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  Looking a little closer he could see that below the knee was a few shades lighter than the rest of her leg. “What happened?”

  She shrugged. “I had a little surfing accident.”

  “First timer?”

  “Nope. I’ve been doing it all my life.” She rolled her eyes as she thought about it. “It was pretty embarrassing to be carried out of the water by two lifeguards I grew up with.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Her facial expression was of mock contempt. “Thanks, that makes me feel better.”

  “I’m only teasing.” He reached for her hand. “Promise me a dance when you’re healed up.”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  They had hit it off. They dated for one incredible year before he asked her to move in with him. He had had no reservations when making the transition, but he had never dreamed that living together could have been so unbelievably fulfilling. Everything between them was heightened. Their passion grew deeper as they discovered new things about each other. He had never been so in love or happier. He had had it all: a meaningful relationship with a beautiful, intelligent woman, and a great job. Who could have asked for more? It had been all his for the taking, until the unthinkable happened. She had caught him in another woman’s arms. Before he had a chance to explain, Samantha was gone. He raced home but she had already left; she hadn’t even bothered to take any of her things.

  James balled up his fists and sucked in a deep breath of salty air. “What happened to us, Samantha?” His eyes closed briefly; it didn’t matter. Not now.

  He reached for the list of nurses he had set on his nightstand and left the room.

  Chapter Two

  James held open the front door as the last nurse left. He’d managed to organize seven interviews in two days. “Thank you for coming. We’ll be in touch.”

  He looked at his mom across the room as he walked into the living room. “Well, what did you think?” He shuffled through the stack of résumés sitting on the coffee table as he took a seat on the sofa. “I like number six, what’s her name? Karen, that’s it. It says right here that she has eight years of experience with this kind of care.”

  “Yes, number six,” Marie said absentmindedly.

  “I like number two also. Lots of experience, great personality.” James looked over the papers before he tapped another résumé. “Rita is a good candidate too.” He glanced up to see his mother looking out the sliding glass window at the ocean. “Mom, are you listing to me?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook the papers in his hand. “Then what do you think? I’d like to hear your input.”

  Marie didn’t look at him. “I suppose they’re nice.”

  “What do you mean you suppose they’re nice? You didn’t like any of them?” He set the résumés down and ruffled his hair in an agitated manner.

  “Number two was too old.” Her eyes moved to James and then immediately back to the window.

  “Too old? Mom, she was your age.”

  Marie lifted her shoulders to her ears. “A little older.”

  “What about number six?” Frustration was setting in. “She was half your age.”

  “Yes, pretty young thing, but she didn’t look fun.” She watched a seagull dance in the wind. “I don’t want some humdrum person to take care of me. I’d get bored and you know how I hate to get bored.”

  James gritted his teeth. The dull ache at the base of his neck was slowly traveling upward. He rolled his head from side to side. He needed an aspirin. Hell, he needed an entire bottle. “We’re not looking for a playmate.” He felt his beeper on his hip go off for the third time in the last hour, reminding him of all the work that was still waiting for him at the office. He looked at the number; it was his secretary again. Annoyed, he turned it off and tossed it on the table.

  “It’s important that I get along with whoever takes care of me,” Marie continued.

  James looked up at his mom, who was sitting on the edge of the overstuffed chenille chair that nearly consumed her small frame. “I personally don’t care if you get along or not. If she is qualified and administers good care nothing else should matter.”

  “How can you say that? If I like the person, my recovery will be much quicker.” Her tone grew stronger as she pleaded her case. “You remember what the doctor said—positive thinking, mind over matter, all that kind of stuff.”

  “B.S.”

  She frowned at him. “James.”

  “Well, it is.”

  “I don’t want her just to be a nurse. She needs to be more. I need someone who will enjoy sitting on the deck and watching the ocean and the birds as much as I do. Who will help me tend to the roses out front when I’m too sick to walk? You took the time to have them moved here,” she pointed out. “I want someone who will enjoy them with me.” She reached for the glass on the coffee table in front of her. “James, there’s nothing wrong with wanting a nurse and a companion. This person is going to spend almost every waking moment with me.”

  He rubbed his eyes. “You realize that your treatment starts in four days and we have no one. No one.” He leaned back against the sofa, discouraged to the point of giving up. “I don’t think you know how serious this is.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Mom, I can’t take care of you. I wouldn’t know what to do.” Hell, he was having problems just finding someone to take care of her.

  “I don’t expect you to.”

  “Then what do you suggest we do?” He threw his hands in the air. “I’m out of ideas. I’ve called every nurse in this town. There is no one left to call.”

  “There’s Samantha.”

  He stood up and grumbled, “Let’s not start this again. It’s been a long day.” He moved into the large eat-in kitchen, which opened up from the living room to create one large room. “What do you want for dinner?”

  She followed him, taking a seat at the small breakfast table.

  “She liked to walk on the beach. Remember?”

  How could he forget, they had some of their best times on the beach. Walking, talking, thinking, making love. It was where they had preferred to be over anywhere else. The sandy seaside was their special place and the infinite crashing of the waves was their special song. It was a place that allowed them to reflect and preserve what they had shared and what was still yet to come.

  “She loved my roses. The ‘Crimson Glory’ tea rose she gave me for my birthday is still one of my favorites.”

  Swinging open the refrigerator door, he stared at its contents.

  “You want to barbeque?”

  “She was fun. Her enthusiasm seemed to be contagious. I remember some of our shopping trips. She would have me giggling like a child and buying frivolous items I didn’t need.”

  Her eyes drifted to her hands in her lap. “She was intoxicating.”

  James went still.

  “Intoxicating.” Marie repeated the word slowly. “Lovely word, isn’t it?” She watched her son closely before she continued. “That’s the kind of person I need around me during my treatment.”

  James’s hand gripped the door handle as he flashed back to a moonless night on the back deck of his mom’s house. He tried to will the memories away but it was a waste of time. The word his mom had just spoken was an unwanted tap that reached deep into his mind, extracting memories that he didn’t wish to remember.

  He had pulled Samantha outside to steal a few kisses in the cool night air while his mom went upstairs to freshen up for dinner. He had taken her by the arm, guided her across the deck, and pressed her backside against the railing. In the dark, his lips had found hers in a needy, captive kiss. He had never needed anything more in his life right then, than to kiss her. She had that affect on him. One moment he was fine, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, he needed to touch her, be with her.

  “We can’t do this,” Samantha had said.

  “Sure we can,” James had murmured as he had nudged her head back and
his lips had followed the curve of her slender neck, leaving a moist trail of tingly kisses.

  “We better stop.”

  “Why?” he had half-heartedly whispered as his tongue teased the sensitive area.

  “Your mom is inside. I don’t want her to catch us.”

  James had laughed, but his lips had never broken contact with her skin. “I’m not sixteen. I think she knows that we kiss. After all, we live together.” His tongue had traced lazy circles over her neck. “She probably suspects that we do other things, too.”

  Samantha had given him a tender shove. “James, don’t say that.”

  “I want you.” He had pulled her closer to him. “Why can’t I seem to get enough of you?” He had moved his lips to her ear and nibbled on the tender lobe. “You’re intoxicating, you know that? You’re like a drug that I can’t get enough of.” His words had been hot against her ear. “I love you.”

  “James?” Marie repeated his name for the second time.

  He came out of the unyielding image suddenly and had to orient himself with what he had been doing. “Leftover casserole how does that sound?” He rummaged around the refrigerator for several moments, trying to regain his composure. “I don’t see much of anything else in here. We need to go grocery shopping.” It was another errand that he added to his list of things he didn’t have time to do.

  “Call her.”

  “I’m not calling her.” He lifted a clear container and examined it. “There’s soup from last night. How about soup and salad?”

  “Why won’t you call her?”

  “She left me. She hasn’t spoken to me in over a year. That sounds like a good enough reason to me.” Anguish washed over him. The dull ache that had started at the base of his neck engulfed his entire head, pounding violently against every surface for release. “Mom—”

  “Mom, that’s right. I’m your mom.” She pointed a slender finger at him and sent him a look that only a mother could give her child. “At one time I was your mommy who fed you, changed you, and took care of all your needs.”

  “Don’t leave out the forty-six hours of labor you endured,” he said dryly.

  “I haven’t forgotten. How could I ever forget? They were the longest days of my life. By the way, it’s up to fifty-six hours now.”

  “Do you even remember how long you were in labor?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Trust me, I’m still feeling the pains.”

  “I bet you are.”

  “My point is, you can talk to me just like you always have.”

  He placed a tall, empty glass in front of her. “This isn’t some bump you can kiss and make all better.”

  “I’m not saying that it’s going to be better. I just want you to talk about it.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  She raised her hands, giving up. “Let’s make a deal.”

  He was too tired to argue. He felt irritation slithering through him, ready to settle permanently. God, he hoped she would make it fast. “What kind of deal?”

  “If Samantha—”

  “Mother, I don’t want to talk about this.” He pulled out a saucepan and turned on the stove.

  Marie swallowed hard. “Just hear me out.”

  He tried to hide his temper, by busying himself with making dinner. “We went over this two nights ago.”

  “Yes, we did. However, we never settled anything.”

  He looked up swiftly. “She’ll never be your nurse,” he said undiplomatically. “There, it’s settled.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  He wasn’t in the mood to be fair. “Maybe not, but it’s settled.”

  “James Anthony Taylor, I raised you—”

  James sighed heavily. “Let’s not start this.”

  Marie’s hand found its way to her chest, where she tapped in lightly over her heart, and then looked heavenward. “Lord, I don’t know where I went wrong—”

  “Please, let’s not start with the Lord stuff.” He cast an uneasy look at his dramatic mom and then said, “Okay, I’ll hear you out. What’s the deal?”

  Marie smiled kindly as she leaned back in her chair. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, no, thank you,” he said sarcastically.

  “If Samantha can’t take care of me, I’ll pick one of the other nurses. It’s as simple as that.”

  As James took out place settings he contemplated the deal. This could be the answer to his prayers. What were the chances of Samantha accepting this job? She hadn’t spoken to him in a year; she would never agree to move in with him and take care of his mom.

  “Well?”

  “If Samantha declines, you will pick one of the other nurses without a single word of complaint?” He wanted to make sure they completely understood each other, because once it was settled he didn’t want to hear another word about it ever again.

  She placed a hand over her chest in mock contempt. “I never complain.”

  He could only roll his eyes at the proclamation. “No more of this nonsense about how you want a nurse who will enjoy your roses and also keep you entertained. We will hire the most qualified nurse. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “By the way, it’s not nonsense.” Her mood turned serious.

  “All that nonsense happens to be documented in some very prestigious medical journals.”

  He looked up at her.

  “Yes, that’s the deal,” she said swiftly.

  “Despite her age or her floral preference?”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” she agreed. “Should I have my lawyer call your lawyer?”

  “Just for the record, you’re not funny.”

  Her smile never faded. “Then what else do I have to agree to? Do you want me to sign something in blood?”

  God, how he loved easy deals. Why couldn’t all his deals be this easy? “That won’t be necessary. You have a deal.”

  She leaned forward and said, “Seal it with a kiss.”

  And he did.

  * * * * *

  An hour later James had cleaned the dishes and, even though she refused, he had helped his mom to her room to get settled for the night before heading back downstairs to his office.

  Now, he sat in the deep leather chair in his office, his elbows rested on the arms, his chin supported by his hands, his gaze on the phone. He had tried to concentrate on his paperwork, but all he’d managed to do was waste forty-five minutes staring at the phone. He was dreading the call he knew he was going to have to make.

  The thought crossed his mind, several times, to lie to his mom and tell her he had called Samantha, and she’d turned down the job. He would be avoiding a very awkward moment, not to mention opening old wounds. He thought about another half dozen lies before he quickly plucked up the receiver and dialed the first six digits of Samantha’s number. He held the phone to his ear before punching the last number. It took forever for the phone to ring.

  “Hello.”

  James suddenly couldn’t speak. His words caught in his throat like a dry cotton ball. He swallowed hard against the bittersweet feeling of knowing she was at the other end of the line. He shifted in his seat.

  “Hello, is anyone there?”

  “Hi, Samantha.”

  “James?”

  Well, she hadn’t forgotten his voice. He gained a little pleasure from that fact. “Yes, umm . . . I hope I didn’t call too late.”

  “No, I just got home.”

  He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to hear her voice or how good it would feel when he did. Her distinct soft tone penetrated the phone, and swirled through his head. He had loved that voice. He had loved to hear her sing as she had worked around the house, when she had spoken on the phone, or whispered to him at night. That was the voice he couldn’t get out of his head. It spoke to him when there was no one else there. He closed his eyes and remembered how he had loved to hear her murmur against his ear when they had made love. Her low moans of fulfillment had driven him wild with passion and love
.

  Her voice had always reached deep within in him; it still did.

  “James, are you there?” Samantha cleared her throat.

  “James?”

  “Excuse me?” He shook his head abruptly as the oversized picture on the far wall came into focus. What the hell was wrong with him? Get it together, he demanded. “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” He started to doodle on a yellow legal pad. He had to do something to divert the nervous tension.

  “Why are you calling?”

  “My mom’s sick.” Losing interest in the pen, he picked up a paper clip and began to fiddle with it.

  Concern jumped into Samantha’s voice immediately. “Marie. What do you exactly mean by sick?”

  “She has cancer.” James’s stomach churned as a bitter taste formed in his mouth. He hated saying the word.

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry. How is she doing?”

  “She’s hanging in there.” He wasn’t. He wished that he had taken the news as well as his mom had. Oddly, he’d felt like it had devastated him more than her. “She starts chemotherapy in three days.”

  “You’d be amazed at what they can do these days. Treatment has come a long way in the last few years.” Her tone was encouraging. “The drugs they are using are more effective—”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

  “James?” She paused for several seconds. “James, are you okay? You don’t sound good.”

  “Yes, I’m fine it’s just that—” What was wrong with him? Why was he fumbling for words? He was a top corporate executive, he reminded himself. He ran a huge company, interacted with some of the most powerful people in the world. He stifled a laugh; his communication skills were honed to perfection, and yet it took all of him just to talk to his ex-girlfriend.

  “What is it?” Samantha’s voice softened. “You can talk to me.” She paused. “Do you have medical questions? Is that why you called?”

  “My mom wants you to take care of her.” Oh, hell, he hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. His intentions were to ease the topic into the conversation after they had some time to get used to the fact that they were talking with each other.