A Family Circle 1 - A Very Convenient Marriage (21 page)

❧

Though there was no discussion, it seemed as if both Sam and Nikki had the same idea. Over the next couple of weeks, there was no discussion of the future, no questioning what might lie ahead, no speculation about where the sudden change in their relationship might be going, if anywhere. Like lovers on a desert island, with no expectation of rescue, they lived life wholly in the present.

They made love. They talked about everything, from politics to movies, sometimes agreeing, sometimes agreeing to disagree. They made love. They swam in the pool. They made love.

Sam talked Nikki into trying her hand at weight lifting. Her brother, Alan, had bought the gym equipment when he was in high school, installing it in an unused bedroom on the ground floor. Probably the only useful thing he'd ever done, in Sam's opinion.

Nikki was a little uncertain about picking metal bars up only to set them down again, but Sam was persuasive, promising that she'd love it once she got the hang of it. He'd guide her every step of the way. He was true to his word, giving her an extremely hands-on demonstration of technique, which resulted in the discovery that an exercise mat was soft enough to make possible aerobic activities beyond the ones for which it had been intended.

Nikki sprawled across Sam's chest, listening to the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. Her body tingled with the aftershocks of their lovemaking. They were still joined together, and she liked the feel of him inside her.

She'd never in her life felt so utterly replete as she had in the days since she and Sam had become lovers. He'd shown her a side of herself that she'd never known existed, a deeply sensual side that she found just a little shocking.

"I never realized that lifting weights was so much fun." The words came out just a little breathless.

"Building strong muscles is an important part of a solid program of health improvement," Sam said in a pedantic tone that made her giggle.

She suddenly laughed harder. "I just thought of something."

"What?" Sam smoothed his hand down her back, less interested in what she'd thought of than in the interesting vibrations caused by her laughter.

Nikki lifted her bead and looked down at him, her green eyes bright with laughter. "I finally understand the meaning of the term pumping iron."

Sam stared at her for a moment before her meaning sank in, and then he started to laugh.

❧

Having someone to laugh with was one of the things he'd missed most after Sara died, Sam thought hours later. And it was one of the best aspects of his relationship with Nikki—a relationship that had yet to be defined. Nikki was sprawled on her stomach beside him, taking up a ridiculous amount of room for a woman her size.

They'd eaten dinner together, then watched an old movie on TV, arguing all the while about who the killer would turn out to be. When the ending had proven him right, he hadn't been able to resist the urge to point out his superior powers of deduction. Nikki had proven herself a poor loser by hitting him with a pillow. The ensuing battle had ended with him carrying her upstairs draped over his shoulder, issuing threats in between giggles and demands to be put down.

The sex was certainly spectacular, he thought. And he'd be a liar if he said it didn't add a considerable amount to his current contentment, but he'd lived without sex before and could do so again, if necessary. But he really needed someone to laugh with, someone to talk to___He hadn't realized how lonely he'd been until now.

But that was all in the past. At least, he thought it was in the past. Sam frowned at the darkened ceiling, considering the unsettled state of his marriage. A marriage in the legal sense of the word, but not yet one in the less easily defined terms of commitment.

He eased onto his side and looked at Nikki. Her face was turned toward him, and he let his eyes trace the smooth lines of her profile. She really was a beautiful woman, but it wasn't her beauty that he'd fallen in love with. And he was through pretending to himself that he didn't love her.

He loved her. He wasn't sure just when it had happened—maybe even that first time he'd met her in Max's office. Maybe that was why he'd disliked her—because he'd looked at her and seen his own personal Waterloo.

Now that he'd admitted to himself how he felt, he wondered how she felt. Sam frowned and reached out to brush a lock of hair back from Nikki's cheek. It curled around his finger like a pale silk ribbon, like the most delicate of chains.

Chains of a sort were part of marriage, bonds that tied two people together, creating a whole that was stronger than its separate parts. They'd started out this marriage with the intention of avoiding all but the most superficial of those ties. But everything had changed.

At least, it had for him. He knew what he wanted. He wanted Nikki as his wife. For now. For always.

The question was: Did she feel the same?

❧

With Christmas almost upon them, it was easy for Sam and Nikki to postpone any discussion of their future together, a discussion they both knew was inevitable. But neither wanted to disturb the idyll they'd been granted. And the upcoming holidays gave them as good an excuse as any to avoid rocking their personal boat.

Christmas with the Walkers was like no Christmas Nikki had ever known. Feeling as if she wanted to return the hospitality she'd received at Thanksgiving, Nikki had invited the family to Pasadena for the holiday, broaching the subject very hesitantly over the phone with Rachel, afraid the other woman might think she was intruding. But Rachel had cheerfully consented to the change of venue, as long as Nikki allowed her to help with the food.

Since Lena was to spend the holidays with her son's family in Detroit, Nikki was more than happy to have the assistance. Though she was a better than average cook, thanks to Lena's tutelage, she'd never cooked a meal for so many people before.

Her own family's holiday celebrations had been modest. Her grandfather had not been fond of lavish celebrations of any sort. Nikki had sensed that even the tree seemed a bit much to him. A pleasant meal, a restrained exchange of gifts, a glass of fine sherry, and he'd considered the holiday sufficiently celebrated.

There was nothing restrained about the Walkers' Christmas celebration, however. They arrived together the afternoon of Christmas Eve and immediately seemed to fill the big house. There were hordes of presents, most of them haphazardly wrapped.

The tree had been put in its stand but had yet to be decorated, a lack that was soon remedied. Lena had been the one to decorate the tree, which was invariably small and sat neatly in a corner of the entryway. Lena decorated a tree the way she did everything else—with care. One strand of tinsel at a time, carefully chosen ornaments and the lights arranged just so.

This year, Sam had chosen the tree, a huge affair that swallowed half the living room. And it didn't seem to occur to anyone in the Walker family that tinsel had been designed for any purpose other than hurling at the tree, where it settled in drifts and occasional clumps that no one seemed to mind. Bulbs were hung with a similar abandon, and no one seemed to care if three red lights happened to wind up in close proximity to one another.

When it was finished, Nikki thought it was the most beautiful Christmas tree she'd ever seen.

Lying in bed that night, cuddled against Sam's side, she realized she couldn't remember a time when she'd been happier than she was right at this very minute. She couldn't imagine ever wanting anything more than what she had right here and now.

Nikki felt a twinge of worry at that thought, but she was already half-asleep, cradled close in Sam's arms.

Christmas morning began early. Mary saw to that. She woke her father at six o'clock. Cole made sure everyone else got up.

"I'm not suffering alone," he announced firmly.

There was some obligatory grumbling, but no one wanted to be anywhere other than where they were, which was emptying stockings and opening presents. The mound of presents turned out to contain everything from hand-knitted sweaters to a rather greasy drill that Cole had borrowed from Sam and decided to return as a Christmas gift.

Jason Drummond arrived in time for Christmas dinner, and Nikki was amused to see the usually unflappable Rachel flush like a schoolgirl when she heard his voice in the hall.

Dinner was reminiscent of Thanksgiving—everyone seemed to talk at once and yet no one seemed to lose the thread of the conversation. The food was wonderful, and Nikki flushed with pleasure at the compliments she received.

After the meal, there was a general slowdown. Cole tried to coax Mary into lying down for a nap. She consented only after everyone obediently promised not to do anything fun while she was gone. She was so obviously humoring her father that it was ail Nikki could do to keep from laughing out loud.

But she felt a lump in her throat as she watched Cole carry the little girl upstairs. It just didn't seem possible that there could be anything wrong with Mary. She was suddenly quite fiercely proud that Sam had cared deeply enough about his niece that he'd been willing to make a marriage of convenience to ensure that Mary got the help she needed.

Even if it did leave Nikki with a niggling sense of uncertainty about the future of a marriage that had begun on such a basis.

By the time Mary got up from her nap and demanded to go in the pool, her uncles had recovered enough from their overindulgences at the table to accommodate her. With the temperature in the mid-seventies and not a cloud in sight, it seemed the perfect way to celebrate the holiday in true Southern California style.

Nikki, Rachel and Jason chose to remain on dry land, but they did move outside to the comfort of heavily padded redwood loungers, choosing a vantage point where they could watch the antics in the pool without running the risk of being splashed.

"I want to thank you."

Nikki took her eyes off the group in the pool and looked at her mother-in-law. Jason had gone into the house, and she and Rachel were more or less alone.

"Thank me?" Nikki asked. "For what?"

"For making my son smile again." Rachel's eyes were on the pool, where her sons and granddaughter were all happily attempting to drown each other. "It's been a long time since I've seen Sam so happy."

"I can't take any credit for that." Nikki shifted uncomfortably on the lounger, her contented mood shaken. She didn't want Rachel thanking her, not when her very presence in the woman's life was based on a lie.

"I think you can." Rachel's dark eyes settled on Nikki. "I was worried when Sam told me he was getting married so quickly and that he hadn't known you very long," she admitted quietly. "Sam's never been the impulsive type. I think it comes of him feeling that he had to try and take his father's place."

Rachel smiled a little, remembering. "He grew up so early. I worried about it, but I'll admit there were times when I leaned on him a bit, too. All my boys are strong, but Sam was the eldest and I depended on him, maybe more than I should have."

"I'm sure he didn't mind." Nikki reached out to touch the older woman's hand, which was restlessly smoothing the cover of the lounge pad. "I think Sam was very lucky to grow up in a family like yours. I think anybody would be," she added a bit wistfully.

"I think so, too," Rachel admitted. "It's not that I think Sam's life was blighted, but I do think he learned to control any impulsiveness in his nature at a young age. When he married you, it was so unlike him that it worried me."

If only Rachel knew that she'd had every reason to be worried, Nikki thought. And she still did. "It was rather sudden," she said simply.

"But obviously, it wasn't too sudden. It's been years since I've seen Sam laugh the way he has this weekend. Not since..."

"Not since Sara?" Nikki finished the sentence for her.

"Not since Sara," Rachel confirmed quietly. Her dark eyes were searching. "I thought he might have made a mistake, but you've helped him find the joy in life again and I thank you for that."

"What are you two looking so serious about?" Jason's voice preceded him as he walked toward them from the direction of the house. He was carrying a tray that held a pitcher of ice tea and a stack of colorful plastic glasses. "You're both much too lovely to be frowning," he chided as he set the tray down.

Gracious of him to include them both, Nikki thought, especially when he couldn't take his eyes off Rachel. From the delicate flush that rose in the woman's cheeks, Nikki assumed that Rachel had noted—and was not averse to— Jason's distinct partiality.

As far as Nikki was concerned, the interruption couldn't have been more timely. A few more minutes and she'd probably have been on her knees confessing the truth to Rachel.

She stared at the pool, picking Sam out easily, feeling something twist inside her when she heard his shout of laughter. For the past couple of weeks, she'd been pretending that everything was as it should be, that her marriage was just like anyone else's. It had taken Rachel's words to remind her of how false that was.

The dreams she was building were like houses built in an earthquake zone. And she just might find those dreams crashing around her ears.

S
am felt the mattress shift and opened his eyes a crack, watching as Nikki got out of bed. A week ago, he might have grabbed her around the waist and dragged her back into it. But a week ago, he'd have known exactly how she'd react. There'd be a brief, laughing struggle, and it would be at least a half an hour before either of them made it out of bed.