Tangled Memories. Marta Perry

the gold-embossed plate glass windows of what had probably been old-fashioned department stores now displaying the latest in sportswear.

      A bus whizzed by, close enough to the curb to send a blast of hot air in her face. She tried to step back, but people formed a solid mass around her, as if they were afraid they’d never get across the street unless they were first in line.

      Annoyed, she turned to look for Lucas. The crowd pushed forward, catching her off balance. She threw out her arms, trying to right herself, just as a shiny sports car accelerated, the driver obviously intent on making it through on the yellow light.

      One instant she was safe, her foot hugging the curb. The next a strong shove in her back sent her plunging helplessly into the street, directly into the path of the oncoming car.

      FOUR

      Adrenaline pumped through Lucas. He plunged past the figures between him and the street. The acrid scent of burning rubber, the shriek of brakes. No time to think, just act. He grabbed Corrie’s hand and yanked her out of the street and into his arms.

      For an instant longer rational thought evaded him. He held her close, rooted to the pavement. The car rushed by, so close it seemed to touch them, horn blaring as if Corrie, not the driver, had been at fault.

      He managed to take a breath. That had been close. Too close. He took a step back from Corrie, his hands still supporting her. “Are you all right?”

      Around them the crowd, briefly interested, briefly concerned, moved on. Corrie stared up at him, eyes dark with shock. She shook her head, as if to orient herself, and the shock faded.

      “I’m fine.” She moved to free herself of his grip, but he held on.

      “Not fine. Not yet, anyway. Come over here and sit down for a second.” He steered her to a wrought-iron bench in front of an antique shop.

      She sank down abruptly, and he suspected her legs were still shaking. Small wonder. He didn’t feel all that well himself, come to think of it. If he’d been a little farther away, he’d never have reached her in time.

      The thought sent a surprising wave of anger rushing through him. “Don’t they teach you how to cross streets out in the boondocks?”

      She just looked at him, her eyes regaining focus. “Someone pushed me.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous.” The anger accelerated.

      “I’m not.” Answering anger brought a flush to her cheeks, chasing away the strain. “I tell you, someone pushed me off the curb.”

      “The crowd—” he began, but she cut off his words with a scornful look.

      “I know the difference between a crowd moving and a hand in the middle of my back.” She winced, as if she could still feel it. “Someone put his hand between my shoulder blades and shoved me off the curb.”

      He wasn’t sure what to do with her certainty. On the face of it, the thing seemed impossible. People didn’t go around the streets of Savannah shoving total strangers in front of cars.

      And then he realized that she was looking at him with suspicion.

      “And you think it was me?” In an instant the anger took over again. “I assure you, I don’t dislike you that much.”

      Her eyebrows lifted. “You want to get rid of me.”

      “You’ve got me there.” The anger vanished, replaced by a small measure of amusement. “But I’d like to see you gone, not dead. I’m neither so stupid nor so impetuous that I’d try a stunt like that.”

      Corrie frowned at him for a long moment. Then she nodded. “Okay. I guess I buy that. You’re not stupid. And so far I haven’t seen anything impetuous about you.” She made that sound like a fault.

      “Trust me,” he said, touching her hand lightly. “My methods are far more orthodox.”

      For an instant his gaze seemed to tangle with hers. Then she snatched her hand away as if his touch had burned.

      She focused on the crowds passing by, her breath still uneven. “Nobody reacted much to my sudden plunge into the street. At home something like that would be a nine days’ wonder.”

      “Savannah is used to eccentrics. If you decided to walk on your hands down the sidewalk, folks would just smile and say good morning.”

      “Maybe if you did it. Me, I’m an outsider. They’d say I was crazy, not eccentric.”

      “You may have a point. Shall we put it to the test?” He gestured toward the sidewalk.

      Corrie’s smile banished the lingering shadow from her eyes. “Not today, thanks. I’d better get on my way to the lawyer’s office.” She rose.

      He stood next to her, hand under her elbow to assure himself that she wasn’t going to stumble. “If you’d rather put it off, I’m sure they’d understand.”

      “Why? Just because somebody tried to push me under a car doesn’t mean I’m incapable of walking down the street.”

      “Do you intend to tell Courtland and Broadbent that?” He frowned down at her, wondering what Baxter’s conservative attorneys would make of her claim.

      “Not at the moment. After all, I didn’t see who pushed me.” Her gaze held a challenge.

      “I thought we agreed I didn’t.” He walked beside her to the corner. If Corrie felt anything when they stopped at the curb, she didn’t show it.

      The light changed, and they started across the street. She didn’t speak until they were safely on the other side. “I agreed you wouldn’t try to get rid of me that way.” Her tone seemed to reserve judgment on what other ways he might try. “I’m not so sure when it comes to your covering up for someone else.”

      He’d like to respond with righteous indignation, but he couldn’t. He might not be either impetuous or stupid, but he couldn’t vouch for Deidre and Ainsley, not the way they’d been behaving lately.

      “If you’re talking about Deidre and Ainsley, I can assure you I’d have noticed them if they were anywhere near you. They weren’t.” He kept his voice carefully even.

      “I guess I’ll have to take your word for that, won’t I?”

      “Corrie…” He touched her arm, stopping her brisk stride down the sidewalk.

      “What?” She swung toward him.

      What could he say? She was right—he did want to be rid of her. And he couldn’t really trust the behavior of anyone else in the family.

      He gestured, pulling the door open for her. “The office is here. I don’t suppose you want me to accompany you inside, so I’ll wait and walk you home.”

      “That’s not necessary.” Her chin came up at the suggestion that she might need an escort.

      “Maybe not, but I’m waiting.” He smiled at her baffled glare. “Take your time.”

      She whirled and stalked inside, letting the door bang behind her.

      He turned his back on the plate glass window that showed the outer office of Courtland and Broadbent, surveying the street. Traffic flowed by, tourists thronged. Nothing out of the ordinary.

      It had been an accident. What else could it have been? It was ridiculous to go putting familiar faces on lurking dangers. When Corrie came back, he’d do his best to convince her that it had been an accident. The last thing they needed was to have her run to Baxter with tales of assault.

      He didn’t have to wait long. He heard the door swing and turned. Corrie came down the single step, her expression—what? Curiously blank, that was the closest he could come.

      “Corrie? What’s wrong?” He took her arm, and his touch seemed to recall her.

      She