The conversation was light and fun, the drinks served in crystal glasses engraved with the club's initials. Sam leaned back and relaxed. After watching Catherine and Jace for over an hour he knew that she had spoken the truth concerning their relationship. He hoped.
An excellent new singer came on and did three numbers, her humor in between the songs just on the bawdy side. Then came a new and talented comedian discussing how hard it was to find an Ugly girl in Los Angeles.
Sam let his eyes wander over to Catherine. She was looking very relaxed, more than he had seen her in a long time. Her eyes sparkled with warmth and fun, her manner was easygoing. Her walls were down and, to Sam, it was like a surprise birthday present. He reveled in it.
Suddenly a drum roll called for attention at center stage, just one table away, and spotlights began searching the room. Sam's stomach knotted, knowing intuitively that Catherine wouldn't like what was coming.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have some celebrities in our midst tonight. I'm proud to introduce Jace Sullivan!"
Jace leaned over to Sam. "See what I mean? That guy will do anything for publicity." Then he stood and gave a short bow to the clapping audience.
The announcer droned on. "Jace Sullivan is up for an Academy Award for Best Actor in Goodbye Spring. Good luck, Jace!"
Jace smiled but beneath his breath he muttered to Sam, "You'd think this guy knew me!" Catherine leaned forward, delight at the news showing on her face. "Congratulations, Jace! I didn't know."
His grin was sheepish as he sat down. "It won't be announced until tomorrow. April and I were going to tell you two later tonight."
"And sitting at his table is the beautiful and talented Catherine Sinclair I" the announcer proudly told the audience.
Sam could feel her muscles tighten, her smile become fixed. She stood on wobbly legs, blew a kiss and then sat down, only the spotlight didn't leave.
"Perhaps if we all clapped hard enough, we could get Kitty Sinclair to sing us just one song!" the man went on.
Catherine's face turned white as she shook her head back and forth. Her hand clenched Sam's like a vise. "Sam," she said in a strangled voice. "Please…"
With a deep-seated anger just barely under control, he rose and approached the announcer. The man with the big grin bent down in order to hear him, the expression on his face telling Sam that he knew Catherine wouldn't turn him down. Not in public.
"Miss Sinclair would be happy to sing for you. Now, if you'll just give me your name and address so I can mail you an invoice for her fee…"
His grin turned to a frown for just a moment, until he realized that the audience was watching. He grinned again, saying through his teeth. "What the hell are you talking about? This is good publicity for her! I'm only asking for one song!"
"So does everyone else," Sam said calmly, ignoring the panic in the other man's tone. The bastard deserved whatever he got by putting others on the spot. Let him wiggle out of this one on his own. "That's why we came up with this arrangement. Miss Sinclair doesn't sing unless she's paid, just like you don't serve drinks unless they're paid for. We'd all be out of business soon, if we didn't charge, wouldn't we?"
"What am I going to tell the audience?" the man hissed back.
"Tell them she has a sore throat and only came here tonight in order to be with you on this very important occasion," Sam said, suddenly angry enough to let it show. Did she find herself in this position often? Did people actually believe that singers could sing on the spot, no music, no preparation? Didn't they know singers' voices were their livelihood and had to be prepared? "Tell them anything you damn well want, but don't muddy her name or we'll see you in court."
Before the announcer could even begin his speech, Sam was back at the table and sitting next to Catherine, holding her hand to reassure her silently. Her expression was calm, but he could still feel the tenseness that seemed to emanate from her. She was scared to death.
His Catherine, a tiny mite that fought like a tiger, was frightened of singing in public. He wanted to enfold her in his arms, hold her close so that no one could hurt her.
It was as if there were two women inside Catherine Sinclair, he mused. One was the classy, sophisticated, shrewd lady he had met in his office and heard when she was conducting business with her agent. She was competent and sure of herself, cautious with even platonic relationships.
But the other Catherine Sinclair was here with him now. The other Catherine Sinclair was warm and funny and sometimes scared, like the time she maced the mouse and asked him to hold her tight in the middle of the night. Or like now, when she was frightened of per-forming. That same frightened lady would also smile sadly, her hugs turning into other things, such as lovemaking with an abandon and tenderness that few women possessed. Two women…
The announcer gave his apologies to the audience, then quickly went on to the next celebrity. Sam could feel Catherine go limp.
"That cuts it for me," Jace said, reaching for his wallet. "Let's get out of here before I punch someone in the nose for that cute trick. Besides, April's going to die from curiosity if she doesn't find out what you said to that snake to make him back off."
April and Catherine both stared at Jace in wonder. "How convenient to blame curiosity on others," April murmured, reaching for her fur wrap. "But you're right, we've got to get out of here before I punch him in the nose. Catherine can watch us both wiggle in curiosity all the way to a restaurant. I want coffee and something that tastes so sweet it's sickly."
They left quietly, Sam with his arm around Catherine, April with her eyes dancing as she watched them, and Jace dying of curiosity.
A diner on the outskirts of the city was their choice. It was really an old railroad car, but Sam promised the best pies in the state, and April couldn't wait to get in the door and try some.
Coffee was served immediately and Catherine sat back, enjoying the easy banter among the three friends. She felt a part of them now, included and enjoyed. Any comment she gave was listened to and treated as if her opinion was of value. A warm glow lit her stomach. This was what friendship was all about. How wrong she had been to confuse acquaintances with friends. Friend-ship was a rare gift not given to all, while acquaintances were a dime a dozen.
She glanced at Sam as he explained what had happened at the edge of the stage, not tensing, not even minding that he'd made public his role of protector. His brown hair fell slightly onto his forehead and an easy hand brushed it back. A grin made his eyes crinkle in the corners and parenthesized his mouth beguilingly. His jaw was strong, his chest working up and down as he slowly breathed. Pungent after-shave drifted toward her, enveloping her with feelings that were all mixed up. She felt loved, sexy and safe. She had to grin to herself on that one. What a combination! But it was true. With Sam, she felt all those things and because of it she felt one more thing: something she couldn't define but that squeezed her heart gently, like a hug.
"So I just told him he could see us in court," Sam finished, sipping his coffee.
"Wow," April whispered. "I'll have to remember that one. Jace never gets asked to act something, but he's always used for public appearances, such as tonight, and sometimes I think they'd like him better if he showed up with a film clip under his arm."
"Is that why you never go out much?" Catherine asked, watching April polish off her pie and then begin on Jace's under his watchful but humor-filled eyes.
"I'm afraid so. I love my fans, but I'm not too thrilled being the object of a promoter's desire," Jace said, his eyes widening in wonder as he watched April take the last bite of his dessert, then eye Sam's.
Sam grabbed his plate protectively. "No, you don't, April. This is mine, and I'm a growing boy who needs his energy."
"Then eat it and stop griping," April snapped, her desire for his pie turning into thwarted irritation.
Sam's eyes grew big while Jace began chuckling. His chuckles grew into full blown laughter. "Honey, I think the least you could do is tell your
partner our secret. He'll think I'm starving you at home if you keep this up."
April's look was sheepish. "I'm sorry, Sam. I've just been craving something sweet today." She gave Jace a sideways glance that was supposed to silence him. It didn't work, so when he opened his mouth to speak she quickly beat him to it. "But what Jace is saying is that we're going to have miniatures of the big galoot next to me. He thinks it's wonderful, but this eating for all of us is killing me!"
"Really?" Catherine's eyes lit. "Jace, that's wonder-full" Her hand covered his across the table. "Congratulations!"
"Don't congratulate him!" April moaned. "He didn't do a darn thing except what came naturally. I'm the one who has the work ahead of me. He'll just sit around looking proud as a peacock and reap the reward of carbon copies!"
"Copies? How many are you planning to have?" Sam asked, his brows raised. "A legion?"
"Three," she said, awed herself. "The doctor says three and they'll be here in six months."
"Six months! You mean you've known for the past three months and never said a word?" Sam looked stunned, and both April and Catherine chuckled, although Catherine was a little amazed herself. Triplets!
"No, only for the past month. Officially, at least. I knew something was going awry when I couldn't button my suits or slip into my dresses."
"And I knew when her blouses were too, uh, tight, but she wouldn't listen to me," Jace inserted.
"You were too thrilled with the result to care whether I was pregnant or not," April teased.
Sam whistled. "So Brenda was right. I wonder how she knew?"
"Brenda?" all three chorused.
"Yes, Brenda. She said that April was into highs and lows lately."
"Wouldn't you be?" April shot back. "I keep thinking that if one is going to be chaos, think of what three will be. And I know nothing about raising children. Nothing!"
"Triplets." Catherine was in awe, as was Sam.
"My God," he muttered under his breath, a million questions popping into his mind but none voiced. "You're going to need that Academy Award just to be able to pay for diapers!"
Jace grinned with pride at their expressions, ignoring Sam's last comment. "April has an entire library of how-to-parent books, acquired at an astounding cost I might add. She'll be the best-read mother-to-be in the entire country."
"I don't have an entire library of books!"
"Two hundred, then," he corrected himself.
April looked mollified and Catherine couldn't help but laugh.
April leaned back, silently admitting with a sigh that Sam's pie couldn't be hers. She smiled brightly, ready to change the subject. "How's the case of the missing necklace coming? Any clues?"
"Not yet," Sam said guardedly, remembering the locksmith who had changed the locks yesterday. He hadn't told Catherine yet. He hadn't even told her about the private-eye firm he had hired. Later. Much later.
Jace frowned. "Have you made up a list of suspects, Catherine? It has to be someone you know who would write such horrible stuff."
Catherine nodded. "We did that when the police interviewed me. I don't know a soul who could be so vindictive." She ignored Sam's intensive look. She knew he was thinking of her mother, but there was no way. She had already checked, and her mother was still in the sanitarium.
"No black-sheep brother, father, relative who wants your money?"
Suddenly her face went blank. Her mouth worked, but no words came out. No relative who wants your money? Why hadn't she thought of that? The thief wasn't really after her, he wanted her money!
The table was still as they all waited for her to say something. But she couldn't speak. The words wouldn't form, her mind spun with the possibilities. Of course! Why hadn't she thought of it? Had she been so blind she couldn't see what was right in front of her eyes? Or had she just not wanted to see? Or was she just plain stupid, as some people believed? She couldn't answer her own questions because she didn't really know.
"Catherine?" Sam's warm hand closed over her cold one, pulling her back into the safety of the diner and out of her own, self-conceived nightmare. "What is it?"
She gave a nervous, high-pitched laugh. "Nothing. I think I'm still suffering from aftershock about April's triplets."
"Now you know what I'm going through," April said dryly, but her eyes showed she wasn't fooled a bit. "I don't know how I'll manage the house, Jace, work and three children all at the same time."
"You don't manage the house and Jace now, why would you then?" Jace teased, knowing that whatever had hit Catherine, she needed time to recuperate.
"I manage the maid and housekeeper who manage the house. And I do so, manage you. You're here tonight, aren't you? Who found your tie and your left shoe?"
"You found the tie because it was in your closet, where you put it after you wore it. I found the shoe under your robe."
"Well," she said compromising, "one out of two isn't bad."
One hour and another dessert later they had left the diner and called it a night. Jace and April dropped Sam and Catherine off, refused a nightcap and drove off into the evening.
The moment Sam touched the lock with his key, the lights came on to welcome them.
At Catherine's puzzled look, he explained. "A security device. You haven't seen it because it's on a timer that works only at night."
She nodded, somehow reassured. Even if Sam weren't there she'd feel safer. She almost asked him about the locks on her house, but didn't want to know the answer. With Sam she felt safe and needed. When she had to leave him to return to her home, she'd be alone. The thought of being by herself had never frightened her before, but now, she knew she'd miss Sam more than she ever dreamed possible. Her fear of being alone had nothing to do with the robbery, although it troubled her. Her fear was that there would be an empty space in her life. A very big empty space. One that she just didn't want to think about for fear of having to put a label on it—a label like love.
They stood in the hallway, Sam turning her around in his arms. His hands traveled from her elbows to her slim shoulders as if warming her. "Tired?" he murmured softly, and she nodded her head.
"What did you think of in the restaurant, Catherine?" He hated to ask her now, when the violet shadows under her eyes confirmed her state of mind and physical condition, but he had to know.
"Nothing." She stared up at him, one hand reaching up to rest against the firmness of his jaw as if to reassure herself that he was really there. She could feel his pulse beating. "Sam? Please hold me. Hold me close," she whispered.
He enfolded her in his arms, resting his head on top of hers. "All night long, darling," he said quietly. "All night long." He could get his answers in the morning when she was rested. Right now, all he wanted to do was to hold her, too.
And he did.
10
The private investigator called late Friday morning. Sam was sitting at the desk in his study, putting signatures to the letters that Brenda had brought over earlier. He could hear Catherine humming in the kitchen as she kneaded dough for a new pastry she had wanted to try. It was costing him a fortune in flour, but she could try anything she wanted as long as it was in his home, in his kitchen. Hell, he'd buy her a flour mill if she wanted it.
"What have you found out?" Sam asked.
"Well," the man at the other end drawled. "The lady has plenty of enemies, but no one in particular. She's had a pretty tough life."
"I'm aware of that," Sam said impatiently. He didn't know much, but he could read between the lines of what Catherine had told him. Right now he was concerned with protecting her. Besides, to hear Catherine's life story from someone else almost seemed a betrayal. He wanted to know the facts, but he wanted her to tell him, not some stranger. "What else?"
"It wasn't her mother. We checked on that. It wasn't her father, 'cause he's been working on the docks in New York for the past twenty-two years. He's had no more than a day off in the past three months. Besides, he won't even acknowledge her. She does
n't have any agents or promoters angry with her and no one in Nashville or Dallas seems to have a bone to pick." The man hesitated, as if waiting for an answer to drop in his lap.
"And?"
"And nothing. That's it so far. There was a man in the vicinity of her home, an older man, shabbily dressed. He was seen walking along the road on two occasions. But no one's seen him since. He could have been one of the new or temporary gardeners around the neighborhood. No one seems to do their own lawns around here." The detective said it as if he thought everyone should.
"Are the locks changed?"
"Yes. I have the keys. All of them."
"Good. Now, find something, anything, that gives us a clue."
"Have you asked the little lady?" the man returned dryly. "Seems to me that it has to be someone she knows."
"Good thinking." Sam's voice was equally dry. "And the police have already been that route. Why do you think I hired you?"
"Okay, okay," the other man said tiredly. "I've got three men working around the clock. But if you find out anything unusual, let us know. We need something, some handle to put on this before we can get any closer to solving the riddle. Right now, I haven't got a thing and house-sitting isn't doing us any good."
"I know. Thanks," Sam said before placing the phone back in its cradle. His stomach was taut with tension. Catherine. Catherine. Catherine. His mind played her name over and over again like an old tune. He loved her. He loved her so much it hurt, yet he couldn't seem to protect her. He couldn't protect her because she wouldn't protect herself by helping him. Frustration reached out to enfold him. He couldn't get Catherine until he caught the robber.
Easy, Sam, old boy, he told himself. Patience is a virtue—probably the only one you have. So use it.
Catherine's strudel turned out like a picture from a magazine, which was where she had gotten the recipe. Filled with nuts and raisins and coated with cinnamon and a light glaze, it was enough to make a mouth water. She was proud of it and of herself. She quickly made coffee and set out a tray. Sam would enjoy a piece of this. She grinned. So would April if she were here. April would probably eat the whole thing. Maybe she'd have Brenda take her a piece.
A Woman's Choice Page 14
