He followed, and for a moment she felt a flash of pride. He was a good kid, if typically deluded. What did he mean, fucked it up? What was there to fuck up?
Unfortunately, Chip’s group was not already in the Newseum, but milling about the entrance, debating the merits of the hundred or so newspaper front pages from around the world posted in cases facing the sidewalk.
“See you around,” Sam said, hoping Matt wasn’t in this group.
“Sam!”
They both turned. She shielded her eyes to see Matt’s face more clearly. “Chip, you said.”
“Dad’s mad.”
Matt, still just as boyish under his man’s tough physique and knowing eyes, came to meet them. He looked at her, eyes warm, and then aimed a frown at his son. “Going to the museum early? Wanted to get a jump on the ‘Be a Reporter’ line?”
Chip skulked around him, just outside of arm’s reach. “See you inside, right?”
Matt watched him go into the building, and then turned back to Sam. She let the wave of attraction she saw in his gaze roll through her, trying to feel it, soak it in, and let it go.
Right.
“Thanks for bringing my puppy back.”
She had to smile. “What was he up to? I couldn’t wring it out of him.”
“He thought he’d made a bad impression.”
She shrugged. “Teenagers are a rude, possessive, hormone-crazed bunch.”
“You said it, Doc. Goes double for our Chip. He took the divorce hard, little guy.”
“Is his mother still in town?” Mother. The word burned her mouth.
“Moved to Orlando. That’s what sort of popped our bubble. Her lover got a new job, and she wanted to go with him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. Guess who he is.”
“Do I want to?”
“Jerry Rafferty.”
“Rafferty? From our class?”
“No, that’s Josh. Jerry was the year ahead.”
“Funny she should fall for him.”
Matt seemed to shiver. “Actually, not so funny.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“No, you’re right. They’ve been together, on and off, since high school.” He saw when she realized what he was saying. “Yeah, sucks to be a cuckold. At least I knew the word, from junior English Lit.”
So, not an open marriage, then. “Oh, Matt. I’m sorry.” Sam reached for his arm. How did one comfort a man for such a betrayal? “I wanted better for you.”
“You would have been better for me.”
Startled, she started to pull away her hand, but he caught it, pressing it deeper onto his arm, hard enough to mark.
Stupid tears sprang to her traitorous eyes. “Matt. We couldn’t have known. We made the right decision.”
“Did we? Sometimes I wonder.”
They stood facing each other, in the glow of a dozen newspaper light stands. Sam felt as if his gaze were sucking her into him, and her gaze doing the same to him. All the might-have-beens, in one body. A shout startled them, and broke the connection.
Matt turned his head, and waved to someone. “Suppose I couldn’t interest you in a tour of history in the making? My treat.”
“Sure. I have a membership.”
“You? A science major?”
“Science majors keep the electricity on for all you civics types to pontificate by.” She punched him lightly on the arm, the way she used to. He bumped up against her shoulder. This was so familiar, so welcome. So surprising.
“I’m not a teacher anymore. I’m a doc. Geriatrics.”
“You went back to school?” But his attention was called by the tie-dyed brigade, lost on their way down the one flight of steps to the introduction film. There was no time to talk as they herded their charges in and out of the small theater, but they slowed as they followed the herd upstairs to the 4-D theater.
“You’ve seen this, I expect,” he said.
“I have. It’s not to be missed.” Sam smiled because she knew he was going to ask her to miss it, to stay with him. Was it the kids or the situation? It could not have felt more like high school–her all glowing with anticipation; him all, well, him.
“How about we sit this out, on the benches over there?”
“Better to go up a floor, to where they’ll exit. That way we won’t miss them.”
“I won’t miss them,” he said, and she smiled. Who would have thought, her Matt a mother hen?
As they climbed the stairs, she pictured Chip in front of her, frowning. It couldn’t wipe but a trace of the smile from her face. As they sat down and she considered Chip’s situation again, she did frown.
“What is it?” Matt took her hand in his. With his other hand, he traced her fingers, one by one.
“What did you tell him?”
“Chip? Nothing. Everything. Last night.” She pulled away, but he gripped her wrist. “His mom, she lied, didn’t she? Somebody has to tell the truth.”
His touch slowed her thinking. Even her vision seemed to tunnel, encompassing them alone. “No. He’ll blame himself.”
“You would. I don’t think he will. He has pretty good self-esteem.”
Wait a minute. She wrenched her hand away from him. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for whatever she was going to say. Which was what, exactly? No, I was a powerhouse of self-esteem in high school? No, you’ve read me wrong all these years? No, I don’t take on the world’s problems as if they’re my own?
Her hand dropped back to her thigh, and Matt took it up again. “Short hair suits you. Why did you leave, Sam?”
“You know why I left.”
“But to never come back again? And whatever did you say to your parents to get them to fly to wherever you were for Christmas?”
“Easy: I said I wasn’t coming home but they were always welcome here.”
“And?”
“And.” She sighed, and put her other hand on his, like a game they’d played as children. “If something is poison, you avoid it. Simple self-preservation.”
“Seeing me is poison?”
“Seeing the happy couple, the beautiful boy. Knowing that was the life I’d wanted, and I was forced to find another way.”
“Not to mention that you let us paint you the bad guy. Not that it fooled anyone who can count to nine. Including your parents.”
“It fooled the most important person. Chip.” She turned to him. “I’m not going to hurt him now. Don’t you see?”
This time it was Matt who pulled his hands back. He raked one across the buzz cut near his ears. Sam wondered if hair so short could get itchy, like leg hair.
“You think I made a mistake contacting you.”
“I’m glad to see you, I am.”
“What does your boyfriend say?”
“What boyfriend?” Sam caught the predatory look and rolled her eyes. “Absence of boyfriend does not mean presence of hope for you.”
“Au contraire, ma soeur.”
“What else do you remember from French?”
“Rien. But I remember you, Sam. You’re more beautiful now. You’ve grown into those amazing cheekbones and your eyes are brighter.”
“Contacts.”
“And you’re wearing makeup.”
“I’ve lost the glow of youth.”
“Not a bit of it.” He grabbed her shoulder and brought his face close to hers. He paused a half-second, but she wasn’t going to stop him. His lips were stronger than she remembered, more insistent. Still just as wonderful, but now he knew what he was doing.
His tongue flicked at the corners of her mouth, and she opened to his welcome invasion. She was melting, the ceramic she’d fired onto her heart cracking. She took hold of the back of his neck. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Ten seconds later, or a minute, or an hour, they heard the approach of hundreds of feet, dozens of voices.
Sam let go first, well aware she was the interloper here. Matt tipped his forehead to hers for a breath,
and then leaned back.
Of course, the first pack out were his kids. Sam felt her face flame, high school all over again, but Matt only chuckled. Men had it so easy. He took her hand and rose, pulling her up gently.
“Chip, my team, over here.” As if Chip didn’t know exactly what was happening. “This way to the hall of news history.” He turned back to Sam. “We lost one yesterday. Allergy attack. Had to ship him back.”
Matt gestured for the motley five remaining to precede him, and then sauntered after them, still holding Sam’s hand. Chip turned to make sure, what? She was still there? She caught the corner of a smile as he turned around.
“What did you do to Chip? He doesn’t even have his ear buds in.”
“How can he hear with them in?”
“He doesn’t play music much, he says. He just wears them to keep people from talking to him. He’s not now.”
“Maybe he forgot them.”
“Maybe.”
They spent nearly an hour in the hall, with its drawer after flat drawer of front pages and history. Explaining the Darwin story to Chip, Sam felt Matt’s hand on the small of her back. Pulling out the Titanic page, she paid Matt back, slipping her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. At the touch, he stilled, and then pressed his rear back toward her hand. She bent her fingers, lightly scratching, as she pulled out.
By the time they got to the newer pages, she was nearly panting with wanting. Thank goodness the lights here were dim.
“Join us for the 9/11 exhibit?”
“I’ll skip it. Makes me cry every time. Really, I should get back to work.” She had no idea what time it was. Time to be with Matt.
“Would you join us for supper?” She saw Chip pretending not to hear, as well as a couple of the girls.
“No, thank you. Maybe a drink after?”
“Our hotel room curfew is nine.”
“Perfect. Which hotel?”
“Doubletree.”
“Mighty suburban of you.”
“Can you afford to be seen there?”
“I can. Nine-thirty.”
****
This isn’t high school, Matt told himself for the sixtieth time since dinner. With these kids around, though, with their operatic dramas and sullen silences, it sure did seem like he was back in those crazy days.
Only now he was expected to understand why he did the things he did. Understand, and explain. In all likelihood, in fifteen minutes, at nine-thirty, in the hotel bar.
She was five minutes early. In this low light, she almost looked eighteen again. She was in one of those silky dresses that wrap, with a belt somehow holding it together. With a front that plunged.
She wasn’t that shy eighteen-year-old anymore.
He waved, and she saw him. He’d chosen two high stools against the wall away from the bar and as far as possible from the ceiling speakers burbling that trancelike world music all hotels seem to love.
“Who ever made a date for a hotel bar?” She leaned in and brushed her lips against his, tentative. He fought the urge to reach for her ass, stroke that fine fabric right on down. Sam never went for that in public. His old Sam.
“I thought you didn’t kiss in public.”
She settled on the stool, hooking her heel into its step for purchase. “Depends on the kiss, doesn’t it?”
A waitress appeared, and shortly after reappeared with a chardonnay for the lady and another Grey Goose rocks for the gentleman. Matt lifted his.
“To old times.”
“The good old times,” she corrected, clinking his. They drank together and together set the glasses down. Matt remembered to set his phone to vibrate and put it back in his pocket. Chip had been fooling with it at supper, doing something to make it safer, he said. At least there was one tech geek in the family.
Sam didn’t look entirely comfortable, perched as she was. Matt fought the compulsion to pull her onto his lap. His feet, solid on the ground, could support them both. Too soon. Instead, he drained his drink and signaled for another.
“So we’re drinking and not talking.”
“I’m working out my smooth lines. Haven’t ever had to do this before, you know.”
She placed her hand on his knee. “You don’t need to do it now, you know. I’m probably the easiest conquest in the world for you.”
He took her hand in his. “Not wearing the ‘promise’ ring anymore.”
She smiled, that sad smile, lips only. Needs another kiss. “Not for a long time,” she said.
“All the waiting, was it worth it? That first time?”
“No.” Her mouth twisted into a frown. Had she surprised herself by what came out? “I mean I was ready and it was nice and all. But the first time, is it ever the way you dreamed it would be?” She looked down at their entwined hands. “He looked just like you. It took him five years to walk out.”
Matt’s breath hitched. The joke he was about to make died on his lips, leaving a lull in the conversation.
“Sorry.” She leaned away from him and started to pull her hand away.
He held fast. “No, I’m honored. I’m hurt. I’m angry. You, you don’t need to be sorry.”
“I was so angry, after high school, after all that. I didn’t realize it until later, although people kept telling me all that year in college. I got a reputation, even a nickname: The Bitey Girl.”
“You bit people?”
“Only with my words.”
“Probably more painful.”
“Actually, bites are pretty bad. Your mouth has a lot of nasty bacteria in it.” She stopped herself. She’d learned that since high school, too. He’d loved her passionate mental rambles. Sadness punched his gut. “But I forgot, you’re a doctor now. How did that happen?”
Grateful to step back from the realm of feelings, Matt rubbed the knuckles of her hand, one by one. “My grandfather died, Grandpa Jo, remember, the hoarder? They found a stack of cash in his bedroom closet when they were scooping out his house. My cut was enough to pay for the most of medical school and a daytime nanny for three years.”
“Cecilia wanted to work?”
“She didn’t much want to be a mom, she said. I have to give her credit. She’s been solid on that front. The kid is decent people, and she had the biggest hand in that.”
Sam turned her hand to squeeze his. “You’re afraid you’re going to lose him?”
He had to laugh. “Not especially. We agreed he should stay with me now that he’s in his terrible teens.” He shook his head. “The divorce slammed Chip to the sidewalk, and I can’t forgive her for that, yet.”
She nodded, wisely silent. Why was he telling her all this? Some hot date he was. “I’m coming off as a bitter old man.”
“You’re coming off as a man who had a shock to the system, trying to reset himself.” She set her glass, empty, on the table.
“One more?”
He watched her as she watched her index finger trace the lip of the glass. She’d always liked making glasses sound. She stopped her hand, as if only now realizing what she was doing. He wanted to be that glass. He wanted to be inside her, now. All he did was hurt her. All he wanted was to love her.
“I don’t want to drink any more. I want to remember every moment of this day. And this night.” She looked full at him, her blue-gold eyes luminous. He felt as if he could see her soul. The greatest gift.
“Dr. Dobler, are you asking me to seduce you?” He grimaced at the stupid joke as her eyes shuttered again. “No, I’m sorry. Please, come back.”
Her brows puckered. “Back?”
“Up. Please. I want to hold you. I’ve wanted it so long. I never do things like this. I’m stupid at it.”
He suddenly noticed where they were. He was asking a woman, this woman, to come up to his hotel room for a quickie? Who am I? What have I become?
The words tumbled out of him before she could open her mouth. “Not a quickie. Nothing like that. Just, close. Closer. Than here.”
Sama
ntha blinked slowly. She seemed to be holding her breath, and let it out slowly.
“There’s nothing I would like more.”
****
For Sam, holding hands in the elevator felt really high school, in the most wonderful way. On the way down the hall to Matt’s room, he paused at three doors, listening and then knocking. All was A-OK, the kids assured him, none of them opening the doors. He waggled his eyebrows at Sam, which almost set her off in giggles right there in the hotel’s hallway.
Once inside the room, with its white walls and uncontroversial art, the giggles spurted out. Matt laughed along. “How old are we, again? I blame these kids.” But his laugh was confident, not the chuckle-laugh of a self-conscious teenager.
And his body was definitely a man’s. He turned to hook the door chain, and she molded herself to his back. He was different, wider and stronger. She was different, curvier and softer. They still fit, bodies remembering, beautiful. She breathed in his scent, warm cotton, summer, Matt.
“Still with the Old Spice?”
“Gets results.” He rested his forehead on the door as her hands slipped around to palm his flat belly. He pushed his butt back into her own softer belly, and groaned.
“Sam. I missed you. So much.”
She rested her cheek on his shoulder blade. Hugging him tight, she smiled to herself. So good. “Ditto.”
He turned, loosening her grip, until his back was against the door. Her hands rested on his hips. He rested his on hers. “Can we do this? Do you want to?”
“Yes to the second. I’m not sure to the first.” Her attempt at a smile made him chuckle that new deep man-chuckle, yet another sound of his she could fall in love with. He lifted a hand and pushed the short strands of her hair back.
“I love your little elf-ears. Why hide them?” He traced the line of her jaw. She leaned into the touch, soaking up the sensation. Why wasn’t it like this with other men? Matt hadn’t even reached first base and she was wet.
He gripped her chin and pulled her gently toward him. She let him lead, leaning into his chest, hands on his strong shoulders, and their lips touched.
The connection shocked, burned. His lips were full, like she remembered, firm, like she remembered. Rich in promise, like she remembered. Only this time, that promise would be fulfilled.
The Science of Second Chances (Romance on the Go) Page 3