Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [32]
Wasn’t it wonderful how one could hide behind the truth and make it sound like a lie?
“Two dozen roses don’t sound like a ‘thank you’ to me. More like a hit on.” He leaned even closer. “Do I know him?”
I slapped a hand across his chest. “Don’t pull that intimidating stance with me, Bowie. I’m not going to tell you his name.”
Sam placed one hand over mine, imprisoning it. He circled his other around my waist and drew my body against his. “Then how about a good luck kiss before the race, Red? If you make it soft, long and juicy, I may even give you my lucky hat so you’ll win.”
I relaxed against him, splaying my free hand up high across his chest for balance. “Is that right, big guy?” I ran my tongue over my top lip.
Desire darkened his eyes. With a stifled groan, he lowered his head. In one quick move I snatched his cap, broke free and danced out of his reach. As I flashed him a victorious grin, I slipped the cap on.
Sam fitted his hands to his hips and watched me. “I’ve never knew you to be a tease.”
I hadn’t either and the fun of being one was delicious.
“You owe me a kiss, Red, and trust me, when I collect, I’ll pick a time when we’re not in public.” His slow smile was dark and wicked with a promise.
I halted my celebratory jig.
“I have to go start a race. I’ll be watching for those long legs of yours and imagining them wrapped around my waist.”
As every erogenous zone in my body quivered to life, he turned. I breathed a huge sigh of relief intermingled with regret. I’d been so positive that it had been for the best to break up with him. But best for whom? My need for him was just as sharp and strong as ever, and he still wanted me too.
Watching his taut backside disappear into the throng of racers, I belatedly realized Carling had returned and was studying me. “What, Carling, what?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I think you’re nuts, that’s all.”
I lifted my eyes in supplication to the sky. “Why?”
“For letting Sam get away from you.”
I didn’t like being pinned by the truth and resentment welled up. “I had my reasons and he didn’t particularly try to hang on.”
Mentally I seized on that point. Sam hadn’t fought for me or our relationship. He’d walked away.
Carling snorted. “Only after you dusted him off.”
My mouth tightened. “He was only too willing to be dusted off.”
Shooting me a look of disbelief, she adjusted the number on her shirt. “Come on, let’s join Kate and Gabe. It’s almost starting time.”
We took our positions together. Through the crowd, I zeroed in on Sam at the front, raising the starter pistol above his head. At its sharp report, the pack surged forward.
Carling shouted at me, “Just because a man walks, Nicole, doesn’t mean you can’t get him back again.”
My friend was infamous for getting the last word. She also sure knew how to sprint out of harm’s way.
After the race we gathered together. Gabe and Kate suggested going to a bar on Clematis Street for a beer and a quick bite to eat. Carling called Jared and he agreed to meet us. The buzz from the race continued for me so when Sam approached our group, I planted a hand over the top of my head.
“You can’t have your cap back until you have a beer with us.”
At that moment my cell rang. I unclipped it from my waist and saw the display number. Like a rattlesnake, tension struck and my relaxed mood fled. “What is it, Sophie?”
“Your mother. I left her only for a minute and when I returned she was moaning and rocking back and forth. When I tried to ask what was wrong, she starting screaming.” In the background I could hear Mom’s wails. The insane sound drove tremors through me.
“I can’t get her to calm down.”
“I’ll be home shortly. Just don’t let her out of the house.”
I disconnected and gave everyone an apologetic smile. How many more times in my life would I have to make excuses for my mother?
“Sorry, guys, but I need to go home. Something’s come up with Mom.”
“Do you need help?” Kate asked, concern filling her blue eyes.
I needed all the help I could get, but how could I impose on friends? I had to shoulder