“Well, somebody did. I don’t really care who—just as long as it doesn’t happen again,” Sam said, trying to be reasonable about it.
Delaney gave him a pointed look. “Could I see you in your office for a moment?” she asked.
“Sure.”
Sam followed her, eyes glued to her swaying hips and butt. He was only human, after all. As long as his hands stayed in his pockets, he figured he could look but not touch.
Delaney waited until they were in his office before turning to face him.
“Sam, is there any chance that you sustained a head injury over the past few days? No knocks on the head or blackouts or anything?” she asked, her voice deceptively sweet and dulcet.
Sam knew her too well to buy it. “No. Why?” he asked cautiously.
Delaney shook her head at him. “I can’t believe you actually accused Debbie of cleaning your desk, after what happened on Friday night,” she said.
Sam’s eyes widened as a full-color replay flashed across his brain—him carrying Delaney into the room and clearing his desk with one arm so he could get down to the very important business of having his way with her. He walked around his desk to confirm the memory. Sure enough, an enormous pile of paper, magazines, stationery and other rubble lay hidden on the other side.
“Oh. Right,” he said stupidly.
“Nice to know it was such a memorable experience for you,” she said coolly, walking out of his office stiff-backed.
Sam thunked his open palm against his forehead. He was such a lamebrain. No wonder Delaney was so angry with him. Gathering his courage, he went after her.
She was in the kitchenette, making herself a coffee. He studied the sleek line of her bent head for a beat before speaking.
“I didn’t forget,” he said. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else.”
Her head shot up, and he could see the surprise and wariness in her face. He was a little surprised, too. He hadn’t known he was going to say anything like that until it popped out his mouth. But it was true, even if he was deeply uncertain about saying it to Delaney, given all that he stood to lose. But he figured it must be pretty obvious that he was hot for her, since he’d jumped her at almost every given opportunity lately. Anyway, she was probably so disgusted by his hit-and-run behavior that she’d cheerfully punch him in the face if he didn’t offer some explanation for what had been happening between them. And Delaney had a mean punch—he’d been on the receiving end of it more than once over the years.
“Then how come you forgot about the desk?” she asked him, her expression shuttered now.
“Because I wasn’t really thinking about the desk at the time. I had other, more pressing issues on my mind,” Sam said. “Find me a guy who could think about a piece of furniture when he had you in his arms, and I will eat my bloody desk, legs and all.”
Delaney didn’t even crack a smile. She just stared at him, then turned back to her coffee mug.
“Where did you go last night?” he asked when she didn’t speak again.
“To Claire’s.”
Not so good—he had a pretty fair idea that Claire wasn’t his number-one fan. Something that probably hadn’t improved much in the past twenty-four hours.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he began, but Delaney held up a hand, her face creased into an expression of pained exhaustion.
“Please—I don’t want to hear again how sorry you are about having sex with me, Sam. Or how you don’t understand why it happened. Or that you wish you could take it back,” she said.
“You said that, not me,” Sam interjected. “After the first time, you said if you could take it back you would.”
“Right. So you wouldn’t take it back, then?” she asked, disbelief dripping from every word.
Sam held her eye and slowly shook his head. “No.”
He realized it was the truth, too. How could he regret the hottest, most abandoned moments of his life? The fact that he’d shared them with Delaney only made them more precious, despite how much it had screwed up their friendship.
Delaney went back to stirring her coffee. Since she didn’t take sugar, he figured she was feeling about as comfortable as he was. Which was not very.
“I don’t want to lose you, Laney,” he said very softly.
She nodded, her head still down. “I know. I’m just a little confused right now,” she said.
Sam wanted to reach out to comfort her, but he knew he’d lost that prerogative the first time he’d laid hands on her with nonplatonic intentions.
“Maybe it’s because of you leaving the business,” he offered. “Maybe we’re both unsettled.”
Delaney nodded again. “Yeah, probably that’s it,” she said.
She looked so sad, pressed up against the sink as though she didn’t want to be there. He couldn’t help himself.
“Stuff it,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her close. He couldn’t just stand by and watch her hurt, not when he was the cause.
The instant he felt the press of her body against his, he knew it had been a mistake. Desire pooled in his groin as his hands caressed the familiar-yet-enticing planes of her back. He inhaled deeply, unable to get enough of her smell—part perfume, part Delaney, completely sensual and inviting.
“Sam,” she said, her voice muffled from where he’d pressed her head against his shoulder.
“Yes,” he said, trying valiantly to will Little Sam back to sleep.
“Do you have an erection?” she asked.
Sam closed his eyes, mortified. “Yes,” he admitted in a strangled tone.
There was a pause, then Delaney slid a hand between their bodies to grab the thick, heavy length of his erection through his jeans. He realized she was breathing hard and trembling a little.
“Oh God. Sorry!” someone exclaimed from behind them, and they both leaped apart like scalded cats.
“I totally didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll come back later, no problems,” their layout artist Rudy said, eyes averted as he backed away.
Delaney made a low, pained sound and hid her face in her hands as Sam shot his eyes toward the ceiling, hoping his boner wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
Delaney waited a few seconds after Rudy’s departure before grabbing her coffee off the sink. Then she brushed past him, face set.
Sam thunked himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand again.
Way to fix things, moron.
DELANEY PUT HER COFFEE DOWN very carefully in the middle of her desk, then extended her hands in front of her. They were shaking as though she had low blood sugar or had just had the shock of a lifetime. Or as though she were waging a war of wills inside herself—a battle between slutty Delaney who wanted nothing but Sam, hard and hot inside her, and sensible, goal-oriented Delaney who was determined to move on from her old love and find herself a new one.
Unfortunately, slutty Delaney had been in charge when Rudy walked into the kitchenette and caught her with a handful of Sam’s crotch. Delaney closed her eyes. It was too, too embarrassing.
But it had proven something to her, above and beyond a doubt. For good or for ill, she and Sam were having some kind of mating season right now. They only had to be in the same room, and sex shot to the top of the agenda. She felt out of control, and more than a little obsessed. And very, very horny.
So maybe her sister’s theory was worth giving a whirl. At this stage, Delaney was ready to try anything. She was already selling out of the business, and she was in the process of moving house. Which would safely remove Sam’s physical presence from her life, but would still leave him firmly entrenched in her subconscious, the memory of his knowing hands returning to haunt her every time she let her guard down. It was so good between them, she knew it was ridiculous to expect herself to get over it anytime soon.
That meant drastic measures were called for. Delaney’s breath hitched in her throat as she considered what she was about to do: offer Sam a weekend of untrammeled hedonism, just t
he two of them, no clothes, no distractions. She crossed her legs, pressing her inner thighs together to try and relieve the instant ache of desire that throbbed there. Probably she shouldn’t kid herself that this was going to be a chore. In fact, in many ways it would be the fulfillment of a fantasy. It was the other end of the weekend that was going to be hard yards—drawing a line under the whole experience and walking away. If her sister was on the money, she’d be sick of the sight of Sam by that time. Delaney smiled grimly to herself. Fat chance. But, at the very least, she might gain herself a grace period, a safe zone for the remainder of her time with X-Pro and in the apartment. As her sister said, nothing retained its luster after repeated viewings. If she could just dull some of the magic, surely it would help her move on?
Delaney reached for her computer mouse and found a tourism Web site, despite not being entirely convinced by her own arguments. She suspected that the real reason she was going through with her sister’s mad plan was because she wanted to bonk Sam as much as was physically possible. No higher calling, or rational motivation there. Sadly, the realization wasn’t going to stop her from doing it, either.
After she’d found a suitable setting for her plan on the Net and made a couple of phone calls, she went to the bathroom to run some cold water over her wrists. Just thinking about a hot weekend away with Sam was driving her wild. And making her feel a little nauseous. What if he said no? She hadn’t really factored that into her grand plan.
Fluffing her hair, she made a decision. She wouldn’t tell him. It was cowardly, she knew, but she figured she was entitled to a few face-saving measures at the moment, given how exposed and vulnerable she was. She’d tell him it was just a platonic weekend away, between friends. To get things back on their old footing. Knowing Sam, he’d jump at the opportunity—anything to save himself from further awkward kitchen conversations.
Decision made, Delaney sought him out in his office. He’d restored his desk to its usual haphazard disorder by the simple expedient of lifting everything off the floor and dumping it back on his desk. She found herself smiling wryly despite everything. He was such a pig.
His blue eyes lit up when he glanced up and saw her standing there, and she corrected herself—a handsome, charming, irresistible pig. And, if things went according to plan, all hers for two whole decadent days.
“You up to anything on the weekend?” she asked idly as she propped a hip against Sam’s desk. One of the teetering piles of paper shifted dangerously, and she stepped away hastily. Sam rested a hand on the rogue pile before it could turn into a paper avalanche.
“Nope. You?” he asked.
Delaney winced at how awkward and stilted they both sounded.
“Um, sort of. I was wondering if you’d like to come away to Daylesford for the weekend. There’s a bush retreat there, really relaxing and peaceful, apparently.”
“Oh,” Sam said, studying her face intently. “That sounds pretty cool.”
“I thought it might give us a chance to get things back on the old footing. You know,” Delaney said. It was only a little fib in that it was partly true—afterward they could go back to their old footing, once she’d ravished him all weekend.
“Right,” Sam said brightly, straightening in his seat. She knew exactly what he was thinking—they could brush the recent past under the rug of history, and never have to speak of it again. Wasn’t that what he’d pretty much suggested already?
“Maybe we could do a bit of fishing,” he said, getting into the spirit of things. “Go hiking or something.”
“Yeah,” Delaney said, thinking Fat chance, pal. You won’t be leaving the bedroom.
“When do you want to leave?” Sam asked, completely committed to the idea now.
Delaney felt a surge of unease. Was she coercing him too much, doing it this way? But the thought of coming right out with her agenda and laying her cards on the table so blatantly made her knees turn to water. So, maybe she was a sneak. But she was a desperate sneak, with mostly good motives. And it wasn’t like she was conning Sam into two days in the salt mines of Siberia.
“Um, how about we ditch work early tomorrow. Maybe around four?” she suggested.
“Great. It’s a date,” Sam said.
Immediately he seemed to regret the inadvertent connotation of what he’d said, because he shifted uneasily in his chair. “I mean, it’s not a date. But you’re on,” he said awkwardly.
She just smiled at him.
Don’t give yourself too hard a time, Sam, she thought as she walked away. You’re more on the money than you know.
SAM SQUINTED THROUGH the windshield at the rusty road sign coming up on their left.
“Is this it?” he asked.
They’d been trawling through the unsealed back roads of Daylesford—about an hour’s drive north of Melbourne—for the past twenty minutes. Getting to the small country town itself had been easy—it was a popular tourist destination thanks to the large gay population that had adopted the town, ushering in a new era of funky restaurants and great food, and the roads were excellent. But they’d left the township behind long ago, and were now thick in the bush, driving up rutted dirt road after rutted dirt road, following the instructions Delaney had been given by the real estate agent.
“Yes!” Delaney said, punching the air. “Turn left here.”
Sam spun the wheel, the SUV’s tires slipping on the gravel road. Delaney hung on and gave a little whoop of excitement. He couldn’t help smiling himself, even though he’d been feeling increasingly tense the closer they got to their destination.
What had he been thinking, committing to spending a whole weekend away with Delaney to renew the bonds of their platonic friendship? Was he certifiably insane? He’d fooled himself into thinking that it was a smart idea for the bulk of Thursday and Friday, then he’d come downstairs from his apartment to pick Delaney up this afternoon to find her wearing a pair of short shorts, a tiny tank top and a pair of strappy sandals. Instantly he’d understood that getting their friendship back onto its proper footing was going to require a Ghandi-like display of moral fiber. That he didn’t possess that kind of self-control did not surprise Sam—and it didn’t bode well for a successful weekend, either. What was Delaney going to think of him when he was walking around with a permanent hard-on for two days running?
And there was no doubt in his mind that she was utterly convinced that this weekend was going to cure whatever ailed their friendship. She’d been positively beaming since he’d committed to coming, the old bounce back in her step as she went about her business in the office. Although, now that he thought about it, she’d been a little quieter since they’d started driving. Maybe she, too, was beginning to realize that the weekend might pose some pitfalls in terms of willpower? He shot a sideways look at her as she stared pensively out the side window. It was obvious to him that she wasn’t exactly unmoved by him on a sexual level. It had definitely taken two to tango every time they’d come together. In fact, that time in his apartment, when she’d caught him unexpectedly naked, it had been the raw lust in her eyes that had driven his own desire beyond the bounds of self-control.
So this was a two-way street, this thing between them. But he also had no doubt that Delaney wanted to erect a roadblock. She had plans, and they didn’t include him in her bed. Hence this weekend away.
“Here’s the driveway,” Delaney said, and he turned left into yet another rutted, gravel road.
Gum trees lined either side of the road, and then they rounded a curve and found their weekend hideaway—a charming mud-brick house set on a natural step in the hillside. It had a stone-built chimney on the outside, and a large claw foot bathtub occupying pride of place on the front deck.
It looked just about perfect—for a weekend of pure, unadulterated torture. He shot Delaney another sideways look. Did she have any idea how romantic this place was?
She got out of the car first, pausing for a moment to tug her shorts into place. Sam groaned low in the ba
ck of his throat as he stared at her ass. He was such a goner.
Delaney looked back at him over her shoulder. Her toffee-brown eyes were unreadable as she offered a small, nervous smile.
“Looks pretty nice, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed dryly.
Sighing heavily, he levered himself out of the car and grabbed their luggage from the back hatch. Delaney took her own overnight bag—she never let him carry her gear—and he scooped up his backpack and the bags of groceries Delaney had brought with her.
She led the way to the front door, and within seconds they were walking into a large room with a high, open-beamed ceiling. To one side, a sink and small counter denoted the kitchen, and in the corner was a door that he guessed must lead to the bathroom. The rest of the room was dominated by the open fireplace and an enormous bed. Frowning, Sam dumped his load and put his hands on his hips.
“This is it? There’s no more?” he asked.
Delaney smoothed her hands down the sides of her legs, clearly as unsettled as he was by the fact that there was only one bed.
“The real estate agent must have made a mistake,” he said, pulling his mobile phone out of his back pocket. He had no idea if they could get service out here in the bush, but he had to give it a shot because there was no way he could share a bed with Delaney for a whole weekend and keep the promise he’d made to himself.
“Um, it’s not a mistake,” Delaney said quietly.
Sam froze in the act of dialing the number. “Sorry?”
“I said it’s not a mistake. I picked it deliberately.”
Sam just stood there, immobilized by the many and varied thoughts rampaging through his brain.
“Sam, the past few weeks, we seem to keep…you know…” she said, indicating with her hand that she was referring to them having jumped on each other’s bodies at every given opportunity. “So there’s obviously something going on between us. Don’t you think?”
Sam could only nod. For some reason, he was finding it very difficult to breathe.
“And you know I have plans to find a husband and start a family. At the moment, this thing between us is kind of muddying the water. And it’s making us fight all the time. So I figured that maybe we should just…get it out of our systems,” Delaney finished in a rush.
Anything For You (Harlequin Blaze) Page 14