Chapter 8
It was nine in the morning on Wednesday and Sean Fuller was on his way to work at his restaurant. Stopping at a newsstand near the Blue Monkey, he greeted the proprietor, Jimmy, and paid for the weekly newspaper, The East Village Gazette.
“Hey, man, you’re famous,” Jimmy announced with a cheery smile.
“Famous? What’re you talking about?” Sean asked.
“Look at the headline. That must have been some fight.”
Sean looked at the paper and paled. “Omigod.”
In bold two-inch letters the headline read, “Belly Dancer in Brawl at Blue Monkey Restaurant.” Below those words were several photos. One showed Sam performing her routine at the restaurant. Then there was a photo of her seated on a chair holding the side of her face. Another photo pictured Brice sprawled flat on his back while the last photo caught Jordan’s back as he held a cloth to Sam’s head. The story that followed went into great detail about the argument between the two men who were fighting over the attentions of the belly dancer. The men’s names were not mentioned, but the belly dancer was identified as Samantha Peabody, and the owners were listed as Sean and Beth Fuller.
“So what really happened, Sean?” Jimmy inquired. “And who are the guys fighting over the dancer? She’s some hot-looking babe. I’ll bet you get a ton of people coming in and asking to see her perform.” He started laughing.
Sean was in no mood for hilarity. “That’s not the type of publicity I’m looking for,” he said with a grim expression. Folding the newspaper, he stuck it under his arm and marched off. The first thing to cross his mind was his wife’s reaction when she saw the front-page story. She started work at the restaurant close to eleven, when preparations for the lunch hour crowd were in full swing. Should he phone and tell her what happened, or should he wait until she walked in later? While he mulled over that decision, another thought popped up. Who had taken those pictures?
His mind flashed over the people in his employ, from the chef, to the bartender, to the waiters. Any one of them could have used their phone to catch those images. From what he recalled, there’d been several waiters hanging around after that guy flipped Brice onto his back. It could have been one of them. He had to find out.
The more he thought about the situation, the angrier he became. Coming to a decision, he punched in Beth’s number. He might as well get the bad news over with instead of waiting.
~ ~ ~
When Sam walked into the gallery at ten on Wednesday morning, something in the atmosphere alerted her to trouble. Peter perched on the edge of her desk, reading a newspaper with great interest.
“Good morning,” Sam called out in a cheery tone. After a miserable evening mulling over her problems with the Fullers, she’d barely slept. Today had to be a better day. To make that wish come true, she was dressed in the new outfit she’d purchased on Monday and wore the long swatch of hair reaching halfway down her back. She was determined to feel positive, and the new clothes did lift her spirits.
Peter glanced up and gave her an appraising stare. Then he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe something. “Sam, have you seen The East Village Gazette yet?”
“No, what’s so interesting in it?’ She walked toward him and tried to read over his shoulder.
He folded the paper and stood up. “Maybe you’d better sit down first.”
Curious, she slipped into her chair. “Why do I need to sit down before reading the paper? Did someone I know die?” She couldn’t imagine what was wrong. Peter was acting oddly.
“Now I know why you received those stunning roses,” he muttered, handing her the newspaper. “That must have been quite an evening. I’ll be in my office making calls.” Then he turned to leave her alone.
Sam’s heart thudded, and her stomach coiled into a knot while a strange foreboding caused her hands to tremble. And that was before she saw the headline and read the story beneath. Speechless, she sat there in shock while a dull throbbing began in her temples. No wonder Peter could barely look at her or say anything. She could just imagine how Sean and Beth would react to this outrageous notoriety.
Who could have done something like this? She couldn’t remember anyone with a camera. Then again, she was hardly in a state of mind to notice. With cell phones, any of the people standing around could have photographed the whole event. But why would they want to give it to the newspaper?
The answer came the next moment. Someone was having a laugh at her expense or else making money by selling the story. The next thing to cross her mind was that it wouldn’t be long before Jordan was identified. Should she warn him? She didn’t even have his phone number. But he did work at the Y. She could leave a message for him there. Yes, that would probably be the best thing to do.
~ ~ ~
Jordan’s secretary, Amelia, popped her head in his office. “There’s a strange message for you from the Y. I wrote it down, but it doesn’t make sense.”
He looked up from the detailed contract he was going over and frowned. “What did they want? Can’t it wait?”
“I don’t know. It sounded like a warning or something. Here, maybe you can understand it.” She handed him the message.
The minute Jordan looked at the note he knew two things–Sam was involved, and something catastrophic happened. At least she’d left a phone number.
Amelia was still standing by the door, her eyes alight with curiosity.
“I’ll handle this,” he told her in a dismissive tone. He didn’t need an audience for the call he was about to make.
“Sam? It’s Jordan. I got your message. Is everything all right?” At least he’d get the chance to hear her voice. And maybe this was a good time to ask her out to dinner.
Taking a deep breath, Sam proceeded to give him the pertinent details of The East Village Gazette story. “I can’t imagine who took those pictures. Did you see anyone photographing us?”
“No, I didn’t. It could’ve been one of the waiters standing around. I’d like to get my hands on a copy of the paper. Will you be at the gallery all day? Why don’t we have lunch and talk this over?” He had a ton of work to do, but this was not something that could wait.
Sam had no desire to lunch with Jordan. “I just wanted to give you a warning, in case someone who was with you at the restaurant hears about the story. I can mail you a copy of the paper, if you’d like.”
Jordan wasn’t buying her suggestion. “I’d rather handle it my way. What time will you be free?” He couldn’t understand her reluctance to see him.
Sam heard the determination in his voice and knew he’d make the trip, whether she wanted him to or not. Better to get it over with, she decided. “I can take a break around two.” The lunch hour crowd would be tapering down.
“Give me your address and I’ll see you then.”
~ ~ ~
When Jordan walked into the gallery a little before two, an attractive young woman with dark auburn hair was involved with a customer. At least, Jordan assumed it was a customer. For a moment, he didn’t realize the woman was Sam. Where was the long black hair? He didn’t mind this dark auburn color, and the outfit she wore was very stylish and brought out the best features of her figure. He was surprised, that was all. The man, a tall, good-looking fellow with a shock of salt-and-pepper hair, had a hand on Sam’s shoulder and was talking to her in a low, intimate tone. Whatever he said, they both burst out laughing. Then the man put his arm around her waist and drew her close.
Who was he? A spurt of jealousy exploded in Jordan’s chest as he watched the scene. He’d never experienced this kind of feeling before. What was happening to his well-ordered life? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. And why was Sam fooling around with this guy? Was sex just a casual thing for her? As these questions whirled around in his brain, he forced himself to walk toward her.
Sam heard footsteps and glanced up to see Jordan approaching with a grim expression. He was devastatingly handsome in a charcoal-gray suit, crisp white shirt, and a red and gray striped tie. A tingling awareness pervaded her as she remembered the fantastic lovemaking of Saturday night. The heat that flushed her face was unwelcome, as were those disturbing thoughts. Pushing away from Jack Norris, one of the artists she’d known for a long time, she said, “Jack, I’m taking a break for lunch with a friend. Peter can help you figure out the hanging problems you might have with those large pieces.” She was not eager to introduce him to Jordan.
Jordan came right up to her. “I’m a few minutes early. If you have business to finish, I’ll stroll around and look at the artwork.”
“It’s okay, I’m just leaving,” Jack said. Then he leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I can wait ’til tomorrow to go over all the details with you. See you then.”
Sam couldn’t help being aware of Jordan’s narrowed gaze as his eyes followed Jack’s progress to the door. What was he thinking? He didn’t look too happy, that was clear. “I’ll just be a minute. I have to let Peter know I’m leaving.” And she needed to splash cold water on her face.
“Fine,” he muttered. He wondered if he should have bothered coming down here at all. If Sam was playing the field, there didn’t seem much room for him. Funny, though, he wouldn’t have pegged her for that type.
Sam came back and picked up the copy of the Gazette lying on her desk. She handed it to Jordan. “This is the reason I phoned. I didn’t want you to hear about it from the people who were with you Saturday night.”
His eyes widened as he looked at the headline. “My God, I can’t help wondering who took these photos.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, but they’re pretty damaging. Fortunately, they didn’t print your name.”
He read the story and looked at her. “They printed yours, though. Will this hurt your reputation?”
“My reputation?” She couldn’t help chuckling. “I don’t think it will. Jack thought the whole thing was a hoot. He’s the man you saw me with.”
“Is he a close friend? You seemed to know him rather well.” Jordan couldn’t help the note of jealousy in his voice.
Sam heard it and stared. Jordan couldn’t possibly be jealous—he was too sure of himself. She played the scene back in her mind and realized what he’d been thinking. “Jack Norris is one of our artists. He and his wife, Heidi, another artist, are close friends of mine and Peter’s.”
The relief that flooded Jordan at this news was monumental. He smiled for the first time. “For a moment there I thought you were playing the field, and I didn’t appreciate sharing you with anyone.” He bent his head and planted a light kiss on her mouth. “Let’s get out of here and find a quiet place for lunch.”
~ ~ ~
The restaurant was a tiny Greek place called The Olympia with the “best spanakopita in the world,” Sam told Jordan. “When I’m feeling flush, I take home a box of goodies for dinner. You have to try the avgolemono, lemon, and egg soup. Absolutely marvelous.”
He gave an appreciative sniff. “I can smell oregano and tomato sauce and some other spices that I probably don’t know.” He liked a woman who enjoyed good food. Lara was on a constant diet and practically existed on romaine lettuce and low-fat salad dressing.
Jordan glanced at the paintings on the wall, depicting different areas in Greece, from the mountains to the seashore. The small tables had crisp white tablecloths and dark-blue napkins. “I’ve always wanted to visit the Greek Islands. One of these days I’ll get around to it.” He sent Sam a speculative look. “Have you traveled much?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been too busy going to school and then building a business. I do want to take time off and visit those places I’ve only dreamed about. Greece is definitely on my list. At least I can come here and imagine I’m there.”
A small, plump woman came over to show them to a table and take their order. She smiled at Sam and gave her a quick hug. “Ah, I see you bring a friend today. That’s good. And I like your new hair color. Very nice.” She nodded her head in approval. “What can I get you? Do you want a sampler plate with a little bit of everything? That way you can taste a little of this and a little of that. Hmmm?” She beamed at Jordan.
“Sounds good to me,” Sam said. “Jordan, this is Melina. She and her husband, Nikolas, have the best Greek food in town. I think you’ll enjoy the sampler plate.”
He smiled at Melina. “Nice to meet you. I’d love to taste some of your specialties.” When Melina left to prepare their lunch, Jordan turned his full attention to Sam. Her hand was resting on the table, and he covered it with his. “I wanted to phone you the last few days but figured you needed space. Was I right?”
His touch ignited a trail of sparks throughout her body. Sam couldn’t help her physical response to him. Her eyes searched his to see if his words were sincere. She couldn’t believe he’d try to see her again. And yet the signs were there—that evident jealousy earlier and now his statement about wanting to call her. Could she trust him?
“You were right,” she finally admitted. Then, because she couldn’t contain herself, she added, “I can’t believe the events of Saturday night. I’ve never acted that way before. I mean, I hardly know you, and I spent several hours in bed with you.” Her cheeks flushed as images of their tryst flashed through her mind.
Jordan’s eyes glinted with amusement at her confession as his thumb rubbed sensuous circles on her wrist. “It was one of the best nights of my life. And trust me, I don’t do one-night stands. Something just clicked between us. It’s still clicking as I speak.” He raised his hand to tenderly stroke the side of her face. “How’s the bruise doing? I don’t see any sign of it. We caught it in time with that ice pack. By the way, I’m getting used to the dark auburn hair. I like it and your outfit. Although, to be honest”—he lowered his voice—“I like you soft and bare against me in bed even better.” Watching her blush made him laugh.
Melina interrupted the conversation, bringing a large platter to their table. “I have Greek salad, tzatziki sauce, spanakopita, moussaka, pastitsio, and souvlaki. Also some pita to go with everything. I think you will like it,” she said to Jordan. “If you’re still hungry, I can bring more.”
He looked at the appetizing spread before him. “Melina, this looks marvelous. I don’t think we need anything else.” He turned to Sam. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
“I’d better not. Wine at lunch makes me want to take a nap, and I have too much work to do.”
He couldn’t help the appealing image that came to mind when she mentioned taking a nap. In his imagination, they were sitting at a small table on a veranda overlooking the beach on one of the Greek islands. They’d just finished swimming, and Sam wore a low-cut bikini. A king-size bed in their spacious apartment beckoned while they leisurely finished their plate of Greek specialties. An interlude of passionate lovemaking would definitely follow lunch and then a siesta. Jordan sighed with pleasure at the luxurious scene. It was everything he could have wished for.
Coming back to the present moment, he said, “One of these days I’m taking you on a vacation without phones or any way anyone can contact us. What do you say to that?”
She stared at him. Did he really mean it? There was something almost fierce in his expression. Not knowing what to say, she concentrated on helping herself to some of the delicacies in front of her.
“Sam,” he said, stilling her hand. “You haven’t answered. Would you like to go away with me?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured, not meeting his gaze. “I hardly know you.”
“We can solve that problem very easily,” he countered.
When she raised her eyes, she saw the darkening passion in his and knew what he was thinking. Her body’s response said one thing, but her mind was still contrary. She wondered: which would win out?