Chapter 9
Jordan held Sam’s hand as they sauntered back to the gallery after lunch. “I’d like to take you out for dinner Saturday night.” When she didn’t respond right away, he stopped and faced her. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to avoid me?”
“I’m not. It’s just that I don’t think it’s a good idea to see you again.” He was much too appealing. She knew instinctively that she’d succumb to whatever he proposed. After all, she already had.
“If that isn’t avoidance, I don’t know what is,” he retorted. Then, because she looked sexy and he was so drawn to her, he pulled her into his arms. Heedless to the passersby, he proceeded to plant a passionate kiss on her mouth. Molding her body to his, he murmured in her ear, “We’re good together, and you know it. Something’s bugging you. I wish you’d tell me what it is.” He couldn’t fathom her reluctance to go out with him. He’d never had a problem like this with a woman.
Sam wanted to blurt out the truth—that she was the awkward student in his tai chi class that he’d looked at with scorn—but she couldn’t say the words. Instead, she wriggled out of his hold. “It wouldn’t work. We’re too different.” She started walking away from him and back to the gallery.
“Too different?” he exclaimed. “If that isn’t the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Tell me you have a boyfriend or something plausible. I’m not buying your excuse.”
He was more persistent than Brice, she realized. And he was determined to get his way. She could see it in the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes. Jordan wasn’t used to being turned down. Actually, what harm would it do to go out with him a few times? He’d get tired of her before long—she was sure of it. “Okay, I’ll have dinner with you. Now can I get back to work?”
“Why did you have to make such a simple request so difficult? I swear, I don’t understand women sometimes.” He shook his head in bewilderment.
Sam couldn’t help the grin that spread over her face. “Maybe we like to keep you in suspense. That way you don’t take us for granted.”
“Take you for granted? You gotta be kidding. I never leave my office in the middle of the day to meet a woman for lunch, unless it’s business-related. This is a first for me.”
Her grin faded when she understood he was speaking the truth. It was evident in his voice and in his whole manner. How could this have happened? And in such a short time? She took a quick inward breath and let it out slowly. “Maybe it’s just that the sex was good. It doesn’t mean other things would work.”
“Why don’t we find out? Or are you afraid to take the risk?” His tone was challenging.
Sam remembered that Beth had said the same thing to her recently.
When she didn’t answer, Jordan came to his own conclusions. “You are afraid, aren’t you? I can sense it whenever I try to get close. Do I threaten you?”
“No,” she said. He’d never intentionally hurt her. How she knew this, she couldn’t say. “It’s not you, it’s me. But I’d rather not go into any details right now.”
“Okay, I’ll go along with that.” He wasn’t going to force her into any premature confessions. They’d get to the bottom of things before too long. His interrogation methods could be subtle but powerful. “What time should I pick you up Saturday?”
“Seven would be good. That will give me time to shower and change. Is this a casual-type dinner?”
“It can be whatever we want to make it,” he said. “Casual is fine with me. There’s a great family-type Italian place I’d like to take you to. The owner is a good friend, and the food is fantastic.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Will you?” he said softly, putting a curved finger under her chin and looking into her eyes. “I hope so. We’re good together, in bed and out of it. You’ll see.” He didn’t kiss her again, but his eyes caressed her as if he had.
~ ~ ~
Peter was waiting by the entrance to the gallery. “Did you have a good lunch?”
There was something in his expression that didn’t jibe with his words. Glancing at her watch, she noticed it was almost three thirty. She should have been back by three. Then again, there’d been times she’d eaten lunch at her desk in ten minutes and gone right back to work. She was entitled to a long lunch once in a while. “Guess I’m a little late. And, yes, the food at Melina’s was great.”
“Where’s your friend? I was hoping to meet him.”
“He had to get back to his office.” She walked past him and headed to her desk. If he was going to question her about Jordan, she was determined to say as little as possible.
Peter followed her in. “He’s the one in the photo, isn’t he? The one who sent you those roses, right? Not the one on the ground. I recognized that guy. You brought him to visit the gallery last week. You’ve acquired two very persistent suitors.”
“So it would seem,” Sam replied. “It won’t last long. Brice flew home the other day, and this guy will get tired of the chase. I’ll be back on my own within the next few weeks, which is just fine with me.” She sat down, hoping this would be the end of the conversation.
Peter looked at her for a long moment as he stroked his neatly trimmed beard. “Are you sure? Willing to make a small bet?”
“A bet? What are you talking about?” She glanced at him in astonishment. Peter was not a gambling man.
“Let’s see.” He gave her an appraising once-over. “I’ll bet you movie tickets he won’t give up easily. With that new hair color and makeup, you’re an even more appealing young woman. If it’s not this young man, it’ll be another before long. I can sense wedding bells in the not-too-distant future.”
Sam stared at him. “Are you kidding? I have no intention of marrying anyone. Once was quite enough for me.”
“I won’t argue with you. How about my bet? If you’re so sure of yourself, there’s nothing to lose.”
“Oh, all right. You’ll end up paying my way.”
“Let’s shake on it then,” he said, holding out his hand.
She laughed. “It’s a good thing you made a modest bet. I should up the ante to two movie tickets at least.”
“Two tickets it is then.”
~ ~ ~
By the time Sam returned home from her yoga class at the Y, it was close to nine at night. She hadn’t bothered to eat dinner. The Greek lunch was a large one. Of course, the message light was blinking red when she entered the house, and her cats were meowing in unison.
“Okay, okay,” she muttered, dropping her gym bag just inside the door and hurrying to the refrigerator to unearth the can of cat food. “Here, guys, you must be starving.”
She was hungry, too. A dish of ice cream came to mind. An image of Jordan flashed through her head at the same time. She’d end up as fat as a house if she ever got involved with him. That thought didn’t stop her from raiding the freezer and preparing a sumptuous sundae. She sat at the kitchen table with those gorgeous roses in front of her and daydreamed what a relationship with him would be like. He was definitely a man who loved food, which was a plus. He was also an exercise nut, which was not an asset. Why was she bothering with those speculations?
Thoroughly annoyed, Sam finished the ice cream and glanced at her answering machine. She should check to see who’d called. There was always a chance Beth might leave a conciliatory message. Then again, if she’d seen that Gazette article, it would probably be a nasty one.
There were four messages. Three of them were from her mother, who threatened to drive down to talk to her if she didn’t hear back that evening. The fourth was a strange message from someone named Max Beltzer, who wanted to talk to her about a possible job. He didn’t specify what the job was or how he’d gotten her phone number. Annoyed, Sam deleted it, and with an inward groan, punched in her mom’s number.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Karen is hosting a bridal shower for Andrea on Sunday and I expect you to be there. You’re not working at the gallery on Sundays, so you have no excuse.”
“A bridal shower? I don’t believe it. Don’t tell me Andrea wants more stuff. After two bridal showers, there isn’t anything she needs. What are people supposed to bring?” Sam couldn’t help the sarcasm in her tone.
“That isn’t the point,” her mother retorted. “It’s customary to have a shower for the bride, and I am determined that this wedding will be done the right way. Karen sent out invitations, but she’s already phoned most of the people who’ll be there. She expects at least forty women. Of course, it will be catered. Aunt Jean and Aunt Evelyn are coming in from Boston, and several of your cousins from Philadelphia will be there. I do hope you have a decent outfit to wear.”
Sam let out a huff of annoyance. “Don’t worry about it. I have appropriate clothes.”
“Good. I’ll see you there at noon. Just don’t bring something from your gallery. Andrea and Ben have more conservative tastes.”
With a supreme effort, Sam didn’t bother to answer. There was no point in trying to convince her mother of anything. She’d given up years ago.
~ ~ ~
Jordan spent the afternoon and evening at his desk, trying to concentrate on the pile of work-related issues. His mind kept wandering to his lunch with Sam. He couldn’t fathom her resistance to seeing him again. What could have turned her off? She’d mentioned one marriage was enough. Evidently, she’d been burned by the experience. Had the guy been abusive or something? He brooded over that possibility for over an hour until, disgusted at his lack of focus, he banished the subject from his thoughts.
He’d taken a copy of the Gazette back to the office. As he munched on a roast beef sandwich with a side of fries for dinner, he reread the story. Would anyone recognize him from the photo the paper printed? It would have to be someone who’d been at the same table and seen him dance with Sam. Then again, most people didn’t read The East Village Gazette, a thought that brought him some relief. While he pondered the matter, the phone rang. Scott Madden’s name came up. For a second, Jordan deliberated about answering. He finally picked up the phone.
“Didn’t expect to hear from you this evening,” he muttered.
“I thought you might want to reconsider my offer to represent you, gratis of course. Don’s wife, Julie, had lunch today at the Blue Monkey with her sister. Guess what the main subject of conversation was?” He let out a raucous laugh.
Damn. Jordan swore under his breath. It didn’t take much imagination to speculate about the topic. Keeping his tone neutral, he said, “Probably the story in the Gazette.”
“Yup. How did you manage to get into a brawl like that? She’s one hot dame, I’ll admit, but not worth a public fight. Of course, everyone with us that night knows the whole story, and I’m sure your ex-girlfriend does too. If I were you, I’d cut my losses and take an extended holiday somewhere, like the Caribbean or maybe South America. By the time you return, the whole thing will have blown over.” He started laughing again.
The sound grated on Jordan’s nerves. Before too long, his sisters would know about the story in the paper. There was nothing he could do except put on an indifferent façade. “I’m sure people have more important things to think about. Thanks for your offer, though. It’s much appreciated.”
“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you to get out of town.” Scott gave another loud guffaw before hanging up.
Jordan sat there for several long moments while his mind tried to grapple with Scott’s analysis of the Gazette story. The thought of going away for a relaxing vacation on some deserted island with Sam whirled around in his brain for several tantalizing minutes. Shaking his head in disgust, he pulled himself away from that tempting scene and back to the legal brief he was reading. There was no point in worrying about anything until it actually happened.
~ ~ ~
The phone rang Thursday morning just as Sam was ready to head out the door. For a moment, she was tempted to let it ring. Then again, it might be Peter calling. Sometimes he asked her to make a stop on her way down to the gallery for office supplies or something.
“Hello?”
“Is this Samantha Peabody?” a male voice asked.
It definitely wasn’t Peter. “Who’s calling?” She should’ve let it ring. The man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar. Could it be that strange call on her answering machine?
“This is Max Beltzer. I left a message on your phone yesterday. I’d like to discuss a possible spot for you on a television ad I’m producing. What’s your schedule like today? Are you doing your dance routine anywhere locally? I’d love to see you perform, and we can talk about my proposal.”
Her dance routine? A television ad? What in the world was going on? “I’m not interested,” she replied. “By the way, who gave you my phone number?”
“It’s a lucrative offer,” he countered. “Can we meet at the Blue Monkey where you perform? Actually, we could shoot the ad right there. I’m sure the owners wouldn’t mind. The publicity will bring in more customers.”
Sam was ready to hang up on the guy. “Listen, I am not the least bit interested in your offer. And please don’t phone again.” She slammed down the receiver and walked out the door. The nerve of the guy! He’d probably seen her name in the Gazette and bribed one of the waiters or the bartender at the Blue Monkey to give him her number.
Riding the bus downtown to the gallery, she wondered how many people read the Gazette. Following that idea, how many would connect her name with that of the Finch/Peabody Gallery? She fervently hoped the story would die a quick death before any more strange calls came her way.