Finding Amy. Carol StewardЧитать онлайн книгу.
held the crayon up and smiled.
Sam chuckled. “I love the color red. Can you color me a picture?” Then, as if sensing Jessica’s annoyance, he cleared his throat and wiped the smile from his face.
Jessica stared at the open menu, trying to hide her inner misery from his probing stare. Her throat tightened and her heart squeezed as she realized she actually cared what Sam thought of her. She wanted to prove to him that the victim he’d met so long ago was strong enough to help other women in the same situation.
Sam reached his hand out to touch hers. “Jessica, I wasn’t criticizing. Mom says I was born a detective. I never learned when to quit asking questions. I’m sorry.”
She bristled. It unnerved her that he’d known the instant things changed between them. “Am I that easy to read?” Had she been this transparent the last time he’d questioned her, after the accident?
“Not always.” He opened the menu and did a good job of acting interested in what it had to say.
She found her standard Caesar salad with chicken, and Amy’s favorite, chicken strips. As soon as they placed their orders, Jessica pulled out her file of donations for the auction.
“Jessica.” His voice lost that impersonal, professional tone, and she was in no condition to deal with anything personal right now. “Could we start over?”
“Don’t, Sam. Let’s get on with business.” She had a critical fund-raiser to finalize, and back surgery on top of that. She didn’t need to take an emotional step back sixteen months. “We have several restaurants left to select from…” She thumbed through the businesses who had donated dining packages, tortured by the look of interest in his gaze.
“Ma’am, could I get you something to drink?” The cocktail waitress waited while she looked through the wine list and menu of fancy well-drinks, tempted to fall back to the crutch she’d once depended on to get through difficult situations with Tim.
“What do you want, Jessica?” Sam looked impatiently at her.
“Do you have cranberry juice?”
The woman seemed annoyed. “Yes, we do.”
“I’d like that with a splash of orange juice and a spritz of seltzer. And could I get a glass of chocolate milk for Amy?”
“Certainly.” The waitress looked at Sam.
“Whichever cola you have, and plenty of refills. Thanks.”
“Oh, Amy, you can’t color these.” Jessica grabbed the gift certificates from her, relieved to discover that she’d only colored on one. “Here, can you color the dog on the fire engine? See the dalmatian? Just like in the movie—”
Sam interrupted her. “I think dinner at The Ore Cart sounds nice. I hear it’s a great place to take a date.”
Jessica flipped through the stack again, annoyed to think he’d chosen The Ore Cart because Amy had colored the certificate. “You don’t have to take that one, Sam. I’m sure they will replace it. It’s only a piece of paper.”
“I like it just the way it is. Don’t exchange it.” His eyes danced with hers, only hers were tripping all over the place.
Jessica didn’t know how to take him, as the cynical cop he’d claimed to be this morning, or the charming suitor that he seemed to be tonight.
The waitress dropped off their drinks and a basket of bread.
“Fine. What kind of entertainment would you like? We have a few athletic packages—rock climbing, skiing…” She thumbed through the briefcase. Not finding what she needed, she lifted the bag to her lap and continued searching.
Amy reached for the rolls and knocked over her milk.
“Oopsie,” Amy said, wide-eyed.
“Oh, honey…” Jessica grabbed her files and set the entire bag on the ground, then righted the empty cup.
“Waitress, could we get a rag?” Sam gathered napkins and stopped the milk from going toward Jessica’s bag, then moved the condiments and silverware into a pile, ignoring the flow of chocolate heading toward him.
Jessica tried to dam the stream with her hand, but it quickly flowed around it and onto Sam’s khaki pants. She closed her eyes, willing this accident to disappear.
The waitress arrived with a clean dish towel ten seconds too late. Sam thanked her, then quickly wiped Jessica’s hand. “Accidents happen. This one’s pretty minor, don’t let it upset you.” After he let her hand go, he wiped up the table and then the floor. Their meal arrived, along with another glass of milk. “Why don’t we stop by my house for a few minutes after dinner and discuss the date?”
“Date? What date?” Jessica certainly didn’t want to chance disaster again during dinner, but she didn’t want to go by his house either. She could just imagine what Amy would find to get into in unfamiliar surroundings.
Sam looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “For the bachelor auction.”
“Oh, right. If you need to stop and change clothes, that’s fine, but I think a certain someone would do better if I put her to bed before we get the brochures out again. Maybe you could come into my apartment for a few minutes when you drop us off.”
“Sounds fine. Amy, how are your chicken strips?”
Amy looked up at Sam, opened her eyes wide and smiled. “Mmm…” She reached for her glass, which was less full this time, but just a bit out of her reach. Her tiny fingers repeatedly touched her thumbs like a clamp, her “word” for “some.” Jessica helped her with a drink, wishing she’d exchanged her briefcase for Amy’s diaper bag after all. So much for proving her success as a working mother.
They chatted about their childhoods, and Sam was surprised to discover Jessica had grown up in Italy, where her parents were teachers for the Department of Defense.
“I have family in Italy,” he said. “Dad met Mom in Rome.”
She smiled for what seemed like the first time since they had gotten out of the pickup. “I know. Your mom and I have talked about it. Small world, isn’t it?”
Sam nodded. “And getting smaller every day. So how did you end up in Colorado?”
“I met Tim in Italy. He was stationed there after basic training. What can I say, Italy’s a romantic country. When he left, I followed him.”
“You just left? How old were you?” Sam took a drink of his soda and set the empty glass on the corner of the table.
“We were old enough to elope. I told my parents and came back to the States. I was swept off my feet. I landed a couple of years ago.”
“How’s that?” With a crayon in one hand, he outlined a tree for Amy and encouraged her to color it. Amy pulled out a green crayon and colored the trunk and leaves all the same color. He drew a teddy bear and asked her what color bears are. Amy pulled a brown crayon from the bag. She seemed to like playing with Sam.
Jessica, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. She liked him, no doubt. But they were so different. She saw her parents once a year, and he managed to visit with his daily.
She looked up from her salad and into the depths of his brown eyes when he asked, “What do you mean you landed?”
Jessica stirred her salad while considering how much to tell him. “Life was different in Italy. Everyone has a glass of wine with dinner. No one thought anything about it. When we got back here, everything changed. Tim liked to get together with friends when he was home. I hadn’t realized how much we drank until we started planning to get pregnant and I quit drinking completely.”
“Unless my math is off, or you mean a second baby, two years ago your pregnancy was long over.”
“And so was the honeymoon. I finally