Francie laughed. “When you work with artists and actors like I do, you learn to come prepared.”
Teeth brushed, lipstick reapplied, Chloe left Janice’s dressing room and started toward the stairs. Dang, she was shaking. Like a princess making her debut.This was Frank’s party, not hers. She was just a guest.Relax, act casual, pretend you’re wearing street clothes.But as she made her way down the stairs, every head turned and the voices faded. Everyone watched her.
Chloe held onto the railing, sure she’d trip and tumble down to the bottom. As she hit the third step from the bottom, Sam parted the crowd to stand in front of her. It was like a moment in a movie that a girl always dreamed about but never really happened. His eyes, his expression, told her she was beautiful, and for the first time since Jean-Marc had left for Zermatt, she honestly believed it.
“Chloe, wow.” He offered her a hand down the last two steps.
“Stop,” she whispered, the slight tremble in her voice giving her away. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“You’re gorgeous. Easily the most beautiful woman in the room.” He took her in his arms as the band began to play, then swept her through the crowd and out to the lighted dance floor overlooking the pool and the vast Hardy grounds.
Was this happening? Being swept up in Sam Hardy’s arms to melodies from the ’60s? He wasn’t a skinny teen with lean muscles anymore, dreaming of playing for the league. He was tall and broad, his body sculpted by years of training. He was kind and smart, funny and an achiever of the impossible.
She needed him tonight. His strength and the ability to believe she’d emerge from the shadow of death into a new and wonderful life. One song bled into the next. “Summer Wind” to “Moon River” to “Everybody Loves Somebody”—a veritable array of ’60s jukebox hits. She spied Mom beaming at her from the arms of Pastor Robinson from Community Church.
When the band took a break, they made their way to the buffet line, filling their plates with barbecue chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, deviled eggs, and more of Frank’s favorites. Sam led her down the steps to the pool deck where they sat at a linen-covered table, just the two of them, talking, laughing, reminiscing.
Sam took a bite of his pimento-cheese-stuffed celery stick, chewed, and swallowed. “What are you doing in a few weeks?”
“A few weeks? Rather vague, Hardy.”
He laughed. “I forget the exact date, but the Nashville Foundation is honoring a few people for their charitable work. Buck Mathews, Mikayla Onofrio, and myself. I feel like I’ll be more convincing if I walk into the banquet hall with a friend. Wanna go?” He gave her a broad smile, his full lips tugging up a smidge higher on the right side.
“If you really want me to go, then yes. Am I to help change the narrative away from Curvy Carla?” Chloe reached for her napkin and wiped thick barbecue sauce from her fingers.
“No. I just think we’d have a lovely night together. I’d be proud to be with you. If it shuts up Curvy Carla, so be it.”
“So, I’m more than just a PR stunt.” She narrowed her gaze but softened it with a smile.
“Chloe, I’d never do that to you.”
“Sam.” She laughed and touched his arm. “I’m teasing. I’d love to go. And I’d love to shut up Curvy Carla.” It had been eight—nine?—years since she’d been asked on a date. Maybe she’d forgotten what it felt like. She examined her heart. No guilt or regret hovered, ready to pounce. Just a flutter of anticipation. “Sounds fun.”
“It’s black tie.” His warm gaze made her insides feel all buzzy. What was going on? His eyes caressed her, nearly as softly as when he’d run his hands over her arms during their dance.
“Maybe Janice will let me borrow this dress again.”
“Good, then it’s a date.”
“Is this honor for work in your foundation? What sort of charity work do you do?”
“The Sam Hardy SportsWorld Foundation supports youth sports programs, provides scholarships to kids who want to try for elite schools and sports programs. We also provide bikes and sports equipment to underprivileged neighborhoods. We do job training, tutoring, and life skill courses.”
“I’m impressed.” She looked at him longer than she intended. “My nice guy declaration is proving to be truer than I imagined.”
“Hush, you’ll ruin my already sullied reputation.”
“Good. That’ll shut up Curvy Carla for good.”
When the music started again, Sam stood and made a motion that included Chloe and the dance floor. When she stood, he took her in his arms and she followed him to the dance floor without hesitation.
“Sam,” she whispered as they moved across the floor to the band singer crooning Elvis’s “It’s Now or Never.” “What are we…? I mean…”
“What are we doing? Becoming more than friends?”
“Are we?”
The singer smoothly shifted to “Sealed with a Kiss.”
