by Justine Dell
She showered, dressed, and checked her appearance in the mirror before heading downstairs. Standard jeans and T-shirt, hair in a ponytail. Basic. Simple. Just how she liked it.
As she padded her way to the kitchen, she told herself she was going to discover the truth about the past from Cole himself. She’d missed out on something she’d desperately wanted and wondered if she could have it now.
But she wasn’t good with men, so what would be the point? She’d be madly in love with him and Jax, only to have her heart crushed somewhere down the road. Even if Lance did desire her, it wasn’t enough. His love wouldn’t even be enough; it never would. She couldn’t give him what he would need.
Samantha walked into the living room and found her phone on the floor behind the couch. She examined it. It looked okay. She’d missed a call from her attorney, so she knew Ryan had wanted something. She made a mental note to call her attorney back, but she wasn’t in a hurry. Ryan would only irritate her by asking for more money or property. That was the least of her worries, so she’d put him on the backburner. Permanently.
Samantha made her way to the kitchen and froze outside the doorway. Well, at least where the kitchen had been. The countertops were gone, along with a few of the cabinets. The center island she’d been sprawled out on the night before had vanished. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything familiar. Nothing. She wasn’t going to get her morning coffee anytime soon, and that pricked her with irritation.
Lance.
He’d been there, torn up the kitchen without waking her, and then he’d left. That left her annoyed and caffeine-deprived. And where the hell was Jenny? She was MIA, too. Grumbling under her breath, Samantha slipped on her shoes. The sooner she had her morning coffee, the sooner she’d be ready to face the day. And Lance.
“Hey, Gram.” Samantha slipped into Dorothy’s room and rushed over for a hug. Gram was sitting in a plush chair near the window. “How are you?”
“Oh, wonderful, dear. Just wonderful.”
Gram’s cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkling brightly in the morning sun. Her skin glowed. She looked happy and healthy and nothing like the grandmother Samantha had seen barely a week before. It made Samantha’s own inner light flick on and shine brightly. Nothing made her happier than seeing her grandmother recover.
“I talked with the doctor again this morning. They think you should get a medal for all your progress. It won’t be long now before you get to come home.”
Gram patted her on the arm. “You see? Ol’ Gram still has some spark left in her.”
Samantha laughed. “Yes. Hey, I was thinking about something. What do you think of me coming by and helping with the physical therapy sessions?”
“Why, dear?”
“Because I want to be here for you, like I always should’ve been.” A burn started at the back of her throat. “I think I can help you.”
Gram’s eyes lit up. “That would be wonderful.”
“Really?”
“Yes, honey. I need some uplifting conversation during those boring sessions.” She flashed a grin that made Samantha’s heart swell. “Besides, why do I get the feeling the visits will be helping you just as much as they’ll help me?”
Samantha sighed. Gram was a smart woman. Samantha had been thinking about getting more involved with the therapy for a few days, and seeing Cole in such bad shape drove the point home when she realized she could only help those who wanted to help themselves. Just like Gram said, Samantha needed the visits to help her, too. To keep her focused on why she was here, and to keep her head above water where Lance was concerned. Just to keep everything…level. Gram was good at helping Samantha keep a balance, which she needed now more than ever.
“Great!” Happy tears pooled at the corner of Samantha’s eyes. Spending this time with Gram would help sort out everything. “Your next session is tomorrow morning, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be here.”
Gram winked at her. “I’ll be waiting.”
Samantha flung open the front door and was surprised to see Lance and Jenny sitting in the living room. Jenny was laughing, still dressed in sweats with her hair in a bun from the night before. Lance looked devilish as always, his tight shirt showing off his muscles, his jeans wrapped nicely around his strong thighs.
A pastry box sat on the coffee table, along with three cups of what Samantha hoped was coffee. She’d already gotten some on the way to see Gram, but she suddenly had the urge for more. She tugged at the bottom of her shirt, and finally settled with jamming her hands in her pockets.
“Morning,” Jenny said when she saw Samantha standing in the doorway. “Where’ve you been?”
“Oh…I went to visit Gram. And I needed coffee.”
Lance’s dark eyes found their way to Samantha’s face, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver.
“Morning, Sam.”
His words were so simple, yet so powerful. She recalled his body wrapped around hers and the craving he’d unleashed, the burning need that had swallowed her. She suddenly didn’t know if she could have a casual conversation with him. Hell, yes, she could. She could and she would. At one time she’d been the master of creating emotions in her characters, so she would have to create some emotions of her own. Ones that didn’t involve her love for Lance. She had no choice but to pretend; it was the only way her heart would survive until she went back to New York.
“What do you think?” Lance asked.
“What?”
“The kitchen. What do you think about the kitchen?”
“Oh…it…well. I don’t know. I can’t really picture it. How did you manage to do all this work without making a sound?”
He flashed a wicked smile in her direction. “The bathroom dilemma was different. Someone had triple reinforced the cabinet and sink to the wall. Those bolts were a pain to get out. But the kitchen was easy. And—” he raised his eyebrow a fraction “—because I’m good.”
If Samantha hadn’t had a firm grip on the doorknob, she might have fallen to the floor. He was good. He’d been amazing when he was younger, and she could only imagine his skills had improved over time. She’d had a taste of just how good the night before. Chiding herself, she moved into the living room and took a seat.
“So, what’s in the box?” Samantha asked.
Lance pushed it toward her. “Pastries from Candice’s diner.” He moved next to her and flipped open the lid. “She’s trying her hand at baking.”
Samantha inched her body farther from Lance’s so she couldn’t feel his heat or smell him. When she took a breath, she realized it was too late. His exotic scent was back, making her mouth water. “No thanks. I already got my java. Good thing, too, otherwise I get grumpy.”
Jenny barked a laugh. “No kidding. I knew you couldn’t live without your coffee, so I forced Lance to take me into town to get something. I didn’t want to deal with a grumpy Samantha on a Sunday morning. I knew the mess in the kitchen would stress you out enough. I guess you took care of it when you went to see Dorothy, though. I’ll take a pastry, Lance. I’m starved.” She reached into the box and pulled out a huge, gooey concoction that looked like a cross between an over-sized cinnamon roll and an apple danish, not to mention delicious and very bad for you.
“You’re going to need a serious treadmill workout after that thing,” Samantha said as she grabbed the cup of coffee. Maybe the extra caffeine would settle her stretched nerves.
“Nonsense,” Jenny replied with a wink. “Sometimes it’s good to indulge your inner desires.”
Samantha stole a glance at Lance, who was smiling, too. She took a long drink of coffee. “And sometimes it’s good to keep things buried where they belong. Less work in the long run that way,” she said solemnly.
Lance cleared his throat and picked up a pastry from the box. He examined it before taking a big bite. The muscles in his jaw flexed and his tongue darted out to catch some icing. Samantha tried not to envision his tongue on h
er skin the night before. After swallowing, he said, “I agree with Jenny. Life is hard work, no sense in keeping your inner needs hidden.”
Samantha rose, clutching her coffee tightly. “No, thank you. I’ll keep my inner needs as tucked away as I want.”
“What’s wrong?” Jenny asked.
“Nothing. I didn’t sleep well last night and I’ve got a lot to do today. I’m just stressed, I guess.”
Lance finished the last of his pastry and stood, his unsettling stare focused on her. “I’ll try to stay out of your way then. And I’ll make sure I keep quiet, like I did for you this morning.”
Samantha sighed. “I’m sorry. Thank you for what you’re doing.”
Jenny and Lance narrowed their eyes at Samantha. After several silent moments where Samantha once again felt like a lab rat, Lance chuckled. “Well, did those words burn when they came out?” he asked.
“What?”
“‘I’m sorry’ and ‘thank you.’ Did it hurt when you said them?”
“Not funny, Lance.”
“I’m not being funny.” He took her hand and she tried not to flinch. His thumb rubbed over her palm in slow, smooth strokes. “I know this is hard for you: putting up with me, helping Dorothy, dealing with Cole. You’re doing a wonderful job.” He smiled at her as he rose and released her hand. “Keep up the good work.”
He walked into the kitchen. She watched him go, aroused and hating the feeling, especially since she already decided not to act on it. The almost-sex they’d had the night before was as far as she would let it go.
Samantha turned to Jenny, who was grinning. “What?”
“What, what?”
“Don’t play all stupid with me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Now’s not the time to be cagey, Jenny.”
Jenny shrugged and continued to smile. “You two are really cute together, you know.”
Samantha choked on a sip of coffee. “We who?”
“You and Lance. I can almost see the sparks between you. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“There are no sparks. You’re hallucinating.”
“’Fraid not. But if you want to deny it, by all means, go right ahead.”
“I’m not hiding anything. For your information, I’m protecting something.”
Jenny gave Samantha that all-knowing smile before interlocking their arms. “Ah, I get it. You want him, but you don’t want to admit it. Afraid of what it will do to you.”
Samantha nodded. “Something like that. Especially after what I learned last night.”
“Well that sounds interesting. You can tell me all about it while I pack.”
“So that’s it?” Jenny stuffed the last of her belongings into her bag and looked at Samantha. “Lance didn’t say all those nasty things when you were younger? He wanted you? And still wants you? Is that what you’re saying?”
Samantha bit her bottom lip. Hearing Jenny sum it up like that made it sound so much simpler. “Basically, but I don’t know if he’s telling the truth.”
“Why would he lie about it?”
She groaned. “He wouldn’t. I know that. I just need to hear it from Cole, but I can’t go running to him and ask.” Samantha sank down on the bed next to the luggage. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m in no position to get involved with anyone—”
“No matter how much they make you throb between the thighs?” Jenny asked with a suggestive smile.
Samantha smacked Jenny’s leg playfully. “No, it’s not worth it. You know my track record with men. Plus, I’ve got enough stuff going on. A man would screw it all up.”
“And might hurt you.”
“That’s what I am afraid of. Ryan left me as damaged goods, and since he won’t let me see Ava, it hurts that much more. I can’t go through anything like that again.”
Jenny gave Samantha a hug. Samantha didn’t pull away, didn’t really feel the urge to coil and spring like she used to. The hug was warm, thoughtful, and nice. A new feeling settled in Samantha’s chest: comfort.
Her heart had been black, not caring about anyone or anything. That was changing; she could feel it. It was painful and reassuring at the same time to know that she did have a heart and could share it.
Without even thinking, she wrapped her arms around Jenny and held on tight. Jenny suddenly let out a sniffle, crying. Startled, Samantha pulled away. “What’s wrong?”
Jenny shook her head and wiped her tears away. “Nothing. It’s just you’ve changed, Samantha. You’re turning into that girl I used to know. The one who cares.”
“Stop.” Samantha didn’t want to hear this. It would make her more emotional and uneasy about everything.
“You’re turning back into the girl I haven’t seen for a while.” Jenny smiled brightly. “I’ve missed her. I’ve missed you.”
The tears came before Samantha could stop them. It felt good to let her happy emotions out, and even better to feel something other than anger. Now if she could just hold onto it and let it sprout, she could be the old Samantha.
“I’ve missed me, too,” Samantha said quietly. “Thank you for not giving up on me. You’ve helped me more than you know.”
“Well, you’ve still got a long way to go, but I’ll be here for you. Always.”
“I know. But it feels good to have gotten this far.”
Jenny’s thin brow shot up. “Now, about Lance.”
Oh. Him. How much of this new, giddy feeling was caused by him? More than Samantha wanted to admit.
“Jenny, you know—”
“Yes, I know you’ve been hurt in the past. I know the pain you harbor from Ryan.” Jenny stroked Samantha’s arm. “But you can’t hide in that shell forever, Sam.”
“Don’t call me Sam. Please.”
“Why don’t you like that name?”
“Because it makes me sound like a boy.”
“Ah.” Jenny’s expression softened.
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing at all. I think I see the picture, now.”
Samantha scrunched her nose. “What picture?”
“I wouldn’t have the fun of watching you figure it out if I told you.”
“Told me what?”
Jenny looked at her watch. “I’ve got to run. Long drive and all.” She grabbed her bag and headed to toward the door.
“Wait,” Samantha called out. “You can’t just leave me hanging like that. What do you know that I don’t know?”
Jenny laughed. “Like I said, you need to figure it out.”
They walked to the front door, Samantha prodding Jenny all the way. She really did hate being the last person to know something. They shared another hug, and Samantha recognized the torn feeling in her chest. She didn’t want her friend to leave. “I’ll miss you,” she said.
“You’ll be back home before you know it. Then we can get back to the fun things we always used to do. Okay?”
Samantha nodded, not wanting to wait for those days. “Bye,” they said in unison.
After the door clicked shut behind Jenny, Samantha slowly turned around and pressed her back to it. She wanted to get back to her old, carefree life, but before she could do that, she had to fix her life here with Gram, her brother, and Lance. Since she had no idea what to do about Lance, she pushed that thought aside for now. Turning to the living room, she saw her laptop on the coffee table. With this new, relaxed and cheerful feeling inside her, she had the sudden urge to sit down and pound a few hours away at the keyboard. Her unfinished story, Aspen Rain, clicked on in her head and she almost couldn’t make it to the laptop fast enough. She had an idea and couldn’t wait to start typing it out.
Chapter Seventeen
“Conscience is the mirror of our souls, which represents
the errors of our lives in their full shape.”
~George Bancroft
FROM THE KITCHEN, Lance had watched Samantha and Jenny pad down the stairs to the front door and say goodbye.
After her friend had left, Samantha had worn a glowing smile and wistful expression that made his heart clench and, unfortunately, made the uncomfortable tightness between his thighs return. He loved seeing Samantha happy.
She’d looked just as beautiful as she had the night before, even without the makeup and dress.
He hadn’t slept well the night before, either. The sound of her moan had replayed in his head and kept him awake. He couldn’t help but remember the soft movement of her body beneath him. They’d been so close that it’d taken every ounce of will to leave her so breathless and flushed after they were interrupted. He’d had half a mind to drag her up to her room and finish what they started. He wondered how much that would have affected their already uneasy relationship.
Hell, he didn’t know. She’d wanted it though, just as much as he had. He’d seen the longing in her eyes and heard the way she breathed his name. Felt the way her body curved so perfectly around his.
Damn. He stood and readjusted his jeans as he measured the top of the kitchen island. She didn’t yet trust him, and he hated that he didn’t trust himself. After what Jax’s mother had done, he wasn’t sure he could ever risk his heart again. But he continued to watch her as she hammered away at the keyboard in the living room, perched comfortably on the couch, legs stretched out on the coffee table, and he wondered if he could change that. Samantha had been the only woman who made him feel like he was perpetually eighteen. She was the only one who’d taken his breath away. Only her hands could make him shiver and beg for more.
He blew out a disgruntled breath and snapped the tape measure back into its casing. He needed to get a grip. As much as he wanted her, she had things to work out first, just as he did.
He shook his head and spared Sam another glance. She looked deep in thought, huddled over her laptop. Her face twitched and she smiled, but a few moments later it scrunched up tight as she scowled. Then she laughed. The ethereal sound sucked him right in.