“They’re at my house. You’d have to come there to borrow them.”
It was the second time he had invited her to his house. She wondered again how Trevor would react if he knew. She looked around, seeing no one who seemed particularly interested in Sam’s whereabouts. “Are you here with your nanny?”
Looking suddenly guilty, Sam shook his head. “No. Mrs. Brown’s home with Abbie. Abbie’s taking a nap.”
“Then who brought you to the pool?”
“I did,” he answered simply.
Jamie swung her legs to the side of the lounge chair and pushed herself upright. “You mean you came here alone? Surely you didn’t have permission for that.”
The boy looked down at his sneakers. “I’m s’posed to be taking a nap, too. But I didn’t want to take a nap. I wanted to come see you.”
“How did you know I would be here?”
“I hoped you would.”
“Sam, I have to take you home,” Jamie said, standing and reaching for the black mesh cover-up that matched her black bikini. “Your nanny is probably frantic by now.”
Just the thought of little Sam walking the five blocks or so from his house alone, crossing streets and risking getting hit by a car, or lost, or who-knew-what, made Jamie’s blood run cold.
“I don’t want to go home. Can’t I stay here with you? I’ll be good.”
It wasn’t easy to resist his damp eyes and quivering lip, but Jamie held firm. “I have to take you home, Sam. Maybe we can get there before Mrs. Brown realizes you’re gone.”
“I don’t like her. She talks to me like I’m a little kid.”
Jamie knew better than to remind him that he was, in fact, a little kid. His hand seemed so tiny when he slipped it into hers. “I’m sure she means well, Sammy. Maybe she just hasn’t spent much time lately with big five-year-old boys like you.”
“Have you spent time with boys like me?”
“Well…no,” she admitted. “Not much.”
“I like it when you talk to me.”
“Thank you. We’ll have a nice long talk soon, okay? But first let’s get you home so Mrs. Brown won’t be worried about you.”
He sighed heavily. “Okay.”
Sliding her feet into black, cork-soled flip-flops, she led him toward the pool exit.
“Don’t forget your book,” he reminded her, looking back over his shoulder.
“I’ll leave it for someone who might like it better than I did.”
She knew where Trevor lived, of course, though she hadn’t actually been there. As small as Honoria was, it hadn’t been hard to discreetly find out which house he’d moved into. Sam said very little during the walk home, but he didn’t try to resist again. He and Jamie spotted Trevor’s car in the driveway at the same time.
“Uh-oh. Daddy’s home.”
Jamie tightened her hand reassuringly around the child’s suddenly cold fingers. “Mrs. Brown probably called him. We’d better let him know you’re all right, okay?”
“He’s gonna be mad,” Sam predicted glumly.
“Yes. He probably will be. But he’ll get over it…if you promise never to do anything like this again.”
The front door opened before Sam could answer. Wearing a grim expression and carrying his daughter on his hip, Trevor came out of the house, followed by a distraught-looking middle-aged woman. Jamie could almost feel the panic emanating from them. “Trevor.”
He turned, spotted her, then dropped his gaze to Sam. The expression that crossed his face brought a lump to Jamie’s throat. He recovered quickly, but not before she saw the full, weak-kneed extent of his relief at seeing his son safe.