With This Ring

by Patricia Kay

  "It's nice to meet you, too." Because she made him feel uneasy, he did what he always did in like situations. He turned on the charm, flashing her his one-hundred watt smile, the one Claire Malone once said could charm even the wee people, who weren't easily beguiled.

  Something flickered in the depths of Faith's eyes, but her expression revealed nothing except a pleasant welcome.

  Then Amy turned to her father.

  Sam's first impression of Alan Carpenter was that this was a man who would command attention and respect wherever he went. Even if Sam hadn't known the older man was an eminent cardiac surgeon, he would have known Alan was important. Everything about him—his stature, his expression, his shrewd brown eyes, his clothing, his handshake—said this was a man who was confident of his place in the world.

  Alan was thinking along the same lines as he shook Sam's hand. Although he'd decided to take a page from Faith's book and reserve his judgment, he couldn't help being drawn to the boy. Sure, he was a bit on the cocky side, as evidenced by that brash smile he'd given Faith a few moments earlier, but he had a good, solid look about him, and he had a direct, honest gaze. Alan believed you could tell a lot about a man by his eyes.

  "Nice to meet you, son," Alan said warmly.

  "Thank you, sir. It's nice to meet you, too."

  "We were just having a pre-dinner cocktail," Faith said. "Would you care for one?"

  "Or you could have a beer," Amy interjected, looking at Sam with her heart in her eyes.

  It almost hurt Alan to see that expression on her face. He wanted to tell her to be careful, to tread softly and slowly, but he knew she never would. Amy always jumped into every situation with both feet—eagerly and joyously. She put everything on the line and expected everything in return. And she'd rarely been disappointed, because it was hard for anyone to resist her. Alan had seen even the most jaded and disagreeable people brought to their knees by the sorcery of Amy's personality.

  Once Sam was settled on the turquoise brocade sofa with a Baccarat tumbler of scotch in his hand and Amy sitting next to him, there was a long moment of silence, then both Alan and Amy started talking at the same time.

  "Tell Sam about your adventure in Dublin—" Amy began.

  "So you work for World of Nature—" Alan began.

  They both broke off laughing.

  "Yes, sir," Sam said. "I've worked for them since moving to Houston."

  "That's a class magazine." The boy must be good, because World of Nature could afford to be choosy. Amy was probably right. Sam probably did make a good living. "What kind of assignments have you had?"

  As Sam talked about assignments in Alaska, Argentina, and the Everglades, Alan listened with half of his brain and studied the way Amy and Sam related to one another with the other half. He liked the way Sam unselfconsciously held Amy's hand. He also liked the way the boy smiled down at her when she occasionally interjected a comment. There was tenderness in his gaze, a look that said his feelings for her ran deep.

  Alan tried to catch Faith's eye, but her gaze remained fixed on Sam.

  After about thirty minutes, the four of them headed for the dining room, where Elsa, their longtime maid, had been called in for duty.

  Throughout Amy's excellent dinner, Alan continued to study and evaluate Sam. As the minutes ticked by, he felt more and more reassured. Several times, he exchanged glances with Faith, hoping that she, too, was being won over, but her eyes still contained a kernel of reserve. Well, she'd always been more cautious about people than he was. She'd come around, eventually. Alan was sure of it.

  By the time Alan's favorite, banana creme pie, was served, most of his misgivings had disappeared.

  "The pie's great," he said, smiling at Amy. "The whole meal was great."

  "Yes, Amy, everything was wonderful," Faith said.

  "Thanks." Her eyes twinkled with amusement as they met Sam's. "This is where I'm supposed to say I made everything from scratch and impress the heck out of you."

  "I am impressed," Sam said. "My idea of cooking is opening a can of beans."

  "I suppose," Faith said, "your rather nomadic lifestyle is the culprit because I would imagine an intelligent man like you could learn to do anything he wanted to. Just how often are you home, say, in any given month?"

  Sam met her gaze squarely. "Depends. Sometimes I've had as long as two or three weeks between assignments. Sometimes only days."

  "Only days . . . that must be hard on the men who are married . . . "

  It didn't take a genius to see what Faith was driving at. With anyone else, Sam might have gotten his hackles up, but after all, this was Amy's mother. "I'm sure it is," he answered evenly, although the truth was, he hadn't thought about the subject much. Now he wondered how the married staffers—the ones who traveled a lot—did manage to keep their spouses happy and their marriages working.

  Suddenly, Sam realized he had a lot more to think about than simply whether or not he wanted to marry Amy. He also needed to think about the way he lived and the work he did and whether he was willing to give it up or make compromises, because Faith's not-so-subtle message had clearly shown him that there was no way he could have both Amy and his current lifestyle.

  Chapter Nine

  "So how'd the big meeting go?" Lark asked the following day. She and Amy were having lunch at a favorite sandwich shop in the Montrose area. When the weather was cool, they always asked for one of the sidewalk tables, but today the temperature was hovering at one hundred degrees, so they sat in the cool interior.

  "Wonderful," Amy said. "Dad really liked Sam. Of course, I knew he would. And Mother, well, I think she likes him, but you know her. She's more cautious where I'm concerned." She smiled fondly. "Dad tends to indulge me."

  "No kidding," Lark said dryly. She wondered what the Carpenters really thought. Knowing Amy's parents—especially Faith—Lark was sure they had as many reservations about Sam Robbins as she did. Probably more. How could they not? Despite the fact that he was good-looking, charming and intelligent, he still wasn't in Amy's league.

  Most importantly, Lark had a gut feeling about him. No matter what he'd said the other night at Seraphina's, she was sure he would eventually let Amy down. People couldn't just change their natures. They might change their behavior temporarily, but eventually they went right back to being who they were. "So where's this relationship going? You two talk about anything yet?"

  "No, not yet."

  Amy's complacency frustrated Lark. Sometimes she wanted to shake Amy. Lark knew it was futile, but she wished that just this once Amy would at least think about the possibility that things might not turn out the way she wanted them to. At least then, if Sam took off the way Lark expected him to, Amy wouldn't be completely blindsided.

  "Quit worrying about me, Lark," Amy said. About to say something else, she stopped as their waiter approached with their food.

  As soon as the man left, Lark said, "I know what you're going to say. You're a grown woman, you can make your own decisions, you don't need me or your parents or anyone else hovering over you. I know all that."

  "So stop, okay? It's all going to be fine. You'll see. Now," Amy continued brightly, "tell me about your date Saturday night. How was it?"

  Lark rolled her eyes. "Awful. I swear, I'm never going on another fixed-up date again. Never."

  "That's what you said the last time," Amy pointed out. She took a small bite of her chicken salad.

  "I know, but I mean it this time." Lark ground fresh pepper onto her omelet before sampling it.

  "What was so awful about it?"

  "What wasn't? He was one of those I've-done-everything-and-I-know-everything guys. You know the type. Anything you talk about, they've done it, only better."

  Amy shook her head in silent commiseration.

  "And you should have seen him when we got to my place. Suddenly he'd grown about six hands, which were everywhere. I finally wrestled him off me. Geez! I hate that. A guy takes you out for one lousy dinner and h
e thinks that gives him carte blanche to jump your bones. Or worse, he thinks he's so fucking irresistible you just can't wait for him to jump your bones!"

  "Lark," Amy said mildly.

  "I know, watch my language. But it's true, Amy. I don't know where all the nice, ordinary guys are. You know, the polite, sweet, considerate guys. The ones who don't even try to kiss you good-night on a first date. That's the kind of guy I want to meet. Not these idiots who think every woman is sexually frustrated and hot to trot." Lark expelled a noisy sigh. "I want an old-fashioned Prince Charming, that's what I want, and honey, he doesn't exist."

  "Yes, he does," Amy said, her eyes going all soft. "Sam's like that."

  "Oh, shit," Lark said. "I'm sick of talking about men, especially when you're so gooey-eyed and impossible. Let's talk about movies. Have you seen that new Daniel Day-Lewis movie yet? Now there's a guy to die for . . . "

  * * *

  Two days after Sam met Amy's parents, he got a call from Owen Church, asking him to come to his office whenever he got a chance. It was Wednesday of the fourth week of Sam's vacation. At the summons, a quicksilver excitement raced through his veins. Maybe Owen was ready to give him a new assignment.

  Sam called Jeanne, Owen's assistant, who said Owen had time to see him at nine o'clock the following morning.

  Promptly at nine, Sam presented himself.

  Owen studied him for a few seconds before saying, "You look good, Sam. Rested. Relaxed."

  Sam smiled. "I feel good."

  Owen waved him to a chair. "You been thinking about our conversation?"

  "Yes. I've been thinking about it a lot."

  "Made any decisions?"

  "Maybe." Sam hesitated. "One thing I do know is that I owe you an apology."

  Owen's eyes widened slightly.

  "You were right about me taking an unnecessary chance in Alaska. Trouble is, I don't know if I can change."

  Owen studied him thoughtfully. "Let's put it this way, son. You have to change. If you don't, one of two things will happen. Either I'll have to fire you, or you'll get hurt . . . or worse . . . you won't live to tell about it."

  Sam wanted to protest that Owen was exaggerating. Hell, he wasn't even sure he'd meant the apology, but he'd felt he had to offer it or Owen might start giving some other shooter the best assignments. So he wisely kept his lip buttoned.

  "What's it going to be?" Owen said. "You going to begin playing by the rules?"

  "I'll do whatever I have to do to keep my job, you know that, Owen."

  The older man smiled. "That's what I wanted to hear." He lifted a file from his desk. "What do you know about the snow leopards of the Himalayas?"

  Sam's heart leaped. He was almost afraid to believe what Owen was saying. "I know they're extremely elusive, that very few humans have ever been able to get close enough to study them and that very few photographs have been taken of them."

  "We've contracted with Ira Morgenstern to do a cover story on them."

  Ira Morgenstern was a wildlife biologist, the best in the business. Sam had worked with him once, a couple of years ago, on a big cover story about wildlife in the rain forests of Suriname. It had been the kind of experience a man never forgot. Morgenstern was the consummate professional, but he was also more daring than most, certainly more daring than other scientific types Sam had worked with. His willingness to push the envelope had challenged Sam and helped him produce some of his best work.

  "He's asked for you to be his photographer." Owen tapped his fingers against the manila folder. "This is the file containing Ira's preliminary research. I suggest you study it carefully tonight and see if you want this job."

  By now Sam could hardly contain his excitement. "Hell, Owen, I don't need to read the file to know I want the assignment. Any shooter worth his salt would want this assignment."

  "This won't be an easy shoot," Owen warned.

  Sam grinned. "So what's your point?"

  * * *

  Sam headed straight for Justin's office after leaving Owen's.

  "Hey, look who's here," Justin said, looking up and grinning as Sam walked into the room. "I thought you were still on vacation."

  "I am. I just came in to see Owen." Sam quickly told Justin about the new assignment. "Great, huh? This is the kind of shoot that only comes along once in a lifetime."

  "When are you leaving?"

  "As soon as Morgenstern can finish getting things set up. Owen said it'll take a few weeks, but I expect to head out sometime around the middle of August." He grinned like an idiot, the elation he'd tried to contain in Owen's office spilling over, making him feel like shouting. "I'm in the mood to celebrate. Let's go to Treebeard's for lunch. My treat."

  Justin moaned. "If I eat that much at lunch, I'll be falling asleep by three o'clock, and I can't afford to do that. I've got too much work with end of the month ERs and billing. How about dinner instead?"

  "Can't. I'm taking Amy to dinner—" Sam broke off. "But, hey, come with us. Amy won't mind." The thought of Amy sobered him momentarily. They still had not talked about the future, but now, with this assignment, Sam could no longer put it off.

  Justin smiled. "I've been wondering if I'd ever get to meet her. Sure, I'd love to come."

  "Good. Let's meet at Pappadeaux's about six-thirty, try to beat the crowd."

  "Great."

  "Uh, just one thing . . . don't say anything about this assignment of mine. I'd rather wait and tell Amy later, when we're alone."

  "Sure," Justin said.

  For some reason, Sam felt uncomfortable. There was nothing in Justin's steady blue gaze that was accusatory, but Sam couldn't help feeling that Justin didn't approve of something.

  As Sam left his office, Justin shook his head. Poor Amy. Justin knew exactly what was about to happen to her. He'd seen it happen dozens of times. Sam was getting ready to shake loose, and he would probably do it tonight. No wonder he didn't want Justin to say anything about the Himalayan assignment. He didn't want to create a scene in the restaurant.

  At least Justin wouldn't be a reluctant witness to the dumping scenario. Still, he couldn't help feeling sorry for the unknown woman. She had lasted longer than most of Sam's conquests, but Justin guessed that would be small comfort when she ended up in the same place.

  Justin almost wished he weren't going tonight. His desire to meet Amy had had to do with the fact that he'd thought Sam might be getting serious this time—after all, Sam had passed up fly-fishing for her and he'd all but admitted he thought he'd fallen in love with her—but down deep Justin had really known better.

  Sam had only one real love: his work, which, translated, meant adventure, excitement, freedom. A serious relationship would impinge upon the freedom and curtail the adventure and excitement.

  Jessie was lucky, Justin decided as he turned his attention back to a report on second quarter advertising revenues. Getting involved with Sam ultimately meant only one thing to a woman—a broken heart.

  * * *

  Justin had arrived at the popular Galleria-area restaurant early, but the parking lot was already full. To the admiration and envy of other wannabe restauranteurs, the Pappas family had the Midas touch. All their restaurants were highly successful, and Pappadeaux's, their Cajun seafood entry into Houston's fiercely competitive market, was no exception.

  Most of the wrought-iron tables dotted around the courtyard were already filled with casually-dressed patrons of all ages. After putting his name on the waiting list, Justin walked back outside and looked around. Spying an empty table near the back, he headed toward it.

  The courtyard was a noisy place. Water splashed from a central fountain, Dixieland music blared from the loudspeakers mounted on the walls, and kids—sensing their parents wouldn't mind a little horseplay outside—giggled and chased each other.

  Justin ordered a Bloody Mary and watched for Sam. A few minutes later, he spotted him and stood and waved. Sam grinned and headed for Justin's table.

  Amy wasn't at al
l what Justin had expected. Sam generally went for tall blondes—the breezy California-girl type—the kind who, on the surface at least, generally knew the score.

  Amy was completely different. And it wasn't just that she looked different. Justin could see the difference in her eyes, in her smile, in the way she looked at Sam, even in the way she talked.

  He couldn't take his eyes off her. Sam introduced them, she said how happy she was to meet him—her soft, green eyes glowing as she met his gaze—and Justin said something back, but he had no idea what it was because he was thunderstruck.

  She was wonderful. She was perfect. She was exactly the kind of woman Justin had always dreamed of finding. No wonder Sam was acting so out of character. No wonder he'd thought he was in love. No wonder he was still seeing her, long past the point where he normally broke off a liaison.

  She was also beautiful—not in a perfect cover-girl way—but in a fresh, girl-next-door way that was eminently more appealing.

  After they were all seated at Justin's table, Amy turned her friendly gaze his way and said, "Sam tells me you two met when he was looking for a home for his dog. That's funny, isn't it, because he and I met when he was looking for a home for a cat."

  Justin answered her in a daze. And that's the way it was for the entire evening. The three of them talked and laughed and ate and drank, but Justin wasn't really conscious of any of it. He was on autopilot, functioning like a normal human being, but his mind and senses were totally captivated by Amy.

  He kept trying to direct the conversation back to her. Sam hadn't told him much about her, and Justin wanted to know everything. He found his opportunity after Amy had asked him what he did at the magazine and he'd told her. "So what do you do?" he asked.

  "Me? I'm a teacher."

  As Justin questioned her, and Amy answered, Sam listened, amused. It was obvious to him that Justin was completely dazzled by Amy. But, hell, that was no surprise. Why wouldn't he be? Amy was irresistible. She seemed to like Justin a lot, too, but then again, Amy liked everyone.