Like an addict, she had to first give up her drug of choice before she could begin to recover. Even though she knew the withdrawals were going to hurt like hell.
Too late, she realized she’d lost her chance to escape as Sam caught sight of her.
“How’s it going?” he asked, his tone blank of all emotion.
“Almost done. Karen can probably move her stuff in now.”
“She doesn’t want to step on your toes. She wants to wait until Monday,” Sam explained.
A little dart of jealousy burned its way through Delaney’s belly. Karen hadn’t told her that. But that shouldn’t have surprised her, of course—she hadn’t been privy to many of the closed-door discussions Karen and Sam had had toward the latter end of the week. It was only natural, given that they were the ones who would be taking the business forward, that they would start to work more and more closely together, gradually excluding her from their meetings. After all, today was her last day. What point was there for anyone to include her in anything?
Delaney did a mental eye roll at her own childishness. It seemed she really did want everything her own way.
“That’s nice of her,” she finally managed to say, offering a tight little bend of the lips that might pass as a smile in certain company.
Not with Sam, of course, who knew her so well. But she suspected he wasn’t about to call her on it. Honesty wasn’t a big part of their relationship right now.
“Just going to clean my desk a bit,” she said brightly, more to stop herself from sinking into a trough of maudlin self-pity than anything else.
Sam stepped to one side to allow her access to the sink and the utility cupboard beneath it. Again, she hesitated. She hadn’t stood within arm’s reach of Sam for three weeks. For a pretty fundamental reason—she didn’t trust herself. But he wasn’t giving her much choice in the matter, the way he was standing to one side in the small space, clearly expecting her to squeeze in and help herself to the cleaning products.
Girding her loins, she stepped forward and opened the cupboard. The bottle of spray cleaner seemed to glow like the Holy Grail as she tried not to register the waves of heat coming off Sam’s body. Her nipples sprang to life and her thighs quivered as she dived toward the cupboard, her hand clutching desperately around the plastic bottle. Sam must have moved while she wasn’t looking, however, and when she straightened again she found herself almost brushing against his chest, her face just inches from his.
His blue eyes were utterly unreadable as he stared down into her face. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping to his sexy mouth, the memory of his kisses making her melt inside.
Then Sam stepped back, and she saw that he was holding out the washcloth in one hand.
“There you go,” he said.
She took the cloth with a trembling hand, hoping like hell that he hadn’t seen how much he affected her. They were supposed to be over the sex thing. That had been the whole point of their weekend, after all. For her to still want him not only broke the rules—her rules—but it was also a pretty big giveaway about how she really felt about him.
“Thanks,” she said, ordering her treacherous body to back away from his.
But he was so close, and so hard and so male and so hot….
She took a jerky step backward, like a puppet fighting the will of its master. With distance came a return of rational thought, and she took another step, then another. She felt the cool surface of the fridge door behind her back, and realized she’d backed herself right into the corner. She could only imagine how revealing her actions must be, and she turned toward the door.
“Laney,” Sam said, and before she could react, he’d stepped close again.
Her breath caught as he leaned toward her. He was going to kiss her. She couldn’t believe it. It was so not what they’d agreed to. And it was so what she wanted, more than anything. She swayed forward, every nerve ending in her body screaming for contact with his skin.
Then Sam reached out and plucked something from her hair. “Dust bunny,” he said, displaying the ball of fuzz to her.
“Right. Thanks,” she said, hating herself for the surge of disappointment racing through her.
Would she never learn?
With Sam, apparently not.
Muttering insults to herself all the way back to her office, she set to cleaning it with a vengeance, even going so far as to pull all the reference books out of the bookshelf and wash the shelves down.
Occasionally, Sukie or Debbie or Rudy would wander by, their faces creased with concern as she put all her pent up sexual frustration into cleaning.
When there was nothing left to wipe, dust, polish or scour, she sat on the carpet with her back against the wall and stared into space. Squeezing the washcloth rhythmically, she tried to prepare herself for what came next—her goodbye party. She was still wringing the life out of the cloth when Rudy tapped on her office door.
“Hey. If you’ve finished sterilizing the office, the rest of us would kind of like to get the party started,” he said.
Delaney looked up at him. “I don’t think I can do this,” she said brokenly.
To her surprise, Rudy crouched in front of her and grabbed her hands.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Sam,” he said, “but you are one of the strongest women I know. And you always do what you set out to do. So I figure that the reason you’re leaving is pretty important, yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Then let’s go rock this party,” Rudy said, surging backward and using his body weight to counterbalance hers and pull her to her feet.
Delaney’s eye fell on one of the photos in her box as she moved toward the door. It was a picture of Travis, Callum and Alana, a lovely candid shot of them playing with each other and laughing, their eyes bright with delight.
Yes, she reminded herself, one hand moving instinctively to rest on her stomach. Yes. Rudy is right. Stick to your guns.
Pulling her shoulders back, she stepped out into the main office, a big smile on her face.
“Who’s got some champagne for a thirsty lady?”
SAM HOVERED ON THE EDGE of the party all night, watching the others talk and laugh and reminisce, nursing one warm beer for hours on end. He didn’t want to get drunk. He had a speech to make. And he was already pretty damned worried about getting through it without cracking up as it was—a skinful of beer wasn’t going to help any.
He alternated between drinking in every move Delaney made to being unable to look at her, he was so gripped with anger and frustration. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were friends. Friendship lasted when romance died and marriage vows soured and love turned to acrimony and revenge. Friendship endured. Didn’t it? So why was it suddenly as though he and Delaney were sitting at opposite ends of a too-long dining table, unable to hear each other, barely able to see each other any more?
Most of his anger was at himself. He had ruined their relationship when he’d been unable to keep his hands to himself. He’d broken the golden rule of their friendship and he’d jumped Delaney, and now he was reaping the reward.
Stirring from his glum preoccupation, he registered that Debbie was trying to get his attention over at the entrance to the kitchen. She mimed blowing out candles on a cake, and Sam nodded his acknowledgement. Cake and speeches time. Great.
Everyone started hooting and hollering as the cake came out. Sam wondered sourly what the candles were supposed to represent—the flaming mess he’d made of his life? Delaney laughed and joked with the others before stepping up to blow out the candles. Debbie shot Sam another prompting look, and he cleared his throat.
“Right. Well, I guess it’s time for me to say a few words,” he said, awkwardly stating the obvious.
He’d thought long and hard about what he wanted to say, he’d even made some notes, but as Delaney lifted her eyes to his it all fell away from him.
“Delaney and I have been friends f
or more than half my life,” he found himself saying. “We’ve been pretty much inseparable since we first met, so it only seemed natural to start up a business together eight years ago. To be honest, I think we both secretly thought it would never get beyond a few ideas jotted on the back of a napkin. But here we are, and it’s largely thanks to Delaney keeping me on the straight and narrow. I think we all know that Delaney’s departure is going to leave a big hole round here, not just from a business point of view, but because she’s the heart and soul of this company. She’s the one who remembers birthdays and makes sure people go home when they’re sick. She tells the best jokes, makes the best coffee. She’s always there—the most reliable, present, loyal person I know.”
Sam couldn’t take his gaze away from Delaney’s.
“We’re going to miss you too much for me to be able to put it into words,” he said, then he had to clear his throat or risk giving into the tide of emotion rising within him. “We love you, Laney. Don’t be a stranger,” he finally managed to say.
Delaney’s eyes welled with tears and she wiped at them self-consciously.
“Come on, Delaney, right of reply,” Sukie said, nudging her gently.
“No fair! Not while I’m blubbering,” Delaney said, but she took a couple of deep breaths and Sam could see she was making a visible effort to recover.
“All right. This business has been incredibly important to me. It’s a huge part of my life, the best part, really,” she began. Sam stared at her, willing her to make eye contact with him again. After a few seconds, she did, and they held the contact as she continued.
“And I know I’m walking away before any of the really great stuff happens. There’ll be more titles, I know, and more successes. And Sam will get fat and rich and lazy.”
There were a few laughs at this, but Sam didn’t crack a smile.
“None of you will ever understand how hard it was for me to make the decision to go,” Delaney said. Sam felt as though she were speaking directly to him. “I love coming here. I love working with you all. I’m incredibly proud of everything we do. And I’m going to miss you all like crazy and wonder what the hell I was thinking once the dust settles. But it’s time to go, so…Thank you, everyone, for being so kind,” she said, tears spilling openly down her cheeks now.
Sam grit his teeth for the next bit.
“We wanted to get you something to remember us by,” he said, fumbling awkwardly in his pocket.
Delaney went very still as he handed over the small gift-wrapped box. He watched as she tore the paper off with trembling hands, and he heard her quick intake of breath as she flipped the jeweller’s box open.
“Sam…I don’t know what to say. They’re beautiful,” she said.
He had to swallow a few times before he could trust himself to speak again.
“They match your eyes.”
Everyone crowded around to admire the gold-and-topaz drop earrings he’d bought for her. He’d spent a whole afternoon trawling the shops during the week, trying to find something that expressed how precious she was to him. Nothing came even close. Finally, he settled on the earrings, since the deep amber of their glowing topazes was the exact shade of Delaney’s eyes.
The goodbyes began in earnest then as everyone crowded around to hug and kiss Delaney farewell. Sam drifted back to the same piece of wall he’d been propping up all night and brooded some more. It was like watching a horror film unfolding in slow motion. He knew that something horrible was coming, but he couldn’t do anything about it.
Finally the last of the staff had wiped their tears and said their goodbyes. Debbie started to clear up the dirty glasses and plates, but Sam stopped her.
“I’ll do that. Thanks, Debbie. You go home,” he said.
She smiled her thanks and followed the others out the door. Sam didn’t need to look to know that it was just the two of them left.
“I’ll help you,” Delaney said, reaching for some paper cups.
“You’re not cleaning up after your own leaving party,” Sam said, wincing at how harshly his voice came out.
Delaney let the paper cups drop back onto the table.
“All right. If that’s what you want,” she said. “You’re the boss now, after all.”
It was a lame joke, and neither of them laughed. Sam strode into the kitchen and grabbed the rubbish bin, afraid that if he lingered, he’d start begging and pleading with her not to go.
It wasn’t that he was too proud to beg or plead—it was more that he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
He tossed paper cups and plates into the bin methodically for the next few minutes, throwing leftover food away without a hint of guilt. He couldn’t imagine ever having an appetite again, so there was no point in saving food that would never get eaten.
Delaney had retreated to her office to sort out the last of her things, and he watched surreptitiously as she wrote some last minute notes for Karen.
When she turned to heft the box of her personal things, he stopped what he was doing and moved to her office doorway.
“What if I gave you back your half of the magazine, no charge?” he asked.
Okay, maybe he hadn’t quite exhausted the begging option just yet.
“Sam…” she said, her mouth quirking into a sad little smile. “This is hard enough as it is.”
“Then don’t go.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she put the box down so she would wipe them away.
“Whatever it takes, Laney. Tell me, and it’s yours. Just don’t leave me like this,” Sam said. It was a plea from the heart, the absolute truth of how he felt.
“It’s not about you. It’s about me,” she said.
He screwed his face up with frustration. “What does that even mean? It sounds like something I’ve said about a million times to some girl I wanted to break up with.”
Delaney’s expression became shuttered, and she bent to grab the box again. Sam stepped forward, reaching for the carton in her arms.
“Talk to me. Tell me why you’re really going,” he insisted, trying to wrest the box from her.
Delaney held on, her jaw firming. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, her grip tightening on the box.
“Put the bloody thing down and talk to me,” Sam insisted. He didn’t know what else he could say to her. He just knew that if he let her walk out the door, it would all be over.
“No.”
For a moment they struggled, the box wavering back and forth between them. Delaney was strong, and she had a good grip on the corners of the carton, but Sam was no less determined. After a few drawn-out seconds, Delaney abruptly let go of the box, sending Sam reeling backward a few steps. “Take it. Send it to me by courier,” she said, moving toward the door.
He threw the box to one side and dodged into her path.
“Laney,” he said warningly.
“There’s nothing left to say, Sam,” she said, her voice rising.
“Well, maybe I don’t want to talk anyway,” he said, reaching out to haul her against his body.
It was the closest they’d been since their weekend away, and his body reacted instantaneously as he pressed himself against her.
“I’ve missed you, Laney,” he said as he peppered kisses on her neck, shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that he knew it was a particularly erotic zone for her.
She groaned low in her throat, half protest, half capitulation, and then she turned her face toward his questing lips and their mouths meshed. He had forgotten how hot he could get just from kissing her. Her tongue stroked his, and her lips were soft and full. Angling his head, he strove for deeper access.
His hands gravitated to her torso, smoothing up over the fabric of her tight T-shirt and cupping her breasts. She strained toward him as he rubbed her aroused nipples through her top, her hips bucking reflexively when he pinched the tight peaks gently.
“Yes,” she moaned, her hands racing across his back, down to his butt, and then aro
und to the front of his jeans where his erection was throbbing with need.
He grit his teeth as she smoothed her hand against his length, her fingers curling around his shaft through the softness of the worn denim.
Hungry for her, he started walking Delaney back toward the desk. He had to have her. He needed her. He wanted her.
He’d forgotten about the box, however, and they stumbled to a halt as her heels connected with it. Dazed, Delaney stared down at the carton filled with photos and books and mementoes for a long, drawn out beat, and when she lifted her eyes back to his face he knew that he’d lost her.
“We made a deal, Sam,” she said, reminding him of their agreement that their weekend away was the end of anything physical between them.
“You want it. I know you want it,” he said, grinding his hips into hers. Her pupils dilated and she caught her breath, but still she shook her head.
“We drew a line, and we’re sticking to it,” she said, stepping away from him now.
“It was a stupid line, and I say we break it,” he insisted, reaching for her again.
“We can’t.” Her tone was clipped and firm, indisputable.
Sam’s temper flared as she stooped to pick up her stupid bloody carton of belongings again.
“What about what I want?” he said. “You’ve had everything your way since this whole thing started. What about what I want to happen?”
She eyed him carefully. “So what do you want, Sam? Apart from sex at the moment, and for everything to go back to the way it used to be?”
Anything For You (Harlequin Blaze) Page 19