“Fine. I’ll drive back, but if anything bad happens, you have to take over. And I’m seriously reconsidering the dinner I promised as a thank you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I was happy to help.”
She looked at him. His eyes were dark and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Maybe he didn’t want to have dinner with her. After the way she’d overreacted to his kiss, who could blame him.
“I’d like to cook you dinner,” she said. “But I’ll understand if you don’t want to come over.”
“We’re friends, right?”
She nodded.
“Then sure. I’ll be there.”
Friends. The way he said the word made her wonder if the statement had been to help him remember their relationship, or if it had been about telling her. Maybe he was making it clear that where she was concerned, he’d made his last move.
Jack arrived at Samantha’s apartment exactly at seven. He’d brought Charlie, even though the dog was tired from his day and would only sleep. Still, if conversation got slow, they could always talk about the dog.
Pathetic, he told himself. He was completely pathetic. Yeah, he wanted to do the right thing where Samantha was concerned. Be a friend, a boss and let the rest of it go. But no matter what he told himself or how many times she rejected him, he couldn’t seem to stop wanting her. Even now, standing outside of her door, he felt his body tighten in anticipation.
He knocked and promised himself that when he got home, he was going to figure out a way to get over her for good. But until then, a man could dream.
“You’re here,” she said as she opened the door and smiled at him.
“Was there any doubt?” he asked.
“I hoped there wasn’t. Come on in.”
He let Charlie lead the way, using the microsecond before he entered to brace himself to withstand the assault of color, gauzy fabric and perfume.
She’d changed out of her jeans and sweatshirt—both covered in sewn-on flowers—and into a loose top and flowing skirt that nearly touched the top of her bare feet. She was a kaleidoscope of color, causing him not to know where to look first.
There was her hair, long and flowing and curly, but pinned up on one side. Her blouse that fell off one shoulder, exposing pale, creamy skin. Her feet with painted toes and at least two toe rings. Her arms, bare except for jingling bracelets.
“So you’re back,” he said.
She closed the door behind him. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been a little conservative since you moved here. Oh sure, you’ve been playing basketball in the halls and wearing bright colors, but not in the way I remember. This is the first time you’re exactly like you were.”
She smiled. “That’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Come on,” she said, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him toward the kitchen. “I have wine and I’m going to let you be all macho and open it.”
“It’s what I live for.”
They settled in the dining room with a bottle of wine and some appetizers. Charlie retreated to an ottoman where he curled up on the cushy surface and quickly went to sleep.
“I can get him down if you want,” Jack said, jerking his head toward the dog. “He’s great, but he sheds.”
“No problem. A few dog hairs will make the condo seem more lived in. Right now it’s still too perfect.”
“And we wouldn’t want that.”
She dipped a chicken wing into spicy sauce. “Life’s beauty is found in the irregular and unexpected. Ever see a perfect waterfall? A symmetrical sunset?”
“Technically the sun goes down in the same way every—” He broke off and grinned when she swatted him with the back of her hand.
“You know what I mean,” she said. “I’m talking about the clouds, the colors and you know it.”
“Maybe.”
“My point is, dog hair is fine.”
“Great. Maybe you’d like to take over grooming him, too.”
“I wouldn’t mind it. He’s a great dog.”
“I agree.”
She sipped her wine. “I’ve noticed a bit more positive press in the past couple of days,” she said. “There were at least two mentions of the upcoming advertisers’ party. How Hanson Media Group is getting some things right.”
“I saw them, too. David is doing a hell of a job trying to counteract the negative stories.”
“You really like him.”
“In some ways he’s more like my father than George ever was. Or maybe a big brother. He’s not that much older than me. He was always there, making time in ways my father wouldn’t. Even though he traveled a lot, he kept in touch. He took the time. Sometimes that’s all that’s required.”
“I know.” She grabbed for a piece of celery. “After my father walked out, I missed him terribly. Sure there was the whole trauma of going from the rich princess to the kid in castoffs, but it was more than that. Given the choice between getting the money back and getting my father back, I would have gladly picked him. But either he didn’t get that or he didn’t care.”
“I know he walked out on your mom, but didn’t he see you at all?”
She shook her head. “One day he was just gone. That played with my head. How was I supposed to believe my father had ever loved me when he walked away and never looked back?”
She sipped her wine. “Mom was great. She really fought him. Some of it was about the child support. It’s crazy that a guy that wealthy paid almost nothing. But he could afford excellent lawyers and they knew all the tricks. As for seeing me, he would make promises and then not show up. There was always a good reason. Eventually my mom stopped pushing. She saw that it was hurting me more to hope.”
Jack couldn’t imagine what kind of man simply walked away from a child. His own father—no poster child for perfect parenting—had at least gone through the motions. He’d shown up to graduations and big events.
“It was his loss,” he said.
“Thanks. I used to tell myself that, too. Most of the time I even believed it. I grew up determined not to repeat my mother’s mistakes. I didn’t care if the guy had money, as long as I was important to him and we wanted the same things.”
Her words hit him hard. Ten years ago, he’d been that guy, but she hadn’t been willing to see that, or maybe she’d just never thought of him as more than a friend.
“Vance?” he asked.
“I thought so. He’d been married before, so he was cautious. I liked that wariness. It made sense to me. I could tell he liked me a lot, but he wanted to take things slowly and I respected that, too. In hindsight, I was an idiot.”
“In hindsight, we all are.”
“Maybe. But I was a bigger idiot. He talked about how his first wife had been obsessed with how much money he made. She wanted the best, the biggest, the newest. I decided not to be like her, so I didn’t ask for anything. It took me a while to figure out that had been his plan all along.”
Jack didn’t like the sound of that. “He set you up?”
“I think so.” She sighed. “Yes, he did. It’s hard for me to say that because it makes my choice even more crazy.