by Ann Roth
She simply must put a stop to this ridiculous physical upheaval whenever he was nearby. He wasn’t the man for her, and she wasn’t right for him. Hadn’t history proved that?
The kids were swarming around the food like bees, and she hurried forward. “Dancers, listen up. We need to thank Mr. Cutter for providing lunch.”
“Thank you,” the group replied in unison. Sam dipped his chin in a mock bow. “My pleasure.”
Satisfied, Amy continued. “I want you all to line up,” she directed in a loud voice. “Pearls first, then Emeralds, and then Rubies. Mr. Cutter will hand out the burgers and either onion rings or fries. After you have your food, choose a drink. Then please find a seat on the floor.”
“Why do the Pearls go first?” someone grumbled.
“Because they’re the youngest,” Amy replied. She pointed to the floor near Sam. “The line starts here.”
Boys and girls moved into place. Amy stayed at the end of the line, keeping an eye on things. She watched Sam hand out the food. To her surprise, he looked as if he enjoyed the job, offering jokes and comments to each child. He seemed genuinely to like the kids, and they knew it. As the line inched forward, several dancers hung around him, watching his every move. The girls simpered and giggled, and the boys emulated his stance, legs splayed, back straight. Clearly they adored him.
At the moment, who wouldn’t? He was great with kids, a trait she’d never imagined he possessed. He’d make a great daddy. It seemed a shame he didn’t want to settle down and start a family, because—appalled at the direction of her thoughts, Amy stopped her musing point-blank. Sam had set aside a veggie burger, and she thanked him. She wanted to walk away, but needed to discuss the gossip and how to stop it. “Could I talk to you a minute?” she asked.
He looked surprised and not exactly pleased. “What about?”
His reaction stung until she remembered that she wasn’t thrilled about talking to him, either. But this was important. She glanced around, making sure the students weren’t listening. Keeping her voice low, she explained. “People are talking.” She flushed. “About us.”
“There is no ‘us’,” Sam said, but his pained expression told her he knew exactly what she meant. “Why can’t they get that?”
Amy shook her head. “I don’t know, but if they keep talking, neither of us will ever get a date again. We need a game plan, something that will stop the gossip.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Sam nodded. He glanced around the room, filled with kids. “Where can we talk?”
Amy considered her office, but she wanted to be within supervising distance of the group.
“Over there.” She gestured toward the empty bench along the mirrored wall. “Come on.”
Sam grabbed an extra burger and joined her.
SAM SWUNG ONE LEG over the hard, narrow bench and faced Amy. Not ten feet away a horde of kids ate, chattered, and laughed, making enough noise to fill the room. They weren’t talking about him and Amy, the way their parents were—for now. He was still in shock over the questions and comments from the kids in Mariah’s class, who all seemed to know about him and Amy. Not that there was anything to know. He wanted to talk to her about that, but after his morning he was starving. He’d dropped Mariah at rehearsal, mowed the lawn and then, feeling restless, he’d run three miles. All before eleven.
He bit into a bacon cheeseburger, savoring the flavor of high-quality, charbroiled beef. Ten years in the fast-food business and he still relished the food. Amy, who, unlike him, did not straddle the bench, seemed hungry, too. She dug into her veggie burger with obvious enjoyment. Despite the mess they seemed to be in, they both enjoyed the meal—created by the burger chain he had founded. Pride swelled in his chest.
“I am so sick of everyone talking and whispering about us,” she said after a while.
Sam nodded as he swallowed a mouthful. “Sometimes living in a small town is a real pain,” he said over the noise. “Even Josh and Gabe are giving me a hard time.”
“You, too? Dani and Nina keep dropping hints about how we’ve both changed and that maybe we should think about getting together again.” She shook her head. “Can you believe that?”
Sam’s mouth tightened. “Why should we have to do anything? We’re not the ones jumping to false conclusions.”
“You’re saying we should ignore the talk? Given that it’s going on all day, everywhere I go, that’s not so easy.”
Suddenly the noise level fell. Sam glanced at the young dancers sprawled across the floor. Several curious faces were turned their way. He swore under his breath. “Even the kids are talking,” he said, keeping his voice below their range of hearing. Noting Mariah’s speculative look, he glanced upward and shook his head. “My own niece is the worst.” Since the disastrous show-and-tell day at her school, she’d been pestering him about dating Amy, and no amount of stern conversation stemmed her enthusiasm. His appetite ruined, Sam frowned and pushed aside his lunch. “I’ll be glad when her parents get back.”
“I’m sure you will.” Amy sighed and carefully folded the wrapping around her half-eaten sandwich. “This is a definite problem, and unless we do something it’s not going away.” She set the food on the bench beside his. “We need a plan of action.”
“So we do.” Sam rubbed his chin and considered various options. “Maybe we should give them something to talk about.” Where had that brilliant idea come from?
“What?” Amy said in a loud voice. Now every kid in the place stared openly.
“It was a joke,” he fabricated.
“Well, it wasn’t funny.”
“So sue me.” He shot a glance at the wide-eyed kids and scowled. “I can’t discuss this in front of them. We’ll finish this conversation after they’re gone.”
“How? You’ll have Mariah with you.”
“She’s going home with Delia Jeffries so I can work more on the sets. They’ve invited her to stay overnight.”
Amy groaned. “Oh, no. Delia’s mother started all this—with Connie’s input.”
“I know, I know.” Sam gave a helpless shrug. “But Mariah really wanted to go home with Delia. I didn’t even try to talk her out of it. She’d just argue until she got her way.” The noise level increased and he saw that most of the kids, his niece included, seemed to have lost interest in him and Amy in favor of eating and talking among themselves. “Besides, I could use a night off.” Much as he loved his niece, caring for her was exhausting. He needed a break and looked forward to a meal without her.
Amy gave an understanding nod. “At least Connie will be here later to help with the sets. She can’t spread rumors about us while she’s working alongside us.”
“I suppose that compensates for spending time with her,” Sam commented drily. He glanced at the wall clock. “I should be going. What time should I come back?”
“Everyone else will be here at three-thirty, after we rehearse the group finale.”
Sam nodded. He swung his leg over the bench and stood. “I’ll be back at three then, and we’ll talk.”
SITTING AT THE DESK in her closet-sized office, Amy cupped the phone to her ear and frowned. “I’m sorry your dog is sick,” she told Kelly Margolis, one of the parent volunteers who was supposed to be here in half an hour. Rehearsals had ended a short while ago, and all the dancers were gone. “I’ll see you Tuesday afternoon, instead.” Frowning, she hung up.
Amy’s hip ached and she massaged it absently as she pondered the situation. That made six of the eight expected volunteers who had called to reschedule this afternoon’s work party. Over the past half hour, she had heard a dazzling array of excuses from, “Something unexpected came up,” to “I think I’m coming down with the flu,” to “I accidentally double-booked myself and can’t get out of the other commitment.” The only two who hadn’t cancelled were Connie and Sam. Obviously something was in the works. But what? Baffled, Amy shoved a hand under her braid and rubbed her nape.
From her seat, she heard the
door to the studio open. Three o’clock on the nose. Solid footsteps moved steadily across the wooden floor. Even if she hadn’t expected Sam, she knew that self-assured gait. She let out a relieved breath. She’d never imagined wanting to see him, but with all the cancellations, she both needed and welcomed his help. “In here,” she called.
He appeared in the threshold. Bracing his shoulder against the doorjamb, he cocked his hip. “Ready to finish that talk?”
Amy nodded. She couldn’t help noting how Sam’s pose caused his T-shirt to pull tightly over his chest and flat belly. Did the man have any idea how sexy he looked? Against her will, she glanced lower, to the healthy bulge of his manhood. Well-endowed, and he wasn’t even aroused. Of course then, he really was something…
“Amy?”
She jerked her attention to his knowing eyes and quirking mouth. Her cheeks burned. Unnerved by the train of her thoughts and by the fact that he seemed to be reading her mind, she scowled. “What?”
He sobered immediately. “Are you too busy to talk, after all?” he asked, misinterpreting her unhappy expression.
That was just fine with her. “No, just puzzled. There’s something odd going on. Nearly every volunteer has backed out until next week.” Propping her head on her hand, she sighed. “I’m afraid it’s just you, me and Connie this afternoon.”
“She can’t make it, either.” Sam pushed away from the jamb. “She paged me a few minutes ago. Something about her ex not being able to take their daughter this afternoon. Said to tell you she’ll be here Monday and Tuesday afternoon, instead.”
“Lovely,” Amy muttered as the last of her plans for a large work party evaporated. “That’s the trouble with volunteers. They don’t always follow through.”
“Hey, things happen.” He shrugged. “Sometimes you have to roll with the changes.”
He sounded so…easygoing. Not at all like the in-control Sam Amy remembered. Unbelieving, she gaped at him.
“What?” he asked, frowning.
“Twelve years ago, a sudden change in plans would have really thrown you. You’ve changed.”
One shoulder shrugged. “Chalk that up to owning a business and learning a thing or two about life. Just call me Mr. Older and Wiser.”
“I know what you mean,” Amy said. Mindful of her aching hip, she rose slowly, wincing despite her care.
A knowing look of concern filled his face. “Still getting those charley horses?”
During their marriage she’d had quite a few muscle spasms, mostly in her calves or feet. Many dancers suffered from the same ailment. But she was the only one lucky enough to be treated by “Dr. Sam.” First, he’d massage away the cramp, then tenderly kiss the sore spot. He’d keep right on touching and kissing, his lips and hands inflaming her to a frenzy of need. The red-hot sex that always followed magically erased her aches and pains.
Sam’s eyes warmed and darkened, and Amy knew he remembered as well. She swallowed and looked down at her desk, and the moment passed.
“I’m afraid this isn’t a charley horse,” she said as she kneaded the muscle. “It’s an old dance injury, and the reason I gave up dancing professionally.”
Sam rubbed his chin appraisingly. “I wondered why you quit.”
“That’s only part of the reason.” She gave a wry smile. “I turn thirty next spring, and in the dance business, that’s old.”
“You don’t look old to me.” His gaze roved boldly over her, and she couldn’t help straightening her back, sucking in her stomach and raising her head. “You look great.”
A flush of pleasure warmed her face. “Um, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
For an uncomfortable moment that felt like forever, they studied each other. In the past, they’d either fought or made love, rarely just talked. This felt new and awkward. But also very good. Amy tried a smile. “Do you realize this is the first time in a very long time that we’ve actually talked without ending up in an argument?”
Sam offered his own smile. “Proof of our maturity.” He glanced over his shoulder, toward the stage. “We may as well get some work done.” He gestured Amy through the door, and together they headed for the storage room. “Guess it’s just you and me again.”
The words reminded her about the gossip. She groaned. “I can just imagine what everyone will say about that.”
“We’ll get so much done, they won’t dare talk,” Sam said. “Besides, we’re not interested in each other and we’re not dating. We should be able to work on the sets together. As friends. We can discuss how to handle the gossip while we work.”
He’d brought up a point Amy had never considered. “Do you think we could be friends?”
“I’m willing to try.” Sam angled his chin her way and raised one brow as if to ask: Are you?
That was enough for Amy. She nodded. “Then, so am I.”
“That’s my girl.”
They grinned at each other—warm, open, friendly smiles. As they walked toward the stage, Sam slung his arm around her shoulders and tugged her to his side. Familiar warmth filled her and, as naturally as breathing, she leaned into him.
For the first time in a long while, she felt content. With Sam, the man who had broken her heart. That scared her, and her step faltered.
“Careful of that hip,” he warned, mistaking her hesitation for discomfort. “Let me take your weight.” He lowered his arm to her waist and guided her forward.
Suddenly the painful past loomed in front of her. Did Sam want something from her? Was he trying to take charge of her? She shot him a wary glance. His unguarded expression was relaxed and pleasant. Not sexual, stubborn or angry. A friend helping a friend.
Reassured, Amy relaxed.
KARI PICKED UP the wall phone on the first ring, turning her back on the rest of the kitchen. “Is that you, Connie?” she whispered, feeling deliciously sneaky.
“Yes,” Connie replied in a tinny sound that meant she was using her car speakerphone and that there were no kids around. “Why are you whispering?”
“Just playing it safe.” Kari glanced over her shoulder, confirming there was no one else in her spacious kitchen. “Delia and Mariah are in the other room,” she continued in a low voice, “but I don’t want to take a chance on their listening in.” In the distance, she heard the sound of laughter. Clearly the girls were not listening. Still, for good measure, she carried the phone into the pantry and closed the door. “Well?”
“I just cruised by the studio,” Connie replied. “It’s been two hours now, and Sam’s car is still parked beside Amy’s. And there are no other vehicles on the premises,” she added, sounding as professional as a detective.
Kari grinned. “Our little conspiracy seems to be working.” They’d held an impromptu meeting with several parents. All agreed that Sam and Amy needed to spend the afternoon alone.
Her friend chuckled. “Aren’t we clever?”
“Actually…” Kari bit her lip. “I feel a little guilty. Amy would surely kill us if she suspected what we’ve done. And Sam…” She let the words trail off. Who knew how that gorgeous, sexy man might react to their meddling? She heard Connie’s sharp intake of breath and pictured her stern look.
“Listen here, Kari, Sam and Amy belong together. You know it, and I know it. Heck, even our kids know it. The way they look at each other and the sizzle between them. If you could have seen them working on the sets last weekend… I’m not used to being ignored, especially when I flirt. But for all the attention Sam paid me, I may as well not have been there. He only has eyes for Amy.” Connie sighed. “Just thinking about that makes me go woozy inside.”
She had a point. When Sam and Amy were in the same room, the air around them seemed charged with an invisible current. It was so darn romantic. “I know what you mean,” Kari replied, leaning dreamily against a shelf of canned goods.
“But they’re both hardheaded. The way things are going, neither of them is ever going to act on those feelings,” Connie continu
ed. “Someone had to give them a push. We’re doing the right thing here, and some day they’ll thank us.” She paused. “If they ever find out what we did.”
“I certainly won’t tell.” Though her friend couldn’t see her, Kari pretended to turn a key over her lips.
“Me, neither. I wonder what they’re doing right now.”
Kari frowned at the suggestive timbre of Connie’s voice. “That’s none of our business.”
“It is if we want them back together. Did you get in touch with Amy’s friends?”
“Nina and Dani? Yes. They had plans to meet at Amy’s for dinner tonight. They should be phoning her any minute now to cancel.”
“Do you think Amy and Sam will have dinner?”
“Let’s hope.” Kari crossed her fingers. “Nina says when she cancels, she’ll plant the idea without directly coming out and saying it.”
“Okay,” Connie said. “We’ll just have to hope that works.”
Chapter Seven
PERCHED ON AN old wooden stool, Amy leaned over the worktable and carefully squirted hot glue over the plywood “roof” of the two-dimensional cottage Sam had made. Behind her and across the room, he wielded a paintbrush on a group of tall particle-board mushrooms and flowers.
They’d been working for a while now. Since their agreement to be platonic friends, the tension between them had shifted into an easy, relaxed mode. Now and then, one of them started a conversation, but so far, neither felt compelled to talk. During the stretches of silence, which weren’t at all uncomfortable, soft jazz from the radio filled in the quiet. From time to time, Sam whistled in accompaniment. Amy couldn’t remember ever hearing him whistle. She couldn’t recall ever feeling this comfortable around him, either.