Web of Smoke (8 page)

Sam had found Christie’s note at lunchtime, when he’d gone home. Be back soon, which really meant, see you later. Kiss off, Sam. It was then that he realized what a critical error he’d made in leaving her alone in the first place. If he’d stayed home, she wouldn’t be gone.

The message she’d left with the starter a couple of hours ago said she was okay and would be in touch with him later. He’d been watching for her ever since, but there was no sign of her yet. At least she’d called. He’d been surprised by it.

The last time she’d disappeared while he was at work, she’d gone for good. No note. Just empty drawers and closets to lead him to the inevitable conclusion. Not that he’d been surprised by her desertion. She’d caught him pants down with another woman and nothing he could do or say could change that.

All he could hope for was to convince her that
he’d
changed.

He sighed, staring at the rolling greens stretching from the edge of the blue-domed sky to the shore of the whitecapped ocean. To his left, ducks quacked as a golf cart nosed them off the trail that snaked through the heart of the course.

What had Christie been doing all day? he wondered. What was she up to? She was probably out right now, hunting for a new place to live in until it was safe to return to her house.

He glanced at his watch. Two minutes had passed since the last time he’d looked. He should have stayed home.

He cursed himself again, this time silently. Why had escaping to work seemed like such a good idea this morning? And why had it taken him until noon to figure out it wasn’t?

“You have to keep your eyes on the ball, Jennifer,” he said as if he’d been watching her instead of his ticking watch.

Nodding, Jennifer gripped the club and swung. Her drive sliced through the air with a whoosh, digging up a chunk of earth and sailing it gracefully over the ball.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, squinting at the glare from the afternoon. He hadn’t escaped his problem in coming here. He’d brought it with him and left the solution at home, sleeping in his bed.

He looked down at Jennifer’s ball, still perched on the tee. “Why don’t we call it a day?”

“I didn’t even hit it,” she said.

“I know, Jen, but it looks like you’re having an off day. Let’s wrap it up. I’ll give you an extra lesson some other time. No charge.”

She shook her head. “What good is another lesson going to do me? I can’t even hit the ball.”

“But you’re hell on grass,” he teased, bending to scoop up the hunks of sod around her club and gently tap them back in place with his shoe.

“I won’t even get off the first tee tomorrow,” she said accusingly.

“Sure you will. I’ve seen you hit the ball. You’ve seen you hit it. You’re just having a bad day. You’ll do fine tomorrow.”

“I don’t think so.”

He gripped her shoulders lightly between his palms, trying to appear as he usually did, like he really cared. “Jennifer, trust me on this. The best thing you can do is pack up your clubs and have a beer. I know, I’ve been there plenty of times.”

Now that was a lesson if he’d ever heard one. Maybe he should listen to it. Maybe instead of making things worse with Christie, instead of swinging wild shots into the soft turf, he should pack up
his
clubs and hit the bar. Christie sure as hell didn’t want him anymore.

He looked off into the distance at the ball-speckled driving range. She might not want him, but she sure as hell needed him. Besides, she was his wife, dammit, and he wanted her back.

“Earth to Sam.”

Jennifer’s voice beamed him back.

“I get the feeling you’re not into this today,” she said. “Look, if you show me one more time, I’ll go. I just don’t want to look like a clown tomorrow.”

He quirked a smile at her. “Okay, Bozo, but you’ve got to concentrate. You’re turning your club when you pull it over your shoulder.” He mimed the action. “See?”

She shook her head. Sam moved to stand behind her and wrapped his hands over hers on the club. Slowly, he drew the club back, correcting her when she would have rotated it. The club swung down and connected with a solid whack. He teed her three more and she packed up her clubs, waving a smiling good-bye.

Sam watched her sway away in shorts too tight and too short. He didn’t see Christie until her voice startled him from behind.

“Sam?”

He jumped and turned to face her. Set against the rolling green lawns of the country club, she stood framed by the golden beams of sunshine. She wore khaki shorts and a soft, clinging shirt of peach that made him think of the curves beneath. Christie didn’t need to wear revealing clothes to be sexy. Her taste simply added to her allure. The sight of her cleared his cluttered brain and gave him focus. What was he talking about, giving up? He couldn’t give up on Christie. He owed her. He owed himself.

“Christie. I thought you were going to wait at home for me.”

“For how long?” she asked, noting Jennifer’s retreating back with a haughty lift to her brow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze snapped back to Sam’s face. “Some things never change, I guess. I saw that touching lesson you just gave. You’re so dedicated.”

“You sound jealous.”

Her look was ice-cold. “Disappointed is a better word.”

“Why is that? I didn’t think I meant anything to you. Why should you care who I give lessons to?”

“You’re right. I don’t. Do you have a minute? I need to talk.”

Frustrated, he stared at her. “Sure, I’ve got a minute,” he said, leading her to the snack bar by the pro shop. “Want a soda or anything?”

“No. I just want to talk to you.” She took a seat at a small, round patio table.

“I want to talk to you, too, Christie. About last night—”

She shook her head. “Please, Sam, let’s not get into that.”

Contemplating her request, Sam leaned forward and chose his words carefully. “Okay. I don’t want to talk about last night either. I want to talk about today. Tomorrow. I’m not giving up on us, Christie. If I die trying, I mean to win you back.”

He waited for a reaction that never came. She just sat there, wearing that closed expression he hated so much. Just the sight of the chilly set of her features used to be enough to set his anger off. But not anymore, he warned himself. He was through with losing his temper. It never got him anywhere but alone.

Christie might not make the going easy for him, but he wasn’t a quitter. It’d take a lot more than the ice maiden act to cool his feelings for her.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “I know I blew it, Christie, but dammit, give me a chance to make it up. I won’t let you down again. Never again. I should have been there for you when your mom died. I know that I haven’t been very dependable but that’s going to change.”

It took a moment before his words seemed to register with her. Open-mouthed, she stared at him. Sam’s heart banged at his chest and his palms felt cold and clammy. He hadn’t realized how nervous he was, how important it was that she believed him…believe
in
him.

He exhaled his disappointment when she dropped her gaze. Pulling a napkin out of the holder centered on the table, she began shredding it into tiny pieces. He hoped that she was considering his words while she debated whatever inner issue furrowed her brow in a frown. Sam waited for the outcome.

“Have you slept with her?” she whispered softly.

“What?”

“Your lesson. Are you sleeping with her?”

He cocked his head, hoping to catch her eye again, but the napkin captivated her.

“Would you care if I was?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She brushed the shreds of paper into the ashtray and started on another napkin. Her hands trembled over their task. So, she wasn’t as composed as she pretended to be.

“I found a key today,” she said, avoiding his question. Stilling her fingers, she looked up, over Sam’s shoulder. “A key to a gym locker.”

“That’s not an answer. I wouldn’t be the stud you know and love if I let you get away with that.” He teased a grin out of her.

“You can always make me smile.”

“Which still isn’t an answer.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t answer your question. I can’t.”

He bit back his frustration and told himself not to push. Who knew what she was thinking? Maybe he was winning and just didn’t know yet.

Deciding he’d better sit down, Sam hooked a chair around and straddled it, crossing his arms over the back. He forced himself to unclench his jaw.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

She shot him a relieved glance. “I called the police this morning. Another little girl’s been kidnapped. No one’s interested in my case.”

“What do you mean, no one’s interested?”

“Unless I’m under twelve and kidnapped, they don’t have time for me.”

“That’s just great.”

“I know. I still can’t believe it myself. I just assumed they would handle everything.”

She shrugged and fell silent. She seemed to be searching for her next words. “I stopped by the house this morning,” she said.

“What house? Not your house? What the hell were you doing there? Christie, there’s a lunatic—”

“I had to get away from your place, Sam. I couldn’t stand being there.” She paused and rubbed her temples. “I couldn’t concentrate. I needed to pick up some more of my things anyway. I’m all right and I found the key, so don’t start yelling at me.”

“Okay, okay. What key?”

She pulled it from her pocket and handed it to him. “It’s a key to a locker. I know it could be anybody’s key. It could be yours.”

“Never seen it before.”

“It could be
his.”

“So?”

“So, this morning I called the gym,” she said, looking at Sam expectantly.

Sam shrugged. “Do you want me to guess what they told you?”

“They told me I couldn’t go in,” she said. “The gym is exclusively for men—no women past the lobby. I want you to go with me and get what’s in the locker.”

“You want me to steal what’s in the locker,” he rephrased.

Blushing, she nodded.

“In that case, I have my own condition.” He half expected her to get up and leave, like a child refusing to play by any rules but her own, but she didn’t.

“I’ll go with you,” he continued, “but I want you to stay at my place until we get this guy—”

“No, Sam—”

“Let me finish,” he said. “Just stay at my house. If you want, I’ll sleep in the backyard. I’ll pitch a tent, cook over a fire. Shower with the hose. I won’t even come in to use the bathroom.”

She fought a losing battle with a smile.

“You can just throw me some dinner scraps every once in a while—”

She laughed. “I get the picture, Sam.”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself. I promise. But I’ll lose my mind if I have to spend every night worrying about you. Worrying that the next time…the next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

“You think I’m lucky, Sam?”

He sighed. “I don’t know what I think anymore, Christie. Where is this gym?”

“Imperial Beach.” She stood, brushing the last crumbs of torn napkin into the ashtray. “I’ve got the address. Can we go now?”

“Do you promise you’ll stay with me if I go with you?”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Great.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “That was my last lesson. Give me a minute to lock up and then I’m done. I was just getting ready to go home, anyway.”

They stood awkwardly together, avoiding each other’s eyes.

“Christie….”

He touched her shoulder. Startled, her gaze met his. Gold, flecked with green. He found himself staring, unable to look away.

“I’m not sleeping with her. There hasn’t been anyone else.”

She stared back at him with an unreadable expression glimmering in her eye. He’d quit expecting a response from her, but he was still disappointed when he didn’t get one.

He locked his office and they walked in silence to the parking lot. Sam automatically went to his Jeep. Christie’s hesitant glance skipped to her battered Toyota parked in the next row. For a minute he thought she’d insist on taking her own car, but, with another shrug, she climbed into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

On the road, Christie studied Sam’s profile. The tension between them had shifted, becoming dangerous and much too intimate. Christie searched for a way to shatter the feeling, but the air-conditioned Jeep cocooned her, binding her in the sticky threads of her own emotions.

She didn’t want to think about what he’d just said to her, didn’t want to even consider trusting him again. So why could she still hear his voice rubbing against her feelings with the warmth of sincerity?

The quiet between them pressed in on her, forcing her thoughts into the narrow avenue of recall. Frantic to escape, she began to speak.

“I appreciate your doing this for me, Sam. I just know there’s something in that locker.” She paused. “I also wanted to thank you for all you did last night. I don’t know how I would have dealt with things without you. I didn’t do a very good job of saying that last—
this morning
—and I’m sorry.”

He gave her a surprised look.

“I mean it.”

“I’ll bet that hurt to say.”

She smiled. “You’re right, it did.”

The traffic light turned red and Sam stopped the Jeep. Turning sideways in his seat, he said, “You’re welcome, Chris.”

They stared across the narrow console between the bucket seats. Still locked by the flickering spark that had once made them lovers, they searched for the common ground that could make them friends again. Christie looked down at her hands, linked together in a tight ball of frustration.

“Was I really so bad, Sam?” she whispered, licking the dryness from her lips. “Like you said last night?”

Sam shook his head, his gaze fixed on her mouth. Her lips softened and parted, speaking a language of action and reaction that had nothing to do with the words they exchanged. He leaned close to her, as if to press his mouth to hers.

“I promised I wouldn’t do that,” he said, stopping before his lips touched hers. “Didn’t I?”

As he spoke, his lips whispered above hers in a feathery caress. She ached to bridge the tiny gap that separated them as the seductive scent of him took hold of her senses, gripping her with inertia.