morning, she'd been burning with
resentment at Jason for ignoring her. Now she was almost convinced
she had him practically eating out of her hand, pining away for the
sight of her.
Her mouth turned down at the corners as she
got ready for bed that night. Pining away indeed! Who was she
trying to kid? It should be patently obvious to even the most
untried of hearts that Jason was a practiced charmer when it came
to women and she was a fool if she let herself believe she was any
different to him . . . which only brought her around to the subject
of his wife.
His wife. A pang of unexpected jealousy shot
through her until she remembered he was no longer married. And he
hadn't exactly sounded thrilled when he'd mentioned his wife, not
at all. A tiny feeling of self-satisfaction pierced her sudden
ill-humor but died just as swiftly. The elusive Jason Armstrong, as
elusive as the man behind Cathryn James. He'd wasted no time in
making sure she knew it--and still knew it, for that matter. The
man whose heart would remain forever unchained. The man no woman
could capture no matter how tempting her wiles.
But some woman had captured him. And she
couldn't help but think it very likely that he had decided
marriage was too confining, that he had discovered he could never
attain a lifetime's happiness with one woman. Still, she couldn't
stop herself from wondering about his ex-wife.
Samantha's mind continued to wander once she
was snuggled beneath the blanket, thinking of Jason in New York.
Many of his books had lush exotic locations--India, Spain, the
Caribbean . . . so many places. And he'd been to almost all of
them. He said his home was in Los Angeles, yet she wondered how
much time he actually spent there. Didn't he ever feel the need to
settle in one place?
The thought was jarring. Her father had
never wanted to. She rolled over in bed and propped her hands
behind her head, staring at the eerie shadows dancing on the
ceiling. She could hear the gentle motion of the ocean undulating
against the shore, but the sound, usually so soothing, had no
effect on her unsettled emotions. She and Jason were so... so
different. They were on opposite ends of the earth when it came to
the subject of love. Jason obviously thought nothing of jetting
across the world, while to Samantha there was nothing more welcome
in the world than coming home, whether from a hectic day dealing
with her second-graders, or from a quick trip to Astoria to see her
mother.
A faint feeling of unease crept into her
heart. Jason had promised he would be back, but considering the
way he flitted around the world she wouldn't hold her breath. Her
father had made promises, too. Some he'd broken, some he hadn't. He
had shown her that promises were something easily given, not so
easily kept.
On that cautious note, Samantha finally
turned over and slept.
***
She spent the next few days finishing up the
paint job on her house, somehow half expecting Jason to sneak up
behind her with some outrageous teasing remark and that
devastating grin. Impatient with herself for letting him dominate
her thoughts to such an extent, she finally decided to call her
mother early Wednesday morning.
"Samantha! I was going to call you tonight!
How are you, dear?"
Somehow her mother's bright chirpy voice was
slightly irritating. Samantha lifted a hand to her forehead and
massaged her aching temples. Damn! Why was she so edgy? Because
Jason was gone, a niggling voice insisted.
She pushed aside the thought. "Fine, Mom,"
she answered absently. "I thought I'd come visit for a few days.
Feel like company this weekend?"
"You know better than to ask! I've been
expecting you for several weeks already!"
"I've just been tying up some loose ends
around here." And trying to corral Jason Armstrong? The thought
vaulted into her mind without warning.
"What time can I expect you, Samantha? Will
you be stopping in Seaside to see your friend?"
"My friend?" Samantha drew a complete
blank.
"Your
resentment at Jason for ignoring her. Now she was almost convinced
she had him practically eating out of her hand, pining away for the
sight of her.
Her mouth turned down at the corners as she
got ready for bed that night. Pining away indeed! Who was she
trying to kid? It should be patently obvious to even the most
untried of hearts that Jason was a practiced charmer when it came
to women and she was a fool if she let herself believe she was any
different to him . . . which only brought her around to the subject
of his wife.
His wife. A pang of unexpected jealousy shot
through her until she remembered he was no longer married. And he
hadn't exactly sounded thrilled when he'd mentioned his wife, not
at all. A tiny feeling of self-satisfaction pierced her sudden
ill-humor but died just as swiftly. The elusive Jason Armstrong, as
elusive as the man behind Cathryn James. He'd wasted no time in
making sure she knew it--and still knew it, for that matter. The
man whose heart would remain forever unchained. The man no woman
could capture no matter how tempting her wiles.
But some woman had captured him. And she
couldn't help but think it very likely that he had decided
marriage was too confining, that he had discovered he could never
attain a lifetime's happiness with one woman. Still, she couldn't
stop herself from wondering about his ex-wife.
Samantha's mind continued to wander once she
was snuggled beneath the blanket, thinking of Jason in New York.
Many of his books had lush exotic locations--India, Spain, the
Caribbean . . . so many places. And he'd been to almost all of
them. He said his home was in Los Angeles, yet she wondered how
much time he actually spent there. Didn't he ever feel the need to
settle in one place?
The thought was jarring. Her father had
never wanted to. She rolled over in bed and propped her hands
behind her head, staring at the eerie shadows dancing on the
ceiling. She could hear the gentle motion of the ocean undulating
against the shore, but the sound, usually so soothing, had no
effect on her unsettled emotions. She and Jason were so... so
different. They were on opposite ends of the earth when it came to
the subject of love. Jason obviously thought nothing of jetting
across the world, while to Samantha there was nothing more welcome
in the world than coming home, whether from a hectic day dealing
with her second-graders, or from a quick trip to Astoria to see her
mother.
A faint feeling of unease crept into her
heart. Jason had promised he would be back, but considering the
way he flitted around the world she wouldn't hold her breath. Her
father had made promises, too. Some he'd broken, some he hadn't. He
had shown her that promises were something easily given, not so
easily kept.
On that cautious note, Samantha finally
turned over and slept.
***
She spent the next few days finishing up the
paint job on her house, somehow half expecting Jason to sneak up
behind her with some outrageous teasing remark and that
devastating grin. Impatient with herself for letting him dominate
her thoughts to such an extent, she finally decided to call her
mother early Wednesday morning.
"Samantha! I was going to call you tonight!
How are you, dear?"
Somehow her mother's bright chirpy voice was
slightly irritating. Samantha lifted a hand to her forehead and
massaged her aching temples. Damn! Why was she so edgy? Because
Jason was gone, a niggling voice insisted.
She pushed aside the thought. "Fine, Mom,"
she answered absently. "I thought I'd come visit for a few days.
Feel like company this weekend?"
"You know better than to ask! I've been
expecting you for several weeks already!"
"I've just been tying up some loose ends
around here." And trying to corral Jason Armstrong? The thought
vaulted into her mind without warning.
"What time can I expect you, Samantha? Will
you be stopping in Seaside to see your friend?"
"My friend?" Samantha drew a complete
blank.
"Your
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