by Liz Crowe
Chapter Nine
Sam never had, in her entire dating life, felt more terrified. She’d composed more than one text to Wade telling him to forget it, that she wasn’t interested anymore. But Sam never sent any of them. Because she was interested. And how. But she was also very much afraid of how she’d get past this night without doing something completely dumb—like falling for Wade Roberts.
She sucked in a breath and regarded herself in the full-length mirror for the millionth time in the last half hour. She’d discarded a half dozen outfits before settling on her new designer dress—something that could be fancy or somewhat casual, depending on the accessories she’d choose. The soft silk draped around her figure, held up by two thin straps over her shoulders. The asymmetrical hem showed off her carefully toned calves. The color—a shimmery sort of ivory—highlighted her tanned skin perfectly.
As she slipped her feet into open-toed, high-heeled dress shoes, she smiled at herself. A sense of rightness fell over her when she experienced something she’d not known in years—a comfort in her own skin. She slipped diamond drop earrings in her ears but decided against the matching necklace, opting for a set of bangle bracelets that had set her back half a great commission at Tiffany’s the year before.
She’d put her hair up in a casual fashion, letting some strands dangle while most of its thick, coal-black bulk were positioned at the crown of her head with about a zillion bobby pins and a few spritzes of hair spray. Finally, she squirted her latest new fragrance into the air in front of her and walked through the mist.
Figuring Mr. Roberts for a later-is-better-than-never sort of a date pick up, she fixed herself a gin and tonic and sat down to wait. When her doorbell rang at seven on the nose, her heart raced so fast she had to force herself to take deep breaths. She rose and went to the intercom.
“I’ll be right down,” she said. If this night was going to end where she wanted it to, she wasn’t about to let the man into her space now. She didn’t trust herself, especially not if he did as she’d asked and dressed all the way up. Sam had a feeling he’d be sex on a stick in a suit.
When the doors opened on the main floor, revealing him leaning against the lobby desk with his back to her, she had to grab the rail to steady herself. Feeling like a fish tossed out of the water onto a hot sidewalk, she gulped for air and scrambled for the door close button.
She couldn’t do this. She would not allow herself to go there with this man. It was too dangerous. She knew herself too well.
As she remained pressed against the back wall of the elevator, an arm inserted itself between the closing doors, forcing them back open.
“Forget something?” Wade asked, his soft southern-inflected voice making every inch of her skin break out in goose bumps. Her mouth too dry to consider using it for speech, she shook her head, sending a few more tendrils of hair down from her carefully constructed up-do. He grinned wide and leaned in the open doorway, taking her in from head to toe in a slow eye-crawl that, from any other man, would have made her furious.
Be furious, she insisted to herself. This guy is worse than any other man, and you damn well know it.
But she couldn’t muster that particular emotion into the swirl of them clogging her brain at the moment. She cleared her throat, forced herself to stand up straight, and met his dark brown gaze. “I thought I told you to dress all the way up,” she managed in a croaky, unused-sounding voice.
He chuckled. She had to shut her eyes at the sound of it. “Darlin’,” he said as she slowly opened them. “What you see here is me all the way dressed up.” He passed a large hand down his front, Vanna White-style. Sam took the opportunity to absorb the black jeans, the crisp white shirt with intricate cowboy-style embroidery with the sleeves rolled up enough to show off his muscular forearms, and the pointy-toed boots polished to a high shine.
She swallowed hard. “Yes, well, okay then.” She tucked a strand of escaped hair behind her ear with a hand that shook so hard she knew he noticed it. “I sometimes forget that I’m in Texas.”
“You look good enough to eat,” Wade said with an overblown wink, then stuck out his elbow. She stared at it long enough for it to be awkward before sliding her hand into the crook of it, bracing herself for the expected warmth of his skin.
A weird sort of possessiveness was suffusing her, almost but not quite smothering the wild, raging lust that had consumed her in the past few seconds. For the first time since Tommy had inspired it in her in their early days, before he’d revealed himself as a sociopathic freak, she felt tendrils of actual jealousy at the thought of any woman taking anything more than a long, envious look at her man.
She stopped halfway to the front doors of the condo building. This man, she lectured herself, gnawing the lipstick from her lower lip, is not yours. Not in any way, shape or form. So let go of that particular fantasy right now, Samantha Jean.
Wade had stopped along side of her as if letting her take a little break on the long trek from the elevator to the front door. “All right?” he questioned, patting her hand still stuck in his arm.
“Yes,” she said, squaring her shoulders. She smiled at him. He smiled back. The lust raged like a barely caged monster inside her.
Yes, she said to herself. Get laid. A lot. But do not, for any reason whatsoever, think it’s more than that. Because it won’t be for him.
“I’m great, thanks. Now, where are we going for my wine and steak dinner?”
He chuckled again as he held open the door for her, then planted a warm hand in the small of her back to guide her to his waiting truck without saying a word. He handed her up into the soft, tan leather seat and then climbed in behind the wheel, whistling to himself. The man was so comfortable in his skin, she thought as she observed him going through the motions of driving. And something about him, his presence beside her, made her more and more comfortable in hers. An odd sensation. But one she could get used to.
She settled back into the seat, her type-A personality at rest, her usual need to control relinquished for the first time in years.
“So, how long have you lived here?” he asked as he made a quick entry onto the interstate.
“Uh, I thought we were going downtown,” she said.
Keeping his left hand on the wheel, he draped his right arm around the back of her seat in a casual manner, as if he always drove that way. The powerful vehicle hit eighty miles an hour and rested there. “Relax, darlin’. You told me to pick the place.”
“Right, I did. Sorry. I’ve lived here almost five years.”
“And what brought you to Dallas?”
“Honestly?”
He shot her a quick look that made her blink fast. “What else do you think I’d want from you?”
She nodded, noting th,at with every mile they traveled, the more comfortable and relaxed she felt with him. Don’t fight it, she reminded herself. Go with it. She took a deep breath. “I was running away from a bad boyfriend, the one I told you about.”
Wade stiffened noticeably. She put a hand on his thigh for reasons well beyond her own understanding. The undeniable spark was still there, but something else, too. He seemed to calm at her touch.
“It’s fine, Wade. Really. He wasn’t ever physically dangerous. He was just a jerk, and I let him ruin me for a few years until I figured it out and told him to take a hike. Then I opened up my computer map, closed my eyes and pointed. My finger landed on Dallas. So here I am.”
He glanced at her with a smile that started that damnable melting sensation in her middle. When his hand dropped onto hers, she couldn’t stifle the gasp. When he put her knuckles to his lips, she had to shut her eyes again.
“Fate,” he said, his voice low and husky.
“Maybe,” she said, shaking all over. “I don’t know if I believe in all that. I needed to get the hell out of a toxic relationship. My parents were so happy I dumped him, they loaned me money to move. I took my real estate license class and, well, the rest . . .” He still had her
hand grasped tight, as if afraid to let her go. They remained this way for a few miles. Wade faced forward, looking out through the windshield with her fingers threaded in his. She stared at his amazing profile.
Finally, he took a shuddering breath and let her go. “Here we are,” he declared, taking a random exit that led to a deserted intersection. He looked both ways down the empty stretch of road then turned left. She settled back, her usual need to manage the situation at a pleasant parade rest.
They drove about four more miles, passing a few ranches, some crumbling barns, and a lot of fallow fields. When he hit a stretch of something that might be considered the main street for a small town, were there any actual people on the sidewalks, he slowed then turned right at an intersection.
“Oh, my Lord. There is actual tumbleweed on this road,” she said, fascinated as she watched it roll past. “Not that I don’t trust you, but where exactly are we going?”
“To get you the best damn steak in the state, per your request, ma’am.” He turned into a half-filled parking lot of a huge, wooden building with a front porch. She searched for a sign indicating a restaurant name. She’d heard of the whole pop-up dinner concept and figured he’d found one and was going to try to impress her with his hipness. Satisfied she had a handle on this now, she waited as he parked then came around to open her door and help her down from the truck.
The distinct sound of country music floated out from the building. As she watched, an older couple headed inside the nondescript front door before a couple of guys fell out of the same doors, rolled around and punched each other on the porch, then seemed to get over themselves and headed back inside. Sam frowned.
“This isn’t a pop-up dinner, is it, Wade?”
“I have no idea what that is, dear lady. What this is, guaranteed, is the best steak dinner going. And a live show.” He crooked his arm again. She hesitated.
“I doubt very much a place like this has wine.” She hated the snobby sound of her words, but this was throwing her off, and she didn’t like it.
“Never fear, my dear. I know the owner. It’s all arranged. Let’s go. I’m so hungry, I could eat the whole cow.”
They made their way to the steps up to the porch, just in time for another set of young men to bust out the door, pound on each other while, then stop and go back inside.
“Seriously,” she said, as he held open the door for her. His lips were twitching, and he had a twinkle in his eyes that Sam believed she’d like to see there for the rest of her life.
“What? This is a serious place that makes serious meals. After you,” he said. She glared at him for a second, then walked into the dim interior.
Chapter Ten
Wade greeted the pretty hostess who took them straight to what he considered to be the best seat in the place, a table near the front window, already set with a bottle of what he’d been assured was expensive California Cabernet for her and a cold Shiner Bock for him. He pulled out the simple, ladder-backed chair for Sam, then settled himself across from her and tried to sip the beer. But his hand was shaking too much, so he set it down and leaned back, attempting to regain his composure.
This was way too weird. Exactly like he’d been afraid it would be. This woman was messing with him somehow, and he didn’t like it, but at the same time, couldn’t resist it.
She did look good enough to eat. He blinked at that thought, willing it gone so he could stifle the urge to drag her out of there, take her home and do that. Her curves were perfectly enhanced by the silky fall of the dress. The long line of her tanned neck made his mouth water every time he looked at her. Her huge blue eyes and high cheekbones were mostly makeup free, as he preferred, and whatever perfume she’d chosen must be combining with her own natural pheromones in such a way that he had to bite the inside of his cheek and sit on his hands to keep from yanking her across the table and kissing her.
With a long sigh, he picked up the beer again and watched as the older woman server struggled with the wine cork. “Here, I can do it,” Sam said, her smile genuine, her voice soft. She finagled the thing open and poured herself a glass, then held it up. “To first dates,” she said, her eyes shining.
“Yeah,” he grunted like an idiot, unable to find anything more useful to say, considering he was struck dumb by her perfection. He sipped, keeping his gaze on her full lips as she put them to the glass and did the same.
She put the glass down and touched the paper napkin to her mouth. Another fight seemed to break out in the bar area, and she glanced over at it, then back at him. “Nice place,” she said, unable to keep from smiling.
“What it lacks in ambiance it more than makes up with food quality,” he assured her as he knocked back the beer. Another one appeared. “So,” he said, desperate for something to say that wasn’t the words burning the back of his throat—words to the effect of I want to make love to you for hours, sleep with you in my arms, then wake up and do it all over again. “About my house.”
“Yes,” she said, taking another sip of the wine. “About that.” She propped her elbows on the table, which had the effect of pressing her tits closer together and giving him an eye-popping deeper view of her cleavage. He tried not to gulp. “Why are you selling it, Wade? It’s a beautiful place.”
“Oh, uh,” he mumbled around the beer bottle. “It’s not mine, really. It was all my ex-wife’s doing. I’ve been too lazy since she dumped me to do anything about the place until now. I want it gone, along with her, if you know what I mean.”
She tilted her head, tempting him all over again with that beautiful neck. He could already taste her skin there. As Wade tried like hell not to allow the half boner he’d been sporting since he’d turned around to see her in the elevator to spring to full life, he opened his mouth. But before he could speak, two salads were plunked in front of them without ceremony. They ate, saying little. But the air between them wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, as if they’d been on a thousand dates before and could sit and eat in silence.
“No menu,” she observed, pressing her napkin to her lips again.
“Nah, I ordered ahead.”
“How do you know what sort of cut I like? Or how I want it cooked?” Her blue eyes gleamed with amusement.
“I guessed,” he admitted, smiling up at the woman who took their salad plates away. “So, can you sell my house or what, hotshot real estate lady?”
She settled back in her seat and seemed to study him a few seconds. “Of course I can,” she said. He refilled her wine glass, and she sipped. “Tell me something about you, Wade. Something that might surprise me.”
He choked when his beer went down the wrong way at her words. Nervous all of a sudden, like some virginal teenager hoping to get his cherry popped after prom, he swiped a hand across his lips and cast around for the right response.
“I like to be in control,” he said, deciding to jump right in with both feet. “In all situations.”
She tilted her head—the damn woman was gonna make him come in his jeans if she kept doing that. He tightened his grip on the beer bottle and went on. “If I can’t be in control, it makes me unhappy. But you . . .” He looked down at the huge steak that had just been set in front of him. Ignoring it, he met her gaze again. “You are doing something else to me, Sam. When you did . . . what you did at the barbecue, I, uh . . . I don’t usually like that. I mean. I liked it but . . . oh hell, never mind.”
She kept staring at him. He could almost see the lust quivering in the air around her, like heat waves on asphalt. He had to consciously stop himself from grunting in pain when his cock got serious behind his zipper. They glared at each other a few seconds across the small table. Then she picked up her fork and knife.
“I love filet,” she said, her voice soft. “Thank you.”
She cut into the expensive slab of cow flesh, put the bite in her mouth and chewed, closing her eyes in enjoyment. Frozen in place by the sight, he watched her do it again until something compelled him to reach a
cross the table, take her utensils from her and cut into her filet himself. He put the perfectly seared morsel to her lips. She frowned at him, then opened her mouth and took the bite from his fork.
Wade thought he might die on the spot. But he kept feeding her in silence until nothing was left on her plate but a few green beans.
“I think I understand what you mean,” she finally said, taking a sip of her wine. “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”
“I’m not hungry anymore. Not for steak, anyway.”
She shivered. He smiled. “So, about this control,” she said, putting her glass down with a telltale clink. “Tell me more.”
He leaned back, equally rattled and hornier than he’d been in his entire life. “I have a better idea,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Let’s dance.”
A band had taken the stage at the far end of the large space and was calling participants out onto the dance floor. She blinked, and then took his hand, her lovely face flushed red. He pulled her close and loved how she molded against him as if they’d been together forever. “I’ll show you what I mean later, I promise,” he said, allowing himself a quick nip of her earlobe, trying not to groan at the exquisite press of her breasts against his chest. “But first, you have to prove that you’ve fully assimilated to Texas and line dance with me.” He pulled away with extreme reluctance.
With a wry smile, she took his hand and let him lead her into the mass of humanity now crowding the dance floor. To his surprise, she did indeed know how to line dance and frankly, watching her move did very little to allay his painful hard-on.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, he grabbed her and yanked her close, forcing the dancers to eddy around them like a creek bed disturbed by a rock. At that moment, nothing existed in Wade’s universe but Samantha Jean Weaver. His entire being ached with longing and satisfaction at the same time as he tilted her chin so she met his gaze. “You’re pretty damn amazing, Sam,” he managed, Mr. Super Cool Conversationalist as always.
