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Uh-oh, Samantha thought. “I did not,” she protested. “I just, um…” She shrugged, unable to come up with an appropriate excuse in time.
“You find him interesting! I don’t believe it,” Angela exclaimed. “For ten years you haven’t seriously looked at a man. Then you run one down in a dash for your truck and you fall for him?”
Samantha scowled. “Very funny.”
“You actually brought him here, you talked with him….”
“For Pete’s sake, Angela. I nearly broke his leg!” Samantha looked toward the door, hoping her voice hadn’t carried.
Angela simply shook her head, grinning.
“I haven’t had time for a man,” Samantha interjected, thinking of her grandmother upstairs who, after two strokes, required a part-time nurse to sit with her. All of those expenses demanded that Samantha run a successful business.
“You should be married by now,” Angela said dreamily.
Samantha rolled her eyes. “Spare me your adolescent ideas of love. I haven’t had time for a man.”
“Hey, all of my uncles are married and my dad—”
Samantha sighed. “One day, maybe. It’s not that I don’t want to be married….” She thought again of her grandmother, the shape the store was in, and then shook her head.
“Our guest needs ice.”
Angela continued to grin. Twisting the cap on the ice bag she patted the bottom to make sure it was secure. “This conversation isn’t over,” Angela warned before leaving.
How well Samantha knew that. This conversation was far from over. Angela wouldn’t rest until she’d heard every detail. The woman had too much imagination and too much time—a dangerous combination.
Still, Angela was her dearest friend, closer than a sister, the only real family she had. She could forgive Angela anything. She would do anything for her, too.
Samantha quickly slipped into the main part of the kitchen and set to work fixing up a tray of treats and hot drinks. She could hear Angela talking to the man in the main room.
The deep timbre of his voice as he answered floated gently back into the kitchen, surrounding her with such peace. How long had it been since she’d been so at peace? His voice invited rest. The sure, soothing tones made her think he was a man well in control of himself at all times. How she wished she had a bit of that control. It’d be nice to have it in her business. Unfortunately, she wasn’t a good businessperson, though she dearly loved to create the recipes her grandmother had made. Instead, she was watching the business slide further and further toward bankruptcy, toward the end of an era, a way of carrying on her family’s tradition through her recipes. She’d been so used to working, trying to make this store a success, that she’d forgotten the joy of simply being in the company of a man—especially a man who radiated such gentleness. What would it be like to enjoy making the candy again without worrying about overhead and competition and falling sales?
Lifting the tray, she returned to the main room. The stranger had removed his coat and was relaxed in one of the cushioned chairs, his foot propped up on a stool.
“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate and dark bread.”
“Rye?”
She shook her head. “It’s a sweet bread.” Placing the tray down, she seated herself on the old-fashioned sofa. She couldn’t help but notice how well the charcoal-gray suit fit him. It looked tailor-made, curving over his shoulders, tapering in at the waist, buttoning over his flat stomach.
She realized she was still in her frumpy blue dress and wondered if he noticed how wrinkled it was. She hoped not.
“I was telling Mr. Moore that you’ve lived here most of your life.”
Angela’s voice reminded her that she should be serving the company, not staring at him. After cutting a piece of the fresh bread, she handed him a plate and a mug of cocoa.
“You know the town well, then?” he inquired politely.
Samantha nodded. “I suppose so, though I spent most of my time here with my grandmother instead of running around town.”
“You enjoy cooking?”
Samantha handed Angela a cup and then picked up her own mug. “I enjoyed being with my grandmother who enjoyed cooking and passed the skill on to me.”
“I like to cook as well,” he commented, and took a sip of the cocoa.
Surprised, Samantha paused, cocoa halfway to her lips. “Really?”
“Cinnamon and…” he paused, his gaze drifting. “Hazelnut? Freshly ground?”
“How’d you know that?” she asked, stunned.
His gaze refocused on her. “I apologize, Miss Hampton. As I said, I enjoy cooking and have spent years at it.”
“It’s Samantha. May I ask if you’re a chef?” Samantha found it hard to believe she’d found a man interested in cooking.
Richard Moore’s gaze turned to his cup. “No. I’m not really a chef. At one time, perhaps, but no more.” He swirled the contents before taking another sip. “Now I do a bit of everything, I suppose.”
“Is that why you’re here? To find a job?” Angela interjected, leaning forward, her golden hair slipping over her shoulder before she brushed it back. Angela was full of energy and curiosity this evening, Samantha thought, but didn’t try to quell her. She wanted to know the answer to that question, too.
“Actually, yes. I’m from out of town and just arrived to work at a new store in the mall that’s going up.”
“I love the mall going in. I’ve met so many new people—some with accents like yours. Do you know, the guy who runs the Mexican restaurant is from Zimbabwe! And then there is the woman who sounds French but is really from Louisiana and is Cajun, like a relative of mine—the Cajun works as a waitress there. And this guy who owns a shoe store has an accent just like yours, and then—”
“Angela,” Samantha said politely.
Angela looked a bit guilty for running on, but that didn’t stop her. “So, have you found a place to live yet?”
“Angela,” Samantha warned, beginning to feel embarrassed at Angela’s persistence in ferreting out all of Mr. Moore’s secrets. “He might not want to tell us everything.”
“It’s not a secret,” her guest said, but Samantha had just the opposite feeling.
The muted emotions in the man’s dark eyes made her wonder if he really didn’t enjoy talking about himself at all. Angela, however, didn’t seem to notice the sudden reserve in his demeanor as he continued.
“I’m living in a nearby hotel until I find an apartment to rent.”
“Which will take longer now that you can’t walk on your foot.”
Samantha turned three shades of red. “Angela!”
“What?” she asked, her eyes all wide and innocent—too innocent.
Samantha’s gaze narrowed.
“Your employer didn’t mean to run me over, Angela,” he chided gently. “It’s not her fault I can’t walk.”
Angela smiled. “Of course it is. She as much as admitted it to me in the supply room—which brings me to my suggestion. You should stay here in the upstairs apartment until you can go house hunting on your own.”
Samantha gaped.
Richard gaped as well. Obviously that was not the tack he had expected Angela to take. It hadn’t been Samantha’s guess either.
“It’s perfect,” Angela continued. “You need a place to stay and Sam has an empty apartment.”
“I—I—” Samantha started.
“Uh-hmm,” Richard cleared his throat.
She knew where her friend was headed. Angela had been after her for years to loosen up and date—and she’d just found the perfect candidate.
“I don’t want to intrude…” Richard began.
“It’s no imposition. Sam really needs to rent out that apartment. Money is tight right now. She could use the rent.”
Please, God, just open a hole in the floor and swallow me up, she thought dismally.
“Angela!”
Amazingly enough, the man, instead of being shocked, chuckled. “You are a true businesswoman, Angela.”
His gaze returned to Samantha. “I think your friend has sold me on the idea. However, since you own the apartment, I would think the final decision is up to you. How much do you charge a month?”
Samantha stared at her friend. Rent. Money. That would tide them over, she suddenly realized. At least until February. The firm “no” to renting to this man dissipated before it could be voiced.
Angela named a price.
Samantha started to protest, but Richard nodded. “More than fair for a one-bedroom, one bath.”
“Actually, it’s a two-bedroom,” Samantha interrupted, weakly feeling it best to point that out. This was payback, she thought. It had to be. If she had bowled this man over tonight, she was certainly getting bowled over now, as he and Angela made plans about the apartment before she could comment one way or another.
His warm gaze returned to her, making her forget that she’d even entertained such an idea as payback. That gentle look touched her with acceptance, no hint of her earlier actions in his expression. He really was serious about renting the apartment.
Money.
Maybe God had heard her prayers, after all!
“Even better,” Richard added. “Do I get to see it?”
Samantha hesitated. “The service elevator will take you upstairs, but maybe Angela could drive you to pick up your things first so I can do another cleaning before you move in.”
Samantha had been using the place for storage and wanted to move the boxes out. Why hadn’t she thought of renting the room before?
He started to protest. She saw the objection in his eyes. Then he nodded.
“However, I insist on taking a cab.”
“But…” Angela started.
He shook his head. “The ice has really helped. I can hobble back to the hotel and pack my things. What about picking up the keys tomorrow?”
Samantha thought that sounded superb. She nodded. “I— Wow.” She sighed.
Angela chuckled. “God answers prayers, Mr. Moore. Do you believe that?”
Richard smiled at Samantha, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I do—now.”
She had no idea what he meant by that. She did, however, know what her friend meant. With a short warning glare at Angela, she stood.
“Let me get you a cane to at least help you, Mr. Moore. Then we’ll see to your cab.” She paused. “I can’t apologize enough for what happened this evening.”
His gaze met hers firmly and he replied, so sure of himself that it sent chills down her spine.
“And I can’t thank you enough. If you hadn’t run into me, I might not have met you. And that would have been the greater accident.”
She hesitated at that accent of his, thinking how absolutely appealing it was. Shaking her head, she smiled. “The apartment. Of course. Yes. You found an apartment.”
And before he could contradict her, Samantha fled back to the supply room to find her grandmother’s walking cane.
Just when things had looked dismal, God had answered her prayers.
The sound of firecrackers outside told her it must be midnight. A new year and a new day.
Chapter Three
Dillon Sandal stared at his friend. “You’re what?”
Richard zipped closed his garment bag and carefully turned. “I’ve rented an apartment and I’m taking a few weeks off.”
Dillon ran a hand through his jet-black hair, exasperation clear in his action. “You just got here. How did you find an apartment so quickly? No, wait. First, answer what happened to your foot.”
Dillon strode forward, jerked the garment bag from his friend’s hands and carried it over to where Richard’s other suitcases sat.
Richard shrugged. Shifting the crutches under his arms he replied, “I broke my ankle.”
Richard had gone home, but, unable to sleep because of the pain, he had finally admitted defeat and gone to the emergency room. Surprisingly, one of the ankle bones had a hairline fracture. Samantha was going to love that, he thought ruefully. He probably wouldn’t live it down.
“Why didn’t you call me? I would have taken you to the hospital. When I left you last night, you were in here, alone.”
He paced back to his friend. “I come here this morning to find you packing, and in a partial cast, no less, talking about renting an apartment. And now you’re taking a bit of extra time off—”
“You should be glad. That means you’ll get to run everything until I recover.”
“I run everything anyway,” Dillon muttered. Dillon and Richard had gone to college together. Dillon was the one close friend Richard had.
Whenever a new store opened, Dillon took on the role of manager to oversee the hiring and ensure a smooth transition as it took place in the community. Richard usually came to make sure publicity was seen to, as well as a million and one other things. After all, he was being groomed to take over the business one day. His father thought he should know each store personally. So, while his maternal grandfather was the figurehead appearing in most of the commercials and interviews, and his da was the CEO who ran things now, Richard was left as the man behind the scenes doing the legwork for all the store openings.
Dillon dropped into one of the chairs and crossed his khaki-covered legs.
