“Yes, I’m here.” I heard Sam come into the clinic downstairs. “But I have to go—Sam’s back with his issue of the magazine.”
“I already got my copy,” Jacki said. “It’s hot—women all over the country will be clamoring for this guy.”
I frowned. “Bye, Jacki.”
I checked the mirror and decided my long terrycloth robe was discreet enough to greet Sam—he’d certainly seen me in less. I slipped my feet into rhinestone flip-flops and took the stairs two at a time. I had to admit I was eager to see the cover. Angel trotted after me, her toenails clicking on the floor. “How does the cover look?” I called. I rounded the corner and stopped short at the sight of Val Jessum standing in the clinic lobby, holding several issues of Personality magazine.
“Oh,” I said, feeling a flush climb my cheeks. “I thought you were—”
“Sam?” she asked, her eyes full of suspicion. Her hair was long and curly and wild. She wore a denim mini-skirt, a snug sweater and high heels—I assumed she had not just come from church. Val was scrutinizing my bathroom attire with equal interest—it was probably apparent that I, too, had not been to church this morning.
I clutched my lapels closed. “This isn’t what you think.”
“What do I think?”
I swallowed. “I don’t know—what do you think?”
She bit into her cherry-red lip and cocked one hip. Then she lifted her chin and held out one of the magazines. “I think the cover looks great. Arma saved these copies for Sam. She asked me to drop them by.”
I hesitated, then took the olive branch she offered and agreed wholeheartedly that the cover looked great. Hometown Hero! heralded the full-color glossy photo of Dr. Samuel Long, volunteer firefighter. With his all-American good looks and striking yellow jacket, Sam Long would indeed be stoking fires, not quenching them, from sea to shining sea. I allowed myself a secret thrill that I had experienced the man’s proficiency first-hand. With a start I also realized that some of my suggestions for the cover had been implemented, which pleased me even more. “It’ll be a bestseller,” I cried in my exuberance.
When I looked up, though, instead of pride, I saw fear in Val’s eyes. Fear that she was losing Sam to fame? Or maybe to me?
Her throat constricted and her eyes grew moist. “Sam’s the best thing that ever happened to this town. I don’t know what we’d do without him.”
My heart went out to her, and I spoke carefully. “He seems just as fond of Jar Hollow.”
She pursed her bee-stung lips. “What’s it like, living in the city?”
I almost smiled because “the city” was less than a day’s drive away, but I realized that to a woman who had likely lived her entire life in this small town, Manhattan might as well have been on another continent. “It’s…hectic.”
“Exciting?”
“Yes, and busy. Lots of people and lots of concrete.” I hesitated, but felt compelled to put this woman at ease. “I have a confession to make—I had never walked on dirt until I arrived here yesterday.”
She guffawed. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.”
She laughed, and I felt the tension ease a bit. “I’ve always wanted to go to Manhattan.”
“Why haven’t you?”
She shrugged. “Family obligations, and after that I guess I was afraid.” She wet her lips. “And then Sam came to town.”
And after Sam had come to town, she hadn’t wanted to leave. And I was her worst nightmare—a city girl invading her territory, distracting her man.
Angel scampered into view.
“Cute dog,” Val said, bending over to scratch the pooch’s head.
The dog was thrilled to have someone’s full attention and practically moaned in appreciation of the woman’s ministrations. A guilty pang struck me. “That’s Angel, she belongs to my boss. I brought her to Sam to be spayed—it’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
Val adjusted the dog’s yellow bow. “What are the other reasons you’re here?” she asked quietly.
I swallowed. “I’m here to write an article for the magazine about Sam’s veterinarian practice.”
“That’s what Sam said.” She gave Angel a final pat and looked up at me. “Is there another reason?”
My mind and heart raced for a response. I certainly couldn’t tell her about the cover curse. And I didn’t know what my feelings for Sam were or how deep they might run, but neither did I want to lie. “I can honestly say that if my boss hadn’t given me this assignment, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Sam didn’t ask you to come?”
“No, he didn’t. He agreed to be on the cover of Personality, and he agreed to this article only because it will bring publicity to your town.”
The sound of Sam’s truck pulling in stopped our conversation cold. Val gave me a panicked look, as if she was afraid I would tell Sam about our tête-à-tête. I tried to reassure her with a smile. When he opened the door and walked in, I could tell he didn’t know what to expect.
After an awkward couple of seconds, I said, “It’s the man of the hour,” and held up the issue in my hand. “Val was nice enough to bring you a few copies for your scrap-book.”
“Arma told me,” he said to Val. “I must have passed you on the road.”
“I passed you at Biggs Run and tried to flag you down,” she said. “But you were preoccupied.”
For whatever reason, they both looked at me, and I felt ridiculous standing there in my robe. I pointed over my shoulder. “I’m going to get dressed. Goodbye, Val.” I fled upstairs, but before I reached the apartment, I could hear their raised voices. Angel’s chew toy in the doorway slowed me down long enough to hear Val say, “Who is she to you, Sam?”
I kicked the chew toy aside, then closed the door behind me. I felt extraneous and I inwardly railed against Helena for sending me here and putting me in such an awkward situation. Two seconds later I owned up to the fact that I could have said no to her request. I’d had my own reasons for wanting to see Sam again, I just hadn’t expected things to become quite so complicated.
I lusted after the man, plain and simple. Every time I looked at him, I lost my train of thought, and my ability to reason. Untying my robe, I gritted my teeth as even the terrycloth fabric sliding over my skin seemed unbearably erotic. I hated that the man made me want to touch myself, but there it was. I stepped out of my robe and opened my half-unpacked suitcase to find something to wear. While rummaging, my hand closed around the homemade dildo I’d stuffed down in a clean sock. I unsheathed the dildo and sighed at its perfect peachy likeness to the real thing.
Then my own peach got all warm and achy.
I glanced at the locked door, then back to the dildo and concluded in that crazy way a horny person thinks that the reason I was so reactive to Sam was because I needed to release some pent-up sexual frustration. I owed it to myself to use the dildo once before I gave it back.
“Hel-lo, Buddy,” I murmured, then lay down on the tree-trunk bed. If I couldn’t have Sam, then this was surely the next best thing.
I ran my hands over my body pretending it was Sam touching me. When I held the dildo between my thighs, I was shocked at how real it felt. I closed my eyes. It wasn’t much of a stretch to picture Sam levering himself over me and pushing his arousal against me, trying to breach my peach and take us both to heaven. I moaned his name and slid his silicone image against my most delicate parts, slick with need from thinking about Sam. I longed for the weight of his body on mine, for his deep, intense kisses, and his voice in my ear, urging me to higher heights.
When the mattress dipped, I was so immersed in my fantasy, I was confused for a split second. Then Sam— flesh and blood—slid on top of me, naked and hard, and whispered, “How about the real thing?”
Somewhere down deep I was mortified that he’d found me this way, but frankly, I was too aroused to be embarrassed. I was already on the verge of climaxing and the knowledge that it was Sam between my thighs practi
cally sent me over the edge. I dropped the dildo on the bed somewhere. He kissed me hard and thoroughly, rubbing his hair-covered chest against my bare nipples until I twisted beneath him. “Now,” I murmured. “Now, Sam.”
He pulled up my knees to straddle his waist, and with one thrust, filled me completely. We fell into a rhythmic glide that became increasingly frantic. I could feel my climax building, building. He caught my mouth for a plunging kiss, then whispered, “You’re killing me—I can’t hold out much longer.”
I normally give my partner the courtesy of letting him know I’m going to come, but this one hit me so fast, I didn’t have time. Still, I trusted that Sam knew what was happening when I screamed his name and the deity at the top of my lungs, then contracted like a spring. His own release seemed just as powerful, at least from the receiver’s point of view. He moaned my name and a few unintelligible sounds that were very convincing.
We recovered slowly, muscles twitching, lungs heaving for replenishing oxygen. With eyes closed, I stroked Sam’s hair and focused on his breathing near my ear. I bit down on my cheek and willed my heart to ignore this mind-blowing experience. I didn’t want it to do something stupid like fall for Dr. Samuel Long, Eagle Scout, Hometown Hero, and cover model extraordinaire. That would sort of wreck my life plans.
I decided if I broke the spell first, I wouldn’t appear needy, so I shifted beneath him and he complied, rolling to my side. Still, his hand remained on my stomach.
“The door was locked,” I said.
He grinned lazily. “I had a key.”
“That’s an invasion of privacy.”
“Does that carry the same penalty as shirt-stealing?”
I gave him a light punch. “What were you doing lurking outside my door?”
He exhaled loudly and settled deeper into the mattress. “After Val left, I came up to apologize and heard you making noise.” His grin widened. “When I heard you say my name, I took that as an invitation.” He pushed his nose into my hair and inhaled. “You smell a lot better than when I left this morning.”
I winced. “I’m so sorry about the episode at the Brenigars, and especially that you were hurt.”
“It’s my fault—I shouldn’t have taken you with me.”
“How am I going to write an article about your practice if I don’t go with you?”
He made a noise in his throat. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks to you.”
“Well, now, little lady,” he said in a deep, gruff voice, “I am a hometown hero.”
I laughed. “How’s your foot?”
“Fine as frog hair.”
I laughed again, then reached under my hip where the dildo had wound up. I held it up. “What do you think?”
He scratched his head and laughed. “I’m more interested in what you think.”
I saw my chance to tease him. “Well…it’ll do in a pinch.”
He rolled over and caught my chin with his hand. “Has it been getting a lot of use?”
I swallowed. “Actually, I started feeling bad about the circumstances of its…creation, and I was bringing it back to you. Unused…well, until…recently.”
“Bringing it back? What on earth would I do with it?”
I shrugged. “I thought maybe you would dispose of it…or give it to…someone close to you.” I hesitated, then added, “Like Val.”
He frowned. “Okay, first of all, I’d have a hell of a hard time explaining how and why I had something like that in my possession.”
I giggled.
“And second, I wouldn’t give it to Val. I’m sorry she came by and I hope she didn’t say anything to upset you.”
I let a few seconds pass before asking, “Are you two an item?”
He made a rueful noise. “Val has always wanted us to be a couple—I don’t.”
“But you dated?” I felt like a shrew for asking, but reasoned that it was a detail I needed for the article—readers would want to know. I was a reader, and I wanted to know.
“Val came to work for me about a year ago as an office manager. She wanted us to become involved, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to work and sleep together.”
I waited, and he must have seen the “and?” in my eyes.
“And so a couple of months ago, she quit, thinking that if we weren’t working together…”
“You could sleep together.”
He nodded.
I waited while another unsaid “and?” hung in the air.
“And,” he said, “as it turned out, we worked together better than we…er—”
“I get the picture.” And ouch. I’d assumed they’d slept together, so why had that hurt so much? I sat up and climbed off the bed. “Listen, I don’t want to get in the middle of unfinished business.”
“You’re not.” He sat up and reached for me, but I set the dildo on a stump that doubled as a table and shrugged into my robe—there was something creepy about talking about another woman while we were both naked.
“Kenzie, Val is a great girl, but like most small-town girls, she’s looking for a commitment. Marriage. Kids. I ended things before they got started because I knew I couldn’t give her what she wanted.”
No shirt, no shoes, no commitment.
I was so sorry I’d brought it up. An itch on my chest caught my attention and I opened my robe to reveal big pink polka dots. Aside from my nipples.
Sam whistled and came over for a peek. “Looks like hives.”
“They are,” I muttered. “I’m allergic.”
“To what?”
“To, um, you.”
He laughed. “What?”
“I had hives all over the first time we…er, you know.”
He stopped laughing. “You got hives after we had sex?”
“It doesn’t have to be sex. This is what happens when I’m around a…macho man.”
“Macho?”
“The more testosterone, the more I react.”
He swiped his hand down his face. “This is a new one on me.” He stopped. “Wait—does this have anything to do with your ‘theory’ about allergies protecting you from bad things?”
I shrugged.
He gave a half laugh. “So you think I’m bad for you?”
I closed my robe. “It’s nothing personal.”
“I disagree.” He leaned forward and squinted. “You really believe in this theory of yours, don’t you? What—do you think these allergies are some kind of moral check?”
I couldn’t correct him to say I thought the allergies were more of an emotional check—to keep me from becoming attached to a man who was commitment-phobic.
“Look,” he continued. “If you’re afraid that I think less of you because of what happened in New York—”
“I don’t,” I cut in defensively. “And why should you? I didn’t exactly twist your arm.”
He held up his hands. “I know, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
He sighed. “I’m making a mess of this. All I’m saying is that we’re consenting adults who practiced safe sex. Your skin allergies aren’t some kind of punishment for having a good time.”
He thought I was an idiot. An easy idiot. I crossed my arms. “Well, in this case, my allergies are a good reminder that I’m here on business, not to play house for a week.”
He stood. “Don’t be cagey, Kenzie. If you don’t want anything like this to happen again, just say so.”
“Under the circumstances, I think that would be best,” I said primly. I had to keep my long-term goals in mind.
His expression was unreadable, but he nodded curtly. My chest tightened with warring emotions, but I knew it was for the best.
The phone rang, cutting into the tension. Sam let it ring again before snatching it up. “Hello?” He looked up at me, and his expression eased. “Yes, we saw it…yes, it’s nice…well, I don’t know about that…just a moment.” He held the phone out to me. “It’s your boss.
”
I closed my eyes briefly, then walked over to take the receiver. “Hello, Helena.”
“We’re sold out, Kenzie—the issue sold out!”
“Wow, that’s great.”
“This is what I’ve been waiting for, Kenzie. This kind of push should give us a couple more percentages of market share.”
“Wonderful.”
“We can’t afford to be distracted now with a cover curse. How is Dr. Long?”
I looked at Sam, but decided “naked and spent” weren’t the adjectives that Helena was looking for. He was gathering his clothes, showing signs of a pronounced limp. The bruise on his cow-stomped foot looked ugly and painful. I winced. “He’s fine.” No thanks to me.
“Taking good care of him?”
He stopped to massage the skin over his breastbone. Panic blipped—his heart. I’d forgotten he had a heart problem and now he was having a heart attack. I had sexed him to death.
He stopped rubbing his chest and stepped into his boxers and jeans. I sighed in relief. No. More. Sex. With. Sam. “Yes, Helena, I’m on top of him—er, it.”
Sam gestured he was going to the house and I nodded absently.
“I knew you were the right person for the job, Kenzie.”
He walked across the landing and pulled his T-shirt over his head. I saw the chew toy on the top step. He didn’t. I dropped the phone. “Sam, look out!”
13
“TELL ME he isn’t dead,” Helena said an hour later when I had called her back, as promised.
I massaged the bridge of my nose and leaned against Sam’s desk. “No, Helena, Sam isn’t dead, or hurt, thank goodness. Just bruised.” The man would be black and blue by the time I went home.
“Kenzie, you’re supposed to be watching him!”
“I can’t be with him every second of the day!”
“Is he going to be able to perform Angel’s surgery tomorrow?”
“It’s still on his schedule, Helena.”
She made a rueful noise. “Has he gotten any calls from the tabloids?”
I looked at his machine—the display said he had seventeen messages waiting. “I don’t know.”
“Can you find out?”
I sighed. “Maybe—I have to go.”
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