How to Score (24 page)

“I really don’t know,” she’d replied. “I haven’t given it any thought.”

“I suggest you do, Arlene,” he’d said, his voice gentle. “None of us is getting any younger.”

She hated the thought of leaving the museum in Sammi’s hands, but she didn’t have the stomach for any more nasty scenes like the one she’d just pulled. She didn’t have Chandler’s ruthless streak or killer instinct. The whole incident had left her feeling drained and disgusted with herself.

She leaned back in her chair and toyed with her pearls. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d really felt good about herself—except for that lunch with Walter.

It was funny how that kept replaying in her mind. For that one hour, she’d felt interesting and interested. She and Walter didn’t really have anything in common except Sammi, but they’d had no trouble finding other things to talk about. He’d asked her lots of questions, and he’d seemed really interested in the answers. He’d even told her she was fascinating.

Just the thought made her smile. Had anyone ever found her fascinating before? Maybe Chandler had, at first—but as time went on his attention had shifted away from her and back to himself. Their relationship had become purely one-sided.

She gazed out the window as if she were seeing the rose garden for the first time and stroked the largest pearl in the center of the necklace. She’d never thought of Chandler in critical terms before, but lately, she was doing a lot of it.

It was going through Justine’s belongings, she thought darkly. Handling that woman’s things was corroding her memories of Chandler. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t really picture his face now, unless she was looking at his photograph or painting, and even then, it didn’t seem to depict the man she knew.

Or the man she’d thought she’d known. As she dug through Justine’s things, buried memories kept surfacing like moldy potatoes.

The times he’d been cold and distant. The times he’d ignored Arlene or found fault with her work. The awful, gripping fear that things were over, and he just hadn’t bothered to tell her.

No matter how long he stayed away, though, he always came back. “You’re the only person who sees good in me,” he’d told her. “The only person who can make me feel better about myself.”

But who, Arlene wondered, had ever done that for her?

Chase’s pulse skipped a beat as Sammi came out the back door of the museum half an hour later. The afternoon sun danced on her hair, making it gleam like polished gold.

He scowled at the thought. Since when did he think in terms of shampoo commercials? And if he was suddenly going to do so, why was it about a woman who was clearly off-limits?

He watched her walk across the parking lot and felt his chest constrict. Something was wrong; her gaze was fixed on the ground, her gait lacked its usual bounce, and her expression was uncharacteristically glum. Even her shoulders looked rounded and sad.

Chase rolled down his car window. “Hey, little girl—want some candy?” he called.

Sammi looked up and smiled. “Depends,” she said, adjusting her purse on her shoulder and squinting against the sun. “Got any chocolate?”

“Come closer and find out.”

She shook her head. “I only get within grabbing range of suspicious men if they have serious chocolate, and I’m having the kind of day that requires massive amounts.”

“Well, get in and we’ll go find some.”

Grinning, she walked to the car as he climbed out. “You’ve really got to work on your pickup lines.”

“Hey, it got you over here.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. The scent of her perfume and shampoo gave him a buzz.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “What brings you here?”

“You do.”

“Don’t you know how to use a phone?”

He’d wanted to call a couple dozen times, but he hadn’t dared risk it. “I thought it would be harder for you to say no in person.”

“Say no to what?”

“To the offer of a wildly romantic evening at the Funtastic Pizza Palace.” He leaned against his vehicle. “It’s Paul’s bowling night, and Melanie was invited to a baby shower, so I volunteered to watch Max. I wondered if you’d join me.”

She beamed as if he’d offered an evening in Paris. “That sounds terrific.”

“It does?”

“Sure. When does all this start?”

“Pretty much right now. You can either come with me now to pick him up, or you can meet us at the restaurant in about an hour.” Either way, they’d end the evening in a public place. He didn’t trust himself to take her home.

She looked down at her pantsuit. “I’m good to go.”

“Great.” He opened the door to his Ford. “Hop in. I’ll bring you back for your car at the end of the evening.”

She climbed in and fastened her seat belt. “What have you been up to all week?”

He started the engine. “Testifying in federal court in Oklahoma City.”

“Do you have to do that often?”

He put the vehicle in gear and steered out of the parking lot. “Whenever a perp I arrest is brought to trial.”

“That must give you a sense of satisfaction.”

“Yeah.” He was going to get the most satisfaction ever in a couple of weeks when he testified against the elder Lambinos—and even more when the idiot nephew was arrested and tried. The local police had picked up Johnny on a minor infraction and pumped him for information, but he’d lawyered up and they’d had to let him go. Until the uncles implicated him, there simply wasn’t enough evidence to charge him.

The local police had him under surveillance, though, and he was living up to his reputation as being none too bright. For two weeks, he’d watched Luke’s empty house. Apparently he’d bought the story that Luke was out of town on an extended vacation and had yet to learn that Luke and Chase were brothers.

Chase glanced over at Sammi. “You looked kind of down when you came out of the museum. Bad day?”

She pushed back her hair and blew out a sigh. “Ms. Arnette was trying to make it one, but I’m not going to let her.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.” She flashed him a big smile. “I want to hear about your court cases.”

Chase told her, and before he knew it, he was pulling into the driveway of Paul and Melanie’s brick-and-stucco home in a south Tulsa subdivision.

Melanie greeted them at the door, but before she could even say hello, a little towheaded boy bounded around the corner. “Chase!”

“Hi, sport.” Chase caught the boy as he flew into his arms and gave him a big hug.

The boy grabbed his hand when Chase set him down. “You gotta come see! I got a fire truck, and it sprays real water!”

“Real water, huh?” He shot Sammi and Melanie a wink. “Glad it’s not that phony stuff.”

“It shoots it
everywhere.
” The boy stuck his arms straight out and made a whooshing sound as he spun around.

“It’s a bath toy,” Melanie explained. “We got it yesterday to encourage him to take a bath. He’s only supposed to fill it with water when he’s in the tub.”

“Come see!” The little boy tugged at Chase’s hand.

“Just a moment. First I want you to meet a friend of mine. Max, this is Miss Sammi.”

Sammi squatted down so she was face-to-face with Max and smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

The boy regarded her with curious blue eyes. “You’ve got a boy’s name!”

She grinned. “It’s short for Samantha.”

“Oh. Want to see my fire engine?”

“I’d love to, if it’s okay with your mom.”

“It’s fine by me,” Melanie said. “But Max—you have to wait until bathtime before you put any water in it.”

“Okay.” The boy grabbed Sammi by one hand, Chase by the other. “Come on!”

An hour later, Chase watched as Max pulled a long string of tickets out of the arcade machine at the noisy pizzeria. “Look at all my tickets!” the boy shouted above all the whirring, clanging, and ringing. “I must have a jillion!”

“You’ve got a lot, all right,” Sammi said.

“Yeah!” The boy handed them to her. “How many do I have now?”

Sammi counted them. “Added to the ones you already have, that’s three hundred and twenty-four.”

“Let’s go see what stuff it’ll buy.” He tugged her hand, pulling her toward the counter.

“Whoa, there, champ,” Chase said. “Don’t you want to eat some pizza first?”

“Nah. I want to check out the toys.”

“Why don’t you place our order and then we’ll join you in a minute,” Sammi suggested.

“Okay.” Chase watched Max tug Sammi to the counter that held the redeemable toys and grinned. The boy had taken a real shine to her.

But then, so had Chase. He liked her upbeat nature, liked the way she laughed, liked her up-for-anything enthusiasm—not to mention how much he liked her kissable mouth, mile-long legs, and every other part of her wonderland.

He just liked Sammi, period. And the more time he spent with her, the more things he found to admire. She’d jumped into the sea of balls to help Max find some lost tickets, and she’d crawled into the ladder tube to help a pregnant mother extract her crying three-year-old. How many people would so wholeheartedly go out of their way to be helpful and kind?

He was crazy about her. He hated the idea of going out with her one more time, then never seeing her again—but he hated the idea of hurting her even more. He couldn’t continue to see her without telling her the truth, and if he told her, it was likely to destroy any progress he’d helped her make.

He blew out a hard sigh. For Sammi’s sake, he needed to stick with his original plan. But it was going to be hard as hell.

She slipped into the booth across from him. “Max ran into a classmate from preschool.” She inclined her head toward a driving game, where Max stood beside a dark-haired boy about his size making va-room va-room motor noises. A dark-haired woman stood nearby. “His friend’s mother is going to watch them while they play a few more games. Max needs twenty more tickets to get a fireman’s hat.”

Chase glanced from the boys back to Sammi and grinned. “Max really likes you, even though you’ve got girl cooties.”

“I hope you can overlook them, as well.” The corners of Sammi’s eyes creased as she smiled. “He’s a great kid.”

“Yeah, he is.”

She took a sip of her iced tea and eyed him over the rim. “Does your life plan include having kids of your own someday?”

“As a matter of fact, it does. I plan to have exactly two point five.”

She gave him a wry grin. “That’ll be a neat trick. Of course, first you have to do your sore pig surgery.”

Chase burst into laughter. He’d nearly choked when she’d called it that on the phone the other night. “Do my
what?
”

She took a sip of tea and eyed him over the rim. “Melanie told me that your criteria for a woman are called sore pig surgery.”

Chase laughed again.“It’s Operation SCABHOG.”

“Oh, pardon me.” She gave him a wry grin. “That sounds
so
much nicer.”

“It’s an acronym.”

“Thank goodness.” She propped her head on her hands and grinned at him. “What does it stand for?”

What the hell—might as well tell her. He was only going to see her one more time. “Smart, capable, active, beautiful, honorable, organized, and goal-oriented.”

“Sounds like you’re describing yourself.”

“Aw, gee.” Chase gave her a teasing grin. “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

She laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“Actually, I’m possible. Very possible.”
Too possible, as far as you’re concerned.

The air between them grew charged and hot. He forced his eyes away. He was supposed to flirt with her, dammit, but every time he did, things got too heated. He took a sip of iced tea to cool himself down and looked around.

His gaze landed on a lanky man near the emergency exit. Chase’s muscles tensed; something about the guy bothered him. He eyed him more intently. The man was crouched beside a curly-haired four- or five-year-old girl in a pink Dora the Explorer T-shirt. As Chase watched, the man lifted his ferret-like face and scanned the room as if he were sizing up the situation. He looked disturbingly familiar.

Wanted poster familiar
.

Chase slid out of the booth. “Keep an eye on Max,” he said tersely.

“Why? What’s wrong?”