with just that towel on."
Obviously he hadn't fumbled badly enough to make her angry, though that was pure and simple good luck on his part. If he was looking for signs that she still had her doubts about their relationship, he wasn't finding any. Richard gave a slow smile as he exchanged the towel for boxers and jeans. Rather, if he was looking for signs that she meant to stay with him, he was finding them. And that was a very fortunate thing as far as he was concerned.
"Better?" he asked, fastening his pants.
Samantha gave a quicksilver grin. "Not necessarily. But I'd like to have our conversation in your armor gallery. Can we do it after dinner?"
"Certainly. Do you want me to keep you company at the Malloreys'?"
"I don't think so. You just don't know what to do with yourself when you don't have work, do you? It's called relaxing. Taking it easy. Call Donner. Maybe there's a ball game you can attend or something. Or golf those other nine holes you missed yesterday."
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" he asked, collecting his gray T-shirt.
"Let's just say that I don't want you sharing your opinion of Gwyneth Mallorey with her until after I get paid. Whoever said words can never hurt me obviously never had an argument with you."
That seemed like a compliment, although she probably hadn't meant it as one. "Very well. I'll call Tom and keep myself occupied. Perhaps Mike is playing ball today."
"He's not. He's having dinner at his friend David's house."
Richard paused. "And how do you know that?"
"I'm looking for Anatomy Man, remember? I had to go talk to my client." She glanced at him as she glided on her deodorant. "Mike's a good kid, isn't he?"
"Yes. Why?"
Samantha shrugged. "Just a question. I don't know kids very well."
"The Donner kids certainly like you."
"I didn't say I didn't like them. I said I don't get them."
That made sense, given her so-called upbringing. "Ah. Any clues so far?"
"It's too early to tell."
Samantha went into her walk-in closet and reappeared a moment later pulling on a yellow blouse and a black dress jacket. Christ, this was strange, her going off to meet a client and him scrambling to keep himself occupied. She was right again. He needed to learn how to relax a little. Of course, enjoying the moment was considerably easier when she was present to enjoy it with him, but he could cope for an afternoon. He'd use it as a character-building exercise.
Tucking in her blouse, Samantha lifted up on her tiptoes to kiss him softly on the mouth. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
He grinned. "That doesn't eliminate much. Good luck with Gwyneth Mallorey."
"Luck's for schmucks, but thanks."
Richard walked her down to the garage and held open the door of her blue Bentley for her. He'd given her the car a year ago, and had offered to purchase her a new one since then, but she'd turned him down. Apparently the Bentley was the first car she'd ever actually owned legitimately, and she didn't want to give it up, even for a new model. As soon as she left, he pulled out his cell phone again and hit one of the speed dials. After two rings the line clicked open. "Hey, Rick," Tom's voice came. "I don't know where Jellicoe is, if that's what you're calling about."
"It's not."
"Oh. Okay. Problems with the LAX negotiations?"
"No, everything's fine. What are you up to right now?"
"Hold on a sec." Dimly on the open line he heard what sounded like a radio deejay. "Okay, what's up?"
Richard held the phone away from his ear for a second to look at it. "Nothing. What are you doing right now?"
"I'm regluing the leg on a barstool," Tom finally answered. "No more WWE wrestling for Mike this month. Now do I get to ask what you're doing?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"Really? Where's Jellicoe, since she's not here?"
"Meeting a client. So Katie's at home, is she?" Richard continued, ignoring the sudden accelerated beating of his heart. Why not do this today? He'd been wanting to
Obviously he hadn't fumbled badly enough to make her angry, though that was pure and simple good luck on his part. If he was looking for signs that she still had her doubts about their relationship, he wasn't finding any. Richard gave a slow smile as he exchanged the towel for boxers and jeans. Rather, if he was looking for signs that she meant to stay with him, he was finding them. And that was a very fortunate thing as far as he was concerned.
"Better?" he asked, fastening his pants.
Samantha gave a quicksilver grin. "Not necessarily. But I'd like to have our conversation in your armor gallery. Can we do it after dinner?"
"Certainly. Do you want me to keep you company at the Malloreys'?"
"I don't think so. You just don't know what to do with yourself when you don't have work, do you? It's called relaxing. Taking it easy. Call Donner. Maybe there's a ball game you can attend or something. Or golf those other nine holes you missed yesterday."
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" he asked, collecting his gray T-shirt.
"Let's just say that I don't want you sharing your opinion of Gwyneth Mallorey with her until after I get paid. Whoever said words can never hurt me obviously never had an argument with you."
That seemed like a compliment, although she probably hadn't meant it as one. "Very well. I'll call Tom and keep myself occupied. Perhaps Mike is playing ball today."
"He's not. He's having dinner at his friend David's house."
Richard paused. "And how do you know that?"
"I'm looking for Anatomy Man, remember? I had to go talk to my client." She glanced at him as she glided on her deodorant. "Mike's a good kid, isn't he?"
"Yes. Why?"
Samantha shrugged. "Just a question. I don't know kids very well."
"The Donner kids certainly like you."
"I didn't say I didn't like them. I said I don't get them."
That made sense, given her so-called upbringing. "Ah. Any clues so far?"
"It's too early to tell."
Samantha went into her walk-in closet and reappeared a moment later pulling on a yellow blouse and a black dress jacket. Christ, this was strange, her going off to meet a client and him scrambling to keep himself occupied. She was right again. He needed to learn how to relax a little. Of course, enjoying the moment was considerably easier when she was present to enjoy it with him, but he could cope for an afternoon. He'd use it as a character-building exercise.
Tucking in her blouse, Samantha lifted up on her tiptoes to kiss him softly on the mouth. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
He grinned. "That doesn't eliminate much. Good luck with Gwyneth Mallorey."
"Luck's for schmucks, but thanks."
Richard walked her down to the garage and held open the door of her blue Bentley for her. He'd given her the car a year ago, and had offered to purchase her a new one since then, but she'd turned him down. Apparently the Bentley was the first car she'd ever actually owned legitimately, and she didn't want to give it up, even for a new model. As soon as she left, he pulled out his cell phone again and hit one of the speed dials. After two rings the line clicked open. "Hey, Rick," Tom's voice came. "I don't know where Jellicoe is, if that's what you're calling about."
"It's not."
"Oh. Okay. Problems with the LAX negotiations?"
"No, everything's fine. What are you up to right now?"
"Hold on a sec." Dimly on the open line he heard what sounded like a radio deejay. "Okay, what's up?"
Richard held the phone away from his ear for a second to look at it. "Nothing. What are you doing right now?"
"I'm regluing the leg on a barstool," Tom finally answered. "No more WWE wrestling for Mike this month. Now do I get to ask what you're doing?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"Really? Where's Jellicoe, since she's not here?"
"Meeting a client. So Katie's at home, is she?" Richard continued, ignoring the sudden accelerated beating of his heart. Why not do this today? He'd been wanting to
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