Sam had watched his mother work herself ragged to support him and his sister. His father had been killed in an accident shortly after his sister was born, and life was tough. Sam swore from an early age that he would make good and provide for his mother and sister, but by the time it was true, his mother was dead and his sister living on the West Coast. Working any job he could find, Sam put himself through college and then law school, taking advantage of student loans and grants. It was only after he’d spent several years as a corporate powerhouse that he was debt free and in a position to shower his loved ones with everything his hard work could provide. Unfortunately, life had other plans, and he found himself alone - extremely wealthy but alone. Looking around, he began to observe many of his friends and co-workers in the same situation. Working their lives away and going home to either empty penthouses or hotels after their gold-digging wives or girlfriends had stripped them of every penny they could and most of their self-esteem. There were plenty of beautiful women in line to take their place and go for seconds - the takers, as Sam referred to them.
“Mr. Barringer?”
“Yes,” Sam answered as the agent approached him.
“The sellers have accepted your offer and are very anxious. Everything is already in order except the final contracts. Would next week be too early for a closing?”
“Not at all, Mrs. Gordon; you have my number. Call me as soon as you have a date and time, and I’ll have the cashier’s check ready.”
“Don’t you need to secure financing?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. Everything on my end is ready.”
“Wonderful! Are you busy tonight, Mr. Barringer? I know you’re new in town and I would like to take you to dinner,” Mrs. Gordon asked with a slight blush.
Sam thought about another room service meal or a lonely dinner in the hotel’s restaurant and accepted her offer. He was sure Mrs. Gordon would be able to answer any questions he had and he could get a handle on the city’s social life.
Dinner was interesting. Brandy Gordon took him to a little obscure place that turned out to be charming, with excellent food. They spent a good portion of the evening talking about the high and low points of the city, and she provided a lot of insight into what made it tick.
“So how long have you been selling real estate?” Sam asked her as he cut into his steak.
“About three years,” she replied, picking up her wine. “I had to find something to do after my husband passed away and I suppose this was as good a choice as any.”
“Do you like what you’re doing?”
Brandy laughed. “At the risk of sounding like an ungrateful wretch, I guess I would have to say no. Don’t get me wrong, this sale will make me a substantial commission and I’m thrilled about that, but I miss my old life, Sam,” she finished wistfully before giving herself a shake. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get maudlin, it’s just that I never thought my life would turn out this way.”
Sam studied her in silence. Brandy was a very pretty woman somewhere in her forties. Her auburn hair complimented clear gray eyes that held a wealth of sadness. The little extra weight she carried didn’t detract at all from the picture of a professional, successful woman. Sam got the distinct impression that despite the perfectly groomed package, she was somehow playing dress-up.
“If it’s not too personal, tell me how you thought your life would turn out?” he asked gently.
“Oh, the usual dreams young girls have. I married young, thought I’d have a houseful of children and spoil them all terribly. Jim and I were supposed to grow old together surrounded by our children and grandchildren. Unfortunately that never happened. By the time we realized that we would never have babies of our own, we were kind of set in our ways. Over time I guess I became the baby,” she continued with a sigh. “Jim took care of everything and I enjoyed every minute of it, I’m embarrassed to admit. He saw to my every need before I even realized I had one. It really was a wonderful, loving existence. All the major decisions were made by my husband and it didn’t bother me in the least. Some of my friends thought he was controlling and domineering, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t care. I know that sounds very anti-feminist of me, especially now that I’m a ‘career woman.’ I was never one of those driven women who thought I could do it all, have it all. Frankly, we were a perfect match. His whole life was devoted to my happiness and if he was a little old-fashioned, so what? He earned my respect and obedience and I was proud to give it to him.”
“Jim’s death must have been a terrible blow,” Sam said.
“You have no idea,” she sighed as her eyes welled up. “It’s been more than three years, and I still miss him desperately.”
To lighten the mood, she added, “I had no idea I was so high maintenance.”
Sam smiled. “I doubt that,” he said. “Have you considered dating again? They say if you have one good marriage, you can have another.”
“I’ve been on a couple of dates, you know, fixed up by my supposed friends,” she grimaced.
“There just aren’t any men out there who could compare to my husband. Most of them are looking for someone to take care of them, and I can hardly take care of myself.”
She smiled. “It’s alright, though; I’d rather be alone than unhappy with the wrong man. Hey, this is supposed to be a celebration dinner,” she scolded, raising her wine glass and touching it to Sam’s when he followed suit. “Thank you, Sam. First of all for buying that beautiful house; it would have broken my heart to sell it to someone who didn’t appreciate its historical value. And second for agreeing to this lovely dinner. I’ve really enjoyed myself, and I hope I didn’t bore you with my life story.”
“Not at all, Brandy. I enjoyed myself, too,” he answered thoughtfully. Brandy Gordon was quite a woman, innately honest and very clear in her views. It always amazed him just how many women spent a good portion of their lives acting the way society expected them to, regardless of whether it was making them happy.
Chapter Four
On Saturday, Sam arrived promptly at seven to pick Johanna up for their date, and while she wasn’t completely ready, at least she was close. Opening the door, she promised him she would only be another minute as she led him to the living room and offered him a seat. Slipping into her bedroom, she closed the door and leaned against it. Damn, he was a good- looking man, she thought, willing her heartbeat to slow down.
She hated rushing and that’s what she spent most of her day doing. After over-sleeping, she had thrown on her clothes and gone to help a friend decorate a hall for a bridal shower being held on Sunday. Although it was supposed to be cleaned before their arrival, the previous group left the place a shambles. Old decorations had to be removed, everything wiped down and the floors swept and mopped before they could even begin to start decorating. When they finally finished, it was after two in the afternoon. Johanna ran home, changed her clothes and headed to the mall to buy a gift she should have taken care of weeks ago. By the time she got to her mother’s and took care of her needs, meals for the week and her medications, she was exhausted. The only nourishment she’d had all day was a smoothie she grabbed on her way out of the mall. Now she was paying for it.
After hurrying home, jumping in the shower and rushing to get dressed before he arrived, she was light-headed and weak. In the back of her mind, she didn’t really think Sam would be angry enough to slap her butt if she was late, but she wasn’t entirely convinced. Jo went into her bathroom to finish applying her make-up, but her hands were shaking so badly she didn’t dare mess with the mascara again. Sweating, she pulled her hair into a ponytail, fanned herself as best she could with a magazine that was lying on the counter and patted the perspiration off her face with a tissue. Cursing herself for a fool, she searched through the drawers of the sink cabinet, looking for a piece of hard candy, a breath mint, anything. She actually thought about squeezing some toothpaste into her mouth, but the idea was just too sickening. It wasn’t like she hadn’t e
xperienced this before; she had, many times. Each time it happened, she promised herself she would stop skipping meals and running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Low blood sugar wasn’t anything to scoff at, and she knew better.
Forcing herself to lock her shaky knees, Jo left her bedroom holding onto the wall and staggered through the living room where Sam was sitting on the couch.
“Johanna, are you alright?” Sam asked, getting quickly to his feet, stricken by the pale, sweaty woman hanging onto the furniture.
Jo gave a nod, but didn’t speak as she found her way to the kitchen. Reaching into the cupboard she knocked several items to the floor as her hand finally closed over what she sought so desperately. The small tube of frosting refused to open and she moaned piteously as she sank to her knees.
“Jo, what is it?” Sam asked, desperate to understand what he should do. Finally it hit him, and he wrapped an arm around Jo and pulled her up. She leaned weakly against him as he opened the tube and squeezed some of the blue contents into her mouth.
“Sorry,” she whispered softly as she fainted into his arms.
Swearing, Sam carried her to the couch and lay her down. He propped a pillow behind her head and returned to the kitchen for a glass of water and a cool wet towel. Holding her, he dribbled a small amount of water between her lips and wiped her face and neck with the cool cloth. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his cell phone and punched in 9-1- 1 as her eyes fluttered open.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a crisp voice said.
“No, Sam,” Jo croaked out. “I’ll be fine.”
The operator repeated the question and Sam debated for a short moment before he told the woman he was sorry, their services would not be needed at this time. For several minutes, he alternately forced tiny bits of frosting followed by water between Jo’s lips as her color slowly returned. Wiping her face had smeared her make-up, and he gently erased her raccoon eyes with a corner of the cloth.
Jo lay quietly as he ministered to her. His lips were compressed into a tight disapproving line, and his eyes watched her face as he took her pulse. She felt bad, she really did. She hadn’t meant to scare him.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re diabetic?” Sam barked out when her pulse was stronger and her cheeks regained a touch of pink.
“I’m not,” Jo told him, surprised at the vehemence of his tone.
“What do you mean, you’re not? What the hell just happened here if it wasn’t too much insulin?”
“I get low blood sugar, sometimes,” Jo answered as she took the cloth from his hand and tried to sit up, avoiding his eyes.
Sam pushed her back down and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him.
“What does that mean, sometimes?” he demanded.
Jo lowered her eyes as a guilty flush spread across her neck and face. She tried to sit up again, and this time Sam helped her. He sat on the edge of the couch cushion facing her as she rubbed her hands up and down her jean-covered thighs. Nervous now for an entirely different reason, Jo continued. “It’s nothing to worry about, Sam. I just get it sometimes and I have to get something sugary right away to bring me out of it. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal?” he growled. “It is a big deal, Johanna. What if I hadn’t been here? You couldn’t even get the cap off that frosting and you passed out cold. What if you’d been here alone?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve never waited that long to get something before. I guess at some point I would have come out of it.”
“Or not,” he said, running a hand through his hair and standing to glare down at her.
“Or not,” she agreed, looking anywhere but at him.
Sam paced the room for a few minutes, trying to get his emotions under control; she’d scared him half to death.
“What caused this, Jo? Is there any way to avoid this happening again?”
Jo thought seriously about lying, but she couldn’t come up with anything believable that he couldn’t disprove with an Internet search. For some reason, Sam never looked quite so big before. Suddenly she felt not only tiny in comparison, but young. She realized he made her feel like a little girl about to get a good scolding, and she sincerely hoped that was all she’d get, given his penchant for discipline. Instantly she decided on the truth. She had a sick feeling she was in enough trouble without adding lying to it.
“Well,” she began quietly. “There are actually two types of hypoglycemia.”
“And which type do you have, Jo?”
“Umm, I have the fasting kind,” she admitted, ignoring the butterflies in her tummy.
“Fasting? As in not eating?” he demanded, incredulous.
“Yes,” she whispered, daring a glance at his face. Oh no, not good, she thought.
“Jo, do we live in a third-world county?” he shot out.
“No.”
“So given that you have a job, and make some kind of money, would there be any reason you could give me for having an attack of this nature? Any reason it would be impossible for you to manage to eat in the course of the day?”
“I was busy today,” she replied softly.
“Sweet Jesus,” Sam roared as he walked out of the living room.
Jo heard the front door open and shut. Her heart gave a sad little sigh as she realized Sam had just walked out of her life. Well, it was her own fault, she admitted. What man in this day and age wanted a woman too stupid to take care of herself? Men did not want needy women. They wanted independent, capable women. A single tear slid down her cheek. Why the hell did he have to be so damn hot anyway? The first man in a long time to really tempt her with all kinds of embarrassing fantasies, and she’d managed to drive him away by their second date.
Suddenly, Jo heard the door open and shut again, but Sam didn’t return to the living room. She could hear him moving things around in the other room, but didn’t have the nerve to go out there to see what he was doing. The attack had passed now, but it was imperative she put some real food in her stomach, preferably some protein and complex carbs. Forcing her shaky knees to obey, Jo rose to her feet, waiting a few seconds to see if her balance would hold. At the same instant, Sam poked his head out of the kitchen doorway.
“Sit!” he barked.
Jo sat. It wasn’t long before Sam returned to the living room, pulled Jo to her feet and swept her into his strong arms. Although she thought she should at least put up a token protest, it just felt too damn good to do so. Her heart was fluttering and it had nothing to do with the low blood sugar and much to do with the attractive man carrying her into the kitchen.
Sam placed her gently in a chair at the table and continued to fuss with emptying a large picnic basket that was on the counter. A checkered tablecloth now covered the kitchen table and he began setting out an assortment of delicious looking food. Fried chicken, potato salad, rolls, and a plate of radishes, celery and sliced cucumbers appeared. Wine glasses and a bottle of white wine nestled in a bucket on the counter. Sam pulled out plates and silverware along with checkered napkins.
“Sam?”
“Hush, Jo,” he told her firmly. “Just be grateful that you’re not feeling well enough for me to do what I really want to. If feeding you wasn’t a priority, you would be over my lap right this minute getting the spanking of your life.”
“Any spanking would be the ‘spanking of my life,’ Sam,” Jo replied, mortified.
Sam stopped what he’d been doing and stared at her in disbelief. ‘You’ve never been spanked? Ever?”
“No, never,” she replied, wiggling on her seat.
“That explains a lot, Jo,” he said, shaking his head. Sam put a chicken breast on her plate along with a big scoop of salad. He pushed the veggie plate closest to her side of the table and handed her a roll. The order to start eating was gruff, and Jo didn’t hesitate; she was starving.
The chicken was tender and moist and she forced herself t
o go slow. Potato salad was not one of her favorite foods, and as a rule she was pretty picky, but for some reason it tasted delicious tonight. Sam put a plate of chocolate-dipped strawberries on the counter next to the wine, and Jo moaned, waving her hand at the wine, her mouth to full to speak.
Looking over his shoulder, Sam saw what she was waving at and shook his head no, hiding his smile when Jo slumped in her chair, clearly disappointed. Getting her a glass of water, he seated himself at the table and filled his plate before he spoke.
“I’m not even sure you should have any wine tonight, Jo, and certainly not until you’ve finished eating. You need the food much more than you need the alcohol.”
“But Sam, that’s my favorite wine,” she pouted.
“How unfortunate that you couldn’t spare the time to eat something today,” he replied with fake sympathy.
Jo scowled and thought about getting up and getting a glass. Laying his fork on his plate, Sam looked at her in surprise, his eyebrow raised in challenge.
“If you’ll pardon my saying so, most of your decisions today appear to have been flawed. You might want to think this one over carefully.”
For a moment he thought she might actually defy him, but in the end she dropped her eyes and continued eating. Every so often, her foot would connect with the table leg, jarring the table just the tiniest bit. Finally Sam pushed his chair back, stood up and walked around the table. Plucking Jo up from her chair, he proceeded to give her one incredibly stinging swat on her backside.
“Are you done acting like a two year old, or do you need more?” Sam asked smoothly.
“I’m done,” Jo answered with a gulp.
“Good idea,” he replied, plopping her back into her chair. “If I didn’t know better, Jo, I’d think you were asking for a spanking.”
“No, I’m not,” she insisted, her face blushing wildly. “Are you at least going to let me have some of those strawberries?”
“I don’t know? Are you going to behave?”
“Sam, I’m really sorry about tonight,” she sighed, feeling somewhat guilty. “I know this isn’t exactly what you planned. I just got so busy today and by the time I realized what was happening, it was already too late.”
A Sweet and Sassy Match Page 3
