Engaging Sam Page 4

  Sam stood in the center of the living room to wait as Audra mumbled something about getting coffee and detoured to the kitchen. He watched her until she was out of sight, then let out his breath in a long, slow exhalation.

  How could a woman look so innocent and so tempting at the same time? Today she was covered from her neck to her ankles. Her robe was peach-colored cotton, as modest and practical as the clothes she usually wore. Yet the way her tousled hair brushed softly across her shoulders when she walked, and the way her pulse had fluttered delicately at the side of her throat when she’d seen him on her doorstep, made him think yet again of the delectable body he’d held beneath him last night.

  Rubbing his face briskly, he forced himself to get his mind back on business. He’d planned to postpone this visit until after he’d had a chance to rest. It was over a day and a half since he’d gotten any sleep, but then as he was passing by Audra’s door, he’d caught a whiff of that chocolate-laced coffee she made every morning and his plans had changed.

  He turned in a slow circle, taking a more thorough look at the room he’d only glimpsed the night before. Like his place, the apartment was small, but Audra had made the most of the space available. Books and potted plants crammed the shelf on the far wall, along with an array of framed photographs of smiling children. Between a pillow-strewn sofa and a deep rose armchair there was a basket stuffed full of colorful yam balls, the topmost ball skewered by a pair of knitting needles. The pale rose curtains on the front window and the fringed rug in the center of the floor completed an overall impression that was warm and homey.

  Her bedroom was decorated with the same kind of cozy, feminine touches. He hadn’t been able to see many details in the dark, and he’d been too occupied with subduing Audra’s struggles to pay close attention to the decor, but he remembered the flower-patterned sheets and the gracefully glinting curves of the brass headboard. And he’d never forget that short, gauzy nightgown she’d been wearing that had revealed even more feminine details....

  But he should try to forget about that. He already knew she wasn’t his type of woman, and seeing this place only reinforced that fact. Flowered sheets. Pictures of kids. A basket of knitting. She might live alone, but everything about her screamed family, home and commitment.

  A book lay discarded facedown on a polished wood side table, a tasselled bookmark peeking out from the pages. Sam moved over to pick it up, expecting to see something like a Jane Austen novel. His eyebrows rose as he saw the blood-spattered corpse on the cover. He wouldn’t have guessed that Audra’s taste in reading material included this kind of murder mystery.

  But then, until a few hours ago, he wouldn’t have guessed that her hair would have felt so soft or her body would have felt so good....

  At the clink of cutlery, Sam set the book down and turned around. Audra had returned, and the tray she placed on the coffee table was loaded with two steaming mugs, a pottery bowl full of sugar, a small pitcher of cream and a plate piled with icing-drizzled Danishes. The sharp aroma of coffee blended with the delicate fragrance of cinnamon, and Sam inhaled appreciatively as he crossed the room to join her.

  “I didn’t want you to go to any trouble,” he said, eyeing the nearest Danish.

  “I was about to have breakfast anyway. You’re welcome to join me, Sam.”

  He took the armchair across from her, watching as she carefully arranged the folds of her robe to cover her legs. He wondered whether she still wore that short, practically transparent nightgown beneath the robe. Or did she wear nothing? Either alternative was equally distracting.

  Wrenching his gaze back to hers, he reached for the mug she offered. The coffee was as dark and delicious as he’d imagined when he’d smelled it in the corridor. The pastry was warm, bursting into buttery flakes the moment he bit into it. He chewed slowly, prolonging the pleasure as long as he could before he finally got down to business. “Audra, I’d like to ask you a favor.”

  She licked a flake of pastry from the corner of her mouth and met his gaze. “Oh?”

  For a crazy moment he thought about kissing her. What would she do? How would she taste? What would it feel like to lean across the space between them and lick the trace of icing from her lower lip—

  “Sam?”

  He gulped a mouthful of coffee and set the mug down on the tray. “It’s about last night. Most of my work is done undercover.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that already. That’s why you were masquerading as that wim—um, bookkeeper.”

  “Generally, I try to keep the number of people who know about my investigations to a minimum.”

  She nodded. “For security, right? You don’t want anyone to be able to blow your cover if you’re on a case.”

  “Right. While you’re not under any legal obligation to keep what happened here confidential, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone what you know about me.”

  “Of course,” she answered immediately. “The fewer people who know you’re a cop, the safer your undercover work is.”

  He was pleasantly surprised by her quick grasp of the situation, but he should have expected it after seeing the crime novel she’d been reading. “I’m glad you understand. That should simplify things when it comes to my next assignment.”

  “What about the other people in the building? Someone must have noticed the commotion when those men were arrested.”

  “That won’t be a problem. The Sawchuks across the hall are away on vacation, and Rohan in 307 is on graveyard shift this week, so you were the only person who was home at this end of the hall. The building superintendent thinks it was just a break-in—he doesn’t know I work with the police, either.”

  “So I’m the only one who knows what really happened?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I hadn’t intended to tell anyone, Sam.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that, Audra.”

  “Oh, I understand your concern, but I have my own reasons for keeping all of this to myself. My family can be a little overprotective, and if they ever found out about the way you got into my apartment—” She shifted on the couch and cleared her throat. “Well, it would be better for both of us if no one knew.”

  “More protectiveness spiels from your brothers?”

  “To put it mildly.”

  “You must be a close family.”

  “You could say that.” She glanced at the pictures on the bookshelf. “Besides my parents and my grandmother, I have aunts, uncles and cousins. Adding to that, all six of my brothers are married and have been very diligent about providing me with nieces and nephews. Seventeen at last count.”

  “Including Jimmy the painter?”

  “Yes, including Jimmy.” Her gaze darted to the borrowed fleece shorts he was wearing and her lips twitched. “Lucky for you it wasn’t his sister who helped me paint.”

  He smiled. “And here I thought I’d had nothing but bad luck on this case.”

  “My family is quite...unique.” She tilted her head as she looked at him. “We don’t always see eye to eye, and they drive me crazy every now and then, but I love them anyway. You know how it is.”

  Sam felt his smile fade. No, he didn’t know how it was. He had never loved his family; he’d never even had one. A memory flashed across his mind, an image of a closed door, echoes of drunken laughter...a child’s quiet sobs as he finally understood he was completely alone.... He forced the memory away, surprised that it had stirred at all. He’d buried his past the day he’d earned his badge, so why was he thinking about it now?

  It must be fatigue. Or maybe it was this place, with its homey warmth, and Audra with her arousing innocence. She was so different from him. He didn’t belong here, sitting on her flowered chair, enjoying her coffee and her company. Now that she had agreed not to broadcast his identity, he had no legitimate reason for prolonging this visit. He should go home, get some sleep and leave innocent young women to innocent young men. Sam lost out on both counts——he had never bee
n innocent or young.

  Bracing his hands on his knees, he pushed himself to his feet. “Thanks for the breakfast, Audra, but I have to go. My boss needs my report by tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin and stood up quickly. “Of course. I really should get to work, too. My mother’s coming over to help plan the next wedding.”

  He moved toward the door. “Is someone in your family getting married?”

  “Good Lord, no. Aside from my underage nieces and nephews, I’m the only single one left, and I certainly don’t have any plans to get married.”

  He was surprised by the firmness in her tone. Given her love of family, and her homey apartment, and that wholesome air of innocence around her, he’d assumed that she was the permanent commitment type. “Then why are you and your mother planning a wedding?”

  “It’s our next job. Usually my sister-in-law Geraldine draws up the preliminary menus, but her pregnancy is really tiring her out lately, so Mom and I are pitching in.”

  Sam paused before he could grasp the doorknob, her words suddenly registering. Next job? Menus? Wedding?

  Maybe this was a trick of his sleep-deprived brain. He hadn’t considered the possibility seriously when Xavier had mentioned it earlier because it was such a long shot.

  But long shot didn’t mean impossible. “Did you say ‘menus’?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It’s one of the first steps in any catering job.”

  He felt his pulse thud. A spurt of adrenaline blew away his fatigue as his entire body went on alert. “So you work for a catering company. What made you choose that for a career?”

  “Well, since my father owns the company, the choice seemed natural. I’m sure it must seem pretty tame compared to the kind of work you do, but it has its moments.”

  Her father? Could he be John McPherson? “Do you do a lot of weddings?” he asked, struggling to keep his growing excitement out of his voice.

  “Usually spring is our busiest time. We only got the contract for this one two days ago, which is awfully short notice. It’s going to be a scramble to get organized by next month.”

  Fitzpatrick had chosen the caterer two days ago. The Fitzpatrick wedding was next month. Sam propped his arm on the door frame above Audra’s head and leaned closer. “Audra, what’s the name of your father’s company?”

  Her gaze touched the gap in his open shirt, then slowly rose to his face. “McPherson Catering.”

  Impulsively, Sam smiled and slid his hand into her hair.

  He’d thought they were due for some good luck, but this? It was like winning a lottery when he hadn’t bothered to buy a ticket.

  Chapter 3

  For one insane second, Audra was sure that Sam was going to kiss her. His fingers cradled the back of her head, his eyes were shining with a combination of surprise and pleasure and his lips were parted in another one of his charmingly boyish smiles. He leaned closer, his face so near, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.

  But the insanity lasted less than a heartbeat, because in the next second, there was a sharp rapping on the door beside her head.

  Sam withdrew his hand and straightened up, his smile disappearing.

  She pressed her lips together, trying to make sense out of what had just happened. Or hadn’t happened, depending on how you looked at it.

  The knock came again. “Audra?”

  Her gaze still on Sam, she reached for the door. “It’s my mother,” she said.

  He covered her hand with his before she could twist the doorknob. “Don’t tell her anything, okay?”

  “I said I wouldn’t,” she whispered.

  “I’ll call you later. We need to talk.”

  “I thought we already did. Sam—”

  He squeezed her hand once, then before she could stop him, he opened the door.

  Constance McPherson, her arms full of loose-leaf binders, was already talking as she stepped over the threshold. “Audra, dear, I brought Geraldine’s notes from the last ten weddings—” She came to an abrupt halt inches before she would have collided with Sam. “Oh!”

  “Mom, this is Sam Tucker,” Audra said, taking the precariously stacked binders out of her mother’s arms. “Sam, my mother, Constance McPherson.”

  Constance tipped her head forward to peer at him over the rims of her glasses as she offered him her hand. “Well hello, Sam. I hadn’t realized that my daughter had company,” she added, giving him a thorough, head-to-toe inspection before she transferred her gaze to Audra.

  “Sam’s my neighbor,” Audra said. “He’s...um...” She hesitated, fumbling for an explanation. “He just stopped by for coffee.”

  “Oh?” Constance’s gaze sharpened as she glanced back at Sam. “Am I interrupting something?”

  It didn’t take any special detective skills to recognize that speculative look in her mother’s eyes. With Sam’s shirt unbuttoned and his jaw shadowed by a night’s growth of beard, and Audra looking as if she’d just gotten out of bed... She swallowed a sigh. “You’re not interrupting anything, Mom. Would you like some breakfast?”

  “No thanks, dear. So, Sam, I don’t remember seeing you before. How long have you lived in this building?”

  “Only a few months, Mrs. McPherson.”

  “Call me Constance. And what is it you do, Sam?”

  “Mom, how about some coffee?” Audra said before the inquisition got into full swing.

  Sam took a step toward the corridor. “It was nice meeting you, Constance,” he said, “but I can see you two have a lot of work to do, so I’d better get going. Audra,” he added, pausing to give her a long, intense look. “I’ll call you later.”

  With a distracted nod, she watched him walk to his apartment. He had held her hand, he had smiled and had leaned near enough to almost kiss her and now he said he’d call.

  What on earth had that been about?

  Or maybe she should be asking herself what she wanted it to be about.

  Nothing. The look, the touch, the almost-kiss, she wanted them to mean absolutely nothing. A man as sexy and good-looking as Sam was fine as fodder for fantasies, but that’s as far as it would go. She wasn’t about to get involved with any man again, especially when she was so close to achieving her dream of complete independence. Right. So she’d simply ignore the way her pulse was still racing.

  “Well,” Constance said. That was all. But like mothers everywhere, she was able to inject a wealth of meaning into that one syllable.

  Audra shifted the binders in her arms and closed the door. “We’ll have more space to work in the living room,” she said, carrying the binders to the couch. She quickly scooped up the tray with the breakfast she and Sam had shared and carried it toward the kitchen. “I’ll just move the fan closer so we get a breeze. The air conditioner is still on the fritz,” she chattered on, hoping to avoid the inevitable. “The repairman said he’s too busy to get to it until tomorrow. He’s had more business than he can handle because of the heat wave.”

  “What an extremely attractive young man,” her mother said, following her. “Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

  “Who? The air conditioner guy?”

  Constance made a clucking sound with her tongue. “No, your neighbor.”

  “You mean Sam?”

  “How long have you been seeing him?”

  “Mom, I’m not seeing him. We’re just neighbors.”

  “Mmm.”

  Audra grimaced and set the tray down on the counter. That was another one of those syllables that mothers could inject with all kinds of meaning.

  Constance picked up one of the Danish pastries that was left on the tray and took a small bite. “Cinnamon. I can never quite manage to get mine as tender as yours. You have a wonderfully light touch with pastry, Audra.”

  “Thanks,” she said, switching off the fan and tugging the cord out of the socket.

  “Just last month I read about a study that was done on men’s reactions to certain s
cents. Did you know that cinnamon scored the highest when it came to arousing a man’s interest?”

  “Mo-om...”

  “Evidently, it’s much more effective than perfume. It works directly on the appetite center of a man’s brain.”

  Appetite center? Is that why Sam had shown such a sudden interest in her when she’d mentioned the catering business?

  Idiot, she chided herself. Someone as sexy as Sam wouldn’t be interested in her even if she smeared herself with cinnamon and dangled strips of bacon from her ears. Besides, she didn’t want him to be interested, right? “Mom, please. I know how this looks, but Sam and I are just neighbors, that’s all.”

  “Fine,” Constance said. Smiling, she patted Audra’s cheek. “I won’t pry. Just be careful that none of your brothers see your young man leaving in the mornings. You know how they can get.”

  “Thanks for the advice, but he’s not my ‘young man.’”

  “Of course, dear.”

  Gritting her teeth, Audra carried the fan to the table under the front window and turned the motor to its highest setting. Even if Sam hadn’t asked for her silence, she had already decided it would be a disaster if she told her mother the truth about him.

  But letting her jump to all the wrong conclusions might prove to be almost as bad.

  Sam had just finished repairing his broken door frame when Xavier finally got back to him with the results of his background check on the McPhersons. Propping the telephone against his shoulder, he opened a can of cola and took a long, cool swig while he listened. The air-conditioning unit in his living room window was running full out, chugging valiantly, but it was barely holding its own against the muggy afternoon heat.

  “McPherson Catering,” Xavier said. “Established thirty-five years ago by John McPherson. Privately owned and operated, employs a permanent staff of ten, hires temporary part-timers on a contract basis.”