“Not too hard or it will break,” he said, trying again, knowing she’d get the inside joke. He almost went on about how it wasn’t Ellen’s fault and how his construction job was in full-swing right now, even though it hadn’t been since the end of summer.
Instead he lost the rational train of thought and listened to a new one.
For the first time in a long time, a thought about them worked its way through mental gates he’d locked long ago. Had to be that slip and those eyes of hers. Sam needed a minute to play catch-up to his brain.
But there it was.
What she’d planned to do for him tonight meant the world.
That was Emma. Always trying to help where he was concerned. He smiled and towed the line he’d drawn so long ago in his mind. They were sitting so close to each other. He could reach out and touch her if he wanted. Damn, he wanted to. Sam curled a finger and cupped her chin that jutted out. The simple touch amazed him as it warmed and awakened memories he’d done his best to forget. Dang it, he thought. This was no time to get nostalgic.
“Hey, you know me. I was just ready to make the change.” He pulled his hand back sharply.
But she gave him that “nice try” look. It would be cowardly to pretend with her.
“Fine, I admit.” Sam folded his hands together to keep from reaching out to her again. “I knew Ellen wasn’t happy with my day job and wanted me to cut back those hours. But that’s not something I’m willing to do. Honestly, Emma, it was my choice to quit. Truth be told, the money here has been great, but my heart hasn’t been in it the past few months. You know that.”
A long piece of bang that looked to be bugging her fell down the middle of her forehead. He tried putting it back with the others on the side but it fell again. The softness of her hair jarred another memory back to life from that one night when he’d held her head to his shoulder after hurting her. He’d ignored what his heart wanted plenty the past two years. Why should she believe he was listening to it now where dancing was concerned?
His head hurt, fast-forwarding and recalling her walking in on him with that barely dressed, drunk bridesmaid wrapped around his waist a few months ago. For the record, he never got naked in the S room but that point was probably moot. Emma was his best friend but she was still a girl, and he’d learned they could be sensitive about that stuff, even if they played it tough. Like she did. All. The. Time.
“It’s all good, Emma. I’ll find something else to fill my nights.” He’d meant another night job but kind of adored the way her eyes grew wide just then and the tips of her one ear poking out became red. She rubbed her neck and her fingers disappeared behind her hair. Another speed bump in their sentimental road made his chest burn.
Damn, not good, man.
That was when the memory he both loved and hated hit him. He should leave here, now.
Because taking over her rubbing and adding his kisses along her neck was something he’d done that night he’d hurt her and vowed never to do again.
Surprised as much as he was haunted just now, he would not go there. Also, he’d apparently left her speechless which never happened to Emma Chester.
“Emma, I just meant that I’ll get another night job.”
“Oh. Well, you are a workaholic, Sam Jason,” she said. Somehow he knew she was just trying to be funny to lighten the mood and make up for her misunderstanding just now.
He leaned in for a friendly hug with the intention of extracting himself from this shrinking room.
Her breath tumbled out and landed on his neck in a hot little puff.
He never got goose bumps and had to look around her head and shoulders at his arm to verify that was what had just happened. Yep, there they were, making the hairs on his forearms stand up. The way his body responded knocked the air from his lungs and finally took his footing from underneath him, landing him on his butt as he scooted out of their embrace.
“Are you okay?” she asked as he felt his back move against the wall.
No. In fact, he was ashamed of the slip in control as the thrill of that shot of her breath reminded him. He’d once thought of nothing else besides making love to her and had been pretty damn reckless in going after it as a twenty-one-year-old man. Didn’t matter that they’d been best friends since they were thirteen. In fact, that was what should have stopped him. How much time she and her family had given to improving his home life should have been his reminder not to touch. Not to kiss.
The sudden mind game didn’t stop there.
Tight knots shot up through his gut. Damn, he was not getting aroused, except for damn, he was. It was her eyes and her hair and what she’d been trying to do for him. He pushed down and adjusted the growing and inappropriate bulge so it didn’t bust the overworked zipper of his god-awful, tight pants. As soon as he did that, she finally spoke.
“You’re still in costume.” He watched her chest rise and fall with her deep breath, wondering what exactly it meant.
God, was she responding to him? He’d lie if he didn’t still have the clearest picture of her smile taking over her face when he came off the plane to meet her and her parents. She’d even told him how good he looked in his Army uniform. Haunted by the knowledge of how badly he’d hurt Emma trying to make love that night, he prayed for her sake that he was wrong. And now here he was thinking what? Two years he’d lived up to that vow. There had to be a way to crawl back into the hole he’d dug where feelings for Emma were buried.
Then she did the most dangerous thing of all. She crawled over to the wall where he’d escaped, reached out, and touched his shoulder.
“Didn’t have time to take it off,” he said and came out of his squat to rest on his knees, preparing to get up and leave before he did something stupid.
He could not hurt her again, and he was dangerously close to breaking his vow.
This was about quitting one job and replacing it with another, finances, and upholding secret arrangements with her parents who he loved like his own. Not drudging up the night he’d put everything on the line and asked her to be his, how eager she’d been to say yes, and how he’d screwed it all up. But now he couldn’t ignore the flood of fire as Emma’s brown eyes did their best to lie for her, same as his tried on his behalf.
“Emma, I should go. Gotta clean out my locker.”
Get some fresh air and a pair of pants that aren’t so damn tight.
He vaguely noticed the slight shake to the ends of her hair before she said the words that rocked his world, taking this completely off the playing field he’d been prepared to run around.
She rubbed at the tip of her cute little nose. “I only took this job because I knew if you left without me that night, you’d find a way to stay away for good. For my good. Just like you’re trying to do now. I’m calling bullshit, on all of this. I’ve wanted to be yours since the eighth grade, Sam. You tell me how to quit that. I’m tired of lying.”
Chapter Three
Whatever craziness she was saying, it jolted them into the present which was eons better than returning to the raw, uncomfortable past. Right? Maybe not.
So why had she done it? Why blurt that out and come off task?
This was just Emma reacting to not having control of the situation. Her manager stripes were showing. She was losing her best friend—again—and it had her acting like an amateur. Her toe tapped and she wiped at the stain on her shirt-dress. Someone should invent a vacuum to suck stupidity back up.
Sam, meanwhile, could double as a Caesar’s Palace statue. Physical, Italian perfection on the outside, but who knew what the hell was going through him on the inside.
His stoniness cracked and he cleared his throat, which left her mesmerized for a secret second. To be that strong, that unafraid. God, he was beautiful, especially in those military dress whites.
“My civilian clothes got snatched up.” They glanced together over at the laundry basket where his jeans and T-shirt lay amongst the rest. They both knew it was her doing.
&
nbsp; She nearly died at the way he avoided her now.
Without looking her way, he said, “Emma, you know I don’t have the answer to your question. Aside from what we’ve been doing this whole time.”
The façade she’d just blasted out of the water floated around big-bang style. The pieces would never fit quite the same after this meeting. But if the feelings hadn’t dimmed in all this time, didn’t that mean something? To be fair, he hadn’t copped to having the same lingering ones as she did. That would be great, and humiliating.
“You didn’t have to quit, you know. It was just a suspension. Ellen wanted you to get some rest. Come back recharged. Yes, cut back on your construction hours, but…this is your livelihood.”
He watched the words coming out of her mouth and she wondered if his toes gripped to the same tight, invisible ledge as hers. As easy as it would be to answer no, the realest, rawest parts of her knew that was impossible. Because she knew Sam too well. He cared for her, more than any other human being had, aside from her parents. He was formidable when it came to accepting reality and moving on.
Although, for a minute, he looked to be reconsidering.
The “I’m two weeks older than you” side of him came out and he held up a silencing finger. “This place is not my livelihood.” He blinked and shook his head like she’d insulted him. “Ellen didn’t just want me to cut back, she wanted me to quit the day job. Is that what you wanted me to do, Emma? Work here exclusively?” he asked her, letting that bossy finger fall until it landed on her hand. She pulled away and he let her. Sam grabbed at his hair like she’d just frustrated the hell out of him. He never did that. “You know what staying here would mean as much as I do,” he said so low she thought she’d imagined it. His jaw gave and fell an inch before he raised it back up.
Brakes.
The kind strong enough to bring a plane to a dead halt after it had been plucked going full speed from the sky.
That’s what she needed. Because Emma was pretty darn sure he’d just admitted something huge.
More importantly, just bringing it up said it mattered to him.
As long as they worked together at S, there would never be an Emma and Sam.
****
Shit, he shouldn’t have said that last part.
Throwing that out there was a pussy move to pull. He could already see her mind taking orders from her heart.
Bad news. That would get Emma hurt.
She dug around in a drawer and another pouch of candy corn landed in his lap.
Unprepared for the scorching tenderness he felt, she touched the short hair on top of his head. He swallowed. She had him drowning with that look, and then she glanced down where their knees touched and shook her head.
“I know how much working on the school means to you so no, I wouldn’t want you to give it up.” The palm of her hand grinded against her forehead. “I won’t see you every day now,” she said still looking down through her long bangs. The pointed strands framing her cheek bones got stuck in the corner of her mouth. Unthinking, he pulled them free.
“Says who? Hmm?” he said, unable to remain distant no matter how important it was to keeping her safe and unhurt. More and more, he remembered the ways he’d memorized her much smaller frame, taking mental notes of how careful he’d need to be. And then how in the heat of his own selfish need, he’d lost all control and forgotten. Only acting on the need to make her his.
Her shoulders hiked and she looked up then, pinning him with doubt.
“What?” he asked, grateful the lights were relatively dim, a reminder this wasn’t a real office and rather a hole-in-the-wall room where she worked her ass off doing any number of things for him not in her job description. After tonight, when he walked out of here and never came back, she would continue doing those things for the guys and not him. “Hey, look at me.”
The sides of her nostrils were red, and she tapped a stray pen against the ground. “Ellen let me know I’m being considered for her job next summer. I guess she’s moving back home to Texas.”
He smiled at her good news, even though the mood had taken a sharp downward turn. “You’re gonna make an excellent head manager, Emma. The guys will be lucky to have you. The show will be even better, draw even bigger crowds. You’ll finally get to change the club name.” He should really give up on the stabs at humor. They were painful to the ears, was all he could think when she said the next thing, breaking his heart into fresh pieces.
“But you won’t be here. What if I asked, begged you not to quit?” she said, her eyes searching his.
No, he wouldn’t let her do that. He licked his dry lips and reached out a pinky to link with hers. Sam was so damn confused right now. The soldier in him hated that indecision. It was crap and wouldn’t serve either of them any good.
The frustration mounted to a fever pitch and without any other way to find ground, he let himself hang. Just to understand something—anything—about the last half hour with her.
No wasted time. Fix this, Sam. Just say it. Say it and get it out there.
“Earlier, that whole thing about liars. I’ll man up and be completely honest. I don’t know which way is up or down right now, Emma. Everything about you since I walked in here has been, man, it’s been calling me out. Like you want me to go there again.” He shook his head and sucked in a giant breath at the thought of holding her once more like a lover. Enough time had passed that seeing Emma again would be a brand new adventure for his eyes, his hands, his heart. Damn, his lips. Snap out of it, moron. But he couldn’t. Not completely. “Me staying here… We both know that would mean no you and no me. Don’t be that liar, Emma. ‘Cause I can do one or the other, but I can’t play both ends. And at this point, I’m pretty sure there isn’t a hole deep enough to bury this again.”
“You’re right,” she said and looked past him at the door.
Her jaw worked, and finally she stood. All five feet of her. His words had been harsh, but if she wanted him again, she needed to be honest so he could make her understand how that was a bad idea.
“There’s only one way past this that I can see. Come somewhere with me, Sam.”
She glanced over at the washing machine which gurgled and chugged.
Chapter Four
Yes, eager for a way through the muddy ocean they’d just created in the pond-size space of her office, he nodded yes and made sure to catch every freckle, every bit of movement tumbling across her face in that instant, just in case she’d chewed off too much and he walked out the club doors and never saw her again.
The deathly close observation he had of her showed him a slight tremble in her shoulders as she stood there trying to look unbreakable. No doubt the performance was for his benefit as she led and he followed.
He’d have said no but knew there was no chance of that happening. He had to know what was going on in that stubborn blonde head of hers.
Sam’s every muscle tensed and ached for her to lay one finger on his skin. But she didn’t. She even took her pinky back from where they’d linked them when she stood up and he followed suit.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Do you trust me, Sam?”
“Of course,” he said without thinking.
“Do you believe that I trust you?”
That one took him longer.
He wanted to regain her trust more than anything in the world, especially now that they’d gone and opened up old wounds. “Yes,” he said but knew the wishful answer hadn’t satisfied her. And somehow, being suspended or fired or quitting his job didn’t matter as much as whatever they were delving into right now. This had become something more. Way more.
She answered for him. “No you don’t. And that’s why before you leave here for good, because we both know that’s what’s gonna happen, I’m going to prove to you once and for all that I do trust you. No matter what,” she said and held out her whole hand this time, not just a pinky. “You coming? We don’t have all night.”
/> Was there any sense in arguing the finer points?
Unsure of exactly what would happen, he was keenly aware he could not do anything to jeopardize her job as manager if that’s where this was heading. Sam took Emma’s hand as she led him from her office and then abruptly came to a halt. Unprepared to be stopping in front of the room she usually avoided at all cost, he banged into her which sent her tripping into the door frame. The sudden, hard contact fired him to life. He felt himself throb, his groin grew tight. These Navy white pants didn’t hide anything.
“Damn. Sorry. But you’re taking me to the S room?” His voice was never high like that. If anything, he thought maybe she’d been about to ask him for a motorcycle ride over the new Hoover Dam bridge to prove her trust in him. Hell, he’d have been more prepared had she gone and fetched some random show guest and thrown the two of them in there while she stood outside, “trusting” him. This? Wanting to go inside S room? With him? Nowhere on his radar.
There was something about this room she hated.
And very little else to do inside besides be together. Which he was sure she also must hate after the way he’d hurt her before.
He had one word for her and feared like a little girl that saying it would be the one thing to push her away for good. But he had to say it.
“No.”
This wasn’t a place to enter on the premise that you trusted a person. You either went in here not caring a damn about what might happen, like most of the show patrons he’d brought, or fully aware and in control of yourself. No in between. Sam had watched her tow the line throughout their entire conversation.
“I won’t take you in there. You’re not ready. Don’t be stubborn and ask me how I know that. I just do.”
“It’s not up to you right now.” Her lips stopped speaking, and it was clear that was the last thing she would say until he either followed her in or left her in the hallway, alone.
Stay for Me Page 3
