He smiled against her hair. “Yeah. I know.”

Something expanded in his chest, and he let out a long slow breath.

“Do you have a house in Los Angeles?” she asked, her fingers rubbing over his shoulder.

“Yeah. It’ll be easy to sell, though. I’ll find an apartment or something here, something I can get quick access to. What about you?”

“I have an apartment in San Francisco. It’s really small but kind of cute, and it’s in a nice area. I’ll miss it, a little.”

“You can get a place here one day.”

She leaned back to look at him. In the near-darkness, her eyes shimmered. “You seem to have accepted that I’m staying.”

He smiled. “I don’t really have any control over where you live, Samara.”

“True.”

“But I haven’t accepted that you’re taking over for Parker.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“But let’s leave business at the office,” he said. “You’re the one who said we could keep them separate.”

Her lips pouted for a moment then relaxed. “What is it we’re keeping separate?”

“Business and...hot sex, according to you.”

She trailed a finger down his chest. “You didn’t think that was hot?”

“No.”

“What!”

“It wasn’t hot, honey.” He rolled her to her back and moved over her. “It was incendiary.”

“Oh. Mmmm.”

Chapter Fifteen

Samara braced herself for the conversation with her mother. She’d known this conversation was going to happen and had known how difficult it was going to be, but now that she knew there’d been no affair, it was going to be even harder to admit how stupid she’d been. She was looking forward to it about as much as she would to having her every hair on her body plucked out one by one.

Saturday seemed a good time, when neither of them were in a rush to go somewhere. They had all day to hide from each other if things got really ugly. She’d been about to tackle it last night and had sought out her mother in her bedroom, only to find her sobbing over Dad’s clothes. Yeah, not such a good time.

Even now, her stomach churned with the coffee she’d just had for breakfast, unable to face food.

When her mother came downstairs, Samara waited until she was seated in the breakfast room with her omelet, coffee and newspaper and wandered in.

“Oh, good morning, Samara.” Her mom’s smile actually hurt her. “What are you up to today?”

“I... um...need to do some shopping.”

Which wasn’t totally procrastinating on broaching the subject. It was true. She either needed to go home to San Francisco and pack some clothes or go on a major shopping trip if she was going to be staying in Portland for a while. There was no way she wanted to go all the way to San Francisco and back when she had so much work to do.

“Oh, let me take you shopping, Samara!” Her mother’s face brightened. “I’ll take you to that little shop I mentioned, and there are some sweet places right near there you’d like.”

“That’s okay,” Samara muttered. “I don’t want to spend all afternoon looking at clothes. I just want somewhere I can get in, buy a couple of suits, and get out.”

“Oh, please. It’ll be fun. I haven’t had my daughter around for so long to do that with. We used to have so much fun shopping together. Remember? I’ve missed that. And we could go out for lunch.”

The soft look in her mother’s eyes dented Samara’s resistance, and she let out a sigh. Yeah, she did remember the fun they’d used to have. “Fine. We’ll go shopping.” Over lunch would be a good time to talk.

In the first shop her mother dragged her into, she found enough items she liked—pretty little suits and blouses—that she could have been finished. Mom had been right about the shoes; they had gorgeous pumps and sandals. Seduced by silky fabrics and stiletto heels, Samara gave in to the experience and let her mother bring her outfit after outfit to try on.

“Oh, you look so beautiful in that,” she breathed, studying Samara in a silk dress. “You have to have that one.”

“I can’t afford all these, Mom.”

“I’ll buy it for you. I’ll buy everything for you.”

Samara’s insides tightened. It had been so long it was hard to get over the idea that she didn’t want anything from her mother, but guilt and remorse ate away at her resistance, and she found herself sighing yet again and agreeing. Strangely, the pleasure her mother seemed to get from it actually made her feel...good.

She left the store loaded down with garment bags and shoe boxes that they loaded into the trunk of her mother’s Lexus.

“We can drive to the next store,” Mom said, hopping into the driver’s seat. “It’s not far but too far to walk.”

“I don’t need to go anywhere else, Mom, I got enough stuff there.”

“But this other place has gorgeous designer jeans.”

“I have a pair of jeans.”

Mom slanted her a sideways glance as she accelerated up Market Street. “You can always use another nice pair of jeans.”

Samara couldn’t help the smile. “Fine. Are you going to buy anything for yourself?”

Her mother lifted a shoulder. “Probably not. There’s not really anything I need. This is your shopping trip.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

Mom smiled. “Yes. I am. Is there something wrong with that? I have a beautiful daughter, and I’ve missed spoiling you the last few years.” Her voice caught on her last words, and she swallowed and stared straight ahead out the window.

Spoiling you. Samara recalled Travis’s assertion that she was spoiled rotten. Maybe she had been. But that was a long time ago, and she’d been independent and on her own for a long time.

“You should buy yourself something nice too,” Samara choked out, that guilt chewing away at her insides. “A new pair of shoes or something.”

“Maybe.”

Two pairs of jeans, three trendy little tops and two pairs of shoes later, they walked into a lingerie store.

“Mom, I don’t need this kind of stuff!” Samara glanced around at the abundance of satin and lace displayed on hangers and counters.

“It’s underwear, Samara. If you only planned to stay for a few days, you must need underwear.”

“Well...” Samara blew out a breath. Okay, yeah, some panties and a couple of bras would be good. But lord, she didn’t need a freakin’ black velvet corset or silky nightgown.

But a silky nightgown was what she ended up with, thanks to her mother, along with a cute pair of plaid shorts and matching tank top that served as pajamas and a pile of silky thongs, lace boy shorts and matching bras in yellow, peach, and turquoise. As she held up each little garment, she couldn’t help but wonder what Travis would think. Her stomach swooped, imagining him removing the little turquoise thong panties and matching lace bra from her body...

“Samara?”

She blinked at her mother.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, her forehead creasing. “I just asked you twice if you’re ready to have lunch.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “Oh. Um. Sorry. I was thinking about...work.”

Mom gave her an odd look. “Let’s have lunch now,” she said. “I know just the place.”

They walked to the restaurant, only two blocks away. The small place was nearly full, and a delicious aroma of dark roasted coffee and toasted bread greeting them as they walked in. Trust her mother to pick a place that served great coffee. Samara could tell just from the smell.

They were shown to one of the last tables, a small one for two in the middle of the restaurant.

Samara waited until they’d almost finished eating before bringing up the subject she needed to. She’d procrastinated long enough. It wasn’t going to get any easier.

“Mom.”

“Mmm?”

“There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it, sweetie?”

Samara looked down at her half-eaten salad. “I— I screwed up really bad. And I have to apologize.”

Her mother’s forehead wrinkled. “What is it?”

Samara drew in a long slow breath. “When I left home seven years ago, I left because I was mad at you.”

Mom went very still. “We’re going to do this now?” She looked down at the table and gave a short nod. “Okay. Obviously you were mad. You didn’t even want to talk to me.” Her voice cracked. “I never knew what I did that made you so angry.”

Mom had tried calling, emailing, had even come with Dad once to visit her. Guilt struck another heavy blow at Samara. She couldn’t think of any soft way to say it, so she just blurted it out. “I thought you were having an affair with Travis.”

Her mom stared wide-eyed across the table at her. The noises of the restaurant—chattering voices, clinking cutlery, light music—filled the silence between them. Mom’s brows drew down. “Travis? An affair with Travis? Why on earth would you think that?”

“I overheard you two talking one day. It was just after...oh, god, this is so embarrassing.”

Mom said nothing, her mouth pressed into a firm line, but her expression told Samara to keep going.

“I had a big crush on Travis back then,” she confessed, nearly choking on the words. She studied her mom’s expression. Had she known that? “One night, I told him that. I kissed him. He...” He’d kissed her back. She’d never forget that. But... “He rejected me. Of course. Said I was too young for him.”

Still Mom said nothing, but her mouth softened.

“I was pretty devastated about that. I thought I was in love with him.”

“Oh, Samara.”

“Then a few days later, I overheard you and Travis talking about hurting Dad, and Travis was saying he was sorry...” She related the rest of what she’d heard.