Chapter 5
Sam opened one eye shortly before noon on Sunday morning. Catching a glimpse of the time, she closed that eye. Too early to get up. Besides, she was much too comfortable to make a move. A deep state of relaxation pervaded her whole being. Why this should be, she didn’t bother to think about. Instead, she dozed for another half hour or so. Something niggled at the back of her mind. A memory of a male form holding her close rose to consciousness. Was this one of her erotic fantasies coming to light? Or had she dreamt a man’s presence?
She tried to banish the vision but it persisted until she couldn’t ignore it. Rising on one elbow, she glanced about the familiar bedroom with its pale-yellow walls and dark hardwood floors. Several blue and yellow throw rugs were scattered here and there. Some of her colorful geometric paintings hung on the walls, while darkening shades kept out the light. Although the bureau and nearby comfortable chair were piled high with books, magazines, and discarded clothing, the room still functioned as a calm retreat.
Her head was beginning to clear, although one side of her face felt strange. Suddenly, the events of the previous night poured into her head like a stuck faucet letting loose. She’d been at the Blue Monkey with Brice, who’d gotten drunk. There was a fight, and she’d taken the blow meant for someone else. For a second, she couldn’t remember the man’s name. Then it came to her. Jordan. Jordan Hart. He’d taken her home, and then they’d spent the night together in her bed, making passionate love.
Omigod! What could have possessed her to let the man into her home in the first place? Especially after that horrible encounter at the tai chi class. Had he hypnotized her or something? Putting a hand to her head, she felt long strands of hair cascading down her back. She’d forgotten to take off the black wig. Venturing further, she realized she was not wearing anything. The usual nightgown was missing and where her clothes had gone, she couldn’t remember. Groaning with disbelief at her own folly, she collapsed back down and pulled the covers up to her chin. This was one day she’d rather not face.
~ ~ ~
Jordan had the deepest sleep he’d had in months, maybe years. When he finally surfaced, it was almost one in the afternoon. Stretching languidly, his mind retraced the events of the previous night. And what a night it’d been. Sighing with remembered pleasure, he recalled how right Sam felt in his arms. For someone he’d known for a very short time, the passion they’d shared was incredible. Smiling at this last thought, he wondered if her feelings mirrored his own.
Should he phone her? Perhaps ask her out for dinner? As he debated this issue, he sensed it would be best to give Sam some space. He’d call a nearby florist and have a dozen long-stemmed red roses sent to her. Yes, that was probably the wisest thing to do. No point in rushing into a relationship. Better to take it slow and easy. His logical mind knew this to be true, but his heart was whispering other things. He loved the feel of her soft, luscious body pressed to his. Her response to his lovemaking was electric, matching his ardor with a fierceness all her own. He had never imagined he would ever meet a woman who could be as wild in bed as he desired.
He still had the matter of one Lara Jensen to deal with. His jaw tensed at the thought of seeing her again. But this was a situation that couldn’t wait. He’d phone and see if he could stop by for a few moments to talk. Although he’d prefer to end things with a call, he knew that would be a cowardly thing to do. She deserved a face-to-face meeting, much as he detested the idea.
~ ~ ~
When Sam finally crawled out of bed and made it to the bathroom, she stared at her image in the large mirror over the sink. There was a red swollen area across her left cheek. The black wig hung askew, showing patches of bright-red hair pinned to her head. Groaning in dismay, she ripped the black hair away and threw it onto the white tiled floor. That black wig was the cause of all her troubles. Once she had it on, she became a sultry temptress, and Jordan had fallen into her web. With angry abandon, she pulled out the pins holding her hair in place. This was the real Samantha Peabody. Jordan Hart would never give her a second glance.
Looking at herself for several long moments, Sam should have felt relief. He’d never bother her again. But she didn’t. Instead, sadness descended with an accompanying sense of disappointment. Why couldn’t she look sexy and attractive all the time? Was it her hair color that made her look homely? Picking up the discarded black wig, she pushed it back onto her head. Immediately, it transformed her skin tones to a creamy hue and brought out the dark brown of her eyes, making them almost luminous.
She could change her hair color. Women did it every day. Maybe not to black, but a much darker shade of auburn might work. As she mulled this over, she filled the tub with warm water. In addition to a different hair color, she’d get a new hair style, too, maybe something sleek and stylish. Sinking into the tub, she sat back, closed her eyes, and began to relax. Beth was always nagging her to do something different with her hair, but she’d resisted the idea. On her day off tomorrow, she’d visit the salon her friend had recommended and make the transformation. Not that she planned to see Jordan again. He was out of her league. Too damn good-looking and arrogant. She could never compete with the women who probably swarmed all over him. He’d only followed her around at the Blue Monkey because of that belly dance routine. She was sure of it.
Sitting there soaking in the relaxing warm water, Sam began to relive the previous night’s happenings all over again. This time a smile played around the corners of her mouth. That had been one hot encounter. She’d never felt as alive and aware of her partner’s every move. His remembered words were low and sexy, urging her along as he brought her into a state of mindless bliss she’d always known existed but had never experienced. Jordan was a masterful lover, she admitted ruefully. He probably had hundreds of partners with that type of expertise. Feeling diminished by his sexual prowess, she grew pensive. No way could she compete in that arena. Better to stick to what was safe and predictable.
Almost on cue, the phone rang. It could be her mother or one of her sisters. She’d let the answering machine pick it up, although Peter might be phoning to see if she’d like to go to the movies. They had an informal date most Saturday or Sunday evenings. Peter Finch. Now there was a man she never had to think twice about. He was kind, considerate of her feelings, and easy to talk to. The perfect gentleman. The fact that he was twenty-five years older and a full head shorter wasn’t important. When she finished her bath, she’d give him a call. A movie might be the best way to forget last night’s unreal happenings.
~ ~ ~
“After last night’s fiasco, do you think I’d even care if I ever saw you again?” Lara exclaimed. She paced the length of her luxuriously furnished living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows on one side looked out on the panoramic view of the East River. Halting in front of him, her face only inches from his, she tossed her long, blonde hair back with an angry gesture. “You are one of the most self-centered and arrogant men I’ve ever met. I hope you enjoy that witch of a belly dancer. You deserve a common slut like that.”
Jordan took a deep, indrawn breath and remained silent. Better to let Lara unload all her venom now and be done with it. He couldn’t help feeling relieved that it was over between them. Rage transformed Lara’s once classic features into a grimacing and ugly visage. How could he have considered her beautiful? He stepped back to put more space between them.
“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?” she demanded. “I’m sure your friends would agree with me that you behaved abominably. I’ve never been so insulted in my life.” She whirled around and resumed pacing across the marble tiled floor, muttering under her breath.
“You’re right, of course,” Jordan said. “I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. Let’s just say we’re incompatible and leave it at that.” He moved slowly toward the foyer leading to the front door, eager to be through with the meeting. “Needless to say, I wish you the best in everything.” He was almost to the door when she shouted at him.
“I hope you rot in hell, you miserable, male chauvinist pig!”
Not bothering to answer those choice words, Jordan turned the knob and was out of there. At least it was over.
Unsettled by the meeting, Jordan walked away from the elegant apartment building, trying to process Lara’s accusations. Was there a germ of truth in the words she’d hurled at him? He didn’t think so, but he wouldn’t mind talking the situation over with someone he trusted, like one of his sisters.
Amy’s image surfaced and he quickly nixed that idea. She’d hardly listen to his problems when she had so many of her own to discuss. What about Diane? Nah, she’d had two unhappy marriages which ended in divorce and was now living in Scarsdale with her new boyfriend. Jordan didn’t think she chose her partners wisely. The first husband turned out to be an inveterate gambler who was always at the racetrack or the casino. The second one was a politician with ties to the Mafia, and this third guy owned a string of car dealerships. Not that there was anything wrong with that kind of business. Still, he had a penchant for fast cars and fast living. Jordan didn’t think Diane would stay with him too long.
His oldest sister, Lori, was the only dependable one. Married to Greg for over twenty years, she lived a stable, conservative life. The two children they’d raised were in college and, as far as he could tell, Lori’s marriage was a happy one. He punched in her phone number.
“Lori? Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”
“Not at all. Where are you? And what’s up?”
“I’m just leaving Lara’s apartment building in the eighties. Have you eaten yet? There’s a new Chinese restaurant in your neighborhood. I’d love to take you and Greg out for dinner.” Tonight he needed company and an understanding ear.
“Sounds good to me. Let me check with Greg.”
He heard her calling out to her husband and then she was back on the line. “He says it’s fine. Why don’t you stop by our place first and we’ll have a drink before dinner?”
“Great idea. I can be there in half an hour. I took the bus up to Lara’s place, but I’m going to walk to yours. I need the exercise.”
“You of all people . . .” She laughed. “You are Mr. Exercise himself. I always feel like a couch potato beside you.”
“The walk will do me good. I just broke up with Lara, and it was not a pleasant scene.”
“Uh oh,” Lori said softly. “You’ll have to tell us all about it.”
That was just what he planned to do
~ ~ ~
The doorbell rang shortly before Peter was due to arrive. Hurrying to the door, Sam almost fell over a pile of magazines. “Damn,” she muttered, kicking them out of the way. She wore a thick white terry robe and her hair was tucked into a towel. If Peter had arrived early, he’d have to wait for her to get dressed. This was one day she wasn’t going to rush for anyone.
She opened the door to find a young man holding a large glass vase filled with long-stemmed red roses. A glittering silver bow was wrapped around the vase.
“Samantha Peabody?” the young man asked.
She nodded, too stunned to say a word. What in the world was going on?
He thrust the vase at her. “These are for you.”
Sam took the flowers from him. This was the first time in her life anyone had sent her flowers. Was she supposed to tip the guy?
“Thanks,” she murmured as he turned to leave.
She stood there for a few moments and just looked at the gorgeous arrangement. Realizing her scanty attire, she retreated and closed the door. Walking into the kitchen, she found room on the crowded countertop for the vase. At least there was a note. Tearing it open, she read its contents while a warm, tingling feeling washed over her.
Dear Sam,
Thank you for an unforgettable night. I will treasure the memory always.
Jordan
Sam read and reread the note several times before putting it down. Inhaling the fragrant roses, she closed her eyes and conjured up his image. Could it be possible he’d enjoyed the night as much as she had? Or was he just being polite? Whatever the reason, she was touched and a little turned on. But would she see him again? That was the twenty-dollar question.