“Hello, darling. I’ve missed you,” she greeted warmly, and he smiled.
“Hi, Mum, how’re you?” They’d exchanged only text messages since his arrival in Riversend, so it was great to hear her voice.
“Quite fine. I’ve made a new friend, Malcolm. Lovely man. He’s a ski instructor.” Sam’s lips tilted. Of course he is.
“What happened to Craig?”
“He’s been too demanding and possessive lately. It’s becoming tedious. I’m going to have to cut him loose.” She sighed. “But never mind that, tell me about you. Are you quite bored in your little rural African town?”
He laughed.
“It’s hardly rural, Mother. It’s a quaint little beachside town inhabited by friendly people.”
“And how have you been coping? Have you hired a nurse?”
“I’ve started rehab. My arm is still a bit weak, but it’s getting better, my dexterity is improving daily. Mason’s in-laws have been very helpful.”
“Do you miss your life and your work terribly?” she asked sympathetically, and Sam frowned as he considered the question. His instinctive response would have been yes, but that wouldn’t be true. At all.
He was worried about his business—he had worked hard to build it, and it was important to him that it continued to do well and grow. But he didn’t miss it at all. And he didn’t miss his huge, sterile, upmarket apartment in Chiswick, either. And he didn’t miss his friends, because he had none outside of work. Even Mason, one of his best friends, was a former colleague. Spencer Carlisle was the first friend he had made as an adult who was completely removed from his work life.
“I haven’t been bored,” he replied. “I’ve kept busy. Mason’s sister-in-law Lia has been allowing me to tag along with her during the day. You’ll be happy to know that I’ve been putting my dancing skills to work at the retirement home. I promised to teach some of the ladies the Viennese waltz this week. Lia’s been ill, so we’ve had to postpone the first lesson.” He went on to animatedly describe his progress with Trevor, his visits with the McGregors, his movie nights with Spencer. He described the magnificent scenery, how he wanted to try out the surf and do some paddleboarding here. Told her how Bertie and his mates were blatantly fleecing Sam on their poker nights, and when he finally ran out of steam, he comprehended that she hadn’t said a single word while he was talking.
“Mum? You there?”
“Are you thinking of adopting the dog?” she asked, her voice casual.
“Uh, no. My lifestyle doesn’t lend itself to having a pet, you know that.”
“I know you’ve always wanted a dog.”
“I haven’t. I never once said that I wanted one,” he protested indignantly.
“You were always such an accommodating child. You didn’t want a dog because you thought I didn’t want a dog.”
“But you didn’t want one. Did you?” He frowned—this conversation was becoming confusing.
“Of course I didn’t, we were always moving. Imagine the inconvenience. But I never said as much—in fact, I once offered to get you one because I thought you were lonely. You didn’t have any friends.”
“Hard to make friends when you’re never in one place for long,” he muttered. Then immediately felt terrible about the words. “I’m sorry, Mum. You always made things fun. I didn’t need friends.”
“See? Accommodating child, even now. Trying to make your Mimsy feel better. You did need friends, but you never complained, you never acted out, you were always an absolute sweetheart. And we did have fun. It was the least I could do, considering how abjectly I failed you in other aspects.”
“Mum . . .” He was absolutely shocked by her words, not entirely sure where this was coming from.
“A boy needs a dog, Sam. Maybe you could make room for Trevor in your life.”
“I’m hardly a boy anymore, Mum.”
“Tell me about this Lia.”
“What?”
“You mentioned her quite often during your narrative of adoption fairs, old-man poker tournaments, and family cookouts.”
“She’s . . .” His mind blanked and he swallowed before shrugging helplessly, despite the fact that his mother couldn’t see the gesture. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Sam, I’m your mother. I carried you in my womb, watched your nannies change your nappies and burp you, supervised your first bicycle ride, endured the horrid braces and pimple stage of adolescence along with you . . . I’ve known you for thirty-four years, and not once have you referred to a woman you were interested in by name.”
“I’m not interested in her. Not in that way.” His mother laughed at that. “And I also mentioned her sisters. Why would you make that assumption about her and not about them?”
“Your voice changes when you say her name.”
“That’s such a cliché.” He snorted. “Are you turning into one of those old women who try to hook their sons up with any random single woman? You trying to marry me off? Looking forward to becoming a grandmimsy, are you?”
“You bite your tongue. I’m not old, I’m mature. And my grandchildren will call me Catherine.”
“Mum, not sure how to break this to you, but unless you have some other kid stashed away to give you these imaginary grandchildren, you won’t be getting any.” The words lacked conviction, even to his own ears. He kept thinking about Lia, teasing him with the possibility of an accidental pregnancy while knowing full well there had been little to no chance of it happening. He hadn’t been as resistant to the idea as he would have expected.
His mother laughed again.
“Is she pretty?”
“She’s lovely,” he answered without thinking, and then winced. His mother remained absolutely silent in response to his words, and that in itself spoke volumes.
“I see,” she said eventually, her voice uncharacteristically solemn. “I think I’d like to meet her.”
“Mum, I’m coming home in a couple of weeks’ time. Alone. I don’t know what you’re reading into my words, but I assure you, it’s erroneous.”
“You always were a stubborn boy.” She sighed. “Sweet and accommodating, but so stubborn when it came to accepting good things. I had hoped you would outgrow that tedious air of martyrdom you sometimes liked to adopt.”
“Got to go,” he lied. “Love you, Mimsy.”
“Calling me Mimsy doesn’t count when you use it sarcastically, Sam,” she protested, and he grinned despite himself.
“’Bye, Mum.” He chuckled.
“Take care of yourself, Samuel.”
After the call ended, he sat for a long while and thought about it. Did his voice change when he spoke about Lia? It made sense that it would, considering what happened to him when he thought about her. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. He got, well, the only word he could think of to describe it was excited. Every part of him—including the most obvious one—got excited. His breathing increased along with his heart rate; he had the ridiculous urge to grin like an idiot all the fucking time. And lately he found himself on a knife edge of anticipation whenever he knew he would see her. What would she say? What would she do? What would she be wearing? Would her hair be tied back or left to fall around her shoulders? How many times would she correct his behavior? What ridiculous breakfast art would he find himself eating next? When would she say something unintentionally funny? How long before he could make her smile? Before he could make her sigh his name?
Logically speaking, he knew it would be best to call this thing with Lia to a halt. Because she was so different from the usual types of women he associated with, his mind hadn’t dumped her in the “casual sexual partner” category. Instead it had given her a corner all to herself. A corner neatly labeled “Lia.” And because his brain had made that distinction, he was fooling himself into thinking she was special. He was losing sight of their initial arrangement. Just a fling. Casual fun. He’d smashed all her carefully considered rules and had failed to acknowledge
that they made complete sense. He’d cuddled, talked to her, gotten to know her, slept with her . . .
She was different. Because Sam had made her different. But he was fooling himself. They were existing in a bubble right now. As soon as the real world intruded, his fascination with her would end. Continuing to make love with her would only serve to make that inevitable reality check all the more jarring.
“Ah, fuck,” Sam breathed a few hours later after finally contacting Colby. He squeezed the nape of his neck, hoping to ease the tension building there. “Repeat that, please. I want to be sure I heard you right before fucking firing your ass.”
Colby sighed.
“Lally’s done a runner. Friday was a nightmare of a day. The police confirmed that one of the prison guards was smuggling the notes out and sending them to Lally on Weathers’s behalf. The guy was arrested, but press got wind of the story and falsely reported that Weathers had escaped. Naturally Lally panicked, she stormed in here and demanded to speak with you and then had a meltdown when we wouldn’t tell her where you were. We tried to tell her that Weathers was still safely behind bars, but she was completely freaked out.”
“Damn it, Colby! I should fucking fire you,” Sam said wearily, his words lacking heat. Both he and Colby knew he wouldn’t make good on his threat. She was good at her job. Lally was a difficult client. Sometimes, despite the company’s best efforts, the client was their own worst enemy. “And you’ve tried pinging Lally’s phone?”
“Of course. We know she went incognito and bought a couple of tickets on Eurostar. So I’m guessing she’s trying to put as much distance between herself and Weathers as possible. When she calms down and realizes that he’s really still in prison, she’ll surface again. The press doesn’t know that she’s gone, and she doesn’t have any concerts or appearances scheduled over the next couple of weeks. Look, it’s not all bad. While she ditched the rest of her team, I think Tyler is still with her. But he hasn’t checked in since last night. His phone is out of order or switched off. We can’t ping the GPS and locate him through it. My theory is Lally did something to it or even chucked it. It’s exactly the kind of shit she would pull. But maybe her being under the radar for a while is a good thing? Tyler will keep her in line.”
“I don’t like not knowing where she is,” Sam muttered, still squeezing his nape. It definitely wasn’t helping with the tension.
“Tyler will check in as soon as he can, I’m sure of that. I’m so sorry about this, Brand.”
“Lally can be hard to curb and unpredictable when she has her mind set on something,” Sam said. “Just keep me in the loop, okay?”
“What happened with those ‘important things’ you had to deal with?” Colby asked, her tongue firmly in her cheek.
“Don’t push it, Campbell, you’re already on thin ice.”
“Yes, boss. Sorry, boss.” Sam shook his head at the impertinence and disconnected the call.
Fucking Lally. He got that she was frightened, but she had never truly trusted his team, and that made her hard to work with. He wouldn’t have been able to remain her CPO indefinitely, even if the attack hadn’t happened—eventually he would have had to entrust her to one of his other officers. But in typical spoiled Lally fashion, she had been resistant to the idea, and he had pandered to her longer than he should have.
After this he’d make it clear to her that if she continued to make her security team’s job difficult, then she’d have to find another agency to handle her protection.
“Hey, sunshine,” Sam greeted when Lia answered her phone later that evening. He had tried not to call, but an entire day without hearing her voice was proving to be too long. “I missed you today. Trevor did really well in his first socialization class. I wish you could have seen him.”
“He did?” she asked. Her voice was still hoarse, but it was improving.
“I’m not going to lie, I was nervous. But our boy was the star of the show. Best-behaved pup in the class. He seemed a little uneasy around the other dogs, but they were all pretty even tempered. He didn’t engage with any of them, but he was more relaxed by the end of the class.”
“It’ll get better,” she said. “That’s really good for a first class, considering his history.”
“I went to Sunset Manor. They all send their well wishes.”
“You did?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” he asked, not sure how he felt about her incredulity.
“I just didn’t think you’d go without me.”
“You jealous, sunshine?” he asked with a smile. “Afraid you’re going to lose me to one of those cougars if you’re not around to keep an eye on things?”
“You can’t lose something you don’t have, Sam,” she said, her voice quiet, and the rejoinder wiped the smile from Sam’s face. Her words bothered him more than they should have. And the knowledge that he was bothered irritated him.
Long after their phone conversation had ended, he found himself still mulling over his reaction to her words.
Was he losing focus on what was important in his life? He knew that he should be more concerned about finding Lally, but, despite the threat to his company’s reputation, he had no interest in getting personally involved with the situation. He was content to let Colby and Chambers solve the problem. He didn’t recognize himself anymore. After his disturbing conversation with Colby, he’d put on his running gear and headed straight for the animal shelter to see Trevor. And then he’d spent the remainder of the morning faffing around with the seniors.
His negligence had been amplified by the fact that he’d come directly back to the cabin and called Lia. And now he was more bothered about some throwaway remark she had made than he had been about Lally’s disappearance.
What the hell was happening to him? He had to end his fling with Lia. It was fucking with his mind. The next time he saw her, he would tell her it was over. It would be best for both of them.
Lia quietly let herself into Mason’s cabin the following morning. A quick glance around confirmed that Sam wasn’t there, and she knew he was probably out on his morning run. She got the coffee going and then sat down at the kitchen table with her palms wrapped round a steaming mug of coffee.
She had done a lot of thinking since her phone call with Daisy the previous morning and knew exactly what she had to do. It would take more bravery than Lia thought she possessed, but it had to be done.
The back door swung inward, and a sweaty, panting Sam stumbled into the kitchen. His face lit up for a second when he spotted her before it uncharacteristically went blank. It was so unusual for him to switch off like that around her that Lia was taken aback for an instant.
“Hey,” he greeted, lifting the hem of his loose T-shirt to wipe his dripping forehead. Lia tried not to react to the sight of his flat, ridged abdomen. Best not to let desire get in the way of what she had to say.
“Hey.”
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
“I feel much better. Just the occasional coughing fit and this voice.” She expected him to come back with something racy about her newly husky voice, but he said nothing, going to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water instead. He twisted the cap off and drank thirstily before refocusing his attention on her.
“You don’t have to cook my breakfast or anything, I’ll grab an energy bar.”
Why was he being so . . . awkward? Lia knew why she was here, he didn’t. She had expected to find the teasing, friendly, incorrigible Sam Brand that she knew. Instead there was this cold, unapproachable, slightly intimidating man in his place. And she wasn’t sure how to react to the change.
It doesn’t change what you’ve come here to say, she told her herself sternly, strengthening her resolve.
“Sam, we have to talk,” she said, and he nodded. He didn’t look surprised. He didn’t look anything. It was unnerving. “Uh, there’s fresh coffee in the pot if you want some.”
“I’m good,” he s
aid. He dragged a chair out from beneath the table and turned it around to straddle it. He put his water on the table and folded his hands over the top of the chair and focused all his attention on her. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Well, I . . .” She sucked in a breath.
Be brave, Dahlia.
“I’ve messed up,” she confessed. His eyes remained steady on hers, and she swallowed. “Sam, I’ve fallen in love with you.”
No reaction.
“I’m not telling you this because I want anything from you. I’m telling you because I wanted you to know the reason I’m ending our fling. I’ve complicated things. And this thing between us can’t continue. It would . . . it would hurt. M-more. It would hurt more. So it’s over, and I’m sorry.”
Still no reaction. Lia wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him, but this absolute lack of emotion wasn’t it at all. She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood and felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. She blinked rapidly, not wanting to add to her humiliation by crying.
She cleared her throat.
“Well, then . . .” The words were a space filler. Why didn’t he speak? “I should probably—”
“Knock, knock!” a light female voice called from the front door. Sam’s head shot up and his eyes widened in horror when the door swung open to reveal . . .
Laura Prentiss? Lia blinked as her world immediately took a turn for the surreal. The woman looked exhausted and—without makeup—much younger than her twenty-eight years, but she was unmistakably Laura Prentiss.
“Brandy Snap,” she squealed when she saw Sam, who was kind of hovering between standing and sitting. He looked completely astonished to see the woman here. Laura Prentiss crossed the short distance from front door to living room to kitchen and launched herself at Sam. He managed to get upright in time to catch her, his arms instinctively closing around her slender waist.
The Wrong Man Page 30