"Okay," she said wearily. "I'll give you the money, Alan. Give me an address and I'll see that you get it in the next few days. But this is the only time," she added, ignoring his whoop of pleasure. "Don't come to me again. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life financing your gambling habit."
He ignored that comment and gave her the address. "I need it right away," he said, and she was almost amused to hear the old arrogance back in his voice. He hung up the phone without saying goodbye.
Nikki set the receiver slowly back in place, wondering if she'd just saved her brother's life or been played for a fool. It was something of a moot point, since she'd agreed to give him the money, but it would be nice to know, one way or another.
She turned away from the phone and found herself looking straight into Sam's eyes.
"Did I just hear what I think I heard? Was that your brother? And you just agreed to give him money?" He sounded both disbeheving and angry.
Nikki immediately felt like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar and was just as immediately furious with herself for feeling that way. She didn't have to ask Sam's permission to give Alan money. She didn't have to ask anyone's permission to do anything. "That's exactly what you heard."
At another time, Sam might have heard the cool tone of her voice and taken heed, recognizing that this was not the time to pursue the subject. But he'd spent the past week feeling as if she were slipping away from him, and his sense of judgment was not what it might have been. "I can't believe you're actually going to give money to that jerk." Sam paced away from Nikki and then spun on his heel to look at her as if not sure who he was talking to.
"He's in trouble." It sounded weak. Worse, it sounded as if she were making an excuse. Nikki felt a quick flare of anger. It was her money and she could do anything she wanted with it.
"Guys like him are always in trouble," Sam snapped impatiently. "It's like pouring water into a bottomless pit. You give him money now and he'll just come back for more. If not next week, then next month or three months from now or six months from now. Are you going to give him more money every time?"
"Maybe." It wasn't the strong, mature response she would have liked. It was more the response of a sullen three-year-old.
He was right, of course. Alan wasn't going to suddenly become a model of fiscal responsibility. He was, always had been and always would be the kind of person who avoided responsibility of any kind as if it might be injurious to his health.
"Maybe?" Sam repeated. "So you're thinking of supporting him for the rest of his life?"
"I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead."
"Well, you should. Because after setting a precedent like this, you're going to have him banging on your door every time he runs out of pocket change."
"I'll deal with that when the time comes."
"Why deal with it at all? Why not just nip it in the bud now?"
"I've already told him I'd give him the money." And even if she regretted it—and she certainly wasn't saying she did—she wasn't going to go back on her word, especially not with Sam insisting that she do just that.
"Call him back and tell him you've changed your mind." He knew immediately that he'd made a mistake. The words had come out like an order, and he saw Nikki's spine stiffen in response.
"I'm not doing anything that you wouldn't do," she said in a painfully controlled tone. "You'd do the same for any one of your brothers."
"None of my brothers would break into my house and try to steal from me," Sam snapped. "He's using you, Nikki. He doesn't give a damn that you're related—all he cares about is that you're loaded."
Though it was nothing that she hadn't thought herself, hearing Sam sum up her relationship with Alan so bluntly stung. She struck back. "I seem to bring out that tendency in people," she said softly. "You can't exactly throw stones at my brother. At least Alan doesn't have to marry me to get money from me. And at least he's not pretending to feel something he doesn't, just to stay close to my checking account."
The minute the words were out, she'd, have given anything to call them back. Sam's face whitened, his eyes a stark blue against the sudden pallor. His jaw tightened until it looked as if it had been carved from solid granite.
"I apologize," he said levelly. "It's none of my business whether or not you give your brother money,"
Nikki stared at him, trying desperately to come up with the words to say she was sorry, that she hadn't meant anything she'd said.
Sam glanced at his watch. "I've got to get going."
"Sam,I-"
He looked at her, looked through her, and Nikki found the words drying up in her throat. He nodded as if she were a casual acquaintance. A moment later, she heard the door close quietly behind him.
What had she done?
Feeling as if she were running in quicksand, Nikki ran to the door, dragging it open just as she heard the truck's engine roar to life.
"Sam. Wait!"
Either he didn't hear her or he chose to ignore her. She didn't know which it was, but the truck pulled away even as she stepped out onto the porch. She stood there, watching it disappear down the driveway and turn out into the street. After a moment, she turned back into the house, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it.
How could she have accused Sam of pretending to care for her just for her money? She'd had her doubts about the speed with which things were moving between them, but she'd never thought he was a fortune hunter—not since she'd found out about Mary's illness, anyway.
How could she have hurt him like that?
❧
Ten hours later, Nikki was still asking herself the same question. She'd finally decided that it had been less Sam's autocratic tone that had triggered her response than all the fears and uncertainties that had been plaguing her recently. She'd resented him telling her what to do, but that had been simply the spark that lit the fuse. She'd lashed out at Sam because she was afraid. She'd felt her life slipping out of her control and she'd responded like a frightened child.
She owed him an apology. She just hoped he'd be willing to listen to it.
Lena was still on vacation, so Nikki spent the afternoon and evening setting the table and cooking a special meal. The way to a man's heart was supposed to be through his stomach. She didn't think it was that simple, but perhaps a little candlelight and wine would help make her apology more vivid.
Once the meal was in progress, she went upstairs and changed into a little black dress—a very little black dress. She wasn't above using a touch of seduction if it would help soften Sam's mood. She didn't know what she'd do if he refused to accept her apology.
Nikki dabbed a touch of perfume behind her ears, carefully avoiding her reflection in the mirror. She was afraid of what she might see in her own eyes, afraid she might see something that would make it impossible to pretend there was any doubt about her feelings for the man she'd married.
She glanced at her watch as she left her room. If Sam had mentioned what time he expected to be home, she didn't remember. Since it was New Year's Eve, she assumed he'd be working late. But she'd wait up. The New Year didn't really start until after bedtime, and she wasn't going to bed until she'd talked to Sam. She didn't want to start the New Year off with those hurtful words between them.
She'd just reached the bottom of the stairs when someone rang the doorbell. Sam. She felt her heart slam against her breastbone as she hurried across the foyer. Maybe he'd forgotten his key. Or maybe, after the fight they'd had, he'd hesitated to use it.
Nikki wrenched open the door, ready to throw herself into his arms, all her plans forgotten for once.
But it wasn't Sam standing on the porch, though it was a police officer. Two of them, in fact. She stared at them blankly for a moment, trying to shift her thinking to encompass the fact that they weren't Sam.
"Mrs. Walker?"
"Yes." Their solemn expressions set off warning bells. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the door, and sh
e had to fight the urge to slam it in their faces. She didn't want to hear what they had to say.
"I'm afraid we have some bad news."
Chapter 16
It was the waiting that was the worst, Nikki thought. It gave her too much time to think, too much time to wonder what was happening. Sam was somewhere beyond one of those doors, and it was all she could do to keep from jumping up and running down the hall, pushing open doors until she found him.
He was in surgery, the nurse had said. No, she didn't know the extent of his injuries. Officer Walker had been shot in the chest, but no one could tell Nikki anything beyond that. She huddled deeper into the plastic chair, only vaguely aware of the two police officers who shared her vigil. They'd introduced themselves, but she couldn't remember their names. Friends of Sam's, fellow officers. They didn't talk much to each other and they didn't seem to expect her to talk, which was just as well. Polite conversation was beyond her right now.
She'd lost track of how many hours she'd been sitting there, waiting, praying, when the door opened. Nikki jerked upright in her chair, hoping desperately to see the doctor and just as desperately frightened of what she might see in his face. But it wasn't the doctor. It was Rachel.
Nikki was out of her chair and in the other woman's arms in a heartbeat. They clung to each other for a long moment, not crying but drawing strength from the contact.
"Keefe and I asked at the desk, and they said he's still in surgery," Rachel said as she drew back.
"Keefe. I didn't see you." Nikki held out her hand but found herself drawn into his arms. He gave her a solid hug before setting her away.
"Sam's going to pull through," he told her firmly.
"Of course he is," Rachel added, her voice sounding a little shaky around the edges.
Nikki nodded, hoping her fear didn't show. "I know."
"Cole is in Oregon and Gage is somewhere in Africa," Rachel said. "I spoke to Cole and he's on his way home, but I didn't want to worry Gage. He's so far away. By the time he got my message, I'm sure Sam will be back on his feet."
When Rachel said it, Nikki could almost believe it. Rachel looked past her and saw the two officers. "You must be friends of Sam's," she said, moving toward them. "I'm Rachel Walker."
Nikki envied her her ability to keep up a facade of normalcy, to hide the fear she must be feeling.
"Don't look so scared," Keefe said quietly. "Sam's too mean to die."
"He's been in surgery for hours," she whispered, hei eyes haunted. "And we quarreled right before he left. I had dinner planned and I was going to apologize."
"Must have been some apology," Keefe said, eyeing her dress. "Sam will definitely appreciate it. I'd try a different pair of shoes, though."
"What?" She looked at him blankly and then followed his glance to her feet. With the skimpy little black dress and cobweb-fine black hose, she wore a pair of battered brown loafers.
"They really spoil the look," Keefe said solemnly.
Despite herself, Nikki gave a snort of laughter. "Maybe I'll start a new fashion trend."
"I wouldn't count on it." He put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her again. "I should warn you that Sam's really obnoxious when it comes to accepting apologies. He can never resist the urge to rub it in that he was right and you were wrong.''
"He can rub it in all he wants, as long as he comes through this." Nikki glanced to where Rachel was talking with the two officers. She looked up at Keefe, her eyes haunted. "I... I accused him of pretending to care about me because of my money."
Keefe winced. "You don't pull any punches, do you?"
"I was upset. Nothing's gone the way I planned it," she wailed in a whisper. "This was supposed to be a business arrangement. I didn't plan on falling in love with him."
Keefe's mouth twisted in a sympathetic smile. He brushed a lock of hair back from her face with gentle fingers. "Sam said just about the same thing to me at Christmas."
"He did?" Nikki's eyes widened with a mixture of fear and hope.
"I'll tell you the same thing I told him, which is that I don't think planning does much good when it comes to loving someone. I don't think you can schedule it."
"I just didn't think it would happen like this. I wasn't ready."
"Who is?"
Before Nikki could respond to that, the door opened again. This time it was the doctor, a tall, thin man, who looked much too young to have Sam's life in his hands. Nikki felt Keefe stiffen and knew that, for all his positive words, he was just as worried as she was.
"Mrs. Walker?"
Nikki took a half step forward, feeling" as if her knees were going to collapse at any moment. "How...how is he?"
"He's going to be fine," he told her immediately. "It took us a while to get the bullet out and repair the damage, but the prognosis is excellent."
"Thank God." Nikki felt light-headed with relief. She barely heard the others' exclamations. All she could think of was that Sam was going to be all right.
"When can I see him?"
"It's going to be a few hours before he regains consciousness," the doctor said. "I'd suggest that you all go home and get some rest.'' He read the immediate refusal in her expression and held up his hand. "I'd suggest it, but I know it wouldn't do any good. You're welcome to wait here. Someone will let you know as soon as you can see him."
❧
It seemed like days, rather than hours, before a nurse finally came to say that Sam could have a visitor. But just one, and only for a short while, she added hastily when Keefe and Rachel and Nikki all stood. After a moment's hesitation, Rachel sat back down.
"Give him our love," she told her daughter-in-law, forcing a smile.
"I will." Nikki gave her and Keefe both a grateful look and followed the nurse from the room.
Maybe she wasn't being fair. Maybe she shouldn't be the one to see Sam. After all, Rachel and Keefe were his family. She was the woman with whom he'd made a marriage of convenience. But it was so much more than that now. She loved him now. And Keefe had said that Sam loved her. She clung to that thought as the nurse pushed open the door to Sam's room and waved her inside.
"You can only stay for a few minutes," she said before she stepped back into the hallway.
Nikki barely heard the warning. All her attention was focused on the man lying in the bed across the room. As she walked toward him, she had to keep reminding herself that the doctor had said he was going to be fine. Connected to an assortment of tubes and equipment, he looked anything but fine.
She stopped next to the bed and looked down at him. His eyes were closed, and for a moment she thought he might be asleep. Needing reassurance, she put her fingertips against his arm, which lay on top of the sheets. Immediately his eyes flicked open.
"Sam? It's me. Nikki."
"Nikki."
She'd spent so many hours thinking she'd never hear him say her name again that she felt tears flood her eyes. She hadn't planned on saying anything; she'd just wanted to reassure herself that he was really all right. They could wait until later to straighten everything out. But the words came tumbling out. "Oh Sam, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I know you wouldn't pretend you cared for me because of the money."
He blinked, trying to clear the lingering drugged haze from his brain. It took him a moment to remember the quarrel they'd had. It seemed a thousand years ago.
"What day is it?"
"What?" Nikki stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"What day is it?" he repeated, more clearly.
"January first. Why?"
"You don't expect me to remember something that happened last year, do you?"
"Last year? But it was just yesterday.''
''Last year," he repeated firmly.
His chest felt as if an elephant were sitting on it and his entire body ached. He knew he'd been shot and he supposed he should be demanding to know what happened. But at the moment, that didn't seem as important as the fact that Nikki was standing next to his beu, lo
oking rumpled and beautiful and—surely it wasn't the drugs that made him see love in her eyes.
"It's a new year. Let's start over again. Hi. My name is Sam Walker."
Nikki stared at him for a long moment. He saw her throat work as she swallowed, saw a flush come up in her pale cheeks and saw uncertainty in her eyes.
"I don't want to start over," she said. "I liked where we were, before we quarreled."
"If s not a bad place to start," Sam agreed. "But it could use some fine-tuning."
He wanted to pull her into his arms, but was limited by the assortment of tubes that tied him to the bed. He turned his hand up and waited until she threaded her fingers through his.
"What kind of fine-tuning?" she asked quietly.
"The kind that starts with me telling you that I love you." Maybe it was the drugs, but it suddenly seemed incredibly easy to say. He decided to say it again. "I love you, Nikki."
She was silent so long that he began to think he'd misread her, that it hadn't been love in her eyes. The sudden pain in his chest had nothing to do with the bullet he'd taken and everything to do with his heart cracking.
"This wasn't the way I had it planned," Nikki said slowly. "But I guess maybe it's time to change my plans a little." She lifted her eyes to his face, and Sam was dazzled by the love he saw there. "I love you, too."
She squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with love.
She'd never dreamed that her marriage of convenience would turn out to be so perfect.
Epilogue
If anyone had told Sam that something good could come out of taking a .38 slug in the chest, he would have thought they were crazy. But if he hadn't been shot, God knew how long it might have taken he and Nikki to admit their feelings for one another. He wasn't exactly glad he'd been shot, he thought a week later, but he couldn't say he was entirely sorry either. Getting shot seemed a relatively small price to pay to find out that Nikki loved him.
As if thinking about her had conjured her up, the door to his hospital room opened and she came in. Looking at her, Sam wondered how it was possible that he'd gotten so lucky. He married for mercenary reasons and ended up with something money could never buy.
A Family Circle 1 - A Very Convenient Marriage Page 20