Foolish Notions (2 page)

James’s eyes remained fixed on
the young woman. “Fair game for what? You’re married.”

“Point being?”

For this, James broke his gaze, looked
to Ed, and raised a brow. “You’re bad.” He shook
his head. “I don’t think Barbara would appreciate hearing
you say that.”

Ed’s grin was a mile wide. “What
she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

As the guys laughed, James looked back
to the woman, who was now sitting alone. Her friends had moved to the
small, wooden dance floor in the middle of the room. Turning to the
bartender he said, “Two beers.” He tossed some money on
the bar, took the beers, and grabbed a basket of pretzels. He paused
momentarily to look at his friends. “Don’t wait up for
me.”

“Go get her, boss,” they
said in unison.

James slid into the empty seat across
from her with confidence. She was even more beautiful up close.
“Drink?” he asked, as he held the beer in front of her.

Slowly, blue eyes turned on him. “Got
one.”

James’s eyes settled on hers. He
liked the fact that she wasn’t intimidated easily. The last
thing he wanted in a woman was meekness. He found that just the
opposite made for a much more interesting, though slightly more
turbulent, relationship. He watched her raise her beer in a
nonchalant manner as she drove her point home.

Somehow he managed to hide his smile as
she set her drink back down. She could act unimpressed all she
wanted, but James caught the intense sparkle in her eyes and knew
that she was anything but indifferent. He slid the drink in front of
her anyway.

“Save it for later.”

“Later?” she asked
curiously.

“Yeah, later.” Before he
finished his sentence, she looked at her friends on the dance floor,
completely disregarding his comment and the offered beer.

With her attention on something else,
he was able to focus on her profile, without appearing to be ogling.
The dim corner booth and the lights on the dance floor made for a
perfect silhouette of her face. There was a delicate slope to her
nose and he could see her long lashes brush her cheek each time she
blinked. The dark outline softened as it contoured at her chin and
curved slightly higher at her cheek. He cleared his throat. He wasn’t
going to let her blow him off that easily. Besides, he was having way
too much fun to stop.

She looked at him.

“Pretzel?” He gestured
toward the basket he had brought with him.

Never taking her eyes off him, she
reached to her left for the basket of pretzels. She waved them before
him. Dropping them, she said, “Got one.”

“Ride home?” This time he
didn’t give her enough time to look away.

“Got one.” She took a swig
of her beer.

“Boyfriend?” He was waiting
for the “got one,” and when he didn’t hear it his
confidence grew. He drew his gaze from her eyes to her mouth, where a
touch of a smile was apparent. She moistened her plump lips with the
tip of her tongue. They were lips that some women, women he knew,
paid thousands for.

After a long, slow drink, James leaned
in and spoke. “How about I give you something that you don’t
. . . got?”

She moved forward, leaning in,
pretending she was interested. “I think I pretty much have
everything. Thanks anyway.”

It was his turn to take a pretzel. He
played with it, shifting it from one hand to the next until it was a
pile of broken pieces. “So, you’re saying you have
everything you want?”

She appeared to be biting her tongue
not to smile. “It seems that way.”

“You’re forgetting one
thing.”

She puckered her lips. “Is that
so?”

He raised a single brow, hooked a
finger around the beer bottle’s long neck, and took a drink.
His bottle chimed against the table when he set it down.

“And just what might that be?”

He sat back with bold smugness and
said, “Me.”

She raised a perfectly arched brow and
contemplated for a moment. “Does ‘me’ have a name?”

“James Taylor.”

“Well, Mr. James Taylor, and just
what is it that you got, and you think I need?”

“You’ll find out in due
time.”

Her lips broadened into a soft smile.
“Your confidence is”—she looked heavenward as she
contemplated—“paramount.”

“I like to think so.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, it’s my greatest
weapon.”

“Weapon for what?”

“My line of business.”

“Perhaps you can tell me about
your line of business sometime.” She paused for a moment. “I’m
Samantha.”

James broke a smile too and extended
his hand across the table. “Samantha. I like that.”

“Is this how you approach all
women?” she asked cautiously.

James shook his head and took a drink.
“No, you’re the first.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s
good to know.”

“Does it work?”

She stuck her tongue in the side of her
cheek as she thought. “It might.”

His thumb tapped against the table with
the beat of the music. “When will you let me know?”

“By the end of the night.”

That was good enough for him. “How
come you’re not out on the dance floor?” He looked over
to the group that she had come with.

She straightened her leg so it poked
out from beneath the table. “I broke it two months ago. I just
got the cast off yesterday. I don’t want to push my luck, so
I’m sitting this one out.”

Looking a little closer he could see
that below the knee was a few shades lighter than the rest of her
leg. “What happened?”

She shrugged. “I had a little
surfing accident.”

“First timer?”

“Nope. I’ve been doing it
all my life.” She rolled her eyes as she thought about it. “It
was pretty embarrassing to be carried out of the water by two
lifeguards I grew up with.”

“I can imagine.”

Her facial expression was of mock
contempt. “Thanks, that makes me feel better.”

“I’m only teasing.”
He reached for her hand. “Promise me a dance when you’re
healed up.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

They had hit it off. They dated for one
incredible year before he asked her to move in with him. He had had
no reservations when making the transition, but he had never dreamed
that living together could have been so unbelievably fulfilling.
Everything between them was heightened. Their passion grew deeper as
they discovered new things about each other. He had never been so in
love or happier. He had had it all: a meaningful relationship with a
beautiful, intelligent woman, and a great job. Who could have asked
for more? It had been all his for the taking, until the unthinkable
happened. She had caught him in another woman’s arms. Before he
had a chance to explain, Samantha was gone. He raced home but she had
already left; she hadn’t even bothered to take any of her
things.

James balled up his fists and sucked in
a deep breath of salty air. “What happened to us, Samantha?”
His eyes closed briefly; it didn’t matter. Not now.

He reached for the list of nurses he
had set on his nightstand and left the room.

James held open the front door as the
last nurse left. He’d managed to organize seven interviews in
two days. “Thank you for coming. We’ll be in touch.”

He looked at his mom across the room as
he walked into the living room. “Well, what did you think?”
He shuffled through the stack of résumés sitting on the
coffee table as he took a seat on the sofa. “I like number six,
what’s her name? Karen, that’s it. It says right here
that she has eight years of experience with this kind of care.”

“Yes, number six,” Marie
said absentmindedly.

“I like number two also. Lots of
experience, great personality.” James looked over the papers
before he tapped another résumé. “Rita is a good
candidate too.” He glanced up to see his mother looking out the
sliding glass window at the ocean. “Mom, are you listing to
me?”

“Yes.”

He shook the papers in his hand. “Then
what do you think? I’d like to hear your input.”

Marie didn’t look at him. “I
suppose they’re nice.”

“What do you mean you suppose
they’re nice? You didn’t like any of them?” He set
the résumés down and ruffled his hair in an agitated
manner.

“Number two was too old.”
Her eyes moved to James and then immediately back to the window.

“Too old? Mom, she was your age.”

Marie lifted her shoulders to her ears.
“A little older.”

“What about number six?”
Frustration was setting in. “She was half your age.”

“Yes, pretty young thing, but she
didn’t look fun.” She watched a seagull dance in the
wind. “I don’t want some humdrum person to take care of
me. I’d get bored and you know how I hate to get bored.”

James gritted his teeth. The dull ache
at the base of his neck was slowly traveling upward. He rolled his
head from side to side. He needed an aspirin. Hell, he needed an
entire bottle. “We’re not looking for a playmate.”
He felt his beeper on his hip go off for the third time in the last
hour, reminding him of all the work that was still waiting for him at
the office. He looked at the number; it was his secretary again.
Annoyed, he turned it off and tossed it on the table.

“It’s important that I get
along with whoever takes care of me,” Marie continued.

James looked up at his mom, who was
sitting on the edge of the overstuffed chenille chair that nearly
consumed her small frame. “I personally don’t care if you
get along or not. If she is qualified and administers good care
nothing else should matter.”

“How can you say that? If I like
the person, my recovery will be much quicker.” Her tone grew
stronger as she pleaded her case. “You remember what the doctor
said—positive thinking, mind over matter, all that kind of
stuff.”

“B.S.”

She frowned at him. “James.”

“Well, it is.”

“I don’t want her just to
be a nurse. She needs to be more. I need someone who will enjoy
sitting on the deck and watching the ocean and the birds as much as I
do. Who will help me tend to the roses out front when I’m too
sick to walk? You took the time to have them moved here,” she
pointed out. “I want someone who will enjoy them with me.”
She reached for the glass on the coffee table in front of her.
“James, there’s nothing wrong with wanting a nurse and a
companion. This person is going to spend almost every waking moment
with me.”

He rubbed his eyes. “You realize
that your treatment starts in four days and we have no one. No one.”
He leaned back against the sofa, discouraged to the point of giving
up. “I don’t think you know how serious this is.”

“Of course I do.”

“Mom, I can’t take care of
you. I wouldn’t know what to do.” Hell, he was having
problems just finding someone to take care of her.

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”
He threw his hands in the air. “I’m out of ideas. I’ve
called every nurse in this town. There is no one left to call.”

“There’s Samantha.”

He stood up and grumbled, “Let’s
not start this again. It’s been a long day.” He moved
into the large eat-in kitchen, which opened up from the living room
to create one large room. “What do you want for dinner?”

She followed him, taking a seat at the
small breakfast table.

“She liked to walk on the beach.
Remember?”

How could he forget, they had some of
their best times on the beach. Walking, talking, thinking, making
love. It was where they had preferred to be over anywhere else. The
sandy seaside was their special place and the infinite crashing of
the waves was their special song. It was a place that allowed them to
reflect and preserve what they had shared and what was still yet to
come.

“She loved my roses. The ‘Crimson
Glory’ tea rose she gave me for my birthday is still one of my
favorites.”

Swinging open the refrigerator door, he
stared at its contents.

“You want to barbeque?”

“She was fun. Her enthusiasm
seemed to be contagious. I remember some of our shopping trips. She
would have me giggling like a child and buying frivolous items I
didn’t need.”

Her eyes drifted to her hands in her
lap. “She was intoxicating.”

James went still.

“Intoxicating.” Marie
repeated the word slowly. “Lovely word, isn’t it?”
She watched her son closely before she continued. “That’s
the kind of person I need around me during my treatment.”

James’s hand gripped the door
handle as he flashed back to a moonless night on the back deck of his
mom’s house. He tried to will the memories away but it was a
waste of time. The word his mom had just spoken was an unwanted tap
that reached deep into his mind, extracting memories that he didn’t
wish to remember.

He had pulled Samantha outside to steal
a few kisses in the cool night air while his mom went upstairs to
freshen up for dinner. He had taken her by the arm, guided her across
the deck, and pressed her backside against the railing. In the dark,
his lips had found hers in a needy, captive kiss. He had never needed
anything more in his life right then, than to kiss her. She had that
affect on him. One moment he was fine, and then suddenly, out of
nowhere, he needed to touch her, be with her.

“We can’t do this,”
Samantha had said.

“Sure we can,” James had
murmured as he had nudged her head back and his lips had followed the
curve of her slender neck, leaving a moist trail of tingly kisses.

“We better stop.”

“Why?” he had
half-heartedly whispered as his tongue teased the sensitive area.

“Your mom is inside. I don’t
want her to catch us.”

James had laughed, but his lips had
never broken contact with her skin. “I’m not sixteen. I
think she knows that we kiss. After all, we live together.” His
tongue had traced lazy circles over her neck. “She probably
suspects that we do other things, too.”