“That must make it difficult to get around,” he concluded.
She shrugged, pretending a nonchalance she didn’t feel as she tried to focus on small talk and keep her suddenly riotous hormones in check. “I’m getting familiar with the bus and train routes.”
“Is that how you go back and forth to work every day?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
He frowned. “I know it’s expensive to own a car, but there are other options. You could rent or lease.”
“Both of which require a driver’s license,” she pointed out.
He turned his head and stared at her. And the look in his eyes gradually changed from incredulity to something else, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to define but that made the nerves in her belly start to quiver all over again.
He tore his gaze away, tightened his fingers around the steering wheel. “You don’t, uh, have a driver’s license?”
“It’s not a crime—at least not in Japan.” She hoped he wouldn’t notice the suddenly husky tone of her voice. But when he looked at her like that, with so much heat in his eyes, it was all she could do not to melt.
“It’s not a crime here, either,” he admitted after another moment. “But I can’t honestly say I’ve ever met anyone between the ages of eighteen and eighty who didn’t have one. Though some of them probably shouldn’t.”
“Public transportation is better for the environment,” she said defensively.
“Funny that you didn’t mention your thoughts on this during your job interview.”
“You hired me to take pictures, not be a spokesperson.”
He looked at her again, and his lips curved, just a little. “You are an intriguing woman, Samara Kenzo.”
And he was a fascinating man—and a man she knew she would enjoy getting to know a lot better.
Jenny’s “little dinner party” turned out to be a five-course meal served to two dozen people, throughout which Steven was seated between Samara and another woman whose name he didn’t even remember. There were friends and neighbors, family members and business associates, and it seemed to Steven that, aside from he and Samara, everyone else was part of a couple.
He felt an unexpected pang of longing as he glanced around the table, noting the affectionate looks and silent communications of partners who knew one another well. As he and Liz had known one another.
Then he glanced at Samara and wondered if she was feeling as out of place as he was. But she turned to the man seated on her other side, laughing at something he said, and he figured he’d probably imagined the sadness he’d glimpsed in her eyes.
He was glad when dessert was finally cleared away and the guests began to wander away from the table. Some moved into the library for after-dinner drinks, others made their way downstairs to play billiards, but Steven was in the mood for neither.
He hovered on the periphery, watching the others mingle, noting the ease with which his brother worked his way through the crowd.
He and Liz had never done much entertaining, and nothing more elaborate than having friends over for a meal or a game of cards. Usually those friends lived in the neighborhood and had children of similar ages to Caitlin and Tyler and who went to school with them. But most of their weekends had been spent quietly, and he’d preferred it that way.
Richard, on the other hand, seemed very much in his element surrounded by people. Of course, Richard had always been the one with the big plans and ambitions, who had achieved everything he’d ever dreamed of. Steven used to envy his older brother his status and success, until he’d finally realized there was no reason to. Because Steven had achieved everything he’d wanted, too, he’d just wanted different things.
He saw Jenny pass her husband, noted the momentary link of their fingers, a quick and silent communication. He saw Richard’s eyes follow his wife’s progress across the room, though his conversation with Jenny’s stepbrother never lagged, and Steven felt the old familiar tug in his heart again. Not a day had gone by in the years since Liz died that he didn’t think about his wife and how much he missed her. But being surrounded by so many happy couples made the empty space by his side loom so much larger.
He hadn’t noticed that his sister-in-law had made her way all around the room again until she was by his side.
“I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you tonight,” Jenny noted.
“You’ve been busy.”
“That’s no excuse for neglecting my favorite brother-in-law.”
“I’m your only brother-in-law.”
She waved a hand. “Technicalities.”
He smiled. “Then I should tell you that you’re my favorite sister-in-law, too,” he said. “And that dinner was spectacular.”
“Thanks. Though the only part of the meal I can take credit for is the planning. Preparing anything on that scale is way beyond my domestic capabilities.” Then her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath.
Steven instinctively reached for her arm. “Are you all right?”
She exhaled slowly, nodded. “Junior just caught me off guard with that one.”
Before he could drop his hand, she took it and laid it on the side of her tummy. He glanced around, inwardly questioning the propriety of having his hand on his brother’s wife’s body. Then the baby kicked again and he forgot everything else.
“That’s your nephew,” Jenny said. “Who seems increasingly unhappy with the limited size of his living space these days.”
Steven looked pointedly at her round belly. “Doesn’t look so small to me.”
She swatted him playfully. “Thanks for that ego boost.”
He grinned. “Isn’t that what brothers are for?”
“Brothers are also for helping their sisters—and their sister’s friends.”
“Haven’t I already done that?” he asked.
“Yes, and I wanted to thank you for giving Samara a chance to work at the magazine.”
“She was the best candidate for the job.”
“As I knew she would be.” Jenny’s smile was just a little smug. “But I need to ask another favor.”
“Anything,” he said automatically.
“I don’t see Samara anywhere,” she said. “Would you mind taking a look around for her and make sure she’s having a good time?”
Steven didn’t need to look far. He’d been conscious of Samara’s presence all night, somehow aware of every step she took, every man she talked to.
Every one except him—or so it seemed. Not that he could blame her after the stilted conversation they’d shared in the car. He felt so unaccustomedly awkward and tongue-tied around her, unable to think about anything but how beautiful she was, and how much he wanted to take her in his arms.
And while his sister-in-law had just given him the perfect excuse to go after Samara, he wasn’t sure he wanted one. He wasn’t sure he was ready to acknowledge the feelings she stirred inside him, never mind to act upon them.
“I don’t know your friend very well,” he said, “but I get the impression she can take care of herself.”
“Of course she can,” Jenny agreed. “But I’d feel better if I knew she wasn’t alone.”
And Steven would feel better if he wasn’t alone with her, but he nodded to his sister-in-law and went after Samara anyway.
Samara had been talking to Jenny’s husband when Richard excused himself to take a phone call. She took advantage of the opportunity to slip into the hall and out the back door. She just wanted ten minutes of quiet and solitude before she put the smile back on her face and returned to the party.
Muted light spilled out of the windows to illuminate the patio, so she moved farther away from the house to one of the lounge chairs deeper in the shadows.
She appreciated Jenny’s efforts to introduce her to new people, but she was feeling a little overwhelmed trying to remember all of the names and faces. And though she was sure it hadn’t been intentional, every one of the twenty-four people seated around the tabl
e were part of a couple. Every one except Samara and Steven.
She wondered if he’d noticed that, too, and if he felt as awkward about it as she did. She certainly wouldn’t guess that he did. Of course, she wouldn’t try to guess anything about what Steven Warren was thinking or feeling. In the nearly two weeks that had passed since their first meeting, she really didn’t know any more about him than she’d known when she’d walked into his office for that initial interview. Their paths rarely crossed at work, and when they did, it was only long enough to exchange a brief greeting.
“Did you really want to be alone or did you just need a break from the crowd?” Steven asked, stepping out of the shadows.
“I wanted some fresh air,” she said, ashamed to have been caught hiding out.
Steven handed her a glass of red wine. “I noticed this was what you were drinking at dinner, and since I know you’re not driving home, I thought I’d bring you another. A peace offering.”
She accepted the glass. “Thank you.”
He lowered himself into the chair beside hers. “I didn’t just come out here to deliver the wine.”
“You wanted a break from the crowd, too,” she guessed.
“I’m a little out of my element in these kinds of social settings. For the past couple of years, a night out for me has meant a G-rated movie and a tub of popcorn with my kids.”
She smiled, pleased with both the image and his admission. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No, I guess not,” he agreed.
“I like to think I’m sociable,” she said. “But I felt like a third wheel in there.”
“Fifth wheel,” he told her.
She frowned. “Jenny and Richard and me—that would make three.”
“The expression is fifth wheel,” he explained. “Generally a vehicle has four wheels, making the fifth the unnecessary one.”
“Oh.” She stared at the wine in her glass. “Is that something I would know if I had a driver’s license?”
“Undoubtedly,” he said, but softened the response with a smile that told her he was only teasing.
She leaned back in her chair, noting that he was even more attractive when he smiled. Much more attractive. She tore her gaze away, reminding herself that he wasn’t just her boss, he was her best friend’s brother-in-law and the widowed father of two children. Which meant that he was someone she had absolutely no business thinking about in the way she’d suddenly started thinking about him—as someone she wouldn’t mind getting naked with.
Steven’s thoughts were on a similar path as he reached for his glass and tried not to let his eyes linger on Samara’s legs. They seemed to stretch all the way to her neck—long, slender, shapely—an impression that was emphasized by the short skirt and high heels she wore.
He took a long swallow of his drink and reminded himself that they were coworkers with a family connection, which should have automatically precluded consideration of any other kind of relationship between them. But couldn’t stop his imagination.
“There was a question I forgot to ask during your interview,” he said.
“Too late,” she told him. “You already hired me.”
“And I wouldn’t unhire you now,” he assured her. “I was just curious about something.”
“What?”
“Why you chose to settle in Chicago.”
“Because twenty-two months of living out of a suitcase was long enough.”
“Why did you leave Tokyo?”
She dropped her gaze. “There were a lot of reasons.”
“Personal or professional?”
“Both.” She took a sip of her wine, shrugged. “Mostly personal, I guess.”
And that was all she said. He wanted to question her further, to know what it was that had suddenly put the shadows in her usually sparkling eyes, but he didn’t know her well enough to press for details. Yet.
“What about you?” she asked, turning the tables. “Why did you come to Chicago?”
He decided that if he wanted her to share her secrets—and though he wasn’t sure why, he knew that he did want her to open up to him—he needed to start. “The obvious answer is for my job. But I don’t think I would have even considered the offer at Classic if I wasn’t already thinking that I needed to move my family out of Crooked Oak.”
“Because the memories were too painful?” she asked gently.
He shook his head. “The memories were one of the things that made it so hard to leave. But as hard as it was to lose my wife, I was afraid that if we didn’t make a new start somewhere else, I would lose my daughter, too.”
He took another sip of his soda and wished for a moment that it was something stronger. But he was driving, and he never fooled around with alcohol when he was going to get behind the wheel of a car. “After her mom died, Caitlin’s grades dropped dramatically. She started skipping classes and hanging with a questionable crowd at school.”
His knuckles tightened around his glass as he thought about what they’d been through. The meetings with her teachers and guidance counselors and principal. The phone calls from the manager at the movie theater from which Caitlin and her friends were banned for causing a ruckus, from a friend who’d found Caitlin puking up the alcohol she’d drunk, from the police who’d been called in when she’d tried to swipe a tube of lip gloss from the neighborhood pharmacy.
He’d been at his wit’s end, desperate to stop his daughter’s downward spiral without the slightest clue as to how to do it.
The darkness of the memories had become so all-encompassing he almost forgot Samara was there until she reached over and touched her hand to his arm. It was a casual touch, an offer of support, and somehow more.
Her gaze lifted to his, and he saw both surprise and awareness in the ebony depths of her eyes, as the air around them fairly crackled with the sudden tension between them.
Then she dropped her hand and leaned back in her chair. When she spoke, her voice was soft, her tone even, and he wondered if he’d imagined the sizzle in the air.
“The loss of a parent is a big deal at any age, but the loss of a mother would be even more devastating to a girl making that transition from child to woman.”
Steven winced. “Please don’t talk about transitions and womanhood—she’s only twelve.”
Samara laughed. “Twelve going on twenty, I imagine.”
“You’d be right,” he admitted reluctantly. “I miss the days when I used to complain about tripping over Barbies every time I turned around.”
“Does she like Chicago?”
“I have no idea.”
Samara’s brows rose.
“I have no idea about anything that goes through her mind,” he expanded. “She doesn’t talk about school and she has no interest in extracurricular activities. Though it’s early in the year, I’ve met with all of her teachers, and they’ve assured me she isn’t having any trouble in any of her classes, but I don’t see any excitement in her, either.”
“She’s twelve,” Samara echoed what he’d told her. “And as I recollect, the preteen years are filled with anxiety and intensity and definitely lacking in excitement.”
“Maybe,” he allowed.
“How is your son doing?”
“Tyler loves it here,” he said. “He’s made new friends, joined the science club at school, and has started playing hockey this year.”
“And what about you?” she asked.
“Me?”
She smiled at his obvious surprise. “Are you glad you moved?”
He caught her gaze again, held it as the tension flared once again. “I think I’m going to be.”
Chapter Four
Steven didn’t know a lot about photography, but he could tell that Samara was in her element behind the camera. Just as he could tell that she was completely out of her element when it came to anything to do with cars.
Of course, all of the guys on his project team were more than happy to explain what needed to be expla
ined as they moved along. A couple had even offered to continue their discussion of pistons and plugs or whatever topic over drinks after work. Samara was always politely firm in her refusal.
He told himself the relief he felt upon hearing her response was only because workplace romances were never a good idea. It certainly wasn’t because he was interested in her.
Okay, maybe he was interested, but he had no intention of letting her know it when he knew nothing could ever come of the attraction he felt.
But he still found himself looking for her Friday afternoon. Most everyone else had gone for the day, leaving only Samara and Joe, her lighting tech, in the studio.
Because of the heat given off by the lights, it was always warm in the studio, and he’d noticed that Samara had a tendency to shed layers of clothing as her work progressed. Today she had stripped down to a sleeveless top worn over a pair of khaki-colored pants that were cropped below the knee. Her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and her skin glowed with a light sheen of moisture from working beneath those lights.
She looked…even more spectacular than a centerfold—specifically, the rally-red ’67 ’Vette convertible they’d just finished restoring.
Joe grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the mini fridge in the corner and tossed one to Samara.
She caught it and twisted the cap off. “Thanks,” she said, before tipping the bottle to her lips and drinking thirstily.
The lighting tech caught sight of Steven in the doorway and held up the other bottle.
He shook his head. “Everything wrapped up already?”
Samara wiped her forearm across her brow as she turned to face him. “Just.”
“This woman is a gem to work with,” Joe told him. “She knows what she wants and how to get it.”
“That’s why she’s here,” he said, remembering that Samara had spoken similar words during her initial interview.
“Why are you here?” Samara asked him.
He felt his lips curve. “I’m the project manager. I just wanted to make sure everything was locked up before I headed out.”
Family in Progress Page 4