“Well, good,” Donna said. “So you ready for the not so good news?”
Sam’s smile faded. “Hit me.”
“She’s doing okay, but that doesn’t mean she’s not having a hard time.” Donna frowned. “In fact, sometimes I think she’s actually having a harder time of it then she lets on. Sometimes Mel, Kathryn, and I have to bully the truth out of her, you know what I mean? But she hates to seem vulnerable, or like she needs anything. She always did, from the day I met her, and that hasn't changed. She's all about self-control, it's very important to her that she feels like she's got her act together; and nowadays, it's not only for her own sake, but for her son’s even more.
“Add to that how over the past few years, Matt has really kicked the shit out of her ego, her pride, what was left of her heart. So… I guess what I'm trying to get across is that even if she wants to, she doesn’t let anyone in easily, because that’s just how she’s always been, even when things were good.” Donna gave Sam a half smile and added, “But you know what? She'd kill me for saying this, but she likes you, Sam. She does.”
“And that scares her,” Sam murmured.
“Hell yes,” Donna said flatly. “I think the last thing she expected to do, when she came here for the weekend, was to meet a guy that she could… whatever. So, you wanted to know what you're up against? That’s what you’re up against. It’s not about Matt, she’s so over him. And it’s not that she’s so newly divorced. She’s pretty much made her peace with all that. It’s about maintaining self-control, and just that she’s gone through a lot this year… so she’s on some shaky ground sometimes. Can you blame her?”
“Of course not,” Sam said quietly.
“And, if she knew I told you that whole last part, she’d kill me. But I go off on rants when I feel passionately about something, or someone, and I love that woman passionately. I especially tend to go off on rants when I've been drinking, and I have been, all night. So I just went off a little more than I should have. Don't make me regret it.” Donna sighed, then scrutinized him for a minute before she said, “While we're at it, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Sam said, waiting and ready.
“And I want you to tell me the truth.” Donna’s eyes narrowed, and her tone became as hard as steel. “It will stay strictly between you and me, I swear, but I want the truth.”
Sam nodded. “You got it. I promise.”
“Okay.” Donna’s eyes held his steadily as she said, “Actually, two things. First: I’m very sorry to hear about what happened to your wife. I really am. I truly mean no disrespect, I hope I'm not being indelicate.”
“Thank you,” Sam said graciously. “And you're not. You're fine.”
“Good. But I have to ask. You’re not… like… still carrying a torch for her, are you?” Donna gave a nervous laugh. “I know that’s way forward to ask, even for me, and bordering on rude. But hey, if you’re grilling me about one of my closest friends, and where her head is, I kind of feel entitled to ask the same of you.”
Sam simply nodded. “Agreed. Understood. And the answer is no, I’m not still pining for Chelsea. I'll always miss her. But I'm not frozen in the past. She’s been gone for a long time, and I’ve moved on. Honestly. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you right now.”
Donna studied his face closely, decided he was being forthright, and nodded. “Okay. That’s good. I'm glad for you, really. But question number two is just as bold.”
Sam just stared at her coolly, waiting.
Donna took a deep breath. “You’re obviously seriously interested in Lydia. Like you just said, if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have brought me over here. I mean, if you were just looking to get laid tonight and go home tomorrow, you wouldn’t care about any of her history, where her head is—you wouldn't give a rat's ass. So that says to me that you’re not just looking for some one-night stand with her… there's something going on there. You're thinking you might want to see her again. After this weekend.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“What do you think?” he asked in response, his expression neutral.
“Uh-uh.” Donna shook her head. “This is one of my best friends we're talking about. I told you whatever you say I'll keep to myself, and I meant it, but please answer me. I need to know.”
“Okay,” Sam said evenly. “No, I’m not just looking to use her tonight and take off before dawn. I’m not playing her, or you. I'm not like that. I know you don't know me, so you have to take my word for it; but honestly, I'm not like that. And yes, the thought has crossed my mind—seeing her again after this weekend. She's really… genuine. I think she's interesting, and gorgeous, and I like her.” He released a bashful grin. “Like you said, there's something going on there. I'm sure that may sound crazy, considering I met her yesterday, but I've been feeling it too. So… at this point, that’s where I’m at.” He gave a small shrug, revealing his own surprise, but his eyes held hers as he added, “I can't explain it, but I don't have to. She and I clicked. It's there. So I'm going with it… if she'll let me.”
Donna said nothing, considering his words.
“Now you tell me—do you think I’m telling you the truth?” Sam asked calmly, his eyes still on hers.
“Do you care if I do?”
“Actually, I do, believe it or not.”
Donna nodded, a hint of a smile touching her lips. “Yeah. I do.”
Sam nodded. “Alright then.”
“Alright.” Donna smiled, but it was a somewhat pensive look at the same time. “So, did I give you the answers you were looking for?”
“Are you kidding? You gave me more than enough,” Sam said. “Thank you for trusting me. I appreciate it.”
“You got it. Just please don’t…” Donna let her voice trail off. She bit her lip and shook her head at herself.
Sam placed his hand on her forearm and smiled warmly in silent assurance. His eyes held hers, unwavering.
Donna nodded, relieved. “I wish you luck, then. I wish you both fun. I think you both could use some fun. And by the way: we didn’t have this conversation.”
“What conversation?” Sam said, feigning innocence. He and Donna grinned at each other in conspiring alliance, then went to rejoin the group at the bar. Melanie and Lydia re-entered the room less than a minute later.
“Whew,” Donna muttered to herself. “That was close.”
The party went into full swing. Drinks were consumed, hors d'oeuvres were passed around, laughter was abundant as conversation flowed loudly and freely. People took turns at the billiard and foosball tables, danced to the unending music, and relaxed in lazy clusters on the couches and chairs by the fireplace.
Ryan and Alec coaxed Melanie and her friends to tell a few of their more risqué stories from their college days. Donna went into an animated description of the time during freshman year that she, Melanie, and Lydia had gotten Kathryn drunk for the first time in her life, drawing laughs. In retaliation, Kathryn launched into the tale of the night Donna and Melanie went to a frat party together, came back to the dorm stoned out of their minds, and Donna had no idea where her bra was, why she wasn’t wearing it anymore, or where she might have left it.
“Holy crap, I forgot about that!” Donna laughed as loud as the others.
Lydia wiped tears from her eyes, trying to stop her laughter. “Oh please, I will never forget that night!”
“That was classic,” Melanie agreed. “She never did find it, you know.”
“What about Mel?” Ryan asked her friends. His eyebrows shot up and down. “Tell me a good one about my wife, now that I’ve made an honest woman out of her.”
Melanie’s eyes widened as she begged her friends, “Be kind!”
Donna, Lydia, and Kathryn exchanged loaded glances, thinking.
“The baseball field?” Kathryn suggested.
“NO!” Melanie cried. “Absolutely not!”
“The night of the U2 concert?” Donna said, her eyebrows
arched wickedly.
“No way,” Melanie groaned. “Please. Oh God.”
“Whoa, wait!” Ryan laughed. “How many juicy stories are there?”
“Too many,” Melanie admitted with a wry laugh of her own. “I was… a free spirit.”
“She was the worst of the four of us!” Lydia laughed. “With her perfect blonde hair, big blue eyes, and angelic face, people never expected it of her. That was the best part. It made it easier for her to get away with things.”
“Angel on the outside, devil on the inside,” Donna snickered good-naturedly.
“She hasn’t changed much,” Alec joked, winking at Melanie.
“I love it.” Ryan laughed, kissing his bride. “Come on, tell me something.”
“How about,” Lydia began slowly, “the infamous party you threw for my twenty-first birthday?”
Melanie, Donna, and Kathryn began to howl with raucous laughter.
“Oh man, spill it!” Ryan demanded.
“I definitely wanna hear this one,” Sam smiled, finishing the last of his drink.
“I need another drink, then,” Lydia said, “because we all get incriminated in this one. John? Another gimlet, please?”
“Coming right up,” the bartender smiled.
“I’ll start,” Melanie volunteered. “Lydia is the youngest of the four of us, her birthday is December eleventh. Donna’s is in February, mine’s in May, and Kathryn’s is in June; so we’d all been waiting and waiting for Lyddie to turn twenty-one so she could come out to the bars with us already. She didn’t have a boyfriend at the time, so we three took it upon ourselves to throw her a huge party, especially since it was during finals week, and in a few days everyone would be leaving for Christmas break.”
Lydia was already shaking her head and smiling ruefully, remembering.
Kathryn picked up the tale. “We weren’t in a dorm anymore, we had an apartment off of Commonwealth Avenue. A big two-bedroom. Melanie and Donna shared one room, Lydia and I shared the other.”
“The good girls, and the bad girls,” Donna quipped.
“Who were the good ones?” Paige asked.
“Duh,” Alec laughed. “Donna and Melanie were the party girls, Kathryn and Lydia were along for the ride.”
“Pretty accurate,” Lydia agreed as John set down another vodka gimlet on the bar for her.
“Back to the story,” Ryan insisted.
“Our apartment had a fairly large living room,” Donna said. “You could probably fit about ten or twelve people in it comfortably.”
“There were over fifty people there that night,” Lydia said.
“I’d say sixty,” Melanie countered.
“Could’ve been.” Lydia nodded. She reached for her drink and saw Sam watching her, a bemused grin on his face. She grinned back at him and sipped her drink.
“It was a big party,” Kathryn agreed.
“So it was packed, loud, filled with smoke, everyone was drinking, music blaring, all that good stuff,” Donna said. “And then there was a loud knock on the door.”
Lydia dipped her head and giggled, embarrassed. Sam smiled at her reaction.
“It was a cop,” Melanie said. “He was there, supposedly, because someone had complained about the noise. So he needed to speak with whosever’s name was on the lease.”
“Which was mine,” Lydia said dryly. “Such a setup.”
“We were very clever!” Kathryn shrieked.
“How so?” Alec asked.
“Well, the crowd parts like the Red Sea,” Donna grinned salaciously, “and there’s Lydia in front of this cop, stammering, freaked out, and stoned out of her mind, trying to seem mature and coherent. He walks in, kind of bringing her to the center of the room, everyone’s watching in silence…”
“And then the music started,” Kathryn said, and all the women burst into laughter.
“The cop asks Lydia to sit down,” Melanie said between gasps. “And she’s so scared, and so stoned, she just does as he says, not realizing she’s the only one sitting, on a chair in the middle of the room…” She dissolved into more helpless laughter.
“The guy wasn't a cop. He was a stripper,” Lydia explained. “These three hired him for my birthday, knowing full well how totally embarrassed and mortified I would be.”
“Which she was!” Donna cried. “You had to see her face!”
The whole group was laughing now.
“I still am, to this day! This guy’s, like, unbuttoning his shirt, gyrating his hips in my face, gross!” Lydia spat. “And everyone’s there, just watching me squirm in horror and loving it, cheering the guy on.”
“She really was not happy,” Melanie conceded. “I felt so bad for her, I had to do something. So when he asked her to remove his briefs with her teeth, and she absolutely refused, I got in there and did it instead. Sitting on her lap.”
“Nice!” Paige cried.
“Now that’s a good friend,” Sam said admiringly.
“Yup.” Melanie shrugged. “Someone had to do it. Poor Lydia looked like a deer in the headlights. She was practically frozen stiff.”
“And then you dirty danced with him,” Lydia noted. “Again, gross.”
“He was cute!” Melanie said in her own defense. “We didn’t get you an ugly stripper, that’s for sure. So why waste him?”
“There are pictures, somewhere…” Kathryn said.
“That’s right, there were!” Donna yelled.
“I’d love to see those,” Ryan grinned.
“That will never happen!” Melanie cried.
Lydia took a long sip from her drink. She was moving beyond buzzed into really good and drunk, and welcomed it. She was enjoying herself. She loved being with her old friends. Her cheeks and sides actually ached from all the laughing. She loved the way Sam’s hand felt on her hip, the slightest show of possessiveness. She felt good.
A new song came blaring from the jukebox, an old school hip-hop song with an undulating, sexy bass line and slamming groove.
“I love this song!” Lydia cried. She hopped off the bar stool quickly, and the floor swayed a bit beneath her feet. Sam caught her.
“Whoa there.” He laughed, holding her arms to steady her. “You okay?”
She smiled up at him. “Yes.” She felt the alcohol soaring through her and took in his amazing smile, his beautiful dark eyes staring down at her. With the help of liquid confidence, she decided right then to live in the moment, let go of her defenses, throw aside her barriers. She interlocked her fingers behind his neck and looked up at him with a sultry smile. “Dance with me.”
Sam swallowed. “Um… I don’t dance to fast songs, remember?” he said, even as he slid his arms around her waist. He saw the new glimmer in her eyes and wondered at it.
“Are you drunk enough to try?” she asked, her smile turning coyly flirtatious.
He grinned back. “Almost, actually,” he teased. “But maybe I’m shy.”
“You? Shy? Nah. I think you’re afraid to dance with me.” With alcohol fueled bravado, she pressed herself against him, looked up into his eyes from beneath her lashes. She ground her hips against his ever so slightly and said in a seductive tone, “What’s the matter, Mr. Forrester? Don’t you have any moves?”
He felt his libido soar, felt pure lust shoot through his belly and heat race through his veins as he gazed back down at her. “I got moves, woman.” He smirked, and his arms tightened around her waist to hold her closer.
“Prove it,” she purred with a sinful smile.
Sam was mesmerized. He had to tear his eyes away from hers to shout to the bartender, “John! I need a shot of something strong, fast!”
“Yes sir!” John smiled.
Sam and Lydia stared at each other, held each other, completely spellbound… smiling wickedly, challenging, anticipating, ignoring everyone and everything around them. The world around them had fallen away.
Within twenty seconds, a shot glass full of golden liquid was placed on the bar bes
ide Sam, who hadn’t moved, hadn't been able to. He was transfixed by the woman in his arms and slightly shocked at just how much he wanted her. If they weren't surrounded by people in a public place, he would've lunged at her on the spot. Instead, he leaned over to reach for the small glass, raised it in regard to her, and expertly knocked the shot back in one smooth gulp. He felt the rush of it hum through his body. He looked down at Lydia and said with determination, “Let’s go.”
He took her hand and pulled her to the space of the lounge that had been cleared for dancing, again ignoring the surprised and amused looks on the faces of their companions. A few other people were dancing already, bumping and grinding to the heavy groove. Sam held Lydia loosely as they started to dance. He knew they were both drunk now, but not yet sloppy or too far gone; they were just drunk enough to be able to let go and have some flirty fun.
Sam held his own, but had to admit she was a much better dancer than he was. Lydia kept the beat easily, naturally. She danced suggestively with him as she kept time to the song, and he felt his whole body react. She let her hair swing around, and a satisfied grin pop onto her face. He smiled broadly at her. He loved seeing her this way—free, strong, sexy, and enjoying herself.
He snuck a discreet glance at her cleavage, unable to stop himself when he had such a great vantage point. She had fantastic curves. His hands went to her waist, slid down to her swaying hips, and pulled her closer. Her arms dropped to his shoulders as she smiled and fit herself to him. Her eyes locked on his, the direct gaze provocative; she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself even tighter against him. Lust surged through him, merciless and fierce.
“You’re teasing me,” Sam managed to say into her ear.
“Am I?” Her lips curled, a flirtatious smirk. She deliberately ground her hips against his, pressing against his erection, and every nerve ending he had went on fire. His fingers dug into her hips.
“No,” he said, his voice mildly strangled. “Now you’re torturing me.”
She threw her head back and laughed. His entire body hummed with an almost electric sensation. He held the back of her head, leaned down, and kissed her exposed throat. They kept dancing, enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies moving in time together, having a good time. When the song ended, Sam reached down, took her hand firmly in his, and pulled her towards the door. She could only giggle. He planted her by the doorway. “Wait, stay right here,” he said.
Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love) Page 20
