A Vow to Love (4 page)

Without another word, Sam led the way down the stairs without bothering to check to see if she had any difficulty keeping up with his long stride. If she did, she never complained.

And she was right there beside him when he reached Rosie's, where the bouquet of garlic and tomatoes was more alluring than any expensive French perfume he'd ever encountered. He drew in a deep, satisfying breath and felt some of the tension ease out of him.

"Sammy!" Rosie cried when she spotted him. She enveloped him in an enthusiastic bear hug, then pinched his cheek. "You are too skinny. It has been too long since you have been by to see me. Do I have to be robbed to get you inside my restaurant?"

"I was here two weeks ago," he protested.

"You expect my pasta to sustain you for that long? This is the food of life,
caro.
Pasta and red wine are meant to be eaten every night."

"If I did that, pretty soon I wouldn't be able to haul myself after the criminals. I'd be too fat and lazy."

Rosie waved her hand dismissively. "Always the jokes. I know the truth. You have some other cook you adore. That's it, isn't it?"

"There is no other woman in my life. I swear it," he told her emphatically.

Just then, though, Rosie spotted Penny. "And who is this, then? You pretend that she is not even here, when I can see for myself that she is."

"Rosie, this is Penny Hayden. She has just moved here from Los Angeles. Penny, this is Rosa DiMartelli, who makes the best pasta this side of Rome."

Rosie's dark eyes scanned Penny from head to toe. A worrisome beam of approval spread across her face. Only one person in Sam's life could match Brandon Halloran when it came to meddling and she was regarding Penny with a very speculative gleam in her eye.

"You live in the neighborhood, yes?" she said to Penny. "I have seen you at the produce stand next door."

"I have an apartment a few blocks away," Penny confirmed.

"Then you will come here often for dinner. That means I will see more of my Sammy."

"Don't go getting any ideas, Rosie," Sam warned.

"What is the fun of life without ideas?" she retorted. "Besides, I can see these same ideas in your eyes."

Sam started to deny it vehemently, but decided to save his breath. An argument would only lend too much weight to Rosie's romantic observations. She grinned as if she'd guessed his thoughts.

"Now, come, sit," she ordered. "I will bring you a bottle of my best wine and I think the ziti with vodka sauce. I will make it special for you, since it is your favorite."

"I could sacrifice and have the lasagna," Sam offered.

"Sacrifice!" She huffed. "Since when is it a struggle to eat any of my food?"

She was still muttering under her breath as she left them to place the order in the kitchen.

"Obviously you're a favorite of hers," Penny noted.

She sounded amazed that anyone could be genuinely fond of him. To his surprise, her astonishment cut. He tried to ignore how much it hurt. He shrugged. "I'm a challenge. She's been trying to fatten me up and marry me off for several years now. The fact that she's still batting zero on both counts makes her crazy."

"I'm surprised you tolerate her interference."

"Wait until you taste her pasta. It's worth any price. Besides, Rosie and I go way back."

"Oh?"

"She helped Dana and I foil the system by playing guardian whenever we needed an adult to keep the social workers at bay."

"You mean, after your mother died?"

Sam nodded. "Dana was determined that the system wasn't going to split us up, even though I was just a kid and she was barely into her teens."

Penny looked fascinated. "Your sister must really be something. I'm looking forward to getting to know her better. We didn't really have nearly enough time together at the christening and I haven't been East since then. Grandfather adores her. He credits Dana with giving him the gumption to go after grandmother one last time when she was resisting all his attempts to get her to marry him."

Sam vividly recalled Brandon's depression during that time. The whole family had been worried sick about him. Dana had taken matters into her own hands.

"She could see how much your grandmother meant to him, even after all the years they were separated," he told Penny. "Once Dana gets an idea in her head, she can move mountains, if that's what it takes. All that determination still scares the dickens out of me. Fortunately, now that she has Jason, plus three kids of her own, plus her sweater design business, she doesn't have much time left to waste on sticking her nose into my business."

Penny sighed with such wistfulness that Sam was taken aback. "What's wrong?"

"I guess I was just wondering what it would have been like to grow up in such a tight-knit family. We hardly ever see my older sisters. Mom and Aunt Kate are pretty close now, but for a while there was a lot of tension between them when they discovered they were only half sisters. I feel like I missed out on so much by not knowing about this extended family on the East Coast until Grandfather came after my grandmother to rekindle their old love affair. Maybe that's why I ended up loving books and science. I could get so absorbed in them, I didn't notice how lonely I was."

"And here I was just thinking that you were the lucky one, growing up with two parents in a house filled with love and stability."

"I guess we never truly appreciate what we have until we see it through other people's eyes."

The surprisingly philosophical and almost friendly conversation died the instant heaping plates of pasta arrived, along with steaming garlic bread and a dry red wine.

"Heaven," Penny murmured a long time later.

Sam pushed away the last of his meal with a similar sigh of contentment. "Coffee?"

"Not another thing," she said. "I should be getting home. I have to be at the lab by seven."

"I thought you were here for grad school."

"I am, but I'm doing a research project, too."

She started to explain it, something about bacteria and virus that sounded pretty lethal to Sam. He was astounded by the glint of excitement in her eyes as she discussed her work. To a man who'd struggled through the bare minimum requirements in high school science, it was an eye-opening experience to discover someone who actually viewed all that stuff with genuine enthusiasm.

"Don't you think there's something a little odd about getting so turned on by a bunch of germs?" he inquired as he walked her back to her apartment.

"You wouldn't feel that way if you had a disease caused by those germs and I had the cure."

He shrugged. "I suppose."

They fell silent after that. Sam glanced down at her and saw an expression that might have been disappointment on her face. That look made him feel guilty all over again. He probably should have feigned an interest in her life's work, but he'd gotten used to being on his own and not doing anything that didn't really appeal to him. Okay, he'd gotten downright selfish.

"Thanks for dinner," she said at her door.

"Sure," he said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and suddenly felt like a kid on a first date with absolutely no idea of what to do next.

"I'm sorry we got off to such a rocky start," he said finally.

"Me, too."

He tried to figure out something else to say, tried to figure out why he had this perfectly ridiculous urge to kiss her until the sadness in her eyes fled. Instead he just backed away, hand lifted in a wave. "See you."

"Yeah, right," she said in a way that told him she didn't believe it any more than he did, but was willing to go along with the polite charade.

Outside, he drew in a deep breath and tried to feel triumphant about having paid off his debt to Granddad Brandon. Instead he felt as if he'd just yanked the wings off a helpless, fragile butterfly.

S
taring into her microscope the following morning, Penny was finally able to put all thoughts of Sam out of her head. It was always like this for her. In the lab, she could retreat to another place, where the only thing that mattered was what she saw magnified on a tiny rectangle of glass. This was a world of mysteries to be unraveled, a world of challenges, a world where she was respected for her mind. It was safe, but never boring.

She took a sip of her coffee, then slipped another slide into place. She was peering intently at the microorganisms and making notes when the phone rang. Impatient at the interruption, she snatched it up.

"Yes?"

"Is that you, Penny, my sweet?"

She sighed and put aside the pen. "Hello, Grandfather." She glanced at her watch. "What are you doing calling at this hour? It's the crack of dawn in California."

"Your grandmother likes to go for a walk before the birds get up. She insists we'll live a lot longer. If you ask me, we're already ahead of the game, but you know how she is. So, how's it going? You settling in okay?"

"I'm doing fine."

"I still think you should have moved into my house. You'd have had it all to yourself most of the time since your grandmother likes the weather better out here."

"I like my apartment. I got to fix it up just the way I wanted to. It's cozy. I'd just be rattling around in that big old place of yours. Besides, you know how I hate to dust."

"That's why I have a housekeeper," he reminded her.

It was a familiar argument, but Penny wasn't inclined to bring it to an end. She knew what would be coming next and it wasn't something she wanted to get into. Before she could think of a way to head him off, he inquired casually, "Has Sam been by yet? He promised he'd drop in on you."

"Oh, he dropped in, all right," she retorted drily. "Made quite an entrance, in fact."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that of all the idiotic, harebrained schemes you've ever come up with, this one takes the cake. I thought you'd learned your lesson about trying to force Sam and me together nine years ago."

"What scheme? What lesson?" he said, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"You know what I'm talking about. I do not need a babysitter. I do not need somebody hanging around me out of pity."

"Oh, fiddle-faddle. Nobody's pitying you, girl."

"Seemed like that to me."

"In case you haven't noticed, which you probably haven't with your head always focused on that microscope or poked into a book, you're a beautiful young woman."

"And you're a biased old man."

He paused at that, then asked quietly, "Okay, then, what about a friend? Couldn't you use one of those? Sam would make a good one."

Penny couldn't imagine the supremely masculine Sam indulging in anything as bland as a casual, platonic friendship with any woman. But maybe men, especially seventy-eight-year-old grandfathers, couldn't recognize such blatant sensuality in another male. She sighed just thinking about the effect the man had on her.

This was no time to dwell on that, though. She had heard the caring and worry in her grandfather's voice. Though he'd never said a word about it, he more than anyone had recognized the bruised feelings Sam had left in his wake after their first encounter. Obviously he'd viewed this manufactured reunion as a chance for Sam to make amends. Little did he know.

"I may be alone, but I'm not lonely," she told him firmly. "But even if I were the loneliest person on earth, I don't think Sam Roberts would be the solution to the problem."

"You two aren't still fussing at each other like a couple of kids in the school yard, are you?"

"Not exactly."

"What exactly?" he persisted.

"I just don't think he and I got off on the right foot for establishing a friendship."

"You mean nine years ago? For goodness' sake, girl, can't you forget about that? That was my fault, more than his. I pushed him because I could see how much it meant to you."

"You're probably right about that," she agreed readily, even though he'd probably hoped she'd let him off the hook.

"I thought you'd be good for each other," he said defensively. "Still do, for that matter."

"You wouldn't feel that way if you'd seen us last night."

This time her grandfather was the one who sighed heavily. "Okay, what went wrong this time?" he asked. He sounded defeated, but she knew better than to believe he'd given up.

Penny described the way she'd mistaken Sam for some maniac. Her grandfather chuckled with unmistakable glee as she told the story. By the time she'd finished, she was able to put aside the odd mix of outrage and embarrassment and laugh with him. "Okay, so in retrospect it was pretty amusing, but I don't think he saw it that way. I humiliated him in front of his colleagues."

"Trust me," Brandon said, "Sam doesn't humiliate too easily. He grew up with a hide like an elephant. He had to."

Penny wasn't so sure. She recalled that tiny spark of dismay in his eyes as his two fellow officers had listened to her scrambling to explain what had happened. Contrary to the image he liked to project, she was beginning to suspect Sam just might be a decent kind of guy. The mistake he'd made years ago had been in trying to please his surrogate grandfather rather than thinking of her feelings. Even that kiss hadn't been a crime. In some ways, the discovery was incredibly disconcerting, fueling the ridiculous attraction she'd always felt and sworn she was over.

She'd probably just imagined that hint of sensitivity, anyway, she told herself sternly. Just as quickly, she countered with the reminder that he had hung out with her the night before. She wasn't sure exactly why he'd insisted on dinner, especially since it had been abundantly clear that he'd have preferred to be almost anywhere else on earth. It was possible that once again he had only done it to please her grandfather. Or maybe he'd intended to satisfy some smidgen of guilt over his own behavior. Less likely, but certainly possible, was that he had recognized her unfamiliar desire for companionship in a new place. At any rate, Sam had been there for her.

"If you're that worried about it, you could call and apologize again," her grandfather said, apparently interpreting her silence as unspoken concern for Sam's feelings. "Send the man some flowers. That'll catch him off guard."

Penny could just imagine the gossip at the police station if a dozen roses turned up on Sam Roberts's desk. The idea held a certain appeal, but she squashed it. She recognized a sneaky tactic when she saw one. Her grandfather was just trying to manipulate another meeting. A dozen roses would leave Sam duty-bound to call.

"When hell freezes over," she muttered. "If anybody apologizes to the man, it ought to be you."

Her grandfather huffed indignantly. Then he said, "Okay, so maybe I will."

Something in his tone warned her she should have let well enough alone.

Penny knew for certain just how big her mistake had been when the phone rang the following day, right when she was in the middle of a critical experiment in the lab.

"Penny, it's Sam."

"Yes," she murmured distractedly, her gaze still locked on what she was seeing through the microscope lens.

"How about dinner?"

That got her attention. "Dinner? You and me? Why? We've done that."

"You have to eat. I have to eat. We might as well do it together," he retorted, his tone losing any last hint of graciousness.

"Granddad," she said with a sigh.

He chuckled at her ready recognition of the source of the invitation. "Okay, he's at it again. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to go along with him for one night, would it?"

"You don't just
go along
with Brandon. The man is capable of steamrolling over the Joint Chiefs of Staff."

"True. But you and I, we're tougher, right?"

Penny hesitated, but she had to admit there was a certain temptation in trying to outwit her grandfather. And she did think of herself as particularly adept at avoiding anything resembling a relationship that might interfere with her work. And despite those little frissons of attraction she'd felt a few days earlier, she was long over her silly infatuation with Sam, wasn't she? So what was the harm?

The wounded look she sometimes saw in Sam Roberts's eyes chose that moment to flicker alive in her memory. The dangerous, sexy smile taunted her. She dismissed them as inconsequential. They were talking about one evening. Dinner. How complicated could it get?

"When?" she said finally.

Her lack of enthusiasm apparently communicated itself to him. "Let's get it over with. Tonight?"

"Fine. What time?"

"I have an appointment at five, but I should be through by six-thirty. If you can meet me there, I know a great restaurant in the neighborhood."

"Is it half as good as Rosie's?"

"Maybe even better, but don't ever tell her I said that."

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "Something to hold over your head. I like that."

"Watch it, short stuff," he warned, but he was chuckling when he gave her the address. "See you later."

Penny started to remind him to stop calling her "short stuff," then realized that every time he used the affectionate phrase she automatically recalled how much larger and more powerfully built he was. It was downright interesting the way her thoughts always came back to settle on an image of how blasted attractive the man was. He probably did it intentionally for just that reason.

"Later," she agreed, and wished her pulse wasn't suddenly racing in anticipation.

Sam changed into his boxing shorts in the locker room, then went through the gym in search of Johnny, who'd owned the place forever. He found him in his cramped, paper-strewn office. He picked a box of invoices up off of the room's only spare chair and plopped them on the floor.

"Are you ever going to clean this place?" he inquired, grinning at the grizzled old man who owned this seedy old barn of a gym.

Johnny's Place made up for in atmosphere what it lacked in high-tech exercise equipment. This was the kind of gym that world heavyweight champs would feel comfortable in. Some had even trained here in preparation for title bouts a few decades back, according to local legend. And Johnny had yellowing, dog-eared, autographed photos of some of the best on the walls of his cluttered office. Right now, as always, he looked horrified by Sam's suggestion that he straighten up.

"And mess up my filing system?" he protested. "Why would I want to go and do that after all these years?"

"You might discover you're rich."

"Or that I'm close to bankruptcy. Either way, it's better not to know. As long as I've got enough for dinner and some bottles of linament, I figure business is good."

"Has Randy been coming around to help out?" Sam asked, referring to the seventeen-year-old he was supposed to box in a few minutes. He'd brought the teen here to work out his frustrations, much as Jason had brought Sam years earlier.

"He shows up pretty regular," Johnny said evasively.

"How regular is that?"

"Every couple of days. Sticks around for a few hours. I don't have that much for him to do."

"I thought he was going to help with this paperwork. He has a good head on his shoulders and math was the one subject he passed with flying colors."

"He tries, but like I said, things are a little disorganized in here."

Sam sensed that Johnny was holding something back. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what, but he'd gotten Johnny into this. He owed it to him to see that nothing went wrong. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

The aging boxer regarded him with regret. "Hey, I don't want to go telling tales."

"Come on, Johnny. What's going on?"

"The kid's got these friends, okay?" He shuddered. "I gotta tell you, Sammy, they give me the creeps. I don't want 'em hanging around."

Sam could see how much Johnny hated making the admission. And coming from an old boxer who wasn't afraid of much, the fear had to be taken seriously. Besides, Sam knew exactly which friends Johnny was talking about. They were precisely the reason he'd gotten Randy the job at the gym. He sighed.

"I don't blame you," he told Johnny. "Thanks for trying. I'll talk to Randy, but if he doesn't want to make the break from this gang of his, I'll try to figure out something else."

Johnny regarded him worriedly. "I hope to hell he'll listen. He's a good kid. I can see that. But those friends of his are real trouble."

Back in the gym, Sam pulled on his gloves and started warming up at one of the punching bags. Randy, trailed by the two-bit criminals he considered his pals, finally showed at five-fifteen. All of them were wearing black jeans and black T-shirts with the logo of some rap group that thrived on violent lyrics. They all had haircuts that could break a mother's heart. Most of them had diamond studs in one ear. Probably real, Sam thought, wondering which jeweler they'd ripped off.

He shot a disapproving frown at Randy. "You're late."

"Sorry. We were tied up."

Sam could just imagine what had detained them. They'd probably been staking out a business to rob. He bit back a suggestion that Randy send his delinquent buddies on their way. Maybe he could do something to get through to all of them. Okay, so he suffered from delusions, but it was worth a shot.

"Any of you guys want to go a few rounds?" he inquired.

"Nah. We're just fixing to watch Ran-dall," Tank Landry informed him. The scrawny, dark-haired kid with mean eyes already had an impressive rap sheet for someone not even out of his teens. All pretty tame stuff so far, but it was only a short leap from burglary to armed robbery.

Sam read the anticipation on Tank's face. He was probably hoping Randy would pound the cop into the ropes. Fortunately, Randy wasn't that quick on his feet yet. With a little practice, though, Tank and his associates could get their wish. Tonight, however, maybe it would do them some good to see that one of their own wasn't nearly as tough as they imagined.

Before they entered the ring, he pulled Randy aside and nodded toward the onlookers. "I thought we had a deal."