out and daubed at his hand. "I'm fine. Just fine."
Samantha leaned one hip against the empty chair. "What brought him back now?" she asked.
Staring at that womanly, sexy curve, he almost wished she'd go away. The other men in the bar would be sure to notice her lingering at his table, and then there was his rookie reaction to her nearness. Her breasts, her hips, the sensuality in every one of her movements, made him sweat. Christ, if she knew she made him feel like a fifteen-year-old with a girlie magazine, she'd be appalled.
Or worse, she'd laugh.
"Judge?" she said softly.
He realized he hadn't answered her. Taking another swallow of his martini, he considered what to say. Why had Dylan returned? He shook his head. "I don't know." That niggle of uneasiness threatened to deflate his good mood again.
A round of boisterous laughter broke out. Samantha looked over her shoulder, then back at him. "Well," she said, an impersonal smile turning up her full mouth, "I've got work to do. It's good to see you."
From the corner of his eye D. B. watched her walk away, the subtle swing of her hips nearly causing him to spill his drink again. His fascination with Samantha Wilder had started six months ago, the first day he'd spotted her back in town. As she'd crossed the street, a brown grocery sack in each arm, her dancer's posture and her centerfold body had struck him like a one-two punch in the gut.
Not examining his reasons why, he'd headed for the store she'd just exited, where the whispers were already rampant, just as he'd counted on. Samantha Wilder. He hadn't really remembered her, though he knew her aunt and her daughter, Kitty, of course. When she'd left town at seventeen, he'd been miles away, a twenty-four-year-old widower trying to get through law school while taking care of his five-year-old son.
That day he'd learned she was now forty-three. Nobody knew where she'd been exactly, all those years she was gone, but the rumors were as salacious as they were unsquashable. The only confirmed facts were that she'd bought the old Bum Luck, a sleazy dive closed for years, and that she was classing up the place. As a local judge, he'd decided right then it was almost his duty to visit the new establishment and view it up close and personal.
View Samantha up close and personal.
"D. B.!" Red Morton had managed to tear himself away from the bar. He plunked his mug of beer beside the judge's martini and pulled out the opposite chair. "Heard Dylan's back."
D. B. nodded, satisfaction running through him like another hot swallow of vodka. "You heard right."
"Well, where is the boy?"
D. B. shrugged. "Here or there." He wasn't going to start worrying that his son had only briefly stopped by the courthouse before taking off again. Dylan had accepted D. B.'s set of house keys, hadn't he? That Dylan had said he was unsure how long he might be forced to stay wasn't going to disturb D. B. either, though admittedly "forced to stay" wasn't the most positive spin on a long-postponed visit home. "He's probably hooked up with some old friends."
Red looked down at his beer. "Heard he was with Kitty Wilder tonight."
D. B. straightened, then shot a glance toward Samantha, who was taking an order nearby. "Kitty?" he questioned, keeping his voice quiet.
Red nodded. "Was holding her hand or had his arm around her or something."
D. B. relaxed and picked up his martini. He didn't believe Dylan and Kitty even knew each other, let alone were friendly enough to touch. Hot Water's gossip mill was untiring, but it wasn't infallible.
"Seems pretty strange, a Matthews and a Wilder together," Red said.
D. B.'s fingers tightened on the stem of his glass. "I - "
"What's this about a Matthews and a Wilder?"
D. B. twisted around to find Samantha standing behind him, a faint smile curving her mouth. "Has the judge been sweet-talking my aunt Cat again?" she asked, placing one hand on her hip.
Red inspected the bottom of his beer mug. "Kitty and Dylan," he muttered.
Samantha stilled. "What, Red?"
"Somebody told me Kitty and Dylan were together tonight." He drained the dregs of his beer. "Probably just a rumor, though."
"Mmm." Samantha's pleasant expression flickered and D. B. felt another cold twinge of dismay. But then she directed her gaze at him, looking calm and composed as usual. "Can I get you another martini, Judge?" She smiled again.