“Twelve going on twenty. Grandma loved us, don’t get me wrong. She tried to make a decent home for the two of us, but she was old, and her health wasn’t good. The main problem was money. Grandma took care of Jody and the house, and I found work to bring in extra income.”

  Sam reached for the wine bottle and replenished her glass. The Chablis was loosening her tongue.

  “So your grandmother raised the two of you?”

  She nodded, holding the stem of the glass with both hands. “Right. This room feels awfully warm?” she said, and fanned her face.

  Suppressing a smile, he gazed at her, trying not to laugh outright. “I think I’d better feed you, and the sooner the better.”

  “I’d rather you kissed me,” she told him, then blinked and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oops, I didn’t mean to say that.”

  Sam pushed the vegetables aside. “Did you mean it?”

  Sheepishly, she nodded. “I think the wine’s gone to my head.”

  “I think so, too.” He walked around to stand directly in front of her. His smile was filled with confident amusement.

  Her dark eyes followed his movements and innocently pleaded with him for a kiss. Unable to resist her, he leaned forward and gently covered her mouth with his own. His intention had been to appease her until he’d finished stir-frying their dinner, but the instant his lips met hers, he was lost. He deepened the kiss, his lips playing over hers as though she were a rare musical instrument.

  His kiss burned through Marjorie like fire raging through dry brush. When he reluctantly lifted his head from hers, she swayed, and his hands on her shoulders were all that kept her from tumbling to the floor.

  “I think you’re right,” she admitted. “I need something to eat…quick.”

  Sam’s eyes burned into hers, and his strong, steady voice shook slightly. “I was just thinking that we should forget about dinner and continue with the kissing.”

  She tilted her head up to look into his eyes, resisting the urge to reach out and cling to him. “You were?”

  “But you’re right.”

  “I am?” At the moment she didn’t think so, as she watched him turn back to the stove. After a while she stood on shaky feet, unfastened her jacket and removed it. By the time she’d finished loosening the top buttons of her shirt, Sam had their meal ready.

  He handed her a plate and pulled another stool up beside hers. The tantalizing scent of hot oil and ginger wafted toward her, and her stomach reacted with a loud growl. She placed her hand over her abdomen and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

  “When was the last time you had anything to eat?”

  “Noon.” Soup. She’d been too upset to down anything else, so now she was famished.

  Sam used chopsticks, holding the plate with one hand while dexterously using the wooden sticks with the other. She tried the same thing and nearly dumped her dinner on her lap.

  “You’d better use a fork,” he advised, humor lurking in his eyes.

  She nodded meekly. Once she had a fork in her hand, she discovered the food was both hot and spicy. Closing her eyes, she savored each mouthful as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks instead of hours.

  “Oh Sam, this is really good.”

  “I do my best,” he answered, but his interest wasn’t in the dinner. Marjorie, the woman who had tormented his dreams for weeks, was sitting next to him. Part angel, part temptress. Complicated, vital, and ripe, an opulent beauty. He’d dreamed of having her with him in his home, envisioned carrying her into his room and laying her across his king-size bed. He wanted to love her, ease the ache of loneliness he read in her eyes, and make up to her for the childhood she’d lost.

  * * *

  —

  Following the meal, Sam made a fresh pot of coffee. Marjorie, feeling sober and steady on her feet after the delicious dinner, poured them each a cup and carried them into the living room. They sat close to each other, and she tucked her feet up under her and placed her head on his sturdy shoulder.

  “You’re not going to drift off on me, are you?” he asked gently. His hand curved around her nape, and his fingers stroked the slope of her neck and shoulder.

  “If you keep doing that, I will.” She felt him smile against her hair. “I’m sorry to be such poor company,” she said, uttering the words through a loud yawn.

  “You’re not.”

  She half lifted her head. “I don’t know what it is, but every time I’m around you all I do is sleep.”

  “I often have that effect on women,” Sam said, and chuckled. The rich sound of his amusement echoed around the room. He was thinking of going to bed, too, but not in the same sense she was. Holding her close was a tough temptation to handle.

  She tried unsuccessfully to stifle another yawn. “Believe me, I know how women react to you.”

  “I’d better get you home, Kitten.”

  “Kitten?” No one had ever called her anything but her name, at least not to her face.

  “You remind me of one,” he explained softly. “You’re all soft and cuddly.”

  “I have claws.”

  Again he smiled. “Now, that’s something I can personally attest to.”

  Marjorie was smiling when she unfolded her legs from beneath her and stood. She collected her jacket and purse, and paused in the entryway. “It seems I’m always in your debt.”

  Sam’s brow furrowed as he rose. “How’s that?”

  “First you rescue me from the jaws of death…”

  “That’s a slight exaggeration.”

  “Then you buy a car from me…”

  “One I intended to purchase anyway.”

  “Next you feed me.”

  There was a lot more Sam was interested in doing for her, and if she didn’t hurry up and leave, he was going to have more problems refusing her.

  “Thank you, Sam, once again.”

  “Thank you.”

  They paused in front of the door, and Sam turned her in his arms. His hands locked at the small of her back, pulling her closer against the solid wall of his chest. His hips and thighs pressed against hers, and still they weren’t close enough.

  Marjorie had no intention of refusing his kiss, not when she craved it herself. His mouth closed possessively over hers, searing his name onto her heart. Again and again he kissed her with a fierce tenderness, shaping and fitting her lips with his own.

  Sam’s arms circled her protectively while his tongue explored the soft recesses of her mouth until she shook with a sensation she had never known.

  “Sam…”

  “Kitten,” he murmured.

  Wildly consuming kisses followed, and Marjorie felt as though she were on fire. Never had she felt so willing, so sensuous. There’d been little time for puppy love when she was young. Later, the men she’d dated had resented her streak of independence. When it came to lovemaking and men, she was shockingly innocent. The sensations Sam had awakened in her had been dormant far too long. Now that she’d discovered love, she wasn’t going to let go lightly.

  An insistent beeping surrounded them, and Sam’s impatient groan told her the noise wasn’t the bells on the hill tolling their love.

  “What is it?” she whispered, hardly able to find her voice.

  “Not what, but who.”

  She blinked, not understanding.

  “That’s my pager. I’m needed at the hospital.”

  Seven

  The phone pealed loudly in the darkened bedroom. At first Marjorie incorporated the irritating sound into her dream. By the third ear-shattering ring she realized it was her telephone.

  Without lifting her head from the pillow, she stretched out her arm and groped for the receiver, locating it in time to cut off the fourth ring.

  “Yes,” she mumbled, and brushed the wild confusion of hair from her face.

  “Kitten?”

  Her eyes flew open, and she struggled into a sitting position and reached for the small clock on her nightstand. “Sam?”

  “I’m sorry to wake you, but I wanted to be sure you got home safely.”

  She blinked and focused her gaze on the illuminated clock dial. It was a few minutes after four. “I didn’t have any problems. How did things go at the hospital?”

  “Great. Wonderful, in fact.”

  She relaxed and leaned against the thick goose-down pillow, savoring the warmth that never failed to infuse her whenever Sam called. “Did you deliver another baby?”

  “Two, actually, or I would have been back hours ago.”

  “Girls? Boys?”

  “One of each.” He felt like a fool, calling her at this ungodly hour, but he’d walked into his empty house, and everywhere he looked, he thought of Marjorie. The memory of her presence swirled around him like the soft scent of summer. Often the stark loneliness of his lifestyle had hit him after a nighttime delivery, but never more than it had this time. He would have given anything in the world to have found her curled up and sleeping in his bed, waiting for him. Hearing her voice was a poor substitute, but one he couldn’t deny himself.

  “I realized when I got back to the house,” he continued, “that I hadn’t asked to see you again.” Even to his own ears, the explanation sounded lame.

  “No, we both had other things on our minds.”

  “Dinner tonight, then?” he asked.

  Marjorie wasn’t thinking clearly; her mind was clouded with the last dregs of sleep. “What day is this?”

  “Friday.”

  Her disappointment was potent enough to produce a bout of aching frustration. “I can’t,” she moaned. “My sister is driving up from Portland, and I’m working late both days this weekend.”

  “I’ll take both you and your sister to dinner, then.” That was an easy enough solution.

  “But, Sam…”

  “No arguing. Your sister, and anyone else you want, is welcome to join us.” He didn’t care if he had to buy dinner for every employee at Dixon Motors, as long as he could spend time with Marjorie.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely. And while we’re on the subject of dinners and dates, I know it’s next week and you might be busy, but do you have plans for July Fourth?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t have to work?”

  “No,” she murmured, and smiled. “That would be un-American. What makes you ask…about the Fourth, I mean?”

  “Another doctor and his wife, Bernie and Betty Miller, have a cabin on Hood Canal, and they invited me up. Would you spend the day with me?”

  Marjorie closed her eyes to hold back the tears of joy. “I’d be thrilled.”

  “I’ll let the Millers know, then.”

  They must have talked for another half-hour before Marjorie realized that Sam’s slow responses revealed his exhaustion.

  “Oh Sam, I’m sorry. You must be dead on your feet, and I’m talking your head off.”

  His grin was both lazy and content. “No. Listening to you relaxes me. Normally when I get back from the hospital, especially this late, I’m too tense to sleep—too keyed up. Now I feel like I could easily drift off.”

  “Good night, then,” she murmured softly, regretfully. She was falling head over heels for Sam Bretton. She knew the pitfalls and still wanted to love him.

  * * *

  —

  “A doctor?” Jody squealed with unrestrained delight. At twenty, she was a younger version of Marjorie, the only difference being her hair, which was cut fashionably short, and her sportier and more colorful clothes.

  “You behave yourself,” Marjorie warned. Now that her health was back and she didn’t have to submit to Jody’s orders, she could more fully appreciate her sibling.

  Jody looked her sister full in the eye. “You mean I can’t tell Sam about the time you snuck out of the house to kiss Freddy Fletcher behind the toolshed?”

  “You do, and I’ll smack you upside the head.”

  The light, musical sound of Jody’s laughter filled the cozy apartment. “I have to admit, though, you look a hundred times better than the last time I was here. I wonder if your doctor friend has anything to do with that?”

  “I look better because I haven’t been forced to eat your cooking, which is even worse than my own.”

  Jody pretended the remark had greatly offended her, but neither of them had been blessed with talent in the kitchen, and they enjoyed teasing each other about that fact.

  “So Sam was your doctor,” Jody said, as she slumped on the couch and crossed her legs beneath her. “How come you didn’t mention him before now?”

  “I…He…Well, what really happened is…”

  “Oh honestly, Marjie, look at your face. You’re actually blushing. I can’t believe it. My big sister is in love. Well, good grief, it took you long enough.”

  Marjorie’s hands flew to her cheeks in embarrassment. They did feel hot and were no doubt as flushed as her sister claimed.

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Jody asked, pretending to study her nails but actually aiming her gaze toward her older sister.

  “Yes,” Marjorie answered honestly.

  “Have you gone to bed with him yet?”

  “Jody!”

  “Well, have you?”

  The heat in Marjorie’s face intensified a hundredfold. “Of course not! What kind of question is that?”

  Jody’s eyebrows rose suggestively. “But you’d like to, wouldn’t you?”

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” With as much composure as she could muster, which wasn’t much, Marjorie reached for her glass of iced tea and took a large swallow.

  Amused, Jody pinched her lips together in mock disapproval. “Come on, Marjie, would you stop being my mother long enough to talk to me like a big sister? Tell me everything. I want to know the most intimate desires of your heart.”

  Despite the subject matter, Marjorie relaxed. “My desires? That’s easy.”

  “Sam?” Jody coaxed.

  “Sam,” Marjorie repeated. “I can’t believe this is happening to me after all these years of being so sensible about men. With Sam, everything’s different.” She paused and then continued, telling her sister how Sam Bretton had stayed with her in the hours following her surgery. “I didn’t know any man so wonderful existed. I feel giddy every time I’m with him.”

  Jody nodded knowingly and smiled through a haze of tears.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” Marjorie asked quickly.

  Jody wiped the moisture off the high arch of her cheekbones. “This is the first time I can remember when you’ve talked to me like a…sister. You never shared anything with me before—at least not like this. I’m happy for you, really happy.”

  Marjorie blinked back her surprise, ready to argue the point. Then she thought about how right her sister was. She had never felt she could share with Jody; her sister was so much younger that it hadn’t seemed right to burden Jody with her problems. Jody had to be protected, and because of that, their relationship had to be part parent, part sibling. She’d had to be Jody’s mother and sister both.

  “You know something,” Jody said, her voice unsteady. “I love Sam already.”

  “Wait until you meet him,” Marjorie answered, her own voice wavering. “He’s been so good to me.”

  “You deserve him, and he deserves you.”

  They wrapped their arms around each other and squeezed tightly, neither willing to let the other go. They had reached a deeper understanding of what it meant to be sisters, and for that Marjorie would always be grateful.

  * * *

  —

  Sam arrived about fifteen minutes later, amazed at Jody’s warm welcome. He liked her immediately but wished he could have had time alone with Marjorie. It seemed like a hundred years since he’d last talked to her, and a thousand since he’d held her sweet warmth against him and relished the special feel of her in his arms.

  The evening proved to be a fun one. He treated the two women to a delicious seafood dinner in a four-star restaurant that overlooked Commencement Bay. Following the meal, the three of them walked along the dock outside the Lobster Shop and gazed at the bright lights that sparkled like shiny stars from the opposite shore.

  “I can’t remember the last time I ate this well,” Jody said, holding her stomach and exhaling a deep, contented sigh. “I’m stuffed.”

  Marjorie’s worried gaze instantly flew to her younger sister. “I knew it! You’re not eating right.”

  “I’m in perfect health.”

  Sam’s arm tightened around Marjorie’s waist, and she managed to hold back any further argument.

  Jody looked at the two of them, and with a smile lifting the corners of her full mouth, she feigned a loud yawn. “I can’t believe how tired I am all of a sudden. That drive from Portland can really wear a person out.”

  Sam and Marjorie shared a secret look and struggled to hide their amusement. Jody couldn’t have been any less subtle had she tried.

  “I think she’s offering us some time alone,” Sam whispered close to Marjorie’s ear. He was hard-pressed not to flick his tongue over her lobe, knowing her instant response. “Are we going to accept?”

  Marjorie’s nod was eager.

  “Just drop me off at the apartment, and you two can escape,” Jody announced, looking pleased with herself. “Far be it from me to block the path of true love.”

  “Far be it from me to let you,” Sam joked, as they headed toward the restaurant parking lot.

  Sam drove directly back to Marjorie’s apartment, and Jody hurriedly scooted out of the car, winked, and reached for Marjorie’s keys. “Don’t hurry back on my account.”

  “We won’t,” Sam assured her. He appreciated what Jody was doing, but he wouldn’t keep Marjorie out long. It was obvious the two sisters were close. He’d seen for himself the various roles Marjorie played in Jody’s life, slipping from one to the other with hardly a breath in between.