Sam switched on an overhead fan to disperse the smoke so the smoke detectors didn’t go off. “Sounds good.”
“Yeah,” he said with dismay as he examined the controls and the recipe on the counter beside it. “If I had put the oven on three-fifty instead of four-fifty, it would’ve been.”
Sam drowned her giggles in a sip of wine. “A computer genius that can’t set the temperature on a digital stove?”
“Give me some credit,” he said with a laugh. “As a kid, I was the only one in the house that could program the VCR.” Brody rested his hands on his hips and looked around the kitchen with a frustrated pinch to his brow. Sam could see the CEO in him wanting to start firing off orders to deal with the situation. Unfortunately, tonight he was a corporation of one.
“My housekeeper offered to make us dinner tonight,” he admitted, running his fingers through his hair. “I told her no, I wanted to cook for you myself. I guess she didn’t have as much faith in my culinary skills as I did, and rightly so.”
“Do you cook much?”
Brody shook his head. “Almost never. Peggy leaves dinner for me every night. But I wanted to impress you, and I figured following a recipe would be easy enough. I can’t take you to an expensive restaurant, so it seemed like a nice touch. Now we’re going to have to order pizza. I don’t have enough stuff left over to make it again.”
Sam smiled and made her way over to the Sub-Zero refrigerator. They wouldn’t be eating pizza if she had anything to say about it. “Don’t give up on us quite yet.”
* * *
Brody was amazed. He knew from working with Sam that she was smart, efficient and innovative. But seeing her at work in his own kitchen was an entirely different matter. She had taken charge of the situation, and he had to admit that it was a huge turn-on. He could only sit back and watch as she kicked off her heels, slipped out of her lace shrug and took his kitchen by storm.
Chris sat down beside him to watch her work, as well. She ran the risk of getting stepped on if she got into Sam’s way. Brody patted her head and sipped his wine, answering questions as he was asked where one thing or another was. He enjoyed watching her work. It was much better in person than watching her from his surveillance monitors. She was full of color, moving with a gracefulness and ease. Occasionally she would look over at him with a smile that was so brilliant it would make it hard to breathe.
It was difficult for him to tear his eyes away from the seam of her stockings that lined the back of her shapely legs and disappeared under her fitted lace skirt. He wanted to interrupt her work to press her against the cold steel of the refrigerator. He wanted to know what it would feel like to let his hands glide over those silk stockings. He wasn’t that hungry, anyway.
Before he could make a move, Sam turned triumphantly toward him with a second, unburned dinner made. She carried two plates to the oval table in the breakfast nook where he was sitting. There were marinated chicken breasts she’d cooked on the grill set into his range and angel hair pasta tossed with olive oil, garlic, herbs and parmesan cheese. With them, she’d paired the green salad and garlic bread he hadn’t ruined from their first menu.
“It looks wonderful,” he said, admiring her hard work and the flush of her cheeks from activity. “I feel bad, though. I invited you to dinner and you ended up cooking.”
Sam smiled and shook her head. “It was fun.”
“You really seemed to be in your element. Do you like to cook?”
At that, Sam laughed. “Actually, no. And to be honest, I’m not really a very good cook, either, so don’t put away the takeout menu yet. But I know enough not to go hungry. It was a necessity when I was younger. My dad became a single father overnight. He was so unprepared for everything that came with it, especially handling mischievous twin boys and the girliest little girl on the planet. He had his hands full and I knew it, so I tried to help out where I could. My dad was a horrible cook. My brothers and I would’ve starved if I hadn’t stepped up and shoved Dad away from the stove.”
Brody recalled the background investigation he’d done on Sam. It said her mother had died when she was seven. He remembered that now. But he knew better than to mention it. Instead, he cut into his chicken and took a bite. “This is great. My mother wasn’t a very good cook. She tried, but it never came out quite right. When she overcooked things my father would get so angry at her.”
And him. And the dog. And anyone else who got in his way when he was in a rage.
“My mom was a great cook. At least that’s what I remember. I was seven when she died. She had been letting me help around the kitchen with little tasks at dinnertime, but I certainly wasn’t prepared to take over. It didn’t stop me, of course. Things had to get done. It might not be the best tasting food or the smoothest ironing job, but I tried. That’s why my dad always called me ‘Daddy’s Little Fixer.’ From a very young age, I’ve had this drive to fix everything.”
“Sounds like a harmless compulsion.”
Sam swallowed her own bite of food and chased it with some wine. He could tell she was trying to cover a frown. He watched as a blond curl came loose from her hair clip and tumbled down along her cheek. Brody wanted to reach out and gently wrap the golden silk around his finger. He imagined it would feel as soft as her lips had.
Sam absentmindedly tugged the loose strand behind her ear and continued talking. “You’d think so, but not always. My brothers weren’t always as appreciative of my help. They prefer to call me the Meddler. Apparently, I don’t know when to stop or mind my own business. I just get this idea in my head of how things should be and I can’t ignore the problem. I have to fix it.”
Brody watched the woman he’d allowed to breach his inner sanctum as she continued to eat. This dating thing was going okay so far. He was learning about her and sharing some of himself, like she’d described. They’d worked together to overcome a minor crisis. The boxes on his date checklist were being checked off, one by one. If he managed not to do something stupid to run her off, this might be a really great night. He enjoyed Sam’s company, which was something he couldn’t say for most people. She was everything he’d always hoped for in a woman. Sam was smart and funny, beautiful and caring. She hadn’t seemed very interested in his money, either.
From the monitor in his office he’d watched her eyes light up with delight at receiving that single rose just as if she’d received a hundred roses. Or diamonds. And most importantly, she looked him in the eye with the flame of desire instead of disgust.
What he couldn’t put his finger on was what she saw in him if money wasn’t the draw. It was one thing to be polite and friendly at work to develop a good rapport. But why had she kissed him? Or agreed to this date? She didn’t have to do any of that. Or perhaps she did. Maybe this was it. Was he only a project to her? “Are you going to fix me?” he asked.
She looked at him then, her wide dark eyes searching his face for something. He expected her to blow off the question, lie about it outright or make a joke. He knew that most people in his life disapproved of his lifestyle. If Molly, his foster mother, could tell him what to do again, things would be very different, he was sure. For someone with an itch to help like Sam, he was surprised she hadn’t broken into hives restraining herself.
But she didn’t dismiss the question. Instead she looked him straight in the eye and said, “Fix what?”
At that, he almost laughed. “Fix what?” he asked, getting up from the table to put his empty plate in the sink. “Come on, now. I’m a grouchy, scarred hermit. You’re the first woman to step into this house that isn’t related or paid to clean it. Certainly you’ve come across something about me that you’re dying to put right.”
Sam followed him through the kitchen and smiled reassuringly when he turned back to her. “All that stuff is on the outside. I’m not worried about that apart from how it impacts you on the inside.�
� Her hand rested gently on his chest, over his heart.
Brody’s blood started pumping furiously through his veins at her touch. His heart beat so hard, he was certain she could feel it pounding against her fingertips. Her innocent gesture had lit a fire inside him. The heat of it spread through his body like warm honey and caused every muscle to tense with anticipation.
“You’re a brilliant businessman. A computer genius. A strong leader for your company. You have amassed more money and power in a few short years than most people will in a lifetime. You do the work you love. I’m sure your life isn’t perfect, but whose is? Everyone has their own tolerance and thresholds of what they can live with. From where I sit, I don’t know what I could do to make your life better.”
“You could kiss me.” Brody said the words before he could lose his courage. She saw him as decisive and bold. He needed to be tonight if he was going to get what he wanted. And whether or not he should, he wanted her. More than he’d wanted any other woman in his life.
He took her hand in his, pulling it away from his chest and wrapping his other arm around her waist. He tugged her against him, sprawling his palm across her lower back.
Sam looked up at him in surprise, and then a coy smile curled her lips. She pressed into him, bringing her hand behind his neck to tease at his collar. “I think I can do that,” she said, climbing up onto her toes.
Brody dipped his head down and closed the gap between their heights. Without her heels on, she was more petite than he anticipated. Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss. He relished the feel of her fingertips against the stubble of his jaw and the gentle, probing glide of her tongue along his own. It was an easy movement, one he didn’t have to think too much about. But Brody was a strategist, and he was always focusing on his next move instead of enjoying the moment like he should.
He was lost in his own thoughts when Sam thrust her tongue into his mouth. She crushed her breasts against the wall of his chest, cranking up the intensity between them. The movement sent a jolt of electricity down his spine, urging him on. On instinct, he backed her against the kitchen island, pressing his body into hers. His hands planted on the countertop, flanking her waist. It was easier than trying to figure out which part of her he wanted to touch next.
Their kiss was no longer sweet, nor gentle. Sam’s hands roamed across his chest, her fingernails scratching the coarse fabric of his shirt and teasing the muscles beneath it. Her touch coaxed an ache of desire that strained against his tight jeans. He pressed himself against her stomach and swallowed a deep groan of pleasure. It came out like a growl vibrating in his throat.
The feeling echoed through Brody’s entire body. She felt so amazing against him. His mind started racing again. Was this it? Could this really be happening after all this time? He thought he was reading the signals correctly. With every nerve in his body, he prayed for it to be true.
“I want you so badly,” he whispered against her lips. “Say yes. Stay with me tonight.”
Brody could feel a stiffness settle into Sam’s muscles, and then she pulled away from his kiss. The few inches between them brought a rush of cool air that helped him regain some control. She looked at him, her brow gently furrowing into a V. There was a hesitation, a worry there, and he didn’t know how to make it go away. He couldn’t lose her after getting this close. He wouldn’t let her go. If she walked out the door, his chance with her might have passed forever. He wanted Sam more than he’d ever wanted a woman before. No matter what it took, what he had to expose of himself, he would do what he had to do to keep her here with him.
“Please, Samantha.”
When she looked away, she shook her head just enough to send his heart sinking into his gut. The hands that had caressed him a moment before were now pushing gently at his chest. He took a step back. Somehow, he’d ruined it.
“I’m sorry, Brody. I can’t.”
Six
Sam watched the conflicting emotions fly across Brody’s face. He tried hard to hide them, but she could see his disappointment. Could he see hers? Would he be able to understand how much she wanted him but feared having him at the same time?
“I should probably go. Dave gave me his card so I could call when I was ready to leave.”
“Don’t leave, not yet.” His voice was low but even. He wasn’t demanding or even begging. “Peggy made a cobbler for us, and I have French vanilla ice cream. We can eat it out on the patio.”
“I don’t know, Brody.” Dessert, although it sounded nice, would only be putting off the inevitable. She was either going to go home or sleep with Brody. So she probably should just go ahead and go.
“It’s cherry,” he added, his blue eyes a little hopeful as he watched her reaction. “I won’t touch you again unless you ask me to. I promise.”
Sam sighed. Her resistance was wearing down, fast. “It’s not that I don’t want you to touch me, Brody.”
“Then you don’t want cobbler?”
“No, I would love some cobbler. I just—”
“Great.” Brody turned away, cutting off her excuses and pulling a carton of ice cream from the freezer. On the counter was a deep casserole dish covered in foil. He lifted the top to reveal a golden flaky crust with deep red cherry juices oozing along the edges.
She wanted to grab his arm and insist that she really had to leave. Right now. But Sam really loved cherries. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to go home. She was having a good time. She was only worried things were moving too quickly.
Brody dished them both out a bowl with a scoop of ice cream on top. The cobbler was still warm enough to start the vanilla immediately melting into a pool over the top. “Here,” he said, handing her the dish. “We can talk about whatever it is outside.”
It was then that she realized how chilly it had gotten lately. Boston had stayed unseasonably warm for the area until the day before yesterday. With the sun having set an hour or so ago, the night air would have a definite chill. Not exactly the right weather for eating ice cream on the porch. “Isn’t it too cold out? It’s October.”
He shook his head. “I’ve got it under control.”
Sam followed him through the maze of the house, admiring the winding central staircase and the museum-quality artwork on the walls that wrapped around it. They passed an area that looked like his office and then a den with a large television and comfortable chairs. There were French doors leading off to a covered patio.
When she stepped out onto the deck, she was greeted with an unexpected blast of warm air. Perched on each side of the seating area were tall gas torch heaters, and a third flame roared from a massive stone fireplace. It continued on into an outdoor kitchen that wrapped around the deck and down into the yard.
Beyond them was a swimming pool. It shimmered a deep turquoise-blue in the darkness, the steam from the heated water rising up in the cool night. There were massive trees and bushes flanking the yard, some adorned with tiny fairy lights. To the left was a glass enclosure that glowed with a golden light. The heat inside had fogged up the windows, but she could see the dark green foliage and pops of bright colors inside. A greenhouse. Perhaps where he’d grown her rose?
It was all so beautiful. The perfect yard for throwing parties, oddly enough, although it could also be considered the perfect private retreat from the world.
Brody was standing beside the fireplace holding their dessert. “Do you like it? Is it warm enough?”
“It’s beautiful. And quite toasty, thank you.”
Sam sat down in the outdoor love seat directly across from the fireplace and accepted her dessert. Brody sat beside her. She expected him to start pressing her for answers regarding her abrupt about-face, but he appeared content to eat his cobbler and enjoy her company. Even Chris curled up in front of the fireplace with a rawhide bone and started happily munching on it.
It wasn’t until her spoon scraped the bottom of the empty bowl that Brody spoke again. “So, talk to me, Sam. Did I do something?”
“What makes you think you did something wrong?”
Brody settled his bowl on the table and turned so he was facing toward her as he spoke. “This is uncharted territory for me here. I’m not so arrogant as to think I might not misstep.”
“You mean you’ve never seduced one of your employees?” It was a fairly direct and prying question, but she needed to know if this was something he did often. If she’d asked Luke that question, it might’ve saved her a lot of heartache and time at the unemployment office. If he’d answered honestly.
It was a serious question, but Brody started laughing. And continued to laugh. It went on for so long that Sam began to get irritated.
“Hey!” she said, snapping his attention back to her. “I’m serious.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But you do realize the only two employees I’ve seen in person since I started this company are Charlie, the head of security, and Agnes, right?”
At that, even Sam had to smother a giggle. Charlie was sixty with a bristly, mostly gray beard and a rapidly expanding beer belly. Civilian life had been a rough adjustment for the former Army intelligence officer. And then, of course, her godmother, Agnes. She was in her fifties, married since near birth and looked more like a stern Sunday school teacher than a romantic outlet for Brody.
“Fair enough,” she admitted. It did make her feel better to know he didn’t make a habit of this, even if only for a lack of opportunity. But it didn’t change things between the two of them.
“Have you ever slept with your supervisor?”
Brody turned the question around on her, and the time for laughing was over. “Yes,” Sam said, struggling to swallow the knot in her throat. “And it ruined my career and damn near my whole life.”
A Beauty Uncovered Page 7
