“Okay, beautiful,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s up?”
“Excuse me?”
He smirked. “The new attitude, Samantha. The last time I saw you, you hated my guts. Now you show up in this dress, you ask all sorts of personal questions and make nicey nicey, like you’re trying to butter me up for something. I can’t figure it out. You’re not looking for a husband, you’re not looking for sex—” his mouth twitched, “but you’re up to something. So, come on. Out with it.”
“Can’t a woman be nice to you without you becoming all suspicious?”
“Not you.”
“Haven’t you heard about us Geminis? We’re really moody, like a split personality. One minute we behave one way, the next we—”
“Samantha.”
She sighed, realizing he’d backed her into a corner, figuratively and literally. She smoothed her dress over her hips, hoping she could distract him with a better view. No such luck. “Okay. Look. I won’t pretend I was thrilled when you conned me into going out with you. I’d had a horrible day and was in a really bad mood by the time you saw me. So, about tonight… I figured I could continue to act like a bitch and make the evening miserable, or I could be nice and pretend to have a good time.”
His eyes narrowed. Then he laughed.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded.
He shook his head, still chuckling. “Most women would beat around the bush or make up some story, but not you. Honest to the core, aren’t you? I should’ve known.”
She smiled at him. Damn, she was good.
“So what’s with this dress? Is that just part of trying to be nice?” he asked, raking his eyes over her. His gaze lingered on her cleavage. Sam’s nipples tightened in response. She hoped he didn’t notice. His raised eyebrows told her he had.
“What? This old thing?” she drawled, fingering the shimmery material, hoping to keep the moment light. “It’s just something I had lying around.”
He moved in closer, backing her further into the corner. He reached forward and for a moment she thought he might kiss her — her lips tingled at the thought. But he just rustled her earring. The silvery strands tickled her neck. He met her gaze and held it. “Why do I still get the feeling you’re up to something?”
She blinked fast twice, then gave him her most irresistible smile. “Stop questioning my motives, Everest, and enjoy the evening. Okay?” She patted his cheek and scooted around him, heading for the door.
A few minutes later they drove north through town in John’s dark blue BMW. She’d expected him to drive something red and flashy. Like a Porsche or some other type of penis extender.
“Where are we going?”
“Like I told you Saturday — some place where we can get to know each other.” She would have expected a creepy leer to go along with those words, but instead, he looked almost apologetic.
Odd. She faced forward, tightening her coat around her even though the temperature in the car was plenty warm. John Everest would be a challenge. Her purpose tonight was to size him up, get to know him better, charm him and get him totally enamored with her, so when — if — she decided he was the one, he’d have a hard time refusing her request.
So far so good. He wasn’t into marriage or kids, just as she’d figured — she was usually right about these things. But she hadn’t figured he’d be so quick to see through her act. She’d been too “nicey nicey,” as he’d put it. She’d have to be a little more herself, without actually letting on she still didn’t like him all that much. Okay, so she was sort of attracted to him.
She glanced sidelong at him. He had a nice, strong profile. None of his features were too prominent, none too weak. He was handsome without being pretty, with full, sensual lips gladly inherited by either a son or a daughter. He looked like a man who would be comfortable and in control of any situation.
She frowned. She needed to be the one in control in this scenario, but tonight’s date had her a little concerned. Some place where we can get to know each other better. Hmm.
The rain let up by the time they pulled in front of a marina on Lake Union. “Don’t tell me we’re going out on the water in this weather.”
John chuckled. “Okay, I won’t tell you.”
She envisioned being beaten in the face by the wind and rain, and holding on to the side rail for balance as the boat rocked and dipped in the choppy water. “Look, Everest, I’m all for a little adventure, but—”
“Relax. We’re going on the boat, not out on it.” He climbed out of the car and came around to her side. He opened the door and helped her out. He had stopped under an overhang on her side so she wouldn’t get wet. He left her there as he parked the car, set his alarm with a loud beep and jogged toward her across the empty lot.
His movements were smooth and athletic. His taste in clothing was impeccable. He wore a dusky orange shirt the color of a sunset and brown wool slacks expertly cut to his physique. Finishing the look were Italian loafers and a chocolate leather blazer. All in all, the combination was… sexy as hell.
He reached for her arm. “Shall we?” He steered her onto the covered gangway. The wind had lessened to a slight breeze, so they stayed relatively dry as they walked. He stopped in front of a big boat.
“This one’s yours?” Wow.
“Yeah. She was one of those impulse buys. I don’t get out on her much.”
“This was an impulse buy? God. My last impulsive purchase was matching bra and panties from Victoria’s Secret.”
“Really?” He stepped beside her. “I’d like to see those someday. Fair’s fair.”
“As in, you showed me yours, now I’ll show you mine?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Something like that, yeah.”
Sam shook her head and continued to survey what could only be described as a yacht. The name “Alimony” was written in a blue swirling script on the side. “That’s appropriate.”
“Maybe so, but I didn’t name her. I bought her from a retired Navy admiral on his fifth or sixth wife. I figured I’d change her name, but I don’t know. I’ve kind of grown to like it. Keeps things in perspective, you know, just in case I ever get goofy ideas about settling down again.”
She couldn’t help smiling. He climbed onto the Alimony then held out his hand. If she’d been wearing anything else, she’d have refused his help, but in these god-awful shoes… She took his hand.
One quick motion and she stood in front of him, their faces inches apart. The steam from their breaths mingled and swirled. Even without the overhead lights from the gangway to provide illumination, there was no mistaking that look in John’s eyes. A fat raindrop splatted onto the bridge of his nose. Then one onto hers. They laughed and he pulled her onto the covered deck and opened the wood and brass-trimmed door.
“Wow,” she said, doing a slow spin, trying to take it all in. “This is beautiful.” Her gaze lit upon a small round table decked in white linen. On top was a single red rose in a crystal vase. The only lights were from candles scattered throughout the room. Soft piano music tinkled from unseen speakers.
John helped her off with her coat, his hands lingering on her shoulders. “Why do I feel like Daniel in the lion’s den?” she asked, stepping away from his touch and turning to give him an accusing look.
His smile faltered. “You don’t need to be nervous with me.”
“Who says I’m nervous?”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying this might seem isolated out here,” he swept his arm in an arc to encompass their surroundings, “but we’re not alone.”
“What? Are the munchkins going to pop out to welcome me to Munchkin Land or something?”
He smirked. “No munchkins, but there are a few people in the galley preparing our meal. So, you’re safe with me.” He looked almost disappointed.
She nodded her head in acknowledgment, thankful for his good manners.
He walked to a bar in the corner, where a chilled bottle of something sat
in an ice bucket. “Champagne?”
She nodded. Dom Perignon. “Are you trying to impress me?”
“Is it working?”
She grinned. “I’ll let you know.”
He handed her a crystal goblet and watched as she sipped, her red lipstick leaving a delicate smudge on the rim. His gaze lingered on the pale, smooth column of her throat as she swallowed. “Well?”
She cocked her head back and forth a couple of times, her earrings swaying and catching the candlelight, and she smacked her lips. “Well, it’s not Asti Spumante, but it’ll do.” Her giggle was throaty and sexy. God.
She crossed to the window and peered into the darkness. He joined her and looked out at the bobbing boats nestled in their slips, the rain falling increasingly harder as they watched. Dizzying patterns of lights from the marina reflected in the choppy water. “You hungry?” he asked, dropping his eyes to the shadow between her breasts. His body tightened to a level of almost discomfort. He was starving. Being with her was like being on a deserted island with a ship in sight and no way to signal it.
“Mmm, yes.” She lifted her face and sniffed. “That smells delicious.”
John reached for a little silver bell next to the ice bucket and tinkled it. Within seconds, a man in a tuxedo came through a door beside the bar pushing a cart topped with two clear plates of salad greens and baby shrimp.
John led Sam to the table and pulled out her chair. After she was seated, he sat across from her. The waiter placed their salads in front of them then promptly disappeared. “Okay, I’m impressed,” she said.
John smiled. After they’d finished their salads, another tuxedoed man whisked their plates away and the first waiter returned with the cart. He pulled off the silver domes and placed the steaming meals in front of them. Grilled chicken, rice pilaf, and steamed asparagus.
Sam looked at her plate. “Mmm. You expect me to eat all this? If you think my dress is tight now…” She smirked.
“Just eat, beautiful, and enjoy. If your dress gets too tight—” he raised his brows, “we’ll just have to figure out a way to burn off some calories.”
“I thought you said I was safe with you.”
“Dancing. We could burn off calories by dancing.”
“Uh huh,” she muttered.
They were in the middle of a luscious cherry cheesecake when talk somehow turned to relationships again. “My last marriage ended seven years ago,” John told her. “Believe me, I’m better at being a bachelor.”
“So, you were married two times by the time you were thirty. How does that happen?” She dipped her fork into a cherry and popped it into her mouth, her red lips closing over it. He almost groaned.
Judgmental or curious, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t like talking about this aspect of his life, but that old, insecure part of him still wanted her to think well of him. “I got married the first time when I was eighteen. Her name was Kelly. It was a mistake from the get-go. She was my first real girlfriend—”
“You didn’t date until you were eighteen?” she asked.
“It wasn’t for lack of trying, believe me. I was a scrawny, insecure troublemaker. Who would have wanted me?”
“I can see the troublemaker bit, but scrawny and insecure?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” He forced a laugh. “Anyway, when I was seventeen, I grew seven inches and put on some weight. Kelly was the first girl to really pay attention to me. We didn’t last a year. She’s married to a doctor now. Sends me Christmas cards. Last I heard, she and her husband were working on their fourth kid.”
“And the second?”
He frowned and shifted in his chair. The demise of his last marriage gave him the most regret. “Kate wanted kids and thought she could change my mind.”
Sam nodded, then suddenly narrowed her eyes. “Wait a second. Kate and Kelly? Do I see a trend here?”
He grinned. “Goes to prove you have nothing to worry about with me. Your name begins with the wrong letter.”
Sam raised her champagne glass as if to say touché.
“Okay, Miss Rossi. Fair’s fair. You know all about my sordid past. Tell me why don’t you want to get married, since we’re on the subject.”
She shrugged. “Been there done that, as the saying goes.”
“You were married?” Of course, he already knew that from the P.I.’s report.
She nodded. “Before I was old enough to know better.”
“To know better?”
“Divorce runs in my family,” she explained. “Happy marriages don’t. Besides, my ex-husband was a snake.”
Something in her eyes told him she wasn’t telling him the whole story, but he didn’t push it. The reasons didn’t concern or interest him. Or at least they shouldn’t concern or interest him.
After the waiters cleared away their plates, she said, “I need to burn off some calories.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting we dance, I assume?”
“And that’s all I’m suggesting, Everest.” He was acting completely unlike she’d expected. She’d been prepared to fight him off with a hairbrush.
John circled the table and pulled out her chair. Reaching for her hand, he drew her into his arms. He was solid muscle. One squeeze of his arms would surely squeeze the breath from her. She couldn’t help shivering at the thought. His potentially dangerous strength was rather exciting.
God. She was thinking like a romance novel heroine. Yikes. To steer her mind toward saner territory, she decided to do what she did best. Glean information. “So tell me how you went from being scrawny and insecure to this.” She pressed her hand against his hard chest and prayed he wouldn’t tell her he’d been a sickly child.
He chuckled and she felt the rumble against her palm. “When you spend a lot of time being dragged behind the bleachers and getting the shit beat out of you, you’ll do just about anything to get bigger, so I started lifting weights when I was about fourteen.”
She peered up at him. “You got beat up? I can’t even imagine.”
He puffed out his chest and gave her an arrogant grin. “Yeah, I know. I’m such a tough guy now, eh? All that praying finally paid off.” At her questioning glance he explained, “My dad was a strict religious man who made me and my brother pray for an hour every night.”
“An hour? I consider myself saintly if I remember to God Bless someone when they sneeze.”
“We were supposed to recite psalms, but all I ever muttered in my head was, ‘Please, Lord, make me taller than my big brother so I can kick his ass.’”
Sam grinned as she pictured a young John Everest kneeling stoically beside his bed, his face set and serious, the picture of piety. “So did you kick his ass?”
“Nah. With my height came maturity, and it was enough for me to know I could kick his ass if I wanted.”
“Real mature.”
Sam’s curiosity was piqued by this startling peek into his past. When she’d first met him, she thought he had the depth of a piece of paper. Maybe she’d misjudged him. A little. Her hand rested on his shoulder and she raked her fingers slowly across the muscle. Definitely good genes. She tilted her head back and studied his face. His eyes were closed as they swayed to the music. He had good skin, hardly a laugh line even though he was 34 — another sign of good genes. And she loved his eyes. A blond-haired, blue-eyed baby would be cute. Or blond-haired and brown-eyed…
John opened his eyes and found her staring at him. She immediately dropped her gaze, but not before he felt that familiar flex in his groin. Damn. He put a smidgen more space between their bodies.
Why did she have to be Sammy Jo? She felt good in his arms, like her body was fit to his. The perfect match. Neither was looking for a serious relationship, no commitments. And from the way she dressed, she wasn’t afraid to flaunt her femininity and have a good time. Just the type of woman he liked to date. Why did she have to be Sammy Jo?
He swung her slowly around the polished hardwood floor, swaying with the p
iano music, holding his breath every time her breasts touched his chest or their hips grazed. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Especially knowing she wanted him, too. It was there in the way she’d looked him over tonight when she thought he wasn’t looking, and the way she’d studied him just now. It was in the way she’d had question after question about him during dinner, and how she’d hung on his every word. It was in the way her breath came out in a little gasp the first time their bodies touched when they danced, and the way her nipples hardened beneath her dress when his chest rubbed against hers, and the way she’d grazed her fingers along his shoulders. It was everything.
This whole scenario took him back twenty odd years, when being around attractive girls was like being in a store full of breakables. “Look but don’t touch,” had been his mother’s rule.
He’d never been good at following rules.
Sam felt dizzy. She must have had too much champagne, but she’d only had one glass. Or was it two? She was counting them out in her mind, when she stumbled in her heels and fell against John. His arms tightened around her, giving her balance, and she felt the tell-tale sign of his desire pressed against her lower belly. His breath was warm on her neck, which meant his mouth was just millimeters away from her skin. She couldn’t help shivering. She leaned back and peered at his face.
All her thoughts stilled as his mouth descended on hers. Had she ever bothered to contemplate his kiss before, she’d have predicted it to be as hard and unyielding as his body. But his lips were warm and enticing. Unexpected sensation raced through her. Only a moment ago, she’d fully intended to push him away, but now without warning, her insides turned to molten lava. She didn’t even like this man, yet the simple kiss made her head spin faster than the presses at the Statesman.
His tongue slid along the seam of her lips. She wouldn’t open her mouth. She didn’t like him enough to kiss him like that. She wouldn’t open her mouth… well, maybe just for a second. She was dying to know if the rest of his kiss was as good as the first part. She was certain it wouldn’t be. The only reason she felt all hot and heavy was because she hadn’t been kissed in a while. It had nothing to do with him. His tongue swept inside her mouth and his hand slid down to the small of her back to urge their bodies closer. Is this what weak in the knees feels like?
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