Taking care of his mother and younger sister had forced him to realize his mistakes and grow up fast. The females in his family had relied on him for financial security and emotional backing. He couldn't afford to let them down, and after his initial lapse in judgment, he hadn't. Mac had trained himself to be wary, which was why he remained silent now.
This woman's vulnerability appealed to him, and he wanted a fresh read, a chance to be liked as an ordinary guy with no preconceived notions getting in the way.
He glanced over. She sat fiddling with the top layer of her skirt. "Do you live alone?" she asked, this time without meeting his gaze.
"Completely."
"Oh. Oh. Good." A blush made its way through the dirt and makeup that stained her cheeks.
From embarrassed to brazen and back again, he thought. "Good?"
"For my feet." She forced herself to stand on her own. "And my dignity. Do you think I could wash up?" she asked.
He nodded. "While you're at it, I'll send a tow for the car and I'll have one of the boys pick up your suitcases."
"The boys?"
"They surrounded you when you first came in. Now they're eyeballing you from across the room."
She grinned. "Oh, those boys. They drive?"
"Not legally."
Her laughter filled the room and a few other places inside him he'd thought were frozen for good. "About those suitcases," she said. "How do you know I have any?"
"Sweetheart…" His gaze trailed over her shapely body and white skin. "Everything about you screams tourist."
He reached out to help her walk, but she shook her head.
"I can do this."
"Okay, but I'm right behind you if you need any help. Up those stairs." He pointed to the darkened hallway in the corner, and she headed off in that direction, unsteady on her feet. "One of you boys watch the bar," he called to the group of regulars that Bear trusted as much as he did his best friend.
Mac stared at her retreating back, watched as she climbed the stairs, leaving him on the step below. Her silken skirt ended midthigh, which wasn't a problem when they were on the same level. But he hadn't anticipated the view once she hit the middle of the stairs. Nor had he realized how sexy and feminine her undergarments would be. As the short skirt flounced behind her, a hint of lace teased and tormented his already-active libido. Heat rolled over him in a huge wave. He broke into a sweat.
And to think, he'd almost refused to help Bear because he had a number of huge conventions arriving throughout the week. He was glad he'd delegated to his staff, entrusting the numerous doctors, lawyers and financiers to his employees. He wouldn't have missed this for anything.
As he followed his sexy, straggly visitor upstairs, he realized he'd seen more of her than he'd seen of any other woman in a long while. And he didn't even know her name.
* * *
She'd found her man. Too bad she had no idea what to do with him. Samantha closed the bathroom door behind her and stripped off her skirt, shaking the residual dust into the tub. Who'd have guessed the first man she laid eyes on, the first man under eighty, she amended, would be the one?
Her questions hadn't exactly been subtle, but with those dark, deep-set eyes staring into hers, and that mustache lifting over a sensual grin, she'd barely been able to pull herself together enough to think clearly.
She pictured him waiting on the other side of the door, and her pulse pounded in a combination of anticipation and apprehension. There was no question the dark-haired, gorgeous stranger suited her perfectly. A bartender in an off-the-beaten-path tavern, he was a man she could thoroughly enjoy and then never see again. As long as she could work up the nerve.
Samantha located the towels he said would be on a shelf over the toilet, and hung one over a hook on the wall. She glanced around the room. Small but with all the proper amenities and stark in a masculine sort of way. No frills. Just a toothbrush and a bottle of aftershave lay on top of the vanity. She picked up the black bottle and brought the nozzle near her nose. One illicit sniff of musk and she was no longer alone. His scent surrounded her. He surrounded her.
She'd never been with a man wearing a mustache and wondered what kind of stimulation it would add to an intense sexual experience? She shut her eyes. Her senses soared and her imagination took over. Soft lips, warm breath and an erotic rush of sensation playing over her already-sensitized skin. Firm yet gentle lips nibbling their way up her legs, the rasp of whiskers along her thigh. She cupped her breasts and felt as if his hands had settled over the tight fabric, as if his fingers plucked and pulled, bringing her nipples to life.
She opened her eyes to find herself standing alone in the unfamiliar bathroom, thoroughly aroused and completely appalled. She had never done anything like this before, had never even felt anything like this before. Without meeting her gaze in the mirror, she removed her hands from her chest and focused her attention on turning on the shower instead.
Her hands trembled, hindering the process. How could she want one man so badly? A man she barely knew. She didn't know the answer to that question any more than she knew how she'd find the nerve to go through with this seduction. Coming up with her plan from the safety of her apartment had been easy. Contemplating her bleak future had carried her resolve through the long plane ride out here. But now, faced with a sexy, masculine stranger in the flesh…
Samantha trembled. All she had left was this week. She hadn't planned her life this way, nor would this be the choice she'd make if her father's future weren't at stake. But it was. And if her life came down to this one week, she'd better make the most of it. Her chance waited just outside the door.
If she wanted to find a way into his arms, she'd best start by cleaning herself up. But first, she needed to get a drink to soothe her parched throat, she thought, reaching for a nearby glass and filling it with water. That decided, she felt more confident. In a few hours, if she was lucky, she'd discover… how to scare the poor man half to death. Samantha caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and gasped, dropping the glass into the sink. With her dirt-streaked cheeks, tearstains and tangled mass of hair, how could she have considered seducing him? Whatever made her think he'd be interested?
Without warning, the door burst open and she had company. "What the hell was that?"
Her grab for the towel came too late because her fantasy lover stood in the door frame staring at her practically naked body. Okay, he'd seen her shirt before, but the sexy underwear, her one concession to femininity beneath the tailored suits she wore to work, left her midriff completely exposed. She glanced down. The small triangular scrap of material between her legs showed more than she wanted him to see at the present time.
"Well?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Not if her life depended on it. She was more concerned with covering herself. She tried to remove the towel from the hook on the wall, but the shaking of her hands hindered the attempt.
She turned to gain better leverage and heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Those things ought to be outlawed."
Her hands went to her behind, covered only by flimsy lace with scalloped edging, and at that moment, Samantha discovered she wasn't as brave as she'd planned to be. She was mortified.
How could she even think she could seduce a man? Nothing showed like inexperience, and though she'd had relationships before, she'd never tackled a one-night stand. After the impression she'd made, she wouldn't be doing so tonight.
She'd blown her chance and devastated her ego. Not bad for a night's work.
He brushed past her. A powerful dose of his masculine scent overwhelmed her like an aphrodisiac. As if she needed more than just a look to arouse her beyond belief.
He yanked the towel off the hook, making the maneuver look easy. "Cover yourself," he growled.
Startled by his tone, she turned to look at him. His eyes had darkened, the smoky gray transformed into deep charcoal. Color highlighted his cheekbones and those firm-looking lips were pulle
d into a tight line.
"Now." He shook the towel before her eyes. "Or I won't be responsible for my actions."
"Yes, sir." Her gaze slipped to his waist and the telltale bulge in his tight jeans. Pure female pleasure stirred inside her. Her technique might need work, but she hadn't botched things after all. Her doubts scattered, along with her short bout of self-pity. This man wanted her, and she refused to question her good fortune.
Taking her time, she accepted the towel, wrapping the soft terry around her body until she could tuck the free end between her breasts. "Done," she said, with what she hoped was a flirtatious smile.
A hoarse groan escaped her companion. "Time's up," he muttered.
Samantha swallowed hard. "It is?" To her chagrin, her voice trembled when she spoke. "You mean, now?"
She'd given him the location of her car and the keys, and she'd hoped to have clean clothes in which to seduce him. Her plans hadn't included his take-charge personality. The differences between fantasy and reality came back to haunt her again. She wasn't ready.
She'd have preferred a little get-to-know-you time first. She'd have liked a shower. Obviously, he had no need for such prerequisites, and nervousness once again replaced her prior certainty.
Yet when he held out his hand, she placed hers inside the large, warm palm. Touching him provided a sensual pleasure she couldn't have imagined. If she allowed herself to think about what was to come, she'd pass out on the tile floor. His long fingers wrapped around her smaller hand. Fingers she had no doubt could bring great pleasure.
"Well?" he asked.
"Well, what?" He couldn't possibly expect her to make the first move. She licked her lips, uncomfortably aware of the small bathroom space and his overpowering presence.
"Can we get on with this before the room becomes a sauna?"
Apparently the man wasn't into preliminaries. Samantha hoped he liked to bask in the afterglow, because the way things were going, this wasn't going to be the slow, sensual experience she'd envisioned.
"I don't think…"
"Oh, for God's sake. You don't want to go first, I will. My name's Mac," he said, shaking her hand with a determined grip. "What's yours?"
2
Mac stood in the door frame of the small bathroom, unable to believe he'd burst in without warning. When he'd heard the shatter of glass, he figured she'd come face-to-face with a rodent of some kind. Instead, she stood half dressed, staring at him as if he'd invaded her privacy. Which, considering the room she was in and her state of undress, he had.
"My… name?" She blinked, obviously startled.
"Yeah. I've seen pretty much everything, sweetheart." And he knew what she looked like when she was cold. His gaze inadvertently went to her chest, now covered by layers of terry cloth. "I doubt telling me your name would be considered a breach of etiquette."
She blushed scarlet. "Sam…" She paused in thought. "Just Sam."
She hadn't removed her hand from his, and he let his thumb drift over her skin. She didn't seem to mind, or she was too flustered to notice. Either way, he liked the way her palm fit into his.
"Sam." He played with the name, tossing it around in his mind, savoring it on his lips. Then he thought of the rounded breasts and the darkened nipples visible beneath the white top. His imagination conjured two perfectly shaped, creamy white cheeks. A masculine name didn't suit her and he shook his head. "Doesn't work for me. Short for Samantha?" he guessed.
She exhaled loudly. "Yes. But that doesn't work for me."
He smiled, enjoying this woman, if not yet understanding her. "Mind if I ask why not?"
"I'm on vacation, and I'd like to forget the people who call me that… at least for this week."
A runaway like himself. He understood the need to escape from life, work and the people who occupied those other worlds. Family gave Mac the best alternative, but they weren't close enough to offer a quick reprieve. Courtesy of her husband's job, his sister's family lived a couple of hours away, and with the birth of his first nephew, Mac's mother had moved out of the hotel to be closer to Kate. With his only family miles away-including a new baby he didn't see nearly often enough-Mac understood his recent restlessness. In fact, it was almost as if he was itching to settle down himself.
Short of that, Bear's place was his best and closest means of escape. He glanced at the woman whose hand he still held, wondering how far she'd run. And from what. "And after the week's up?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I go back to my life."
"To being Samantha."
"That's right." She pulled her hand back and hugged her arms around the fluffy towel. "I haven't had a vacation in years. So I thought I'd take a little time for myself before I go to a conference next weekend."
"Name someone who isn't in town for a conference. Arizona has become the convention capital Florida used to be." Which was why he was so successful.
His father had purchased desert land dirt cheap in the mid-1950s. After the older man's death, Mac had sold a small portion for much more than he'd ever imagined, and expanded the small bed-and-breakfast inn that had been his family's livelihood. By catering to the vacationer and the conference-goer, The Resort had become a gold mine. And the once-middle-income Mackenzies, Mac, his mother and sister, had become millionaires.
A fact he had no intention of revealing to Samantha until he got to know her better. "Okay, Sam." She nodded her approval. "Now that we have that behind us, we can move on." On impulse, he raised her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss on her wrist. Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath his lips.
She jerked her hand free. "No, we can't. I just met you and I'm not about to hop into your bed." She didn't speak with much conviction, nor did she seem to realize the leap she'd made.
"That's good, because I don't remember inviting you," he said with a hearty laugh. "But trust me. When I do… you'll know it."
"Oh…" She stared at him, wide-eyed and embarrassed.
Mac had never seen such mixed signals. Earlier, she'd appraised his body as if it were meat in the deli case. She wore sexy underwear he'd never seen anywhere but in a catalog, sensual clothing that invited seduction, yet she was holding on to that towel with a death grip. He deliberately tuned out the memory of what she looked like without it. For now.
The innocent or the seductress. Which woman was his Samantha? He couldn't think of her as Sam any more than he should be thinking of her as his. But he liked the contradictions in her character and wanted her to stick around.
After suffering the attentions of too many fortune hunting women, he was intrigued by her honest responses. But before he seduced her he had to be sure.
"I was trying to suggest you take a shower." He backed off, walking toward the door.
"Mac, wait."
He turned.
"I'm sorry. I'm new at this… I guess you can tell, what with me jumping to conclusions and rambling and…"
He stepped back inside the small room, effectively silencing her with his presence. Walking toward her he stood close enough to temptation to make himself sweat… without the aid of the steam-filled bathroom. Unable to help himself, he reached forward and took a lock of ebony hair, wrapping the satin strands around his finger as he spoke.
The pulse at the base of her throat worked overtime. "New at what?" he asked.
"This. Whatever's happening between us." She gestured to them both.
"Is there something between us?" After her vehement rejection, he needed to know what she wanted before pursuing anything further.
Her violet gaze met his. Honesty and sincerity shimmered in their depths. "You know there is."
He admired the strength it took for her to admit there was something brewing, even though the pull between them was too strong to ignore.
"And what are we going to do about it?" He unraveled her hair from his finger and ran the fine ends over the skin beneath her jaw. "Sam?" He breathed her name, suddenly finding it important to respect this woman's wishes.
> A tremor shook her body and she sighed softly. "I don't know." She leaned forward, until they were separated by a fraction of air.
Body language was telling and Mac had his answer. He wanted to close the distance between them. He needed to taste her lips and learn her secrets, and he had a hunch this intriguing woman had many. But her answer wasn't good enough.
He looked into her soft eyes. She wanted him, but there were things she needed more. Like a shower and some time to herself.
"You think about it… and let me know." He straightened and dropped her hair, letting his fingers graze her shoulder as he did. "The rental place is sending out a replacement car. In the meantime, I'll leave your suitcases in the next room. Come on downstairs once you're cleaned up."
She smiled. "Thanks. You're a nice guy, Mac."
He groaned. He wasn't nice, he was horny. Which made him wonder what it was about this woman that had him acting so noble. He had no doubt that with some soft words and coaxing hands, he could have been inside her body.
Instead he was headed downstairs to a bar full of customers, a bunch of nosy old men and one major problem, he discovered when he hit the bottom step.
"What do you mean, Theresa's waiting to talk to me?" Mac looked over Zee's shoulder to where his one-and-only cocktail waitress sat nervously shredding a paper napkin to bits. "Shouldn't she be working?"
"She's served a few glasses while you were upstairs. Broke a few, too," Zee muttered.
"Why the slippery fingers?"
"She didn't like Hardy's hand on her rump." The old man's cackle filled his ears, but his expression quickly sobered. "Her Mama broke her hip coming out of the tub and her mind's not on work."
Mac muttered a curse, knowing he couldn't keep Theresa here when she was needed at home. Even if this was one of the busiest nights. "I'll talk to her. Anything else I should know?"
"Hardy's behind the bar watering down the drinks. Earl's downing more than he's serving, and the sexy lady's luggage is in the corner," Zee informed him.
Brazen Page 2
