Free With This Ring by Patricia Kay

the idea of calling him. She even went so far as to look up his number in the telephone directory, then replaced it without writing the number down.
    No. Telephone calls could be so unsatisfactory. She wanted to see him. To see the expression on his face and in his eyes. If he was giving her the brush off, she would force him to do it in person.
    The thought that he might caused an ache in her chest and those stupid tears to well again.
    You're being ridiculous, you know that, don't you? You just met this guy. He can't possibly mean that much to you already.
    But he did! He did.
    She knew both her mother and Lark had been right to caution her against jumping into anything, but where Sam was concerned, Amy could no more stop the way she felt about him than she could stop breathing.
    They were meant to be. And if he didn't yet realize it, she would have to show him.
    She absently petted Delilah, who had jumped up on the kitchen table and was rubbing against her. But before she did anything, she needed to figure out why he hadn't called her. Was he afraid? From the way he'd talked at dinner the other night, she sensed he wasn't a person who would trust others easily. Growing up the way he had, she was sure he would be wary of close relationships.
    Was that it? Was he scared of getting close to her? Scared of allowing himself to care? Did the emotions unleashed between them Saturday night frighten him off?
    Amy looked at the clock. It was only seven. Abruptly, she stood. If she wanted him, she was going to have to take the initiative. Her decision made, she headed for her bedroom and her closet.
    Her whole future rested on this encounter. She wanted to look her best.
     
    * * *
    Sam prowled restlessly around his apartment most of the day Monday. He couldn't seem to settle down to anything. He kept thinking about Amy. Maybe he should at least call her and . . . and what? Tell her he was sorry? Tell her it just wouldn't work out? She'd probably think he was a conceited jerk who attached a helluva lot more importance to himself than she did. What was the big deal, anyway? All they'd done was kiss. For all he knew, she hadn't given him a thought since.
    Forget about her, Robbins. She's trouble . . . go to Wyoming instead . . .
    After stewing most of the day, he made up his mind. What the hell. The trip would do double duty—take his mind off the problem at work and force him to relax and get him away from Amy and the temptation to call her.
    He would call Justin right now and tell him. He had just punched in Justin's telephone number when his doorbell rang. "Now what?" he muttered, slamming the phone down. He was getting damned tired of these door to door solicitors. His apartment complex had a big sign posted at the entrance, but these sales types just ignored it.
    He strode over to the front door and yanked it open. "Look, I'm not inter—" He broke off, momentarily speechless. "Amy?"
    "Hello, Sam." She didn't smile.
    He ran his fingers distractedly through his hair, completely disconcerted by her unexpected appearance. She looked unbelievably sexy and desirable in a short red sundress and red strappy sandals that showed off narrow, graceful feet and red-tipped toes. Her hair, instead of being tied back the way it had been on Saturday, drifted around her bare shoulders in a glorious, shining cloud.
    Desire—unwanted, unbidden, leaped to life. He willed himself to ignore it. "This is a surprise."
    "I know. I had to talk to you," she said.
    "Okay. Uh, c'mon in." As she brushed past him, her scent filled his head, and the desire to touch her was so strong he clenched his fists. "You want a Coke or something? A beer?"
    "No, nothing."
    Sam scooped up the magazines and clothes and books littering his brown leather sofa and cleared a space for her to sit. He sat on the arm of the only other chair in the room as she perched on the edge of the sofa.
    She looked at him for a long moment, her green eyes huge and luminous. "Why didn't you