Free Moonlight on Monterey Bay by Sally Goldenbaum Page B

they returned, Maddie and Sam stood silently on the porch and stared into the gray nothingness.
    “You’ll have to spend the night, that’s all,” Maddie said finally. “You can’t drive in this.” In the distance a foghorn bleated out its mournful warning.
    “No,” Sam said. He pressed his palms against the railing and leaned forward. “It’s okay. I’ll go to the beach house.”
    “That’s silly. It’s three miles away on a winding, dark road.”
    Sam was silent, his eyes trying to penetrate the fog.
    “Don’t worry,” Maddie said, her voice lifting. “You’re safe here, Sam. I won’t try to seduce you.” Her attempt at levity fell flat. Instead of the deep-throatedlaugh she waited for, Sam set his jaw, his blue eyes deepening.
    It was bad enough having Eleanor conspiring against him; now nature herself was pitching in with curveballs. Sam wasn’t at all sure the neat white house was big enough for both of them. “This is the damnedest situation,” he said, a little too gruffly.
    “Hey, Sam, I didn’t order this fog. It just happened. And it’s not that big a deal, is it?” She looked at him intently, and then the reason for his anger dawned on her—he had someone waiting for him. At this very moment there was probably a voluptuous woman curled up on a wide, silk-sheeted bed in an elegant condo, waiting for the sound of his key in the lock. And here Sam was, fogged in with her. A soft laugh escaped her lips.
    The sound curled up inside of Sam, squeezing the air from his lungs. “Don’t do that!” he said.
    Maddie’s head tilted slightly. “I was laughing, for heaven’s sake! Listen, I’m sorry about this. And I can see how it would upset you, especially with someone waiting for you. But it’s the way it is. You can use my phone to call her, and if this fog goes away as fast as I expect it will, you can be there before she wakes up in the morning.”
    “Maddie—” His voice was low, nearly a growl. “Be quiet. There’s no one waiting for me.”
    “Well, good. There’s no problem, then.” Maddieturned and walked back inside. She buried the instant pleasure she felt at the information by rummaging through the hall closet for sheets.
    Sam came up behind her. “Three miles isn’t far,” he said. “Maybe I could walk—”
    Sam stood close to her in the small hallway and Maddie could feel his breath on the bare skin of her neck. She shivered at the unexpected rush of feeling, then turned quickly and thrust a blanket and pillow into his arms. “I don’t think so, Sam. You’d probably be run over by a truck and Joseph and I need this job too much to chance losing it that way.” She forced a smile and took a step away, pointing into the living room. “That’s where you’ll sleep. It’s a little lumpy, but you’ll live. My room is upstairs. If there’s anything else you need, just holler.”
    Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, then looked over at his hostess, her oval face shadowed by the small light in the hall. She looked tired, but her eyes were still bright … luminous, dancing. “Do you have any Scotch?” he asked abruptly.
    “Not a drop.” She smiled up into his unsmiling face. “But you don’t need Scotch, Sam. Just listen to the ocean.” She wrapped her arms around herself. Where had the chill come from?
    Sam glanced out the window, then back to Maddie. He managed a half smile. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, don’t we? Someone’s bound to talk.”
    Maddie smiled, her throat tight. She nodded. Lord, he was handsome. His sandy hair, usually combed neatly in place, fell across his forehead. She clenched her fist to keep from touching it, pushing it back. “ ’Night, Sam,” she finally managed to say, though the words sounded strange and hollow. And then she escaped, up the stairs and through the dark hallway to her tiny bedroom, where she closed the door tightly and commanded her heart to continue to pump. There was something in the air