"Are you absolutely sure there is nothing I can help you with?" she inquired in a voice that had suddenly dropped to a sultry, sensual purr.
"Penny," he warned, guessing that his plan was about to go dangerously astray.
"Yes, Sam," she replied, her blue eyes wide with feigned innocence.
"Don't pull that act with me. You have picked a very bad time to turn into a flirt."
"Oh, really? I thought my timing was downright excellent." She glanced back at the evidence to prove it. Sam groaned and waged one last battle with himself. He lost.
He reached out and snagged her hand. "Closer," he urged.
"You sound like the big, bad wolf talking to Little Red Riding Hood."
"There are certain similarities in our situations," he agreed. His hand tightened around hers. "Games are over, Penny. Now's the time to back out if you don't want to play."
Her lower lip trembled slightly, but her chin jutted up and she shook her head. Sam looked into her eyes and thought he saw a longing there that reflected his own. Maybe it was only his own wishful thinking, the justification he needed for going on with his plan. He didn't waste time trying to analyze it.
"Jeez," he muttered. "When you look at me like that, I don't think I could send you away if our lives depended on it."
"Then don't," she said, her gaze never wavering.
"Where's Mrs. Farnsworth?"
"I sent her off on a list of errands that ought to keep her occupied past nightfall."
"Good," he said softly.
Her foresight told him she'd been anticipating something like this. Knowing that, the last of his already tattered willpower melted. With one tug, he pulled her onto the bed beside him. She sat there, stiff and still, waiting, expectant. He lifted his hand and removed the band holding her hair. When it tumbled loose, he ran his fingers through it. It felt like silk, just as he'd anticipated.
"I knew it," he murmured, filled with the same awe he'd experienced the first time Brandon Halloran had taken him on a tour of Halloran Industries' finest fabrics.
A smile flitted across her lips. "Knew what?"
"How your hair would feel. I remember when I first touched strands of silk at Halloran Industries. I couldn't believe that anything could be that fine, that delicate. It felt just like this."
His old fascination with textures, a fascination instilled by Brandon's love of quality materials, came over him. He caressed her cheek. "And your skin, it's like the finest satin, but warmer."
He trailed a caress along her neck, lingering where he felt the rapid flutter of her pulse. "Scared?" he asked quietly. He didn't see any signs of it, but he needed to ask.
She shook her head in a denial that wasn't quite matched by the racing of her heartbeat.
"Of you? Never," she swore anyway.
"Maybe you should be. I love 'em and leave 'em," he warned matter-of-factly. "Everybody knows that. Nobody expects anything more."
She flinched slightly at that, but he could detect the instant when her resolve returned. "I'm living very much in the present. Whatever the future holds, I'll deal with it."
At that precise moment, listening to her brave declaration, feeling her skin heat beneath his touch, Sam thought he could very well fall in love with her...if he was the kind of man who believed in love. As it was, though, he knew for a fact that there was no such thing as some romantic destiny.
Penny watched the carefully banked emotion in Sam's eyes and knew that he was fighting feeling anything more than his sexual attraction for her. The struggle gave her hope.
The man actually thought this seduction had been his idea. In reality, she'd done everything short of leaving a stack of Playboys beside his bed to stir him up. She might be new to the game, she might not understand all the rules, but Sam had a very transparent face. She knew exactly when she was getting to him and each time she did, she contrived to do more of the same. Little had been left to chance, from the outfit she'd chosen this morning to the dismissal of the housekeeper for the day. She'd known his recovery was almost complete for days now. Both of them had been drawing out this torment of living under the same roof.
What she was doing was not without risk. He could make love to her, decide that it satisfied what had been no more than a momentary whim and never see her again. Or it could wake him up to the fact that they were meant to be together, that what they felt was deep and true and lasting.
She wished to heaven she had more experience in making sex absolutely unforgettable. As it was, she had a rudimentary understanding of the basics and no practical experience whatsoever beyond a few steamy kisses and an occasional groping touch that had done nothing to inflame her. She knew things with Sam were going to be different for her because his most innocent touch set her afire. But would they be different enough for a man who used and discarded women like tissues and actually prided himself on that fact?
Right now his hand had strayed to her breast, where the most astonishing sensations were ricocheting from there to her toes and back again. "Sam?"
His gaze was pinned on hers. "Yes, sweetheart?"
"Isn't it possible that I have on too many clothes?"
He grinned at her. "That depends on how fast you intend to move things along."
"I think I might be in a hurry."
"Then by all means take off anything you like."
Thrilled by the flare of excitement that shone in his eyes, she lifted her T-shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor. But when she reached for the clasp of her bra, he nudged her hands aside.
"Allow me."
The brush of his fingertips along her bare midriff was an exquisite form of torture. When his hands settled on her back, he was close enough that she could feel the whisper of his breath across her cheek. It seemed to her that he lingered over the task far longer than it required, turning it into a sweet torment.
As soon as he'd unhooked the bra, he looped his hands beneath it, brought it off her shoulders and allowed it to fall away, exposing her breasts. First his thumb, then his mouth traced the outline where the lacy material had been. Penny's pulse scrambled at the touch of his tongue against her nipple. She was sure that that intimate contact alone was going to send her spinning off into an aching ecstasy.
But it was just the beginning. Despite her frantic desire for urgency, Penny watched his face to make sure none of this was too taxing. He seemed so...intent. He took his own sweet time with every touch. It seemed as if he'd made the sensitizing of her breasts his single most important task of the day. With slow deliberation, he tasted and savored and teased until Penny was ready to scream with need. All the time he watched her face, his own expression was a blend of fascination and satisfaction that filled her with feminine pride.
"You're something else," he whispered, his voice husky and dark as midnight.
Penny felt as if he'd given her the moon. Now, though, she had this consuming need to claim the stars, as well. "I want you," she told him. "Please, Sam."
He stripped away her shorts and panties far more efficiently than he had her bra. When she was completely bare, though, he resumed the slow, tortuous process of making her tremble with desire. His hands molded, caressed and teased, dipping into her moist warmth with an intense probing that had her hips lifting off the bed to meet each intimate touch.
She hadn't expected the spiraling tension, the vague but constant striving toward some elusive goal. Each touch was an experience like nothing she'd ever felt before. And each one made her crave more. There was no time to savor the joy of each new sensation. Always there was the unconscious struggle to reach the challenging peak that promised to be more spectacular than fireworks and roller-coaster rides all blended into one incredible moment.
"Sam?" It came out as a soft plea.
"I know, sweetheart. You're ready, aren't you?"
"I think I've been waiting for this all my life," she murmured solemnly.
He braced himself above her then and she could feel the tip of
his manhood as he slowly began to ease inside. Again his gaze was locked with hers, his face a study in concentration.
"You okay?" he asked.
She offered him a tremulous smile. "Never better. But if you don't get on with this, I think I may fly apart."
A grin tugged at his lips. "We can't have that happening, can we? At least not without me along for the ride."
His next thrust was fast and hard. Penny felt the momentary resistance, the quick, burning pain, and then...the most awesome sense of completion she had ever felt in her life. A magical union that was meant to be. Tentatively she lifted her hips and began a rhythm as old as time.
"You're remarkable," Sam whispered.
Those two words filled her heart just as he had filled her body. She stroked his shoulders, hesitating when her fingers met the bandages on his chest. Struck anew by worry, she looked into his eyes.
"I'm fine," he reassured. "More than fine."
To prove it, he increased the rhythm to a pace just shy of unbearable. That nagging tension spiralled tighter and tighter, before finally ripping free in a glorious burst of excitement.
When the release of her first climax spread over Penny in wave after wave of thrilling sensation, she thought she knew without a doubt the timeless meaning of love. Two people, joined as one--heart, body and soul. Not even Sam, stubborn, tender, arrogant Sam, could walk away from something this powerful.
He'd ruined everything, Sam decided later that night as he paced his room. Penny was back in her own room. Mrs. Farnsworth had returned to her duties. Everything was going on exactly as if nothing had happened. But it had, and now he didn't know what the hell to do about it.
He hadn't meant to kiss her. He hadn't even meant to see her again. He sure as hell hadn't meant to have sex with her. And he certainly hadn't expected it to be the most thrilling, passionate sex of his entire life.
Okay, this was no time to be dishonest. He had meant to seduce her. He'd decided on it coldly and pragmatically as a solution to his own frustration. He just hadn't meant to get caught up in its trap. He hadn't meant for it to mean anything to him at all.
But she'd looked so inviting, so soft and feminine and downright sexy with that triumphant smirk of satisfaction on her face. She had been so willing, so responsive in his arms. He had taken pride in the mechanics of satisfying her, but more importantly he had felt a sense of wonder for the first time since he'd lost his own virginity a dozen years ago.
And somewhere between the first kiss and the final tumultuous explosion of their shared climax, Sam had realized that Penny was not going to be so easy to get out of his system. She'd sneaked into his heart and that, the experts were likely to say, was what had made the difference between this time and all the others. How it had happened was beyond him. They were nothing alike.
Maybe he just had a thing for winners, women who took what they wanted in life and exulted in it. Penny was such a woman. He had seen it in her face. He had felt joyous, but she had looked absolutely triumphant at the moment he had come apart in her arms. He supposed it was the natural order of things. People wanted what they didn't have. Losers wanted to win. Loners wanted love, whether they cared to admit it or not.
He, however, had no intention of admitting to such a need. Not even now. It had been a momentary aberration, nothing more. He was a loner. In time, these feelings he had for Penny would fade.
Of course, if Brandon Halloran ever found out about what had gone on in this bedroom, he probably wouldn't even care how Sam viewed his future. Brandon would sail into Boston with a ring tucked in his pocket and a reservation at the chapel where Halloran weddings were always triumphantly celebrated.
The only way to avoid not only that, but any further temptation, though, was to sneak out of this house, which had known its share of love. It was essential that he get back to his own bachelor quarters, where no woman would dare to intrude. He had to reclaim the solitary existence that had always suited him just fine.
The plan of action decided, Sam found it was a struggle just to get into his clothes. It was more of a strain to get down the stairs. The worst struggle was pretending that his going wouldn't matter to either one of them.
He overcame each and every struggle, each and every guilty second thought. He called a taxi and was gone by dawn, satisfied that what he'd done was for the best.
And, not one hour later, just when he was soundly asleep, confident that his leaving would demonstrate to Penny once and for all what a rotten bet he was, the pounding on his door proved the error of his assumptions. He had no doubt that the person on the other side of his threshhold was the very woman he'd intended to avoid for the rest of his days.
"I know you're in there, Sam Roberts," she shouted. "Open the damn door."
She sounded royally ticked off. He had to admire the gumption it had taken for her to storm across town and confront him. Reluctantly he opened the door.
She stood there, eyes blazing with fury, her hair a tangled mess, her clothes obviously assembled hastily. Almost nothing matched. She seemed oblivious to the picture she presented. Something deep inside Sam twisted at the sight of her. She was going to be difficult to get out of his system, all right. Even looking as if she'd dressed from a ragbag, she turned his heart to mush.
"You fool!" she said, waving a finger in his face as she marched toward him.
"How'd you know where I was?" he asked, stalling for time.
"Where else would you go? No one else in the family would put up with you and you're too weak to crawl onto a plane and head for parts unknown. Mrs. Farnsworth gave me the address."
Sam acknowledged the truth of that with a sigh. Then the confrontation took an amazing twist when she backed him into a corner and berated him not for endangering his life--though she did that, too--but for running scared.
"You're a low-down coward," she accused, jabbing her finger toward his belly, but stopping just short of contact.
"A coward?" he repeateded incredulously. "Just exactly what am I supposed to be scared of?"
"Me," she announced with no hesitation whatsoever.
Sam's spirits sank. So, he thought with a weary sigh of resignation, she had him pegged, after all. Even before he'd realized it himself, she had guessed that he was falling in love with the little brat. Correct that. With the grown-up, incredibly sexy, little brat.
What she apparently hadn't grasped quite yet was the fact that he had absolutely no intention whatsoever of doing anything about it.
Chapter 14
Penny stood in the middle of Sam's cluttered living room, oblivious to her surroundings, as he explained to her precisely why there could never be anything between them. He eliminated her theory--his own ridiculous fear of commitment--and blamed it on personality differences, background differences and a host of other reasons that made about as much sense as a baby's first babbling words. To hear him tell it, they barely spoke the same language. About midway through the recitation, Penny lost patience.
"And where were these differences a few hours ago when we were together in bed?" she inquired bluntly.
"The only difference that mattered there was the gender difference," he retorted.
He deliberately avoided her gaze when he said it, probably because he knew she'd laugh in his face. He wasn't finished, though. He still had more to say on the subject, as if he thought the sheer volume of words would convince her of something that was utter hogwash.
"But we can't spend our whole lives in bed. There has to be more than that between us."
"And you don't think there is?"
"I'm a cop, Penny. You live in some safe, academic ivory tower. You've been terrified ever since those punks attacked me. My world just isn't your world."
She regarded him incredulously. "What kind of garbage is that? Have you heard me utter one single word about being afraid? Have you heard me beg you to quit the force?"
His jaw set, he met her gaze evenly. "Maybe not, but it's the truth."
&nbs
p; "You're a mind reader now?"
"I know what I saw in your eyes in the hospital. I know what all the nightmares were about at Brandon's. Why can't you admit it?"
She drew in a breath and tried to respond calmly and rationally to what seemed to her a very irrational theory. "Okay, yes, I was scared every time I thought about what might have happened that night. You could have died. Being frightened by that seems like a pretty sensible reaction to me."
"I won't have you living in fear on my account," he insisted stubbornly. "Someday you'll thank me."
A weary sigh of resignation shuddered through her. "And someday you'll regret what you've thrown away," she said quietly.
Penny could see it was useless trying to make Sam see sense. She'd taken a risk by making love with him and she'd lost. She would not stand here and beg the man to commit to a future he obviously couldn't envision. If he intended to be arrogant and willful and downright stupid, that was his problem. She would not let it be hers.
She thought back over all the years she had wasted worrying that Sam's rejection meant there was something wrong with her. Now she knew that it had been him all along. He was the one who couldn't cope with real intimacy, who didn't even want to try because the fear of being abandoned ate at him every day of his life. Talk about someone living in terror.
She took one last look at him, drinking in the sight of his sexy, shadowed complexion, the body that had given her her first taste of physical pleasure, the eyes that hinted of a vulnerability that he would deny with his last breath.
She also saw the pallor, the unsteadiness of his hand as he raked his fingers through his hair, and was afraid for him. He was rushing his recuperation, and without her around to intercede, who knew what risks he'd take.
"I'll send the nurse over to check on you tomorrow," she said finally. "You look like hell."
"Don't bother. I'm going back to work."
"You can't work in this condition," she protested, then bit off the rest of the lecture as his jaw clenched. She shrugged. "Do what you want. It's your life."
A Vow to Love Page 14
