"What's the situation at the school?" Julian asked.
"Marta said that things are relatively quiet. There are only a few people waiting around outside." Sam's steely gaze surveyed her. She tilted her chin, continuing to stare directly at him. "You think going to the school is a mistake, don't you, Mr. Dundee?"
"I think you're asking for trouble by exposing yourself." Sam picked up his coffee, swallowed the last of the warm liquid and set his cup on the saucer. "My job would be a lot easier if you stayed at home. You would be a lot safer. By the time we arrive at the school, the crowd probably will have doubled."
"There are people counting on me at the school." Could she make him understand how important her job was, how essential helping the children was to her? "I can't allow the frenzy that has taken over my life to deprive the children of the guidance and comfort I give them."
"If you want to go to work today, then I'll take you to work." Sam scooted back his chair and stood. "But if anything goes wrong and I think you're risking your life, you'll take my advice. You'll do what I tell you to do."
Jeannie glared at Sam. She had to stop herself from making a biting retort. She wanted to scream that he wasn't going to tell her what to do, that she wouldn't allow him to order her around. Although Julian and Miriam had guided her gently through her teen years, they had been careful not to try to control her life, well aware of the scars left on her soul by her stepfather's domination.
Jeannie laid her napkin on the table, eased her chair back and stood, lifting her cane from where she had hung it on the chair arm.
"Will you check and see if the limousine has arrived?" she asked Sam, then leaned over and kissed Julian on the cheek. "Don't worry about me. I'm in capable hands."
Jeannie did not see Sam's body tense, but she sensed his reaction. Watching him exit the room, she marveled at the sensations coursing through her, at the pure sensual longing that came over her. These feelings weren't new, but they were unique. She had felt them only twice. Six years ago, with Sam Dundee. And now.
But why? Why, out of all the men in the world, did she respond only to this particular man?
Returning, Sam halted in the doorway. "The limousine is here. We can leave whenever you're ready."
Walking over to Sam, Jeannie took his arm. The moment she touched him, she sensed the anger and pain simmering inside him, just below the very controlled surface of his emotions.
He walked slowly, adjusting his long strides to her shorter, partially unbalanced gait. She curled her fingers around his forearm, tightening her grip when he opened the door and guided her outside.
Shouts from the group on the sidewalk bombarded them the moment they stepped onto the side porch. Cameras clicked, flashes blinded, voices rose higher and higher. In the background, the Righteous Light brethren chanted, "Witch!" as they held their posters high above their heads.
Sam hurried Jeannie into the waiting limousine, got in beside her and slammed the door. She touched his shoulder, then jerked her hand away and stared at him, into those blue-gray eyes that told her she shouldn't be surprised by what she had sensed. Jeannie shivered. Within Sam Dundee there existed a suppressed violence, a deep remorse, a guilt so great that it created a physical ache in him.
Dear Lord, how had he survived for six years with so much pain? If he would let her, she could help him. The emotions buried within Sam were slowly killing him, destroying him as surely as any bullet could.
And now the anger and pain and, yes, even the guilt, extended to her. Because she had helped save his life six years ago, Jeannie was tied to his past, had become a part of his torment. He would never allow her to help him, to reach inside his tortured soul and give him peace. And yet he longed to repay his debt to her, to keep her safe, to protect her from all harm.
The limousine made its way slowly past the milling crowd. Jeannie sat beside Sam, looking neither to the right nor the left, wanting desperately to shut out the intruding world. The silence within the limousine was somehow comforting, as was Sam Dundee's presence. There was something so powerful about the man; he radiated strength and control.
Surely there was some way she could help him, some way she could save him from himself, without running the risk of falling in love with him. Loving Sam Dundee would be disastrous. His inability to return her love would destroy her. If she was smart, she would accept him on his terms, allow him to act as her bodyguard and repay the debt he owed her. She dared not give him more, nor expect more in return.
* * *
Twenty-five minutes later, Jeannie opened the door at the side entrance of the Howell house and jerked away from Sam's hold on her arm. "I'll be in the front parlor, if anyone needs me."
"Dammit, there's no need to act this way," Sam said. "I couldn't allow you to go inside the school. The risk would have been far too great. Those idiots were throwing rocks at you, yelling, 'Stone the witch.' I told you before we left here that if anything went wrong, we'd do things my way."
"And that's exactly what we did." Jeannie stopped in the hallway, pivoted quickly and glared at Sam. "No discussion. No compromise. The minute we arrived and a few people threw some pebbles at the limo, you ordered the driver to turn around."
"A few pebbles, hell! I'll bet there are dents all over the limo. Those people meant business. Why do you suppose Marta McCorkle had called in the police?"
Gritting her teeth, Jeannie squinted her eyes and huffed, then turned around and marched down the hallway, the tap-tap-tap of her cane echoing in the stillness.
Sam followed her, although what he wanted to do was go to the airport, board his Cessna and fly home to Atlanta. "We need to talk."
"What is there to say?" Jeannie shoved back the panel door and entered the front parlor. "You overstepped your authority. You are my employee. I'm supposed to give the orders."
"You hired me to protect you, didn't you?" Sam stood in the doorway. "If you won't listen to my advice, how the hell am I supposed to save you from your own stupidity?"
"My own stu— Oh! It is not stupid to want to go to work, to want to help the children I love so dearly, to want my life…" Jeannie slumped down on the sofa, clutching her cane in her trembling hands.
Damn, was she going to cry again? He hated it when she cried. Other women used tears like a weapon, wielding them to make a man do their bidding. But Jeannie wasn't like other women. And that was his problem. He had to stop thinking of her as special and start remembering that she was just a woman—nothing more, nothing less.
"For the time being, you're going to have to stop worrying about everyone else and concentrate on yourself and your safety." Crossing the room, Sam stood in front of her, neither looking at her nor touching her. "I know you're upset because the media and the miracle seekers and Maynard Reeves have stolen your privacy."
"They've stolen my life!" Jeannie yelled.
Julian Howell rushed into the front parlor. "What happened? What's wrong? I could hear the two of you screaming at each other all the way upstairs."
"We weren't screaming at each other," Jeannie said. "We were having a slight difference of opinion."
Julian turned to Sam. "Why have y'all come back to the house? What happened at the school?"
"Ms. McCorkle had to call in the police," Sam said. "The place was crawling with reporters, and a huge crowd of Righteous Light brethren were marching, chanting and throwing rocks. The grounds outside the school were a madhouse."
"You didn't allow Jeannie to get out of the limousine, did you?"
"No! He most certainly didn't let me get out of the limousine!" Jeannie repeatedly tapped her cane on the floor.
"Oh, I see. So that's what this is all about." Smiling, Julian sat down on the sofa beside Jeannie, then looked up at Sam. "You see, Mr. Dundee, our Jeannie doesn't like to take orders. Give her a little time and she'll see that you did the right thing. She's too busy fuming over being told what to do to see the reason behind your actions."