“Whoa, there! Samson, heel.”

The German shepherd came to a skidding halt right in front of Frederica. Then he glanced back at the man in the tuxedo giving the command, a soft whine escaping from his mouth. “Well, hello there,” Freddie said, her gaze moving from the hassling dog to the out-of-breath man hurrying toward them. “May I pet him?” she asked, reaching a hand toward the waiting animal.

“Samson, what’s got into you, boy?” the man said, his frown aimed at the dog while he ignored Freddie’s question. Then the man gave Freddie an appreciative sweep. “Okay, in this case, I guess I understand. He never could resist a pretty woman.”

“Neither could you, if memory serves me correctly,” Stone said from behind the man. Then he turned to Freddie. “Frederica Hayes, meet my younger brother, Clay Dempsey.”

Clay. The one Dempsey brother she hadn’t met yet. And he was well worth the wait.

LENORA WORTH

grew up in a small Georgia town and decided in the fourth grade that she wanted to be a writer. But first, she married her high school sweetheart, then moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Taking care of their baby daughter at home while her husband worked at night, Lenora discovered the world of romance novels and knew that’s what she wanted to write. And so she began.

A few years later, the family settled in Shreveport, Louisiana, where Lenora continued to write while working as a marketing assistant. After the birth of her second child, a boy, she decided to pursue her dream full-time. In 1993, Lenora’s hard work and determination finally paid off with that first sale.

“I never gave up, and I believe my faith in God helped get me through the rough times when I doubted myself,” Lenora says. “Each time I start a new book, I say a prayer, asking God to give me the strength and direction to put the words to paper. That’s why I’m so thrilled to be a part of Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line, where I can combine my faith in God with my love of romance. It’s the best combination.”

A Tender Touch
Lenora Worth

But now, O Lord, you are our Father; We are the clay, and You our potter: And all we are the work of Your hand.

—Isaiah 64:8

To my nephews Jeremy Smith and Larry Itson, with love

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

“Sit.”

Clay Dempsey patted the big German shepherd on the head, then grinned down at him. “Good boy, Samson.” Leaning close, he whispered, “We have to behave ourselves today. My brother is getting married. I’ll take you out on the beach for some tug-of-war later, I promise.”

Samson’s ears perked up with interest, but the dog remained in a sitting position.

Clay glanced around. It was a crisp early September afternoon and they were standing in what looked like a marsh. Why Stone of all people had chosen to get married in this mosquito-infested Georgia swamp was beyond Clay’s comprehension. Stone was more the country-club-wedding and extravagant-reception type. But then, his brother had changed. A lot apparently, from everything Clay had heard and seen since coming back to Sunset Island a couple of days ago. But then, everything in his own life seemed to be changing, too, Clay reasoned as he patted Samson’s head and waited nervously for the wedding to begin.

Now he was about to be part of Stone’s wedding to Tara Parnell. Clay was the best man and their older brother, Rock, who happened to be a minister and married to Tara’s sister, Ana, was going to perform the ceremony.

“What a strange and wonderful world we live in, Samson,” Clay said to the big dog sitting faithfully but alert at his feet. “I mean, here I am in a tuxedo, standing in a marsh, waiting for my brother to get married. This is the second wedding in our family this summer.” First Rock and now Stone. Clay felt downright betrayed and bewildered.

He never would have believed either of his ornery brothers would get married and settle down. Especially Stone.

He stared down at Samson, wondering if the animal knew what Clay was trying to say. Things change, life goes on. But lately, things had been changing too much for Clay. Lately, he’d become restless and edgy. He needed this vacation, or at least according to his captain back at the police department in Atlanta, Clay needed some time away from the force. And both he and Samson needed some time to heal.

“I won’t let you down, buddy,” Clay said to the dog. Samson did seem to understand that particular promise. He stared up at Clay with big, dark, doleful eyes, as if to say “I know you won’t, partner.”

Clay and Samson had been together for two years. They worked the K-9 Unit in one of Atlanta’s worst areas. Searching out drugs and criminals mostly. Sometimes just search and find. Clay had seen too much death and destruction lately. And the last round had almost caused both Clay and Samson to become statistics. Nothing like a near-death experience to make a person stop and think about living. Really living.

“Hey, brother, you about ready?”

Clay turned to find Rock headed his way with a grin on his face. “Is it time?”

“It’s time. And don’t look so panicked. You’re not the one getting hitched.”

“Thank goodness.” Clay relaxed, then gave Samson the signal to do the same. The dog plopped down, his big eyes looking disappointed, his big tongue hanging out. There was so much action out in that marsh, after all.

And a lot of human action around the quaint little chapel sitting by the still waters that came from the nearby Savannah River. Clay looked toward the chapel. “Is the bride ready?”

“Very ready,” Rock said, slapping Clay on the back. “She’s hiding out in the tent Ana set up near Josiah’s house. Between the bugs, the humidity and her nerves, however, I think the bride’s going to be as wilted as a thirsty water lily.”

“I bet Stone won’t notice,” Clay replied, thinking Tara Parnell was sure a pretty woman. And his brother seemed to really love her. “Explain it to me one more time, Rock. How exactly did Stone become a human being?”

Rock laughed, his Bible in one hand as they walked toward the chapel where both family and friends were crowded into the pews, waiting. The sound of the classic and romantic “Pachelbel Canon” filled the air as several white birds, startled from their nests in the cypress trees, lifted out over the water. Clay saw the bride coming out of her tent, her eyes wide and misty, her steps almost in perfect symmetry with the flight of the beautiful, graceful birds as she lifted her full-skirted creamy satin gown off the ground. They were about to have a wedding.

The rest of the Sunset Island inhabitants were patiently waiting back at Stone’s turn-of-the-century hotel, Hidden Hill, for a big reception.

Rock held a hand toward the chapel. “We can thank the good Lord and the love of a good woman for that transformation, brother. Sir Walter Scott put it best— ‘For love is heaven, and heaven is love.’ A man can’t miss with that combination.”

Clay nodded, silently thinking that he’d never been able to find that particular combination in his own love life. Maybe because he wasn’t a romantic or a philosopher like his older brother, Rock, nor a shrewd, aggressive businessman like his other brother, Stone. Clay was shy and quiet-natured, but direct when need be; focused and determined, but completely dedicated to his work. And therein lay the problem with his nonexistent love life. Too many nights out with Samson, searching for the lost, searching for the hidden, searching for something or someone to bring the life back to his own soul.

“I did need a vacation,” he mumbled, causing Rock to raise an eyebrow, and causing Samson to send him a low bark of agreement.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Rock said as they reached the aged wooden steps to the chapel. “Let’s go get Stone married, so our mother can drink punch and brag.”

Clay stopped on the bottom step, his eyes going wide. “Uh-oh. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

Rock frowned. “For what?”

“Not for what,” Clay replied. “With Mother. I mean, I don’t stand a chance now. Both you and Stone married! That leaves me.”

Rock nodded slowly, a bemused expression on his face. “Yes, I can see why you have that look of utter fear in your eyes. Here for a whole month, with Mother hearing so many wedding bells. Prepare for a big battle, brother. She’ll try to fix you up with every available island girl, that’s for sure.”

“Great,” Clay said, rolling his eyes. “Just what I needed.”

“This is great,” Fredrica Hayes said to Ana as she took another nibble of the wonderful bite-size crabcake centered on her plate of appetizers. “Ana, thanks for inviting me. I needed a break.”

“Of course, Fredrica,” Ana Dempsey said, her smile bright and cheery. “We couldn’t have the whole island here for a reception without including the latest newcomer, now could we?”

“Well, I do appreciate it—and call me Freddie. That’s my nickname. My dad gave it to me, and it’s kind of stuck since childhood.”

Ana laughed. “Sounds as if you had a parent like Eloise. You know she nicknamed all her boys after substances she uses in her art.”

“So I hear,” Freddie replied, glancing around. “I got my name because Daddy said Fredrica sounded so Gothic and old-fashioned. And besides, I always was a tomboy.”

She didn’t add that she’d always been very close to her father, and she missed him so terribly, she’d moved all the way back to Georgia just to be close to him. It would be good for both of them, since her mother had died five years ago.

“So Freddie it is,” Ana said, bringing Freddie back to the present and her next crabcake. “I like it.” Ana moved around the reception table, making sure there were enough appetizers left. A team of waiters under the watchful eyes of Ana’s staffers, Jackie, Tina and Charlotte, kept moving back and forth from the garden to the big kitchen inside. “Even though you don’t look like a tomboy at all with that long, dark hair.”

“My one feminine indulgence,” Freddie admitted. “But even with long hair, I somehow managed to scare all the boys away in high school.”

Ana gave her an appraising look, taking in the floral sleeveless sheath Freddie had chosen for the afternoon reception. “Well, I think that’s about to change. We have some eligible bachelors here on the island, and I don’t think they know any fear.”

“Oh, no, I’m not looking for love right now,” Freddie replied, thinking she had lots of work and a six-year-old son to keep her busy. Too busy to date. “Ryan and I have to get settled here first. He started a new daycare a week ago and…we’re both still adjusting. And soon, he’ll be in school—first grade.”

“I understand,” Ana said, her expression softening. “Being a young widow isn’t easy. Tara had a hard time of it until she met Stone.” Then she smiled. “But it’s too bad you aren’t ready to leap back into the singles world. I had someone in mind already.”

In spite of her unabashed attempt at matchmaking, Freddie liked Ana Dempsey. Ana had been one of the first people to welcome Freddie and her son, Ryan, to the island. They’d stopped in the tearoom for a quick lunch one day, but Ana had been so gracious and welcoming, Freddie had immediately felt an instant bond with the woman. And Tara was just as nice. She’d even offered her oldest daughter, Laurel, to help baby-sit Ryan. Then last week, Ana had invited Freddie to Tara and Stone’s afternoon wedding reception in the gardens of Hidden Hill.

“Well, just keep that name handy,” she told Ana now. “I might be interested once I get my life in order.” Right now, she’d settle for having friends to turn to on the island. It had been so long since she’d had any close girlfriends. Ana seemed like a good choice, since she was a successful businesswoman and she was married to the preacher. Freddie had already attended church at the Sunset Island Chapel. That only confirmed she’d made the right decision by leaving Texas. This was a good, safe place for Ryan to grow up, with lots of families and a peaceful, small-town atmosphere.

Thinking she’d like to get to know Eloise and the whole family better, Freddie said, “Okay, I’ve met Rock, and the groom, Stone, of course. But I don’t think I’ve been introduced to—”

Before Freddie could finish her sentence, Ana was called away by Eloise, and at about the same time, a big, intimidating German shepherd came barreling around the corner of the large mansion, headed right for Freddie. In spite of the dog’s eagerness, Freddie could tell he ran with a slight limp. His form wasn’t the best, but the big dog gave it all he had, at least.

“Whoa, there! Samson, heel.”

The man in the tuxedo seemed amused even though his command was firm and no-nonsense.

Samson came to a skidding halt right in front of Freddie. Then he glanced back at his master, a soft whine escaping from his drooling mouth. Staring down at the lovely animal, Freddie could almost read the thoughts in the dog’s eyes. You look like you like dogs, lady.

And she did. Very much.

“Well, hello there,” Freddie said, her gaze moving from the panting dog to the out-of-breath man hurrying toward them. “May I pet him?” she asked, reaching out a hand toward the waiting animal.

“Samson, what’s got into you, boy?” the man said, his frown aimed at the dog while he ignored Freddie’s question. Then the man gave Freddie what she could only believe to be an appreciative sweeping gaze. “Okay, in this case, I guess I understand. He never could resist a pretty woman.”

“Neither could you, if memory serves me correctly,” Stone said from behind the man. Then he turned to Freddie. “Fredrica Hayes, meet my younger brother, Clay Dempsey.”

Clay Dempsey. The one Dempsey brother she hadn’t met yet. And well worth the wait, she decided.

Clay extended a hand, his grin sheepish. So this was the younger brother. Oh, he had such a sweet, little-boy face. And thick gold-dipped, dark-blond hair, clipped to precision. And eyes to make a woman swoon. Blue-green, and ever changing like the ocean.

“Hello,” Freddie said, offering him a hand, her heart doing a little spin.

Clay took her hand and nodded, the eyes she’d been admiring opening wide. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Freddie watched his face, then turned to Stone.

“What he’s trying to say, is yes, you can pet the dog, I think,” Stone replied, a grin splitting his handsome face.

“Yes,” Clay said again, a blush coloring his tanned face to bronze. “Yes, you can pet the big brute. He’s a K-9 and he’s supposed to behave himself at wedding receptions.”

Smiling, Freddie nodded, her dark hair falling around her face as she leaned forward to scratch Samson’s thick neck. “I can see he’s a canine,” she said, thinking Clay must not have inherited as many brain cells as his brothers. “That does mean dog, right?”

Clay shifted in his black patent shoes. “I mean,” he said, looking toward a highly amused Stone, “he’s, we’re, cops. K-9 Unit, downtown Atlanta.”

“Oh.” Freddie lifted her hand away from the dog, her smile freezing in place, his words making sense now as a trickle of disappointment settled in her stomach. Oh, well, she could still be polite, at least. “How interesting. I’m actually—”

“Hey, you two, we need more pictures,” Ana called, waving to Stone and Clay.

“Oh, boy,” Stone said, shrugging. “Greta Epperson is having a field day. Wants to put us in living color on the society page of the paper.” Then he turned to Freddie. “It’s on page three of the three pages they print, you understand.”

Freddie laughed again, her hand on Samson’s head. “I do understand. She interviewed me when I first came to town, what with me being the new—”

“Come on,” Ana called again, interrupting as she hurried toward them, then dragged Stone back with her toward the gathering group. “You, too,” she called over her shoulder to Clay.

Clay whirled around, then stopped to glance back at Freddie. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” Freddie said, her heart fluttering like a trapped sandpiper. “Could…could Samson sit here with me while you go pose for posterity?”

A sigh of obvious relief left his body as he walked backward a couple of steps. “That would be nice. He’s had a rough time lately. He’s recovering from an injury he received while on duty and well…”

“He needs some nurturing?”

He nodded, his blue-green eyes melting her with an intense look of appreciation. “Yeah, he could use some tender loving care. Just until I can get him to the local vet next week for a follow-up checkup and the rest of his therapy sessions.”

Freddie watched as Clay turned and trotted toward the group gathered for a picture, with Greta Epperson in her big-framed glasses and satin fifties-style pink dress issuing orders and posing people.

“But…I am the local vet,” Freddie said to Samson, her smile secretive and sure as she rubbed his thick, furry neck. “I’ll take care of you, Samson. I promise.”

Samson’s big black ears shot up, then he settled his nose against the fabric of her floral dress and smiled back.

“She’s—”

“Pretty,” Rock said before Clay could finish. “Is that the word you were looking for, brother?”

Clay shot a grin toward Rock. “Not exactly. I forget I’m not out on the streets of Atlanta. Have to watch my mouth and my manners.”

“Please do,” Ana said as they all smiled for yet another picture from the photographer Greta had dragged along to the wedding. Then Ana leaned close to Clay. “Freddie has had a rough time. Her husband was killed about a year ago—I’m not sure what happened. She has a six-year-old son named Ryan.”

“Really?” Clay wanted to know more, but the photographer was jostling them around so he was forced to face forward and step out of the way.

“Really,” Ana replied over her shoulder. “And she’s not interested, by the way.”

“Who’s asking.” Clay shrugged, then looked toward where Fredrica Hayes sat patting Samson’s head. The dog seemed content to keep right on sitting there while the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman scratched him between the ears.

Clay couldn’t blame poor Samson. When he’d come around the corner and found her standing there, his heart had skidded to a stop just about as screeching as Samson’s big feet. Even now, it was beating rather erratically. Fredrica Hayes was pretty, but there was something more. She looked very lithe and athletic, as if she worked out on a regular basis. She didn’t have many curves, but what she had fit the package perfectly.

“Are you sure?” he asked Ana under his breath.

Ana’s eyebrows lifted with purposeful intent. “About Freddie? Well, she said she wasn’t ready for any type of relationship. She’s only been on the island a couple of weeks and she’s still getting adjusted…but you never know, now do you?”

“No, you never know,” Clay replied. “At least she likes dogs.”

“It’s a start,” Ana said, her expression a little too pleased. Then with a little laugh, she gave him a shove. “What are you waiting for?”

Clay wondered that himself. What was he waiting for? He’d come home to find some peace and quiet and to do some soul-searching. This was supposed to be a time to heal, not a time to fall for the first woman Samson happened to buddy up to. But then, Samson was a very smart animal. Maybe Clay should just do what he’d always done regarding his K-9 partner.

Follow his lead.

Chapter Two

The Sunset Island Animal Hospital was located just off Lady Street, the main thoroughfare through the island. The hospital was on a quaint side street that boasted tiny private cottages mixed in with boutiques and restaurants. The clinic sat at the end of the street near the bay, on a large lot away from the other houses and buildings.

Clay had walked Samson here, hoping to give the eager dog some exercise. He wasn’t sure what to expect in the way of follow-up therapy. Lately, it seemed his dog was in therapy more than he’d been…after the accident.

“But we’re here to get you well, fellow,” Clay said to his partner. “We want to get back to work, right?”

Samson whimpered his answer, as if he understood completely what Clay was saying. Clay was about to answer him when a bicycle came whizzing by them.

A bicycle ridden by Fredrica Hayes.

Clay felt a rush of breath leaving his body as he halted Samson by tugging on his leash. “Hmm, how ’bout that, Samson. Looks as if our new friend is headed to the clinic, too.”

Maybe she had a sick animal there. Maybe she’d hang around and Clay could take her to lunch later. Maybe he’d been off the dating circuit for way too long now.

A lot of maybes.

“Hi,” Clay called as she turned to smile at them.

“Hello.” She parked the bike beside the building then headed up the narrow stone steps to the creamy yellow clinic. “What brings you two out so early today?”

Clay watched, amused, as Samson tugged at the leash. He let the dog go, laughing when Samson headed to Freddie for an ear rub. “We’re supposed to check in with the vet—get Samson started on follow-up therapy.”

“Oh, right,” she said, nodding as she petted the dog. “Hello there, Samson. Remember me?”

“How could he forget,” Clay said before he had time to think. Then he grinned and looked out past the porch to the blue waters of the bay. A party barge glided by, the occupants laughing and talking. When would he learn to let his brain catch up with his mouth before he spoke?

“Dogs do have good memories,” Freddie said, tossing her long brown braid over her shoulder as she unlocked the door. “I believe you two are my first patients of the day.”

“You work here?” Clay asked, thanking the heavens for this delightful coincidence. He’d get to see her a lot if she worked for the vet.

“You could say that,” Freddie replied, winking down at Samson.

Samson’s big tongue fell out of his mouth.

Clay felt sure his was doing the same. She smelled even better than the gardenia bush blooming next to the porch. And she looked so natural and girl-next-door that he wondered why more men weren’t lined up with their dogs. He was sure glad he was the only one so far, however.

“So…do you assist, or just work the front desk?”

“A little of both,” she said, still grinning.

Clay felt as if there was a joke he’d missed, the way she kept looking at Samson. He wished that dog could talk. Maybe Samson knew something he didn’t. She sure seemed to be more comfortable with his dog than with Clay.

As they entered the clean, open waiting area, Clay heard someone behind him. And then he found out the secret.

“Morning, Doc,” a young tawny-haired girl said as she breezed in through the door. “I see we already have a patient this morning.”

“Good morning, Kate,” Freddie said, her grin deepening to reveal dimples on each side of her tanned face.

“Did she just call you Doc?” Clay asked, his gaze shifting from Freddie to the girl.

“She’s the doctor,” Kate said with a shrug.

“The doctor?” Clay looked back at Freddie.

She nodded and patted Samson’s head again. “I see you didn’t let your human friend in on our secret. Good boy.”

“Oh, I get it. You told Samson this already, right?”

Freddie nodded. “We had a long talk the other day while you were busy taking pictures. But I did try to tell you, too.”

Clay rubbed a hand down his face, thinking now would be a good time for the earth to swallow him up. “It was a crazy day. I didn’t get to visit with many of the guests.”

“I understand,” Freddie replied, her smile softening. “Let’s start over then.” She extended her hand, all professional and very serious. “I’m animal doctor Fredrica Hayes. I took over this clinic about two weeks ago. And you can call me Freddie.”

Clay took her hand, noticing her clean, clear fingernail polish and her sensible nails. Everything about her was clean and fresh and sensible. And incredibly attractive. “You sure beat old Doc Bates. And you can call me Clay.”

“Oh, not Clayton? I’ve heard your mother call you by that name.”

Clay shook his head, winced. “Never that, please.” Then because he didn’t want to start stuttering, he asked, “So what happened to Dr. Bates?”

“He sold out to me and moved to Louisiana, to be near his grandchildren,” Freddie explained. “I hope to improve things around here, update this place a bit—it’s a lease with an option to buy, which I intend to do. But money’s tight right now, so I’ll have to wait awhile on that.”

“It’s looking better already,” Clay said, again wishing he could bite his tongue before he opened his mouth. “I mean, this place could use some improvements.”

Kate rolled her eyes, then moved past them. “I’ll get the office cranked up and make us some coffee. Oh, and I brought croissants.”

“You are an angel,” Freddie told the girl. “Kate’s going to school at night in Savannah. She hopes to be my partner one day.”

Kate nodded, tossed her wispy hair. “But until that day, I’m the office manager.”

“Nice,” Clay said, his gaze moving over the clean tile floors and uncluttered benches. There was a basket in the corner, filled with animal toys. Samson immediately headed over to sniff it out.

Freddie looked at her watch. “My other assistant should be here soon. His name is Lee Fletcher.”

“I remember Lee,” Clay said, relieved that something was the same. “We went to school together.”

“Lee is a character,” Freddie said as she opened doors and turned on lights, motioning for Clay and Samson to follow her into a small examining room down the hall. “He’s a perpetual beach bum, content to work here and spend his off time out on a sailboat or jet ski.”

Clay commanded Samson up onto the examining table. “Sometimes I wonder if the simple life might be the best life. Maybe Lee’s got the right idea.”

Freddie stood across the table at him, her big brown eyes making him think of hot chocolate and warm kisses on a moonlight beach. “That’s the reason I came here,” she said, her eyes darkening to a rich brown. “I wanted to raise Ryan away from the city, wanted him to have a more simple, structured life.”

Clay took in that information and the way her dark eyes turned so serious and intense, then said, “I grew up here, but I couldn’t wait to get away. I craved the excitement of the city.”

“But you’re back now.”

He saw the questions in her eyes, but Clay wasn’t ready to answer those questions. He didn’t have the answers yet.

“Just for a vacation,” he said instead. “Just to get Samson healed up and ready to go back on duty.”

If they went back on duty, he thought.

“Then let’s get started,” Freddie said, her whole demeanor changing from friendly to professional again. But Clay thought he saw something else in her big brown eyes, some evasive quality that seemed to effectively shut her down. She rubbed Samson’s furry back, then gave Clay a direct look. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Oh, here,” Clay said, shoving a large envelope toward her. “His records.”

“Okay,” she said, taking the envelope. “I’ll read over these later. But I want you to tell me what happened.”

“Why can’t you just read the file?”

“I can. But I need to understand what Samson went through, how he’s been since he’s healed. I need to understand your relationship with him.”

Clay wished Dr. Bates were here. That man would have just grunted and examined the dog. Then he would have probably handed them a list of exercises to complete. But Dr. Bates had gone west and Clay was here, staring at the lovely and determined Dr. Freddie Hayes. And he really didn’t want to go into detail with her about that night.

But she was waiting.

Finally, he sighed, folded his arms across his chest and took on his police-giving-a-report tone. “It was a Code Five—”

“Use plain English.”

“The narcotics agents had been on a stakeout in the area earlier that day. They tried to nab a suspect, but he’d fled into this building. They’d received a tip that he was gone, but he’d stashed some drugs there. We were instructed to watch for the suspect, and then search for illegal weapons and drugs if we didn’t find him. We—Samson and I—were supposed to proceed on a search for evidence once we heard the all clear. It was an old, abandoned warehouse. We thought it was empty.”

“And?”

He shrugged, dropped a hand onto Samson’s back. “And we got in there to begin our search, and it wasn’t empty. The suspect was there, trying either to hide or move his stash, I don’t know. Samson alerted immediately, but it was too late. The suspect started shooting.” He stopped, took a deep breath, tried to focus. “The DEA called for backup, but Samson and I had to hide out on some stairs. We were trapped inside with the suspect, in a shoot-out.”

Her eyes widened as her skin paled to a porcelain sheen. “Oh, my.” Clay watched as she protectively placed a hand on Samson’s head.

Clay sank down on a cushioned bench beside the table. “Yeah, oh, my. That’s what I was thinking, too, but in more graphic terms, when I had to return fire. I tried to wait for backup. I tried to retreat. But the bullets just kept coming. It was too dangerous to let Samson loose on the suspect, and I knew the boys would back me up. Anyway, I saw a chance and we took it. We headed up the stairs to what I thought was an exit door. The suspect came after us and we exchanged more gunfire. I wounded him and he dropped his weapon, but he kept coming. He fell against me and the weight of his body propelled us toward the exit door. I commanded Samson to attack then and he did. It gave me just enough time to get the suspect off me and down on the floor.”

Freddie was watching him now, understanding dawning in her dark eyes. “Something else happened then, right?”

“Right.” He looked down at the floor. “We wrestled back and forth. I could hear the other officers shouting. I called out, then I commanded Samson to attack again. He came at the suspect just as I rolled the man over against that old door.” He looked back up at her then, his mouth dry. Swallowing, he said, “The suspect found his gun and aimed it toward me as Samson leaped at him. I saw it coming. I pushed his hand away but our combined weight broke the door just as Samson lunged for the suspect. We all went over into an old elevator shaft. There was another struggle.” He stopped here, not ready to go into detail about his own wounds. “I managed to get a shot at the suspect. The suspect died and Samson suffered a broken hip.” He sat silent, then breathed deep again. “That was over three months ago. He’s doing pretty good—he does have a noticeable limp at times, if he’s been too active. He’s just not as alert and fast as he used to be. If we don’t get him back into shape, he’ll have to retire.”

“I see.”

She stood there, so quiet Clay wondered if she had a squeamish stomach. She looked pale, her wide lips drawn together. There was more to the story, but he wasn’t about to tell her that part. He was here to help Samson.

“So what do we need to do now?” he finally asked.

Freddie looked up at him, her eyes going wide. “Oh, well, of course you need to exercise him.” She flipped through the medical folder, then moved her hand down Samson’s right front leg. “This one, right?”

Clay touched Samson on the head to steady the big dog. “You might need to muzzle him. He’s still sensitive there.”

Freddie whispered something in Samson’s ear as she stroked his leg, then moved her fingers over his hip joint. “He seems to have healed up nicely. Some obvious signs of limping, you said?”

“Not as often now. The vet in Atlanta did a great job. And we’ve been through several weeks of intense therapy already. You know, the cart—that wheelchairlike thing—a leg trolley, then water therapy and the treadmill.”

“We’ll need to continue that,” she said, her gaze moving over Samson. “He seems in good spirits.”

“He’s recovering slowly. But my supervisor isn’t ready to release him back on to full duty yet.” Or me, either, he thought.

“So…you brought him here to get him back in tiptop shape?”

Clay nodded, glanced out the big window off to the side. “I thought the sand and water might be good for him. We can run the beach, he can climb the dunes and bluffs. And Stone says we can use the pool at Hidden Hills so Samson can swim to improve his range of motion. We’re staying out there, watching the place while Stone is away on his honeymoon.”

“I’d also suggest a Swiss ball and some dancing,” Freddie said with a grin aimed toward the dog.

Clay smiled, too, relaxing again. “Okay. I’ll get Samson a Swiss ball and…I’ll take you dancing.”

“Not me,” she replied, turning all business again by refusing to look at Clay. “Samson needs to dance.”

“Oh.” Clay hoped he wasn’t blushing—he hadn’t done this much foot-in-the-mouth since high school. But he pressed on, determined in spite of his stupidity. “Well, Doc, how come he gets to dance and I don’t?”

“You can dance with him,” she replied. “Here, I’ll show you.” She motioned for Samson to hop off the table, then held her hands in the air. “C’mon, boy.”

At least Samson wasn’t stupid. He lifted up his two front legs, his big tongue flopping in an excited grin.

“The trick is,” Freddie said as she gently held Samson’s paws, “to make him use his legs, to rebuild the muscles. Even though his front thigh and hip were damaged, he needs to stay strong all over. So we dance.”

With that, she moved Samson around the small examining room, the dog’s thick hind claws tapping on the clean linoleum floor while Freddie’s sneakers squeaked in an answering rhythm. “That’s it. See, that’s not so bad, is it?”

Clay stood back, amazed at how relaxed his dog was with this woman. Why couldn’t he relax like that, instead of making dumb comments?

“You’re a very good dancer,” Freddie told Samson. The dog glanced around at Clay, as if to say “she likes me better than she does you.”

Clay could see that without the dog pointing it out.

Fredrica Hayes was a nice, accommodating veterinarian, a woman who obviously had a way with animals. She’d be great with Samson’s extended therapy and healing.

But she obviously didn’t like men as much as she liked animals. Or maybe it was just him, Clay reasoned.

Maybe she just didn’t like him.

Which was a shame.

He could use some healing, too.

Chapter Three

“I like him, but I don’t date cops.”

Freddie saw the meaningful looks pass between the group of women she was having lunch with at Ana’s. She wished she hadn’t blurted that bit of information, but it was so nice to have other women with whom to share, she’d just relaxed her guard too much and let it slip. Living here on the island did that to a person. The whole town was laid-back and unhurried, carefree and pleasant. All the things she’d missed so much during her nine years of a hectic, chaotic marriage. A marriage that had sadly ended in tragedy and violence, because of her husband’s lifestyle.

“Why don’t you date cops?” Tina asked with wide-eyed interest. “I mean, yum-yum. You know, a man in uniform.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte added, her grin widening. “And Clay Dempsey is just adorable. In uniform, or in a tux. Did you see him at the wedding reception? He was so sweet, looking so nervous when he made the toast. Just a cutie-pie.”

Ana smiled over at her co-workers. “Don’t you two have napkins to fold or something?”

“Nope,” Tina said, shaking her head. “You do give us a lunch break, remember? And according to my watch, we have ten minutes left.” To emphasize that point, she popped another miniature chicken-salad puff pastry into her mouth.

Jackie, Ana’s capable bookkeeper and hostess, came out onto the porch where they all sat. “Just booked us another one of those romantic Saturday-night private dinners, boss. What’d I miss?”

“Freddie doesn’t date cops,” Tina explained, rolling her brown eyes. “Such a shame.”

“Really?” Jackie sank down on one of the bistro chairs. It was midafternoon, so the tearoom was empty for now. A cool breeze ruffled the red geraniums filling several pots on the long, inviting front porch where they had gathered. “Hey, Clay Dempsey is a cop, right?”

“Right,” Charlotte said, nodding. “And he’s been flirting with Freddie.”

“I didn’t say he’s been flirting,” Freddie responded, wishing again she’d never brought Clay Dempsey’s name into the conversation. “I was just telling Ana that he’s…you know, made pointed remarks…to me.”

“Suggestive remarks?”

Freddie shook her head at Ana’s question. “No. He’s, well, he is a sweetie. It’s rather endearing, really. He blurts out things, then freezes in a kind of nervous, self-conscious way.”

“He’s interested,” Charlotte confirmed with a toss of her curls. “Yup, he’s sure interested, all right.”

“And you know this because…?” Jackie asked, her eyebrows lifting.

“Because I went to school with Clay. We graduated from high school together. And…he never flirted with me. Clay was the quiet Dempsey, always trying to please everyone around him. He worked hard at school and played hard at all kinds of sports and vowed the whole time that he was leaving this island for the big city. He always wanted to be a policeman.” She tapped her finger on the table. “But now he’s back and he’s…flirting. Clay never flirted unless he was serious. He had to get up his nerve. Yup, he’s interested,” she said again, her tapping picking up its tempo.

“But I’m not,” Freddie said, taking a sip of her peach-mango tea to calm the jitters in her stomach. “I can’t get involved with another cop.”

“Old boyfriend?” Tina asked as she peeled the skin off her orange slice, then tossed the fresh wedge of fruit into her mouth.

Freddie didn’t want to explain, but she felt cornered. And it was good to have female friends to confide in. If these friends could be trusted. She knew she could trust Ana, but what about the rest?

“You can trust us,” Jackie said as if she’d read Freddie’s mind. “But if you don’t want to tell us—”

“She does,” Charlotte said, “don’t you?”

“I want you to understand,” Freddie replied, amused in spite of her qualms at how the women were all waiting impatiently for her to spill her worries. “But please don’t spread this around. My son—”

“They won’t repeat it,” Ana said, her eyes narrowing in a glare that told her employees they’d better heed her gentle warning. “Right, girls?”

Three heads bobbed. “No. No way. Never.”

Freddie had to smile at that. “I was married to a cop.”

“Oh, Ryan’s father?” Ana asked, concern in her voice.

“Yes.” She glanced out toward the ocean across the narrow ribbon of road. The cobalt water beckoned her. She wished she could forget the past and enjoy the tranquility of this tiny island. But she knew it would take time. “He died in the line of duty.”

All of the women became quiet then. Ana reached a hand across the table to Freddie. “That’s tough. I’m so sorry. I knew you were a widow, but…well, I had no idea.”

“How long?” Jackie asked.

“A little over a year ago,” Freddie replied, memories hitting at her with gale force. “We lived in Dallas. He’d been on the force there for six years. His father and his older brother are both police officers, too. They all took it pretty hard.”

She didn’t say how hard or that they’d made her life miserable after Gary’s death.

“Wow,” Tina said. “That’s so sad.”

Freddie couldn’t tell her new friends how horrible her former life had been. She couldn’t tell them that Gary had been controlling and overbearing, that he didn’t allow her to have girlfriends. Or that her marriage had been on the verge of ending long before her husband got killed. “I have relatives in Georgia, not far from Savannah, so I decided to move back here. I needed a fresh start.”

“Good idea,” Jackie said, getting up. “Girls, I think we need to get back to work. Let’s get the kitchen in order so we can knock off early this afternoon.”

Ana shot her friend a thankful look. Freddie was relieved that none of the women pressed her further, but she felt as if they couldn’t wait to get in the kitchen and whisper about what she’d just revealed. Soon, she was alone with Ana, the sound of seagulls cawing giving her a sense of peace. The afternoon breeze had a touch of fall in it.

Freddie lifted her head, enjoying the fresh, crisp air. “I love it here.”

Ana nodded, poured them more hot tea. “This island has that effect on people. It has a way of healing any hurts.”

Freddie took a sip of tea. “I can see that. Rock and you, Stone and Tara—you all seem so happy.”

Ana’s smile was bittersweet. “It wasn’t always that way. Rock and I had a lot of things standing between us, but we managed to work them out. I’m happy for Tara and Stone, too. Oh, and I got a postcard from them today. They’re in Paris, shopping for pieces to refurbish Hidden Hill, and of course, Tara is worried about the girls.”

“Your parents are with them in Savannah, right?”

“Yes, but you know how it is, being a mother. Tara can’t wait to get home and help the girls get ready for school.”

“Yes, I have to get Ryan settled into his new school, too,” Freddie said. “I can’t believe he’ll be in first grade this fall, plus he has a birthday coming up in October. And speaking of that, I’d better get over to the day care and pick him up. I promised him we’d go frolicking on the beach this afternoon.”

Ana looked wistful. “I can’t wait to be a mother.”

Freddie saw Ana’s secretive smile. “Any chance that might be happening?”

“We’re trying,” Ana admitted. “You know, we’ve only been married three months, so we don’t want to rush things, but we’re both so ready to be parents.”

“You’d be a great mother,” Freddie replied, happiness for Ana pushing away her own dark memories. “And Rock—that man has such a way with children.”

“Yes, he does,” Ana said, her smile beaming. “Tara’s girls love him so much.” She went back to gathering dishes. “Anyway, we’ll see.”

“I hope you get your wish,” Freddie said, touching a hand on Ana’s arm. “Being a mother—it’s like nothing else. The love you feel…well, let’s just say it’s going to be hard to watch Ryan grow up, but I guess that’s part of the deal. Until then, though, I’m going to enjoy him being a little boy by taking him down to the beach to make sand castles.”

“School starts next week. Better enjoy these last days of summer.”

“I intend to,” Freddie replied as she grabbed her tote bag.

“I am sorry about your husband,” Ana said. “I mean, we all knew you were a widow, but I guess no one wanted to be too nosy and ask exactly how your husband had died.”

“Now you know,” Freddie said, hoping Ana wouldn’t press for details. “I’m adjusting, though.”

“That’s good. It took Tara a while to accept her first husband’s death. I’m so glad she found Stone.”

Freddie thought about how happy and in love Stone and Tara had looked at their wedding reception, a little stab of some unspoken emotion piercing at her heart. “They make a beautiful couple.”

“Freddie?”

She turned to find Ana staring at her. “Yes?”

“About Clay?”

“He’s very nice and very cute. But…I can’t date a cop.”

“That’s too bad,” Ana said, a determined look on her face. “Clay is different from his brothers. Rock was once bitter and a bit controlling, and Stone had just shut down on all levels, but thankfully, they’ve both changed a lot lately. But Clay—he has a tender nature that hides all his hurts.”

“What kind of hurts could Clay Dempsey possibly have? He seems very down-to-earth and centered to me.”

Ana smiled again, then began gathering their dishes. “Like I said, he has a tender nature that hides a world of hurts. And…he was so young when the Dempseys lost their father. He might be a big help to Ryan.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Freddie replied. “But I don’t intend to get involved with another policeman.”

“End of discussion?”

“End of discussion.”

Ana didn’t look convinced, Freddie thought as she walked back up the street toward Ryan’s day care, the sound of the ocean’s continuous waves falling into a rhythm with her footsteps. The air smelled so clean and pure, she took a deep, calming breath and put Clay Dempsey out of her mind.

But if she admitted it to herself, Freddie knew she wasn’t entirely convinced of her declaration to not get involved with a policeman. Clay did seem like a nice enough person. But then, she’d only had two conversations with the man.

Clay Dempsey might be different from his brothers.

But would he be any different from her husband?

“She’s different from the women I’ve dated back in Atlanta,” Clay told his mother later that day.

They were sitting in Eloise’s vast, high-ceilinged kitchen. Eloise was peeling peaches for cobbler, while her trusty caretakers Cy and Neda Wilson worked on a dinner of blue crabs and fried oysters—both favorites of Clay’s.

“Are you dating her?” Eloise asked, the pride and hope in her silver eyes making Clay cringe.

“No, Mother. I told you, she’s Samson’s doctor.”

The big dog heard his name and came trotting into the kitchen, whimpering a greeting.

“Yes, he’s talking about you, fellow,” Eloise said, smiling down at the waiting dog. “I can’t pet you right now, Samson. My hands are covered in peach juice.”

Samson’s big brown eyes widened, then he circled the long butcher-block work space and found a worn spot on the hardwood floors.

“Good boy,” Clay said, watching the dog. Samson’s eyes held a trust and loyalty that still amazed Clay. He wished humans could be so trusting.

“You know, Samson is Josiah’s first name,” Eloise said, that burning hope still in her eyes. “Or is it his second name? Anyway, we call him Josiah. He lives out in the marsh—you met him at the wedding. You’ll probably get to know him when Stone and Tara return from Europe. Your brother expects you to help him out in that swamp.”

“That swamp is going to be their front yard,” Neda reminded Eloise with a chuckle. “I still can’t picture sophisticated Tara living out in the marshes.”

“Tara is tougher than she looks,” Eloise replied as she finished the last peach, then began layering the slices into a long glass baking dish. “And so is our Freddie, I believe. Now, Clay, tell me more about her.”

“I don’t know a whole lot,” Clay admitted, silently laughing at the way his mother had turned the conversation back to Freddie Hayes. “She’s been here a few weeks. She’s living in a small cottage down by the boardwalk, not far from the animal clinic, and…she sure is prettier than old Doc Bates.”

“You can say that again,” Cy called from the stove. He was a big man with a precision crew cut. He’d been a cook in the navy and now he cooked for Eloise.

“I heard that,” Neda said as she passed by with flour and sugar for the cobbler, her eyes twinkling. “But you’re right. Fredrica is a pretty woman.” She gave Clay a meaningful look.

“Is everyone on the island determined to get Freddie and me together?” Clay asked.

“Pretty much,” Eloise said without a trace of guilt or coyness. “You’d make a perfect match.”

“I don’t even know the woman that well,” Clay countered, his easygoing nature being sorely tested.

“You have lots of free time to get to know her,” Eloise pointed out. “And didn’t you say you’d be working with her anyway, doing Samson’s therapy?”

“Twice a week,” Clay replied, already looking forward to that, although he would never admit it to his mother. “We’re going to do water exercises in Stone’s pool and out in the ocean. And we might drive into Savannah for some hydrotherapy in the whirlpool at this big veterinarian center Freddie suggested.”

“You mean, you and Freddie would both take Samson?”

“Maybe,” Clay replied to his mother’s question. “If she’ll go with us.”

“Ask her.”

Clay let out a long breath. “Mother!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll hush. But I was right about Ana and Tara. They’re both married to your brothers now.”

“Yes, I happen to have noticed that, since I attended both weddings.”

“Well—”

Clay sank back in his chair, rolling his eyes. Rock and Stone had warned him. “Mother.”

“Not another word,” Eloise said, her spangled earrings shimmering as she helped Neda finish the crust for the cobbler. “Dinner will be about another half hour, Clay. You could take Samson for a walk on the beach if you want.”

“Good idea,” Clay said, glad to be out from under her overbearing, well-meaning analysis of his sorry love life. “C’mon, Samson,” he called. The dog was immediately alert and jumped up. Clay noticed Samson wasn’t as fast as he once was, but he had improved since the injury. That was something to be thankful for. “We’ll be back around six.”

“Everything should be ready by then,” Eloise said. Then she came around the counter to touch Clay’s face. “It’s so good to have you home.”

Clay liked his mother’s hands. They were creative and graceful, just like her. He’d always tried so hard to please his mother, after they’d lost their father. He’d wanted to make her smile again. He’d failed miserably. But he remembered those hands, late at night, moving over his face when she thought he was asleep. He remembered her tender touch, even if he couldn’t remember her acting like a normal mother. Unlike Rock and Stone, Clay held no resentment toward his artistic mother. Maybe because he’d been too young to see the obvious, or maybe because he was so young at the time, he saw what his older brothers never had. His mother had lived for their father, and then she had lived for her work. Rock and Stone had resented her for that. They’d always thought their mother had neglected them.

But Clay knew better. He knew his mother loved her three sons, even if she didn’t go about showing it in the usual ways. He had always felt it in her touch. So tender, so loving.

He took her hand now and kissed it, noticing that it was veined and aged, but still soft and tender. “It’s good to be home.”

He turned to head up the long central hallway of the rambling Victorian beach house, Samson trotting eagerly behind him.

“Clay?”

He pivoted to see Eloise standing silhouetted at the end of the hall, her flowing skirts making her look as if she was from another time.

“Yes?”

“When are you going to tell me, Son?”

“Tell you what?”

“About that night, about how you got hurt that same night Samson was injured.”

Clay stiffened. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m over it now, Mother. I’m fine.”

“I wonder,” she said, one hand braced on the doorway into the kitchen.

“Don’t,” Clay said. Then he motioned to Samson. Together, they hurried out the front door and down the sloping yard to the dunes and the sea beyond.

As Clay followed the dog that had saved his life, he closed his eyes to the pain of his memories. He didn’t want to talk about that night. And he didn’t want to think about being a cop right now.

Chapter Four

She didn’t want to think about cops right now. Gary Hayes was dead. He’d died a violent death, a death that still haunted Freddie each time she remembered his father coming to her door to tell her that Gary wouldn’t be home that night. But then, Gary had lived a violent life, and he hadn’t come home a lot of nights. But she never would have believed it could end that way, with him dying in a shoot-out with a gang of drug dealers. Gary had always seemed so strong, so sure of himself.

I’m away from that now. Away from that life.

Freddie closed her eyes and felt the rush of the ocean’s balmy winds moving over her with a soothing touch, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore an endless reminder of why she’d come to Sunset Island. It was almost as if the waves were telling her to “be still, be still.”

Freddie took a long breath and did just that. Then she opened her eyes and watched as her beautiful son built a sand castle near the waves. Ryan looked so much like his father with his dark hair and olive skin, his big blue eyes so trusting, so loving. That was the difference though; that was where the similarities ended. Gary’s eyes had always held a kind of cynical arrogance, as if the world owed him a favor. Her son’s eyes held a mixture of hope and wonder and love. Her son loved her. She intended to live up to that love. She’d tried to live up to her husband’s expectations, and now she was terrified her son would have too many expectations, and she’d fail him, too. Not if I teach him the right way.

I loved Gary so much, Lord. But that love hadn’t been enough. Freddie had never felt as if her love was truly returned. Gary had always managed to find something wrong with her. He’d teased her about going to church, about how she was trying to raise their son to be less violent than his father and uncle and grandfather.

“You treat him like a baby, Freddie. He has to learn to be a man.”

A man like his father? she wondered now. She wouldn’t let that happen. And since Gary’s family had treated her as if she’d been the one to pull the trigger that night, Freddie had felt compelled to get her son away from the Hayes clan back in Dallas. They hadn’t liked it, had threatened her with custody battles and all sorts of dire consequences, but in the end, Ryan’s grandmother, Pearl Hayes, had calmed her husband and her son down enough to make them see that Ryan belonged with his mother. Yet Freddie couldn’t forget the open hostility in Pearl’s eyes the last time she’d seen her. Since then, she’d been waiting and wondering if they’d try to make good on their threats.

So far, so good. No news was good news wherever the Hayes bunch was concerned.

She glanced back at Ryan. She had to shield him from the kind of violence his father had thrived on. She had to teach him to stand up for the things he believed in, without sacrificing his soul to the evils of the world, the way his father had. Gary had been a bad cop, as corrupt and conniving as the thugs he put in jail every day. She was pretty sure that’s why he’d died in such a horrible way. And she was pretty sure Gary had learned it from Ned Hayes. Ned had taught his two sons to be domineering and macho. She couldn’t let Ryan become that way. In her heart, she knew Ryan could be a good man, like her father, Wade Noble, if she taught him the lessons from the Bible. The same lessons her parents had taught her.

I won’t let him be tempted, Lord. I’ll try to teach him the right way to be a man.

She’d already taken Ryan to church here. That’s how she’d met Rock and Ana. Rock had helped her so much when she’d first come to the island. Freddie intended to make sure her son had a solid foundation, a foundation built on the strength of Christ, and not the things her husband had craved and wanted.

But where is your strength? she asked herself. When are you going to be able to trust God again?

I’m trying, Lord. She’d brought her child here to this tiny island because it was about as far away from Dallas as she could get. She’d found the ad for the clinic while sending out résumés on the Internet and got an interview with Dr. Bates. Somehow with her father’s help, she had managed to swing the loan for the down payment, then she’d signed a contract to lease the clinic with an option to buy it. After that, she’d packed up a few things and she and Ryan had driven until they’d reached the ocean. But was it far enough away? Could she ever escape the memories of her failed marriage and the bitter in-laws she’d left behind?

Could she ever escape the guilt, the nagging thought that maybe Gary’s parents and brother were right? That she had somehow contributed to his death?

“I need a new life,” Freddie said into the growing dusk. The wind lifted her long braid away from her shoulder. She tossed her head, about to call Ryan in for the day when she heard a distinctive running, the sound of four paws hitting wet sand, the bark of an excited dog.

Samson.

Then she saw Clay Dempsey walking up the beach toward her, his grin full of surprise, his eyes full of hope.

Freddie didn’t have any hope to give him. She couldn’t encourage his tender attention. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Shouldn’t.

And yet, his smile beckoned her like a warm wash of cleansing water, pure and complete and intoxicating.

Clay Dempsey was irresistible.

But Freddie refused to be tempted.

She looked mighty tempting, sitting there in her cutoff blue jean shorts and floral tank top. Freddie waved to him, but Clay could see the hesitant look in her dark eyes. Was she glad to see him? Or mad that he’d accidentally found her here on the beach?

He waved back, careful not to look too eager.

Samson, however, wasn’t so subtle. The dog raced toward Freddie, his bark one of “Hello” and “You’re the pretty lady who’s going to help me.” Then Samson looked back at Clay, as if to say “Look, dummy, it’s Freddie. Hurry up, will you?”

“Mommy, a doggie!”

Clay glanced at the little boy running toward Freddie, then called out a command to Samson. He didn’t think Samson would hurt the boy, but Samson still wasn’t back to one hundred percent, and if the boy accidentally hit on Samson’s tender spot, the dog might snap at him purely out of self-defense.

“Ryan, you know you don’t pet a dog without his owner’s permission,” Freddie cautioned as Ryan hurried toward Samson.

Both the boy and the dog stopped, obeying directions, both looking toward the man and woman with them, waiting for the sign to continue.

“Samson, easy,” Clay told the dog. Samson held back his enthusiasm, alerted to the little boy.

“Ryan, this is Samson and his human friend, Clay,” Freddie explained as her son came up to stand beside her. “Samson was hurt a few months ago, honey, so you have to be very gentle when you touch him. And you are only allowed to touch him if Clay tells you it’s okay.”

“All right, Mommy,” the little boy said, his big blue eyes practically imploring Clay to let him pet the dog.

“It’s okay,” Clay said as he came up to stand beside Samson. “Samson, sit,” Clay commanded. Samson sat down on his back legs, then tossed Clay an expectant glance over his left ear. “Ryan, you can pet him on the top of his head.”

“Be gentle,” Freddie said again, her eyes touching on Clay’s face with gratitude. “Samson is a—” she stopped, gave Clay a hard look “—he’s a K-9 dog.”

“A police dog?” Ryan said as he gingerly laid a hand on Samson’s head between the dog’s ears. “My daddy was a policeman, wasn’t he, Mommy?”

Clay’s eyes never left Freddie’s face. And he saw it all there in her reaction. Saw why she seemed so hesitant around him. “Yes, your daddy was a policeman,” she said to her son, her expression still fixed and hard, while her eyes asked Clay to understand.

Ryan looked up at Clay. “My daddy went to heaven.”

Surprised, Clay gave Freddie a sympathetic look, then bent down on one knee next to the boy. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ryan. Being a policeman is a hard job. Samson and I needed a break because we both got hurt at work. I’m sure your daddy was a real hero.”

“Yeah, that’s what Grandpa Ned used to tell me,” Ryan said, his little hand still stroking Samson. The dog sat still and watched quietly. “I miss Grandpa Ned and Grandma Pearl. And Uncle Todd.” He turned to his mother. “Do you think they could come visit us?”

Clay saw a cloud of fear moving through Freddie’s dark eyes. “I’m not sure, baby. They live a long way from here and they both work very hard.”

Ryan looked up at her through a fringe of dark bangs. “Catching bad guys?”

“Yes,” she said, that same hesitant nature causing her voice to go low. “Catching bad guys.” Then she ruffled Ryan’s hair. “But remember, we only live a couple of hours away from your other grandfather, my daddy.”

“Grandpa Wade,” Ryan said, excitement causing him to almost stumble over on the sand. “We can visit him!”

Samson watched the boy intensely, but stayed in a sitting position. Freddie Hayes held her own position, not looking to budge anytime soon from her disturbing stance.

Clay stood as her hesitancy turned to hostility while the sun turned to a rich golden globe to the west, over the bay. It was painfully obvious by the way she was looking at him now why Freddie Hayes seemed so distant at times. She didn’t want to become involved with another cop. Maybe because she was still mourning the one she’d loved and lost.

Clay sank back down in the sand next to Samson, and accepted that he didn’t stand a chance with this woman. But that didn’t stop him. Clay had always managed to take on a good challenge, just to show the world he could do it. And Freddie Hayes was definitely a challenge.

“We were just going for a quick walk before dinner,” he explained, hoping she wouldn’t think he was stalking her.

Freddie nodded, then sat on her knees to gather up their towels and Ryan’s toys. “We need to get home ourselves. Ryan goes to day care, so I have to get him up early tomorrow.”

“I start school in this many weeks,” Ryan added, holding up one pudgy finger. “I’ll be in first—a real grade.”

Freddie frowned down at her son. “Ryan, remember what I told you—kindergarten was a real grade, too. You learned a lot there, honey.”

Ryan bobbed his head. “Yeah, but Uncle Todd told me kindergarten is for babies. But I’m not a baby anymore, am I, Mommy?”

“No, sweetie, you’re growing up.” Freddie rubbed his thick hair off his forehead, a flash of mother’s love coloring her eyes a deep brown. “Too fast.”

“Not fast enough,” Ryan replied, standing up. “Look, Samson. See my muscles. One day, I’m gonna have big muscles like my daddy and Uncle Todd.”

The dog watched Ryan’s every movement, as if mesmerized by the little boy’s actions. He gave an answering low bark.

“I think he’s impressed,” Clay said, wondering why Freddie was still frowning. Probably because he was still here.

Freddie smiled then, but the smile looked forced, as if she was gritting her teeth. She finished packing up everything, but she didn’t leave. Instead, she settled back on the big beach blanket to look over at Clay. At least she wasn’t running away in a hurry.

Reaching out to rub Samson’s furry back, she said, “Ryan, why don’t you go get your sand-castle molds? And make sure you shake the sand out.”

Ryan hopped up, then turned. “Can Samson come with me?”

Clay nodded. “Sure. But don’t pet him. Just let him watch, okay?”

“Okay.” Ryan waited for the dog, one hand held out in a trusting gesture of age-old friendship. “C’mon, Samson.”

Samson looked to his master, his eager eyes making Clay smile. “Samson, go.”

Samson took off toward the ocean, barking at the incoming waves. Ryan giggled and followed, careful not to get too close to the prancing dog.

“Will they—”

“I’m watching,” Clay said in response to the worry he saw in Freddie’s eyes. “Samson knows his commands. He won’t bother Ryan. But he’ll watch over him. He’s always been especially sociable around children. We used to visit a lot of the schools around our precinct.”

That seemed to calm her. She looked away from her son, then back at Clay, her eyes the color of dark earth. “I guess I’m being silly and overly protective, but things have been difficult since his father died.”

“I’m sorry,” Clay said, meaning it. Getting killed came with the territory of being a cop, and lately, that had hit a little too close for comfort. “How are you coping?” he asked, wondering if the question was too forward. But needing to know.

“I’m hanging in there,” she said with a shrug. “One day at a time and all those other platitudes.”

He accepted the evasiveness in her eyes and voice. “But you don’t live by platitudes, do you?”

She looked surprised, but pleased. “No. In fact, I got so tired of hearing that sort of thing after…after Gary died, that I shut myself off from the rest of the world.” She shrugged again. “That was a mistake. I didn’t think about what that would do to Ryan.”

“Why did you move here?”

Again, he had to know.

She stared out at her child running in the surf, the big dog standing by, barking encouragement. “I had to get away…from the life we’d had. I needed to start over.”

Clay nodded, glanced out at Samson. “Me, too.” At her curious look, he added, “I guess that’s why I came home. I usually take a vacation at the end of the summer, but this year, I asked for more time off, because I needed it. My captain agreed. Samson needed it, too. I wanted to be here at home, for some reason.”

He watched her face, saw the play of emotions moving through her eyes like soft, rippling water, thought he saw a light opening up, as if she really wanted to get to know him. “Samson is healing. What about you?”

“You’re direct,” he responded by way of an answer.

“Well, so are you.”

“Not usually,” he admitted. “I kinda tend to dance my way around things—unless I feel it’s important.”

“I’m always direct,” she replied, her grin wry and full of regret. “That got me in a lot of trouble with my husband and his overbearing family.”

Clay took in that bit of information, telling himself he’d try not to be overbearing with her. “Is that why you had to get away?”

“Yes.” She got up, determination masking whatever else she might have said. “We have to go.”

Clay stood, brushing sand off his hands and the back of his shorts, wishing he hadn’t been so direct after all. “You don’t like me, do you?”

Her eyes lifted to his. “What makes you think that?”

“You just don’t seem to want to be around me.”

She looked down at the print of Van Gogh sunflowers on her beach bag. “It’s not that, Clay—”

“You don’t want to be around another cop right now?”

She looked back up at him, her eyes holding no secrets this time. “No, I don’t. I hope you’ll understand. I mean, I’m more than willing to help you heal Samson, but…I’m not in the market for dealing with another police officer right now. It was a tough life. I loved my husband, tried to be a good wife, but it was very hard. It’s all too fresh, too raw. I’m not ready—”

“I do understand,” he said, not really understanding at all, but then, he had a lot he had to work through, too. Before he could think about it, he added, “My mother will be so disappointed.”

“So will Ana,” she said, then she brought a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. Forget I said that.”

Clay put a hand on her arm. “Ana? What’s she got to do with this?”

“Nothing.” She turned toward Ryan, calling out to the boy. “C’mon, honey, time to go home.”

“Hey,” he said, pulling her back around, the soft touch of her skin making his backbone tingle. “Tell me.”

Freddie tossed her braid over her shoulder, then looked over at him. “Ana is playing matchmaker.”

He let out a sigh. “Well, so is my mother.”

She shook her head. “We have to ignore them.”

“Yeah, right. Two of the most determined women on the island think we ought to get together, and we’re just going to ignore them.”

“We have to,” she said again, a soft plea in the words.

“Why? Why do we have to ignore them?”

“Because, I told you—”

“I know, you don’t want to get involved with another cop, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, what if I told you I might not be a cop much longer?”

He had her attention now. She let out a breath. “What do you mean?”

Clay ruffled a hand through his hair, then called out to Samson to come. “It’s a long story, but I’m thinking of leaving the force. I’m thinking of giving up on being a police officer.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

He didn’t want to tell her his reasons. He hadn’t even spoken the words out loud until now. But something told Clay that Freddie Hayes would understand.

“It’s just…things can get so intense, you know. And that night when Samson got injured, I got hurt, too.”

“You did? Oh, you didn’t mention that.”

“Yes,” he said, seeing the fear and pain in her eyes. She was probably reliving her husband’s death. “I got stabbed, but…no one in my family knows much about it, except my mother, and she thinks it was only a flesh wound.”

He saw her intake of breath, saw her gaze scanning his body for signs of an injury. “I’m okay now. I’m fine. We killed the bad guy.” And I didn’t want to remember that right now, either.

“And when were you planning on telling your family the truth?”

“Never,” Clay replied. “They don’t need to know.”

“Then why did you tell me?”

He shrugged, sent a command for Samson to sit. “Maybe…because you did need to know.”

Chapter Five

“Why would I need to know that?” Freddie asked, completely confused by his blunt statement.

Clay tossed a stick for Samson to chase after, watching as the dog obediently brought it back to him. He tossed it again. “You’ve been there, Freddie. You know what a cop’s life is like—”

“More than I care to remember,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I know what my life was like, what my son’s life was like. I can’t put him through that again, Clay.”

“Exactly,” he said, his turquoise eyes holding hers. “So maybe you can understand that I’ve reached some sort of burnout.”

Freddie nodded, compassion filling her heart. “I can understand that, yes. Gary…never reached burnout. It was more like burn through. His rage consumed him.” She stopped, careful to keep her voice low so Ryan wouldn’t hear. “It made him turn ugly, very ugly.”

Clay’s head shot up. “Was he abusive?”

“No, no.” She didn’t want to speak ill of her dead husband, and she certainly didn’t want Clay to get the wrong impression. “He wasn’t that way toward us. But he was all man, all the time. He could never let his guard down, not even with me. He didn’t trust anybody, blamed the world for all his own flaws and shortcomings. Gary could never accept blame, even when it was his fault, so he’d turn the tables and take it out on everyone around him.”

“Including you?”

“Especially me.” She crossed her arms, glanced out at her son. “I never could break through to him, to help him. I regret that, but Gary was a hard man. He’d seen a lot of things out there, things he didn’t understand or agree with. So he gave up and gave in.”

Clay’s eyes widened, but he nodded his understanding. “He turned bad. It happens a lot.” Then he grabbed her arm again. “I don’t want to give up, Freddie. So maybe you can understand why I’m so bitter and discouraged right now, why I need some time to think about my future.”

“You don’t want to become that way?”

“No, I don’t. I can’t. One of the reasons I trained to be a K-9 officer was so I could distance myself from what I’d seen on the detectives’ faces. That hardness, that resolve. Working with animals allowed me to keep my head on straight.” He nodded toward Samson. “He doesn’t have it in his heart to become hardened or corrupt. He only knows what he’s been trained to do—search and find. I tried to keep the same perspective. But that night…something happened inside me. Not because I came close to dying, but because I killed another human being.”

“It was self-defense, right?”

He looked out over the ocean. “Right. We all kinda fell into that shaft together.” Then he looked back at her, the tenderness and honesty in his eyes making Freddie realize that he was a very different man from Gary. “And it just seems as if…as if I’ve been trying to climb out of that dark pit since then. I don’t know.” He shrugged, turned away. “I thought maybe you’d understand.”

“I do,” Freddie told him, her pulse flowing and crashing just like the evening tide. “I do now, Clay.”

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