02_Groom of Her Own (3 page)

Brad knew that Sam was close to tears again. He also sensed that whatever troubled her was a deeper issue than could be dealt with tonight. But at least he could try to cheer her up. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Suppose you stop calling me Reverend and start calling me Brad. Then maybe I can ask you to dance.”

Sam’s head snapped around and she stared at him. “Dance?”

“Ministers can dance. It’s allowed,” he teased.

Sam found herself smiling. “I appreciate the offer. But you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“Don’t you like to dance?”

“Well, yes, but…” Her voice trailed off.

He grinned. “But not with ministers?”

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “Actually, I’ve never danced with a minister.”

“Well, if I promise not to preach while we polka, will you give it a try? Because, to be honest, I’ve been wanting to ask you all night but I just didn’t have the nerve.”

“Are you serious?” she asked incredulously.

“Would a preacher lie?” he asked solemnly. Okay, so he’d stretched the truth a little. He
had
hoped to have the opportunity to speak with her, though, considering how upset she’d been in church earlier in the day. But the invitation to dance was a spur-of-the-moment idea.

“Well…if you really want to, sure, that would be great.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t wanted to. Let’s catch the next number. Maybe it will be a nice fox-trot”

Brad pushed the door open and guided her inside, his hand at the small of her back. Sam liked the nonthreatening and protective feel of it. It was…nice.

As they reached the dance floor, the band swung into “In the Mood,” and Sam turned to Brad with a grin. “So much for your fox-trot. That’s okay. We can skip. But I appreciate the offer.” She started to turn away, but he grabbed her hand and she looked around in surprise.

“You’re not getting off that easy. Is this number too much for you?” he challenged with a smile, his eyes twinkling.

“No, of course not,” she stammered. “It’s just…well…fast. It’s a swing number,” she pointed out.

“I know. I’m game if you are.”

Sam grinned and shrugged. She was beginning to really like this preacher. “Okay.”

By the time the number ended, Sam was gasping and laughing all at once. “You are really good!” she said. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“I haven’t always been a minister,” he reminded her. He looked around and then dropped his voice conspiratorially. “Can I tell you a secret, Sam?

She leaned closer. “Sure.”

“Ministers are really just regular people. For example, even though you may think I dance divinely—no pun intended—I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. My sister inherited the voice in the family. But I love to sing, and it drives Rose, our choir director, crazy. She just hasn’t figured out a way to diplomatically tell me to shut up. She thinks ministers are specially blessed or something and she’ll incur the wrath of heaven if she insults me. So if you ever meet her, don’t let on that I’m just an ordinary guy.”

Sam giggled and shook her head. “I’ve never met a minister like you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He paused as the band struck up the opening notes of “As Time Goes By,” and then he smiled. “Now there’s our fox-trot. And that song is too good to pass up. How about one more dance before I call it a night?”

“Are you leaving already?” Sam asked, suddenly disappointed.

“I’m afraid so,” he replied regretfully. “I’ve got an early service tomorrow. Shall we?”

He held out his arms, and Sam moved into them. The last dance had been exhilarating and loud and fast This one was slow and…different. Brad held her close—closer than she expected for a minister—as they moved to the romantic melody. She could smell the scent of his aftershave, feel the slight stubble on his chin against her temple. She felt… strange. But good. He was a nice man. And it was nice to be with a nice man, even if only for a little while.

Brad hadn’t danced in a long time. A very long time. He was surprised the steps came back so easily. But then, he and Rachel had liked to dance. She had been a good dancer. Tall, with the build of a ballerina, she had been almost eye level with him when they danced. Sam was smaller, the top of her head barely brushing his mouth. And she was soft. She smelled good, too, and instinctively he tightened his hold.

Brad grinned ruefully as he considered the situation. If someone had told him a few hours ago that he’d end the evening on the dance floor with Sam Reynolds, Laura’s flamboyant, uninhibited and—he hated to think it, but the term came unbidden—hot-to-trot friend, he would have stared at them in surprise. But then, he’d been surprised by a number of things about Sam tonight. He’d seen a vulnerable, insecure side of the woman in his arms that he had a feeling even Laura had never seen, and he’d had to revise his image of her. He didn’t know exactly who Sam really was, but he suddenly suspected that she wasn’t quite what she seemed to be to the world.

When the music ended, he stepped back and glanced down. Her green eyes looked soft and appealing and suddenly bereft, and he was surprised by the sudden rush of tenderness that swept over him. He took her hand once more, cradling it between his. “Thank you, Sam. I enjoyed the dance.”

“So did I,” she said, her voice unusually husky and tinged with regret now that it was over. It had felt good in this man’s arms. Protected, somehow, and safe.

“Is someone taking you home?”

“Yes. Laura’s brother, John.”

“Then I guess I’ll say—”

“Sam, I’ve been looking for you! Brad, are you still here? I thought you left half an hour ago,” Laura’s surprised voice interrupted them.

Brad transferred his gaze to Laura and grinned. “I got sidetracked.”

“Well, don’t sleep through your own sermon tomorrow,” Laura warned with a laugh before turning her attention to Sam. “1 wanted to say goodbye, and I was afraid I’d miss you. Nick’s getting anxious to leave.”

“Anxious
isn’t exactly the word I’d use, and leaving isn’t the reason for it…but it’ll do,” Nick said with a chuckle as he came up behind Laura and wrapped his arms around her waist. When he pulled her back against him, she blushed becomingly.

Sam laughed. “Laura, the man has been patient beyond belief. Why don’t you put him out of his misery?”

Laura’s face went an even deeper shade of pink. “Will you two stop? There’s a minister present.”

Nick looked at Brad, and the two men smiled at each other. “I think Brad understands,” Nick assured her, and then he leaned down and nuzzled her neck. “But just so I don’t look too…anxious…how about one more dance?” he murmured huskily.

Laura turned to look up at him, her eyes shining. “I’d like that,” she said softly. With an effort, she tore her gaze away from Nick and stepped toward Sam, drawing her friend into a warm embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered, knowing that Sam would understand the wealth of meaning in those simple words.

Sam hugged her tightly, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. She would not cry, she told herself fiercely. Not now. Not in front of everyone. The cool, composed, wisecracking Sam Reynolds wouldn’t cry, she reminded herself. It would ruin her reputation.

With a superhuman effort, she steadied her emotions and stepped back. “Have a wonderful honeymoon, you two. And try to get at least a little sleep,” she added, forcing her lips to turn up into a smile.

“Now
that
I can’t guarantee,” Nick replied with a grin, taking Laura’s hand and urging her gently toward the dance floor. “Come on, Mrs. Sinclair. Let’s have that dance so we can get started on the honeymoon.”

Sam watched them move naturally into each other’s arms, as if they belonged there, and she sighed. “They look so right together, don’t they?” she remarked wistfully.

“Yes, they do,” Brad agreed, aware that Sam’s emotions were once more on precarious ground. Again he was surprised at the contradiction between the woman across from him and his preconceived image of her.

Suddenly Sam frowned and turned to him. “Laura said you were planning to leave earlier. I must be the one to blame for keeping you here. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he assured her. “As a rule I do try to get home at a reasonable hour on Saturday nights so I’m coherent for the early service. But after hearing about you all these years I’m glad we finally had the chance to get better acquainted.”

“I’ve heard about you, too. But…can I tell you something?” she said impulsively. “You’re not what I expected. Even though Laura said you were nice, my only experience with preachers is the fire and brimstone variety. Sort of intimidating and ‘holier than thou,’ you know?”

Brad smiled. “I think so. I’ve met a few of those myself. But hopefully they’re a vanishing breed. And as long as we’re playing true confessions, I’ll admit that you’re not what I expected, either. So we’re even.”

Sam looked at him thoughtfully. He didn’t elaborate, and she was tempted to ask what he had expected. But she could imagine. For years she’d cultivated the image of a swinger. She purposely let Laura believe that she shared more than her time with the many men she dated. So it was reasonable to assume that while Laura may have talked to her minister in a positive light about their friendship, somewhere along the way the “swinger” image had been conveyed as well. For the first time, and for reasons she didn’t quite understand, it bothered her that someone thought she wasn’t exactly the girl-next-door type.

Brad, watching her face, accurately assessed her train of thought and decided to make a hasty exit before the blunt, outspoken Sam that Laura admired resurfaced and asked the question he knew was on her mind—and which he wasn’t prepared to answer. He reached for her hand and cradled it between his. “Good night, Sam. And thank you for the dances. I enjoyed them.”

Sam swallowed, her emotions once more close to the surface. “Thanks. I did, too.” She tried to think of a typical “Sam” remark, something witty and lighthearted, but her gift for repartee seemed to desert her when she was around this man.

“Take care, okay?” he said, his warm, insightful brown eyes locked on hers.

“Sure.”

He let go of her hand then, and Sam immediately missed the warmth of his caring touch. With one more smile, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Sam watched him leave. Now she understood why Laura always spoke so highly of her minister and why she turned to him in times of trouble for comfort and guidance. He had a gift for making a person feel that everything was going to be all right, that he really cared. Too bad Sam hadn’t known someone like him seventeen years ago, she thought with a sigh. Maybe things would have turned out differently. May be…but it was too late for maybes, she reminded herself sharply. At thirty-five, seventeen years was almost a whole lifetime ago. She couldn’t change what had happened. It was too late for amends, for regrets, for…a lot of things.

She looked at Nick and Laura on the dance floor, and once more she found herself envying her best friend’s happiness. Which was wrong. Because Laura deserved a happy ending. Sam didn’t. It was as simple as that. And as final.

Chapter Two

S
am deposited two bags of groceries on the breakfast room table with a thud, pushed her damp hair out of her eyes and shrugged off her dripping raincoat. Too bad the April showers had decided to arrive a few days early, she thought ruefully, although the gloomy weather suited her mood. She shivered and moved the thermostat up, hoping the heat would kick in quickly and take the chill out of her condo. It felt more like February than the end of March, she concluded in disgust as she fished in one of the bags for the mail she’d picked up on her way in.

As she flipped disinterestedly through the stack, a colorful postcard with a picture of a white sand beach and blue skies, framed by brilliantly colored flowers, caught her eye. She paused with a smile. Laura. Eagerly she flipped it over and scanned the contents, coming to the obvious conclusion: Nick and Laura’s Hawaiian honeymoon was a resounding success.

Sam propped the card on the windowsill and gazed out at the gray, sodden landscape, her smile fading. She could use a little tropical sun herself about now, she thought wistfully. The idea of spending the afternoon stretched out on a beach, caressed by warm solar rays, instead of traipsing from one house to another with a hard-to-please client, was very appealing. And also totally unrealistic, she reminded herself. Not that she couldn’t afford a trip to Hawaii. That was within her reach. Sharing it with a new husband who had pledged to love her for the rest of her life was not.

Wearily Sam put the kettle on the stove, hoping a soothing cup of tea would improve her mood. Ever since the wedding, she’d been on an emotional roller coaster, up one minute, down the next. But mostly down. It wasn’t like her. Even a few of her colleagues had noticed her uncharacteristic melancholy, asking her if she was feeling okay. She had to get a grip, she told herself sternly. It wasn’t the end of the world. She had been alone before the wedding. She was alone now. Nothing had changed in her life. Her situation was exactly the same as before.

And that, she realized with a sudden pang, was precisely the problem. That, and the fact that it would
never
change. Laura had found her happy ending. She had a wonderful husband and, unless Sam missed her guess, the newlyweds would start working very soon on the family they both wanted.

The sudden whistling of the kettle momentarily interrupted her reverie, and she absently selected an herbal tea bag and filled a mug with water. Distractedly she stared out the window, mindlessly dunking the tea bag, her thoughts far removed from the mundane action. Laura would be surprised at Sam’s melancholy, she knew. Around her best friend, Sam was perennially upbeat and optimistic about finding a husband. She always told Laura that the right men for them were out there somewhere. And Laura had found hers. But Sam had always known that her own happy ending was an impossible dream. Her optimism had been for Laura’s sake, not her own.

She sat down at the table and propped her chin in her hand. Sam knew she could get married. She was attractive enough, had a good personality, was reasonably intelligent. And there were plenty of available guys. Not too many like Nick, true, but she could find someone. There were probably a lot of men who could overlook the painful past that still haunted her.