Foolish Notions Page 7

  “I would handle the situation very carefully. You see it’s not easy dealing with a patient who has such a low pain tolerance.”

  He looked heavenward as he thought. “I believe that fast and quick would be the right procedure in this case.” In one quick motion he ripped the glue off.

  “Ouch.” She shot across the room and glared at him. “You wouldn’t make a very good nurse,” she said as she examined her hand, clearly sulking. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  He was about to suggest she say “thank you,” but when he looked at her his words caught in his throat. Every muscle in his body turned taut as need swept through him in a burning wave of heat. Good Lord, she was breathtaking.

  She was leaning against the wall that separated the kitchen and the dining room, pouting as she inspected her hand. The setting sun cast dark shadows over the entire room. Samantha’s face was hidden in a shadow; however, a single bar of golden light fell across her bare feet. Frayed white thread from her faded jeans adorned her slender ankles. He hadn’t noticed the worn denims before, because she had been sitting behind the counter. They fit like a glove and that was what he liked about them. They sat low on her hips and exposed just a touch of her belly. If she hadn’t been in a shadow he would have been able to see the slight depression of her navel. The dark outline revealed every round curve on her painfully perfect body. God, she was beautiful. Her red toes began to flick in a restless rhythm. He watched them shine in the light before he looked up. “Do I make you nervous?”

  Deliberately, she crossed her ankles to remove her feet from the illumination as he stared at her. Now her entire body was engulfed in darkness. He knew she had done it to feel protected. The shadows shielded her from things she didn’t want to encounter. Or at least gave her the illusion she was shielded. When she stuffed her hands in her pockets, James’s gut tumbled because it caused her jeans to ride even lower on her hips. “Answer the question, Samantha. Do I make you nervous?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I’m not used to being stared at like that.” The low whisper came from the darkness and was barely audible over the music.

  “Like what?” he said gently. Even though it was dim, he could see the clear blue of her eyes gradually smoldered to a dark gray. He had seen the change many times before and knew instantly that her emotions were stirring and beginning to take over. She wouldn’t like this and he knew without a doubt she would fight them and push them as far away as possible.

  When she didn’t answer, James spoke. “I used to stare at you all the time.” Hell, almost every man stared at her the way he was staring at her, she just never noticed. When they had been together it was almost impossible not to see the way men would eyeball her. At times he could even read their blatant, nauseating thoughts, which would infuriate him to the point of confrontation. Of course, he never confronted anyone in front of Samantha. Several momentous occasions popped into his head, of times when he had gone back into a restaurant or store to put a man in his place for the impolite glances, but Samantha never knew about them.

  There was a side of him that he didn’t allow her to see often. It was a side of him that allowed him to succeed in his business. It allowed him to cut raw deals, sometimes unfair deals, without batting an eye. It was an impersonal side, filled with arrogance and shrewdness. However, he’d gone to great lengths to make sure that Samantha was never a part of that world. Her soft voice drew him from his thoughts. His eyes lifted.

  “That was then. Things are different now.”

  “They are different, but I’m not some stranger.” His voice was deep. Samantha stared at him, unmoving. He didn’t want to be put in some category with other men. He wouldn’t be.

  “I didn’t say you were.” She raked her teeth over her bottom lip anxiously.

  James had to dig deep to fight the urge to move closer. It made him sick, but he was no better than a stranger. He couldn’t just walk over and touch her. The truth was he had no right to be looking at her the way he was right now. He had no right to be thinking the thoughts he was thinking right now, either. The realization was sudden and powerful. A year ago he would have placed a kiss against her neck without a second thought. Now, he had no right to behave that way. He had no right to feel so possessive of her. “You know what’s strange?” His eyes held hers in a heavy stare. “To have someone in front of you that at one time had been entirely yours and now you have no right to her. It’s an odd feeling, Samantha, that doesn’t sit right in here.” He placed his hand over his heart. “It makes no difference how much you loved her, or how long you held her, or how deeply you cared for her. You no longer have a claim to her.”

  She swallowed hard. “Things have changed.”

  James’s voice was curt and his eyes were cold. “They shouldn’t have.” She had been an angel sent to him to keep him grounded, focused, and human. She’d been the balance that he needed to survive in the crazy world where he did business. He smiled at the thought of how it used to be. How would he ever find the strength to watch her leave again? He shuddered.

  “Move, so I can see you.” He spoke the words softly. When she made no attempt to move, he repositioned himself so he could see her better. Her eyes were wide, her expression meek. The look she was giving him didn’t sit well with him either. “I won’t pounce on you.”

  “You look like you will.”

  “But you know I won’t,” he said with absolute control.

  She sucked in a shaky breath and nodded.

  “I’m glad you agree.” Moving slightly, he asked, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “You’ve never looked at me like this before.” She paused. “Not even when we were together.”

  “I can’t touch you—that’s why I’m looking at you this way.” He angled his head. “It’s a position I’ve never been in, and to be honest with you, I don’t like it.” Her expression changed as a flicker of reserve twisted her lips and filled her eyes. She was looking at him like she didn’t trust him. “If I can’t touch you—”

  “Please, stop”

  He moved to her and pulled her hand out of her pocket.

  “Then don’t look at me like that.” He brushed her hair away from her face and ran the back of his hand across her cheek. “You look at me like I’m going to hurt you.” He lifted her chin. “You know I’ll never hurt you.”

  “I’m so confused.”

  A smile slowly transformed his mouth. “Is that what that look is?” He had to admit, she did look a bit baffled. Raising her hand, he said, “Did I get it all?”

  “Yes, and a little skin too.”

  “Good thing I’m not a nurse.” He brushed his lips over the tender spot, lightly.

  “It’s fine.”

  He watched her briefly. “Are you?”

  “If you take a few steps back so I can think and breathe, I will be.” She pulled her hand free from his, taking a deep breath. “I’m tired.”

  “Me, too.” His smile was almost destructive. “You want to go to bed?” He was so amused by the look in her eyes, he laughed out loud. “In separate beds, Angel.” He leaned in and hovered just above her ear. “At least, separate beds for now. Good night.”

  * * * * *

  In separate beds for now. What was the man thinking, Samantha mused, as she got into the car and pulled out of the driveway. How the hell was she supposed to sleep after a comment like that? How was she supposed to lie under the same roof after he’d looked at her like that? James was an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, she decided, as she sped down Pacific Coast Highway.

  She tapped her fingernail against the steering wheel—spite mounting until she was trembling. “I should have told him he was a son-of-a-bitch, too.” She looked over her shoulder and changed to the fast lane. “Why I kept my mouth shut is beyond me.” She should have set him straight then and there. She should have—

  When the odometer pushed past seventy she lifted her foot and sighed at how
ridiculous she was being. She couldn’t have spoken up if she had tried. Her entire body, even her voice, had seemed to grind to a halt the moment his gaze had fallen on her. Confusion had swarmed through her head, tackling any thoughts she might have had. Hell, she was happy that she had managed to stay erect because what she’d really wanted to do was slide down the wall and force herself to forget he was even in the room.

  His smile had been seductive. His arrogance had been persuasive. The biceps that flexed against his crisp shirt had been devastatingly visible. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as her insides exploded into a raging fire. A sharp ache scattered through her entire body, starting from the pit of her stomach and spreading outward in a sudden wave of intense heat.

  What had she been thinking when she thought she could take care of Marie and just ignore James? Thinking they could live peacefully together was a mistake—a huge error on her part. How was she going to get out of this situation? She couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t live under the same roof with him. It would never work. It wasn’t working.

  What she really needed was to talk to her best friend, Marisa. They had been practically inseparable since age seven. Marisa would put everything back into perspective for her. She was often the more practical of the two and she was definitely the take-charge one. Marisa would help her find her way out of this mess. Glancing down at the dashboard she saw that it was almost nine o’clock. Hopefully Marisa would still be up. Pulling off the highway, Samantha steered the car into an upscale residential neighborhood. She was thankful when she pulled up to the curb in front of the house to see that there were lights on.

  Instant relief filled Samantha when Marisa appeared at the door. It was so good to have a best friend, particularly at a time like this.

  “You don’t look good. What’s wrong?” Marisa said quickly as she pulled Samantha into the house and put a protective arm around her. “What happened? Is everything okay with Marie?”

  “Yes, Marie is fine.”

  Marisa’s hand went to her chest. “You scared me for a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.” Samantha shook her head. “Everyone’s fine.” She blew out a breath. “I know it’s late, but I really need someone to talk to.”

  Marisa closed the door and walked Samantha to the living room. “You want me to fix some coffee or tea?” she asked, moving toward the kitchen.

  Samantha shook her head.

  “You want a glass of wine?”

  “No, nothing to drink.”

  Marisa’s eyebrows shot up. “This is serious.” She moved to the sofa and pulled Samantha down next to her. “What’s going on?”

  Samantha couldn’t stop the tears that filled her eyes. “It’s harder that I thought it would be.”

  “Why? Tell me what’s hard. Is it seeing Marie sick?”

  She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “I didn’t think so. It’s James, isn’t it?”

  “Being near him like this is so difficult.”

  Marisa pulled Samantha into a tight embrace. “Oh, God, Samantha, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s so hard to be there.”

  “I know it is.”

  “I don’t think I can do this,” Samantha said as she closed her eyes and rested her chin on Marisa’s shoulder.

  “Of course you can do this.”

  “No, it’s too hard.”

  “It’s only the first day. Give it more time.”

  “Time isn’t going to make any difference. I bit off way more than I can chew. I’ve made a huge mistake.”

  Pushing her at arm’s length, Marisa grabbed Samantha’s shoulders and said softly, but firmly, “You have to do this. For Marie.”

  “I can find another nurse. With the kind of money James is paying—”

  “Marie needs you,” Marisa gently reminded her. She leaned over, plucked two tissues out of a box, and handed them to Samantha. “Not some other nurse. You can’t lose focus on that. That’s why you’re there.”

  “Focus,” Samantha repeated with a hysterical laugh. “I can’t stay focused with James so close.”

  “You’re going to have to, because Marie needs you.”

  Samantha nodded and sniffled at the same time. “You’re right. She does. That’s why I agreed to this in the first place.” She lifted her shoulders. “But this is killing me. I haven’t even been in the house for two days and—”

  “And what?”

  “It’s still there.” She buried her face in her hands. “I don’t want it to be, but all the emotions and feelings are still there.”

  She lifted her head. “God, sometimes he looks at me like he’s going to eat me alive and then other times he looks at me like I’m the one who betrayed him.”

  “He still cares for you,” Marisa said logically.

  “I don’t want him to care for me.”

  “You and I both know that feelings can’t be turned on and off. It’s going to be okay. It’s only temporary.”

  “You’re right.” Samantha wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

  “You want me to get that wine now?”

  “No.” Samantha stood. “It’s getting late and I need to go.”

  Marisa walked Samantha to the door, stopped, and pulled her close. “Call me in a day or so and let me know how things are going.”

  “I will.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” Marisa insisted. “Take care of Marie. That’s all you have to do.”

  “I know.” Samantha said as she kissed Marisa on the cheek and smiled thankfully. “I love you.”

  Chapter Eight

  At Marie’s insistence, Samantha finally agreed to take the walk on the beach that she had desperately wanted to take but kept putting off because she’d find something else that needed her attention. The peaceful stroll would be greatly appreciated, because tomorrow was going to be a busy day and it might be the last time she had a free moment to herself.

  Moving about her room, she unpacked the rest of her belongings, which she had fetched earlier that afternoon when Marie had been napping. Pausing, she thought about the woman down the hall. She had left Marie comfortably settled in bed with a crossword puzzle less than twenty minutes ago. Tomorrow night she might not be as content. In less than twenty-four hours she would be in the middle of her first treatment.

  Samantha slid the dresser drawer shut and moved across the room to the window. Pressing her palms against the glass she stared spellbound at the endless ocean. She wondered why this vast body of water enthralled her. She felt amazingly small when she was near it. For some unexplainable reason, it reinforced her belief that people truly do not have control over destiny. She had no control over the outcome of Marie’s cancer or her own feelings for James. She felt destiny was like the ocean—it was sometimes merciless and almost always unpredictable.

  A motion from below caused her gaze to drop. She watched James from the second-story window as he sat quietly on the beautiful deck. He must have changed from his work clothes when she was getting Marie settled in for the evening. She vaguely remembered hearing the car pull into the drive, but she assumed that he went right into his office. She hadn’t seen him since the night before when he had mocked her flowerpot and ripped off a layer of skin.

  She could tell he was deep in thought because he didn’t take notice of the seagulls that were perched on the railing crying for food, nor did he respond to the couple walking hand in hand down the beach that turned and waved. She speculated that his apparent bleak mood was why he hadn’t rushed to his mom when he had gotten home. That surprised her.

  Reluctantly, she turned away from the window. She knew she was going downstairs and it wasn’t because she was going to walk on the beach. She was going to see James. She plucked up the tennis shoes, which were sitting on the bed with socks stuffed in them, and tossed them back in the closet. She did the same to the yellow windbreaker. The beach was going to have to wait a few hours longer.

 
; She found James sitting on a chaise lounge. Two beer bottles sat on the weathered wood below him: one full, one empty. His arms were folded tightly across his chest as his gaze penetrated the setting sun. The brilliant oranges and reds drenched his solemn features with color.

  Quietly, she closed the door behind her. She moved alongside the lounge. As she sat, she folded her legs Indian style next to his beer. She looked out at the setting sun and squinted her eyes against the gentle wind. The sun was a majestic, bright orange-red globe that dipped behind the waves, slowly sinking into the water. Long fingers of color stretched in each direction as far as the eye could see. The sight was postcard perfect.

  “Tomorrow is the day,” James said, as he reached for his beer. “Is everything ready?”

  She drew her eyes from the setting sun. “Yes, it is.”

  “What time does she go in?”

  “One-thirty.”

  “At the hospital or the doctor’s office?”

  “It is standard procedure for the first treatment to be administered in the hospital.”

  “Do I need to be there?”

  “Not really.”

  He took three big swigs and after a few minutes said, “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want me there anyway.”

  “Did she say that?” She pulled her hair over her shoulder so the wind wouldn’t blow it in her face as she turned and looked at him.

  “Not in those exact words. But I got the message.”

  “She doesn’t want you to see what she has to go through.” Samantha wanted to touch his arm and then decided against it. “She is a mother protecting her child.”

  “I don’t need protection.” He said the words with such force his body stiffened.

  “Try telling a mother that.”

  As he put his beer back down, his hand lightly brushed her bare knee. “How hard is it going to be on her?”

  “I’m not going to lie to you, James. It’s like I told you yesterday. The therapy is aggressive.”

  He turned to her. “Everyone keeps saying aggressive, what exactly does that mean?”