Just The Way You Are (18 page)

"Sounds good."

She walked over to the stove and stirred the sauce if for no other reason than to keep her hands busy. Sam leaned against one of the counters, watching her. She couldn't remember when he'd just stood and watched her without heading for the table and the newspaper or flipping on the small television they kept in the kitchen cabinet. There had always been distractions between them. Now it was quiet, too quiet.

"I'm sorry, Alli," he said unexpectedly.

She whirled around, spoon in hand. "For what?"

"Being late today, leaving you to do the fish, throwing Tessa in your face."

"Anything else?"

"I'll start with that," he said with a small smile.

"I don't want an apology for—you know."

"Good, because I wasn't going to offer one."

She felt vaguely ticked off at that piece of information, even though she would have been just as offended if he'd said he was sorry. No wonder Sam couldn't understand her. She couldn't understand herself.

"Why weren't you?" she asked, knowing it was the worst possible question.

He stared at her for a long moment. "What do you want from me, Alli?"

"I don't know," she murmured.

"You used to be pretty clear on the subject."

"I used to have tunnel vision. I'm trying to look around in the shadows now and see what I've missed."

"Have you found anything?"

"Only that it appears to be true that you want what you can't have. You weren't this interested in kissing me three months ago."

He took two steps and he was suddenly right in front of her, his hands slipping onto her waist, and when she started to back up, she felt the dials of the stove stab into her back. She was trapped by his body, by his eyes. She swallowed hard.

"I've never not wanted to kiss you," he said somberly, as if he were telling both of them some truth that had just appeared between them.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why do you want to kiss me? Because you're a man and I'm a woman, and it's convenient?"

"You know that's not it."

"But you still can't say the words."

"We don't need words to communicate. In fact, we're a lot better when we don't talk." He kissed her on the mouth, softly, gently, like he was tasting something precious, something he wanted to linger over, enjoy.

Alli closed her eyes and let it happen. She was tired of fighting Sam, tired of fighting herself. His mouth was warm, as cozy as her kitchen, as delicious as the brownies baking in the oven. He was her home, her family, her life, in every breath that she took. She kissed him back, putting her hand behind his neck so he couldn't change his mind, couldn't pull away. But he didn't even try, and each kiss grew more heated, more needy, more hungry, until their hands grew restless, seeking a satisfaction they couldn't possibly find in the middle of the kitchen.

"This isn't going to work," Sam murmured against her mouth when they finally took a moment to breathe. "The steam from the sauce is curling your hair."

"Is that why I feel so hot?" she asked breathlessly. She stepped away from the stove and brushed her hair off her face. He looked at her in a way so intimate, so personal, she wanted to take his hand and race him upstairs. But upstairs, on their bed, was an eight-year-old girl. "We have to stop doing this."

"Maybe we should just do it, and then see how we feel."

"That's not the answer, Sam."

"Then what is?"

"I don't know," she said in exasperation.

"Then how do you know I'm wrong?"

She shrugged. "I don't. But there's a long tried-and-true tradition of divorcing couples not sleeping together."

The beeper on the stove went off, signaling that the brownies were done. Thank God. She desperately needed the interruption. As she opened the oven door and took out the brownies, Sam moved back to his position against the far counter.

"I saw your grandmother today. We had a nice chat," he said.

"I stopped by earlier, but she was sleeping. What did she say?"

"She wanted to know if we found the pearl yet."

Alli sighed. "I sure hope we can."

"We have to. She's not going to give up on it."

"I don't understand why she wants it now."

"She didn't tell me, but she seemed in a philosophical sort of mood. Maybe a brush with death does that to you."

"And with the Fourth approaching, she's got her anniversary on her mind. I don't know if William is too thrilled with the reminder of Grams's first love." She gave Sam an impulsive grin. "Those first loves are damned annoying, you know. They just won't stay in the past where they belong."

He smiled. "Most people don't stay where they belong."

"How was your trip with Tessa? You never said."

"You never asked."

"As much as I may regret it, I'm asking now."

"We caught up on what she's been doing. Talked about what happened among the three of us. That kind of thing."

"Did you kiss her?"

He didn't answer for a long moment. Finally, he said, "No matter what I say it will drive you crazy. If I kissed her, you'll be pissed. If I didn't kiss her, you'll wonder why. You'll imagine all sorts of wild scenarios that could have caused such a lapse on my part or Tessa's part. You'll wonder if there wasn't a kiss, then was there touching involved? And if I say yes, we'll have to discuss where people's hands were, and it will be midnight before we're done."

"You think you know me so well," she said, although inwardly she was giving him high points for insight.

"I do know you pretty well," he said smugly.

"I know you, too. And if you don't change your attitude, I'll have to tell Tessa some of your dirty little secrets."

"I don't have any secrets."

"Oh, yeah, like you don't check your head every day to see if you've lost any hair, because your father's bald spot grows wider by the minute?"

"Every man in the free world does that."

"And you know every bad knock-knock joke and insist on telling them to me."

"To entertain you."

"And you eat those really strong Altoid mints in the car after you drive through Burger World so Megan and I won't know you gave in to your craving for fast-food onion rings."

"Now, that's hitting below the belt," he said, taking a step forward. "I may have to retaliate."

Her heart skipped another beat. "What did you have in mind?"

"I thought you could read my mind."

"I can, and it's not going to happen, Sam." She put up a hand and drew in a breath. "We need to focus here. Do you want to call Megan for dinner while I set the table?"

Before he could do anything, the phone rang. Alli moved over to answer it. "Hello?"

"It's Mark Hayworth, Alli," the man said. Alli's body suddenly tensed. She didn't like phone calls from local policemen, especially on rainy nights.

Sam looked at her in concern. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head. "What can I do for you, Mark?"

"It's more what you can do for yourself. The storm is getting worse. The weather service is predicting twenty-five-foot waves by midnight. The harbor is already taking some big swells, lots of water running down the pier. I think you might want to throw some sandbags in front of your shop doors and make sure Sam's boats are tied down."

"Of course. Is it really going to be that bad of a storm?"

"I hope not, but it's better to be prepared. And I'd do it quickly if I were you; the wind is picking up."

"Thanks," she said, hanging up the phone.

"What did he want?"

"Big waves are hitting the coast. He thinks I should sandbag the shop, maybe board up the windows, and you should make sure your boats are secure."

Sam's eyes grew serious. "I'll go. I can do both our places."

"It will take too long by yourself."

He looked at her with compassion and an understanding that came from years of living together. "You don't want to go out in this storm."

She didn't. But she also didn't want to risk damage to her shop or Sam's business. "I can do it. But I don't want to take Megan."

"Can she go next door to Judy's?"

"I'll see."

"Alli, I can call Gary or someone to help me."

"By the time you do all that, we could be done."

"You hate the rain."

"I'm a grown-up now, Sam. I can do this."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Alli said decisively. Within minutes, she'd arranged for Megan to spend the evening with Judy, a middle-aged widow whose youngest child was away at college. "It's all set," she told Sam.

"I'll get Megan."

"Good. I told Judy I'd send the spaghetti and the brownies over with Megan. While you're doing that, I'll get my coat."

Sam caught her by the arm. "It will be all right."

"I just hate leaving Megan alone. It reminds me of me—waiting."

"Do you want to bring her with us?"

Alli hesitated, then shook her head. "No, it's cold and wet, and she'll be all right with Judy. Just promise me we'll come back really fast."

He kissed her on the cheek. "I'll take care of you, Alli."

It sounded like a promise. She wished he meant it for more than just the drive down to the pier.

Chapter 17

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"
H
ere you go." Jimmy handed Tessa a martini with one green olive floating on the top. "The Jimmy Duggan Special."

She eyed it skeptically. "I'm not much of a hard drinker."

"One drink doesn't make you hard. And eat that olive. You could use a few pounds."

She made a face at him, then took a sip. "Ooh, it's not bad."

"Of course it's not bad," he said, walking over to the fireplace, where Tessa had made little progress with the fire she'd been attempting to start. "Let me guess, you were never a Girl Scout."

"I thought the uniform was very unattractive."

He laughed as he squatted down in front of the fire. He stuffed some newspaper under the logs and lit another match, watching the paper burn away to the wood. A spark caught, then another. "That's better."

"You're good at so many things, Jimmy," Tessa said from her position on the floor, her back against the couch. Actually, she was more impressed by the solidness of his body as he worked the fire. In fact, he had a very nice looking ass. She giggled at the thought and he sent her a sharp look.

"What's so funny?"

"I think I'm feeling tipsy."

"On two sips?"

He came and sat down next to her. "This is nice, the rain outside, the fire inside, a good drink to warm our bones." He picked up his own martini glass from the coffee table and raised it to his lips. "Cheers."

"Cheers," she muttered, taking another sip. The alcohol did send a pleasant warmth through her body. If only she could forget how many calories she was drinking…

"I could do this for a while," Jimmy said, staring at the now growing flames of the fire.

"You? Sit in one spot for a period of time? Sorry, I don't see it."

"I can relax."

"Since when? You're like a jackrabbit, always on the move, always popping up where I least expect it."

"Gotta keep you on your toes." He set his glass down on the table and reached for his bag. "By the way, while you were visiting your grandmother this evening, I got some photos developed. Do you want to see them?"

She had a feeling she didn't. "Do I?"

"Relax, they're not of you."

That didn't relax her at all. But she couldn't stop him from placing a stack of photographs in her hand. The one on top was the front of Alli's shop. The next one was of Alli and two elderly customers. So far, nothing too horrible.

"Go on," Jimmy encouraged when she hesitated. "They won't bite."

"Promise?"

The next one was of Alli up to her elbows in fish. The expression on her face was of pure disgust, and it brought a smile to Tessa's lips. "Serves her right."

"Why?"

"Because Alli was always one to make a mess of things."

"This wasn't Alli's mess, it was Sam's. She bailed him out. Don't you wonder why? Since she's divorcing the guy?"

Tessa shrugged. She didn't want to think too long or too hard about Alli's motives. Instead, she flipped to the next picture and caught her breath as she saw a close-up of Sam's face. He was looking at someone or something with desire in his eyes, stark, raging desire. "When did you take this?"

"I can't remember," Jimmy said.

"Who is Sam looking at?"

"I don't know."

She looked over at Jimmy, catching a note in his voice that she didn't like. "You're lying."

"I was studying him through my camera. I wasn't paying attention to what he was looking at."

"Was it me?"

"I told you, Tessa, I don't know."

"Was it me, Jimmy?"

"Do you want it to be you?" he asked, the laughter completely gone from his eyes. "Do you want him to look at you like that?"

Did she? There was a fierceness in Sam's eyes that disturbed her, a wildness that she couldn't place as belonging to him. She set the photograph aside. "You like to stir the pot, don't you?"

"It's amazing what you can see when you're not distracted by what you want to see."

Tessa took another sip of her drink. "Is that some kind of pop photographer psychology?"

"I've learned not to trust my eyes to see what's really there."

"Well, maybe if I had a camera, I could do the same thing."

"Or maybe you could just concentrate a little more."

For a few minutes they sat in silence, staring into the orange-red flames of the fire. It was the first time Tessa could remember Jimmy being so quiet. Maybe it was this place, this small town that brought out the quiet side in men. Where she traveled, the circles she lived in, you had to speak loudly and often in order to be heard, to be seen. Even then it was doubtful anyone was really listening.

Jimmy picked up her hand and played with her fingers, twisting a tiny silver ring on her baby finger. "Why do you always wear this?" he asked.

"My mother gave it to me when I was ten. She wore it when she was a child. It's one of the few things I have of hers."

"Was she like you or more like Alli?"

"Me. At least physically. Although, come to think of it, we shared similar interests. She's the one who got me started in modeling. She tried with Alli, but Alli never could figure out how to say the right thing at the right time."

"Whereas you nailed it on the first try."

"Pretty much. I felt their expectations grow larger with every contest. Funny…"

"What is?"

"My parents have been gone for so long, but I can still hear my mother's voice in my head: 'Straighten up, Tessa. Hold your stomach in, chin up, think of your posture, be proud, there's a good girl.' Silly, huh?"

"No. I can still hear my father's voice in my head: 'When are you going to get a real job? When are you going to put some money in a savings account, grow up, be responsible? You can't live on a plane forever, you know.'"

She smiled at his mimicking tone. "You've never talked about your parents before."

"There's not much to say."

"Is your father dead?"

"Oh, Lord, no."

"So he said those things to you just yesterday?"

"Exactly. No wonder they're so fresh in my mind."

She punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You are such a tease. Is your mother alive, too?"

"Yes, and my brother, the senator, is still kicking as well."

"You're not close with your brother?"

"I'm the black sheep, babe. Nobody gets close to the black sheep."

"You're a lamb in wolf's clothing," she corrected.

"Hey, don't ruin my rep."

"You're not as bad as you make yourself out to be. In fact, you're a pretty good guy, you know that?"

"But not quite good enough?"

She turned sideways so she could look into his eyes. "What does that mean? Suffering from a lack of self-confidence? I find that hard to believe."

"Well, you did ditch me for Sam today."

She sighed and looked toward the fire. "Sam and I have some things to resolve. You know that."

"How was the sailing trip anyway? You haven't said much about it."

Because she didn't know what to say. She hadn't really enjoyed it that much. Being on the ocean had made her uneasy. Being with Sam had felt awkward. They'd almost kissed. They'd almost connected, but not quite. It was so frustrating she could scream. Even now, her insides were in turmoil.

"Yoo, hoo, Tessa," Jimmy said, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

"It was fine. I'm not much of a sailor."

"You must have done some sailing growing up here."

"Not as much as you would think. I was busy with school and friends and did a lot of beachcombing, but I never really liked messing around with the boats. And Sam wasn't all that interested then." She hesitated, thinking back, wondering if she'd somehow missed the fact that Sam liked to sail. "No, I don't remember him that way. Sam hated working for his dad on Saturdays. He was always trying to get out of it so he could play with me."

"Yet
he ends up running a charter boat service. Odd how life turns out sometimes."

"I don't think it's what he wanted to do, more like what he had to do after Alli got pregnant. His dad always wanted him to come into the business, and I suppose not finishing college, it was all he could do to support Alli and Megan." She looked back at him. "Sam told me that the business has grown so successful a group of investors wants to buy him out. He could either stay running it or just sell out and move on."

Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "Move on with you?"

"I didn't ask him that."

"Why not? I thought you two could talk about anything."

"We used to be able to. It doesn't seem as easy now," she admitted, reaching for her martini glass. It was almost empty. Oh, well, might as well go for broke, she thought.

"People change." Jimmy paused. "Frankly, not to burst your little bubble, sweetheart, but I don't see Sam selling out. He has deep roots in this community. And he's got a wife and a daughter here. Okay, forget the wife," he said immediately as she opened her mouth to protest. "He still has a kid, and I think he's the kind of guy who probably wants to stick around and watch his kid grow up."

She let out a sigh. "You're probably right. But it's so unfair the way things turned out. Don't you think there is a way Sam could keep his ties with Megan but have a chance at a life of his own?"

"A life with you, don't you mean?" He tilted her chin up with his hand. "What are you going to do, babe? Retire? Settle here in Tucker's Landing? Be a housewife?"

"It could be a home base," she said, shaking his hand away from her face. "I can live anywhere, Jimmy. Most of my assignments take me away from the home I have now. What's to say I couldn't change my address? What's to say we couldn't live in Portland or somewhere nearby, not exactly here, but close enough for Sam to get down to see Megan?"

"You've done some thinking about this, haven't you?"

"I've done little else."

"You're crazy, you know that? You're a supermodel, Tessa—a big-city girl with big dreams and a big bank account. Do you really believe you're going to be happy living here or even in Portland? Open your eyes. This isn't your life, as you told me so definitely the first day I got here. It still isn't."

She knew he was both right and wrong. She'd fled Tucker's Landing because of the pain, the betrayal, but being back home had reminded her that there was a part of her that was still small town. Of course, there was another part of her that liked to go to the theater and out to dinner and shopping. But those things could be had every now and then, enough to keep her satisfied.

Jimmy smiled at her as if she were a young child dreaming of flying to the moon. "Have you even looked at a newspaper since you've been here, Tessa?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked with annoyance.

"Being here is like escaping to a remote island. And it's nice. I'm enjoying it myself. But forever? I don't think so."

"When you're with the right person, it doesn't matter where you live."

"Yeah, and Santa Claus still comes down chimneys. Of course it matters. Part of marriage is being compatible, being able to share a life that makes both people happy. If one compromises too much, in the end they'll both suffer."

"Sam did it. He compromised. Why shouldn't I?"

"I don't get why you suddenly want this guy so much. If you were so hot for him, why didn't you come back sooner and try to reclaim him?"

"Because I didn't know that he wasn't happy," she cried, "that his marriage wasn't all right. I never figured them to be totally in love, but I guess staying together as long as they have made me feel like their bond was too strong to break, and I wasn't interested in being a home wrecker. But with Sam about to be free—don't you see, Jimmy? I suddenly have the chance to have what I lost all those years ago."

"So you think," he said. "But let me give you something else to think about."

"Wha—?"

He didn't let her finish, simply leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth. It was so unexpected, so shockingly hot and tingling. He tasted like vodka. He smelled like fire. He felt like a warm, desirable male and her body responded in kind. Her head told her to stop, to pull away, that he was making a mockery of what she'd just told him. But her body seemed unwilling to move, her lips opening instead of closing, her tongue dancing with his instead of lying dormant. Oh, God, what was she doing?

Jimmy stopped before she did, making her feel even worse.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded, when she could finally put words to feelings.

"I thought you needed something else to think about."

"We're just friends, Jimmy."

"Of course we are."

"I don't want you to kiss me."

"Of course you don't," he said, getting to his feet. "I think I'll head back to the hotel."

It was the right thing to do. He'd crossed the line of their friendship. But still, she didn't like to see him taking the glasses into the kitchen, reaching for his coat, leaving her alone…

"You're
going—just like that?" she asked, scrambling to her feet.