by Lisa Plumley
Brad walked in, followed by the key-wielding guard.
“Somebody page me?” he asked with a grin.
Holly could have cried with relief. Reaching their cell, Brad put his fingers through the bars to clasp her hand. He looked like freshly shaved and showered heaven, right down to the pressed crease in his casual cotton pants. Brad wouldn’t have let her down. He’d never have gotten her locked into jail.
“Oh, Brad! Thank God you’re here.” She tossed back a meaningful glance at Sam’s stony face. “It’s been awful.”
“What the hell is he doing here?” Sam asked.
“He’s here to get me out of this godforsaken place. I paged him. Because I knew he’d come.”
The guard unlocked their cell and swung the barred door open.
Brad rushed in and grabbed her hands. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” Holly answered. “Once I’m out of this place.” And once I get over Sam.
“I already called David and Clarissa to bail us out,” Sam gritted out through clenched teeth. “They’ll be here any minute.”
Holly linked arms with her rescuer, then glanced at Sam. “How was I supposed to know you had a plan to get us out of here? It’s not as if you’ve ever planned anything before.”
His eyes turned gray with pain. “You’re right. If I had, I’d have planned not to fall in love with you.”
He held her gaze, daring her to look away first. Daring her to say he didn’t really love her.
Holly couldn’t do it.
“Goodbye, Sam,” she whispered, her throat thick with unshed tears. “I’m sorry things had to end this way.”
Chapter Ten
Watching Holly walk away on another man’s arm was one of the hardest things Sam had ever had to do. He could only stand, frozen, as she and Brad stepped out of the jail cell and walked together down the corridor. The guard slammed the door shut, locking him in again.
Without a backward glance, Holly was gone.
She’d made her choice. Brad.
He should have known better. He should have known a woman like Holly wouldn’t really change. She’d told him all along, hadn’t she? I’m trying to work things out with Brad. I haven’t given up on him yet.
Of course, not ten minutes later she’d been kissing Sam, responding to him as though they were the hottest of lovers, reunited. But what did that prove? Not a damn thing. Only that they were two healthy, sexually-aware adults who knew a great kiss when they felt one.
Sam lay on his back on the narrow cot, one arm thrown over his eyes. He closed them, trying to blot out Holly’s image. He shouldn’t still want a woman who’d just dumped him. He still wanted Holly. He was an idiot.
The door at the end of the corridor opened again. Sam sat up. Clarissa hurried inside, followed closely by David. She reached his cell and wrapped her fingers around the bars.
“Geez, Sam. It’s been years since I’ve seen you like this.”
Weakly, Sam grinned. He gathered up his jacket and stuffed his black tie in the pocket. “I’ll bet I wasn’t wearing a tuxedo last time.”
“You look very nice.” His cousin wasn’t smiling. “Unlock this,” she snapped to the guard.
Her tone suggested horrible consequences if the portly guard didn’t snap to it. He must have recognized the threat, because he did. Then he backed out of Clarissa’s way.
“Uh, you’re free to go, mister,” he mumbled.
Sam headed down the corridor with Clarissa and David, then picked up his personal things in the jail’s office. Outside, the bone-jarring Sunday morning sunlight did nothing to warm him.
The instant the doors of the county jail closed behind them, Clarissa grabbed his arm.
“What was Holly doing with Brad?” she asked, frowning. “We ran into them in the parking lot, but he was hustling her into that gaudy red car of his. We didn’t have a chance to talk. What’s going on, Sam?”
“Simple. She picked him.” Sam shielded his eyes against the sunlight and scanned the parking lot. “Where did you park?”
“Over there.” David pointed to their blue Wagoneer, parked at the edge of the lot in the meager shade of a Paloverde tree.
Sam slung his tuxedo jacket over his shoulder and headed in that direction. “Would you mind driving me back to the Cheshire hotel? I had to leave my truck in the parking lot and ride over here with Saguaro Vista’s finest.”
“Sure.” David unlocked the driver’s-side door, then reached in and unlocked the back door directly behind it.
Sam opened the door and threw in his jacket. He was about to follow it onto the back seat when Clarissa grabbed him again. Somehow, she’d wedged her body into the space between the back seat, Sam, and the opened door. She scowled at him like a bulldog having a bad day.
“‘She picked him.’ Is that all you’re going to say?”
Sam thought about it. “Yeah.”
“Come on, honey.” David glanced over his shoulder at his wife. “Get in. You can badger Sam about his love life on the way to the hotel.”
“Hmmph.”
Clarissa got in and proceeded to do just that. While David steered the Wagoneer through town, passing gaily-decorated Christmas displays and lots selling discounted fir trees, she tossed questions at Sam.
“Why was Holly leaving with Brad? Why didn’t she just wait for us?” She jabbed her husband. “And how can the two of you act like nothing just happened?” Clarissa paused, fixing them both with a stern look. “Is this a guy thing?”
Sam sighed. “Which question do you want answered first?”
She swiveled in the front seat, straining her shoulder safety belt to the limit so she could glare at him. “I’m serious. This is a serious thing.”
“It’s an over-with thing.”
Morosely, Sam gazed out his window. The glittery holiday displays only made him feel worse. Christmas was supposed to be a time to spend with the people you loved. Unfortunately, the woman he most wanted to be with had chosen another man to make merry with.
He turned back to Clarissa. “Holly didn’t wait for you because she didn’t know you were coming to bail us out. I didn’t tell her. I thought she knew I’d get us out of jail, for Chrissakes! I’m not a total screw-up.”
He fisted his hand against his knee. He wasn’t a screw-up at all, not anymore. A long time ago Sam had woken up to the fact that he’d been wasting his life away. Wasting his potential in a haze of parties, women, and the search for a good time. So he’d screwed his head on straighter and found something better.
He was far from perfect, but Sam liked to think he helped most of his students. Once in a while he even came across someone like himself, someone drifting along. Sometimes he gave them a nudge toward bigger goals for themselves, and saw them realize they could do more than they’d thought. Someone like Jiggly Jillian Hall.
“You’re not a screw-up at all,” Clarissa protested. “You’re a respected college professor.”
“Yeah,” David chimed in, “your wild days are behind you, buddy…with the obvious exception of today.” He grinned into the rear view mirror. “You want to tell us what you were doing naked, with Holly, in the middle of the pool at that ritzy hotel?”
“No,” Sam said flatly. The memory of being with Holly, so close together, hurt too much to think about. He wouldn’t do it.
“I really thought Holly would buckle long before this.” Clarissa shook her head. “With Brad out of the picture—and you right there in her house—I thought you were a shoo-in. You seemed like just what Holly needed.”
“Honey,” David said as he turned into the hotel’s curved drive, “why do I smell a matchmaking rat in all this? Hmmm?”
Clarissa lifted her chin and gave him a sly smile. “It didn’t hurt us any to get thrown together by somebody who cared.” She winked at Sam.
He smiled. He was the one who had introduced the two of them—his friend from college, David, and his loudmouthed cousin, Clarissa. A perfect match.
Maybe some kind of matchmaking genes ran in the family.
After giving David directions to the correct area of the parking lot, Sam grabbed his tuxedo jacket. He was seriously considering burning the damn thing. It had brought him nothing but trouble. Since he’d put it on, he and Holly had been kicked out of the formal wear shop and arrested. For someone like Holly, that was probably too much social censure to swallow all at once.
“It doesn’t matter,” he told Clarissa. “Holly got Brad. I hope she’s happy with him.”
“No, you don’t. You hope they’re miserable together and she comes back to you. Admit it.”
So what if he did? It wasn’t going to happen.
“They belong together. They’re perfectly well-suited for one another.”
“Oh, geez. Now Holly’s got you believing that junk, too? David, she’s brainwashed him. We’ve got to do something.”
Her husband—and Sam—only stared blandly at the parking lot.
Clarissa smacked the back of the seat with her hand, looking exasperated. “Hello? Sam? You don’t fall in love with somebody just because you share shoe sizes and an interest in Keogh accounts.”
David pulled up to the left of Sam’s truck. His Wagoneer swayed, then stopped.
Sam opened his door. “You’re preaching to the converted,” he told Clarissa. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Wait a minute!”
His cousin jumped out of the Wagoneer right behind him. She followed Sam to his truck and leaned against the driver’s-side door, arms crossed.
“You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers.”
“Oh, yeah?” Sam caught hold of her upper arms, lifted her a few inches above the blacktop, and set her down out of his way. He unlocked his truck door.
“That’s not fair! I’m only here because I care about you, and you know it.”
He cracked open his door, then faced her. “I’m tired,” he said gently. “I’m dead tired and a little pissed-off and a lot sick of talking about this. It feels as if my heart got stuck in a vise and twisted like hell. So cut me a little slack, okay? We can talk about this when I get back.”
Clarissa came closer and wrapped her arms around his middle. Contritely, she laid her head against his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry things worked out like this, and—”
Her head rose sharply and she released him. “And did you just say we’ll talk about it when you get back? Back from where? Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to get away.”
Sam climbed in his truck. Inside, it still smelled like Holly’s flowery perfume. Her lipstick tube was still tucked in the passenger-side visor where she’d left it before the party. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. There was no way in hell he was going back to her house and watch her rebuild things with Brad.
Goodbye, Sam. I’m sorry things had to end this way.
He was sorry, too. Sorry things had ever begun, only to turn sour at the end. He shoved his keys into the ignition and started his truck. The sooner he left, the better.
“Sam, where are you going?”
“Back to Tucson. I’ve got to be there anyway—my ethics hearing is scheduled later this week. Remember Malcolm’s charges about changing Jilly’s grade?”
Clarissa nodded. “Malcolm’s a worm. You can tell him that for me when you see him.” She grinned, looking cheered by the thought.
“After that, I don’t know.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe I’ll try to pick up some tutoring work. Take my mind off things.”
“I don’t think you should go,” Clarissa said unhappily.
“I can’t stay here.” He pulled the truck door closed and rolled down the window instead. He drummed his fingers on the edge of it, needing to be gone. Needing to forget.
She sighed. “I know. What should I tell Holly?”
His heart twisted again. “Tell her… Tell her if she decides to take a chance, I’ll be waiting. Tell her love at first sight is real.” He paused. “Tell her I still believe that fortune cookie was right.”
“Huh?” Clarissa looked puzzled.
“She’ll know what it means.” Sam put his truck in gear.
“Wait. You want me to tell her about a fortune cookie?”
He gazed sadly at her. Why was he still hoping?
“On second thought, just tell her I said goodbye.”
He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway. Pretty soon, Sam was making good time toward Tucson—the direction exactly opposite of the one he really wanted to go.
Just after sunset, Holly arrived home in Brad’s BMW. As she and Brad pulled in her driveway, she peered at the darkened windows of her house and knew things really were finished between her and Sam. He wasn’t there.
Her heart sank. Part of her had been hoping, admittedly without reason, that Sam would be waiting for her. Beside her, Brad cut the BMW’s engine and stretched his arm across the back of her seat, looking satisfied with himself.
“I’m certainly glad I didn’t hire an outside consultant to evaluate that accounting software for me. It would have cost me a bundle.”
It was as close as Brad would come to a thank you. Somehow, he’d persuaded her to look over his new software package for him after all. She’d spent the whole afternoon in his office setting up portions of it for him.
“I’m glad I could help,” she said.
She shifted uncomfortably on the car’s leather seat, feeling awkward and overdressed in the conservative beige dress and matching jacket Brad had bought for her earlier. The clothes had been waiting in the car when they’d left the jail. He’d insisted on taking her to his new, luxurious condominium to shower and change before heading to his office.
Brad’s condominium had all the warmth of a modern-art museum—all slick surfaces and cold, hard edges. Even the landscaping outside was cold, a mixture of granite boulders accented with knifelike desert agave. Holly hadn’t wanted to admit how well its austerity suited him.
“Do you want to come inside?” She nodded toward her dark, empty-looking house. “The renovation is practically finished. It looks nice. I’d like you to see it.”
Brad shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough reminders of your friend Sam’s handiwork for one day.”
She looked away, remembering all the times she’d mentioned Sam’s name. So many things reminded her of him. She hadn’t realized how much those references might hurt Brad.
“I’m sorry, Brad. I’m sure I’ll stop doing that soon.”
“I hope so. The guy was ruining your reputation. Getting you thrown out of stores—getting you arrested!” He pursed his lips. “I’m afraid your exploits didn’t do my reputation any favors, either. Everyone in town still links the two of us.”
Brad reached into the back seat and retrieved her white party dress, newly cleaned and wrapped in a drycleaner’s bag. Still holding it, he opened his car door and got out.
Holly watched him walk around the front of the car. He paused, wiped a spot from the hood with his sleeve, then proceeded to her side and opened her door.
“I will walk you up to your door, though,” he offered with a smile. “It’s the least I can do as a gentleman.”
She let him help her out of the car and walk her to the front porch. Brad arranged her dress across the porch swing.
“I do understand about Sam.” He faced her again. “In fact, I admire your quick thinking. Letting him move in was a good way to get your renovation done cheaply.”
“It wasn’t like that. Sam was…a friend.” A friend and more, someone who’d always thought of her happiness. How could Brad make their relationship sound so mercenary?
He waved away her explanation. “Whatever. It doesn’t really matter, now that your little plan finally worked.”
“My…plan?”
He spread his arms, an odd sort of smirk on his handsome face. She couldn’t read his expression very well, because he still had his sunglasses on, even though it was getting dark.
; “You got me,” he announced.
“What?”
“You got me. You got what you wanted with your plan. The Plan. It was all there in your day planner.”
“You read my day planner?” Holly grabbed the porch wall and leaned against it, needing its support.
Brad frowned. “Only by accident. I saw my name on some of the pages. Naturally I was curious.” In an apparent—and misguided attempt—to lighten the mood, he added, “Once I got going, though, it was quite a read.”
“You had no right. That was private.”
Holly had thought being unceremoniously dumped on the night of the romantic dinner that wasn’t was bad. She’d thought being ridiculed—then ignored—on the golf course was bad. She’d thought being turned down while dressed in her most seductive clothes was bad. This was worse.
“Are you actually making fun of me because of something you read while you were snooping?” she asked, her voice shaking.
A horrible thought occurred to her. How long ago had Brad read about her plan? Had he known, almost from the start, what she was doing? The idea was humiliating.
“It was really very flattering,” he insisted. “What man could resist being the subject of such—”
“When did you read it?” she interrupted. She pushed away from the porch wall to confront him. “When?”
“I don’t see what you’re getting so upset about. It was just a stupid little thing—”
She snatched Brad’s damned black sunglasses from his face so she could look him in the eye, then straightened to her full height. Wearing her heels, she had a good two inches on him. For once, it felt good.
“When?”
He blinked nervously, his face pale and somehow diminished without the glasses he always wore. “This morning. While you were in the shower.”
She fought the urge to whip off her spike-heeled shoe and hurl it at him. “Why?”
“I wanted your mother’s phone number at her real estate office.” He glared at her as though she were being completely unreasonable. “I called to find out how much we might get for your house. To find out if Linda would list it for sale.”
