Serving Up Trouble

by Jill Shalvis

  No note, but none was needed. Chest tight, she moved closer, touching the beautiful, new colors.

  There was only one person who’d know to buy her such a gift. Only one person who would come to her apartment and make sure everything was cleaned up to spare her feelings, her memories.

  Sam.

  Her eyes welled and she sniffed loudly, deciding she could indulge in one last emotional moment. But suddenly, she felt bone-deep tired. She sank to a chair at the table and stared at the new things. What she’d give for the energy to dig right in and lose herself in her artwork.

  Later.

  Because right now she felt like putting her head on her arms and just…falling asleep.

  Sam found her like that, and at the sight his heart broke a little.

  Her sweater had fallen off one shoulder. Beneath the thin T-shirt she wore were the bandages on her shoulder and torso, and his gut clenched as it had every single time he’d looked at her since she’d been shot. Since she’d nearly died in his arms.

  Why hadn’t she waited for him at the hospital? Why had she come home alone?

  Earlier he’d come with a cleaning crew to her apartment, had helped them put the place back together, so that she wouldn’t have to.

  Then he’d gone to work for a while to face the mountain of paperwork waiting for him, but that hadn’t kept his attention for long. Nothing kept his attention long these days.

  Except Angie.

  Soon as he could, he’d gone to the hospital to bring her home. He’d planned on wooing her senseless with the paints and possibly a few of those mind-blowing kisses they always seemed to share, warming her up so that he could talk her into hearing what he had to say.

  He knew she thought he wasn’t capable of deep emotion. He knew he’d hurt her with his reaction when she’d said she’d loved him.

  He knew she thought they were through.

  And truthfully, he’d considered just that, for all of two seconds.

  Bottom line, he couldn’t live without her. He’d learned the hard way love wasn’t easy. Love could be blind. Love could hurt.

  But without it, life wasn’t quite right. His life wasn’t quite right without her.

  Now all he had to do was tell her. Convince her he meant it.

  But, God, she looked beat with the faint purple smudges beneath her eyes and her entire body relaxed in a way that told him she was out for the count. She probably hadn’t slept decently at the hospital, and needed nothing but rest. Alone.

  He’d gotten that message clear enough when he’d gone to the hospital and found an empty bed. That had nearly given him heart failure, until a nurse had told him she’d taken a cab.

  Yes, she’d gotten his message, the nurse had assured him. And yes, she’d left anyway.

  Leaning down, he softly brushed his lips against her cheek. She didn’t so much as twitch, not even when he ran a hand down her hair, over her slim back. Exhaustion, poor baby. Careful not to touch her bandages, he lifted her up against his chest.

  She let out a little protesting murmur.

  “Shh,” he whispered, his lips just below her ear. She felt so small, so vulnerable, and his gut clenched again, hard. “Just me.”

  “I’m tired,” she said, eyes still closed.

  “You need more sleep.”

  “I’m not really up for company.” But she snaked her arms around his neck and held on tight.

  “I’m not company.”

  “Hmm.” She put her face to his throat. “Then what are you?”

  He’d started walking with her, down the hallway, and stopped in the doorway to her bedroom.

  What was he?

  He knew what he wanted to be. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I wanted to take you home.”

  “I wanted to come home by myself.” She still hadn’t opened her eyes, but her fingers were playing with the sensitive skin at the back of his neck, twining in his hair. “The cleaning up. The paints. It’s all very sweet.” Now she opened those dark, gorgeous eyes and laid them right on him. “Thank you. But I’m not going to forget how to live, if that’s what you were worried about. I’m going to be fine.”

  “Yes.” His voice was hoarse and he cleared it. “I think you are.”

  But would he? Now that was the question.

  She looked at the bed. “And I could have walked here.”

  His hands tightened on her. “I felt like carrying you.”

  “Thank you,” she said politely, clearly expecting him to set her down. Expecting him to walk away.

  With her still in his arms, he sat on the bed and scooted back so he leaned against the head board.

  “You can let me go now. I won’t break.” Her smile was sad. “I’m much stronger than I look.”

  “Yes, but I’m not.”

  “What? You’re the strongest person I know.”

  Leaning down, he put his lips very gently to hers. “I’m stronger when I’m with you.”

  “Sam.” She licked her dry lips and searched his gaze. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Did you know my heart stopped when you got shot?”

  When her eyes filled, with one lone tear escaping, he cupped her face and used his thumb to swipe it away. “I didn’t tell you that to make you cry.”

  “You worried. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you whole and healthy. I want the night mare to never have happened. When I think how close I came to losing you…” Now his own eyes burned and he closed them for a long moment before opening them and touching his forehead to hers. “I was afraid you would die, and I’d been too selfish to share myself with you.”

  “Share what?”

  “Me. My heart. Everything. God, Angie… you’ve brought me so much, everything that was missing in my life.”

  “What was missing in your life?”

  “Love. I love you, Angie.”

  Now she cupped his face, too, and used her fingers to stroke his jaw. “It’s the adrenaline talking,” she whispered. “You’re…” Her voice hitched. “You’re saying this because of what happened to me. That’s all.”

  “I’m saying it because it’s true.”

  At her look of disbelief, he let out a disparaging sound. “Okay, maybe it took watching the blood drain out of you to know exactly how my life would be over if you weren’t in it, but I knew I loved you before. If you want the truth, I knew I was going to love you from that very first day when you sat on that cold bank floor in my arms, blinking and squinting without your glasses, looking at me as if I was the only person in your life that mattered.”

  She wasn’t wearing her glasses now, either, and she blinked and squinted up into his face. “You are the only person that matters.”

  His throat closed, simply closed.

  “I thought you knew that by now.”

  Slowly he nodded. “I think it’s beginning to sink in. When you look at me like that…I feel like a super hero. I can do anything, be anything. Say you still love me, Angie. Say I’m not too late. Say you’ll marry me and give me the rest of your life.”

  Angie looked at him for a long, long moment, with her entire heart in her eyes.

  Hope fed him. But then she slowly, ever so slowly, shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

  Chapter 16

  Sam shook his head. “You’re sorry.”

  “Yes.” Angie was barely able to make her voice come out. “I’m…sorry.”

  “Usually when a man asks a woman to marry him, she says yes or no.” He looked utterly bewildered. “I guess I didn’t expect an ‘I’m sorry.’”

  Talking past the lump in her throat wasn’t easy. Neither was looking into his eyes now filled with wariness and hurt. “Sam.” She took his hands, brought them to her chest, pressing them against the heart that loved him, the heart that would always love him. “I drive you crazy. Why would you want to marry me?”

  “Because…” He seemed shocked she would ask. “You make me smile. You make m
e see things. You make me live.” He lifted his shoulders and looked a little des per ate. “And because I can’t imagine doing any of that without you.”

  “I’m also too cheerful. A little naive. Ditzy sometimes— No, don’t shake your head, I know what I am. All those things are alien to you, and sometimes…some times you look at me like I’m alien, too.”

  Sam closed his eyes and grimaced. “We’ve already established I’m an ass. Look, we’re different, no doubt. But there’s nothing wrong with a little variety in personalities.”

  “No,” she agreed softly, her heart aching. “Variety is fine. But this is more than that. Sam, I love you with all my heart, but I can’t—I won’t—change, not even for you, the most wonderful man I’ve ever—”

  He put his fingers to her lips, halting her words. “I love you, Angie. All of you—your joy, your exuberance, your everything, and I think I have all along. Yeah, you scared the hell out of me, no doubt, but only because I wasn’t ready for you.”

  “And you are now?”

  “I am now,” he said in a voice of steel, the one that told her he meant it and that he would never change his mind. “I trust you with all the things I never wanted to trust anyone with ever again—my emotions, my heart. My soul.” He managed a smile. “Be kind to them,” he whispered, stroking her cheek. “Be kind and say yes.”

  Her eyes filled. “Oh, Sam.” She wrapped her arms around him.

  He buried his face in her hair. “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes.” She laughed and cried at the same time. “Yes, I want it all. To be your wife, your heart. I can’t think of anything I want more.” Pulling back, she kissed him long and deep. “Except maybe your children.”

  “Angie.” He stared at her, his hands on her hips to hold her close. “You’re not…?”

  “No.” She kissed him again and slid her body against his until she felt his body respond. “But I want to be.” She straddled him and let out a hum of pleasure at what she felt nudging between her thighs.

  “Your shoulder. Careful—” He broke off with a low groan when she rocked against him. “Angie.”

  “Not all my parts hurt,” she said a little wickedly, making him laugh now even as he groaned again. “Are you really going to love me, Sam?” She nibbled at his neck, thrilling to his rough groan, loving the power of making this strong man weak. “And give me everything I’ve ever wanted? For the rest of my life?”

  “Yes. Everything. A house. A new car. Your education. Whatever you want.”

  She smiled, feeling her heart lighten for the first time in…well, ever. “Those things are nice. But all I want is you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  He went still as stone, his eyes suspiciously bright. Then he kissed her, and by the wondrous feelings it invoked, she knew he’d put everything he had into that kiss.

  Lifting her head, she sighed, so full of love she could burst. “This is really going to work, isn’t it? The cop and the waitress?”

  “No doubt in my mind.”

  “Well, then.” She hugged him tight. “This is going to be the best happy-ever-after there ever was.”

  “No doubt in my mind,” he repeated softly.

  Then he care fully laid her back on the bed and followed her down.

  Epilogue

  Four years later

  Angie walked down the hallway of the police station, smiling and waving at all the people who’d become her friends over the years.

  An arm snaked around her waist from behind, and she was swung about for a big bear hug.

  “When are you going to leave that no-good husband of yours and marry me?” came a growl in her ear.

  Angie pulled back to kiss Luke on the cheek. “What do you think the single-women population would say to that?”

  “‘Thank you.’”

  Angie laughed. “Are you kidding? They’d mourn for days. Months.”

  “Years?” Luke asked hope fully.

  Angie laughed again and pushed him aside with her free hand. In the other, she held a present. It was a small one, wrapped with a pink ribbon, which, she reflected, might be a dead giveaway, but she hadn’t been able to resist. “Where’s Sam?”

  “Buried under paperwork. I hope you brought some thing to lighten the mood around here.” He hope fully eyed the present. “Is that chocolate?”

  “Sorry.” In front of Sam’s office door, she stopped and put a hand to her racing heart. They’d been waiting for so long, and now, after four years of college and her summer intern ship at a local museum, she was finally set in a job she loved, teaching children about art.

  She was finally ready.

  She hoped he was.

  Slowly she opened the door, her heart leaping anew when Sam looked up. At the sight of her, he brightened.

  “Hey, baby.” Rising, he came around his desk and hauled her close. “What are you doing here so early? I thought you were busy training at the museum.”

  “I was.” Nerves leaping, she thrust out the package.

  Sam smiled and rubbed his flat belly. “Chocolate? Good, I’m starved.”

  “It’s…not food.”

  “Hmm,” he said, perplexed, undoing the ribbon without a care as she knew he would, opening the box and pulling out… “A piece of paper?” His frown turned to a horrified scowl. “From Dr. Kennedy?” His intense gaze met hers. “This is a blood test. Yours.”

  “Yes, I—”

  “Angie?” He gripped her shoulders, backed her to a chair. Pale now, he hunkered at her side and cupped her face. “What’s the matter?”

  “Well…” She set her hands on his wrists and managed a shaky smile. “This is silly, isn’t it? I didn’t think it would be so hard to say out loud. I mean we talked about it, but neither of us had the greatest experience growing up, and—”

  “Angie.” He skimmed the report, swallowed hard and looked back up at her. “You’re…”

  With his hand in hers, she set it low on her stomach. “Yes. I’m…” She grinned. “Do you think either of us will ever be able to say it?”

  He whooped, surged to his feet and twirled her around all in one smooth motion. Then he gently set her on her feet and put his forehead to hers. “We’re going to be good at this.”

  She put her hands on his jaw and smiled. “Yes. I think we are.”

  “You should sit down.”

  Angie laughed. “There will be plenty of time for that in the coming months.”

  “Are you saying our little child is going to be a handful?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  Sam stared at her. “Maybe I should sit down.”

  She laughed. And in the end, they both sat down, Sam first, Angie in his lap, in his arms…right where she wanted to be, forever.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6517-6

  SERVING UP TROUBLE

  Copyright © 2002 by Jill Shalvis

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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