by Ann Roth
Mariah shot him a worried frown. “Are you mad, Uncle Sam?”
“’Course not,” he said, forcing himself to relax.
“Then is something wrong?”
“Nope.” He turned into the lot, slowing as he drove through a puddle. Several cars were parked near the door. Sam guessed they belonged to volunteers who hadn’t shown up on Saturday. After his miserable weekend, he wished he’d backed out, too. His current predicament had started right here, in the back room of Amy’s studio.
“Only seventeen days ’til the recital,” Mariah said as he eased the Porsche into a slot. She’d been marking off the days on a calendar magnet attached to the kitchen refrigerator.
Amen to that. Sam nodded. “And a week from tomorrow your parents get back.” Then he could stop driving his niece here and stop seeing Amy. Yes, he’d agreed to help out the night of the recital. But after that, he’d never see her again. He’d forget her and live his life without her, just as he’d done for the past twelve years. “I know they’ve missed you. Bet you’ll be glad to get rid of me and have them back.”
“Uh-huh.” Suddenly silent, Amy toyed with the zipper of her tote bag.
Sam frowned. “Don’t you want to see them?”
“Of course I do. But I’m having a great time with you, Uncle Sam.”
“Back at ya, kid.” He offered a fond smile. “And we can keep on having fun.” Just as long as I don’t have to see Amy.
“We’d better go in.” Mariah opened her door, but when he didn’t do the same, she glanced over her shoulder at him. Furrows lined her little brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” If you didn’t count his sexual frustration or his one-track mind. He opened his door. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Maybe you’re getting sick,” his niece suggested, sounding like an adult. “It could be strep. Do you have a sore throat?”
Sam shook his head. Oh, he was sick, all right. Sick with lust for a woman he shouldn’t want. As planned, he stopped at the door. “This is as far as I go today. I’ll be back at five-thirty.”
For once, Mariah didn’t argue. “Okay.”
As he reached for the door to usher her inside another car turned into the lot—a silver Mercedes coupe. “There’s Janelle,” Mariah said.
She was the daughter of Connie, who had morphed from flirt into rumormonger. Sam didn’t want to run into her. But there was a man at the wheel. He squinted at the lightly tinted windows. “Who’s driving?”
“Mr. Swanson, Janelle’s dad. Do you want to meet him?”
Sam wanted only to leave, but his niece seemed eager for him to meet her friend’s father. He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Goodie. Hi, Janelle!” Mariah called out, running to meet her.
“Hi!” Janelle gamboled toward her friend, squealing with excitement. A tall, balding and mustached man about Sam’s age trailed in her wake, clutching a grocery sack. Grabbing hands, the girls jumped up and down, as excited as kids on Christmas morning.
Janelle’s father rolled his eyes. Sam shook his head and grinned. “Sam Cutter,” he said, offering his hand.
“Bob Swanson.” He gave Sam’s hand an enthusiastic shake. “My ex-wife told me she’d met you here. I’ve been following your career for years. Pleasure to meet you.”
By the warmth of the man’s greeting Sam figured Connie hadn’t mentioned how she’d come on to him. He wondered what she’d said about him and Amy.
“I’m going inside, Daddy,” Janelle called. “Don’t forget to bring in the snack.”
“I won’t, baby. I’ll be there in a sec.”
“Bye, Uncle Sam,” Mariah said.
Sam waved and the girls opened the door. Classical music spilled out, along with the sounds of Amy’s voice, before the door closed.
“That Amy’s a great teacher, with a sweet little body,” Bob said, smacking his lips. “I hear you’re dating her.” He winked. “Lucky man.”
Sam did not like the comment or the suggestive insinuation, and didn’t try to hide his opinion. “You heard wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re just friends.” Which wasn’t quite true, not after the other night. But he didn’t correct his mistake.
Bob seemed taken aback by the menacing frown. “Just what kind of friends are you? Because you look like you’d deck me if I asked her out.”
Sam realized his hands were clenched and his jaw set. If Amy wanted to date this bozo, it was none of his concern. He uncurled his fists, schooled his expression to neutral and managed a causal shrug. “Ask away.” He couldn’t help adding, “She’ll turn you down, though. She’s too busy to date right now.” And you’re not good enough for her.
“Can’t hurt to try,” the balding man said. He pushed open the door. “Coming in?”
With Bob on the prowl, there was no way Sam could leave just yet. Besides, he wanted to gauge Amy’s reaction to the slimeball. “For a minute.”
He stopped inside the door, while Janelle’s father swaggered forward like a man bent on a mission. Sam scowled at his back. There were no other adults around and he guessed the volunteers were working in the back room. Amy was at the barre, warming up with kids who seemed to hang on to her every word. Sam stood transfixed, watching her. Clad in a simple black leotard and pink tights, she pointed her toe and lifted one slender leg to the side. As always, her agility and grace awed him. Her arm swept a graceful arc as she raised it over her head. Sam caught his breath and forgot about leaving.
As if she felt his gaze, she stiffened and looked straight at him. Her mouth tightened, and though Sam stood too far away to see the nuances of her face, he knew there were tiny lines between her brows. Without stopping the warm-up, she widened her eyes. He had no choice but to nod a terse hello. She dipped her head in acknowledgment, then turned away. She was acting as if nothing had happened the other night, as if they were strangers.
Which was for the best. After all, they’d agreed that those steamy kisses were wrong, and that they couldn’t be friends. Even so, he’d expected a blush or some other sign that the other night had affected her as much as it had him. Her aloofness bothered him. Actually, it stung. Hands low on his hips, Sam narrowed his eyes at the scenario unfolding before him.
And tensed as Bob strolled right up to Amy. Sam’s fingers twitched as he fought the urge to grab the man by the lapel of his expensive jacket and toss him out. If he made one rude comment to her…
To Sam’s annoyance, she greeted Janelle’s father with a bright smile as she accepted the grocery bag. Calling out instructions to her students, she left the barre to talk with him privately.
Sam stared darkly at the pair. The suave jerk was probably asking her out right now. By the pleased expression on her upturned face, she planned to accept.
Shock and misery rolled Sam’s gut into an ugly knot. Scowling, he left the building.
Chapter Nine
AMY HAD JUST filled a colorful glass bowl with pretzels when her doorbell chimed Wednesday evening. No doubt Nina and Dani had arrived to address invitations for Nina’s upcoming wedding. “Be right there,” she called out.
On her way to the door she detoured past the mahogany dining-room table, where she set the pretzels beside a crystal carafe. The chandelier overhead winked warmly, and the jazz CD on the living room stereo provided lively and cheerful background music. Satisfied, she hurried through the small entry hall, catching the pleasant scent of fresh bouquet of lily of the valley she’d placed on the small table in the entry. She opened the solid wood door with a welcoming smile. “Come on in.”
Her friends entered wearing wide grins. Amy hugged them one at a time and then stood back, beaming. “It’s great to see you both. Seems like it’s been ages.”
“It has,” Dani said as she hung her sweater on the antique brass coatrack near the door. “Can you believe this?” She gestured at her swelling belly.
“Wow,” Amy said with an admiring shake of her head. “You’re really getting big.”<
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“And I’m getting desperate,” said Nina, who despite her words seemed unperturbed. She held up a large pink shopping bag with rope handles. “In here are 183 invitations, and counting. We’ll never get them done.”
“Sure we will,” Dani said.
Amy nodded. “With all three of us working, we’ll finish in no time.”
“I hope so, because these should have been mailed yesterday.”
“Did you bring the mailing lists?” Amy asked.
Nina nodded. “I divided it into three sections, one for each of us, just like you suggested. I also brought calligraphy pens and stamps.”
“Then what are we waiting for? I think the dining room table will work best.” Amy turned and led the way.
“Look at that—a crystal carafe and matching glasses,” Nina said. She sniffed appreciatively. “And fresh tulips and lilacs on the buffet. You weren’t supposed to go to any trouble.”
“Other than stopping at the store for pretzels, I didn’t,” Amy said.
“Putting out flowers, and using the fancy crystal just for us…but then, you always go the extra mile. That’s part of what makes you so special.”
Amy acknowledged the compliment with a pleased smile. “Thank you.” She gestured them to sit at one end of the table. When everyone was settled, she filled the wine flutes with sparkling cider owing to Dani’s pregnancy.
Each woman lifted her glass. “To getting this job done tonight,” Nina said.
They clinked rims and sipped. Amy passed the pretzels. Then Dani doled out the supplies, and they settled down to work and conversation.
“How are the wedding plans coming along?” Amy asked as she penned the first address.
Nina looked up from the envelope in front of her. “Things are progressing nicely. We’ve picked the cake and decided on the rest of the food. Last week I ordered the flowers. Ben is meeting with the band to finalize the particulars. They specialize in oldies and have promised us a night of dancing and fun. This is going to be a dynamite celebration.” She seemed to glow as she regaled them with details.
Amy stemmed a pang of envy. How wonderful to be in love, and to be loved in return. For some reason she thought of Sam. Her heart lifted and fluttered. Probably heartburn, she told herself. He was the wrong man for her, and they both knew it. “It all sounds fabulous,” she sighed.
Dani nodded. “It’s better than fabulous. But everything seems to happen in a blink, so enjoy each moment, Nina.” She looked wistful. “Seems like yesterday that Russ and I got married. Now we’re into our third year, and here I am, pregnant.” Radiating happiness, she laid a palm over her belly.
For several minutes, Amy and her friends worked in silence, each lost in her own thoughts. Amy could only imagine how Dani felt. She fervently hoped that in the not-too-distant future she, too, would experience the joys of marriage and impending motherhood. Her Mr. Right was out there. She just had to find him.
“How’s the recital coming along?” Dani asked.
“Everyone who cancelled on Saturday showed up during the week. The sets and invitations are finally done, and the costumes made. The kids are hard at work memorizing their parts.” Amy’s friends had supported her from the beginning, and she filled them in on the details she knew they enjoyed hearing about. Not every detail, though. She was determined to steer clear of certain subjects, namely Sam Cutter.
Nina lifted her pen from an envelope to glance sharply at Dani. “She’s not going to tell us,” she said as if she’d read Amy’s thoughts.
Dani, too, stopped writing. Both women stared questioningly at Amy.
Had they somehow guessed about her and Sam? Could they see the pitiful truth in her face—that ever since sharing those dangerous kisses she ached for more, that she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him? But due to a tacit agreement—that the less contact between them, the better—she’d only seen Sam once, when he dropped off Mariah on Monday. They hadn’t spoken, had barely acknowledged each other before he’d left. She hadn’t seen him since, which was for the best. Nor had she mentioned him to anyone. She felt certain he had been equally close mouthed. Her friends couldn’t know.
She glanced from Dani to Nina, noting the identical gleams of interest in their eyes. To Amy’s horror her cheeks warmed. She grabbed an invitation and pretended to study the mailing list. “There’s nothing to say,” she told them before clamping her lips shut.
“You’re going out with Bob Swanson after the recital,” Dani said. “That’s not ‘nothing,’ Amy.”
So they didn’t know about her and Sam. Amy couldn’t stem her relief. “He asked and I said yes.” At her friends’ dismayed looks, she added, “I meant to tell you, but it slipped my mind.” Which it had. The truth was, she wasn’t interested in Bob. But she had to start somewhere. And if she wanted to find a husband, she couldn’t turn down the opportunity to get to know the eligible bachelor. Who knew, she just might end up liking him.
“Bob’s got a reputation for fooling around with several women at the same time. He fooled around on Connie. That’s why she divorced him. He’s supposed to be a fast mover, too.”
Amy absorbed the information with a nod. “I hadn’t heard that. Thanks for alerting me.”
Nina sealed the invitation she’d just addressed. She added it to the growing pile of mail. “I’ll bet Sam went ballistic when he heard.”
As far as Amy knew, Sam hadn’t heard. Not that it mattered. “Why should he mind? Whom I choose to date is none of his business.”
Dani’s jaw dropped and Nina snorted. “Do we look stupid?” she asked.
“Of course not! But I’m telling you, there is nothing going on between Sam and me.”
“Right,” Dani said, “and I’m not carrying twins. I know you, and I know when you’re messing with the truth. Besides, Susan Andrews saw you with Sam last Saturday at the grocery.”
“You didn’t tell us. That hurts.” Nina gave her head a sad shake. “This is us, Nina and Dani. Your best friends. We’ve never had secrets from each other. You can’t leave us in the dark and expect us to hear about your life from someone else. Think how you’d feel if we treated you that way.”
They were right, Amy acknowledged. The three of them had always shared their concerns, doubts and insights with each other. “I apologize.” She capped her pen, bit her lip and gave in. “What happened is, after the work party last Saturday, the one where everybody but Sam cancelled, he offered to cook me dinner.”
“Sam cooked you dinner?” Nina asked, looking incredulous.
Amy nodded. “Well, you told me not to eat alone.”
“So Sam cooks. My, my, how times do change,” Dani said. She leaned forward, frowning when her belly limited the movement. “Did he take you to his place?”
Amy knocked the knowing look from her friend’s face with a stern frown. “Is it any wonder I didn’t tell you? Stop looking at me like that,” she chided. “This wasn’t a date, just a dinner between friends. I drove myself.
We met at his sister’s house, where he’s staying while Mariah’s parents are on that cruise.”
“So his niece was with you?” Nina asked, looking disheartened.
“No, she went to a friend’s.”
“Aha.” Nina gave a brief nod. “And?”
Amy fiddled with the list and stewed over what to say. True, these were her best friends, the women she trusted more than anything. Yet how could she tell them about those kisses and more, about the passion so intoxicating that the food had burned to a crisp right under her and Sam’s noses? Even thinking about his avid kisses and clever fingers, and the intense pleasure generated by the man’s tongue, quickened her pulse.
She stared at the flocked wallpaper a moment, corralling her emotions before she spoke. “That’s private,” she said. Dani opened her mouth and Nina made a sound, but Amy hurried on before either spoke. “Let’s just say, we never did eat. We agreed that we couldn’t be friends and decided to go our separate ways.”
Amy agreed, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. She and Sam were wrong for each other, and nothing could change that. Sad, but true. Emptiness filled the hollow space in her chest, but she ignored it. She wasn’t about to own up to her feelings. Not even to her best friends.
FRESH FROM A BUBBLE BATH and wrapped in her apricot-colored terry-cloth robe, Amy sank onto her comfortable chintz sofa. She rarely indulged in long baths on Saturday nights, but with the recital in two weeks she’d rehearsed the kids long and hard today. She’d needed a relaxing, hot soak to ease her hip and drain away the tension. Yawning, she turned on the television and flipped through the channels. Not much on tonight. She considered falling into bed for the night but it was only eight, way too early. And totally pathetic. She glanced at a new chick-lit novel on the coffee table, but she was too tired to read and, thanks to Sam, too restless to concentrate.
At the very thought of the man, she shifted irritably, clicked off the television and tossed aside the remote. She hadn’t seen him since Monday afternoon, when they’d exchanged uncomfortable nods. That had been the extent of their meeting. Then, just before rehearsals ended late this afternoon, Sam had shown up for Mariah, striding into the studio with the power and strength of a man who knew what he wanted and went after it. As always, Amy’s breath had caught and her heart seemed to leap with gladness. Unwanted desire washed over her, and she forgot that they were barely speaking. Like a moth drawn to a flame she turned toward him. His dark frown snapped her back to reality.
Amy had matched his expression with a stern look of her own. His eyes had flashed and narrowed, giving her the distinct impression his bad mood was her fault. Her stomach had clenched with guilt and worry, and for a moment she’d felt just as she had so often during their marriage: that Sam’s moods depended on her. But she was no longer a naive young girl and they were no longer married. She was not responsible for Sam or his attitude. Her distress gave way to a defensive, raised chin and a confrontational glare.
