‘Thirty-three,’ he answered without hesitation.
That put Sam in the position of looking petty if she didn’t reciprocate.
She sighed. ‘I’m twenty-six.’
His brows rose. ‘You must have been very young when you married?’
She grimaced. ‘What does age have to do with anything when you fall in love?’ Or believe you’ve fallen in love.
‘I can’t answer that, as I’ve never fallen in love.’ Xander shrugged. ‘That means you could only have been twenty-one when Daisy was born.’
‘Yes.’
‘And just twenty-three when you and your husband separated and then divorced?’
Sam felt her tension deepen as she wondered exactly where this conversation was going. ‘Yes.’
‘And you’re saying that you haven’t had sex even once since then? Not even with your ex-husband, for old times’ sake?’ Xander seemed to remember reading that a high percentage of separated couples did that.
Samantha’s face paled, her hands shaking as she tightly gripped the glass of brandy. ‘Don’t be disgusting,’ she finally managed to gasp.
Xander’s eyes were narrowed as he gave a slow shake of his head. ‘I don’t buy the story you gave me earlier, Samantha. I believe you did know the man who spoke to you at the hotel. That you know him very well.’
‘Did you know him?’
‘Me?’ Xander frowned as he brought an image of the man back into his head. ‘I couldn’t see his face properly, because he was turned away from me, but I didn’t know him, that I’m aware of.’ Although it was interesting that Sam had asked. ‘I still think that you did, or still do, know him very well indeed.’
She sat forward to slam the bulbous brandy glass down onto the table beside her with such vehemence that some of the alcohol spilt over the rim of the crystal glass. ‘How did we progress from me telling you I’m tired, to you accusing me of having once been intimate with some stranger I met in a hotel who mistook me for someone else?’
Considering Xander’s misgivings these past months, in regard to his own temper, and his doubts in his ability to control it, Samantha really did look amazing when she was angry.
Everything about her seemed to spark with life: her hair, her eyes, that flush in her cheeks, a puffy fullness to her slightly parted lips, her nipples aroused and pressing against her bra and the thin jersey of her jumper.
‘I don’t know—how did we come to that?’ Xander asked softly. ‘Maybe if you were to stop ly— Maybe if you told me the truth,’ he amended as Samantha looked ready to explode if he called her a liar one more time tonight, ‘I wouldn’t have to keep asking the same question but in a different format.’
‘The question being who was the man at the hotel earlier?’ she snapped impatiently.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve told you, I don’t—’ Sam broke off her protest as the sound of a piercing scream filled the apartment.
‘Daisy!’ She sprang quickly to her feet, not sparing Xander a second glance as she fled from the room and down the hallway to her daughter’s bedroom.