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He couldn’t help wondering if she was still as pretty and shapely as he remembered.
Looked like he’d have to wait to find out.
Two hours later, Hector drove through the pouring rain on his way back home, his windshield wipers swishing at high speed.
He’d had a meeting with a client who’d been hospitalized with a serious heart condition, a meeting he’d tried to postpone to no avail. The stress of discussing an upcoming multimillion-dollar litigation couldn’t possibly be good for him, but the CEO had insisted, much to the dismay of his wife and doctors.
And much to Hector’s dismay, too. He’d heard the weather report and hadn’t wanted to be outdoors when the storm hit. But here he was—on the road and finally headed home.
The wind had really kicked up while he’d been inside the hospital, littering the city streets with leaves, twigs and other green debris.
According to the forecast, the storm was going to be a bad one, and several inches of rain were expected. So he would have preferred to stay inside today, to watch the Golf Channel on TV and to kick back where it was dry and warm. But thanks to Bradley Langston, he’d had no such luck. And the guy wanted another meeting on Monday morning.
As a crack of lightning flashed in the east, followed by a boom and shudder of thunder, a branch from a maple tree crashed to the sidewalk, a large portion of it jutting onto the asphalt.
Hector swerved around it and swore under his breath, frustrated about being forced to go out in the storm and having to cater to the whims of a client with the proverbial type A personality, a CEO who was also a control freak.
Hector could understand Langston’s concern about false allegations of sexual harassment, but most people would have put off business concerns until after their discharge from the hospital. Langston hadn’t been the least bit worried about adding to his stress levels. So Hector had obliged him, reiterating what he’d already told the CEO over the phone, that both he and the entire law firm were on top of the litigation, that neither Langston nor the other members of the board of directors had anything to worry about.
Of course, Hector wasn’t entirely sure that things would be that cut-and-dried. The case might not get thrown out of court, as he’d implied to Langston and the other executives who’d gathered at the hospital upon the CEO’s request. Hector figured it was more likely that they’d end up settling, unless Langston hadn’t been completely forthcoming about the details and something unexpected came out during the deposition stage.
But right now, Hector was more concerned about getting off the city streets before they became any more hazardous than they already were.
When he turned onto Primrose Lane, it appeared as though the entire neighborhood was battened down and waiting out the late-spring storm.
The moving van was gone, too.
Earlier today, when Hector had set out for his meeting with Langston, he’d been surprised to see it lumber down Primrose Lane and park in front of the Keating house. After all, Samantha had packed her bags and disappeared the day after her husband’s funeral, leaving the property vacant for ages.
Hector could understand why a grieving widow might want to escape the memories of all she’d lost. In fact, if Samantha had sold or leased out the place, he wouldn’t have given it any thought at all. But as far as he knew, she’d never actually moved out completely.
Every Thursday evening, after Hector got home from the office, he could see that the gardeners had come by and manicured the lawn and yard. And during the summer, the automatic sprinklers kicked on regularly around 4:00 a.m.
He was glad she hadn’t let the place run down, but keeping up an empty house for the past five years seemed like an awful waste of money to him. But then again, he’d never truly understood people who had such an abundance of disposable income.
Peter Keating had been a trust-fund baby, so apparently there hadn’t been any financial reason for his wife to put the place up for sale.
Still, Hector had been surprised to see her back.
He didn’t see any lights on inside the house now.
Was she even home?
He made a quick scan of the other homes on the street, noting that all the windows were dark.
Had the power gone out in the neighborhood? He wouldn’t be surprised if it had. With as much lightning and thunder as they’d had near the hospital, it was definitely possible that a transformer had been hit.
As Hector pulled into his driveway, he pressed the button on the remote to open the garage, only to find it not working. Okay, so the power had gone out.
He left the car outside and entered the house through the front door, leaving his wet umbrella and shoes in the entry. Then he proceeded to the kitchen and out to the service porch, where he’d built shelves along the walls to hold emergency supplies. He wasn’t what you’d call a survivalist, but he did keep plenty of certain things on hand: a first-aid kit, bottled water, canned goods, candles and matches, flashlights and batteries.
He had enough food to last a couple of weeks, something his immigrant parents had encouraged him and his siblings to do.
Jorge and Carmen Garza had not only instilled a strong work ethic in their three children and a desire to succeed, they’d also stressed the importance of being prepared for the unexpected.
As Hector reached for a box of candles, he wondered how Samantha was faring with no electricity. If she was anything like Patrice, his ex-wife, she wouldn’t be prepared for anything, not even a broken nail. It would be dark before long, and if the storm or the power outage had caught her off guard, she’d be in a real fix.
Oh, what the heck, he thought as he snatched a few things off the shelves to take to her. After putting the supplies into an empty cardboard box, he returned to the entry, slipped on his loafers, grabbed the umbrella and headed outdoors to brave the weather.
Along the way, the wind played havoc with his hair and the flaps of his jacket, but he pressed on, fighting the driving rain and doing his best to avoid the puddles.
As a rule, he wasn’t what you’d call a neighborly type and probably wouldn’t have gone to this effort for anyone else on the street, unless it had been old Mrs. Reynolds, the eighty-year-old widow who lived three doors down. But her grandson had moved in with her a few weeks ago, so he figured she was okay.
“Dammit,” Hector muttered as he stepped into a puddle that reached up to the hem of his slacks. He sure hoped Samantha appreciated his efforts to ensure that she wasn’t stuck in the dark tonight.
He turned onto the walkway that led to her stoop, and when he reached the entrance to her house, he knocked loudly, then rang the bell.
Before long, the front door swung open a few inches, and when their gazes met, Samantha’s blue eyes grew wide and her lips parted.
“I thought you might need some candles. I saw the moving van earlier, but I figured you hadn’t had time to unpack everything yet.”
Her smile, in and of itself, lit up the entry. For an instant, it was almost as though the storm had passed them by. “Thank you for thinking of me. To be honest, I don’t have any candles or a flashlight, and I was wondering what I would do if the electricity didn’t come back on soon.”
They stood there for a moment, him holding the box and her holding back the door. Then she seemed to realize that, in his kindness, he was still getting wet as the wind blew sheets of rain onto the stoop.
“What am I thinking?” she asked. “Would you like to come in where it’s dry? Maybe have some hot cocoa? I managed to light the gas stove and just made it.”
Why not? he thought. Besides, his curiosity was killing him. More than ever he wanted to know what had brought her back after all these years. “Sure. I never turn down chocolate.”
As Samantha stepped aside and away from the door, he couldn’t help noticing that she was wearing an oversize shirt, which didn’t hide a pronounced baby bump.
She was pregnant? Well, that certainly answered one of the questions he’d had. She must have remarried. If not, then she was definitely involved with someone.
He suddenly wished he’d declined her offer to come inside but found himself following her through the house to the kitchen, where the warm scent of sugar and spice filled the air, as well as the aroma of what had to be her dinner cooking.
So where was the baby’s father on this stormy afternoon? Why wasn’t he here with her so she didn’t have to rely on her neighbor for help?
Hector probably should have handed over the matches and candles right then and there, but he’d always had a sweet tooth. And his curiosity wouldn’t let up.
“I was surprised to see you today,” he said. “I’d thought that you would eventually sell the house.”
“I’d always planned to return home, but time got away from me.” She nodded toward the kitchen table. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
He took a large candle out of the box, lit it and placed it in the middle of the table. Then he sat down. He watched as she opened the cupboard, reached to the second shelf and pulled out a couple of lime-green mugs.
His gaze lingered on her face, then lowered, taking in the curve of her silhouette. Somehow her being pregnant made her even more beautiful. He’d heard other men describe a similar attraction in casual conversation, but he was genuinely surprised to experience the feeling himself.
He wondered how far along she was. She was about the same size as his sister, who was expecting her first baby in August. So he guessed Samantha to be at least six months pregnant.
His curiosity was probably going to be the death of him someday, but he couldn’t help wondering about her situation, about where she’d been, why she’d finally returned.
Why the hell did he find her so intriguing—even more so now that she was back on Primrose Lane?
He filtered his questions down to one—as a starter—and tried to coax the information out of her indirectly. “It’s nice to have you back in the neighborhood. I’d come to think that you were gone for good.”
“After Peter’s funeral, I went to stay with my mom in Cambridge for a few months. It gave me some time to heal, but the months turned into a year. And before I could move back to Boston, my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her lips tightened into a firm line, as though holding back emotion, and she nodded. “Thanks. Me, too.”
“So you stayed to take care of her?”
“Yes. I wanted to be there for her. We’d been through a lot together, and we were especially close.” She poured the cocoa from a pan on the stove into the cups and gave him one. “After she died, I decided I needed a little R and R and took an extended trip to Europe.”
She’d obviously been through a rough five years, and he couldn’t blame her for wanting to escape. To take a break from responsibility, maybe. But he kept that assumption to himself.
“Anyway,” she said, “I’m home now and looking forward to the future.”
He glanced at her distended belly and smiled. “I can see that you are.” That damned curiosity, laced with a wee bit of disappointment, pressed him to ask, “So where did you meet your new husband? In Cambridge or in Europe?”
“Neither,” she said.
He opened his mouth to quiz her further, then thought better of it and lifted the mug to his lips instead. As he took a drink of the sweet, creamy cocoa, he was glad he’d taken her up on having a cup. Still, he couldn’t help wondering whom she’d hooked up with.
Or why it seemed to matter.
“I didn’t remarry,” she offered. “Did you?”
He shook his head to indicate he hadn’t, since he’d suddenly found himself at a loss for words.
There were plenty of women who didn’t feel the need to sign a piece of paper to make a relationship legal, although he wouldn’t have thought Samantha would be one of them. But she must have her reasons.
Life was complicated sometimes, and he realized it really wasn’t any of his business.
Yet he couldn’t help asking, “So, are you living with someone?” Then, for good measure, he threw out a little chuckle and added, “I’d hate to have anyone find us together and be uneasy about it.”
“You don’t need to worry about that.” She took a seat across from him. “I’m not involved with anyone.”
Okay. But there’d definitely been a man in her life about six months ago. Obviously the relationship hadn’t lasted, and he wondered why. She didn’t seem to be the one-night-stand type. But then, what did he really know about Samantha Keating?
As she slid her index finger into the handle of the mug on the table in front of her, the cup spun forward, slipped from her hand and spilled, making a chocolaty mess all over the table.
“Oops.” She blushed and clicked her tongue. “How clumsy was that?”
She pushed back her chair and went to the sink for a dishcloth. As she moved across the floor, he couldn’t help but watch her.
From behind, she didn’t appear to be pregnant at all, but she definitely had a basketball-size bulge in front.
“I guess you could say that I’m going to join the ranks of single mothers.” She turned on the spigot, wet the cloth, then wrung it out. “And I’m looking forward to being a mom.”
Then her pregnancy hadn’t been an accident.
“The baby was planned?” he asked before he could filter the question.
She stopped her movements near the sink, then shut off the water, slowly turned around and faced him, the damp cloth dangling in her hand. She appeared to be a little perplexed. Or maybe annoyed. And he couldn’t blame her if she was.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to pry.” Okay, so that wasn’t true. He’d felt compelled to fish for information, but he couldn’t explain why. So he concocted an excuse for it instead. “My sister is due in August, so I’ve found myself intrigued by pregnant women.”
She placed her free hand on top of her belly and smiled, once again illuminating the room. “I had in vitro fertilization done at the Armstrong Fertility Institute. So, yes, the pregnancy was planned.”
Now it was Hector’s turn to feel clumsy and off stride. She’d gone the sperm-donor route?
What a waste, he thought. She wouldn’t even have a romantic evening to remember it all by. And that was a real shame.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing.” He took another sip of cocoa, trying to sort through the news she’d dropped on him, trying to get a grip on his curiosity that hadn’t lessened in the least.
Samantha Keating was back in town. She was also unattached and pregnant. He ought to guzzle down the rest of the hot cocoa—which was really delicious—then thank her for her hospitality and hightail it out of here. But for some crazy reason, he seemed to be all the more fascinated by her.
And he’d be damned if he knew why.
Chapter Two
Samantha cleaned up the mess on the table, then carried the dirty dishcloth back to the sink to rinse it off. She wasn’t exactly sure why she’d not only welcomed Hector inside the house, but offered him hot cocoa.
She supposed it was because she’d appreciated his thoughtfulness. Yet in all honesty, she’d also been a little unnerved by the blackout, by the isolation of being home alone on such a dreary afternoon.
As she’d wandered through the silent, memory-laden rooms of the big old house, she’d felt unsettled, on edge. The knock at the door had surprised her, but she’d been glad to see a friendly face. Chatting with Hector had been a nice diversion, so she didn’t mind his visit. But she wasn’t about to fill him in on all the details of her situation, no matter how nice he’d been, no matter how many questions he asked.
His curiosity about her pregnancy had seemed a bit out of the ordinary, even though he’d explained his interest, and it made sense.
She wondered how his sister was faring, if she’d had any morning sickness, if she had plans to take any childbirth classes, if she had someone to coach her through labor and delivery.
Samantha had been nauseous the first few months, but she was feeling a lot better now. And while she’d like to take the classes, she didn’t see any point in it. A natural delivery was just too risky. Dr. Demetrios was going to schedule her for a C-section.
As the storm continued to pound the windowpanes, Hector reached into the box he’d placed on the table and pulled out a handful of small candles. “It’s getting pretty dark in here. What do you think about lighting a few more of these?”
“Good idea.” Samantha went to the cupboard and reached for several saucers on which they could place the votives. Then she carried them back to the table.
Moments later, there were candles flickering throughout the downstairs rooms.
“Would you like me to build a fire in the hearth?” Hector asked. “That would give you more light, and it will keep you warm, too. I’ve got some wood that I keep stacked in a storage shed in my yard.”
“It’s a gas fireplace,” she said, “so you don’t need to go back out in the rain. But if you don’t mind lighting it for me, I’d appreciate it. Peter used to take care of things like that.”
As her neighbor pushed back his chair, she watched his body unfold and rise. He was a big man, and the kitchen, which had always been roomy, seemed to shrink with him in it.
