The Unsung Hero

by Samantha James

  She closed her eyes against the memory. What next, she thought dully, turning to rinse her back. Would Jason think she was ripe for the picking any time he wanted—for as long as he was here? She didn't know, and that was the whole problem. If his lighthearted attitude this morning had been any indication...

  She sighed and reached for a towel. She couldn't help but think of his sweet husky whispers in her ear all through the night. She could have sworn she was special.

  "Damn it, Samantha, when are you going to wake up and separate reality from fantasy?" she scolded herself irritably. "It didn't mean a damn thing to him--no more than a purely physical release--while it meant the world to you!"

  But facts were facts, and it had happened. There would be no going back, and she was simply going to have to accept it. The only problem was how. How did a woman go about forgetting a man who only happened once in a lifetime?

  She was still pondering that question when Jason walked into the kitchen and found her toying with a half-eaten bowl of cereal that had been poured an hour before.

  "Samantha." His voice roused her from her lethargy as he sat down across from her. "Why didn't you stay and eat breakfast with us?"

  She took a sip of her coffee and grimaced at the bitter taste. It was cold. "You know why," she muttered without looking at him.

  "You felt awkward." His voice was very gentle.

  She raised her head long enough to send him a burning gaze. "You may be used to being caught in bed by David Winters but I'm not!"

  "That was a first," he said softly. "The last day has brought a lot of firsts, for both of us."

  Samantha didn't dare question that self-satisfied smile. Not only did she understand his meaning only too well, it brought up a subject that she suspected was best left alone.

  "You didn't like David, did you?"

  "We didn't meet under the best of circumstances," she said evasively.

  "I agree," he murmured thoughtfully. "It's too bad he's gone back to Portland already. He really is a good friend and I think you'd have liked him."

  Her mouth tightened. "I'm not so sure!" she retorted. "From what you've told me and what I saw, you two are a lot alike, both after a good time!"

  Jason's eyes darkened suddenly. His hands reached across the table and pinned one of hers. His eyes scrutinized hers intensely. "You think that's all last night meant to me—a good time?"

  Samantha pulled her hand back abruptly, ignoring the shock that went through her. She didn't want him to touch her. Not now, not yet. She wished she had his ability to make light of any and every situation but right now all she wanted to do was cry. She averted her eyes and carried her cup and bowl to the sink. Silently she rinsed them, aware of Jason's eyes on her back. She gripped the counter tightly.

  "I—I've never... you're only the second man I've ever..."

  "Made love with?" Jason came to stand behind her. His hands on her shoulders were oddly comforting, despite the fact that he was the sole source of her unease. "Once I found out you'd been married, did you think I didn't know that?" His warm breath stirred her hair. "You're a rare breed, Samantha. There aren't many women left like you. There aren't enough like you."

  There was something elusive about those words, something hidden just below the surface. She couldn't grasp it at the moment. There was too much going on inside her, too many conflicting emotions. But Jason's voice was like warm honey flowing over her. She wasn't aware of the tight coil of tension inside her until she relaxed a little.

  He pulled her back until she leaned against him willingly. His arms slipped around her waist, the slender line of her back fit snugly against the solid warmth of his chest, and her head fell back naturally against the place where his shoulder joined his neck.

  "Are you still embarrassed about David walking in on us?"

  "He probably thinks I'm the type to fall in bed with just anybody," she muttered. "He knows you've only been here a few weeks, Jason!"

  A soft laugh sounded in her ear. "Anyone who took the time to know you would realize you would never do something so—-" she could feel his smile against her cheek "—-impulsive."

  "And now you're making fun of me again!" she grumbled. "He might be your friend but I'm glad he's gone. I don't think I could even look him in the eye!"

  Jason turned her to face him, his hands resting lightly on her waist. "For all your reading on the subject of sex—" he teased lightly "—you're not very worldly. Not that I'd change a thing about you," he added hastily on seeing her mouth open.

  Samantha finally relented and smiled. "That's different. There's no one in the room with me!"

  He laughed and brushed his lips over her forehead, his eyes twinkling. "I have the perfect solution should

  David ever arrive so unexpectedly again," he said smoothly.

  Her mouth turned down at the corners. "And that is?"

  His eyes traveled slowly over her face before coming to rest on her mouth. His own was no longer smiling. "Marry me, Samantha," he said softly. "Marry me."

  Chapter 10

  Shock rippled through her in wave after wave. Samantha opened her mouth, then closed it, and opened it again, feeling like a puppet whose string was being pulled. He sounded perfectly serious, she thought in amazement, and yet he couldn't be.

  She walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa numbly. It couldn't be happening. Yet it was. "This is silly," she thought with a shake of her head.

  "Silly?" She wasn't even aware that she had spoken until Jason dropped down beside her. "You call it silly when a man asks you to marry him?"

  Samantha stared at him. "Yes, silly!" she protested. "Someone walks in and finds us in bed together and you ask me to marry you? It—it's like something out of one of your books—" she waved her hands in the air "—where the characters only get married because of duty... or honor.''

  "As you once pointed out, my heroes aren't usually very honorable—especially at first. And they are never, and I repeat never, forced to do something against their will, even though it might take them a while to realize it," he assured her gravely, a faint light twinkling in his eyes.

  "But that doesn't have a thing to do with us!" A faint suspicion stirred inside her. "Are you playing games with me again?" she demanded hotly. "All along you've been setting me up.. .that bit about being a hero with your big rescue scene, playing at being a modern-day Romeo, sending all those balloons, trying to soften me up with all those lovesick lines!"

  She jumped to her feet and glared at him. "Did you decide to single me out just to have a little fun? Did you pick on me because I'm so—so damned sentimental?"

  "Samantha, you're taking this all wrong." He chuckled a little as he dragged her down beside him. Arms like bands of steel wrapped tightly around her rigid form. She knew from experience there was little use in trying to get away from him. She wasn't sure if she was more angry or hurt, but to her distress, hot angry tears burned her throat.

  "Maybe you'd prefer the more traditional approach." The next thing she knew Jason was down on his knees before her, one of her icy hands clamped tightly in both of his. "Will you marry me, Samantha?"

  All her anger fled at his soft words. "Why... why are you doing this?" she asked weakly.

  "Why?" His fingers traced a sensitive pattern on the inside of her wrist, "You just accused me of being

  a Romeo—and it's true. After what Natalie did to me I didn't want any kind of serious relationship with a woman. And then I met you. You were different, right from the start. You're all the things I forgot existed in a woman. You're sweet and innocent and yet you're the sexiest lady I've ever known. But you're also the strongest woman I know."

  Samantha shook her head in protest. "I'm not—"

  His fingers against her mouth stifled the words. "You are." He smiled rather crookedly. "Not many women could watch their marriage end in divorce and survive with all their romantic ideals intact. You're a winner, a survivor."

  Her hps trembled. If she
was so strong, why was she filled with such fear? Such doubt and uncertainty? "Jason..."

  "Remember when we met, and you said you expected fireworks and skyrockets, and maybe even a few shooting stars?" She nodded slowly. "I feel that way every time I look at you," he said quietly. "I light up inside whenever I'm with you." His eyes were very soft as he looked at her. "You're in my every thought, Samantha. The way you look, your eyes, your mouth." His fingers gently caressed her features. "The way you feel, so soft and sweet whenever I hold you." One finger slid down to trace the shape of her breast, circling with exquisite tenderness around the throbbing peak.

  Her body tightened at the caress, and her throat swelled shut. She was too full of emotion to speak.

  "Be the keeper of my heart, Samantha," he urged softly. "Marry me."

  Her eyes clung to his. She saw the world reflected in those clear brown depths—her dreams and her fantasies, her hopes and her prayers. She choked off a half-sob. The words were like a treasure trove of gold and diamonds, but unless they came straight from the heart, they meant nothing. If only that odd half-smile weren't playing about his lips. If only she could believe he meant every word he said.

  But where did the writer end and the man begin?

  She didn't know. Heaven help her, she didn't know.

  "Jason." Her voice shook. This was a dream, an illusion. It couldn't be happening. She pulled gently away from his grasp and rose numbly. Before she knew it she was running blindly to the bedroom and pulling a suitcase from the closet.

  "Samantha."

  "What?" She scarcely heard his voice over the thundering of her heart. She opened a dresser drawer and, pulling out a handful of underwear, threw it into the open case.

  "What are you doing?" His voice, for all its quietness, was utterly demanding. He was no longer smiling.

  "What does it look like? I'm packing."

  "Why?"

  "Does it matter?" She whirled around to face him. "You come and go as you please. Can't I?"

  The merest suggestion of a smile lifted his lips. "This is rather sudden." He picked up a scrap of silk that had fallen to the floor. It made her heart ache when she saw it was the underwear dotted with hearts that had caught his attention the day after they met. It seemed years ago.

  "Rather sudden?" She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. "That's supposed to be my line."

  "Where are you going, Samantha?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know—anywhere. Anywhere away from you." There was a stunned silence, and she looked up at Jason, her eyes a little wild. A flash of hurt crossed his face, and his eyes were dark with bewilderment.

  "Oh, God, I'm sorry," she muttered. She sat down on the bed and lifted shaking hands to her temples. Marriage . . . to Jason! She should have been elated, ecstatic! But all she could think was that he was absolutely crazy! She could only repeat what was racing through her mind. The words tumbled out in a rush. "I didn't expect this from you. The last thing I expected was a marriage proposal!"

  He sat down beside her, but must have sensed her desire not to have him touch her. If he had, she felt as if she'd shatter into a million pieces!

  "Don't you know what you want, Samantha?" He gave her a long searching look.

  "Yes.. .no!" she said shakily. "Oh, damn! Right now I don't feel I even know myself very well, let alone what I want!" She raised pleading eyes to his. "Please, I just need some time to think this through, and I can't do it with you around."

  Jason studied her for a very long time. "All right," he finally said slowly, apparently satisfied with what he saw. "But I want to know where you'll be."

  She took a deep, steadying breath. "I'll be at my mother's." She watched as he started toward the door. " Jason... you'll be here when I get back?" She couldn't stop the quaver in her voice.

  The room grew very still, but the air was suddenly leaping with currents. Samantha didn't realize how tightly she gripped the edge of the mattress until she heard his voice.

  "I'll be here," he promised gravely.

  ***

  Her mother was pleasantly surprised to see her again so soon. "Samantha! My goodness, you just left a week ago!" Lillian Reed laughed. "Aren't you a little old to be homesick so much?"

  Samantha took one look at her warm welcoming smile and burst into tears.

  Five days later there were no more tears left, but she was no nearer a decision about marrying Jason, either. She was afraid to say no, and even more afraid to say yes.

  He'd walked her to her car the day she left, looking strangely somber. She had felt guilty as she noticed the deepening grooves near his mouth, the faint lines above his forehead. She knew her reaction had surprised him as much as his proposal had stunned her.

  She could hear her mother bustling around in the kitchen, finishing the after-dinner dishes, the opening and closing of cupboard doors. Familiar sounds, comforting sounds. She looked around the small living room of the two-bedroom bungalow she and her mother had shared after her father had made his final disappearance—the cushioned chintz-covered chairs, the old rocking chair draped with an afghan near the fireplace, the small oak desk where she'd diligently studied for all her high-school exams. This house had been the first place she had ever really called home, and she'd always felt a special kind of peacefulness and security here in this room.

  Until now. Now there was a strange restlessness inside her that wouldn't be denied.

  She sighed and joined her mother in the kitchen where she was pouring a fresh cup of coffee for both of them.

  Lillian sat down across from her. "You know you're going to have to give Jason an answer sooner or later," she said quietly, then gave her daughter an odd look. "You shouldn't avoid it any longer."

  Samantha smiled half-heartedly. "I never thought I'd see the day when you were trying to get rid of me."

  "Not trying to get rid of you, dear, only trying to make you see the light."

  She sighed and curled her hands around her cup. "You don't understand, mom," she began carefully. The two of them had had a rather long talk the night she'd arrived—or rather she had alternately talked and cried, and her mother had listened and comforted.

  "Oh, I think I do." Her mother regarded her quietly. "You think if you wait long enough to give him an answer, he'll go back to California and then you can blame him for everything that went wrong."

  Samantha started. "That's not true—" she began to protest, then stopped short. Was it? Maybe she didn't want to make a choice, end up regretting it, and then have no one to blame but herself.

  "You don't trust him, do you? You don't trust him enough to believe in him."

  Maybe she was right, Samantha acknowledged wearily. She stared pensively past the crisply starched yellow curtains hanging at the window to the aging Victorian house next door. Two small boys were playing on the front porch, running down the steps and racing their tricycles over the sidewalk and back to the porch again. Their chatter could be heard through the open window.

  "You see that, mom?" She pointed suddenly toward the two youngsters. "That's what I want for me, and for my family—if and when I ever have one. I want to know my kids are happy and secure, and that they won't wake up one morning and find they only have one parent left."

  Her mother looked at her strangely. "And you think that will happen if you marry Jason?"

  A lump formed in her throat. "I don't know," she whispered. "And I'm not sure I want to take the chance. He's . . . a lot like...like dad." She swallowed painfully. "Always on the move." She shook her head. "I don't want to live like that again."

  "And you don't want to be like me, married one day and abandoned the next."

  Samantha nodded miserably. Her mother's hands reached out to cover hers. "I think it's time I shared something with you that I should have told you a long time ago." Her mother's voice was very quiet. "Your father was an adventurer, a dreamer, just like you." She smiled gently. "But he was almost a child at heart, Samantha. He couldn't separate his dreams f
rom reality. He could never be satisfied for long. But that didn't mean he stopped loving you the day he walked out of our lives—"

  "Didn't it?" Her voice was slightly bitter. "He never came back. And that says it all."

  Lillian shook her head. "He would have, if I'd let him."

  Samantha looked at her strangely. "What do you mean?"

  "I still loved your father when he left, only I couldn't live with him any longer." The laugh her mother gave sounded oddly strangled. "Or maybe I should say I couldn't live like that, and neither could you. You worshiped him, and I couldn't let him come back into your life, build your hopes up, and then walk out on you again." She smiled, a rather sad little smile. "He'd have taken us with him that time too, only after all those years I was tired of chasing after the moon. I don't regret the years I spent with your father, they were happy ones, but I've learned we make our own happiness. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is only as far as we make it, Samantha, only as far as we make it."

  Samantha looked at her mother a long time. "I'm not sure I understand," she said slowly. "Are you saying Jason isn't like... my father?"

  Her mother shook her head quickly. "All I'm saying is give it a chance," she said quietly. "The years I spent with your father were among the best, and yes, the worst. But if I had it to do over again I'd probably make the same choice."

  Her mother talked of reality. Of dreams. Of chasing the moon. But wasn't it true that if she thought anything would come of herself and Jason she'd be living in a fool's paradise? She clung stubbornly to the thought. He'd said she was different. How long would it be before the novelty wore off and he grew bored with her? For all his handsomeness, his charm, that delightfully teasing smile she'd come to love so much, Jason had one fatal flaw--his disbelief in love. And hers? Hers was in loving a man like him.