Return to Me

“I found the man I want to marry.”

This announcement received mixed reactions from the three women sitting at the table with Samara Lyons. Rachel just rolled her eyes, Allie ignored the comment because of the cute guy at the bar making eyes at her, and Julie, the newest member of their Thursday night margarita-fest, leaned toward her eagerly.

“Where’d you meet him? What’s his name? Have you been dating—”

“Wait … hold up,” Rachel interrupted as she raised her hand to signal their server. “Let’s call for another round and then Samara will explain to you. With your psychologist degree, you can tell us the name of Samara’s mental illness.”

Samara grinned and stuck her tongue out at her best friend since the first grade. Rachel, the cynic, as she fondly called her, didn’t believe in “happily ever afters.” Samara, on the other hand, knew they existed. She’d seen them firsthand. Having parents who’d been happily married for over thirty-five years, not to mention five very happy brothers and sisters-in-law, reinforced her beliefs.

Rachel referred to Samara as Pollyanna for what she called her amazing belief in the goodness of humanity when all evidence showed the exact opposite. Samara never argued with that statement, because it was true. She did believe in the basic goodness of people and so far, with only a few exceptions, she’d never been proven wrong.

“Okay, girl.” Rachel took a sip of her frozen concoction, licked the salt from her mouth, and leaned forward. “Who is it this week?”

Being humored didn’t bother Samara in the least. “Did you see that new foaming bath commercial where the husband runs a hot bubble bath for his wife and then takes the kids to the park while she has the house to herself?”

“Yeah, so?”

“He’s the one.”

Only Julie looked startled by this statement. “Do you know the man in the commercial?”

Looking satisfied with how the conversation was going, Rachel settled back into her chair with an amused, knowing expression.

“No, I don’t know him. He’s just the guy I’d like to marry.”

“But why?”

Ignoring Rachel’s smug grin, Samara attempted to explain her philosophy. “I have the ideal man in my head. I’ve just never met him. But sometimes, I’ll see a guy on television or read about him and I recognize a certain characteristic I want in my future Mr. Right.”

Julie nodded. “Actually, that’s a very healthy attitude.”

Rachel stared at Julie. “You gotta be kiddin’ me. Don’t encourage her lunacy. Heal it!”

“No, really. It is healthy.” Julie waved a hand at the crowded bar in Mama Maria’s. “Look at all these people, searching for that one special person they think they want to spend their life with, and most of them have no clue what they’re looking for. At least Samara has a good idea what she does and doesn’t want.”

Taking a long, icy swallow of her drink, Samara couldn’t help but be glad that at least someone thought knowing what she was looking for was a good idea. She also knew what she didn’t want, having learned that the hard way. She took another sip, refusing to give the humiliating memory any more thought.

The sound of sizzling fajitas headed their way caught her attention. Her stomach rumbled with a welcoming growl as the spicy aroma hit her senses. Samara looked around in anticipation. Behind the waiter, to her left, her gaze was caught and held by the tall, looming figure in the corner. A man she’d gladly walk barefoot across the country to avoid. Her stomach backflipped and spiraled downward. What was he doing here? And why did he have the expression of a hungry tiger on his too-perfect face? He sure as hell hadn’t looked that way the last time she’d seen him.

Refusing to acknowledge him, Samara turned away. There were a thousand reasons he might be here, none of them to do with her. He’d made it painfully clear he wanted nothing to do with her and she had every intention of showing him she felt the same way. Now, if only her pounding heart and adrenaline-drenched bloodstream would cooperate. Despite herself, she dared another peek.
Dammit, he was still staring.

Noah McCall hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off Samara since he’d walked into the bar. Some people glowed with purity and light. Samara did that more than most. His jaw clenched at the reason he was here. She already hated him, and he doubted his request for help would make her like him any more.

The decision to come here hadn’t been easy. Coming anywhere close to the South always set up a burning in his gut that would take him days to dispel. The air was different here. Thick and warm, it had character, life. Sucking at you, pulling you down. The warm, cloying sweetness made him want to gag.

Noah threw off his disquiet and shut down the memories. This wasn’t about him. Never would be again. This was about doing the right thing, no matter the cost.

Straightening from his slouch against the wall, he sauntered slowly toward the beauty glowering at him. More than aware it would rile her even more, he plastered on his most cocky smile. And Samara had enough reason to be angry for a lifetime. A year ago, he turned down the sweet, sexy offer of her beautiful body. He knew enough about human nature to know that kind of slight wasn’t something one quickly recovered from.

Fiery sparks shot from ice-blue eyes, making them appear even more glacial. A genuine smile kicked up his lips. Feisty, spirited, and sexy as hell … Samara Lyons was just what he was looking for. Perfect for the job in every way.

“Hello, Samara.”

Myriad emotions flashed across her expressive face, none of them friendly.
Good.
She would need that anger to fuel what he was going to ask of her. He’d channel the anger in the right direction. Until then, he’d just enjoy the show.

She did what he expected. After giving him a glare of pure loathing hatred, she turned her back on him. Her spine so stiff, it looked as though it would crack at the slightest touch. Testing the theory, his index finger lightly brushed the nape of her neck … a tender, fragrant spot his mouth watered to taste.

Jerking around, the glare grew hotter and Noah couldn’t hold back his laugh.

“What do you want?” Her tone indicated that whatever it was, he shouldn’t plan on getting it.

“I need to talk to you. Let’s go.”

“Excuse me? Just who the hell do you think you are?”

Ignoring the wide-eyed gazes of the three women sitting at the table with her, Noah leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I need you.”

Samara jerked away from him and, starting at his feet, gave him a scathing full-bodied once-over. Bringing her gaze back to his face, her voice dripped with disdain, “I’ve got nothing you want.”

Something tugged at his heart … the one he knew he didn’t have. He’d hurt and humiliated this woman and she still stung a year later. If he had a conscience, he’d leave and find someone else. Since that didn’t exist and he needed her cooperation, he did the next best thing. Saluting her with a small wave of his hand, he retreated into the shadows. Having others around when he talked with her wasn’t optimum anyway. He’d allow her this small reprieve.

Samara watched Noah back away and disappear out the door. Fury and hurt waltzed like dancing buffaloes throughout her body. Why should seeing him again bother her? He meant nothing to her other than a humiliating moment she’d sworn had been erased from her memories. How dare he come and stir them up again. Noah McCall, devil-handsome and arrogant as sin, could piss her off faster than anyone she’d ever met.

“Good heavens, Sam,” Rachel said. “You going to just sit there and stare into space or are you going to tell us who ‘Mr. Tall, Dark, and Please-Jump-My-Bones Sexy’ was?”

Samara dragged herself back from the dark memory and looked at the stupefied faces of her friends. “Just someone I’d rather forget.”