Emma could, too. But she obviously wasn’t any better at defying Margaret’s wishes than he was. He could almost feel sorry for her, but he was already much too busy feeling sorry for himself.
Damn it, he should have let her go back to her house when he had the chance. Now he was going to be stuck with her all day tomorrow, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. What would she say to him once they were away from his mother’s house?
And what in heaven’s name would he say to her?
“Emma, dear, you look tired. And no wonder after all your hard work today. Why don’t you make an early night of it. Sam can help me clean up the kitchen. Can’t you, son?”
“Yeah, sure.” He stood, his empty plate and mug in hand.
“You know, I think I’ll do just that,” Emma agreed, her relief evident. “See you in the morning.” She gave Margaret a quick hug, then barely glanced his way and added, “Good night, Sam.”
“Good night, Emma.”
As he watched her leave the kitchen, Sam caught himself thinking about the frilly white nightgown she’d held against her chest when he’d intruded on her earlier.
Thought of her slipping into it, then climbing into the big, old-fashioned four-poster bed in the guest room, and wished—
“You wash and I’ll dry,” his mother instructed, diverting his attention not a moment too soon.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Stepping up to the sink, he turned on the hot-water faucet, then reached for the liquid soap. Wordlessly, his mother moved to his side, reached up and curved her palm against the side of his face, surprising him.
“Have I told you how glad I am that you’ve come home?”
“At least once already,” he assured her, putting an arm around her slender shoulders. “But I don’t think I’ve told you how glad I am to be here.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes, really.”
Sam hugged his mother close, aware that he had spoken the truth. Despite everything that had happened there, coming back to Serenity had been the right thing to do. And he was glad he’d realized it before it was too late.
“I’m glad.” She hugged him back, then eased away. “Now let’s get this mess cleaned up so we can sit out on the porch awhile and talk. I want you to tell me all about those young pilots you’ve been training.”
Chapter 4
With each mile that spun by beneath the whirring tires of Margaret Griffin’s stately Volvo, the dread that had first settled into Emma’s soul the night before blossomed anew. She sat stiffly in the driver’s seat, clutching the steering wheel with sweaty hands, her eyes locked on the dark blue sedan traveling at a sedate pace a couple of car lengths ahead of her.
Sam seemed in no more of a hurry than she was to reach their destination, but that inevitable moment would be upon them very soon. They had long since left the winding country roads outside Serenity for the four-lane freeway leading into San Antonio. Now they were less than a mile from the airport exit along which the car-rental agency’s lot was located.
Emma couldn’t remember the drive to San Antonio ever seeming to go by so swiftly. But a glance at the clock on the dashboard assured her they had been on the road the requisite hour and a half such a trip normally took.
Apparently, time could also fly when you weren’t having fun.
Not that the drive had been unpleasant. Quite the contrary, in fact, since the weather was nice and the traffic light. What had her quailing wasn’t the journey itself, but rather what awaited her at its end.
From the moment Margaret had first suggested she and Sam spend the afternoon together, Emma’s stomach had been tied in knots. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had been alone with him. And she could recall in all too devastating detail the last of those blessedly rare occasions.
The memory of what had happened on that late June afternoon—only two days before she was supposed to marry Teddy—had seared itself into her mind and heart in such a painful way that any attempt to disregard it proved to be utterly futile. And though she knew better than to imagine there was any chance of a repeat performance, the mere thought of finding herself in a similar situation had been more than enough to unnerve her.
Sam, too, had seemed just as dismayed as she was by his mother’s proposal, which—in a perverse way Emma refused to contemplate too closely—had not only annoyed her, but offered her a small measure of consolation, as well. At least she hadn’t been the only one thrown for a loop.
Yet there had been little either of them could say to dissuade Margaret from the course she had set. Arguing with her would have been a waste of time. She’d had right on her side, and she’d known it.
Allowing Sam to pay for a rental car when he could use hers would have been foolish. And since Margaret really wasn’t up to making the drive to San Antonio on her own…
Of course, she could have ridden along as a passenger and served as a buffer of sorts, Emma thought as she pulled to a stop behind the sedan just outside the rental agency’s office.
Actually, she had been counting on Margaret to do just that up until the moment they had finally said their goodbyes outside her house. The chance to spend some time with Sam had to have appealed to her. And hadn’t she often said how restful she found it to ride in a car?
Not that she had seemed in need of a nap. In Emma’s opinion, she had been in fine fettle that morning. Standing proudly beside her son, she had sung the hymns during the church service in a vibrant voice. Then she’d polished off a tall stack of pancakes at the Serenity Café with obvious relish.
Her decision to take to her bed once they’d returned to her house hadn’t rung true. And Emma had been hard-pressed not to remind her of her oft-stated disapproval of sleeping the day away. Especially when she’d caught the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. A twinkle Emma sincerely hoped Sam hadn’t seen.
Bad enough that she had an idea of what Margaret seemed to have had in mind when she’d sent them off alone. She didn’t want Sam getting wind of his mother’s machinations, as well. Too much had happened for them to be friends, much less anything more…intimate.
For Margaret’s sake, they could try to tolerate each other in the days ahead. But expecting either of them to do more than that would be like asking for the moon. Or, more accurately, expecting any more of Sam.
In all honesty, Emma had to admit it wouldn’t take much for her to succumb to his masculine appeal. After all, she had spent the past four years mourning his absence, as well as Teddy’s, albeit in a very different way. But she knew without a doubt that she had destroyed any feelings he might have had for her. Otherwise, he would have never stayed away so long.
Only his concern for his mother had brought him back to Serenity—his very obvious and deeply felt concern.
As Emma shut off the Volvo’s engine, Sam—looking cool and confident in navy shorts and a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows—stepped from the sedan. He glanced back
