Sam thought about it a moment. It was safer to stay home. At least until the shower was over and done with. “I can make us a super brunch. Do you like Eggs Benedict with bacon and hashed brown potatoes? It’s one of my specialties.”
“You can cook?” Jordan looked at her in amazement. This was a novelty.
“Of course,” she replied. “Doesn’t everyone? I mean, if I ate all my meals out I’d be broke in no time.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Okay, you’re on. First, let’s shower, and I think I need a shave.”
She’d never showered with anyone before. “Together?”
He was surprised she hadn’t done anything like that. “You can’t be shy with me after last night and this morning.” He cradled her face between his hands. “It’ll be fun. I’ll soap you down and then you’ll do the same for me.”
It was an exhilarating experience. Except when Jordan soaped her all over, he got horny again. She’d never had sex standing under a shower, but somehow he managed the feat.
It was past noon before they even got to the kitchen. Jordan wore a pair of black silky boxers, and Sam decided his shirt with the sleeves rolled up was just perfect.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“Let’s see.” She took out a large frying pan and a smaller one. “You can squeeze some fresh orange juice. You’ll need two oranges for each glass.”
“Fresh orange juice. Haven’t had that in a while. Most people get juice in a bottle or a carton.” He shook his head in wonderment as he opened the refrigerator.
“Top shelf, in the basket,” she called out. “While you’re in there, you can hand me two potatoes, one onion, the package of bacon, butter, and the carton of eggs.”
Before long, there was the delectable aroma of onions frying in one pan and bacon in the other. Jordan gave an appreciative sniff. “Real home cooking,” he muttered as he cut each orange in half ready for juicing.
He’d only seen the kitchen at night. In the full light of day, he noticed the piles of clutter on the kitchen table and counters. The sink and cabinets could use a good scrubbing, he thought, glancing around. The floor is dingy, too.
Some instinct warned Sam that Jordan was scrutinizing his surroundings a little too closely. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, turning to him. “The kitchen needs a good cleaning, but with all the belly dancing and brewery business I haven’t had the time or the energy. Besides, I’d rather paint than clean. That’s just the way I am.” A palpable tension filled the air, and her breath caught in her throat. She raised her chin a notch with a defiant air. If he had a problem with it, that was just too bad.
Jordan thought about the wonderful night and morning he’d just spent with her. She was wearing his shirt with nothing underneath and looked sexy as hell. He decided the messy kitchen could be tolerated. However, there were a few things Sam should consider.
“I’m not about to tell you how to live your life,” he began with a conciliatory air. “If you’re comfortable living this way, it’s none of my business. However, piles of newspapers and magazines could be a fire hazard. These are older homes, and it makes good sense to keep them free of anything that could spread a fire. I’d be glad to give you a hand bundling the newspapers to recycle. For the magazines, I have cardboard binders that could house several copies of your favorites. These could be stored on your bookshelves and out of the way. What do you think?”
Sam knew he had her best interests at heart. She could tell by the sincere expression on his face. And his proposals did have merit. “I suppose that does make sense,” she admitted, letting out a long breath and returning to her cooking chores.
Pleased at his diplomatic handling of the situation, he handed her a glass of fresh orange juice. “Let’s drink to a fun day ahead.”
While she put the finishing touches on the Eggs Benedict, Jordan quietly began gathering the newspapers and magazines. He brought them into the living room and placed them on the coffee table. Then he put the sweet potato plant on the windowsill and found a place for the cans of cat food. Before long, he’d made room on the kitchen table for two place mats, plates, and silverware. The vase of roses still graced the center spot.
“Wow, you’re really organized.” Sam glanced at the almost-cleared table.
“I wasn’t sure where to put these.” He pointed to a pile of hair clips, two packages of black marking pens, a melted candle, a pile of clipped grocery coupons, several unopened letters, and a pin cushion.
“Oh, I have a drawer full of miscellaneous stuff. I’ll stash them there later,” she said, bringing breakfast to the table.
Jordan was about to make a snide comment, but caught himself just in time. He could only imagine what was in that drawer. Besides, the food in front of him looked scrumptious and took his mind completely off housecleaning.
Sated by the hearty breakfast, Jordan sat back in his chair. “That was marvelous. I can’t believe you cook so well. Where did you pick up that talent?” He thought of his three sisters and how little they knew about cooking. Come to think of it, his mother rarely cooked. They’d always had a housekeeper.
Sam brought two cups of hot mint tea to the table and sat down. “When I started living on my own after college, I wasn’t earning much money and couldn’t afford to eat out. I bought several cookbooks and experimented with recipes. It’s amazing what necessity will accomplish.” She hadn’t learned much about cooking at home. They’d had a cook for as long as she could remember. Her two sisters never cooked and relied on caterers or eating out. Which made her think about the wedding shower. It was probably in full swing, and her absence would surely be noticed. There was always the chance her parents might make an appearance here later in the day. Just to check on her. This last thought made her nervous. Would it be better to stay put and face them or to get away from home? While she was deciding on her best option, Jordan took charge.
“It’s a gorgeous day. Let’s spend it outdoors, maybe taking a hike through Central Park. Or we could rent one of those paddle boats and cruise around. What do you say?” His eager smile was contagious.
“Sounds like a great idea. I could use a day in the sunshine. My painting can wait until tomorrow.”
“I forgot about your painting time. You mentioned a studio in your home. Is it on the second level or the basement?”
“Upstairs. I’ll show you around, if you’d like.” He hadn’t expressed any interest in her work. Maybe because our minds had been elsewhere, she mused with an inward smile. But there was one thing she had to do. “I’d better take in the Sunday paper before someone walks away with it.” Hurrying to the door, she brought it in and added it to the pile already on the coffee table. She’d read it later.
“Let’s get dressed first, and then I’d like to see your artwork,” Jordan said.
Looking around Sam’s studio, he commented, “Your paintings are very modern.” His own tastes ran more toward representational depictions of landscapes and still life.
Sam could tell Jordan didn’t understand her use of color and composition. But that was okay. At least he wasn’t making snide remarks or deriding them. “I gradually came to enjoy abstract art over more conventional painting. It’s an acquired taste and can take a while to appreciate.”
“Maybe you’ll take me to museums and teach me about abstract art.” He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her close. “I’m a willing student.”
“Is that so?” she murmured, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.
“I’d love to take you away for a long weekend. The Memorial Day holiday would be perfect, but I’m obliged to attend a wedding. Damn it.” He shook his head in disgust.
Sam’s ears perked up. That was the weekend of her sister’s wedding. Which was probably a coincidence. There must be hundreds of weddings taking place on that hol
iday. Still, it was strange. “Oh well, there’ll be other weekends. The problem is, I work on Saturdays and have Mondays off.”
“No problem there. I can take off an occasional Monday to go away with you. Do you like sailing? I have a small sailboat docked at a marina not too far out of town. We could take a cruise up the coast. What do you say?” He slipped a hand behind her neck and rubbed it gently.
“Really? What fun. I’d love to go sailing.” That was one sport she could handle. Swimming was another. Forget tennis. She’d tried and flunked out.
“Good. I was hoping you weren’t the type to get seasick.” Lara hated sailing. She got seasick on everything except the large cruise ships.
He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “We should get going. While we hike around, you can tell me all about yourself and how you got interested in art. Afterward, we’ll have dinner at that Italian restaurant.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” she said, wondering how much to reveal.
“Then it’ll be my turn. Although my life is quite an ordinary one: college, law school, opening my own office, and stuff like that. I have three older sisters and parents who retired to Maine a few years ago. We used to spend summers in the Camden area. That’s gorgeous scenery. I’ll bet you could paint the coastline.”
He had three older sisters. Now that was really a coincidence. “So you’re the youngest, like me. I’ve got two older sisters who are pretty bossy. Were yours?”
“What? Bossy? You bet. I always wanted brothers. Guess we’re stuck with what we have.”
“Yeah. Not much we can do about it. I’m determined to live my life the way I please and not worry what they’ll think or say. Which isn’t easy,” she said with a pensive expression.
He couldn’t help agreeing with her. “That’s the way to do it.” He wondered briefly if her indifferent housekeeping had something to do with rebelling against her family’s values. That wasn’t his business, though. He’d keep his questions to safer topics. Yes, that would be best.
Chapter 14
“That’s the woman . . . the black-haired witch at that dump of a restaurant!” Lara Jensen cried. She sprang off the leather couch at Lori Atkins’s apartment, her face flushed with anger and her hands balled into fists. “I’d like to find out who she is, so I can wring her neck.”
The four women who’d attended Andrea’s wedding shower—Lara, Amy, Diane, and Lori—were in Lori’s living room, watching a sports program on television with their partners, when a commercial sponsored by the East Village Brewery Company appeared.
“Hey, take it easy.” Evan Wilde, Lara’s new boyfriend, put a hand on her arm. “Why bother with someone like that? She’s not important.”
“He’s right,” Diane chimed in. “Don’t get upset over a common belly dancer.” To herself she thought, So that’s the woman Jordan’s involved with. Pretty hot-looking.
Greg Atkins stood and surveyed the scene. Trays of cheese, crackers, fruit, and nuts were scattered on the large coffee table in front of the couch, along with bottles of beer and glasses of wine. “Anyone ready for dinner?” He was eager to avoid a dramatic confrontation with Jordan’s ex-girlfriend.
Carl Bonefrede, Diane’s partner, called out, “I’m game. Where are we headed? I wouldn’t mind a good seafood place. I’m in the mood for lobster.”
“Great idea,” Vance Brown agreed. He glanced at Amy. “You in the mood for seafood?”
“Sounds good to me,” she replied.
“Let’s do it.” Greg turned to his wife, Lori. “We could head over to the west side of town. The Captain’s Galley was marvelous last time we tried it.”
Lara was still fuming. She paced up and down in front of the television set. “How can I find out who she is? If I have to, I’ll hire a private investigator.”
Shaking his head, Evan looked grim. “Lara, stop it. You’re making a fool of yourself over someone who isn’t the least bit relevant. If you have a gripe, take it out on Jordan. He’s the one who behaved badly.”
“Absolutely,” Greg agreed. “C’mon, let’s head out. I’m starving.”
~ ~ ~
The bartender at the Blue Monkey was serving customers on Sunday afternoon when he saw the television ad for the East Village Brewery Company. “Hey, look at that!” he exclaimed, staring at the screen. “It’s Sam, our belly dancer. I’ll have to tell Sean. She’s famous now. Who’d have thought she’d end up on television?” He shook his head in amazement.
One of the waiters picking up drinks heard him. “I wouldn’t say anything if I were you. He’s pissed about that newspaper story. It wasn’t her fault those two guys were fighting over her. I saw the whole thing.”
Beth Fuller was seating patrons when she passed the bar and caught a glimpse of the brewery television ad. She stopped short, her eyes narrowed, as she watched the performance. Grim-faced, she finished seating the customers and went in search of Sean.
“I couldn’t believe it,” she said to him. “Sam’s really cashing in on that newspaper notoriety. She’s on television doing a belly dance for the East Village Brewery people. I wonder what they’re paying her. Boy, I never thought she’d stoop that low.” A disdainful look crossed her face.
Sean’s expression was taut. “I don’t know what we can do, except try to track down the guy who flipped Brice. I’m ready to get a lawyer once we find the jerk.”
“Sam knows darn well who the guy is, but she won’t tell us,” Beth declared. “I can’t believe she’d do this after all the years we’ve been together. I guess you can’t count on loyalty anymore.”
~ ~ ~
“This is cozy!” Sam exclaimed as she and Jordan entered Balzanos, the small Italian restaurant located on a side street in mid-Manhattan. The walls were dark paneled wood. Brightly colored oil paintings of Italian scenes gave the place a cheerful air. A row of booths and tables was on one side of the restaurant, while an ivy-covered lattice divider hid an area with a bar and smaller tables. The eatery wasn’t crowded, even at almost six in the evening, which was definitely a plus, Sam observed.
She’d spent a delightful afternoon with Jordan rambling around Central Park, visiting the small zoo, and taking a rowboat out to cruise the lake. Several times, she’d been tempted to tell Jordan about the tai chi class and how she ended up crossing it off her exercise program. But she couldn’t bring up an unpleasant episode like that when she was having such a great experience. She’d have to confess one of these days, if only to clear the air. But not now.
“I’ll bet you expected something fancier,” Jordan said as they followed the hostess to a table.
“Well, I wasn’t sure,” she hedged, slipping into the leather-covered booth.
He took a seat opposite her. “If the food’s good and the service is adequate, the décor isn’t important. Of course, the restaurant has to be clean. I’ve eaten here many times, and it’s never disappointed me. A good friend of mine owns the place. He’s also the chef, so it may be a while before he comes out to say hello.”
The hostess gave them menus and returned in a few moments with water and a basket of crusty bread, saying “Your waiter will be right with you.”
Sam opened the menu and scanned the entrees. “What do you recommend?” she asked.
“Let’s see. I’ve had some of their veal dishes, which are wonderful. The clam sauce is exceptional, too. What’re you in the mood for?” His hand lightly caressed hers. “I know what I’d like right about now.”
She noted the sensual glint in his eyes and couldn’t help the tingle of awareness that shot through her. “Is that so?”
“Guess I’ll have to wait till I get you home.”
“Who says I’ll invite you in?” she teased.
He feigned a hurt look. “Not even for ice cream?”
“Look what happe
ned the last two times I invited you in for ice cream. We never got to eat those sundaes. They’re still in the freezer.”
“One more reason to invite me in tonight, if only to dispose of them.”
She threw him a quizzical glance. “I don’t know why, but somehow I don’t believe you.”
He gave a shout of laughter. “You’re catching on much too fast,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Sam enjoyed the banter between them. They’d spent a relaxing afternoon exploring the nooks and crannies of Central Park. She found out he loved the outdoors, and as she surmised, he was a fitness freak. He was also comfortable to be with, always looking out for her wellbeing when they traversed rocky trails or maneuvered the small boat around the lake. He liked to put his arm around her shoulders or occasionally hug her. She could get used to this–big time.
Sam and Jordan shared several Italian specialties, including veal scaloppini, pasta with clam sauce, and a large salad. He ordered a bottle of Pinot Noir to accompany the meal. His friend Nick, the owner, came out to greet them and brought along the wine.
“Jordan, this is a real pleasure. Haven’t seen you in a few months.”
Nick was a good-looking young man in his early thirties with a thick head of dark hair and keen blue eyes. Those eyes appraised Sam for several long moments. “I see you’ve brought someone new along.”
“Sam, this is Nick Balzano, one of the best Italian chefs you’ll ever meet. How is your lovely wife and the new baby?”
“The baby’s almost three and he’s already heading to nursery school. Can you believe it?” Nick shook his head in wonder. “Seems like yesterday I was giving out cigars on the day he was born. We’re getting ready for another one in the fall.”
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