Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love) (21 page)

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Sam admitted, speaking loudly enough for her to hear him over the pulsating beat.

“What, you don’t dance to fast songs?” Lydia asked. Even though she practically had to yell back at him to be heard, he got that her tone was teasing.

He grinned and shook his head. He lowered his head to say into her ear, so he wouldn’t have to shout, “Slow songs, absolutely. Fast songs, nope. Not unless I’m good and drunk. Sorry.”

“Okay, I’ll remember that,” she replied.

He glanced at her. She still seemed a bit uptight. He wanted her to relax around him again, and he wanted to get her in a better mood. He quickly realized what might help him on both of those fronts.

“Why don’t we go sit with your friends?” he suggested, again loud enough to be heard.

“Um, yeah, okay,” Lydia nodded. She discreetly slipped her hand out of his and turned to make her way to her table, where she’d spotted her friends.

“Hey there!” Donna smiled up brightly at them. The table was far enough away from the speakers that they didn’t have to yell to hear each other, but they still had to be a little louder than normal conversation level.

“Care to join us?” Kathryn asked.

“That’s exactly what we thought we’d do,” Sam said, smiling his megawatt smile. Lydia sat down in her chair, and Sam pulled an empty one from the next table over, so he could be close to Lydia but still be able to talk to the other two women as well.

“So,” Kathryn began. “You’re from Chicago?”

“Yes,” Sam said. “Grew up in Evanston, a suburb right outside Chicago; that's how I know Ryan, we grew up together. My parents are still there, and Alec and his family, but I live in the city now. Have for about ten years. I'm in Lincoln Park. Where are you from?”

“I grew up in southern Connecticut,” Kathryn answered, “but now I live outside of Baltimore, with my family. About an hour away, deep in Maryland.”

“Baltimore’s a nice city,” Sam said. “I’ve been there a few times, work related. Stayed in a hotel at Harborplace, it was a good time.”

“For work, huh?” Donna asked. “What is it that you do?”

He glanced over at Lydia for the briefest second; he felt a sudden weight under her gaze. She was watching him with a neutral expression, but there was a hint of curiosity and a hint of steel in those golden brown eyes. He figured if she’d divulged to her friends he was from Chicago, surely she would also have told them what he did, as he’d told her… but instinct suddenly advised him that someone had told her the full story, not just the vague snippet he’d given her. Donna was fishing for her.

Fine, here we go.
“I was a graphic designer for a long time,” he said plainly. “But recently my position changed, and now I’m the Creative Director.”

“Wow. That’s great. You must be a very busy man,” Donna said, smiling.

Sam could still feel Lydia’s eyes on him. “It, um… it’s a big job, yeah. I like it, but the truth is I’m still not totally used to it. It’s very different from what I was doing before. I was more hands on before, now it’s… a lot of delegating, at times.” He shrugged and added, “Don't get me wrong, I’m not complaining. It’s just been an adjustment. I do like the traveling part.”

“You do a lot of traveling?” Kathryn asked.

“Not too much, but just enough to make it interesting. Mainly to either Los Angeles or New York, where the other two biggest branches of the company are. New York is the main headquarters, actually.” He turned to look at Lydia and shot her a light smile.

“Really?” Donna pounced. “Isn’t that something? How often do you go to New York?”

Lydia chuckled and shook her head. “Damn, girl.”

“What?” Donna asked, wide-eyed with feigned innocence. “I’m just asking a question.”

“I go a couple of times a year, actually,” Sam said, grinning at Donna. He liked her style.

“Where in New York, Manhattan specifically?” Donna asked. “You know, Lydia lives in New York, on Long Island, not too far outside the city.”

Lydia could only shake her head again and laugh in resignation.

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing, but his face was lit with amusement and his smile broadened. “Yes, Donna, I stay in Manhattan. Usually somewhere in midtown.”

“Hmm,” Donna said, smiling widely as she looked Sam in the eye. “Fancy that.”

Sam let out one short laugh and asked, “Where are
you
from?”

“I was born and raised in Wrentham, Massachusetts,” Donna answered, “but now I live in Norwood.”

“I knew you’d say Massachusetts,” Sam said. “Your accent’s a dead giveaway. It’s nice up there, too.”

“Have you been to Boston?” Donna asked. “Or Providence?”

“I have indeed. Several times to Boston, but only to Providence once.”

A waiter came over to the group to ask if they wanted anything from the bar. They all gave him drink orders. Sam took the opportunity to glance over at Lydia. She was less than a foot away from him, but it felt like she was miles away. He gave her a tentative smile, a smile to just say hello. She smiled back, and her expression was welcoming. He relaxed a bit.

“Do you travel abroad for work?” Kathryn asked him.

“Um, not really,” he said. “Maybe once a year. The New York big boys usually handle the international stuff. But I have spent time in Europe, I backpacked across it.”

“I always wanted to do that!” Donna said wistfully. “That is so cool.”

“When did you do that?” Kathryn asked. “When you graduated college?”

“No,” Sam said. “I was married very young, and my wife passed away. After she died, I took off for Europe, and I backpacked alone for over three months. Covered most of Europe.”

The three women fell silent.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make anyone uncomfortable,” Sam said, his voice even and friendly. “I know it’s the effect information like that has. But it’s just facts; that was my life.”

“Tell us about the trip to Europe, then,” Lydia said. “Where did you go?”

Sam looked at her, and their eyes met. Warmth flooded his insides. He gave a small, soft smile of appreciation. She gave a kind, encouraging smile in return.

“I started in London,” he began. The four of them spent the next half hour talking about various places in Europe as he brought up city after city, country after country that he’d visited. Sam was glad for the neutral topic; he and Lydia were soon caught up in an easy, at times amusing conversation. Her friends brought out the playfulness in her and her sharper, witty side; they all wisecracked with each other often, showing the deep knowledge and comfort of a long and close friendship. The drinks the waiter had brought in the beginning of the conversation had been finished and another round ordered when the music turned softer.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ announced, “your salads are being delivered to your tables, so if you would kindly retake your seats, we’re going to bring the pace down a bit.”

Three couples stayed on the dance floor to take the opportunity to enjoy a slow dance.

“I love this song,” Lydia said, recognizing it instantly.

“I don’t know it,” Kathryn admitted. “Who is this?”

“John Legend, again,” Lydia told her. “It’s called ‘Ordinary People’.”

Sam stood up, buttoned the top button of his jacket, and gazed at her with purpose. He gracefully extended his hand down to her and said in a smooth, enticing tone, “I believe you owe me a dance.”

Lydia felt a shiver run through her as she looked up at him. His deep voice was almost as seductive as the look in his eyes. She smiled and, almost shyly, placed her hand in his and rose.

“Ladies, if you’ll excuse us,” Sam said to Donna and Kathryn.

“Go, go,” Donna urged, smiling at them.

“See you later,” Kathryn cooed.

Lydia walked to the dance floor with Sam. There were only three other couples dancing, so she felt a little awkward, realizing that possibly everyone in the ballroom would be watching them dance. Her heartbeat started to pound in her ears.

Sam smiled down at her and pulled her close. “They’re not all looking at us,” he said with a teasing smile, as if he could read her mind. He aligned her body with his, placed a warm hand at the small of her back. “And if they
are
watching us, who cares? Let them. I felt you stiffen up just now. Relax.”

Caught, she gave a short laugh and blushed slightly as she laced one arm around his neck. He took her other hand in his and squeezed it. She let her cheek rest against his shoulder as they began to dance, nice and slow.

Sam smiled again, this time to himself. She felt good in his arms, against him.
At last
, he thought,
real contact.
He tried not to concentrate on how delicious she felt, on how her ample breasts felt pressed lushly against his chest, on the strong stirrings of lust deep in his belly. He took a long, calming breath, took in the lightly floral fragrance of her hair. He liked how their bodies fit together.

“I like this song,” he said halfway through the song, just to be saying something. “You have pretty eclectic tastes in music. Classic rock, R&B, pop… I have to say, I’m impressed.”

“I’m glad I impress you,” Lydia joked.

He lowered his head to say quietly into her ear, “There are many things about you that impress me.” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. The corner of his mouth turned up in the subtle half-smile she found extremely alluring.

She felt her pulse accelerate. She felt off kilter, unbalanced, and as flustered as a young girl. So she said nothing. She just let her head lean on his shoulder as they danced, with her face turned inward, towards him, away from the eyes of the room. He smiled into the top of her hair.

They danced slowly, enjoying each other’s closeness, enjoying being together, until the song ended and flowed into the next one. It was an older love ballad, a bit dated and bordering on cheesy, but neither of them moved to stop. Sam softly pulled her even closer, held her to him as they continued dancing, held her hand against his chest.

She could feel the hard lines of his body against hers, and something almost unrecognizable flowed powerfully through her. It tilted her stomach and made her blood race. With some shock, she recognized that it was desire, pure and simple. She hadn’t had a physical reaction like this, or wanted anyone like this, in years. It was simmering, smoldering, and would soon come to a full boil if he kept holding her this way. The surprise of it made her laugh once, a short laugh of disbelief and amazement at herself.

“What’s funny?” Sam asked with a grin, pulling back a bit to search her face.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, and put her head back down on his shoulder.

He lowered his head slightly, pressed the side of his face to her forehead. He touched his lips to her cheek so lightly she wasn’t sure if he’d really done it. But it gave her a jolt nonetheless.

The song ended after a few minutes, and a new one began, Ella Fitzgerald’s “Night And Day”, a little more up-tempo than the previous song. They stopped dancing, but neither of them moved. Her heart started to thump inside her chest.

“Lydia,” he murmured into her ear. “I don’t want to let you go.”

She pulled back to look up into his eyes and see his expression. He wasn’t playing her, he was serious. His dark eyes bore into hers, full of intensity, yearning… it made her mouth go dry. She didn’t know what to say or do in response. She was uncharacteristically speechless.

“May I cut in?” said a gentle voice behind them.

They both turned to see Sam’s mother standing there, a cordial smile on her face. Lydia could see where he’d gotten his good looks from; for a woman in her sixties, Marcy Forrester was still a very attractive woman, petite, with the same thick, dark hair, warm brown eyes, and fantastic smile that Sam had.

Before Sam could protest, Lydia pulled away from him. “Of course,” she said to Marcy. “You can’t deny the request of such a beautiful woman,” she added to Sam with a teasing smile.

Sam just nodded, his eyes glued to Lydia as his mother moved into his arms.

“C’mon, Sam, give your old mom a twirl,” Marcy said in a sassy tone.

“I’ll see you later,” Lydia assured Sam with a soft grin. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Marcy before walking away.

“Mom,” he said into her ear as they began to dance. “I love you, but you better give me a
really
good reason you just cut in on that.”

“To give you a chance to think,” Marcy Forrester said.

He pulled back and looked at his mother quizzically. “About what?”

“About that lovely woman,” Marcy replied. “And she is lovely. But Alec tells me she just got divorced, very recently.”

“What?” Sam sputtered. “What are you, checking up on me? On who I talk to? For Christ’s sake, you've got to be kidding me.”

“I’m your mother, that’s what mothers do,” Marcy said calmly, unaffected by the angry set of her son’s jaw. “You were eyeing that girl all last night at dinner, and the whole time you’ve been here today. You’re obviously taken with her. So I got curious, and asked around.”

“Asked around?” Sam repeated, incredulous. “Jesus. That’s great. That's just great.”

“Well, the good news is, apparently she’s regarded as being very nice, very smart, and very kind,” Marcy went on. “So that’s encouraging.”

“According to your trusted sources,” Sam said. He expelled a deep sigh, giving up and playing along.

“Yes,” Marcy smiled broadly, seeing that her son’s annoyance was quickly dissipating. He could never stay mad at her for long; she was glad to see that hadn't changed. “And I personally think she’s very pretty. She’s a little unique looking, not like the cookie cutter girls you dated for a while. So it’s nice to see you still have good taste.”

“Thanks,” Sam quipped. “Glad you approve. I mean, isn’t it every thirty-five-year-old man’s dream to have his possible dates pre-approved by his mommy?”

Marcy laughed. “Of course it is!”

“Mm hmm.” Sam grinned. “So? Go on, then. She sounds, and looks, great to me. What’s the bad news?”

“I told you. She just got divorced, Sam. You’re making obvious advances on a woman who literally
just
signed her divorce papers,” Marcy repeated for emphasis. “Did you not know that?”