Sweet Peas in April

by Clare Revell

  “Hey,” she said, defending herself. “At least that way if I forget it, the computer reminds me and says, ‘your password is incorrect.’”

  Adam sighed. “Pick a new one. Something no one—including me—will guess.”

  “Fine.” She frowned. “Are you bouncing off the router here?”

  “No. That way no one can access anything on the laptop.”

  Sam nodded. She raised her eyes as the door opened, frowning at the lack of a knock. The tall man, with black hair and glasses stood there.

  “Sorry to bother you, Sam.”

  “No problem, Peter, come in.”

  Adam hissed and shut the laptop. He immediately covered the files in front of him.

  Peter noticed, but then he would. Sam had never known anyone for picking up detail like Peter, which was why she’d employed him in the first place. He was her deputy in everything but title. “Am I interrupting?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Adam replied.

  “No,” Sam replied at the same instant. She shot Adam a sideways glance, hoping he’d be quiet now. “This is Adam West, my lawyer. We’re just going over some stuff for this possible court case. Adam, this is Peter Carter, one of my best.”

  The two men shook hands, and she knew from the way Adam glanced at Peter, that he was instantly forming an opinion.

  Peter looked back at Sam. “I was wondering if you’d had a chance to review the file I put on your desk on Monday?”

  “Which one?” she asked, looking at the mess her desk was. She prayed he’d put it in the in tray, otherwise it could be anywhere.

  Peter sifted through the inbox and pulled one out. “This one.” His hands lingered as he handed it over. His touch was cold and she shivered. “You promised you’d give it serious consideration,” he said, not letting go of her hand.

  “I haven’t had chance to yet, but I will, as soon as I get a few minutes later today.” She tugged her hand free and put the file back on top of her inbox.

  He beamed. “How about lunch then? We could talk it over then.”

  Sam glanced at the clock on the wall, not missing the scowl on Adam’s face. “It’s a little early for lunch, Peter. It’s not even ten o’clock yet.”

  Peter’s hand ran over her arm before she moved it away. “Not now. Later. Say about twelve?”

  “OK.” She agreed, hoping he’d then go away. She wanted to go back to what Adam had found.

  “Cool. We’ll go in my car. I have a table booked at Lancini’s for twelve fifteen.”

  Adam raised an eyebrow. “Lancini’s for lunch?”

  “You have a problem with that, Mr. West?” Peter asked, distain crossing his face.

  “No, not at all,” he said straight-faced.

  Sam knew that look all too well. That was the yes-I-do-have-a-problem-but-no-I-am-not-going-to-tell-you look. “I’ll be ready at twelve, Peter. Now I’m afraid I really do need to get on here.”

  Peter nodded. “Sure. I’ll see you later.” He headed out and shut the door.

  Sam turned to Adam, not going to let this slide. “Well, what’s with the attitude? What is your problem with me having lunch with Peter?”

  “It’s just a little posh for a work lunch, isn’t it? Not to mention you can’t get a reservation at Lancini’s unless you book at least a month in advance.”

  She sighed. Yep, the green-eyed-monster had finally reared its ugly head. “Just because we never went anywhere that posh, doesn’t mean I don’t do it occasionally now.”

  Adam stared at her. “We couldn’t afford it. We only had our student grants to survive on. My parents cut me off when I married you. Yours didn’t want to know either.”

  “Can we please not do this now?” she asked as the all-too-familiar sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. “Show me those files again and which ones you got the data from. I want to know how big a mess I’m in here and whether there is a faint chance of getting out of it. Preferably before I’m sued by every single client I have. Or before I go bankrupt.”

  Adam pursed his lips and stared at her intently for a long moment before nodding and reopening the laptop.

  For the next two hours, work consumed them. Sam knew the truce wouldn’t last and desperately wanted it to. Being this close to Adam again was hard. She still had feelings for him deeply rooted within her that she’d never managed to fully remove. And she knew they were once again stirring and blooming.

  She lifted her gaze to the vase of flowers. She’d had sweet peas in her wedding bouquet, cut from the ones growing in the garden of the house that she, Adam, and five other students were renting. Even her wedding dress had been one from her wardrobe. “Elope” was the term they’d used, but they’d simply gone to the local registry office, filled in the forms, and gone back three weeks later to marry.

  Not exactly how she’d imagined her wedding whilst growing up. But it was their only choice, given the opposition they had to their relationship. Would things have been different if people approved of her marrying a white boy? Or if Adam’s father hadn’t immediately disinherited him for daring to date a black girl? Why did things have to be so complicated and go so wrong? Why couldn’t they have worked things out rather than fall apart under all the hurt and blame following Immy’s death?

  She looked at Adam’s fair head bent over the laptop, a look of intense concentration on his face. He was jealous of Peter. But there was no point telling him there was no need. Because he’d never believe her. But if she were honest, all she wanted was Adam. The problem was, she’d taken off her ring, and simply putting it back on would cause more problems than it would solve. Anyway, would Adam actually want her back after he’d mentioned divorce the previous day?

  The door opened and she looked up. “Can’t anyone knock in this place?”

  Peter stuck his head around the edge. “Ready to go, Sam? It’s almost twelve.”

  Adam slammed the laptop shut, muttering something under his breath. He picked up his laptop bag and opened it.

  Sam looked at him. “You can leave the computer out. We’ll carry on when I get back.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’d rather put it away.”

  Sam pulled her bag from the drawer and put the file from her inbox into it. “Don’t you trust anyone?”

  “No,” he said shortly. “You’re paying me not to.”

  She got to her feet. Peter held her coat out for her, his hands sliding over her arms and back as he helped her into it. Normally she’d brush him off, this time she didn’t.

  ****

  Adam sat back in his chair as the others left.

  He shoved all the files from the desk into his briefcase. No way was he going to leave them here, no matter what Sam said. He slid his laptop into its case and zipped it closed. He’d go back to his office and make hard copies of everything. Just in case something happened and the evidence vanished.

  He didn’t trust anyone in this office. And right now that included Sam and that smarmy Peter bloke.

  Adam walked quickly to his car. First, he needed to go home and shower and change. He felt dirty, never mind the fact he’d been working nine hours straight. Perhaps he should try to sleep for a couple of hours, then go into his own office for a bit.

  Was this instant dislike of Peter work related? Or was he jealous of Sam and Peter going to Lancini’s for lunch. The problem was, Lancini’s had a reputation—expensive, classy, with a long waiting list for reservations. It had also just gained its second Michelin star.

  This, of course, begged the question: how could a third grade accountant—he’d checked while Sam popped out to the loo earlier—afford to eat anywhere like that? Never mind take a woman as well. And what was his real reason for wanting Sam there? They could discuss this file, whatever it was, anywhere.

  Adam jumped into his car, the decision made in an instant. He’d take the laptop and files home and lock them into the safe behind the mirror. Then he’d go and check on Sam. Make sure she was OK. And if Peter didn’t
like it, it was tough. There was no law that said a man couldn’t sit on a public bench by the river, and eat his lunch.

  And fifteen minutes later that was exactly what he was doing. OK, his steak and cheese sub probably wasn’t as posh as what they were eating inside, and there wasn’t nearly enough caffeine in the coffee to keep him going, but the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and ducks floated lazily on the water with the baby ducklings all in a row behind them. Glancing up, he had a perfect view of Sam and Peter sitting in the restaurant window. What more could he want?

  His conscience told him he was spying. Or that he was jealous. Incredibly jealous. But he was merely doing his job, right? Doing what Sam was paying him to do. Finding out who was trying to ruin her company. Hopefully, it was Peter and then he’d be out of Sam’s life forever.

  Adam realized with a heart-sickening thud that yes, he was jealous. He couldn’t have Sam, therefore no one could.

  What was wrong with him?

  How could he have sunk so low as to even consider that? And then to palm it off under being paid to do it as if that would justify his actions? He let out a deep breath and prayed for forgiveness.

  He also prayed that God would show him how to handle this whole situation and just what he was meant to do with the feelings he still had for Sam. If she really wanted this Peter, then he needed the grace and compassion to set aside what he wanted and to let her be with Peter.

  Adam returned his gaze to the window. There seemed to be a heated or intense discussion going on. Not to mention lots of long looks on Peter’s part over what appeared to be wine. As the waiter brought out a second bottle, Sam, to her credit, put a hand over her glass, but that didn’t stop Peter from draining his glass and refilling it.

  Adam’s stomach burned at the amount of touching going on—feet under the table, hands across the table, and the way the bloke’s gaze lingered where it shouldn’t. Was Sam oblivious to this? Was she ignoring it, or was she, as he feared, loving every minute of it? She certainly didn’t seem to be trying to dissuade Peter in any way.

  He swallowed the surge of jealousy with a prayer. He may not have set eyes on the woman for ten years, and yes, as she kept pointing out, he had been the one to walk out on their marriage, but until she said otherwise, she was still his wife.

  Tearing his gaze away for a moment, Adam looked over the cars parked outside the restaurant. Sam’s car wasn’t there, which meant she’d let Peter drive after all. A few minutes later, Peter came out of the building, rather unsteadily, his arm around Sam’s waist. He unlocked his car and held the door for Sam as she climbed inside.

  Adam got to his feet, needing to do something, but not sure for the moment what that should be. The bloke was clearly drunk. Therefore he was putting the lives of Sam and other road users at risk.

  Adam shook his head. Why was he even standing here debating this? He had no choice but to report Peter before something happened. He pulled out his phone and started dialing. He’d gotten as far as the first nine when a familiar voice came from behind him.

  “Hello, Adam.”

  He turned. David and a woman stood on the path beside him. Relief filled him. “David, are you working?”

  David shook his head. “No, I wish I was, but just catching up. You know my partner, DS Sara Raines?”

  Adam shook her hand. “Of course. Hello, Sergeant.”

  DS Raines smiled. “You look better than I did when I last saw you. And it’s Sara.”

  He smiled. “Adam.”

  “What’s up?” David asked. “You look worried. Did you need me to be working?”

  Sara smiled. “I’m on duty, if that’s any help.”

  “The bloke over there in the silver Mercedes about to pull away is over the limit. He drank two bottles of wine with lunch and can hardly walk. I know you’re not traffic, but I was about to call it in and report him before he drives off and kills someone.”

  “I’m on it,” Sara said. “David, you’re with me.”

  “Thanks.” Adam pulled back to the bushes, so Sam wouldn’t see him, as David and Sara ran over to the car.

  Sara spoke to the driver while David pulled out his phone, presumably calling for back up. Within a couple of minutes a marked police car arrived, blues and twos blaring. Peter was breathalysed and arrested.

  Sam grabbed hold of the uniformed officer and tried to prevent Peter being handcuffed and put in the back of the patrol car.

  This resulted in her being cuffed and also put into a second police car, which Adam hadn’t expected. He’d imagined the scenario ending with her standing there, and him offering to drive her back to work. Not with her being arrested too.

  The police cars drove off, leaving Adam standing on the pavement, guilt running through him.

  5

  Sam sighed in relief as Adam entered the charging area of the police station and took her to one side. She hadn’t known who else to call. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know, but someone had to pick her up and sort out this mess. And right now the only person she trusted to do that was Adam. “Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s what lawyers do.”

  “I guess,” she whispered.

  “Are they charging you?”

  “Don’t know. They arrested me.” She shrugged. “Apparently I knew he was over the limit and was going to let him drive anyway. That makes me an accessory or something.”

  Adam frowned. “Sit a minute.” He waited until she sat on one of the orange chairs, and then went over to the desk. He exchanged a few words with the custody sergeant and then came back across to her. “You weren’t arrested for aiding and abetting a possible DUI. That isn’t a crime here. You were arrested for obstructing the police as they arrested Peter. The custody sergeant says as you have no previous convictions and as it’s a relatively minor offence, he is willing to caution you for obstructing a police officer.”

  “I did get in the way. I don’t know what came over me. They just hauled Peter out of the car, ‘breathalysed’ him, and slapped cuffs on…” She rubbed her wrists.

  “It’s fairly common. Something happens, tempers get frayed, situations get out of control, and the best way for the police to calm the situation is simply to arrest everyone. I suggest you accept the caution and we can get out of here.”

  After what could only be described as the most humiliating hour and a half of her life, Sam signed for her possessions and walked out of the custody area with Adam. “What about Peter?”

  “He’s four times over the legal limit. There’s no case for him to answer and try to plead out of. It’s pretty straight forward.” Adam opened the door and guided her outside.

  She gratefully went out into the warm spring air and sucked in a deep breath. “What will happen to him?”

  “He’ll get prosecuted for being drunk and in charge of a motor vehicle. He’ll end up with a fine and be disqualified for minimum of twelve months—longer if he’s been banned before. But it’s no more than he deserves. Let’s get you home.”

  “I only had one drink,” she insisted. “I should go back to work.”

  “You shouldn’t have had any.”

  She scowled. “Who do you think you are? My mother?”

  “Your lawyer,” he remonstrated sharply. “Do you make a habit of drinking at lunch?”

  “I don’t drink at all. Peter insisted I have one. He said we can’t go to Lancini’s and stick to water or juice. I haven’t drunk in years, not since…” She paused, taking a deep breath. She didn’t want to upset him again. “Actually, not since you left.”

  Adam opened his car door for her. “Oh?”

  “Long story.” She slid into the car and did up her belt.

  Adam ran around the other side and got in. He stared at her. “Go on.”

  She looked down at her nails. She wasn’t proud of this part of her life, but she’d brought it up. “The night you left, I got sooooo drunk. I figured, why not? I’d lost everything. You, Immy, my family
, parents, friends. So I went and bought a bottle of vodka, got smashed, and took a whole load of pills.”

  The admission was worth it for the look of shock and horror on his face. His eyes widened. “You did what? Where did you get the pills?”

  “The ones they gave me to help me sleep after Immy died, remember?”

  He nodded slowly. He started the car, gripping the wheel hard enough to turn his fingers white.

  Sam swallowed. Tears burned her eyes. “I woke with the worst hangover known to man.” She pushed back into the seat. “I can’t even kill myself right. Lousy parent, rubbish wife, and a total failure.”

  Adam pulled away from the parking space. “You’re drunk. That’s why you’re talking this way.”

  “Am not,” she whispered. “If I was, I wouldn’t feel the way I do now.” She let the tears fall, turning her face to the window. Adam hadn’t refuted anything she’d said, therefore he must agree with her.

  He drove silently, finally pulling up outside a house she didn’t recognize.

  “This isn’t my place.” She wiped her face on her sleeve.

  “No, it’s mine. I’m going to make you some coffee. I also want to change out of my suit.”

  She followed him up the path and into what was obviously a bachelor pad. Drab and dull with none of the little touches that made a house a home. “Do you bring many women back here?” she called.

  “No,” came the reply from the kitchen. “None.”

  “Seriously?” That did surprise her. “A good looking bloke like you and no women.”

  “No. Don’t you remember that we already had this conversation? You haven’t dated since we separated and neither have I.”

  Sam rubbed her head. It was swimming now. Maybe Adam was right and she was a little tipsy. But on one glass? It had never affected her like this before. Ever. Had Peter put something in it while she went out to the loo? She dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Peter liked her. He’d made that plain on more than one occasion. And she liked the attention.

  But if she were honest, there was only one man she wanted the attention from.

  Adam came into the room, his cologne preceding him. He held out a mug of coffee.