There are shared bathrooms in this part of the inn, he said. The new rooms are en suite.
The shared bath is fine, Amelia said. Im only here for a night. She walked into the room and nodded. Yes, Ill stay here.
Funny, Sam said. This is the George Washington bedroom. The bed that you want to steal used to be in this room. George Washington slept right here.
Sam smiledthe first true smile hed given herand it was dazzling. Her pulse began to beat faster and she felt a bit light-headed.
Ill just go get your bag, he said and left the room.
Once the door shut behind him Amelia let out a tightly held breath. She sank down onto the edge of the bed and folded her hands on her lap. Until this moment she hadnt realized the energy it took to maintain a calm and composed nature when he was standing next to her.
There was a current of anticipation that pulsed inside her, like an electrical current that threatened to spark and ignite if he touched her...or kissed her. Amelia groaned softly and pressed her fingertips to her lips.
Maybe thats why shed decided to stay. To see if hed kiss her. As hed led her through the rooms, shed caught his gaze lingering on her mouth, as if he were thinking about it. Or was that all just in her imagination? Emotions ran so high between them it was hard to tell what it all meant.
And if they did succumb to curiosity or desire or passion, what then? It would only complicate an already tangled relationship. Maybe it was a mistake to stay, Amelia mused. She was only tempting fate. But, oh, what a fate...
What are you thinking? Amelia flopped back onto the bed and stared up at the coffered ceiling. Stop all these silly fantasies.
A knock sounded on her room door and she jumped to her feet, smoothing her hair as she walked to the door. Sam was waiting on the other side with her bag. He held it out to her. Dinner is at six. The menu is on that table over there. Just call down to the kitchen and let Sarah know what youd like.
Thank you, she said. But he didnt leave. Should she give him a tip? Maybe thats what he was waiting for. Amelia grabbed her purse and took a step toward him. Sam took a step back.
Well, Ill see you at dinner, then, Sam said and closed the door.
Amelia stepped up to it, pressing her forehead against the cool, painted wood.
* * *
IS SHE OUT THERE? Sam asked. He peered through the small window of the kitchen door but he couldnt see the entire dining room from his viewpoint. What did she order?
Fillet of beef, potatoes Anna and the house salad with Gorgonzola. Shes also put away two glasses of our best red wine and six slices of bread with butter. Would you like me to go out and get her pulse and temperature for you?
Shes not a vegetarian, thats good.
Good for what? Sarah asked.
Sam shook his head and turned away from the door. I dont know. What difference does it make?
Sarah slid a pie pan across the kitchen island. Why dont you take her some dessert? Theres ice cream in the freezer and whipped cream in the fridge. If she wants coffee, you know how to make it. And you can take care of the dishes tonight. Ive got Pilates class. Sarah walked out, leaving him alone in the kitchen.
Hed been searching for an opportunity to speak to Amelia again since her arrival at the inn. Hed been tempted to check on her during the afternoon but hadnt wanted to appear as if he were hovering.
Millhaven was a small town and it was almost impossible for him to have a social life. Sam knew almost everyone in the village who was single and around his own age. Since hed come back to the inn four years ago hed gone from an unrepentant skirt-chaser as a college undergrad to Mr. Responsible. He wasnt even sure if he remembered how to flirt.
And hed need to be at the top of his game for Amelia Sheffield. He sensed that it would take a lot more than prompt service and homemade desserts to break through her icy façade. She probably expected to be entertained with witty chitchat or intrigued by important conversation about art or current events. But Sam had never been comfortable at cocktail parties. His charm was more homegrown, rising out of the humor of the moment. Then again, they werent at a cocktail party. They were in his inn. His territory.
He placed the pie, plates and forks, and the can of whipped cream on a tray, then carried it out into the dining room. When Amelia saw him, her gaze followed his path as he wove through the dining room tables to where she sat.
Though she was still dressed in black, shed let her hair down and it fell in soft waves around her face, the color a deep mahogany that set off the gold in her eyes. She didnt wear a lot of makeup and her simple, clean beauty was much more attractive to him than the paint and perfume that some women chose to use.
I know youre happy to see me, he said, smiling at her.
I am?
I brought pie. My sisters apple pie. Made from the Cortland apples we grow right here on our property. Theyre the best.
I love Cortland apples, she said. Theyre so hard to find these days. And Ill admit Im always happy when pie enters the room.
Mind if I join you?
She hesitated at first, then quickly shook her head. No, sit, she said, indicating the chair across from her.
But Sam grabbed the chair beside her and sat, placing the tray in front of him. Did you enjoy the dinner?
Are we really going to talk about food? I thought youd prefer to get right down to negotiating, she said.
He scooped up a generous slice of the pie and plopped it on a plate, which he handed to her. Theres nothing to negotiate. I know that Abigail will clear this up and the bed will come home with me.
I have every faith in our lawyers, she countered.
If the fight came down to lawyers, Sam would lose. He didnt have the money to hire Jerry to represent him in a lengthy court case. The inn operated on a shoestring that didnt include hundred-dollar-an-hour lawyers. Why is it so important you get this bed?
George Washington slept in it, she replied.
The bed has been in my family since it was first made. Doesnt that mean something to you?
Sure it does, she said. But you want to close the bed up in a little room here at the inn. I want to show it to the public.
What exactly do you do for this museum of yours, besides pillaging the countryside and stealing peoples furniture?
I acquire items for our exhibits, she said.
Sam chuckled. Oh, well, that sounds so much better. You acquire.
How we lived is just as important as what we lived. I help to preserve that, Amelia said. She paused, as if to gather her thoughts, then continued in a less aggressive tone. You of all people should understand. You live in a monument to history. Look at this place. Its perfect.
Sam glanced around. He couldnt remember the last time hed attached the word perfect to the Blackstone Inn.
She continued. My last exhibition was called Cabin in the Woods. I set up three interiors of rustic Colonial-era frontier homes, complete with everything it would take to live in the wilderness. But it was interactive, so children could touch and experience everything. It fired their imagination, and thats really all thats left to us of history. Museums, a few historic inns and homes like yours, and our imaginations.
He heard the passion in her words and admired her dedication. She even made him feel some pride in his own work at the inn, and it had been a long time since hed held any sort of affection toward the Blackstone. And this place is called the Mapother Museum?
Of Decorative Arts. It focuses on interior décorfurniture, china, linens, rugs and ceramics. The kind of place that draws busloads of retired ladies and interior designers, she added.
I still dont understand why you have to acquire my bed, he said. Any piece from the period should do.
Have we determined that it is your bed?
The bed has belonged to my family since the inn opened. Abigail bought it when we were short of funds, but she promised to return it to its rightful place.
Were opening a new childrens exhibit about George Washington for Presidents Day. The bed will be the perfect centerpiece for the gallery. Kids could lie on it and take photos, and well get lots of publicity. Which is always good for the museum.
So my bed is going to be a...a historical bouncy house? Why not throw any old bed into the exhibit? No one is going to know any better.
I have a reputation for authenticity to protect, she said. And I cant be sentimental.
I think a better word might be sympathetic or kind.
You cant make me feel guilty, she said.
What can I make you feel? he asked. The moment the words slipped out of his mouth, Sam realized his mistake. What the hell was he thinking? A cultured woman like Amelia would never respond to such a suggestive comment.
IIm not sure I understand what you mean, she murmured.
I should get back to work, he said quickly. Is there anything else I can get you, Ms. Sheffield?
No, she murmured. Im quite content, Mr. Blackstone.
He got up and walked to the kitchen, refusing to look back. So much for charm, Sam mused. Hed been right the first time: it was going to take a lot more than awkward small talk and apple pie to seduce Amelia Sheffield. He had one more day to figure this all out. One day to take this attraction beyond the theoretical to something real. Or else shed be on her way back to Bostonwith his bed.
2
AMELIA STARED UP at the ceiling of her room at the Blackstone Inn. Somewhere deep inside the darkened inn, a grandfather clock chimed. She counted three chimes, then threw her arm over her eyes. But nothing she did helped her find the peace of sleep.
She sat up, tossed aside the down-filled pillow and swung her legs off the bed. She needed something to eat. Just a little something to get her through until breakfast. Her mind was racing with thoughts of work and Sam Blackstone; a confusing jumble that didnt make any sense no matter how hard she tried to put it all in order.
She grabbed her sweater and pulled it on over her T-shirt and yoga pants, then searched her bag for something to put on her feet. She found a pair of socks and slipped them on. Dragging a deep breath, she snuck out into the dimly lit hall and headed for the stairs.
The stairs creaked with each step she took and Amelia winced, wondering just how far away the family slept. She assumed they had quarters somewhere in one of the newer wings. By the time she reached the kitchen, her heart was pounding and she was breathless.
Apple pie, she murmured. She and Sam had taken the first two pieces of the freshly baked pie. All the other guests had eaten and left the dining room by the time Amelia had finished. So the rest of the pie had to be around somewhere. Amelia searched the refrigerator first but all she found was the can of whipped cream. A search of the freezer resulted in a carton of vanilla ice cream. But there was no pie.
Amelia glanced around the kitchen and noticed an old pie safe. Tall and narrow, the ancient cabinet sat in a spot near the stone hearth. She walked over to it and ran her hand across the pierced tin panels on the door. Of course the pie would be in the pie safe.
To her surprise there was also a raspberry pie tucked in beneath the apple. She pulled them both out, set them on the island and grabbed a dinner plate and fork from the drying rack beside the sink.
The pie tasted as good as it had earlier that evening, and Amelias thoughts drifted back to the man whod shared her table in the dining room.
Shed only ever had one boyfriend in her life and to say that Sam Blackstone was his exact opposite was stating the absolute truth.
Her thoughts shifted to Edward. She wasnt really sure what to call him anymore. Hed been her boyfriend, then her fiancé and then her ex-fiancé and then her friend. Hed said hed wait for her, but as time passed, their relationship had grown more and more distant.
Amelia took another bite of the pie and sighed softly. Edward Ardmore Reed the Third. Heir to an old and very successful Boston banking dynasty. Hed been the only man shed ever loved. At least shed thought shed loved him. But hed been her parents choice from a very early age. She hadnt even dated anyone else. And when shed broken from her parents control, shed ended her engagement, as well.
In her anger and frustration, shed thrown him in with her parents, certain that hed try to control her life the moment her parents signed her over to him. Hed always been good to her, but Amelia wanted more.
Theyd stayed in touch over the past year and Amelia knew that he hadnt given up hope shed come to her senses. But though there was affection between them, there had never been any heat or passion.
Cant sleep?
The sound of his voice startled her and she spun around to find Sam watching her from the shadows. Her heart skipped a beat, then began pounding in earnest. II didnt see you there. Amelia looked around, embarrassed to be caught raiding the kitchen. Im sorry. Im a late-night snacker. I cant sleep if Im hungry.
Its all right, he said, stepping forward. If you need anything, you just have to call.
He was dressed only in a pair of basketball shorts that were slung low on his hips. His chest was bare, as were his feet. A tiny shiver skittered through her and her fingers twitched, eager to trace the muscles of his chest. Would you like some? Amelia asked.
Sure.
He pulled out a stool and sat at the island. Its been kind of a crazy day, he murmured as he watched Amelia cut into the pie.
Pretty crazy, she repeated. Not the typical day in the life of an innkeeper.
Its an exciting life, he muttered, a sarcastic edge in his voice. Just what a guy like me always dreamed about.
You didnt want to be an innkeeper?
Sam took a bite of the pie. Maybe at some point in my life. But not at twenty-five. To be tied down to one place for the rest of my life is kind of a daunting prospect.
Cant you sell the inn?
He shook his head. This is a family business. Its passed down from generation to generation, from the first son to the first son. And I got lucky. If Id been the second son of the second son, I could have been an architect. Building great buildings instead of fixing leaky pipes.
You have Sarah to help you.
She stays out of guilt.
Why?
The tradition is that the inn is passed along in a persons later years, almost like a job for retirement. I got it about thirty years early because my father and stepmother wanted out.