by Ann Roth
Amy pulled in a breath and blew it out, as if working to calm herself. Her shoulders lost some of their defensive rigidity. “You’re right,” she agreed, sounding rational now. “The past is past, and we should keep it that way.”
“So we have a truce?”
“It won’t be easy, but I’ll do my best. Truce.”
She’d agreed with him. That was a first. Sam tried not to let it go to his head, and only with force did he bite back a gloating retort. “Great,” he said instead. He extended his hand to shake on it.
She stared at his outstretched arm for a few uncomfortable moments. Just when he was about to give up and drop his hand, she extended her own. Though her hand was small and fine-boned, her grip was firm, a business person’s shake. Yet fresh heat climbed up his arm and spread to his groin. After all these years, her skin was still smooth and soft. He couldn’t stifle the need to caress the delicate underside of her wrist with his thumb.
Amy’s pulse jumped under his touch. Awareness darkened her caramel-colored eyes. Suddenly she gasped, as if she’d just realized the electricity flowing between them and didn’t like it.
Neither did Sam. They broke contact at the same time, quickly backing away from each other. Amy averted her gaze, staring into the distance.
“You have a good evening,” she said, already on her way.
Sam gave a terse nod. “Back at ya.”
Keen to get inside and forget about her, he strode purposefully up the library steps. Running away like a coward, a voice in his head jeered. Sam’s jaw tightened. He was no coward, and this wasn’t running away.
Maybe he wanted another look at the woman who had once been his wife. Or maybe he needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t running. Whatever the reason he stopped short of the door and pivoted around. It was nearly dark now, but the streetlights allowed him to watch Amy. She moved quickly, agile as a cat from years of dance training. Sam thought about her feet with the high arches and taped toes, blistered and sore from hours of dancing in uncomfortable toe shoes. Yet so beautiful, like works of art. And her legs, smooth and shapely as only a dancer’s are. She was only five feet four inches to his six-two, but when her thighs gripped his hips, those legs seemed impossibly long…
A low moan tore from his throat, and he was grateful no one was around to hear. Dammit, he would not think of her as anything more than Mariah’s teacher. He jerked open the door and strode inside.
Yet even as he girded his will and set his mind to obey, he knew that it was going to be a long three weeks.
WHILE THE CLAWFOOT TUB filled later that Thursday evening, Amy hung a clean nightgown and terry-cloth robe on the brass hook she’d screwed into the door of her sixty-year-old bathroom. Then she struck a match and lit the wicks of the six fat vanilla-scented candles that lined the windowsill, each in its own wrought-iron saucer. A fusion jazz CD played softly on the portable disk player. She stepped out of her clothes, tucking them into the wicker hamper, and then turned off the mock Tiffany light overhead.
The steaming tub was full now, and her bath preparations complete. Just as she turned off the water, the phone, which she’d placed on an old green, yellow and red footstool she’d hand-stenciled, rang. She knew who that was—her two oldest and closest friends, Nina and Dani. Nina had three-way calling on her phone, and while Amy had lived and danced in San Francisco, the three had connected via phone several times a week. Now that she’d moved back, they still did. She answered on the third ring, setting the system to speaker phone.
“Hello, you two.” She stepped into a mound of bubbles, also vanilla-scented, then sank into the hot water with a contented sigh. “Hope you don’t mind if I’m on the speaker phone tonight. What’s up with the wedding plans?”
“In a minute,” replied Nina, the statuesque five-foot-eleven bride-to-be. “Do I hear the splash of water? I’ll bet you’re in the tub.”
“Is it Thursday night?” Dani quipped, and Amy pictured the wry glint in her eyes.
Amy’s friends knew her rituals as well as she did, and though they couldn’t see her, she smiled as she settled her head against her comfy pink tub pillow. Their obvious interest and concern were as comforting as the scented bath—totally unlike her relationship with Sam. The thought destroyed her smile.
“Yes to both questions.” Her hip appreciated hot soaks in the tub, and she indulged herself whenever time permitted, which usually meant Thursday nights and Sundays. “So, Nina, did you and Ben pick out the invitations?”
“Finally,” said Nina, who tended to procrastinate. “With only nine weeks before the wedding, getting the order back from the printer and mailed in time will be a real challenge. I’m going to need your help—”
“Which you’ll have,” Dani broke in, and Amy knew that her lips were pursed in impatience. “I’m bursting to tell you my news. You’ll never guess,” she said, then rushed on before they could. “We’re not having one baby, we’re having two. Twins!”
“Two little Libras instead of one.” Nina’s voice was laced with excitement, and Amy knew she was already plotting out their astrological charts. A talented owner of a dress design and alterations business, Nina had studied astrology on the side and considered herself a near expert. “Oh, how wonderful.”
“Ditto,” Amy said, though with less enthusiasm. She was happy for her friend, truly. Yet she couldn’t stem a pang of envy. With Dani happily married and pregnant, and Nina soon to be a bride, Amy was the odd woman out. She felt it, too. Her friends had included her in every step of their personal milestones, but the truth was, she was on the outside looking in. She wanted what they had.
“Russ is nearly through the roof with excitement,” Dani continued. The faint click-clack of knitting needles sounded through the speaker, and Amy knew the knitting-store owner and mother-to-be was hard at work, probably making a blanket for the second baby. “I’ll be huge at your wedding, Nina.”
And I’ll be trim, slim and alone. Amy stifled a sigh.
“With Venus direct on that day, and my two oldest and dearest friends as bridesmaids, one of them pregnant, can things get any better?” Amy heard pages rustling, indicating that Nina was thumbing through one of her many astrology books. “According to Ben’s and my charts, all the signs are right for a long, happy union.” Without missing a beat, she changed the subject. “Hey, Amy, did Sam show up at your dance class today?”
Amy had told her friends about their first meeting. She almost wished she hadn’t, for the very mention of his name caused her muscles to tense. But only for a moment. The steaming water quickly eased the tightness. She frowned as she lifted her foot from the suds and examined the callus on her big toe. Though she no longer danced except to demonstrate steps to her students she still had dancer’s feet, with all the lumps and bumps. Ugly. Wrinkling her nose, she plunged her foot back under the suds. “No, but I ran into him in front of the library.”
“And?” Nina probed.
“And nothing.” Amy lifted her other foot, studying her arch critically. If she focused on things related to dance, she wouldn’t think about Sam.
“Not even a smile and hello between old friends?” Dani asked. She and Nina had known Sam back in high school, but no longer kept in touch. “Come on, Amy. I know you both well enough to see through that.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Nina said.
“All right. We greeted each other, but there weren’t any smiles. In fact, we almost broke into an argument right there on the sidewalk. That’s about it.” But even as Amy said the words, she recalled Sam’s avid interest and suggestive comments. When he looked at her as if he were hungry and she was the food he wanted, well… Her eyelids drifted closed. Her limbs felt languorous and heavy, and for one long moment, she indulged in the pleasure of remembering exactly how good a lover he’d been.
“An argument, huh?” Dani chuckled. “Sounds just like old times.”
Amy’s eyes popped open. Good golly, fantasizing about Sam when she wasn’t even
interested. “For a minute it felt like old times, too. Then we decided to work at getting along, for Mariah’s sake.”
“That sounds wise and very mature,” Nina said.
“That’s me, Miss Mature.” This time Amy’s sigh was loud enough that both her friends heard it.
“Where did that sad sound come from?” Dani’s voice resonated with concern.
Amy had no secrets from her two best friends. She reached for her loofah sponge and a bar of handmade glycerin soap. “The truth is, I’m envious of you both.” She scrubbed one arm, then the other, then rinsed beneath the water. “I’d like to fall in love, get married and have a baby. I’m nearly thirty, and if my reproductive system’s anything like my mother’s, time is running out.”
Her mother had tried for ages to conceive. After eight years, at the age of thirty-seven, she’d at last become pregnant with Amy. Much to everyone’s regret, her parents were unable to give her siblings. Amy worried that she could have the same problems getting pregnant. As soon as the recital was over and her school closed for the summer, she intended to mount a full-scale search for a husband. He had to want kids right away, and he had to understand about the importance of dance in her life.
“Given that you’re well into Saturn return, that’s understandable,” Nina said. “You’re ready to get serious about the rest of your life. And with your being a Taurus and ruled by Venus, that means love and marriage. It’s going to happen,” she finished with certainty.
Amy didn’t put much faith in astrology, but she grasped on to her friend’s words like a beacon of hope. Pathetic as that was. She sighed again. “Too bad there aren’t any men around to get serious with.”
“Of course there are,” Dani assured her. “Who knows, the man of your dreams could be right in front of you, only you don’t know it.”
An excited gasp issued from Nina, which meant she’d just had an “aha” insight. “Hey, what about Sam? Now that you’re both full-fledged adults—”
“Absolutely not.” Abruptly Amy sat up. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub and onto the blue-and-white tile floor. She frowned as her matching blue-and-white hand-hooked oval rug rapidly absorbed the water. Darn it, she’d just laundered it.
Her mood darkened like the rug as she recalled the defiant jut of Sam’s chin and the things she’d heard about him over the years. He’d been paired with a number of women, but nothing had lasted. He seemed to grow tired of his girlfriends—or maybe they refused to let him run their lives. Amy knew the routine well. Sam had expected her to take care of him and their home, never mind her own career. As for babies, no thank you. He wanted all the attention fixed on him. No doubt he was still as domineering as ever.
She frowned. “Sam hasn’t changed a bit. No, it has to be a man who’s not afraid to share his thoughts, and who respects my career and dreams as much as I respect his. A man who believes I’m his equal and who treats me that way. Someone who won’t hurt me by putting his needs first and ignoring mine.” She located the loofah in the tub and relathered it.
“At least she knows what she wants,” Nina commented drily.
“Which is good.” Dani’s knitting needles clicked and clacked furiously. “You need a game plan. Hmm… You’ve always given one hundred percent to dance. Maybe you should look at finding the right man the same way, as an all-out effort and a fulltime job. What do you think, Nina?”
“I think that’s a great idea. Don’t you, Amy?”
Amy lifted her leg. “It’s worth a try. I’ll give it my all, just as soon as I get through this recital,” she promised as she scrubbed her calf with long, clean strokes.
“Your special guy’s out there, I know it. Your astrological chart indicates it, and the stars don’t lie.”
So, okay, astrology wasn’t Amy’s thing. Still, you never knew. Optimism unfurled in her chest. “I hope you’re right.”
“YOU VOLUNTEERED ME FOR WHAT?” Sam shot his niece a look of disbelief as he eased the Porsche into the dance studio’s rain-slicked parking lot Friday afternoon. Traffic had been light, and they were early.
“To help make the sets we need for the recital.”
Sam groaned as he shut off the wipers and then the ignition. “Why’d you do that?”
Mariah scrunched down in her seat with a guilty look, accompanied by raindrops pounding the car’s windshield and roof. “Because everybody’s parents volunteer. Mom and Dad aren’t around, and I thought…” She bit her lip and hugged her gym bag. “Are you mad at me?”
Sam hated the way her slender shoulders bowed while she studied her lap, as if all the problems in the world weighed her down. Guilt pricked him. The last thing he wanted was to make the kid feel bad. “Nah. I just wish you’d asked me first.”
When Mariah blew out a loud, relieved breath, he knew he’d said the right thing. She unbuckled her seat belt and turned toward him. “I know I should have talked to you about it first, Uncle Sam, but we really need you. We’re doing the dance of the elves and fairies, and somebody has to build the magic forest.”
“Somebody, huh?”
She fixed him with the impish, big-eyed look that had wrapped him around her little finger from the moment of her birth. He couldn’t help chuckling. “Just when am I supposed to find the time to help with the sets?”
“Maybe on weekends, when you don’t work. But you should check with Miss Parker.”
“And where are you supposed to be while I’m doing this volunteer work?” he asked, still smarting from Amy’s comments last night. She’d practically accused him of child neglect. “I can’t exactly leave you by yourself.”
“I can go to a friend’s house, or we can get Claudia to baby-sit. She loves taking care of me.”
The sixteen-year-old sitter lived a block down from Mariah. Sam had met her, and he trusted her. He nodded. “We’ll see.”
That seemed enough of a promise for Mariah. “Come on, Uncle Sam.” She pushed open her door, calling over her shoulder as she hopped out. “It’ll be fun.”
“A real party,” he muttered. Just what he wanted to do, volunteer for Amy. The woman had haunted his dreams last night, and if it had been up to him, he’d have stayed away. Dreading the prospect of seeing Amy again, he stepped out of the car and watched his niece skip happily around puddles and through the rain toward the door.
Mariah’s parents had been gone three days, but it felt like forever. Still, he owed it to the girl to make the next two and a half weeks enjoyable. What was the big deal, anyway? Last night he and Amy had agreed to be civil to each other. They even shook hands on it.
Sam thought about the feel of her palm in his, and his blood stirred. He snorted with self-disgust. There was nothing between them but history and old memories, some damn painful. Rain pelted him, so he sprinted toward the shelter of the eaves where Mariah awaited him.
With the back of his hand he swiped the moisture from his face, then opened the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
Mariah darted through the door. Feeling like a cowboy heading for a shoot-out, he sucked in a breath and followed her inside.
Unlike the other day, today the stage was empty. Amy stood at the barre, along with a group of older kids—Rubies, Sam knew. They were middle schoolers, and their school day started and ended before Mariah’s. Likewise, their rehearsal started and finished each day before the Pearls’.
Mariah hung back, her head tilted as she scrutinized the dancers. Sam stayed beside her. He could see both Amy and her reflection, and the double images made quite a picture. Today she wore a V-neck black leotard, a tiny, pink wraparound skirt and pink tights. The outfit hugged her every curve, showing off her lithe waist, slender hips and shapely behind as she bent and then gracefully straightened. Her small, round breasts lifted as she raised her arms and drew in a breath.
Sam remembered the warm, soft feel of her in his arms as if he’d held her yesterday. Desire blind-sided him, along with the urge to touch her. His fingers curled at his sides.
“Leg up, and twirl,” she directed in a soft, yet commanding voice. Boys and girls positioned their feet and arms, and Amy moved with them. Holding her posture ramrod-straight, she called out various movements while demonstrating by shifting her legs, feet, arms and hands. Sam remembered enough to know that she was working them through their steps.
Despite disagreements and heated arguments about her career, he’d always enjoyed watching her dance. But after so many years away, her fluid grace captivated him. “Beautiful,” he murmured softly.
His niece shot him a curious look. “What did you say?”
He had to think fast. He gestured to the pink slippers on Amy’s feet. “She’s not wearing toe shoes,” he said.
“That’s because none of us are old enough to dance en pointe.”
“Ah.”
“You boys know what to do,” Amy said. “I’d like you to watch as I perform the girls’ part, because despite two full weeks of rehearsals, none of you has got it quite right yet.” The kids left the barre and gathered around her, leaving room for her to dance. Their faces were alight with interest, and so was Amy’s. “Watch me,” she said, rising slightly on her toes. “Adagio, and pirouette.”
Sam caught his breath as she demonstrated the simple, graceful twirl. She repeated the steps, explaining the moves. When she finished she leaned down, her hand sweeping just above the floor as she executed a ballet curtsy. Admiration filled Sam. He couldn’t help clapping.
Amy swiveled her head his way. “Oh,” she said, and even from a distance of thirty feet, he noted the flush staining her cheeks. His own face warmed and he wished he’d kept quiet. He shoved his hands into his pockets. At the same time, her hand fluttered to her neatly corralled hair, smoothing it back.
Boys and girls turned toward him, curiosity etched on their faces.
