"About?"
"What it would be like to wear it. Whether I'd really feel hot, sexy… any of those words you used before. I never actually planned to wear it for a man."
He felt absurdly pleased by her answer, because she'd changed her mind and had dressed in sexy lingerie, just for him. Another part of her answer bothered him, though.
"Are you telling me you never felt any of those things before?" He touched her intimately, finding her slick and wet. She moaned softly in his ear. "Because you're so damn responsive, I'd find it hard to believe."
"Oh, Mac." Were those tears glistening in her eyes? "Would you believe me if I said I only felt those things, felt that way, with you?"
"And that's a bad thing?" He licked the errant drop of moisture on her cheek with his tongue.
"No, it just is," she murmured.
He hated seeing her upset. "Now that you've had the experience, what do you say we get you out of this contraption?"
His question had the desired effect and her mood shifted. She grinned. "I'd like to see you try."
Rolling off him, she wriggled to the top of the bed, giving him an enticing backside view. He groaned and followed her up to the headboard. A small white tag hanging from behind her neck caught his eye.
He grasped the label and caught a glimpse before she turned to face him. "Hmm. Expensive little number."
"What?"
He chuckled. "You left the price tag on."
She buried her face in her hands. "I'm mortified," she cried. "I can't even perform a seduction right."
"Trust me, sweetheart. You seduced me just fine. There's only one problem."
She raised a questioning brow.
"You spent a lot of money on something I'm going to rip off you sometime in the next few seconds."
"Oh, really." Not to be outdone, she reached over and cupped his groin, running her hands up and down his full, straining length. "If you ask me, it was worth every penny," she purred.
He stilled her movement with an iron grip. "Not if you keep that up." He clenched his teeth in an effort to stop the waves of need that threatened to erupt too soon.
Her soft laughter only inflamed his desire.
"Witch," he said, and she grinned. "You are something, Sammy Jo." This woman in his arms did things to his heart, body and soul. She was an enticing combination, his innocent seductress. No schemes, no guile. Just Samantha.
"Oh, yeah? Then prove it."
"Fatal error," he growled, and reached for the spaghetti strap on her shoulder.
Beneath the sexual innuendo, the flirtation and the seduction lay deep emotion. Sam knew it. She'd bet Mac did, too. The thought didn't scare her as much as it should have considering how much still lay in their way.
The elastic straps held her arms prisoner against her side. Not that she couldn't move if she wanted to, but considering the hungry, possessive look in his eyes, why would she want to?
Charcoal eyes bore into hers. "Never dare a man on the edge."
She grinned. "Is that what you are?"
With one finger, he traced the scalloped lace covering her cleavage. "I don't know, sweetheart. You tell me."
She dared a look downward. His erection seemed to bulge and grow larger beneath her heated stare. "I'd have to say you're right." Her tongue darted out, moistening her dry lips.
He exhaled a low growl. "Do that again."
She licked her lips, and Mac ran his finger over the moisture she'd created. He tasted salty and male, and just touching his skin with her tongue caused a tight pulling sensation between her legs.
"And all this self-control is costing me a lot, wouldn't you say?" he asked.
"I… yes."
He placed his wet finger over the mesh covering her nipple. She moaned. He rubbed back and forth, increasing the friction until a rigid peak formed under his touch. As if there were a string connecting her breasts to the damp heat between her legs, she felt the tugging stretch and expand and she clenched her thighs together to ease the strain.
"Not that I mind, but at least one of us ought to take advantage, wouldn't you agree?"
At this point, she'd agree to anything he said or did. He seemed to sense how quickly he'd brought her to the edge and yanked the lace cup down, revealing her to his sight, exposing her for his mouth. His hand began a rhythmic kneading motion of her breast at the same time he clamped his lips over her rigid nipple. She caught a glimpse of his dark hair against her white skin and felt the coarse strands against her flesh.
This was right. She knew in that instant, she belonged to him. The knowledge freed her mind in a way she hadn't allowed all week. He nipped with his teeth and soothed with his tongue until she couldn't stand the unfulfilling pressure. She needed him inside her, completing her, but the pulsing, pounding wouldn't be denied.
Grabbing his wrist, she shoved his hand between her legs. He gave one upward thrust with the palm of his hand against her swollen heat. That's all it took and Sam climaxed, a huge wave washing over her, causing her to shake with unrestrained passion and need. Though he'd taken the edge off her desire, she still felt swollen and empty. Needy because she'd come without him inside her.
"You know that self-control I mentioned earlier?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
She forced her eyelids open. "Yes."
His slate eyes appeared black. "It's gone, Sammy Jo."
With what Sam thought were extremely nimble fingers under the circumstances, Mac freed the clasps on both her shoulders and the garters. He tore the garment off her with much more ease than she'd put it on. She would have been annoyed, if she didn't want so badly to be naked beneath him.
His briefs went flying. He put on protection faster than she'd thought possible, and finally she felt his weight on top of her. Flesh to flesh, he was warm, strong and solid, everything she'd ever wanted and never had the courage to dream of.
His arms bracketed her head. "Look at me."
Not a difficult request, Sam thought. She focused on his face, the dark, deep-set eyes, the intense stare, high cheekbones and firm lips she'd grown to love.
"And remember," he muttered. Without warning, his hands lifted her hips and he thrust deep, penetrating her with one hard push.
She gasped in surprise, then trembled when emotion took over. He hadn't filled her with himself, he'd become a part of her. She didn't know when it had happened, nor did she care. Lifting her hips, she accepted him completely, her gaze never leaving his as his body fused with hers, deeper than she'd thought possible.
So this was love. It was something beyond knowledge, something you experienced and felt in combination or not at all. She moistened her lips and moved her mouth over his, slowly, erotically, so she knew he tasted her.
His harsh groan filled her ears. When his mustache scraped her skin, she moaned, bucking against him.
"Sweetheart, you're killing me. I wish I could wait, but I…" He exhaled a groan. "I can't."
"Then don't," she murmured against his lips.
He moved inside her, once slowly and then with quick penetrating thrusts neither could control. Sam felt each one in her heart, as if by joining bodies, their hearts and souls had connected as well. She'd needed him so badly, and apparently he'd felt the same. He climaxed at once and she tumbled right after him, falling headlong into waves of sensation and pleasure.
* * *
They lay in silence. Only the sound of the rain hitting the pitched roof broke the comfortable stillness that hovered between them. "I didn't know it was going to rain," she murmured. She tucked her head against the curve of his arm and shoulder.
"It's been known to happen." Inanities seemed appropriate about now, Mac thought. After what they'd just shared, words would fall short. They lapsed back into a quiet understanding.
"What's your full name?" she asked softly.
Her words took him by surprise. He'd have thought she'd rather retreat than move forward. But he preferred her curiosity to any sort of backslide.
&
nbsp; He played with the ends of her hair, brushing them against her cheek. "It's Ryan. Ryan Mackenzie."
"I'd never have guessed. And who called you Mac?"
He shrugged. "My mother liked the name Ryan. My father called me Mac. No rhyme nor reason. It just was."
He felt her smile against his arm. "I like them both," she murmured.
Not about to let an advantage slip by, he said, "Your turn, Sammy Jo."
She sighed. "Samantha Josephine… Reed."
"The first two are a mouthful, hmm?"
"Yes. But they're refined and classy, or so my parents thought. Image is important in my family. Which is why my father's problems seem so insurmountable to him." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, they called me Samantha, and as a result, so does everyone else."
"Except me."
She laughed. "Except you."
If image was so important to her family and friends, his perceived background, his bartender job, might be what was bothering her. He didn't for a minute believe she didn't accept him for who he was. Who she thought he was, he reminded himself. But she might know she'd have a difficult time explaining their relationship to her father and her friends.
She had nothing left to prove to him. He loved her and believed she loved him. He ought to just let her off the hook. "Look, Sam."
She eased herself on top of him. "We have an hour or so left till sunrise. Do you really want to spend it talking?" she asked.
Her warm body spoke to his. Renewed desire surged through him. "As difficult as it is to say, yes."
"But I don't. I need this time together." She pushed his hair off his temple and touched her forehead to his. "Without pressure, without… anything but us." She brushed a kiss over his cheek and then on his lips. "I need you, Ryan."
He groaned. He could have resisted anything but his first name coming from those lips. He reached for another condom on the nightstand. By his count, that made four.
If she wanted to wait, he'd wait. He knew where to find her.
9
Mac finally fell asleep near dawn, and Sam crept out onto the balcony to watch the sun rise over the distant mountains. Even the incredible beauty, the deep hues of yellow and burnished red glowing against the increasingly blue sky, couldn't hold her interest. Her gaze kept straying back to the man inside.
He'd wanted to talk. She'd brushed him aside. She'd had no other choice. She had a life waiting. She and Mac had shared a week. An incredible, amazing, never-to-be-forgotten week. Could it be more? She didn't know because she hadn't let him finish. She couldn't, not until she'd sorted out her personal problems.
Thanks to Mac, she felt ready. He'd taught her how to find the woman inside herself. A woman she hadn't known existed.
She'd spent her life searching for something that had been forever out of reach. She'd done so by pleasing first her parents, then Tom. Never had she put her own needs first. She hadn't even thought to try. Without realizing it, she'd allowed herself to become empty and unfulfilled. When her mother had asked for her promise, Samantha thought she'd found their acceptance at last. She was wrong. She'd had it all along. She just needed more than they were capable of giving.
But she was no longer a little girl seeking affection. By the time her father had brought himself to the brink of disaster, bailing him out had been second nature. Sacrificing herself was something everyone expected. Even she hadn't truly questioned her decision. Until Mac had shown her all she'd be giving up.
In return for all he'd taught her, she'd given him the only gift she could before leaving. She'd asked him his name and offered hers in return. Freely given information without him having to push.
But she owed Mr. Ryan Mackenzie so much more than she could ever repay. And not just for giving her the passion-filled week she'd sought, or the love she hadn't. She gripped the iron railing in her hands as she faced the truth. She owed him for making her face herself.
And having done that, she knew.
She could not marry Tom.
If she turned her back on the woman she'd discovered, she would betray her innermost self. Worse, she'd betray Mac and their time together. Sam would never do that. She couldn't. She respected him too much to throw away everything he'd given her, not the least of which was a renewed sense of self-worth. She'd learned she couldn't sell herself for anyone, including her father.
What about your father, a little voice in her head asked? How could she bring herself to betray him? You aren't responsible for your father, Sam. Mac's words came back to her and she knew he was right. Her father was the parent, she was the child, and very often those roles became reversed with age. But that didn't mean she had to sacrifice everything. "You can't give up the rest of your life because he's having trouble with his." Mac was right about that, too. There had to be another way. "Be there for him, advise him and help him if you can." Together, she and her father would work through this, and she'd be there for him every step of the way. He'd be stronger for the experience, just as she'd be stronger once she told both Tom and her father the wedding was off.
Her stomach contracted, tightening into a knot as she acknowledged what awaited her. An annoyed and humiliated fiancé, a betrayed parent and the unemployment line. Because once she ended her engagement, Sam had no doubt Tom, in his position as her boss, would terminate her immediately. And then?
Tom would move on, find another trophy to dangle on his arm and a competent financial planner to replace her. As for her father, she'd talk to his doctors and figure out whether he was capable of working again. Relocating seemed like a possibility for them both and would spare him Tom's wrath and the loss of status and dignity. One thing she knew. Her only parent would forgive. She had to believe that. After all, her mother and father had adored one another. Didn't she deserve the same? She'd agreed to this marriage because of a promise to her mother. A promise that had given her the sense of belonging she'd desired from parents who had loved, but hadn't known how to give in the ways a child needed.
But she was a woman now. One who'd been shown all she wanted out of life. She would never love anyone the way she loved Mac, and if he didn't want her forever, she'd rather be alone than settle for less. To do otherwise would demean them both. As she walked away from the balcony and back into the room, she laced her fingers over her stomach, trying without success to still the churning inside.
Why did doing the right thing have to hurt so much? Though she planned on coming back, she didn't know what awaited her upon her return. In silence, she packed her bag and paused by the bed one last time. She glanced down at the man sprawled on top of the covers and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
She hated to leave him this way. She hated to leave him any way, but she had no choice. Too many unresolved issues remained in her life. If she stayed, she'd be tempted to throw herself into his arms, declare her undying love and refuse to face the outside world. If she stayed, she'd have to listen.
A part of her didn't want to hear him say he'd wanted their fantasy week and nothing more, though she knew she might have to face that eventually. But there was the other possibility. That he'd want her forever. Her heart beat more rapidly at the mere thought.
Sam wouldn't know what Mac desired until she confronted him. And until she freed herself from the engagement that bound her, she had no right to ask.
Leaning down, she brushed one last kiss over his lips. "I love you," she whispered softly.
Rolling over, he threw one arm above his head, but he didn't stir. Would he understand or would he hate her for slipping away before he awoke? The most she could do was hope. A tear trickled onto her cheek and she wiped the moisture onto her arm. Then she forced herself to pick up her bag and head down to the bar, closing the door behind her. At least she knew where to find him when she was ready.
* * *
Seems he'd underestimated his Samantha. Mac knew the instant she left the room, and less than ten minutes later, he heard the slam of a door and the sound of an engine. He di
dn't need to glance out the window to know he'd see the red taillights of her replacement rental car peeling out of The Hungry Bear parking lot.
Letting her go was the hardest thing he'd ever done. But he had no right to hold her when she so obviously wanted to be gone. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned. He'd banked on a couple of extra hours together. She'd bailed out early without saying goodbye. She was conflicted and confused, that much he understood.
He had only her parting whisper, words he wasn't meant to hear, to reassure him. "I love you, too, sweetheart." Mac said the words aloud for the first time.
He'd always thought the words would be the hard part. Never had he imagined the woman he wanted in his life would be elusive and hard to tie down. Whatever her reasons, Samantha deserved to do things on her own terms. Just as he'd decided to handle telling her the truth about him on his. Mac leaned over and reached for the phone.
* * *
An open-air lobby greeted Sam as she walked into The Resort. Plant life surrounded her, as did plush chairs and glass-top tables with Indian-drum-style bases. She placed her luggage down on the terra-cotta floor, allowing a bellman to take her bags. The hotel exuded warmth, tasteful decor, and as her fiancé had reminded her more than once, it came with a five-star rating.
"Can I help you?" A young clerk, a nice-looking man who couldn't have been more than twenty, greeted her with a smile. The eager look on his face reminded her of her own early days at her first job.
"My name's Samantha Reed. I'm with the financial conference that starts tomorrow morning." She glanced at her watch and cringed. "I realize my room probably won't be ready until much later, but I was hoping to at least store my things." She'd been in such a hurry to leave before Mac woke up that she'd forgotten she'd be temporarily homeless until a room became available.
Ignoring the pain in her chest that accompanied the mere thought of Mac, she focused on her empty stomach instead. "And I'm starving. Is there a restaurant where I could have breakfast and sit for a while?"
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