A frown furrowed his brow. He grabbed a stack of papers and plunked them down in front of her. He flipped open a page. “Tell me what you see.”
She raised an inquisitive brow. “What are you doing?”
“Just tell me. What do you see?” he pressed.
“I see news articles.”
“About what?”
Cat leaned in closer, squinted, and read the first caption. “Murder.”
Sam flipped a page. “And here, what do you see?”
“Drug bust.”
He pointed to another caption farther down the page. “And here?”
“Political scandal.” She sighed and leaned back. “What’s your point?”
He shook his head and tossed her a perplexed frown. “This is what you want to write? This is what you consider important?”
“I just want to make a difference.”
He raked his hair from his forehead, obviously frustrated. “Don’t you see? You do make a difference. Your amusing articles take the sting out of everyday life. They remind us how to smile. That not everything in life is bad.” He waved his hand toward the paper. “Don’t undervalue yourself. What you do is as important, if not more important, than what these other journalists do. You brighten up our days.”
Shocked.
A description befitting her current emotion. Shocked and touched, actually. She’d had no idea that Sam had such respect for her work. She opened her mouth but no words formed.
The whistling kettle drew Sam’s attention. She watched as he stood, gently placed her feet on his chair, and went about preparing her tea.
She’d never considered her work important before. She always equated success with writing hard-hitting news, at least that’s what had always been pounded into her by her parents.
Was Sam right? Was she undervaluing herself? Was she already a success and just hadn’t realized it? She had to admit, she loved writing those humorous pieces, loved meeting new people, and hearing their dating and mating woes.
Sam came back with the hot drink. “I understand that drive to succeed, Cat. I have that same drive myself. This project I’m working on has consumed me for the last six months. Believe me, I’m not undermining what you think is important. But I think you’re missing something. You’re already a success.” He spread his arms wide to emphasize the point. “A huge success.”
She lowered her voice. “Thank you, Sam.” Her heart turned over in her chest as she took a moment to let his words sink in. To reevaluate things.
She lowered her head and spoke into her cup. “It was my father’s dream to see me follow in his footsteps. After he died, it pushed me that much harder. I wanted to make him proud of me.”
Sam touched her hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Cat. But I do think he would be proud of you. Proud to know how wonderful your columns are, how many people they touch.”
Cat swallowed the lump in her throat. Had she been chasing the wrong dream all along? Had it taken Sam York to make her see that? Or had she really known that all along.
She glanced at him. “Did you always want to be a scientist?” She sipped her tea and studied his expression.
His low chuckle curled around her and seeped beneath her skin. “For as long as I can remember, I was always doing some kind of experiment in the basement. I’ve blown up a few things in my day. The fire department knew me much better than they should have.” He picked her feet up and eased them back onto his lap.
Ticklish, she wiggled her toes as he resumed his massage. She smiled as the image of a young, geeky, scientific Sam rushed through her mind. “I bet your mom loved that.”
He frowned. She could feel tension rising in him. “I wouldn’t know. It was just me and my dad. When something bigger and better came along my mom bailed.”
“Bigger and better?” Cat’s heart stalled, recalling how her father had always used those same words.
“Yeah, a better job, a better husband, a bigger house, and a bigger bank account. After my mom left, my father had plenty of different women coming and going. It was the same with them too. They left when bigger and better came along.”
She reached out and touched his hand, her heart twisting in her chest. She felt so close to him at that moment. Something told her he’d just opened up and shared a private, painful side of him that he’d never shared before.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
He shrugged and stood. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago.”
It may have been a long time ago, but Cat suspected it had a profound impact on his life and his lifestyle. Was this the reason Sam played the field, a different woman every week? Was he afraid to get too close only to have a woman leave him after he offered his heart?
Over the last few days Cat had caught glimpses of the true Sam. She could see beneath that playboy façade. He was giving, nurturing, caring, and so very, very vulnerable.
Cat’s stomach took that moment to grumble. Sam smiled. “I’d better feed you before you pass out on me.”
“Can I help?”
“Nope, just enjoy your tea.”
“Sounds good to me,” she said, stretching out.
Sam chuckled.
“Actually, I need to wash up, too. Can I use your bathroom?”
He waved his spatula toward the hall. “Sure, you know where it is.”
Cat stood, pushed up on her tiptoes, and pressed a kiss to Sam’s cheek, needing almost desperately to make an intimate connection.
He seemed shocked by the gesture. He gripped the sides of her hips. “What was that for?”
One shoulder rolled. “For being so sweet.”
He gruffed, “Sweet? I’m not sweet. I’m badass. You must have me confused with someone else.”
Cat lowered her voice. “There is no one else, Sam.”
Something in his expression changed. His eyes softened, his hand touched her cheek and traced the pattern of her face. “Go wash up, this will just take a second.” She was astonished by the tenderness in his voice.
She gave a tight
