Unfinished Business
Chapter Ten
Robyn was surprised to be invited to dinner. That she hadn't seen coming. Not with the way Sam had reacted to her cooking dinner, or with his unhappiness with having to deal with her in the first place. He seemed intent on insuring that a distance remained between the two of them. She didn't take it personally; she had a suspicion that Sam Wright allowed very few people within the barrier of his personal life.
Despite the surprise of his hesitant yet sincere dinner invitation, Robyn wasn't surprised at the uncomfortable silence that settled around Sam when they were all seated at the dining room table. Rather than try to urge him to join in, she and Beth carried the bulk of the conversation. They spoke and laughed easily together. It was as if by some mutual agreement they had decided on the same tactic. Robyn was stunned anew at the child's maturity and depth of understanding. The girl also had the makings of a very dry sense of humor. Robyn couldn't resist its affect, and neither could Sam. He gradually relaxed, following the exchange between the two of them with amusement.
With the decrease of his discomfort came an apparent increase in appetite. It was with a small thrill of pleasure that she watched him scoop a second serving of food onto his plate. Not that the calories would hurt him; his body didn't have an extra ounce of fat. Lean rather than thin, he moved with an unconscious masculine grace that made a woman's eye want to linger.
As she continued to watch him, taking in the very faint five o'clock shadow that darkened his jaw, and the dark hair and brows and lashes, an old adage flowed through her mind. The way to reach a man's heart is through his stomach.
She stilled. Was that what she really wanted? To reach his heart? She was concerned about what happened to he and his daughter, but this was just a job. Besides, she had Steve.
Sam must have noted something, because his gaze rose to meet hers. Blue, just past the shade of the sky on a cloudless summer day, held her in thrall. For the first time since she'd met him, he seemed unguarded. Only curiously shown in the clear blue depths.
"There's more bread in the kitchen if you'd like." She covered an inner wince even as the words left her lips. But then she chided herself. This didn't have to be some sort of romantic liaison. Surely it wouldn't be a bad thing if she could offer some small comfort that might help to heal this man's heart. Even beautiful men with damaged hearts and darling little girls needed friends. Any attraction she felt could be channeled in that direction. Heartened by the thought, she smiled. "Why don't I get it for you?"
Amazingly, Sam returned the smile. "No. Don't get up. I can barely hold another bite. Everything was wonderful. Much better than my pathetic attempts at cooking."
"No kidding," Beth murmured under her breath, shooting him a sly look.
"Okay, you." Sam laughed and pointed a finger in her direction. "No comments from the peanut gallery."
"Even if the peanut has to eat your cooking?"
Robyn laughed at them, enjoying being witness to their closeness.
Sam rose from the table. "I do think I could manage maybe one more piece of that bread. Would either of you like more?" Robyn and Beth declined.
When Sam was gone from the room, Beth leaned in Robyn's direction, an amazed look on her face. "He never eats like that. Aunt Jane is always worrying about him. She says the doesn't eat enough, but he doesn't listen to her. I'm so glad you're here."
Robyn was touched by the words. She remembered being a girl of Beth's age. She hadn't wanted to share her father with anyone. But Beth's willingness was like a blessing bestowed. Protecting these people was quickly becoming much more personal than professional.
Leaning in closer, Robyn offered a conspiratorial wink. "The two of us are going to have to work together, you know. We're going to have to see what we can do to fatten him up."
Beth giggled, a hand clasped over her mouth. "My daddy's going to be fat."
"Who's going to be fat?" Sam demanded around a half-eaten piece of garlic toast. His look of mock fury seemed to send the girl into gales of laughter. Still giggling, she pointed a finger at him.
"I wouldn't hold my breath, Squirt." Sam responded with a chuckle before finishing off the bread and moving toward the table. He proceeded to gather his dishes into a pile.
"Are you one of those people with a ridiculous metabolism that allows them to eat anything they want?" Robyn asked, moving to help him.
"I'm afraid so." He shot her a charming grin. "It's my curse."
She felt an irrational urge to through a dish towel at him. She gave in to it and flung it at his head. "And here I was going to help you wash the dishes. You and your metabolism are on your own."
Sam, having ducked the towel, shot her a look which encompassed her from head to toe and back. "Oh come on. You don't look like you're having any trouble. You look great."
Warmth flooded her system at his observation. The look had been quick and cursory, hinting that he'd noticed before. She knew the moment he caught himself, realizing what he had said. Every ounce of discomfort and guardedness returned, but there was something else alongside it that wasn’t there before. Robyn wasn't sure what name to put to it. She only knew that she didn't want to allow the conversation to end this way, back where they'd started.
Shooting him a wicked grin, she repeated his own words back to him. "It's my curse."
Sam laughed out loud. Rich and deep. And that did more for her heart than she was willing to admit just then. His laughter faded to a slow smile that she felt all the way to her toes. Her motives were beginning to feel altogether more than friendly. She broke their gaze and went back to work on clearing the table.
"No," Sam objected. "I don't want to hold you up. I'm sure you have other things to do."
She paused and looked back up at him. She'd meant to disagree, tell him that she didn't mind at all. But she read something in his eyes. He was politely asking her to go. He was probably tired and needed some downtime. She could understand that.
"Uh. . . yeah. It is getting late, and I should be going. Thanks for dinner," she added, settling a stack of dishes back onto the table. "We'll meet at the school tomorrow at 2:30?"
"Yes. At 2:30."
Robyn nodded and turned toward a quietly watchful Beth. "I'll see you tomorrow, young lady. Sleep well, both of you." She included Sam in the look, and then made her way out of the house. The night air seemed especially cool.