sunset, the sky glazed with orange and pink, the clouds gilded at the edges. It was a sight that, under different circumstances, she would have enjoyed.
“So what stage are you in now?” Sam asked.
“Stage?… Oh, you mean my postbreakup schedule. I guess I’m near the end of stage one.”
“Sarah MacLachlan and angry text messages.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t get the haircut,” he said.
“What?”
“The next stage. Haircut and new shoes. Don’t change your hair, it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Self-consciously Lucy tucked a long, dark lock behind her ear. “Actually, the haircut is stage three.”
They paused at a street corner, waiting for the light to change.
“At the moment,” Sam remarked, “we happen to be standing in front of a wine bar that serves the best mahi in the Pacific Northwest. What do you think about stopping for dinner?”
Lucy glanced through the window of the wine bar, where people sat in the glow of candlelight and seemed to be having a perfectly wonderful time. She returned her attention to Sam Nolan, who was watching her intently. Something was hidden beneath his nonchalance, not unlike the effect in a chiaroscuro painting.
“Thank you,” she said, “but that wouldn’t lead to any place I want to go.”
“It doesn’t have to lead anywhere. It could just be dinner.” At her hesitation, Sam added, “If you say no, I’ll end up microwaving something out of a box at home. Can you really live with yourself, letting that happen to me?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you’ll have dinner with me?”
“Yes, I can live with the idea of you eating out of a box.”
“Heartless,” he accused softly, but there was a glint of amusement in the vivid depths of his eyes.
They continued to the inn.
“How long are you going to stay at Artist’s Point?” Sam asked.
“Not much longer, I hope. I’ve been looking for an apartment.” Lucy gave a self- deprecating laugh. “Unfortunately the apartments I can afford aren’t nearly as appealing as the ones I can’t afford.”
“What’s on your wish list?”
“One bedroom is all I need. Something quiet but not too isolated. And I would love a water view if possible. In the meantime, I’m staying at Justine’s place.” She paused. “I guess you and I have a friend in common.”
“Did Justine say we’re friends?”
“Aren’t you?”
“That depends on what she said about me.”
“She said that you were a great guy and I should go out with you.”
“In that case, we’re friends.”
“She went on to say that you were the perfect transitional guy, because you’re fun and you like to avoid commitment.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“I said I wasn’t interested. I’m tired of making stupid mistakes.”
“Going out with me would be a very smart mistake,” Sam assured her, and she laughed.
“Why is that?”
“I never get jealous, and I don’t make promises that I would end up breaking. With me, you get what you see.”
“Not a bad sales pitch,” Lucy said. “But I’m still not interested.”
“The sales pitch comes with a free test-drive,” he said.
Lucy smiled and shook her head.
They approached Artist’s Point and stopped at the front steps.
Turning to face him, Lucy said, “Thanks for the new shirt. And for helping me out of the bar. You were … a nice ending to a rough day.”
“No problem.” Sam paused. “About that apartment you’re looking for—I may have an idea. My brother Mark has been renting out his place—a condo on the waterfront—ever since he and Holly moved in with me.”
“Who’s Holly?”
“My niece. She’s seven years old. My sister Victoria died last year, and Mark was named as Holly’s guardian. I’m helping him out for a little while.”
Lucy stared at him closely, interested by the revelation. “Helping to raise her,” she clarified.
Sam responded with a single nod.
“And you let them move into your house,” Lucy said rather than asked.
Sam shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s a big house.” His face turned unreadable, his voice deliberately casual. “So about the condo … the current resident is gone, and as far as I know, Mark’s still trying to sublet it. You want me to check it out for you? Maybe take you for a walk-through?”
“I … maybe.” Lucy realized that she was being hypercautious. A waterfront condo wasn’t easy to find, and it would be worth taking a look at. “I’m sure it’s out of my price range. How much is he asking?”
“I’ll find out and let you know.” Sam pulled out his cell phone and looked at her expectantly. “What’s your number?” He grinned as she hesitated. “I swear I’m not a stalker. I take rejection well.”
He had a kind of easygoing charm that she couldn’t seem to resist. Lucy gave him her number, and looked up into his blue-green eyes, and felt an unwilling smile tug at her lips. It was a pity, really, that she couldn’t let loose enough to have some fun with him.
Except that Lucy was a woman who knew better. She was tired of wanting and hoping and losing. Later, months from now, more likely years, the need for companionship would reawaken, and she would risk getting involved with someone again. Not now, however. And never with this man, who would keep the relationship strictly superficial.
“Thank you,” Lucy said, watching as Sam slid the phone into his back pocket. She extended her hand in an awkward, businesslike gesture. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you if the condo’s available.”
Sam shook her hand gravely, his eyes dancing.
The warmth of his hand, the secure way his fingers folded around hers, felt unspeakably good. It had been so long since she had been touched or held in any way. Lucy prolonged the moment a little longer than necessary, even as a flush of mortified color went from her toes to her scalp.
Sam studied her, his expression turning inscrutable. He used his grip on her hand to ease her closer, his head bending over hers. “About that test-drive…” he murmured.
Lucy couldn’t catch up with her own thoughts. Her heart had begun to thump. She stared blindly at the sunset melting into cool blue darkness. Sam surprised her by easing her against his shoulder, his hand gliding over her spine in a soothing motion. Their bodies touched at intervals, the pressure of him warm and hard and knee-weakening.
Disoriented, Lucy didn’t make a sound as one of his hands came to the side of her
