For the Longest Time (18 page)

It was a way to fill time between now and tonight, when he'd get to watch Sam and her Velcro kitten be reunited for good. The thought eased his mind a little.

“Yeah, we're going,” Jake said. The flicker of relief across Shane's otherwise impassive face told him the subject of his choice in girlfriends was closed, at least for now. That was probably a good thing. Even if he knew this wouldn't be the end of it.

Jake hurried up the stairs, catching the faint scent of Sam lingering in the room. And because Tucker would never tell, he pressed his face in the pillows to find it there as well, breathing in the ghost of her. She was a breath of fresh air in so many ways. And she made him wonder what else he might have been missing all this time.

He shook his head and put the thoughts aside for now. The only thing he was sure of was that he'd miss even more if he didn't jump in the shower and get some clothes on.

Ready or not, it was time to start the day.

“A
ll right, spill it.”

Sam jumped a little at the sound of Zoe's voice, then turned to find her only a couple of feet away and wearing a look that would have given an invading army pause. Fortunately, Sam was comfortable enough with her to know that Zoe's stern face was not currently covering up anything but nosiness.

“Spill
what
?” Sam asked, amused by the way Zoe's eyes widened.

“You've been walking around all morning looking like you're about to burst into song, Disney princess style. It's about time you let me in on the secret. Especially if it involves who I think it does.” One hand drifted to rest on her hip, and she tapped a finger restlessly as she waited for an answer.

Sam slowly put down the pen she'd been using and folded her hands in front of her.

“Why does it have to be because of a guy?” she asked. “Maybe I bought new shoes or something.”

Zoe leveled a bland stare at her. “Uh-huh.”

Sam sighed, shuffled a few papers around, rolled her eyes, and finally returned her gaze to Zoe. She hadn't moved, except to cross her arms over her chest. She
looked more like a cop about to begin an interrogation than an art dealer. And Sam already felt herself cracking under the pressure—though it was probably just because she hadn't had anyone to actually share this with. Not that she was entirely sure what “this” was yet. Last night had . . . well, last night had been . . .

“See, this is what I mean. You're gazing off into space with that little smile on your face. Again.” She shook her head. “I'm going to have to bow to your skills. A year and a half here and my hottest date was probably sitting at home with a bottle of wine and Thor on the TV—paused on Idris Elba's face. It was a nice view, but the only thing satisfying about it was the cheese plate I ate all by myself.”

“I eat like that even when I'm not pretending I'm on a date with movie stars,” Sam said. When Zoe looked like she might start growling, she relented. “Okay. It's Jake Smith. I guess we're . . . dating.”

Or having hot monkey sex. Take your pick.

She flushed at the memory as she watched Zoe revel in her triumph. “I knew it! And you tried to tell me he was just some old friend, like I didn't see you two drooling all over each other. He's hot. Speaking of pretty gold eyes.” She nodded approvingly. “Nice. So you saw him last night, right? And maybe this morning, too. That's what the smile says.”

“No comment.” But there wasn't a thing she could do about the huge grin that was as guilty an expression as she could think of. Zoe burst out laughing.

“All right now, you know I want details. Let me live vicariously a little.”

“Zoe,” Sam said, “please don't tell me you haven't been on a single date since you've been here.”

She lifted her chin and arched her brow imperiously. “Nobody here is up to my exacting standards. Besides,” she continued, “you know I'm right here most of the time. The only man I see regularly is Treebeard, and rolling around in some pine needles is not my idea of sexy.”

“Treebeard. You mean Jason?” When Zoe nodded, Sam burst out laughing. She'd never thought of him that way, and he was a lot better looking than one of Tolkien's tree people, but still, there was something very apt about the description. She was going to have an awful time not laughing the next time he showed up in here.

“This is what I get for the whole Cabot Cove influence. My life has turned into a G-rated television series,” Zoe said. “Which is why, Miss Samantha, you need to share some of your story with me. Not the kinky parts,” she added, “just the setup. I don't even remember what a night out looks like.”

Sam started to answer, but the bell above the door jingled and a pair of women's voices drifted in.

“. . . can't believe they're finally getting some decent places to shop around here. Not that this is anything like Charlotte. You should
see
the shopping in SouthPark—anything you could want. Of course, I suppose I won't need to worry as much about competition when I decide to throw a party here. Just not throwing it at the fire hall would be a big deal.”

“You'll have to help me with the Christmas party this year, Cici! We still make a big event out of it, and I don't want people to think it's getting stale. . . .”

Zoe leaned in close and muttered, “Oh look, Petunia Fussybottoms found a friend. This should be fun.”

Sam only barely managed to swallow her laugh. Petunia Fussybottoms? She didn't even need to look to know
that was Penny Harding, who had graduated with her but had always prided herself on being tight with a few of the girls a grade ahead of them. A glance told her that Penny didn't look much different—her face was small and pinched, though her tiny stature had long qualified her as “cute.” She'd always looked like she had just smelled something bad. That hadn't changed. And neither had her fixation on that stupid party, apparently, just as Zoe had warned her.

Penny was annoying, but she could handle it. The sight of Penny's companion, though, had Sam's stomach in knots in an instant. After seeing Shane Sullivan this morning, another unwanted reunion hardly seemed fair.

“Feel free to have a look around,” Zoe said, her voice like melted butter. “The oil paintings on the far wall there are new this week, by a wonderful artist we're featuring named Tegan March. He has a really striking style.”

Penny and Cici murmured their assent, though Sam could see right away they had no real interest. She caught a word of Cici's whisper to her friend—“pedestrian”—and began to flex her fists. If that idiot thought Tegan, whose kaleidoscopic abstract paintings had already drawn in quite a few passersby, was devoid of talent, then she hadn't changed a bit from the snotty bitch she remembered.

And considering what had happened the last time—in fact, the only time—they'd had something resembling a conversation, to say her memories of Cici were not good would be a serious understatement.

Sam watched them wander, hoping against hope that they wouldn't see her, or that if they did, they'd simply be cordial and move along. Their eyes were restless,
though, and it didn't seem like either one of them was very interested in the art. They were looking for something else. And when Cici's cool eyes fixed on her, Sam knew immediately what it was. They'd come in looking for her.

What did you expect? Word gets around.
At least Cici was married now, Sam thought. Or at least, she'd heard that somewhere. Probably from Emma, who had always agreed with her on one very important point: Cici Ferris was an evil beast from the deepest pits of hell.

“I know you,” Cici said, her lips curving into a small smile. “Samantha Henry. I heard you were back home. Living with your mama, right?”

She'd affected some kind of weird semi-Southern accent, Sam noticed, which blended oddly with the New England accent she remembered. She was still gorgeous to look at, though. Cici had the build of a natural athlete, long and lean, and a mane of rich brown hair streaked with gold. Perfect body, perfect features, perfect everything. She wished that Jake's ex-high-school sweetheart had really let herself go, but no. Of course, she also wished that Cici had stayed in Charlotte. Hopefully she wouldn't be in town long.

“For the time being,” Sam said, feeling Zoe's eyes on her. The tension in the air was close to suffocating.

Stand up straight, don't look away, pretend you have millions of dollars in the bank, she told herself. None of those quite did the trick. Remember who was in Jake's bed last night, she thought. Sam smiled, and it was genuine. That seemed to unsettle Cici. Something unpleasant flickered across her fine features before they schooled themselves back into polite interest.

“Isn't that funny?” Cici said lightly. “I'm back, too,
though I bought a house. After the divorce I couldn't stand staying anywhere near my ex-husband. Coming home made sense. I was hoping for something out on the Crescent, but you know how rarely something comes available, so I bought one of those beautiful old Victorians over on Emmett Street. My parents are long gone to Florida, so I've been imposing on poor Penny in the meantime.”

“Oh, stop. I love having you, Cici,” Penny said. “It's just like old times.”

Sam put on what she hoped was a pleasant expression and hoped they went away soon. It figured that Cici would be back permanently. Just her luck. And it more than explained the interest, she thought with a sick feeling starting in the pit of her stomach. Cici was sizing up the competition. She didn't want that to be true . . . but her instincts told her it was.

She'd made it very clear, long ago, that intrusions on her territory weren't welcome. Especially not from ugly little freak shows like Sam Henry. The days when Sam could be cornered and intimidated into slinking away were long past—if nothing else, working for Mona had seen to that. Still, the old feelings, long dormant, were hard to swallow back . . . the racing pulse, the urge to get as far away from the source of her trouble as possible. She'd been surprised into giving in to those instincts this morning when she'd caught sight of Shane Sullivan. Sam refused to do that now. But Cici was still trouble, and ignoring that would be at her peril.

“Well, I hope the move goes well. Is there something in particular you're looking for today? Thinking about decorating?” Sam asked, determined to turn the conversation away from anything personal and make it as
businesslike as possible. Cici's eyes were sharp as they looked her over, missing nothing. Sam felt oddly bare, exposed in a way she'd almost forgotten. It took her back, and not in a good way. All of this did.

She would wonder what Jake had seen in someone like this, but the reasons were obvious, and only skin deep.

Cici's smile was more like a baring of teeth. “Maybe I'll have a look at some of
your
work. You left to be an artist, right? You must have some things in here. Or lying around. Somewhere.”

The hair at the back of her neck actually stood on end at the pure, feminine malice behind that simple question. No, Cici hadn't changed a bit. And Sam doubted she'd forgotten all their brief interludes in the school hallways over the years. “
Nice trash bag, Henry. You're supposed to put garbage in that, not make a dress out of—oh, wait . . .”
She remembered the giggles that had followed, and trying to pull herself even farther into the loose black dress she'd worn.

“Sam is actually putting together some pieces for a show right now,” Zoe said. “Kind of her big reintroduction to the Cove. We're keeping everything under wraps because I don't want to spoil it, but it's something really special.”

If it wouldn't have totally given it away, Sam would have thrown her arms around Zoe and given her an enormous hug. As it was, all she could do was try to play it cool and hope her gratitude didn't show. She was relieved at how calm she sounded when she quirked an eyebrow and spoke.

“I can keep you posted on that. Actually, we have a list for e-mail updates if you'd like to sign up.”

Cici didn't bother to hide her displeasure behind a smile as Penny shifted uneasily beside her. “No, I get enough spam. I'm sure I'll hear about it.” She looked at Penny. “Let's head to lunch. I'm starving, and I want to get down to the docks to see the boys when they get off the boat.”

She might as well have stuck a stiletto in her chest, Sam thought. Those words caused the same amount of pain. Doubt landed on her like a ton of bricks.
The boys.
Her
boys, she meant. Were they talking? Had Jake seen her yet? A little voice played in her head, dredging up from the place she'd tried to lock it away:
No sad little Goth slut is going to screw up my summer
.
You can stay away from him, or I can make sure your life is even more hellish than it already is.

Considering that the very next day was the day Jake had voluntarily removed himself from the picture, maybe she should have just heeded the warning instead of picking that particular hill to die on.

It was so stupid. She'd dated good-looking men, had an actual social life, worked in a respected gallery. She'd sold her paintings all over the world. Parts of it had sucked, but at least she'd felt like a real person, no more reviled or special than anyone else. But being here made her feel . . . less, somehow.

Then she felt it, a light, bolstering touch on her back from Zoe, silent support. She remembered what her mother had said about finding allies, and realized that she had one right here. It mattered more than she might have imagined . . . and it gave her courage she might not have found otherwise.

“If you see Jake, could you tell him I think I left one of my rings on his dresser this morning?” Sam called
sweetly after them as the women hurried out of the gallery. Penny turned her head to give her a wide-eyed look, but Cici didn't bother. Then they were gone, vanishing into the cloudy, blustery day. Sam watched the door swing shut and felt something between terror and triumph.

She'd just done the equivalent of shouting, “Come at me, bro!” Why, she had no idea, except that some part of her needed to let Cici know that the playing field had changed. Just how much remained to be seen, but it wasn't the same. And neither was she.

Sam took a deep breath, exhaled, and tried to force her shoulders to relax. It felt like steel rods had replaced her bones, and she knew she'd end up with a headache if she didn't watch it. The sense that she'd won her first skirmish with the ghosts of her past wouldn't replace her need for medication and a dark room if that happened, even if the rush was nice.

Zoe gave her back a quick pat before removing her hand.

“Look at you, making new friends.”

Sam turned her head to look at Zoe and managed a weak laugh. As the triumph faded, she felt a little like throwing up. There was no way Cici wouldn't find a way to hit back at her. None. And she had a bad feeling that the leverage was all with Harvest Cove's queen bee. After all, she and her courtiers were all Jake's friends. This wasn't exactly starting out on the right foot.