"That's wonderful, Tommy, except that I don't want an option on anything. I'll make Oklahoma because I don't think we can get out of that contract, but then I'm retiring for a while. A long while."
His face dropped. "But you can't do that!" He leaned forward. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear. Instead of one movie, which may or may not make it, you can get signed for two!" He leaned back and beamed again, certain that she would respond the way he wanted.
Catherine smiled. "I understand. Only, I don't want to do two. I don't even want to do one, but since I've committed myself, I'll do it. Then I'm retiring." Now it was her turn to lean back. She smiled again. She had thought this decision out, considering the pros and cons over and over in her head. Her body had been telling her that she didn't want to continue working, but her mind had been on automatic, ignoring all the signs. Now, after weeks of soul-searching, she had finally made the decision to retire. And in making that decision she felt free, almost weightless with relief. Just saying it aloud was the greatest release of her life. She had been right. She wanted out.
Tommy leaned forward again, a frown making his whole face sag. "Is it because of this guy, Sam Lewis? The one you stayed with when your house was burglarized?"
Her brows shot up. Even his name still made her heartbeat accelerate. "No." Her voice was firm and quick and sure.
"Okay then, stay here," he muttered, stepping from behind his desk and quickly walking toward a side door that Catherine presumed led to another office. "If I can't convince you, maybe he can." He opened it and slipped through, shutting it quickly behind him.
Catherine almost wanted to laugh. Poor Tommy! He had gone to bring out the big guns and ask other agents what to do! It had been such a relief to state her decision out loud that Catherine could laugh at almost anything.
A smile was still tugging at her lips when she heard the door reopen. But the prickles on her neck told her that it wasn't Tommy who had entered.
Sam stood just inside the room, his arms by his sides, his facial expression one of a man in great pain.
Catherine stood and faced him, her hands clenching as she stared back. He was devouring her with his eyes, and her whole body seemed to lean toward him, responding to his look as surely as if he had touched her. She took a step forward and so did he, then they both stopped and stared at each other.
"I told Tommy earlier that you needed me here to guard you against relatives who might try to barge in. He believed me enough to let me wait in the other room." The muscles of his jaw jumped. "If he didn't let me see you I was going to accost you in the elevator on your way out."
Her heart was racing with a giddiness that she couldn't control. She drank in his lean strength, her glance barely settling on his unsmiling face, his dark hair, his broad shoulders, his lean hips, his large but gentle hands that were clenched, like hers.
A watchful expression passed over his face and she realized that he had purposely set this up. "Sam, why?" she whispered through her tightened throat.
Her words released him from his stiff position. He walked toward her, his every step showing his determination. "Because I love you and this time you're going to listen to me." His voice was gruff. "I was too easy with you, faying to bring you gently along to my way of thinking without harming your ego. Well, now lady, I'm gonna hurt your ego until you cry 'uncle' because I'm not letting you go again. Ever."
She shook her head back and forth, denying his words even before he said them. She took a step back. "You don't understand."
"I don't have to. You're the one who has to understand and give me the credit for not being a dumbbell." His voice was almost a growl.
"I never thought you were that." Her voice was low, filled with emotion that she could barely contain.
"Yes, you did," he corrected. "You thought I wasn't smart enough to know the lady I loved. You thought I was some damn fool in love with a ghost of a woman, someone I only knew through the media and records. You didn't give me credit for knowing the real woman. The woman who is a beautiful, crazy, wild and very sad blend of Catherine Sinclair and Kitty Slovak."
"You don't know…" Her voice drifted off as she slowly absorbed the truth of his words. He had said he loved her…
"Yes, I do, so there's no more running for you to do." His voice was strong, his eyes caring, caressing her. "I know about you, about your past and your present, and God help me, your future."
He wasn't lying. She could see it in his eyes. He knew everything about her—everything except the baby— and he still wanted her! She searched for pity but she couldn't find any. A sorrow seemed to etch his eyes but there was also an almost overwhelming abundance of love. Love for her.
"My…" She couldn't continue. The words would make him hate her forever and she just couldn't do that. She needed to keep something of him.
"Your weak, pitiful stepfather blamed you for constantly 'tempting' him," he stated calmly. "And you finally ran away from home, only to find out that most of the men you met did the very same thing. From the time you were fifteen, men were blaming you for what they felt and you childishly accepted their blame." His brows rose. "Right?"
Catherine couldn't answer him, she could only stare.
Sam continued. "Only now you're years older and you still believe the same thing. I should have taken you over my knee and spanked you like I promised. That's what a young girl might believe, but that's not the way it was, and you should know better now. Had you had any kind of a solid upbringing, you would have realized it, too." He took another step toward her, only this time she didn't back away.
"Well, I'm here to teach you differently, lady. I'm here to tell you that I want you so badly I ache, but it's my wants that make me ache, not yours. It's my needs that keep me awake at night, not yours." He took another step until he was just inches away from her. His eyes burned holes in hers as his words branded her soul and made her believe. "But it's going to be my love that you share. I'll just have to teach you, that's all."
She didn't know how she took that small step into his arms, but then she didn't care. He held her so tightly that his arms became bands of steel around her shoulders, but she didn't care. He was here. He loved her, he wanted her, and he was here.
"Oh, Sam." She breathed his name with a catch in her throat. "I love you so much."
They kissed as if each were succor for the other, their hands pressing, touching, holding to ensure that they were where they should be, where they wanted to be, in each other's arms.
His breath was ragged, his heart pumping as if he were ten men. "Catherine Sinclair or Kitty Slovak, I don't care which, but you're marrying me as soon as it can be arranged. I'm not letting you out of my sight again until I know I can trust you to come home to me without my coercing you into it."
"I will. I promise, teacher." She smiled up at him then and the smile wrapped around his heart and gave a tug so hard that it brought tears to his eyes.
"No more arguments? No fights?" he asked huskily.
"No arguments. No fights," she promised.
"Why the change, Catherine?" His frown showed his worry. He had not been expecting immediate capitulation. She chuckled, then kissed the tip of his very stubborn chin. Sam continued unperturbed, "When Jace came back from wherever you were, he said that there was no way he could convince you to contact me. What happened between then and now that could change your mind?"
"Because you're right. I was running. I thought your love was frightening to me. I had never experienced anything like it before and I didn't know what else to do. Then I found out that I was in love with you, and that scared me even more. And I was afraid of what you would think of me when you found out about my stepfather badgering me until I had to run away from home." She sighed, resting her head against the firmness of his chest. "But it was nothing compared to the way I felt without you," she admitted.
"Then why didn't you come back to me?" His arms encircled her waist, his grip still punishing. He knew all about her and he
didn't care. She could speak the truth now.
"Because I've carried around this load of guilt for so long that I had allowed it to grow out of proportion." She looked up at him, a small frown between her brows. His smile of love wiped it away. "I should have done as you suggested and talked it out, but I couldn't seem to do it. I thought I needed time to sort things out. Then, weeks passed and it was harder…"
His arms tightened once more. "Didn't you realize I wouldn't have cared? I don't give a damn what our pasts are; they're behind us now and we can start fresh together."
For the first time, her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Right, teach," she murmured huskily, loving the feel of his hands on her back, his thighs against hers.
"And stop calling me teacher," he ordered.
"Why?" Her gaze grew wide. "It fits so well."
"Because I didn't really teach you anything. You taught me."
"Oh, no, Sam." She chuckled at his frown. "You taught me: one, how to be a friend; two, what it was like to be loved, really loved; three…" Her voice drifted off as he gave her parted lips a kiss.
"And you taught me," he said roughly. "You taught me just how boring the life of a swinging single could be."
Her hands played in his hair. "Does that mean you don't mind about those toothbrushes?"
He chuckled. "Those toothbrushes in the trash were the only things that gave me hope in my bleakest moments. If you hadn't done that, I might not have stayed sane enough to stand here with you now. I kept thinking that you had to love me or you wouldn't have bothered throwing them out."
Her shining blue eyes twinkled through the tears that refused to go away. "I gave myself away?"
"Thank you for that," he said, his voice a low growl.
She hesitated.
"What's on your mind, Catherine. Out with it."
"Will I have to work for a while to support us?"
"Never," he said quickly. "But you'll have to cut out buying those commercial paintings every time you turn around."
"It was just one and it was a memento, to remind me of our day at the beach," she protested.
"Now you won't need any more mementos. I'll take you every week. Better still, we'll buy a house on the beach. I may not be as wealthy as you are, but I'm certainly no pauper." He leaned back to look down at her, his brown eyes crinkling. "What do you think?"
She grinned. "Great, as long as it has plenty of bedrooms and a large patio."
"Your wish…" He hesitated. "It might mean you'll have to drive a long way to work."
"Would you mind my not working? Ever? After this picture, I mean."
His grin lit up his face and her insides. "Not at all, lady. Not at all."
"Good," she finally confessed. "Lately, every time I think of singing to a large crowd, my voice tightens up and I become frightened again."
"You don't have to worry about that. I'd rather have you home and in my arms all the time. But, if and when you're ready to hit the road again, I'll be waiting."
That was when she really realized he did love her. He loved her. For the first time in years she felt cleansed, and it was all because of Sam. Wonderful, sweet, bull-headed Sam.
They kissed again, only this time the urgency wasn't there. It was a pledge. One for a long life of happiness.
"Bingo," he whispered when they parted. "I got the brass ring."
Catherine chuckled throatily. "And you've also got a hot-tub."
Sam's brows rose. "I do? Where?"
"I ordered it to be delivered tomorrow. That's so you won't have to go to a 'friend's' house to enjoy it."
"Remind me to explain the word 'budget' to you as soon as we get home," he said with a grin.
"That was going to be my parting gift to you," she explained, her blue eyes filled with mirth. "But since you're so insistent on our staying together—"
"Getting married," he inserted roughly.
"Getting married," she finished. "It's just as well. That way I'll know where you are at night."
His grin widened. "Oh, darling, are you ever full of surprises," he murmured.
Her blue eyes lit with mischievous lights. "Sam, my love, do I have some surprises for you," she crooned, tilting her neck so he could nibble better. "You ain't heard nothin' yet."
A Woman's Choice Page 18