The Heartbreaker Page 6

“I really need that date, Sam. Please try and help me. Okay?”

  It was almost as if Sam bristled at her pleading, although she didn't know why he should be angered at her request. After all, they'd made a deal. Right? And she'd live up to her end of the bargain.

  “I'm working on it, Lucki.” His voice had lost some of the easy banter they'd shared before. He rose and stepped toward the porch steps. A shadow cast over him as he moved away. It was late, the moon was just a sliver in the sky, and the street lamp seemed to be dimming each night lately. Most of the time Lucki liked sitting on her porch in the dark. But at this moment, she desperately wanted to see the expression on Sam's face.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked.

  “It's late, Lucki. We've both got to work tomorrow.”

  Lucki breathed deep and stood as well, then headed for her own front door. “Guess I'll see you in the morning when I get J.J.”

  He waved as he stepped down one concrete step. “Yeah, in the morning.”

  “Sam?”

  He turned. “Uh-huh?”

  “The Fourth of July is only two weeks away.”

  An awkward silence fell between them for a few lengthy seconds. “I know when the Fourth of July is, Lucki.”

  Damn. Lucki wished she could see his face. Should she reach inside her door and turn on the porch light?

  “I know.” He took three steps down the sidewalk. “Sam?”

  “Yes?”

  “J.J. has a baseball game Thursday night. Can you come?” Lucki heard the shuffling of his feet, still wishing she could see his face.

  “Yeah. I can make it.”

  Lucki breathed a soft sigh. “Good.”

  In the next instant, Sam was gone.

  * * * *

  At precisely seven-thirty the next morning, Lucki rapped on Sam's back door. The warm, sweet smell of waffles and syrup greeted her through the screen. She caught a brief glimpse of J.J. wolfing down the last of his breakfast.

  “C'mon in, Lucki,” Sam shouted over the din of cartoon music coming from the small television. Lucki entered the kitchen. “’Bout ready, J.J.?” She glanced into his plate and almost drooled. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. “Sam, are those real waffles? I'm impressed!” She lifted her gaze to meet his. He smiled back, the hint of anger she'd sensed from him last night gone. Secretly, she was glad. Sam wore a chef's apron over his doctor's attire and whirled a thin spatula in the air. “I'm a whiz with Mama's waffle iron. Want some?”

  Lucki thought about the half box of most-likely-stale donuts sitting on her truck seat. Ugh. “Have you got plenty?” she queried, cocking her face to one side.

  “Won't take me a minute, Ma'am. Have a seat.”

  Lucki grabbed the seat next to J.J. and plopped down. The kid was still forking up the waffles. “He do this all the time?” She elbowed J.J. in the ribs.

  Nodding, he smacked his lips and kept his gaze glued to the television.

  “That's why you won't eat my donuts, huh?”

  J.J. grinned and glanced at her, syrup running down his chin. “That and the fact that I accidentally dropped them on the ground the other day when we were lining the baseball fields. They didn't get too dirty, though.”

  Casually, J.J. eyed his waffles.

  “You little rat.. .”

  “Waffles coming up!”

  Lucki turned toward Sam's voice as he laid a steaming plate of waffles in front of her. Reaching for the butter and syrup, Lucki gave Sam an appreciative glance. “You sure know the way to a woman's heart.”

  “Really?”

  Lucki glanced up from the blob of butter melting on her waffles. Sam stepped closer.

  “What?”

  “I said, real y? Is this the way to a woman's heart?”

  Leaning closer, his elbows propped on the table, his face only inches from hers, Sam stared into Lucki's eyes. Why hadn't she noticed before how dreamy his eyes looked close up? They were the most perfect shade of gray. With tiny flecks of gold. She swallowed. Hard. The waffles were forgotten. Oh damn. What did I say? I surely didn't mean. .

  “Uh. .to her heart?”

  “That's what you said.”

  “Well, it's not like I have any experience in that area, you know.”

  “You don't?”

  “Well, it's just that.. from what I hear. .I mean other women say it's kind of cool when men. . ”

  “What do you think?”

  “Me! Uh, well. .waffles, uh, waffles are fantastic, you know? I mean, the way the butter and syrup pools in the little squares and.. well, when you bite into it. .it's kind of hard and soft at the same time and the goo just shoots out.” Her words were mumbled, trailing off lower and lower, and making no sense. Try again, Lucki. “I mean, a woman loves. .um, waffles are so warm and sweet and sticky and.. um, when someone else, like you know, a man cooks for her it's kind of like, well, warm and sweet and sticky is kind of nice. .sometimes, and women. . ”

  Hell's bells! What am I doing here?

  “It's seven-forty-five, Lucki. We better get going.”

  Lucki barely registered the screech of J.J.'s chair as he pushed backward from the table. The only thing she registered was the amused look on Sam Kirk's face.

  She pushed away from the table too, averting his gaze.

  “Gotta go. We'll be late.”

  “You haven't eaten your waffles.”

  Lucki headed for the door. “Well, uh, save them for me, or something. Got a doggy bag? I'll eat them for supper.” Purposely, she didn't look at Sam. If she did, her insides would go all haywire. How dare he look at her like that?

  “I'll cook you something else for supper. If you want. Something warm and sweet and sticky?”

  Lucki stopped abruptly, her hands frozen on the wooden door frame. Closing her eyes, she mentally pulled herself together. Sam was trying to get her goat. He was teasing her. Kidding her. He used to do it all the time! Stupid, idiot, Lucki! He's just playing games. Like when he talked her into “practice kissing” when he was thirteen, just so they could get good at it when they wanted to kiss someone else later on, he'd said. Yeah, right.

  Well, two can play.

  Turning, Lucki looked Sam square in the eyes.

  “I usually like warm and sweet and sticky for breakfast. Now for dinner, I'm more of a meat eater, something firm and hot and satisfying. That is, of course, if you're up to cooking tonight. Don't do it on my account. I can manage quite well on my own.”

  And with that, she left Dr. Sam Kirk with a silly, dumbfounded expression on his face.

  Chapter Six

  “That's it, Pinky. End of conversation. I'm not going!”

  Pinky stared at her in disgust. Lucki turned away and headed for the water cooler. Lucki knew it wasn't over. Pinky never let anything drop. But the fact that she'd just told her friend that she wasn't going to the picnic after all, wasn't open for discussion. She wasn't going to go. Ever since she'd left Sam's kitchen and his waffles this morning she'd been all jittery inside. She didn't know what it meant. It was strange.

  Lucki Stevenson didn't get all jittering inside anymore. That was for adolescent girls who were experiencing puppy love. In her world, those jittery feelings didn't exist. It was a damned shame. Love was wasted on youth. She'd heard that said once. She guessed it was true. When those first incredible feelings of love embrace your heart, consume your heart, it's the most wonderful thing. But adolescent girls don't really know how to handle it. Not true love, anyway. Adolescent boys, either. They get all possessive and testy and territorial as far as their love goes. It smothers. Squeezes. Grips at the heart until it hurts.

  She didn't know what was wrong with her.

  She hadn't had those jittery feelings inside since. .since when?

  Pinky shouted her name and Lucki glanced down at her overflowing cup of water beneath the cooler's spigot. Her hands were shaking. Why?

  Because you know exactly when the last time you had those feelings for a boy. June 3, 1998. Lucki sw
allowed. The night of the horrible disaster. Her life's most embarrassing moment. The day she'd blocked out of her mind for years—until now.

  Until the feelings Sam had dredged up this morning made the memory of that god-awful night resurface. Senior Prom. Hers. No date. Sam had been home from college two weeks. They'd spent a lot of time together. It felt good. Right. And she'd felt the tingles. When she'd asked him to take her to the prom, he'd accepted.

  Then at the last minute, he'd canceled. And had broken her heart.

  The Heartbreaker.

  She'd chastised herself for months afterwards. Embarrassed that she'd let herself fall under his spell. Not Lucki! She'd been the one to laugh all those years when other girls had fallen. Yeah, that's what she'd called him all those years ago. The Heartbreaker. All through junior high and high school when Sam had had girls just laying at his feet willing to risk having their hearts broken by— The Heartbreaker. Sam would always laugh, puff out his chest a bit, and gloat whenever another one fell. Lucki would laugh along with him and pity the poor girls. Practically no female within Sam's age bracket had escaped the charms of The Heartbreaker.

  Not even Lucki.

  Only that time, she didn't laugh.

  “What about that boyfriend you're supposed to have in Freedom?”

  Lucki broke her thought process and swirled to face Pinky. “I don't.. ” Lucki caught herself. She'd started to say she didn't have a boyfriend. “I don't think he can make it.”

  “You don't think.” Pinky crossed her arms and thrust out one hip.

  “He can't go.” Lucki glanced to the floor and headed for her cubicle. “I can't go, either.” How could she go now? She didn't want to be near any man. Not after what she'd finally revealed to herself. After all those years, and she'd nearly wiped it out of her memory. She had fallen for Sam Kirk, hard, during the late spring of 1998. And all he'd thought about her was that she was like his kid sister. And the fact that he'd sent a substitute, Alan Parker, an already balding eleventh grader who was Sandra Slut's younger brother, to take her to the prom, was a stab to her heart and a slap in the face. In the end, she was glad Sam had opted to go back to summer school in Memphis. She would have killed him within three days.

  So how could she go to the picnic with anyone at all? Especially someone Sam had chosen for her? Oh, why in tarnation did I ask him in the first place?

  “Well, you know Rick's going to be furious.”

  “Rick's going to be furious about what?” The male voice came from the doorway and Lucki turned at the sound.

  Pinky shot a glance at Lucki.

  Frowning, Rick asked again, “What will I be furious about?”

  Lucki exhaled and stared at Pinky, then slid her gaze to Rick. “I can't go to the picnic.”

  Rick chuckled and crossed the room to a filing cabinet. He pulled out a drawer and rifled through the files.

  “Someone die?”

  “No,” Lucki answered.

  “Dying? Ill?”

  “No.”

  “Someone getting married, having a birthday, or coming home from overseas?”

  Lucki shook her head. “No.”

  Rick turned toward her. “Then why can't you go?”

  Lucki swallowed. “I. .I . . ” I can't tell him I don't have a date. I can't tell him I don't want to come alone because of Matt. I can't tell him my hormones are going wacky.

  “It's. .personal.”

  “And the picnic is your job, Lucki.”

  “Not directly, Rick. It's kind of extracurricular, wouldn't you say? Kinda off the clock?”

  Rick turned and stared straight into her eyes. “Yes, Lucki, if you want to get technical, I guess you could say that. But you know how I feel about it and you know I expect you to be there. So unless you've got a really good reason why you can't be at the one activity that culminates an entire year of hard work, I could get pretty technical about this whole thing. You're on salary, not hourly wages. I expect you to be there.”

  Lucki gulped. Rick was right and she knew it.

  “Ummm, maybe I can work something out.”

  Rick nodded then picked up a file. He stalked toward the door and turned before he exited. “Good. I'll see you on the Fourth. You're in charge of the volleyball tournament.”

  He left and Lucki turned to Pinky, who was gloating. Just a little.

  “Shut up, Pinky!”

  “I didn't say a word!”

  Lucki headed for her cubicle and briskly shut her door.

  * * * *

  Even though her stomach was rumbling incessantly, Lucki didn't want to think about dinner. In fact, she hadn't taken a bite of food all day long. Not one to skip meals, she was feeling it big time. She felt lightheaded, her stomach was a little queasy, and she was getting a headache. She really needed to eat dinner.

  She didn't want to think about it.

  Dinner meant facing Sam. And something firm and hot and satisfying. And to make matters worse, J.J. wasn’t going to be around. She had dropped him off at Spud’s on the way home. Sam has said it would be okay.

  Oh, Lord. Lucki pulled into her driveway, parked, killed the engine, and let her head fall against the steering wheel. Immediately it made contact with the horn which blared loudly, she jumped back up, hit her head sharply on the window behind her, and then slunk down into the seat beside her while rubbing the back of her head.

  As she lay there, all she could think about was how good those waffles looked that morning. Then she thought of how good Sam looked. Then she thought about how mad she was at him after he'd dumped her before the prom twelve years earlier. And about how hurt she'd been. Sam only thought of her as the girl next door then. Not a real date. That's why he hadn't thought twice about finding himself a substitute for the prom. She was sure he didn't think any differently of her now. She was still the girl next door. Always would be. Sam would never think of her in any other way. He'd just been teasing her this morning. Like he had always teased her. She just had to get any thoughts of the two of them together out of her head.

  Sam was just the boy next door. Still was. Always would be.

  Lucki grimaced and rubbed her jumpy tummy, then closed her eyes. Maybe, she thought, if she just laid here still and quiet for a few minutes longer, the queasiness would subside and then she could go into the house, call Sam and tell him she couldn't make it to dinner. Then she'd eat some yogurt or fruit or something and go to bed.

  Yes. That's what she'd do. Go to bed and forget about jilted prom dates and the boy next door.

  * * * *

  The steaks were sizzling on the grill when Lucki had pulled into her driveway. Sam watched as she drove around to the back of the house, like she did most everyday. He'd turned the steaks and watched the fire blaze up as liquid fat hit the coals, then heard the blast from her horn. He glanced sharply up at the sound and then waited.

  He figured she'd hit the horn or something when she was getting out. Then he saw her lean over in the seat.

  Probably reaching over to get something, he thought.

  He waited.

  The steaks popped and sizzled.

  There was no movement in the truck cab.

  She was still down in the seat.

  He waited.

  Something acrid itched at his nose. He waved the smoke away.

  He still couldn't see Lucki's head pop up.

  Something was wrong.

  He dropped the barbecue fork.

  Something was wrong with Lucki. My God! That's why she blew the horn!

  Sam took off running across his back yard, leapt over J.J.'s bike, hurdled the hedge, and jerked open the driver's side door of Lucki's truck.

  Oh, God. She was passed out in the seat! And she was moaning.

  “Lucki!”

  He reached in, grasped both her arms, and pulled her into an upright position. “Lucki! Are you all right?”

  He gently patted her face.

  Lucki bolted. Her eyes shot open. Sam had difficulty registerin
g the expression in them.

  “Sam! What? What are you doing?”

  “Are you okay? What happened to you?”

  Lucki raked a fist over her puzzled face. “What the hell are you talking about Sam? Nothing has happened. I'm fine.”

  “Oh no, you don't. You don't look fine. You're eyes look tired, weak. Your skin looks sallow. You're shaking. And you were moaning when I opened the door. You're sick, aren't you?”

  “I'm just tired, Sam. It's been a long day. .and I haven't eaten. I was just.. resting.”

  It took only a second for Sam to swoop her up into his arms, back out of the truck, and head back over the hedge to his house. He walked around the bike this time.

  “Sam! What are you doing? Put me down!” Lucki ordered.

  Sam ignored her, hooked a foot into the back screen door standing slightly ajar and kicked it open. Through the kitchen and into the family room he walked, then placed Lucki carefully on the couch. Kneeling beside her, Sam caressed the hair away from her cheek and looked deep into Lucki's eyes. He still wasn't sure what he saw in them looking back at him.

  “It's not smart to go all day without eating.”

  “I'll eat, Sam,” Lucki replied. “You didn't have to carry me in here.”

  “You looked weak.” He lied. He just wanted to carry her.

  “I'm fine. Really. Just tired.”

  Lucki raked her tongue over her lower lips. Sam swallowed. “The steaks will be ready in a few minutes.” He started to rise.

  Lucki laid a hand on his forearm. “Sam, you don't have to cook dinner for me. I know you were just teasing me this morning.”

  Sam looked again into Lucki's eyes. “Lucki, I wasn't teasing. I want to cook dinner for you.”

  Again, something flashed across Lucki's face that was difficult for him to discern. His gaze dropped to her lips. Full. Slightly red. Moist. Then before he realized what he was doing, before he even thought about it, he leaned in closer and touched his lips to hers.

  That's when the siren went off in his ear.

  And Lucki pushed him back off his haunches.

  And he heard her yell, “Fire!”

  And he saw the smoke billowing into his kitchen window.