by Neesa Hart
Colleen knew her sister well. She understood that the time alone was crucial to Molly’s healing. She promised to wait until Friday, but if Molly hadn’t emerged by then from her self-imposed cocoon, Colleen would come for her.
The knock sounded again, more insistently. Molly had a sinking feeling that it might be Sam. He’d tried to call, but she’d turned down the volume on the answering machine so she couldn’t hear his message. She’d ignored his pages and calls to her cell phone as well.
The knocking continued. Molly padded reluctantly to the door, not sure whether she hoped or feared she’d find Sam on the other side.
She checked the peephole to find Taylor Reed, looking distressed and worried. Frowning, Molly pulled open the door. Taylor’s hand was poised in midair, prepared to knock again. “Oh, Molly,” she said. “Thank God!”
Molly frowned again. To her delight and surprise, Molly had come to like Sam’s sister. Though she’d spoken to her only once since the day of the duck races, Molly had admitted to herself and to Sam that there was something endearing about Taylor’s flamboyant personality. Even today, she was dressed in a tangerine designer jumpsuit with matching hat and sunglasses. On most women, the outfit would have looked garish and comical. Taylor Reed, Molly was learning, was not most women.
“Lord, Molly,” Taylor said, staring at her closely. “You look as bad as I feel.”
“Thanks,” Molly quipped.
Taylor shook her head. “I don’t mean it that way. I just mean that when Sam wouldn’t take my calls—well, I suspected something like this.”
Molly raised an eyebrow and leaned against her door frame. “Like what?”
“Sam screwed up with you, didn’t he?”
“You could say that.”
“It’s a pattern,” Taylor assured Molly. “He always does this. That’s why I had to see you. I—I think you’re good for Sam.”
“Some people would tell you I’m too good for Sam.”
Taylor managed a laugh. “I’m sure they would.” She glanced past Molly’s shoulder. “Please, may I come in? At least let me try to help you understand.”
Molly hesitated, but finally stepped away from the door. Taylor swept into the small foyer with the dignity of the queen of England paying a royal visit. Molly had noticed that Taylor never simply walked—she swept. Annoyed by this observation, Molly led Taylor to her living room. If Taylor found anything untoward about the mound of crumpled tissues and the discarded ice cream containers, she said nothing. Instead, she sat in the overstuffed chair where Sam had fallen asleep the night he’d returned from Boston. “All right,” she said as soon as Molly was seated on the sofa, “tell me what he did.”
“WHAT THE HELL do you mean you thought she was with me?” Sam demanded of his brother later that night. “I haven’t seen her since last week.” He’d returned to Boston, his mood sour, with every intention of telling Taylor she’d have to plan on his absence at her party. When he’d been unable to find his sister, he’d gone to see Ben.
Ben looked at him curiously. “She left this afternoon. Said she was heading for Payne.”
“Oh, hell,” Sam muttered.
His sister-in-law joined her husband at the door of their penthouse apartment. “Honey? Is something wrong?” Her eyes widened when she saw Sam. “Oh, Sam. Hi.”
Ben glanced at his wife. “What do you know about Taylor?”
A smile played at the corners of Amy’s mouth. “Let me count the ways,” she said.
“Today,” Ben said. “What do you know about why she’s in Payne today?”
“Oh.” Amy patted Sam on the arm. “Because Sam screwed up his relationship with Molly.”
“Oh, Lord,” Ben groaned.
Sam swore.
Amy looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Well, you did, didn’t you?” she asked Sam.
Ben wiped a hand over his face. “And naturally, you and Taylor felt you needed to get involved.”
“Naturally.” She pulled on Sam’s arm. “Come on in, Sam. You look terrible.”
He hesitated, but Amy insisted. “Come on. There’s nothing you can do about it right now. Taylor’s trying to fix it for you.”
“That gives me great comfort,” Sam said.
“Me, too.” Ben’s expression was pained.
“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,” Amy assured them. “Taylor’s actually better at this than either of you think.”
“The voice of experience?” her husband asked, his tone indulgent.
“I did end up marrying you, didn’t I?” Amy shot back. She headed for the kitchen. “Why don’t I make us some tea,” she volunteered. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
As she walked down the hall, Sam muttered, “Better make mine a double.”
MOLLY HAD A SICK FEELING in the pit of her stomach. She wished she could blame it on the ice cream, but as Taylor’s story unfolded, she felt her stomach twisting into knots.
“I’m not going to tell you it was easy,” Taylor continued. “When Sam first came to live with us, Ben and I were both angry at our father.”
“I’m sure.”
“You know, his mother didn’t actually have any evidence for her claims.”
“Sam told me about it last week.”
Taylor leaned back in her chair with a sigh of disgust. “I still don’t think he’s decided what to do about the woman.”
“I told him to blow her off.”
“Me, too.”
“It would cause a scandal. Sam hates scandals.”
“Can you blame him?” Taylor asked. “He’s spent most of his life wishing he could disappear. Even though Daddy brought him to live with us, I don’t think Sam ever felt like he fit.” She tipped her head to one side. “Did he happen to tell you that he never accepted any of Daddy’s money?”
“He put it back into the business.”
“Yes,” Taylor confirmed. “Ben argued with him, but Sam was insistent.” She shook her head. “He always resented Daddy for not claiming him sooner—so you can imagine what it did to him when his mother said that Edward wasn’t his father.”
“No identity,” Molly said. “If he can’t be angry at Edward, he’s got no one to blame.” Taylor frowned. “That woman is a menace.”
“Sounds like it.”
Taylor shifted in the chair. “So that’s why I came down here today. Sam needs you, Molly.” At Molly’s dubious look, Taylor nodded. “He does. The last woman—”
“Pamela?”
Taylor’s eyebrows lifted. “He told you about Pamela?”
“He mentioned her,” Molly clarified.
“I’m not surprised.” Taylor studied her manicured fingernails for a moment. “That was a spectacular disaster.”
“I think that’s what Sam said.”
“Pamela was completely suitable. She was exactly the kind of woman the entire family thought a Reed should marry. I think Sam dated her because Ben’s engagement to Amy scared the crud out of him.”
“I read some of the coverage.” Molly remembered seeing the tabloids in the grocery store.
“Then you know. Amy’s wonderful, and I adore her. She’s like the sister I never had, but things were rocky. Ben’s not the easiest person in the world to get along with—and Lord knows, Sam is worse.”
“I can believe that.”
“And frankly, I have to take some of the blame for what happened between Sam and Pamela. I got so caught up in Ben’s wedding plans that Sam was probably afraid I’d set my sights on him next.”
“Did you?”
“They are my brothers. I want them to be happy.”
“I can understand that.” Molly thought about the mixed emotions she’d experienced when her sisters had announced their engagements. She had been thrilled for them yet had experienced a deep sense of loss in knowing that they belonged to someone else.
“Especially Sam,” Taylor said. “I’ve always had a soft spot for Sam.”
“He�
�s like a stray?” Molly guessed. “And you can’t quite help yourself?”
“Exactly.” Taylor looked relieved. “I knew I liked you. You get him, don’t you?”
“I think Sam is the kind of man who never completely gives his heart.”
“He’s been hurt too often,” Taylor said. “Too many people have taken advantage of him.” She paused. “Even Pamela. She was very attracted to Sam’s family ties and to his money. I think she decided if she couldn’t have Ben, Sam was the next best choice.”
“What happened?”
“Sam found out that Pamela’s father hoped the relationship would put some much-needed capital into his failing business. Also Pamela wanted Sam’s money and his name, and when she found out that he’d dumped his inheritance back into Reed Enterprises—” Taylor shrugged “—she lost interest.”
“Ugh.” Distaste and outrage filled her.
“Don’t get me wrong. Sam’s done well for himself, but Pamela’s father was looking for a major infusion. Sam wasn’t going to give it to him, so Pamela left him three days before their wedding.”
“He didn’t love her,” Molly insisted. She’d known that from the way Sam talked about Pamela.
“No,” Taylor agreed. “But she was one more person in his life who had used him. It still hurt.”
Molly thought that over. “Like his mother.”
“Yes,” Taylor agreed. “Like his mother.”
Molly sank back in the couch and pulled a cotton blanket around her legs. “So what has all this got to do with me, Taylor?”
“I think you’re in love with my brother,” Taylor said.
Molly felt her eyes begin to tear again. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it matters a lot.”
“Sam and I are too different. There’s no way—”
“Molly,” Taylor handed Molly a tissue. “Don’t you see? It’s the fact that you are different that makes me think you’re Sam’s best hope for happiness.”
Molly blew her nose inelegantly and shook her head. “It won’t work. Not after yesterday.” She filled Taylor in on the details of the transportation story and Sam’s apparent bargain with the governor’s office. “It wasn’t the story,” Molly insisted. “I was angry about the story, but that wasn’t really the point.”
“I know.”
“It’s that he can’t see why something like this would be important to me. I can’t change who I am. I don’t want to change who I am. I love Payne. I love my life here. And I can’t be the kind of person who cuts a political deal despite what I know is right.”
“I don’t think Sam is either,” Taylor mused.
“You weren’t there.” Molly couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone.
“No, but I’ve known him longer. Did you ask him to explain?”
“I delivered a fabulous exit speech and left him standing in the newsroom with a group of really angry employees.”
“Oh, boy.”
“He tried to call—”
“He tried to call?” Taylor looked at her in amazement. “On the phone? Like a person-to-person conversation?”
Molly waved absently in the direction of her answering machine. “He left messages.”
“Are you serious? Sam never calls unless he has to. You’re sure it was him?”
“Caller ID,” Molly supplied.
“What did he say?”
“I haven’t listened to them.” Taylor surged from the chair and headed for the machine. “That was mistake number one, Molly. If Sam called you, then believe me, he definitely has something to say.”
Molly groaned as Taylor punched the button to play back the messages. There were several from her friends, her parents and her sisters. Interspersed were Sam’s three calls. The first asked her to call him back. The second demanded that she call him back. And the third all but threatened dire consequences if she didn’t return his call.
Taylor gestured at Molly. “Mark my words, Molly, Sam wants you in his life.”
“It won’t work,” Molly insisted.
“I’d say the real question is, do you want it to work?”
Molly didn’t have to think very hard about that. Her heart already knew the answer. She was in love with Sam Reed. She’d been in love with him since the moment he’d shown her his sailboat and told her the story of rescuing it from near-ruin. Molly had always been a rescuer. In Sam, she’d found a kindred spirit. “Wishing doesn’t make it so.”
Taylor folded her arms. “Sam told me once that you were the gutsiest woman he’d ever met. Wishing may not get you what you want, but hard work and courage will.”
“Taylor—”
“Are you willing to fight for him?”
“Don’t you mean fight with him?”
“If that’s what it takes. Is he worth it?”
“Of course,” Molly said without hesitation.
Taylor’s expression was simultaneously satisfied and calculating. “Then that’s all I need to know.”
Chapter Eleven
Sam leaned one elbow on the bar in the ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton the following night and spoke to Taylor’s hired bartender. “What have you got that’ll fix a migraine?” Against his better judgment, he’d let his sister-in-law talk him into attending this damned event. They were half an hour into the thing and there was still no sign of Taylor. Sam had accepted all the good wishes he could tolerate.
The young man behind the bar gave him a shrewd look. “Headache or heartache?”
Irritated, Sam plunked his glass down. “Give me a soda water. Lots of ice and lots of lime.”
“No booze?”
“Can’t stand the stuff,” he muttered. Tonight, he almost wished he was a drinking man.
“Sam?”
Sam stiffened when he felt the hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Mark Slenton, the governor’s press secretary. “Mark,” he acknowledged. At least this part of the evening might go well. He’d hoped to see Slenton tonight.
Mark shook his hand. “Happy birthday.”
“Not so far,” Sam muttered.
Mark looked at him curiously, but didn’t press him for details. “I hope everything worked out okay on Thursday with that meeting.” Mark had called Sam before his meeting with the reps from DOT and the governor’s anti-fraud commission to ensure that Sam fully understood the governor’s position.
“They were right on time,” Sam assured him. They’d been friends since college, so Sam had reluctantly agreed when Mark asked him to consider what the two had to say.
“I hope they didn’t cause you too much trouble. They were profoundly pleased that you agreed to hold the story.”
Sam swirled his soda water. “I didn’t agree to anything.”
The other man’s eyes widened. “But—”
“I told them I’d consider holding the piece if they could give me a compelling reason.”
“Teasdale told me—”
“Then he misunderstood.” Sam’s fingers tightened on the glass. “First of all, I don’t undercut my writers. Second, it might surprise you to learn that I don’t especially like being asked to do the governor’s political spinning. That’s your job.”
“Now hold on one minute, Sam.”
“Third, I have yet to hear any reason at all why I shouldn’t run the story, as planned, in tomorrow’s edition.”
“Damn it—”
“Besides the fact that this is an election year and the governor wants to prove he’s actually accomplished something, frankly I don’t think there is a compelling reason.”
Mark’s face reddened. “I told you we’re working a state-wide crackdown. These things take time. We’d have gotten to Cobell eventually.”
“And thanks to a damned good reporter, you got to him before Massachusetts taxpayers had to bail out a billion-dollar mess. Hell, the governor ought to be giving Molly Flynn an award.”
Mark’s expression was grim. “Teasdale assured me you were going to work with us.”
His gut tensed at the thought. Suddenly there was a blinding flash too near his face. Sam instinctively shielded his eyes. “What the—”
A news photographer he recognized from his brother’s wedding beamed at him. “Just getting a picture of the birthday boy, Mr. Reed.” The photographer glanced at Slenton. “So, uh, are the Reeds exploring the political waters now?”
Sam had the feeling that if he was forced to spend another ten minutes at this monstrous event, his temper would spiral out of control. He gave the photographer a chilling look. “Hell, no,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, you can—”
A commotion near the door caught his attention. Finally, he thought, maybe Taylor had arrived. As soon as he could, he was going to grill her about what she’d been doing with Molly for the past two days—and why Molly had yet to return his phone calls.
Sam saw Taylor’s ostrich-plumed headpiece above the crowd. Without a word to Slenton or the photographer, he plunked his drink on the bar and shouldered past them.
The room suddenly came alive. Taylor’s entrances had a way of doing that. He was halfway through the crowd when he began to hear bits and pieces of speculation. Taylor had someone with her—someone the crowd didn’t know. God, he thought, let it be Molly. Sam craned his neck to see, but Taylor’s damned ostrich plumes blocked his view.
“Sam.” Amy stepped into his path. “Sam, wait.” She laid a hand on his chest.
“Taylor’s here,” he said. “I want to know what the two of you have been hiding from me for the past two days. What have you done with Molly?”
Amy’s smile was gentle and sweet. Sam had always liked that about her. She patted his chest as she took a moment to straighten the white rose in his lapel. “Just remember,” she said, “the sweetest surprises sometimes turn up when you least expect them.”