Anything For You (Harlequin Blaze)

by Sarah Mayberry

  “Get over yourself, Delaney,” she told herself.

  So she was in love with a man who didn’t return her feelings. It wasn’t going to kill her, was it? There were worse things in life. Right?

  For a second her mind was a complete blank as she tried to come up with a worse scenario.

  “Pathetic,” she muttered to herself, tossing off the last of the wine. Then she marched back inside her apartment and went straight to the bathroom.

  A long hot shower later, she combed out her newly washed and conditioned hair and sat down with the real estate section of the newspaper.

  The only thing to do was to keep moving forward with her plan. Soon she would be out of the business, and the next step would be removing herself from the temptation of living beneath Sam.

  She shot a wistful look around her apartment. She’d put a lot of herself into this place. But hanging on to it would just be an excuse to hang on to Sam. And he’d made it abundantly, brutally clear that there was nothing to hang on to.

  Her shoulders sagged as she at last acknowledged the most galling aspect of her recent encounter with Sam. As he’d reached for her, his eyes hungry, his body needing hers, she’d been on fire with hope. Because he wouldn’t have grabbed her like that if he didn’t feel something, right?

  And then he’d said those fateful words. I don’t know why that happened.

  But what had she been expecting him to say? Delaney, I love you? Please don’t leave me, I can’t imagine my life without you?

  Really? Did her folly really extend that far?

  Delaney stared sightlessly down at the newspaper spread across her lap.

  Yes. She was that foolish. She had hoped, even after all these years. Even after the way he’d behaved after the last time they’d slept with each other. Which was why Sam’s words had hurt so much. Would she never learn her lesson where he was concerned?

  You know what to do, she berated herself. Just do it.

  Picking up a pen, Delaney refocused on the real estate ads.

  Coming up, one new Sam-free life. Stat.

  SAM SLAMMED the back of his car shut and reached for his surfboard. Tucking it under one arm, he strode out onto the sand, angling up toward the peak of the dunes that stood between him and the beach. There was an easier way to the water, cutting through the dunes rather than over them, but the view from the top was spectacular. And he needed every bit of inspiration that Mother Nature had on offer at the moment.

  After four days of surfing, eating and sleeping, he was finally beginning to see a way forward through the mess he’d made of his relationship with Delaney.

  For starters, the sex had to stop. It was amazing, mind-blowing, addictive. But it was also the fastest route to losing her. For perhaps the first time in his life, he would have to exercise some self-restraint and keep his hands out of the cookie jar.

  It was about more than just keeping his mitts off her, however. Straddling his bobbing board out past the break early one morning, Sam had had an epiphany. Delaney was his friend—his dearest, most loyal, most beloved friend. And she had told him that she wanted to have a family. She wanted to meet someone special, fall in love, make babies. Build a life, in short.

  If he were a true friend, her goal would be his goal. It was so clear to him out there on the ocean, the salt spray fresh in his face. He had to help Delaney find a man worthy of her. He had to help her find new challenges.

  He’d grown more and more certain about his decision over the ensuing days. Now, he crested the top of the dune and paused to take in the view, his board propped beside him in the sand. Below him, golden sand stretched down to a private, untouched cove. Waves licked the beach, their peaks foaming as they curled into the sand. The blue-grey ocean seemed to stretch on forever.

  The wind stirred his hair and he squinted his eyes against the glare of the mid-afternoon sun. Inside his chest, there was a hollow place that had been there ever since he’d made his big decision. The ugly truth was that he wanted Delaney all to himself. He didn’t want to watch her fall in love with Mr. Two-Point-Five-Kids. He didn’t even want to play favorite uncle to her children, to teach them how to surf and skate and get in trouble. He was that much of a selfish bastard. The thought of her building a life for herself that didn’t include him in a major role was almost unthinkable.

  But it was what she wanted. And he was determined that Delaney would get it.

  Slinging his board under his arm again, Sam made his way down to the water. Splashing into the shallows, he stopped to secure his leg rope around his ankle, then waded in deep enough to launch himself onto his board. Paddling surely and strongly, he made his way out past the break.

  For the next hour, he surfed hard, his mind a complete blank. Delaney, the magazine, everything receded into the distance. It was all still ticking over somewhere down deep, but he’d won himself some valuable breathing room. By the time he stepped back onto the beach, he felt crystal clear and very calm.

  He was going to come clean to Delaney, tell her that he was threatened by what was going on with their friendship. He didn’t relish the conversation, emotional chitchat not being his strong point, but he would make the effort for her. Then he would offer her his services as a matchmaker. It was the least he could do, he figured, to make it up to her after shamelessly taking advantage of her the way he had. After all, who knew her better than him? He knew all her habits, good and bad. He knew she was always grumpy in the morning, and that she adored Turkish delight, and that she was compulsive about sleeping only on one-hundred-percent cotton sheets.

  Plus, he knew a lot of guys. Surfing mates, skating mates, drinking mates, partying mates. Some of them even fell into all categories. Somewhere in his rich and varied catalogue of friends there must be a man worthy of Delaney.

  Making his way back to the car by the easy route this time, Sam turned the matter over and over in his mind. The first candidate who sprang to mind was Macca. Short for Scott McCarthy, a friend of both his and Delaney’s for years. Which was good, for starters—no weird vibe about Macca not wanting Sam and Delaney to continue their friendship. And Macca earned a sweet living running his own construction company. He was a good mate, talked about his sister’s kids a lot and wasn’t a bastard with women. Three ticks. On the down side, he didn’t have much of a sense of humor. And he was pretty passive, usually backing down in an argument.

  Sliding his board into his car, Sam dried himself roughly with a towel as he mentally crossed Macca off his list. Now that he thought about it, the poor guy just wasn’t up to Laney’s speed. She needed someone to push back, keep her honest. She was a passionate woman, and she needed someone to match that passion.

  Sam resolutely stopped himself from thinking about exactly how passionate Delaney was as he tooled his car back to Charlie’s beach house. The gravel driveway crackled beneath his tires as he pulled up, and his eyes grew unfocused as another prospect occurred: Charlie himself.

  No problem with being a good provider—Charlie was raking it in with his job as an investment banker. And he owned property—witness the holiday house. He dressed well, and could handle himself in almost any situation. He didn’t surf, true, but he did like to snowboard, so he was redeemable. He was funny, generous and very damned charming with the ladies, from what Sam had seen.

  Pretty much perfect, really. Sam’s jaw flexed and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he imagined setting Charlie and Delaney up on a date. Charlie could probably sweep her off her feet if he put his mind to it. His grip tightened even further on the steering wheel.

  The two of them already knew each other, of course. So it wouldn’t be too awkward. Sam frowned as a thought occurred. Maybe they knew each other too well? Maybe there’d be no excitement between them? Because if Charlie had been at all interested in Delaney, he would have made a move before now, wouldn’t he?

  Although Charlie hadn’t seen Delaney lately, of course. Not since her makeover. Sam suddenly had an image of Charl
ie getting an eyeful of Delaney in her new skin-tight jeans and tiny tops. He could just imagine his friend’s reaction.

  Lips thinning, he crossed Charlie off the list as well. Any man who needed to see Delaney in skin-tight jeans to appreciate her just was not up to scratch.

  Obviously it wasn’t going to be easy finding someone who was Delaney’s perfect match. And why should it be? She was a special, amazing woman. The man who wound up marrying her would be the luckiest sod on the planet, and then some. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she’d make a great mother, either. She doted on her sister’s kids, but he’d also seen her handle their tantrums with confident aplomb. She’d be a natural, no doubt about it.

  Sam found himself in the living room, staring at Charlie’s seen-better-days sofa and ratty old black-and-white television. It was time to go back. He’d stalled his return for as long as he could, having left a message on Delaney’s office voice mail on Sunday night explaining he’d be taking a few days off work. There was always a brief lull in between issues, so he’d known he wasn’t placing too much of a burden on her by sloping off for a couple of days.

  But it was Wednesday, and his time was more than up. He’d achieved what he’d set out to do. He’d got his head on straight where Delaney was concerned, gained himself some much-needed perspective. He had a game plan, a strategy to move forward with.

  He whiled away the hours on the drive back to Melbourne reviewing more possible candidates for Delaney’s future husband. By the time he was turning into the street housing their apartment block, it was after six in the evening and he’d come up with a shortlist of three prospects.

  He was feeling quietly pleased with himself when he saw the sign. Six feet tall and almost as wide, it was fixed to the side of their apartment block and featured a big, splashy For Sale across the top, along with a high-gloss photo of the interior of a modern, funky warehouse apartment.

  Sam almost drove into a tree as he slammed the brakes on and stared at the living room of Delaney’s place.

  What in the hell was going on?

  7

  DELANEY STUDIED the blueprints spread out on her dining room table.

  “So, Steve, what did you think?” she asked hopefully.

  “It needs a little work, but it’s got good bones. At the right price, I think it’s got a lot of promise,” Steve said.

  Steve was her sister’s friend, an architect who’d done Delaney the favor of inspecting a house she’d found in the southeastern Melbourne suburb of Camberwell. She’d gone through the house for the first time on Monday night, spoken to a real estate agent about putting her apartment on the market the following morning, and watched as the sign went up the very next day. Working in publishing, she was familiar with fast turnaround digital printing, but she’d been somewhat breathless at the speed with which her agent had moved.

  The plans in front of her depicted a classic California bungalow, with a deep, wide porch along the front of the house, and two sets of diamond-paned windows on either side of central double doors. The rooms inside were spacious, if a little dated with their seventies wallpaper and dingy nylon carpet. But she and Steve had pulled up a corner of the carpet to confirm there was a genuine Baltic pine floor underneath, just waiting to be rediscovered, and the wallpaper was a pretty easy fix.

  As Steve said, it had a lot of potential. Delaney glanced around her apartment, feeling distinctly wistful about saying goodbye to its gracious high ceilings and exposed timber beams.

  “It’s a great space,” Steve said, as though he could read her mind.

  Delaney summoned a smile. “But it’s not really a family home,” she said firmly.

  The sound of her front door slamming open interrupted further conversation, and she swung around to see Sam striding toward her, six foot two of indignant, outraged male.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demanded, his voice a fierce growl.

  Steve shot Delaney a worried look. “Do you know this guy?” he asked.

  Delaney nodded. “He’s my neighbor.”

  “Neighbor?” Sam all but howled. “Try again.”

  Steve kept his eyes on Delaney. “Do you want me to…?”

  Delaney had a sudden flash of how quickly this situation could get out of hand.

  “It’s fine. But maybe we can talk about the house later, yeah?” she suggested.

  “Not a problem,” Steve said.

  Rolling up the house plans, Steve shot a look at a glowering Sam before nodding briefly at Delaney and heading for the door.

  Sam didn’t bother waiting till the door had shut behind him before he started up again.

  “When did you decide to sell your apartment?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

  “While I was on holidays,” she answered boldly. Sam actually flinched, and she realized that it wasn’t the answer he’d expected.

  “So it had nothing to do with what happened the other night?” Sam asked disbelievingly.

  “No,” she said.

  She could see Sam didn’t quite know where to go with either of her answers.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to sell your place? Didn’t you think I might be a tiny little bit interested?” Sam said. She could hear the hurt under the anger in his voice, and her stomach tightened.

  “You weren’t here, Sam. What was I supposed to do, hunt you down wherever you’d gone so I could let you know what was happening?”

  Sam flushed a dull red and his gaze slid away for a few seconds. Then he was back on the attack.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this. Selling out of the business, moving apartments. And you never even bothered to sit down and talk to me about any of it.”

  “I’m just doing what I have to do,” Delaney said flatly. Inside, she felt sick. Sam was right. She never made major life choices without talking it over with him. It felt wrong and weird and incomplete, somehow. But she couldn’t tell him the real reason for all the changes. The man had hightailed it out of her life for nearly five days because they’d had sex. She loved him unbearably, but he was not someone she could pin her hopes and dreams on.

  “I don’t understand what any of this has to do with starting a family. Why can’t you meet some guy and get married and have kids while you live here and work with me?” Sam demanded.

  Delaney stared at him, the truth on the tip of her tongue. But there was no way she could lay herself open to that much rejection. She’d had two huge helpings of it over the past week, and it hurt too much.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” she said instead.

  Sam’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “At least give me a shot at it! My God, Laney, how many years have we been friends?”

  “A long time. Long enough that I would have expected you to hang around, or at least make a real live phone call after what happened between us the other night,” Delaney said.

  That stopped him in his tracks. He opened and shut his mouth a few times before he finally spoke.

  “I needed to clear my head,” he said, which made her so angry she cut across the rest of his words.

  “What about protection, Sam? Didn’t it even cross your mind that I might be pregnant? Or that I might be feeling a little confused as well?” she said.

  He stared at her. “Pregnant?” A peculiar expression raced across his face. “Really? Could you be?”

  Delaney grabbed either side of her head and held on tight, just in case her brain really did explode.

  “No! I am not. Because I am on the Pill. Something you didn’t even bother to ask about. I bloody hope you’re not this reckless with the other legions of women you sleep with.”

  “I always use condoms. Always!” Sam said indignantly.

  “Except with me.”

  “Well it wasn’t as though I was planning on jumping my best friend,” Sam yelled. “It wasn’t exactly something I had on my list of things to do.”

  She tried not to flinch from the absolute certainty and outr
age in his tone. It wasn’t a surprise to her that Sam didn’t think of her in that way. She had sixteen years of evidence to back up that belief. So why did it hurt every time he proved it to her over and over?

  “Yeah, I got that, Sam. And the feeling is mutual,” she said, hurt pride driving her now.

  A taut silence fell between them as they glared at each other. Delaney tried not to notice that he was looking particularly delicious in an old pair of board shorts and a stretched-out muscle top. His biceps were golden and sculpted, his calves equally tanned and shapely. His face was all angles and planes, his eyes an intense, deep blue against his skin.

  Suddenly all the fight went out of her as she realized exactly what she was sacrificing in the hope of finding future happiness. The last few days had given her a taste of what it would be like when she and Sam were no longer close friends. It had been lonely and hollow and empty. She’d picked up the phone to call him a dozen times before she’d remembered that not only was he not home, but she wasn’t talking to him for a whole host of reasons. The problem was, her mind automatically defaulted to loving Sam, to wanting to be near him. She craved the sound of his laughter, and the way he always had of making everything assume its rightful perspective. Only this time he couldn’t help her do that, because the problem she was tackling was him.

  As if he sensed her sudden fragility, the heat seemed to drain out of Sam as well.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, Laney,” he said.

  Before she could brace herself, he’d crossed the space between them and was enveloping her in a hard embrace.