by Rachel Lacey
It started out innocently enough. Left hand on a red circle. Right foot on blue. When she spun right foot on yellow, he purposefully reached his body over hers so that she’d have to crouch.
“Is that the best you can do?” she asked, stooped awkwardly beneath him. Then inspiration struck. She straightened her legs, bringing her butt solidly against the fly of his jeans.
“Now you’re fighting dirty,” he said.
“Am I?” She wiggled her hips against him, causing him to suck in a breath.
He reached over her to spin. Left hand on green. Soon they were completely entangled and laughing like crazy. When Carly hit the mat, Sam crowed his victory. She went into the kitchen for a glass of water while he put Twister away and pulled out a deck of cards.
They played until their eyes hurt from squinting at cards by firelight. Sometime past midnight, Sam put the games back on the shelf. Carly was tired and still a little tipsy. Her cheeks ached from laughing so much. She followed Sam into the kitchen to get her cell phone while he rummaged in the pantry for a midnight snack. She’d used his portable charger earlier so that she could check the local news and weather reports.
“Temperatures are supposed to rise tomorrow,” she said, leaning against the countertop.
He nodded. “Might thaw enough to get you out of here.”
“It should,” she said, looking at the forecast on her phone. “Might be days yet before we get power back, though. Sounds like most of the town is without.”
Sam shook his head with a smile, leading the way back to the living room with a box of cookies in his hand. “This kind of shit doesn’t happen where I’m from.”
“Where are you from?”
“Grew up in Birmingham.”
Ah, so that explained the Southern twang in his voice. “Does your family still live there?”
“Bought my parents a place in California a few years back. Still have extended family in Alabama, but I don’t get out there too much.”
“It’s nice that you have your parents nearby.” She sat in front of the fire.
“Yeah.” They stared at each other for a few beats of heavy silence.
She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged herself. She’d be able to go home tomorrow. Sam was flying back to LA. He’d be recording a duet with Tina Torrey. She was gorgeous and sexy and sophisticated in all kind of ways Carly wasn’t. That was his real life. This was hers. “So when I leave here tomorrow, it’s good-bye,” she said.
He tilted his head. “What?”
“Nothing ever would have happened between us if I hadn’t gotten stranded here. I’d have dropped off your pastries, and we never would have seen each other again.” And she had no business feeling emotional about this, but try telling that to her heart.
“Not true.” He sat and tugged her into his lap. “I thought about you all damn day after I left your shop. Why do you think I asked you to deliver all that stuff yesterday?”
She looked away because the intensity in his blue eyes was stirring up all kinds of warm, mushy things inside her. “We live in different worlds.”
“We live on opposite sides of the country, yeah. But don’t spin some bullshit about ‘different worlds,’ Carly. If you owned a bakery in California and I’d met you there, this…” He yanked her forward so that her hips met his, his erection pressing into her. “It still would have happened, and it would have lasted a hell of a lot longer than two days.”
She wanted to believe that, really wanted to believe it. But what difference did it make? Once the ice melted, he was flying back to California, and they’d never see each other again. “Tonight,” she whispered. “I’m yours tonight.”
“No, baby.” His voice rumbled through her, low and sexy. “Tonight, I’m all yours.”
He kissed her, hot and fierce, his mouth devouring hers with a new kind of urgency. The knowledge that this was their last night together had set them on fire.
“Crazy beautiful,” he murmured against her neck. “That’s what you are.”
Her heart somersaulted in her chest. He’d sung those lyrics to her earlier while he played the guitar. It was one of the new songs he’d written, and she absolutely loved it. Would she hear it on the radio someday? Would he be singing about her then, or would she just be a distant memory?
Chapter Six
By lunchtime the next day, the ice was melting. It rained down on the house, splashing and splattering from the tree branches above. With a whir, the power snapped on in the house. Lights blazed, appliances hummed to life, and the ceiling fan began to turn.
Sam went into the kitchen and poured two tumblers of scotch. “To celebrate being back on the grid.” He held one out to Carly.
She took it, but her smile was sad. “To electricity.”
“Funny, but we’ve had plenty of that the last two days.” He pulled her in and hooked his elbow through hers as they drank. The roads would be clear soon, but he wasn’t ready for her to leave.
He pressed his lips to hers. She tasted like his fantasies, sweet and sexy and forbidden. The kind of girl who would walk away rather than face the realities of his life. And he was the asshole who’d let her walk. He’d let her go, then he’d fly home to LA and pretend it meant nothing. Pretend the women who flung themselves at him at Hollywood parties were anywhere near as real or amazing as Carly.
But maybe they didn’t have to say good-bye just yet. “How about a hot shower before you leave?”
“The water won’t be hot yet.”
“It will be by the time we get there.” He kissed her again, drinking her in.
“Oh.” She finally caught up to his train of thought, and a wicked smile curled her lips. “I could use a shower.”
“But let’s get dirty first.” He scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the living room, where he laid her down in front of the fire and did all kinds of naked and dirty things with her, until they were both limp and panting.
Carly rolled over to face him, her hair mussed in the way of a woman who’s just been thoroughly ravished. “I have to say, this is the most fun I’ve ever had during an ice storm.”
“It’s my first ice storm, but I can’t imagine anything topping it.” He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face.
“You’re right. I bet the water is hot by now.” She sat up, naked and gorgeous.
“You in a rush?”
“It’s time for me to go home, Sam. You have a duet to record, and I have a bakery to run.”
It was true. So why was he thinking of excuses to stall? He led the way upstairs to the master bedroom, still cold but warming steadily now that heat blasted through the vents.
“It’s weird that I haven’t been in here yet.” Carly stood in the doorway, a funny look on her face.
He glanced at the master bed, untouched since before she’d arrived. “Shame. I’ve never gotten laid in that bed.”
She rolled her eyes with a grin and led the way into the master bath. “Wow.”
It was pretty decent as bathrooms went, with a big, tiled shower and a jetted tub. He reached into the shower and twisted it on, nice and hot.
A small groan escaped her lips. “Oh God, that’s going to feel good.”
They were both overdue for a shower, it was true. But showering with Carly was the real treat. Since they were both still naked, they stepped right in. Hot water cascaded over him, and yeah, it felt amazing.
Carly tipped her face up as the water coursed over her. “You don’t realize how awesome hot water is until you don’t have it.”
He reached for the soap, using it as an excuse to touch her. She sucked in a breath as he spread suds over her chest. His dick brushed against her belly, and she glanced down with a smile. “Again? Already?”
Yeah. It seemed he was insatiable where she was concerned. And the thought of her leaving after this shower? He didn’t like it at all.
She reached for the bar of soap and lathered up her hands, spreading bubbles
across his chest and down his stomach until her fingers wrapped around his dick. Fuck. He surged beneath her touch.
He’d never used so much soap in the shower. He and Carly lathered each other up, touching and teasing as they went, until his dick throbbed, aching for release, desperate for one last time with Carly.
Her hands pressed into his back as she brought her hips against his, making that little sound of arousal he’d come to recognize. She was as turned on as he was.
“What do you say?” she whispered, lifting her hips so that his dick pressed into the heat between her thighs. “One last time before I leave?”
“Hell, yes.” Except…“Dammit. Condoms are downstairs.”
She thrust herself against him with a grumble of frustration. She was so hot for him. He could feel her burning him up beneath the shower’s spray. Reluctantly, he shifted his hips away from hers. Then he reached down and stroked her. She whimpered, her head falling back.
Oh, yeah. He loved getting her off.
He pushed two fingers inside her, thrusting in the rhythm they’d built together. She rocked her hips against his hand, eyes closed and panting. He kept his eyes locked on her face, soaking up every moment of her pleasure. God, she was beautiful.
She moaned as she came, her hips pressing against his. Carly. He could never get enough.
“My turn,” she whispered playfully, returning to the game they’d been playing since she got here. She reached for the bar of soap and lathered up her hands, then reached down, cupping his balls in one hand while she gripped his cock in the other, stroking him slowly end to end.
He groaned, thrusting his hips against her, completely lost to the feel of her touch, the heat of the shower raining down on them, and Carly.
“Is this good?” she murmured, stroking gently.
“Harder,” he ground out, so turned on he could barely speak.
She tightened her grip, stroking faster. “Better?”
“Fuck,” he gasped. “Yes.” He closed his eyes, thrusting his hips in time with her hand. His orgasm was already building, tightening in his balls, burning through him as the pressure inside him built. “Carly.”
“Sam,” she whispered, moving closer so that his cock pressed against the warmth of her body. She squeezed his balls, stroking harder and faster, and his whole brain short-circuited. He pumped his hips against her, and then boom, he exploded. He grabbed at the walls of the shower to hold himself up as his knees gave out. His dick pulsed in her hand as he came, hard.
“Wow.” Carly gripped him as another wave of release spurted against her. “That was hot.”
He held on to her, lost for words, completely undone. How was he ever supposed to let her go?
When he’d finally regained his senses, they rinsed off and got out of the shower. Carly wrapped herself in a big, gray towel and padded downstairs. He toweled himself off, shrugged into a pair of jeans and a tee, and went after her.
At first, he didn’t see her, but then she came out of the guest bedroom, the one where she’d been supposed to stay during the storm. She was wearing the blue top and black jeans she’d had on when she arrived, but she wasn’t the same Carly who’d delivered sweets to his house two days ago.
This Carly was still slightly mussed from their tryst in the shower. Her eyes were warmer, her expression more relaxed. His Carly.
Except she wasn’t.
* * *
Carly busied herself picking up the blankets and pillows they’d spread across the living room floor. She started a load of laundry and returned the pillows to the guest bed. When she got back to the living room, Sam had moved the coffee table into place. Now his house looked like it had before she arrived.
And it was time for her to go.
“My manager’s booked me a flight out of here first thing tomorrow,” he said.
Her stomach felt like she’d just gotten off a roller coaster, all tingly and queasy. This was really happening. He was going back to LA. He’d be in the recording studio with Tina Torrey, making music together and who knew what else. Ugh. This sucked so much. “These last two days were…Well, they were really amazing. I’ll always remember them.”
He strode across the room and tugged her into his arms. “Amazing would be an understatement.”
“I can’t wait to hear those new songs on the radio,” she whispered over the painful lump in her throat.
“Yeah.” His voice rumbled through her.
She wanted to burrow into the warmth of his embrace and stay there, but that burning sensation behind her eyes meant she’d better get out of here before she did something really stupid like cry in front of him. She pressed her lips to his and kissed him—hard. She closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of his lips and the thrill of his tongue sliding against hers. Then she lifted her head. “Good-bye.”
“Hate that word.” Sam’s mouth quirked, but he dropped his arms from around her.
“Me, too.” She took a step back. “Good luck with everything. I hope you got all the inspiration you needed for your new album.”
“And then some.” He watched her from unreadable blue eyes.
She bent and picked up her purse. Tell me not to go. Beg me to stay. Please…
But he was silent, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, watching her.
She walked to the door and pulled it open. Wait! I don’t want it to end like this…
She glanced over her shoulder. Sam hadn’t moved. She was being ridiculous. They’d known each other only two days, but her heart…
“Bye, Carly.”
She drew a ragged breath. “Bye.”
Then she walked out the door and out of his life.
Chapter Seven
Sam paced the recording studio, scotch in hand. In the control room, his producer, Mac Porter, played back the vocals he’d recorded earlier. The song was called “Pieces of You.” Tina Torrey had written it, a breakup tune that had him singing to a lover he’d left behind.
And it felt awfully fucking real. Every word, every take, he’d been thinking of Carly. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing her face, remembering the sweet sound of her laughter and the way she felt in his arms.
“This tune is going to be fierce,” Mac said, mixing Sam’s vocals with the sample Tina’s people had sent. She lived outside Nashville. Once they’d both recorded their parts, their vocals would be mixed together to produce the duet. He and Tina likely wouldn’t cross paths until they recorded the music video…if then.
Sam tossed back the rest of his scotch. “Yeah. It’s good.”
“I don’t know what you were channeling while you were singing, but keep it up, man. You’ve got that raw edge back we’ve been missing.”
“Must have been the mountain air,” Sam muttered.
He didn’t leave the studio until somewhere past two in the morning. He was bone tired but buzzing with adrenaline, and so he found himself riding down the Pacific Coast Highway with the top down, letting the ocean breeze whip through his hair.
Wishing it were Carly’s fingers.
He’d walked into a half-dozen different bakeries in the last week. No clue why. He just kept looking for something…something he’d never find here in LA. He’d tasted so many different cinnamon buns, he’d almost lost his taste for them.
None of them tasted half as sweet as Carly’s.
He missed the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. The way she got so adorably flustered when she’d first recognized him that afternoon in A Piece of Cake. The way she looked past all the bullshit in his life to see what mattered.
She was what mattered.
Damn it to hell, what was he supposed to do without her?
* * *
Real life sucked. Carly thumped her forehead lightly against the counter as her latest batch of butterscotch minis smoked on the stovetop in front of her. It had been a week since the ice storm, a really long, lonely, frustrating week.
She’d burned more cookies in that time than she eve
r had in her life. Somehow, she had to get her act together and get Sam out of her head before she lost the bakery.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Her grandma stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest. “You look lost.”
“I feel lost.” Carly pressed a flour-coated hand to her forehead and sighed. “The bakery’s not doing well, Grandma. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“Ah.” Her grandmother motioned for Carly to join her at the table. “You have a gift, Carly. Your baking is absolutely divine. Frankly, my dear, you put me to shame in the kitchen.”
“Grandma!” Carly slapped her hand playfully. “That’s not true, but I did learn from the best.”
“It is true,” Marlene said. “You know I’ve always said you walk around with your head in the clouds. I wouldn’t change you for the world, but I should have spent more time with you when you took over the shop. What do you say we sit down once a week or so and talk about the business end of things?”
Tears sprang into her eyes. “I’d like that, Grandma. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now tell me why you’re burning all your cookies this week.”
Carly sighed. “There’s this guy…”
“Oh!” Her grandmother’s gray eyes lit with interest. “I just love a story that starts with ‘there’s this guy.’ Someone you’ll be bringing over for dinner soon?”
“No. That’s the problem. He was just in town visiting. He’s…” She looked over at her grandmother. “He’s a famous musician. He lives in LA.”
“Pfft,” Marlene said. “I don’t care if he’s famous. Would I like him?”
Carly remembered the way she and Sam had sat together with his guitar, the things they’d shared. “Yeah, Grandma. You’d like him.”
“So when do I get to meet him?”
“You don’t. I think he’s already gone back to California. I got stuck at his place during the ice storm, and we had a really amazing two days together, but that’s all it was.” She pressed her thumb into the tension headache brewing between her eyes. “I’ve got to get him out of my head.”
