The Name of the Game

by Nora Roberts

  That was a part that had already made an enormous mistake by falling in love with Sam.

  Before she had a chance to deal with the enormity of that realization, he was back, carrying a plastic bag filled with crackers.

  “They’ll expect to be— Are you all right?”

  She was pale, and her eyes were huge. If Sam hadn’t known better he would have sworn someone had come along and given her a fast, unexpected backhand.

  “I’m fine.” Thank God her voice was steady. She still had that much under control. “Your pets keep you under their thumb, don’t they?”

  Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but he nodded. “It looks that way.” He touched her face. She didn’t flinch, but he felt the muscles of her jaw tense. “You look a little dazed, Johanna.”

  Terrified was the word. In love with him, her mind repeated. Good Lord, when, how and, most of all, why? “It’s probably the wine. I’ll walk it off.”

  It had nothing to do with the wine, but he let it go. Taking her hand firmly in his, he started toward the path. “Next time you come, you’re going to have to dress for this. As sensible as those shoes are, boots or sneakers are better for the hike.”

  Sensible. Frowning, Johanna looked down at her trim, low-heeled Italian pumps. Damn it, they were sensible. She managed to bite off the sigh. Sensible. Like her. “I told you I didn’t have time to change.”

  “That’s okay, I can always carry you.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  There it was again, that low, cool tone. He didn’t bother to fight back the smile as he steered her along.

  The sun was nearly down, so the light was soft and pearly. There were wildflowers along the path that hadn’t yet bloomed the last time they’d taken this walk. He imagined Johanna could name them for him if he asked, but he preferred to let them pop out of the ground anonymously.

  He could smell the water now, and could just hear its faint lap against the high grass. Every time he’d walked there in the last few weeks he’d thought of her. The birds were quiet now, settling down for the night. Those that called the night their own had yet to stir. He liked the quiet of dusk, the aloneness of it, and wondered if she felt the same. He remembered how she’d knelt in front of a bank of flowers at sundown and figured that she did.

  The water of the pond was darkening, like the sky. The shadows of the trees were long and dim across it. It still made her smile to see the ducks gliding over it, preening a bit in anticipation of an audience.

  “I take it Silas and his companions don’t bother them.”

  “Too much effort to come all the way out here and get wet when they’ve got the barn. Here.” He handed her the bag. As she had before, Johanna laughed at the ducks’ antics as she tossed the crackers to them.

  “I guess no one spoils them like this when you’re away.”

  “Mae does. She wouldn’t admit it, though.”

  “Oh, I didn’t see the drake close up before.” She skimmed a cracker to him. “He’s beautiful. And look how the babies have grown.” She scattered crumbs on the water until the bag was empty. Without thinking, she tucked it into her pocket. “It’s so nice here,” she murmured. “Just the water, and the grass.” And you, she thought. But she didn’t look at him, not until his hand was on her cheek, gently urging her to.

  It was just as it had been the first time. And yet it was nothing like it. This time she knew exactly how she would feel, how she would want, when he kissed her. She knew he would touch her hair before he drew her close. She knew her mind would cloud and her pulse would quicken.

  She knew, but it still stunned her.

  He felt as though he’d waited forever. It hadn’t been merely weeks since he’d first seen her. She’d been under his skin, inside his heart, for as long as he could remember. A dream, a half-formed wish that had only taken one look at her to click solidly into place. It was so right. Somehow it was exactly right when his mouth found hers.

  She still wasn’t sure. He could feel the hesitation even as he felt the passion that drummed beneath it. But he was sure enough for both of them.

  It was meant to be here, here where those first shock waves had passed through both of them. It was meant to be now, before night fell.

  She tightened her grip on his shirt, holding on, holding back. In a moment, she knew, she wouldn’t be able to think clearly. It would be wise to withdraw now, to leave things as they had been. But his lips coaxed her to stay. To trust.

  She murmured, tensing up when she felt him slip the jacket from her shoulders. A step was being taken. Then he was soothing her, giving her time, plenty of time, but no choice at all. The buttons that ran down her back were loosened one by one in an agony of sweetness and promise. When she felt his fingers brush her skin, she shuddered at the contact and searched for the will to end it.

  But his lips skimmed her throat as he peeled the blouse from her. She was helpless, but the sensation was no longer frightening.

  Is this what it felt like to give in, at last, fully, completely give in to something not quite known but only sensed? Hadn’t she waited for it, anticipated it, even while she’d struggled against it? Now the struggle was almost over.

  He had to use every ounce of self-control not to rush her. He knew she needed time and care, even as his own needs balled like fists inside him. He’d already imagined what it would be like to touch her like this, to feel her tremble when he did. Her skirt slid down her hips. His hands followed it.

  The sun had dropped away, but he could see her, her hair haloed around her face, her eyes wide and uncertain. He kissed her again, slowly, trailing his lips over her jaw as he shrugged out of his shirt. He saw her start to reach for him, then hesitate just short of contact. Taking her hand, he brought it, palm up, to his lips and felt her go limp.

  He lowered her to the grass.

  It was cool, soft and damp with early dew—a sensation Johanna knew she would remember always. He was over her, so she could only see his face, then only his eyes. She heard the first owl call before he bent to her. Then there was only him.

  He touched. She shuddered, no longer from fear or from doubt, but from a pleasure so pure she could never have described it. He tasted. She floated, no longer helpless, but a willing partner. And when she reached for him, drew him closer, the world was shut off for both of them.

  She was so soft, so generous. He wondered that he could still be surprised by how many facets there were to her. She’d opened to him now, as completely as he could have hoped.

  If her touch was still shy, it was only more endearing. He wanted it to be sweet for her, memorable, and as special as he already knew it would be for him. Somewhere along the line she had stopped being a woman, however desirable, however fascinating, and had become his woman.

  He took her, gently, higher.

  When she moaned, desire thrummed in him, hard, demanding. He fought it back, wanting her to ride the wave as long as they could both stand it. Slowly, drawing out the process, he slipped her teddy down to her waist, then to her hips, letting the hunger build inside him.

  Her fingers dug into the grass as he brushed his lips over her. She could feel her skin tremble wherever he chose to linger. Then, abruptly, the pleasure rocketed up, beyond anything she’d dreamed possible. She cried out his name, her body arching up. Pleasure doubled back, and he was with her again. Now her fingers dug into his shoulders desperately.

  Stars began to wink to life above them.

  The breath was dragging in and out of his lungs when he filled her. Now he was helpless, his face buried in her hair, his body more her prisoner than she had ever been his. Need expanded and became the focus of his world, and then even that shattered, leaving only her.

  8

  He couldn’t speak. At the moment Sam wasn’t sure his mind would ever be able to direct that basic function again. He knew he should shift his weight from her but couldn’t bear to break the bond.

  Whatever else it had been—pas
sion, desire, chemistry—it had forged a bond.

  Overhead, the stars were still coming out. Johanna could see them now, but all she could think of was the way Sam’s heart still raced against hers. She hadn’t known she was capable of giving or receiving that kind of pleasure. Though the heat had eased, his body was still warm, a continuing contrast to the cool grass that waved around them. The water, pushed by the night breezes, lapped only a few feet away.

  It had been a shock to realize she was capable of feeling anything this intensely, but more, she had seen his eyes, felt his body shudder, and had known for the first time in her life that she could give.

  Hardly realizing she was doing so, she lifted a hand to stroke his hair. Sam was aware, even if she wasn’t, that it was the first time she’d touched him without being backed into a corner. He closed his eyes and held on to that thought. What would once have been a small thing to him was now an enormous one. He’d slipped into the third phase, into love, almost painlessly.

  “Johanna.” When he could speak, her name was the first thing that formed. Because he wanted to see her, he found the strength to raise himself onto his elbows. Her hair was spread out on the grass that had bent under them. Her eyes were half-closed, but what he could see was still dazed with pleasure. “You’re so lovely.”

  Her lips curved a bit, and she touched him again, her fingers on his face. “I didn’t think this would happen. I didn’t think it could.”

  “I imagined it, here, just like this.” He lowered his head, just to brush his lips against hers. “But my fantasy didn’t even come close to the real thing. Nothing ever has.” He felt her withdraw at that, just a fraction, but enough that he felt compelled to take her face in his hand. “Nothing and no one, Johanna.”

  His eyes insisted that she believe him, and she wanted to, but there was still too much of a block within her to make that possible. “I’ve wanted you.” At least she could be honest with both of them. “I can’t think about what happens next.”

  “We’re both going to have to. I’ve no intention of letting you go.” She opened her mouth to protest, to make some excuse, and only managed to moan as she felt him harden inside her. “Not a chance,” he murmured, before desire clouded his mind completely.

  When she could think again, she tried to draw away. She was going to need time to put this in perspective, to work out the steps. The first was to be an adult, and not to expect.

  They had shared something. Perhaps it hadn’t been casual for her, but she’d always understood that every relationship had its limitations. Better to remember that now and face it from the outset. She cared, too much for her own good, but she still knew better than to cuddle up at his side and start thinking about tomorrows.

  “It’s late.” She pulled her hands through her hair as she sat up. “I have to go.”

  He’d have been surprised if he could have moved again for eight hours. “Go where?”

  “I have to go home.” She reached for her teddy but missed by an inch when his hand braceleted her wrist.

  “If you expect me to let you go anywhere tonight, you’re crazy.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was amused as she tugged on her hand. “In the first place, it’s not a matter of you letting me go anywhere.” After picking up her teddy, she shook it out. “And I can hardly sleep in the grass all night.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” If she hadn’t been so relaxed, she would have realized he’d given in too easily. “Here, put on my shirt. It’ll be easier for you to dress inside.”

  Because it made sense, Johanna allowed him to bundle her into it. It carried his scent. Unconsciously she rubbed her cheek against the collar as Sam pulled on his jeans.

  “Let me give you a hand with those.” Sam took her now-folded clothes and draped them over his arm. “Better let me go first. There isn’t much light tonight.”

  Johanna followed him down the path, hoping she seemed as casual and at ease as he. What had happened by the pond, weeks ago and now tonight, had been beautiful. She didn’t want to lose the importance of it. But she didn’t want to exaggerate its importance, either.

  Nothing and no one else.

  No, she’d be a fool to believe it—to hope for it. He might have meant it at the moment he’d said it. She could believe that because she’d come to understand that Sam wasn’t a man for lies, even pretty ones. She could believe, too, that he cared for her—again, for the moment.

  Intense feelings rarely lasted, and all the hopes and promises built on those feelings eventually crumbled. So she didn’t allow herself to hope and refused to make promises.

  They still had a long way to go, Sam mused. She wasn’t ready to take what he’d discovered he was ready to give. The trouble was, now that he was in love with her he wouldn’t be able to be so patient. Johanna was just going to have to keep pace.

  As they stepped onto the terrace, he set her clothes neatly on the table. A frown formed between her brows as he casually stripped off his jeans.

  “What are you doing?”

  He stood before her, undeniably magnificent in the light of the moon. With a smile that warned her an instant too late, he hauled her into his arms.

  “It’s what we’re doing,” he said simply, and jumped into the pool.

  The water was several degrees warmer than the night air, but it was still a shock. Before it closed over her head, she had time for one surprised shriek. Her legs tangled with his as the plunge separated them and the shirt billowed up around her head. Then her feet touched bottom, and instinctively she pushed upward. Gasping, she surfaced, blinking water from her eyes.

  “Damn it!” She drew her arm through the water, hand fisted, and shot a spray into his grinning face.

  “Nothing like a midnight swim, is there, Jo-Jo?”

  “Don’t call me that. You must be out of your mind.”

  “Only about you,” he told her, then sent an unloverly splash in her direction.

  Johanna dodged it, barely, telling herself she wasn’t amused. “What the hell would you have done if I couldn’t swim?”

  “Saved you.” He trod water with little effort. “I was born to be a hero.”

  “Jerk,” she corrected. She turned, and in two strokes had reached the side. Before she could haul herself out, Sam caught her by the waist.

  “When you stop being mad, you’ll admit you like it.” He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Want to race?”

  “What I want to do is—” She turned—another miscalculation. His hands slid up her wet skin to her breasts as he bent his lips to her throat.

  “Me too,” he murmured.

  She lifted a hand to his shoulder where it skimmed over cool skin just beginning to heat. “Sam, I can’t.”

  “That’s okay. I can.” He slid into her.

  ***

  Johanna woke with a faint grumble and tried to roll over. It took her several confusing seconds to realize that Sam’s arm had her pinned. Lying still, she turned her head cautiously to look at him.

  He slept more on her pillow than on his own. No, they were both his pillows, Johanna reminded herself. His bed, his house. Would he think her a fool or a freak if she told him this was the first time she’d ever woken up in a man’s bed? It didn’t matter; she wouldn’t tell him. How could she tell him he was the first man she’d cared for enough, trusted enough, to share that private vulnerability called sleep?

  She still wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to nudge her into it. One minute she’d been standing, naked and dripping, by the side of the pool, and the next . . . They hadn’t even made love there, but had simply fallen into bed much like two exhausted children.

  He’d made her laugh, too, and he’d given her, all unknowing, the sweet daydream of her own making.

  Now it was morning and she had to remind herself again that she was an adult. They had wanted each other, enjoyed each other. It was important not to add complications to that simple formula. There wouldn’t
be regret. Regret usually meant blame, and she didn’t want that, either. Wisely or not, she’d made a decision. The decision had taken her into intimacy with Sam. She wouldn’t use the word affair.

  Now that it was done, she had to be realistic. This intensity, this flash of feeling, would fade, and when that happened, she’d be hurt. It couldn’t be prevented, only prepared for.

  Her emotions had already deepened beyond her control, but she still had her strength and her sense. No strings. He’d said it. She’d meant it.

  Despite that, she lifted a fingertip to brush the hair from his forehead.

  Oh, God, I’m in love with him, I’m so ridiculously in love with him, and I’m bound to make a fool of myself.

  When he opened his eyes, those dark, heavy-lidded eyes, she didn’t give a damn.

  “Hi.”