Read Strangers in the Night Online
Authors: Patricia H. Rushford
Strangers in the Night
in the
Night
Strangers
in the
Night
PATRICIA H. RUSHFORD
FALL IN
LOVEâ¢
Romance with a Nostalgic Beat
Do you remember the song that was playing during your first kiss? Can you still sing the lyrics to the tune you and your first love dubbed “our song”? Books in the When I Fall in Love⢠inspirational fiction series are based on popular love songs from the 1920s through the 1960s. Each original romance novel is set in the bygone era of its title song's release.
COLLECT THEM ALL!
BABY,
IT'S COLD OUT
SIDE
by Susan May Warren
When a blizzard strands four
strangers on her doorstep, Dottie
Morgan must decide whether to open
her heart to a miracleâ¦and a new
reason to celebrate Christmas.
LOVE L
ETTERS IN THE
SAND
Diann Hunt
The soldier she thought she
lost re-enters her life in 1957,
and eva hilton must navigate the
shifting sands of their relationship
for another chance at love.
U
NFORGETTABL
E
Trish Perry
A reporter reluctantly covers a dance
competition in 1950s New York
City and finds the instructor to be
unforgettable. When will they stop
dancing around the truth?
L
OVE ME TENDE
R
Janice Hanna
Vowing to salvage her family's soda
shop after her father's health fails,
debbie Carmichael enlists the help of
a dreamy teen heartthrob.
I'LL BE H
OME FOR CHR
ISTMAS
Julie L. Cannon
When southern belle Maggie
Culpepper impetuously joins the war
effort, she finds herself miles away
from her Georgia hometown and her
beloved William at Christmastime.
STRA
NGERS IN THE
NIGHT
Patricia H. Rushford
All Abbie Campbell wants is to protect
her daughter and avoid notice. But a
blue-eyed stranger tracks abbie down
and convinces her to return homeâ¦
where danger lurks.
Strangers in the Night
ePUB ISBN-10: 0-8249-3439-3
ePUB ISBN-13: 978-0-8249-3439-2
ePDF ISBN-10: 0-8249-3440-7
ePDF ISBN-13: 978-0-8249-3440-8
Published by Summerside Press, an imprint of Guideposts
16 East 34th Street
New York, New York 10016
Summerside Press⢠is an inspirational publisher offering fresh, irresistible books to uplift the heart and engage the mind
.
Copyright © 2013 by Patricia H. Rushford. All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
Guideposts
and
Summerside Press
are registered trademarks of Guideposts.
All Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, King James Version.
Cover design by Studio Gearbox,
StudioGearbox.com
Interior design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group | Müllerhaus.net
DICATI
ON
To my momâmy greatest fan.
ONTENT
S
RELUD
E
May 26, 1961
“Strangers in the Night.” Abbie Campbell, aka Annie Davis, loved that songâperhaps because she still harbored a schoolgirl crush on the blue-eyed singer. Frank Sinatra never failed to touch her heart with his love songs. She closed her eyes as he sang about exchanging glances and falling in love. The record playing over the PA system wasn't nearly as good as hearing him in person, but Abbie enjoyed it just the same.
It would be wonderful to fall in love again, but she wouldn't. Couldn't. She couldn't allow herself that luxury.
Though the supper club was dimly lit, and romance seemed to float on the air, she had no business daydreaming about love. Still, longing filled her heart, and for a moment she imagined herself dancing with Frank Sinatra himself.
“Could I have this dance?” A mellow voice invaded her senses.
Abbie eased out of her daydream and looked up to find gorgeous blue eyes looking down at her. A perfect smile and wavy dark hair. He wasn't the real Frank, of course, but oh, so handsome. His gaze locked with hers, and she couldn't look away.
She took his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor. When his arms closed around her, Abbie's heart quickened.
Go. Get yourself out of here before you do something foolish
.
She should have heeded the warning. Instead, she closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder.
Just this once
.
His closeness stirred feelings she hadn't had since Nate's death almost two years before. She sighed, released her fears, and thought about how perfectly they fit together. He led, and she followed, wondering how this stranger could make her feel as though she'd known him all her life. He didn't speak, and she didn't dare toâafraid that speech would somehow shatter the magic.
All too soon the song endedâher fantasy faded, and Abbie, the real Abbie Campbell, came to her senses, reminding herself of how dangerous this simple dance could be for her and for Emma. How letting down her guard for just one moment could cause her to lose her daughter and the lifeâthe façadeâshe'd worked so hard to maintain.
HAPTER
1
Abbie dropped onto a bistro chair in the courtyard near the Red River for a much-needed break. The Memorial Day Arts and Crafts Fair had been going strong for only two hours, and she was already bushed. Being one of the volunteers had kept her hopping, but she'd never felt better. As an artist herself, Abbie loved every minute of it. She wished she could have done moreâsuch as exhibiting her own work, but she couldn't take that chance. No, much better to stay in the background.
Lifting her face to the sun, she welcomed the delicate breeze. They couldn't have asked for better weather. Grand Forks could be brutally hot once winter decided to melt away. Quite a crowd had gathered, and the vendors busily assisted customers.
From the nearby stage, a string quartet from the University of North Dakota provided fairgoers with strains of Bach and Beethoven. Later there would be a popular rock-and-roll group entertaining them with songs from the likes of Bobbie Darin and Buddy Holly, Elvis and the Beatles, and of course, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr.
Her favorite would be performing that evening. The famed George Donaldson and his band, which'd been playing at the Red River Supper Club, had agreed to provide dance music.
Abbie's mind tumbled back to her error in judgment at the supper club the night before, but she wouldn't let the memory get a foothold. It was only one mistake, and the man had been a complete stranger. What were the chances she'd ever see him again?
She couldn't imagine what had come over her and blamed her behavior on being overly tired.
Setting her iced tea on the small mosaic tabletop, Abbie slipped off her two-inch heels and pulled her thigh-length floral pastel dress toward her knees. She loved the mini-skirt look but hated the way the skirt rode up when she sat.
She would have propped her feet up on the empty chair beside her if it hadn't been pulled back by a man wearing sunglasses, dressed in a classy shirt and suit pants. He hung the suit jacket he'd been carrying onto the back of the chair and placed his briefcase on the grass. She shaded her eyes and squinted up at him, thinking he seemed familiar. One of her vendors maybe?
“May I?” He had a kind voice and an inviting smile. Even so, wariness crept in.
“It's a free country.”
Why is he here?
Her heart beat faster as the now familiar paranoia set in. Was he a private detective? The police? Federal agents wore suits, didn't they? Black, like his, if she wasn't mistaken.
Had they found her? She held her breath, waiting for the dreaded words telling her she was under arrest. When the words didn't come, she met his gaze again. Realization set in. This was the stranger from last night.
She should have recognized him immediately, but the lighting and her mood had been different then and he hadn't been wearing sunglasses. He slipped off the glasses, and there was no mistaking those blue eyes.
“Abbie Campbell?”
Her throat went dry. She closed her eyes and waited for her heart to start beating again. How could he know her real name? Other than asking her to dance last night, he hadn't said a word. Probably because she'd stepped out of his arms at the end of the danceâ and run. He must have been sizing her up. Closing in for the kill. Blue eyes or not, this man was dangerous.
The jig is up. He's going to arrest you and drag you off to jail
.
“Um, you are Abbie, aren't you?” His gentle voice penetrated her fear. His warm smile caught her off guard. And his eyesâthose lovely blue eyes⦠Maybe he wasn't there to arrest her after all. Maybe she'd known him before all this craziness started. Perhaps she'd known him in another lifetimeâhigh school? College? No. If she had met this man before, she would definitely have remembered.
“Who wants to know?” she managed to ask.
He stretched out a hand and smiled. “Jake Conners. I'm a real estate agent and developerâand a friend of your parents.”
“A developer?” To her knowledge, her parents weren't into developing anything except maybe a new record album. Still, his western accent legitimized his claim to be from the Northwest.
Abbie shook his hand, far too aware of its warmth and how she liked the way hers fit into it. Pulling her hand back, she motioned for him to sit. She needed to be on her guard and couldn't afford to be swayed by the man's charm. Still, if her parents really had sent him, she needed to hear him out.
“How do you know my parents?”
He hesitated. “They didn't tell you I was coming?”
She shook her head then tipped it to one side, reconsidering. “Actually, they may have. I've been distracted for the last few days helping to put this art event together and haven't picked up my mail.”
He smiled again, and Abbie's wariness melted a little more.
Be careful, Abbie. If he knew to find you here, he might also know where you live
.
“I'll bet.” He glanced around, apparently impressed. “From the looks of the crowd, I'd say it's a huge success. I'm hoping to take it all in after we've had a chance to talk. Um, maybe you could show me around later?”
“Maybe. But first, you might want to tell me how you found me and what you want.”
“Right.” He shifted slightly. Nodding toward her glass, he said, “Do you mind if I get something to drink first? Yours looks good.”
“It's iced tea.” She slipped her shoes back on. “I'll get one for you. The booth is overâ”
He stood. “No need. I'll get it. Just promise me you won't go anywhere.”
“I'll be right here.” As if of their own accord, her lips curved into a smile as she watched him walk away. His dark hair and blue eyes still reminded her of Frank Sinatra.
Abbie had actually met the blue-eyed crooner twenty years ago. She'd been only eight at the time, but even back then his eyes had captivated her. Perhaps that's why he'd become so famous. What woman could resist?
Her parents had performed with him at the Sands in Las Vegas and again at the famed Cotton Club in New York City. They had given her several of his signed albums. He'd even presented one of his records to her. Her collection of Sinatra's records, photos, and memorabilia were stored in a box in her parents' attic. Maybe someday she'd have a place to display them.
She was still a fan. Jake's eyes had that same dreamy quality. No wonder she'd been so pliable the night before. The thought brought her up short, and she let her gaze drift back to him.
Yes, he's appealing, but there's no way you should be admiring anyone at this point, especially a man in a suit at an art festival
.
Abbie tipped her head back and massaged her shoulders. She was exhausted, and if she had any sense, she'd disappear into the crowd and head over to Patsy's Café for a much-needed lunch break. Better yet, she should check on Emma, her four-year-old daughter. The encounter with Jake Conners had sent up dozens of red flags.
Abbie left her drink on the table, hurried to the nearby phone booth, and dialed her best friend, Margie. Since she'd come to Grand Forks, she and Margie had shared a home.
“Hi, Annie,” Margie greeted. For safety's sake Margie always used Abbie's pseudonym. “How's the art fair? I was thinking of bringing the kids over this afternoon.”
“Is everything okay there?” Abbie asked. “No strangers hanging around? Noâ¦problems?”
“Everything is fine. Emma is playing outside with Jimmy. She's safe.”
“Good. IâI had a moment of panic. Anyway, the kids will love it. There's an entire section for children. They can do artwork or have their faces painted. Just be careful.”
“I always am. Why are you asking?”
“You can't be too careful, you know. I got worried.”
“Well, no worries here. The kids are fine. We'll see you soon.”
Abbie hung up without telling Margie about Jake. She hadn't mentioned him last night either, and she wasn't sure why.
Margaret Lowe was the only person in Grand Forks who knew Abbie's real name and storyâthe only person she could really trust. They'd roomed together in college and had been best friends ever since. Margie had been the first person Abbie called when she'd been in trouble. They were both widowed, and Margie insisted Abbie and Emma live with her and Jimmy.
Originally, the arrangement had been temporary, but after a few months they'd settled into an equitable routine and become a family of sorts. It suited Abbie, since buying a house would require her to dig into her bank funds and provide legal ID. The last thing she needed was to alert the authorities to her whereabouts.
Abbie made her way back to the table. Maybe Jake really did know her parents and maybe he was okay. But why hadn't they contacted her? Then again, as she'd told Jake, maybe they had tried. She'd have to go by the post office later.
To the delight of the little girl selling lemonade and iced tea, Jake paid a quarter for his ten-cent drink. He glanced back at Abbie and smiled. He couldn't believe his luck. It was as if God Himself had instigated their meeting. He'd certainly felt that way last night.
Jake had come into Grand Forks late yesterday afternoon. He'd checked into the Dakota Hotel, intent on resting for a few hours and having dinner. His plan had been to take the next two days to relax and familiarize himself with the town and begin his search for Abbie on Monday. But there he was last night, enjoying his meal and the music, when he spotted her.
Jake had no trouble recognizing Abbie. The college graduation picture her parents had given him was still taped to his dashboard. He'd talked to her all the way from the Oregon Coast to Grand Forks. She made his grueling trip seemâwell, less grueling. Her ready smile had worked its magic in his heart. She'd changed her hair from blond to brown and the style had gone from long to short, but she still had the same gray-green eyes and classic features.
Last night had been a mistake. He shouldn't have approached her, but when he saw her across the room, a smile on her lips, her head tipped back as if she were about to kiss someone, he had to go. He had to know if it was really her.
He'd been as tongue-tied as a schoolboy with a crush. As much as he wanted to introduce himself then and there and tell her of his plans, he couldn't. Those moments with Abbie in his arms had been heaven. If things didn't work out, at least he had that.
And today. Jake's heart still hadn't slowed down since spotting her in that colorful short dress, not quite a mini, which was all the rage these days. Even so, the dress showed off her shapely legs. The minute she'd slipped off her shoes, he imagined himself on one knee, holding out a glass slipper for her shapely foot. He chuckled at the fantasy. What she'd needed at that moment was a foot massage. He'd have done that too, if she'd allowed him the privilege.
Too soon for that kind of thinking. Business first
.
He glanced over at the table again, still amazed at his luck.
Abbie was gone.
A quick look around and the panic vanished. She stood in an open phone booth a few feet away. He watched her talking, and from the frown etched on her face, she was no doubt worried about him showing up out of the blue. He couldn't blame her. He was, after all, a stranger to her, and he would do well to remember that. Jake felt as though he'd known her forever. Her parents had shared so many details, yet not nearly enough.
When she made her way back to the table, he stepped away from the booth. His stomach grumbled in protest as the tantalizing scents from the food booths wafted around him. Maybe Abbie would join him for lunch.
Abbie admired the ease with which Jake set his tea on the table and lowered himself into the chair. She felt a level of comfort with him that under ordinary circumstances might be a good thing. Now, though, being a fugitive, she needed to be especially careful.
“Thanks for staying,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow. “You said you knew my parents. I figure that was either a great pick-up line or it's the truth.”
