Before We Kiss (Fool's Gold #14)

* * *

SAM TOOK OUT his temper on the exercise equipment in the office gym. He ran eight miles, then did an entire circuit on the weight equipment. He finished with alternating single-arm push-ups, going until his strength gave out and he was lying gasping on the mat.

Sweat poured off him and burned his eyes, but the strange sense of everything being wrong hadn’t gone away.

He got to his feet and staggered toward the showers. After washing up and dressing, he grabbed a bottle of water and downed it in a single gulp. He reached for a second and drank it more slowly.

Damn Simone for showing up, he thought. She was like some marauding monster, wreaking havoc wherever she went. Worse, she’d gotten between him and Dellina. But even as he thought the words, a voice in his head pointed out he’d done that all on his own.

He swore and sat on a bench in the locker room. His gut said Dellina was telling the truth. She would never talk about him to anyone. She’d been the one to stand up to his mother.

But his head didn’t agree. His head was wary and mistrustful. His head didn’t believe. So he’d hurt her. She hadn’t said anything, but he’d seen it in her eyes. He’d hurt her because when it came to a contest between what she said and what he’d seen, he went for the empirical evidence. Mostly because Simone always got what she wanted.

Kenny walked into the locker room. “There you are. Your car is still in the parking lot. I knew you had to be here somewhere. The bitch is back. Want me to throw her out?”

Sam stood. “No. I’ll talk to her.”

“She’s in your office.”

Going through his computer, he thought, following his friend out of the locker room.

Turned out he was wrong. Simone was pacing, not rifling through drawers or logging on to his accounts. When he stepped into the room, she spun to face him.

“I get the girlfriend,” she said, her voice shrill with anger, her gaze narrowed. “I don’t like it, but sure. She’s loyal. She thinks you’re capable of a real relationship. She hasn’t learned yet what an emotional tight ass you are. But the town? The whole damn town?”

He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t know what was going on, but if Simone wasn’t happy, something good must have happened.

“You’ll have to tell me what you’re talking about,” he said. “Because you’re not making any sense.”

She balled her hands into fists. “No one will talk to me. No one! Not those stupid old bitches watching you play basketball, not the woman at the coffee shop, not the weirdo at Jo’s Bar. No one will discuss you beyond saying you’re charming and a welcome addition to the community.”

She stomped her foot. “Who do they think they’re kidding? You a part of a town? You would never give up that much control.” Her voice rose until she was practically screeching. “Damn you all to hell, Sam. How could you do this to me?”

Dellina had told the truth, he thought, both relieved and ashamed. He should have believed her. He should have listened to his gut. Only it had been so long since he’d been in a position to trust a woman that he’d forgotten what it looked like. That wasn’t only Simone’s fault, he thought. There had been others who had fed that particular flame.

“Are you even listening to me?” Simone demanded.

“Not really.” He motioned to the open door. “You’d probably like to get going on the drive back to L.A. It can be long.”

She grabbed her purse and stalked past him. “You’re a mean, selfish bastard, Sam Ridge. I hope you rot in hell.”

He didn’t bother to watch her go. Instead he crossed to his desk and picked up the phone. He tried Dellina’s cell number, only she didn’t pick up. That usually meant she was with a client. He would have to try her again in a half hour. Which seemed too long to wait.

* * *

DELLINA ACCEPTED THAT one day she was going to have to enter the current century and put her calendar onto her computer. From there she could link it to her cell phone. But for now, she was still old-fashioned and wrote down her appointments on paper.

She sipped her morning coffee and studied the schedule. There was a big Hendrix family party, a baby shower and the possibility of Taryn and Angel getting married. Or rather the question of what kind of wedding they were going to have. She was pretty sure Angel would get a ring on Taryn’s finger one way or the other. But until they made up their minds about the kind of wedding they were going to have, not to mention when, she couldn’t get them on her calendar.

“Clients,” she murmured. “Can’t live with them, can’t tell them to jump in a lake.”

Her house phone rang—something that rarely happened. She picked it up. “Hello?”