Sam dropped down on the bench beside him with a sigh. “Because eyes don’t lie. If you want to know what a person is thinking, you’ve got to be able to look them square in the eyes.”
“That’s bull.”
“Think so?” Sam challenged. He turned his back to Craig. “I’ve never been in jail in my life,” he said, then faced Craig again, careful to keep his expression blank. “Was I lying or telling the truth?”
Frowning, Craig studied him closely for a moment. “The truth.”
Sam fixed his gaze on Craig’s. “Keep your eyes on mine and let’s try that again. By the time I was eighteen I’d been thrown in jail a minimum of six times.” He sank back and braced his spine on the trunk of the tree. “So? Truth or lie?”
Craig’s eyes rounded. “Holy smoke. You’ve really been in jail that many times?”
“Yeah,” Sam admitted reluctantly, then gave Craig a stern look. “And I didn’t use that example because I’m proud of my past. It was only to make a point.” He jerked up his chin, indicating the cap. “People who keep their eyes hidden are hiding something else, too—usually the truth. If you want a person to believe you, you’ve got to look him straight in the eye.”
Craig tugged the cap off, combed his hair back over his forehead and pulled the cap over his head again. “Even more reason to keep my hair in my eyes. Nobody’ll ever know when I’m lying.”
“Oh, they’ll find out eventually,” Sam informed him. “A man’s lies catch up with him sooner or later. But you’re missing the point. You can’t trust what a man tells you unless you can look him square in the eye.” He waited a beat, then said, “And your aunt does not sleep around.”
Grimacing, Craig dragged off the cap and shoved his hair beneath it again. “I know that.”
“Well, I want to make damn sure you do. Your aunt’s a nice woman. A lady. And I won’t have you thinking or saying bad things about her.”
Craig cast him a sideways look. “You like her?”
Though he wasn’t ready to share his newly discovered feelings for Leah just yet, Sam kept his gaze fixed on Craig’s, knowing—after the lecture he’d just delivered—to look away would be a mistake. “Yeah, I do. You got a problem with that?”
Craig shrugged. “That’s cool with me. Aunt Leah hasn’t had a boyfriend since she divorced Louis the Loser.”
Sam choked a laugh. “Louis the Loser?”
Craig scowled. “That’s her ex. I never liked him. Nobody did.”
“Your Aunt Leah must have. She married him.”
His scowl deepened. “She might’ve married him, but I don’t think she liked him all that much.”
Sam knew it was wrong to press the kid for details, but he wasn’t about to let an opportunity like this pass. “If she didn’t like him, why’d she marry him?”
Craig bent over and picked up a twig from the ground. “I heard my dad tell my mom she married him for his money.”
Sam had a hard time swallowing that line of reasoning. Leah didn’t seem the type who’d trade her freedom and her heart for a bank account, no matter how many zeros followed the dollar sign. “Do you think that’s why she did it?”
His gaze on the twig he spun between his fingers, Craig shook his head. “Nah. Aunt Leah’s no gold digger.”
“Then why do you think she married the guy?”
Craig lifted his head and looked at Sam. “Because she wanted somebody to love and thought he’d love her back.”
There was no questioning the sincerity in the boy’s eyes. “And he didn’t?”
Scowling, Craig reared back and threw the twig as far as he could. “Louis the Loser loves one person. Himself. Aunt Leah was nothing but a game to him. She’s pretty, smart, built her business up all by herself. Every single guy in town was chasing her, so Louis did a snow job on her. Bought her presents all the time, took her nice places, acted like she was the only woman in the whole universe. Made her feel special. Loved.”
“I take it once they were married he quit treating her that way.”
Craig snorted. “He was screwing around on her the day they got back from their honeymoon.”
Sam gave him a doubtful look. “You don’t know that for sure.”
“Yeah, I do.” Craig rose and started for the car. “Aunt Leah knew it, too,” he called over his shoulder. “She caught him coming out of a motel room with some woman. Cried for days.”
Sam couldn’t shake free of the image Craig had planted in his mind of Leah crying for days after catching her husband in a compromising position.
If what Craig had said was true, then Leah must have loved Louis despite her nephew’s insistence that she hadn’t liked the man. Why else would she have cried when she’d caught him cheating on her?
Didn’t matter, Sam told himself as he dragged the skimmer over the pool’s surface. Whether Leah loved Louis or not, that was all in the past. It was the now that concerned him. Specifically Leah’s now.
He’d learned some other things from Craig—turned out the kid was a real Chatty Cathy once a person got him talking. Through carefully phrased probing, Sam had discovered that the boy knew almost nothing about his grandfather. According to Craig, his grandfather’s name was taboo with everyone except his grandmother, and she was so “weirded out,” as Craig had described her, that he’d learned not to mention his grandfather’s name in front of her, either.
Another item of interest he’d gleaned from the kid was the fact that Leah and her brother had grown up in near poverty. Amazing, considering her current digs and her obsession for neatness and order.
Or maybe that explained why she was the way she was, he realized slowly.
Growing thoughtful, he dragged the net across the pool’s surface, scooping up leaves. When he added to the equation the fact that Leah was raised by a present-in-body-only mother, it made sense that she would strive to make up for all that was lacking in her youth.
It also explained how she’d developed her mother-hen tendency toward her family.
As the oldest, she more than likely would have assumed the responsibilities her mother shirked, including watching out for her little brother, a responsibility she’d carried with her into adulthood. And when “little brother” died, leaving a widow and orphaned son behind, she’d spread her mother-hen wings a little wider and drawn his family close, assuming the role of their protector.
Oh, yeah, he thought in satisfaction as he dumped the waterlogged leaves into the trash can. He had figured out the whys and why-fors behind Ms. Leah Kittrell’s personality quirks.
Now he just had to figure out how to put the information to use to free her from her past.
The most likely place to start seemed to be with her father, since her father’s classification as MIA seemed to be the point when the family began to fall apart. If he could somehow manage to dispel the mystery surrounding her father’s death, he could give Leah the closure she needed, which would allow her to begin healing other areas of her life.
And he knew just the man to call to assist him in uncovering the information he’d need to give her that closure.
Pulling out his cell phone, he punched in a number, then waited through two rings.
“Hey, Jack,” he said to the man who answered. “It’s Sam. How’re you doing?”
He laughed at Jack’s sarcastic response, then said, “Listen, buddy. I need a favor. I have a friend whose father was listed as MIA in Vietnam. Jessie Kittrell, from Texas. I need you to find out what you can about him. Where he was last seen, any intelligence that mentions him or other soldiers from his unit, who were listed as MIA at the same time—that kind of thing.”
Scrunching up his nose, he scratched his head as he listened to Jack’s grumbled complaints. “Yeah, I know it’s not much to go on, but that’s all I’ve got.”
He listened again, then grinned. “I knew I could count on you, buddy. I owe you one.”
Pleased to have made a step in the right direction, he slipped his cell phone ba
ck into its holster at his waist and picked up the pool net again.
“You don’t have to do that.”
He jumped at the sound of Leah’s voice, then turned, praying she hadn’t overheard his conversation. “Only fair. I use it as much as you.” Noticing that she was wearing a business suit, he looked at her in puzzlement. “It’s Saturday. Why are you dressed for work?”
“I have a committee meeting.” She stepped out onto the patio. “I wanted to thank you before I left.”
“You don’t owe me any thanks. Like I said, it’s only fair since I use the pool, too.”
She shook her head. “No, I meant for spending the day with Craig. He needed the distraction. When Patrice gets likes this, it upsets him.”
He nodded soberly. “Yeah, I imagine it does.”
She dropped her chin, as if she had something else to say but was having a hard time getting the words out.
“About last night…” she began.
“What about it?” he prodded.
She lifted her head and met his gaze. “I’m sorry for the things I said. I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate your kindness to me. It’s just that…” She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t like people telling me how to handle my family.”
“That wasn’t my intent. I just wanted to help is all. It seems you’re carrying an awful heavy load.”
“They’re my family. All I’ve got. I’d do anything for them.”
“Yeah. I imagine you would.”
She hesitated a moment. “I want to thank you for sleeping with me, too.” She dropped her chin, a blush staining her cheeks. “I know how stupid that sounds. How childish. But it was comforting to know that you were there, that I wasn’t alone.”
“Leah—” he began.
She looked at her watch. “I really need to go. I’m already late.”
“Is it a dinner meeting?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Strictly business.”
“How about I cook tonight? Something on the grill.”
Her eyes brightened. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Well, yeah. That would be great. I should be through by seven-thirty, eight at the latest.”
“Come home hungry.”
Steaks flame-broiled over mesquite wood. A bottle of Chianti wine. A table set for two beneath a moonlit sky. Roses scenting the night air.
Sam had planned the evening down the last detail, wanting to give Leah a relaxing, stress-free evening…or was he trying to prove to her that he could be as charming as her ex?
Grimacing, he lowered the lid over the grill, silently cursing Craig for telling him about Louis the Loser and the damn snow job he’d done on Leah to persuade her to marry him.
This wasn’t a competition, he told himself. He wasn’t trying to outromance Louis the Loser. And he wasn’t interested in marriage. He just wanted to give Leah something she seldom, if ever, enjoyed. A night free from worry, even those associated with preparing a meal.
“Wow.”
He turned, and his heart shifted in his chest when he saw Leah poised on the steps of the house. She still wore her business suit but had removed the jacket. But she could’ve had on worn-out sweats and looked just as beautiful to Sam. A woman couldn’t hide that kind of beauty even if she’d tried.
She started toward him but stopped to examine the table he’d set and lifted a brow. “China?”
“Only the best for the owner of Stylized Events.”
“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” she scolded as she crossed to him. She rose to her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. “But it’s lovely.” She braced a hand against his chest and looked around. “Everything is.”
He lifted the dome on the grill to check the steaks. “Ten minutes,” he reported and closed the lid. “How about a glass of wine?”
“I wouldn’t turn one down.”
He poured two glasses, passed her one. “How was your meeting?”
“Boring.”
He hid a smile behind the rim of his glass as he watched her rearrange the silverware beside the plates. “I guess I must’ve missed the etiquette class on proper table settings.”
She snatched her hand behind her back. “Sorry,” she said, wincing. “Habit.”
He chuckled as he pulled out a chair for her. “Considering your line of business, I’d imagine it’s more than habit.”
She looked up at him over her shoulder as she sat down. “I hate to sound ungrateful, but—” she spread her hands “—what’s all this about?”
He seated himself across the table from her. “No reason. Just thought you could stand some spoiling.”
She picked up the rose he’d placed across her plate and lifted it to her nose. She closed her eyes as she inhaled its fragrance, then smiled and tucked it behind her ear. “I definitely rate this as spoiling. I can’t remember the last time anyone went to this much trouble for me.”
He lifted his glass. “Even more reason for you to enjoy it.”
Bracing her arms against the table, she leaned to study him from across the table. “I can’t figure you out. One minute I want to strangle you and the next I want to bottle you so that every woman can enjoy your sweetness.”
“Sweet? Me?” Laughing, he shook his head. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my lifetime, but ‘sweet’ was never one of them.”
“But you are,” she insisted. “And thoughtful and kind and generous, too.”
His smile soft, he braced his arms on the table, mimicking her posture. “You just described yourself.”
She stared, then pushed out a hand, laughing. “See? I’m trying to pay you a compliment and you won’t accept it.”
“Right back at you.”
Holding up her hands, she sank back in her chair. “Okay, I give up. You’re incorrigible and impossible.”
He smiled proudly. “Now you’re talking.” He glanced at his watch and pushed from his chair. “Steaks should be about ready. Hungry?”
“Starved. What can I do to help?”
“I made salad. It’s in the refrigerator, if you don’t mind getting it.”
She scraped back her chair. “Anything else?”
He shook his head as he lifted the lid. “I’ve got everything else right here on the grill.”
“Sam?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“You really are sweet.”
Sweet.
Sam glanced back at the bed where Leah slept and shook his head. She wouldn’t think he was so sweet if she knew the truth about him.
Heaving a sigh, he turned to stare out the window again. Telling a couple of half-truths shouldn’t bother a man who lived a life of subterfuge and espionage, but the duplicity surrounding his relationship with Leah was beginning to wear on his nerves.
He knew he couldn’t keep up the charade much longer. Not when he’d grown to care for her. He stopped, considering the thought, then slowly relaxed. It was true—he did care for her, was possibly even falling in love with her.
He frowned again. But that in itself made it even more important for him to tell her who he was and what he was doing at her house. He’d planned to come clean earlier, after dinner, but the timing just hadn’t seemed right. She had been so pleased with the dinner he’d cooked for her, so happy and relaxed, he’d hated to ruin it all just to free himself of guilt.
“Sam?”
He whipped his head around to find Leah propped on an elbow, her forehead pleated in concern.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Smiling softly, he returned to the bed. “I’m fine.” He hooked an arm over her waist and settled his head on the pillow opposite hers. “Couldn’t sleep. Probably ate too much.”
Her smile sleepy, she nuzzled her cheek against his chest. “I’d have thought we worked off that meal.”
Chuckling at the reminder of the amount of time they’d spent at sexual ae
robics, he pressed his lips against her hair. “We gave it our best shot, that’s for damn sure.”
She placed a hand over his heart and closed her eyes. “Go to sleep,” she murmured. “Morning will be here soon.”
The tenderness of her touch seemed to burn through his chest and wrap around his heart. Closing his eyes against the ache that swelled there, he buried his nose in her hair and drank in her scent.
And wondered if she’d still be willing to share her bed with him once he told her the truth.
Six
Sam strained to fit the new battery beneath the Mustang’s hood. After only three weeks of mildly intense labor he was close to getting this little baby running.
“Hey, Sam!”
He glanced up and had to do a double take to make sure it was Craig who was jogging up the drive.
He gave the battery a last shove, clicking it into position on its frame, then hitched his hands on his hips. “Well, look at you. What happened? Get your head caught in a fan?”
Breathless from running, Craig dumped his backpack on the drive. “Got a haircut.”
Sam circled him, admiring the shorter style. “Damn if you aren’t pretty. Who’d have guessed there was a face under all that hair?”
Blushing, Craig ducked his head. “Cut it out. It’s just a haircut.”
Chuckling, Sam scrubbed his knuckles over Craig’s head. “This calls for a celebration. Shakes on me.”
Craig’s face lit up. “Cool! Can I drive?”
Sam crossed to his truck and opened the passenger door. “Do you have a license?”
“Come on, Sam. You know I don’t.”
“Guess that means I’ll be doing the driving.”
Grimacing, Craig climbed into the cab.
“How am I ever going to learn to drive,” he complained as Sam slid behind the wheel, “when nobody’ll ever let me?”
“There’s a time and place for everything,” Sam informed him as he started the engine. “And city streets aren’t the place for driving lessons.” He put the truck into gear. “That’s what country roads were made for. Know any?”
Craig’s eyes widened. “Does that mean you’ll teach me?”
A Piece of Texas Trilogy Page 36