by Cat Schield
And what was she after? Oliver’s inner landscape was a lot more complicated than she’d ever imagined. He avoided discussing his relationship with his family, leaving her to wonder if it was terrible or nonexistent. Rage filled him anytime his father’s name was mentioned. And as if the anger wasn’t unsettling enough, it was often followed by lengthy brooding silences that left her feeling lost and on the outside looking in. As much as she wanted more than anything to help him cope with all the bad feelings, her response to being shut out was to withdraw in kind.
How could two such damaged people ever be in a healthy relationship? As much as she wanted to reach through the darkness and connect with Oliver, she didn’t know if she was strong enough to weather his emotional storms. Realizing he was waiting for her to answer, Sammi answered the irresistible call of her heart and typed a reply.
Give me 10 minutes.
She quickly changed into something more flattering than worn leggings and the T-shirt emblazoned with GRL PWR that she’d donned to tackle her closet. Clad in skinny jeans and an oversize black sweater, hair swept into a messy topknot, she headed downstairs.
When the elevator doors opened on the lobby, the first thing that greeted her was an enormous stuffed giraffe and, beside the long neck, Oliver’s handsome face, wearing the most charming smile she’d seen to date. At the sight her pulse skipped a beat.
“What’s this?” she asked, warning herself to rein it back.
It wasn’t his fault that she found him irresistible. Well, that wasn’t quite true. If he would just stop being so damned charismatic, maybe she could gather the strength to resist him. Why could the man always get under her skin?
“It’s the first decoration for our baby’s nursery. I thought we could go pick out some furniture.”
“It’s really cute, but I’m not even two months along.” To her dismay, tears sprang to her eyes. Damn her pregnancy hormones and the way her hopes skyrocketed at the picture of enthusiastic fatherhood that he presented. “Don’t you think it’s too early?”
His eager smile faded. “I thought you’d be excited to start decorating the nursery.”
The speed at which Oliver was moving into her life left her no room to reason or plan. She hadn’t yet decided to move in with him, and the pressure to make him happy by agreeing made her chest tighten.
“I am.”
“But?” He’d obviously heard her reluctance.
All her life Sammi had acted in a practical manner, working to support her and her mother when she’d probably rather have played with friends and worried about her grades and what boys liked her. Was it so unreasonable that she’d refuse to accept less than exactly what she longed for?
“I’m absolutely starving.” She wrapped her arm around his and turned him toward the front entrance. “Didn’t you say something about dinner?”
Nine
Although Oliver was disappointed that Sammi hadn’t enthusiastically embraced his plans for creating a nursery in his guest bedroom, he realized that he shouldn’t be surprised, given that she’d shown more concern than delight about his proposal that they cohabitate.
Oliver took her to a tiny, dimly lit restaurant that featured Basque-inspired French and Spanish dishes, where Sammi demonstrated that she was as hungry as she claimed. As an array of small plates arrived at their table, she pounced upon the boquerones on toast and cremini mushrooms with chorizo and garlic cream, attacking the food with gusto, licking her lips and groaning in a way that made Oliver’s jeans grow overly snug. Despite the discomfort, he savored every second of the meal.
The peaceful evening continued until they returned to his apartment, carrying the large giraffe with them. When they stepped into the foyer, the stuffed toy became the elephant in the room as it raised the specter of their disagreement over starting to design the nursery. Since sex was an excellent diversion, he deposited the plush animal on a barstool before sweeping Sammi off her feet and carrying her to the bedroom.
They made love with energetic abandon, their bodies communicating without doubt or hesitation. Oliver wished everything was as easy with Sammi, but they were a pair of islands, accustomed to solitude, finding it easier to hide from the world’s harshness than open up and invite rejection. In his case, he’d avoided his family and the place where he’d grown up yet had never truly fit in. Hating the isolation, he’d numbed his pain first with drugs and then with work, leaving no room for relationships that might end badly. He used physical distance and sardonic disdain to keep others at bay while she kept her emotions hidden behind a passive exterior.
Yet they’d gravitated toward each other.
With aftershocks reverberating through him, Oliver murmured in gratitude that fate had brought this woman into his life. She lay draped across his chest, a sated, boneless weight that made him smile. He swept his fingertips along her spine as their bodies cooled. Not until goose bumps broke out on her skin and she shivered did he move to pull the comforter over them.
“How did your visit go with your brother?” she asked, her cheek on his shoulder, one slim thigh thrown over his. “What is Falling Brook like?”
Oliver felt her curiosity as well as her concern. He’d confessed his reservations about the town where he’d faced so many disappointments.
“Every time I go there, I can’t stop feeling hostile. There’s too many bad memories.” Even though he’d left Falling Brook feeling optimistic about the future, he couldn’t stop himself from brooding about what had happened in the past. Maybe that’s why as soon as he got his first big paycheck he bought a house in Falling Brook, to show everyone he wasn’t a failure. No one questioned why he was never there. “Josh can’t let go of his opinion of me as the messed-up kid brother who got hooked on drugs and made everybody’s life miserable.”
“Did he say that?”
“No.” But Oliver recalled how Josh had questioned his sobriety by ordering the same drink. “But Josh made it pretty clear that he doesn’t trust me not to fall into old habits.”
“Oh.”
A quick glance at her expression told him he’d given her something to worry about. He gave himself a mental kick. Stress wasn’t good for her or the baby. She had enough on her plate without him dumping his problems on her.
“I’m sorry.” Seeing how his outburst had affected her, he tamped down his impatience. To win her trust he needed her to believe he was okay. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Through their connection, he felt her muscles twitch and heard her deep exhalation. As she relaxed, Oliver’s last bit of irritation bled away.
“You didn’t.”
“I’m in full control of my addiction.” But these were stressful times, and he hadn’t been perfect these last eight years. “I won’t mess up. I swear.”
Her soft smile lit up his world. “I’m not worried.”
The burning glow that filled his chest at her transparent faith filled him with tranquility and optimism. Feeling the connection with her deepen, he brushed his lips over hers.
“I always feel so much better when I’m around you.”
She regarded him through her lashes. “I’m glad.”
Although Oliver recognized that she hadn’t echoed his sentiment, he knew he couldn’t blame her. In this way he was very much like his father, selfish and prone to doing as he pleased and to hell with how it affected everyone around him.
They lapsed into an easy silence, and Oliver didn’t realize he’d dozed off until he awoke to find his bed empty. Panic brought him to full wakefulness. He sat up, but as soon as he noticed that their clothes were neatly piled on a nearby chair, he slid out of bed and went in search of her. She hadn’t gone far, merely next door to his guest room.
Standing in the open doorway, wearing his T-shirt and nothing else, she was studying the room before her. He slowly approached, lingering to admire her long legs and imagini
ng his hands riding the lean muscles of her thighs to the hot, wet space between. No doubt his harsh breathing announced his arrival, because she glanced over her shoulder in his direction.
“It’s empty,” she remarked as he slid his arms around her waist from behind. Sighing, she relaxed against his chest and drew absent circles on his forearms.
“Think of it as a blank slate,” he countered, inhaling the scent of sex and sweat that mingled with lavender on her skin.
“This is happening so fast.”
Fingertips skimming her nape, he brushed her hair aside and set his lips on her shoulder. She gasped and trembled.
“When there’s something I want, I go after it.”
He coasted his hands along her curves, letting her warmth seep into him. She was everything to him. The more time he spent with her, the more he craved her company. Holding her hand calmed his spirit. Making her come filled his world with joy.
“I know it’s early,” she began, her voice husky and low as his lips drifted over her skin, “but I think we should talk about what happens after the baby’s born. Specifically, how do you see this co-parenting thing working for us?”
While he knew she was being sensible, her question made tension twist in his gut. “You know how I feel. I think we should live together so our child will have both parents around all the time.”
He played his fingertips beneath the T-shirt and skimmed over her belly, making the muscles dance in response. Need spread heat beneath his skin even as she caught his hand and stilled it.
“While that sounds ideal,” she responded, her voice breathless and raw as he tugged the T-shirt off, “I’m not convinced that we shouldn’t consider alternatives.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to focus on what’s best for our child?” His heart beat in erratic time, matching the unruly shudders that racked her as he found her breast and lightly pinched the nipple.
“We need an arrangement that works for all of us.” Her words picked up speed as if she wanted to get everything out before he could distract her past the point of thought.
He was already close. Cupping his hand over her mound, he pressed her back into him. With her gorgeous butt trapping his hard length between them, he was nearly mindless with lust. Her fingernail bit into his thigh as he slid the head of his erection against her backside, thrusting against her, letting the friction drive his desire higher. A shock wave trembled through her as he eased his fingers between her thighs and teased her the way she liked with a combination of gentle caresses and deeper strokes.
“One week on, one week off,” she panted, her voice a near whimper as she rocked against his hand. “Or alternating nights during the week. You have a busy travel schedule, so I imagine that we would have to work around that.”
None of this sounded appealing in the least. He didn’t want their child shuffled from apartment to apartment. Determined to put an end to the conversation, Oliver spun her around and pinned her hands over her head.
“Let’s talk about this later,” he said, calming his voice even as his emotions raged. Fighting with her would only create the sort of distance between them that would grow over time. He stared into her passion-heavy gaze. “Right now all I want to think about is us.”
Hearing the impassioned groan that wrenched from her lips as he lifted her off her feet, he captured her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. A heartbeat later, she wrapped her legs around his thighs and they melded in a rhapsody of aching pleasure and blissful sighs.
* * *
Although Sammi had several gowns that might have suited, since she was going as Oliver’s date, the dress she selected had to make the perfect statement. With all the attention he was receiving from the media since his father had been apprehended and thrown in prison, she wanted to be memorable, but not flashy. Yet while making fashion decisions was in her comfort zone, tonight she was bound to be asked about their relationship, and Sammi remained unsure if she was ready to claim that they were a couple.
At least she was confident in her choice of a black cocktail dress of organza with an overlay of black lace-edged tulle for the party. The strapless design and full skirt were a glamorous fifties-inspired retro look that Sammi heightened by styling her hair in a smooth chignon with soft tendrils framing her face. Simple crystal drop earrings completed the look.
When she opened the door and saw Oliver standing outside her apartment, she tried not to gawk at the way his formal wear enhanced his broad shoulders and turned him into an elegant stranger.
She’d never even seen him in a suit and had no idea he owned a tuxedo. His usual attire of jeans, shirts and leather jackets gave his blond all-American good looks an edgy quality that suited his big-city bad-boy image. His rough edges let everyone forget that he’d grown up in the exclusive bedroom community of Falling Brook, New Jersey, with a mansion filled with staff to tend to his every need. Utterly comfortable in perfectly tailored Tom Ford, Oliver looked every inch a man of wealth beyond anything she could wrap her head around and highlighted the differences in their upbringing.
He must’ve picked up on her sudden uneasiness. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Sammi took his arm and tried to escort him toward the door, but he planted his feet and refused to move. Finally, she gave up with a sigh. “I’m just a little bit nervous about tonight.”
Initially thrilled that he’d invited her to the party, as she selected the perfect dress, she’d started wondering what to say when people asked about their relationship. They spent so much time alone that she hadn’t given much thought to labeling what was progressing between them. Tonight’s event was different. Before this, Oliver had maintained a low profile where his dating life was concerned, and Sammi wasn’t sure what her role was supposed to be. Did he want to admit they were dating? Living together? Future parents? Friends only?
“You have nothing to worry about,” Oliver said, his deep voice reverberating through her.
“This is the first time we’ve attended a party together.”
He tensed. “Are you worried about being the focus of bad publicity from being seen with me?”
“Hardly.” She tightened her grip, fierce in her defense of him, and wished she could voice what was really on her mind. “Are you sure I look okay?”
“You look gorgeous,” he intoned, his deep voice sending pleasure rippling through her.
“Good,” she murmured. “Because people are going to notice me on your arm.”
To her shock, Oliver took her by the shoulders and stared down at her. “I hope you realize that no matter how you look, I will always be proud of you.”
His utter seriousness curled her toes. She cupped his cheek, flushed with wonder. She loved that Oliver always treated her as someone he admired and cherished. The men she dated before him had all wanted her because of her beauty and didn’t give a damn about her thoughts or feelings. They liked how she looked, not who she was. And while she recognized that Oliver was attracted to her beauty, what lurked below her surface appealed to him just as much.
“Even when I’m as big as a house and unable to see my feet?” she teased, her pulse racing as he skimmed his palms down her arms and took her hands in his.
“Especially then.” He lifted first one palm and then the other and grazed kisses over her skin. “You’re important to me.”
Breathless with delight, she practically floated down the hall to the elevator and then across the lobby to where a town car awaited them. When Oliver slid in beside her, Sammi snuggled against his side, absorbing his heat and breathing in his spicy masculine aftershave.
“You smell good,” she sighed on a soft purr.
“Keep that up and I’ll be tempted to skip the party and take you back home.”
Sammi delighted in his threat, regretting that she let her nerves get the better of her earlier. Why couldn’t she just enjoy how well they w
ere getting along and not expect anything more? Of course, thanks to her pregnancy, she couldn’t pretend that their connection was complication-free. Where most couples had months or years to decide about the future with a baby coming, Sammi needed to figure out where she and Oliver stood sooner rather than later.
They spoke little during the drive from her Midtown apartment to the Upper East Side penthouse where the party was taking place. Sammi’s excitement about the evening ahead was only matched by her nervousness. She’d attended several after-parties during New York fashion weeks, but never on the arm of someone as well-known as Oliver Lowell.
His large hand warmed the small of her back as he guided her through the foyer and into the large formal living room. With Oliver beside her, she was less daunted by the sea of unfamiliar faces than she’d imagined. And except for some bland pleasantries, she didn’t have to offer much in the way of conversation.
Everyone they met had only one thing they wanted to talk about: how Oliver was handling the shocking reappearance of his father after an absence of fifteen years. Sammi was impressed how smoothly Oliver handled the inquiries without giving away his true feelings. If she hadn’t seen firsthand how much the situation upset him, she might have believed that he was as nonchalant as he appeared.
After they’d been circulating for over an hour, Sammi slipped away for a much-needed restroom break, and when she returned to look for Oliver, she found him deep in discussion with a group of men. Deciding not to interrupt, Sammi headed out the French doors for a breath of air and crossed the small terrace to the iron railing. The view of New York City at night was spectacular from the eighteenth floor. She shivered in the late October chill but refused to go back inside until she’d drunk her fill of the myriad of lights.
“Hello.” A slender blonde in a hot-pink Valentino gown sidled up to Sammi. She affected the languid expression of a socialite who’d attended far too many of these sorts of functions and found them utterly tedious. “I noticed you’re with Oliver. Did he bring you to this event?”
