Melissa McClone - Santa Brought A Son

Had Samantha done all this? The girl he remembered hadn’t seemed interested in flowers unless they were for a prom corsage. Though she’d been more concerned about whether they clashed with the color and style of her dress. But Reed had thought he’d seen more in her. Too bad he’d been wrong.

Reed passed a group of carolers dressed like characters from a Dickens novel and made his way to the other side of the room. He located table four.

“Hey.” Reed was happy to see three of his closest friends from high school and two women seated here. “I’ve been wondering where you guys were. It’s been a long time.”

“I don’t believe it.” Wes Harkens, who had a goatee and a lot less hair than Reed remembered, rose from his seat and shook his hand. “Mark said you were coming, but I didn’t see you at the church so I thought you hadn’t made it.”

“I was with Mark until right before the ceremony,” Reed said, thinking how good it had been to catch up on the past eight years with his old friend. “Mark was as cool as a cucumber, but once I saw Kelli, I understood.”

As his three buddies nodded knowingly, the attractive brunette sighed. “Don’t you guys think about anything else?”

“Sorry, honey. We don’t.” Dan Crenshaw, as tall as ever, but no longer as skinny as a twig, laughed. “I thought a million-dollar deal would spring up and keep you away, Reed.”

He smiled. “I don’t make the deals, just make sure everyone knows about them and Wintersoft.”

“But you must be doing well. Wintersoft is a great company.” Patrick Fitzgerald, who looked eighteen not twenty-eight, hugged him. “Good to see you, Reed.”

“You, too,” he said.

The introductions continued. Reed met Dan’s fiancée, Jenn, and Wes’s wife, a pregnant, auburn-haired beauty named Claire. For two guys who’d never dated in high school, they had done well in the spouse department. Patrick, who hadn’t outgrown his thick black-rimmed glasses and too-short pants, seemed to have come alone, but two empty seats at the table still remained.

“Looks like we’ll have all the single women to ourselves,” Reed said to Patrick.

“Maybe you will.”

“Thank goodness,” a familiar feminine voice said. “I never thought I’d find it.”

One glance and Reed’s heart skipped a beat. He felt the same way he had the first time Samantha had bounced into the computer lab in her short cheerleader skirt and tight sweater asking for help with her algebra homework. She had never meant to be a tease, but she had been a natural flirt who drove all males, regardless of age, to the brink of insanity.

“Table four.” She glanced at her table-assignment card and at each of the table’s occupants. Her gaze lingered on Reed for a moment longer than the others, and he wondered if anyone else noticed or saw the wariness in her eyes. “Looks like I’m at the right place.”

All three of his friends stared at Samantha with the same look of awe they had in high school. Patrick nearly tripped over himself to pull out her chair. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Here you go, Samantha.”

Her face glowed with a radiance Reed didn’t remember. Must be the lighting. No one could look that good.

“Thank you,” she said.

Patrick’s red cheeks brought back so many memories about Samantha for Reed. His senior year he’d hacked into the school computer system to get her class schedule. The first day back at school he’d managed to “bump” into her between every class, but more than once he’d been too shy to say anything but hello. He’d been so pathetic. At least that was in the past.

Reed sat, leaving an empty seat between him and Samantha. The smart thing to do, he told himself, even though the idea of sitting next to Art Wilson—the man who had tormented him through high school and married the girl of Reed’s teenaged dreams—didn’t thrill him, but he was an adult and no longer in a losing competition. He could handle it. And Art.

Samantha picked up her flute of champagne. “Wasn’t the ceremony lovely?”

“I cried,” Claire admitted.

“You cry during commercials. Even when you aren’t pregnant.” Jenn laughed. “The bridesmaid dresses are gorgeous.”

“They are beautiful, but now you can see why I told Kelli no when she asked me to be a bridesmaid?” Claire patted her big-enough-to-burst belly. “I’m much too big to prance around in a sexy bridesmaid dress.”

“You’re all baby.” Wes’s voice, so soft and full of affection, was a 180 degrees different from when he used to talk like Commander Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. “You look beautiful.”

Claire shrugged. “Thanks, but I didn’t want an album of wedding party pictures showing how ‘beautiful’ and big I look.”

“These are nice.” Dan adjusted the centerpiece, a small pine wreath circling a vanilla-scented candle. “I can’t wait to see what you do for our wedding, Samantha.”

“She won’t be able to top what she did at ours,” Wes admitted while Claire agreed.

Samantha’s eyes reflected her gratitude. “Thanks, but I only did what Kelli and Mark wanted done.”

Reed watched the exchange in amazement. The entire table acted as if they were friends, not acquaintances. He didn’t get it. Samantha would have never been caught dead talking to any of these guys in high school. She had been nice to him and treated him differently from others who weren’t in her clique. She’d made him feel special, but he’d helped her pass all her freshman and sophomore math and science courses. He’d believed friendship had grown from the tutoring. They’d been an odd pair—the beauty and brain—sharing their dreams for the future and what they wanted out of life. They had exchanged letters once he left for college until spring break of his sophomore year when they’d become lovers and the truth about how she felt—or rather didn’t feel—about him came out.

The DJ announced the arrival of the bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. Mark Slayter, and the wedding guests clapped. A harpist took over from the carolers, and a sit-down prime rib dinner was served. The conversation never lagged. Reed’s friends wanted to know about his job and life in Boston. After that, stories about their high school days and being pathetic geeks kept them entertained. Samantha didn’t talk much.

He stared at her. She was so elegant, so stunning. His gaze drifted to her lips. He remembered every contour, every detail of those soft lips, even her taste. He remembered so much more about her, about the days and the night they had spent together. Too bad it hadn’t meant the same to her as it had to him. Reed reached for his glass of ice water.

What he needed was a strong dose of reality. Something to remind him Samantha was no longer on the market and put an end to the fantasy forming in his mind.

“Where’s Art?” Reed asked her. “At home with the kids?”

Everyone at the table stared at Samantha. Not even the crystal-handled cake knife could cut through the tension.

Wes started to speak, but Samantha interrupted him. “I—it’s okay. I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” Reed asked, feeling like the last one to learn a worm virus was about to destroy his hard drive.

She toyed with the edge of her napkin. “Art was involved in a motorcycle accident three years ago, and his injuries were too severe. He died.”

Reed felt as if he’d been punched in the solar plexus. He also felt like a jerk. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“You had no reason to know.”

But he should have known. Reed glanced at her bare ring finger. How could he not have noticed before? Why hadn’t he asked about Art earlier? But then again, Reed had believed Samantha was living a happily ever after like she’d dreamed about. “You doing okay?”

The question sounded ridiculous once the words were out, but he’d felt compelled to say something.

Her steady gaze met his. “I’m doing fine.”

Fine.

Samantha deserved better than that. But it wasn’t up to him to give it to her. He knew that, both logically and realistically. Art might be out of the picture, but so was Reed. His flight was leaving tomorrow. His life was in Boston.

But you’re here now.

So what? He’d come to Fernville to have fun. He wasn’t looking for a second chance. Maybe a fling…

Samantha rose. “The lights on the tree are flickering. I need to fix them.”

“Want some help?” Patrick asked.

“Thanks, but it’s happened before and I know what to do.”

As Samantha walked away, Claire sighed. “Come on, you guys. Don’t make her do it alone.”

“Reed?” Jenn suggested.

“Be right back.” Reed stood. He should have done this on his own. Proactive, not reactive. That’s how he handled things now, but around Samantha he felt a little unsure and awkward, reminding him of his high school days. It didn’t make sense.

Standing at the tree, she tightened the miniature bulbs.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“No, thanks.” She didn’t glance up. “I’ve got it under control.”

Reed wished he could say the same. He touched one of the crystal hearts on the tree. Time to pull himself together. Samantha shouldn’t have him reverting to his former insecurities. Okay, she was beautiful, but he’d dated beautiful women before. Must be guilt over bringing up Art. It couldn’t be anything else. “I wanted to apologize for what I said back at the table.”

“No need.”

“I’m still sorry.” He checked for a loose bulb on the string of lights. “I would never want to cause you any pain.”

“Now that’s a good one.”

Her bitterness surprised him. She’s the one who didn’t want him. Perhaps she was having regrets. “I know it was a long time ago, but we once meant something to each other.”

“Did we?”

“Yes, we did.” At least he had thought so.

She raised a shoulder. “All that was a big mistake.”

Just as he’d assumed, their time together had meant nothing to her. “A mistake,” he repeated.

“I knew you would agree.”

But he didn’t. Not really. Being with Samantha had been both the best and the worst time of his life. A time of wonder and love. A time of rejection and disappointment. But he wouldn’t call it a mistake. Perhaps a lesson learned. “Sam—”

“Found it.” She fiddled with the wires, and the lights stayed on. “No more flickering.”

Reed wished he could say the same thing about his feelings for Samantha. His emotions seemed to be flickering on and off, and he didn’t know how to fix that.

“The bride and groom want to be on their way, so let’s get all the single women on the dance floor for the bouquet toss,” the DJ announced.

“That’s my cue to get the bride her bouquet. Excuse me.” Samantha rose, grateful for a valid reason to get away from Reed if only for a few minutes. She’d been upset at his returning to Fernville, but now she was annoyed at him. She hated the pity in his eyes. His need to apologize for bringing up Art.

So she was a widow? It wasn’t by choice, but she’d learned to live with it. Because of Timmy, she’d had no choice.

Timmy. The thought of her son filled her with warmth. Like her own parents, Reed had made the wrong choice where his child was concerned. He hadn’t wanted to be any part of Timmy’s life. Or hers. She wondered if he ever had regrets. She wondered if her own parents did. Not that it mattered. She’d only been wanted and loved on their terms. She and Timmy were better off without them in their lives.

She picked up the smaller throw-away bouquet made with fire-and-ice roses and sprigs of pine and made her way through the crowded room to the dance floor. The sweet scent of the roses tickled her nostrils, reminding her this was a wedding not a wake. She was here to enjoy herself. No sense letting Reed Connors get to her. He wouldn’t be in Fernville forever. He didn’t care enough to cause problems. Time to stop overreacting. Didn’t she deserve a night out and some fun?