Taking A Chance On The Enemy (Taking Chances On Love Book 3) Read online

  Coming to an intersection, he paused to check his watch, and picked up his pace. A night of tossing and turning had caused him to oversleep, a rare occurrence for him, but he had decided to stick to his morning routine. Now he had twenty minutes to run home and shower before the day’s events started.

  He couldn't believe he’d gone out—thanks to his colleague's badgering--on his first date in a decade. Last night had been easier than he'd anticipated, but not as pleasant. Oliver's cousin was friendly enough, but their conversation had fizzled out after fifteen minutes, like the flares he used to create safety zones on the road. His heart hadn't been in it. He had no problems opening doors or picking up the tab for a woman, but he was far from ready to pursue a relationship. That was to be expected, considering he had spent almost a whole decade with one woman.

  But Lauren was gone now.

  After six years of marriage, it was hard to be single again and even harder to force himself to move on. At least he had a job to distract himself with every day. And a family that gave him a reason to think about the future. Thank God for sparing him that much.

  He rounded the corner leading to his house and slowed down when he spotted an elderly couple walking their terrier. Passing the neighbors, he called out a greeting, and they waved back. When he was two houses away from his own, he noticed a red sedan parked in the driveway next to his silver SUV. The bright crimson shade called out for attention and reminded him of several vehicles he had pulled over that week. The stereotype rang true: people who liked the color red tended to drive recklessly. They were more aggressive, impulsive, and hot-headed.

  Just like the woman he pulled over yesterday.

  Strangely enough, running into Sammie Koo had been the highlight of his day. Their back and forth banter had given him such an adrenaline rush. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so freely. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed adult conversation that didn't center around cancer treatments or hospital bills.

  For a moment he hoped it was her car parked in front of his home. It was the same make and model as he remembered. It was the same license plate, too, except for the new registration sticker attached to it. Had he gotten Sam to listen? Miracles did happen. But what was she doing here?

  Lucas approached the car and placed one hand on the open door. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of two shapely legs poking out from the backseat, legs which were encased in black knee-high sandals that resembled gladiator shoes. Interesting, but not very practical, as expected. “Fancy footwear you’ve got there,” he called out. “On your way to a fight?”

  “What?” Sam straightened and bumped the car roof with a dull thud, landing her back onto the seat.

  “This is one time that being hardheaded comes in handy.” He grinned, then winced at the sight of her rubbing her head. “You all right?”

  * * *

  “Lucas Choi!” Sam exclaimed in surprise. “Are you checking up on me? Let me guess, you’re running around the neighborhood looking for cars with expired registration stickers. You always were an overachiever. Well, you can move on from here. I told you I’d get mine renewed, and I did. Here, I’ll prove it.” She bolted to her feet, but stumbled when she took a step.

  He grabbed her elbow. “Hey, slow down, Firecracker. You must have hit your head pretty hard.” Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leaned close. “Are you dizzy?”

  If Sam wasn’t dizzy already, she would be soon. She swallowed slowly as the heat from his palms threatened to melt her resolve. Why did he have to look at her with such tenderness? More importantly, why did she still have such a weak spot for him after all these years? “Wh—what?”

  “Can you focus?”

  His gentle demeanor almost made her forget who she was dealing with. She reminded herself that this was the guy who turned her in when he caught her copying Sean Casey’s pre-calculus homework. The same one who had ratted her out when he overheard her plans to play hooky with Devin Mitchell. And the only guy who had ever rejected her affections. He found joy in her suffering. He had to have ulterior motives behind this good guy farce. “I’m fine. I can see perfectly fine.” Sam shook herself free from his hold. “And I can see through your whole good cop, bad cop routine. You’re just buttering me up before you charge me with some violation. Am I illegally parked or something?”

  “Okay, we can check off yes for easily upset or angered. But since you don’t have any physical symptoms of a concussion, I think you’re in the clear. It must have been the hair that protected you. You have two inches of padding with that French—” he cocked his head to the side for a better look “—oh wait, Dutch-braid going down the center.”

  “It’s called a fauxhawk, and it took half an hour to achieve the perfect height.” She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know so much about braids? My sisters don't even know the difference.”

  He gave a small shrug. “Call it a hobby of mine.”

  “Something you do when you’re not stalking people? You didn’t answer my question, Lucas. What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  “The question is why are you stalking me? This is my house. What are you doing here?”

  “Your house?” Sammie glanced at the black numbers above the two car garage door. It was the right address; she was sure of it. But the facts of the circumstances didn’t add together. I’m here for Lucy’s birthday party. Her eyes grew round as the pieces started falling into place. His ringless hand. The cleft in his chin that matched her favorite student’s. “Wait, you’re Lucy’s dad?”

  “You’re her art teacher? I thought Sam was your last name. What a small world.”

  “No kidding.” All her presumptions of him and his perfect life faded away. Her heart softened to know the tragedy that his family had gone through. How could she have talked so negatively about his wife? “Hey, I had no idea when I saw you yesterday … I shouldn’t have said those things.” She bit her lip as she fumbled for the right words to say.

  “It’s fine. You had no idea.” The somber tone of his voice lifted with his next words. “I have to say this is unusual, you having trouble talking.”

  “There’s a first for everything.” It wasn’t the first occasion she wished she’d kept her mouth shut, but it was the one time she felt so guilty. “I’m really sorry about Lauren.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  They stared at each other for a few seconds, with only the chirping birds in the nearby trees punctuating the silence. Sam shifted her weight from foot to foot and blinked. She could handle bickering and tension, but the idea of peace and harmony with Lucas was new and unsettling. “I need to prepare for the party. Can I go in?”

  “Of course. Let me help you with your things.” He took two plastic bins that Sam handed him, and shut the car door.

  At that moment, the front door to the house opened and Lucy ran outside with her grandmother at her heels.

  “Lucy, come finish your breakfast,” Mrs. Benson called out.

  “Miss Sam!” Beaming, the little girl ran up to Sam and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Come see my room.”

  “Sure thing. I can’t wait to meet your stuffed animals.”

  Lucas shook his head. “You need to finish eating, sweetheart, then you can play.”

  “No, Daddy, I don’t want to.”

  “The birthday girl needs energy for her party. Please finish your breakfast.”

  Lucy shook her head adamantly. Her cheeks flushed the same color as her lacy pink dress. “I’m full.”

  Sam grinned as she observed their exchange. Even with a three-foot height difference between them, Lucy was holding her own against her father. She knew there was a reason she and the little girl got along so well. “She’s done, Lucas. Let her be.”

  Lucas sighed. “All right. At least finish your milk.”

  Lucy’s eyes sparkled as she took Sam’s hand. “Miss Sam, Daddy listens to you. Can you tell him I want a puppy?”

  “He does, does
n’t he.” Sam bit back a laugh when she spotted Lucas’s furrowed brows. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  * * *

  Lucas wiped down the dining table and listened to his daughter giggle in the next room. He lifted his head in time to see her give Sam a tight hug. She had been smiling non-stop all morning. It was so good to see her happy and carefree. He wanted to believe it was because he had served her favorite foods—cheese pizza and chocolate ice cream cake—and given her a dollhouse for her birthday, but he knew better. Lucy had cheered up since Sam arrived.

  The party had been a huge success. Each pint-sized guest had left half an hour ago with a grin on her face. He had to give Sam some credit; she knew how to keep kids engaged and entertained. Her stained glass painting project using wax paper and paint had been easy to do, and the finished products shone impressively when held up in the sunlight.

  The clean-up, however, was another story.

  Lucas gritted his teeth. A thick trail of blue paint dripped off the edge of the table, landing in a puddle on the tile floor. How in the world did little cups of paint make such a big mess? “Sammie Koo,” he muttered under his breath, “I knew this was a bad idea.”

  “You’re getting old, Squealer.”

  The face looking back at him from under the table wore a sly grin. “What’re you talking about?”

  “You were talking to yourself. Either you’re going senile or you need to get out more. Which is it?”

  “Neither,” he huffed. “It’s this.” He directed her attention downward. “I told you we should have covered the floor.”

  “Calm down, it’s one spot. The paint’s water based. It wipes right off.” She took a napkin off the table, lowered herself to one knee, and wiped the floor dry. “See, easy peasy. Clean up’s included in the party package. Why are you doing it?”

  They stood and faced each other. Lucas crossed his arms and shrugged. He didn’t appreciate the way Sam was glaring at him, as if she was trying to size him up. “You were spending time with Lucy. I thought I’d help out.”

  “Ha! You couldn’t stand the sight of a little mess. I remember how OCD you were in chem lab. Every beaker had to be washed and dried and put back just so. Admit it, you’re a neat freak. Your whole house is spotless. There’s not even one dirty dish in the sink.”

  He pushed away the blue painted fingernail poking his chest. “I like to be organized. There’s no crime in that. I know where everything is, and I don’t have to waste time looking for things, unlike some people.”

  “Don’t you think you’re a little obsessed?” She nodded toward a plaque above the sink. “Come on, who else has a Cleanliness is next to godliness sign in their kitchen?”

  “My mother.”

  “It all makes sense now.”

  “You’re one to talk. There was nothing normal about your high school locker. I’m sure you broke some health codes with the experiments—” he stressed the word with an arched eyebrow “—you grew in there. I found a moldy ham and cheese sandwich once that I’m sure was from the stone ages.”

  “How’s that possible? Cavemen didn’t eat bread. And how would you know anyway? You never looked inside my locker. You really need to lighten up, Squealer.” Before he could reply, she ran her finger over a smudge of blue paint on the table and smeared it on his cheek.

  “There. Now you don’t have to wipe up that spot. It goes well with your shirt.”

  Lucas held her stare and debated as to how long he should let her sweat. He could see uncertainty and regret flicker across her face as she bit her lower lip. He had a strange urge to smooth away the lines between her brows. There was a softness in her features that made her seem vulnerable, like the teenage girl he had desired to keep safe. Too bad she had never wanted his protection.

  * * *

  Holding her breath, Sam waited for Lucas to say or do something. She couldn’t stand the silence and especially the way he was looking at her, as if he was mentally flipping through the police rule book to see if face painting was listed there. She wasn’t going down without a fight though. “I have rights, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Mandy. Miriam. Something starting with an M.”

  “Are you referring to Miranda rights?”

  “Yes, Miranda. If you want to arrest me, you need to read me my rights. I have the right to remain silent and to call my lawyer.”

  “I see you’ve got them memorized.”

  “How could I not? That night is forever etched in my memory because of you.”

  Lucas shook his head. “About that night, Sammie, I wasn’t out to have you arrested.”

  “You weren’t? You just thought it’d be fun to call the police, then point me out to them? What a bunch of bull, Lucas.” She couldn't believe he thought he had a good explanation for his actions. She began to tune him out, but saw his eyes cloud, turning a dark brown shade she didn’t recognize.

  “I was trying to protect you.”

  “Oh, please, protect me? You can say whatever you want to appease your guilt, but I’m not buying it.”

  Their conversation was cut short by Mrs. Benson’s entrance. “I finally got the birthday girl to sleep. That sugar high was something else. A long nap will do her some good.” She looked at the two of them, then remarked, “Lucas dear, you have something on your cheek.”

  “I got it, thanks.”

  Sam drew in a sharp breath as he reached behind her and grabbed a napkin off the table. She caught a whiff of fresh soap and spicy aftershave that sent her pulse racing. No. Why was her body betraying her like this? Maybe she was the one who needed to get out more. She watched him wipe away the paint from his cheek, and piped up. “You missed a spot.” Using herself as his mirror, she pointed to her jawline, then to her chin. As he began wiping the lower half of his face, she snorted. Gotcha. She was the only one who ever had the gall to fool him and get away with it.

  He frowned. “Sammie Koo.”

  "I still have my touch. I forgot how much I enjoy messing with your head. Remember that time I told you our midterm got moved up and you stayed up all night cramming for it?”

  “How could I forget? I was so tired I went to school the next morning with my shirt on backwards. But I aced the test, unlike some people.”

  Sam crossed her arms. “Teacher’s pet.”

  “You forgot to add class valedictorian.”

  A chuckle escaped Mrs. Benson’s lips. “Sorry to interrupt your stroll down memory lane, but I wanted to tell you I’m having dinner with Janice tonight. Care to join me, Sam? Her son, the law professor, will be there.”

  Sam coughed to cover up a groan. Bless her heart; she was still trying her hand at matchmaking. “Like I said yesterday, Mrs. B., I'm happy being single.”

  “He's quite a catch if you ask me. Of course we could sit at separate tables—” she winked “—so you two could chat without us old ladies listening in.”

  Sam hesitated. The only thing waiting for her at home was a stack of unopened bills and maybe a PB&J sandwich, if she was lucky. Going out sounded a lot more appealing. Even though she wasn’t looking for a relationship, one date and a delicious meal wouldn’t hurt. Before she could respond, however, Lucas spoke up.

  “Thanks, Mom, but I doubt if Sam would find George interesting. He seemed a little dull when I talked to him. Anyway, I was going to see if she wanted to stay here for dinner.” Turning to Sam, he asked, “How about it, Firecracker?"

  She had spotted a twitch in his jaw muscle when Mrs. B. mentioned the neighbor’s son. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought Lucas didn't want her going out with the guy. “It might be a good idea to get some legal advice from George, seeing as how I've been getting into trouble with the law lately.” Her sarcasm earned her a smile from Lucas.

  “I could give you some pointers, seeing as how I'm such a law-abiding citizen. Just so you know, I make the world’s best spaghetti and meatballs. And we have leftover ice cream cake. I only feed my guests the best.�
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  “Hmm.” Lucas sure was trying hard. The smile on his face seemed genuine and lit up those amazing eyes she found so hard to resist. Maybe this was his attempt at making things up to her? Either way, the flutter in her stomach was telling her to say yes. She hoped it was a sign of hunger, nothing more. “Well, I hate to turn down a home-cooked meal. Sure, why not.”

  “Great. Lucy will be happy you’re staying.”

  “Good choice, dear. Lawyers do tend to be a bit on the stuffy side. I'm sure you’ll have a more enjoyable evening with Lucas,” Mrs. Benson added before slipping out the door.

  This was the first time Sam had ever heard the word enjoyable used to describe Lucas, but like she had said, there was a first for everything. Even the possibility that she was looking forward to spending time with her high school nemesis.

  Chapter 4

  Dinner turned out to be much better than Sam could have predicted. Sitting at the small round table in the kitchen nook while Lucas served her bowls of parmesan and garlic linguine proved to be as enjoyable as a meal at a five-star restaurant. That was one thing she missed about Paris since her current budget didn't allow her such luxuries anymore. The company wasn’t bad either. Truthfully, it was good, very good in fact. Between Lucy’s non-stop chatter and Lucas’ impeccable service, this was the most pleasant date she had been on in a long time.

  Not that this is a date, Sam chided herself. A home-cooked meal with a four-year-old and her father was not her typical definition of a good time. Usually, she opted for a quick bite to eat or coffee. She did prefer to be wined and dined, but only after the first date. If the men she went out with didn't pique her interest within the first ten minutes of meeting them, she escaped—quickly. She used the excuse of needing to feed her cats so often that she considered adopting one.