by Lisa Kleypas
“Were you alone? I mean … were you going out with anyone?”
“For a while I went out with the daughter of the guy who owned the vineyard. She was beautiful, smart, and she loved viticulture as much as I did.” His thoughts had turned inward, his voice quietly reflective. “She wanted to get engaged. The idea of marrying her was almost tempting. I liked her family, loved the vineyard … it would have been easy.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to use her that way. And I knew it didn’t have a chance in hell of lasting.”
“How could you be sure? How can you know without trying?”
“I knew it the moment she and I started talking about making it permanent. She was certain that if we just went ahead and flew off to Vegas and did it, we would be fine. But to me it sounded like someone throwing a roll of paper towels and a can of frosting into an oven and saying, “You know, I think there’s a good chance this is going to turn into a chocolate cake.”
Lucy couldn’t help laughing. “But that just means she wasn’t the right woman. It doesn’t mean you couldn’t have a good marriage with someone else.”
“The risk-benefit ratio has never been worth it to me.”
“Because you saw the worst side of love while growing up.”
“Yeah.”
“But according to the principle of balance in the universe, someone out there has to have the best side of love.”
Considering that, Sam raised his jam jar in a negligent toast. “To the best side of it. Whatever that is.”
As they clinked glasses and drank, Lucy reflected that there were probably many women who would regard Sam’s views on marriage as a challenge, hoping to change his mind. She would never be that foolish. Even if she didn’t agree with Sam’s beliefs, she would respect his right to have them.
Past experience had taught her that when you loved a man, you had to take him “as is,” knowing that although you might be able to influence some of his habits or his taste in neckties, you would never be able to change who he really was deep down. And if you were lucky, you might find a man who felt the same way about you.
That, she thought, was the best side of love.
Seventeen
“Later this morning,” came Sam’s voice through the bathroom door, “you have a doctor’s appointment. If he gives the go-ahead, you’ll get the Aircast brace and crutches.”
“I would love to be mobile again,” Lucy said fervently, rinsing with the hot shower spray. “And I’m sure you would love not having to carry me everywhere.”
“You’re right. I can’t imagine why I thought wrapping a half-naked woman in plastic and carrying her around would be any fun at all.”
Lucy smiled and turned off the water. She removed the Hello Kitty shower cap that she’d borrowed from Holly, and wrapped a towel around herself. “You can come in now.”
Sam entered the humid bathroom and came to help her. His manner was casual and matter-of-fact … but so far that morning, he hadn’t quite been able to meet her gaze.
The previous night they had stayed out on the porch for a long time, eventually finishing the entire bottle of wine. Today, however, Sam was quiet and restrained. It was likely that he was getting tired of waiting on her hand and foot. Lucy decided that no matter what the doctor said later in the day, she would insist on getting crutches. Three days of putting Sam through so much trouble was enough.
Lucy stood, clutching the towel while balancing briefly on one foot. Carefully Sam hooked an arm beneath her knees, lifted her, and carried her into the bedroom. Setting her on the edge of the mattress with her legs dangling, he picked up a pair of small scissors and began to cut through the layers of plastic from her leg.
“You’ve done so much for me,” Lucy said quietly. “I hope someday I can—”
“It’s okay.”
“I just want to tell you how much I—”
“I know. You’re grateful. We don’t have to go through this every time I help you out of the damn shower.”
Blinking at his curt tone, Lucy said, “Sorry. I didn’t realize ordinary politeness was going to annoy you.”
“It’s not ordinary politeness,” Sam said, snipping through the last of the plastic, “when you’re sitting there wet and mostly naked and staring at me with Kewpie doll eyes. Keep your thanks to yourself.”
“Why are you so touchy? Do you have a hangover?”
He gave her a sardonic glance. “I don’t get hangovers from two glasses of wine.”
“It’s having to do all this for me, isn’t it? Anyone would be frustrated. I’m sorry. But I’ll be out of here soon, and—”
“Lucy,” he said with strained patience, “don’t apologize. Don’t try to figure anything out. Just … shut up for a couple of minutes.”
“But I—” She broke off as she saw his expression. “Okay, I’m shutting up.”
When the plastic was discarded, Sam paused at the sight of a bruise on the side of her knee. He traced the edge of the dark blotch, his touch so light it was nearly imperceptible. His head was bent, so Lucy couldn’t see his expression. But his hands went to the mattress on either side of her hips, his fingers digging into the bedclothes. A deep tremor went through him, desire splintering through restraint.
Lucy didn’t dare say a word. She stared fixedly at the top of his head, the span of his shoulders. Her ears were filled with the echoes of her heartbeat.
His head bent, the light sliding across the dark layers of his hair. The touch of his lips was soft and searing against the bruise, causing her to jerk in surprise. His mouth lingered, drifting to the inside of her thigh. His fingers tightened until he gripped the covers in handfuls. Lucy’s breath caught as he leaned farther between her legs, the feel of his body heavy and sweet wherever it pressed.
Another kiss, higher, where the skin was thin and sensitive. Her skin turned hot and cold beneath the damp towel, sensation washing over her. Slowly his hands eased beneath the hem of the towel, the motion causing the white terry cloth to loosen and part. He moved higher, his palms sliding over her hips and stomach, his lips following in a path of excruciating sensation. Gasping, Lucy sank back bonelessly, her limbs turning weak. He pushed the sides of the towel open, the clean scent of her skin rising in a heated draft.
In a haze of excitement and confusion, Lucy turned her burning face to the side, her eyes closing to blot out everything but the intense pleasure of his touch. She wanted it so badly that nothing else mattered. He was making love to her, using his hands and mouth to draw her into a dark, sweet current of desire, and nothing had ever felt like this, a delight that seemed to dissolve her bones in liquid fire. His thumbs stroked her intimately, parting the humid flesh. A sob escaped her as she felt the heat of his breath, the pressure of his mouth opening against her. A stroke of his tongue, a gentle tug. He began to lick steadily, the rhythm teasing and luscious, until her body began to throb and clasp on emptiness. Helplessly she lifted against him with each silky flick and swirl, the sensation building to a flash point.
The metallic shrill of the doorbell cut through the brimming heat. Lucy froze, her nerves screaming in protest at the sound. Sam kept kissing and stroking her, so absorbed in the mindless sensuality of the moment that the noise hadn’t registered. But the doorbell rang again, and Lucy gasped and pushed at his head.
With a guttural curse, Sam tore himself away from her. He fumbled for the towel and covered Lucy. Half sitting, half leaning against the edge of the mattress, he panted for breath. He was shaking in every limb.
“Probably one of my crew,” she heard him mutter.
“Can you—”
“No.”
He pushed away from the bed and went to the bathroom, and she heard the sound of water running. By the time Sam emerged, Lucy had managed to pull the covers over herself. His face was hard, his jaw set. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Lucy bit her lip before asking, “Are you angry because of what you started, or because
you didn’t finish?”
Sam sent her a brooding glance. “Both,” he said, and left the room.
* * *
As Sam went downstairs, the vicious ache of arousal was nothing compared to his scalding emotions. Anger, frustration, severe unease. He’d been so close, too damned close, to having sex with Lucy. He’d known it was wrong and he hadn’t cared. Why had Lucy done nothing to stop him? If he didn’t get control over the situation, over himself, he was going to make a serious mistake.
Reaching the front door, he opened it and was confronted by Lucy’s sister, Alice. An incredulous scowl spread across his face. For one longing moment he let himself imagine the pleasure of booting her off his front porch.
Alice stared at him coldly, tottering on impractical high heels. Her hazel eyes were large and heavily rimmed with glittery purple liner, startling in the narrow framework of her face. Her lips were lined and coated with hot pink. Even under the best of circumstances, Sam would have found her annoying. But having just been dragged out of bed with Lucy, with his body still screaming to go back and finish the job, Sam found it impossible to muster even the bare minimum of civility.
“We don’t encourage people to drop by without calling first,” he said.
“I’m here to see my sister.”
“She’s fine.”
“I’d like to see for myself.”
“She’s resting.” Sam stood with one hand braced on the doorjamb, blocking her way.
“I’m not leaving until you let her know that I’m here,” Alice said.
“Lucy has a concussion.” With no small amount of self-derision, he added, “She can’t handle any kind of stress.”
Her mouth compressed into a hyphen. “You think I would hurt her?”
“You’ve already hurt her,” Sam said evenly. “It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out that shacking up with Lucy’s former boyfriend means you lose your place on the short list.”
“It’s not your place to judge me or my personal choices.”
True. But considering the fact that Alice’s affair with Kevin had led to a chain reaction that had ended in Lucy recuperating at Sam’s house, he figured he had a say in the matter.
“As long as Lucy’s under my roof,” he said, “it’s my job to look out for her. And your personal choices haven’t struck me as being all that great for Lucy.”
“I’m not leaving until I get to talk to her.” Alice raised her voice and directed it into the entrance hall behind him. “Lucy? Can you hear me? Lucy!”
“I don’t care if you stand on my porch caterwauling the rest of the day—” Sam broke off as he heard Lucy calling from upstairs. Giving Alice a baleful glance, Sam said, “I’m going to check on her. Stay there.”
“Can I wait inside?” she dared to ask.
“No.” He shut the door in her face.
* * *
By the time Sam returned to the bedroom, Lucy had dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a T-shirt. She had heard enough of the commotion downstairs to know that Alice had dropped by without warning, and that Sam hadn’t taken it well.
Still giddy with nerves, Lucy couldn’t decide how to feel about what had just happened between them. Mostly she was dumbfounded by her reaction to him, the blood-hot pleasure that had obliterated every thought.
As Sam approached, she felt rampant color race over her skin. His gaze slid across her, and a frown notched between his brows. “How did you get those clothes?” he asked. “I left them on the dresser.”
“I didn’t put any weight on my leg,” Lucy said. “It was just a step and a hop away from the bed, and then I just—”
“Damn it, Lucy. If that foot touches the floor again, I’m going to…” He paused, considering a variety of threats.
“Send me to bed without dinner?” Lucy suggested gravely. “Take away my cell phone?”
“How about a good old-fashioned smack on the ass?”
But she had seen the flash of concern in his eyes, and she knew what was behind his annoyance. She dared to give him a small smile. “Holly told me you don’t believe in spanking.”
As Sam stared at her, the tension eased from his shoulders, and the hard lines of his mouth softened. “I might make an exception for you.”
Her smile lingered. “You’re flirting with me again.”
“No, I’m—” The front door rang impatiently. “Jesus,” Sam muttered.
“I probably should see her,” Lucy said apologetically. “Would you take me downstairs?”
“Why do you want to put yourself through that?”
“I can’t avoid Alice forever. And Mom’s coming out the day after tomorrow. It would make her happy if her daughters were at least back on speaking terms.”
“It’s too soon.”
“I think so too,” Lucy admitted. “But she’s here, and I may as well get it over with.”
Sam hesitated before bending to slide his arms beneath her.
The contact jolted through Lucy as if an electric current had opened between them. She tried to conceal her reaction, concentrating on keeping her breathing steady. But as she held on to his shoulders, she saw a flush rise from the neck of his shirt, and she knew that she wasn’t the only one affected.
“Thank you,” she said, as he turned sideways to take her through the doorway. “I know you’d rather just kick her out.”
“I may kick her out anyway.” Sam headed to the stairs. “I’m keeping an eye on you. At the first sign of trouble, she’s gone.”
Lucy frowned. “I don’t want you standing over the two of us while we talk.”
“I won’t stand over you. But I’ll be nearby in case you need backup.”
“I won’t need backup.”
“Lucy, do you know what a concussion is?”
“Yes.”
Sam continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “It’s when you hit your head so hard that your brain slams into your skull, killing off large numbers of neurons. It can cause sleep problems, depression, and memory loss, and those side effects are aggravated if you strain yourself in any way.” He paused and added irritably, “And that includes sex.”
“Did the doctor say that?”
“He didn’t have to.”
“I don’t think sex would aggravate my concussion,” Lucy said. “Unless we did it upside down or on a trampoline.”
Although she’d meant to be funny, Sam didn’t seem to be in the mood for humor.
“We’re not doing it in any position,” he said vehemently.
As Sam settled Lucy onto the sofa with her leg elevated, Renfield got up from his mat in the corner. He shambled over to them, his face split with a pugnacious canine grin. Lucy reached down to pet him, while Sam went to get Alice. Unceremoniously he ushered her sister into the living room.
Oddly, although Lucy was the one with the bandages and leg splint, Alice struck her as being far more vulnerable. The heavy makeup, the expression hemmed with strain, the movements constricted by her four-inch heels, all added to an appearance of bruised insecurity.
“Hi,” Alice said.
“Hi.” Lucy forced a shallow smile to her lips. “Make yourself comfortable.”
As Lucy watched Alice lower herself carefully to the edge of a nearby chair, it seemed their history was all around them. Her relationship with Alice had been the most frustrating one of her life, filled with competition, jealousy, guilt, resentment. They had grown up having to battle for the limited resource of their parents’ attention. Although Lucy had always hoped the conflict between them would ease as they got older, it was now worse than ever.
Noticing that Alice was staring at the dog, Lucy said, “This is Renfield.”
The dog grunted and looked up at Lucy with a string of drool hanging from his undershot jaw.
“Is something wrong with him?” Alice asked with distaste.
“It would be easier to tell you what’s not wrong with him,” Sam said. To Lucy, he added, “You have ten minutes. After that, your sister’
s leaving. You need to rest.”
“Okay,” Lucy said with a bland smile.
Alice wore an offended expression as she watched Sam leave the room. “Why is he so rude?”
“He’s trying to look out for me,” Lucy said in a low voice.
“What did you tell him about me?”
“Very little.”
“I’m sure you’ve talked to him about how Kevin left you, and what you think I did to—”
“You’re actually not the main subject of conversation around here,” Lucy said, more sharply than she had intended.
Alice closed her mouth and looked affronted.
After a brittle silence, Lucy asked, “Did Mom ask you to check on me?”
“No. This was my idea. I still care about you, Lucy. I don’t always behave in ways you’d like me to, but I am your sister.”
Lucy bit back an acid comment. Realizing that she had gone tense from head to toe, she tried to relax. A series of protesting twinges progressed along her spine.
Why in heaven’s name was Alice there? Lucy wanted to believe that she was motivated by concern, or at least that there was some genuine sisterly feeling left between them. But apparently it was going to require more than a blood tie to reestablish a connection between them. Because the unfortunate truth was, if Alice weren’t her sister, she was the kind of person Lucy wouldn’t have anything to do with.
“How’s it going with you and Kevin?” Lucy asked. “Are you still planning the wedding?”
“Yes. Mom and Dad are both coming out tomorrow to talk about wedding plans.”
“So they are going to pay for it?”
“I think so.”
“I thought they would,” Lucy said darkly, before she could stop herself. No matter what they said to the contrary, her parents were never going to hold Alice accountable for anything.
“You don’t think they should?” Alice asked.
“And you do?” Lucy countered.
“Of course I do. I’m their daughter.” Alice’s eyes turned hard. “There’s something you need to understand, Lucy. I never planned to hurt you. Neither did Kevin. It was never about you. You were just…”