“Sam, I didn’t think I could get close to a baby. I didn’t dare dream I’d feel this way—ever.”

  “I suspected as much,” he countered, resisting the urge to wrap her and the baby in his arms and hold them both for eternity. “I prayed it would only be a matter of time until you recognized the mothering instincts were there. They have been all along.”

  “They’re here, all right,” she whispered, smiling and crying at once. “I feel so tender inside—I don’t know how to describe it. Sam,” she said, raising her eyes to meet his, “if I feel this strongly about a baby I barely know, I can’t imagine how much love I’d have for one of my own.”

  “We’ll discover that together, Kitten.”

  The tightness that jammed her throat made it impossible to speak. He was talking about them having children together, and although the thought frightened her, it thrilled her far more. She yearned to ask him if he meant it and to tell him she was willing, but every time she opened her mouth, all that came out were soft, strangled sounds. She managed to free one hand from beneath Shelley to caress the rugged line of Sam’s jaw. Closing her eyes, she pressed her cheek against the side of his head.

  He edged away from her, and their gazes met and held. The promise between them was more potent than anything she had ever known. She didn’t need words to recognize what was in his heart; his feelings were all there for her to read in his eyes.

  Sam bent toward her, and her dark eyes shimmered with an aching need for his love, a need that was echoed in his own heart. Her parted lips offered him an invitation he couldn’t ignore.

  This was the man she loved, the man who had filled her life with purpose and realized her dreams. He’d helped her to conquer her fears, laying the groundwork to destroy one after another with unlimited patience. He had gently proved to her that there wasn’t anything they couldn’t face together, nothing the force of their love couldn’t overcome.

  “Oh Sam,” she murmured, not wanting him to stop but knowing he had to. “The baby…”

  He nodded and straightened, although his hands continued to grip her shoulders. The sight of Marjorie holding Shelley, knowing that someday she would be cradling their own baby, burned through him with the effectiveness of a hot knife. He felt weak with desire, weak and yet so powerful.

  “Was that Shelley I heard?” Betty asked as she came into the small bedroom. If she noticed Marjorie’s tears, or the fact that Sam was on the floor beside her and the baby, she didn’t comment. “Thanks for getting her up for me,” she said smoothly, and reached for her daughter.

  With some reluctance, Marjorie surrendered the infant. “She’s a wonderful baby.”

  “I’m convinced she gets that easygoing disposition from her mother,” Betty said with a cheerful smile.

  Bernie coughed in the background. “What about her old man?”

  “And her father,” Betty amended, and shared a secret smile, a wordless disclaimer, with Marjorie.

  Marjorie managed to smother a laugh. When she stood, Sam slipped his arm around her waist and gently hugged her. “Do you think it’d be considered impolite to eat and run?” he whispered, so she alone could hear.

  “Not if we’re not too obvious,” she said after a moment. As much as she liked Bernie and Betty, there were so many things she wanted to tell Sam, so much she yearned to share.

  “It’s selfish, I know, but I want to be alone with you,” he added, after their hosts had taken the baby and headed into the other room.

  Marjorie wanted it, too, and her gaze told him so.

  “Soon,” he promised.

  “Soon,” she agreed.

  By the time they returned to the living room, Bernie had finished barbecuing the steaks. They all worked together, and within a few minutes the picnic table on the Millers’ newly finished deck was set. The salads, potato chips, and other dishes were brought out.

  Sam sat beside Marjorie, and the six of them talked and joked throughout the meal. When they’d finished, Marjorie sat on the lounge chair and cradled Shelley as though she’d been handling babies all her life. Every now and again she felt Sam’s loving gaze, and they shared a special look that said more than mere words.

  “I can’t get over the way Shelley’s taken to you,” Betty commented, joining her. The weather had cleared as the lazy afternoon sun burned off the clouds.

  “Marjorie’s a natural with children,” Sam said proudly. “I don’t suppose she told you, but she nearly raised her sister.”

  “Sam!” she cried, embarrassed. “I’m not a natural at all.”

  A sharp shake of his head discounted that notion. “She’s been around children most of her life,” he added. Studying her, his mouth curved into a faint smile. He had prayed that, given time, she would recognize most of her fears as unfounded. The mothering instinct was as strong in her as it was in any woman, only Marjorie had failed to recognize it.

  She held out her hand to him, and he gripped it firmly. In many ways he understood her better than she did herself. Sometime, somewhere, she’d done something very good in her life to deserve this man.

  * * *

  —

  Late Saturday afternoon Marjorie had changed her outfit twice, unable to decide what to wear. Sam wanted her to meet his parents. Although she had readily agreed to dinner with his family, she was a nervous wreck. She’d been in and out of clothes faster than a quick-change artist. Worse, she was convinced that his mother was bound to disapprove of her lack of domestic skills, though Sam himself had dismissed that fear.

  Five minutes before he was due to arrive, she chose a soft knit dress Jody had suggested when she made a frantic call to Portland. It was more casual than anything she wore to work, and she was doubtful. This meeting was so important, and she longed to make a good impression so as not to embarrass Sam.

  She needn’t have worried. His parents stepped onto the front porch when he pulled into the driveway, and they looked as anxious as she felt.

  “Don’t be so nervous,” Sam said, reaching over to squeeze her clenched fist. “They’re going to love you.”

  “Oh Sam, I hope so.” She forced herself to relax, uncoiling her fingers and flexing them a couple times to restore the blood flow. Normally she was able to disguise any uneasiness, but the prospect of meeting his family had completely unnerved her.

  “Mom and Dad have been waiting years to meet you.”

  “I only hope I’m not a disappointment.”

  “You won’t be, Kitten, I promise.”

  Sam’s mother came down the front steps and walked toward the car. Marjorie studied the streaks of silver in the older woman’s dark hair, then shifted her gaze to the classic profile. None of the other woman’s features resembled Sam’s. Not the faint gleam in her dark eyes, not the warm, friendly glow in her complexion. Yet if Marjorie had met her in a crowded room, she would have known instantly that this woman was his mother.

  Sam helped Marjorie out of the car and slipped his arm over her shoulders.

  “Mom and Dad,” he said proudly, “this is Marjorie Majors. Marjorie, my parents, Roy and Irene Bretton.”

  “I hope you don’t mind us coming out to greet you like this, but Roy and I couldn’t wait another minute.” Irene took both of Marjorie’s hands in her own and nodded approvingly. “I can’t tell you how very pleased we are to meet you—at last.”

  “Thank you. The pleasure is all mine.” Marjorie felt stiff and awkward. The inside of her mouth was dry, yet her hands were moist. Sam’s warmth was the only thing that kept the chill of anxiety from seeping all the way through her bones. She had so little to impress this family with—no real background or prestigious relatives. She could offer them nothing but her love for their son.

  “Please come inside. Dinner’s almost ready,” Irene invited, leading the way. “I fixed your favorite, Sam—fried chicken, potatoes and gravy, with my homemade biscuits.”

  “Mom’s a wonderful cook,” Sam explained, grinning down at her. He hoped Marjorie knew that he wasn’t concerned about her ability to burn water.

  Marjorie’s return smile was feeble at best.

  “I’ll give you all his favorite recipes if you want them,” Irene offered Marjorie.

  She nodded her thanks, knowing it would be a complete waste of time, but she hated to disillusion Sam’s mother so quickly. Later she would explain that her presence in the kitchen invariably resulted in a fiasco, that when she turned on the stove, the entire Tacoma Fire Department went on standby.

  “I better go check on the chicken,” Sam’s mother said, as soon as they entered the house.

  The luscious smells that greeted them could have rivaled those in a four-star restaurant. It was obvious that Sam had underplayed his mother’s culinary abilities.

  “Let me help,” Marjorie offered hurriedly.

  “Nonsense, you’re our guest.” Irene gestured toward the sofa. “Sit down and make yourself at home. I insist.”

  Marjorie smiled and tried to relax. Sam’s parents were exactly as she’d expected: warm and sincere.

  She lowered herself onto the wide sofa. An afghan, crocheted in fall colors of gold, orange, and brown, was spread across the back.

  Sam claimed the seat next to her and reached for her hand. His father saw the gesture and grinned proudly, as though he were personally responsible for bringing the two of them together.

  A moment later Irene Bretton returned. “Dinner will be ready in another fifteen minutes,” she announced, and took the chair beside Sam’s father.

  Roy Bretton looked all the more pleased. “Good. We have enough time for a glass of wine first.” He eyed his son intently, as though he expected Sam to make some momentous proclamation.

  “Dad patronizes several local vineyards,” Sam explained, ignoring his father’s look.

  “There are a dozen or so excellent wines bottled right here in Washington state,” Roy added, filling in the conversation. “I found another superior winery recently, near Bonney Lake.”

  Marjorie nodded and started to relax against the back of the sofa. There wasn’t anything to be nervous about, especially since Sam’s parents appeared to be even more anxious to make a good impression than she was.

  “Give me a hand, son,” Roy said, standing.

  “Sure.”

  The two men left the room, leaving Marjorie and Irene alone.

  “Sam has spoken fondly of you on several occasions,” his mother said, clearly seeking a way to start the conversation. “His father and I are very proud of him.”

  “You have every right to be.”

  “It will take a special woman to share his life.”

  Marjorie dropped her lashes, fearing that Sam’s mother was suggesting that she wasn’t the right one for their only son. Her heart pounded wildly, filled with doubts.

  “I knew from the moment he mentioned your name that you were special to him.” Irene smiled and smoothed her hand across her skirt in a nervous gesture. “A mother knows these things about her children. For instance, I knew long before Sam—or even his father—did that he would be a physician. Roy was sure Sam’s career would involve animals. He had pets from the time he was little and was forever collecting more.”

  “He’s the kindest, most generous man I’ve ever known.”

  “He always was,” Irene said. “I swear, that boy brought home more stray dogs than the city pound ever collected. His heart would melt over things that you and I would hardly notice.” She warmed to her subject and scooted forward in the chair, her face bright with love for her son. “I remember one time—he must have been around ten or twelve—anyway, he found an orphaned kitten in a rainstorm, a sickly, weak, half-drowned little thing. By the time he got her home, she was more dead than alive.”

  Marjorie’s smile went weak. Sam called her Kitten, had for weeks now, and like the stray cat he’d found in his youth, she, too, was an orphan. Little things played back in her mind. Minor incidents came into focus. Puzzle pieces fell into place, making a clear picture. Sam was a rescuer, always had been and always would be. He’d seen it as his duty to take care of her the night she went into surgery.

  When they’d first started dating, he had tried several times to rescue her. He’d wanted to step in when Al had cheated her out of her commission. He’d bought the Mercedes more for her benefit than for his own. Now that she was seeing him regularly, she knew that he had a perfectly serviceable car and had no reason to purchase another.

  “What happened with the kitten?” She was almost afraid to ask.

  “He nursed her back to health. You should have seen that silly cat. She was the most prickly, bad-tempered thing—wouldn’t let anyone near her. You’d think she would have been more appreciative of everything he had done for her.”

  The knot in Marjorie’s stomach tightened to a punishing level of discomfort. After her surgery she’d lashed out at Sam at every turn. She’d even accused him of getting a kickback from the hospital for every patient he forced to stay. At least she’d felt guilty later and had apologized.

  “He…Sam kept the cat, though, right?” she asked, sure she already knew the answer.

  “Named her Kitten and ignored her bad moods.”

  “Didn’t he get tired of her moods and lose interest after a while?” Once again, she was certain of the answer, and her stomach sank.

  Irene nodded. “It was bound to happen. Summer came, and Sam had his friends. But he kept her, and she became a regular member of the family. I remember the funniest thing about that cat. The first time Kitten became a mother, she wouldn’t let anyone close to her except Sam. He was with her when she gave birth. Years later, when she died, Sam was in his first year of high school, and he was real broken up for a long time afterward. But he got over her, and he’s owned several cats since.”

  Marjorie struggled to disguise her distress. All his talk about accepting her as she was, loving her and needing her, was a lie. Sam hadn’t accepted her. He never had. To him, she was a pitiful, lost soul, helpless and in need of being rescued. From what his mother had told her and from what she’d seen herself, she was forced to admit that Sam had yet to accept how truly independent she was. And like the kitten from his youth, Sam would eventually replace her, too. His interest would wander, and his feelings for her would change.

  A numb, tingling sensation spread to her arms and legs. She felt physically ill along with being emotionally distraught.

  How she made it through dinner was a mystery to her, but somehow she managed to say and do what was expected of her as though nothing were wrong. She answered his parents’ questions and responded appropriately to what was going on around her. Yet all the while the world was crashing down around her feet.

  At one point Sam’s father commented that she didn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive, and Sam responded that he planned on taking care of her from now on. It had taken every ounce of composure she possessed not to inform him that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She didn’t need him to see to her meals or ensure that she made enough money to pay the rent or anything else.

  By the time they left, she had never been so grateful to get away from anywhere in her life. The sun had set, and dusk had settled over the landscape. Grateful for the cover of impending night, she hoped that Sam wouldn’t notice how pale she was or how sick to her stomach she felt.

  Neither spoke as they rode back to her apartment, and when they arrived, he climbed out of the car and walked her to her door.

  “Invite me inside,” he said.

  She felt so unsure, so unsettled. Still, she couldn’t resist him, so she nodded and unlocked the front door. “I’ll make coffee,” she murmured, heading toward the kitchen.

  Sam followed her. She’d been unusually quiet on the ride back, but then again, so had he. All evening he’d been mentally rehearsing everything he wanted to say to her. It wasn’t every day a man asked a woman to be his wife, and he wanted to make this moment special.

  Briefly he toyed with the idea of pulling the diamond out of his pocket and just handing it to her. But that seemed so abrupt, especially when there was so much he longed to tell her. First he planned on saying how loving her had changed his life. Since he’d met her, he felt totally alive. He loved her—that much was obvious and had been for weeks—but simply telling her that he loved her was too inadequate, especially since there was so much more to the way he felt than mere words could express.

  Marjorie’s hands shook as she turned on the faucet to fill the teakettle. Her back was to him as she spoke. “I like your parents.”

  “They like you, too, Kitten. I knew they would.”

  She flinched. “Why do you call me that?”

  “Kitten?”

  Nodding, she set the kettle on the stove.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Sam responded. “I had a cat named that once.”

  “The one you found in a rainstorm?”

  He glanced up, surprised. “Yes. How’d you know?”

  “Your mother mentioned it.” She swallowed tightly, still unable to turn and face him. “She told me what a prickly, ungrateful cat she was.”

  Sam chuckled. “She came around in time.”

  “Like I did,” Marjorie said in a wobbly but controlled voice.

  “You?” Sam asked, surprised. “I thought we were talking about Kitten.”

  “We are!” She whirled around to face him, her hands braced against the counter behind her. “Me. I’m Kitten.”

  Sam looked stunned. “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Tell me, Sam, why did you buy the Mercedes? You didn’t need another car.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “No, but my other one’s a couple years old now and…”

  “And you wanted me to collect the commission from the sale.”