of water in the microwave to heat for instant coffee. While the water heated, he studied his reflection in the small, decorative mirror mounted on the wall beside the back door. The scrapes and bruises were fading, giving him a better idea of what he usually looked like. Blond hair, blue eyes, regular features—nothing out of the ordinary, in his opinion. Nothing to give him a clue as to who he was or where he came from.

Because he was finding it increasingly uncomfortable to try to retrieve memories that were beginning to seem permanently lost to him, he turned his thoughts to Serena as he carried his coffee to the table. Through the kitchen window, he could see the rose garden and the swing where he and Serena had shared such a pleasant midnight interlude Monday evening. Well, pleasant except for one jarring discovery.

He still wasn’t quite sure why it had bothered him so badly to find out that Serena was a lawyer. Even now, his reaction to the word was immediate and negative. He didn’t understand why—it was obviously connected to those lost memories. Trying to solve the puzzle only made his head ache, so he concentrated instead on remembering the way Serena’s hand had felt in his when he’d helped her out of the swing. The way her pretty oval face had looked in the moonlight, her eyes glistening, her lips moist and parted. He’d wanted to kiss her so badly he’d ached—and that pain had had nothing to do with his injuries.

He wondered what her reaction would have been had she known what he was thinking. Or had she somehow known? Was that why she’d been avoiding him ever since?

She thought of him as a stranger—which, of course, he was. Even to himself. What could an attractive young attorney from a respectable small town see in a battered, penniless drifter—if that’s what he was? And even if she was interested, he was hardly in a position to pursue anything more than a casual friendship. For all he knew, he had a wife and a houseful of kids somewhere—though he found that very difficult to believe. He just didn’t feel married, somehow.