“Guess we’re all getting to that age, though, eh? Starting to think about the future, what it’s all about. Not much point working like a dog when you’ve got no one to come home to and share it all with.”
“Yeah.”
Sam realized with a rush of mortification that he was dangerously close to losing it. He pushed his beer away. No more alcohol for him if it only took half a glass to reduce him to a gibbering wreck.
“I was seeing a woman recently,” Charlie admitted after a long silence. “Did I tell you about Petra? Works in the office.”
Charlie turned his beer glass in circles on the bar, staring at the wet marks it left behind.
“Started thinking about buying a ring, you know? Swapping the Porsche for a family wagon. Then she dumped me. Said she wasn’t sure if she loved me or not.”
Sam winced at the resentment and bewilderment in his friend’s voice. He knew exactly how he was feeling.
“Just like Laney. One minute everything’s cruisey, the next minute you’re on your own, can’t see them for dust,” he said.
“Well, it’s not quite the same. I mean, you and Delaney were never romantic. It’s a bit different for me and Petra.” Charlie gave a little huff of embarrassed laughter. “Haven’t felt this shit about a woman since high school.”
Sam was still stinging from Charlie’s assumption that his pain over losing Petra trumped Sam’s hurt over losing Delaney.
“Let me guess—can’t sleep. Feels like there’s sandpaper under your eyelids. Everything tastes like crap. You want to drink yourself stupid, but every time you have even a single beer you almost cry. You want to ring her half the time, the other half you want to write her off and never think about her again. How am I doing?” Sam asked a little belligerently.
Charlie blinked. “I didn’t know you and Delaney were involved. I thought you were just mates,” he said.
“We are. Were. I mean…We did cross the line recently, if you know what I mean. But it was just a stress thing,” Sam explained awkwardly.
Charlie gave him a sceptical look. “So you and Delaney slept with each other, and she’s gone and you’re sitting here looking like a big sad sack, and you’re just friends?”
“Yeah,” Sam said uncertainly.
“And you don’t love her? You’re not sitting at home alone every night staring at the TV, eating frozen dinners?”
Sam stared at his friend, a frown forming as something shifted inside him. He missed Delaney. He wanted to spend all his time with her. He wanted to touch her, hold her. He wanted to make her laugh, and protect her from the world. Most of all, he wanted to be the most important person in her life, the one she turned to instinctively when she needed support.
He loved her!
Sam’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as the realization hit him. He loved Delaney. He adored her, worshipped her, craved her, was obsessed by her. He wanted to father her children. Be her husband and helpmate, the companion of her old age. He wanted everything, as much of her as she was willing to give him.
“I am such a moron,” he said.
How long had he felt this way? He cast his mind back over the years, remembering the way he’d always avoided talking about her love life, the way he’d never dared think of her as a woman. A long time. He’d felt this way for a long time.
A second realization hit him, and he slumped forward on his bar stool. He loved Delaney—and she’d left him. She’d left him to start a family. With some other man, some yet-to-be-decided man who would get to spend the rest of his life with the most amazing, stunning, sensual, clever, funny, brave woman he’d ever known.
“Shit,” he said, reaching for his beer and downing the remaining half glass in one big mouthful. “Shit.”
Charlie patted him on the pack reassuringly. “Don’t worry. After a few months the pain becomes kind of bearable.”
“Months?” Sam asked incredulously. It would take him years to get over Delaney.
If he was stupid enough to let her go. He stood, desperation spurring him on. He knew what he had to do.
“Here,” he said, throwing a twenty on the bar.
Charlie looked confused. “You going somewhere or something?”
“Yeah. I think I am. I’m sorry—I’ll explain later,” Sam said over his shoulder, already heading for the door.
He was in his car and on the way to Delaney’s place in under thirty seconds, his jaw set grimly as he dodged in and out of traffic, determined to get to Delaney without wasting another precious second.
He couldn’t live without her. He needed her. He had to get her back.
He knew what she wanted—she’d been telling him exactly what she wanted for the past month. A family. Children. He had to convince her that she could have those things with him.
He gripped the steering wheel with steely resolve. He knew he’d never been a candidate for the role of husband in her mind. She’d never so much as hinted at it. Hell, she’d come back from holidays with her sister and neatly gone about excising him from her life—that was how much she didn’t think of him like that. So he wouldn’t scare her off with a declaration right off the bat. He could only imagine her reaction if he came clean about his feelings. They’d been friends for sixteen years. He couldn’t just announce his realization to her and expect her to return his feelings. But he wouldn’t sit back and let her marry someone else, either. If he could get her to marry him, he would spend the rest of his life bringing her around to his way of thinking. He already knew they were spectacular in bed. And they were the best of friends. Love would come. He was sure of it.
He just had to convince Delaney to take a chance on him, prove to her that friendship and sexual chemistry were great foundations for a marriage. If he had to, he’d seduce her down the aisle. Whatever it took.
Because he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
DELANEY STEPPED BACK from the wall and tilted her head to one side. Wrinkling her nose, she made a disgusted noise. This was the sixth off-white paint sample she’d tried, and it still wasn’t right. Turning back to the color chart, Delaney frowned. There had to be one color that didn’t completely repel her.
Problem was, she was finding it difficult to make choices about lots of things lately. It was almost as though she’d used up all her strength of will in making the break from Sam. Now she was adrift in a sea of indecision. Soon, she knew, she would have to start looking for a new job. And the contractors were waiting for her to finalize her decisions about wall color and fittings and carpet.
And all she could think about was Sam.
Two weeks. It had only been two weeks since she’d left the magazine and her apartment. It felt like an eternity. She had no idea how she was going to survive without him.
The doorbell rang, and Delaney schlepped her way up the hallway to the front door. She didn’t care that she was dressed in ragged cutoff jeans and a ratty old T-shirt with no bra. She didn’t even care that her fancy new hair color was starting to grow out or that she hadn’t styled it properly a single time since she’d left Mirk. There was only one person who she wanted to impress, and he’d seen her at her best and her worst and passed on both versions.
Damn you, Sam Kirk, she thought as she twisted the front door lock open. Damn your gorgeous eyes.
“Laney.”
She stared at Sam, her heart going from nought to a hundred in record time.
“Sam.”
“Can I come in?”
Delaney mutely stood to one side, instantly aware that she looked like a refugee from a home makeover show with her shabby clothes and paint-spattered hands and forearms.
Feeling at a distinct disadvantage, she ushered Sam into the living room. Her couches were all covered with drop cloths, and she gestured around helplessly.
“I’m not really set up for visitors,” she said.
Sam eyed her steadily. “I’m not a visitor.”
There was something very determined and grave about him, and a flutter
of nervousness raced up her spine. She’d wanted to come up with an excuse to make contact with him so many times over the past two weeks. But seeing him now, she realized why she hadn’t—it was torture wanting to touch him and not being allowed to.
“Do you want coffee?” she asked, keen to buy some time to find her feet.
“Do you still want to have kids? And get married?”
As a rejoinder, it was something of an attention grabber.
“What? Why?”
“Just answer the questions.”
She studied him a moment before nodding. “Yes. To all of the above.”
“Then marry me,” Sam said boldly.
It was so close to every dream that she’d ever had that for a moment she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“I—I don’t…” she stuttered, utterly bewildered, the beginning of hope starting to bloom in her belly.
Sam moved forward, taking one of her hands in his. Despite the fact that most of her was reeling, she still found time to marvel at the instant spark of desire that raced along her veins from that simple, casual contact.
“Don’t make fun of me, Sam,” she blurted tremulously.
“I’m not,” he said, his fingers caressing hers as he stared into her face intently. “I had a beer with Charlie tonight, and we were talking about marriage and kids. And I realized that I could never imagine having any of those things without you.”
She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I don’t understand.”
“I know you better than anyone else in the world, don’t I?” he asked.
She nodded.
“And you know me better than I know myself. We work well with each other, we respect each other, we seem to be pretty damned compatible in bed. We make a great team, Laney. You want kids. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? I think we’d make great parents.”
Delaney stared at him, hope shriveling once again inside her. This was what she’d always wanted—almost. It was picture-perfect, with one fatal blemish; Sam wasn’t looking into her eyes and telling her how much he loved her. He wasn’t telling her how he couldn’t live without her and how he stayed awake at night thinking about her and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He was proposing a relationship based on compatibility, comfort, familiarity. Sure, there was love there. There had always been love. But not Love. Not the kind that rippled through every fiber of her being when Sam so much as glanced in her direction.
Unable to think clearly with Sam standing so close, Delaney tugged her hand free and walked over to stare out the window. She was trembling. And she knew why—she was tempted. She was so tempted, she didn’t know if she had the strength of will to send Sam packing.
She loved him with all her heart. And he was offering her her dream—him in her bed, his children to nurture and love, a family. With just that one vital ingredient missing. But she’d lived so long on only the promise of Sam’s love—sixteen years. Would it be so bad if she could have everything else? Would it matter that he didn’t love her the way she loved him?
“Laney, I’ve missed you so much. Nothing is the same without you,” Sam said from close behind her, and she felt the faint hush of his breath against her hair before his lips pressed against the tender skin of her neck. She shuddered, a wash of liquid heat instantly rushing to her core.
“We’d be happy, wouldn’t we?” Sam murmured in her ear as he slid his arms around her body.
She groaned low in her throat as his hands came up to cover her breasts.
“We’d make great babies, Laney. A little girl who looks like you, a little troublemaker brother for her to keep in line. We can fix this place up, make it your dream home. Whatever you want. You name it, it’s yours,” he whispered in her ear.
She could feel how aroused he was, the length of his erection pushing against the curve of her bottom.
“Say yes, Laney,” he said, his fingers plucking relentlessly at her breasts.
She couldn’t think. She didn’t want to think. She wasn’t strong enough to hold out on principle. She loved him. She wanted him. If that meant she was accepting second best, then so be it.
“Yes,” she said, turning in his arms. Reaching up to cup his face with her hands, she looked deeply into his eyes. “Yes. I’ll marry you, Sam.”
He swooped down, his mouth taking hers in a fiery, almost savage kiss. Then he bent and scooped her up in his arms.
“Which one’s the bedroom?” he asked, already striding out into the hallway.
Delaney pointed at a doorway, too busy pressing hungry kisses to his throat to speak. Sam dropped her on the bed, quickly climbing on top to press his body against the length of hers.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured as he nuzzled his way into the neckline of her T-shirt.
“Me, too,” she admitted.
Tears pricked at the back of her eyelids as Sam began to peel her top off. It was almost perfect, being with him like this. Almost.
But Sam’s hands were already sliding beneath the waistband of her cutoffs, his clever fingers delving into the wet heat between her thighs. She had this much. She would have to learn to be content. School herself not to give away her feelings.
It was better than nothing, and a whole lot more of him than she’d ever thought she’d have.
Pushing away everything but her desire, she gave herself up to the fire growing inside her. It would be good…even if it wasn’t everything.
THE BEDROOM WAS FILLED with the bright, clear light of morning when she awoke. It took a moment for memory to return, and she stiffened. Sam had come calling. He’d asked her to marry him, and she’d said yes. They’d rushed straight to the bedroom and raced each other to climax. Afterward, Sam had curled his body around hers and she’d told herself that a few stupid words were not worth giving up something so compelling and precious.
She frowned as she tried to work out whether she still held to that belief in the cold light of day. Without Sam’s body pressed against hers, his breath in her ear, it was easier to think.
It wasn’t her dream. Some people might think it fell far short of her dream. But she wasn’t going to push Sam away; she loved him too much. And if that made her weak…then so be it.
For the first time, she allowed her imagination to quest forward into the future. Sam as her husband. Sam as father to her children. Sam coming home to her bed every night. A smile began to stretch her mouth. There was a lot to celebrate in all those thoughts. A hell of a lot.
Anticipating one particular attraction of the arrangement, she rolled over, determined to wake Sam in the best possible way. She stilled as she saw the other side of the bed was empty. Putting out a hand, she felt the sheets. They were cold.
Not even daring to think, she slid out of bed and grabbed her robe.
“Sam?” she called as she padded out into the hall.
Nothing. Her voice echoed hollowly off the newly stripped floorboards. A dread certainty growing inside her, Delaney checked the kitchen and the bathroom and even the backyard. Nothing. Sam was gone.
It didn’t escape her attention that she’d played this game before—after she and Sam had slept with each other the first time.
She froze in the middle of the kitchen, all her fears rising up to flood her. She could see it like a movie in her mind—Sam had woken up, remembered his impulsive proposal of the night before, and quietly freaked out. Utilizing his years of experience as a sexual hit-and-runner, he’d slithered out of bed and let himself out of her house. No doubt he was now at the local skate park, or on his way to a surf beach somewhere to try and sort himself out.
Suddenly she was having trouble breathing. Curling her hands into fists, she pressed them against her too-hot eyes. She wasn’t going to cry. Not over Sam. Not again. And, anyway, she was angry, not sad. He’d suckered her in with his vision of the future, and she’d allowed herself to believe in him.
But she’d known all along that she was buying a pipe dre
am. Sam didn’t do commitment. He didn’t want a family and a house in the suburbs. He wanted her—on his terms. She’d scared him with her abrupt withdrawal, and he’d talked himself into giving her what she wanted in order to regain the old footing of their relationship.
It was never going to work. And she was a deluded fool for even trying for a second. He was going to rip her heart out and smash it to a pulp day after day after day with his indifference and lack of understanding. Every time he had to go “clear his head” she’d be left wondering if he’d at last woken up and realized that he’d compromised too much and made a terrible mistake.
Pressing her hands against her stomach, Delaney opened her mouth on a silent cry of pain. She loved him so much. She couldn’t take so little from him.
“Hey. You’re up.”
She swung around to see Sam in the doorway, a bag of groceries dangling from one finger. “I snuck out to get us some brekkie stuff. Bacon, eggs, avocadoes. I can whip up some hash browns if you want.”
“I want you to go,” she said, her voice low and throbbing.
Sam shook his head as though he’d misheard her. “Sorry?”
“I want you to get out. Forget everything that happened last night. Forget all of it. I don’t want you coming around here anymore,” she said.
Sam blanched, his face a picture of confusion. “Laney. What’s going on?” he said, starting forward. “Has something happened?”
Delaney took a step backward, holding up her hand palm out. “Don’t touch me.”
She knew she couldn’t do this if he laid a hand on her. That was how weak and foolish she was.
“I need you to just go, Sam,” she said, striving for a more normal tone of voice.
“No way,” Sam said. “You agreed to marry me last night, Delaney. We made a deal, and I am holding you to it.”
“We can’t get married. It wouldn’t work,” she said firmly.
“Why not? We’ve been friends for sixteen years. You think we can’t make a marriage work?”
Delaney couldn’t stand it any longer. She’d stuffed her feelings down inside herself for more than a decade. She’d cried and longed and sighed over Sam too many times to count. She’d walked away from her job and her apartment and the best man she’d ever known. She really, truly had nothing left to lose.
Anything For You (Harlequin Blaze) Page 21