The biggest obstacle in a long-term relationship with Sam was that she lived thirteen hours away—and that was a major complication. She loved her life in New York, and Sam obviously had deep roots here. She didn’t know how that kind of hurdle could be overcome.
Look at her—not even a single date and she was weighing the prospect of a serious relationship with him.
“Good grief, Sadie. Get it together.” Just as well. Obviously they had no future, and it was better to know that now.
Rio tilted her head and perked her ears.
“Mommy needs to chill out. All this romance writing is going to her head.”
She took a bite of scampi, then grabbed her phone off the table to check it for the hundredth time today.
A voice mail had come in—and it was from Mary’s number! She gasped and tapped Play.
“Hi, Sadie, this is Mary McAllister. You called me, uh, I guess it was last week, something about a book? Sorry it’s taken so long to reply, but I’m back in town now. Give me a call when you get a chance.”
Sadie’s heart thrashed as she poised a finger over the Redial button.
But no. She should include Sam. He’d want to hear what Mary had to say.
She rushed out the back door, crossed to his side of the deck, and knocked on the sliding glass door. They were finally about to get their answer. They would have to be careful what they revealed to Mary—they couldn’t ruin her boyfriend’s proposal.
She knocked again, then cupped her hands on the glass and peeked inside. He was nowhere to be seen. “Oh, come on, Sam, you’re killing me.” She shifted back and forth on her feet. He must be upstairs. She knocked so hard it hurt her knuckles.
When that didn’t help she tried the door. It slid smoothly open. She stepped inside. “Sam? Are you home?”
She slid the door shut and tiptoed toward the stairs. “Sam, I—”
He emerged from the bedroom and stared down from the second floor, wearing only a white towel and a frown. A pair of broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist where one hand rested on the towel knot.
“Whoops, I’m so sorry to intrude.” But was she really? (Those pecs. Thosebiceps.) “I, uh, didn’t mean to barge in like this, but Mary called and you didn’t answer your door and it was unlocked—”
“Sadie.”
“—so I thought you’d want to know that Mary left a voice mail, but she didn’t really give me any information, so I have to call her back and I thought you might want to—”
“Sadie.”
“Um, what?”
“Maybe I could get some clothes on before we have an actual conversation?”
“Not on my account.” She put her fingers over her mouth. “I mean, of course. Yes, go ahead, I’ll wait here. Is it okay if I wait here?”
He rolled his eyes before disappearing into his bedroom.
“But hurry, okay?” she called up the stairs. “Because I’m about to die from the waiting and I don’t want to miss her. She could leave or have company and then who knows how long we’ll have to wait for her to call back.”
Sadie paced around the living room, trying to siphon off her excess energy. The image of his bare torso lingered. Tanned skin stretched over taut muscles. The broad expanse of his shoulders.
Stop that!
She turned her attention to his furnishings. She’d only been in his side of the house once, to print off her synopsis. It was decorated much the same as hers, and was—as it had been last time—neat as a pin.
His mail was stacked on the coffee table on top of a magazine:Landscape Management.His flip-flops sat by the back door. Other than that it was free of clutter. And so quiet. He could use a little music or something around here.
She checked the voice mail on her phone again as if she could manufacture more information about Mary and that ring. Nope, the woman’s message hadn’t left a single clue, and Sadie was so darn ready to return that ring to its owner.
She glanced up the stairs. “Sam? You almost ready?”
