by Sarah Hegger
“Or the bedroom,” she said, and then she looked shocked and blushed. Ducking her head, she bustled past him. “Something smells good.”
“My version of a beef and ale stew.” He followed her into the kitchen, tempted to tease the reason for that reaction out of her. The idea of Elizabeth in his bedroom made him heat up as well. Same with Elizabeth on the sofa. Over the sofa. Elizabeth on the counter.
He ducked behind the island to hide the evidence of his reaction. This growing thing with Elizabeth felt new and fragile, and he didn’t want to screw it up by lunging at her. “Dinner won’t be long.”
“And in the meanwhile…” Blushing again, she held up a department store shopping bag. “I brought something for you.”
He took it from her, glad that she’d thought of him. “You bought me a present?”
“No.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you…it’s more of a me thing.”
Sam pulled out a pair of tight boxers. His erection returned. If she wanted to up the rate of progress, he was down for that. “You want to see me in these?”
“Yes! No!” She went even redder and threw her hands up. “What I mean is Chris and I want to see you in those.”
Now he was confused. He held them up. “They’re really pink.”
“They’re for breast cancer awareness,” she said, rushing to get the words out. “You put them on and take a selfie. It gets loaded on a website with other pictures and helps to sell those.” She pointed at the underpants. “You could do that instead of auctioning a piece of clothing.”
Disappointment tasted like ashes in his mouth. That’s what he got for getting ahead of himself. “I vaguely remember something about this. They sent an invitation to the team to get involved. But it was around about my suspension.” He took a closer look at the undies to hide his reaction. At least his other problem was now taken care of. Then he checked the label and took another vicious check to the ego. “These are medium.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth blinked at him. “You’re super fit. I would have bought you small but you’re also tall.”
“You nearly bought me small underpants?” Why didn’t she rip off his nuts and put them in a jar while she was at it? “I do not wear small or medium underwear.”
She blinked at him. Comprehension dawned and she laughed. “Oh, come on, Sam. The size of the underpants refers to the width of your hips, not the size of your…” She waggled her fingers in the general direction of his crotch.
“Not entirely.” He gave the medium underpants a look of disgust.
Elizabeth yukked it up. Even threw her head back and guffawed. She took one look at his disgusted face and tried to get control of her laughter. “Sam!” She rolled her eyes and chuckled a bit more. “Even if that were true, there’s no link between the size of a flaccid penis and an erect one. You could have the biggest penis out there and it could still be tiny when it was relaxed.”
Hearing her talk cocks made his flaccid penis want to take a new dynamic shape. “That’s bullshit.”
“It really isn’t.” Tilting her head, she put her hands on her hips. “The average flaccid penis is only a touch longer than three inches.”
“Nope.” If she thought that, he had a piece of land he wanted to sell her. Or a flaccid penis to show her. Too late. He no longer had a fully relaxed cock to show her.
There really was only one way to win this stupid argument. Sam unbuckled his jeans and dropped them.
Elizabeth squeaked and turned her back. “What are you doing?”
Sam went commando when he could, and he wriggled into the pink pants of torture. To make sure she got a good eyeful, he tugged his sweatshirt off. He shuddered when he looked at himself. Nobody needed to see that. He looked like he was smuggling a koala in his pink pants. A koala with its head caught in a vice.
He stepped around the island and tapped her on the shoulder.
Elizabeth turned around. Her gaze dropped.
To be helpful, Sam spread his arms.
She clapped her arms over her mouth, went pyrotechnic red and turned away. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you did that.”
“You weren’t listening.” He went back behind the island and ripped off the pink constriction undies and pulled his jeans back on. “You can turn around.”
Her blush had given way to more laugher and she had to cling to the island as her amusement swelled. “You’re such an idiot,” she gasped between laughter. “And would it kill you to manscape?”
“Stoney?” Guy called from the front door. He trotted down the hall and into the kitchen. Cocking his head, he raised an eyebrow at Sam’s shirtless state. “Am I interrupting something?”
Elizabeth’s receding blush flooded back.
“Naughty Lizzie wanted me to wear these.” He dangled the pink pants from a forefinger.
Guy chuckled and looked at Lizzie. He tutted and shook his finger at her. “I really didn’t have you pinned as a girl with a kink.”
“I’m not.” Elizabeth sputtered before she got the next words out. “I don’t have a kink.”
“It’s fine.” Guy grinned and spread his hands wide. “Nobody here is going to judge you.”
“Hey.” Sam made his smile as saccharine as he could manage. “I like a bit of kink.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Lizzie snatched the boxers away from him and tried to stuff them back in the bag.
Guy snagged them. “What are these for anyway? That cancer awareness thing?”
“Yes.” Lizzie beamed at Guy in a way that made Sam want to body slam him. “I thought Sam could take part.”
“I’m happy to take part.” Sam wanted her attention all on him. “Let me buy the boxers next time. A pair that fit.”
“They don’t fit,” Elizabeth took them from Guy and stretched them. “They’re too big.”
“I like you, Elizabeth.” Guy hooked an arm about her shoulders and dragged her against him. “Count me in for another photo, but I’ll also buy my own boxers. Not all of us are…underachievers.”
Chapter 19
Elizabeth crouched behind her computer and tried to make herself small. Her dad was on a tear for the third time this week. They’d lost another cleaning account because they didn’t have enough people.
As it was her job to hire the cleaning staff, his wrath headed straight her way. Pointing out that she couldn’t hire good people when she could only offer them slave wages pushed him over the edge.
A couple of gazes slid her away, loaded with sympathy and the profound relief that they were not in the crosshairs.
A murmur of excitement arose from reception and Elizabeth looked up.
Sam sauntered into their office, unzipping his coat.
Vicky took his coat and hung it in the closet behind her reception desk. Eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed she chattered away to him.
Elizabeth sat up straighter. She had no idea what he was doing here, but so far, he was the best part of her day. Of course, he could have come to see Dad, but that didn’t mean a girl couldn’t hope.
Across the open plan office, Sam’s searching gaze found her and he smiled.
As he sauntered toward her, Elizabeth preened a little. It was that high school fantasy about the hottest guy in the world asking you to prom in front of everyone who’d ever been bitchy to you.
Heads snapped around to follow his progress all the way to her desk. She played it nonchalant and pretended the thumping sound wasn’t her heart.
“Hey.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.
Elizabeth took a surreptitious breath of him and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. He smelled of soap and a light aftershave, and best of all the spicy musk that was all healthy male. She managed to choke out a mangled, “Hello.”
“I hope you don’t mind.” Sam straightened and perched an ass cheek on her desk. “I was kind of hoping you hadn’t had lunch yet.”
“No.” She managed nothing more than a breathy whisper. The next part migh
t cost her a limb, but she didn’t see any choice. “I don’t think I have time today. My dad needs me to—”
“Sam, my boy.” Dad boomed across the office.
Sam gave her a flat stare. “Does he have like a radar or something for whenever I’m around?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.” And she was smiling. Even after being ripped into in front of the whole office all morning.
Standing, Sam put a smile of his face and extended his hand. “Hey, Paul.”
The smile he gave her dad was the one he kept for fans and reporters. It wasn’t anything like the warm smile he saved for her, the one that promised he knew a secret and wanted nothing more than to share it with her.
“Everybody!” Dad preened like a barnyard rooster. “I’m sure you all recognize Sam Stone. A close personal friend of the family.”
A woman whispered from somewhere near the copier. “Doesn’t he play football or something?”
“No.” Another woman scoffed. “He’s that Olympic swimmer.”
“Does Canada have swimmers?”
“Of course they do. He’s standing right there.”
“Sam plays for the Ottawa Titans.” Dad looked like he might explode. “A professional hockey team.” He aimed a glare in the direction of the copier. “He’s our very own town superstar.”
“Don’t watch hockey.” The second copier commentator sniffed.
Several heads whipped in her direction.
“Of course you watch hockey.” Dad’s voice quivered with outrage. “You’re Canadian.”
Elizabeth dared not so much as a glance in Sam’s direction. If she did, she would lose it.
“I just popped in, Paul.” Sam’s voice shook with something perilously close to laugher. “I hoped to take Elizabeth to lunch.”
“Elizabeth?” Dad gaped at her. “Why would you do that?”
Sam’s expression hardened and his voice grew clipped and firm. “Because I’d like to have lunch with her.”
“Oh, of course.” Dad stared at her and frowned, as if he really didn’t get it at all. He breathed and his frown deepened. “This is about one of those stupid causes of yours, isn’t it? You’re taking advantage of his friendship to make him do all sorts of ridiculous things.” He stepped closer to her. “I won’t have it, Elizabeth. If Sam is too nice to tell you no, then I’ll do it for him.”
“Actually, Paul.” Sam slid his shoulder in front of hers and put himself between her and her father. “Elizabeth didn’t ask me to do any of it. I volunteered.”
Dad scowled at her and huffed. “Well! What are you waiting for? Didn’t you hear Sam?”
God give her patience. “I heard him, but you asked me to sort out our staffing crisis, and I don’t think I have time for lunch.”
“Sure you do.” Sam grabbed hold of her chair and rolled it and her away from her desk. “Isn’t that right, Paul?”
Dad looked slightly mollified and still not happy. “Yes.”
“Come on then.” Sam bundled her toward the door. “Let’s get you fed. You know you’re always better after a good feed. ”
“You’re very pushy,” she whispered to him as, hand in the small of her back, he frog-marched her across the office.
He ducked his head and whispered back, his breath warm against her neck, “You really want to stay here?”
He had a point, so she grabbed her purse and coat from the closet.
As the office door shut and Elizabeth stepped into a crisp, sunny day, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “Did you need a show date for lunch?”
“Nope.” Sam draped his arm over her shoulders. “I wanted to see you.”
“Oh.” That made her all sorts of flustered and she snapped her mouth shut.
He took her to an Italian restaurant near the office. Inside the dim interior, it smelled of bread, garlic and rich tomato sauce.
Elizabeth breathed deep. “I love Italian.”
“I remembered.” He looked smug. Then he broke it with a grin. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing, so it really was a miracle I did remember.”
“Hmm.” She slipped into a booth near the back of the restaurant. She wasn’t so sure he wasn’t good at the remembering and the small meaningful gestures. She suspected his tough guy might only be skin deep.
A pair of teen boys having lunch with an older woman who could be their mother, stared at Sam and whispered to each other.
Sam slid his arms over the back of the booth and nodded to the boys.
They gaped at him and then each other, looking like he’d handed them a free pass to heaven.
“So.” Sam watched her with those incredibly blue eyes. “How’s your day going?”
Elizabeth didn’t want to talk about that, so she waved her hand. “Not great, but I’m sure yours is much more exciting. What have you been up to this morning?”
“Well, now. Let me see.” He pretended to think about it. “I woke up. Had breakfast. Worked out and reminded myself how out of condition I am, and then came to see you.”
“Sounds fascinating.” She helped herself to the breadbasket the waiter had left.
Sam leaned forward and crossed his hands on the table. “Oh, it was. Want to hear about the eggs I made, or would that drive you over the edge?”
“I’m not sure I can stand the excitement.” She clamped the niggle of disappointment. “You’re bored. That’s why you came to find me for lunch.”
“I’m bored all right.” Sam’s eyes darkened into an unreadable expression that made her flushed and breathless. “But that’s not why I’m taking you to lunch.”
Elizabeth flushed and ducked her head. She didn’t know how to handle this Sam. The one who she fought with all the time was so familiar and comfortable.
“You’re not going to ask me, are you?” Sam chuckled and picked up his menu. He clucked softly under his breath before putting the menu aside. “Tell me about your crappy morning.”
“How did you know I had a crappy morning?” She hadn’t said a word.
“You do this thing.” Sam imitated her hand motion. “Like your batting away nasty shit and then you turn the conversation to something else.”
Did she do that? She didn’t think so. “I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do.” He leaned forward and tapped her menu. “Do you know what you want?”
“Yes.” She always had the same thing here. “I’d like the carbonara.”
“Then I’ll have the same.” He motioned the waiter over. “Wine?”
“No, thanks.” A glass of wine would be great right now. “I have to get back to the office.”
“Or, you could play hooky with me.” Sam looked hopeful.
Before she could answer, the waiter arrived at their table. Sam gave their order and the waiter trotted off. Probably to tell all the others what Sam would be eating. At the very least to impress on the kitchen how important their next plate of carbonara was.
Not too long ago, that sort of thing had made her want to kick Sam, but it wasn’t him. She knew that now. He wouldn’t care what the restaurant put in front of him, as long as there was enough of it.
“Tell me what your dad did?” Sam lounged back, the long taut lines of his body making best friends with the fabric of his long-sleeve T-shirt.
She picked up another piece of bread. More to keep her hands busy than anything else. “He’s angry about a lost contract.” She told him about her run in with her dad.
Sam didn’t bother with the obvious response. It wasn’t fair and they both knew it, but that was her Dad and they both knew that too. “Why do you work for him? You don’t even like the job.”
“You know why.” She hadn’t even admitted this to Chris. “I’m that pathetic little girl who needs her daddy’s affirmation. I want him to be proud of me.”
“Yeah.” Sam took her hands across the table. “And I’m the pathetic little boy who wants to escape his mommy’s almost suffocating overprotectiveness, but instead of manning up and talking to her, h
e beats the crap out of everyone around him.”
The waiter interrupted them with their food.
Elizabeth picked up her fork. “We’re a sad pair.”
“Yup.” Sam dug into his meal like he would never have another one. “We should rebel.”
“What did you have in mind?” That twinkle in his eye beat chocolate. Chocolate!
“We should run away to Vegas and have sex for a week.”
Her fork dropped against her bowl with a clatter.
Sam winked at her and her face grew hotter and hotter. Although nothing close to the heat that seared her nerve endings and lit a fire in her core. Every female part of her yelled, Yes, please! That! Let’s do that!
* * * *
Lunch ended far too soon for Sam. He wanted to keep her with him for the remainder of the afternoon. Partly because her company pushed back the dull edge of panic around his career. Also, because he hated taking her back to Paul’s shitty office.
Sam had only ever met his own dad once, a meeting Mom still knew nothing about, but even he could see that Paul was a shitty dad to his girls. He more or less ignored Jane and let her get away with whatever she wanted. Elizabeth, he treated like an unwelcome slave.
As they hit the street outside the restaurant, he caught Elizabeth’s hand in his and twined their fingers together.
She glanced at their hands and then him, a delicate flush staining her cheekbones and making him wonder what she looked like when she was turned on. He’d like to see that. He’d really like to see that, but only if he was the man doing the turning on. He reminded her of their agreement, although that had nothing to do with why he wanted to hold her hand. “Handsy.”
Weirdest thing, but he’d never understood why men walked around with their other half gripped by the hand like this. He got it now, that small connection that kept them apart from the rest of the world.
“Hey, Sam!” The kids from the other table tumbled out after them and chased them down the street.
Liz tensed and he squeezed her hand. “What’s up, guys?”
“We wanted to…um…say thank you.” The taller of the two spoke, pushing a floppy hank of hair out of his face. “For the dunk tank. The other day.”
