She was cautiously optimistic about what she found. A number of faded black shingles in an area above the kitchen were either damaged or completely blown off, but she was hopeful that the entire roof wouldn't need to be replaced--at least not right now. A few more years and she wouldn't mind, but her little car was also showing signs of wear and tear. She couldn't pay for a new roof if she couldn't make it to her job, and a new car would probably have to take priority over a new roof.
Mindful of the blustery wind, she made her way slowly down the sloping incline toward the ladder. She was nearly there when a fierce gust of wind snatched at the lightweight aluminum ladder. It toppled over in front of her horrified eyes and crashed to the ground.
"Lord, what next?" she moaned aloud. She crept to the edge and looked down. The house was old, higher than many of its low-slung contemporaries. It was maybe fourteen feet to the ground. Her eyes shifted toward the beach. It was deserted, except for a few people several hundred yards away, too far for them to hear a shout for help.
The wind tore at her hair and shirt, its chill penetrating the thin cloth. She shivered. At times, late June on the Oregon coast wasn't much warmer than any other month of the year. Samantha looked down again, an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had no choice but to jump. The sidewalk edged the house, and she doubted she could clear it and make a cushioned landing on the grass.
"Oh, well," she murmured in meager consolation, "at least if I break a leg I'll have the rest of the summer to recuperate."
She flexed her knees and cautiously raised herself. It was then that she saw Jason emerge from the sliding glass doors of the house next door onto the deck. He was back!
"Jason!" She swallowed her excitement and stood up a little further. "Jason!"
He remained where he was, looking out to sea, strong hands braced on the cedar railing. Samantha called to him repeatedly, but the sound was carried away by the wind. Finally she stood up as far as she dared and waved her arms, praying that in this precarious position on the edge of the steep roof she wouldn't suffer the same fate as her ladder. "Jason!"
Finally his head turned. She made a sweeping gesture with an arm, repeating it until he had stepped off the deck and started toward her. She was too far away to see the expression on his face but it wasn't hard to imagine the amazement that must have been written there at the sight of her perched on the roof.
At last he stood on the ground below, grinning up at her. "What on earth are you doing up there?" He shook his head and perched his hands on lean denim-covered hips. "Don't tell me—--it's just as I thought. The woman with her feet planted firmly on the ground with her head in the clouds is trying to get a little closer to the stars? Or chasing rainbows instead?"
Samantha scowled. She should have known. Why was it that this man and this man alone had a knack for finding her in such ridiculous situations?
"The wind blew my ladder over! Just put it back up against the house and then you can leave!" she snapped. "I can find my own way down!"
"Not on your life!" Before she knew it he'd swung the ladder up against the house and was scrambling up the rungs. His dark head poked over the eaves. "A lady in distress! This is my big chance to be a real hero—probably my only chance! Even you wouldn't be so cruel as to take it away from me!" He grinned at her and crooked a finger at her. "As soon as you swing your feet over the side, all you have to do is put your arms around my neck and leave the rest to me!"
Samantha's jaw dropped. "You—you can't mean to carry me down!" she sputtered. "Why do you have to play at being a hero now! Weren't you ever a boy scout?"
"Never had the honor," he said smartly.
She glared at him. "You idiot! You'll break your back—you'll break both our backs!"
His eyes made a leisurely appraisal of her body, which was crouched before him. She felt a tingling sensation in her breasts despite the dancing lights in his eyes. "You're not all that heavy, are you?"
Samantha rolled her eyes skyward. "Will you please move so I can get down?"
"Not a chance," he repeated stubbornly. "I could just as well go home and pretend I never saw you—and take the ladder along with me." His eyes began to dance again as he added hopefully, "Unless you'd rather I caught you when you jumped?"
With that Samantha gave in. She lowered one leg cautiously over the side of the house and inched her way onto the ladder next to Jason. The only way the two of them could fit between the narrow metal rails was to face each other and she found that to keep her balance she did, indeed, have to curve an arm around Jason's neck. She'd been cold only seconds before, but now her skin burned where his hand rested on the small of her back. It seemed to take an eternity to reach the bottom. By then her breathing was shallow and irregular--and it certainly wasn't from fear.
Their bodies were fused together from the neck down, her curves molded intimately against his lean contours. Her face was mere centimeters away from his. Their noses brushed several times as he cast a downward glance every so often to guide their descent. Samantha found her eyes lingering on those firm lips so close to her own. To her horror, she found herself wondering if he was as affected as she was by the unavoidable movement of their hips against each other. She uttered a silent prayer that he was!
And she was right, if the hardness riding against her tummy was anything to judge by.
Jason didn't speak until they had reached the bottom. "How about an instant replay?"
His other arm had come around to encircle her, bringing her even closer to the taut length of his body. His breath was warm against her face, his tone very husky.
A gentle finger lifted her chin. "I missed you, Samantha. I missed you... very much."
Every fiber in her warned against him. He was a charmer, a sorcerer, a rake. But at this moment, Samantha wanted nothing more than to be charmed. He was looking directly into her eyes, and what she saw in his made her heart leap wildly. Was there a woman on earth who could help but respond to such a man? Certainly this one couldn't. Excitement skittered along her spine and the way she quivered all over, she wasn't sure she would be able to stand if he let her go.
"I—I missed you, too," she said softly, and knew with every ounce of her being that she didn't lie.
"You're very agreeable all of a sudden." His tone had lightened, but the look in his eyes hadn't. "Will this mood continue... through the night?"
Something inside her responded to the elemental blaze in his eyes. "For the next few minutes at least," she whispered.
"Do I dare press my luck?" He bent his head so that his mouth rested just at the corner of hers.
Her fingers slowly explored the muscled contours of his shoulders, covered by a layer of beige cambric. It took a tremendous effort to talk, even to breathe. "Maybe... you should."
"Maybe I will."
The soft tone touched something inside her even as his mouth brushed slowly, evocatively, across hers. His hands moved down ever so slightly to lightly grasp her hips and pull her to him. Her pulse jumped erratically at the intimate contact between his thighs but she reveled in the supple feel of his flesh beneath her fingertips and the taut strength of his thighs molded against her own. She gasped when his lips claimed hers more fully, his tongue demanding entrance even as she gave it.
When Jason finally released her mouth, he looked down at her, his eyes on her trembling lips. "We don't have to worry about your nearest neighbor watching," he said softly, "but there's a better place for this."
Samantha's head was spinning and she hardly realized when he tugged on her hand and led her inside. It wasn't until his body propelled her gently backward on her bed that she understood what was happening. She made a small murmur of protest.
The tiny sound was swallowed by his mouth over hers. Samantha was achingly aware of the hard length of his body as it lay over hers, of the subtle distinctions between their bodies. Her breasts were crushed by the unyielding bulk of his chest, her legs tangled in the sinewy length of his. He kissed
her again, a kiss so warm and tender and so full of promises that she shook with the delicious feelings it roused in her. Her heart seemed to stand still.
"Jason—" Her voice shook with the effort it took to speak. Was this right or wrong? She'd entered into a relationship willy-nilly once before, expecting the sun, the moon and the stars. Would she regret it if she and Jason made love? Or would she regret it more if they didn't? Heaven help her, she didn't know! She could scarcely think!
"Jason, please... I can't do this."
"Sure you can." His voice was warm and faintly teasing against the corner of her lips. "All you have to do is relax while I do all the work. But the next time..."
Samantha closed her eyes against the picture his words evoked. For a moment all she could see was her naked limbs entwined seductively with his, his dark face smiling brilliantly up into hers.
"Jason, please! I'm sorry, but I can't!" Her voice finally rose above a whisper. "I have to think about tomorrow!"
"I don't care about tomorrow." The hoarsely muttered words were muffled against the upward slope of one breast. Half the buttons of her shirt were already undone.
His head was dark against the pale skin already revealed, the contrast so deeply inviting that her hands expressed an alarming tendency of their own to bury themselves in his hair as his lips continued their torturous magic over her skin. It was only by clutching fiercely at his shoulders that she stopped herself.
"But I do!" She took a deep shuddering breath. "I wish I didn't but I do!"
His body stilled against hers. One lean hand moved upward to trace the curve of her jaw, the touch almost unbearably tender as he lifted his head slightly to gaze up at her. "You can't say no," he murmured softly. "You don't want to say no."
That was beside the point. Couldn't he see that? A summer affair was all he could possibly want from her, perhaps not even that. A fling. Could she settle for that? Deep in her heart she knew she couldn't. Not from Jason. Not from any man. If they made love she would expect all that should rightfully come with it--emotional ties, commitment. All that was dear to her heart Jason blithely brushed aside. She wanted love, and he wanted sex.
The thought scared her as much as it startled her. Her heart began to thump with thick uneven strokes.
She pushed frantically against his chest even as her fingers tangled themselves in the silky mat of hair revealed by the opening of his shirt. "I can't say yes, either!" she moaned.
And somehow that seemed to say it all. She felt his eyes boring into her, and never in her life had she felt so miserable. His fingers covered hers and guided them over his chest so she could feel the rapid rhythm beneath.
"Be still, my heart," he murmured softly.
There was something almost mocking in that velvet tone, and Samantha looked quickly away. Silently he pulled away from her and tucked his arms under his head, looking at the ceiling. She sat up slowly on the edge of the bed.
"I should have asked you to come to New York with me," he remarked conversationally. "Wooed you, courted you, wined and dined you. You'd have liked that, wouldn't you?" He paused. "Could I have won you over, Samantha?"
Her fingers trembled as she struggled to fasten her shirt. If he had done all those things, would they have meant anything? Or would they have been no more than empty meaningless gestures, a means to an end. "Why didn't you?" she asked, and then wished she hadn't.
"Would you have come?" he countered quietly.
Again, she felt his eyes on her. They no longer touched, but she was as much aware of his body sprawled next to her on the bed as if they were wrapped in the most intimate of embraces. "I—I don't know," she whispered miserably.
The words seemed to hang between them, creating an invisible barrier. "You see now why I didn't ask. I didn't have time to let you weigh all the pros and cons before deciding." His tone was light, almost bantering, but there was no denying the slight mockery and impatience.
It wasn't lost on her. "Did you really expect me to just leave everything at the drop of a hat and go away with you?" she said stiffly.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Why not?" That dark brown gaze sent a prickly feeling up her spine as he gave her a long probing look. "There's nothing wrong in indulging yourself once in a while, accepting a dare, taking a chance. There's an element of chance in everything we do, especially in love." He laughed softly, and Samantha had the feeling he was baiting her. "But you haven't discovered that yet, have you?" he asked softly.
Her eyes narrowed as she turned to look at him.
"We make our own destiny, Samantha. You can't sit on the sidelines forever and expect opportunity to come knocking on your door. You're just not a gambling woman, are you?" He sat up as her back stiffened. "You're almost a female Jekyll and Hyde—prim and proper on the outside, while inside there's a hopeless romantic who wants nothing more than a white knight to sweep her off her feet. But if that actually happened you'd probably be afraid to go along for the ride."
She bridled at the amusement in his tone. He was probably only needling her because she refused to go to bed with him! "You make it sound like I'm a shrinking violet!" she muttered.
"Oh, I wouldn't go quite that far. Your tongue is a little too tart for that." He flashed what would have been a disarming grin under any other circumstances, then his look grew thoughtful. "But it doesn't hurt for someone to let themselves go once in a while. You included."
Samantha glared at him. "You really think I'm prim and proper?" she demanded.
"Without a doubt," he informed her brashly.
"And naturally if it was up to you, you'd prefer that I was fast and loose!" she retorted hotly.
"Oh, never that," he vowed promptly, but the gleam in his eyes belied his words.
Samantha watched as he stretched out again on the bed. He looked very big and relaxed lying there, but above all, so intensely masculine it nearly took her breath away. Suddenly she knew what he was doing— he was waiting for her to make the first move, handing control over to her. It was there in his eyes, warmly inviting but faintly challenging. He wanted her to be the aggressor and take charge of whatever might happen. And how she wanted to! It was crazy, absolutely ridiculous, for her to say he made her mouth water, but that was how she felt.
Only the knowledge that he wouldn't let her retain control for long stopped her. There was too much of the male hunter in him for that. And if things ever progressed too far, would she be able to stop him? Would she want to stop herself?
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "You only want me because you can't have me," she muttered.
The minute the words were out of her mouth she knew they were a mistake. They were much too provoking to a man like Jason . . .to any man, she recognized belatedly.
He was across the bed like a flash of lightning. "Who says I can't?"
He was quick but she was quicker. She bounced off the bed and was across the room as his hands grabbed empty air. "Jason, stop," she pleaded, half laughing, half in earnest. "How did this conversation ever get started!" she moaned.
"It started because you refused to go to New York with me."
"You never asked!"
"But you would have said no and we both know it!"
Samantha sighed. She wouldn't admit any such thing, because he was the one who might have been surprised. He had the power to turn her life completely upside down, and she had the feeling he knew it! "You wouldn't have wanted me tagging along anyway," she protested halfheartedly, "especially if you were going to see your wife—"
"My ex-wife--and the matter was between our attorneys. As it was, I didn't have to make the trip to L.A. after all. The business took care of itself." He looked at her rather oddly. "Is that what's bothering you? My ex-wife?"
Samantha shook her head, a little confused by the emotions rioting through her. "I don't know." She hesitated. "Well... maybe. I'll admit I've wondered what kind of woman could make you fall in love with her." She drew an unsteady breath. "Was she pretty?"
"Yes." Jason seemed to hesitate. "More than that. She was beautiful."
An unexpected pain squeezed her heart. So his wife was beautiful. She hadn't wanted to hear that, and yet even if Jason had denied it she would have known. "Were you.. . married long?"
Again he seemed to hesitate. He rose and moved to stand at the window, watching the waves crash against the jagged outcropping of rock on the shoreline. "My marriage took place during the hot-blooded days of my youth," he responded lightly. "A time when even the best of us are given to excesses. How long was I married to the beautiful Hollywood starlet?" He smiled thinly. "Too long, it seems. Now if you don't mind, I'd much rather talk about something else."
She was only too glad to dismiss the subject. She wished now she hadn't bothered to ask about his wife. Taking advantage of her place near the door, she left the intense atmosphere of the bedroom behind. Jason followed her into the kitchen where she forced her mind elsewhere.
She gestured up at the stained ceiling tiles. "I don't suppose you know anything about roofing?"
She made the remark simply to break the uneasy silence between them, but she gaped as he began to roll up his shirt sleeves. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said calmly.
"You?" She blinked disbelievingly, then had to tear her eyes away from the sight of those muscular forearms.
"I worked my way through college, and I was brought up not to be afraid of a little hard work." He studied her for a minute. "Or don't you trust me to do a good enough job?"
She would trust him with just about anything, she suddenly realized . . . everything except her love. Somehow it made her warm toward him, while at the same time knowing it was best to keep a safe distance away. There was, she suddenly realized, a lot to admire about him. And it wasn't only his looks, she assured herself hastily. Yes, there was more to Jason Armstrong than brawny biceps and a good-looking face. He was diligent, hardworking, intelligent, and he'd made a niche for himself in the romance publishing world. Probably not an easy task, especially since a man would undoubtedly have two strikes against him from the start.
The Unsung Hero Page 9
