The Man Must Marry(38)

"What are you doing here?" She clutched her jacket to her chest.

"Waiting for you."

Her expression instantly became indignant. "Are you checking up on me?"

"Hmm?" he asked, studying her. "No, of course not. Is that dirt on your   forehead?" He walked over, brushed back her hair, then dropped his gaze   to hers with a sigh. "Did Cobb make you nervous tonight, or did you  run  into the marriage posse?"

She headed to the sink, tossing her jacket over a chair on her way by. "Barry was a perfect gentleman."

"I would have expected no less."

She frowned at him, then turned on the water, grabbed a towel hanging   next to the window, and held a corner of it under the faucet. "And   nobody from town saw us, because we drove thirty miles to Ellsworth to   go to dinner."

He took the towel from her and gently wiped away the mud. "That was   smart. There, all clean." He led her over to the table and sat her down.   "How did you get mud on your forehead and knee?" he asked, squatting   down to examine her knee through the large hole in her stocking. She   pulled the hem of her wrinkled dress down. "Barry already checked me out   and declared I'd live,"

she said, her expression daring him to comment.

He stood up. "Then I shall take the gentleman's word." He went to the   fridge, got out the large piece of dark chocolate cake he'd brought from   the house, and placed it on the table in front of her. "Did he buy                       
       
           



       

you dessert?"

"Warm apple pie," she snapped, swiping her finger through the frosting   and popping it into her mouth. Sam opened several drawers and came back   with a fork. He sat down across from her, pulled the plate over to his   side of the table, and dug in. "You still haven't told me how you got   mud on your face."

"Go home, Sam. I want to be alone."

He stopped eating, studied her for several seconds, then quietly set   down his fork, stood up, and went to the door. "Will you go to the   movies with me this Friday night?"

She blinked at him, though Sam didn't know if she was surprised by his   leaving or his asking her out. He took his jacket off the peg and   slipped it on. "Or if you prefer, we can rent a movie and stay in."

"I want to be alone Friday night, too."

"Saturday?"

"I have to wash my hair Saturday night."

"I'll check in with you next week, then," he said, stepping onto the porch and closing the door behind him.

He pulled up his collar outside but stopped under a low-hanging tree   several feet away from the cottage. Through the window, he saw Willa   pull the cake over to her side of the table and put a large bite into   her mouth.

A few things Jennifer had said that afternoon made Sam wonder if the   secret to winning Willa's heart might not be a swift kick in the butt   after all.

Fanning that little spark back to life would be fun, considering how   easy it was to rile her. He'd have to take things a lot further, though,   if he wanted to rid Willa of the habit of being responsible for   everyone's happiness. But then, mirrors were wonderful instruments for   reflecting the naked truth right back at a person.

Chapter Seventeen

Willa had spent mostof the last two weeks locked in her office, trying   to lose herself in her new line of pet caskets but more often staring   into space as she tried to figure a way out of her dilemma. And, she   admitted with a sigh as she tossed her pencil down on her sketch pad,   she had also been hiding from Sam.

But mostly, she'd been forced into exile by the killer glares she'd been   getting from her workers. Jennifer and Shelby and Peg weren't talking   to her, either, and last Monday, Cody had announced that being around a   bunch of silent women was creepy and had gone to stay with his dad.  The  only person who didn't appear angry at her for going to dinner with   Barry Cobb four more times was Sam. Which was confounding-shouldn't he   be worried that she was cavorting with the enemy?

After all, it was his inheritance Cobb was interested in, under the guise of being interested in her.

But Sam hadn't made any attempts to see her in the last twelve days.   She'd heard he'd shortened his hours at Kent Caskets to two days a week,   apparently to devote more time to hunting down every last seafood   restaurant within fifty miles. He obviously loved to eat a lot more than   he loved her. She'd also heard he'd gained more than ten pounds.

And the diabolical jerk had stolen her thunder by flying Shelby and   Jennifer and Cody toNew York City on Tidewater's private jet. He'd   treated them to two days of heavy shopping and even a helicopter tour   ofManhattan . What good was having a big fat bank account if she   couldn't use it to impress her family?

She had wanted to buy Jennifer's dress for the dance. Willa turned off   her desk lamp, plunging her office into darkness. She hadn't even gotten   to take Jennifer driving again, since her niece had decided that Sam   was a wonderful instructor. Well, if the girl wanted to get all gaga   over the man, that was her problem. Willa had been there and done that.   Samuel Sinclair was just another typical male with an agenda, and if   Shelby and Jennifer and Emmett couldn't see that, then … then that was   also their problem. She was getting sick and tired of always watching   out for them, anyway. Maybe they could all use a good lesson in getting   themselves out of their own messes.

She snapped the light back on, picked up the phone, and dialed Emmett's house.

"Hello," Emmett said after the third ring.

"Hi, Em. I didn't want you to be worried when you got to work tomorrow   and saw the RoseWind wasn't on her mooring. I'm taking her out sailing   for a few days."

"Well, Willy, that's going to be kind of hard, considering she's missing   half her paint. I brought her into dry dock five days ago to be   repainted."

"You what? I didn't ask you to do that."

"No, Sam did. He said he thought she should be gone over, anyway. He also asked me to check all the winches."

"Sam doesn't own the RoseWind , I do!"                       
       
           



       

"The jib winch was sticking, I discovered," Emmett continued, ignoring   her burst of temper. "And I found a large chunk had been gouged out of   the keel. You must have noticed the hull vibrating. How come you didn't   mention it to me when you got in?"

"It couldn't have been that large a gouge; the boat went fine. You   actually dry-docked the RoseWind without calling me to see if it was   okay?"

"Foul weather's predicted for the next few days, anyway," Emmett said. "Say, have you spoken to Sam lately?"

"No, I'm happy to say." She picked up her pencil and started doodling on her sketch pad. "Um … why?

You sound as if something's wrong. Are his brothers okay?"

"They're fine that I know of. It's Sam I'm worried about. Have you even seen him in passing?"

"Just from a distance," she said, sitting up. "Why?"

There was a slight pause on the line. "He's not the same man who arrived here two weeks ago, Willy."

"How's that?"

"Even as beat up as he was, Sam still appeared …  formidable, if you know what I mean."

"And he's not now? What are you saying, Emmett?"

A heavy sigh came over the phone. "I can't put my finger on it, exactly. I just know Sam's been acting strangely lately."

"Compared to what? You've only known him two weeks."

"Depressed, then," he growled. "If I have to put a word on it, I'd say Sam is acting depressed."

"As in how? " she growled back. "Is he sleeping all day? Lying on the   couch watching the Lifetime channel and munching on junk food? What?"

"Well, he does eat a lot. He's been gaining weight."

"That's not depression, that's plain old gluttony."

"And he went out and bought himself a bunch of flannel shirts, and he doesn't even bother to tuck them in."

"Oh, for the love of-"

"And he's going to the coffee shop nearly every morning." His voice   dropped. "And you know how depressing that group can get sometimes."

Willa grew alarmed. "Have you tried to talk to him, Emmett? Maybe you should just come out and ask him what's bothering him."

"That's not my place."

"Are you implying it's mine? Since when did I become Sam's babysitter?"