“Felicity, this is Samantha Marsh,” Mark said. “She owns Café Bella. You may have seen it. It’s just off the town square.”
Felicity gave her a cool glance, as if only now realizing her presence. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” Samantha replied.
Music started up again through the ballroom’s sound system. Felicity clasped her manicured hands together. “Oh, Michael Bublé! This is such a romantic song.”
“Mark, did you know Felicity studied ballroom dance in Europe during her post-college sojourn?” Olivia remarked. “She was semi-professional.”
“Now, Olivia, don’t you go overselling me. I was only on the circuit for a year.”
“I’d just love to see her skills on the dance floor.” Olivia touched her son’s coat sleeve. “Would you mind taking her out for a spin, darling? I remember cotillion and what an excellent dancer you were.”
Felicity looked at him hopefully.
Mark nearly flinched. “I really can’t—”
“Please go ahead, Mark,” Samantha offered, realizing the awkward situation he was in. She gave an understanding smile.
“Don’t worry about Samantha,” Olivia assured him. “Carter will keep her company.”
Samantha became aware of Carter’s presence. He’d joined their group and seemed just as surprised by Olivia’s offer. Still, he shrugged and smiled. “I’d be honored. Should we hit the floor, too?”
Before Samantha could form a response, Carter took her goblet and handed it to Olivia. Then he swept her gracefully into the crowd of dancing couples. Overhead, the chandelier’s lights had dimmed, adding to the romantic tone. Mark looked apologetically at Samantha from a distance away. Felicity already had her arms looped around his neck.
“Sorry about the substitution.” Carter sounded sincere as they swayed to the music. “I hope you’re having a good time, though?”
He was tall, like Mark, and Samantha looked up at him. “I should be asking you that, Carter. The reception’s in your honor.”
With a nod he indicated Olivia, who still stood at the edge of the floor. “This is Mom’s shindig, not mine.”
Executing a graceful turn, he dipped Samantha so that she had no choice but to cling to his broad shoulders. She released a small gasp at the unexpected but smooth maneuver.
“Mark’s not the only St. Clair who had to suffer through cotillion,” he noted once she was upright again.
“I can see that,” she said a little breathlessly.
He gave a sexy grin. “Tell me that wasn’t fun.”
“It was,” she admitted, unable to suppress her own smile. There was no denying Carter had a charming magnetism all his own.
“At least the dance classes Mom forced us into turned out to be useful. Friends and Lovers has a fire-and-ice ball every year during February sweeps. I’m the only guy on the show who can waltz worth a damn.”
“Do you like being on a soap opera?”
“The hours are insane,” he said on a sigh. “We cover thirty pages of script a day, six days a week. No re-shoots, either, unless it’s a real screw-up, so you have to be on your game. But it’s good training. A lot of big names started on daytime. Kevin Bacon, Brad Pitt, Julianne Moore—”
“But, like them, you’d rather be doing something else?”
“I’m appreciative to be working anywhere. It’s a competitive business,” he said thoughtfully. “But I have bigger goals—prime-time television, maybe movies, if I’m lucky. I shot a network pilot last season, but it wasn’t picked up.”
Samantha recalled what Mercer had told her. Carter had been athletic like Mark, involved in sports, but the acting bug had hit him in high school, and he’d also become immersed in theater. In fact, he’d moved to New York right after graduating high school, appeasing his parents by taking courses at NYU while he auditioned. He’d landed a modeling contract, eventually getting some national commercials and television guest spots, and then finally the role on the soap. He’d also done several off-Broadway plays. Samantha once again appraised Carter’s features—the strong jaw and high cheekbones, his flawless complexion and smoldering eyes. They were several shades darker than Mark’s, a deep sapphire blue.
“So how’s the date going so far?” he asked, reminding her of their conversation a few days earlier on the town square. He added, “No air quotes this time.”
“It’s been pretty great,” she said honestly.
“Good. I meant what I said. I’m glad Mark’s started dating again. It’s time.” He paused, his full lips pressed together. “But I’ve got to admit I’m still a little bowled over that he asked you.”
“Why’s that?”
Carter’s gaze moved to his brother and Felicity. “There’s something to be said for working your way up, is all. Mark’s been out of the game a long time. He surprised me. I didn’t think he was ready to take the training wheels off the Schwinn yet, and here he is driving around in a Porsche.”
Samantha nearly laughed. “And you’re thinking I’m the Porsche in this scenario?”
The sexy grin reappeared, revealing white, straight teeth. “I’m just wondering if Mark is ready to handle such a high-performance machine.”
Although his tone was light and teasing, Samantha felt a small stab of defensiveness. Her voice remained casual, however. “Oh, I’m sure Mark can handle anyone he wants. From what I’ve heard, Shelley was a very beautiful woman. A very beautiful and sought-after woman…”
He apparently caught her implication. His expression sobered, and he shook his head faintly. “That was all a long time ago. We were kids. But even now I see Mark’s still painting me as the villain.”
“He never mentioned it, actually. Mercer told me. Mark wasn’t happy she did.”
He didn’t speak for several heartbeats. This seriousness was a side of Carter she hadn’t seen before.
“May I tell you something? No matter what you’ve heard or who you heard it from, I loved Shelley, too. From the very minute I saw her,” he rasped, his handsome features earnest. “She might’ve belonged to Mark first, but that doesn’t mean my feelings for her weren’t real. Mark left her here when he could’ve gone to a closer school, like the University of Charleston. It was his choice. Shelley’s parents had just gone through a bad divorce, and she was confused and alone.”
“Carter,” Samantha murmured, surprised by his emotion.
“I tried to keep my distance, but she needed a friend, and she sought me out. What happened between us…happened. It wasn’t meant to hurt Mark.”
“But it did.”
“Yeah,” he agreed tightly.
And asking me to the barbecue reopened the same old wound. But instead of saying it, Samantha lowered her gaze and they continued dancing in silence. It was clear the relationship between the brothers was complicated, the tension long-running. Whatever rift Shelley had caused between them was still a sensitive spot, even after all the time that had passed. Samantha couldn’t help but wonder if the blowup had actually been the catalyst that sent Carter to New York to chase his dream.
The recorded song faded and another began. Samantha glanced around for Mark, but he was no longer on the dance floor. Instead, he had been pulled into conversation with guests on the far side of the ballroom. He and Felicity had their backs turned to her, and Felicity’s hand rested possessively on Mark’s shoulder.
“Your date still looks occupied,” Carter pointed out. His usual smooth persona appeared back in place. “If you want, we can keep dancing…”
Samantha gently disentangled herself. “Thank you, Carter. But if you’ll excuse me, I need to visit the powder room.”
He smiled at the old-fashioned euphemism. “I haven’t heard that term from anyone younger than Mom. You’re a paradox, Sam.”
“I’m not even sure what that is—”
“I just think there’s more to you than what’s on the surface, that’s all. What’s the saying? Still waters run deep.” He hesitated, act
ually having the grace to blush a bit. “Take that tattoo on your lower back, for instance. I saw it the other day when you bent to fix your shoe. Don’t get me wrong. What I saw of it was sexy as hell, but it wasn’t something I expected on someone so reserved. I bet there’s a real story behind that.”
Samantha’s stomach knotted. The amethyst butterfly tattoo served as a painful reminder of the past she’d left behind. The inquisitive way Carter was looking at her made her nervous. It was almost as if he was peering inside her and could see Trina Grissom staring right back out at him.
“The secret life of Samantha Marsh,” she said lightly, trying to hide how close his observation had hit to home. Self-conscious, she sought a change of subject.
“May I give you some advice, Carter?” she asked tentatively. “You’re fortunate to have such a wonderful family. Don’t take any of them for granted, especially Mark. Stop trying to one-up him, and do what you can to mend fences.” She thought of her mother, could still smell her sweet perfume, even now. “You already know what it’s like to suddenly lose someone you care about. You can’t fix things when it’s too late.”
Carter remained silent at her words. Samantha held his gaze for several moments, then indicated the stunning, slightly mature blonde in a low-cut dress slinking toward them. She gave him a soft, parting smile. “Don’t look now, but I think someone’s ready for her turn.”
He didn’t get a chance to respond before the woman whispered something in his ear, pressing herself to his side and placing her hand on his chest as her hips swayed suggestively to the music. Samantha turned to see Mark still with Felicity, now ringed by an even larger group of guests. She couldn’t help it—her chest squeezed. Walking from the ballroom, she went past the restrooms and headed toward one of the outdoor patios, needing a breath of fresh air. She had absolutely no right to feel possessive. Mark didn’t belong to her.
He never could, she reminded herself.
Don’t long for something you can’t have.
Olivia St. Clair could see what her eldest son could not—even with all of her syrupy, fake charm, Felicity was a thousand times a better match for Mark than she was. The butterfly on her lower back had been a gift from Devin. He’d taken her to a Memphis tattoo parlor and picked it out. Samantha hadn’t wanted it, but he’d given her no choice in the matter. It shows you’re mine, babe. My forever mark on you.
Devin said he’d picked the butterfly because he knew she wanted to fly away from him. She closed her eyes, recalling how he’d supervised as she lay half-naked on her stomach on the tattoo artist’s table. It had taken hours. The needles used on her skin had stung, and her submission to his demand had excited Devin.
He’d also reminded her that butterflies had remarkably short life-spans.
After settling in New York, she’d had the breast implants removed but had left the tattoo since clothing hid it and a specialist had advised that the painful, costly laser treatments probably wouldn’t remove it fully due to the ink’s deep-purple color. For not the first time, she wished she’d at least tried to have it erased, no matter the price. Even now, she picked beachwear and running clothes that hid it.
In the hotel’s rear, French doors opened onto a granite terrace rimmed by a graceful wrought-iron railing. Cushioned rattan chairs were placed in groups. But Samantha instead went to sit on the first step that led onto a stone-and-grass courtyard flanked by palm trees. She was thankfully alone out here, with only the balmy ocean breeze to keep her company.
Trina Grissom, you’ve sure come a long way. Taking a deep breath, Samantha absorbed the courtyard’s serene beauty, from its outdoor lamplight and well-tended gardenia bushes to the black plane of sea visible just beyond them. She noted again how far she was from rural Alabama and the hole-in-the-wall town, the doublewide trailer where she’d lived with Mamaw Jean. She was farther still from the smoke-filled Memphis strip club where she’d danced nude on a darkened stage, accepting cash from drunken men, the likes of whom made her skin crawl. She had no right to wish for more than the distance she’d achieved from all that…did she?
Lost in thought, she startled at the touch on her shoulder. Samantha turned to meet Emily’s questioning blue eyes. A doll in a pink ballerina outfit dangled from one small hand.
“Hi there, peanut. What’re you doing out here all by yourself?” Samantha smoothed the little girl’s flowered T-shirt that matched her pink shorts and sandals. “I thought you were watching a movie with the other kids.”
Emily gazed at her with a worried expression, as if she could sense Samantha’s melancholy. Then she sat beside her on the step and leaned against her side. Her heart tugging, Samantha placed her arm around the child, who snuggled closer. She closed her eyes as she breathed in the fresh shampoo scent of Emily’s hair.
Samantha had accepted a life that might be devoid of any real intimacy, but it was also without the fear and humiliation that Devin had used to keep her bound to him. She had managed to escape. To survive.
She sighed and told herself that what she had would simply have to be enough.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Mark looked around the crowded ballroom for Samantha. He had gotten pulled into conversation with guests, and he realized she’d been left alone for too long. But where was she? His first suspect in her disappearance would have been Carter, but his brother was still on the dance floor, only now with a curvaceous blonde whom Mark knew to be a high-end real estate agent. In his peripheral vision, he could see Felicity waving, trying to recapture his attention. He pretended not to notice and walked from the ballroom.
“Have you seen Samantha?” he asked Mercer when she rounded the corner in the lobby, nearly running into him. Seeing her face, he placed his hands on her shoulders to halt her. “Mercer. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, sounding embarrassed. But her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying. “Just a silly argument I had with a…friend in Atlanta.”
“Oh.” Mark was reminded that Mercer had had a separate existence away from the St. Clair before she’d returned home to help him piece his own shattered life back together. “If you want to talk about it, we can go into the lounge. I’ll get you a drink.”
She shook her head and mustered a halfhearted smile. “I’m fine. But if you’ve lost your date, you really should go find her.”
Giving his arm an affectionate squeeze, she headed into the ballroom. Mark stared after her, wondering what had upset her, and then continued along the hallway. He halted at the French doors that opened onto the first-floor veranda. Samantha sat on the top step leading out to the courtyard. Her back was to him, her sleek, dark hair lifting in the balmy breeze.
As Mark moved closer, he realized Samantha held Emily in her lap. His daughter had fallen asleep next to her, and she slumped across Samantha’s thighs, one cheek pressed into the silk of her cocktail dress. Samantha ran her fingers through Emily’s curls, softly humming a tune he didn’t recognize.
She didn’t look up until Mark practically stood over them. She placed a finger to her lips. “We have an escapee from the playroom.”
“I didn’t mean to leave you for so long.”
“It’s all right. I’ve been in good company. But you should probably get this little one off to bed.”
Mark moved lower on the steps and gently scooped Emily up in his arms. She stirred briefly before falling back asleep.
“I should be calling it a night, too,” Samantha mentioned, rising. She had met Mark at the hotel prior to the reception. He’d had the St. Clair’s limousine service pick her up since he had been involved in the staff preparations. “Could you have the car brought around for me?”
Mark was unwilling to let their date end. “Go with me to the bungalow while I get Emily settled? I’ll arrange for one of the au pairs from the hotel to come and stay with her while I drive you home.”
“That isn’t necessary—”
“It is to me. It’s something I’d like to do, especially sinc
e I wasn’t able to come to your place earlier to get you like a proper date. We can have a glass of wine or some coffee after Emily’s tucked in. Maybe we can finally have some quiet and time to talk.”
Still holding Emily’s doll, Samantha gave a faint nod of agreement. Cradling his daughter, her head on his shoulder, Mark carried her from the patio and onto flagstone steps that led to a neat, white-painted storage shed where golf carts were kept. Once Samantha climbed into the passenger side of one of the carts, he settled Emily into her arms. Then Mark got in on the driver’s side and started them on their way. They took a scenic route through the seaside gardens, with Mark pointing out some of the flowering trees and shrubs. To their right, a silvery lagoon reflected moonlight. It wasn’t long before they came to the end of the cart path, and Mark steered the vehicle onto a walkway in front of a stacked-stone and shingle bungalow facing the sea.
He heard Samantha’s soft intake of breath as she glimpsed the inviting front porch that held wicker rocking chairs and a double swing. A veil of climbing vines dotted with tiny white flowers wound around the porch railing, while baskets dripping with green ferns hung from the eaves. Wisteria entwined in the branches of bordering trees. The house’s interior glowed with a golden warmth that came from the pair of Tiffany lamps Mark had left on in the front room.
“It looks like it’s out of a storybook,” she marveled as Mark parked the golf cart beside his Volvo in the driveway. Getting out, he reclaimed Emily, who yawned silently before settling her head back onto his shoulder and closing her eyes. As he disarmed the security system and led Samantha inside, she seemed equally enthralled with the home’s interior. Through her eyes, Mark noticed again its casual mix of stripes and florals, the overstuffed chairs and whimsical paintings that had all been Shelley’s doing.
“There’s an open bottle of red wine in the kitchen and goblets in the overhead cabinet. I’m going to have coffee since I’m driving you home, but feel free to help yourself,” Mark said as he headed down the hallway with Emily. “I’ll be right back.”
Before the Storm Page 10