Chance Meeting (34 page)
“Go ahead, Steve, tell me honestly . . .”
His eyes narrowed.
A cynical smile lifted her lips. “As I thought. Don’t bother, Steve, I know exactly what you’d have done. You’d have milked a teenage crush for all it was worth. Because basically, the man you were ten years ago has vanished,” Ty accused, knowing she’d struck her mark at his slight recoil. “You’d have turned on that devastating Southern charm, a sure bet it would make me so moonstruck I’d gladly sign over my half of the partnership.” The memory of his heated kisses invaded, rekindling her outrage. “You were starting down that path, anyway—” Ty broke off abruptly, biting her lip, wishing it were her tongue. Perhaps he wouldn’t catch what she’d been referring to.
Steve moved with startling speed. One hand again imprisoning Ty’s wrist, the other cupping her chin. Forcing her to look at him. Self-righteous anger coursed through his veins, camouflaging another emotion, one he didn’t want to acknowledge right then. But then he looked at her, really looked at her, at the haunted expression in those lovely gray eyes. And was lost. The hand gripping her wrist gentled. His other opened, the workroughened pads of his fingers tracing the ridge of her jaw, down the slender column of her neck.
She trembled. In agonizingly slow motion, Steve’s fingers slipped around the delicate silver chain encircling Ty’s neck and lifted it, drawing the necklace between them. His breath suspended, the metal dragged gently between his fingers, inch by inch. And then, there it was, cradled in his broad palm. Steve’s thumb brushed the raised image of the galloping horse. The medallion was still warm from where it had rested in the fragrant valley between Ty’s breasts. It was difficult to reconcile the memory of that plain, awkward girl with the lovely, sophisticated woman standing before him now.
“How about this for honesty, Ty?” he said quietly. “I didn’t have to remember who you were to know that I wanted you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you at the lawyers’ meeting. And every aching hour since then.” The lightest of tugs had her body swaying closer, temptingly closer. His lips descended, hovering, his breath fanning lips that trembled uncontrollably. “I didn’t have to recognize that adorably shy teenager,” he continued huskily, “to know I was falling hard for the maddeningly beautiful and intelligent woman she’s become.”
Desperate, feverishly hungry lips met, crushing, devouring. Hands clutched, molding, bruising in their need to feel, to have. On and on, it seemed as if they might never stop. And when Steve finally, reluctantly drew his lips away from hers, they remained standing, foreheads touching, lungs heaving from lack of air. Giddy from it, from happiness.
The smile Steve gave Ty erased years from his face as he pressed curved lips against her smooth brow. His hands found hers, lacing their fingers together, bringing their entwined hands to his lips. “You’re so lovely,” the words interspersed between teasing nibbles, her knuckles apparently delectable.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Ty teased, smiling with joy. As though unable to resist the temptation of her smile, Steve plundered them anew, awe and fierce arousal flooding him when her lips parted eagerly beneath him, welcoming him.
“Where are we going?” Ty asked breathlessly, when at last Steve lifted his head. He was tugging her hand, pulling her along, that happy, boyish grin lighting his face.
“We’re going for that ride. Come on, I want to show you one of my favorite spots.”
L
izzie was still scowling.
“Mommy, Mommy, look at me!” Emma chirped, her palms plastered against Sam’s jaw, her legs scissoring his neck. “I’m on Sam!”
“So I noticed, sweetie,” Lizzie replied dryly, her face clearing as she gazed up at her daughter. “Maybe you want to get down now?”
“No, no! Sam’s my new pony, Mommy.” The words rushed together as one. “Look how I’m riding!”
Emma cried, bouncing up and down to prove it.
The scowl was back in place as Lizzie glared at Sam.
“Hello, Lizzie, long time no see.”
“Hello, Sam.” She didn’t bother to hide the irritation lacing her voice. A thick brown eyebrow cocked questioningly. “What’s with the hostility, Lizzie? Thought you’d be happier to see an old friend.”
That was precisely the problem—in a nutshell. Sam Brody was at least fifteen years younger than Lizzie’s memory would have led her to expect. How could he stand there, so virile, so confident . . . so
young?
Ignoring his question, Lizzie said, “I’d appreciate it if you released my daughter.”
“Emma seems pretty happy where she is. You’ve got a great kid, Lizzie.”
“I know. Her only fault is that she’s too trusting.”
“Too trusting? Oh, I get it. She hasn’t recognized me as the big, bad wolf I really am.”
“That’s right. Come on down now, Emma.”
Emma started to protest, but Sam smoothly cut in. “Hey, Emma, how many somersaults will it take before you’re on the ground again?” A gleeful “one” had her twirling above Sam’s head, bright red Keds skimming his golden brown hair; “two” was on level with his forehead; and so it went, until they reached
“five,” and Emma was once more standing on her own two feet. Emma beamed; her mother glared. Sam gave them both an amused smile and went to pour himself a cup of coffee.
“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one morning, young lady,” Lizzie informed her daughter.
“Quiet time beckons.”
“Ty’s room is to your right, first door on the left.”
“Thanks. Come on, Emma, say bye-bye to Sam.”
“Emma can say good-bye later. I’m not planning on heading back to the city until after I talk more with Ty. From the look in his eye, I’d say Steve Sheppard has a full hour’s worth of yelling to get out of his system.”
“Highly unlikely,” Lizzie replied, only too happy to contradict Sam. “This whole identity issue is just a minor setback. You probably didn’t catch the way he looks at her. Sheppard’s more than half in love with Ty,” Lizzie finished confidently. She affected a big yawn. “Well, I’m feeling rather tired myself. More than likely, I’ll fall asleep next to Emma.”
Sam shook his head gravely. “Shame on you, Lizzie. You never used to run chicken. What’s the matter?
Afraid I’ll bite?”
“Of course not,” Lizzie snarled, flashing her own white teeth. Unfortunately, however, no comeback sprang to mind sufficiently cutting to put Sam Brody in his place. She’d walk on rusty nails rather than admit that seeing him again after all these years was even remotely disturbing, unnerving. It was nothing more than surprise that had her heart beating so. Surprise that Sam looked so very different. Her memory must have short-circuited, leaving her disoriented, rattled. Which in turn explained her body’s bizarre reaction. No way was this anything close to attraction. Especially as Lizzie hadn’t experienced even a smidgen of arousal for a man in more than two years. It was merely an elevated state of agitation—brought on by believing Emma asleep upstairs, only to find her riding Sam’s really strong shoulders—Sam, who had no business being here. That would leave any woman, any mother rattled. Yes, that was it.
Satisfied with her explanation, Lizzie lifted Emma into her arms and swept out of the room without a backward glance, hoping Sam Brody would get the message loud and clear. She couldn’t care less about his comings or goings.
It was only when she got to the stairs that her steps slowed, her shoulders slumped. But what if lust had indeed had the perversity to strike her? Unexpected, unwanted. Hitting her while she’d stood gaping at Sam, the way lightning might split a lonely tree, setting it ablaze.
It would be horrendously unfair. She now considered herself thoroughly immune to men. Meaningless flirtations were one thing, perfectly acceptable, something society expected. But Lizzie never went beyond flirting anymore. The men who foolhardily tried to pursue her found themselves running up against a formidable wall, topped with broken glass and barbed wire.
Not that Sam Brody would be remotely interested enough to discover that wall for himself, let alone scale it. But if he were so inclined, then he’d suffer the same fate as the others. Reaching the top step, Lizzie paused for a moment on the landing and glanced down, as if able to see right into the kitchen below. She vowed that Sam Brody would never suspect he had the power to make her burn. Lizzie Osborne had scampered through her youth, a fuzzy marmalade kitten, insatiably curious, naively reckless, utterly irresistible. As Sam sat thinking of the woman upstairs, he realized that the little kitten had grown claws. He wondered how much of that adorable fuzzball still existed. The adult Lizzie reminded Sam far more of a feral cat, ready and willing to maul, especially if someone she loved was threatened. But then, just as Sam had been adjusting to this new, updated version of Lizzie, she’d changed before his eyes.
A hell of a transformation, to go from lynx to porcupine in the blink of an eye. Good thing she’d been nervous, otherwise that random barrage of quills she’d shot might have found their mark. For some reason, Sam clearly threatened her. He’d spent too many years as a cop and then as a bodyguard not to be able to recognize fear when he saw it.
Why should she fear him? Certainly it wasn’t because of his former profession. When he’d been working as Ty’s bodyguard, Lizzie had never been fazed by his presence or unnerved that his duties included the potential for violence. In any case, his former profession was moot. Sam’s life was different now, no longer that of a man ready for violence and death up close.
So, if Lizzie didn’t fear Sam because he’d been a New York City cop, that meant he must threaten her as a man. Sam’s head dropped as he let out a string of vicious curses, the words extra shocking in the quiet, light-filled kitchen. At that moment, Sam would have given anything to find Lizzie’s ex and treat him to a going over he’d never forget.
Fucking bastard to have hurt Lizzie, to have dimmed that special spark in her eyes.
“Whew, that was some seriously bad-ass cursing. You’d make a sailor blush,” Lizzie said, sauntering casually back into the kitchen as if she’d fully intended to return the whole time. Emma had fallen asleep mere seconds after Lizzie had laid her down in the middle of Ty’s double bed. Watching her daughter’s face as she slept, Lizzie had consciously dawdled, hoping if she tarried long enough, fate would remove Sam Brody from the scene. Eventually, however, Lizzie forced herself back downstairs, determined to prove herself aloof to any base sexual attraction. If Sam was surprised at her reappearance, he didn’t show it. “Welcome back, Lizzie. It was getting lonely down here. Sheppard must still be venting steam.”
Lizzie glanced at her watch, stunned at how much time had passed. “I hope Ty’s all right. He can’t really be that mad. Maybe I should go out and see.”
“Now it’s my turn to disagree,” Sam said easily, amused when Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. “Our barging in would be like adding fat to the fire. Besides, Ty’s a big girl. I’m sure she can handle whatever Sheppard throws at her. Take a seat, and tell me what you’re doing these days. Fill in the gaps for me.”
She didn’t have much choice. Sam could be right about provoking Steve even more if she butted in on him and Ty. Anyway, Lizzie was still waiting for her telephone call to be returned, and she didn’t want to wander too far. And if she fled back upstairs, Sam would have proof positive she was running away from him.
She plopped down in the chair with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. If she’d been in the habit of picking her nose, she would have. Anything to erase that speculative gleam in Sam’s brown eyes. Had they always been so golden glittery, like topaz stones?
“Sure, let’s chat. What do you want to know, Sam? Emma’s a darling, but you don’t need me to tell you that. She’s the light of my life. My business is growing. I’ve got new riders and more boarders this year. Things have been going well enough that I’ve been able to hire an additional instructor, as well as a barn manager who lives in one of the outbuildings I converted. That’s been a huge load off my mind; it’s allowed me to be able to make trips like this for clients and not worry about who’s in charge of the barn or who’s taking over my lessons. Let’s see, what else?” Lizzie shrugged and pasted a vacuous smile on her face. “Life’s great. That about sums it up.”
A neatly whitewashed version of her life, Sam concluded. No mention of the anger, loneliness, and bitterness she’d undoubtedly felt when her marriage ended. No mention of how wearing it must be to raise a child by herself—no matter how cute Emma was. “And how about you personally, Lizzie? How are you doing now that you’re all grown up?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Lizzie said breezily. “The days seem to fly by, what with work and taking care of Emma.”
“What do you do for fun up in Bedford?”
“Fun?” Lizzie repeated cautiously, as if it were a dangerous word.
“Yeah, fun. Movies, dancing, romantic dinners . . .”
Lizzie laughed. “Don’t really have time for that, Sam. I’m a working woman.”
“A shame. There something the matter with the male population in Bedford that some guy hasn’t come and swept you off your feet?”
