"You picking on the little people again, Sam?" Jake demanded, looking Penny up and down approvingly. "You know Ryan hates it when you do that."
"Very funny," Sam retorted, scowling at the whole lot of them.
Penny glanced from one policeman to the other and apparently didn't like what she saw. "Aren't you going to arrest him? Put some handcuffs on him?"
"I doubt that'll be necessary, miss," Ryan said politely. He glanced pointedly at the gathering of neighbors in the hall. Every single door had been flung open. "Maybe we should take this inside, see if we can't straighten it out."
"Good idea," Jake said.
"I do not want this man in my apartment," Penny informed them, trying to block the way. "I want him locked up in a cell so that he can't harm other innocent citizens."
"Oh, give it a rest," Sam snapped as he lifted her aside, then marched over to the unopened bottle of whiskey he'd spotted on the kitchen counter and poured himself a stiff drink. He held up the bottle. "Anybody else want one?"
"We're on duty," Jake reminded him. His gaze narrowed. "Thought you were, too."
"Nope. I'm taking the rest of the day off. I consider it a hazardous-duty benefit."
Penny was regarding them all suspiciously. "What's going on here?"
"Well, ma'am, that's what we'd like you to tell us," Ryan said.
He said it in his most courteous tone, Sam noted. He and Jake made a good team. Ryan soothed, while Jake tended to make suspects quake in their boots without ever opening his mouth. He just loomed over them.
"Sam here is a police officer," Ryan explained softly. "I'm guessing he must have been here on a stakeout. Is that right, Sam?"
"Something like that," he agreed.
Penny's mouth gaped. "A policeman? Sam?" Something that might have been comprehension flickered in her eyes. An interesting shade of red crept up her neck and into her cheeks.
"Sam Roberts?" she said weakly, sinking onto the sofa.
He lifted the glass in her direction. "Nice to see you again."
"Oh, hell," she murmured.
He took considerable satisfaction in seeing her day disintegrate right before his eyes. He figured that made them just about even. Granddad Brandon, on the other hand, still had to pay up big-time.
Chapter 2
Penny surveyed the man standing in her minuscule kitchen from head to toe. Now that he was in the light and fear wasn't clouding her vision, she could see it was Sam Roberts all right. Taller, broader through the shoulders and sexier, if that was possible.
Now she knew why her pulse had skipped at the sound of his voice. She'd heard it often enough in her dreams. That's what came of adolescent fantasies. On rare occasions, they stretched clear into reality to zap common sense.
One thing for sure, his outrageous behavior hadn't changed a bit. He was living up to everything Penny remembered about him from their brief but memorable encounter at the christening of his niece, Elizabeth Lacey Halloran, firstborn in the fourth generation of Hallorans. For an entire weekend he had blatantly regarded Penny as a pesky adolescent, hardly worthy of his attention.
Back then she had chafed at being so summarily dismissed, especially by the first true love of her entire life. The one kiss they shared still burned in her memory. The whole thing had been humiliating and ridiculous. Forever after, she had told anyone who asked that she couldn't stand the smart-mouthed jerk. She'd finally started to believe it herself in the past couple of years. There were times when she couldn't even remember what he looked like.
Well, that much was obviously true, she thought, thinking of the terrible mistake she'd made in that hallway.
Of course, she had also told herself that Sam Roberts's being in Boston had nothing to do with her decision to come to Harvard after years of self-imposed exile from the East. Judging from the way her heart was thudding at the moment, she'd been lying through her teeth about that, too. Apparently some things never changed.
Today, despite his obvious and acute embarrassment in front of his colleagues, he'd managed to maintain that same insolent, arrogant attitude. His entire demeanor suggested that she was totally at fault for the mix-up. Even now he was lounging against the kitchen counter, a drink in hand, while she stumbled all over herself trying to explain how she'd confused one of Boston's finest cops with a common criminal.
Penny drew in a deep breath and tried to reclaim some sense of dignity. "It was dark. Besides, it's been a long time since we've seen each other, over nine years in fact. He was dressed in a suit and tie at the time and looked considerably more respectable than he does at the moment," she said.
Now she allowed her gaze to linger on his disreputable attire to emphasize the point. There was the very last time she'd seen him, of course, when he'd been dressed more casually, but he hadn't looked as muscular back then. It was amazing what a little weight training could do to an already sexy body. She blinked and looked away. It wouldn't do to spend too much time thinking about that.
"On top of that," she said finally, "he never called me by name, never introduced himself. What the hell was I supposed to think when this jerk tosses me over his shoulder and hauls me into my apartment? It's not a technique used by any welcoming committee I've ever heard of."
Jake and Ryan listened sympathetically. All the while their eyes sparkled with merriment. They were clutching their sides, probably to keep from laughing out loud. No doubt it was Sam's sour expression alone that kept them from howling.
"Look, I'm not the one who ought to be on trial here. Cop or not, he broke in," she accused irritably.
"Do you want to file charges?" Jake inquired.
Judging from the expression of expectancy on his face, he really wanted her to do it just for the fun of it. Penny could just imagine how Sam, much less the rest of the family, would react. Still, she had to admit to being tempted. She could get even for a lot just by saying yes.
"I suppose not," Penny finally said with some reluctance.
"Thanks, brat," Sam said with that increasingly familiar edge of sarcasm. "Don't do me any favors."
"Actually, I believe I owe you one," she said with syrupy sweetness.
He started to reply, but bit off whatever he'd been about to say.
It was just as well. Penny would have hated to pick up the threads of an ancient squabble in front of the two fascinated policemen. She found their obvious respect for Sam, which all the teasing couldn't hide, something of a mystery. She couldn't even figure out how he'd managed to get on the force.
Stories of Sam Roberts's narrow escapes from the law were the stuff of family legend. Her grandfather had tried to regale her with several of them once again just before she'd left L.A., but she'd cut him off. At sixteen, when his sister had married into the Halloran family, Sammy had appeared destined for the life of a con artist at best. Naturally, her grandfather took full credit for his redemption.
But Penny had never gotten the sense that his salvation had been complete enough to land him on the Boston police force. She wondered what the whole story was behind that. She also wondered why no one in California had happened to mention it, then admitted that quite possibly it was because she tended to exit the room whenever his name came up.
Penny glanced over, noted the tension in Sam's stance and the irritation in his expression and wondered if she'd ever get the chance to find out. She told herself it didn't really matter. Sam Roberts clearly wasn't the kind of man who'd be interested in being a pal to some distant relation. He'd made that more than clear years ago. In fact, he looked like the sort of man who viewed women as having one single purpose in life and it sure as heck wasn't friendship.
Of course, that raised the question of why he'd bothered to show up here tonight in the first place. She figured she had her grandfather to thank for that. She wondered what he'd held over Sam's head to get him to agree this time.
Sam's temper had finally cooled sufficiently enough that he could look at Penny Hayden without wanting to murder her.
He'd pretty well trampled any little flare-ups of guilt, as well, and was beginning to enjoy watching her trying to extricate herself from any share of the blame for the false alarm.
If she weren't such an obvious pain in the neck, she might be attractive, he thought, idly studying her smooth-as-silk complexion and the dusting of freckles on her turned-up nose.
The kid had gone and grown up on him. She was wearing jeans that fit like a second skin, a denim shirt she'd tied in a knot at her tiny waist and those cowboy boots that she'd used somewhat effectively as weapons. She'd scooped her hair into a ponytail, though most of it had fallen free during their tussle. Sam had the oddest desire to free the rest of it and let it tumble through his fingers. He nixed that notion right away. He had no difficulty whatsoever recognizing trouble and until today he'd gotten fairly adept at sidestepping it. It was a skill he liked to think had come with maturity.
He deliberately forced his glance away and caught Ryan studying him speculatively. "What's your problem?" he growled.
The younger cop grinned. "I'm not the one who came within a hairbreadth of being hauled in for breaking and entering and assault."
"Oh, go catch some criminals."
"Thought we had," Jake reminded him. "Might even write up a lengthy report on it."
"You do and you'll be hoofing it around the lousiest beat in town come the first blizzard of winter," Sam warned.
"Come on, Jake," Ryan urged, still grinning. "You know what Sam's like when he gets testy. Can't take a joke."
Sam briefly considered pounding their heads together, then decided the subsequent aggravation of explaining why to the heirarchy at headquarters wouldn't be worth it. Fortunately, they seemed ready to beat a hasty retreat.
"Now don't you two go squabbling the minute our backs are turned," Ryan warned cheerfully as he closed the door.
Sam glared after them. As soon as their footsteps faded, Penny whirled on him.
"How could you humiliate me like that?" she demanded.
He regarded her incredulously, remembering with absolute clarity exactly how irritating she could be...and how turned on that tended to make him. Dammit, she could still do it.
"Excuse me?" he said. "If there was any humiliating done around here tonight, it was watching two men I work with come after me with their weapons drawn."
"Served you right. You had no business standing in that hall and scaring me half to death."
He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the truth in the accusation. "You really are obnoxious."
"Now that's a mature response," she countered. "How can you call me that? It's been years since you even set eyes on me."
"Not nearly long enough," he shot back.
Their gazes clashed, hers every bit as fiery as he knew his must be. He'd stared down hardened criminals more easily. She never even flinched. A little frisson of admiration cut through his irritation. He sighed and let the last of his anger fade away.
"So, Penny Hayden, welcome to Boston."
She didn't seem to be quite so willing to let bygones be bygones. "If you're the kind of welcoming committee this town sends out, I'm surprised anyone ever moves here."
"They usually reserve me for the people they expect might be troublesome. I'd say we're right on track this time."
She rolled her eyes in obvious disgust. "Why are you here, really?"
"At the risk of stirring up a hornet's nest, I'll tell you the God's honest truth."
"A pleasant change," she noted.
Sam shook his head. The woman was constantly spoiling for a fight. At least that was something they had in common. He held on to his patience by a thread. "Granddad Brandon called, said you were just settling in. He wanted me to stop by and see if there was anything I could do to help."
"Was this your idea of help?" she asked. "Couldn't you have called first, warned me you were on your way?"
He shrugged. "Hey, you attacked me in that hallway. If you hadn't, I'd have introduced myself politely, just in case you'd forgotten what I looked like, then offered to do anything I could to show you around Boston."
Eyes that were clear and guileless studied him intently. "But you wouldn't have meant it, would you?" she said finally. "Just like last time."
Sam tried to ignore the guilt that cut through him. "Why wouldn't I be happy to show you around?"
"It's a good thing you're on the side of the law," she informed him drily. "You're a genuinely crummy liar. Remember, I was there the night you dutifully dragged me to a movie. And I know how Granddad can be. It's easier to give in than it is to try to wriggle off his hook. Well, consider your duty done, Sam. I can look out for myself."
To emphasize that she meant what she said, Penny opened the door and waited for him to walk through it. Sam saw no reason not to comply, until he was on the other side, his foot on the top step. Then he realized that he recognized the expression he'd read in her eyes. Not so many years ago, before the Hallorans had come into his life, he'd seen loneliness--and the stubborn determination not to let it show--just by looking in the mirror.
Knowing he was going to regret it, he turned back. "Look, as long as I'm here, why don't we go grab something to eat?"
It wasn't the most gracious invitation he'd ever uttered, but he was offended by the distrust written all over her face. Forcing the words through gritted teeth, he added, "Look, we've gotten off to a bad start here."
"Again," she pointed out, not giving an inch.
He bit off a retaliatory comment and said simply, "I'm sorry."
Her gaze locked on his and his heart took an unexpected leap. He got the distinct feeling he was in over his head and sinking fast.
"I suppose it was partly my fault," she admitted grudgingly. "But dinner's really not necessary."
"Maybe not for you, but I'm starved."
"I meant, it's not necessary that you take me out. We're only distantly related by marriage. It's not like there's some family obligation at stake."
Sam grinned ruefully. "Wanna bet? If I tell Granddad Brandon that I have terrified and deeply offended his precious granddaughter for a second time, he'll call the chief and have me busted back to foot patrol."
Penny regarded him with evident fascination. "Interesting," she declared.
"What?"
"Apparently you spend your life chasing bad guys without fear, but Brandon Halloran terrifies you."
"He doesn't scare you?"
She shook her head. "He's a pussycat."
"Obviously he hasn't gotten around to meddling in your life yet."
"Sure he has," she retorted. "Who do you think sent me to those self-defense classes so I could handle the likes of you?"
Sam chuckled. "Remind me to tell him he wasted his money."
"I'd take a look at my shin and think about the timely arrival of the police before I made cracks like that, if I were you."
"Touche. Now, how about dinner? There's a cute little Italian place just down the street. Rosie makes a ziti with vodka sauce that will bring tears to your eyes."
Penny seemed to be considering the invitation thoughtfully, before finally shrugging. "I suppose it would be worth it, just to see the big, tough policeman cry. Let me grab my purse."
Sam was pleased to see that she did just that. She didn't waste time running off to primp as if this were a date. She just hauled her two-ton purse off the sofa, draped it over her shoulder and followed him from the apartment. He was astounded she didn't walk lopsided.
"What's in that thing?" he asked, trying to peer inside its mysterious depths.
She tugged it away. "A wallet, a brush, makeup, a book, a bottle of mineral water." She shrugged. "You know, the usual necessities."
He shook his head. "Hell, short stuff, next time just take a swing with that thing. It could knock somebody out cold."
"I'll remember that," she said, giving him a look that suggested she still wouldn't mind experimenting with the technique on him.
Sam prided himself on not giv
ing a damn what anyone, except for a handful of family members, thought of him. It worried him that he was beginning to care that Penny Hayden continued to regard him with suspicion even now that she knew who he was. An unfamiliar desire to win her over made him irritable all over again.
Without another word, Sam led the way down the stairs without bothering to check to see if she had any difficulty keeping up with his long stride. If she did, she never complained.
And she was right there beside him when he reached Rosie's, where the bouquet of garlic and tomatoes was more alluring than any expensive French perfume he'd ever encountered. He drew in a deep, satisfying breath and felt some of the tension ease out of him.
"Sammy!" Rosie cried when she spotted him. She enveloped him in an enthusiastic bear hug, then pinched his cheek. "You are too skinny. It has been too long since you have been by to see me. Do I have to be robbed to get you inside my restaurant?"
"I was here two weeks ago," he protested.
"You expect my pasta to sustain you for that long? This is the food of life, caro. Pasta and red wine are meant to be eaten every night."
"If I did that, pretty soon I wouldn't be able to haul myself after the criminals. I'd be too fat and lazy."
Rosie waved her hand dismissively. "Always the jokes. I know the truth. You have some other cook you adore. That's it, isn't it?"
"There is no other woman in my life. I swear it," he told her emphatically.
Just then, though, Rosie spotted Penny. "And who is this, then? You pretend that she is not even here, when I can see for myself that she is."
"Rosie, this is Penny Hayden. She has just moved here from Los Angeles. Penny, this is Rosa DiMartelli, who makes the best pasta this side of Rome."
Rosie's dark eyes scanned Penny from head to toe. A worrisome beam of approval spread across her face. Only one person in Sam's life could match Brandon Halloran when it came to meddling and she was regarding Penny with a very speculative gleam in her eye.
A Vow to Love Page 3
