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“Why?” The question was abrupt, her tone suspicious.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?”
Jake stifled a sigh. She was not making this easy. “I’d like to explain my…behavior.”
Silence. Not exactly the response he’d expected. Where were the questions? Where was the angry rejoinder? Instead, nothing but silence.
“Sam, you have every right to be mad at me but all I’m asking is for a chance to talk to you. Please.”
Finally, after more seconds of silence, her answer came. “Fine. Just this once.”
Not a particularly enthusiastic response but Jake was grateful. She could have said no.
They made the arrangements for the date, with Jake offering to pick her up. She refused. “I’ll meet you there,” she told him. She probably wanted to hold on to the chance to make a quick escape. And how could he blame her? He’d been like a pendulum, swinging from ‘thrilled’ to ‘gloomy’ all in the same afternoon. She probably thought he was nuts.
He smiled ruefully to himself then shook his head. Tomorrow night he’d have to be on his best behavior.
******
Sam pulled into the parking lot of The Italian Garden and shut off the engine. So here she was, all dressed up for her date with Jake McKoy, and she was miserable.
We need to talk, he’d said. And she could just guess what he wanted to talk about. She’d crossed the line when she’d revealed her attraction for him. Obviously, he’d been offended.
She was a plumber, for heaven’s sake, and he was a billionaire author. What business did she have dreaming of winning his heart? She'd attracted his attention, she knew, but so what? When it came to taking a woman seriously men like Jake were only interested in their own kind.
So tonight’s talk could only be one of two things. He was either going to warn her to back off and focus on her job…or he was going to fire her.
She drew in a deep breath, grabbed her purse and slid out of the truck. “Well, here goes nothing,” she murmured under her breath then straightened her shoulders and held her head high. She refused to be defeated. If he didn’t want her, well so be it. She’d had a life before she’d met Jake McKoy and she’d still have one after he was gone.
But when she breezed into the lobby of The Italian Garden she wasn’t so sure. He was standing there, his back to the entrance, seeming totally absorbed in reading the lighted menu on its freestanding pedestal. In dark jacket and black slacks, the subdued light illuminating the profile of his jaw, he looked both serious and sophisticated at the same time.
Sam felt her breath tighten in her chest. It was hard, having to accept that after tonight she’d probably never see him again. She lingered a few seconds longer, drinking him in with her eyes, imprinting the image on her mind, then clutching her purse close she stepped forward. “Hello, Jake,” she said, her voice low and husky even to her own ears. She almost sounded sexy. Well, none of that would be any use to her right now. She was about to get her ‘walking papers’.
He looked up and when he saw her his pensive look dissipated and he gave her a smile that looked genuine. Dared she hope that he was happy to see her?
“Hello, Sam,” he said as he turned toward her. “You look very beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She dropped her eyes, felling the warmth of a blush rising to her cheeks. Get a hold of yourself, woman. He’s just saying that to be polite.
The maitre d’ came forward and Jake cupped her elbow with a firm hand and guided her toward the table for two. He pulled out her chair and waited until she was seated before taking up his position across from her. They placed their order then waited for their wine glasses to be filled. Then, finally alone, their eyes met across the candlelit table.
“Thank you for coming, Sam. I know you didn’t have to.”
She bit her lower lip then nodded. What could she say? I know you’re going to give me the boot but I came anyway because that’s the kind of girl I am? As sad as the thought was she almost smiled. She’d always prided herself on being strong but this evening she was feeling anything thing but.
“I wanted to tell you, I’m sorry.”
Sam blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I know I acted like a brute yesterday and I wanted to apologize. And explain.” Jake frowned as he stroked the stem of his wine glass with his thumb then he gave an almost bitter laugh. “You must think I’m the strangest man you’ve ever met.”
“No, I understand.” She’d said it quickly, without thinking, but then she realized she really did understand. “You lost someone you loved deeply and…you need more time to deal with it.” Sam remembered how long it had taken her to recover from being jilted just a month before her wedding. It had taken a long time for her to even think of another man in that way. How much worse it must be for Jake who had lost the woman he’d shared vows with? He definitely needed more time to heal.
He raised his glass to his lips and took a sip. A few seconds passed and then he spoke. “I wish that was all,” he said sardonically, “but there’s more.”
Sam frowned but said nothing. She would let him speak in his own time. Mirroring his action, she reached for her glass and began to sip her wine. It helped fill the silence while she waited.
“My wife is dead because of me.”
For the second time that evening Sam blinked in surprise. No, shock was a more accurate description of her state. She returned the wine glass to the table with a bump. “What do you mean?” She stared at him in consternation.
Jake’s face darkened with emotion and his fingers tightened on the stem of his glass till Sam thought it would snap in two. “It was a car accident,” he said, his voice brittle and harsh. “I was the one driving.”
Sam stifled a gasp and held her tongue. Now was not the time to interrupt.
“I…wasn’t paying attention. I took my eye off the road for one split second and…that was all it took.” His jaw tightened and he looked away, eyes narrowed as if seeing the accident all over again. “The SUV in front of us stopped suddenly and I ran into the back of it. It wasn’t a huge van but…Jessica wasn’t wearing her seatbelt.” He looked at Sam then, and his face was gray with pain. “I didn’t know. I thought she’d buckled up. She cracked her head against the windshield. She never…woke up from her coma.”
It was then that Sam reached for his hand. She had to do something, even if just that. She couldn’t bear to see him in so much pain. “It wasn’t your fault, Jake. It was an accident.”
He shook his head sadly. “But it was an accident I caused. When I took my eyes off the road it was to glance at her. We got into an argument over something stupid…I can’t even remember what. All I remember is that I said something in anger, looked at her…and then she screamed.”
“I am…so sorry.” The words were so bare, so inadequate, but Sam didn’t know what else to say. What do you tell a man drowning in a sea of guilt, a man who refused to be comforted because he felt he deserved to suffer?
“If it weren’t for me she’d still be alive.” He pulled his hand away from her grasp and sat back in his chair. Then he folded his arms across his chest. “What right do I have to be happy when the woman I loved is dead and I was the one who killed her?”
Sam slid her hand from off the table and returned it to her lap. As she watched Jake she could see his emotional struggle in the resolute set of his jaw and his defensive posture, folding his arms as if to lock himself away from anyone who would dare reach out to him in sympathy.
So that was it. The problem was not with her, it was with Jake. Because of his feelings of guilt he’d decided that he should suffer all the days of his life.
Which made things even worse for Sam. Competing with the ghost of his late wife was one thing but trying to convince a guilt-ridden man that he deserved happiness was a horse of a different color. You can’t save a man who doesn’t want to be saved. Jake’s healing could not come from her. He would have to find that will within himself.
Until then, as far as winning his love was concerned, Sam now knew that she didn’t have the chance of an ice cube in hell.
CHAPTER SIX
“So how’s my girl doing?” Alvin trudged into the office in his muddy work boots without wiping his feet. As usual. At Meg’s sharp look he dropped his toolkit and backed out. “Alright, alright,” he muttered as he went back down the steps. “Sheesh.”
Meg looked across at Sam sitting at the computer and laughed. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
When Alvin tramped back into the office his boots were wet but sparkling clean, obviously freshly washed. He must have gone round back and turned the hose on them. Sam grinned at her Dad. Smart man. Much easier than sitting on the step, cleaning off mud.
