All Grown Up (14 page)

Annalise shifted restlessly from foot to foot as he slid a device down inside the glass, popped the lock and opened her door. “Thank you,” she said fervently. She handed him a fifty-dollar tip. “Take your wife out to dinner on me.”

With the man’s excited thanks still ringing in her ears, she sprinted for the building and boarded the elevator. She’d been in Sam’s condo once before…at a fund-raising reception for the Alzheimer’s Foundation. But on that evening, she and Sam had never even exchanged words, even though she’d been aware of him all night.

The elevator clanged to a stop. Annalise stepped out into a hallway carpeted in pewter and burgundy color blocks. Clutching the cake carrier and her purse like a lifeline, she rang the doorbell.

When Sam opened the door, she gaped. Never had she seen him like this…wild-eyed, harried, suspiciously unsurprised. She frowned. “May I come in?” She didn’t mention the offering and he didn’t seem to notice that she carried an odd accessory.

He kept the door closed except for a barely polite twelve inches. “I saw you park on the street,” he said. “Now’s not really a good time. I’ve got—”

A woman appeared at his shoulder, peering into the hall. “Who is it, Sammy? Dinner’s almost ready.”

Sammy?
Dear God. Surely Sam hadn’t taken to dating cougars.

He closed his eyes momentarily, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Annalise, this is my mother, Charlaine Ely. Mom, Annalise Wolff.”

“Wolff? Oh, my goodness, come in. I’ve heard about your family for years, but you know that since my husband and I divorced when Sammy was little, I’ve rarely been in Charlottesville. It’s a pleasure to meet you. One of Sam’s old high school friends is here. She’s opening a new restaurant soon back in Alabama, and I thought it would be fun to try the menu out on Sam. We’re having a casual bite to eat. You’re welcome to join us.”

With Sam and Annalise acting like cardboard cutouts, the talkative Charlaine ushered them into the kitchen. It was then that Annalise’s heart stopped. Because there, standing in front of the stove, and wearing an apron, no less, was Sam’s perfect woman.

She was shorter than Annalise, and curvier. Her smile was open and generous, and she seemed right at home in Sam’s ultramodern, state-of-the-art kitchen.

After a flurry of introductions, all orchestrated by Sam’s mother,
Daphne
spoke up. “The rolls will be ready in five minutes. I hope everyone is hungry.”

“Rolls?” The question came from deep inside Annalise’s nauseated tummy.

Daphne beamed. “Yeast rolls. My grandma’s recipe.”

“Oh, goody.” Annalise felt her temper rise. Sam had barely left her bed, and already this cross between Martha Stewart and Angelina Jolie was ensconced in his condo.
Jerk.

Charlaine noticed the cake box. “Oh, lovely. Did you bring dessert? I bought some ice cream, but it will keep. Let me put it on a plate.”

Annalise gripped the carrier with all her might. “Um, no. This is for my grandmother. I didn’t mean to bring it in.”

Sam frowned. “All your grandparents are dead.”

“Sam!” Charlaine was shocked. “That was rude.” She patted Annalise on the shoulder. “Now don’t be intimidated by Daphne. She’s a professional, so we can’t hope to compete with that. But I’m sure your cake is lovely.”

While Annalise watched, mute with mortification, the insistent Charlaine loosened Annalise’s fingers one by one and took possession of the cake box. When she set it on the counter and removed the lid, you could have heard a pin drop in the room.

The smell of warm yeast permeated the air, and Annalise wanted to die. All eyes were locked on the chocolate-covered blob. She bit her lip. “Sam mentioned how he always loved white cake with chocolate icing,” she mumbled. “When he was growing up. I wanted to thank him for putting me in touch with his grandmother and helping me get the new job.”

Daphne leaned over, a lingering horrified fascination in her eyes as she assessed Annalise’s very first effort at baking. “I’m sure it tastes good,” she said, her cheery voice consoling.

It was the last straw. “I have to go,” Annalise croaked. “Sorry to miss dinner.” She made a dash for the door, blinking back stupid feminine tears. Her hand was on the knob when Sam stopped her by the sheer expedient of putting his body between her and the exit.

“It’s not what you think,” he said urgently. “I didn’t know they were coming.”

She searched his face, trying to read the truth, summoning her courage and refusing to remember the last time she had poured out her heart to this man. “I really need to talk to you,” she said. “Tonight.”

Sam hesitated. And in that split second, her heart shriveled. Her soul turned to ice.

With all her might, she shoved him out of the way, ripped open the door and ran like hell.

Thirteen

S
am might have had worse days, but he
couldn’t remember when. With his mother and her guest in his house and a very
nice dinner that Daphne had labored over for several hours ready to serve, how
could he run out and leave them?

But dear God, Annalise had come to him…of her own free will.
And she wanted to talk…tonight. That had to be good. Right? He would gobble down
dinner and then go find her. A forty-five-minute delay to satisfy his social
obligation was all that stood between him and holding the woman he loved in his
arms again.

By the time the dessert course rolled around, Sam knew he had
screwed up big-time. All he could think about was the stricken look in
Annalise’s eyes. It hit him with sick certainty that she must have seen his
hesitation to drop everything and follow her as a second rejection.

His mom brought a bowl of ice cream from the kitchen and set it
in front of him.

Sam glared at the offending dessert. “I want cake,” he said,
the words blunt and to the point.

Daphne leapt to her feet. “Of course,” she said brightly. “Let
me cut you a piece.” She returned moments later, carrying a small china dish.
“Here you go.”

He took his fork, cut off a big bite and shoved it into his
mouth. What happened next made his eyes water. The icing tasted like bitter mud,
the cake itself was dry and gritty and he found a piece of eggshell that he was
forced to spit into a napkin.

The two women stared at him expectantly.

Sam studied his dessert and sighed. He laid down his fork, and
stood up. As an afterthought, he picked up his cup of coffee and took a long
swig, trying to rinse the taste from his mouth.

“I have to go,” he said firmly. “You both are welcome to stay
until tomorrow. The guest rooms are ready. But I have other plans tonight.
You’ll need to excuse me.”

Daphne glared at Charlaine. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
She smiled wryly at her reluctant host. “Sorry, Sam. Your mother can be very
persuasive.” She walked around the table and kissed him on his cheek. “It was
nice to see you. Good luck with your girl.”

Charlaine pouted, but she, too, apologized. “Sometimes I get
carried away. Please don’t tell your dad. Go find that nice Annalise and smooth
things out.”

Sam gave them a weary smile. “I’ll try. But if you don’t hear
from me by noon tomorrow, you might want to start dragging the river.”

The dark humor was a reflection of the knot in his gut. How in
the hell had he managed to repeat the biggest mistake of his life? And with the
same woman? The last time he had rejected an overture from Annalise Wolff, she
hadn’t spoken to him for over half a decade. This debacle was infinitely worse.
He’d made love to her, fought with her, left her unwillingly and now this.
Annalise had come to him to “talk,” and he’d let her think that his mother and
her guest were more important.

He grabbed his keys and coat and ran downstairs to his car.
Annalise could be anywhere, but she had been upset when she left his place, so
he was guessing she headed home to hide out.

The building Annalise lived in was high-end and very classy.
The doorman and the concierge were both men in their sixties. Fortunately for
Sam, he had gone to college with each of their sons. After an exchange of
pleasantries, he laid his cards on the table.

“Annalise and I have been seeing each other. We had a fight.
I’m pretty sure she’s upstairs planning my demise. I would consider it a deep
personal favor if you could give me the spare key.”

The two older men exchanged glances. The concierge frowned. “I
saw her go up. She looked like she’d been crying.”

Sam felt about two inches tall. His heart contracted. “It’s a
long story, but my mom meddled and made Annalise think I was interested in
someone else.”

The grizzled man muttered. “Mothers. They’re amazing, but damn,
they can cramp a guy’s style. Sorry, Mr. Ely. I know you don’t mean any harm.
But I could lose my job.”

“At least call upstairs and tell her I’m here,” Sam urged.

“Okay. I can do that.” He picked up the house phone and dialed
two digits. His face was unreadable as he carried on a brief conversation.

Still holding the phone in his hand, he looked at Sam. “She
said to tell you she doesn’t care about her New Year’s resolution. You’re a
lying, cheating, two-faced…”

Sam held up a hand. “I get the picture. Can I talk to her?”

The concierge handed over the phone.

“Hey, Princess. Please let me come upstairs.”

It killed him that her voice was hoarse from crying. “No.”

“I was going to call you this evening.”

“Ha.”

“But when I got home, my mom was there with Daphne. I had no
idea they were coming, I swear.”

“Did you eat her rolls?”

The weird question took him off guard. “Yes.”

“They were delicious, right?”

“Yes.”

“And my cake?”

An enormous crevasse opened up at his feet. His heart pounding,
he wondered what he should say.

The concierge grabbed the phone from his hand. “Oh, for pity’s
sake, Ms. Annalise. I’m giving him the spare key. You two are on your own.”

He hung up and rummaged under the desk for the correct fob.
“Good luck, man.”

Sam was pretty sure he should have made a plan before he
confronted Annalise. Despite the fact that he was known for his diplomatic
abilities, he’d sooner face a mountain lion than a pissed-off Wolff
daughter.

It would have been nice if her door had been unlocked…perhaps
signaling a softening of her anger. But he had to use the key. Quietly, he
stepped inside, laying his things on a table near the door. In front of him, the
living room and kitchen opened into each other. The mess caused by the cake
creation was painfully visible. He gulped and wiped the back of his hand across
his damp forehead.

“Where are you, Princess?”

He jumped when she appeared at his elbow. “Where do you think I
am? I live here.”

She walked past him to the sofa and waved a hand at a nearby
chair. “Since you so rudely burst into my home, you might as well say what you
came to say. I don’t have all evening.”

“I’m guessing you do.”

She gaped at him. “I beg your pardon?”

He shrugged. “You came over to my house with a peace offering.
And you must have known I wouldn’t throw you out. Thus, you must not have
plans.”

Annalise was wearing an old pair of jeans and a UVA sweatshirt.
He didn’t even know she owned such clothing. Her hair was hanging loose and wavy
down her back, and her feet were tucked into thick woolen socks.

She stared at him, eyes cool with disdain. “I dropped off a
thank-you gift. Wasn’t planning to stay. No big deal.”

He got to his feet and paced, unable to be still. “It
is
a big deal. A very big deal.” He waved a hand at
the kitchen. “You cooked for me.”

Color tinted her cheeks. Wariness veiled her true emotions. “An
experiment, nothing more. A messy one, at that.”

“I did not reject you tonight,” he said firmly. “This is
nothing like what happened seven years ago.”

“Could have fooled me.”

He closed his eyes and counted to thirty. Ten was not nearly
enough. “You took me by surprise. I had unexpected company. I handled it badly.
Besides, you’re not exactly blameless in all this. You sent me away, Annalise.
Rather coldly. So, I’m sorry about tonight, but I was angry and I didn’t expect
to see you. Let’s call it even.”

“Sure,” she said carelessly.

Her easy dismissal was suspect, but he decided to take it at
face value since he had a far more complex agenda to get to. “Why did you really
come to see me?” he asked, wanting to take her in his arms, but not sure if she
was ready to hear what he had to say.

“It was an impulse. You know how I am. I can’t really
remember.”

He took a deep breath. “In that case, I’ll do the talking.
Whether you believe it or not, I was coming to see you this evening.”

Her total lack of expression indicated boredom or disinterest
or maybe both. She was mute.

“Don’t you want to know why?”

“Will you leave if I say yes?”

His temper snapped. “I wanted to tell you that I love you, damn
it…and ask you to marry me.”

He’d never imagined yelling those words at a woman in just that
way, but his suave, debonair manners had deserted him. Clearly, he should have
dressed up his declaration. He might as well have said the weather was nice for
all the reaction he got from Annalise.

“Well,” he growled between clenched teeth. “It’s customary for
a woman to respond with something appropriate at this point.”

She bent her head, her face obscured by a fall of hair. “Please
don’t,” she said, her voice almost inaudible. “It’s no use.”

“You have to talk to me, Annalise. Or we’ll never find our way
out of this mess.” He sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms, her head
buried on his shoulder. “I promised I would never hurt you again, and today I
made you cry. You have no idea how wretched that makes me feel.”

Her slender fingers played with one of his buttons. “I worked
up my courage,” she said softly. “So I could tell you the truth. And then I saw
Daphne.”

He hugged her more tightly. “I haven’t set eyes on Daphne since
we were in high school. She doesn’t matter.”

“I believe you, but I saw her, Sam. She’s your perfect woman.
It was blindingly clear to me. Even if you don’t want
her,
there will be another Daphne.”

“And that’s why you came to my house today?”

“No.”

He waited, keeping the chains on his impatience. This was too
important to screw up now. “Then why?”

A deep sigh made her chest lift and fall. Beneath his touch,
her body was warm and pliant. She sat up, scrubbing the hair from her face. Her
eyes were puffy and her nose was red. She was still the most beautiful thing he
had ever seen.

“Sam, I…”

“What, darlin’? You can tell me anything.”

She shrugged, her eyes suspiciously bright. “I love you. I
think I always have. You thought I was too young to know my own mind, but I
did.”

“You don’t sound too excited about it,” he said, trying to
lighten the mood with humor. She looked tragic rather than happy. Perhaps
because he had spouted off so much nonsense in the last week. All about his
dreams and plans and never once taking into account that to love Annalise Wolff
was to love the whole package, a package that didn’t fit his requirements and
yet somehow was so much more.

He put his hand over her mouth. “Don’t say anything else. Not
yet.” Brushing her cheek with his thumb, he felt his heart seize up in terror at
the thought he might have lost her. “If this is about having children, forget
it. I want
you,
my love. Nobody else. I don’t have
to have two-point-five kids and a dog in the country to be happy. All I need is
you.”

He kissed her softly, a fleeting brush of his lips on hers.
“That’s why I’m still single at thirty-six. Turns out I wasn’t waiting for you
to grow up, I was waiting for you to forgive me and offer me another
chance.”

Tears welled in bright blue eyes, but didn’t fall. “I won’t let
you give up your dream for me, Sam.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I want
to give you babies. If I can. But you’ll have to help me, you’ll have to tell me
if I do things wrong. If I’m too impatient, or if I’m neglectful of our
child.”

“Where is this coming from?” She was drawing a scenario that
was literally impossible.

Shaking, her face chalky white, she bit her lip. “My mother was
a child abuser.”

Six words. Six horrible, dreadful words. The stark syllables
fell from her lips like stones.

“Oh, my God.” This time she was stiff in his arms, too stiff.
Fine tremors continued to shiver through her body.

Her whisper was almost inaudible. “She didn’t do anything to
me. Or if she did, I don’t really recall,” she said brokenly. “I think Devlyn
took the brunt of it. But I remember hiding with my brothers. That was before we
went to the mountain, of course. She would drink and she would yell.”

“No one interceded?”

“I don’t think anyone knew.”

“Not even your dad?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. But don’t you see, it’s not just that I
grew up without a mother. Even when she was still alive, she was poisoning my
mind about what it means to be a loving parent. It’s possible that I have
inherited her shortcomings.”

“That’s a load of crap,” he said, pushing her away and leaping
up from the couch as anger coursed through his veins. The image of a toddler
Annalise being knocked around, or even being to scared to come out of hiding,
ate at him, curdling his stomach.

He bowed his head. “I know what you’re trying to tell me. And
it’s okay, I swear. The only family I need is you. Not that I think you wouldn’t
be an amazing mother, but I won’t put you through that. Holy hell, Annalise,
you’ve been carrying this around for years. And yet you turned into a beautiful,
caring, capable woman. I’m so proud of you, I don’t even know how to express it
in words.”

“Then show me.” She stood and joined him. “Tell me that part
about loving me again.”

He was sick with regret, furious with pain for this delicate
and yet incredibly strong Wolff child. “I adore you,” he said, the words choked.
He held her so tightly, she protested. Relaxing his grip only a bit, he laid his
forehead on hers. “I want to marry you. And if we have babies or we don’t have
babies, it will be a decision we make together. I love you, Annalise.”

She reached up to kiss him. The aching hunger that had built
inside him since the moment he drove away, leaving her at the farm, coalesced
into a white-hot desire that hardened his erection to the point of pain.

Kissing wasn’t enough. Feeling her body against his wasn’t
enough. He had to be in her, on her, devouring her. He stripped her clothes with
mad abandon. Annalise sobbed once, her hands ripping at his shirt. “I need you,
Sam. So much.”