Drawn To You (Taking Chances #3) (4 page)

“Of course. Let me help you with your things.” He took two plastic bins that Sam handed him, and shut the car door.

At that moment, the front door to the house opened and Lucy ran outside with her grandmother at her heels.

“Lucy, come finish your breakfast,” Mrs. Benson called out.

“Miss Sam!” Beaming, the little girl ran up to Sam and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Come see my room.”

“Sure thing. I can’t wait to meet your stuffed animals.”

Lucas shook his head. “You need to finish eating, sweetheart, then you can play.”

“No, Daddy, I don’t want to.”

“The birthday girl needs energy for her party. Please finish your breakfast.”

Lucy shook her head adamantly. Her cheeks flushed the same color as her lacy pink dress. “I’m full.”

Sam grinned as she observed their exchange. Even with a three-foot height difference between them, Lucy was holding her own against her father. She knew there was a reason she and the little girl got along so well. “She’s done, Lucas. Let her be.”

Lucas sighed. “All right. At least finish your milk.”

Lucy’s eyes sparkled as she took Sam’s hand. “Miss Sam, Daddy listens to you. Can you tell him I want a puppy?”

“He does, doesn’t he.” Sam bit back a laugh when she spotted Lucas’s furrowed brows. “I’ll see what I can do.”

- - -

Lucas wiped down the dining table and listened to his daughter giggle in the next room. He lifted his head in time to see her give Sam a tight hug. She had been smiling non-stop all morning. It was so good to see her happy and carefree. He wanted to believe it was because he had served her favorite foods—cheese pizza and chocolate ice cream cake—and given her a dollhouse for her birthday, but he knew better. Lucy had cheered up since Sam arrived.

The party had been a huge success. Each pint-sized guest had left half an hour ago with a grin on her face. He had to give Sam some credit; she knew how to keep kids engaged and entertained. Her stained glass project using wax paper and paint had been easy to do, and the finished products shone impressively when held up in the sunlight.

The clean-up, however, was another story.

Lucas gritted his teeth. A thick trail of blue paint dripped off the edge of the table, landing in a puddle on the tile floor. How in the world did little cups of paint make such a big mess? “Sammie Koo,” he muttered under his breath, “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“You’re getting old, Squealer.”

The face looking back at him from under the table wore a sly grin. “What’re you talking about?”

“You were talking to yourself. Either you’re going senile or you need to get out more. Which is it?”

“Neither,” he huffed. “It’s this.” He directed her attention downward. “I told you we should have covered the floor.”

“Calm down, it’s one spot. The paint’s water based. It wipes right off.” She took a napkin off the table, lowered herself to one knee, and wiped the floor dry. “See, easy peasy. Clean up’s included in the party package. Why are you doing it?”

They stood and faced each other. Lucas crossed his arms and shrugged. He didn’t appreciate the way Sam was glaring at him, as if she was trying to size him up. “You were spending time with Lucy. I thought I’d help out.”

“Ha! You couldn’t stand the sight of a little mess. I remember how OCD you were in chem lab. Every beaker had to be washed and dried and put back just so. Admit it, you’re a neat freak. Your whole house is spotless. There’s not even one dirty dish in the sink.”

He pushed away the blue painted fingernail poking his chest. “I like to be organized. There’s no crime in that. I know where everything is, and I don’t have to waste time looking for things, unlike
some
people.”

“Don’t you think you’re a little obsessed?” She nodded toward a plaque above the sink. “Come on, who else has a ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness’ sign in their kitchen?”

“My mother.”

“It all makes sense now.”

“You’re one to talk. There was nothing normal about your high school locker. I’m sure you broke some health codes with the
experiments
”—he stressed the word with an arched eyebrow—“you grew in there. I found a moldy ham and cheese sandwich once that I’m sure was from the stone ages.”

“How’s that possible? Cavemen didn’t eat bread. And how would you know anyway? You never looked inside my locker. You really need to lighten up, Squealer.” Before he could reply, she ran her finger over a smudge of blue paint on the table and smeared it on his cheek.

“There. Now you don’t have to wipe up that spot. It goes well with your shirt.”

Lucas held her stare and debated as to how long he should let her sweat. He could see uncertainty and regret flicker across her face as she bit her lower lip. He had a strange urge to smooth away the lines between her brows. There was a softness in her features that made her seem vulnerable, like the teenage girl he had desired to keep safe. Too bad she had never wanted his protection.

Holding her breath, Sam waited for Lucas to say or do something. She couldn’t stand the silence and especially the way he was looking at her, as if he was mentally flipping through the police rule book to see if facepainting was listed there. She wasn’t going down without a fight though. “I have rights, you know.”

“What?”

“Mandy. Miriam. Something starting with an M.”

“Are you referring to Miranda rights?”

“Yes, Miranda. If you want to arrest me, you need to read me my rights. I have the right to remain silent and to call my lawyer.”

“I see you’ve got them memorized.”

“How could I not? That night is forever etched in my memory because of you.”

Lucas shook his head. “About that night, Sammie, I wasn’t out to have you arrested.”

“You weren’t? You just thought it’d be fun to call the police, then point me out to them? What a bunch of bull, Lucas.” She couldn’t believe he thought he had a good explanation for his actions. She began to tune him out, but saw his eyes cloud, turning a dark brown shade she didn’t recognize.

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Oh, please, protect me? You can say whatever you want to appease your guilt, but I’m not buying it.”

Their conversation was cut short by Mrs. Benson’s entrance. “I finally got the birthday girl to sleep. That sugar high was something else. A long nap will do her some good.” She looked at the two of them, then remarked, “Lucas dear, you have something on your cheek.”

“I got it, thanks.”

Sam drew in a sharp breath as he reached behind her and grabbed a napkin off the table. She caught a whiff of fresh soap and spicy aftershave that sent her pulse racing. No. Why was her body betraying her like this? Maybe she was the one who needed to get out more. She watched him wipe away the paint from his cheek, and piped up, “You missed a spot.” Using herself as his mirror, she pointed to her jawline, then to her chin. As he began wiping the lower half of his face, she snorted.
Gotcha
. She was the only one who ever had the gall to fool him and get away with it.

He frowned. “Sammie Koo.”

“I still have my touch. I forgot how much I enjoy messing with your head. Remember that time I told you our midterm got moved up and you stayed up all night cramming for it?”

“How could I forget? I was so tired I went to school the next morning with my shirt on backwards. But I aced the test, unlike
some
people.”

Sam crossed her arms. “Teacher’s pet.”

“You forgot to add class valedictorian.”

A chuckle escaped Mrs. Benson’s lips. “Sorry to interrupt your stroll down memory lane, but I wanted to tell you I’m having dinner with Janice tonight. Care to join me, Sam? Her son, the law professor, will be there.”

Sam coughed to cover up a groan. Bless her heart; she was still trying her hand at matchmaking. “Like I said yesterday, Mrs. B., I’m happy being single.”

“He’s quite a catch if you ask me. Of course we could sit at separate tables”—she winked—“so you two could chat without us old ladies listening in.”

Sam hesitated. The only thing waiting for her at home was a stack of unopened bills and maybe a PB&J sandwich, if she was lucky. Going out sounded a lot more appealing. Even though she wasn’t looking for a relationship, one date and a delicious meal wouldn’t hurt. Before she could respond, however, Lucas spoke up.

“Thanks, Mom, but I doubt if Sam would find George interesting. He seemed a little dull when I talked to him. Anyway, I was going to see if she wanted to stay here for dinner.” Turning to Sam, he asked, “How about it, Firecracker?”

She had spotted a twitch in his jaw muscle when Mrs. B. mentioned the neighbor’s son. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought Lucas didn’t want her going out with the guy. “It might be a good idea to get some legal advice from George, seeing as how I’ve been getting into trouble with the law lately.” Her sarcasm earned her a smile from Lucas.

“I could give you some pointers, seeing as how I’m such a law-abiding citizen. Just so you know, I make the world’s best spaghetti and meatballs. And we have leftover ice cream cake. I only feed my guests the best.”

“Hmm.” Lucas sure was trying hard. The smile on his face seemed genuine and lit up those amazing eyes she found so hard to resist. Maybe this was his attempt at making things up to her? Either way, the flutter in her stomach was telling her to say yes. She hoped it was a sign of hunger, nothing more. “Well, I hate to turn down a homecooked meal. Sure, why not.”

“Great. Lucy will be happy you’re staying.”

“Good choice, dear. Lawyers do tend to be a bit on the stuffy side. I’m sure you’ll have a more enjoyable evening with Lucas,” Mrs. Benson added before slipping out the door.

This was the first time Sam had ever heard the word enjoyable used to describe Lucas, but like she had said, there was a first for everything. Even the possibility that she was looking forward to spending time with her high school nemesis.

FOUR

Dinner turned out to be much better than Sam could have predicted. Sitting at the small round table in the kitchen nook while Lucas served her bowls of parmesan and garlic linguine proved to be as enjoyable as a meal at a five-star restaurant. That was one thing she missed about Paris since her current budget didn’t allow her such luxuries anymore. The company wasn’t bad either. Truthfully, it was good, very good in fact. Between Lucy’s non-stop chatter and Lucas’ impeccable service, this was the most pleasant date she had been on in a long time.

Not that this is a date
, Sam chided herself. A home-cooked meal with a four-year-old and her father was not her typical definition of a good time. Usually, she opted for a quick bite to eat or coffee. She did prefer to be wined and dined, but only after the first date. If the men she went out with didn’t pique her interest within the first ten minutes of meeting them, she escaped—quickly. She used the excuse of needing to feed her cats so often that she considered adopting one.

It just wasn’t easy meeting people these days. Sure, the internet provided more options, but sometimes less was more when it came to filtering out the wrong guys. All she desired was someone close in age, handsome, interesting, and financially stable. Above all, honest. How hard could that be to find?

“You’re quiet. Penny for your thoughts?”

Sam looked down at the copper coin Lucas had placed next to her glass of juice. “Huh?”

“You got the penny, Miss Sam. It’s your turn,” Lucy insisted with a serious nod of her head.

“My turn for what?”

“It’s our nightly tradition,” Lucas chimed in, “a game our therapist taught us. You’re supposed to tell us your high and low for the day.”

“Something you liked and something you didn’t like. Do you want me to go first?” Lucy asked before licking her milk mustache off. “You don’t have to copy me.”

“Sure thing, girlie. Tell me your high and low.”

Lucy scrunched her nose up as she thought. “My high is getting to eat lots of cake today.”

“What about the dollhouse I gave you?” Lucas asked with an exaggerated pout.

“Daddy, I wasn’t done.” Lucy made a soft
tap tap
sound with her plastic fork as she pounded it like a gavel on the wooden table. “And playing with my friends. And getting a dollhouse.”

“That’s good. I was wondering if I’d need to return your present.”

“Daddy! No returning my present.” She gave Lucas a stern look before she turned to Sam. “My best high is Miss Sam eating dinner with us.”

Sam returned her smile. “Guess what? You said I didn’t need to copy you, but that’s mine, too. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t think you were so easy to please.”

“I can assure you that whatever impressions you have of me are likely wrong. I don’t ask for much. As long as the conversation is interesting, I’m good. I’m actually a cheap date,” Sam retorted, immediately regretting her choice of words. “Not that this is—never mind.” She waved her hand in an attempt to dismiss her last sentence.

“I’ll have you know this is organic pasta and wild shrimp. I only use the best ingredients in my cooking.”

“Of course you do. Duly noted, Chef Choi.” She noticed Lucy looking at them in wonder. “Hey, back to you, girlie. You weren’t done sharing.”

“Yes, sweetheart. That’s four highs for you today, a record. What’s your low?”

The little girl’s shoulders slumped as she looked down at her bowl, and she said in a voice barely above that of a whisper, “Not having Mommy here.”

Lucas took hold of his daughter’s hand, enveloping her dimpled fingers with his large palm. “Me, too. I miss Mommy, too. She would be so proud of you, baby girl. She would ...”

The way his voice faltered told Sam he didn’t know how to console his daughter. She decided to jump in. “You know something, Luce? I went to school with your mommy many years ago.” Sensing a spark of interest in Lucy’s eyes, she continued, “You remind me so much of her. She was kind to everyone she met. She had a great fashion sense and liked to wear her hair in braids, just like you. Your smile looks like hers.”

Lucy tilted her head to one side as thought. She climbed down from the chair she had been kneeling on and walked over to the refrigerator. Pointing to a photo displayed on the stainless steel door, she nodded. “My smile
is
like Mommy’s.”