He looked toward the door. “Very likely.”
She stood and turned to face him, cupping his face between her hands. “Before he gets back—” Leaning closer, she spoke with her lips just brushing his. “I’ll miss you, Sam Wallace.”
“I’ll miss being Sam Wallace,” he confessed. “He’s a pretty happy guy. I’m not so sure about Cameron North.”
Because she didn’t know how to respond to that, she covered his lips with hers. She didn’t know about Cameron North, either, but she suspected she could love him just as easily as she had fallen for Sam Wallace—had things been different for them, of course.
It was hot. Arkansas in August hot. And Serena was miserable. But then, she’d been in that condition for more than a month, and her mood had little to do with the weather. She’d been depressed since Sam—Cameron, she corrected herself irritably—had gone to Dallas with his friend Shane.
He’d called a few times during the first couple of weeks after he left, keeping her updated about his progress in regaining his memory. Time and therapy had been productive; he’d recovered a great deal, though there were still gaps that the doctors said might never be completely filled. Cameron hadn’t seemed as concerned about that as Serena might have expected him to be. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t seemed particularly emotional about anything—being home, being reunited with his friends, receiving praise for his part in uncovering a political scandal.
She’d been disturbed by the detached, impassive tone he’d used over the telephone. Maybe that was the way Cameron North always spoke. It wasn’t the way she remembered Sam Wallace.
It had been almost three weeks since he’d last called. She assumed he’d been too busy reclaiming his life. He didn’t owe her any more calls, of course. They’d made no promises, no plans for the future. What they’d shared had been very special, but they’d known all along it was temporary. She’d been a port in the storm for him, and he’d given her a chance to be reckless and irresponsible for once in her neatly programmed life. Each of them had performed their role well; she couldn’t say now that she’d ever expected more.
But, damn, she missed him.
She pushed her limp hair off her face, scowling as she thought again about how hot it was. She sat in the editor’s office of the Evening Star, a daunting pile of paperwork in front of her. The central air-conditioning unit was old and unreliable. It needed to be replaced, but she wasn’t sure the dwindling budget could justify that this year. And she couldn’t guarantee that the paper would still be in operation next summer—not unless she found someone who could rectify the poor business decisions Marvin had made during the past couple of years. Someone who knew the publishing business, understood small-town politics and was willing to work long hours for a rather meager salary.
She’d been searching in vain for a managing editor since she’d finally given in to the inevitable and fired Marvin two weeks earlier. He’d gone more easily than she’d expected, having already realized that he could no longer perform his job. To everyone’s relief, he’d decided to get some help with his drinking and then move to Florida to live closer to his only brother. Until a replacement could be found, Riley and Lindsey were trying to help Serena keep things afloat, but there were times when it felt as if they were fighting a losing battle.
Rubbing her temples, she glanced at that day’s edition, which was spread on one corner of the desk. The lead story had to do with a breakthrough in the recent rash of break-ins, such as the ones in which Cameron had been implicated. Dan had finally found evidence that Delbert Farley was, indeed, involved in the crimes, along with an accomplice from a neighboring town. Delbert’s girlfriend, Rita Hinson, was being charged as an accessory to the burglaries. Young Zach was in the custody of child welfare services. Serena hoped the boy would end up in a better environment than he’d endured thus far in his short life.
The image of an unhappy boy brought her thoughts back to Cameron. Everything seemed to bring him to her mind. She closed her eyes and rested her elbows on the desk, wondering if she would ever stop thinking about him.
Was this why Kara had been willing to leave her whole life behind to follow Pierce to Nashville? Because she would rather risk heartbreak with him than to live with the emptiness without him?
For the first time, Serena was beginning to understand her sister’s actions. She still couldn’t see herself walking away from all the responsibilities she’d taken on—well, most of the time, anyway—but she no longer criticized Kara for following her heart. Serena wanted her sister to be happy. And there were times—mostly in the middle of sleepless nights—when she wondered what it would be like to follow her sister’s example.
“I understand you’re looking for a managing editor.”
The familiar male voice brought Serena’s head up with such a jerk that she nearly fell out of her chair. Her eyes wide, she stared at the doorway. “Sam?”
His golden hair trimmed and brushed, his face free of bruises, his elegantly slender body clad in an expensive-looking gray suit, he leaned against the door-jamb wearing an enigmatic smile that didn’t quite reach his piercing blue eyes. “You can call me that if you like. I also answer to Cam or Cameron.”
She couldn’t quite seem to find the strength to stand up. “What are you doing here?”
“May I come in?”
“Of course. What are you doing here?”
He closed the office door behind him. “You know, if I’d ever visited you at this office while I was in town, I might have recovered a few memories more quickly. There’s just something about a newspaper office, no matter what the size of the operation—”
“S— Cam, you’re driving me crazy. Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
“I’m here to apply for the managing editor position.” He tossed something on the desk in front of her. “That’s my résumé. I think you’ll find that I’m qualified.”
He was joking—he had to be. She refused to allow herself to believe he was serious. “If you’re here to pay whatever debt you think you owe me or my mother, forget it. We both told you that you don’t owe us anything.”
“That’s not exactly true, but it’s not why I’m here. I’m completely serious, Serena. I want the job.”
“But—”
He took the seat across the desk from her, sitting straight and still, looking uncharacteristically formal. “I realize that you don’t really know Cameron North, so I understand if you want to conduct an interview before you make your decision. Ask me anything you like. Or would you rather I just start talking?”
Her brain seemed to have temporarily forgotten how to function. “I don’t—”
“Okay, I’ll do the talking.” He drew a deep breath. “I’m thirty-five, single and currently unemployed, since I quit my job with the newspaper in Dallas. I’m in generally good health, though I’ve got some large, fuzzy gaps in my memories that may or may not clear up with passing time. I’ve spent the past few years working too hard, drinking too much and sulking about my dysfunctional family. I’ve let my bitterness hurt people—nice women who wanted more from me than I was willing or able to give them, good friends who have worried about my self-destructive habits.”