She managed to get through the line of tires without tripping, then watched Sam easily scale the wall. He grabbed the rope, walked up quickly and then sailed over the top. She groaned and walked around.
Angel shook his head. “You disappoint me,” he told her. “You didn’t even try.”
“I’m clear on my limitations. You’ll have to live with the disappointment.” She looked back at the course. “This is great. Can you get me the contracts today?”
Ford nodded. “Not a problem. I’ll get them out to you ASAP. Want to walk the trail?”
Sam had done a second circuit of the course. He cleared the wall with just as much ease and grace as he had the first time. She sighed.
“Sure. Let’s add hiking to the mix.” She briefly wondered how sore she would be tomorrow and decided to expand the Sunday morning mani-pedi event to include massages. Just in case.
Angel showed them the start of the trail. “It’s marked and goes in a big circle. If you get lost, there’s cell service.”
The tone of his voice clearly implied that only wusses would dare to call for help.
“We’ll be fine,” Sam told him.
Dellina was less sure about that but was also confident Sam would keep her safe from any creepy nature thing lurking in the foliage.
“Want to know the fastest time for completing the route?” Angel asked.
“No,” Dellina told him.
“Sure,” Sam said eagerly.
She faced the former kicker. “We’re walking the trail so we can know what to tell your guests. Maybe you can break records next time.”
“Oh. Right.” He shrugged. “We’ll walk it.”
“Fair enough.” Angel started to turn away. “By the way, I hold the record.”
Ford grinned. “You are so lying and I’m going to tell Consuelo. Someone’s getting his ass kicked.”
Angel glared at his friend. “Fine. I’m off her top time by a tenth of a second. She faked me out at the end.”
“Always with the excuses,” Ford said. He started back for the main building. “Consuelo, guess what I found out.”
Angel took off after him.
Dellina watched them. “Is it like that with you and Jack and Kenny?” she asked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She smiled. “Right, because I believe that.”
She dug her ever-present notepad out of her tote and made a few notes about the obstacle course. “Larissa isn’t actually licensed in the state of California, is she? I kind of remember Taryn telling me that.”
“She has the training,” Sam said. “But I don’t know if she sat for her boards or not. Why?”
“I’m thinking the Sunday afternoon spa experience should include massages. She would be good to have on hand.”
“Include the information in what you send the guests and have them sign waivers. If you tell them she’s our private masseuse, they won’t care about a license.”
Dellina nodded. He had a point. She would check on the legality of it all and then make her decision. Besides, they would need more than one masseuse, anyway.
She and Sam headed toward the trail. Only a few feet from the CDS warehouse was a grove of trees that stretched toward the mountains. Soon, she found herself in dense growth and all signs of civilization quickly faded.
The air was cool and quiet. If not for the gravel path, she would have assumed they were lost. A couple of dozen feet later, gravel became dirt, but she was pleased to see that the well-worn track was as easy to follow as Angel had promised.
“This is nice,” she said as they walked next to each other. She did her best to focus on her work and not notice that every now and then Sam’s arm brushed against hers. He was warm and sexy and she found herself anticipating the little tingles that shot through her with each second of contact.
“We should get one of these by the office,” he said.
She laughed. “You’re not in the middle of town, but you’re still surrounded by other buildings. How do you propose getting a forest on your property? Isn’t the basketball court enough?”
“This is better,” he said as he glanced around.
Boys with toys, she thought fondly. “You must have been quite the athletic kid,” she told him. “I was more of a reader. Fayrene and Ana Raquel were into soccer and dance. I liked taking art classes.” She paused as he looked at her. “What? You’re the one who doesn’t talk about personal things. Does that mean I can’t?”
“I like hearing about your family.”
There was something in his tone, she thought. A question? A concern? She wasn’t sure.
She stopped and faced him. He was taller than her. His dark eyes were unreadable in the twilight of the forest. She could smell earth and leaves and flowers, but none of them were as appealing as the man standing in front of her.
Oh, to not be working with him, she thought. Just for five minutes so she could inappropriately throw herself at him. Not that she would. That had never been her style. But a girl could dream.
“It’s normal to share information,” he told her. “I get that. You tell me something personal and I respond in kind.”
She risked putting her hand on his forearm. “Except you don’t roll that way. You want to keep things private and I’m okay with that.”
“I don’t roll that way?” he repeated. “Did you just say that?”
She grinned. “Maybe.”
He moved toward her. For a second she thought he was going to... Well, she wasn’t sure what, but a kiss would be nice. Or a declaration that being near to her drove him so crazy he couldn’t control himself. Hmm, what would an uncontrolled Sam be like? she wondered wistfully. Amazing, for sure.
He raised his arms. For a second she thought he was going to pull her close. Her heart started to beat fast and flutter a little and her throat got tight. His hands were headed straight for her shoulders. Okay, not exactly a traditional hug position but she was open to experimenting. If he—
Sam dropped his hands to her shoulders, turned her around so she was facing the trail, then gave her a little push.
She held in a sigh.
“I wasn’t athletic as a kid,” he told her as they walked down the trail. “I was sick.”
She stopped and faced him again. “Sick how?”
“Asthma. It was pretty bad when I was little. I outgrew it, but my parents were protective.” He grimaced. “Especially my mom. My dad had played professional basketball and Mom was an equestrian. One of my sisters played volleyball professionally and the other had planned on playing women’s basketball until she was discovered by an agency and became a model.”
It was probably as much information as she could have gotten off of Wikipedia, but still. This was Sam telling her personal stuff. She had a thousand questions—about his parents and his sisters—but she could only focus on one fact.
“I’m sorry you were sick. It must have been tough for you.”
He shifted uncomfortably and reached for her again. This time she knew what he wanted and started walking again. He fell into step beside her.
“It wasn’t fun,” he admitted. “I was the youngest and the smallest. I hated always being left behind. Once I started to get better, I wanted to play sports, but everyone was worried. When I insisted on going out for football, my mother practically chained me to my bed.”
“She might have thought you were overcompensating.”
He shot her a sideways glance. “You’re not the first one to suggest that.”
She grinned. “Then I’m in good company.” She paused as the path curved. As Angel had promised, it was easy to see where to go.
“You compromised on the kicking.” She could see how that would be less stressful on his body. Almost no direct
hits. Kicking was more about skill than brawn.
“I practiced until I was good, then tried out for the team without anyone in the family knowing. When I made it, my dad signed the paperwork. Mom and my sisters didn’t know until the first game.”
Dellina thought about how she would have felt if they were talking about her son. “I’m amazed your dad is still standing.”
“She wasn’t happy, but she got over it.”
“And the rest is history,” she said. “Now you’re in a profession that’s safer. She must like that.”
“She does.”
“You were married before.”
The words popped out before she could stop them. Because while bringing up other personal information with anyone else was no big deal, it was with Sam.
“Not that we have to discuss that,” she added softly.
He didn’t speak for a second. “I was. It didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry.” The statement was automatic, because in truth, she wasn’t sorry. Married Sam wouldn’t be interesting at all.
“It happens. She wrote a tell-all after the divorce.”
For the third time, she came to a stop. This time when she faced him, she had her hands on her hips. “There is no way. Seriously? A tell-all? About you? That’s horrible.” She drew in a breath. “You know that’s not normal, right? It’s one thing to be mad at your ex, but that’s what girlfriends are for. You complain to them. Maybe send a hostile email. But a tell-all?”
“I have really bad luck with women.”
“Including finding the only one in town who has dozens of wedding dresses stored in her house?”
“Yup.”
She smiled. “Except I turned out to be not so bad.”
“That’s true.”
He raised his arms. She dropped hers to her sides.
“I know, I know,” she began. “We need to keep moving.”
“No, we don’t,” he told her right before he pulled her close and kissed her.
She was so not expecting to be pulled against him, nor was she anticipating the feel of his warm, firm mouth against hers. All the previous anticipation heightened her senses and made every point of contact, every bit of pressure, even more tingle-worthy.
He kissed her lightly at first, then with more intensity. His mouth lingered, as if he liked touching hers.
His hands rested on her hips. The light contact made her want to squirm closer. As it was, she was already nestled against his broad, hard chest. And thinking about that made her wonder if other things were hard and if he was interested in...
His tongue touched her lower lip. Electricity surged, blood heated and her breasts swelled until they were uncomfortable. She parted her lips for him. At the same time she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself over to the kiss.
He tasted sweet and hot, and the slow, leisurely way he began to explore her mouth had her melting from the inside out. He circled her tongue and teased the tip with his before retreating just enough to make her want to whimper. Then he was back with deeper thrusts and intense attention.
Her chest was tight, as if breathing had become difficult. She wanted him with an intensity that reminded her the last time she’d made love had been several months before and it had been with the very man kissing her now. Before that...well, she couldn’t remember how long it had been.
She was about to tell him that the leaves were probably very comfortable when Sam drew back.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “That was unprofessional.”
For a brief second, she thought he was talking about his performance, which to her mind had been completely spectacular. But then she realized he meant the fact that they worked together and still had the big party to prepare. Desire and arousal battled with her love of her career and common sense. Internally she stomped her foot and threw a hissy fit. On the outside, she nodded sagely.
“We’re equally to blame,” she said, her voice as normal as she could make it. “It was one of those things. No big deal.”
“It won’t happen again.”
Instead of asking “Why not?” she nodded again, turned and started walking more quickly. She ignored the humming sensation inside of her and the gnawing need that made her want to whimper. She was a strong, self-actualized woman. And if things got really ugly, she had a massage showerhead back home.
* * *
SAM STOOD OUTSIDE of Dellina’s small house. She’d left him a message, saying it was important. So here he was. Except she hadn’t asked him to come over. He’d made that decision on his own. He could have called, and that was why he was standing on her porch instead of ringing the bell.
He wanted to see her. The kiss had been a rookie mistake. He knew better, but there had been something about the way she’d been standing there, looking all sexy and pretty and charming. He’d reacted. He knew the dangers of getting involved and he’d kissed her, anyway. Because there was something about Dellina. Something that made him make bad choices.
He raised his arm and pushed the bell. He was going to tell her that, he decided. Admit he had a problem where she was concerned and say he was going to back off. Let her handle the party without him being involved at all. He trusted her to get it right. That would be better for both of them.
Her front door flew open and she stood in front of him. The second she saw him, she started grinning and dancing in place.
“I did it!” she told him. “I totally and completely did it.” She motioned for him to step inside, then closed the door behind him and twirled in place.
Her long wavy brown hair fanned out behind her. She was barefoot, in jeans and a T-shirt. She radiated happiness and excitement and it was contagious. Or maybe it was just being around her, because all he wanted to do was join in the dance and then kiss her until they both forgot why he was there.
She came to a stop in front of him and grinned. “I found the perfect person for the lecture. She’s a bestselling author and a teacher and both men and women are going to love her.”
She motioned for him to follow her, then led the way to her office. On the way, he noticed the spare room was now empty of all wedding gowns. Even the racks were gone. A futon had been pushed against one wall and there was a floor lamp. The dry-erase board was still in place. He saw Fayrene’s current suggestions for getting Ryan to propose included “Pretend to be pregnant” and “Learn to make pot roast.”
He stepped inside and wrote “no” by the former and “yes” by the latter. Dellina watched from the doorway.
“Offering commentary?” she asked with a grin.
“I don’t usually give advice but in this case I’m feeling confident.”
They went into her office. She reached into her large bag and pulled out a book.
“Sex,” she told him happily.
All the reasons not to disappeared as he started to say yes. So what if it would lead to disaster? This was Dellina and he’d wanted her from the first second he’d seen her. Having her once hadn’t been nearly—
His gaze dropped to the book in her hand. It was like being plunged into a frozen lake. At first there was nothing, then icy cold claimed his body and he couldn’t do more than stare at the familiar cover and let the horror overtake him.
“Lark Heuston said yes,” Dellina told him proudly. “She was already coming here for a signing and she’s agreed to stay through the weekend. She said the timing was perfect because she has family in the area. She’s going to do the lecture and maybe a demonstration. Sam? Are you okay?”
He tried to speak and couldn’t. A demonstration. He swore silently, knowing exactly what that meant. Or worse, guessing. Because whatever he imagined, reality would be so much worse.
He cleared his throat. “You do realize that when Lark Heuston says demonstration she mea
ns exactly that. Having sex onstage. Or possibly showing a video of it.” Because the book in question was about using tantric sex to strengthen a marriage and the author was nothing if not thorough. “She’s done a series of instructional videos.”
He could barely say it and he sure didn’t want to think about it.
“She wouldn’t really get naked and do it in front of people,” Dellina told him.
“I sure hope not, but she has in the past.”
“You know her?”
He nodded.
Why? Why now? Why here? Why couldn’t she leave him alone? He tried to tell himself that knowing she was coming would mean he could prepare. Based on what Dellina had just told him, the original plan had been for her presence to be a surprise.
“She’s bringing her husband,” Dellina was saying. “They’re well into their sixties, I think. I can’t imagine them having sex in front of us.”
“I can,” he said grimly.
“How do you know her?”
“She’s my mother.”
CHAPTER SIX
SAM DIDN’T REMEMBER walking back to Score, but suddenly he was there, pushing through the front door. He must have left Dellina’s and gone through town. It was all a blur of her pointing out that he and Lark had different last names. He’d explained how his mother had used her maiden name with her work and that yes, he’d seen several of her lectures and workshops. They were etched into his brain, just one more in a series of hideous memories from his childhood.
He loved his entire family, including his mother, but growing up with them had taught him that not every intimate detail needed to be shared. He hadn’t wanted to know that his parents had enjoyed a new sexual technique the night before or that his sisters had their periods. He hadn’t wanted to talk about his own sexual development or, back when he’d been a teenager, have his mother ask him, over breakfast, if he’d masturbated yet that day. He’d just wanted to be normal and have parents who understood that some topics shouldn’t be discussed.
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