by Dawn Atkins
“Mona, please.”
“I know, I know. I guess I was kidding myself. Which is not like me. None of this is like me.”
“Sit down and tell all.” Samantha patted the futon, sending more of Rick’s delicious scent up to her nose. “What happened?”
Mona sat, her body angled toward Samantha. “Well, once we got here, I could tell he wasn’t really in spasm. He was nervous and he’d been drinking, and he told me he wanted more than a massage from me.”
“Really?”
“Then, and this is the best part, he noticed my neck was knotted and rubbed it out.”
“Wait. He gave you a massage?”
“He has such a wonderful touch.”
“You didn’t just settle for a massage, I hope.”
“No. He kissed me and I melted and we went to my place…and the rest…Well, I’m not describing the rest.” Mona gave the most girlish sigh Samantha had ever heard from her down-to-earth friend.
“I’m so happy for you.” She hugged her, but Mona’s embrace didn’t have her usual relaxed lushness. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know what to think now.”
“Don’t think. Just feel. Be in love.”
“It’s not that simple. I broke my rule and now I feel like I’m falling through space. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You’re falling in love. You’re not supposed to know what you’re doing. Just enjoy it, go wild.”
“Like you, you mean?” Mona teased.
“That’s just it. I did go wild. I went for it with Rick. He didn’t have a girlfriend—you were right about that—but it’s worse. He has principles. He wants sex to mean something.”
Mona laughed. “It does, hon. That’s why I’m freaked out and why your shoulders are up around your ears. It means something to you, too. Turn around and let me do some trigger-point work while you tell me what happened.”
Samantha turned and Mona dug into her shoulders, while she told her sad tale of the one man on the planet who wasn’t happy just to have a good time in bed.
“Ooh, he’s deep,” Mona mused as she pressed out knots and relieved twists.
“And mysterious. That’s why he seems so perfect. I can imagine him as anyone I want him to be.”
“Have you considered forgetting your fantasies and just getting involved with him? Let it mean something.”
“I’m not ready for that. Relationships confuse me. I forget who I am, slip into the guy’s world, see myself through his eyes.”
“You mean like with Barry?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t know what you wanted then. Now you do. And maybe what you want is Rick.”
“I have the hots for the guy. I hardly know him.”
“So get to know him.”
“He’s a private person.”
“At least find out why he’s sleeping here.” Mona patted her, signifying she was finished.
Samantha turned back to look at her. “Yes. That I’ll do.”
“Go for it.” Mona’s dark eyes twinkled knowingly.
“You, too. Mona. With Chuck. Think of all the fun you can have, all the adventures and erotic pleasures.”
“I’m not into that, Sammi. I picture us in my hammock feeding each other strawberries from my garden, sun tea at our elbows, books on our chests, reading to each other.”
“So your fantasies are more domestic than mine. Take a couple ice cubes out of those teas and trace each other’s naked chests while you’re rocking in the hammock and you’re there.”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m just…well…happy.”
“You look it, hon. You’re glowing right now. And me without my camera.”
“Maybe one day we’ll come in for a couples shot. We’re taking it slow for now.”
“Just don’t take each other for granted or get into a rut or give up who you are to be with him.”
“I would never do that,” Mona said.
“No. You’re right. That’s my stunt.” Samantha sighed, happy for Mona and, somewhere deep, wishing she was ready for love, too.
“Maybe give yourself a chance with Rick,” Mona said, reading her mind.
“No. He wants to settle down and I need to break out. We’re not in the same place in our lives at all.”
“Maybe you’ve already broken out, Sammi. What about that?”
“One hot moment on the tiger chaise does not a wild sex life make, Mona. Rick and I work well together and that ought to be enough. If I could just get him out of my fantasies. It’s just that he seems so mysterious and sexy.”
“Ah, the dangerous stranger.”
“Exactly. If I could think of him as just a regular guy who pulls his pants on one incredibly muscular leg at a time, I’d be fine.”
“You have a crush, you’re saying? So get to know him better, find out his warts and bad habits and shortcomings. Make him ordinary.”
“You’re right. That’s exactly what I have to do. Reduce the mystery factor and the lust will fade. Thanks, Mona.” She hugged her. “And I’m very happy for you.”
Mona smiled her gratitude. “So, let me get the coupon. Your presentation is today?”
“Yep. And if we score this account, I think it’ll start the momentum we need. Rick’s great on the phone, too. He’s a fabulous business partner.” Business partner, not sex partner.
She had to keep that in mind from here on out.
No matter what temptations came along.
RICK HELD THE DOOR of Wendy’s Weddings for their departure and watched Samantha shake the wedding planner’s hand with both of her own. “Thank you so, so much.” She seemed about to explode with excitement.
“You’re very welcome,” Wendy said. “Really.”
“We’ll fax over the final notes when we get back,” Samantha said. “And, again, it was such a pleasure to meet you.”
“Same here,” Wendy said, smiling back, caught up in Samantha’s enthusiasm.
Samantha passed out the door under his arm, bouncing on the balls of her feet, striding so fast he had to gallop to catch up. The instant they rounded the building, she surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck. “We did it!”
He twirled her, relishing the feel of her body, small and sweet in his arms. God help him, he dipped his nose into her hair and inhaled. Cinnamon, flowers and home.
She slid to the ground and pushed out of his arms, her eyes shining so bright it was hard to look straight at them. “I can’t believe we did it.”
“Of course we did. You had a terrific proposal.”
“Your idea of including locket-sized photos was genius.”
“I got it from you.” He nodded at where her locket bounced against her cleavage. Whenever he looked at it, he thought of her radiant face inside the gold frame.
“The point is that it made Wendy choose the pricier option. We must celebrate. Lunch at Renzio’s. And champagne. On the company.”
“You can’t afford champagne. I’ve seen your books, remember?”
“If you won’t take a commission, then you’re taking lunch. This will mean ten high-end clients a month at least. Wendy runs big ads in the glossy mags that go free to rich neighborhoods. Once it gets out what we’re doing with Wendy, other planners will be easy to sign on. First benchmark—check! I am so happy!”
She hugged him again and this time she stilled, leaned back to look into his eyes, testing. Do you feel what I do?
God, yes. In spades, in neon, in letters across the sky. He pulled away fast and held the driver-side door for her.
Turned out Samantha couldn’t drive worth shit when she was excited. He grabbed the overhead grip when she roared onto Highland without a sideways glance at oncoming traffic. Babbling about details that remained to be done, she ran a yellow light and barely slowed for a stop sign. He couldn’t help slamming his feet onto the floorboards.
She glanced at him. “You want to drive, Rick?”
“Just take it e
asy. This is a residential zone and you just blew by a stop sign.”
“So, what, now you’re a cop?”
You got me. “Traffic laws are our friends.”
“I’ll take the ticket. I don’t care. I’ll take two. I can afford them now.”
He chuckled. “Sammi, I think you could burn rubber in a school yard and still talk your way out of the citation.”
“You called me Sammi.” She shot him a look.
“Eyes on the road.” He motioned for her to look ahead.
“I like that. It means we’re friends.”
“Sure,” he said, adding, “Sammi,” like a fool. It was worth it to see the smile sweep across her face and light her eyes.
She jerked into the restaurant’s driveway and zipped to the valet stand. “Life’s too short to self park,” she said, jumping out and producing her key for the attendant.
Rick just grinned. She was such a ball of energy. He liked soaking in her sun. He’d never thought of himself as gloomy, but compared to her, he was a Portland sky.
In minutes, they were seated in a richly upholstered booth at the back of the restaurant. The table was set with linen, two sizes of crystal glasses and an entire drawer of utensils decorated the double plates trimmed in gold. The quiet murmurs of the well-heeled crowd lent an atmosphere of discretion and class.
The wine steward, all unctuous servitude, beamed greedily when Samantha announced they needed a bottle of champagne.
Rick insisted on the least expensive in the wine book—it had too many pages to be called a list—and soon he and Samantha were looking into each other’s eyes, while the man drizzled gold bubbles into their glasses.
The instant the steward left, Samantha lifted her flute. “Here’s to us,” she said and Rick didn’t even fight his grin. He tapped her glass, the sound ringing out like a warning bell. Remember the case. Remember who you are.
Hell, he flat-out liked being in Samantha’s orbit—a cool moon to her fiery sun.
“I’m so glad I hired you,” she said. “Without you, I wouldn’t have made that sale.”
“I just backed your play,” he said.
“It was more than that. I was nervous and too eager.”
“You were just enthusiastic.” He loved that about her. She was as bubbly and warm as the liquid warming his insides, making him want to swallow the bottle in a long gulp, take her in his arms and make love to her.
“You moderated me,” she said. “Plus you have that knowing smile. Like we had so much to offer that Wendy was lucky we could squeeze her into our schedule.”
“You do offer a lot, Samantha.”
“You, too, Rick. As an employee…and as a person. I mean…for the woman you’re looking for…that you haven’t found yet.” She went pink and sucked down champagne. “Anyway, thanks for all you did.”
“I’m happy to help,” he said. He would make sure she came out of all this unharmed, dammit. Would he bend the rules for her? His gut burned. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
“You fit in so easily,” she continued. “You’ve taken on extra duties. I feel like we’re…partners, you know? That you truly want me to succeed.”
“I’m glad you…trust me,” he said, though that made him queasy.
“I do.” Except her blue eyes darted away from his. She had doubts. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” He braced himself. Who are you really? If she asked him straight out, he’d tell her, he knew. And that would be trouble. He’d just have to deal with—
“Have you been sleeping at Mirror, Mirror?”
“Have I…?” Shit. She’d figured it out.
“Because—” she fumbled in her handbag and held out his shaving-cream can “—I found this in Mona’s studio.”
Must have fallen out of his pocket when he’d jumped up last night. “Yeah,” he said. “I did sleep there.” How much truth could he tell her and not jeopardize the case? “I’ve had…problems…at my place.”
“What kind of problems?”
His landlord maybe? Couldn’t play the girlfriend angle. Plumbing out? Eviction? He’d already tried noisy neighbors. Damn. He needed a good lie…. “I thought it would be good for security at the center. There’ve been robberies in the area.” This happened to be true.
“Really? Robberies?”
“I heard that, yeah.” From the job, though, not media accounts.
She blinked, clearly not believing him, but not angry, either, or suspicious, which is how she should feel. She looked worried about him. “I could advance you some salary. Heck, let’s call it a commission. I know you don’t want that, but…”
She felt sorry for him, for chrissake. He couldn’t bear her pity, even if it got him off the spot. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got it handled.”
“Look, Rick. I’m your friend. I’m happy to help you, if—”
“I don’t want your money.” He hadn’t intended to snap at her, but her sympathy made him feel exposed, as if he were about to take a knife in the chest from a surprise assault.
“I just want to help.” She looked hurt.
Damn. “I don’t mean to be harsh. I’m just—”
“A private person, I know.” She spoke softly, wounded by his withdrawal, and he couldn’t think of a word to say. “But if we’re friends, we should know each other better. Help each other…Anyway…” She shrugged and he felt helpless to respond.
Luckily, their food arrived and they busied themselves eating for a bit, speaking only about the food, which smelled great, but now tasted like dust in his mouth.
After a while, Samantha spoke in a low voice. “At least use the bed in Bedroom Eyes, Rick. Mona’s futon is hard as stone.” She was looking out for him still.
“Thanks, Sammi…” Her nickname came out so easy now. “If you don’t mind me staying there for a night or two. Until I work things out at my place.”
The lie came out so smoothly. He hated hurting her. Maybe he could make it up to her—do something they’d both enjoy that wouldn’t jeopardize the case….
“Listen,” he said, capturing her hands under his, “I’d like to pay you back for all you’ve taught me. How about you come with me on an outdoor shoot?”
“Really?” She blinked, startled. “That sounds fun.” She looked down at where he’d covered her fingers, then up at him. “When and where?”
He squeezed her hands, then decided that was a bad idea, since what he wanted to do was bring her palms to his mouth and kiss each soft surface in turn. He let go and dropped his hands to his lap. “Say Sunday at Oak Creek? I know a great spot.”
He realized he wasn’t just throwing her a bone. He wanted her to come. He wanted to take her to the red cliffs he loved, stand with her beside the swirling creek and beneath the trembling aspens. He wanted to show her his meadow, watch her face when she took it in, breathe in her smell mixed with pine and green and the ironstone aroma of flowing water.
Hell, they deserved a Sunday, didn’t they? They both worked hard. How bad could it be? You want her alone in your favorite place, you chump. That made it very bad, but when she said, “I’d love to,” her eyes shiny with champagne and excitement, he hardly felt guilty at all.
11
SITTING IN RENZIO’S, Rick’s eyes smoldering at her, her body tingly from champagne, an outdoor shoot with Rick had sounded glorious. Especially coming on the heels of his harsh refusal of help. Get out of my life followed by Come on in, the water’s fine.
But that was two days ago. Now it was three o’clock in the morning on a Sunday—the one day she slept in—and the idea of tromping through the woods sounded like hell on earth.
She couldn’t even hope for her sex-under-an-open-sky fantasy, since she’d determined to think of Rick only as her assistant.
What she should be doing is trolling the brunch buffet at the Phoenician, where she could snag a visiting CEO. Brunches didn’t kick off until eleven. She could get some sleep.
She stared at th
e digital display—she had a half-hour before she had to shower. Her finger bumped the picture Rick had taken of her. She’d framed it and put it on her bedside table as another reminder of what she wanted. In it, she looked so ready. But not for Rick. Not anymore.
Today she planned to learn so much about him he’d stop being fantasy material. However, since she had thirty minutes to kill, one more sexy little story wouldn’t hurt.
She lay back, closed her eyes and let the picture form in her mind. There he stood—Rick as her highwayman, all in black—standing in her bedroom doorway. Samantha spread out under her sheet and let the fantasy unroll in her mind.
“Why have you come?” she asks the highwayman, breathless with need and relief.
“To claim you, to make you mine, to brand you with my mouth, my hands, my cock.” His voice is fierce. But she knows his anger is not for her. He is furious because his passion for her is beyond his control. Why else would he come when he risks prison, torture, death? Because he must have her. Without her, his life means nothing to him.
“But we agreed that you must go,” she says. “It is not safe for you to stay. They will arrest and hang you.”
“To hell with what we agreed. To hell with what they will do to me. I will have you now.” He strides to her bed. His eyes burn as if they will brand her, too. Brand her as his until he has his fill.
He straddles her needy body—in her fever, she’s thrown back the coverlet, her nightgown tossed off because of the heat—and he stretches her arms overhead, clasping her wrists to keep her in place. He lowers his head and takes her mouth with his hungry lips.
She struggles against his hold on her, but not for long. She revels in his power over her, because she knows her power over him is equal, if not stronger. His kiss deepens, liquefying her. She feels his hard need against her belly and she rubs against him. She is desperate, she is wanton, she is…coming.
Samantha’s eyes flew open. Someone was leaning on her doorbell. She looked at her clock—4:00 a.m. It was Rick, right on time. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of her very last Rick fantasy.
