"You mean, he actually invited you to spend the night?"
"I sort of invited myself," Sami admitted. "But he was a most gracious host."
"I can well imagine," Jerome commented cynically. "He’s had a lot of practice playing host to beautiful women, although they’re always women of experience. I have to give him credit, though. His affairs are most discreet, and as far as anyone knows, he’s never asked anyone to live with him."
"Are you insinuating that something happened between that man and Sami last night?" Morgan lashed out at him.
"Get off your high horse, Morgan. You know me better than that. All I’m saying is that Daniel Parker-St. James is a man to be reckoned with."
Sami jerked to her feet. "Look, let’s just drop the subject. It’s all over with, and I’m home. I’ll have to go to court, but I refuse to worry about that until the time comes. I’ll get in touch with Daniel in a few days and see when my trial is. Until that time, I plan to live my usual, normal life."
Jerome rolled his eyes. "Wonderful. Well, as we seem to be between crises at the moment, I’m going downstairs to try to catch a nap. I’ll see you two later."
After he had gone, Morgan walked over to Sami. "Are you okay, love?"
Sami’s mouth quirked into a sort of lopsided smile. "Sure. I’m just a little tired, that’s all."
"Why don’t you go get into bed and let me bring you a cup of tea?"
"You’ve got yourself a deal." Sami tugged fondly on a strand of Morgan’s ash-blond hair. "As long, that is, as you’ll have a cup with me and talk to me for a little while."
Morgan turned in the direction of the kitchen, which was on a platform and divided from the rest of the loft by a work counter. But she stopped at the sight of a complete four-horse carousel in one corner of the room. "Sami! You’ve got a merry-go-round!"
"Isn’t it great?" Sami asked as she headed for the dressing screen, tugging a long, trailing scarf off one of the tables as she went. "I just love it. It works, and everything. I’m so glad I heard about that small carnival going out of business. No telling what would have happened to it."
"How did you hear about it?"
"From Sam."
"Sam the trashman?"
"Yeah, and then Bill knew someone who helped me get it running better than ever."
"Bill, the man who sells ice cream in the park?"
"Right. You should hear the music it plays."
"It looks fabulous. You’ve got the carousel in the corner where you used to have Jerome’s birds," Morgan called out over the water she was running into the copper tea kettle. "Where did you put them?"
"Over there." Sami pointed to the corner opposite the wooden Indian, where a thirteen-foot-high birdcage stood, filled with birds. She had welded the birdcage herself. "It was time they had a different view."
"They look happy." Morgan laughed.
"There comes a time in everyone’s life when you need a change," Sami said from behind the screen, throwing her skirt over the top, where it joined her camisole.
Morgan raised her head from her task to meet Sami’s suddenly vague gaze, but neither one of them said anything.
Sami wrapped the scarf around her and climbed up on the bed, remembering only after she was on it to pull the covers back. The exertion of doing this caused the scarf to slip away, not that the action bothered her. She slid under the covers, pulling the rose-colored down comforter and matching sheet up under her arms and settling back against the rose-and-amethyst patterned pillows. The pillows, sheet, and gathered bed skirt were all ruffled, and they added to the charming Victorian romanticism of the loft.
"Here we are." Morgan placed the tea tray beside Sami and positioned herself so that her back was resting against the brass foot of the bed. "Okay, now you can tell me everything you didn’t say while Jerome was here."
"I don’t know what you mean," Sami said, taking a sip of her tea.
"Don’t give me that innocent, wide-eyed, golden look, my friend. You forget, you’re talking to someone who knows you almost better than you know yourself."
Sami put her tea on the tray and lay back amid the pillows, looking up through the skylight at the blue sky overhead. "I don’t know, Morgan. I feel confused."
"Sami, you wouldn’t have gone home with that man if there wasn’t something special you were feeling for him."
"I told you, I was scared."
"I’m sure you were, but I also know that sooner or later you would have thought about coming to my place if it hadn’t been for that man."
"Quit calling him that man."
"Ah-ha!"
"There’s no ah-ha about it, Morgan. Daniel is my lawyer, pure and simple. There could never be anything between us. He’s got this hang-up about keeping his clients out of his personal life." Sami hesitated for a moment. "And besides. You wouldn’t believe what a stuffed shirt he is."
Morgan looked thoughtfully at the friend she had loved since they had been frightened children together in boarding school. Sami’s scars went much deeper than Morgan’s, but they both had given each other their unconditional support and love, something they had been able to get nowhere else. It was the only way either of them had survived.
"Do you remember the night I told you that I had found my dream of happiness and that some day you would, too?" Morgan asked. "It was the same night you showed me the book 159 Ways To Seduce A Man. You said you had bought it because you wanted to be ready when the right man came along."
Sami sat up. "If you think the right man is Daniel, you can just forget it! He’s obscenely proper. Not to mention perfect. I can’t be in love with a stuffed shirt— a perfect stuffed shirt. "I refuse!" she cried, trying to erase the memory of his kisses from her mind but not succeeding in any way, shape, or form.
Morgan smiled. "If you’ll remember, that same night you said that there was someone out there just for you and that he would come along one of these days."
"That’s right, and he will, too. But believe me, Morgan, when I say he is not Daniel Parker-St. James!"
Morgan’s aquamarine eyes sparkled. "I think I also said that you probably wouldn’t recognize him when you did see him."
Chapter Four
Morgan’s words rang in Sami’s head all afternoon while she tossed and turned, trying to sleep. At about five o’clock, she gave up and ran a bath.
Soaking in a froth of lavender-scented bubbles, Sami went over the hours since she had met Daniel. Morgan had to be wrong. She simply couldn’t have fallen in love with him. There had to be another explanation. Oh, snerts! Maybe lack of sleep had robbed her of what little common sense she had, Sami reflected sourly, but, for whatever reason, she just couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind.
His kisses had moved her beyond description. And even though she had never experienced anything like it before, she hadn’t been frightened of the feelings that Daniel had so easily aroused within her. Not really. No, it was rather that she had been afraid of what the feelings might mean.
It was absolutely ridiculous, of course, to think that she could fall in love with a man like Daniel Parker-St James. He was everything she wasn’t— successful, assured, in absolute control of everything and everyone around him. Perfect. So then, what was she worried about?
Deciding that she wasn’t going to think about the subject of love and Daniel anymore, she got out of the tub and dressed. The skirt she put on was of a sheer cotton batik that Morgan had bought on her holiday in Martinique. It fell in gathers from the waist, in the soft colors of a Minnesota sunset. For a top, Sami shrugged on a strapless tube made up of tiers of voile ruffles, and then donned sandals that laced up her calves. Securing her hair back on either side of her head with two spangly combs, Sami decided she was ready.
Walking over to the trap door, she stomped, and waited until she heard an answering rap.
"What’s up?" Jerome asked, craning his neck upward.
"I’m going to go pick up my car."
"Do you want m
e to take you? I was just leaving to pick up Michelle."
"My, my, my," Sami teased. "Aren’t we seeing a lot of Michelle these days?"
"That’s none of your business, my love. And don’t change the subject. Do you want me to give you a lift to your car? I could follow you back here, and then you could come to the movies with us."
"Oh, goodness, no. Far be it for me to get in the way of the course of true love."
"Sami!"
"Boy, Jerome. I think I’m going to see if I can’t get you a better sense of humor for Christmas." Her remark was greeted by silence, and Sami sighed. "All right. The answer to your questions are: no, I don’t want you to take me. But would you mind calling me a cab before you leave. And no, I don’t want to go to the movies with you two. At the conservative rate you do things, poor Michelle needs all the breaks she can get."
He wisely ignored the last part of her statement. "You’ll be home tonight, won’t you?"
"In the words of a very good friend of mine, that’s none of your business, my love."
"Sami!"
"I don’t know what I’m going to do, Jerome. I feel sort of restless. I’ll probably take a drive and be home before it gets dark. At any rate, don’t worry. Wherever I am and whatever I decide to do, I’ll be okay."
"Sami!"
"Good-bye Jerome," Sami said sweetly, and slammed the trap door shut. Then she lifted it back up. "Don’t forget to call the cab for me, will you?"
The taxi took Sami to where she had parked her car yesterday, not too far from Strucely Furs. The vintage MG roadster’s top didn’t work, but she loved it anyway, and drove it in all kinds of weather, with the exception of rain. Actually, she would have driven it in rain, but she didn’t want the original upholstery to be damaged any more than it already was.
Sami got in the car and started it up, with no other idea in her mind than to give Strucely Furs a wide berth. It was an hour later before she realized that dusk was setting in. But more than that. Despite the circuitous route she had taken, she was now in front of Daniel’s house. It was nothing she could account for.
Turning into the circular driveway with the thought that he probably wasn’t home, and even if he was, he would most assuredly be busy, she pulled to a halt by the front steps and got out. The summer evening’s breeze wafted around her; it molded her skirt against her bare legs as she walked up the steps and played through her hair as she rang the doorbell. Nervously, she laced her fingers together and waited.
The door opened almost immediately, and a look of profound relief seemed to cross Daniel’s taut face.
"Sami."
Her heart turned over. Behind the glasses he wore, his penetrating glance appeared to take in everything about her, from the uncertainty in her stance, to the slight trembling of her full lower lip, to the way the wind was blowing ripples into the rich fall of her hair. His pale blue shirt had been unbuttoned to the waist, and the sleeves had been rolled hallway up his forearms. Just looking at him, a curiously warm feeling spread into her lower limbs.
"There was nowhere else I could go," she whispered. It was true. This was where her heart had told her to go—to Daniel. She couldn’t have gone anywhere else. It didn’t make any sense, of course, but then, very little about her life ever had.
Reaching for her hands, he pulled her into the house, then pushed the door shut with his foot. Still holding her hands in his, he said simply, "I’m so glad you came back."
"Your hair is messed up," Sami commented in surprise.
He laughed softly. "Is it? If you want to know the truth, I hadn’t noticed. I’ve been half out of my mind wondering where you were. I should never have let you go this morning without finding out where you would be."
"You didn’t have a choice."
Releasing her hands, Daniel removed his glasses, placing them carefully on a side table. Then he gripped the soft flesh of her upper arms, and his eyes seemed to burn through her. "I don’t understand you, Sami," he said very quietly, while at the same time his mouth was slowly lowering to hers, "but I will. I will." His words were a promise, and his kiss was meltingly sweet. Sami couldn’t help but respond, yet he ended the kiss before she was ready. "Are you hungry?" he questioned.
She shook her head.
"No? But I bet you haven’t eaten, have you?"
Again she shook her head, too bemused by the tender expression in his navy-colored eyes to answer.
"Will you eat something for me anyway?" He waited for a response, but when he didn’t get one, he tilted her chin up with his fingers. "Sami?"
"Yes?" Her mouth parted tremulously on the word. His touch was producing a delicious weakness in her.
A fire smoldered in the darkness of his eyes, which lowered to look at her lips. For a split second, Sami thought he was going to kiss her again. His fingers tightened on her skin and his head dipped fractionally, but then he seemed to pull himself back.
"Come on," he directed thickly. "Let’s go in the kitchen, and I’ll make you an omelet. And I’ve got some news for you."
Daniel might have pulled back from the kiss, but he kept his arm around her shoulder, his hand hugging her to his side, as they walked into the kitchen, and he sat her at a table where he could observe her while he gathered the ingredients and mixed them together.
"I never imagined that you might be able to cook," Sami remarked. "But now that I think about it, I’m sure you do it as well as you do everything else."
Daniel gave her a faintly rueful smile. "Not really. I can make a few things, including omelets, but in general I stay out of the kitchen. That’s what I have Mrs. Abbott for." He tilted his head to one side and regarded her with amusement. "What about you? For some reason, I can’t see you as a cook."
"You’re wrong. I’m a very good cook. It’s just that I don’t do it very often."
"Then, you’ll have to cook dinner for me sometime," he said, intent on pouring the egg mixture into a pan. He looked up when she didn’t answer. "Okay?"
"Maybe."
A few minutes later, he was placing a plate containing a light, fluffy omelet in front of her. "I know you don’t want any wine with this. How about coffee?"
"Do you have any milk?"
His face went blank for a second. "I don’t know. Let me check." He was soon back with the requested milk. "Here you are."
Instead of sitting across from her, Daniel chose to sit beside her and at an angle. He couldn’t have gotten any closer, Sami thought dizzily, unless he was actually touching her. She wasn’t at all sure she would be able to eat under his intense regard, but she forced herself to take the first bite, and that seemed to satisfy him.
"I had a little chat with Mr. Strucely’s lawyer today."
"Oh?"
"Yes. His name is Jack Reynolds. It turns out we went to school together."
"Harvard?" Sami guessed.
"Yes, Harvard." Daniel smiled at her and pointed, "You’re not eating."
"Sorry," she murmured, taking another small bite and thinking that it figured that Daniel would go to an Ivy League school like Harvard. There was a building there named after her grandfather.
"Anyway, he’s a good friend, plus an excellent attorney. He had a talk with his client, and guess what? Strucely has decided not to press charges against you."
Sami’s fork clattered to the plate. "Really?"
He brushed the tip of her nose with his finger. "Yes, really."
She eyed him narrowly. "Is that ethical?"
"I assure you, it is. My friend just pointed out to Strucely the time and expense involved in bringing you up on charges, not to mention the publicity. He was made to see the light. And, well, I gather the wound you inflicted on him wasn’t exactly mortal."
Sami closed her eyes in relief. "Thank you."
"You’re welcome."
Her lashes swept up at a new thought. "So you’re no longer my lawyer."
"That’s right." His eyes caressed her, and his slow smile caused strange things t
o happen in her stomach. "Now, finish eating. Please?"
She did, and when she was finished, he cleared the table, stacking the dishes neatly in the sink. "Let’s go into the den." He held out his hand to her and she took it.
The room he led her to was one she hadn’t been in before, but one in which she felt instantly at home. It was so essentially Daniel, and smelled headily of old leather and tangy male cologne. Fine old paintings, plump, comfortable sofas and chairs, and ceiling-high bookcases containing an extensive collection of rare books made for an intimacy that the rest of the house didn’t have.
Drawing a deep breath of the room’s fragrance, Sami whirled around. "Let’s build a fire."
"Now? In the summertime?"
"Why not? You have the air-conditioning on."
Daniel stared at her for a moment with a peculiar light in his eyes. "You’re right. Why not?"
Sami sank onto the thick fur rug in front of the hearth, unlacing her sandals and tossing them over her shoulder. "This isn’t the fur of an endangered animal, is it?"
"Absolutely not," he stated, setting a match to the already laid fire. "Why? Were you thinking of picketing me?"
"No. But I was thinking about getting up and leaving."
She had been teasing him, but he took her seriously. Turning from his squatting position, Daniel came down beside her. "Please don’t."
The soft request nearly stopped her heart. "All—all right."
His hands reached slowly toward the two combs holding back her hair and pulled them out, one at a time. The heavy weight of her hair came cascading down, and he threaded his hands through it, cradling her head between them.
"You are so beautiful . . . by firelight . . . by any kind of light." His eyes devoured her for a long moment, and then he said, "Come here." He pulled her across his lap, resting her against his upraised knee, his back supported by the couch.
Combing her hair with his fingers so that it fell in deep, shimmering waves over his knee, he began talking again, using that compelling tone of his that was so mesmerizing, so spellbinding. And it was working. Sami felt no urge to escape from the lyrical potency of the spell he was weaving around her. His words flowed over her, creating a deep and languorous warmth.
For the Love of Sami Page 5