Mercifully, Nick finally spoke. “Right. And that’s why we have no doubt about your uncle’s sexual orientation. Why all of the questions?”
Their daughter simply shrugged.
“Come on,” Nick coaxed. “Something is obviously troubling you.”
“It’s just....Haley overheard Uncle Justin tell her dad he loves him.”
Nick’s gaze snapped to Sam’s. The tacit question—Was it possible?—flared in his eyes. He shook his head. “That doesn’t mean a thing. Just because a man says he loves another guy doesn’t mean they’re gay.”
“If you say so.” Dani twirled some pasta onto her fork, clearly unconvinced.
Throughout the remainder of the meal, their daughter’s observations about her uncle continued to plague Sam.
Was it possible Justin had tried so hard with her back in high school because he’d been uncertain about his sexuality? Maybe he’d been trying to prove something to himself. It made no difference to her if he was homosexual. But how would macho Nick handle it? And Marc Simmons, gay? That was plain ludicrous if her late friend Lindsey’s jokes about her twice-a-day spouse had any foundation.
Sam shoved her plate away and heaved a weary sigh. She didn’t need any more drama in her life.
CHAPTER 11
The next evening, the flickering candlelight gave Samantha’s reflection in the restaurant’s plate glass window a strange, supernatural glow. Sam knew their table overlooked a beautiful tree farm, however, the late hour made it impossible to admire the view.
The pitch-black night turned the row of windows into an eerie mirrored wall. And the hushed voices at the other tables did nothing to dispel the séance-like atmosphere.
Consequently, when Adam reached over to hold her hand after the waiter cleared their plates, Sam could barely suppress her giggle. “Now I really feel like we should be trying to contact the dead.”
He frowned. “Huh?”
She jerked her head toward their reflection.
“Oh.” He laughed. “That’s one of the things I like best about you, Sam. You never fail to see something bizarre in the ordinary.”
“Well, one thing out of the ordinary tonight was dinner.” She had asked Adam to order for her, seeing as this was his favorite local restaurant—and not just because it had an on-site microbrewery in the pub downstairs. “The onion soup au gratin and crab cakes were both the best I’ve ever had. I’m stuffed.”
“Too full for some chocolate mousse?”
“I really shouldn’t.” In the last week, she’d eaten every peanut butter cup Nick had bought to stock up for Halloween. “If I eat another bite, my seams will split, and I’ll be sitting here in just my undies.”
“So?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “That’s hardly an unpleasant prospect.”
Jeez. Did all men have one-track minds? “How about we split a dessert?”
“That sounds good. And while we’re waiting,”—his hand disappeared beneath the table—“I have something else I want to share with you.”
Uh-oh. If he was still imagining her in her underwear, she didn’t want to know why he was rooting in his trousers’ pocket.
He withdrew a small velvet box and opened it to reveal an engagement ring. “I figured tonight would be a good time for me to propose—assuming you still want to convince your ex to back off.”
She stared at the huge diamond. It had to weigh over two carats. The delicate antique setting and the gem’s incredible sparkle were much too authentic for her comfort. “Adam, I was just kidding on Saturday. Please tell me you didn’t buy me a real diamond.”
“Okay. I didn’t.”
She peered at him, unable to believe such a dazzling stone or its filigree band could possibly be anything but the real McCoy. “Come on. How gullible do you think I am? There’s no way that gorgeous thing could be a knockoff.”
“I didn’t say it was. I simply denied buying the ring. It was my great-grandmother’s.”
Its antique value alone would make it worth a fortune.
“It’s been cluttering up my sock drawer ever since my mom died, so you might as well use it.”
“I can’t wear your family heirloom—it’s irreplaceable.”
“Sure you can. It’s insured, and I had the setting checked earlier this week.”
“But someday you’ll be giving it to the woman you propose to for real. Do you think she’d want me to wear it first?”
“I’m almost forty years old and still single, Sam. I’m not about to worry about something that may never happen. In any case, it’s already used. It’s been worn by three generations of Chase brides.”
“All relatives of yours.”
“Think of yourself as family.” He slid the band onto her left ring finger and smiled. “See? It’s a perfect fit. It must be kismet.”
She held her hand near the candle, unable to tear her gaze away from the brilliant-cut gem that refracted the light like a mini disco ball. “Seriously. I was joking about pretending to be engaged. And Nick has done nothing but apologize all week.”
“Kidding or not, you were right. The only way he’ll ever quit thinking you’re his is if he believes you’re committed to someone else.”
Sad but true.
“Admit it. You love the ring, and you’re dying to wear it.”
Any woman would be. All Nick had been able to afford when they were married was a low-quality diamond no bigger than the head of a straight pin. He’d always been ashamed of it, so on their tenth anniversary, he’d replaced it with a flawless one-carat stone.
She held his ring, which she now wore on her right hand, next to Adam’s. If she came home wearing this boulder on her finger, Nick would no doubt assume Adam had picked up the gauntlet in the pissing-match her ex-husband had initiated.
~*~
Turmoil flashed across Samantha’s face as she gazed down at the two rings on her hands. Adam couldn’t help feeling a little smug about how puny the diamond Nick must have given her looked in comparison to his.
He’d been attracted to Sam since the day he met her, but he never even considered making a move on her while she’d been married. He’d even waited an interminable nine months to ask her out after her divorce so she would have time to adjust to being alone. Apparently, it might not have been long enough. “Are you worried your ex will feel outdone by me?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve never been more furious with him, but that doesn’t mean I want to hurt him.”
“So what you’re saying is you still care about him.”
“No!” The anguish in her eyes said otherwise.
“Uh-huh.” The simple fact that she still wore Nick’s ring, even if only as a cocktail ring on her right hand, said it all.
“Well, yes, of course I still care. Two people can’t be married for as many years as we were and have a child together without feeling something for each other.”
“That’s understandable. But you’re not still hung up on him, right?”
Her hesitation was all the answer he needed. “It doesn’t matter what I feel,” she finally said. “My marriage is over, and I want to move on with my life.”
“Then prove it to him, and to me, by wearing my ring. You admitted it yourself—Nick’s not going to stop hoping you’ll agree to patch things up any other way.”
She stared at the ring, gnawing on her lower lip. “I-I feel like you’re pressuring me again.”
“Sam, I’m not asking for a permanent commitment. You can break off our so-called engagement anytime you like. If your ex believes we’re getting married, maybe he’ll give you the space to explore what you really want. I’m hoping it’ll be me.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“If you decide you’re still in love with Nick....” Adam shrugged. “Naturally, I won’t be thrilled, but I’ll understand.”
He really did want her to be happy, and if that meant reconciling with her ex....he’d have to learn to live with her decision.
As the waiter returned to take their dessert order, he froze a few feet from their table and stared at the ring box on the table. “Uh-oh. Did I come back at the wrong time?”
“It’s okay,” Adam told him.
“Should I assume congratulations are in order?”
Sam lifted her gaze to Adam’s face, and her mouth slanted in a weak smile. “I guess so.”
“Well, in that case, I’d like to treat you to dessert.”
“Thanks. That’s nice of you.” Adam made a mental note to leave an extra generous tip as he ordered some chocolate mousse and two cups of coffee. When the waiter left, the anxiety on Sam’s face said she was still uncertain about what they were doing.
“What’s worrying you now, sweetheart?”
“I just don’t like lying—especially to my daughter.”
“Then don’t. You can consider this a trial engagement instead of a phony one. Who knows? Eventually, you may decide you want to wear that ring permanently.” When she opened her mouth to object, he raised his hands. “No pressure, I promise.” He leaned toward her and brushed her forehead with a kiss. “I’m crazy about you, Samantha, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I hope one day you’ll feel the same way about me.”
“I really like you, too, Adam. But I need to be sure you’re not placing too much significance on me wearing your ring.”
“I’m not. Honest. But I think maybe viewing our engagement as sort of an audition will help ease your conscience.”
She nodded. “I guess it does a little.”
“Everything will be all right. As soon as we’re done with dessert, I’ll take you home so you can break the news to Dani and her father.”
“No, you’d better do that. I have a lousy poker face. And besides, I’m still not speaking to Nick.”
Adam smiled, relishing the opportunity for a little payback. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
~*~
While Dani was having dinner at Ryan’s house, Nick had planned to scour Sam’s files so he could work up an accurate production cost analysis for her Worry Pals. He’d hoped focusing on numbers all evening would keep him from dwelling on how sexy Sam had looked when Adam picked her up for dinner.
Unfortunately, when he’d climbed the stairs to her workroom moments after they left, he discovered she’d locked her filing cabinet. Consequently, he’d spent the last few hours organizing the garage and collecting the tools he would need for the renovation he planned. It was another job that needed doing. The only problem was, the manual labor left his mind free to wander.
It was bad enough Sam had obviously gone to a lot of extra trouble curling her hair and applying her make-up, but she’d also worn his favorite outfit with a spritz of the Dolce Gabbana perfume he’d sent her on her last birthday.
There was nothing overtly revealing about the sapphire blue cocktail dress she’d bought for one of Swann’s holiday parties. The silk sheath had always hugged her figure, but, now, with a few extra pounds squeezed into it, the dress fit like the skin on a ripe peach and accentuated her enticing bottom and lush cleavage.
Not that it really mattered what she wore. Sam looking her worst was still a knockout. It wouldn’t bother him if she’d gotten dolled up for her date simply to torture him. What worried him was she might have actually done it to seduce Dr. Adonis.
The matching four-inch stilettos she’d worn for Adam tonight had gotten Nick so worked up at the company party three years ago he’d lured Sam into a hotel conveniently unlocked supply closet.
At first, Sam was horrified by his lusty spontaneity, but after a few scorching kisses among the towels, she reluctantly allowed him to make love to her. Despite her reservations, her subsequent impatience told him she found it an incredible turn-on. Knowing at any time, some unsuspecting hotel employee might open the door—which could only be locked with a key from the outside—made it the hottest sex ever. Sam came so violently and so many times in the span of only a few minutes, she nearly suffocated herself, smothering her ecstatic cries of ecstasy in his shoulder.
Afterward, she was mortified by their utter depravity, as she phrased it, even though it was obviously the most intense experience she’d ever had. She made him swear never to tell a soul—not even Father Rossi in confession—or even to remind her of what happened that night. He’d kept his word, but he’d also replayed her extreme eagerness a thousand times in his mind.
Damn. All of his reminiscing had given him a raging hard-on.
As he headed back into the house, a horrible thought shoved all his thoughts of a hot, soapy shower out of his mind. What if Chase had taken her to his house for an intimate dinner instead of going to a restaurant?
Obscene images of the bastard seducing Sam in her stilettos flashed through Nick’s head, making his jaw clench almost hard enough to crack a molar. Nick couldn’t blame the other man. In the doctor’s shoes, he would do exactly that.
~*~
By ten-o’clock, Nick decided he’d tortured himself long enough and drove to the Flynn’s house to pick up Dani. He spent a half-hour chatting with Ryan’s mother, Mary, while waiting for his daughter to finish the game of
Clue
she was playing with Ryan, Cindy, and Bethany.
During the drive home, Dani griped for several minutes about being picked up so early, and once they arrived home, she bombarded him with questions about Sam.
“Mom’s still not back?” she asked as she preceded him through the back door. “What time did they leave?”
“A little after seven.”
“Shouldn’t they be back by now? It’s almost eleven o’clock.”
He tossed his keys and wallet on the counter. “A few minutes ago, you complained ten-thirty was too early to be going home.”
“I’m just saying....it shouldn’t take four hours to have dinner. Where do you think Dr. Chase took her?”
“I have no idea.”
Dani hoisted herself up to sit on the kitchen island. “Do you think they might’ve gone to his house after dinner?”
He sure hoped not. “I don’t know. In any case, what your mother or I choose to do on our own time isn’t any of your business. Why don’t you go up and get ready for bed.”
“Don’t you care if—”
“Dani, enough with the inquisition. You’re not still playing
Clue
.” Not only were her questions too much like the ones he’d been asking himself all evening, he was starting to feel like Colonel Mustard about to be caught red-handed with the candlestick in the library.