Foolish Notions (3 page)

Samantha had given him a tender shove.
“James, don’t say that.”

“I want you.” He had pulled
her closer to him. “Why can’t I seem to get enough of
you?” He had moved his lips to her ear and nibbled on the
tender lobe. “You’re intoxicating, you know that? You’re
like a drug that I can’t get enough of.” His words had
been hot against her ear. “I love you.”

“James?” Marie repeated his
name for the second time.

He came out of the unyielding image
suddenly and had to orient himself with what he had been doing.
“Leftover casserole how does that sound?” He rummaged
around the refrigerator for several moments, trying to regain his
composure. “I don’t see much of anything else in here. We
need to go grocery shopping.” It was another errand that he
added to his list of things he didn’t have time to do.

“Call her.”

“I’m not calling her.”
He lifted a clear container and examined it. “There’s
soup from last night. How about soup and salad?”

“Why won’t you call her?”

“She left me. She hasn’t
spoken to me in over a year. That sounds like a good enough reason to
me.” Anguish washed over him. The dull ache that had started at
the base of his neck engulfed his entire head, pounding violently
against every surface for release. “Mom—”

“Mom, that’s right. I’m
your mom.” She pointed a slender finger at him and sent him a
look that only a mother could give her child. “At one time I
was your mommy who fed you, changed you, and took care of all your
needs.”

“Don’t leave out the
forty-six hours of labor you endured,” he said dryly.

“I haven’t forgotten. How
could I ever forget? They were the longest days of my life. By the
way, it’s up to fifty-six hours now.”

“Do you even remember how long
you were in labor?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Trust me, I’m
still feeling the pains.”

“I bet you are.”

“My point is, you can talk to me
just like you always have.”

He placed a tall, empty glass in front
of her. “This isn’t some bump you can kiss and make all
better.”

“I’m not saying that it’s
going to be better. I just want you to talk about it.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

She raised her hands, giving up. “Let’s
make a deal.”

He was too tired to argue. He felt
irritation slithering through him, ready to settle permanently. God,
he hoped she would make it fast. “What kind of deal?”

“If Samantha—”

“Mother, I don’t want to
talk about this.” He pulled out a saucepan and turned on the
stove.

Marie swallowed hard. “Just hear
me out.”

He tried to hide his temper, by busying
himself with making dinner. “We went over this two nights ago.”

“Yes, we did. However, we never
settled anything.”

He looked up swiftly. “She’ll
never be your nurse,” he said undiplomatically. “There,
it’s settled.”

“That’s not fair.”

He wasn’t in the mood to be fair.
“Maybe not, but it’s settled.”

“James Anthony Taylor, I raised
you—”

James sighed heavily. “Let’s
not start this.”

Marie’s hand found its way to her
chest, where she tapped in lightly over her heart, and then looked
heavenward. “Lord, I don’t know where I went wrong—”

“Please, let’s not start
with the Lord stuff.” He cast an uneasy look at his dramatic
mom and then said, “Okay, I’ll hear you out. What’s
the deal?”

Marie smiled kindly as she leaned back
in her chair. “Thank you.”

“Oh, no, thank you,” he
said sarcastically.

“If Samantha can’t take
care of me, I’ll pick one of the other nurses. It’s as
simple as that.”

As James took out place settings he
contemplated the deal. This could be the answer to his prayers. What
were the chances of Samantha accepting this job? She hadn’t
spoken to him in a year; she would never agree to move in with him
and take care of his mom.

“Well?”

“If Samantha declines, you will
pick one of the other nurses without a single word of complaint?”
He wanted to make sure they completely understood each other, because
once it was settled he didn’t want to hear another word about
it ever again.

She placed a hand over her chest in
mock contempt. “I never complain.”

He could only roll his eyes at the
proclamation. “No more of this nonsense about how you want a
nurse who will enjoy your roses and also keep you entertained. We
will hire the most qualified nurse. Is that what you’re telling
me?”

“By the way, it’s not
nonsense.” Her mood turned serious.

“All that nonsense happens to be
documented in some very prestigious medical journals.”

He looked up at her.

“Yes, that’s the deal,”
she said swiftly.

“Despite her age or her floral
preference?”

“That’s what I’m
saying,” she agreed. “Should I have my lawyer call your
lawyer?”

“Just for the record, you’re
not funny.”

Her smile never faded. “Then what
else do I have to agree to? Do you want me to sign something in
blood?”

God, how he loved easy deals. Why
couldn’t all his deals be this easy? “That won’t be
necessary. You have a deal.”

She leaned forward and said, “Seal
it with a kiss.”

And he did.

* * * * *

An hour later James had cleaned the
dishes and, even though she refused, he had helped his mom to her
room to get settled for the night before heading back downstairs to
his office.

Now, he sat in the deep leather chair
in his office, his elbows rested on the arms, his chin supported by
his hands, his gaze on the phone. He had tried to concentrate on his
paperwork, but all he’d managed to do was waste forty-five
minutes staring at the phone. He was dreading the call he knew he was
going to have to make.

The thought crossed his mind, several
times, to lie to his mom and tell her he had called Samantha, and
she’d turned down the job. He would be avoiding a very awkward
moment, not to mention opening old wounds. He thought about another
half dozen lies before he quickly plucked up the receiver and dialed
the first six digits of Samantha’s number. He held the phone to
his ear before punching the last number. It took forever for the
phone to ring.

“Hello.”

James suddenly couldn’t speak.
His words caught in his throat like a dry cotton ball. He swallowed
hard against the bittersweet feeling of knowing she was at the other
end of the line. He shifted in his seat.

“Hello, is anyone there?”

“Hi, Samantha.”

“James?”

Well, she hadn’t forgotten his
voice. He gained a little pleasure from that fact. “Yes, umm .
. . I hope I didn’t call too late.”

“No, I just got home.”

He hadn’t realized how much he
wanted to hear her voice or how good it would feel when he did. Her
distinct soft tone penetrated the phone, and swirled through his
head. He had loved that voice. He had loved to hear her sing as she
had worked around the house, when she had spoken on the phone, or
whispered to him at night. That was the voice he couldn’t get
out of his head. It spoke to him when there was no one else there. He
closed his eyes and remembered how he had loved to hear her murmur
against his ear when they had made love. Her low moans of fulfillment
had driven him wild with passion and love.

Her voice had always reached deep
within in him; it still did.

“James, are you there?”
Samantha cleared her throat.

“James?”

“Excuse me?” He shook his
head abruptly as the oversized picture on the far wall came into
focus. What the hell was wrong with him? Get it together, he
demanded. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He started to doodle
on a yellow legal pad. He had to do something to divert the nervous
tension.

“Why are you calling?”

“My mom’s sick.”
Losing interest in the pen, he picked up a paper clip and began to
fiddle with it.

Concern jumped into Samantha’s
voice immediately. “Marie. What do you exactly mean by sick?”

“She has cancer.” James’s
stomach churned as a bitter taste formed in his mouth. He hated
saying the word.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. How is
she doing?”

“She’s hanging in there.”
He wasn’t. He wished that he had taken the news as well as his
mom had. Oddly, he’d felt like it had devastated him more than
her. “She starts chemotherapy in three days.”

“You’d be amazed at what
they can do these days. Treatment has come a long way in the last few
years.” Her tone was encouraging. “The drugs they are
using are more effective—”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“James?” She paused for
several seconds. “James, are you okay? You don’t sound
good.”

“Yes, I’m fine it’s
just that—” What was wrong with him? Why was he fumbling
for words? He was a top corporate executive, he reminded himself. He
ran a huge company, interacted with some of the most powerful people
in the world. He stifled a laugh; his communication skills were honed
to perfection, and yet it took all of him just to talk to his
ex-girlfriend.

“What is it?” Samantha’s
voice softened. “You can talk to me.” She paused. “Do
you have medical questions? Is that why you called?”

“My mom wants you to take care of
her.” Oh, hell, he hadn’t meant to blurt it out like
that. His intentions were to ease the topic into the conversation
after they had some time to get used to the fact that they were
talking with each other.

“Pardon?”

Well, at least she didn’t hang up
on him. “She has requested that you be her nurse during her
treatment. I know it sounds crazy, but she has been very persistent
about this.”

“I don’t think that’s
a good idea.”

Of course she wouldn’t.

“I can give you the names of some
good nurses if you’d like,” she offered.

James pressed his thumb and pointer
finger into his eyes—his migraine from yesterday was returning.
The intense pressure across his forehead promised to rival the pain
he’d experienced the previous day. “We’ve probably
already interviewed them,” he said as he pinched tighter.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He sat up tall
in his chair. The motion cleared his head enough so he could think.
“She wants you. I’ve tried to explain to her that it
wouldn’t work, but she refuses to listen. Normally, I wouldn’t
have called, but I’m becoming concerned because her treatment
starts so soon and she won’t decide on a nurse until she talks
to you.”

“Maybe if I give her a call I can
explain that it just isn’t possible.”

“That won’t work.” He
picked up his pen again and tapped it in an erratic fashion as he
gazed out the window. A phone call wouldn’t be enough for his
mom. She would want to see Samantha in person. “Come see her.”

“Come?”

“She’s staying with me.”

“I see.”

“If you’re not busy, why
don’t you come over to the house tomorrow? That way you can
tell her in person that you can’t work for her. Make something
up if you have to. It’s the only way she’s going to back
down.”

“Well—”

James heard the hesitation in her soft
voice and guessed correctly that she didn’t want to risk seeing
him. He ground his teeth together and took a slow deep breath. “I
won’t be home.”

“It’s not—”

“I have to work all day. Just
stop in. It would be a wonderful treat for her—she would love
to see you.”

“Yes, I would love to see her,
too.” There was a moment of silence before her gentle voice
rang through. “Tell her I’ll be by.”

“Sam—Samantha—”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. You don’t know
how much I appreciate this.”

The phone dangled in mid-air before he
gently set it back.

James buttered the two slices of
cinnamon toast lightly and set a cup of coffee on a bed tray. He eyed
Ginger, his housekeeper, as she came out of the utility closet. The
flashy gold-toned earrings that dangled from her ears matched the
rhinestones embedded around the collar of her shirt. He smiled at his
flamboyant housekeeper. “You are a miracle worker with flour
and baking powder,” he said as he took a bite of toast. “This
is my third piece.”

“I’m glad you like it.”
Ginger ran her hand across a strip of molding, checking for dust on
the stark white cloth she had sprayed with cleaner. “I should
have made two loaves.”

He nodded in agreement and polished off
the rest of the toast. “Might I ask why you are cleaning houses
when you can bake like this? You should have a bakery in old town
somewhere.” He held his hands up. “I can see it. A quaint
little shop nestled between two antique stores. The aroma of baking
yeast would permeate the store and seep outside, drawing in people
who were looking for right-from-the-oven goodies.”

“It does sound tempting. But if I
were to do that, people like you would be living in filth.”

“People like me? Are you trying
to imply that I’m dirty?” He stumbled back and made sure
he kept his amusement out of his voice. “You wound me, Ginger.”

She rolled her eyes at his drama then
laughed. “Not at all. However, you are a very busy bachelor who
doesn’t think about separating his white clothes from his color
clothes or the ungodly amount of dust that accumulates on the ceiling
fans.”

He tilted his head suspiciously. “You
clean my ceiling fans?”

With an over exaggerated nod, which
caused the large hoops in her ears to swing, she said, “See
what I mean? You’re not dirty, just busy.” She wrapped
the leftover cinnamon bread in plastic wrap and stored it in the
cabinet nearest to her. “Have you found a nurse yet?”

James’s mood instantly shifted
from enjoyable teasing to somber. “No, we’re working on
it.”

Ginger gave him a sideways glance.
“Marie being stubborn, or are you?”