A Vow to Love

by Sherryl Woods

  It didn't help that somehow Sam had allowed himself to be maneuvered into the chair next to hers. His leg, bare below a pair of faded cut-off jeans, brushed against hers...and didn't budge. The only way she could retreat would be to shove her grandfather aside or leave the table entirely. Either choice would be telling, an admission of something she wasn't prepared to acknowledge. And she knew her grandfather well enough to recognize that he would seize her actions as evidence to make his case for throwing her and Sam together nonstop until something happened between them.

  Determined to give the impression that she wasn't the least bit fazed by the man next to her, Penny stayed where she was and tried to concentrate on her meal. She dutifully forked a clam into her mouth, then another. As a distraction, it failed miserably. She might as well have been eating sawdust.

  At the same time, she could have described precisely the scent of Sam's soap--sandalwood, the texture of his skin--faintly rough but intriguingly warm, and the number of golden hairs scattered enticingly across the back of his hand--a dozen. Maybe more, she admitted. She'd started envisioning his hand on her flesh and lost count. Heat radiated through her in outrageously wicked waves. Embarrassment quickly followed.

  "Excuse me," she mumbled. She shoved her chair away from the table and made a run for it.

  She heard conversation grind to a halt, then a muttered comment, and the slow rise of voices again. No doubt they were speculating like mad about her abrupt departure. By then, though, she was outside, oblivious to what they might be saying, oblivious even to the chill of the rain that immediately drenched her. Given her overheated state of mind, she was surprised steam wasn't rising from her skin.

  "You okay?"

  Sam's smoky voice curled around her. She shivered--from the cold or from his sudden nearness, she couldn't say for sure. She chided herself for failing to hear him coming, for not having guessed that he would follow, whether of his own volition or as an emissary of her grandfather's.

  "Penny?"

  "I'm fine. I just needed some air."

  "I suppose you've noticed that the rain is coming down in buckets."

  "It feels good," she countered, unable to stop the shudder that swept through her. She wrapped her arms around her middle with the vague hope that he wouldn't notice how cold she was.

  "Of course it feels wonderful," he said drily. "There's nothing like an evening shower to invigorate a person. Of course, the temperature's probably dropped to fifty. Some people might consider that a warning."

  "Oh?" she said, glancing his way. He was studiously avoiding her gaze, staring instead toward the pounding surf just beyond them. His shirt was soaked and plastered to his skin in a way that detailed every muscular inch of his chest. He didn't act as if he'd noticed.

  "Pneumonia weather," he explained.

  "I'm made of sturdy stuff. I'll be fine. You go on in if you're cold," she said, knowing it was wishful thinking on her part that he would leave. She had a hunch that Sam Roberts always finished what he started. Lord knows, he was stubborn as a mule.

  "I'm not cold," he said. "But I am wondering what would send a perfectly rational person out into a night like this."

  "I told you I needed some air."

  "And the sky is green."

  She lost the slim hold she'd had on her self-control and whirled on him. "Oh, don't be so damned smug."

  "Smug?" he repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Once she'd started hurling accusations, Penny couldn't seem to stop. "You know perfectly well that putting you and me into the same room is like leaving paint and turpentine in a garage, then casually tossing in a match. We've agreed that neither one of us wants to be involved in the resulting conflagration. You don't like me. You never have, which makes this chemistry or whatever it is all the more ridiculous."

  Something in his eyes suddenly turned dark and dangerous. "Who said I didn't like you?" he asked softly.

  Fortunately, thanks to the rain, he would probably never see the telltale tears tracking down her cheeks. "Some things you don't have to admit," she retorted. Years of silly heartbreak were in her voice. "Some things are just painfully obvious."

  "Is that so?"

  He reached toward her then and brushed a damp strand of hair from her face. Penny swayed into the touch. His fingers lingered on her cheek, his caress a warm and gentle counterpoint to the pounding rain. Penny actually felt her heart come to a complete standstill, then start again with the impossible force of thunder in her chest.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice shaky.

  "I wish to hell I knew," he muttered as he slowly lowered his head until their breath mingled in the chilly night air.

  "Sam?" Penny murmured wonderingly. This wasn't what she'd anticipated at all. Or was it? Maybe it had always been inevitable. At any rate, she felt as if she might faint dead away before he closed that infinitesimal distance between them.

  "Hmm?"

  "If you back out now, I will never forgive you."

  "Sweetheart, I couldn't back out now if the entire family threatened to hang me at dawn."

  Despite herself, despite the deliciously sweet tension of the moment, Penny chuckled at the image.

  "Somehow I don't think that will be a problem," she murmured drily just as Sam's mouth slanted softly over hers.

  Chapter 7

  At first touch Penny's lips felt like ice under Sam's. His goal became to warm them, to learn the shape and texture of her mouth and imprint it indelibly in his brain so that he could recall it on cold, lonely nights. Soft as velvet, moist from the rain and tentative as a virgin's, her lips trembled beneath his.

  Then she gave herself up to the intoxicating power of the kiss and he was lost. Sam knew all about technique and foreplay, but there was something sweetly innocent in the way Penny sighed and melted into his embrace. At the first tentative foray of her tongue, his heart slammed against his chest. He showed her how to deepen the kiss and like an apt and willing pupil, she studiously followed his lead with explosive results.

  Sam wondered if she had any idea at all of the effect she was having on him. She gave a soft little whimper of pleasure when he tried to shift positions, molding herself to him in a way that guaranteed she wouldn't mistake exactly how hard he was. If she was shocked, though, it didn't show. She remained totally, enthusiastically committed to the kiss that was slowly driving him wild.

  She tasted of butter and wine. Her warmed, soft-as-silk flesh gave off the old-fashioned sweet scent of primroses. He found it all breathtaking and faintly alarming.

  Why the hell hadn't he guessed it would still be like this after all this time? Or maybe that was the point. He had guessed, and he'd done his damnedest to avoid having it come to this. He hadn't wanted to start something that would only come to a very bad end. That unwillingness to play with fire had probably been the one and only noble act of his entire life.

  Sam never should have allowed his resolve to waver. But when she had gazed up at him with those tear-filled blue eyes and declared that she knew he didn't like her, her hurt had wrenched his heart. He'd reacted instinctively, wanting to comfort, wanting to prove her wrong, needing her in a way that scared the living daylights out of him and ought to flat-out terrify her. She didn't act terrified, though. She acted like a woman just discovering her sensuality and reveling in it.

  He told himself that one kiss meant nothing. It would reassure her. It would satisfy this vague longing he always felt around her. It would put an end to the wondering. And then they could both go on about their business.

  Yeah, right! That was like saying a tornado blew through town, destroying everything in its wake, but life went on as usual. Ho-hum.

  Nothing--nothing would be the same after this, Sam thought wearily as he forced himself to pull away. Facing life alone would be harder than ever now that he knew exactly how much he was giving up.

  Penny's eyes were fixed on him, her expression slightly dazed. He knew how she felt. He was feeli
ng a little shaky himself. No, he corrected, a lot shaky. The wondering had been child's play compared to the unforgettable and wildly sensual reality.

  "So much for that theory," he said, trying to inject a cavalier note into his voice.

  "Which theory is that?" she murmured.

  She was still regarding him in a way that made him feel like a movie star, a Super Bowl champion and an Olympic gold medalist all rolled into one. He lost his train of thought. "What?"

  "You said something about a theory."

  He suddenly decided it was best not to remind her of exactly what had sparked that kiss. He'd meant to prove only that he didn't dislike her. Instead he had a feeling he'd proven something a lot more dangerous and it would be better for both of them if she didn't guess what it was. Penny was the kind of woman who'd take that vulnerability and cling to it, turning it into an admission of love, into the forerunner of a commitment he was incapable of making.

  He shrugged. "Never mind. We're both soaked. I think we'd better get back inside. Besides, I'm sure everyone is wondering what happened to us."

  A smile tugged at her exceptionally kissable lips. "Do you really think they'll miss us? This is the most self-contained group of people I've ever known. I know I'm related to them, but sometimes I feel like such an outsider."

  Sam regarded her with a vague sense of astonishment. "You do?"

  "Of course I do. It's not like I grew up with them, except for Grandmother. The rest of them were sprung on me when Brandon tracked down Grandmother and then everyone found out that my mother was really his daughter, the product of their incredible love affair before he went off to war. I was a teenager and I guess I found it all pretty exciting and romantic in a lot of ways, but it's definitely required some adjustment on all our parts."

  "It happened a long time ago," Sam reminded her.

  "Still, I remember that it took months for my mom and my Aunt Kate to overcome the realization that they were only half sisters. It must have been terrible for Kevin, too. Sometimes even now I see the way he looks at me and I just know he must still be struggling to accept the fact that my mother is his half sister, that I'm his niece and he never even knew about us until I was half-grown."

  Sam recognized that what she said was true. Of all of the Hallorans, Kevin had had the most difficulty accepting the discovery that his father had another child. It hadn't helped that Brandon had bulldozed over his feelings as if they didn't matter. Kevin had seethed with resentment for months, until Lacey had finally interceded and smoothed things over.

  For Sam the drama had unfolded at a safe emotional distance. Now, though, he could see for himself how out of place Penny might feel. And he could certainly empathize with her yearning to fit in.

  "Is that why you decided to come to Boston to get your graduate degree, so you could get to know this side of your family better?"

  Penny hesitated in a way that he found faintly troubling. There was a vague hint of something that might have been guilt in her eyes before she looked away. He wondered what that was all about. Had she had some ulterior motive in coming East? He couldn't imagine it. She struck him as one of the most open and honest women he'd ever met, but then, how well did he really know her?

  "Penny," he prodded, "did you come here to get to know the rest of your family?"

  "That was one of the reasons," she said finally, still evading his eyes. "And, of course, there was the allure of an Ivy League school. It will open a lot of doors eventually."

  Sam sensed that she was leaving something important out of the explanation, but whatever it was she obviously didn't intend to reveal it to him. He felt the tug of some unspoken mystery pulling at him, but dismissed it as a cop's instinctive reaction to unanswered questions, nothing more dire than that.

  He held out his hand. "Come on, Ms. Hayden, let's go back and face the music."

  She regarded him quizzically, but she trustingly tucked her hand in his. "Face the music?"

  "Your grandmother's worried looks. My sister's speculative glances. Grandfather's smug satisfaction."

  She grinned. "I see what you mean."

  They had reached the back door by then. Oddly reluctant to end what had been begun on the beach, Sam said, "We could give them something to talk about."

  An impish gleam lit her eyes. "I could go slamming into the house swearing that I will never speak to you again as long as I live."

  "That's one possibility," Sam agreed. "It's not the one I had in mind."

  Before she could say anything, he pulled her back into his arms, slanted his mouth across hers and spent the next sixty seconds indulging another one of those dangerous whims of his. They were both breathless and a little stunned when he finally broke it off.

  "That ought to do it," he murmured.

  Penny nodded sagely. "It sure should. Now grandfather won't let up until he has us married."

  With a wink, she turned and walked into the house, leaving him to wonder if he'd recognized those very probable consequences when he'd hauled her into his arms.

  "What the devil's the matter with you, boy?" Brandon asked Sam on Saturday afternoon. The sun was blazing and everyone was on the beach enjoying a picnic. Sam had remained on the back deck, alone with his beer and his muddled thoughts.

  "You've been jumpy all day," Brandon observed. "Looks to me like you didn't sleep a wink all night, either. Something on your mind?"

  Sam scowled at him. "What could be on my mind?" he inquired testily. He knew exactly where they were heading with this conversation. He'd been expecting it all morning long. The fact that it had taken Brandon until well past lunchtime to get him alone had left him feeling more jittery than a teenager facing an indignant father after a first date.

  "Thought maybe you were thinking about Penny," Brandon said.

  He affected a look of supreme innocence that made Sam want to grind his teeth. "Why would you think that?"

  "You two seem to be getting...closer."

  "So?"

  "Don't make me spell it out for you, son."

  Sam glared at him. "Now what is that supposed to mean?"

  "If you hurt her, I'll never forgive you."

  "Then why the hell did you insist on throwing us together in the first place?"

  "Because it seemed to me you'd make a good match."

  "But if we don't, it's going to be my fault?"

  "Hell, son, if you can't see what's right in front of your eyes, then yes, it's your own damned fault," he snapped impatiently.

  "Isn't there one other single person in the world whose life you can meddle in?"

  Brandon didn't seem to be the least bit upset by the pointed question. "I suppose I could find somebody, but there's no one I care about more than the two of you."

  "I'm all wrong for her," Sam retorted. "Why can't you see that?"

  "If you're so wrong for her, then you had no business kissing her."

  "And you had no business spying on us."

  "Hell, boy, you were standing right at the back door in the pouring rain. Who could miss it? That's not the point, anyway."

  "What is the point?"

  "You've been selling yourself short. Always have. You've got a good head and, more important, a good heart. All you need is the right woman."

  "And you think your granddaughter is that woman," he said, his voice flat.

  Brandon grinned at him. "Doesn't matter a hill of beans what I think. My gut tells me you know she's the right woman. Don't wait too long to admit it to yourself and to her."

  "How can you say that? She drives me crazy. I make her crazy."

  Brandon chuckled. "I know. Ain't love grand?"

  Sam was avoiding her. Penny had expected it, but that didn't stop it from hurting. Obviously he was regretting the kisses, regretting the fragile intimacy that had sprung up between them on the beach the night before.

  Well, no matter what happened, she wasn't going to waste time on regrets. Those kisses had been the most magical, eye-popping, wicked even
ts in her entire life and she intended to treasure them. She knew their importance, even if Sam refused to acknowledge it. Unlike that bittersweet kiss years ago, these had been filled with tenderness and real emotion.

  "Don't let him get to you," Dana advised, joining her on the beach.

  "Who?"

  "My brother."

  At that moment, Sam, Jason, Kevin and even Brandon had joined in a noisy game of inept volleyball with Dana's kids. Penny's gaze seemed to be riveted to Sam's sleekly muscled body as he held two-year-old Jason Junior in the air to smack a ball over the net. Penny sighed.

  "You've got it bad, don't you?" Dana said.

  "I hardly know him." The denial was perfunctory at best. She didn't honestly expect Dana to believe it. Judging from her grin, she didn't.

  "Sometimes time has nothing to do with it."

  "We've never gotten along."

  "Nobody ever gets along with Sam, if he has his way. That's how he protects himself from getting hurt. Can I give you a word of advice?"

  "Why not?"

  "Don't pay any attention to what he says. Watch what he does. You know the kind of life we had before Jason came along. Everything was a struggle. We'd lost both my parents. All we had to depend on was each other. Then I went off and married Jason. As much as we try to make Sammy a part of our life, he's always felt like he lost me, too. So, he tries to stay away. He tries not to feel anything for any of us. He figures if he makes the wall high enough and thick enough, he'll never be hurt or abandoned again."

  Dana's words made perfect sense, but they left Penny feeling more unsure of herself than ever. She regarded Sam's sister wistfully. "You know what's on the other side of that wall, because you've had a lifetime to understand him. He lets you see what's going on inside him, because he trusts you. How do I get beyond it?"