by Jo Leigh
“All day?”
She looked away, and he knew.
“Your plans are with Gary.”
She put off her reply by fetching her water bottle from the floor. “We’re going for a run.”
“After that?” he asked, knowing he wasn’t going to be happy with her answer.
“Not here. It’s a trail a couple of hours away. Then lunch.”
“So it’s not a run. It’s a date.”
She opened her mouth, but once again, just like the last time she’d had to make a choice, she offered no argument.
“Okay, then,” he said, the fight slipping away. For him, it seemed Emma would always be just out of reach. “I can see where he could be the right guy for you. A spark doesn’t make a relationship. There’s more to it than that.”
“Sam—”
“They’re probably worried about you now. You should get back to the booth.”
With a sigh and nod, she got out of the Mustang. He didn’t watch her walk away.
* * *
IT WAS ONLY THREE in the afternoon, and Emma was already back in Alamo after her outing with Gary. She’d rushed it. She hadn’t planned to; in fact, she’d meant to use the day with him to readjust her expectations, to get herself back on track. It had seemed so appropriate, given they’d gone to the Cloud Climbing Rail Trail out in Cloudcroft. The run itself was easy, but the scenery was outstanding, part of a large system of old railroad tracks that crossed an old gorge and trestle bridge.
Gary had gone to a lot of trouble, bringing a full picnic lunch. They’d found an idyllic spot with great shade and a cool breeze. He’d brought a decent bottle of wine, crusty French bread with artisan cheeses and smoked meats, chilled artichokes and fresh veggies.
When she saw the spread, the picnic blanket, the way Gary was looking at her, she knew. Sam was right. It had been a date. Or at least a date calling card.
Although she wanted to tell Gary that no, she didn’t feel that way about him, she hadn’t said a word. If she wanted to be completely honest, she’d admit that up until two weeks ago she’d entertained the possibility. Sam had nailed it when he remarked that a spark didn’t make a relationship. How many times had she told herself that? That was why she’d been taking things slowly with Gary. Her plan had been to fall gently. To not get swept away in a tidal wave of passion and wild sex, but to walk into a relationship with both eyes open and both feet firmly on the ground. Great in theory.
Today she’d tried. She really had. She’d smiled and listened to his stories, asked him questions, laughed at his jokes, and with each bite of the terrific lunch he’d thoughtfully provided, each childhood tale, her perfectly reasonable plan had been derailed.
If she didn’t do something drastic, she was going to get herself into one hell of a mess.
Everything Sharon had told her that night in the car was true. Gary would be a fantastic father. He’d stick with her through thick and thin. He had every quality she’d written on her wish list. The one that wasn’t filled with rock stars and fighter jocks, that is.
Her list had matured. She wanted stability. Common sense. Someone who would never consider getting any kind of motorcycle, let alone one that could go over one hundred eighty miles an hour. He’d put her first. The family first.
The man she needed was safe and sane. He was good-looking, but in a modest way. He was fit because it was the smart thing to do for a long, healthy life.
He was Gary.
The question was, how was she supposed to switch off the way she wanted Sam? Not just wanted him but craved him. Which made her the biggest hypocritical fool of all. He was her fast bike, the flame she knew she shouldn’t touch. Did she truly have to get burned twice to learn?
And what was she going to do about Gary? He was too nice a man, too good a friend, to keep dangling. She would never want to hurt him, but it might already be too late.
No more. Even if all she could tell him was that she wasn’t ready, she had to let him know. She’d want the same thing in return.
Of course, there was one solution to the Sam situation, if she was brave enough to follow through with it. Tell him the friendship wasn’t working. That seeing him wasn’t a good idea.
He’d know it was a lie. But Sam was a gentleman down to the core, and he’d never call her on it if she told him with true conviction.
Could she, though? Was that what she wanted?
God, it was too much, and she needed to just go home, pour herself a cold lemonade and zone out in front of the TV. She’d watch a movie. Not a romance. That was for sure. The Da Vinci Code. That would work. Or that documentary the Frozen something. After a nice long shower, and once she was in her pajamas, she’d feel one hundred percent better. Refreshed. Logical. She’d be able to see the long game, not get all caught up in the kissing and the heavy breathing and what it felt like when Sam’s arms were around her and she could feel the pounding of his heart because it matched her own.
Shit.
She stopped at the red light and flipped on her right-turn signal. The second the light changed to green, she made a left instead. And without a single shred of rational thought, headed straight for Sam’s apartment complex.
God, she was hopeless.
Turning right would’ve taken her to the safety of her cozy little ranch home. She couldn’t even trust herself for one minute.
Pulling into a parking spot, she turned off the engine and let her head rest on the steering wheel. She was in trouble. Big, big trouble. Now she was even finding her way to him like a homing pigeon. She’d probably be able to use echolocation next.
Maybe she was here for a reason. Maybe it was to tell him, once and for all, that they couldn’t be together. That he was all wrong for her in every respect. Except, that wasn’t true, was it? There was so much to admire about Sam. His sense of honor and duty. His kindness and his loyalty.
Well, the bike. The motorcycle was a problem, one she couldn’t ignore.
And the underlying personality that made him want the bike and the jets and the skydiving in the first place.
She needed someone who was safe. Who would be a good dad for their children. She needed someone to be there. A man who wanted to be with her more than his buddies. And wasn’t always looking for the next big rush.
She got out of the car, tucked her keys in her pocket and headed to his door. A light was on inside, and she heard the TV when she pressed her ear up against the wood.
At her knock, things got quiet, and a moment later she heard the knob turn. The look on his face was careful, but there was surprise in his eyes.
“This isn’t working,” she said.
He stared at her. Then he stepped back to give her room to pass. “Would you like to come in?”
She nodded, stepped over the threshold and waited for him to close the door. When he faced her again, she repeated, “This isn’t working.”
“What, exactly, isn’t working?”
“This friendship.”
“Oh.” The surprise left. In fact, the very life of him seemed to vanish from his gaze. “I see.”
“It’s not working because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” she said, closing her eyes and just giving in. “I keep thinking about last Saturday night, and remembering every detail. Waking up next to you, holding you. I want that. More than I should. But it’s true, and I can’t seem to stop wanting it.”
Looking up at him now, there was a whole different man in front of her. Coming closer. Pulling her into his arms and kissing the doubt straight out of her.
“Don’t scare me like that,” he said, when he finally grabbed a breath. “Never again.”
She met his gaze, and knew there was one more thing she had to do. The hardest thing. If it blew up in her face, well, better to know now than later.
She held up her hand, put it on his chest.
He let his grip loosen, and then let her go, although not far. “Tell me. Please. Whatever it is, I can’t—”
“I was going to divorce Danny. I planned on telling him when he got to Alamo. But he died. And I never told anyone. I was going to leave him, Sam. I’d already started the paperwork.”
The way he looked at her... She stopped breathing.
10
WHATEVER SAM HAD THOUGHT Emma was going to say, it wasn’t that. He’d thought their marriage could withstand anything. Sometimes he’d wondered how Emma could deal with Danny’s absences and wild streak. Or if she suspected he might not have been faithful. Or even why Danny would choose to hang out with pilots instead of his wife, but he figured they’d worked out their own lives and it wasn’t his business. “You’ve never told anyone?”
Emma shook her head slowly, her large eyes dark and wide. But it was the way she was playing with her hands that let him know just how nervous she was about her confession. Since they’d reconnected, Sam hadn’t noticed her fidgeting with her fingers like she used to back in the day.
“I’ve felt so guilty over it,” she said, her voice catching.
“Oh, Emma. I’m sorry things had been rough for you. Even sorrier that you had to carry that burden on your own.”
Her lips parted in a sigh, but her body didn’t relax.
Wrapping his arms around her, pressing her close with her cheek on his chest, he rocked her gently.
“He was a good man,” she mumbled, her breath leaching through the fabric of his T-shirt. “He loved me. He did. I never doubted that.” She gripped the back of his shirt. “He didn’t understand that I got lonely sometimes. That I was hoping for a family. Mostly, though, I was tired of being so low in his priorities.”
Sam held her even tighter. “I loved Danny like a brother, still do. But he had an ego on him. He craved the spotlight like he craved adrenaline. Hard to compete with that.”
Her nod was tiny, but her hands loosened, so he knew something was getting through.
“The important thing now is for you to stop feeling guilty about wanting the kind of life you deserve. You’re amazing, Emma, and you’ll be a great mother. I can see you with a couple of kids. Danny did love you, you’re right. But I think he loved being a fighter pilot even more.”
She leaned back, looked up into his eyes. “Really? You knew that?”
Sam nodded, not wanting to tell her that he understood too well that Danny lived for flying. All three of them had. If Sam had married young he probably would have acted the same way, even though he’d like to think otherwise. “He did the best he could. I think he would have been sad to hear you’d wanted a divorce, but he would have understood it, too.”
“I’d like to believe that.”
He kissed her nose. “Believe it. Whatever else, he’d want you happy. That I can swear to.”
She smiled at him, and he bent to kiss her. He licked away the hint of tears on her lips, but he didn’t press. More than anything he ached to take her to bed, to comfort her and please her. But she’d just unloaded a heavy pack, and if she needed some time to recuperate then—
“Take me to bed, Sam,” she said, her lips a scant inch from his own.
Wasting no time, he led her into the bedroom, where he started to undress her, but she shook her head. “If you don’t mind, I just want to be in bed with you as quickly as possible.”
“For the record, no. I don’t mind. Take that as a given.”
That made her laugh, which was good. Great. He wished he could make all her worries disappear, but at least this one, this guilt she’d had that somehow she’d been selfish or wrong about her marriage, he could mitigate. He’d told her the truth. Danny would want her happy.
All of her clothes were already on his office chair when he stripped out of his jeans and boxers. He had to press on his hardening cock, just for a moment, to relieve the immediate ache, because there was no way not to react to her naked body. It was as if she’d been made to his specifications. Or maybe that was backward. Maybe he’d been so infatuated with Emma for so long that she’d become his ideal. He didn’t care which, as long as he could have her.
Not that he was counting his chickens. He hoped they were starting something that would last, but— Screw it. He wasn’t going to think about what could go wrong, not when he was crawling between the sheets with his dream woman.
He didn’t want to rush this. There was no hurry, despite his rapid heartbeat and the need to be as close to her as possible. “You’re right, you know.”
“About what?” she asked as she curled around him, straddling his waist. She peppered him with kisses. Nose, cheek, chin, forehead. Random little pecks that ended too quickly. It was like being licked by hummingbirds.
“The friendship thing wasn’t working for me, either,” he said, letting her have her way. Grinning when she nipped his earlobe. “Not that I wouldn’t have kept on trying, but it was sorely testing me.”
“I know,” she said, just before she licked a swipe across his lower lip. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even during class. One of my students caught me in full blush. Had the nerve to ask me what was making me so pink.”
“What did you do?”
“Gave them a pop quiz, that’s what. I don’t put up with that kind of impudence in my classroom.”
He barked a laugh. “That’ll show ’em.”
“Damn straight.” She reared her head back so she could look at him. “But it taught me a lesson. I have to be careful when it comes to you. Once I let you into my thoughts, it’s difficult to change gears.”
“You don’t have to worry about that now. I don’t want you to change anything. In fact, I can only encourage you to remember what made you blush so I can be sure to do it again.”
“Let’s see if you can work that out on your own.”
He raised his eyebrows. “A challenge, huh?”
Her grin was pure wicked fun. Not even a hint of sadness remained. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a late class tomorrow. Feel free to take your time. And be sure to show your work.”
“Why, Ms. Lockwood. Will you keep me after class if I get anything wrong?”
Lowering her lips to his, she whispered, “I have great faith in your tenacity and skill.” Then she kissed him.
The last thing he cared about was dazzling her with his moves. But he did want to make her happy and satisfied. The kiss deepened, and after all that teasing, the lingering push-pull of their tongues felt like an unbearable luxury. Her low moan sounded a lot like a purr, which was a sign he was on the right track.
He hoped she liked a slow buildup, because that was what he planned on giving her. If he could hold out. His aim was to drive all coherent thoughts from her head, to leave her wrecked by pure pleasure.
First, though, he urged her onto her side so they faced each other. As he continued their interrupted kiss, he brushed his knuckles across the tender flesh of the back of her knees, then turned his hand over and skimmed his palm slowly up her thigh. When he found the curve of her buttock, he lingered, used his knuckles again, just hard enough that it wouldn’t tickle.
She squirmed against him, making soft noises. Her open palms were exploring him, too, only she was concentrating on his chest. When she tugged his nipple between her thumb and finger she wasn’t the only one squirming.
He moved his touch to the edge of her inner thigh then stopped. Emma arched into his hand. “No fair.”
He could have played her for hours, but she let him know she wanted to move more quickly by sliding her hand down and gripping his cock. To further make her point she simply held him. No stroking at all.
Despite the persuasiveness of the gesture he wasn’t going to just flip her on her back and attack, although the idea
had merit. No, she’d said to show his work, to take his time.
He turned his lowered hand over and ran one finger down to the back of her knee, then around to the front. Still using only a single digit, he traced a path up her vulnerable inner thigh, smiling when the higher he went the wider she spread her legs.
He mapped his way up the side of her folds, maneuvering his position until he had her beautiful breasts in licking distance. A good pilot knew how to press several buttons at once, and he was a damn good pilot. Sucking her left nipple into his mouth, he swirled his tongue while down below he got closer and closer to the wet heat between her legs.
Her wriggles were becoming an issue, but he wasn’t the kind of man who buckled under pressure. But when she squeezed his cock, then stroked him with the perfect amount of pressure, he folded like a cheap paper bag.
The one finger became two as he hit moist, hot flesh. From there it was a matter of seconds to find her very hard little clit.
He took her almost soundless gasp as a good sign.
When he pulled back to switch his attention to her neglected breast, he looked up. Her pupils couldn’t have been any larger, her lush mouth damp and perfect. She narrowed her gaze, but instead of speaking she loosened her grip and scooted down until she could cup his balls. “Are you trying to drive me insane?”
He frowned. “Trying? We’re more than halfway there, wouldn’t you say?”
She squeezed. Not hard, simply as a reminder. “Maybe it’s time I took the wheel.”
His fingers, having never stopped rubbing in gentle circles, pushed inside her, stroking in and out and in harder. “Better?”
She rolled his sack in her palm, then moved back to gripping his shaft. “Remember,” she said in a very sketchy voice, “this will count for at least half your final grade.”
He sighed. “All right then. I guess I’ll have to bring out the big guns.”
“So full of yourself.”
“No, but you will be.” He’d been thinking about the move since he’d begun the slow burn, and now, all the pieces fell together in a move that would have made his hand-to-hand instructors weep. When she looked up at him this time, her head was on the pillow, her arms flung wide, and he was sliding into position between her spread knees.
