by Ann Roth
“Someone who shares my goals—getting married and, shortly following the wedding, starting a family,” she replied as they moved across the stage.
“Huh.” Their footsteps plodded across the wood planks for several seconds while Sam absorbed the information. “You’ve changed.”
She eyed him. “How so?”
“Used to be, dance was your life. Period.”
“You’re wrong, Sam,” she said as they headed for the exit. “Yes, it was important, but it never was my whole life.”
Scoffing, he opened the door and gestured her out. “Could have fooled me. You ate, slept and breathed dance. I came in a distant second, and our marriage didn’t even register.” After twelve years, that still smarted. He shoved open the door and gestured her out.
Her jaw dropped, followed by a gasp of disbelief. “That’s not true. It’s not fair, either. But then, what would you know about that?”
He could feel his blood pressure climb. He didn’t want to have a fight, so he clamped his jaw and counted to ten before speaking. “Look, it was a long time ago,” he replied in what he thought was a reasonable tone. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Amy didn’t seem to believe him. “Apparently it does. Why else would you keep dredging up the past?” She laughed without humor. “Too bad you remember it all wrong.”
Want to or not, he couldn’t ignore her accusation. “You’re out in left field, Amy.”
“Ha!” With an incensed huff she whisked past him, into the waning light, her braid swishing angrily down her back. “If you want to pass blame on our failed marriage, start with yourself. You wanted a maid, not a wife. You only cared about sex and your career, never about what I wanted.” She lifted her head to queenly heights and fixed him with an I-dare-you-to-dispute-that frown.
His temper climbed to match the ire glittering in her eyes, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to yell. “Not quite,” he said evenly.
He’d wanted a repeat of his own family, his mother obeying his father’s every whim. He’d thought Amy wanted that, too. When she hadn’t… He’d never been good at expressing himself and had vented his frustration the only way he’d known how, by picking a fight. He wasn’t like that anymore.
Amy folded her arms across her chest. “Uh-huh.”
That smug tilt of her lips taunted him like nothing else could, and he couldn’t resist baiting her. “There you go again, jumping to conclusions.”
“And how would I know that?” She tossed her head. “You never talked to me, and I’m no mind reader.”
“I’m talking now,” he shouted as he lost the battle for control.
“Well, I don’t want to listen,” she replied in an equally heated voice.
For a few tense seconds they tried to stare each other down, and it was just like the worst of old times. Sam’s anger faded as quickly as it had risen, replaced with self-disgust. Dammit, he didn’t get sucked into arguments like this anymore. Glancing at the pavement, he sucked in a breath, corralled his emotions and decided to joke his way out of this mess. “I sure am glad we straightened things out,” he quipped.
Amy’s mouth set as she tried to hold on to her anger, but he kept his expression easy. She must have realized he really wanted a truce. Her eyes widened in clear astonishment, as if she couldn’t believe the argument was over. Given their history, who could blame her? At last, the tension eased from her face. “Very funny, Sam.”
He nodded, and the very air seemed to lighten with relief. “I’d better get going. I promised Mariah I’d pick her up about now,” he said.
“And I’m so late, Dani’s probably ready to call the Missing Persons Bureau. Thanks again for your help today.” She turned and hurried toward her car, which was at the opposite end of the parking lot.
Sam inhaled the cool, spring air and watched her drive off in her cute, yellow Bug. What a day. In just under eight hours, he’d fended off a sexy blonde, kissed Amy passionately and then argued with her about a past that was dead and buried. He must be insane, and he wasn’t happy about his lack of control. At least he’d salvaged their fight with a joke.
But how had she managed to stir him up in the first place? Ambling toward his Porsche, he rubbed his chin and mulled over the question. There was no explanation, and he was confused and worn out. What he needed was male camaraderie and a nice, cold beer. Thankfully his best buddies, Gabe and Josh, were coming over for pizza tonight. Gabe’s wife and two preschoolers were out of town visiting her parents, and Josh’s wife had to work, so the men had set up a get-together. Mariah adored them both. Good-natured guys, they’d agreed to watch a movie with Sam and her. They’d help put the frustrating day in perspective.
Just thinking about the relaxing evening ahead made him feel better, and he unlocked his car in lighter spirits. In no time at all, he’d forget about Amy and be back to his usual happy self.
Chapter Five
STILL REELING FROM a day filled with surprises, Amy checked for traffic on her way out of the parking lot. No cars, so she pulled out. So much had happened today, none of it planned, not even in her wildest imagination. She’d kissed Sam, argued with him and dredged up things that should have been laid to rest years ago. Now she was confused, an emotional wreck. She glanced at her watch. Yes, she was due at Dani’s, but first she needed a moment to sort out her feelings. A block and a half down the street, she slipped into a parking space under a flowering magnolia tree and shut off the engine.
In the rearview mirror she watched Sam’s sleek Porsche speed off in the opposite direction. The dark, sexy car fit him perfectly. Sometimes when he looked at her, his eyes had a way of lighting up and softening that made her go all mushy inside. Through high school and their marriage, she’d never been able to resist that look. Apparently she still couldn’t. Wrapped in warmth, she sighed dreamily. He kissed even better than she remembered, his mouth gentle and teasing before he turned serious. And then, whoo-boy. Just remembering caused her heart to give a funny little kick and her insides to melt. She’d not only kissed Sam, she’d liked it. A lot. And that was bad, very bad.
Groaning, she buried her face in her hands. “Big mistake, Amy,” she muttered. One of many today.
The sudden knock on her window startled her. She jerked up to see Kari Jeffries peering anxiously at her. “Are you all right?”
Amy cringed. The gossipy mom, whose daughter Delia was a Pearl and a good friend of Mariah’s, was the last person she wanted to see. Forcing a smile, she rolled down her window. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
“It’s such a nice afternoon, I thought I’d walk to the drugstore.” She gestured to the one-story brick-and-wood structure a few yards down. “Delia’s at home with her dad, puttering in the garden.”
“She danced beautifully this morning,” Amy said.
Kari smiled. “She told me.” She cast a curious, yet knowing look at Amy. “My gosh, are you just now leaving the studio?”
The smug arch of her brow put Amy on alert. Had Kari walked past the studio in time to hear the exchange between her and Sam? Amy hoped not because if she had, in no time the woman would spread her version of things everywhere. Or maybe she was simply probing for information.
There was nothing to do but play along. “With the recital in a few weeks, there’s still so much to do.”
Delia’s mother gave a small nod. As in, go on.
“Unfortunately, now I have a headache and need to buy some pain reliever,” Amy prevaricated. Because of her hip she always carried a full bottle in her purse.
“I understand completely,” Kari said with a cryptic smile. “Stress can cause all sorts of problems, including headaches and a short fuse.” She winked. “A delicious man like Sam Cutter would definitely raise my stress level.”
Dear me, she did know. Amy stiffened. “There’s nothing between Sam and me,” she said with a pointed look. “It’s all in the past.”
“Sure it is, honey.” The woman looked as if she’d just
heard the story of the year. “Connie Swanson phoned a while ago and told me all about it.”
“Connie called you?” Amy recalled the blonde’s comment about her and Sam getting back together, and their vehement denial. A lot of good that had done.
By morning, everyone in town would be talking, despite the fact that there was nothing to talk about. Sam would no doubt hear about it. Would he think she’d discussed the two of them with friends? He might get the wrong idea and think she cared about him. How humiliating. Amy’s head started to pound for real. Suddenly she wanted out of there. She made a show of glancing at the clock under the rearview mirror. “You know, I’m late for a meeting. I’ll pick up that pain reliever later.” She turned on the ignition and the car purred to life. “’Bye.”
SEVERAL HOURS AFTER Sam picked up Mariah and returned with her to his sister’s house, his buddies Gabe and Josh knocked on the kitchen door. “We come bearing dinner,” Josh announced, holding up two extra-large pizza boxes to prove it. Without waiting for an invitation, he strode into the spacious, homey kitchen. Gabe followed with a six-pack, which they’d open after Mariah went to bed.
After Sam’s day, he was more than ready for a night of male companionship. He looked forward to kicking back and relaxing. “About time,” he dead-panned. “Mariah’s been hungry for a while now. She’s about to keel over.”
“I’m starving!” his niece agreed. Dancing with excitement, she rubbed her stomach and smacked her lips.
“How you doing, cuteness?” Gabe tweaked her nose on the way to the refrigerator. He stowed the beers while Josh carried the pizzas to the table in the breakfast nook.
“Grab the milk out of the fridge, will you?” Sam asked Gabe as he brought out plates and glasses.
“Milk?” Armed with napkins, Mariah wrinkled her freckled nose. “I wanted pop.”
Sam’s sister was a dentist, and if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was her feelings about sugared beverages. He shook his head. “Your mom likes you to drink milk.”
“I know, but she’s not here. Could we have pop, just this once? Pretty please?” She gave him the wide-eyed look that never failed to persuade him.
Sam shook his head. “Your mom would shoot me.” Mariah’s face remained hopeful, so he looked to Gabe, a family-practice doctor who just happened to take care of Mariah and her parents. “Help me out here, buddy.”
The physician nodded, and the gray eyes behind his tortoiseshell glasses homed in on Mariah. “Your mom knows a thing or two about teeth. She’s smart to make you drink milk,” he agreed, adding his most professional nod. “You have my medical diploma on it.”
“I’ll throw in my CPA license, too,” Josh said. He was Sam’s accountant, and the best. “And, hey, what’s wrong with milk? I love the stuff. Mmm, boy, milk and pizza.” The dimple in his cheek deepened—a trait women seemed to find irresistible—and even Mariah was charmed.
“Okay,” she said as she doled out the napkins.
Gabe poured her a glass. Then, good sport that he was, he filled the other three glasses, too.
The matching maple chair legs clattered over the tile floor as they pulled out chairs. Amid jokes and noise, they sat down. Sam opened the pizza boxes, and mouthwatering smells filled the air. He licked his lips. “How many do you want, Mariah?”
“Two,” she said, holding out her plate.
Sam complied, then piled his own plate. Josh and Gabe did the same. They each dug in with gusto, and for a while no one spoke.
When only three pieces of pizza remained, Josh wiped his mouth and started the conversation with a question. “Hey, Sam, what were you and Amy doing, yelling at each other in some parking lot today?”
About to finish off his fourth slice, Sam stopped inches from his mouth. “You saw that?”
“No, but Kari Jeffries did. Now everybody knows.”
Sam remembered the woman. He’d met her that first time he’d dropped Mariah at Amy’s studio. He groaned. “Is there no privacy in this town?”
Mariah gaped at him. “Uncle Sam!” she scolded, clearly horrified. “Why were you fighting with my teacher? You said you liked her.”
Gabe and Josh exchanged curious glances. Then Gabe shot Sam a sideways look, while Josh raised a quizzical brow. “You said that?” he asked.
Both men stared at Sam, their shock almost comical. Sam frowned. “I didn’t mean it like it sounds,” he said. He turned to his niece. “Amy—Miss Parker—and I weren’t fighting, we were…talking.” He gestured with his chin at Mariah. “Could we table this conversation until later?”
Gabe nodded. “Of course,” Josh said.
Sam had known both men since grade school and could practically see the wheels turning in their cagey brains. They’d been there when he first started dating Amy, and they’d been there during and after the divorce. By the time she had moved away, they were both sick of hearing about Sam’s troubles and the whole sad mess. They’d give him hell if they thought he was starting up with her again. Not that he was.
Though if they’d been privy to what had happened in her back room this afternoon… One little kiss, and he’d wanted Amy just as much as always. From her passionate response, he knew that she felt the same. Sam’s body stirred at the memory. That kiss had turned into more kisses, each deeper and hotter than the last. Swallowing, he hunched over the table to hide his blatant desire. He wasn’t telling anybody about those kisses, and he was pretty sure Amy wouldn’t, either. Thank God for that, because neither of them would ever be able to explain or live down what they had done. How could they, when what had happened was both bewildering and impossible to understand?
“Uncle Sam?”
Mariah’s voice jolted him back to the here and now. “Huh?”
She was glaring at him, so he changed the subject. “How about a bowl of chocolate ice cream and that Harry Potter video?”
Refusing to be mollified, she compressed her mouth. “Please don’t fight with Miss Parker ever again.”
“You have my word on that,” Sam pledged solemnly. He meant it, too. He glanced at the rooster clock on the cream-colored wall. Two hours before his niece’s bedtime. How would he ever survive? He stood, stacking the plates to clear the table. “If you want to watch the whole movie, we’d better get started.”
BY THE TIME Sam tucked sleepy-eyed Mariah in and closed her door, he was yawning with fatigue. It had been a trying day, and he rolled his shoulders as he tromped wearily down the stairs. But he wasn’t ready to send Gabe and Josh home, not until they cleared up a few things.
He grabbed three beers and carried them into the family room, where his friends sprawled in matching recliners that faced the now-dark television screen. Both accepted their drinks with grateful nods.
Sam settled on the sofa also facing the TV. He lifted his bottle in salute. “Cheers.”
All three men drank. Then Gabe eyed him speculatively. “Are you going to start up with her?”
No need to ask who they meant. “Absolutely not,” Sam stated. “Mariah roped me into helping out with some sets for her ballet recital. Amy and I worked on those together.” No need to mention those kisses. “At the end of the day, we had a conversation.” Okay, a heated conversation, but that was nobody’s business. “That’s all.”
Josh grinned. “So you two still have that passion thing.”
His dimple had no effect on Sam, who scowled.
Gabe hooted. “He’s not denying it. I know you, buddy, and I can see it in your eyes. Every time you hear Amy’s name, you light up.”
Sam shook his head at the ceiling. “You’re imagining things.”
“Hell, maybe you should take her out,” Josh said. “I mean, plenty of time has passed since the divorce, and you’ve both grown up a lot.”
Given what Sam had put his friends through during and after his marriage, the comment surprised him. Amy was too career-oriented, too stubborn and too opinionated for him. Though in some ways she’d changed for the better, he did
not want to get involved with her—now or ever. He shook his head. “Out of the question. I’m not interested, and neither is she.”
“If you say so.” Gabe nodded soberly but Sam caught the glint in his eye. Josh coughed, covering up a laugh.
Sam swore. The evening was not turning out the way he’d envisioned. “She wants to get married again, and start a family. I don’t.”
When neither man replied, Sam narrowed his eyes. “Just because you’re both happily married doesn’t mean I should be. I’ve tried it, remember? I like being single, and I plan on staying that way. Besides, I’d make a lousy father. God knows, taking care of Mariah is just about doing me in. I don’t have the patience.” For emphasis, he shot each man a dark look. “Got that?”
“You’re as patient as any man I know,” Gabe said. “You’d make a great father, and that’s my professional medical opinion.”
Would he? Sam frowned and opened his mouth, but Josh spoke first.
“Hey, did either one of us mention marriage or kids?” he asked with an innocent, sideways look.
“Well, no,” Sam admitted.
“We didn’t bring up the subject, but you did.” Gabe cocked one eyebrow, then pointed his bottle at Sam. “Think about that.”
MARIAH POKED Sam’s shoulder, jerking him from a deep sleep. “Uncle Sam,” she whispered.
“Huh?” He opened one bleary eye. It was pitch-dark. He squinted at the clock on the bedside table. Monday, 4:00 a.m., it read. He’d been asleep all of five hours. He fumbled for the reading lamp beside the clock, blinking in the sudden light. “What’s up, kid?”
Clad in her favorite American Girl nightgown and clutching her American Girl doll in matching pj’s, Mariah swallowed with difficulty. “My throat hurts.”
Sam flung his arm over his eyes and groaned. “Can this wait a few hours? Say, until seven-fifteen?”
“It hurts really bad.” The girl’s lower lip stuck out and her eyes filled. “I want my mom.”
