by Arden, Susan
Inside the kitchen she had two plates that looked ready to be served. Her back was to him, and he leaned over the breakfast counter, contemplating the enticing vision before him. She was listening to an iPod, relaxed and dancing at the counter, wearing only a small, tight T-shirt and panties. He imagined her in a thong, garters, and high heels.
For sure, she was centerfold material in his book, minus the sexual experience. He rubbed his hand over his jaw, puzzled. If she hadn’t been a virgin before their interlude, she’d been damn close. She couldn’t hide her inexperience in the sack any more than he could hide his surprise.
Sam turned, and the glow of her face hit him right between the eyes. TKO by a dark-haired beauty.
“Hungry?” She smiled at him, unaware of her effect. She removed the earbuds, laughing seductively.
“Starving. How about I man the grill?”
“Deal. It should be hot by now,” she nodded. “Wait. Take this.” She passed him a spatula.
“Be right back,” he murmured. The grill wasn’t the only thing scorching. She mesmerized him.
He clenched his jaw, lifting the hood of the grill. He had to be crazy to even think about getting involved with Sam. This was too rich and too ironical. Everything about her was all wrong…and all too right. A woman like Sam was risk personified. The warning signs were clear. No mystery, he could easily slip off a precipice. But into what?
At that moment, she sauntered out onto the balcony, beer in hand. “Something to wet your whistle.”
“You must be a mind reader,” he said, his voice hitting a low note.
“I wish I were, from your expression.”
Christ, he found her irresistible. The way the T-shirt hugged her tits, her erect nipples pushing against the thin cotton, and a 1000-watt smile that blinded him.
“You look like you could use this. More than before.”
“Thanks,” he choked out as she leaned over and kissed him. Her soft lips lingered, slightly parted, and her tongue stoked the fire within him. His hand found the curve of her ass, and he squeezed a plump cheek.
“Mmm,” she murmured.
His pulse raced, but nothing compared with his throbbing cock. He nearly followed her back inside. The hell with the burgers, he had something else in mind and better tasting. The sight of her rocking hips had him thinking, for a moment, of the things they could do. Right now.
After plunking down two burgers, he stepped back, resting on the railing. He sucked down a sip of beer. The scent of sizzling meat had his stomach rumbling. He turned his attention outward, away from his twisting hunger for food and one specific woman.
Sipping his beer, he let his gaze follow the contours of the balcony and over to the pool. The whole place was worthy of a photo shoot. Every detail carefully chosen. From the brand new grill to the swimming pool. Even the spatula in his hand. Everything in the place had the feel of being brand-spanking-new. Including the woman he’d made love to, and wanted to repeat that performance with. Over and over, if he wasn’t careful.
Alarm bells and sirens tolled inside his mind again, only this time blaring. By the end of the weekend, he would be head over heels with Sam. And she’d be on her way to Tahiti or wherever she’d planned on living abroad. Regardless of a family rift, this wasn’t the type of girl who latched on to a be-bopping photographer. And he’d be damned if he needed his head screwed on backward, well past the point of no return. Been there—done that.
Talk about not learning a lesson. He gazed out over the whitecaps. The waves were under a power, an invisible force of nature that had each crashing over the shore before being sucked back into the sea. If he wasn’t careful that would be him.
A stabbing pain reminded him that not even a year ago he’d been in a similar place. On a precarious ledge, but back then he’d dived headfirst into love. So far gone, he’d decided on marriage and had purchased the engagement ring. All that had been left to do was pop the question, but then he’d walked in on his girlfriend only to find that she wasn’t alone. He should have learned that diving into a shallow pool was fucking foolish.
He exhaled, glancing over his shoulder and catching of glimpse of Sam’s dark hair. It wasn’t her fault. Who could blame her for being in the right place at the wrong time? So far, he’d occupied the wrong place at the right time. With this type of set-up taking place in both of their lives, he didn’t see them occupying the same space…together for long.
Tilting the neck, he emptied the bottle of beer. He returned the grill and flipped each burger. The smoke stung his yes, but his vision was clear regardless.
No doubt Sam was still in turmoil. Time was on her side. She’d figure out her life soon enough. A young heiress fighting for control of her destiny with little experience in the bedroom was a time bomb waiting to go off. Eventually, she’d figure out she had all the power, and then she’d be hell-on-wheels.
Rob was keenly aware—even if she wasn’t—that he was her version of a human stepping stone. If he allowed her into his life, she’d end up using her designer stilettos painfully across his heart. It was the nature of the beast, even if she was five foot six in heels, wide-eyed, and had curves worthy of poetry.
Placing the burgers on a platter, he turned the grill control knob and watched the gas flame flicker and go out. He walked back inside still under a cloud of conflict.
“I think these are done.” He gazed up, and the dining room table was set with candles, china and sterling flatware. A bottle of wine chilled in a bucket.
The table reminded him of a spread from Elegance, one of the magazines that featured Cainwright’s advertisements and his photographs. He held out the platter of burgers to Sam, who resembled all the other people he’d photographed in a world where he was on the opposite side of the camera.
They were truly on conflicting ends of a spectrum, and better he comprehend that notion right now before someone got hurt. This relationship, however sweet, could turn bittersweet if he didn’t get hold of himself.
Chapter 6
It wasn’t that he came in and halted. The look on his face made her words evaporate. His announcement that the burgers were done, and then the way his gaze slanted from the table and up to her made her uneasy.
She smiled, setting down a tray of sliced fruit. “Great. I’m hungry. Aren’t you?”
“Definitely. Starving.” Rob didn’t meet her eyes.
Something was definitely wrong but she couldn’t pinpoint the cause. Almost the same look as when he asked if she was a virgin. Perhaps a man like Rob didn’t have time to waste on a woman who lacked clue number one in bed. Obviously, whatever had happened he had powered-down—turned off.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
This time he met her gaze with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Couldn’t be better.”
He held her chair and she lowered herself down onto the seat. The soreness between her legs made the pain in her chest harder to contain. She ached for him in so many places.
Sam picked up her napkin, surveying the table. Nothing seemed ghastly out-of-place. This was the first meal she’d prepared with a man…her first real lover, and now, her appetite was gone.
“You do eat meat, don’t you?” she asked, afraid she’d offended him. He had the look of a vegetarian minus the hemp necklace and sandals. His body, tan and muscular and lean, could pass for an athlete or PETA advocate. He was perfectly put together minus this one glitch.
“I do. Did you think I was merely being polite when I agreed to burgers?” A glimmer of a smile spread over his lips and tore into her heart.
“No. I just—”
“Watch this.” He took a hearty bite from his burger and chewed.
She watched his jaw work, focusing on a muscle flexing. Too easy to recall the feel of his face between her hands, and the evocative way his lips swept across her body.
She picked up the wine bottle. “Do you want a glass, or maybe a beer? I guess wine and a burger are more…Parisian.�
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He nodded, arching a brow still chewing. He swallowed, and then inhaled. “A beer would be great. I like wine, but you’re right. Wine and burgers are the sex and cigarettes of Europe.”
Her stomach twisted into a square-knot. “I’ll be right back.”
Sam pulled at her shirt. Her legs were chilly, and walking around in her underwear no longer seemed sexy. He was reminding her that they were from different worlds, and she didn’t know how to bridge the gap. It was something she’d experienced before with men who had steered away from her. She’d heard the gossip spread by girls in her dorm, a slew of slurs meant to set her apart, and they had hurt her deeply. There hadn’t much she could say in her defense. Not then and not now.
She popped the caps off the imported beer on the counter. Crap, she didn’t even have good ole American brew. He probably wished this evening was well into being over.
“Here. Ice cold,” she said, masking her tangled emotions.
He knocked his bottle against hers. After taking a long draw, he set it down on the table. She refrained from asking if he’d like a glass.
Sam poked her burger. The meat was sirloin—flown in from Argentina. Each bite tasted like cardboard. The act of eating was a chore; coupled with this thick silence it grated on her nerves, making sitting next to him torture. When he wiped his mouth at the end of the meal, she sucked in a breath.
“Let me get that,” she said, taking his plate.
“Everything was delicious. I’ll collect these.” He picked up the platter, tucking the bottle of catsup in the crook of his arm.
They had barely exchanged more than a dozen words at the table. She didn’t need a soothsayer to deliver the verdict. She glanced down at the plates, at the prongs on the forks. The meat wasn’t the only thing well-done.
The old feelings of frustration flared. She couldn’t help who she was any more than she could help being female. She bit into her lip to keep the stinging in her eyes from getting worse.
The truth was they did come from different worlds. Also factual was that she didn’t care about any of this stuff surrounding her. Hard to prove when she was neck deep in wealth.
He stuck his hands into his pocket, leaning against the counter in the kitchen.
“Need any help?” he asked softly.
“No, give me a sec. I’ll put these in the dishwasher. There’s a stereo or television if you’d like to listen or watch something.” Her voice trailed off. Her field of vision grew hazy.
“Take your time,” he said walking out of the kitchen.
Sam scraped the plates and rinsed them. Her eyes stung sharply as she glanced over her shoulder. Rob wasn’t in the living room. Wiping off the counter, she did a double-take when he came out of the bedroom fully clothed.
“You’re dressed.” She had the urge to leave the kitchen, leave the apartment, leave this soul-wrenching moment.
“Well, it’s getting late. The meal was great. The whole day was terrific. I think we’ve got some superior photographs.”
Late, great, terrific, superior—goodbye should follow shortly. “Yeah, it was nice.” The floor was giving way and she had nowhere to go with the pain that threatened to tear her apart.
“Can you take a rain check on going out and getting crazy drunk? I’m not thinking that’s on the agenda? Right?”
She stared at him. What could she say that wouldn’t sound lame or clingy? Nothing. He wanted to leave. Obviously, he wasn’t into hanging out with someone like her. She swallowed, blinking rapidly, thinking slowly. “Yes, absolutely.”
“Well, I’m ready to head back. And you?”
“Me? Oh, I’ll stay put. It’ll be nice to stay here for the night.”
“Are you sure? Don’t you need a ride back to Miami?” he asked.
“No, I’ve got a car here. I’m good.” She dug her nails into her palm to keep herself from caving.
“I’m going to take off then.
She sucked in all her emotions, rapidly drawing herself together. If she hadn’t shed tears when her father commandeered her life into a ball of wax that only he could meld, she sure as heck wasn’t going to crumble in front of Rob Graham.
Yet this was hardly the same. All at once the tender sweetness they’d shared evaporated. Her body felt hollow. Jolts of pain stabbed at her chest. She didn’t know what to do.
Should she extend her hand or continue standing there nodding her head like a pigeon pecking at a crumb?
He didn’t give her time to think. He came over, spread out his arms, enfolding her against his body. Her arms came up, his scent surrounded her, and automatically her palms flattened over his chest.
Rob encircled her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulled her close to him. He kissed her hair, sweeping his warm mouth across her face, rubbing his cheek against her skin. His lungs expanded under her hands.
“Cynthia,” he whispered, looking away for a second.
He used her given name. So, they’d become strangers. A chill scraped up her spine, over her entire body, and she shivered uncontrollably.
His gaze found her again. “My God, you really are something else.” He towered above her, forcing her to tilt her face upward, leaving no option but to close her eyes or drown in a frosty sea of blue.
Before she could react, his mouth found hers, hesitantly at first, and then he kissed her softly. At the touch of their mouths, she immediately perceived the coolness on his lips. The heat that they’d shared was gone. Disappeared. In its place, he left a chaste kiss. She blinked and blinked against teardrops pooling across her lids. Biting her lip, she sternly reminded herself to not wimp out.
Sam inhaled his scent, melting for a millisecond before she pushed off of him. She was determined to step back first, refusing to cling to him no matter what her heart desired. No, here was a man who wanted to hightail it out her front door, and if she could, she’d open the damned thing, wide as hell, if it made it easier for him to walk away.
“I guess I’ll see you around.” Her throat constricted after she’d spoken. Not another word or sip of air was possible. Time slowed. Her whole being was being pulled, if not shredded, apart. Please. He had to leave before she burst into tears.
“Maybe another time.” He removed from his keys pocket.
She walked in long strides to get the front door open. She gripped the cold metal doorknob. “The elevator goes to the lobby. There’s an exit door to the garage. Nothing complicated to find your way out.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”
She closed the door and whispered, “I always do.”
Sam ran all the way into her bedroom, and then flung herself across the unmade bed. Burying her face, she squeezed the pillow and inhaled his scent. She wept, hugging it against her. She cried so hard, sloppy tears stained the pillowcase. At the end of her tearstorm, she hiccupped. The first in an assault that kept her gulping for air. Feeling utterly spent, she closed her eyes, yet it was impossible to drift off to sleep. Each time she inhaled, a deep-seated shudder hit her chest. Over and over she kept thinking of Rob—his voice, his smile, his body and the things he’d done with her. She nearly choked under another round of tears.
The ringing of her cell phone brought her back to the moment. Sam swallowed; her belly tensed again as she hiccupped. There wasn’t any possible way she could speak to someone without sounding like a hysterical mess. The phone call rolled to her voicemail. She reached for a tissue, dabbing her eyes, and blew her nose. Her diaphragm spasmed, drawing in a jagged breath from her mouth.
“Sto-o-p-p-p-p this,” she told herself. Just desserts for acting without thinking.
Sniffing, she sat up and ran her fingers over her swollen eyes and cheeks. The red message light on her phone blinked. A text alert beep followed.
Not now. Sam picked up her cell. The brightly lit screen burned her eyes. She pressed the screen. Her aunt had sent a message. Two texts actually and one voice. Darts of fear shot up her body.
> Tia Sonya had written that she was needed at home. Immediatemente!
Sam’s mom was being taken to the hospital. Instead of listening to her aunt’s message she dialed the number. Oh, dear God! Her fingers shook holding the phone. Her mind scrambled. Tia Sonya was always with her mom on Friday evenings. They watched telenovelas on cable and played cards, gossiped, and traded stories about the family and friends. For years this had been their girls’ night at home.
“Tia, what’s going on? How is Mom?”
“We’re taking her to hospital. She said she was fine right before dinner. But then she fainted when I placed the tray on her bed. I don’t know what’s wrong, mija.”
“Did you try CPR? Maybe she choked on something.”
“No, she wasn’t eating anything solid. She only wanted soup, and she hadn’t started eating really. Your father is right here. He wants to talk to you.”
Her father’s voice rose and fell in the background. “Sam?”
“Yes, Dad. I’m coming home.”
“Take the plane. It’s waiting for you at the airport. Get Rob to take you there.”
Shutting her eyes, Sam slowly inhaled, willing that her voice came out steady. “Dad, he left. We finished with the photo shoot a while ago. Anyway, I can manage.”
Her father was oddly silent. He exhaled into the phone. “Finished already? I thought it might take longer.”
“No. We went to the property, and then had something to eat. What did you expect? Besides, that’s not even important. What’s wrong with Mom? Dad, tell me.”
“Sam, you know your mother is ill. The ambulance is here, and the EMS has your mom secured to a gurney. They’re ready to leave, so your aunt and I will follow them to the hospital. The jet is waiting for you, and all paperwork has been filed. A helicopter is at Miami International and I’ve gotten permission for it to land at the hospital. Shouldn’t take you more than thirty minutes once you’re en route.”
“All right. I’m on my way. Give her a kiss for me, Dad, and tell her I’ll be there soon.”
