Chapter Seven
Showered and wrapped in her bathrobe, Haley stood in front of her new medicine cabinet mirror and applied her makeup. Brent would pick her up for the Christmas party in an hour, and boy was it bliss to have a fully functioning, updated bathroom in which to get ready.
She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. The bathroom had turned out way better than she’d imagined. The brownish-copper paint she’d chosen really set off the dark-cherry-stained vanity. Plus, she loved the sleek, contemporary look of her bronzed fixtures. They’d installed a travertine tile floor, and it really complemented the shower tiles. She still needed to find accent pieces and something nicer than the plain white shower curtain she had up, but for now, everything was perfect.
Her cell phone rang, and she hurried to grab it from her bedroom dresser. “Hello.”
“Hey, it’s Sam.”
Surprise stole her breath, and she immediately recalled the kiss they’d shared. Wait. It’s Friday night. Shouldn’t he be out carousing?
“Haley, you there?”
“Yeah. Sorry. What’s up?”
“Did I leave my cordless drill at your house on Wednesday?”
Her heart dropped, almost as if she’d been hoping he’d called just to talk to her, which he hadn’t. “You did. It’s sitting on a dining room chair.”
“I’m going to need it this weekend. Would you mind if I stopped by in the next hour or so to pick it up?”
“I don’t mind as long as you get here before seven. I’m going out.” Seconds of silence stretched between them. She checked to see if the call had been dropped. Nope. “You still there, Sam?”
“Uh . . . yeah. Lost you for a minute. What did you say?”
“I said it’s fine to pick up your drill, but it has to happen before seven.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten or fifteen minutes.”
He hung up before she could respond. Great, she was still in her robe and slippers. Haley tossed her phone on the bed and dressed. She tugged at the zipper of her dress on her way back to the bathroom to finish putting on her makeup. Part of her wanted to see the expression on his face when he saw her all dressed up. “I’ve lost my mind,” she muttered, applying mascara to her already lined and shadowed eyes. She checked her hair one last time and reached for her lipstick.
Her pulse hit the charts. “Yep. I’ve definitely lost my mind.”
Regardless of the state of her mind, she added the finishing touches: garnet earrings and a matching pendant. She padded back to her bedroom to check herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. Turning this way and that, she surveyed the results of her efforts and slipped her feet into her sleek black pumps. She loved the sexy new crimson-and-black cocktail dress, and the lacy black hose she’d chosen pulled the entire ensemble together. Exactly the right amount of cleavage showed, and the dress clung to her in all the right places. She picked up a bottle of her favorite perfume, spritzed some into the air and walked through the fragrant mist.
A knock on her door sent electric currents tracing along her nerves, and her mouth went completely dry. Don’t sweat. She’d have damp spots under her arms if she didn’t get hold of herself. She shook out her hands, walked to the door and swung it open. “Hi, Sam. Come on in. I’ll get your drill.”
“Holy hotness, Batman. You are dressed to break hearts tonight, Ms. Cooper.” His razor-sharp gaze traveled over her, taking her in. “Where are you off to this evening?”
Pleased beyond reason, she sashayed to the dining room—was he watching?—to fetch his drill. “I have a date,” she answered. He didn’t need to know her date was gay, or that it was a company holiday party. She simply wanted to bask in a man’s heated perusal and appreciation for a brief moment, all right? No, not all right. Not just any man’s appreciative looks would do. She wanted Sam’s heated looks, but she chose to ignore her motives for the time being.
“Wait,” he rasped out, too close behind her. “I’ll get the drill. I’d hate for any oil or dirt to ruin . . . Damn, Haley. You look positively edible.” He looked her over again, his blue eyes darkening.
“Thank you.” She clasped her hands together. No need to embarrass herself by fanning her face.
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
Did she detect a hint of jealousy? “He’s a lawyer.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “I kind of figured you for the suit-and-tie type.”
“I don’t have a type.” She bristled.
“Oh, really.” He smirked.
“Really.”
“Then you and I should go out.”
“What?” Her eyes widened. He looked as stunned as she felt by the words that had fallen from his mouth. “Oh, Sam, I don’t think—”
“Oh, Haley, I know what you think. You don’t see me as dateable.” He flashed her a pointed look. “You think I’m this promiscuous horndog who—”
“Wait a minute. I’ll admit in the shock of the moment I did call you a few names, but I never said you weren’t dateable. You’re completely date worthy. But, Sam—”
“Damn right I’m date worthy.” His voice rang with challenge. “Spend some time in my world, and I’ll prove it to you.”
“Proving to me you’re dateable is important to you?” Taken aback, she stared at him. “Why?”
“I guess it’s because I’m competitive, and because you misjudged me from the start.”
He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other, but again she caught a glimpse of something pass through his eyes. Vulnerability? Her heart turned over. “I—”
“Knock, knock,” Brent called, opening the front door to let himself in. “Oh, wow, Haley.” He placed both hands over his heart. “That dress. You in that dress . . .” He noticed Sam, and sent her a questioning look.
“Brent, this is Sam. His construction company is doing some remodeling work on my house.” She crossed the living room, opened her closet and took out her coat. “Sam, this is Brent.”
Brent took a step toward her. Sam strode to her side and took the coat from her hands. He held it up for her to slip into. “Brent,” Sam said, settling the coat on her shoulders. “Nice to meet you.”
Utter confusion clouded Brent’s face. She could relate. Haley had her own mess of confusion to deal with. “Thanks,” she muttered, stepping away. “Sam stopped by to pick up a drill he left here the other day.” She gestured toward dining room.
“Guess I’d better get that drill and head out,” Sam said in a tight voice. “You two have fun.”
“You too,” Haley said. He must have plans. Men who looked like Sam did not sit at home on Friday and Saturday nights, especially not men who had the kind of reputation Sam had admitted to on the radio. He grabbed his hand tool and stomped out of her house. Guilt knotted her stomach. The sashaying in front of him had been over the top. She’d provoked him.
“What did I miss?” Brent frowned at her.
She bit her lip. “I might have teased him a little, but I didn’t invite him over. He called me. Can I help it if I just happened to be all dressed up for a party when he stopped by?”
“I see.”
“Do you? Because I’m not sure I do.”
“You’re feeling a tiny bit guilty because you took pleasure in strutting your stuff in front of a man you’re obviously attracted to, and he—poor heterosexual drooler that he is—took the bait. In fact, I’m pretty sure he swallowed the hook.” He laughed at his own joke. “He reacted exactly as you hoped he would. Am I right?”
“Yes.” She had strutted her stuff, and she’d reveled in his reaction. “Let me get my purse.”
Brent was grinning when she returned. “What now?” she demanded.
“You should’ve seen the way your blue-collar stud glared at me while he helped you into your coat.”
She sucked in a breath, gaining a new understanding of the expression guilty pleasure, only in this case, the expression should be pleasurable guilt. She rolled her eyes. “I even swayed my hips in front of him, and then he asked me out. I’ve never done this kind of thing before in my life.”
“Maybe it’s time you did. You poked the bear. What hot-blooded male can resist the occasional poke?” He winked and gestured her through the door. “Besides, what’s the problem? You’re single, and I’m assuming he is too, or you wouldn’t have laid the hip-swaying move on him. Did you say yes?”
“I didn’t really have the chance to say yes or no. You walked into the living room in the middle of the discussion.” She locked the deadbolt behind them, and they walked to his car. “It’s complicated. He’s already told me he doesn’t get involved. Ever. He’s twenty-nine, and he’s never been in a serious relationship.”
“He told you that, huh? Hmm, there are two ways to look at this situation.”
He opened the car door for her. Haley slid into the passenger seat and waited for him to climb in behind the wheel. “So, tell me.”
“All it takes is the right person to change someone’s mind about getting seriously involved. Most of the time, it’s not even a conscious choice. We fall into involvement before we realize what’s happening, whether we want to or not. That’s scenario number one.”
“Yeah, I doubt I’m the one who will change Sam’s mind, and I don’t think I want to become involved with him either, which is why I feel guilty about sashaying in front of him the way I did.” No way did she want to join Sam’s long line of lovers past and present—not even lovers—more like brief encounters of the sexual kind. Her heart would not take that well at all. “What’s the second way to look at this?”
“The attraction the two of you share is palpable. If he isn’t interested in a relationship, and neither are you, then he’s safe. Have some fun. Spread those sexy wings.” Brent grinned at her. “You could do a lot worse as far as rebound guys go. The man is steamy.”
Haley grinned back. “I know, right? You should come over some time when he’s working. Whew.” She fanned herself with her clutch. “You have no idea. All those muscles flexing, and that tangled mess of thick blond hair . . . The tool belt. You should see Sam in his tool belt.”
Brent laughed and she joined him, until that niggle of uncertainty reasserted itself. “I’m not a terrible person, am I? I did tease him. A little.” She had poked the bear, but the bear had been the one who had called her, not the other way around. Come to think of it, why had he called on a Friday night? Surely he had more than one drill, or he could borrow one from his brother. Wait a minute. She knew he had a spare, because he’d loaned it to her while they were working together to install her medicine cabinet.
Her breath caught. Sam didn’t need the drill. He’d left it at her house on purpose, so he could check up on her. Stunned, she leaned back against the expensive leather seat of Brent’s Mercedes. He’d also shown up early to pry into her personal life that one night. And, he’d asked her out. Kind of. It had been more like he’d issued a challenge, and judging by the vulnerability she’d glimpsed, he obviously believed being turned down had been a foregone conclusion. A defense mechanism? She didn’t know what to make of Sam Haney anymore.
After what she’d heard about his responses on the Loaded Question radio show, she’d expected him to be shallow and narcissistic. He wasn’t either of those things. Instead, he was complex, endearing, considerate and tender. She ran a finger over the spot where the splinter had lodged itself in her palm. So far, everything she’d believed about him had been wrong.
Brent patted her hand. “You’re not a terrible person, Haley.”
“Huh?” Startled out of her jumbled thoughts, she had to scramble to remember what she’d asked. “Oh. Thanks.” She cast around for something to say to change the subject. “I hope the food at this party is better than last year’s.”
“Me too. I’ve heard good things about this place, though.”
Haley nodded, and Brent went on about different restaurants in Minneapolis he’d tried, while she only half listened. Sam the handyman surprised her at every turn. He was way more complicated than she’d given him credit for, and she was way too drawn to him. She didn’t know if that was a good thing, or a very, very dangerous thing. He’d asked her to spend time in his world in order to prove to her that he was date worthy. Could she get to know him better and have her heart remain unscathed?
To dare or not to dare? Either way, deciding would rob her of sleep and occupy her every waking moment. She bit her lip. How would that be any different? Sam seemed to pop into her head all the time anyway. Her heart had already been scathed.
Sam had driven away from Haley’s with no particular direction in mind. His lame plan hadn’t turned out at all like he’d hoped, that’s for sure. He’d intended to drop by for his drill, the drill he’d left there on purpose, and find Haley home alone on a Friday night. Then, being the great guy he was, he would’ve suggested they hang out together. They’d go somewhere, have a beer, play some pool or darts—not a date, just hanging out. Like friends.
When was the last time he’d allowed a new friend into his life?
His jaw clenched so hard, it ached. He should’ve backtracked the minute she’d told him she was going out, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. He’d always thought of her as cute, but in that dress and all done up like she was? She was the prettiest woman he’d ever clapped eyes on—not to mention sexy as hell.
Then, just as he and Haley had been discussing spending time together, Mr. Expensive Suit walked in. Damn. He scowled and gripped the steering wheel of his SUV, still in the grip of something that felt an awful lot like jealousy. Which was ridiculous, because he never got jealous or possessive. Both emotions had everything to do with relationships, and relationships weren’t something he did. Ever. He just wanted . . . What? When it came to Haley, he couldn’t quite name what he wanted. If only she hadn’t made that crack about him needing to offer sex on the side to get jobs.
Haley’s date had been the metrosexual type, and the guy drove a Mercedes. While he—Sam checked himself in the rearview mirror—hadn’t even bothered to have his hair cut in six months. At least his jeans weren’t faded or torn tonight, and he’d chosen a nice sweater to wear. He stopped at a red light and knocked his head against the top of his steering wheel.
What the hell had he been thinking? That he wanted to see her and maybe kiss her again? And once he had seen her, kissing took a backseat to wanting to peel that sexy dress off her a few inches at a time, tasting every luscious bit of her bare skin along the way. He’d bet his paycheck she wore a lacy black bra and matching panties underneath. He groaned.
Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The light had gone green, and the driver behind him honked. Sam stepped on the gas and then pulled into the parking lot of a mini-mart. He grabbed his phone, hitting his brother’s speed dial number.
“Yeah?” Wyatt said, sounding distracted.
“You doing anything tonight?”
“Right now I’m working on the graphics for a new comic book idea I’m developing. You?”
At least Wyatt had a hobby, something he was passionate about. His comic books were really good, too. One of these days, his brother would find a publisher, and his work would go viral. “Not a thing. You feel like meeting me for a game of pool and a few beers?”
“Sure. Give me an hour.”
“I can do that. I’ll call Josey and see if she wants to join us. Mad Jack’s or Casper’s?”
“Casper’s. It’s easier to get a pool table there. See you at eight thirty.”
“See you.” Sam hit Josey’s speed dial number. She didn’t answer, so he left her a message. Either she’d show up or she wouldn’t. Somewhat relieved, he headed to Casper’s, figuring he’d get something to eat while waiting for Wyatt and Jo.
Sam strolled through the busy bar and grill to the back room and put his name down on the waiting list for a billiards table. Then he moved to the bar and found an empty stool. Once he’d ordered food and a beer, he settled in to wait. The seat next to him emptied, and he draped his jacket over the back to save it for Wyatt.
“Say, you look like you could use some company.” A nice-looking woman came to stand beside him. “Mind if I join you?” She leaned closer, and her breasts touched his arm. He jerked it away from any possibility of further contact.
“Uh . . .” Again he felt nothing but annoyance. He hadn’t made eye contact with her, or smiled at her across the room. He’d been eating his meal and minding his own business. That’s all.
“I saw you put your name down for a pool table. We could play a few games, have a few beers and see where it leads,” she said, her tone seductive.
“Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m waiting for someone.” He placed his hand on the back of the barstool next to him so she wouldn’t sit in it. “And here she is.” He nodded toward the door and waved. Nothing but relief surged through him at the sight of Josey walking through the door. The woman gave Josey the once-over, huffed and moved off. Jo made her way through the tables and joined him at the bar.
“Sorry I missed your call. I had my hands full.”
He took his jacket from the empty stool. “No problem. I’m glad you made it.”
“Did I scare off the pretty lady hitting on you?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “And thank you.” This had been the second time this week he’d rejected advances. Stress, he reminded himself, but he couldn’t deny the truth. He’d felt no interest in either of the women making passes at him. None.
She laughed. “You’re thanking me? That’s a first.”
Frowning, Sam chose not to respond. He nodded toward the door. “There’s Wyatt.”
“Hey, you two.” Wyatt dragged an empty barstool from a high-top table and positioned it next to Josey. He signaled the bartender. “How long before we get a billiards table?”
“We’re up next.” Sam pushed his empty plate away. How many weekend nights had he spent with his brother and sister? “Do you think it’s weird that we’re all in our twenties, and yet none of us are dating?”
“Speak for yourself,” Josey said. “I date.”
“You do?” Sam gaped. “How come we never hear about it or meet any of your dates?”
Josey swiveled around on her stool, beer in hand, and leaned against the bar. “Because they don’t last long. That’s why.”
“Why not, Jo?” Wyatt asked. “Even though you’re my sister, I can tell you’re kind of pretty, and you’re easy enough to get along with.” He grinned. “Most of the time, anyway.”
Frowning, she shook her head. “Once a guy I’m interested in finds out what I do for a living, I get put into a box labeled possibly a lesbian. When I finally convince him I’m straight, and we go out a few times, the insecurities creep in and cause problems.”
Sam studied her for a moment. Josey had always possessed a boldness and self-confidence he admired. “I’ve never seen you as insecure.”
“Not my insecurities.” Josey shot him a wry look. “It’s tough to find a man who can handle the fact that I know more about tools than he does, or that I’m way better at fixing things—including his car.” She lifted her arm and flexed her biceps. “Or that I might be as strong, or in some cases, stronger.” She sighed again. “Still, I keep trying, which is more than can be said about you two knuckleheads. I want a husband and a family.”
That stung. He didn’t need to be married or have a family to be happy. His life was exactly how he wanted it to be. He frowned. Somehow, he no longer felt as convinced by his convictions as he once had been. “Wyatt, you should get out there and find someone.” Sam surveyed the busy bar. “Your burn scars bother you far more than they bother anybody else. There are a couple of nice-looking women over there.” He gestured toward two blondes in the booth three away from the front door. “You could go over there right now and say hi, see if they want to join us for a game of pool.”
“I don’t think so.” His brother’s face turned red, and he tucked his head deeper into the hood of his sweatshirt. “Why are you focusing on me? What about you? Your scars don’t even show.”
My scars? He blinked a few times. After his mom and dad had died, he’d closed up shop as far as his heart went, sure, but . . . His chest tightened. Sam swallowed the rising panic, the hurt and confusion that had never completely left him since that day. Or the guilt.
“Why don’t you get out there and date, Sam?” Wyatt glared. “Quit screwing total strangers. Find a nice girl and settle down. You’re the oldest. You first. How about giving commitment and monogamy a try for a change?”
“Ouch.” Sam glared back.
“Well this evening certainly has taken an unhappy turn.” Josey laughed. “I thought this was the season to be jolly.”
The group at one of the billiard tables put their cues away and gathered their things. Sam heaved a sigh of relief. “Sorry I brought up the subject of dating. Let’s forget it. We’re up.” He nodded toward the back of the bar and grill. “Let’s go shoot some pool.”
“Good idea,” Wyatt said, grabbing his beer from the bar and hopping off his stool.
“Do you want to play Cut Throat, or would you two like to take turns seeing who can’t beat me at 8 Ball?” Sam smirked, eager to get things back to the way they’d been before he’d attempted to communicate about anything deeper than burgers, beer and billiards. He should’ve known better.
“Cut Throat.” Josey slipped off her bar stool. “Don’t count on winning.”
“Back at you.” Sam grinned. The three of them headed toward the rear of Casper’s and set up the table for Cut Throat. Find a nice girl and settle down. That’s exactly what Grandpa Joe had said. He cringed at the thought. Commit? Him? No thank you.
Seeing Haley, all dressed up and sexy as hell, had thrown him. That’s all. He wanted her, all right. But . . . did he want to date her? He almost tripped over his own feet at the thought. Hadn’t he asked her out, challenged her to spend time in his world? What about the lame plan he’d concocted just to see her tonight? He got a little light-headed. The room began to spin, and he couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs. “It’s stuffy in here,” he griped, grabbing a pool cue from the rack.
Haley Cooper had him messed up, and that was a fact. He didn’t like the way she made him feel one bit. All confused, conflicted . . . jealous. Her date tonight, would that lawyer lay his hands on her, hold her in his arms and kiss her? Pressure banded his chest, and he put down his cue. “I gotta get some air. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Are you coming down with something?” Josey put her hand on his forehead, like his mom used to do. “Is your throat sore, or—”
“No.” He jerked away. “I just need air.” He strode toward the back door, flung it open and walked out. A few hardy, coatless smokers stood around, and the smell of cigarette smoke filled his nostrils. Sam moved out of their range and hauled in a lungful of cold air, and then another.
He’d been with some gorgeous women, and they’d had no effect whatsoever on his heart. How had one petite, uptight paralegal managed to get under his skin the way Haley had? He growled, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He was in serious trouble.