Chapter Seventeen

Sam quickly swung into the driveway and cut the engine and the lights, his eyes never leaving the rear view mirror. The dark sedan that had followed him along the interstate and into the subdivision continued on, not slowing. He watched it until its rear lights disappeared from view. Then he sat, frozen, waiting for several minutes longer. The car did not reappear.

He blew out a breath, telling himself to calm down. This was ridiculous. What was the matter with him, anyway? That car hadn't been following him. He was just tired from too many days of too little sleep. He looked with a resigned expression toward the lights of his home. He didn't hold out much hope on this night being the night that he caught up on his rest.

He had made such a mess of things before he'd left. And he just didn't have the strength to face either Robyn or Beth at the moment. The only positive in the whole situation was that it was far past Beth's bedtime. She would be asleep and so he would be granted a reprieve on that score. But Robyn was a different matter entirely. He had no idea what he could expect from her tonight. Would she tell him what a jerk he'd been and that he'd better straighten up his act, or would she quietly tell him that she couldn't work for him anymore? He didn't know. But however things went, he owed her an apology.

He climbed out into the cool night air and trudged his way toward the door. It seemed like so long since things had been normal. Had it only been a week since his life had been his own? A week since he'd gotten the Sauderbrandt account. A week since he'd been mugged and his ex-wife had come out of the woodwork to haunt him. A week and his business had been vandalized and he had somehow ended up with a body guard for his daughter. A week since he'd met Robyn.

His mind lingered over Robyn as he pulled out his keys and let himself into his house. He found that he enjoyed her company. He especially enjoyed seeing a side of her today that he hadn't known existed. But then he remembered that he'd blown that all away with a few sharp words.

Sighing, he stepped inside the house and pushed the door shut behind himself. Everything was still, but there was a warm inviting homey feel to the place. Muted smells of a previously cooked and cleaned up meal wafted over him like a comfortable blanket. It was a feeling he could definitely get used to.

He wandered through the quiet stillness toward the kitchen where he settled his briefcase and keys on the table. Every thing was spotless, the counter wiped clean and organized. Much better than when he'd left earlier in the day. Just another layer to his guilt. He'd treated her like the hired help. And now he was using her that way, too. He needed to tell her that she didn’t have to cook and clean for him. He didn't want to make her feel like a servant.

The flash of headlights at the kitchen window caught his attention, sending a burst of adrenaline through him. He was immediately taken back to the trip home. Had the sedan doubled back after all? If he peeked out through the blinds, would he see the vehicle there, waiting? Perhaps he should turn off the light so that he wouldn't be noticed moving in that direction.

"I could warm something for you if you'd like."

The sound of her voice went through him like a gun shot in the quiet of the house. He spun sharply in her direction, absolutely certain that he had gone several shades of pale.

Robyn immediately rushed into action. "Sam! Oh, goodness, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you." She moved toward him, as if to support him. "My dad does that. I occasionally get accused of following in his footsteps."

Sam started all over again when her hand settled gently on his arm. "It's okay," he said, hoping to cover his reaction. "I shouldn't be so jumpy."

"You shouldn't have to be, no." Her reply was cryptic as she turned toward the refrigerator. "Are you hungry?" she asked, already reaching for several Tupperware containers.

"Yes." Sam answered automatically, then caught himself. "No."

Robyn glanced over her shoulder at him.

"You don't have to prepare anything for me," he hastened to explain. "And I don't expect you to clean up either."

"I don't do it because I think you expect it," Robyn replied, continuing at her task. "I'm afraid it's going to have to be microwaved. And, in case you don't know my opinion on microwaved foods--"

"Robyn." Sam placed a hand on her shoulder, halting her mid motion. She looked up at him expectantly, those incredible caramel eyes waiting.

He stared back, realizing why he didn't allow women to get too close to him. He was far too susceptible. Her body was warm beneath his fingers, a silent invitation for his hand to trail further to discover out what the rest of her would feel like.

"Sam?" Robyn prompted him.

Sam shook his head and immediately released her. He really was too tired to deal with this, he realized. He couldn't seem to keep his mind focused on a single subject. "I wanted to apologize," he managed. "I was out of line earlier. I was just a little. . . worried about some things that are going on right now."

Robyn continued on toward the microwave and loaded the food. "You really don't have to deal with it alone, you know."

Sam was sorely tempted to accept what she was offering. He was so tired of worrying about it on his own. He was jumping at shadows, not to mention becoming paranoid. Beth deserved better than a father who was on the edge of losing it. Maybe a second set of eyes would see more clearly.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked.

Robyn looked stunned. "You're kidding me."

Sam found himself laughing. "Alright, if it will make you feel any better. I can be kidding."

"No. No, that's okay," Robyn chuckled. "I thought you would put up more of a fight is all."

"Is that what this is?" Sam asked. "A battle?"

"Sometimes it feels that way." Robyn responded.

"Well, I'm tired of fighting." Sam said, and meant it. He found that actually wanted to commit to this course of action. The tension was actually beginning to ease.

"You're placing yourself completely in my hands?" Robyn pushed, an edge of disbelief evident in her tone.

Sam's gaze turned wary, and he couldn't resist an urge to tease her. "Is that a dare?"

"It's a double dare," Robyn shot back.

"Okay. What do I have to do?"

"Three things."

"Name them."

"Get an alarm system."

"Done."

"Talk to me about what's really going on."

"Okay."

"Let me move in."

"Wha -- Wait a minute."

"Chicken." Robyn taunted as she moved off toward the microwave when it beeped the end of its cycle.

Sam felt as if his head was spinning as Robyn handed him the plate of food. Several dozen improper thoughts flew through his mind in the time it took for him to set the dish down. But finally one question, one word, really, came to the forefront.

"Why?" he asked. "Why do you want to move in with me?"

"To protect you, of course," Robyn replied. "Why else?"

"I could think of several reasons," Sam teased.

Robyn's expression turned solemn. "I'm serious about this Sam. I think it's important that I stay. At least until we find out what is really going on."

"Why do I get the feeling that you know something that I haven't told you yet?" he asked, pin-pointing immediately the source of Robyn's information.

"Because I do," she responded.

He looked at her a long moment, ignoring the incessant warning voice in his brain, and let his heart answer. "Okay. You can stay here -- just until we figure it all out."