Engaging Sam

by Ingrid Weaver

  She rocked forward and picked up the soap from the edge of the tub, rubbing the bar between her hands to work up a lather. She didn’t care what he said. He was good and decent. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be so upset about what had happened this afternoon.

  What had happened this afternoon...

  Closing her eyes, she spread the soap over her neck and chest. Sex had happened. As the saying went, he’d made a woman out of her. If he was as thoroughly bad as he claimed, he wouldn’t have had any conscience pangs afterward. He wouldn’t have denied them this pleasure as long as he had.

  Her hands dropped to her breasts, skimming over skin that was still sensitive from the memory of his touch. Even now, after hours had passed, the sensations he’d aroused were still there, just beneath the surface.

  It was the best sex I’ve had in my life.

  Her lips quirked. It was the only sex she’d had, so she didn’t have anything to use for comparison. Yet it had been pretty darn fantastic. Waves crashing, the earth moving, stars falling...all those cliché metaphors didn’t come close to describing what she’d felt in Sam’s arms.

  But just like a flood or an earthquake or a meteorite strike, the aftermath was a disaster.

  Sighing, she splashed water over her face, then continued with her bath. It wasn’t only her virginity that had sent Sam into full retreat. It was his unwillingness to get close to anyone. Now that she knew how he’d grown up, it wasn’t surprising. Being rejected by his own mother must have scarred him deeply. He’d have had to develop an incredibly tough, self-sufficient shell in order to get through that kind of childhood. Or lack of a childhood.

  She’d thought she’d suffered when Sam had rejected her. And she’d handled it by denying her feelings, and then when that didn’t work, by trying to push him away. Why hadn’t she realized that Sam was doing the same thing? He’d been pushing people away out of self-defense from the time he was a child. Even now, after he’d opened up his past to her, he’d made it clear that he didn’t want her sympathy or her pity.

  But she didn’t pity him, she loved him.

  The bar of soap squirted out of her hands and thunked to the floor. Love? She was in love with Sam Tucker? No, she’d settled that before. It was lust. Proximity. Gratitude. Hormones...

  God, talk about being in denial. Of course she was in love with him. The feeling had been there all along, but she’d been too busy trying to rationalize it away to recognize it. She’d been too hung up on her pride and her lack of experience and she’d done exactly what Judy had said: she’d been so afraid of trying again that she’d buried her heart.

  The chill that had stiffened her muscles melted away. She loved him. She knew it with a certainty that left no more room for doubt. The knowledge was so certain that it must have been drifting around in her subconscious mind for weeks, and now it had finally surfaced.

  It was love, all right, but it wasn’t the easy, comfortable bond she had with her family, or the idealistic devotion she’d felt for Ryan. No, it was a steady, strong, down-to-earth man-woman love. Why else had she continued to care, despite what she’d been through? Why else had she chosen Sam to be the first and only man to make love to her?

  Water surged over the sides of the tub as she grasped the rim and rose to her feet. Her first impulse was to shout it out loud, to run to Sam and throw herself into his arms and tell him how she felt...and then watch him withdraw even further into that shell.

  Wrapping a towel around herself she padded to the window. Light shone from the open door of the woodshed. The sound of chopping had been replaced by the whine of a power saw. Lifting her arm, she flattened her palm against the rain-streaked glass.

  Sam had never been loved. At some stage of his life, he must have wanted to be. All children wanted to be. But he’d survived by closing off that part of himself. How deep did the emotional scars go? Having never been loved, was he incapable of accepting it? Was he unable to love in return?

  She didn’t know. He’d been willing enough to accept the physical expression of her feelings. He’d even wanted to do more, until he’d used the excuse of her virginity in order to go all noble and aloof again. She understood why he didn’t want to get involved or risk commitment.

  Yes, but what did she want?

  That was an easy question. She didn’t want to accept the distance between them. She didn’t want to complicate her life with worries about the future or things neither of them could change, but that didn’t stop her from wanting Sam.

  Oh, yes. She wanted him.

  So, here she was. A woman still tingling from her initiation into sexual pleasure. Alone on an isolated farm with the man she loved...a man who would rather chop wood and use power tools than come to bed with her.

  And she had no idea what she was going to do about it.

  Sam lifted the shutter he’d repaired last night into place beside the front window. He was fastening it to the frame when he caught a blur of movement at the corner of his vision. He whirled around, the screwdriver clenched in his fist. When he saw it was Audra, he didn’t relax. If anything, the tension he was feeling grew worse.

  She looked fresh-scrubbed and wholesome, as pure as the sunrise he’d watched after his sleepless night on the couch. Evidently she’d found some of Middleton’s clothes—the purple T-shirt she wore was long enough to pass for a dress. She’d knotted a paisley tie around her waist and hadn’t bothered with shoes...and she was so beautiful he couldn’t look away.

  Without a doubt she had the best legs of any woman he’d ever known. And he liked the way the folds of that T-shirt draped teasingly around her curves, and the way her hair looked as if it had been tousled by a lover’s hand. But what drew him the strongest was the expression on her face. Part shy, part sensual, the same way she’d looked when she’d touched him in that gentle exploration of his body.

  How much firewood did he need to split to get her out of his system? After the way he took her innocence, he shouldn’t even be looking at her. He was nothing but the scum his mother had always called him. No, he was worse. Because instead of the remorse he should be feeling, he still felt that stubborn sense of possessive satisfaction.

  And God help him, he wanted to fold her into his arms and kiss her good morning and pretend it wasn’t the Fitzpatrick case that was keeping them here together.

  “Hi,” she said, moving along the porch toward him. She held out one of the mugs she carried. “I made some coffee.”

  He put down the screwdriver and reached for his shirt, achingly aware of the way her eyes gleamed as her gaze dropped to his chest. “Thanks.”

  “There isn’t much in the way of food here, but I made a peach cobbler if you want some.”

  As usual, the aroma of her coffee made his mouth water. After yesterday, her love of cooking took on an whole new significance. For a woman as passionate as Audra to remain celibate all these years, she must have used her cooking as an outlet for her sensuality. So it was easy to understand why the mere smell of her baking could arouse him. “Peach cobbler?” he asked as he took the mug she offered.

  “I found some biscuit mix and canned peaches in the cupboard with the coffee. I hope Detective Middleton doesn’t mind.”

  “He won’t. The stuffs probably left over from the last time we used this place.”

  “And I, um, borrowed one of his shirts.”

  “He wouldn’t mind that, either.” Sam certainly didn’t. He backed up to sit on the porch railing and sipped his coffee. For a moment he indulged himself, studying the way the supple cotton fabric molded her as she moved. And he remembered the way his hands and his lips had touched her skin....

  The sound of a car engine intruded into his thoughts. He stiffened, preparing to get Audra back into the house, but then, he recognized the throaty growl of Bergstrom’s Mercury.

  When he’d called Xavier last night to explain the situation, Sam had asked him to send out a replacement. That’s what Audra had demanded, anyway. For everyone’s sa
ke, it was the best thing to do. It had been practically impossible to sleep on the couch, knowing she was only a staircase and a closed door away from him. And now that he knew what he was missing, how could he possibly get through another night, and then another after that...until their time would be up and she’d be out of his life for good.

  Swearing under his breath, he pushed away from the railing and headed for the steps. He didn’t want to think about his job or this case or what was right and what was wrong. He wanted Audra. And why the hell couldn’t Bergstrom have been late?

  The moment Sam turned away, Audra took a deep breath and tightened her grip on her mug to keep her hand from shaking. How could he look so good in rumpled clothes and morning stubble? How was she supposed to sip coffee and carry on a polite conversation when what she really wanted to do was kiss him good morning and tell him she loved him? And show him she loved him?

  Gravel crunched as a huge, rusty old boat of a car pulled up beside the woodshed. It took a moment for Audra to recognize the tall man who emerged from the car. But then she saw the blond hair and the flash of a toothpaste-ad smile. It was Piers Bergstrom, the policeman who had taken her statement in the hospital. But what would he be doing out here...

  Of course. This would be Sam’s replacement.

  She shouldn’t have hesitated. She should have kissed Sam good morning after all.

  Bergstrom took two suitcases from the trunk of the car. “So this is how you spend your vacation,” he said as he followed Sam to the house. He grinned when he caught sight of Audra. “I admire your dedication, Tucker. Yes, I surely do.”

  Sam scowled. “Any word on that black sedan?”

  “It was stolen, just like you figured.” Bergstrom dropped the suitcases on the porch. “Good morning, Miss McPherson. We meet again.”

  “Hello.” She glanced at the suitcases he’d brought, finally recognizing the one with the flowered tapestry pattern. “Is that mine?”

  “I called Judy and explained the situation,” Sam said. “She took care of packing your clothes.”

  “You have a charming sister-in-law,” Bergstrom put in. “She asked me to pass on her best wishes.”

  “Thank you for picking up my things,” Audra said.

  He flashed another toothpaste-ad smile. “It was my pleasure, but personally, I don’t think you can improve on what you’re wearing.”

  She tugged on the hem of the T-shirt, feeling suddenly self-conscious. It hadn’t bothered her when Sam had looked at her legs like that “Uh, thanks.”

  He inhaled deeply, then groaned with exaggerated pleasure. “What is that delicious aroma?”

  “Peach cobbler.”

  “Mmm, I think I’m in love.”

  Sam glowered. “Did you bring any supplies?”

  “I thought you could take care of that,” he said, inhaling again. “Do I smell coffee too?”

  “You’re welcome to have a cup. And help yourself to the cobbler,” she said, moving toward her suitcase.

  “Aren’t you going to join me?” Bergstrom asked.

  “No, I think I’ll go and change.”

  “And deprive me of this feast for my eyes? That shirt never looked so good on Middleton.”

  “Berg,” Sam muttered. “Back off.”

  Bergstrom winked and grabbed Audra’s bag before she could reach it. “I’ll carry this upstairs for you. Which bedroom are you using?”

  “The one with the lock on the door,” Sam said. “You’ll be staying on the couch.”

  “Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “Not me.”

  Sam took a step toward him. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Later.”

  “Now, Berg.”

  Audra pulled the suitcase from his hand and opened the screen door. “Excuse me. I’m going to unpack,”

  As soon as the door swung shut behind her, she heard Bergstrom’s voice through the screen. His tone was suddenly all business. “I brought your spare gun, Tucker. It’s in the other suitcase.”

  “Why? What were you doing in my apartment?”

  “Hey, how else was I going to pack your stuff?”

  “What?”

  Audra paused in the hall, twisting around to listen.

  “I can’t stay,” Bergstrom was saying. “I have to be back. in the city by noon, so it looks like you’re still on bodyguard detail.”

  “What?”

  “While you’ve been on vacation, the rest of us have been working our little butts off for Xavier. We got a break on that kiddie porn ring case.”

  There was a brief silence. “That’s good news,” Sam said.

  Did he mean it was good news about the break in the case? Or good news that Bergstrom wouldn’t be staying?

  What did it matter? The other suitcase contained Sam’s clothes. He wouldn’t be leaving after all. She’d have more time with him. Audra grabbed the banister, her steps light as she climbed the stairs to the bedroom.

  Considering the circumstances, and the threat from Fitzpatrick, she shouldn’t be feeling this good. Nothing had really changed. Sam was still keeping himself unreachable. Their association was still temporary. Their parting had merely been postponed, that’s all.

  She swung the suitcase onto the bed and zipped it open, then frowned when she looked inside. There had to be some mistake. These weren’t her clothes. No, wait. There was the blue dress Judy and Geraldine had talked her into buying. And that was the nightgown she wore on really hot nights, but she didn’t recognize those shorts or that tank top. She picked them up and held them against her. They appeared to be her size, but the top had such a scooped neckline, and the shorts were so short, she never would have chosen anything like this for herself.

  Quickly, she sorted through the rest of the clothes. There was a pair of slim-cut beige jeans, a few flirty little sundresses, makeup and more nightgowns and underwear she didn’t recognize. It was all her size, but those scandalous scraps of lace and satin had never been stored in Audra McPherson’s dresser drawers, that was for sure.

  She dug deeper into the suitcase, suspicion growing. Evidently, her hopelessly romantic, matchmaking sister-in-law had been quick to grasp the potential of the situation. “Judy,” she whispered. “What have you done?”

  Her hand closed around a rectangular cardboard box. She drew it out, her frown deepening as she turned it over to read the label. Two dozen, extra large. Lubricated. Quality guaranteed. What on earth... Two dozen? Extra large?

  Well, she’d obviously guessed Sam’s size correctly, too. But what on earth did Judy expect her to do with...

  Shaking her head, Audra dropped the box on the bed. And for the first time in weeks, she began to laugh.

  Chapter 14

  She must be doing something wrong, Audra decided, pressing her hand to her stomach to calm the butterflies. Seduction was supposed to come naturally to a woman in love, wasn’t it? Not that she’d had any previous experience, but she had always been a quick study, and she was willing to learn.

  It had seemed like a good idea this afternoon. Preparing a romantic, candlelit dinner for two, wearing one of the flirty little dresses Judy had packed, dabbing the perfume in places that made her blush.... God, it had been so long since she’d been on a date, let alone thought about romance, she was a bundle of nerves. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her dress and fluffed her hair, then turned around and carried the cheesecake to the table.

  Sam was still sitting as stiffly as he had throughout their dinner. He glanced up when she came in, but then he tightened his jaw and lowered his gaze.

  “I made some dessert,” she said. She was stating the obvious, but she needed to say something to break the silence.

  “Looks good.”

  She sat down across from him. The moment she reached out to pick up the knife, her strap slithered down her arm. Swallowing a sigh, she nudged the strap back on her shoulder. She shouldn’t have worn this dress. It looked fine when she was standing, but every time she sat down the sn
ug bodice pushed upward and the narrow straps slid down. How was she supposed to look stylish and attractive when she couldn’t even manage to control her clothing?

  The candle on the table wavered as a breeze wafted through the window. In the flickering light, the angles of Sam’s face looked carved from stone. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Audra. I don’t expect you to cook for me.”

  “Oh, I enjoy it.” She cut a piece of cake and put it on a plate. And her strap fell down again. Deciding to ignore it, she passed the plate to Sam. “I’m glad that general store had everything on my shopping list.”

  His hands fisted on the table top. “No problem.”

  She’d been tempted to add a bottle of wine to the list, but she’d worried it would have been too obvious. Maybe she should have anyway. And she should have tried to tune in a country music station on that radio on the bookshelf. He’d said he liked Garth Brooks. Well, everyone liked Garth Brooks, but...

  Why was she so nervous? She hadn’t been nervous yesterday. Their lovemaking had been so gloriously spontaneous, she hadn’t had time to think of anything else. And this time it would be even better, because she knew she loved him. Pressing her hand to her stomach again, she drew in a deep breath.

  His nostrils flared as he dropped his gaze.

  She sighed and cut a slice of cheesecake for herself. It had been a challenge to make that dessert with the limited utensils that she’d found in the kitchen, but she’d done her best. “It’s cappuccino,” she said.

  “What?”

  She gestured toward his plate. “The cheesecake.”

  His hand tightened around his fork. With a quick jerk, he lifted a bite to his mouth.

  Audra watched for his reaction, remembering how he’d enjoyed testing the fudge sauce with her all those weeks ago. He was a man of strong appetites, and she hoped that by stimulating this one, she’d stimulate another. He chewed slowly, his expression softening as his eyes half closed in pleasure. But then he blinked and set his jaw.