Crazy Ever After (3 page)

“No.” Like she’d admit if she had. She crumpled the napkin and tossed it onto the tray.

Mom returned at that moment, her eyes, nose and cheeks rosy. “Well,” she said, in her soft voice. “Alec and Hank are gone. That was nice of them to drop by.” She looked at Travis. “You too, Travis.”

“It’s no trouble, Dayna.” He stood and moved toward her. “Of course I’d come. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

She nodded, her mouth trembling a little. “And thank you for coming too, Samara.”

Samara lifted her eyes to the grief and gratitude in her mother’s face. Then she watched as Travis bent his head low and murmured something in Dayna’s ear. More memories, more hurt slashed through her.

“Where is your suitcase, Sam?” Mom now asked. “Travis will take it up to your room for you.”

Samara just stared at them blankly for a moment. “Oh. It’s still in my car. I won’t be staying here.”

Dayna’s face fell. “What? But of course you will! This is your home!”

“No. My home is my apartment in San Francisco.” She pressed her lips together.

“But...Samara...where will you stay?”

“At a hotel. I’m sure I can find a room somewhere in town.”

Dayna shook her head, her face pinched with hurt. “Oh, Samara. Please, stay here.”

Once again Samara felt an unwilling softening inside her. She didn’t want to stay there, but she read the fragility in her mother’s expression.

“Samara.” Travis’s deep voice snagged her attention, and she met his eyes. “You need to be with family at a time like this.”

“I’ll be fine at a hotel.”

Travis’s eyes flashed, and he tipped his head. “Maybe you’ll be fine, but what about your mother?”

He was standing there, beside her mother, taking her side, looking out for her, caring for her, and disappointment and hurt jabbed at Samara, a sharp blade slicing open an old wound. “I’m sure Mom will be fine without me. And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”

“Samara!” Her mother gazed at her open-mouthed.

Samara pressed her lips together briefly. “I’m sorry. But I’m an adult, Mother, and I’ll stay where I want to stay.” The silence stretched out long and taut, the thudding of her heart loud in her ears.

“You’re right,” her mother finally said, straightening her small shoulders. “You are an adult now. But I’m your mother. I will always be your mother. And I will always tell you when you’re being rude, whether you like it or not, no matter how happy I am to see you, and right now you are being rude.” She met Samara’s eyes, and Samara blinked in surprise. Out of the corner of her eye, Samara caught Travis’s mouth twitching, and heat washed into her cheeks.

“Sam. Please.”

Samara couldn’t bear to look at the pleading in her mother’s eyes. She thought about Travis’s assertion that her mother needed her there. It was true. “Fine. I’ll stay here.” But she also knew that wasn’t all her mother was pleading with her about.

“Good,” her mother said quietly. “Travis, could you get her suitcase?”

“I can carry my own suitcase.” Samara stood.

“I’ll get it,” Travis snapped. “Give me your keys.”

She stared at him. “Um...pretty sure I already asked this question, and pretty sure I didn’t get a good answer, but who are you to tell me what to do?”

His narrow-eyed gaze pinned her, his square jaw stone-hard. “Please give me your keys, Samara, and I’ll get your suitcase for you. And you’re welcome.”

They stood there facing each other. Mom hovered nearby. They both ignored her. Travis held out a hand. And waited.

Samara fought down the surge of frustration. Her mother had chastised her like a child, and now Travis was ordering her around like he was her father. Damn him.

She reached for her purse, dug out her car keys and thrust them at him. Without a word he turned and left the room.

“We need to talk, Samara,” her mother said quietly. “Maybe now isn’t the time. But before you leave...”

Samara’s insides twisted in knots at the thought. She’d rather chew her arm off than have that conversation, but again, she had to put aside all that old crap and deal with what was important at that moment. “We’ll see,” she said, just as quietly. “What about the funeral? When will it be?”

“I thought Friday would be a good day. That will allow Greg and Leila and the kids time to get here from New York as well as any of the other out-of-town executives if they want to attend.” She paused, her head bent. “I’ll get Ava to make up the bed in your room,” she continued, her voice determinedly steady. “And I’ll just go let her know that you and Travis will both be staying for dinner.” She hurried out of the room, her small slender figure outlined in the black sleeveless dress she wore. She was still so perfect.

As a young girl, Samara had admired her mother— so beautiful and charming, graciously hosting dinners and parties in their home. She’d never had to work outside the home, thanks to the success of Cedar Mill Coffee, and had been able to devote herself to her husband and her daughter and the charitable organizations she and Parker had chosen to support. It wasn’t until Samara was older that she’d realized her mother relied so heavily on her husband. Other friends had mothers who worked outside the home, mothers who were lawyers or doctors or even just worked at Macy’s. Samara knew her mother didn’t have to work, and that was fine, but her mother didn’t make a single decision without her husband’s input. Her love and devotion to her husband and their life together had been wonderful, but Samara always wished her mom would be a little more independent. In a million years, never would Samara have worried about her mother cheating on her husband.

Alone in the room, Samara sank back down into her chair and took in a long, shaky breath. Well, that had gone well. Not. She snorted at herself.

She rubbed her forehead and squeezed her eyes closed, trying to focus on breathing. Dinner with Travis and her mom was going to be as much fun as dental surgery.

After a moment she had a feeling of being watched, and she lifted her head to see Travis standing there holding her suitcase.

“Are you...”

“Don’t say it!” She jumped to her feet. “I’m fine. I’ll show you my room.” Damn. That sounded disturbingly intimate. But trying to reword it would just draw attention to her poor choice of words, so she brushed by him to lead the way upstairs.

He didn’t move out of the way, and his body was warm and solid, making her tingle all over. Conscious of his eyes on her, she walked stiffly to the foot of the wide, polished oak staircase, a plush runner in a muted sage green running up the center of it. She put a hand on the gleaming banister and started up the steps then paused to look over her shoulder.

His eyes were on her ass.

Holy crap.

She froze in place, one foot on the bottom step and stared at him. He lifted his gaze to her face, and she was pretty sure she saw a flicker of discomfort in his eyes as he realized she’d caught him checking her out. Oh, Godfrey. Once again her mind started spinning. What the hell did that mean? It couldn’t possibly mean anything. If it hadn’t been for that shift in his eyes, she would have assumed he was just following her and his eyes just happened to be looking there.

She forced herself to turn and lead him up the stairs, but her skin tingled with awareness, hot and tight, knowing as she climbed the stairs in front of him her butt was at his eye level. Then she had to lead him to her old room. She threw open the door and walked in, unsure of what to expect. If it was exactly the same girly pink teenage room, she was going to be embarrassed.

But no. The bubble gum color was mostly gone. Her eyes moved over walls now painted a soft taupe, the puffy duvet on the bed shades of chocolate, taupe and pink. Assorted matching cushions in various patterns of the same color were piled on the bed, and the armchair had been reupholstered in chocolate brown fabric. The rug she’d loved as a teenager, patterned in various shades of pink and beige, remained. It still looked feminine but also modern and grown up.

Samara hated to admit it, but she liked it.

She walked over to the big window looking out over their property. Behind the house were two acres of lush woods. She stared down at the stone path winding from the patio into the trees, lined with hostas and lilies lovingly planted by her mother years ago. She had so many memories of walking on that path, some of them with Travis.

She turned to face him, again fighting down the hurt and sadness that had resurfaced so unexpectedly, so strongly.

“Thank you,” she told him. He set the suitcase down on the floor but still stood there.

“Thanks for staying here. It means a lot to your mother.”

“You seem very concerned about her,” she said tightly, moving away from the window.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Parker was my business partner, my mentor...” His voice thickened. “He was a friend. She’s a friend too.”

“Right,” she said. “Well, that’s just lovely.”

His mouth flattened, and his eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure my father would be happy that you’re looking out for her,” she continued, unable to stop the sarcastic tone that came out. Travis’s eyes flashed and a nerve started flicking in his jaw, and Samara’s insides trembled.

Chapter Three

Travis stared at Samara across her bedroom. Being in this room with her was so not a good idea. He could not believe that after all these years she still had the ability to affect him this way. She was even more beautiful than she’d been as a teenager, now with a sophistication and polish she hadn’t possessed seven years ago, the expensive-looking little suit she wore hugging her slender curves. Much to his embarrassment, she’d caught him staring at her ass, so sweetly displayed in that snug skirt, and that bed right over there gave him even more dirty ideas. Get a grip, man.

“I think your father would have wanted me to look out for both of you,” he murmured finally. His mouth twisted into a wry smile. Yeah, right. If Parker weren’t already dead, he’d be having a stroke over the fact that Travis was standing in Samara’s bedroom alone with her. But for some reason, he felt protective of her, even though she was grown up now, and even though it had been seven years and she was apparently still pissed at him. Still hadn’t gotten over that night. Jesus.

And what the hell was between Samara and Dayna? He knew how Parker had agonized over the rift between them all these years and knew firsthand how hurt Dayna had been by her daughter’s refusal to come home, to barely talk to her. He’d been hard pressed over the years not to call Samara up and ask her what the hell she was doing, cutting herself off from family who cared about her. What the hell could have happened?

“I don’t need looking after.” Her little chin tilted up. “I can look after myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” he murmured.

She stared at him, her huge hazel eyes gleaming with those unusual gold flecks. She was so like her mother in many ways. Although a little taller, she had the same fine bone structure, the same thick, straight auburn hair, a feminine face with high cheekbones, big eyes and a small, full mouth. Samara’s hair hung long down her back, with a swish of bangs she constantly pushed aside, where her mother wore her hair cropped short. Samara’s eyes combined Dayna’s emerald green with a ring of brown and flecks of gold in the unusual irises, surrounded by long thick lashes. Those eyes and that mouth. Ah, hell.

Travis shook his head. Memories assailed him of the guilt he’d experienced for wanting Samara so badly, knowing he couldn’t have her, couldn’t touch her, shouldn’t even think about having her. She’d only been seventeen, not even legal, for Chrissake.

Wanting her had nearly cost him everything important to him in his life.

“We should go back down,” he said abruptly, turning to the door.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she said. “I’d like to change.” She was likely still wearing what she’d had on when he’d called her at the office that morning.

He nodded and shut the door behind him. He stood there for a long moment, one hand still on her doorknob, the desire to shove back in there and jump her sexy bones almost overpowering.

He rubbed a hand over his face. Jesus. This was insane. Seven years later and he was still a horny kid with a hard-on for her.

He wished he could say he hadn’t even thought of her in the last seven years, but that would be a lie. Soon after that night everything had gone to shit, she’d left for college in San Francisco without even saying good-bye. And then had been the big blow up with Parker when Travis had been banished to Los Angeles.

At the time he’d had his own problems to worry about, and he hadn’t kept in touch much with Dayna. His interactions with Parker had been all about business for a long time, but as they’d gradually rebuilt their relationship, he’d learned that Samara never went home and barely spoke to her mother. Parker had never been able to find out what had happened between Samara and her mother to cause such a huge rift. It had baffled and hurt both of them. It must have been a helluva fight over something. Samara had been headstrong and stubborn and opinionated, but he couldn’t imagine what they could have argued about that would split up a family like that.

Travis shook his head and slowly walked down the stairs. As he returned to the den, he passed the empty dining room. How many times had he sat at that table across from teenage Samara, listening to her drive her father crazy with her quick wit and provocative statements? He remembered laughing, so entertained by their discussions—arguments?—thankful he wasn’t the one who had to deal with her, then wishing he was the one who had to deal with her. He’d shut her up by grabbing and kissing her until she had no breath left.

His gut feeling like a stone, as were other parts of his body, he found Dayna in the den, setting the cups on the tray to go back to the kitchen. She looked lost in thought.

“Hey,” he said.

She looked up and smiled faintly. “Thanks again for being here,” she said. “I know this is hard for you too.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Christ. I can’t believe this.” He rubbed his chin.