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She was charmed. If they had met in other circumstance, she would ask about his family, about other traditions they shared. But this was not her milieu. She was more the jeans-and-sweatshirt type, not one for designer clothes. Mac was perfectly at home, even speaking to people she only knew from the newspapers. Movers and shakers of Atlanta’s vibrant business community.
“Shall we sit this one out?” he asked.
“You needn’t spend the entire evening with me,” she said reluctantly. She didn’t want him to feel she was monopolizing him. And she had to leave. In a few more minutes. She’d claim just a bit more time before walking away.
“If not you, then who?”
She looked around. The only single woman she saw looked old enough to be his grandmother.
He caught her direction and laughed, leaning closer to speak softly. “She’s not my type. I like pretty brunettes with chocolate-brown eyes.”
Sam could scarcely breathe. He was too close. If she turned her face, her lips would brush his cheek. Suddenly she longed to kiss him again, to feel the stirring emotions his touch brought. Was he flirting with her?
She dare not take that for granted. Rememberyour real life, she admonished herself silently. Yet it seemed so far away this evening. In the normal course of events, she could never have spent five hundred dollars for a ticket to tonight’s ball. She didn’t move in these social circles. She was a working woman, with a dependent sister, an ancient house and no chance to change things in the near future.
He held out her chair and she sat, glad for the glass of champagne to hold on to, and to study to avoid looking at him. He couldn’t read minds, could he?
“I’m sorry your wife died. That must have been awful,” she said.
“It was.” He sat beside her, angling his chair slightly for more room. “Chris was only twenty-eight. Who’d expect anyone to die that young?”
“That’s tragic,” she replied sympathetically.
“She left me with Tommy. If it weren’t for him I don’t know if I would have made it. But he needed me as an infant, and he needs me even more now.”
The brief glimpse of Mac’s personal life touched her. He appeared successful and confident with everything going for him. Who would suspect such a tragedy had befallen him?
“Hey, Mac, I didn’t know you were coming. Thought you said you wouldn’t make it.” A couple stopped by the table and greeted him. He rose and shook hands with the man, kissing the woman on the cheek. “I changed my mind. It’s a nice event, and a good cause.”
The woman looked at Sam and then at Mac. “A change from your usual style?” she asked in a teasing tone.
Sam looked away. He was not seeing her, either. This was getting awkward. Maybe she should take this opportunity to leave, much as she hated for her special evening to end.
Another couple walked by and the first stopped them.
“Jerry, you wanted to meet Mac McAlheny, here’s your chance. Mac, this is Jerry Martin, head of Windsong Industries. I’m surprised you two haven’t met before.”
Samantha instantly went still. Oh, no! The CEO’s office of McAlheny Industries was where she’d found the ticket, crumpled in the trash. Her heart raced.
Ohmygod, she’d been dancing with the man! Talking with him. Kissing him.
She had spent the evening with Mac McAlheny!
She had to escape before he realized she’d taken the invitation from his office. She hadn’t exactly stolen it—it was trash after all. But she wasn’t sure the CEO of one of Atlanta’s fastest-growing high-tech firms would see it that way.
She looked at the door across the room in panic. She had to leave. Right now.
“Excuse me, I need to find the ladies,” she said, pushing back from the table. Her eyes met Mac’s. She wanted to smile, but was afraid to do anything but escape while she had the chance. To be discovered at this late date would be beyond embarrassing.
Weaving her way through the tables and the people standing around talking, she quelled the temptation to run. She kept taking deep, slow breaths to ease the screaming panic that assailed her. Once she reached the lobby she almost broke into a run to the cloakroom. She retrieved her coat and put it on as she hurried out into the rainy night. Escape was the only thought in her mind.
The doorman called a cab and she was ushered in like royalty. She’d avoided discovery. She sighed with relief and glanced back through the rain-drenched window, but saw only the glittering lights and the doorman in his fancy uniform.
“Goodbye,” she said softly. Her magical evening had ended.
CHAPTER TWO
MAC listened to Jerry talk about one of the deals he had pending all the while trying not to look around to see if Sam had returned. It seemed like a long time since she left, but it could be because he’d rather be with her than the young man going on and on so tediously about something that held no interest for Mac. His friends waited patiently for Jerry to wind down. How long could the man continue? Mac glanced back to the door. Still no sign of Samantha.
When Jerry and his wife finally moved on, Peter shook his head. “Sorry about that. He said once he’d like to meet you, but he does get enthusiastic about his work.”
“Much like you do, darling,” his wife said. She tilted her head slightly when Mac checked his watch and glanced at the double doors across the room.
“Where did your date go?” she asked.
Mac almost corrected her, but thought better of it. If it got back to his latest ex-girlfriend that he was seeing someone else, maybe she’d finally get the message and stop contacting him.
“Ladies’ room, I believe,” he said.
“She’s quite different from Teresa,” she said.
“Teresa and I are no longer seeing each other.”
“So you’ve found someone new already?”
Mac took a breath. Cindy was a noted gossip. He didn’t mind her telling Teresa he was off the market, but he had no intention of offering up Sam as a replacement.
“Let’s just say I’m footloose and fancy-free.”
“With no intention of getting married again,” Cindy said. “That either says marriage was hell with Chris or so beyond marvelous you can’t imagine ever duplicating it.”
“You never met Chris,” her husband said uneasily, as if picking up on Mac’s reaction. “She was quite a woman.”
Mac felt the anguish of her death anew. Four years ago, had they been able to afford it, Chris would have loved to attend the Black and White Ball. But his company had only moved into the big time after her death. He found it ironic that she had worked as hard as he to build McAlheny Industries, yet had died before it expanded to the successful firm it now was.
“Well, darling, we both know Mac has so much charisma that women naturally want his attention. And saying he will never marry again sets up a challenge some women can’t resist.”
“Or it could be that’s simply the way I feel,” he murmured, wondering how rude it would be to just turn and walk away from Cindy. He wanted to spend more time with Sam.
Cindy laughed. “So you say. You’ve made billions with your business. Still—” she studied him for a moment “—I’m telling you, women would be interested even if you were flat broke. Something about your eyes, I think.”
“I doubt it.”
“So did Teresa want a ring on her finger?” Peter asked.
“Apparently. She didn’t take to heart my telling her that I wasn’t marriage material. Why is it when a man’s honest and up-front, women try to change his mind? She’s beautiful, but she’s not someone I want to grow old with.”
Chris was the woman he’d always thought he’d grow old with. No one could take her place. But the past couldn’t be changed. The aneurysm had caught everyone by surprise. She’d been far too young to die. But much as he’d railed against fate, she had not lived to enjoy the fruits of their labor—or their son.
His goal now was to make a difference, for himself and Tommy. His business provided employment to more than a hundred people. He contributed lavishly to several charities, including the Children’s League. Not bad for a poor kid from Savannah.
He glanced at his watch. How long did a woman need? The champagne in her glass would be warm by the time she drank it.
“Who’s your date?” Peter asked.
“I just met her tonight,” Mac said.
“A blind date? Oh, my,” Cindy said with a laugh. “Imagine that.”
“Imagine,” he said dryly. He felt no obligation to explain anything to Cindy.
“Come along, darling, the music is starting again and I want to dance,” Cindy said with an air kiss for Mac. “Good luck with your blind date.”
As the minutes ticked by, Mac began to suspect Sam wasn’t returning. He idly watched the dancing. Glancing around caused a waiter to appear with another glass of champagne. How the Children’s League made money when they spent so lavishly on the ball was beyond him. But he knew donations poured in for this charity.
He looked at the table. Sam’s ticket lay near the center. Was she unable to return because she didn’t have it with her? He reached for it and rose. It wouldn’t hurt to check to see if she was trying to convince one of the men at the door she was supposed to be here.
No sign of her when he entered the lobby. Those that had been checking tickets were no longer there. Maybe once the dinner finished, it didn’t matter as much if anyone crashed the party.
He positioned himself where he could see the restroom doors and waited. After fifteen minutes he knew Sam wasn’t coming back.
He debated returning to the ball but decided he’d made an appearance, supported the charity with money. Kissed in the New Year. He could go home.
His housekeeper of several years was leaving in the morning and his little boy knew no other mother figure. Mac needed to be there for Tommy. There were two agencies searching for the right live-in housekeeper/nanny and he hoped they found someone soon. Mac didn’t want his son to grow attached to Alice Horton, who started on Monday, only to break the tie with her when a more permanent arrangement could be found.
Mrs. Horton was not the solution, but a temporary fix. She had been a nanny for decades and, while sounding a bit strict, she came with impeccable references. He hoped Tommy would accept her until a new housekeeper could be found.
It was still raining when Mac gave the valet attendant his parking ticket. A good night to be home.
Or with an interesting woman who seemed dazzled by the ball yet content to simply enjoy it without flirting every moment or making sultry and suggestive comments as Teresa would have done. Samantha—Sam had made no moves on him after his impulsive kiss at midnight. Yet she’d returned his kiss with passion.
Getting behind the wheel, Mac was surprised to realize he’d enjoyed the evening. He’d gone out of duty and ended up having a good time—no, more than a good time. Sam intrigued him. That was a first. Since Chris’s death, he’d made up his mind to remain single and focus on raising his son, and a chance encounter at a dance wouldn’t change that. But he couldn’t help thinking about Sam as he drove home. Her hair had gleamed in the light, artfully arranged and feminine. For a moment he wondered what she looked like with it in disarray, swirling around her face. Her cheeks had been tinged with color—natural, not cosmetic. But it was her chocolate-brown eyes he remembered the most. They showed her emotions, and twice he was convinced he’d seen awareness in them, as if for a few seconds she saw him as a desirable man.
Her lips had been sweet and her kiss memorable. Mac realized it had been a while since he’d felt anything when kissing someone. Teresa was beautiful, but cool and detached. Dating her had not changed his mind about wanting a new life partner. He doubted anything would.
Still, a few evenings spent together didn’t mean a lifetime commitment.
Only—Sam had left with no way for him to contact her. Had it been deliberate? Had he misread the signs? He would have sworn she had enjoyed herself.
Yet she’d waited until he was occupied with Peter and Cindy and then cut out. If she’d felt any connection between them, wouldn’t she have made sure he knew how to contact her?
As he pulled into his driveway, the full situation hit him. He wouldn’t be going out for quite a while—not until he had a live-in nanny who would be home with Tommy. Until then, Mac had to be home each evening by six, the time Alice Horton left per their agreement when he hired her because Mrs. Horton taught an adult education class and had to be at her school by seven Monday through Thursdays.
Just as well. Dating had not played a big part of his life since Chris died and he liked spending time with his son.
But it would take a while to forget that kiss with Sam. He had tried to move on after grieving for Chris, only no one had come close to replacing her in his life. Sam was nothing like his wife, yet he could almost taste her on his lips. He remembered the warmth that had crashed through him when she’d returned the kiss. Another one or two of those wouldn’t hurt. It would prove he was still living and capable of moving forward. Chris would have wanted that.
“So, how was it?” Charlene asked as soon as Sam entered the kitchen the next morning.
Sam smiled at her sister and went to pour herself some hot coffee. She’d slept later than normal because it had taken a long time to fall asleep after her magical evening. Thankfully today was a holiday, or she’d be a zombie at work. Home before one, it was actually after three before she stopped reliving every precious memory of Mac McAlheny.
“It was fabulous, how else?” she replied, turning and leaning against the counter. She glanced down at her bunny slippers, a fun Christmas offering from her sister. She sighed softly. She was much more a bunny-slipper kind of gal than elegant socialite.
“For one evening I felt like Cinderella,” she said slowly.
“You looked so marvelous,” her sister said.
“You told me that before I left,” Sam commented, grinning. She had felt marvelous. “The hotel was fabulous. I saw lots of people who are in the newspaper all the time. The mayor was there, and our representative. The food was to die for. And I had the best dance partner in the world. Tall, dark and handsome—and he could dance better than Fred Astaire, I believe.” She ended, mentioning one of Hollywood’s most famous dancers she and her sister enjoyed watching in old black and white movies.
“Ooooh, do tell all!”
Sam put some bread in the toaster and began to relate every delicious memory of the previous evening to her sister. She ended with her dances with Mac.
“We danced, then I left.”
“That’s all?” Charlene clearly wanted more.
“Actually the tall, dark and handsome stranger turned out to be the man from whose office I got the ticket. What are the odds of that happening? Once I realized that, I left before he figured it out. I consider that a lucky break. I was worried half the evening that someone would spot me as an imposter and have me thrown out.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. The ticket had been thrown away. You were just recycling,” Charlene said.
“Which was the argument you used to talk me into going. And I’m glad I did, but the longer I stayed, the more chance there was of someone asking how I came to acquire a ticket.”
“No one would have been so rude. And your dress fit in, didn’t it? You’ll have to tell Margaret all about it.”
“You should have seen the designer creations there. But I held my own. It’s a lovely gown and I’m so glad she trusted it to me. What if I had spilled champagne on it or, worse, caviar?”
Charlene laughed. “My sister, the champagne and caviar girl.”
“Well, champagne maybe. I don’t think I’ll be eating caviar again.” Sitting at the table, she finished her toast, still feeling the warm glow from the night before. She’d had a fabulous time. If only she could have afforded to buy a ticket on her own and gone without a care in the world. The party had ended too early for her and would never be repeated.
She’d relished the sensations she experienced wearing that shimmery satin dress. It would take a long time to forget the feelings of elegance and sophistication. A magic beginning to the New Year.
And a kiss to welcome it in. She hadn’t had that in a few years, either.
She glanced up, at the coat hanging from the nail on the plywood at the back. She’d hung it on one of the nails last night to let the dampness dry.
“At least that’s good for something,” she muttered.
“Hey, we’re warm and dry,” Charlene said.
“Dry anyway. It’s drafty in here. And I’m so tired of using a camping stove for cooking instead of our old gas range. It’ll take weeks to finish paying off the roof before we can start saving for this repair. It’s already the worst part of winter. Do we want the back wall open to the elements now? The house is hard enough to heat in winter without losing a wall for a few days.” She sighed. She was back to reality with a vengeance.
Charlene gazed at the damaged space patched by panels of plywood. “It could have been worse—we could have been in here when the tree crashed through.”
“We were too busy trying to stem the flood of water coming in through the attic when parts of the roof blew off,” Sam reminded her. The hurricane that had freakishly blown into Georgia last September had wreaked havoc in a wide swatch of the state, including this southside of the state capital. Their roof, more than a hundred years old, had not stood up to the gale force winds. Nor had the huge old oak trees that fell beneath that force when the soil became saturated with all the water that rained down for days. Only one fallen tree had damaged the house, thank goodness. But it had done a tremendous job of taking out most of the back wall.
Insurance covered a portion of the repair costs but it was up to Sam to earn the extra money needed to finish the repairs and get their home back in order. Charlene did the best she could, but there was a limit to her work as a transcriptionist.
