And Then Came You (31 page)

“Sam—”

“A goodbye boink from the ex-husband?”

“Dammit, no.” He set his beer bottle down on a glass-and-chrome table and turned back to her. “And we’re
not
‘ex,’ remember? Still married.”

“Not for long,” Sam muttered thickly and reached into the back pocket of her jeans. Whipping out the signed divorce papers, she threw them at him and snarled, “There. Signed, sealed, and delivered.”

“I don’t want them. I want you.”

She choked out a laugh that scraped against her throat and brought unwelcome tears to her eyes. “Right. You want me. As much as you want Cynthia and the
baby
she’s carrying?”

“Baby?”
Jeff staggered a step or two, then caught himself. Fury hummed around Sam like a force field. And damned if he wasn’t starting to feel it, too. “What baby?”

“See?” she snapped. “That was
my
question. When I got my voice back,” she added.

“Cynthia told you she’s pr—”

“Oh please, don’t make this worse by trying to
deny
it. Cynthia told me how you wanted to keep it a secret from Emma. But you should have told
me
. You should have stayed
away
from me, dammit.”

He heard the pain in her voice and it tore at him. Jeff didn’t even know what to say to this. Hell, he’d never expected—Instantly, he drew up short and his brain kicked into high gear.
Pregnant?
Impossible. They were always too careful. And still, the threat of panic clawed at his chest.

“Did you think I wouldn’t care?” Sam demanded, splintering his thoughts with the outrage coloring her voice. “Did you think I wouldn’t remember what it was
like to be alone and pregnant? Do you think I’d want that for
any
woman? Even
Cynthia
?”

Jeff reached for her, but Sam was too quick. She jumped back and away, shaking her head and letting her eyes spit fire at him.

“Don’t you touch me,” she muttered darkly.

Stung to the bone, Jeff dropped his hands to his sides, then reached up and stabbed his fingers through his hair. What the hell was he supposed to do? This would come down to his word against Cynthia’s, and why the hell would Sam ever take his word for anything? They’d just begun to feel their way back to each other and now
this
?

Reaching through the panicked desperation choking him, he thought back, going over the last few weeks in a blinding instant, trying to remember if Cynthia had ever suggested, or hinted, or hell, come right out and
said
she was pregnant.

But there was nothing.

And she
would
have told him.

So why did she claim to be
now
? And why go to Sam with this news? Why wouldn’t she come to
him
?

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” Sam said and started past him.

He snapped her a look. “Dammit, don’t walk away.”

She looked at him and the pain in her eyes slashed at him. He was going to lose her. She was going to walk out of his life again, and this time there’d be no recovering.

“She’s not pregnant,” he blurted. “I know she’s not.” His mind flashed back over the last several weeks, trying to remember when Cynthia’d last had her period. She always suffered with them. Cramps, migraines. She usually took to her bed for days.

When the memory popped into Jeff’s head, he wanted to shout. But Sam already was.

“You lying bastard—what were you going to do? Walk out on another pregnant wife? Waltz away to live with me and Emma like that baby never existed? Like you did to me?”

“I didn’t know you were pregnant then.”

“But you know about Cynthia now, don’t you?”

“She’s not pr—”

“Why would she lie?”

He laughed shortly, sharply. “Why
wouldn’t
she?”

She shook her head as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Think about it, Sam,” he said, talking faster and faster, knowing their future rested on his ability to get through to her
now
. And the more he talked, the more things began to settle into place. Make sense. “She knows what happened between us. What better way to piss you off than to tell you that
she’s
pregnant?”

She scraped both hands across her face and her breathing steadied a little. She shot him a suspicious glance.

The faster he talked, the more it made sense. If Cynthia was looking for a way to drive a wedge between him and Sam, she’d found the perfect way to do it. All he could hope was that Sam would be willing to listen to him.
Believe
him.

“There is no baby.” He said it firmly, believing the words, trying to make Sam believe.

“What?”

“Sam, trust me. She just had her period a few weeks ago, and we haven’t been together since then. Cynthia’s not pregnant—and if she claims to be, then she’s lying.”

“No!” Her mouth worked, but no words came for a second or two. “She lied about a baby? Why would she do that? Why would she say that if it weren’t true?” She shook her head fiercely and her fall of auburn hair whipped around her head. “What kind of woman does that?”

Jeff dragged a breath into heaving lungs. If she was willing to at least admit the possibilities, then he stood a chance. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “A desperate one? A pissed-off one? All I know is, she
is
lying. I’ve hardly touched her since I saw you again.”

“And I should believe you,” Sam retorted, her voice just a tinny thread.

“Yes.”

“Because you’ve been so honest with me in the past, right?”

That kernel of panic was reasserting itself. There’d never been much “bend” in Sam. “Dammit, Sam, I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

“Why would Cynthia lie about this?”

“How the hell do I know?” he blurted, throwing his hands wide. “Maybe so that
this
would happen. So you’d be so pissed, you’d walk out of my life forever.” She was wavering, so he kept talking, words tumbling out, one after the other. “Dammit, Sam, she probably counted on us doing just what we did nine years ago. Stomping away from each other and never really confronting the issues. She
counted
on us not talking.” It all made sense. A weird sort of logic. He sighed. “Don’t you get it? She never thought you’d come here. Face me with this.”

What was
wrong
with Sam that she desperately wanted to believe him, even
now
?

He bent, snatched up the papers, and gave them a quick look before shifting his gaze back to hers. How could she have trusted him again? How could she have allowed herself to fall right back into old patterns? One touch from Jeff and she was a steaming puddle of goo. One kiss and she was stripped and sitting on a kitchen counter.

That thought just infuriated her all over again and she had to draw a sharp breath before she could fire off every insult she’d spent the drive to the city thinking up.

“Whether she is or not, I’m done with this, Jeff. Cynthia can
have
you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re no prize.” God, she couldn’t stand still. Needed to move. To hit. To throw.

“The red vase,” he suggested. “Always hated it.”

She shot a look at the table he pointed at and deliberately picked up a fragile
blue
bowl filled with mints instead.

“Sam . . .”

She threw it at the wall and winced in satisfaction as it exploded in a shower of sky-colored splinters.

“Listen to me,” he said, his gaze moving over her features like a frantic caress. “I don’t want Cynthia. I want you.”

He stepped up close and Sam practically vibrated with the temper streaking through her. “Well, get over it, because you can’t have me.”

“This isn’t over.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said.

“No way, Sam.” He moved in on her again, but Sam was determined to keep a safe distance. “Cynthia’s trying
to split us up. She must have sensed that what I feel for you is too big and she fought back the only way she could think of.”

“Even if I believe that, it doesn’t mean anything,” Sam said.

“How can it
not
?” he demanded.

“Jeff, it shouldn’t be this
hard
. Don’t you see? If we were meant to be together, it wouldn’t be this
hard
.”

He shook his head. “No way am I letting you out of my life again.”

“You don’t get a choice this time, Jeff. Nine years ago, you left me. Now it’s my turn.” She pulled a shuddering breath deep into her lungs. For God’s sake, how had this all gone to shit so fast? How had it gotten even more complicated than it had been at the beginning?
Was
Cynthia lying? Was Jeff?

Did it
matter
?

No. Not anymore.

The ache inside her was all-encompassing now and she was willing to admit that it was done. Over.

She was a big believer in signs. Well, they couldn’t be any clearer. This thing with Jeff? It was never going to work out. “Mike was right. You worked me.”

“Mike’s almost
never
right. And I wasn’t
working
you, whatever the hell that means.”

She ignored him and felt the first sputter of anger churning up in her gut, drowning the pain in a red haze. “It’s my own damn fault.”

“If you’ll just listen to me—”

But she wasn’t. Instead, Sam kept talking, more to herself than to him. “See, despite everything, I still loved you.”

“You—”

“Loved,”
she repeated, meeting his gaze with a grim stare. “Past tense. Trust me, I’m getting over it.”

“Christ, Sam, will you just let me—”

“Nine years,” she snapped and rode the crest of the building fury within. “I loved you anyway. You left and I loved you. You divorced me and I loved you. You raised my baby and I
still
loved you.” Whirling on him, she poked him in the chest with her finger again and wished it were a drill bit. “But I’m over you now, bud. I’m going to do whatever I have to do—
whoever
I have to do—to get over you this time. It’s done. Past. Ended. Finito. Hasta la vista, baby.”

“This isn’t done. What’s between us will
never
be done.”

“You’re wrong,” Sam snapped. “Again.”

“No I’m not. I didn’t lie to you. Cynthia’s not pregnant.”

“Don’t you get it?” she asked, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. If she’s not pregnant, she’s still a part of you. Your fiancée.” He took a long step toward her. “Come any closer and I swear I’ll hit you again.”

He advanced anyway. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he held on tight and loomed over her until she was forced to tilt her head back to look up at him. Then she kicked him.

“That hurt, dammit.”

“Meant to.”

“I didn’t have any talks with Cynthia about you,” he growled out. “And Cynthia’s
not
pregnant.”

“Sure, I believe you. You jumped from her bed into mine and then back again. A wonder you don’t have whiplash.”

“I didn’t do that, either.” His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “I haven’t had sex with her in
weeks
.”

She snorted.

“It’s true. From the minute I first saw you again, I haven’t even thought about another woman.” He stared at her, as if willing her to believe him.

And maybe she did.

A little.

But it wasn’t enough.

“That’s your problem,” she said and yanked herself free of his grip.

“And you love me.”

“That’s
my
problem.”

“Sam, if you’d just calm down for a damn second—”

“I’m plenty calm. If I wasn’t calm you’d be on the way to a hospital!” She paused, told herself to get a grip, and took a deep breath to help the effort. “We’re divorced now, weasel-dog. And so help me God, if you try to cheat me out of joint custody of Emma, I’ll sue you for every cent your mother ever had. And I’ll fight it out in the courts for years. Even if I have to rob a bank to pay for the lawyers.”

“I’m not trying to keep Emma from you. I want
us
to raise her together.”

“There is no
us
.” Four little words. And they had the power to sap what was left of the temper she’d been feeding for the last couple of hours. On the whole drive into the city, Sam had argued with herself, shouted and screamed her frustration, her hurt, her fury.

Now, it was over.

And she felt . . . empty.

Shaking her head, she walked past him to the door. Opening it, she turned back to look at him. Her heart
ached and the bottom of her soul fell out so that misery could sweep in. “Stay away from me, Jeff. Just stay the hell away.”

“Sam—”

She left. She didn’t trust herself to keep the tears she felt welling up from the depths of her broken heart at bay. Didn’t trust herself not to revert to the too-familiar puddle of goo if he touched her again.

Sniffling, she practically ran down the long, carpeted hall to the elevator and reached it, thank God, just as it opened.

And Cynthia stepped out.

Perfect.

She even had perfect timing.

The blonde stared at her as though she were a three-headed goat.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Sam reached out and slapped one hand over the elevator door as it started to close. It opened again and she stepped inside. Turning around, she saw Jeff come up behind Cynthia and Sam forced a tight smile at the gorgeous picture they painted. “Don’t worry about it. I’m leaving. Oh. And congratulations on the wedding
and
the baby. You win.”

The doors slid closed.

An hour later, Emma jumped up onto the couch beside her mother. “Are we gonna watch a movie?”

“You bet, baby,” Sam said and sniffed. “Any movie you want.”

“The one with Ariel?”

Sam laughed. They’d already watched
The Little Mermaid
three times together. One more viewing and
Sam would know the dialogue by heart. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She had the situation with Jeff settled. And she had her daughter in her arms.

So why did she want to cry?

“Sure, why not?”

“Are you sad, Mommy?”

“No, honey, I’m not sad.” Miserable maybe, but not really sad.