Explosion of Love (The Armstrongs Book 6) (8 page)

A flash of grief ripped through Grant when he read her message. He dialed her number, needing to hear her voice and try to reason with her, but the phone went straight to voicemail once again.

He wandered around the house for a few minutes, but everywhere he looked he saw her beautiful smiling face. The beach house was meant to be a getaway, a place to wind down and relax, but now that house would always carry the memories of her. The one woman in the world he wanted, but couldn’t have.

Grant desperately needed a distraction so he headed into town, stopping at The Lighthouse bar and having a few beers. His brother’s band was playing for a second night in a row, and after their first set, Terrence joined him for another beer.

“Spill it, what about Sam?” he asked.

“She had to leave. She’s back in New York.” Grant tried to keep his voice neutral as if that fact didn’t sting like crazy, but he couldn’t fool his brother.

“Been fighting?”

“No, she had an urgent call from her agent…”

His brother interrupted him: “Grant. Stop telling me that bullshit. You two have been fighting.”

Grant sighed. Sometimes he hated having family around. They always had to stick their noses into his business. “If you insist. But we’re good again.”

“So, since when are you a couple?” Terrence asked.

“We’re not. She’s my best friend.”

“Ah, c’mon, man. I saw the way you watched her last night. And I see your wounded puppy face now. You can tell me, I won’t say anything. Not even to Allison.”

“There’s nothing to tell. We’re not together. We’re best friends like we’ve always been.” He gave his brother a cold stare.

“Well, in that case, you might want to meet Jenny. She was asking about you last night, but I told her you were already taken.”

“No, not taken.”

“I’ll send her your way. Good luck, bro. She’s a real looker and likes to fool around. No strings attached.”

Grant watched his younger brother retake the stage, and then out of nowhere, a gorgeous blonde slid into the chair next to him.

“Hi. I’m Jenny,” she said, bouncing in her seat so that her burgeoning breasts bounced in time with the music starting up. Grant let his eyes stray downward. It was obvious she’d been enhanced, and the sight of her artificial boobs turned him off
. I love Sam’s breasts. They’re not as huge, but they’re natural. Soft and sensitive.

“Grant,” he told her absent-mindedly.

“So, Grant, what do you do for a living?” she asked, shoving her breasts into him, her nasal voice already grating on his frayed nerves. He’d hoped to forget Sam, at least for tonight, but Jenny wouldn’t do the trick. None of the women he’d been with back then had helped him to forget her. And now, after he’d slept with Samantha, how could he have the slightest hope that another woman would erase the memories of their pleasure from his body?

He looked at Jenny, saw the desire in her eyes to find a nice guy to fool around with, and realized how shallow these types of relationships were
.  I’m not interested in playing those games any more.

“Jenny, sorry Terrence gave you the wrong idea, but I’m not interested in a one-night stand.”

Jenny pouted. “Well, thanks for not making me waste my time.” She walked away, stopping at another table full of young men who seemed to welcome her attentions.

Grant emptied his beer in one gulp.
Thank god she didn’t make a scene. This town is small and word travels quickly.

He nodded to Terrence and the other guys in the band and left the bar. Heading home, alone. But he couldn’t sleep once he got there. He and Samantha had never had a fight before. They’d had disagreements, like most longtime friends do, but never an actual fight. Of course, they’d never slept with each other before, either.

You’re a fool, Grant. Now you’ve ruined any chance of having a romantic relationship with her, and ruined your friendship on top.
The worst case had happened and he’d lost her completely.

He was sitting on his porch overlooking the lake, feeling sorry for himself when his cell phone rang. He grabbed it, hoping Samantha had come to her senses. “Hello?”

“Hey, man. What are you doing?”

Grant glanced at the clock and then shook his head. 11 o’clock? Grant had thought it was much later. “Patrick! Not much. Long time no see. What’s been going on?”
Boy, and I’m glad I didn’t say “sweetie” into the phone. That would have been hard to explain.

“Finishing up a big project. I heard you bought a house up at Sandy Beach.”

Grant wondered who’d told him. “I did. That’s where I am right now. It’s pretty run-down, but nothing a little elbow grease won’t set to rights.”

“Do you ever do anything besides work?”  Patrick asked with a laugh.

“Of course I do. And that’s not work, it’s even fun. What about you? I’m sure you didn’t call me at this time of night to chit-chat.”

“Well, with the time difference, it’s not nighttime over here.”

“You still in parts unknown?”

“Yes, Vietnam. We’ll be heading back to the States next week. We need a break.”

“Great. If you get into Chicago, call and we’ll make time to get caught up. Now, stop stalling and tell me why you called.”

“Okay. You sitting down?”

“Yeah.”

There was a slight pause as if Patrick was saying,
Wait for it. Wait for it.
Finally, the silence had gone on long enough and he said, “I’m getting married.”

“Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, man. Angela is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“I can’t wait to meet the woman who finally has tamed you.”

“No, man. You’ve got it all wrong. I tamed her.”

Grant laughed out loud. Patrick waited until the line fell silent again and then shocked his friend with his next statement: “I want you to be my best man.”

“Me? Why? Sure. Yes. I’d love to.”

“Thanks, man. We’re still working on an exact date, but I’ll let you know soon.”

“No problem. Just give me enough time to arrange my schedule.”

They talked for a while longer and then Grant asked, “Have you spoken to Samantha lately?”

Patrick chuckled,. “You finally told her?”

“Told her what?”

“Come on, Grant. You’ve been in love with her for years.”

Well, shit! And here I thought I was being so subtle.
“You knew?” Grant asked.

Patrick all but grinned through the phone. “Everyone knew.”

“Everyone?” Grant asked, wondering how many of the Armstrong siblings had discussed his crush on their sister.

“Me. Ryan. Douglas. Trevor.”

“And you don’t mind?” Grant asked.

“I couldn’t think of a better man for our firecracker than you.”

Grant’s mouth dropped open. “Aren’t you the same guy who threatened to kill me if I ever touched her?”

“That might have been a little harsh. But man, she was fourteen.”

“Glad you changed your mind.”
And I’m glad you have no idea what happened yesterday night.

“Look, she’ll always be my little sister, and I might still have to kill you if you hurt her. But she’s all grown up now and has the right to find the man she loves. As far as I’m concerned, I would love to see her with you, Grant. She’s different with you, more relaxed.”

You didn’t see her a few hours ago.
“She flew up here to get away from Craig and New York. The guy really pulled a doozy on her this time. Things seemed to go well, but then everything went haywire. We had a fight and she took off.”

“Man, what are you still doing in Sandy Beach? You need to go after her.”

“You can’t be serious. She was madder than a wet hen.”

“Go after her.”

“You sure? I wanted to give her time to calm down and come to her senses.”

“This is Samantha we’re talking about. You need to go after her. Don’t give her too much time to think about things. She’ll come to the wrong conclusion.”

Yeah, I think she already has.

“Grant, you two started your relationship on the wrong foot, but you still can fix it. I thought you knew how to handle explosives.”

Grand had to chuckle at that remark, because yes, he handled explosives every day for a living so he should be able to handle one woman, even if it was a firecracker like her. But apparently women were a lot more difficult to deal with than dynamite.

Is Patrick right? Should I go after her?

Samantha arrived at the photo shoot early the next morning. “Sorry, everyone.” She apologized to those in charge, and found out that news of her episode at Silueta had already made the rounds.

She tried to ignore the speculative looks and comments, concentrating instead on the shoot itself. Everything seemed to go well, until Sara Newsom stopped by and asked to speak with her alone. In her office. Panic welled in her throat and her stomach clenched tight. Was this her death blow?

Sam finished the shoot and then headed upstairs to meet with the most powerful woman in the fashion industry. Sara Newsom could make, or break, a model with just her word alone. If she pulled her goodwill from someone, that person might as well pack up her stuff and leave the city.

She entered Sara’s office with trembling legs. Once inside, her gaze fell on a family picture of friends of her sister-in-law Melissa.

Sara followed her gaze to the picture and commented, “That’s my granddaughter. Isn’t she cute?”

“Peter Shaw is your son?” Samantha asked with wide eyes. She definitely hadn’t seen that one coming.

“Yes. Do you know him?”

Samantha nodded her head, “Yes. He and Rachel are friends of my sister-in-law Melissa Armstrong, née Walter.”

Sara couldn’t hide a smile. “Well, I guess that makes us almost related, doesn’t it? Have a seat.”

What a small world we live in.
Samantha’s nervousness was back, but Sara seemed to be in a much better mood. “So, how is Melissa’s baby doing?”

Samantha smiled, “He’s fabulous. He’s almost nine months old and just started crawling. His name is Emerson. I get to see him every few weeks, but Melissa sends me video clips all the time.”

“Emerson? Beautiful name. The next time you see Melissa, be sure to give her my best wishes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Samantha said.

She thought this interview was going much too smoothly, when Sara’s face took on a hard businesslike edge.
Uh oh. Guess the niceties are over.

“Samantha, let’s get down to business.” Sara paused for a moment and then met and held Samantha’s eyes as she continued, “Girl, you have got to get it together if you want to stay in our industry. You are beautiful, you photograph marvelously, and you have that special something that other models try for years to mimic, but never quite get right.

“I’m here to tell you that this is your last chance. Your behavior at the Silueta event was deplorable, and many models before you who showed such rude behavior are no longer working in the city. I don’t understand what has gotten into your head.”

Samantha sat there, not dropping her eyes like she wanted to. What could she say?

Sara continued, “Your little stunt yesterday would normally have been the end of your career as far as I’m concerned.”

Her stomach sunk to her knees as she waited for Sara to continue, not daring to say a word.

“The only thing that saved you was Madison’s offer not to charge for your work. I had nothing to lose and wanted a chance to see what all of the hype about Samantha Armstrong was about.”

Sam took a mental note to buy her agent a gift. That woman sure was worth her weight in gold.

Sara paused to let the impact of her words sink in before she continued, “My photographers loved working with you today. You have a true gift for knowing what they want before they ask. That is rare in this industry.”

Samantha wanted to say something, but Sara stopped her with a gesture of her hand. “I’m not finished yet. You owe the director of Silueta an apology. There’s no way around it.”

Samantha straightened her shoulders and nodded her head. This was part one of Madison’s plan to regain her career, but it wouldn’t be easy to apologize to the man she’d so viciously attacked with her temper.

Sara’s face softened. “If you want to make it big, you need to control your temper. I know that the events at Silueta included a lying, deceiving man. Get him out of your head and quit letting him control your life. He’s not good for you. He never was.”

Sam nodded her head again. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve already seen to that. To all of your suggestions.”

“Good. Now, go home and get some rest. You did a good job today. I’ll make sure the right people hear that.”

“Thanks, ma’am, for giving me a second chance. You will not regret it.”

Sam left Sara’s office. She headed home, her shoulders drooping in defeat, with no idea of what to do.
I have to learn to control my temper. I won’t get another chance. Ever.
God, I wish I could talk to Grant.

But she couldn’t. She blushed at the memory of the text she’d sent him the night before, telling him that sleeping with him had been a mistake. What man would be able to forgive or forget that a woman had considered having sex with him a major mistake? Not any she knew.
He probably doesn’t want to hear from me ever again.
No lover. No best friend. My life officially sucks.

The day had been grueling, not only physically, but also emotionally. She got home and fell straight into bed. She didn’t think about the meeting with Sara Newsom, or the apology she needed to make.
Maybe things won’t look as bad in the morning.

The next morning her mood hadn’t improved. She called Madison and made an appointment with her for the next day.
So what am I going to do today?

She could think of a million things that needed to be done, but she just didn’t have it in her today. Instead, she grabbed her purse and headed out. A little anti-frustration shopping was in order. Buying high heels always helped.

Like most women she loved shoe shopping. It had the ability to lift her spirits almost as much as being with Grant.
Since I can’t have Grant, I can certainly have a new pair of shoes.

She headed to the fashion district, keeping her dark sunglasses in place as she went from store to store. She didn’t need anyone recognizing her and bursting a peaceful shopping spree.

In the fourth store, she spied the shoes that made her heart turn over and her breath catch – a pair of four-inch fashion heels with a bright orange suede heel and the toe and support of the shoe a neutral tan-colored suede. The ankle straps crisscrossed around the wearer’s ankles in shiny black leather.

Killer shoes. The kind she’d wear on a catwalk, or to a nightclub. Or to seduce Grant, if he would ever talk to her again.

She glanced at the price tag and flinched, but then decided it didn’t matter if they cost eighty dollars, or eight hundred. After all, it was her money and she made plenty. Why not spend it to spoil herself once in a while?
Shoes are a girl’s best friends.