by Hailey North
Her hands slowed.
“I am but an amateur,” she said.
He heard a note of sadness in her voice. What the hell was he doing? Accepting massage and comfort from her when she’d had a day from hell? He should be the one consoling her. Flynn scooted away from the loveseat, turning to look at her as he rose from the carpet. Sure enough, a big old cloud had landed on her forehead. He settled beside her, close enough for comfort but not near enough to tempt him into pulling her sweet self into his arms.
“No matter what I do, I’ll never be good enough for them,” she said.
Flynn didn’t need to have the meaning of her words spelled out for him. “It’s always been like that with your parents?”
She nodded. “I am a bright, competent, professional, reasonably attractive woman and when I am in the same room with Emile and Nathalie—especially Nathalie—I let them make me feel like the child who froze during a piano recital.”
“Did that happen to you?”
Sami nodded. “I was eight. I ran off the stage. After that they made me practice two extra hours a day.”
“It’s a miracle you like music,” Flynn said. “But look, I’ve got to quibble with one thing you said.”
She sniffed and glanced over at him. “What’s that?”
“Reasonably attractive?”
She fixed her green eyes on him and he admired the gold flecks near the iris. Flynn tipped her chin with a gentle touch. “Your mother is reasonably attractive. The woman who checked us in to the suite was reasonably attractive. You, Sami, are beautiful.”
Sami blushed. She parted her lips. Flynn pulled her close and kissed her. She sighed and relaxed against his side. He kept an arm around her but didn’t kiss her again.
He didn’t dare.
She tasted so damn sweet.
He stroked her arm. Offering comfort felt pretty good. He was so used to sex for sex’s sake. He had to keep in mind that what he was doing with his arm around Sami was offering comfort to a woman who had had a rough day. A woman who had had her childhood home sold out from under her with no warning. He was not trying to get her out of her panties.
She shifted slightly and one of those slippery buttons on her shirt came undone. The creamy swell of her breasts was a feast for his eyes.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Traitors that they were, they opened again. Damn but that bikini top held nothing back.
“I don’t think I’m beautiful,” Sami said, “but it is nice for you to say so. As a matter of fact, the expression ‘beauty is in the eyes of the beholder’ has been—“
Flynn pulled her down to his lap and buried his face in her cleavage. His lips against her skin, he said, “Don’t talk. Not now.” He cradled her head in one hand and with the other slipped the rest of the buttons of her blouse free.
Sami lifted her arms, laced her fingers around his neck, and pulled Flynn to her, kissing him. His fingers were dancing over her breasts and she realized he was tugging the laces of her bikini free.
“God,” he said, sounding like he was choking.
Sami freed her mouth from his, reluctantly. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer.
He flicked his tongue against one nipple, then the other, sucking, drawing her, tasting. He was moaning or maybe that was Sami moaning. Moaning and arching into his mouth. He moved one hand to her shorts and tugged the button and zipper free.
Sami spread her legs. She knew she ought to stop. Ought to halt the insanity. Everything he did felt too good.
Too good to be true.
What was she doing?
Flynn had her shorts open and half off her hips. He edged his fingers around her thong. “Hot stuff,” he said into her hair, whispering in her ear. “Sweet Sami. Hot, hot, hot Sami.” His lips left her ear and claimed her breasts again.
Sami was lost.
She tried to find his zipper. His erection pushed hot and hard where she lay against his lap. He eased her over and face down across his lap she worked at his zipper. The cool air of the room hit her fanny and she knew she was mostly naked now.
Naked and gloriously free.
“Flynn,” she said. She liked the sound of his name on her tongue.
“Shh,” he said, helping her with his zipper.
His jeans freed, he groaned. “Oh, yeah, baby!”
The Corgi leapt up. Plunging toward the loveseat, Ruby barked. And barked. Shelby and Rusty leapt up, on alert, and joined in the canine chorus.
“Shit,” Flynn said.
Sami wriggled around and sat up. She shushed the dogs, but Ruby was having none of it. She’d been alerted and she raced back and forth in front of the loveseat, barking constantly. Sami hunted for her shorts. “I’ll have to take her out,” she said.
Flynn lay against the sofa, breathing hard. With what looked like superhuman effort, he refastened his jeans. “Damn dog.” He rose and handed Sami her blouse. “I’ll go with you,” he said.
“Oh, no, I can go by myself,” Sami said. “She’s my dog and my responsibility.”
He leaned over and buttoned her blouse, one slow buttonhole at a time. Sami held her breath as he grazed the side of her breasts with his gentle touch. After he did the top one, he brushed a kiss against her lips. “To be continued,” he said.
Sami shivered, in a good way. In such a dangerously delicious way. But what was left of her rational mind assured her there would be no continuation of what had almost gone way too far. She shushed the Corgi again. “We’d better take all three out.”
Flynn collected the leashes and they made their way out of the suite and down the elevator. As they crossed the wide lobby, Sami heard someone say, “What a cute couple with those dogs. Didn’t we see them at the Opry last night?”
Flynn said nothing.
Sami said nothing. She was dying to ask him what was going through his mind, but realized that was a pointless question. No one liked to be interrupted during sexual foreplay. She didn’t like it—but had to be grateful to Ruby for calling a halt. Flynn was a playboy. He made no pretensions to be a tiger of any other stripe.
But she wasn’t looking for a one-night stand.
She wanted True Love.
In silence they stepped outside. Sami pulled a pooch bag out of the holder on Ruby’s leash, in preparation for cleaning up after the Corgi. The others only needed to lighten their bladders.
“Sami,” Flynn said.
She bent down to retrieve Ruby’s poop. “Yes?”
“What happened up there. In the room. I wasn’t trying to hit on you.”
“No?”
“I, er, wanted to comfort you.”
Sami tied the plastic bag and looked around for a trash can. “You weren’t trying to seduce me? To have sex with me?”
Flynn ran one hand through his hair. With the other he kept a firm grip on the two leashes. “Well, damn, Sami, who wouldn’t want to have sex with you? You are one hot babe.”
Sami tossed the bag into a city litter bin. “Reducing me to that description informs me that you were indeed attempting one of your practiced seduction moves. I therefore conclude that you have lost our wager. You have failed to go seven days—even twenty four hours—without attempting seduction.” She knew she sounded preachy. But seriously—only trying to comfort her? What kind of line was that? Her nipples tingled and Sami blushed, just reflecting on how amazing he’d made her feel.
“What the hell,” Flynn said. “It’s true.”
“Prove it.”
A man in raggedy clothing approached. Ruby started barking. The beagle and the Lab joined in.
“My car broke down and I need twelve dollars to fix it,” the man said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Flynn said. “Look, just keep moving, okay? We’re in the middle of an important discussion.”
“There’s a church on Fifth that will give you a good dinner,” Sami said. “Just a few blocks over from here.”
“Appreciate that, ma’am,” the man said and walked on.
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“You’re too good,” Flynn said. “You know how you were rubbing my shoulders?”
Sami nodded.
“Very comforting. I wanted to do the same for you. That’s all. I swear.”
Sami didn’t know whether she felt better believing him or believing he’d been so attracted to her he couldn’t keep his hands off her. She bent down and stroked Ruby’s fur. It was stupid of her, not worthy of her intellect, for her to want him to want her for her, for the woman she was, not a ‘hot babe’ and not an object of pity because she failed her piano recital and had weird parents. She patted Ruby’s head and rose. “I believe you,” she said. Considering how amazing she’d felt only a short time ago, she wanted nothing other than to be left alone to cry into her pillow. “Let’s go back inside.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Flynn, with two of the dogs, trailed behind Sami through the lobby. The atrium bar was full; the night was young in Music City. A brunette in Armani gave him a smile. She looked vaguely familiar. Flynn flashed a grin in response and kept moving on. Who knew? Maybe he’d slept with her. Maybe not. But definitely not someone he needed to start a conversation with right now.
Sami’s rounded bottom, beautifully detailed in her short shorts, led him to the elevator. A man in a cowboy hat paused to compliment her on the Corgi and Flynn almost bumped into Sami just as he saw Cowboy pass her a business card.
Cowboy moved on.
Sami stepped into the elevator.
So close.
Flynn had been so close.
He and the dogs stepped in beside them.
So close to taking what he had no right to take.
Sami, hopeless romantic, wanted the ring on the finger, the baby car seat, and the happily-ever-after.
The brunette back in the bar, now she was fair game.
Sami Pepper was not.
Flynn leaned his head against the elevator interior and smacked it. Once. Twice. Three times.
“One concussion is not enough to satisfy you?” Sami had her head tipped to one side, studying him coolly.
“Not enough to teach me a lesson.”
“Oh?” She sounded politely interested. Somehow he’d offended her and he didn’t think it was the sexual contact before the Corgi intervention that bothered her. It was something he’d said. And said wrong. Not that it truly mattered. What mattered was getting the hell out of her life.
The car halted. Doors opened. Sami moved then pulled back. Of course the Corgi barked as a man Flynn recognized as a Billboard Top 50 performer stepped into the car. Oddly enough, he was traveling without his usual retinue. The rugged singer, famous for his country love songs, gave Sami a long, slow smile and a once-over that started at her lips, lingered on her breasts, and stripped her of her shorts.
Sami studied him, her head still tipped to one side. Flynn suppressed a grin as he imagined what type of analysis Sami was mentally conducting.
“That is one fine-looking Welsh Pembroke Corgi,” the singer said.
“Thank you,” Sami said.
The singer sidled closer. “I could use a dog like that in my next video.”
Ruby barked.
“Have your people call my people,” the singer said. “Do you sing, darling?”
“I am a professor,” Sami said.
“Now isn’t that a shame,” the singer said. “Never made it past ninth grade myself.” He reached out and touched the ends of her hair. “I could make you a star.”
Flynn couldn’t stand it another second. “She’s not interested.”
Sami glared at him. “That conclusion may be 100% accurate but it is not your conclusion to make.”
“This your filly?” The singer took a step back.
Flynn nodded.
Sami shook her head no. “And I, sir, am not a horse. I am a tenure-track professor of philosophy—“
The car stopped on their floor. Flynn nodded at the singer and hustled Sami and the dogs out of the elevator.
“Jesus,” he said. “Don’t you recognize when a man is flirting with you just to flirt? Just relax, give him an eyelash flutter or two, and if you’re not interested, be on your way. No, you have to start preaching and pronouncing those convoluted sentences of yours. How in the hell do you expect to get a husband that way? Even if a guy wanted to ask you out, he’d run the hell away.”
Sami fixed him with those gorgeous green eyes. They showed hurt. “You weren’t exactly running away from me earlier.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Flynn strode toward the doors to their suite, practically dragging the two dogs. He opened the door and waited for Sami and Ruby to enter, then followed and slammed the door. “Okay, you win. I seduced you. I lost the wager. Tell me what you wrote down for your prize. I’ll get it for you and get out of your life.”
“Aha. You were not simply attempting to comfort me.” She looked triumphant. The hurt had fled from her eyes.
“No. Yes.” Flynn removed the dogs’ leashes. “What the hell difference does it make?”
Sami flicked the business card from the stranger in the lobby against her thigh. “I have not had the proper amount of time to analyze my response to your question.”
“When you finish running your computer program through your brain, you can let me know.” Flynn kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the loveseat. Then he jumped up and settled onto one of the chairs.
Sami sat on the edge of the loveseat. She sensed Flynn was angry but she couldn’t understand why. Possibly not getting what he wanted—fleeting sexual satisfaction—from her. Possibly that he was stuck with her and the dogs when he could be out scoring with some other willing female.
“Who was the dude who gave you the business card?”
“I don’t know.” Sami held the card out to Flynn. “I didn’t bother reading it.”
Flynn took the card. Gave a low whistle.
Sami looked her question.
“He owns more radio stations than anyone else in this region,” Flynn said. “You could do worse, Sami Pepper.”
“What has he got to do with me?”
Flynn scowled at her. “I thought you wanted a husband.”
“Of course,” Sami said. “Do you think that man was interested in asking me on a date?”
“Why do you think he gave you his card?”
“But I don’t know anything about radio. I’d have to do a lot of research and right now I have other things to process. Such as finding a place to live for the summer.”
Flynn groaned. “You don’t need to do research to call a guy and meet up for a drink.”
“Oh, I do,” Sami said.
“Sweet stuff, go find that Ziploc and show me what you want for your prize. Then I’m going to bed.”
“Of course you are,” Sami said. “Rest is the most important means of recovery from a concussion.” She headed into the bedroom where the bellboy had left her luggage. She located the plastic bag. As she turned away from the bed, she caught her image in the mirror.
She really didn’t look like her usual self. Her lips were puffy and pouty and her hair was disheveled, but in a pretty way, as if a sexy man had been running his hands through it, pulling her close. Her shirt was unbuttoned halfway down her cleavage and she hadn’t bothered donning the bikini top before running down with the dogs.
Sami gave a shy smile at the woman in the mirror.
She felt wild and free and not at all professorial.
She stuck her tongue out and sashayed back to the parlor.
Flynn had moved to the loveseat. He sat stretched out, with his arms raised, cradling his head with his hands. He was whistling a plaintive tune. The dogs had settled down. Sami sat next to him, carefully not touching him. She opened the Ziploc and handed him her square of paper. She was curious as to what he’d written, but since he’d lost, she wasn’t sure whether she had a right to inquire.
“Good times,” Flynn said.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what I wrote down as my prize.
I could tell you were dying to know so there, I told you.”
“I do not understand how you reach these conclusions,” Sami said.
Flynn unfolded the square she’d handed him.
He gazed at it, over at her, and again at the paper. Slowly, he folded it in half. Then in half again. And again. And once more. He reached for her hand, turned it palm up, placed the tiny square in the middle and squeezed her fingers close around it. “Someone else will have to give you that prize, Sweet Stuff,” he said softly.
He stood up. “Good night, Sami,” he said and disappeared into the bedroom on the other side of the parlor.
Sami sat there with the scrap of paper, fingering it. Of course she knew what she’d written. In all capitals. Boldly. As if writing it down could make it happen.
TRUE LOVE.
What had possessed her to put her deepest feelings on that scrap of paper? It was only the night before, not quite twenty-four hours, but since the moment she’d walked into the Lawrence Enterprises office seeking Sean and found Flynn instead, nothing in her world felt the same. Sitting here in Flynn’s suite watching as he read what she’d written for her prize was the most vulnerable moment she could remember.
So much more naked than freezing in a piano recital. More needy. Pathetic.
Sami dashed a hand across her eyes. How utterly embarrassing to have laid herself open to a stranger.
Only Flynn didn’t feel like a stranger.
But Flynn was right. He wasn’t the man to deliver True Love.
She could hear him now, barking orders, it sounded like. He must be catching up on the backload of the day’s work. She could do that, too. Pull out her notes on her AI review of literature.
Shelby snored softly. Sami sighed and walked over to the rug, where all three dogs had curled up. She could hear Flynn’s voice, softer now, laughing, coaxing, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Which was appropriate, of course. She had no right or need to eavesdrop. Somehow it comforted her to hear him in the other room. She kicked off her shoes, pulled a cushion from the loveseat and curled up with her dogs.
