by Cathryn Fox
“Excuse me? What do you mean you were screwing Morti? Who the hell is Morti?” Adam was pulling off his tie, when he caught Ted’s smirk and waved him out the door.
Samantha laughed at the anger that enveloped the shouting in her ear. “I was using a drill to screw a concrete molly bolt into the brick fireplace so I could hang Morti, which is why I didn’t hear the phone.”
“So, you’re okay and Morti’s what? A decoration? And your car’s okay? Nothing happened at class?” He settled back into his chair, willing his blood pressure to normalize. “No problems with that asshole?”
“Of course my car’s fine, it maybe old but Freddie keeps it in tiptop condition. Class was cancelled. A water main break shut down the street and flooded the parking garage. I went shopping instead.”
“Did you find a dress for Saturday night? I can have Brett’s wife, Meg, send you a couple. She still models and knows designers and…” His chin suddenly hit his chest. “I can hear your foot tapping madly through the phone. Sorry, give me a minute to adjust my attitude.” But when her husky laugh snaked into his ear, he smiled.
“That’s very sweet. I’ll shop again tomorrow; Katherine gave me a couple of boutiques to check out. And I promise, if I don’t find something by lunch, I’ll call you, but it has to be something I can afford. I did, however, buy Morti, he’s a moose.” Samantha grinned at his guttural response. “No, not chocolate, but that sounds wonderful.” She stared at the fireplace wall, admiring her trophy.
“Moose, huh? I know you didn’t shoot one, so…”
“It’s really all your fault.”
“I’m not even there, so how can it be my fault.” Adam leaned back against the chair, wishing he was there. With her. Holding her. His hand came up to massage his face.
“Well, he was in the display window of this odd-lot home décor shop, wearing a red plaid bowtie and suddenly I thought of you –
“Me?”
“You and your sexy lumberjack stubble –”
“Hmmm…liked that did you? I’ll make sure to wear it on Friday.”
“Oh yeah.” Samantha swallowed down the shot of pleasure that seared her at hearing that tone in his voice. “But I digress,” she cleared her throat. “Morti–”
“Morti?” He echoed. “Not Bullwinkle?”
“Please…Mortimer is adorable, made out of…well, I think he’s a paper Mache moose. At any rate, he warms up the brick fireplace and I love his smile. My sister would probably scream but she’s not here.”
Adam scribbled the notation: L.L. Bean on his desk blotter. “How’s everything else going? Janine hasn’t been bothering you, has she?”
“Janine has been too busy moving out of her father’s house and into Katherine’s condo. The house swap worked out perfectly, we were even spared her usual Wednesday visit,” Samantha informed him cheerfully. “How are things there?”
“Fine. Boring. Damn I miss you!”
“I miss you, too.” She was glad he couldn’t see her blush. “Where are you? This phone number was blocked on my caller ID.”
“At the office. We’re waiting on a shipment of paintings for the brochure. I have to do something or everyone will mutiny,” Adam joked. “I hope you’ve been behaving yourself.”
“Haven’t got anybody to misbehave with,” she parried lightly. That sensual timbre in his voice was back. Her body curled against the sofa cushion, wishing it was him.
“We can remedy that situation on Friday,” Adam replied with such emphasis that Samantha felt more than her face suffuse with color. “I’m going to try and catch the early plane,” he informed her, frowning when he saw an assortment of blinking lights flash across the phone. “Listen, Sam, the paintings have arrived, I’ll check on you tomorrow. You better find a dress, you can’t wear a moose…although the idea of a chocolate one, sort of smeared over your body is suddenly driving me wild,” he laughed hearing her shout.
Needless to say, Samantha was extremely disappointed when Adam failed to make an appearance outside her classroom Friday night. She had some exciting news to share and had even worn a soft, cowl-neck sweater dress in case he wanted to take her out for the evening. With a deflated sigh and a wave to Finch, she switched on the ignition and windshield wipers.
The steady rain that had fallen all day was now freezing into sleet and the car’s defroster was having difficulty handling it. Luckily, she followed a caravan of sanding trucks, but the weather added an extra forty-five minutes to her travel time and she was exceedingly grateful when she finally made the turn into her driveway.
Samantha’s eyes widened at the sight of her cottage ablaze with light and the white Jaguar parked in front. She half slid, half ran up the icy front steps, brushing sleet off her storm coat only to find the door locked. Instead of using her key, her knuckles rapped hard. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the familiar tall, broad-shouldered figure who answered the door, with one of her most frilly aprons tied around his waist. With commendable composure, she managed to say: “Good evening, I see the lady of the house is in.”
“Lady of the house, indeed,” Adam growled, pulling her into the warm, fire lit living room. His lips met hers, soft and gentle at first, as his arms slid inside her glistening coat. Pulling her close, his hands flowed from her waist up her spine to cup the back of her head. Her coat dropped to the floor beside her purse and book tote as the contact between them became more intimate.
His kiss deepened, his tongue teased and tantalized her lips into submission. Her low moan mingled with his. Her body was already pressed eagerly against his; her hands pressed along the muscles of his chest as her fingers flowed against his jaw. When at last he lifted his head, her lips felt bruised and she was gripping his shoulders for support. “It’s been a long week,” he grinned crookedly at her; his fingers gently stroked her hot cheeks, before they straightened her glasses.
It took her a minute to regain some poise, and then Samantha sent him a teasing smile. “Wow,” her fingers caressed his face, “sexy stubble, a lumberjack shirt, worn jeans and bare feet.” She straightened out the slightly crushed red flannel collar. “Be still my heart.” But her heart was anything but still. And when her palm slid down over his chest, she could feel his heart beating in unison with her own.
His forehead leaned against hers. “I was getting worried. How bad is the weather? It was only raining when I drove up. Is that thunder?”
“The weather is terrible but that was my stomach growling,” Samantha said with mock severity. “What smells so good?”
Adam angled in for another hug, but then released her when Beethoven’s Fifth sounded. “Dinner. Seeing that you’re nearly an hour late, I don’t want to hear any complaints,” he admonished before heading toward the kitchen.
Samantha hung her coat on the hall tree and pulled bare feet out of sock-lined boots. Her living room glowed from a mix of candles and the fireplace. Adam had covered the hearth with every candle in the house. He had turned the trunk into an elegant table for dinner, complete with a white linen cloth, china, crystal and a gold hurricane glass-covered candle. Samantha settled comfortably on one of the giant floor pillows under the watchful, and she swore, winking eye of the moose when Adam reappeared, sans apron, with a tray bearing a steaming platter of fettuccini Alfredo and a bottle of wine.
“Now don’t tell me you’ve been slaving over a hot stove all evening creating this masterpiece,” she inquired quizzically, watching him pour the wine.
“Actually, I brought it with me from one of the finest Italian restaurants in New York. They dry-ice packed it. I stopped and bought an elegant picnic basket before I caught the train. I did not want the TSA enjoying our dinner or the decadent Mousse au Chocolat that’s waiting in the kitchen.”
Samantha clapped her hands and laughed. “I don’t think the Adam Rourke of a few weeks ago would have even thought of such a thing.”
“You’re probably right. See, I have adjusted my attitude.” He settled on the cushion n
ext to her. “I caught some of your zaniness. Do you mind?”
“Heavens, no! It makes you much more human,” she exclaimed provocatively.
“Meaning I wasn’t before?”
“Meaning, if you don’t stop interrogating me, I shall faint from hunger,” Samantha admonished him, before attacking her dinner with unladylike haste. “I see you brought Morti a gift. What is that, a plaid hunter’s cap balanced between antlers?”
“I’m just using him for a hat rack. It matches my shirt.” His hand filtered through her still damp hair, the curls eagerly bound his fingers in blond silk.
Samantha leaned forward, her eyes soaked up every inch of his face. The small scar on his left cheekbone and the sexy stubble made him look deliciously tough. Fierce. Protective. “I love your shirt.” I love the man in the shirt. She wanted so badly to say that out loud but there was still this fear. Fear of saying I love you. Fear it would just be a lie echoed in response. A sharp crackle and hiss from the tall stack of fireplace logs snapped her thoughts. Samantha reached for her wine glass and let the silky white chardonnay do more than cleanse her palate. “Everything still going smoothly with the brochure?”
Adam nodded. “I’m a little worried about the health of the man in charge of the project,” he told her pensively. “Brett’s never been one to complain, but he certainly has been grumbling over his stomach lately.”
“The judge gets that way after too many obligatory fund-raising luncheons,” Samantha replied. “He then goes on a strict diet of bland foods and antacids for a few days and the problem seems to correct itself.”
“I told him to see his doctor but he said he was too busy. So, he downloaded an ulcer diet off the internet and said he was feeling better after a couple days following it. How was class tonight? Any problems with that bastard in your –”
“No, he’s staying well away from me.” Her fingers stroked away the tension from his forehead. “I did get a nice surprise.” Turning, she reached and pulled the book tote to her side. “The term paper I wrote on consumer use of the small claims court got an A and—” she paused dramatically “—my professor showed it to an editor friend of his and it’s going to be published on his consumer affairs blog and I get a byline and I get paid! He also asked if I would be interested in doing other columns.”
“That’s terrific!” Adam hit the button on the base of the floor lamp to better read the paper she handed him. When he had finished, Samantha was disconcerted by the strange look on his face. “What’s the matter?” she asked hesitatingly. “Don’t you think it’s any good?”
Putting the paper down, Adam captured both her hands in his. “It’s excellent. Hal was right; you are equal to any lawyer.”
Samantha gave an exaggerated sigh. “You really had me worried for a minute.”
“The point I’m trying to make is that you should seriously consider becoming an attorney.”
Samantha blinked. “I don’t have the right temperament to be a lawyer,” she smiled at him. “The courtroom is no place for emotions and feelings. I’m afraid I would spend most of my time paying contempt of court fines for telling the judge to adjust his attitude.” She gave his shoulders an impatient shake. “Besides, do I look like Perry Mason to you?” she teased reproachfully.
A devilish gleam shot into his eyes and he tumbled her backward into the cushions. “Well, you certainly don’t feel like Perry Mason,” he grinned at her indignant squeal. “Let’s see how you taste,” Adam murmured timeless seconds before his mouth captured hers.
Samantha wound her arms around his neck, enjoying the hard muscular body on top of hers. His fingers pushed the wide cowl collar off her shoulder; his mouth moved across her jaw line, planting soft kisses under the tender skin of her earlobe and down her neck. He could feel the wild flutter of her pulse under his lips.
That delicious tingle started low in her stomach and rapidly turned into liquid heat as it snaked in both directions. Thoughts seized her brain. Desire. Wants. Needs. Love. Samantha felt the last of her defenses crumble when the contact became more intimate. She tugged the fleece shirt free of his jeans, her hands roaming slowly over his sinewy back, her fingertips lightly teasing erotic patterns on his spine.
The heat of his flesh beneath her palms fueled her own needs. Her body wanted him. Pleasure pulsed. His lips became more passionate as they moved across the smooth skin of her throat and claimed her mouth once more. The insistent ringing of the telephone jolted them both back to reality.
“I am going to cheerfully kill whoever is on that phone,” Adam grumbled thickly, when Samantha pushed him aside and sprinted for the kitchen phone.
From a loving high, she was plummeted to a depressing abyss, when Janine Griffen’s sharp voice assaulted her ear. “I was wondering if you knew what time Adam was scheduled to come in from New York,” Janine demanded without the courtesy of a preamble. “I haven’t been able to reach him at the condo he’s staying at, his cellphone defaults to voice mail and he hasn’t been in contact with my father.”
Samantha took a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, he’s right here, Janine.”
“I see,” she returned icily. “May I speak with him? It is rather important.”
“Just a minute.” Cordless phone in hand, Samantha punched the mute button before padding back into the living room. Folding her arms across her breasts, she announced in her best voice of doom, “Janine. For you.”
Adam bit off an angry expletive. He pulled her back down on the floor cushion, positioning the receiver so they could both hear the conversation, and then punched off the mute button. “What’s the problem, Janine?” Adam asked gruffly. “I was getting ready for dessert,” he added dryly and Samantha gave his shoulder a sharp smack.
“I hate to intrude on your evening,” Janine intoned, “but one of the speakers for the dinner tomorrow has been taken ill.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“He was going to present my father with a press award and it’s only logical that you should present the award. I need to fill you in on the presentation speech.”
“Hold for a moment, Janine.” Samantha pressed mute. “Have you heard his speech?”
“Ad nauseam last weekend. Why?”
“Because she just wants to jump your hunky body, that’s all.”
His head tilted with interest. “Really? Hunky, huh?”
She nodded. “And that is so not going to happen.” Samantha hit the button. “Janine, is anyone else coming?”
“Well…no, I—”
“Hold that thought.” Sam stabbed the key with her thumb. “I told you so. We have all been tiptoeing around her temper and it stops right now. Besides, she’s going to slam me tomorrow night when she finds out an extra table was added for Freddie and the guys. And Judge Baylor tracked me down as I was leaving work to say the governor was going to put in a surprise appearance.”
Samantha pressed the mute button. “You know, Janine, the weather is just frightful out here, sleet is pelting against the windows. In fact, the radio news reported the State Police is discouraging highway travel. I know you’d hate to be the cause of Adam having an accident.” Samantha grinned at his bobbing head. “He’ll be more than delighted to go over everything with you tomorrow before the dinner starts.” She pointedly ignored Janine’s flustered cry. “Have a nice night.” Punching off the phone, Samantha tossed it on the sofa.
Adam stared into her eyes for a long moment. “So, is this my sleepover invite?”
The sincerity in his voice hit her most vulnerable spot. Samantha smothered all her fears, nodded and turned more fully into his arms. Sometimes the only thing to do with desire was to give in. “I know you were promised a trip through the woods to howl at the moon, but it’s way too icy and cold.”
“I’ll take a rain-check on that.” His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head slightly back. “How about the Goldfish s’mores?”
“I ate them all.” Samantha saw herself reflect
ed in his eyes. “I thought you brought chocolate mousse? It makes the perfect breakfast.”
“Really?” His lips spoke against the corner of her mouth. “How about that damn zerbert thing? I’m insisting on that, whatever the hell it is.”
Her fingers walked up the front of his flannel shirt, unbuttoning as they traveled to thread in the thick dark hair that curled on his nape. “Hmmm…zerberts usually go with superhero underwear. But in your case, I’m betting the super and hero part is inside the underwear.” Her teasing smile was quickly captured by his mouth.
His kisses were slow. Lingering. Passionate. He kept his hands on her at all times. Cupping the back of her head, his fingers sifted through the silken curls. His lips moved along her jaw line, nibbling a trail to her earlobe. His tongue gently traced the small gold knot that pierced the lobe.
I’m afraid but I trust you. That thought reverberated in her head but the low moan that echoed from her throat into his had no fear. Just hunger. Just need. Just desire. Heat seared her body, fire licked her blood, and both twisted into pleasure/pain that appeased the hunger in her soul. His arms were like steel bands and she was glad for their support.
His hands went from caressing to possessing. In one fluid movement, the sweater dress was pulled off her body and tossed toward the sofa. He propelled her down onto the large floor pillows, the flames of the fireplace and the shimmering candles bathed her in a lover’s glow.
“You are so gorgeous.” He looked his fill. Her blond hair was in a sexy tumble; her lush curves were wrapped in a teal lace embrace of a bra and matching bikini briefs. Adam plucked her glasses off and put them safely on the table, then buried his face in the curve of her neck. Her skin was warm and damp with that tropical scent that made his senses swim.
She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, freeing his well-muscled flesh to press hot and hard against her. Her lips replaced her hand, pressing kisses in the hollow of his neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive spot below his ear.