by Gold, Kristi
No surprise she would hurl that little bit of history in his face. “Oh, yeah? I recall you failing to tell me you decided to leave Mississippi to go to college, which makes you a hypocrite, Savvy.”
He could see pure fury building in her dark eyes. “I didn’t lie to you, Sam. I couldn’t find the time to tell you I was going out of state before that day in Stan’s. I wasn’t even sure I’d been accepted to Northwestern until the day before.”
“And that’s lying by omission,” he said, throwing her own words back at her.
“That didn’t give you the right to talk to me the way you did. I still remember every horrible thing you said in front of half the town.”
So did Sam, and he regretted a lot of it, but not enough to take all the blame. “After you waltzed into the diner and dropped one helluva bomb on me, how did you expect me to react?”
“Like someone who cared for me, but apparently I’d been wrong about that. If you care for someone, you don’t call them a selfish bitch.”
Damn, he had said that, and at the time, he’d meant it. At the time, he’d been an eighteen-year-old kid with some seriously wounded pride. “I apologize for the bitch part.”
She looked exasperated. “But not the selfish part?”
He tossed the rag onto the workbench. “You didn’t care how anyone felt about you leaving, including your father, so I’d say that made you fairly selfish.”
She balled her fists at her sides like she wanted to slug him. “You knew I had to get away from this place. I was drowning.”
And I was holding you down, he wanted to say, but that same old pride prevented him from doing so. “Right. You were drowning. You had bigger dreams than a place like Placid could handle. I might not have gotten it then, but I get it now. And don’t forget that you called me a heartless bastard.”
“I apologize to your dad for the bastard part.”
Okay, maybe he deserved that, but she had no idea what her decision had done to his heart. And he’d carry that secret to his grave, because fact was, she’d leave again, just like before, no matter what he confessed. “Glad we cleared that up. Anything else?”
She nailed him with another defiant glare. “Yes. Tell Wainwright you changed your mind about leasing the land.”
That came as no surprise. “Sorry, can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. It’s my understanding you haven’t signed the papers yet.”
“That’s right, but I will sign them.”
“Just to punish me?”
Time to set her straight. “To keep a promise I made to your dad.”
“Promise?” She sounded doubtful.
“Yeah. He asked me to take care of the place after he was gone.”
She looked more than a little confused. “I don’t understand why he would entrust it to you of all people. I remember a time when he didn’t think all that highly of you.”
That was just enough to set him off. “There’s a whole hell of a lot you don’t know about your dad.”
Savannah looked madder than a wet hen. “And you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He was just the man to enlighten her. “Did you know that Floyd’s folks never owned one acre because they didn’t have a damn dime to their name? Did you know they spent their whole lives working for someone else, your dad included, until he married your mom? All he ever wanted was a place to call his own. That farm meant more to him than anything aside from his family. He needed to know that someone would take good care of the place. Like it or not, sweetheart, that someone is me.”
“No, I don’t like it but—”
When he took a step toward her, she took a step back. “If you weren’t so pigheaded you’d realize that your father’s dying wish is more important than your hatred of me.”
She turned from steamed to sophisticated in about two seconds. “I suppose it’s not my place to question my father’s decision. But you’re very wrong about one thing. I don’t hate you.”
“What did you say?” He asked not because he hadn’t heard her, he just didn’t trust his ears.
“I said I don’t hate you. Hate, like love, requires committing to strong emotions. I personally don’t feel one way or the other about you.”
He wasn’t sure which was worse—her hating him or not caring at all. “You felt something last night. Maybe it wasn’t hate or love but I’d bet the farm it had a lot to do with lust.”
She propped one hand on her hip, reminding him of Miss Ellie Wagner, his second-grade spinster school-teacher, only a lot better looking. “You talked about the pond and no, I didn’t feel anything other than embarrassed when I remembered what a fool I’d been. But I’m not that malleable teenager anymore, Sam. You can’t mold me into being that starry-eyed girl who used to jump whenever you called.”
He released a rough laugh. “Mold you? I could just as soon mold a feather pillow out of a cinder block. Besides, I’ve never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”
“You’re trying to make me be happy that my father, for whatever reason, decided to declare you his surrogate son. You’re trying to make me admit that I’m still somehow attracted to you when all I want to do is get out of here.”
He hooked a thumb behind him. “There’s the door. No one’s tying you down. But first, I have one more thing to say.”
“Go for it. Just make sure you say everything because I don’t intend to have another real conversation with you again.”
And that was probably best. The more they talked, the more they risked wounding each other with words. He didn’t want or need that misery again. But he wouldn’t let her leave before he called her bluff. “You know what your problem is, Savannah? You’re afraid.”
“Afraid?” This time she laughed. “Of what? You? That’s ludicrous.”
“Then why the hell are you backed up against the table?”
She looked around like she hadn’t realized where she was at the moment. When she moved her hands from the death grip she had on the edge of the bench, she knocked over a bottle of tire cleaner. And when she tried to right it, she knocked it over again. After finally setting the bottle straight, she studied the cement floor and said, “Are you through interrogating me?”
“Not yet.” He moved right in front of her, leaving only a few inches between them. “Maybe you’re not afraid of me, but you’re afraid of being around me because you know there’s still something going on between us. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s there.”
“Speak for yourself.”
She asked for it, she was going to get it—the truth. “Okay, I’ll be the adult here and admit it. The minute I laid eyes on you a few minutes ago, I wanted to run my hands up that dress.”
That got her undivided attention. “Stop it, Sam.”
Her mouth might be saying stop, but the fire in her eyes said go. “What’s the matter? If you don’t feel anything, then you shouldn’t give a tinker’s damn what I want to do to you.”
“I don’t care about your fantasies as long as you don’t try to act on them.”
“Sure, Savannah. Right now you’re shaking like a leaf. You can lie to yourself, but I know you better than you think I do.” He brushed a wisp of hair away from her cheek. “And I’m thinkin’ you want to kiss me. Real bad.”
She blew out a shaky breath. “You wish.”
More than she realized. “I know. And I’ve got to tell you, Savvy, I’m disappointed in you. I remember the girl who never ignored a challenge. That girl didn’t stop until she got what she wanted. Guess the Windy City’s made you soft.”
Realizing he might’ve gone too far, Sam backed up and leaned against the truck. He shouldn’t be all that worried. Just because he’d thrown down the gauntlet didn’t mean she’d actually grab it and run. Or that’s what he’d thought until she strode toward him.
Sam saw his plan to avoid this very thing go up in smoke the minute Savannah took his mouth in an all-out assault. His fault for stri
king the match and lighting up an old flame. Not that he was complaining. He was fairly uncomfortable in a real nice way with her body rubbing against his and her arms draped around his neck. Good thing the truck was offering some support, otherwise he might have dropped to the ground—and taken her with him.
Many a night he’d fantasized about kissing her again, but nothing beat the reality. She could give as good as she got and he was giving her his best effort. He didn’t see any sign of this little make-out session ending anytime soon, unless he found some superhuman strength.
Instead, he found her butt with his palms and nudged her closer, letting her know exactly what she was doing to him. What she’d always done to him, like it or not.
When Savannah released a moan against his mouth, he ran his palms up the backs of her thighs, taking the dress with him while ignoring all the reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this. If he had any consideration for what was best, he’d come to his senses and back off. But the way he was feeling right now, that would probably take a miracle.
“Daddy! Where are you?”
CHAPTER SIX
THE CHILDISH SHOUT COMING from somewhere in the distance was as effective as a bucket of snow on Sam’s libido. They simultaneously broke the kiss and while Savannah turned her back on him, Sam ran both hands over his face in an attempt to recover—and then let go a loud laugh when he opened his eyes to one hell of a humorous sight.
Savannah spun around and scowled. “This is not a laughing matter. Stupid on my part, but not at all funny.”
“Oh, yeah, it is. My hands are on your butt.”
She looked like he’d taken complete leave of his senses. “You mean they were on my butt.”
He rubbed a palm over his jaw. “Well, seeing as how you’re an attorney, let me put this in legalese so you’ll understand. The evidence that my hands were planted on your backside is imprinted on the dress in question.”
She glanced over her shoulder, then gave him a fairly fierce look that said he was going to have hell to pay. “I can’t believe you did that.”
He held up both hands, greasy palms forward. “Hey, you started it.”
“And you didn’t try to stop me.”
“Do you blame me?”
She propped both hands on her hips. “Let’s just say we’re both to blame and leave it at that.”
“Daddy!”
Jamie was definitely getting closer, and so was Sam to the heart of the matter. Savannah had come down with a serious case of lust, and he’d definitely caught it. “In here, sweetheart,” he called to his daughter now that he was sufficiently calm, at least on the outside.
Savannah’s eyes went wide as wagon wheels. “How am I going to hide the mess you made?”
In two strides, Sam grabbed her by the waist, turned and sat her on the truck’s hood. “Don’t move and she’ll never notice.”
Jamie rushed into the shop and pulled up short when she spotted their guest. “Hi, Savannah!”
Savannah put on her best smile but to Sam it looked forced. “Hi, sweetie. It’s good to see you again. I’m just watching your dad work on the truck.”
Jamie looked at Sam, then Savannah, and started giggling. “No, you’re not. You were kissing my daddy.”
Sam exchanged a what-the-hell look with Savannah before he asked, “Why would you think a thing like that, Joe?”
“’Cause you’ve got lipstick on your lips, Daddy.” Jamie rocked back and forth on her heels, like she couldn’t quite contain her excitement over the discovery.
Sam immediately wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. No need in offering up an explanation because knowing his kid, she wouldn’t buy it. “What do you want, Jamie?”
“Grandma Gracie told me to come get you for dinner. She wants Savannah to come, too, and so do I.”
Sam saw a little desperation in Savannah’s eyes before she gave Jamie a smile. “Honey, I wish I could but—
“Please, Savannah?” Jamie pleaded. “You’ve gotta stay for dinner because Grandma Gracie’s making her famous ham and sweet potatoes and the banana pudding you like and she’s already set a place for you at the table.”
Sam noted a moment of indecision in Savannah’s eyes before she said, “I would need to go home and change first.”
Jamie frowned. “Supper’s almost ready and I’m hungry.”
Patience wasn’t his daughter’s strong suit. At the moment, politeness wasn’t, either. “Mind your manners, kiddo.”
Jamie looked as contrite as a scolded puppy. “Sorry, Daddy. I just think Savannah looks pretty and she doesn’t need to change clothes. That’s all.”
When Savannah gave him a help-me look, Sam turned his attention back to his daughter. “Tell Gracie we’ll be at the house in a minute.”
“Okay.” Jamie backed toward the door, grinning. “You gonna kiss some more?”
Not if he wanted to save himself from another huge error in judgment. “Get out of here, Joe, or I’m going to make you shovel manure all day tomorrow.”
“No way, Daddy-o.” Jamie turned on her heels and left the shop at a dead run, leaving Sam alone with Savannah, who didn’t look at all grateful for the dinner invitation.
She proved that when she said, “You shouldn’t have told her to expect me for dinner. I can’t very well go to the table with proof of your evildoing to my person all over the back of this dress.”
“Your person enjoyed my evildoing, just like I expected. And consider yourself lucky. If Jamie hadn’t interrupted, you might’ve had two more handprints on your top.”
She picked up the rag, balled it up and launched it at him like a cloth missile. “Wet this and see if you can undo the damage. And while you’re at it, wipe that smug look off your face.”
“Sweetheart, that ain’t smugness. That’s pain.”
She sent a quick look downward at the source of his distress, blushed like a fire engine and muttered, “Sorry.”
So was he. Sorry he hadn’t sent her on her way sooner. Sorry he’d provoked her. Real sorry he couldn’t do a damn thing about his pain.
Sam walked to the utility sink and soaked the towel before returning to Savannah. “Turn around.”
After she complied, he put one hand on her waist and rubbed at the stains with minimal pressure. He didn’t make much headway with the grease, but he did enjoy the effort. At this rate, he’d have to make up some reason to miss dinner.
She glanced back at him with an aggravated expression. “Is it working?”
“It’s worse.”
She abruptly faced him and snatched the towel from his grasp. “You’ll have to apologize to Gracie because I am not going in your house like this.”
Sam came up with a quick plan that might satisfy her, even if he couldn’t. “I’ll take you through the outside entrance of my bedroom and you can put on a pair of jeans and one of my T-shirts.” As long as he didn’t imagine her wearing only his shirt, he might get through the meal with his dignity intact.
She ran both hands through her hair. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about nine inches shorter than you and I weigh less, too. How do you expect me to wear your jeans?”
This admission probably wasn’t going to go over too well, but he didn’t have much choice. He didn’t want her to think that his bedroom had a revolving door welcoming every woman in the county. Why that mattered at all, he couldn’t say. “They belonged to Darlene.”
“I see.”
No, she didn’t. She probably thought he’d kept those old clothes because he didn’t want to let go of his ex-wife. Wrong. He just hadn’t bothered to toss them out. “Which is it going to be? My plan or going home and explaining my greasy hands on your butt to your mother?”
After a slight hesitation, she sighed. “I’ll agree to your plan, but I have to go right after dinner. May and Bill went home and I don’t want to leave Mother alone much longer. I also told her we could sort through some of Dad’s things this evening.”
“Not a proble
m.” Actually, it was. He really wanted to get her alone again after dinner to set her straight on a few things, namely that what had happened wasn’t all his doing, even if he had egged her on.
Hell, who was he kidding? If he got her alone, which was about as likely as Jamie keeping quiet about the lipstick, he couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t want to kiss her again, and not stop there. Better to leave well enough alone.
Sam pushed off the truck and gestured toward the open garage door. “After you.”
When she moved in front of him, he patted that grease-covered, knock-’em-dead butt, proving old habits died hard, even after a decade.
She turned and walked backward, just like his daughter had a few minutes ago. “What are you doing?”
“Just thought I’d try to remove some more of the mess.” Now he was lying. Big-time.
“You’re still that same old bad boy, aren’t you?”
When she reluctantly smiled, Sam saw the girl she used to be. The girl he’d come to rely on to save him from his rebel ways. The only girl he’d let close enough to hurt him. The woman he still wanted after all these years.
Savannah could cut him to the core again if he let her. And he’d literally be damned if he did.
THE WELCOME SCENT OF good old Southern cooking permeated the dining room like a pleasant morning mist. The same yellow floral print cloth covered the table and the weathered wooden plaque that read God Bless Our Home still hung over the back door. The camaraderie of old friends sharing a meal provided a welcome change for someone who’d spent most of their time away from work in the confines of a sterile condominium. Yet even in the familiar surroundings and in the presence of people she dearly loved, Savannah felt uncomfortable.
She’d barely been able to make a dent in the pile of food Gracie had set before her, probably because she was too busy choking down her guilt. She kept wondering what she’d been thinking in the shop. Actually, she hadn’t been thinking at all. She’d run solely on impulse, completely reeled in by a sexy devil in denim.
Yet Sam had been surprisingly silent throughout the meal. He’d also been remarkably controlled even when they’d walked into his bedroom earlier. He’d simply tossed her the clothes and waited in the hall until she’d changed out of the dress. She, on the other hand, had recalled all the times they’d been alone in that bedroom. Back then, propriety had dictated they never close the door. But the converted room that had once been a garage was tucked away in the back of the house, allowing for a few stolen kisses during what should have been study time.
