The words congealed in Marjorie’s throat, and it took a few moments for her to unscramble her thoughts. “That was Sam.”

“Dr. Sam?”

It was all Marjorie could do to nod. “I blew it.”

“Oh good grief,” Lydia said. “Not again.”

Marjorie dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’m afraid so.”

“What did you do?”

“He suggested we get together tonight, and I said I was busy and that it would be better if I contacted him next week.”

A moment of stunned silence followed.

“You didn’t! Tell me you didn’t say that!” Lydia marched into the room and pressed both hands on top of Marjorie’s desk, leaning forward so that their faces were scant inches apart. “If the two of you ever get together, I swear it will be a miracle. What made you put him off that way?”

“I don’t know. This thing with Al’s really got me down, and I wanted Sam to see me at my best, not my worst.”

Lydia closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “I’ve got more bad news for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Bud’s here,” Lydia announced starkly. “And he’s in one hell of a bad mood. He wants to see you right away.”

—

Even before Marjorie left the dealership at a quarter after nine, she knew she wasn’t heading home. Sam’s Brown’s Point address was tucked safely away in her purse, and she had every intention of talking to him before she did anything else. Maybe she could undo some of the damage.

She located the house without a problem, pulled into the wide driveway, and turned off her engine. Sam’s home was a magnificent sprawling ranch house made of used brick. Huge picture windows faced the street.

Her heart was pounding like a locomotive chugging uphill. Now she understood what courage it had taken for him to arrive unannounced at her apartment. She didn’t often do this sort of thing, and the need to swallow her pride made it all the more difficult.

While her conviction held, she climbed out of the car and marched up to his front door like a soldier making her way to the front of a firing squad. Her hand faltered as she rang the bell.

She heard Sam’s footsteps long before the door was opened.

“Marjorie.” He blinked, certain she was a figment of his imagination.

“I know I should have called, but…”

“No,” he said, and smiled that slow, sexy smile of his as he stepped aside. “Come in, please.”

Relieved by his warm welcome, she entered his home. The first thing that she noticed when he led her into the huge, tiled entryway was the large, unobstructed view of Commencement Bay from the floor-to-ceiling living room windows. The twinkling lights of barges and ferryboats lit up the inky black night and reflected off the water.