Worth the Risk

by Robin Bielman

“Jumping in feet first can land you on your ass.” She shifted in her seat, trying to mentally and physically put distance between them. If her company didn’t get the contract, would it give her some comfort to know she’d lost to Dean? She wanted him to succeed. But was it despicable of her to wish he didn’t this time?

  “Darlin’, I do some of my best work on my ass,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.

  She knew that to be true. But his words reminded her of memories she’d best not think about if she planned to make a quick getaway.

  Chapter 9

  They pulled into the loop that led to the valet in front of the hotel. “Thanks again for everything, Dean. I’ve had a great time.”

  “I’ve got a couple of hours before I need to head to my parents’ place. Why don’t I see you to your room? Help you with all those bags?” The sound of his voice carried so much appeal and charm that she’d need earplugs of steel to remain immune.

  “That’s not necessary,” she answered, mustering every ounce of strength she had left. It seemed to her she’d said that a lot this weekend.

  “I know it’s not necessary. I…I…oh, hell, I want to spend a little more time with you, Sam.”

  His vulnerability shot straight to her heart, upping the beats per minute. Would he have as much difficulty as she would when they parted?

  “Dean—”

  “Or I could come by after dinner?” He cast an optimistic glance her way, that sparkle in his eyes rendering her helpless. One more night with Dean was all she’d get. Foolish as it was, she wanted to take it.

  “Okay.”

  “Great. It’s all decided, then. I’ll come on up and shower, and then be back later.” He looked straight ahead, but she could see the irresistible smile in his profile.

  What?

  And why did she find herself agreeing? Bad body.

  “Just what are you implying, Mr. Malloy?” Flutters took hold of her stomach and her breath caught thinking about what they were about to do. Acting on the fierce sexual pull between them was the only way to purge Dean from her every waking thought.

  She hoped.

  “I’m implying I need someone to wash my back.” He laced his fingers through hers as they pulled to a stop in front of the hotel lobby. “And I seem to remember you were pretty good with a bar of soap.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” Yes, she’d lost her mind.

  “I’ll see to that.”

  Ten minutes later they entered her hotel room. Samantha told herself not to get too caught up in Dean’s tropical-island scent or the crazy thoughts running through her head. She wouldn’t turn away from the dangerous consequences that being with him for a few more hours created.

  She dropped her bags on the bed and twisted to find him studying her. For a long moment they drank each other in, as if they both knew there was nothing ordinary about the attraction between them but were afraid to make the first move or say the right thing to take it further.

  Then he strode toward her, his intense and determined expression stealing her breath.

  Something was different when he gently caressed her back and started to undress her. His defenses were down. Hers, too. His careful touch made her ache to have all of him and wiped away any lingering reservations she might have.

  “Your skin is so soft,” he said, sliding his hands down her bare arms.

  Lazy circles on her palms followed, making her shiver in response.

  Samantha swallowed. She wished Dean didn’t affect her so much. His hands on her body, the words he said—and didn’t say—were all a painful kind of good that she couldn’t get enough of. He was a weakness she’d never be strong enough to refuse.

  “God, you smell good, too,” he whispered next, leaning in to feather his lips along the spot below her earlobe that turned her inside out.

  When he pulled back and tugged his shirt over his head, she couldn’t do anything but watch him. Once they were naked, he took her hand and led her to the shower.

  They’d had sex under a waterfall during their summer affair all those years ago, but it didn’t compare to the warm rivulets of water cascading down their bodies now.

  Samantha’s body quivered as Dean smoothed her wet hair back and held her cheeks in his hands. He looked at her lovingly, somehow reaching past the sentiment she knew her eyes held, plunging deeper into her psyche.

  With the utmost care, he rubbed his thumbs across her cheekbones before bending for a kiss. The sensation of his mouth on hers while water streamed down her backside was extraordinary. Blissful vibrations took over. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

  While his mouth devoured hers, his hands slid down to her waist and pulled her in tighter. Her breasts pressed against the smooth planes of his chest. She wiggled her shoulders side to side, teasing him with playful caresses.

  The friction sent whirls of pleasure to every spot on her wet body. She wanted to feel him moving deep inside her so badly it hurt.

  Dean slowly ended the kiss and put some space between them. He reached for the soap and rolled it in his hands to create lather. As he did so, he took in every inch of her body, examining her from top to bottom. Then with tender strokes, he washed her. Starting at her neck, he massaged down to her shoulders, spending some time loosening the muscles there. She felt herself relax. Her eyelids grew heavy. A deep breath escaped her mouth. His hands slid to her breasts next. He cupped them, rubbed, and kneaded them until she rolled her shoulders back and stared at him with tipsy eyes. Her stomach was next. Then lowering down to his knees, he glided up and down her legs with blissful strokes of his hands.

  “I think you missed a spot,” she teased.

  “Don’t worry.” He stood and returned the soap to the dish. He took in the bubbles covering her and smiled. “I think that’s enough.”

  “Enough?”

  “To get me clean.” Taking one step forward, he slipped and slided up and down the length of her body.

  Pure euphoria shot through her system as Dean shimmied his way to cleanliness. From the shoulders down they connected in bits and pieces, the slick movement creating increased need for consummation.

  Their soapy tango waned as water trickled its way between them. Dean steadied himself and put his hands on her shoulders before moving his mouth to her neck. His kisses were soft all the way up to her chin. He paused for a moment to shine a look in her eyes, and then he captured her mouth with strong, fluid sweeps of his tongue. Their lips mingled effortlessly, sending a pitter-patter feeling straight to her heart.

  A rush of much more than sexual connection flooded her body. If she read him right, this was far more than just sex happening between them.

  And from then on she was lost in how good it felt to be in his arms.

  …

  “So I’ll be back around ten,” Dean said, buttoning up his new shirt. His hair was still damp. A light shadow lined his jaw. Once again, Samantha couldn’t help but watch his every move.

  “Okay.” Emotion welled up inside her, and she fought to keep her disposition in check. She’d never find anyone else who came close to hypnotizing her the way Dean did.

  His cell phone rang, doing a vibrating dance on the coffee table where it lay. He picked it up on the second ring while sitting down on the couch next to her.

  “Hey, Dad.” The affection in Dean’s voice made Samantha’s heart lurch. Despite Dean’s brief mention in the bar that he and his dad weren’t on the best of terms, Dean still spoke to him with the warmth of a young boy.

  Silence followed, though, as Dean held the phone to his ear. Dropping his chin, he ran a hand through his hair. Samantha noticed his jaw tighten. Watched his body shrink, the larger-than-life man of twenty minutes ago disappearing. Something was wrong.

  “What hospital are you at?” he said finally.

  Samantha put a hand on his leg and waited while he finished the conversation. She felt short of breath, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. Seeing Dean’s
body wither stripped away her own conflicting emotions.

  He fended the call and fell back onto the couch. “My mom’s been in a car accident.”

  “Oh my gosh. Is she okay?”

  “Yes, thankfully. But my dad’s a wreck. I need to head over there.”

  She moved her hand to take his and asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

  “You can come with me.”

  Chapter 10

  Four years ago, Dean’s aunt, his father’s only sibling, died in a car accident. A drunk driver blindsided her and sent her small convertible spiraling into a tree. It had left an indelible mark on the family, especially his dad, who had doted on his younger sister since they were kids.

  To this day his father still harbored deep-rooted fears about an accident claiming another family member. With all the traveling Dean did, he knew his dad worried about his safety. That was one of the reasons why his dad had been so against his starting a new company—Dean wouldn’t be around for him to keep tabs on anymore. The thought scared the shit out of the old guy.

  Dean swallowed down the bad taste that rose in his throat. Thank God his mom would be okay. From the sound of his dad’s voice on the phone, the circumstances more than anything else would take time to forget. Hell, his dad might not let his mom get back behind the wheel of a car. Granted, the accident hadn’t been her fault, but Dean knew his dad liked to have a say in things. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least if he grounded his mom and told her she had to stay home.

  Of course, her fiery personality wouldn’t stand for it. She didn’t sit still long, always dabbling in charitable causes, lunch dates with friends, and, oh yeah, extreme sports. Dean got every ounce of his adventuresome blood from his mother. She rock climbed, bungee jumped, sky dived, cross-country skied, and just for the heck of it, had recently taken up extreme unicycling with a group of teenagers in her mentoring program. She said it strengthened her core.

  Dean thought it was amazing all the things his mom did, and they shared an incredible bond over it, while his dad often said she belonged in a circus act. The snide remarks hadn’t fooled Dean, though. He knew his dad was still head over heels in love with her after thirty years of marriage. In fact, his mom had often told him it was her fearlessness that his dad found most attractive. And in equal fashion, it was his dad’s play-it-safe attitude that she found most endearing.

  At least they had each other.

  Dean opened the passenger side door of his car and helped Samantha out. He appreciated her silence on the ride over to the hospital, her sense that he needed to sort things out in his mind. It had given him time to ruminate on what had happened. Now she cast him an easy smile, a smile that said, I’m here for you.

  He found her hand and the feel of her palm in his settled the nerves skittering over his skin. He hadn’t thought he could cherish her any more than he already did, but having her beside him while they made their way into the hospital, he thought his heart might burst.

  And he realized he’d die for this woman.

  As they entered through the sliding glass door, his thoughts strayed to where he was in his life. Who was in his life. He was lucky to have great parents, an abundance of cousins, work associates he’d bend over backward for, and friends who were never too far away.

  But was there someone he could rely on, no matter what?

  One person who would be there for him if he were lying in a hospital bed? Someone to sit with him all day and night and whisper loving sentiments into his ear?

  He peeked at Samantha and a collision of love and admiration seeped through every pore of his body.

  He’d never planned to rely on anyone. Until now.

  She hadn’t hesitated when he asked her to come with him, even though something uncomfortable had simmered in her eyes. He’d supposed it was the hospital. Most people found it an unpleasant place to visit. The last time he’d stepped foot in one he’d come to see his aunt. It had been too late.

  A lump formed in his throat. He rubbed his brows to relieve the mental uneasiness sitting behind his eyes. If anything life-threatening had happened to his mother, he didn’t know what he’d do.

  They navigated the cold, sterile hallways that led to the elevator and took it to the third floor. Sam squeezed his hand tighter on the ride up and he squeezed right back.

  “Thanks again for coming with me.”

  “Sure.”

  “I think I should warn you—my dad may seem overly sensitive. My aunt died in a car accident so it’s a real touchy subject. One that still holds a lot of pain for him.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She paused. “But you said your mom’s going to be okay, right?”

  “Yeah. My dad said it’s a few broken ribs and a fractured wrist. This is going to be horrible for her, though. She doesn’t like to sit still.”

  “And there’s nothing you can do about broken ribs but rest.”

  The elevator doors opened and he noted the direction of room 348 on the wall plaque. “I know. My poor mom. She’s going to be miserable. And if I know my dad, he’s going to keep her home for longer than necessary.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “Not to her it won’t be. She doesn’t like anyone telling her what to do.”

  “So that’s where you get it from?”

  A small smile crossed his face. He appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood.

  Dean led her past gurneys and IV stands and nurses hustling about, then rounded the corner leading to the right place. He noticed every occupied room had a visitor in it. Someone sitting or standing, an arm stretched across the bed or hand clasped reassuringly. The faces were young and old, but all wore looks of deep caring and love. Acutely aware of Samantha’s hand in his, a rush of emotion swept over him.

  He loved Samantha. Had always loved her.

  She triggered admiration and awe-inspiring hope in him. Hope that she’d share everything with him, would be there by his side on every adventure and ordinary day. She was his one in a million. The one to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground and to set him flying higher than he’d ever gone before.

  He didn’t want just memories anymore. He wanted the real thing.

  She tugged on his arm, bringing them to a stop.

  “What is it?” The thoughts of love swirling inside his head subsided when he looked at her solicitous face. She had something serious on her mind.

  “I need to…need to…”

  Worry shot through him. He’d never known her to be at a loss for words. “You need to what?”

  “I know I came all this way with you, but I’m sorry. I need to go.”

  Searching her eyes, he saw fear and compassion, love and regret. Her gaze reached down inside him and plucked out his beating heart. She held it in her hands, the thump, thump at her disposal. His chest tightened. He wondered what she could possibly be talking about.

  “Before we see my mom?”

  “Before we see your dad.”

  “My dad? Shit. You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking so much about my mom that I completely forgot about business and the meeting in the morning. But look, it’s okay. I’ll give him a quick explanation.”

  She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, looking ready to pass on some top-secret information to him. Huh? The ache in his heart doubled as he noticed every little thing about her. Taking both his hands in hers, she seemed to gather strength from their contact, but a wistful expression crossed her beautiful face. Something else was going on.

  “I thought I could do this. Be here for you. But…”

  “Dean!” His dad’s voice carried down the hallway on sound waves that easily rounded the corner.

  Dean turned and took the few long strides necessary to greet his father. His dad wrapped his arms around his back and squeezed; the embrace lasted longer than any he’d received since that fateful day four years ago. A man of few words, Dean knew the gesture was his father’s way of saying he loved him.

&
nbsp; “How are you holding up?” Pulling away from his father, Dean kept his hands on the old man’s shoulders, wanting to feel his answer as well as hear it.

  “I’m doing okay. Thankfully, your mom’s going to be fine.”

  “She’s a tough cookie.”

  “You can say that again. She wants to go home already. Damn woman doesn’t know when to take it easy.”

  Feeling the hunch in his father’s shoulders subside, Dean dropped his arms. “They’re not letting her go home, though, are they?”

  “No. She’ll be here a few days. They want to be sure there’s no internal bleeding or injuries that haven’t shown up yet. Of course she’s spouting her mouth off about how strong she is and how well she knows her body, blah, blah, blah. Says there’s no way she’s got four broken ribs, only feels two.”

  Dean’s mood couldn’t help but improve. His feisty mom did what she did best: drive his dad to adore her more. The love in his dad’s eyes when he talked about her was so evident that Dean smiled with pride. His parents’ marriage was a love story he wanted to emulate.

  His story, he realized, had started five years ago and resumed with a kiss Friday night. Samantha was his happily ever after.

  “Sam? What are you doing here?”

  Side stepping him, his dad moved toward Samantha. Dean looked over his shoulder and watched his dad accept her outstretched hand. He couldn’t see his father’s expression, but Samantha’s face radiated warmth and respect on top of the uncertainty Dean had noticed when she’d blinked a few extra times.

  “Hello, Mr. Malloy. I’m sorry to hear about your wife.”

  “It’s Bill, remember? And thank you. I thought after our phone call this afternoon I wouldn’t see you until tomorrow morning.”

  Phone call? For some reason, those two little words hit Dean like a ton of bricks. He watched his father and Samantha speak to each other like they’d been acquaintances far longer than one meeting, and he didn’t like it. He saw their lips moving but couldn’t hear their words. Anger—irrational, he knew, but present nonetheless—drowned out their voices.