dropping his hand. She missed the warmth of his thumb and took a step backward, shocked at her response. No one ever touched her. Ever. And certainly not in such an intimate way.
“I’m sorry about Morris. He’s a very naughty cat. Did he get you very badly?”
And then it happened. Angela saw the barest hint of a smile touch his lips. Not the smooth, charming grin from this afternoon. A conspiratorial upturning of his lips that Angela couldn’t resist. It sneaked past all her misgivings and lit something inside her. She found herself smiling in return and chuckling. He joined in, the warm sound filling the kitchen.
Angela sighed as the laughter faded, looked over at Sam’s face, now holding a spot of devilishness that made her understand why the women of this town all swooned in his presence.
“I’ll live,” he said, the earlier hostility gone. “It was more of a surprise, really.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Just as well I have a tough skin. Maybe he smelled our dog or something. Buster has a way of putting cats on edge.”
Was he teasing her now? The idea made an unfamiliar warmth curl through her. She had to admit, knowing he was a pet owner added to his appeal. She had a momentary image of Sam on a huge horse with a dog following at their heels….
Dangerous. And trouble. At the very least, Amy had that part right.
“Don’t take it personally,” she offered weakly. “It’s not you …”
“If you say so.”
“I couldn’t just leave him,” she continued, not knowing why it was important that Sam understand about her cat but feeling compelled just the same. Another meow sounded behind the door. “He was hurt, and just a baby.”
Sam’s face was inscrutable. “Do I strike you as the kind of man who kicks puppies, Ms. Beck?”
Did he? Lord, no. He might use charm as a weapon, and he might have a ruthless streak—that single-mindedness he’d mentioned—but she found it hard to believe he’d be deliberately cruel. There was something about the way he’d touched her face …
She shook her head, not quite trusting her judgment.
“Well, that’s something, then.”
He turned to walk down the hall, back toward the front door, around the bags of home-renovation supplies and paint and everything else that would take up all her waking moments for the next several days. Perhaps weeks.
Maybe she could sweet-talk someone local into donating their time. School would be out for summer soon. Maybe a couple of students at loose ends … There was so much to do before the open house. The logistics of organizing that alone were taking up so much time and energy, and she’d already drafted the press release and sent it out….
The press release. The media was going to expect to see Molly at that, too. New nerves tangled as she thought of dealing with the press alone. She looked up at Sam. Getting more from him would be like getting blood from a stone. She’d figure something out. She had a little bit of time.
“I’d better let you get back to your dinner,” he said, putting his hand on the doorknob.
Her dinner. The tasteless glazed chicken that she’d popped in the microwave in lieu of a real meal.
“I trust that I’ll see you next month at the board meeting, then?”
His hat shadowed his eyes in the dim light of the foyer, so when he nodded briefly Angela couldn’t read his expression. Something between them hesitated, seemed to keep him from opening the door, made it feel that there was more to her question than she’d voiced—and more to his answer.
When she finally thought he must be able to hear her heart beating through her chest, he opened the door. Angela let out a deep sigh of relief, until he turned and tipped his finger to his hat in farewell.
A gentleman.
She shut the door behind him. Perhaps. But not like any gentleman she’d ever known. And maybe that was the problem.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE’D been kidding herself.
Exhausted, Angela sank down on the lopsided front step and put her head in her hands. For ten days she’d worked her tail off, and there was still so much to do her head was spinning. Having to do the renovations herself meant no time for working on the embellishments, the little special touches she’d had in mind. The basement was littered with used paint cans and rollers, and she’d missed a stud trying to install a curtain rod and ended up having to do a substantial drywall repair in the yellow room. Yards of material gathered dust waiting to be sewn into curtains and duvet covers. Boxes of supplies were still taped up, needing to be unpacked. The carpet was torn up in the living room but the local flooring business had postponed installation of the new hardwood until tomorrow. The place was a mess.
The open house was only four days away. She needed Molly’s help. Molly had been on board to look after feeding the crew from the youth center on Saturday. She was also supposed to be a spokesperson to the media so Angela could stay in the background, where she liked it. Angela had been so annoyed by Sam’s attitude that she’d squared her shoulders and determined she’d show him and do it all herself.
But she’d been wrong. She needed help. And she needed his help if Molly wasn’t able. It wasn’t just about a pair of spare hands. The press release had gone out before that horrible board meeting and the local angle had been playing up Diamond involvement. To go ahead with the day and have the Diamonds conspicuously absent … to stand in front of a camera and have her picture taken, her words put into print …
Her stomach tied up in knots just thinking about it. This wasn’t about her, it was about them—the women the foundation would help. The last thing she needed was anyone digging around in her past. She closed her eyes. It was truly a bad state if she was relying on the likes of Sam Diamond to be her ally!
She wiped her hands on her overalls, resigned. It came back to the same thing every time, no matter how much she didn’t want to admit it.
She needed Sam Diamond’s help.
She found him coming down a beaten track on horseback, sitting a trot effortlessly while a golden retriever loped along behind. Growing up in the city she hadn’t really believed that cowboys and ranchers, like those in storybooks and movies, really existed. But they did. The Diamondback Ranch sprawled over the foothills, dotted with red-and-white cattle. The house was a huge log-type mansion that reeked of money and Western tradition at once. Just beyond a gigantic barn was a paddock where half a dozen gleaming horses snoozed in the warmth of the summer sun. And Sam Diamond was getting closer by the second, all six foot plus of him in his own über-masculine element.
She’d never felt so out of place in her life, and she’d been in some pretty uncomfortable spots over the years.
“Well, well. Must be important to tear yourself away from Butterfly House on such a gorgeous day.”
She had to squint against the sun to look up at him. “You manage to compliment the weather and antagonize me all in the same sentence,” she said. She forced a small smile. “And I might get mad, except for the fact that you’re right. It is important.”
He’d
