The Major And The Librarian

Only his concern for his mother had brought him back to Serenity—his very obvious and deeply felt concern.

As Emma shut off the Volvo’s engine, Sam—looking cool and confident in navy shorts and a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows—stepped from the sedan. He glanced back at her a moment, his expression unreadable thanks to the mirrored sunglasses he wore, lifted a hand in acknowledgment, then turned toward the rental agency’s entryway.

With a pang of longing that was almost laughable under the circumstances, Emma watched him pull the door open and disappear inside.

She had always prided herself on her ability to face facts head-on. And she had certainly never considered herself a masochist. So how could the mere sight of one man—especially the one man who had every reason to spurn her—still have such a devastating effect on her?

Her reaction to seeing him just now had been only slightly less unsettling than the reaction she’d had when she’d seen him yesterday afternoon and again when she’d first come upon him early that morning.

At Margaret’s request, he had dressed in uniform for the church service. Seeing him standing tall and handsome in the living room, Emma had felt her breath catch in her throat. She had halted in the doorway, staring at him as a rush of emotion engulfed her. The urge to walk up to him, put her arms around his waist and rest her head on his shoulder had been almost overwhelming.

Until he had glanced at her, his chin up, his blue eyes cold and distant.

Then she had wanted to turn on her heel and run as far and fast as she could. Her pride alone had held her still. Lifting her chin, she had somehow managed not only to hold her ground, but to meet his icy gaze with her own brand of hard-won reserve, as well.

She had stayed on in his mother’s house because the argument he’d made in favor of it had been a valid one. But she hadn’t been about to let him intimidate her.

Now Emma wondered if that might have been the wisest course of action, after all.

Had she simply walked away, she wouldn’t be sitting here, her heart racing, waiting for Sam to finish his business. She wouldn’t be dreading the moment when he joined her in the close, quiet confines of his mother’s car. And she certainly wouldn’t be making herself crazy trying to decide what she could say to him, what she should say to him and what she actually would say to him in the hours ahead.

He would probably want to discuss his mother’s illness. But there was only so much she could tell him about that. Then what? she wondered.

In an effort to pull herself together, Emma grabbed her purse, exited the Volvo and locked the door, then walked into the rental agency. A sideways glance assured her Sam was still waiting to speak to an agent. He stood third in line, his head bent, studying the rental contract. Moving quickly, she went on to the ladies’ room without attracting his attention.

When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she grimaced. The expression on her face was one more suited to a woman on her way to her execution.

She couldn’t afford to let Sam see her looking so grim. Not when he was capable of cloaking himself in such utter dispassion. That would give him even more of an edge than he already had. If she was to have any chance of getting through the afternoon without making an idiot of herself, she was going to have to try to level the playing field. And she could only do that by at least pretending a nonchalance equal to his own.

She took several deep breaths as she dried her hands on a paper towel, then refastened the banana clip holding her curls away from her face. Forcing herself to think no further than the present moment, she faced the mirror on the wall by the door, smoothed a hand over her narrow, calf-length denim skirt and adjusted her white, sleeveless blouse.

It would do no good to anticipate the worst. In fact, she would only be buying trouble. Better to paste a smile on her face and hope for the best. No matter how blasé Sam might seem, he couldn’t be looking forward to the next few hours, either.

As she left the ladies’ room, Emma saw that Sam had finally made it to the counter. Pen in hand, he was signing a paper while the young female agent stood by, eyeing him appreciatively.

Emma imagined he garnered lots of looks like that from women everywhere he went. Why, she would smile at him that way, too, if she thought it would do her any good.

Realizing that she was frowning again, Emma went on to the car. She unlocked the passenger’s door and slid onto the seat. Reaching over, she stuck the key in the ignition, started the car and turned up the air-conditioning in readiness for Sam’s arrival. Then she took out a map of San Antonio and the article about the nursery she wanted to visit, and tried to pinpoint its location.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Sam leave the rental agency. He crossed to the driver’s side of the Volvo, opened the door and leaned inside.

“Sure you wouldn’t prefer to drive?” he asked. “You know your way around here better than I do.”

“Not really,” she admitted, glancing up at him, then away again. “I don’t get into the city all that often, and the traffic near the downtown area can get kind of hairy.” She gestured at the map spread open in her lap. “I’d just as soon navigate. Unless you’d rather not…”

Realizing that she was rambling, Emma allowed her words to trail away. She stared at the map, her grip on it tightening until the edges crumpled in her hands.

“No problem. I don’t mind driving,” Sam replied, his tone matter-of-fact. Slipping behind the steering wheel, he adjusted the seat to accommodate his height. “Where would you like to go first—the nursery that specializes in Old Garden roses or the needlepoint shop down on the Riverwalk?”

“You know, we could just…head back to Serenity,” Emma ventured, looking out the windshield.

Beside her, Sam turned in his seat so that he faced her, but he said nothing. Acutely uncomfortable, Emma hastened to fill the silence stretching between them.

“I mean, you just got into town after traveling for several days, and here you are, on the road again. You must be exhausted. Now that we’ve taken care of the car business…” She waved a hand at the rental-agency office. “I can always go to the nursery another day, and the needlepoint shop can send your mother’s supplies the way they’ve always done in the past.”

When several moments passed and Sam again made no comment, Emma finally turned to look at him. The darkened lenses of his sunglasses made his expression hard to read, but there was a grim twist to his lips as he eyed her quietly.

“I don’t mind going to the nursery and the needlepoint shop as we planned,” he said at last. “But if you want to go back to Serenity, Emma, just say so, and we’ll go back.”

“We didn’t plan to go to the nursery and the needlepoint shop, Sam,” Emma argued as calmly as she could. “Your mother planned that for us. So why go through the motions if we don’t want to?”

“I’ve already said that I don’t mind,” he reminded her reasonably. “But I also said if you do, we can head back right now.” He shifted in his seat again, released the parking brake, put the car in gear, then added almost as an afterthought, “Of course, if we get back earlier than expected, she’s going to wonder what made you change your mind. And more than likely, regardless of what you say, she’s going to hold me responsible for spoiling the day.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Emma protested.

“I’m afraid she would.” Sam pulled to a stop at the rental agency’s exit and glanced at her again. “She warned me two, maybe three times before we left to mind my manners and behave like a gentleman so you’d have a nice time. She said you deserved a day away, and she wanted me to make sure that it was as pleasant as possible.”

Emma groaned inwardly as she bent her head over the map again. She could almost hear Margaret saying the words. And she now knew without a doubt that she’d been right about that mischievous twinkle in her friend’s eyes.

She wished she had kept her mouth shut. Her only intention had been to spare Sam, and in all honesty herself, from several hours of strained silence punctuated by odd intervals of stilted conversation. But all she had actually succeeded in doing was putting both of them in an even more untenable position.

Had she just gritted her teeth and gotten with the program, they could have pretended to make the best of the situation. Now they each knew that the other would rather be anywhere but there. Margaret wanted to give Emma a respite of sorts, and she had elected Sam to do the honors in the hope that something more might come of their spending time together.

And something most certainly would. Only not what Margaret had in mind. Sam would consider her even more of a cross to bear. And she would have to work even harder at acting as if she didn’t have any feelings for him one way or another.

“Well, then, I supposed we ought to go to the nursery first,” she said, hoping her cheerfulness didn’t sound as false to him as it did to her. “Unless I’m mistaken, it’s not far from here.” She looked at the street sign, then back at the map. “Turn right here, go down to the second intersection and turn left.”

“Emma, if you really want to go back, we can,” he offered. “Just because my mother gets a notion in her head doesn’t mean we have to go along with it. This is supposed to be your day, after all.”

“I know. But I do want to check out the roses at the nursery, and we’re already here.”

“Well, then, let’s go.” He turned out of the agency lot as she had directed, then glanced at her questioningly. “Left at the second intersection?”

“Yes, then down about two miles or so. According to the article I clipped out of the paper, the nursery should be on the right.”

They covered the relatively short distance in virtual silence. Sam seemed perfectly at ease. He leaned back in the driver’s seat, his shoulders relaxed, his long, lightly tanned legs stretched out in front of him as he gripped the steering wheel in a loose hold, his attention focused on the road ahead.

Emma, on the other hand, sat rigidly in her seat, hands clasped knuckle white in her lap, so tense she could hardly draw a breath. She willed herself to say something inane, but the longer she waited, the more impossible it became. She could barely swallow around the nervous flutter in her throat, much less speak.

Sam had given her no reason to feel so uncomfortable in his presence. He hadn’t said or done anything to disparage her. Nor had he given any indication that he would.

He had argued for her staying at his mother’s house when he could have sent her packing. And he had just gone out of his way to make sure they did what she wanted now. All with the deference of a true gentleman.

As if the last time they had been together she hadn’t screamed at him like a madwoman, spewing out her hatred—

“This must be it,” Sam said, jerking her back to the present as he flicked on the turn signal and slowed the car. “Wimberly and Sons Nursery?”

“Yes, Wimberly and Sons Nursery,” she murmured, scrambling to gather her wits about her.