Mrs. Scrooge Read online

  "You knew."

  "I know a lot of things, Sam."

  "I'm sure you do," she said, her words tossed back at them by the wind. "You are an ace reporter."

  He drew her into the circle of his arms as he had when they danced. "I know something special is happening."

  She caught the scent of his skin, and warmth spread through her limbs. "You're going to kiss me, aren't you?"

  He ducked his head lower to look at her. "That's the general idea."

  He was so close, she could see the shadow of his beard beneath his ruddy skin, imagine the feel of his mouth against hers, the way he would--

  "I think this would be a good time," she said, her gaze resting on his lips.

  "So do I." His head dipped toward her and an instant later his lips found hers. At first the pressure was light, almost teasing, and she found herself intrigued by the combination of steel and velvet his kiss called to mind.

  Time curled around them as the seconds passed and with each one, Sam found herself drawing closer to him, yearning for a deeper, more intimate contact. Desire was a silken cord, binding her to him in exquisite anticipation.

  It was as if he read minds, for suddenly his lips parted and she gasped as his tongue teased the place where her own lips met, then gained entry to her mouth. The champagne had left behind a fruity taste that mingled with a flavor reminiscent of brandy that was Murphy's own.

  "So, here we are," Murphy said when he finally broke the kiss.

  "Here we are," said Sam, drawing his face toward hers for another kiss.

  Moonlight spilled over them, adding to the magical feeling that had followed them all evening. The way the snow sparkled, the silvery sheen of the water passing beneath the bridge, the eerie and beautiful designs the icy branches of the bare trees made against the night sky—all of it became part of Sam as she stood there cradled in Murphy's arms.

  "I wasn't planning on this," said Murphy.

  "Neither was I."

  "That doesn't seem to matter much anymore, does it?"

  "Not a bit."

  "We don't have a lot in common."

  "No, we don't."

  "Does it matter?"

  She sighed with pleasure. "Not a bit."

  "So now what do we do?"

  "I was hoping you'd have a few ideas."

  "I do." He kissed her cheek, her nose, her forehead, moving slowly, tantalizingly, toward her mouth. "Open for me, Sam."

  A long, voluptuous shiver rose up from the tips of her sparkly high heels to the top of her head. She was pure flame, a wildly erotic mass of nerve endings sensitized beyond endurance as she parted her lips and drew him into her mouth. She slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, feeling his heat burning through the fabric of his shirt. Burning through her body as his fingers gripped her waist under his jacket that was draped over her shoulder, then spanned her ribcage, easing upward inch by fiery inch toward the satin-covered curve of her breasts. He broke their kiss. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips against the hollow of her throat as a low moan began to build inside her.

  Sensations that had been new and wonderful when she was sixteen were even more miraculous now that she was old enough to know the fragility of a moment like this. There were times in life when the better part of valor was to give over to emotion.

  He bent his head toward her. She lifted her eyes to his. Their lips met again and --

  "Anything wrong, folks?" Sam and Murphy leaped apart as the bright beam of a flashlight found them. "Kind of cold to be standing outside."

  Sam squinted into the light, and saw a familiar face at the other end of the flashlight. "Teddy? Is that you?"

  The beam lowered. "Sam? What the hell are you doing out here?" He aimed the light directly at poor Murphy. "Hey, O'Rourke. Glad to see you."

  Sam didn't dare wait for Murphy to respond.

  "We were on our way back now," she said, certain she would be forgiven this small white lie. "Patty's sitter wants to go home by twelve-thirty."

  Teddy checked his watch. "Better motor then, guys. Times a-wastin'. Besides, you'll need your sleep for tomorrow."

  Sam's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God! The chestnut stand."

  "Don't tell me you forgot."

  "Almost," said Sam.

  "Then it's a good thing I bumped into you, isn't it?"

  "Definitely an act of fate," said Murphy, his expression deadpan.

  "I think it's time to call it a night," said Sam, with a glance in Murphy's direction. "I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow."

  "What time do we get started?" asked Murphy.

  We?

  "Frank will have the stand set up by 10.00 a.m.," said Teddy as if he and O'Rourke had been lifelong cronies.

  "You're coming with me?" asked Sam.

  "Seems like that's the only way I'm going to see you tomorrow, doesn't it?"

  She nodded, struck dumb with surprise. He really was a most remarkable man.

  "We'll bring Patty," he continued as Teddy walked them to their car. "She'd probably get a kick out of the store windows and the tree. I've been promising to take my sister's boy in this season."

  "Great idea," said Teddy, clapping Murphy on the back. "Use Frank's parking spot near Radio City. I'll make sure he okays it for you."

  The two men shook hands.

  "Do I have anything to say about this?" Sam asked.

  "Not a hell of a lot," said Murphy, putting his arm around her right there in front of her cousin Teddy, the town crier. Poor Murphy. Little did he know that was practically a declaration of intent in the Dean family. "If that's what I have to do to see you tomorrow, that's what I have to do."

  "Looks like I'm leaving you in good hands, Sammy. I'll call Frank and tell him his wedding's on for tomorrow."

  Teddy made to leave then turned back, a puzzled expression on his face. "Sammy?"

  "Yes, Teddy?"

  "Did you do something to your hair? You look a little different tonight."

  * * *

  SAM AND MURPHY were still laughing when they pulled into her driveway ten minutes later.

  "What can I say?" Sam managed between whoops of laughter. "The men in my family aren't terribly observant."

  Murphy threw his head back and howled at that one. "He's a cop, Sam! The man's paid to be observant."

  Sam held her aching sides. "He still can't tell his own twins apart."

  "Identical?"

  "Not really," said Sam, as her laughter returned anew. "One's a boy and one's a girl."

  They laughed until tears came, until Sam was certain it was impossible to laugh anymore and continue to breathe. This was the Murphy O'Rourke she'd first come to know and like. Easy-going, quick to anger and quick to laugh, arrogant, opinionated and—

  A man. He wasn't her brother or her father or simply her friend. Tonight the sexual chemistry Caroline had claimed they lacked burst full blown into being. And as their laughter died, that chemistry reappeared in the quiet of the car.

  "Come here." Murphy's voice was low and gruff. "I have to go in."

  "You will," he said, drawing her close to him on the bench seat. "But first we have some old business to settle. I'd like to kiss you once without interruption."

  The kiss was longer, deeper, sweeter than the kisses that had come before. Sam felt as if she were floating freely through space and time on a cloud of pure, intense emotion, unlike anything she'd experienced before. And it wasn't simply desire flooding her senses, although that was a part of it. It was something much more complex—and much more dangerous.

  "I have to go in," she managed at last.

  "Coward," he said. He got out of the car and walked around to open her door.

  It was a wonder she managed to walk up the steps, with her head so high in the clouds.

  "Sleep well, Sam," he said at the door, after another long and luscious kiss. "I'll be back at eight."

  Seven and a half hours, she thought as she watched him drive off down the street.


  Her brain told her that Murphy O'Rourke wouldn't be around forever. His type of man moved on long before life had a chance to get dull.

  Her heart told her otherwise.

  It had been ages since Sam had listened to her heart but it appeared she had no choice.

  For the moment her heart belonged to Murphy O'Rourke.

  Chapter Twelve

  "GOING OUT again?" asked Bill O'Rourke the next morning.

  "That's right." Murphy grabbed for his down jacket and heavy gloves. "How about you?"

  "Eight o'clock mass." Bill put on his hat and scarf and looked at his son. "You should try it some time."

  "No lectures today, okay, Pop? The sun is shining, the birds are singing. It's a great morning. Let's leave it at that." Scotty would be helping out at the bar during the day, and Murphy intended to be back before it got crowded in the evening. His father should have absolutely no cause for complaint.

  "Are you seeing Samantha today?" his old man asked.

  "If I'm lucky."

  "And you saw her last night?"

  "That's right." Murphy zipped up his jacket. "Is there something you want to say?"

  "You still planning to leave when I get back behind the bar full-time?"

  "My plans haven't changed."

  "Then leave her alone, son."

  Murphy's jaw dropped. "What did you say?"

  His father rested a hand on Murphy's forearm. "I said, leave her alone. Sam isn't the kind of woman you walk out on when the fun's over."

  Murphy's pulse beat heavily in his right temple but he said nothing.

  "You've walked away from people and things all your life, Murphy. You're not going to do it with that girl and her daughter. Not while I'm alive."

  Murphy slapped his gloves against the palm of his left hand. "Where the hell is this coming from? Have you been talking to my beloved brother again?"

  "I'm talking to you about it. She's a good kid. Don't go leading her on, then leaving her behind like you've left everything else in your life."

  "You make me sound like a real nice guy, Pop. What makes you think you know anything about how I feel?"

  "I know what I see, is all. I know what you've always done. She deserves better than halfway measures, Murphy. So does her kid."

  On that Murphy was in agreement. Samantha deserved the love and security she'd never found with a man, and Patty deserved the seven-day-a-week father of her dreams. But life didn't always send you exactly what you needed.

  Then again, maybe it did. He thought of Sam and how warm and sweet she had felt in his arms last night, of how they had both seemed sprinkled with stardust, blessed with magic. That counted for something, didn't it?

  "Be honest with her," Bill warned as he headed for the front door. "Tell her the way it is with you. Don't lead her on."

  He looked at his father and wished there were a way to shatter thirty-six years of barriers and strife in a single instant. He wanted to tell Bill that he didn't know what would happen between Sam and him but he wanted the chance to find out. She made him feel different inside, hopeful and young, in a way he hadn't believed was possible.

  "Want a lift to church?" he asked as they left the house.

  "Walking's good for the heart," said Bill, turning up the collar of his coat.

  "I don't mind driving," said Murphy, wondering why he was pushing the issue.

  Bill started down the back stairs then stopped and looked back at his son. "You'll leave," he said sagely. "The minute the right job comes along, you'll be gone quicker than she can ask where you're going."

  "You don't know that," said Murphy.

  "Maybe not," said Bill with a shrug of his shoulders, "but I know you. You'll leave. Mark my words on that—sooner or later, you'll leave."

  * * *

  WHEN MURPHY O'ROURKE pulled into their driveway at exactly eight o'clock in the morning, Patty nearly swooned with delight. Not only was he handsome and funny and smart, he was punctual! The only thing that kept him from being absolutely perfect was the fact that his nephew was a whiney little six-year-old who cried for his mother the whole way through the Lincoln Tunnel.

  At first she wanted to give the little boy her most withering grown-up glance and tell him he was acting like a baby, but then she suddenly remembered little Kevin might one day be her cousin and she reached over and held the child's hand in hers until they came out of the tunnel and into the bright sunlight of Manhattan.

  Her Grandma Betty said New York City was a dirty and disgusting place where nobody in his right mind would go unless he absolutely had to. Patty had only been to New York City two times in her entire life—once to go to the circus, and, once to see The Lion King on a school outing—but each time she had found it thrilling!

  Manhattan was exotic and loud and a million times more exciting on a sleepy Sunday than Rocky Hill was on New Year's Eve. Even the air smelled different in New York City. Eagerly she began to unroll the window only to have her mom's sharp voice stop her in her tracks.

  "Keep that window up," Sam warned. "This isn't Rocky Hill."

  There were so many things to look at, that she wished she had eyes in the back of her head so she wouldn't miss one single thing. She swiveled to face front, just in time to see her mom brush a lock of hair off Murphy's forehead and say something that made him smile in a way Patty loved. Perhaps an extra set of ears wouldn't be a bad idea either, preferably ears that could hear private whispers.

  Some real grown-up stuff was going on up there and Patty would gladly give twenty IQ points to know what it was. Actually she had a pretty darned good idea of what was happening: sexual chemistry. She had tried really hard to understand the concept when her Aunt Caroline explained it to her earlier in the week but Einstein's Theory of Relativity had been easier to understand than the mysteries between men and women.

  But Aunt Caroline had been one hundred percent right about one thing: when you saw it, you knew it! The very air around her mom and Murphy O'Rourke shimmered. The way they looked at each other, the sound of their laughter—little things, yes, but somehow those little things seemed to add up to a lot more than Patty would have imagined.

  * * *

  SAM HANDED OVER a bag of warm, fragrant roasted chestnuts to the smiling tourists from Akron, Ohio.

  "And a Merry Christmas to you, too," she said, matching them smile for smile. "Don't forget to see the Lord & Taylor windows!"

  "We promise," said the man. "You've been terrific."

  She watched them stroll down the street, laughing and eating chestnuts. A street-corner Santa manned the other end of the block, and she grinned as the couple from Ohio dropped money into his red chimney. The tinkling of his bell and his merry "Ho! Ho! Ho!" floated back up the street, mingling with the noise of Sunday traffic and holiday shoppers.

  What an absolutely splendid day this was turning out to be! It was no wonder Frank wanted to make certain his stand was there in its usual place, wedding or not, for Sam couldn't imagine a more glorious location to experience a New York City Christmas. That majestic symbol of Manhattan at Yuletide, the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, was straight ahead, rising up in the middle of the concrete and glass like a twinkling, multi-colored jewel. Trumpeting angels, constructed of glittering white lights, lined the walkways of the Plaza as they had year after year, for longer than Sam could remember. She tilted her head and listened to the merry sounds of music rising up from the ice-skating rink and the equally merry sounds of laughter as eager skaters braved the cold.

  How long had it been since she'd felt this happy and confident? Out there in the brisk winter air, breathing in the sights and sounds of the holiday season and loving every single minute of it.

  Of course, seeing the look of pure bliss upon her daughter's freckled face went a long way toward accounting for the joyous feeling inside Sam's heart. Patty beamed with delight each time she looked at Murphy, and Sam had to admit her daughter's affection seemed to be reciprocated. Who on earth would have
imagined the gruff Murphy O'Rourke would have such a tender heart? She hadn't been blind to the patient, loving way he handled his fractious little nephew, moving the boy out of his bad mood with a combination of straight talk and a good-natured sense of humor.

  But then, neither had she been blind to the tenderness in his eyes last night. What a devastating combination of opposites he had presented to Sam: heart-melting tenderness blended with a fierce sexuality that set fire to her soul.

  She'd lain awake for a long time last night, wondering if the magic they'd experienced was the product of satin dresses the color of sapphires, of opulent velvet masks and the shimmering romanticism of the evening. What about when she was just Sam once more, with her straight dark hair and favorite black sweater, and her penchant for denim over diamonds?

  She smiled foolishly at the passersby as she thought of the look on Murphy's face this morning when he rang her doorbell. The look in his eyes was the same look she had seen the night before when he held her in his arms. It was for Sam, not for her wardrobe or makeup or jewelry any more than the way her heart quickened at the sight of his slightly crooked grin had anything to do with tuxedos or perfectly barbered hair.

  Who would have believed it?

  Sam was falling in love.

  * * *

  MURPHY WAS MESMERIZED by the animated figures in the window at Lord & Taylor. One, in particular. A lovely dark-haired Gibson girl in a sapphire blue gown who looked uncannily the way Sam had looked last night at the masquerade ball. That beautiful, fine-boned face. The delicate limbs. The doe eyes with their vulnerable intensity.

  He crouched down to look more closely at her and felt a tug on his sleeve.

  "Murphy." Patty's solemn, bespectacled face popped up in front of his nose. "Kevin has to go to the bathroom."

  Murphy blinked and looked down at the squirmy little boy holding onto Patty's hand. "Do you?"

  Kevin nodded. "A lot."

  Murphy dragged his hand through his hair. There was a lot less of it since his visit to the barber yesterday morning, and it felt strange. He thought for a second. "Okay. No problem. We'll go into Lord & Taylor."