one for all and all for one, or some crap like that, right? God, what century were you born in? Tell him whatever you like—he’ll never believe you.” She cast a sly sideways look at Sam. “He’s so besotted, he would never take someone else’s word over mine.”
“You think so?”
“I know so, sweetie.” Heather stubbed out the cigarette on the floor. “Don’t try to make trouble for me—or you’ll regret it.”
Heather popped several breath mints in her mouth, then glided out of the bathroom. Sam stood where she was, staring at the crushed cigarette butt on the floor. She felt like she’d wandered into a soap opera—with Heather playing the part usually reserved for Susan Lucci.
In something of a daze, Sam walked back to the table. She spent the next half hour watching Heather smile and laugh and press up against Brad as if she thought he was the most wonderful man in the world. No one watching her would ever doubt that she was deeply, wholeheartedly in love with the man at her side.
Sam could barely doubt it herself. The scene in the bathroom was beginning to take on a surreal quality—it seemed like a bad dream. Could she have imagined it?
Heather glanced over at her. For an instant, a catlike smile curved her lips. Then it vanished and she was gazing up at Brad, the adoration back in her eyes.
Sam’s lips tightened. No, she hadn’t imagined it. Without a doubt, the blonde was the greediest, most conniving female she’d ever met. Sam wouldn’t have believed such an amoral person existed if she hadn’t heard the evidence with her own ears. Heather didn’t care about Brad at all—she cared only about his money.
Sam’s gaze flickered to Brad. He smiled down into Heather’s eyes, completely unaware of her deceit. Poor Brad. Did he have any idea what he was getting himself into? No, of course not. Poor, poor, poor Brad.
He thought Heather was perfect. He was in love with her. He would be devastated when he found out the truth. Sam hated to think of him being hurt like that.
Memories flashed through her brain—memories of Brad listening while she ranted and raved about Joe Danvers’s jerkiness. Joe had dumped her because she wouldn’t have sex with him, and her pride had been hurt more than her heart, but still Brad had listened and supported her decision.
Brad had always been there for her. If it hadn’t been for him, she never would have gotten through calculus in college. She’d had little aptitude for math, but he’d explained the theorems over and over until she’d understood.
He’d been there, too, when her parents divorced, and then, a year later, when her father died. She’d cried on his shoulder, and he’d rocked her and smoothed her hair back from her face and held her tightly. The warmth of his arms around her had helped banish the coldness, given her strength to go on.
Brad was a nice guy. The nicest guy she’d ever known. He didn’t deserve a piece of work like Heather.
Brad bent over to whisper something in the blonde’s ear. As if reading Sam’s thoughts, Heather stared at her, her gaze mocking.
Sam clenched her teeth until they ached. She couldn’t let Brad ruin his life. He was her friend. She had to do something to save him. He needed her.
She wasn’t going to let him down.
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