For the Love of Sami Read Online Free PDF Page B

life completely together, everything tidy, no loose ends, never a hair out of place. She wondered what he would think if he could see her giant loft. "I’m glad," she finally pronounced solemnly. "People who have no place for children either in their home or their hearts shouldn’t have them."
    He walked toward her, coming to a halt only a step away. "Why are we having this peculiar conversation?" he asked quietly.
    "I hate things you can’t touch."
    "So do I." His voice gilded over her like lustrous satin. "Everything in my home is to be touched and enjoyed."
    Why did she have the absurd impression he was talking about her instead of the things in his home? Her voice wobbled only a little as she answered, "Children couldn’t. They’re clumsy, and they might break them." She ought to know. Hadn’t she been told enough while she was growing up?
    He gave her his slow smile and moved even closer. "Would it make you any happier if I promised that when and if I have children I’ll put these things away until my so-far-nonexistent children are old enough to enjoy them?"
    His nearness was astonishingly overwhelming, and she felt as if something had become lodged in her throat. She couldn’t seem to speak . . . or move. Their eyes were locked, and the silence of the room encircled them, making the two of them an island of unspoken, hot emotions in a room of cold, insensible objects.
    Daniel raised his hand to touch the side of her face with the tips of his fingers. "You’re pale—and starving, I’m sure. In honor of your unexpected presence in my home, my housekeeper, Mrs. Abbott, kindly offered to stay and serve our dinner."
    His hand moved to her back in a gesture of guidance, then jerked away as if it had suddenly occurred to him that she couldn’t be wearing anything underneath the burgundy silk sheet because her clothes were wet and hanging on his shower stall. His next words came out in a gruff whisper. "Let’s go into the dining room."
    Sami sat across from Daniel with a regality that came naturally to her. Her parents had spent a small fortune on governesses, boarding schools, and finishing schools to teach her to use what she had been born with—grace, intelligence, and poise.
    The redoubtable Mrs. Abbott, another seemingly perfect accoutrement of the house, had served them what was no doubt a delicious meal. However, the cuisine was lost on Sami, who pushed the medium-rare roast beef around on the fine china plate with a heavy eighteenth-century English silver fork. Sami’s mind was full of brooding remembrances that the traumatic events of the day had conjured up.
    Growing up had been horrifyingly hard on Sami, because she had known deep in her sensitive young heart that her parents had no time for her and had only wanted to keep her out of their way. Still, in the last few years, she had tried so hard to forget her childhood and to live as ordinary a life as she could. But she never quite seemed to fit—always living, as she did, on a plane slightly different from most people. And she certainly didn’t fit here, she pondered gloomily, where there was a place for everything and everything was in its place. It was only Daniel’s voice that jerked her back to the present.
    "Tell me about yourself, Sami."
    She jumped at the sound of his voice. There was that question again. "There’s— there’s really nothing to tell."
    "Well, then tell me where you’re from."
    Sami squirmed in her chair. "Oh, here and there."
    "Sami," he admonished very gently. "I can’t help you if you don’t trust me."
    A slight throbbing began in her head. "What a ridiculous thing to say. Of course I trust you." How could she begin to explain to such a self-assured man all the fears and insecurities that haunted her?
    "Does Sami stand for Samantha?"
    "No." She shook her head stubbornly. "It stands for Sami."
    "You’ve never lived at the YWCA, have you?" he probed further.
    "Why would you say that?" The defensiveness in her voice