One thing he knew for certain. She cared more for him than anything he could buy her.
Rolling onto his back, he brought her with him, so her body fit tight against his. His erection settled between her thighs.
"Ever make love in the great outdoors?" Her eyes glittered in the afternoon sun.
He laughed. "Does a balcony count?"
She shook her head. "Afraid not."
"Then the answer is no."
"I could rectify that." She shifted so his erection sat poised for entry, the only barrier between them their clothes.
Her sensual moan shook his common sense, but he managed to swallow a groan of assent. She smelled like his Samantha, a scent that aroused him beyond reason. Her hands shook in his and he knew she felt the same. Her body, hot and wanting, ground against him. For a woman filled with embarrassment in the beginning, she'd grown comfortable around him fast.
His gut told him this maneuver was meant to dodge emotional intimacy. His body, near to bursting, asked him who the hell cared. From somewhere, and he had to dig pretty damn deep, he found a remnant of self-control. "It's tempting, but I have to say no."
"Because we don't have protection? There are other ways to enjoy ourselves."
Because no matter how much he wanted her, he refused to let her hide her feelings and emotions behind sex. Again. "There's something I'd rather do," he told her.
She raised an eyebrow in eager expectation. "And that is?"
"Hold you." With a jerk of his hips, he dislodged her from her perch and rolled so he could capture her in his arms again. She squealed her displeasure, but he ignored her protest. Grasping her slender hips, he pulled her against him, her back solid against his erection.
"At least I know you want me," she whispered.
"Wanting isn't the issue."
"What is?"
"Being with you in the time we have left." Silence greeted him. Well, what had he expected? An undying declaration of love? An admission that she didn't want to leave? The honesty they'd shared today had been enough of a start.
The sun beat overhead. A breeze that grew warmer by the hour blew around them, and a bird chirped in the distance. Bit by bit, her tense muscles slackened and relaxed.
"You make me happy, Mac." Easing herself onto her back but not out of his reach, she grasped his hand and held on tight.
The truth from her heart. As a gift, he'd accept it. He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. "I try."
She smiled and he raised her hand to his lips, kissing each of her knuckles in turn and then the ring that would bind them forever. Whether she knew it or not.
8
Two days had passed since he had held her in his arms so tenderly. Other guys would have jumped at the chance for easy sex, but not Mac. The man she loved. Damn him, anyway. Why did he have to be so chivalrous? So irresistible? So very hard to walk away from.
The last forty-eight hours had been spent in an almost unbearable combination of dialogue and cuddling. No sex. After he'd rejected her advances, she knew better than to try again. And he hadn't, either. The white knight she'd met that first night had reasserted himself. And she loved him for it.
Sam hustled between the tables, serving customers and taking orders, but even the loud crowd at the bar couldn't take her mind off the war raging inside her. What did she owe her father? More important, what did she owe herself?
Although Mac had never mentioned a future, he had forced her to take a long, hard look at the woman named Samantha Josephine Reed. What she discovered amazed her. She'd never known she was capable of intense passion, the kind that meant tossing aside her inhibitions and letting go. With Mac, she could be wild, wanton and not the least bit embarrassed.
Okay, maybe a little embarrassed, she thought, remembering the red marks she'd left on his shoulders and the shriek that echoed throughout the Arizona countryside. But he really did do amazing things to her body with that mustache. Just the thought had her clenching her thighs together with need. She shook her head to dislodge the memory before she spilled the drafts of beer on her tray.
He'd also taught her the meaning of love. Soul-deep, touch-your-heart, burning love. The type she'd believed existed only in fairy tales. The kind a woman was lucky to experience once in a lifetime, and even luckier if she was able to keep it.
Well, Sam had found it. Not that she had any idea whether Mac's feelings echoed her own. He certainly acted the part of a man in love, but that was the point. How much was real, how much fantasy?
Though he'd encouraged her to open up to him, every time she thought she caught a glimpse into his heart, he retreated. Because she'd intentionally pushed him in that direction? Or because he too had wanted to leave reality behind for a short time?
A time that was almost over. Sam had to walk out of this bar tomorrow, hopefully with more dignity than she'd had walking in.
She served a small table of customers by the front door and ducked outside for a breather. She inhaled deeply. Now that she wasn't an underdressed hiker, the cool night air was but one thing she'd grown to love about this place.
"Hey, Sammy Jo." Mac's voice broke the stillness of the night and interrupted her thoughts.
A good thing, considering the direction they were taking. Good heavens, was she even considering breaking her engagement? Who would believe good, well-behaved, sensible Samantha Reed would do such a thing? Well she'd never believed herself capable of seducing a stranger, either, but that's exactly what she'd done.
She'd gone and fallen in love with him, too. Old-fashioned, head-over-heels, happily-ever-after in love. But did she have the nerve to act on her feelings when it meant going back on her word to Tom, breaking her promise to her dying mother and most important, betraying the father who was counting on her? Could she risk losing what sense of family she'd managed to find? In essence, turning her back on every honorable ethic that had been instilled in her since birth?
But where were her father's ethics when he'd allowed her to accept a marriage proposal that bordered on extortion, a little voice asked. Since meeting Mac, she'd done a lot of unique things, and talking to herself ranked right up there. It seemed to be becoming a habit, she thought. An annoying one, especially when that voice seemed to make more and more sense.
"What are you doing out here by yourself?" Mac asked.
"Taking a break. Waitresses get a couple a night, don't they?"
He swung himself onto the wooden porch railing. "Mine do."
"Who's watching the bar?"
"Who do you think?"
She grinned.
"What else are you doing out here?" he asked.
"Mmm. Just thinking." Her gaze traveled over the body she'd already memorized inch by tantalizing inch. "Any reason you wear the same type of clothes to work each night?" she asked.
He glanced down. Not that he'd notice, but the white shirt pulled tightly across his chest, and his faded jeans stretched snugly over his muscular thighs. Tailor-made for his athletic build.
He shrugged. "Cuts down on that shopping men hate so much."
She laughed.
"And?" he asked.
"And what?"
"And what else is going through that beautiful head of yours? You only come outside for air when you need time to think."
She cursed his perception. She loved how well he knew her. But she hadn't come to any conclusions herself yet, and she certainly couldn't share the process with him. "I was wondering how to tell Zee."
"Tell Zee what, honey?" The screen door opened wide and the older man stepped through.
"Now it's a damn convention out here," Mac muttered.
She glanced from Mac to the older man, both people she'd grown to care about. "How to…" She cleared her throat. "How to say goodbye."
Mac frowned at her choice of topics. Turning to Zee, he asked, "Who's watching the bar?"
Zee didn't answer. Maybe because his mind, too, was on her departure. A light wind picked up and Sam
shook her hair out of her eyes. She twisted the ring on her finger without meeting Mac's gaze.
"You ever think of giving people privacy, Zee?"
"If Sammy Jo wants me gone, she'll say so."
Mac rolled his eyes.
She didn't think she'd ever meet a character like Zee again. Despite his antics, the old man had a sharp wit and an even sharper mind. She had a hunch that Mac relied on Zee's aged wisdom more than he let on. She loved the old coot for that, Sam thought. At least when she was gone, she'd know someone was looking out for her sexy bartender.
A lump formed in her throat, and she reached out to pat Zee's weathered hand.
He turned to Mac. "You ever think maybe I want to say a personal goodbye to Sammy Jo? Besides, you have thirsty people inside, so get."
Sam looked into Mac's serious gaze and her heart twisted. Both knew they had all night ahead of them. And neither wanted to think about tomorrow.
"You heard the man, Mac." She forced a smile. "Now get."
"I've got the two of you ganging up on me," he muttered as he rose and headed inside. The door slammed behind him.
"He's a good boy, Sammy Jo."
"I know."
"And you're a fine lady. I knew it the minute you hobbled into the bar. Don't ask me how. At my age, if I can't trust my instincts, I got nothing left to trust."
"You're perceptive," she agreed.
"But you're both young. And stupid. You think because you are young you've got all the time in the world." He looked up into the star-filled night sky and shrugged. "Maybe you do, maybe you don't. But if you ask me, it'd be a damn shame to waste any of it."
"Life's more complicated than that, Zee."
He placed his hand over hers. "Only if you make it that way, honey. We've all got choices. You make the right one."
She sighed, wishing the right thing for herself didn't involve so much grief and heartache for others. "Whatever happens, I'm glad I met you," she told the older man.
He smiled. "Me, too. Bear called and he'll be back tomorrow, his lady in tow. Think I'll be called Grandpa any time soon?"
She grinned. "I hope so."
"Think you'll stick around long enough to meet my son?"
"What I think is that you're trying to work your way back to the subject of what I'm planning to do."
His cackle echoed into the night. "You're pretty perceptive yourself. At least I know Mac found himself a woman who won't let him get away with any crap."
She most certainly wouldn't, Sam thought. And immediately wondered when she'd decided that.
* * *
Mac sat on the edge of the bed and stretched his arms over his head, groaning in what had to be absolute exhaustion.
"Long night?" Sam asked. She glanced out of the bathroom where she'd been washing up to see him flop backward, hitting the mattress hard.
Good. He wouldn't be joining her any time soon. If he peeked inside, she'd lose her nerve. Another glance told her he'd kicked his feet out in front of him.
"You have to ask?"
"No." She understood only too well. An emotionally draining week lay behind her. Every night at the bar had been physically exhausting, and tonight was no different. But she refused to let a week of passion-filled bliss end on a down note.
Tonight was their last time together, and no matter how chivalrous he thought he was being, she intended to get under his skin one final time. They deserved closure. She needed to feel him inside her one final time. With a little luck, she'd give him something to remember, too.
"The bar was busy tonight," she called out to him. "More than usual?"
"About the same. Bear won't complain that I lost business while he was away."
"Good. Have you rented above this place long?"
She thought she heard a grunt, but with the water running from the faucet in the sink, she couldn't be sure. "Can't hear you," she called. "But I'll be out in a few minutes."
"Take your time."
She paused to splash cold water on her face and brush her teeth before undressing and redressing, making sure the hooks and clasps latched onto their proper mates. The whole process should have taken no more than a minute, but she'd never worn a contraption like this before and her shaking hands added to the ordeal.
"The darn thing should have come with an instruction manual," she muttered. She didn't know how she'd walk out of the bathroom dressed like this, and she wanted desperately to change into the nightshirt lying in the other room. Instead she snapped the last clasp in place and drew a deep breath. She'd bought the lingerie on a whim, brought it with her on impulse, but never, ever had she planned on facing a live male while wearing it.
That was before she met Mac. He'd changed her plans. She feared he would change her life. Right now she needed to make sure he was occupied and not peeking.
"Listen to us discussing the day's business," she called out. "We sound like an old married couple."
Silence punctuated her statement. Silence that gave her time to think and realize she'd blundered. "Oops. I probably shouldn't be joking about being married with a man I've known less than a week." More silence. "The M-word probably has you thinking of ropes, as in a noose around your neck. Ball and chain, maybe." She laughed aloud, a nervous laugh, and not only because he still hadn't answered. She'd just described her views on her upcoming marriage, the thought of which frightened her more every minute she spent with Mac.
Speaking of whom, maybe he'd fallen asleep. No, she couldn't get that lucky. "Okay, Mac. I get the point." She drew a breath for courage and prayed he wouldn't think she looked like a fool if he was up.
Considering the prolonged silence, she doubted he was awake, which didn't stop her from rambling, but did give her the courage to walk into the room. "I know marriage wasn't the brightest thing to mention to you, considering you're just my…" She stopped cold at the sight that greeted her.
He lay on top of the covers, wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy briefs and his amused but always sexy smile. He'd crossed his arms behind his head. "I'm your what, sweetheart?"
Mac nearly choked when Samantha walked in. She was clad in a black lace one-piece get-up, with a push-up bra exposing her breasts, a meshlike design covering, or rather uncovering, her midsection, and sexy lace underwear connected by crisscrossed straps to thin garters, which drove him wild. "My God, that thing can not be for real."
Wrong thing to say. She darted for the bathroom so fast he had to belly flop across the bed in order to reach her before she slammed the door in his face.
He managed to grab her wrist, though she tried to duck inside the other room. "You had the guts to put it on, so don't run out on me now."
"I don't know what I was thinking," she muttered. "I look stupid."
He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He realized the nerve it must have taken her to put the outfit on, but he still couldn't believe she could look at herself in a mirror and not know. "There are a lot of words I'd pick to describe how you look, Sam. Stupid isn't one of them."
"Really?" she asked in a soft voice. "Like what?"
Releasing his hold on her, he backed up and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You come out of that bathroom and I'll tell you."
She moved to the entrance, and Mac took that as his cue. He leaned back on his elbows and studied her. She stood in the door frame, black lace silhouetted by the white molding. Long legs, silken skin and hidden secrets all his to explore and unravel. He swallowed hard. "You look… sexy, for one thing."
She took two hesitant steps forward on bare feet. Her toenails were painted a glossy red. Funny, but he hadn't noticed before now.
"What else?" she asked.
"Hot," he said in a seductive whisper. "Red hot."
Her hesitancy seemed to vanish as she tossed her mane of black hair over one shoulder and took three more steps toward him. Close, but not close enough.
The pulse worked in her neck, teasing him, tempting him to taste, if she let him near.
"W
ild," he continued. "Wanton…" Her violet eyes were wide with wonder as each word bought her another step closer. "Seductive, desirable…" He held out a hand. "Erotic, sensual…" She laced her fingers through his, and he pulled her so she landed on top of him on the bed. "And mine."
Her luscious scent enveloped him the same way her long limbs wrapped themselves around him. He pushed his hands into her hair, winding the strands around his fingers and tugging her head toward him so he could seal his words with a long, mind-drugging kiss.
His lips parted, her tongue took advantage and Mac groaned, crushing her to him with his arms. With Samantha, he didn't have to coax a response. Their rhythms met and matched, slow and surreal one minute, hot and devouring the next.
When she lifted her head, she was panting as hard as he was. He managed to hang on to reality by a slender thread. "You never answered my question," he said.
"I don't remember any question." By the dazed look in her eyes, he believed her.
"I'm your what?"
Her cheeks turned a fiery red. "I thought you were sleeping."
He grinned. "No such luck." He slid his hand over her waist, feeling the combination of warm lace and cool skin. Deciding he liked the feel of her skin best, he settled his hand on her behind. "I'm your… what?" he prompted again.
"Lover," she muttered without meeting his gaze.
His gut constricted. He'd sensed her intention all along, but he disliked hearing it stated so baldly. He had every intention of changing her mind, after he calmed her fears and reminded her of how perfect they were together. He'd spent the last two days cementing the emotional bond between them… as much as possible given her tendency to withdraw. But he wasn't about to pass up one last chance to be with Samantha. In this bar, in this place where she'd come to belong.
"I am that," he told her. And he planned to be much more.
He let his other hand travel over her hips until he was able to edge one finger beneath the lace border of the lingerie she wore. Her breath hitched and he grinned. "You always travel with this in your suitcase?"
"I saw it in a store and…" She blushed again. "I was curious."
Brazen Page 11
