“
Can’t
is such a funny word,” Sam said. “It means you want to, but are making the conscious decision to decline your better judgment. You pick the restaurant. I’m easy.” He flung himself into one of the leather chairs facing her desk and shook his head. “Please say yes. It saves me from having to look at Jonas. I’ve had a long day in court, and trust me, I’d rather look at you than him.”
Seton shook her head. “Poor Jonas.”
“Poor Jonas nothing. He’s calcifying in front of the fireplace. It’s not a pretty sight.”
Seton wondered if it was possible—even remotely—that Jonas was hankering for Sabrina. “That doesn’t sound like the Jonas I remember.”
“Yeah, he’s a butthead.” Sam glanced around her office. “You need some pictures on the walls.”
“Decorating isn’t my strong suit.” Seton walked to her office door.
“Good to know. I nearly married you.”
She laughed. “No, you didn’t. I never came close to accepting your proposal. So forget about it.”
“All right.” Sam stood and joined her in the doorway. “Maybe we should try to fix Jonas and Sabrina up. Get them together somehow.”
Seton stared up at Sam. “I don’t think so. I did all the meddling I’m going to do when I dug around for information on you. I’ve given up on it.”
“You’re a P.I. Being nosy is your game.”
“But meddling isn’t.” She snapped off the lights and locked the door.
“He’s never going after her,” Sam said, and Seton glanced up at him, her heart suddenly lurching.
“No?”
Sam shook his head. “Nope. He’s too, I don’t know, mature or something. At least he thinks he is.”
“Oh.” She was conscious that Sam had taken her elbow while she wondered about Sabrina and Jonas. What if Jonas did go see her sister? What if—
She’d promised Sabrina to keep her secret. “My sister certainly won’t come back to Diablo.”
They walked into the local Chinese restaurant and Seton felt herself relaxing in the soothing atmosphere.
“What did Jonas do to her? I’ll pound him, I promise. He’s had it coming to him for a while.”
Seton started, not relaxed anymore. “Why would you think he’d done something to Sabrina?”
“If she won’t come back here, and he won’t go there, although he calls her often, then he’s done something. Trust me, I know Jonas. He’s a great heart surgeon, but that’s all he knows about matters concerning the heart. Want to go all-out on a pupu platter?”
“That actually sounds delicious.” Seton’s mind was spinning about Jonas and Sabrina. She eyed Sam as he studied the menu, thinking that it was a shame the two of them had such opposite life goals.
“I suppose we wouldn’t have to get married to satisfy my needs,” Sam said, and Seton said, “What needs?”
“Marital needs,” he said, not looking up from the menu. “My desire to have a wife, stability and peace and quiet.”
“You may be the only man who equates marriage with peace and quiet,” Seton observed, and sipped her sake.
“What if we got engaged,” Sam said thoughtfully, his gaze no longer on the menu but on her, which set her heart pounding as she realized he was working on a Callahan plot. “Just engaged, a really long-term engagement?”
“Your point?” she asked.
“I’d be as good as married, and you wouldn’t be afraid of getting tied down. Best of all, Sabrina would probably come home to our engagement party.”
Seton stared at him. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”
Sam blinked. “Which part?”
“All of it. Order the pupu platter. I can’t plot on an empty stomach.”
He asked for a pupu platter and veggie egg rolls and maybe some dim sum—she wasn’t paying attention to anything but Sam’s face as he ordered—and then looked at her earnestly. “This could work.”
“I’m not following,” she said cautiously.
“They just need to be brought together,” Sam explained. “Then they could both move on with their lives, for better or worse.”
Seton had forgotten to ask how far along her sister was. She’d been too shocked to do so. She counted back how long it had been since Sabrina and she had left for D.C. It had been around four months.
Sabrina should definitely be showing.
“I don’t think she’d come back even to an engagement party,” Seton said. “Not that I’m considering a fake engagement to you, anyway.”
“You should,” Sam said. “There would be many pluses to being my fiancée.”
“I can’t think of a single one.” She dragged a crispy noodle through some sauce and munched it happily. “Besides, if Sabrina wouldn’t come back to Diablo, we’d be engaged for nothing. Then we’d have to break it, which would be a mess, and—”
“What if I told you,” Sam said slowly, thoughtfully, quietly, in a tone she’d never heard from him before, “that I wasn’t entirely opposed to having a baby?”
Seton blinked, nearly choking on her sake, which made her eyes water. She coughed and shook her head. “You’re so manipulative it’s scary. Or impressive. I can’t decide.”
“I’m serious,” Sam said. “I could tell as soon as I proposed that a baby was going to be your sticking point. As you said, both parties have to get something in an agreement. I’d get a wife and you’d get a baby. Stick that coin in your baby meter and see if it registers.”
She gave him a stern look and dabbed at her eyes with the white dinner napkin. “Sam, parenthood shouldn’t be negotiated. Babies aren’t bargaining chips.”
“No, they’re more like time bombs. Trust me, there’s several of them ticking away around the ranch, and something’s always going off.” He looked pretty cheerful about his observation. “One more would just add to the energy.”
He was already having one more Callahan. Seton shook her head. Their pupu platter arrived, along with more goodies Sam had ordered, and Seton dug in, hoping he would eat, too, and forget all about his newest idea. “This is delicious.”
“I know. This restaurant is great. They’ll deliver out to the ranch, too, which makes all of us very happy.” Sam frowned. “Jonas has quit cooking, and it’s really a pain.”
“Can’t you warm up a burger for yourself? Open a bag of Bertolli?” Seton looked at him curiously as she bit into an egg roll and moaned with joy. “I’ve never had egg rolls as good as they serve here. I literally craved them when I was in D.C.”
“Another reason you should never have left.” Sam waved his at her before dipping it in mustard and plum sauces. “When your aunt told me you were returning, I knew you belonged in Diablo. ‘That’s my girl,’ I told your aunt, and later, I realized that’s exactly what I meant.”
Seton put down her egg roll. “What, exactly, did you realize you meant?”
“That you were my girl. Or you should be. How many times do I have to tell you I need a wife?” Sam gazed at her. “Your aunt warned me that you might be a little stubborn. I told her I could handle it.” He started on the dim sum with gusto.
“Maybe I don’t want to be your girl,” Seton said with some heat. “You know, in some places, in a lot of places, this domineering attitude of yours could be construed as chauvinism.”
“Nope. Desire.” Sam closed his eyes as he licked his fingers. “This is so good I could eat it for breakfast.”
Seton sighed and joined him in eating the dim sum. “Sam, you were quite certain you didn’t want children.”
“But I’ve had time to reconsider my position,” he said, “and you’d be cute pregnant. You’re tall, but not too tall, and have nice curves, so you’ll be a stunner. Sabrina’s short and has that bright red hair, so she’d probably look like a plump, cute—”
“Ugh,” Seton said, “don’t talk about it.”
“Why?” Sam looked at her. “I just meant that you’d be very beautiful carrying a baby, Seton. And I’m willing to make that happen.”
“How?” she asked, with some acerbity. “Didn’t you say that our fakey thing would be in name only?”
“I’m flexible.” Sam grinned at her, and Seton’s heart jumped.
“Flexible.”
“Sure. See how hard I’m trying to make this agreement work?”
“I wasn’t aware we were negotiating.”
“Aren’t we?” Sam poured some more sake into her cup.
“I don’t think so.” Seton stared at him, wondering what it was he really wanted. Corinne and Sabrina had both said that there was more to Sam’s offer than it seemed. Seton wondered if they were right.
“We have to get those two back together somehow,” Sam said. “All parties benefit.”
“I thought you weren’t attracted to me.”
Surprise crossed Sam’s face. “Did I say that?”
“You said something like it.”
Sam laughed out loud. “Give me a chance, angel face.”
“This is so crazy,” Seton said under her breath. “You’re absolutely nutty.”
“Probably,” Sam said cheerfully. “But I can tell you like me, even if you don’t know why.”
Her lips twisted. “My, what a big ego you have, wolfie.”
“Needs a good woman to keep it in check.” Sam didn’t seem too bothered by that. “Think of how much fun we could have trying to start a baby. Practice makes perfect, I hear.”
She stared at him. “I doubt it.”
“Well, we’d know in nine months,” Sam said. “We probably shouldn’t waste any time finding out.”
Seton eased back, so full that she felt stuffed, and so annoyed with Sam she didn’t know what to think.
“I understand that you need a guarantee,” he continued. “I wouldn’t buy a horse without checking it out thoroughly, either. We could give it a few months, see if the stork has room in his calendar for us, and then announce our engagement. Or marriage, whichever you’re in the mood for at that time. Then Sabrina would come home for your baby shower—”
Seton narrowed her eyes. “You seem very determined to get my sister back to Diablo. What’s with that?”
“My brother’s suffering,” Sam said. “You’d pity him if you saw him. He’s practically wasting away.”
“Not over Sabrina.” Seton wondered exactly what had transpired between Sabrina and Jonas that she hadn’t noticed. A pregnancy, for one thing.
But how much else? Was her sister in love?
Maybe Seton owed it to her future niece or nephew to find out.
“Think it over,” Sam said. “Very little downside for you. If you were a gambling woman—”
“I’m not,” she snapped. “I see the odds as being very long that any of this works out.”