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

Chapter Nine

Kissing Serena was everything Sam had remembered it to be—and more. As he savored her warm, soft, moist mouth, he vaguely remembered other kisses. No names or faces, just fuzzy impressions. But he didn’t know if any other kisses had made his pulse race like this, his head spin, his hands tremble. It had been this way the first time he’d kissed her, even though it had lasted barely longer than a heartbeat. Either he still hadn’t fully recovered from his illness—or there was a powerful attraction between them.

He’d have bet on the latter.

Serena had taken him by surprise when she initiated this kiss, and she continued to overwhelm him with her responsiveness. Her lips parted, giving him better access to the taste of her. Intoxicating. Dangerously so. A little more and he would be tempted to ignore all the very good reasons they shouldn’t be kissing in the first place.

Apparently, Serena’s better judgment was similarly undermined by the embrace. Her hands crept upward, sliding around his neck, bringing her body more fully against his. The shock of contact brought him abruptly back to his senses.

He was sweaty, disheveled and dirty after a full day of work. Serena looked very much the successful young attorney in a trim suit and neat black pumps, her hair twisted at the back of her head, diamond studs in her ears. Anyone observing them would know at a glance that they were a mismatched pair. Sam was too vividly aware of all the complications that were not visible.

Like the not-so-insignificant fact that neither of them knew who the hell he was.

He lifted his head. Serena’s eyelids were heavy, her cheeks flushed, her lips damp and reddened. She looked like a woman who’d just been thoroughly kissed—and wouldn’t mind being kissed again. Releasing her and backing away took every bit of willpower Sam could muster.

“We should definitely not do that,” he said as if their conversation had not been interrupted.

He watched her regain her equilibrium. She blinked a couple of times, drew a shaky breath, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “You’r

e right,” she said, and her voice was admirably steady. “Definitely.”

“Definitely.” He was glad she’d agreed—or at least he should be. He had enough problems without this added complication. Once he got his memory back—well, who knew. Maybe things would be different then. And maybe she would hate him for lying to her from the first time he’d spoken to her.

“I need a shower,” he said, turning away. A cold one, he added silently.

“I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Sure. Later.” He walked toward the exit with long, determined strides. He couldn’t resist glancing back as he stepped outside. Unaware that he could see her, Serena sagged against the wall, fanning her face with one hand. For some crazy reason, he was cheered by that confirmation that she was just as shaken by their kiss as he was.

The Rainbow Café was closed on Wednesday, July fourth. Most downtown offices were closed for the Independence Day holiday, so business at the diner would have been light, anyway. Marjorie asserted that it was more important to her to allow her employees to spend the day with their families than to try to make money from the few customers they’d have served.

Marjorie told Sam that a big celebration was held every July fourth at the high school football field. “It’s a big deal around here. We have barbecue and watermelon and entertainment. After dark, there’s a fireworks display.”

She invited him to attend the celebration with Serena and her. Lacking a reasonable excuse to decline, he accepted.

Carrying lawn chairs, they walked through the gates of the football stadium at seven, shoulder to shoulder with what seemed to Sam to be a mob of other revelers. Either Edstown was more populated than he’d realized or people came from all over the area to attend the Independence Day celebration.

His nose twitched as the scent of barbecue wafted toward them from the big grills set up in the end zone. Lines were already forming for the burgers, hot dogs, potato salad and cold pork and beans provided by local merchants. At another table, stacks of plump watermelons were being sliced for dessert, and huge tubs of ice held canned soft drinks.

“All of this is free to the public?” he asked Serena, raising his voice over the sound of a gospel quartet singing on a makeshift stage in the center of the field.

Looking remarkably cool and fresh in her shorts and T-shirt, considering that the air was still almost stiflingly hot, she nodded. “Yes. It’s our one big, citywide festivity. Most of the local businesses contribute, and we publish their names in the Evening Star several times to thank them. It’s good PR for them, and a nice community service for the city.”

Marjorie, coordinated as always in a brightly colored knit tunic and matching slacks, had been craning her head since they arrived, scanning the crowd. Her search ended at an open-sided awning that had been set up not far from the food, but within clear view of the stage. The awning seemed to Sam to be filled with gray-haired ladies and a few equally mature men. “You two have a good time,” Marjorie said cheerfully, already moving toward the awning. “I’ll catch you later.”

“You’re leaving us?” Sam asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“You kids don’t want an old lady tagging after you all evening. I’m sure you’d rather find other young people. Go on, now. Have fun. Serena, be sure to introduce Sam to all your friends.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mother.”

Before Sam could say anything else, Marjorie had bustled away. “She does this every year,” Serena said with a sigh. “Ditches me as soon as we get here. She says she doesn’t want to cramp my style, but the truth is she likes to spend the evening gossiping with her friends. They giggle and whisper about everyone here—worse than any bunch of teenagers you’ve ever met.”

“Aren’t they going to eat? They don’t look like they’re in any hurry to get in line.”

Serena’s expression held both exasperation and reluctant admiration. “They don’t have to get in line. They’ll sit in their lawn chairs under the shade of that awning and pretty soon some solicitous teenagers, prodded by their mothers, will bring plates of food so the little old ladies don’t have to exert themselves by standing in line in this heat.”

Sam laughed. “As if Marjorie Schaffer isn’t perfectly capable of carrying a plate of food.”