As Charlie’s voice rumbled over the line, Judd’s front door swung open. He turned around.
The door crashed against the wall.
“I’m flying out,” Charlie said.
The words barely registered to Judd as Samantha appeared in the doorway. Hands on her hips, she looked exactly the same as she had the first time he met her—angrier and more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen in his life.
“I’ll call you back.” He slipped the phone in his pocket and braced himself for the eye of the storm.
6
Samantha stepped further into the apartment, propelled by hurt. She stared him down as he leaned against the wall. “I want to know what’s going on. One minute you’re hot, the next cold. You practically dropped me on the floor to answer the telephone.”
Judd dragged a hand over the side of his face, avoiding his bruised eye and not meeting her gaze. “Perhaps I should lie down on the couch for this session.”
“You don’t have a couch,” she said flatly.
“I, ah...”
Walking around, she surveyed the room. “Don’t you celebrate Christmas?”He shrugged.
“What does that mean? You don’t believe in God?”
“Not so sure he believes in me.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Samantha waved a hand in the air and peeked in his bedroom. “You still don’t have a bed either.” She stopped and whirled around. “Why haven’t you bought a bed?”
“I haven’t had time. As you may recall, I’m working two jobs these days.”
“I thought you needed the work.”
Judd bristled.
“I’m not one of your charity cases, Samantha.”
Samantha’s head moved back a fraction. Her charity case?
“We’re having our first fight, aren’t we?” he asked. A small smile teased his lips
“This isn’t a joke.” She hadn’t been this mad in a long time. Not since Kevin’s pointless death that the U.S Navy called “unfortunate.” Every joking comment from Judd irritated her more than the next. Was he making a fool of her? Was she making a fool of herself?
Worse, she feared she was going to end up with a broken heart.
“You have to have a relationship to have a fight. We don’t have a relationship. We have a dance,” she said, nodding at her own words. “Yes. That’s what we have. And the steps are driving me nuts. One step forward, two steps back...”
“What do you want from me, Samantha?” His hand went to adjust his glasses, and he stopped apparently realizing they were gone.
“I should be asking you that question.” Her gazed pinned him, and he didn’t look away. “I don’t play games. Surely you’ve figured that much out by now.”
“No, actually, I haven’t figured out much of anything. That seems to be my problem. Every time I try to figure something out—you get in my way.”
She sucked in a breath. “What are you talking about?”
He shoved off the wall. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No, maybe it doesn’t matter. Like you and this apartment and the people who have come to care about you don’t matter.”
His gaze locked with hers once again, and for the first time she saw a flicker of pain in the depth of his eyes.
That was the moment she knew she’d scratch the surface of the real Judd Mason. “You know what,” she said softly. “I think you do realize that you need more than a cot and an empty apartment. You don’t like the fact that you’re starting to care, do you?”
Judd’s jaw tightened. “I don’t think you understand. I don’t need anything. This town is a layover until I get my next assignment. When I said I was between jobs, it was by choice. I’m not unemployed.”
Her face paled. She’d thought she was helping him out. Why hadn’t she minded her own business?
Apparently, she was the one who needed the reality check. Judd didn’t want or need her in his life.
Samantha bit her lip as taut silence filled the room. Finally, she turned away from him.
“My apologies for interfering in your carefully planned life, Mr. Mason. I think you should know that I’m not looking for a future either. The best I can hope for is hanging onto today. Thanks for reminding me.” Her vision clouded with moisture as she headed out the door.
“So tell me again why Sammy’s mad at you?” Michael McBride prodded.
Judd looked up from the computer screen, removed his glasses, and rubbed his tired eyes, careful to avoid the bruise that was still healing. “It’s hard to explain.” He attempted to straighten his still slightly bent frames.
“Yeah. Been there. As I recall, that isn’t good,” Michael said as he continued to dry the pitcher he was holding. “Sorry, bro.” He sauntered away shaking his head.
Judd closed his eyes. What he’d done to her nearly killed him. But he’d been kidding himself. He wasn’t normal, and he had to stop leading her on.
Bottom line was he had a job to do, and it was best to cut his losses now rather than later. He hated hurting Samantha, and he hated letting go even more.
The office phone was ringing—again. It had been ringing all week with one of the many McBrides calling to ask what was wrong with Samantha.
Perky, cheerful Samantha was roaring like a lion. The fact was that when Samantha wasn’t happy, the family wasn’t happy. They needed their Samantha. Judd was only beginning to realize how much everyone relied on her.
He’d agreed to help Mike get started on entering the archived bookkeeping data. Big mistake. He’d start entering numbers, his mind would wander, and he’d have to start over, like a dozen times. No point working on this project anymore today.
Life was out of control. He’d like to blame Charlie, but he’d done this to himself.Right now, his software program was trying to decrypt the file from Samantha’s computer with results nowhere in sight. How could she have encrypted a file with her limited knowledge of computers?
After Samantha had left the other night, he’d called his boss back and begged for more time.
Time was running out. That’s all Charlie could guarantee.
They wanted this wrapped up well before Christmas. The system was going live January first.
What did that mean? Would Charlie obtain a warrant and demand she provide the password? Maybe he’d have her arrested for obstruction of justice.
Nope. Not going there.
Everything was closing in on him. How had his nice, orderly life gotten so screwed up?
Who’d have thought he’d meet a woman like Samantha? Beautiful, smart, and with a heart of gold. The crazy thing was that she wanted him, and he’d shut her down.
There wouldn’t even be a chance to make everything right unless he proved her innocence. In one week, he’d have the Homeland Security and the FBI breathing down both his back and Samantha’s.
Switching off the monitor, he picked up his pencil and notebook, and he stood to leave. “Judd?”
“Yeah?” He turned to Michael and lifted his brows in question.
“That was Mara. Sam’s going out with Wesley tonight.”
There it was. A punch right to the gut. Perfect. Just perfect.
Well, what did he expect? He took a deep breath. Maybe it was time for a little breaking and entering. Though right now, he could think of a few other things he’d rather break. Judd glanced down at the pencil in his hand. It was in two pieces.
“Thanks,” he finally muttered to Michael.
“Sorry, man. If it’s any comfort, you’d be my first choice.”
“Appreciate it, but you’re not my type.”
“Get out of here,” Michael hollered as he doused Judd with a handful of peanuts.
Judd ducked and headed for the door. He stopped and stared at the mistletoe overhead and then pushed the heavy oak door of The Irish Pub open.
Time to head home. Home. The word sounded good. He stopped. Since when had the word “home” become a soothing refrain in his vocabulary?
; Standing in the front hall of the apartment building, Judd propped his shoulder against the mailboxes to ease the pressure on his ankle as he sifted through the mail. “Psst!”
He looked around and saw no one.
“Psst! Judd.” Garfield Chung peeked out of his door, cautiously scoping out the hallway.
“Mr. Chung. What’s up?”
“Shhh! Come here,” he whispered, beckoning with a hand.
Judd moved carefully on his ankle over to the open apartment door.
“Why are we whispering?”
“We don’t want her to hear us.”
“We? Who?”
“What happened to your face? Did she hit you?”
“Who?” Judd asked again as Mr. Chung inspected his bruised face.
“Samantha. It’s that red hair. Passion, inside and out.”
“This was a football accident. Why would you think Samantha hit me?” Judd was shocked.
“We heard you two had a little fight.”
He looked past Mr. Chung and into the apartment. Maudeen Cush and Mrs. Peabody waved at him.
Oh, this couldn’t be good. All three in one place at the same time. Judd waved back.
“Samantha and I weren’t arguing. It was just a small discussion.” He glanced back into the apartment. “Hey, I don’t want to interrupt.”
“No, no. We called a special meeting to discuss your problem.”
“What problem?”
“Samantha.”
“No. No. Look, you’ve got it all wrong.”
“I was married to a hot little tamale for forty years, son. Let me give you a little advice. Apologize.”
“It’s not like that.”
“That doesn’t matter. You apologize. You want get to the making up part, right?”Chung raised his brows.
“Mr. Chung, that’s not really—”
“Apologize, son. Trust me.” He shot Judd a wink.
“Yes, sir.” Judd headed up the stairs, rubbing the tension from his neck.
Geriatric guardian angels?
He needed a drink. Cappuccino. Arabian Mocha Java. A frothy cappuccino solved nearly everything.
The setting sun lit up the empty apartment with rosy shadows. Judd leaned against the wall, weight off his ankle, sipping fresh Kona coffee. Maybe a couch wouldn’t be out of the question. He could rent one. Why not? Maintaining the apartment as a landing zone when he was between assignments wasn’t a bad idea either.
Samantha was right. His neighbors had grown on him. The whole place had. He looked forward to gazing out this window at the end of his day. He nodded to himself, satisfied with the plan.
Glancing down at the street, he waited, patiently anticipating the signaling noises of departure from the apartment below him.
Once Samantha and her date left, he’d spring into action. Hobble was more accurate.
He hobbled back and forth across the room. Let her date that jerk. Mara’s brother probably could offer her much more than he could. Wasn’t that what he wanted anyhow? Samantha’s happiness. If he couldn’t have her and all that. Judd downed the dregs of the mug.
Altruism sucked.
Downstairs, a door slammed. All she did lately was slam doors. She wanted him to know she was leaving. Duly noted. He moved gingerly to the window. Shoulder against the window frame, he positioned himself so he could see without being seen.
The top of Samantha’s head appeared and then what’s-his-name’s head. Judd scowled down at them, willing her to look up at the window.
She turned and glanced up, her gaze reaching out and connecting with his.
A shiver danced over Judd. No. There was no way she could see him, he assured himself. No way. The apartment was darker than dark, and he was wearing a black sweater and black jeans. So why did he feel like he’d been scorched by her eyes?
She turned away and got in a car.
Shrugging off his confusion, Judd focused on his mission. He took off his shoes and crept down the stairs, his movements awkward at best. This time he had the advantage. This time he knew the second step creaked in the middle. He kept to the outside.
The loose boards on the last two steps were unavoidable. Half-sitting on the banister, Judd rode the short rail. At the landing, he jumped off onto his good foot, almost crashing head first. He slid close to the wall, inching his way to Samantha’s door.
He also knew that the floorboard buckled to the left of her door, making a funny noise which would alert Mr. Chung to his presence. He stepped right.
His heart pounded a rhythm as he slid a solitary key in the lock and prayed that neighbors wouldn’t decide to come into the hall at this moment. Sweaty fingers turned the knob and silently pushed open her door.
Yeah, this time he was prepared to do the job Charlie sent him to do. Search Samantha’s apartment for incriminating evidence and pray like crazy that he didn’t find anything. Heavy emphasis on the praying. Samantha was a church-going woman. Surely God would listen since he’d be praying for her.
He moved quickly into the room and stopped in front of the lit and decorated artificial Christmas tree. The lights winked at him. He’d never had a tree of his own. Never thought about it before now. His memories of the holidays had always been from the outside looking in. When he’d left home, he’d never taken the time to create his own memories.
Meeting Samantha and the McBrides had upset his careful five-year plan. The plan was the same as it had been for the last ten years. Don’t think about the past. Don’t want for any more than what you have.
Turning around, he tripped over a laundry basket. His hands reached out, and he wildly grabbed the back of the couch, narrowly preventing a fall. The place was booby-trapped. With any luck, he hadn’t been heard.
Judd glanced down. He’d nearly stepped on a neat stack of wrapped gifts. The top one was square and wrapped in silver paper. A large tag bore his name. To Judd. She wasn’t speaking to him, but she had a Christmas present for him? His heart shifted.
Scum. He was scum. She’d bought him a present, and he was ransacking her apartment. What kind of low life went through someone’s personal stuff? What had Charlie reduced him to?
Numb, Judd forced himself to go through the motions. First, he carefully slid opened the drawer next to her end table. Nothing but a stack of postcards, all from her brother Kevin. Reading them was out of the question. He shoved them back in the drawer.
He examined her eclectic collection of framed pictures. Samantha in a chef’s hat and apron. Samantha and her twin brother Kevin. He picked up a picture of a younger Samantha. She stood alone, grinning. Something was off.
He studied the photo. There was something about these photos that was missing from the more recent ones Charlie had supplied. Glancing at the pictures again, he searched her face. He ran a finger over the dusty glass.
Finally, it hit him.
Hope. She had hope in these earlier pictures. The death of her brother and father had stolen her hope. Closing his eyes, he grieved for her loss, remembering his own. Making a silent vow, he promised himself that somehow when this was all over, he’d give her hope back.
Judd released a ragged breath.
He’d hidden his heart for a lifetime. Now he was recklessly slaying dragons for a woman he’d known only for mere weeks. The same woman he had hurt and pushed out of his life.
She was right. He was running hot and cold.
Mostly, he was running scared. Scared because deep down inside, he knew he was falling for Samantha McBride.
Great timing. The story of his life.
What about Samantha? She prided herself in living for today. Everyone needed her. But did she need anyone? Samantha was committed to everyone’s future but her own. First, he had to make it up to her for his crappy behavior. Then he’d have to convince her to take a chance on her own tomorrow.
Shouldn’t be a problem for a guy who spent his entire life hiding behind a computer, right?
At the door of her bedroom he stopped.
The Princess and the Pea.
The thick mattress sat a good foot and a half off the floor. It had definitely grown. He was sure it was larger than he remembered. White ruffles and lace ran around the bed. Just like its owner—innocent enough in appearance, but alluring as a siren.
His head jerked around at a sound from the living room. Tensing for a moment, adrenaline shot through him.
A key was turning the lock.
He turned to run.
Where? The place was as small as a closet.
Closet. No, he couldn’t do that again. He’d die wedged between her lingerie and flannel nightgown.
As the door opened, he dove under the bed.
A moment later she walked into the room. Undeniably Samantha. He’d recognize those legs anywhere. Even encased in boots.
She was alone. Relief surged through him. Why was she home so early?
Her feet came closer, inches from his face. A dust ruffle stood between them. He watched her trim ankles as she slipped off the boots, kicking them carelessly under the bed. He scooted over with just enough time to prevent a bloody nose.
His.
The unmistakable sound of a zipper descending filled the almost-silent room. Silent except for his breathing—so loud it could probably be heard by deaf Mrs. Peabody. He held his breath and counted to twenty, then slowly attempted normal breathing. Focus. This was not quite how he’d envisioned his first night in Samantha’s bedroom. He was being held captive by the monster bed. A voyeur in a ridiculous nightmare.
No matter how he looked at the situation, he was in deep trouble.
Samantha left the room. He heard her movements in the kitchen and the living room, the bathroom, then finally back in the bedroom.
She jumped on to the bed. Judd ducked as a slat bent toward him. It creaked and the dust bunnies danced around his head while she settled in the middle of the mattress. Hands over his mouth and nose, Judd swallowed a sneeze. He raised the white ruffle and took in several deep breaths of air.
The woman turned over in the bed more times than barbecue chicken on a rotisserie. Each time, dust and tiny white feathers danced in front of him.
She punched the pillow and muttered. “Jerk-face.”
The Christmas Angel (The McBride Series Book 1) Page 7
