She fluffed my hair with both hands, then pulled it back, away from my face. “With your bone structure, you could go really short, like a pixie cut.” She wet her lips. “But if you have a special man in your life, you might want to consider that men usually prefer longer hair.”
Sam, she was telling me, preferred longer hair.
“Pixie cut it is,” I said cheerfully.
I hoped the gleam in her eye was anticipation and not retribution.
19
TWO HOURS LATER, I pulled into the driveway between Sam’s house and clinic and acknowledged a little pang of disappointment that he hadn’t yet returned, which scared me because it gave me a taste of how I might feel after I went home.
Disconcerted, I collected Angel from the cabin and paused to finger my close-cropped do. It was reminiscent of Sharon Stone’s cut in The Muse, except, of course, I was no Sharon Stone. But I had to admit that Val Jessum knew hair. She had even talked me into white highlights to brighten my eyes and my complexion, although at the time I’d wondered if it was only a ploy to keep me there to ask me more questions about city living. Regardless, we had established a rapport, if not of friendship, of mutual respect. Still, when I left she seemed happy to know my visit to Jar Hollow was nearing an end.
And she didn’t invite me to come back.
I suspected, as Val apparently did as well, that she’d eventually wear Sam down and they would make a life together in this town.
I pushed aside those thoughts and decided to get a jump on setting up the office equipment. I ventured into the menagerie room to fetch the dolly, and took a few minutes to interact with the scruffy-looking cats and dogs on the mend. I even glanced at the snake aquarium—once. Then I fled.
I hauled in the computer first and had it going within an hour. My dad was a whiz with computers—passing hours tooling around with all the latest software had been a way for us to spend time together and not talk about Mom. I had managed to pick up a few skills along the way. Next I set up the peripheral equipment, and soon the office was buzzing with an electronic whir. I was feeling very pleased with myself when the phone rang. I picked up the receiver.
“Dr. Long’s office.”
“Kenzie, it’s Helena.” Her voice vibrated with excitement. “I have great news.”
“I can come home?”
“No,” she said flatly. “In fact, it’s even more important now that you stay.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“News of the cover curse hit all the trade magazines this morning.”
I frowned harder. “I thought that’s what you were trying to prevent.”
“I was, but now that the rumor has leaked, our warehouse has been emptied—every copy of every back issue is gone! Subscriptions have skyrocketed, and advertisers are flooding in.”
My heartbeat spiked. “What does that have to do with me?”
“I suspect that reporters will be contacting Dr. Long, perhaps monitoring him to see if he suffers an injury.”
I closed my eyes, knowing how much Sam would hate that, would hate me if he suspected I’d come to “supervise” him for the purposes of fending off a silly cover curse. “Again, what does this have to do with me?”
“Well…” Helena’s tone descended into the singsong she adopted when she wanted to persuade, influence, coax and wheedle.
I braced myself.
“Do you think Dr. Long would be open to the idea of simulating an injury?”
My jaw dropped, then anger gripped me. “Don’t you mean faking an injury?”
“We don’t have to get wrapped up in semantics.”
I set my jaw. “Helena, Sam has integrity—remember the reason you put him on the cover to begin with? He’d never even consider it.”
“You sound as if you know him so well—Kenzie, you’re the last person I thought would ever mix business and pleasure.”
I chose to ignore the barb. “Anyone who has spent ten minutes with Sam Long would know that he’d never go along with something so deceitful.”
“It wouldn’t be deceitful really.”
“How?” I sputtered.
“Madame Blackworth said Dr. Long would definitely incur an injury this week, which is why I sent you up there in the first place. So if you hadn’t been looking out for him, he would’ve been hurt anyway, so why would he mind pretending?”
I touched my forehead in disbelief and spoke slowly. “Because it wouldn’t be pretending, it would be lying.”
“You mean like saying you went there to write an article about him?”
That stung. “I am writing an article about Dr. Long. I thought you were giving me an opportunity to advance my career, Helena—was I wrong?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to lose you, Kenzie.”
My shoulders relaxed.
“But I do need a teensy favor.”
I tensed. “What?”
“Is there some way you could stage a little accident for him to sprain his wrist or maybe break a collarbone?”
My mouth opened and closed, then I gritted my teeth. “No. And I can’t believe you would suggest such a thing.”
Helena made a clucking noise. “Kenzie, I’m trying to protect the jobs of everyone who works for this magazine, including you. You’re the only person with whom I could discuss something like this. You have my complete trust…and gratitude.”
I was almost nauseous. “Forget it, Helena. I would never knowingly put Sam in danger.”
Helena emitted a little laugh. “Well, Kenzie, then I guess there’s no reason for you to stay after all.”
My heart shivered in disappointment—no reason to stay here…or with the magazine, she seemed to be saying. I tried to maintain a steady voice. “I guess you’re right, Helena. I’ll leave this afternoon and drop off Angel this evening.” I hung up the phone before my voice could break, and then inhaled a long, quivering gulp of air.
I thought I’d known Helena better, but the tough-talking boss I admired would never have suggested something so underhanded. She was eccentric and manipulative, sure. Anal and demanding, okay. Shrewd and controlling, absolutely. Bitchy and—
I frowned and tried to remember what I liked about working for Helena Birch.
I heard the door to the clinic open and rose to compose myself. I stepped out in the hall and saw Sam walk through the front door, carrying boxes and whistling under his breath, his brass-colored hair falling into his eyes. He looked up and grinned and my heart splintered, just like the first time I’d seen him, except worse because now I knew him. And I was leaving.
“Hey, look at you,” he said.
“Look at me?” I asked, walking toward him.
He set down the boxes and reached forward to touch my temple. “Your hair—wow, it’s great.”
I’d forgotten about my new cut. I touched it, remembering what Val had said about his preferences. He was being nice. My neck started to itch.
His smile faded a bit. “Are you okay?”
Tell him about this curse nonsense. “I’m leaving. Today.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Is there an emergency?”
“Sort of,” I lied. “At work. Helena called a few minutes ago.”
He appeared to be struggling with something to say, probably “yippee.”
To change the subject, I pointed in the direction of his office. “I got the computer and the rest of the equipment set up.”
“Great, let me take a look.”
He followed me to the office, then emitted a low whistle. “Where will I begin?”
“Here,” I said, tapping a stack of CDs. “Tutorials to walk you through how to use the computer and all of the software.” I cleared my throat. “But you really should consider hiring an office manager again.”
He nodded. “I know, and I will.”
So Val would have her job back.
He scratched his head and looked all around. “How can I thank you?”
“No need,” I assured him,
unable to look away from his unfathomable brown eyes. “After all the problems I caused this week, it’s the least I can do.” The urge to fold myself into him was irresistible. Every muscle in my body strained toward him. Tell him about the curse.
“What problems?” he asked, his eyes suddenly turning serious…and hungry.
My knees wobbled, but I managed a laugh. “You’re a good sport.”
“You’re the good sport, agreeing to come here and follow me around for the sake of an article.”
The article—my cover. A pang of guilt struck my chest. Tell him about the curse. “Sam—”
“This package must be yours,” he said, picking up the Neiman Marcus box that had been delivered with the equipment.
“Actually, it’s yours.” I cleared my throat. “It’s…a gift.”
He seemed perplexed, but pulled out a pocket knife and slit open one end of the box. He pulled out a Ferragamo box and frowned. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
He lifted the lid to reveal the fabulous low-heeled black calfskin boots. He picked one up and stroked the leather. “Nice. But I’m sure these cost a fortune.”
“About the same as a custom-made shirt,” I murmured. “I guessed at the size.”
He looked at the size and nodded, then smiled and looked down at his dust-covered boots. “These are a little more fancy than my steel-toed standbys. Thank you.”
I shrugged, pleased. “You’re welcome. They’ll look great on you.” Then before I felt compelled to elaborate, I pointed toward the cabin. “I should go pack.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said, “to see you off.”
I walked back through the clinic and outside, my feet heavy as he fell into step beside me. It had turned out to be a beautiful day, sunny with a warm breeze that lifted the tender new leaves on the limbs of the trees. I turned my face up to the sun and inhaled the over-oxygenated air. Now that my leaving was imminent, I had an epiphany that I might miss this place. Barking dogs and all.
Well, maybe not the rats. And the snakes. And the gravy.
Angel trotted along beside us, and Sam picked her up for a ride. “How’s the new mama today?”
“Peeing every few minutes,” I said.
He nodded. “Sounds about right. Tell your boss this is bound to happen again if she doesn’t have her spayed.”
“I think she’s a believer,” I said wryly, already dreading my confrontation with Helena. I pushed aside thoughts of finding another job—I would have plenty of time to ponder my careening career path and other zigzags in my life on the four-hour drive home. Tell him about the curse.
We walked into the house and I went to the guest room, pulled out my suitcase, and packed my meager salvaged belongings in record time. When I found the dildo, I hesitated, unsure as to whether having such a blatant reminder of Sam would be a good thing or a bad thing. Still, I packed it. I emerged carrying my suitcase in one hand, Angel’s in the other, and set them next to the front door. Now that I was going, I was in a hurry to be gone.
“How do they look?” Sam asked from the doorway of his bedroom, looking down at his feet.
He was wearing the boots, shiny black against the worn hems of his Levi’s. And sexy, oh my God. I was sure it was the exact look that Salvatore Ferragamo had had in mind when he designed the boots.
“They look…perfect,” I breathed. “How do they feel?”
He took a couple of steps and nodded. “Soft…and good.” He looked at me and smiled, then his eyes turned smoky. I knew that look, and I knew I had about three seconds to decide how I wanted this to end.
He held out his hand to me, and I went to him for a long, lingering kiss. One last time, I told myself, knowing I was digging myself a bigger emotional hole to crawl into, but throwing caution to the wind. Our lives would probably never intersect again—he knew it too, and the intensity of our desire rivaled that first night, when nothing was at stake.
He broke the kiss and pulled me in the direction of his bedroom, closing the door behind us. He led me to the gigantic log bed and began to undress me. The fasteners on my orange overalls clicked as they fell. He grinned at the sight of my pink panties, and I knew I’d never be able to wear them for anyone else. I pulled at his T-shirt, dragging it over his head, loving the way it mussed his hair. My body was already on fire for him—the sight of his bare shoulders and chest made me want to touch him, breathe him, wrap my arms around him and bring him into my own flesh. When we were both nude, he groaned and eased me back on the cool cotton quilt to cover my body with his. The emotions that welled in me were so strong and so delicious, I had the sense of floating along, with no obstacles to pure joy and ecstasy. I opened my mind to every touch and texture because I wanted to burn the memory of him, the memory of us, into my mind.
He murmured my name against my breasts, then laved each peak with his rough tongue until I cried out. I pushed at his shoulders and rolled on top to straddle him and slow the pace. I kissed his chin, shoulder and stomach. He tensed when he realized my destination, sending a rush of feminine power through my limbs. I admired his erection, remembering the fun we’d had in the hotel bathroom making the dildo cast. Sam was proud of his body and frank with his pleasure, and I was buoyed by his sheer intensity.
I teased the tip of his erection with my tongue before taking as much of him in my mouth as I could. I’d never been into oral sex, but his groans fueled me to try things I’d never done before. I used my lips, tongue, teeth and hands to pleasure him, and the more he responded to my touch, the more I wanted to satisfy him. But a few seconds later, he stopped me with a groan and rolled me underneath him.
His eyes were passion-glazed as he kissed me, rubbing his wet erection against my belly. “You are too much,” he murmured. “I can’t get enough.”
I arched into him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my stomach, then lowered his head to the juncture of my thighs. I tensed for his touch and when his tongue stroked the center of my desire, I melted into the bed with a sound I’d never made before. He responded to my excitement, pushing his tongue into me over and over. I strained into him, weaving my hands through his thick, silky hair. I could feel my climax coming on fast, so I pulled him up with all the strength I had. His muscles quaked and his erection jutted to its fullest. He did have the presence of mind to find a condom, but when he moved on top of me, he was inside me in a single thrust.
He kissed me and I tasted my passion on his mouth, a heady sensation. We had stoked each other’s body to the limit, so within a few seconds, I was pulsing against the length of him in a long, intense orgasm. With one more thrust, he joined me in my white-light eruption. Our moans mingled, then diminished as we recovered. I wanted to lie in his warm embrace for hours, but eventually our breathing returned to normal, and I came slamming back to reality.
Tell him about the curse. “Sam—ohi”
A cracking noise sounded and Sam rolled over, taking me with him. After I got my bearings and he pulled away, I turned my head to see that the large-mouthed fish and the board it had been mounted on had fallen, landing where our heads had been.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked, sitting up.
I nodded, trembling. The words that Helena had said raced through my mind. Madame Blackworth said Dr. Long would definitely incur an injury this week.
He disappeared into the bathroom to dispose of the condom, and when he came back, I was fastening the straps of my overalls. He lowered a kiss to my temple, then pulled on his own clothes, frowning at the mounted fish. “That thing has been hanging over my bed for years with no incident.” He grinned. “Then again, we were really going at it.”
I leaned over to lace my Doc Martens, frantic to get out of there before I caused the roof to fall in.
His chuckle sounded across the room. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to kill me.”
I looked up and swallowed, then stood and scratched my itchy arms, already reacting from our encounter. �
��Ha ha. Listen, I’d better hit the road.”
His eyebrows rose, but I race-walked to the door and opened it, practically tripping over Angel in my haste to get to the front door. “Come on, girl, time to go,” I said, then picked up our suitcases and nudged open the front door with my foot.
“Kenzie, wait, I’ll get those.”
“I got it,” I said over my shoulder as I trotted down the front porch steps.
He caught up with me. “Where’s the fire?”
Tell him about the curse. I stopped and turned. “Sam, I have something to tell you.”
“I have something to tell you, too.”
I set down the bags. “Okay, you first.”
He studied the toes of his new boots for a few seconds, then he looked up and lifted his big shoulders in a shrug. “Why don’t you stay?”
“I told you, Sam, I have to get back to work.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
My pulse picked up. “What then?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Why don’t you stay…for a while?”
My eyes widened. “What do you mean, for a while?”
He looked away, then back to me. “I like you, Kenzie. I like you being here. I…don’t want you to go back. Yet.”
My heartbeat thudded in my ears. Yet? Burgeoning hope was quickly replaced with profound disappointment. I couldn’t throw away my life in Manhattan because he liked me. Like was for sixth graders passing coded notes in class. Do you like me? Check yes or no. Val Jessum had put her life on hold waiting for Sam to come around—I wasn’t going there. I loved him, but not enough to make up for the fact that he didn’t love me. And the fact that he would ask me to upend my life on the chance that things would work between us made things even worse. Sure, I was going to quit my job when I returned, but that was beside the point. Wasn’t it?
I blinked away moisture. “I can’t possibly stay here, Sam.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught our attention. A boxy sedan pulled in next to my car, then a man got out, mopping his forehead. He waved to us before walking in our direction. “Dr. Samuel Long?”
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