Karen stopped abruptly. “Pardon me?” She turned back to the table, her face carefully expressionless.

  “Well,” said Jennifer, “Walker said you didn’t have a husband or a kid anymore, so—”

  “Jennifer, shut up,” Walker growled.

  Karen looked as though someone had punched her in the stomach. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but after one scathing glance at Walker, all she did was smile again at Beth, though her lips quivered. “I hope the rest of your evening is wonderful,” she said. One tear trickled down her cheek but she didn’t wipe it away before she turned and walked steadily out of the restaurant.

  “Well,” said Peggy brightly, “I think it’s time we all headed out, don’t you?”

  Subdued murmurs of agreement greeted her words, and the table was suddenly a flurry of activity as people gathered personal items and rushed off. A few of them cast dark looks in Walker’s direction as they left.

  “Dammit, Walker,” said Sam, “that was completely out of line.”

  Jennifer spoke. “Sorry,” she said in that ridiculous baby-doll voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings.”

  “Of course not,” said Del in a voice that left no doubt of her opinion.

  “If she can’t take the heat,” Walker said aggressively, “she should get out of the fire.”

  Whoa. Now he’d done it. Sam had been around Del long enough to know when the match touched the fuse. It didn’t happen often but when it did, there was no stopping her.

  Del leaned forward, her expression set in stone. “That’s kitchen, you moron. ‘Get out of the kitchen.’” She stood, almost shaking with fury. “You had no business sharing Karen’s personal difficulties with that twit.” She didn’t even look at the redhead as she slid her arms into her jacket and picked up her briefcase. “Your life,” she added in an icy tone, “is your own business. But when you inflict someone on us who’s so offensive that she can ruin an entire evening in one sentence, it becomes our business.”

  She stood, then jabbed Jennifer in the shoulder with a stiff forefinger. “If I ever see you at a PSI party again, I will pull out every fake red hair on your empty head.”

  “And you.” She transferred her attention to Walker. “Don’t bother coming to any more of the office parties unless you’re sober and single.”

  Walker was glaring at Del, a muscle in his jaw ticking uncontrollably. “Sam?” he said, not looking away from her angry face.

  Sam sighed. “She’s right. You showed up and everyone left. That ought to tell you something.” He put an arm around Del, feeling the anger vibrating through her as he hustled her out of the restaurant before she completely lost her temper. He didn’t really want to have to bail her out on assault charges.

  He held her car door until she settled herself with rigid, angry motions, then climbed into the driver’s side and started the engine without speaking. A smart man knew when to keep quiet. As he drove out of the lot beside the restaurant, he could feel Del still simmering.

  Finally, about halfway home, he said, “Every fake red hair on her empty head?”

  There was a moment of tense silence and for a minute, he thought she might be about to take his head off. Then Del snickered. “I thought it was fairly poetic.”

  He laughed aloud. “That wasn’t quite the first word that sprang to mind.”

  “So what was?”

  “Sincere,” he said, “It sounded like you meant it. I think if I were Jennifer, I might not be anxious to cross your path again.”

  Del sobered quickly. “I can’t believe that bimbo said that. I really can’t believe Walker was dumb enough to tell her that he was married to Karen once.”

  “And believe me, I’m sorry I mentioned it to him.”

  “You should be,” Del said seriously. “That’s personal information and we don’t have any right to talk to anyone about it. You think she’ll quit?”

  “I hope not. Frankly, I’d sooner fire Walker than lose her. She’s been working her butt off this week, and she’s about ten times as diplomatic as Mr. Foot-in-Mouth has ever been.”

  Sam grinned. Walker did have a reputation for telling it the way he saw it. They didn’t often let him deal directly with clients. “I hope we don’t lose either one of them.”

  Del was quiet for a moment. “Why do you suppose she ever married him?”

  “I imagine he had his good points at the time.”

  “I guess.” She sighed.

  “People can be deceptive,” he said, thinking of Ilsa. “A little chemistry can blind you to someone’s less-charming traits.”

  From the corner of her eye, he caught the abrupt motion of her head as she turned toward him. “You sound as if you have firsthand experience.” It wasn’t a question and yet he knew it was.

  “I was engaged once.”

  He heard her suck in a sharp breath. “But not married?”

  “No.” He was glad he was driving. It was easier than facing her when he went through this story. “She changed her mind pretty fast when she thought she might be stuck with a paraplegic for life.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  “It was no big deal,” he said. “If she wasn’t going to stick, better I found out before the vows.” But when he glanced over at her, her brown eyes held a well of sympathy, and he suspected she didn’t believe his profession of unconcern. “I can’t even remember what she looked like anymore,” he said, and was surprised to find it was true. Since he’d gotten involved with Del, the past had faded into insignificance.

  “Still, it must have hurt when she cut and ran.” There was anger in her tone.

  “Look,” he said, feeling cornered, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before—”

  “I’m not mad at you!” Her eyes went wide with surprise. “I’d like to rip her heart out, though.”

  Amazingly, he was able to laugh again. Ilsa really wasn’t important anymore, and the knowledge was like emptying his pockets of a load of rocks. “Your bloodthirsty side is showing tonight.” He reached over and laced his fingers through hers, drawing her hand onto his thigh. “Lucky for you, I like bloodthirsty women.”

  Her hand turned over in his, then slipped down between his legs and a jolt of electric sexuality ran up his spine. He wanted to whimper aloud when her fingers began to explore, and he felt himself begin to pulse and fill. “Lucky for you,” she said, her fingers exploring the growing bulge behind his zipper, “this bloodthirsty woman likes you. In fact—” she glanced down at the evidence of his desire for her, plainly outlined in the khaki pants he’d worn to work “—she can’t wait to get home.”

  He gave a hoarse laugh which turned into a moan as his zipper opened with a soft hiss and she slipped her hand inside. “Much more of that and we won’t make it home.”

  The next morning at work, he couldn’t ignore the buzz of gossip in the hallways. Everyone was talking about what had happened the night before. If he heard, “I had no idea they used to be married!” once, he heard it a dozen times.

  Karen had puffy dark bags beneath her eyes, but she worked with the same efficiency he’d begun to notice she brought to all her tasks, presenting him with a study of the manpower it would take to covertly watch a home in Rio where a client’s child was believed to have been taken by her noncustodial ex-spouse.

  Around three o’clock, he was standing beside Del’s desk going over flight reservations for a visit to the German canine people to finalize the deal, when Peggy appeared in Del’s doorway with a vase of flowers. “Check it out,” she said. “Karen got flowers!”

  “From who?” Del went around her desk and tried to look at the card but the tiny envelope was sealed.

  “Don’t know. But I already called her to come get them, so we won’t let her leave until she spills the beans,” Peggy said cheerfully.

  Sam snorted, and both women looked at him.

  “What was that for?” Del asked.

  He shook his head, grinning. “No reason. I just don’t get what the big deal is.”

  Peggy shot him a pitying look. “Receiving flowers is always a big deal.”

  Karen stuck her head in the door at that exact moment and both women turned to her, but Sam remained rooted to the spot where he stood. Guilt, strong and forceful, rushed through him.

  He’d never given Del flowers. Hell, he’d never even taken her out to dinner unless it was work related. He’d intended to, but somehow they always seemed to get sidetracked by a mattress when they weren’t working.

  In fact, that was pretty much all they did, he thought with a pang of regret. They worked, ate and fell into bed together. They damn near burned up the sheets every night, and neither one of them had gotten enough sleep since her birthday, but he wasn’t complaining.

  And neither had she. He wondered if she really didn’t mind the fact that he’d never once taken her on a real date. If she did, she hid it so well he’d never caught a hint.

  “What’s it say? Who’s it from?” He tuned back in to the conversation as Peggy began to pester Karen.

  With an odd, frozen look on her face, Karen silently passed the card over to Peggy.

  “That rat bastard!” Peggy wasn’t shy about voicing her opinion.

  Del, crowding over her shoulder, said, “At least he realized he was way out of line.”

  Karen didn’t say anything. She just stood there, holding the vase of pretty pink-and-lavender flowers with a blank, bewildered expression on her face. Sam reached out and snagged the card from Peggy, reading the simple message.

  I’m sorry. Walker

  “Hey,” said Peggy, “You okay, honey?”

  Karen sighed. “As okay as I’ll ever be with that jerk on the same planet,” she said. She shoved the arrangement back at Peggy. “You can keep these. Brighten up your office. Pitch ’em. I don’t care.” She turned and started toward the door, then turned back and plucked the card from the arrangement. “But I think I’ll keep this. Just to remind me he isn’t a complete and total waste product.”

  Sam was pretty impressed that she managed a smile in response to Peggy’s and Del’s laughter before she left the office.

  Eight

  He lay on his back in bed that evening with Del curled against his side. Her fingers idly combed through the hair on his chest and he decided that with very little effort he could be persuaded to make love to her again. But first, there was something he wanted to do.

  “What do you think,” he began, “about dinner and a movie on Saturday night?”

  Her fingers stopped moving. After a moment, she said, “I think lots of people probably will be doing that.”

  He slid his hand down over her hip and pinched her backside. “Smart-ass.”

  “Hey!” She lurched against him before settling back down with a grin. “Oh, did you mean what did I think about the two of us having dinner and then going to a movie?” she asked with false innocence.

  “Or I could invite some other girl.”

  “Not if you want to have any shot at sleeping in this bed again.” They both chuckled, but her casual words warmed him.

  That was the first time Del had ever alluded to a future of any sort. She was generally extremely careful about not defining their relationship, to the point that for the past couple of weeks he felt as if they’d been dancing around some enormous piece of furniture, pretending it wasn’t there.

  “So,” he said, “would you like to go out?”

  Del turned over and levered herself above him, propping her arms on his chest. “I would love to,” she said, as her hair fell around them in an intimate curtain, “but may I ask what prompted this?”

  He shrugged. “I just thought it would be fun.”

  She digested that for a moment. “Yeah,” she said softly, “it would be fun. We don’t take much time for just enjoying ourselves, do we?”

  “Outside of this bed?”

  She smacked his chest with the flat of her hand.

  He captured her hand and pulled her down closer. “You’re right. I think it’s time we started to think a little more about getting to know each other outside the bedroom.”

  “Or the office,” she added.

  He smiled, running a hand over the smooth hair that spilled down around them. “Yeah.”

  She laid her head on his chest. “Dinner and a movie would be nice.” She paused. “Your heart is beating really fast.”

  “My heart always speeds up when you’re around,” he said without thinking.

  Del went still.

  He realized what he’d said. Oh, hell.

  Then he felt her body relax against his again. “My heart beats faster when you’re around, too,” she said softly.

  He was so relieved that for a minute he couldn’t speak. And by the time his vocal cords were functional again, he’d let it go too long, so he didn’t say anything.

  But long after her breathing slowed and evened out as she slipped into sleep, Sam lay awake wondering. What had she meant? Had she only been thinking in physical terms or had she understood that he’d been speaking of emotion?

  They slept in the next morning until nearly ten. Unlike most of the Saturdays they’d spent together, he awoke before she did. He put on some coffee and grabbed a quick shower, then stepped into a pair of jeans before heading back to the kitchen. Pouring a cup of coffee for himself and one for her, he carried them to the bedroom.

  After setting the cups on the bedside table, he bumped her hip with his until she grumbled and slid over far enough for him to take a seat on the edge of the mattress. Del wasn’t a morning person, he’d discovered with some amusement. Until she’d had a cup of coffee, there was no point in even trying to hold a conversation or expect her to frame a coherent answer.

  “Good morning.” He braced his hands on the mattress on either side of her body and leaned down to nuzzle her throat, seeking out the warm, sweet woman fragrance he’d discovered was strongest there. When her arms came up around his neck and she arched her body up to his, he smiled against her skin. “I have coffee.”

  Immediately, one arm left his neck, hand outstretched. “I am your slave forever.”

  Forever. He liked the sound of that. A lot. And he wished she meant it, but he suspected it had simply been a trite phrase. Well, that was okay. He had plenty of time to make her see how good they would be as husband and wife.

  He was flipping eggs when the shower cut off and he grinned in satisfaction. Perfect timing.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  Puzzled, he automatically headed for the entry-way. Who in the world could be at Del’s door? She appeared to have no close friends and didn’t do anything other than work that he’d been able to see.

  He checked the peephole, but could only catch a glimpse of an artfully tousled blond head of hair and a bit of a woman’s profile. Relatively satisfied that whoever it was presented no imminent threat of physical harm, he flipped open the dead bolt and turned the knob.

  “Darling!” The woman came at him with her arms outstretched, then halted abruptly. “Well,” she said, smiling coquettishly. “You’re not the darling I had in mind, but you’ll do.” She let her gaze drift over his bare torso. “You’ll do quite nicely.” Then her smile sharpened as she dropped the vamp act and she held out a hand. “You must be Sam. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

  He couldn’t have spoken if his life depended on it. He’d recognized her the moment she’d turned to face him.

  Aurelia Parker. The Aurelia Parker!

  The woman standing before him was one of Hollywood’s darlings, an actress who’d been making men drool since he was old enough to spell the word woman. Possessor of an Oscar and a couple other awards he couldn’t name, a nominee several times, a guaranteed box-office star worth millions, Aurelia Parker had to be nearly old enough to be his mother but she looked hotter than a lot of women his own age in a slim black pantsuit beneath which a simple white shell showed a surprisingly decorous hint of cleavage.

  Silently, he held out his hand.

  The actress took it and he was surprised by her firm, no-nonsense grip.

  “I am,” he finally said. “Sam.” Wow, that was brilliant. He cleared his throat and stepped back. “Please come in.” And tell me what the heck you’re doing here and how you know my name.

  She gave him a dazzling smile. “Now I see why Del has kept you to herself for so long. I was so thrilled when I heard about you two. I had begun to despair of her, I tell you.” One finely arched eyebrow shot up. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but Del will never tell me. Is there any chance you two are thinking of starting a family soon?”

  Huh?

  “Sam, don’t answer my—” Del stopped dead in the entrance to the living room, her face a study in shock and dismay. All she wore was a large navy bath towel wrapped around her, with a smaller white one wrapped turban-style around her wet hair. The bloom he’d put in her cheeks earlier vanished instantly as she took in the scene. “Mother. Hello.”

  Mother? Aurelia Parker was Del’s mother?

  Now he knew what the expression thunder-struck meant because that’s exactly how he felt. As if he’d been struck by a bolt from the blue. Only that would be lightning-struck, wouldn’t it?

  He supposed that single arching eyebrow should have been a clue, he thought, immediately recalling the expression. And just what the hell had Del told her mother—good God, could Aurelia Parker really be her mother?—about the two of them? He’d been under the impression that Del and her parent rarely talked, but apparently Del had confided in her sometime during the past few weeks when he wasn’t around. Which wasn’t often.

  “Hello, dear!” Aurelia Parker crossed the room and threw her arms around her daughter. “Happy belated birthday! I hadn’t seen you in so long I thought it would be lovely to surprise you.”

  “But I told you this weekend didn’t suit,” Del said in a tone that would have frozen a polar bear.

  Aurelia Parker straightened her shoulders, her feathers clearly a little ruffled at Del’s reaction. “If I waited until it suited you, I’d be in a nursing home.” The voice was crisper than anything he’d ever heard her utter on the screen, and for a moment, mother and daughter simply stood and measured each other.