by Karen Booth
From the tone of Sam’s voice, Mindy could only infer that he preferred this to be the end of the subject, but she didn’t want it to be. She wanted to know more. If he was ever to be redeemed in the eyes of her family, she had to know the truth. “If you were helping someone, why didn’t you just tell him that?”
“Because it’s none of his business. This was personal and although we were friends, this wasn’t something I wanted to share with anyone.” Sam’s voice now had an edge of agitation that Mindy had never heard. He threw back the covers and climbed out of bed.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m getting dressed. I’m leaving.”
“Wait. Don’t. Don’t go.”
He stood before her, naked, every inch of his stunning body on display. “I don’t want to play this game anymore, Mindy. It’s not fun and I have the distinct impression that I’m always going to lose. I don’t like to lose. Ever.”
Mindy sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, clutching the sheet to her chest. She couldn’t sit before him feeling so exposed. “I don’t think it’s unfair of me to question you on certain things.”
“But you do nothing but question me, Mindy. My motives. My tactics. The things I say. It’s exhausting. You know, you and I got along perfectly until you started talking to Sophie and Jake. Nothing has been the same since then. I live under a cloud of suspicion and I can’t take it.”
Mindy couldn’t begin to form a response. There were too many thoughts whirring around in her brain. He was right about Sophie and Jake. She hadn’t formed her opinion of Sam fully independent of others. And that certainly wasn’t fair. She wouldn’t like it if someone had done that to her. “You’re right. I need to take the things you say for what they are and stop reading into them. If you tell me that you believe you had no choice but to cut Jake out of that deal all those years ago, I believe you.”
Sam arched both eyebrows and lowered his chin. Even in the soft early-morning light, she could see exactly how skeptical he was of her. “That doesn’t change the fact that you made a bet with your sisters that you wouldn’t fall into my clutches. Whatever you may think of me, Mindy, I’m not a spider waiting for its prey to make a fatal error.”
Mindy exhaled, a bit exasperated. He was right again. It was only a fear of her own weakness that had made her take the bet in the first place. She couldn’t blame Sam for it. “The bet was stupid. I never should have agreed to it.” It was especially pointless since the entire aim had been for Mindy to force herself to stay away from Sam. Judging by the state of the bed, she had failed spectacularly. If Sophie knew what happened last night, she would already have Mindy on the hook for another year. Sisterly guilt goes far. “But I’m stuck in it. Sophie will never let me out.”
“Well, think of it this way. At least you know she wants you close. That counts for something.” He knocked his head to one side and folded his arms across his chest. “From where I sit, it counts for quite a lot.”
“I want you close.” Mindy could hardly believe she’d had the nerve to say it. Even she marveled at the conviction with which she’d uttered the words.
“I love morning sex as much as anyone, but maybe we need to stop doing this. Last night was incredible, but I can’t take everything that goes with it.”
Mindy carefully peeled back the covers and stood, facing him, taking the zaps of electricity that pinged back and forth between them. “I’m serious, Sam. I do want you close. The last few months have been miserable. And I want a chance to spend time with you again like we did at the beginning, out from under the microscope of my family.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Sophie’s out of the country for a week. So is Emma.” She took his hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs back and forth across his knuckles. “Let’s use this time to be together.”
Sam nodded slowly, but she knew he wasn’t agreeing to this—he was thinking. By the dark look in his eyes, it was difficult for him to reach a decision. “Then what? After the week?”
That was the question she’d feared most, but she owed him an answer. “If we still like each other after a week, I’ll go to my sisters and try to work out a compromise.”
He shook his head. “I’m not a compromise. I refuse to be one. Either you tell them we’re together because we are, or we aren’t.”
Mindy was more than a little taken aback. It wasn’t like Sam to draw such a hard line in the sand. But she’d backed herself into a corner here and she had to keep her eye on the prize—she wanted to give Sam yet another chance. “Okay. It’s a deal.”
“And we stay at my apartment. Not yours.”
“I wasn’t aware you were in a position to make demands.”
“Those are my rules. You’ve never even been to my apartment.”
“Did you ever invite me over?”
“I did. Many times.”
* * *
After their long and meaty conversation, Sam headed back to his apartment to prepare for Mindy’s arrival that afternoon. He had never before cohabited with a woman, and although this was only for a week, it did make him unsettled. His place was his retreat. He’d purposely bought in Tribeca and avoided the social posturing of Central Park or the Upper East Side, where Mindy lived. Of course, his neighborhood was the most expensive in the city at the moment and one of the trendiest, but at least he felt as though he was mingling with people who’d made their money and were enjoying it, rather than acting as though they were made of it.
His apartment occupied the top two floors of a renovated warehouse. There were exposed brick walls, tall arched lead-paned windows and beautifully restored hardwood floors. The kitchen was a showpiece, with white marble countertops, an industrial range and espresso-brown custom cabinetry. His favorite part of the apartment was the library, perched on an elevated platform circling his entire living room, with his home office occupying one corner. There were thousands of books, many original editions, and several places to curl up and get lost in a good read. He spent more time in that part of the house than any other, and he used his time before Mindy’s arrival to unwind in his favorite chair, a chocolate-brown antiqued leather recliner, with a good mystery.
He was so immersed in the story that he jumped when his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and consulted the caller ID. He’d thought perhaps it was Mindy, but it was his sister, Isabel. “So you finally call me back,” he answered. “I was beginning to worry.”
“I know. I know. Work is crazy. What can I say?”
“You can say that you’re sorry. You can say that you won’t wait more than an entire week to call me back next time. I do worry, you know.”
“About me?” Isabel laughed. “I’m the oldest. It’s my job to worry about you.”
“Somehow I don’t think that applies anymore now that we’re both in our midthirties.”
“Unfortunately, I’m more like late thirties. And you’ll always be my little twerp of a brother. I don’t care if you are six foot six. It’ll always be like that. No matter what you do.”
Sam laughed and set his book on the side table next to his chair. He didn’t know what he would do without his sister in his life. She was not only a rock, she shared his past. It was so nice to be able to talk to someone without having to skirt topics. It was so much easier to just be completely open about everything. “I guess I should let you know why I called,” he said.
“Whatever works. I’m fine with just catching up, too.”
“I got a call from the woman who runs the fundraisers for ALS research. You know I make at least one major contribution every year. Anonymously.”
“Of course. Mr. Secretive has to keep things under wraps.”
“Hey. That’s not fair. It’s just a lot easier for me from a business perspective if people don’t know about my involvement with the charity. I don’t need anyone’s pity.”
“I’ve heard this story from you before.”
Sam grumbled under his breath. “Anyway, they need a new sponsor and host for this year’s gala. They found themselves in a precarious situation. The original hosts were Senator Miles and her husband. That’s not the best optics right now.”
“Ouch. Yeah. A big public sex scandal doesn’t really sell charity fundraiser tickets, does it?”
“No. It does not.”
“And you’re hesitating because you don’t want to deal with putting your name on the event.”
“I’d also have to make a speech and get people to open up their checkbooks. That means telling a sad story. That means talking about Mom in front of a room of hundreds of people, many of whom I would like to be able to do business with.”
Isabel sighed. “That does sound like a lot to deal with.”
“They keep calling me about it and I haven’t given them an answer. I need to decide soon. I don’t want to be the reason they get held up.”
“Well, let me say this. First off, nobody in that room is going to be anything less than sympathetic to what happened to Mom. And it might help people see a softer side of you. You do have a bit of a reputation. We’ve talked about this before.”
“Yes. I know.” Sam shifted in his seat and crossed his legs, feeling surprisingly uncomfortable in his favorite chair. “And you also know that there are details surrounding Mom’s death that don’t reflect well on Dad. Or could create a scandal if they ever came out. I don’t want to give anyone an excuse to dig.”
“That was nearly twenty years ago at this point. And I don’t think there’s anything that anyone could find out. Dad’s accident was found to be exactly that. The insurance company and the police both did a thorough investigation and reached the same conclusion. You took care of the whole thing later. You destroyed the note he left. I mean, you and I will always know what really happened, but nobody else ever will.”
Sam drew a deep breath through his nose. “I suppose you’re right. It still worries me. I just...” Sam had to choke back a surprising lump of emotion. “I would never want anyone to ever speak ill of him. He did everything for us.”
“I know, honey. I know.”
Sam closed his eyes and willed his bad memories away. Still it was hard to do—there were so many images permanently emblazoned in his mind. Especially the note. He might have burned it, but it would always live on in his head. He could still see his dad’s chicken-scratch handwriting, the way the words became more difficult to read as it went on about the reasons why he’d decided to do the unthinkable. “So you think I should do this? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I do think you should do it. I think you will feel good about it when it’s done. I think it will ultimately be a good thing when it comes to your business. It might even bring you some new opportunities. And most important, it’ll give me an excuse to come to New York and brag about my little twerp of a brother.”
Sam couldn’t help but be excited by the prospect of seeing Isabel. It didn’t happen nearly enough. “That would be amazing. I’d love to have you here. For moral support, if nothing else.” He started to realize exactly how much of an undertaking this would be. He would be expected to bring in ticket sales, and, of course, there was the matter of the speech.
“I wouldn’t miss it. I promise to be there, looking amazing, and clapping louder than anyone for you.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. This would be a lot of work, but at least he’d made a decision. That part didn’t need to weigh on him anymore. “You sure you’ll be able to get away from work?” Isabel was a high-powered attorney in Washington, DC. She was also a bit of a fixer. If an important person got in trouble and needed a discreet way out, she was there, for a price.
“Yes. I’m sure. Honestly, I need to take a few days off anyway and I’d love to spend some time in New York. I’m so tired of DC. There are far too many politicians here.”
“Aren’t they your bread and butter?”
“Annoyingly so. I’d rather just get back to working with regular rich people. They’re far more interesting and far less predictable.”
“Maybe you should think about moving here. It is your firm, after all.”
“Funny that you should mention it. I’ve been thinking about exactly that for a while now. It would be nice if you and I lived in the same place again. We haven’t done that since we were kids.”
“It would be amazing.”
“Plus, I need to find a man. I think I’ve already exhausted the dating pool here.”
“I’m surprised you have time.”
Isabel laughed. “Oh, honey, I make time.”
Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “And I do not need to know anything more than that.”
“What about you? Anyone new since the few women you dated after Mindy Eden stomped all over your heart?”
Sam had confided in his sister about Mindy. Not everything. Just basic venting. Isabel was his only personal confidante, unless you counted Mindy, and they had only ever skimmed the surface. He knew he was going to catch some crap for having Mindy back in his life, but he also knew he couldn’t hide it. There were likely stories about Sophie’s wedding in the tabloids today. At the very least, the rumor mill was always running. “Yeah. About that. I, uh, went to Mindy’s sister’s wedding yesterday. I went as Mindy’s date, actually. Well, it was more of a business arrangement, I guess.” With every passing word, Sam realized just how convoluted his situation with Mindy was. There was no putting a label on it. He couldn’t even explain it to his own sister.
“Have you seriously let her back into your life? You already know I’m not a fan.”
Sam couldn’t hide anything from Isabel. “We had a really good time together at the wedding. And, well, we’ve decided to spend some time together on a trial basis. We’ll see how it goes.”
Isabel did not respond to that bit of information.
“I can hear you breathing,” Sam said.
“I’m thinking. About how badly I want to lecture you. And whether or not it’s worth it to get on a plane and read you the riot act in person.”
“Save it. I love you, but I can handle this. If nothing else, I feel like Mindy and I have unfinished business. Hopefully this will at least give me a chance to have some closure.”
“Closure is a myth. Like unicorns and leprechauns. Closure is just a word for learning to ignore pain.”
Was Isabel right? Was Sam putting his heart on the line for all the wrong reasons? His phone beeped with a text and he pulled it away from his ear to see the message.
I’m here.
He couldn’t help it—his heart rate picked up at the idea that Mindy had arrived.
“Hey, Is. I have to go.”
“Okay. Keep me posted on the Mindy Eden situation. And send me the link to buy tickets for the fundraiser.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Sam hung up and raced down to his door to let Mindy in. Her driver was unloading the back cargo area, setting three...four...five suitcases on the sidewalk. “Wow. You came prepared.”
Mindy peered up at him from behind oversize Jackie O sunglasses. She cracked a dazzling smile. “A week for me is like a month for anyone else.”
Sam had more than a passing thought that at least with this much stuff, it would be harder for her to run out the door. At the very least, it would slow her down. He took two of the bags, Mindy wheeled one, her driver the rest, and Sam led them to the elevator.
“I can take everything from here,” Sam said to her driver.
“You sure, Mr. Blackwell? I’m happy to ride up,” Mindy’s driver said.
The reality was that Sam was too eager to finally have Mindy all to himself. He didn’t want to wait. “I’m sure. I’ll take it from here.” He held the e
levator open by leaning into it and reached into his wallet for a twenty, hoping a tip might encourage him to go.
The driver waved it off. “Oh, no sir. Thank you. I’m just fine.”
Mindy turned to him. “Pick me up outside at eight tomorrow morning for work?”
“You got it, Ms. Eden. Have a nice night.” With that, the driver departed.
Sam stepped on board, punched in his access code, and they rode to his main floor. He let her go first, then quickly offloaded her bags. Now, finally, he and Mindy were alone in his apartment. And he wasn’t quite sure where to start. Their usual routine was to start taking off each other’s clothes, and he certainly hoped that would happen at some point. But there was another part of him that was hoping he and Mindy could start breaking a few old habits. Perhaps they could finally get down to a different kind of business...the one where a man and a woman learn how to be friends.
“Your apartment is stunning,” Mindy offered, walking through the foyer and into the open living room. Sam rarely had visitors, so it was fun to watch as her eyes were immediately drawn up. “Ooh. What’s up there? A library?”
“My favorite part of the house. Can I show you?”
“Yes. I can’t wait to see it.”
Sam took her hand and led the way past his sectional sofas and fireplace, to the far side of the room, and up the modern wrought-iron staircase to the loft.
When they arrived up there, Mindy ran her hands across the spines of the leather-bound volumes. “I had no idea you were such a reader.”
“I can spend hours up here. Days. It’s my escape.”
She turned to him, her perfume wafting gently to his nose and wrapping around him like an embrace. Having her here made everything different—the air was charged with something warm he couldn’t describe. “Do you feel like you need an escape?” she asked.
“I did when I was a kid. I guess I just got in the habit.” Panic overtook him as he realized he’d opened himself up to questions about his childhood. He wanted to open up to Mindy, but not about that. Not yet. “What’s your escape, Mindy?”