A rush of joy, so powerful, took her breath away before commonsense brought her back to earth, and her stomach contracted into a tight ball of pain. If only it were true. He was obviously a much better actor than she’d given him credit for. Her mother had been fooled completely. Summoning a watery smile, she squeezed Janet’s hand. “Trust me, hurting him is the last thing on my mind.”
Her mother nodded and linked their arms again. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving and I smell Thai. I swear, that boy knows all our little secrets, doesn’t he?”
Lucy choked as she took a step forward, ignoring the quizzical look from her mother. You don’t know the half of it.
Sam glanced up as they entered the kitchen, a bottle of wine in his hands. His gray eyes sparkled with mischief as the bottle hovered over the third glass. “Sorry it’s not whiskey, but will wine do, Lucy?”
She shot him a withering glare. “Ha, ha, very funny.” Truth be told, the remnants of her boozy night was still affecting her. At least, she was fully blaming her jittery stomach on that. “Just a half glass for me, thanks.”
He came out from behind the counter, handing each woman her glass. Lucy fumbled in an unsuccessful attempt to avoid his touch, and he lifted his glass, an amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes trained on her over the rim. Her gaze dropped first to his bottom lip curved against the glass and then his throat as he swallowed. Averting her gaze, she took a hasty sip.
With more haste than grace, she slid into her chair, swearing it wasn’t disappointment she felt when Sam sat beside her mother rather than her.
“How were the pools at Miranda? Last time I was there, they were pretty basic and rundown.”
Sam smiled at Janet. Giving her his undivided attention, he described the improved facilities at the pools and their day. Lucy’s chest tightened as she watched her mother bloom under his attention. The animated expression looked good on her, lightening her features and softening the lines of sorrow bracketing her mouth. She’d had it tough for so many years, first losing her son and a few years later, her husband. Yet she’d kept her sanity—no thanks to her daughter.
The bands tightened around her chest. Too wrapped up in her own grief and pain to worry about anyone else, Lucy had found escape in travel. Living abroad had filled her life with new experiences and people, easing the pain to a dull ache until she was able to ignore it almost completely. God, her mother must have been so sad and lonely.
Now guilt smacked her upside the head, and tears burned at the backs of her eyes. As if she could sense it and without breaking the conversation with Sam, her mother reached out and clasped her hand. Lucy gave a squeeze in response. The bands loosened their hold. It was so good to be home. The past could stay exactly where it belonged.
Once their meal was completed, her mother pushed back from the table and started to collect the dishes.
Sam stood up at once. “Leave that, Janet. I’ll take them in.”
“Thank you, darling.” Stepping back from the table, her gaze swung between him and Lucy, a look of calculation on her face. “I’ve got some reading to catch up on, so I’ll leave you two to it.”
Lucy rolled her eyes even as nerves started fluttering in her belly at the thought of being alone with him. The woman had all the subtlety of an elephant playing hide and seek. “Night, Mum.”
“Night, Janet.” He pushed his chair out from under the table and stood, stretching his arms above his head until joints popped. “I’ve paperwork to catch up on yet before I hit the sack, so I’ll head off soon too.”
Disappointment slammed through Lucy’s body at his announcement, but she shoved it away to the back of her mind and took a load of dirty dishes through to the kitchen, leaving them to their goodbyes.
Filling the sink with hot soapy water, she scrubbed and rinsed the glasses, then attacked the plates. His scent and the prickling of her skin warned her of his presence moments before his hand and forearm came into view to pluck a glass from the drainer.
“You do know your mother has a dishwasher, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she muttered, keeping her gaze on the sink of bubbles, and scrubbed harder as if she’d discovered a particularly stubborn patch. “Sometimes I just like to do them by hand.”
He didn’t reply, just reached out for another glass, his forearm brushing against her ribs, and her head snapped to the side. “Leave those for me. I know you’ve got pressing business to take care of.”
He stilled, and she could feel his gaze boring into her. Ignoring him, she continued to slap the dishes into place, suds dripping from her elbows onto the floor. Threatening tears rose behind her eyes, and she bit into her bottom lip, hoping to head them off. Large hands dipped into the water, pulled the brush and plate out of her hands, and settled on her shoulders, wetting through the fabric, turning her to face him. Water sloshed onto the floor, but neither of them reacted.
He bent his knees to peer directly into her eyes. “What’s going on in there, Luce? Talk to me.”
She gazed into those beautiful silver-flecked eyes. The line between his brows deepened as he waited her out, patience and concern radiating from them. Oh, God. She was a goner. For the hundredth time since they’d embarked on this journey, the same question pounded in her brain. How was she going to come out of this with her heart intact? She had to remember this wasn’t for real. Before she lost her heart completely.
She sniffed and shook her head. “Sorry, Sam. I must be premenstrual. I’m just feeling a little delicate lately.”
He shook his head, and his lips curved into a skeptical grin. “Truth, remember? There is something more going on. I’m not letting you go until you tell me.”
That’s just the thing. I don’t want you to let me go.
Finally, the pressure from holding back the huge feelings became too much, and the dam broke, the words tumbling out of her. “Fine. I’m angry and scared, okay. Angry that you plainly can’t wait to get away from me. Scared of what you’re forcing me to feel, and absolutely bloody terrified that when this is all over, I won’t be able to put myself back together again.”
Silence hung in the air after her outburst. Her chest heaved, and she bit her lip as he stared at her, motionless. What had she done? Panic rose into her throat, and her fingers gripped the edge of the counter at her back, nails digging into the stone to anchor her body. It took everything she had to keep her gaze on his when all she wanted to do was run and hide.
His hands dropped from her shoulders, leaving her skin cold under the damp material. She swallowed the sharp stab of pain that rose from her stomach, then gasped aloud as his arms circled her waist instead, pulling her snugly against his chest. She stood stiff in his embrace until the warmth from his body gradually thawed her out. With her cheek plastered to his chest, his scent filled her nostrils, and his heartbeat soothed with its strong, regular rhythm.
“I know, brat. I’m just as scared as you.”
The words rumbled from his chest, low and urgent. At first, she thought she’d imagined them, but his heartbeat had accelerated, and his fingers had bunched reflexively in the material of her shirt. She pulled away to glance up at him, and her breath caught. The last time she’d seen such a somber expression on his face was the day they buried Jordan.
He cupped her jaw with both hands, his gaze intense. “I’m scared I’m going to do more harm than good. What the hell do I know about helping someone who’s been through what you have? What they need?” Raw emotion roughened his voice. “But then I figure I know you, Lucy, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make you whole again.”
He lowered his head, his lips pressing against hers in the lightest of kisses. His fingers sank into the hair at the nape of her neck, his palms cradling her jaw with exquisite tenderness, and the tears that had banked up finally burst free, rolling down her cheeks. His thumbs swiped them away, and she wrapped her arms tight around his waist, worried he might stop, but he merely deepened the kiss. A groan erupted from his
throat when she opened for him, turning into a moan when she boldly stroked his tongue with the tip of hers.
She felt him harden against her stomach and attempt to ease his hips away, but she tightened her grip. She needed to feel him; his heat and strength, the proof of his desire for her throbbing against her body. When he gave in and allowed his hips to realign with hers, a thrill shot through her and something dark and ugly broke its hold over her.
She pressed closer to his body, and heat exploded within her, demanding she get closer still to all that firm deliciousness. Plates clattered in the dish rack as his back hit the bench, and he grunted. She broke off in a daze, breathing hard and her chest heaving. As she became aware of the world around them once more, her eyes widened. Oh, my God. She’d practically attacked him, forcing his strong six-foot frame hard against the cupboards in her need to get closer.
Horrified, she took a step back, her fingers pressed against her lips. “I’m sorry.”
Crossing his feet at the ankle, he lounged indolently and eyed her, head cocked and hands braced behind him on the counter. “For what?” If it weren’t for the heightened color on his cheekbones, dangerously glittering eyes, and white knuckles, she’d think he’d been completely unaffected.
She huffed out a breath and gathered her courage. “I didn’t…” She broke off to run her gaze over him, her eyes resting momentarily on his swollen mouth, and the memory of the crockery rattling as she pushed him back against the counter reverberated in her head. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
His brows shot up before he threw his head back and roared with laughter. Indignant, Lucy crossed her arms, then the ridiculousness of her question sank in as she eyed his big frame, and she chuckled along with him, her shoulders loosening and her arms dropping to her sides.
He reached out and snagged her around the waist, pulling her into a loose-limbed hug. Even though the embrace this time was casual, her heart still gave a hard thump at the contact, and a fine current of energy skimmed across her skin before settling into a comforting low hum.
“You are precious, brat.” Affection shone from his eyes. “The only thing that would hurt would be my pride if you didn’t respond to me like that. I can assure you I enjoyed every moment of it.” He gave her a squeeze, then bent down to kiss her cheek and strode to the back door. “Now I really do need to get that paperwork done if I want to take you out next weekend. I’ve been neglecting it a bit lately.”
“Again? Aren’t you sick of me yet?”
“Fishing, Lucy?” He sent her a grin and ignored her question. “In case I don’t see you before next weekend, wear something comfortable, preferably old.” His voice dropped an octave. “We’ll be getting good and sweaty.”
Dirty images ran through her mind at his suggestive comment, and she caught her breath. His grin was wicked, and he winked as her cheeks flamed. Before she could think of a smart rejoinder, he let himself out the door and waved goodbye.
She watched him jog down the few stairs and scowled at his departing back, refraining from the urge to poke her tongue out at him—the tease. Ignoring the pang the knowledge she probably wouldn’t see him for the rest of the week brought, she clenched her jaw and shut the door with a firm push before he caught her watching after him like a lovelorn teen. That would be embarrassing.
Her body hummed from the aftereffects of the kiss, and despite her best efforts, her mind replayed the innuendo in his last words just as she had no doubt he’d intended. Hot and sweaty conjured up all sorts of delicious images, and after having ogled a half-naked Sam in the recent past, her imagination didn’t need anything more to feed it X-rated images.
Shaking herself out of daydreams, she pushed away from the counter, picked up the tea towel he’d draped over the back of a chair, and dried off the last couple of mugs.
Thankfully, the soak in the hot pools had taken a lot of the expected ache from her bones after their ride, but without the distraction of Sam around, she was more aware of the weariness invading her body. With a sigh, Lucy gave the kitchen a final glance. Satisfied it was in good order, she ascended the stairs and headed for the shower.
Hot water pounded her shoulders and back, releasing tensed muscle, and she sighed in bliss, then adjusted the temperature slightly and stood directly under the jet. As the water blasted over her skull and down her body, her thoughts turned back to that last kiss. Liquid heat pooled between her thighs and made her knees tremble. She wanted him. He’d hardly touched her, but already she ached for more.
Grabbing the sponge that hung over the spout, she squirted a dollop of her favorite shower gel onto it and scrubbed. Lathered up, she stepped back under the water and let it stream over her until the water ran clear. Shutting off the jet, she stepped out and toweled dry. Catching a glimpse of her naked body in the mirror, she stilled.
She suddenly realized she hadn’t looked at herself as a whole since the attack. It hadn’t been a conscious thing, but now she recognized it as a defense mechanism her brain had put in place. Sam had gently coaxed her into taking back her power, given back her right to enjoy her femininity and revel in it without any feelings of fear or guilt. Taking a deep breath, she dropped the towel she’d automatically raised to cover herself and studied her form, imagining Sam’s reaction to seeing her naked for the first time. A fine quiver started in her belly at the thought, and her heartbeat sped up.
Remembering the heat in Sam’s gaze when he’d first seen her in the red bikini, she wondered if she’d been a bit harsh on herself. Sure, she might not be runway-model material with her slightly too short torso and in her opinion, too-small breasts, but knowing her curves had affected him regardless of what she perceived as her imperfections thrilled her and gave her confidence. She suddenly couldn’t wait to get all hot and sweaty with him—whatever that entailed.
As she brushed her teeth, she glanced up into the mirror, arrested by the woman staring back at her. A dreamy expression glowed from her eyes, softening her features, and a rosy flush highlighted her cheekbones. She looked like a woman who knew what she wanted—and one that knew how to go about getting it. Her mouth curved.
Snapping the bathroom light off, Lucy drifted down the hall to her room. Dropping her robe, she slipped under the covers and settled back with a contented sigh. She’d almost drifted off to sleep when she realized she’d gone to bed naked again. A huge step forward for the girl who felt uneasy and had trouble sleeping without the weight of layers of material between her and the world.
She stretched luxuriously, contentment filling every atom of her being. The worries, fears, and insecurities that usually sat in the dark recesses of her mind and found their way into her dreams were startlingly absent. Her chest rose and fell on a long sigh, and she dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in years.
Chapter Six
“So how is the delicious Sam? I bet it was great to catch up with him. How long has it been? A few years?”
Lucy’s face flamed, and she picked up the menu to hide her cheeks from Suzie’s gaze. More than a glance and she’d be sunk. Damn her fair complexion.
Since she’d come back home, Monday’s standing arrangement between the friends was a catch-up at their local coffee shop during Suzie’s lunch break. All the better to people watch, Suzie always said. Most times, Lucy enjoyed the girly time, and it was a great way to spend quality time, but today, she was a little anxious. She didn’t know if she wanted to share the news that Operation Find a Man was now redundant. It would mean spilling the beans about what had happened between her and Sam, and it felt too new and fragile to risk talking about.
A group of three businessmen stepped out into the courtyard, coffees in hand, and searched for a table. True to form, Suzie sat straighter in her chair and flicked her dark hair back over her shoulder in a subtle head toss. Each man’s gaze honed in on her, conversation momentarily stalled as they drank in her beauty.
The youngest of the group flashed a smile, and Suzie practically
purred as he walked past, her eyes checking out his butt. They settled down a table away, and Lucy made a mental bet how long it would take before the young hotshot came back asking for her number. She’d had plenty of opportunity to hone the skill over the years.
Suzie’s gaze snapped back to Lucy, her head tilted to the side as if waiting for something, then she clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “I was asking about Sam.”
Caught off guard, Lucy’s cheeks grew warm again. “Ah…he’s great. Good. Yes. He’s good.”
Her friend’s finely arched brow lifted, her gaze narrowed in contemplation. “Good, huh? So what did you two do after I left?”
Lucy blew out a defeated breath, knowing Suzie wouldn’t stop with the questioning until she told her everything. She’d never been able to hide from her all-knowing gaze. Not for the first time, she wondered if her friend was a witch, a throwback to certain members of her Celtic ancestors. Squaring her shoulders, she laid herself bare.
“Oh, my God, Luce. He offered to help? The gorgeous and delectable Sam Merrick who you’ve been lusting after for so long just casually offered to help cure you of your frigidity? You must be jumping for joy.”
She grimaced. “More like jumping out of my skin and scared out of my wits.”
The men forgotten, Suzie leaned forward and clutched Lucy’s hands between hers. “Why? For God’s sake?” She frowned when she didn’t get an immediate response, her voice hardening. “Don’t you dare stuff this up. The guy digs you, and he is seriously hot.”
Why did everyone assume she would be the one to hurt the other or mess things up? “Yeah, but that’s what scares me the most. What if sleeping together ruins what we have? What if I freeze up again at the pivotal moment after everything he’s done for me? How the hell am I meant to face him again? How would our relationship survive? I don’t want to lose what we have. It’s too important. He’s too important.”
Home to Me Page 9
