Her dad would have liked him.
She forced the thought away. For so long, her memories of her father had been bitter ones. Not that he had caused Emily’s accident—his action in the car had saved her sister’s life—but the way he had changed afterward. Had become someone so different he had frightened her.
But being here with Sam was bringing back the happy memories, memories of being loved and cherished.
Sam checked the delivery from the hardware store. ‘It’s all here,’ he said. He looked around him. ‘Your dad had a good collection of tools. That orbital saw is in good nick. I’d like to use it.’
‘Help yourself,’ she said. ‘And anything else you need. Nobody else uses the tools.’
‘Not even you? Not after what your father taught you?’
‘No,’ she said, her tone letting him know she didn’t want to talk any further about her father.
She stepped back from Sam, though there wasn’t much room to move in the confined space of the shed. Wherever she stood, she wasn’t far from him. She was aware of his proximity, the way his muscles flexed as he hauled the timber into place, the way he looked so good in those jeans.
She liked the assured way he handled the pieces of timber as he showed her how he intended to construct the arch. ‘There will be four sturdy supports and four corresponding brace supports across the top,’ he explained, running his hands along the length of the timber. ‘Building it with four supports instead of just two will make it much more stable.’
His hands were large and well-shaped, strong but deft. She refused to let herself think about how they would feel cradling her face, stroking her body...
‘Tell me where you want to drape your fabric and I’ll insert a series of pegs you can wind it around to keep it in place,’ he said.
‘That sounds perfect,’ she said. ‘Clever you.’
‘The actual structure will be quite big and cumbersome,’ he said. ‘I’m going to use hinges so we can easily dismantle it to get it to the beach in your van and put it together again.’
‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to work on the logistics of that. Like, when do I attach the fabric, and how do we get it to the beach early enough so it’s a surprise? We might have to let someone else in on the secret.’
Sam paused and looked searchingly at her. ‘Have you spoken to Sandy about getting the fabric yet?’
She couldn’t meet his gaze. ‘I’ll do that tomorrow.’
‘Are you sure you won’t change your mind about going to Sydney?’
‘No,’ she said firmly so he wouldn’t be aware of the fear thudding through her at the thought of getting in a car and driving to Sydney. ‘As I said, it’s too inconvenient.’
‘You’ll be letting your friends down—’
She spoke over him. ‘Don’t you think I know that?’ She wanted her voice to sound firm, even a little angry, at his interference but it came out shaky and unsure.
She turned her back on him and picked up one of her father’s pliers from the shadow board. She remembered it was one of his favourite tools and hung it back again on the exact spot where he had so carefully outlined its shape.
She tried to avoid the empty section of shadow board where her set of child-sized tools had hung. Her dad had bought them for the birthday she’d turned eleven. After he’d left, in a fit of anger and grief she’d pulled them down and hurled them to the ground, wanting to destroy them. She didn’t know what had happened to them after that.
‘I see where you got your organisational skills from,’ Sam said in a voice that was too understanding.
A voice that made her want to rest her head on his broad shoulder and confess how confused and scared she was. Tell him she didn’t know what was wrong with her, that she was letting her friends down. How she was dreading letting Sandy know she wouldn’t be going to Sydney.
Instead, she pasted on her bright, cheery smile and turned back to face him.
‘Can I tell you again how much I appreciate you doing this for me?’ she said.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said gruffly and she knew she hadn’t fooled him one bit. ‘Now you’ve told me your dad taught you some handywoman skills, I guess I can count on you to help.’
‘I’m not that great with saws or drills. But I can hammer and use a screwdriver, and I’ll put my hand up for sanding. I’m very good at sanding.’ She picked up a sanding block from the bench to prove the point. ‘The surface will have to be really smooth. We don’t want Sandy’s gown catching on it and snagging. Can’t have a bride with a snagged gown—not on my watch.’
She was aware she was speaking too rapidly. Aware that it wasn’t just from nervousness but acute awareness of Sam—his perceptive brown eyes that saw right through to her innermost yearnings; the heat of his powerfully muscled body that warmed her even without them touching. Just looking at his superb physique and so handsome face made her feel wobbly at the knees.
Towering above her, he seemed to take up every bit of the confined space. When he took a step closer it brought him just kissing distance away. She would only have to reach out her hand to stroke that scar on his eyebrow that she found so intriguing, to trace the high edge of his cheekbone, to explore with trembling fingers his generous, sensual mouth.
Looking intently into her face, and without saying a word, he took the block from her suddenly nerveless fingers and placed it on the bench. ‘No need for that right now,’ he said. Her breath caught in her throat in a gasp that echoed around the walls of the small space.
She didn’t resist when, without another word, he drew her close, cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her. She sighed with pleasure and kissed him right back, her heart tripping with surprise, excitement and anticipation. Hadn’t she wanted this from the day she’d first seen him?
His lips were firm and warm and, when his tongue slipped into her mouth, passion—so long dormant—ignited and surged through her. She quickly met his rhythm with her own, slid her hands up to rest on his broad shoulders, delighted in the sensation of their closeness.
This was how a kiss should be. This kiss—Sam’s kiss—consigned any other kiss she’d ever had into oblivion.
His breath was coming fast and so was hers. Desire, want, need: they all melded into an intoxicating hunger for him.
He pulled her close to his hard chest and his powerful arms held her there, her soft curves pressed against him. His kiss became harder, more demanding, more insistent. She thrilled to the call of his body and her own delirious response.
They kept on kissing. But the force of his kiss pushed her backwards against the wall of the shed so it pressed hard into her back with no way of escaping the discomfort. Suddenly her mind catapulted her back to the farmer forcing his unwanted attentions on her. He’d backed her into a boot cupboard, confined, airless—like the shed she was in now.
Sudden fear gave her the strength to put her hands flat against Sam’s chest and push him away. ‘No!’ she cried. He released her immediately.
Swaying, she gripped on to the edge of the bench beside her.
His breathing came fast and heavy; her own was so ragged she could barely force out words. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I—’
‘I rushed you,’ he said hoarsely.
‘No. It wasn’t that. Things moved so quickly. I was...scared.’
He drew his dark brows together in a frown. ‘Scared? I would never hurt you, Kate.’
‘I...I know that. It’s just...’ There was no easy explanation for her behaviour.
‘Just what? Is there something wrong?’ His voice was rich with concern, which only made her feel worse.
‘No. Nothing wrong,’ she lied. But she knew she should tell him that it was nothing he’d done. That it was old fears, old hurts, that were tethering her. ‘Sam, I—’
At that moment her mobile phone rang. She picked it up and swore silently at the voice of the panicking staff member at the other end. She put the phone back in her bag and turned to Sam, unable to meet his eyes.
‘Th...there’s an emergency at the hotel they seem to think only I can solve.’ She didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed at the interruption.
‘Go,’ he said.
‘What just happened—I’m sorry.’
‘Nothing to be sorry about,’ he said. ‘You’re needed at work. You have to be there. No one knows that better than I do. Work comes first. It...it always has with me.’ There was an edge to his voice that made her wonder what was behind those words. Again she wondered if she wasn’t the only one with secret hurts in her past.
‘Are you sure you’ll be okay here?’
‘Sure. It will be good to get stuck into working on the arch. I want to get as much as I can done before I leave for Sydney tomorrow.’
Saying goodbye was awkward. Now there could be no denying their mutual attraction. They were not friends, so no casual kiss on the cheek. Not just business contacts, so shaking hands would be inappropriate.
The kisses they’d shared had changed everything, had broken the barrier of business that they had constructed between them and had left her wanting more kisses—wanting more than kisses. But she’d freaked out and pushed him away. What must Sam think of her?
* * *
The emergency at work took longer than Kate expected. The glitch in the online reservation system had required rather more than the tweak she’d initially thought. It was more than two hours later before she returned home. She headed for the shed but was disappointed to find it empty.
The pieces of timber Sam had been working on lay across her father’s pair of old wooden sawhorses. Wood shavings and sawdust had fallen to the floor and their sharp fragrance permeated the room. Sam’s leather work gloves, moulded to the shape of his hands, sat on the bench top. She picked one up. It still felt warm from his body heat. She couldn’t resist the temptation to put it to her face and breathe in the scent of the leather and Sam. It was intoxicating.
Where was he? She was surprised at the depth of her disappointment that he hadn’t waited for her. Had her reaction to his kiss made him leave?
Her mobile phone rang from her handbag. Her mum. ‘We heard you come in. Sam’s in the house with me and Emily.’
Of course.
Why hadn’t she realised that would happen? She’d told her mother that Sam would be using the shed. Mum, in her hospitable way, would have popped in to see how he was and next thing she’d probably have invited him in for a cup of tea.
Sam looked quite at home on the sofa drinking tea, as predicted, with her mother and Emily. His big boots were propped by the door and he was in socked feet. She drank in the sight of him, looking so relaxed and at ease in her home. Her heart seemed to swell with the pleasure of it.
‘Sorry, I got held up, Sam,’ she said.
He immediately got up to greet her. His eyes connected with hers, probing, questioning. But his voice was light-hearted. ‘As you can see, I’m being well looked after. Dawn’s chocolate fudge cake is the ideal fuel for a hungry man.’
There was a tiny smear of chocolate on the top of his lip that she found endearing. She fought the impulse to lean over and wipe it off with her finger. Tried to fight the thought of what it might be like to lick it off, then follow it with a kiss that would show him how much she wanted him and negate the awkwardness of their earlier encounter.
‘Sam was working so hard out there, I thought he needed feeding,’ said her mother.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ she said. ‘You always think people need feeding.’
‘You mean you’re going to pass on a piece of chocolate cake?’ said her mother.
‘Of course not,’ Kate said, affecting horror. ‘Bring it on, please.’
‘Sam’s been filling us in on your project,’ said Emily. ‘I love the idea of the wedding arch.’ She laughed. ‘Sandy’s plan to have just her and Ben and Hobo on the beach with no one else sure isn’t going to happen.’
‘It will still be simple and intimate, but with just a few more guests and a lot more to eat afterwards,’ said Kate, unable to prevent the defensive note that crept into her voice.
‘Sandy won’t regret it,’ said Dawn. ‘Your wedding day should be something really special you can always look back on with joy. Sandy will thank you, sweetie, for taking it in hand for her.’
‘Did you say Hobo was going to be part of the wedding?’ asked Sam. ‘You mean Ben’s dog?’
As a guest at Hotel Harbourside, he would be familiar with the big, shaggy golden retriever who was often to be found near the reception desk.
‘Yes,’ said Kate. ‘He’ll be wearing a wide, white bow around his neck.’
‘If he doesn’t chew it off first,’ said Emily.
‘How well trained is Hobo?’ asked Sam. ‘I’m thinking about the arch.’
‘Oh no, you don’t think he...?’
Sam shrugged. There was a definite twinkle in those dark eyes. ‘Dogs and lamp posts. Dogs and trees. Why not dogs and wedding arches?’
Kate stared at him. ‘Noooo! Hobo lifting his leg on our beautiful wedding arch in the middle of the ceremony? Not going to happen. Someone will have to make darn sure he stays on his leash.’
‘Another job for the wedding planner,’ said Sam. ‘Better appoint an official dog minder and write them out a schedule of duties.’
There was a moment of silence. Kate saw her mother and Emily exchange glances. Did they really think she would take offence at Sam’s teasing?
Emily laughed, which broke the tension. ‘Sam, have you ever got Kate sussed out already.’
Her mother laughed too, then Sam, and Kate joined in. It was warm, friendly, inclusive laughter.
‘Kate, we’ve invited Sam to stay for dinner,’ said Dawn. ‘If that’s okay with you.’
Sam caught her eye. She could see he liked being here, liked her family. But he was waiting for her to give her okay. Had the kiss they’d shared made any difference?
‘That’s fine by me,’ she said.
But she knew she’d have to be on guard all evening. Their passionate encounter had made a difference to her. She could no longer deny how strongly she was attracted to him. And she knew beyond a doubt she was in serious danger of developing deeper feelings for Sam.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TELLING SANDY SHE wouldn’t be going to Sydney for the bridal party’s night out was every bit as difficult as Kate had dreaded it would be. And then some.
Kate cringed at the hurt in her friend’s eyes. Her excuses for why she was dropping out of the trip were weak and didn’t stand up well to interrogation.
‘I totally don’t believe Emily needs you to be here with her tonight,’ Sandy said.
Neither would her fiercely independent, mobile sister if she’d known she’d been used as an excuse. In fact, Emily would be furious.
‘Is this about Sam?’ Sandy asked. ‘Are you mad at me and Ben for throwing you together with him?’
‘Not at all. I really like him. Seriously, I do.’ The cursed blush crept into her cheeks.
‘Then why?’
I don’t know! Tell me and we’ll both know.
Kate bit down on her bottom lip to stop it from betraying her with an about-to-cry quiver. She felt so bad about letting Sandy down. But she’d suffered enough humiliation over the Jesse disaster not to want anyone—even Sandy—to know she couldn’t even explain to herself why she was staying behind.
‘I’m sorry but I just can’t go. Can we leave it at that?’
Sandy eventually gave up her questioning. But Kate felt more and more miserable by the minute.
The wedding party had d
ecided to go up to Sydney in one car. Kate stood in the driveway of Hotel Harbourside, perilously close to tears, as she watched Sam throw his overnight bag into the boot of Ben’s big SUV.
Just as she thought he was about to leave, Sam turned and strode towards her. ‘Last chance. Are you sure you won’t come with us?’ he said in a voice lowered for her ears only.
There was nothing she wanted more than to go with him. To throw herself into his arms and say ‘yes.’ But she was terrified of what might happen when she tried to get into the car.
Poor Kate.
In her mind, she could hear the shocked exclamations as if they were really happening.
No way would she ruin this moment for her friends, or endure further humiliation for herself.
She looked back up at Sam and mutely shook her head.
He met her gaze for a long moment, then frowned, obviously perplexed by her behaviour. ‘Okay,’ he said and turned away. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow when we get back.’ He made no attempt to touch her, to kiss her goodbye. But then why would he, when she had so soundly rejected his last kiss?
Would he ever want anything to do with her again?
Shoulders slumped, she watched him head to the car. Ben and Sandy sat in the front and Sam climbed in with Jesse in the back. If she’d gone with them, would they have expected her to sit in the middle between Sam and Jesse? She wouldn’t have let that happen. She would have wanted it to be just her and Sam.
As the car pulled away from the hotel driveway she turned her back on it and dragged one foot after the other, away from the hotel. No way did she want to wave them off. She wished she could have gone with them to celebrate the wedding of two people she cared about, who both deserved their second chance at happiness.
But something she didn’t understand was holding her back with a grip she seemed powerless to resist. She knew what would have happened if she’d tried to get into that car—pounding heart, nausea, limbs paralysed.
The Tycoon and the Wedding Planner Page 9
