“Congratulations,” Jordan said. Nick was half a dozen years younger and was already a settled family man. Jordan couldn’t imagine himself in that role. “By the way, this is Samantha Peabody. She’s an artist and a terrific dancer.”
“Nice to meet you.” Nick held out his hand.
Sam noted the firm handshake and pleased expression. Had Jordan brought his former girlfriend here? If so, Nick hadn’t inquired about her.
“Tell Jordan to bring you around to the house for brunch one of these upcoming Sundays. I don’t have to be at the restaurant until three, so we’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted. My wife, Adrienne, would love to meet you. She’s always dabbling in some kind of arts and crafts stuff. You’ll have a lot in common.” Nick said a quick goodbye and headed back to the kitchen.
Jordan could tell Nick was taken with Sam. Who wouldn’t be, he thought, appraising her sexy figure, creamy skin, and dark eyes. The simple brown jersey and slim-fitting jeans she wore emphasized her best features, too. “Would you like to visit Nick and Adrienne some Sunday morning—that is, when I actually let you out of bed?”
She giggled at his words. “It all depends,” she murmured, blushing. The image of being held hostage was titillating.
“Then again, maybe it’s not such a good idea. We could plan a daytime visit on a Monday when Nick takes the day off.” He poured a glass of wine for her and one for himself.
“I can indulge since I don’t have to get up early tomorrow.” She sipped her wine. “How about you? Do you have to get up at the crack of dawn?”
He took a taste of his wine. “It all depends.”
“On what?”
“I usually work out at the gym Monday mornings, but I could skip that routine.”
She took in his roguish look and almost knew what he was thinking. Did she want him to stay over? She’d planned a day of painting in her studio, but she could put that off. “Why don’t we see what happens after those sundaes. You might miss your own comfortable bed instead of sharing one with me.”
“Not on your life.”
The waiter came by with a dessert menu. “We have several special desserts for tonight,” he began.
“Not for me,” Sam said firmly.
“I’ll have a cup of black coffee. No dessert. The meal was great. Please give my compliments to Nick.”
Jordan lounged back with a contented sigh. “This has been an exceptional Sunday. Good food, good company, and lots of fresh air.” He could get used to this.
While he was enjoying his coffee, Jordan heard the strains of familiar music coming from the other side of the ivy-covered trellis. “That sounds like the music you did your belly dance routine to.” He rose to investigate and saw three large television screens hung over the bar showing Sam’s performance for the East Village Brewery Company ad. The bartender and several of the customers were ogling the screens. “Sam, you have to see this.”
Curious, she walked over to join him. Omigod. It was a shock to see that belly dance routine in full color on three enormous television screens. Why had she agreed to such a public display? And how many people would realize the identity of the dancer? Before she could answer those inward questions, Jordan put his arm around her.
“That is one sexy dancer up there,” he said in a husky tone. “And I’m the lucky guy going home with her tonight.”
~ ~ ~
“You’re very quiet,” Jordan said to Sam. They were driving back to her home after dinner. “Is anything wrong?”
“It was very strange seeing that ad on those large screens. I couldn’t connect the person dancing with me. I mean, I know I did the belly dancing, and they filmed the video in the gallery the other night. But it seems unreal somehow.”
“I can guarantee it’s you. But I can understand your feelings. If they filmed me during a court appearance I’d probably feel weird seeing it later. Don’t worry, it’ll probably never happen again. In a few weeks you’ll have forgotten the whole thing.” He put his hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze.
Jordan’s words and touch were comforting. She began to relax. “Perhaps you’re right. I hope no one except you and Peter ever knows I’m the one performing in that television ad.”
“Ah, so that’s what’s bothering you, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if people who frequent the Blue Monkey notice the resemblance. After all, you did perform there and look very much like the dancer in that ad. But why should that matter? You’ll have celebrity status for a short time and then your five minutes in the sun will be over. Believe me, those things don’t last.”
“I hope you’re right. I never understood ’til now how difficult it must be for a person to be famous and have everyone recognize you. You lose your privacy and can’t live your life without a camera aimed at your every move.” She shuddered at the thought.
“I wouldn’t give it much concern. You’re hardly in the same league as a movie star. Although, in my book, you look as good as any of those glamorous gals.”
He pulled up to her home and shut the ignition. “Well, are you inviting me in?”
Leaning toward her, his hand gently shifted her head to face him. “I’m in the mood for one of those ice cream dishes, but I won’t impose on your hospitality. It’s up to you.”
How could she refuse? Besides, she didn’t want to be alone tonight with all those disturbing thoughts still whirling about in her head. She placed a kiss on his firm mouth and lifted her hand to touch his cheek. “I wouldn’t mind company tonight.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
He cradled her face between his large hands and gave her the kind of kiss that brushed away all those disagreeable reflections. She was beginning to depend on him in ways that could be dangerous to her independence. But she could call it to a halt whenever she chose. Couldn’t she?
Chapter 15
“Karen, I’ve been trying Samantha’s phone all afternoon and evening. Where is she? If she was too sick to come to Andrea’s shower, she must be home.” Charlotte Milburn paused in her tirade to catch her breath. She sent a pointed stare at her husband, Warren, sitting nearby on the sofa reading the newspaper. Clutching the phone, she began pacing up and down the spacious living room while she continued talking to her middle daughter. “I know how hard you worked to make Andrea’s shower a memorable one. But everyone kept asking where Samantha was, and I had a lot of explaining to do. I’m ready to drive to her house and see what’s really going on, but your father says he isn’t up to it tonight.”
“Mom, she told me she was taking the phone off the hook to catch up on sleep. She did sound like she had the flu or something,” Karen Fielding said in a soothing tone.
“Your sister gets conveniently sick whenever there’s a family event. She’d better be in shape for the wedding after I paid all the expenses for that bridesmaid outfit,” Charlotte muttered.
“She’s mailing her gift to Andrea as soon as she feels better,” Karen continued.
“Humph, I can imagine what that will be. I told her not to get anything from her gallery. Andrea and Ben have much more sophisticated tastes than anything Sam has in that place. If I can’t get her on the phone tomorrow morning, I’m going down there in person. Your father will have recovered his energy by then.” She halted for a brief moment to take another breath and continued. “Between you and me, I’m keeping my fingers crossed everything will work out well with your sister’s wedding. Ben is a wonderful man. He recently moved his architectural firm to Greenwich and he and Andrea are looking for land nearby. Isn’t that exciting? It will only be a short drive to visit them.”
“Yes, Andrea told me about it. I’m sure this time all will be well. Listen, I have to get off the phone. Jack needs me to do something before he heads off on a business trip tomorrow, and the kids are screaming at each other
. Talk to you soon.”
“Give him my best, and kiss my grandsons for me.”
~ ~ ~
When Sam woke on Monday morning after a glorious night of lovemaking, she was in a mellow mood. Jordan slept deeply next to her, his breathing steady, his arm circling her waist. The bedside clock said nine-thirty. Much too early to get up, she decided, snuggling down into the warmth of his embrace. She thought about the camaraderie she enjoyed with him, the easy banter, and the bouts of laughter when something was said that set them off. They’d finally demolished the frozen sundaes after that fabulous Italian meal, and she was looking forward to a leisurely breakfast before he left for work. She was just deciding whether to make blueberry pancakes or a potato and onion frittata when she heard a loud knocking on her door.
Good Lord, who could be coming to visit this early? Or was it a delivery man with a package? Carefully, she wriggled free from Jordan’s arm and slipped on a bathrobe. The knocking noise came again, loud and determined. She hurried to the front of the living room and peered out the window overlooking the street.
A familiar-looking light-blue Cadillac was parked in front of the house. Omigod.
Her stomach clenched into a knot while her throat grew dry. What were her parents doing here at this time of day? Probably checking up on me, she realized grimly. She hadn’t put the phone back on its hook and her cell was off. What to do?
Heart beating fast, she considered her options. She could retreat and pretend she wasn’t home. Though, that course of action didn’t sit well with her. Before she could change her mind, she headed to the front door and opened it.
“Samantha?” Her mom’s voice was uncertain as she stood outside. “Is that you?”
“Yes, mom, who did you think it was? And what are you doing here early in the morning? I was sleeping soundly until that knocking started.” She coughed a few times and then continued. “I must’ve picked up a virus because I’ve been sick for over a day. I’m trying to rest so I can go to work tomorrow, otherwise I’d invite you in.” She looked over her mom’s shoulder to see her dad emerge from the car and stand on the sidewalk next to it. His expression was grumpy as usual.
Her mother stared at her with a bewildered expression. “What did you do to your hair? It looks so different. I’d hardly recognize you if I saw you on the street.”
For once Sam realized she had the upper hand. Her mother was completely flustered by her daughter’s changed appearance. Her mom’s usually composed face, with its porcelain skin and perfectly applied makeup, showed signs of stress, although you’d hardly know that unless you scrutinized her carefully. From the top of her perfectly coifed blonde head to the tips of her pale-blue pumps, there wasn’t a thing out of place. The wool suit matched her shoes, as did the stripes on the cream-colored scarf around her neck. Sam explained, “It’s just a different hair color and style, that’s all. I’ve been meaning to get something done with my hair and finally got around to it. Listen, I don’t want to stand here getting a chill. I’ll be okay if I can just get some sleep today. Sorry I can’t be more hospitable, but I really don’t feel well.”
“Your Aunt Evelyn and Aunt Jean are still in town and want to see you before they leave at the end of the week. I’ve been trying to reach you by phone to arrange something.” Narrowing her gaze, she appraised her youngest daughter. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d suspect you have a man hidden somewhere in your house, which is why you won’t let us in. But I know that couldn’t be true.”
For a moment, Sam was speechless. Wouldn’t it be something if Jordan suddenly woke up and walked out in his briefs to see what was going on? The image of that scene almost made her giggle. Quickly, she recovered her composure and stood up straighter to better emphasize her height, towering over her petite mother. “You do have a vivid imagination. It must be all those wild romance novels I see you reading. Anyway, I’d like to get back to sleep. I’ve had the phone unplugged to get some rest,” Then, thinking quickly, she added, “Why don’t you all visit me at the gallery one day this week, and we can have lunch nearby? You can phone me there and let me know when you’re coming.” She retreated a few steps to bring an end to the conversation.
“Oh, all right. If that’s the only way I can get to see you.” Her mom sounded as grumpy as her Dad looked.
“It’s the best I can do.” With that, she backed away and started closing the door.
“Goodbye then,” her mom said and turned away.
With a sigh of relief, Sam locked the door and peered out the window once again. She watched as her mom walked slowly over to her dad and talked to him for a few moments. Then they both got into the Cadillac and drove away.
Thank God, she thought, as she walked into the kitchen to feed the cats. Standing near the stove and heating up some left-over coffee was Jordan. Sucking in a startled breath, she stared at his bare body, covered only in the briefest black silky boxers. “I thought you were sleeping,” she blurted. How much did he hear of the conversation with her mother?
He turned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Who was doing all that knocking? It woke me up, and I came to investigate.”
Something in his tone made her suspicious. Biding her time, she went to the cabinet and took out a can of cat food and began opening it. Mushi and Pepper started meowing in unison. “Nothing important. My parents decided to pay me an early morning visit. I’d unplugged my phone, and my cell was off, so they couldn’t contact me. I guess they were concerned. I assured them all was well, except that I needed my rest since I was recovering from a virus.”
“A virus? Oh, I get it. You wanted to get rid of them because I was in the house. Is that it?”
“Not exactly. My parents aren’t the easiest people in the world to deal with. I try to limit the time I spend with them.”
He stood for a moment, deep in thought. “So you don’t care if they know I’m staying here on the weekends?”
There was a challenging tone to his words. Sam sucked in a deep breath and tried to decide how to answer that question. “How I spend my time is none of their business. They’re the kind of people who make a fuss about unimportant things and overlook what really matters.” Letting out a frustrated sigh, she opened the refrigerator and took out several oranges. There was no point in trying to explain her parents to him. It would take too much rehashing of old stuff–stuff she was trying her best to put behind her.
Jordan watched while she began cutting the oranges in half before juicing them. Her explanation didn’t sit well with him. It gave no real answers and left more questions. But was this the time to wade into that particular situation? He’d been having a great weekend with her, and he wanted it to continue. Coming to a decision, he moved closer and put his arms around her waist while his lips slowly caressed the side of her neck and ear lobe. “Let’s take the orange juice back to bed. I haven’t finished with you yet.”
Leaning back against his firm chest, Sam smiled with relief. He wasn’t going to probe her psyche, for which she was grateful.
After a leisurely brunch around noon, Jordan left to go to his office, and Sam trudged upstairs to get a few hours of work in on her large painting. She smiled, thinking about their conversation over brunch. He suggested they spend a weekend away from the city. Evidently, he wanted to see her again and would pick her up on Saturday at the gallery. He was interested in finding a weekend retreat near a lake and wanted her input on some property he’d seen only in photos from a real estate agent. She was flattered by the invitation. Still, she didn’t have any illusions about a lasting relationship with him. I’ll have good memories to sift through when it was all over, she reminded herself.
~ ~ ~
“Guess what?” Peter said the minute Sam walked into the gallery on Tuesday morning. Waving an envelope in the air, he walked over to her. “Max mailed me your check for the East Vill
age Brewery ad and the promotion photos at their headquarters. That’s pretty prompt payment, I’d say.” He handed her the large white envelope.
She sat down at her desk while he perched on one corner. Taking out the check, she stared at it for a few moments. “I’ll deposit it during my lunch break and make out a check for Beth and Sean.” But what would she say in her note to them?
As if reading her mind, Peter said, “You’ll have to write a diplomatic note. There’s no point blaming anyone for what happened that night. All you can say is that you want to make amends for the bad publicity the restaurant received in the newspaper or something like that.”
It wouldn’t be easy, she thought, remembering her last conversation with Beth. “Peter, what if they won’t accept the check? That could very well happen.”
He pondered that for a moment. “At least you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that you tried to make amends. That’s the best you can do.” With those words, he retreated to his office.
Peter was right. No point in worrying about the situation. She was doing everything she could to make things right with Beth and Sean. In hindsight, she shouldn’t have dated Brice. If she’d stuck to her initial refusal, none of this would have happened. Then again, she’d never be dating Jordan. Did getting to know him compensate for losing her best friends? She couldn’t answer that difficult question, so she put the whole matter aside. It was time to get some work done.
Later in the day, Sam had a few free minutes to compose a letter to the Fullers. She decided to keep it clear and simple.
Dear Beth & Sean,
I am truly sorry that we are no longer on friendly terms. Knowing both of you has been such a big part of my life. To make amends for any bad publicity the Blue Monkey received as a result of the story in the East Village Gazette, I am enclosing a check as compensation. I was able to earn the money doing a television ad for a brewery company. The owners had seen the story in the newspaper and offered me the job. In addition, I’m also sending you Jordan Hart’s business card. He was the man who came to my assistance that night and drove me home.
A Total Mismatch Page 12