by Justine Dell
His mouth covered one breast, his hand cupping the other. She threw her head back and cried out. No lover had ever kissed her so thoroughly, treated her so perfectly, or intoxicated her so completely. She leaned into him, wrapped one leg around him and just…enjoyed. His restless lips and tongue searched every inch of her body, and she thought for sure she would go mad.
His tongue flicked the sensitive peak of her nipple, and she moaned. He provoked the loving girl inside of her, the one who wasn’t afraid to share her emotions. And his hard body provoked the sinful one—the one who wanted to have him now. She clung, clawed, and teased every part of his body as his mouth drove her sexual desire higher.
The snap on her jeans came undone, and his hand dipped inside. With painstaking slowness, his fingers parted and stroked the folds of her sex. She arched back, panting. She wanted him inside her immediately, taking her with wild abandon.
“Lance, now,” she breathed heavily in his ear.
“Ah, not yet.”
One more stroke, and she exploded. Fireworks blasted through her body. Spasm after glorious spasm rocketed through her. He held her in place as he pushed her jeans to the floor before spinning her around and pressing her back into the wall.
Flashes of bright light blurred her vision. He made her feel like no man ever had. She wanted, ached, and dreamed of being with him every moment, every second, of every day.
He put on a condom and slid into her. So easy. So perfect.
She had to tell him. He had to know how he made her whole, how he was everything she’d been missing and searching for. It might be foolish, but as they joined together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, she knew it was time. His response didn’t matter, but she had to be truthful. For him, and for herself.
His hands clamped around her as his strokes came faster. He nipped at her neck, panted in her ear. His movements were smooth, and he took care not to press her too roughly against the wall. Her legs coiled around him, nails digging into his back. Her mouth ravished his. It was warmth, ecstasy, and perfect synchronized harmony all wrapped into one.
“Samantha,” he groaned in her ear.
It was now or never, but as she tried to speak the words, she choked on her own fear.
“Lance.”
The tingling burst up her spine, down her legs, and had her quivering around him. His body tensed around her, and they drowned out the world together.
They walked hand-in-hand down the street. She’d chickened out as he held her in his arms moments before, but the rest of the night was theirs. She could do it…she would do it.
“Jax is at the diner,” Lance said. “We can pick him up, grab a bite to eat and head to the park. How does that sound?”
She squeezed his hand. “Sounds perfect.” She tilted her head and eyed him carefully. “Will you stay over tonight?”
“Like a sleepover?” He grinned when she smiled sheepishly.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said.
His left brow shot up and he halted. “Should I be frightened?”
“No, silly. I just…” She hadn’t quite worked out the details yet, but she needed him to stay. She was going to tell him how she felt. Her lip curved into a smile. “Wanted more dessert.”
“Twenty-four-hour bakery at your service, my dear.” He tugged her close, kissing her forehead, her temple, then her cheek.
Her nerves dissipated. “I’ll remember that.”
He stroked her hair and placed a kiss on her nose. “I hope so. Let’s get Jax so we can get started.”
She laughed as they continued toward the diner. They were about to cross the road when she caught sight of a sleek, black limo pulling up the street.
“That’s not something you see in Burlington every day,” she said.
“They probably got lost on their way to the opera,” Lance added with a laugh.
The limo slowed and came to stop on the curb in front of them.
Samantha poked Lance’s chest. “Watch, someone is going to hop out and ask you for directions.”
The back door swung open and Samantha’s ex-husband Ryan stepped out.
Samantha’s entire body went stiff as a two-by-four. The house of cards she’d built around herself—the one constructed with hope, love, and happiness—collapsed, exposing her vulnerable self.
“Ryan? What are you doing here?”
Ryan’s blue eyes darted between her and Lance, down at their conjoined hands and back to her. He pulled at the cufflinks of his dress shirt before crossing his arms over his chest.
“Looking for you,” he replied.
“How did you find me?”
He rolled his eyes. “God, Samantha, are you really that stupid? Your agent knows where you are at all times.”
Lance tensed beside her and took a step forward. Samantha tightened her hold on his hand.
“I don’t know you,” Lance said, “but I will ask nicely—once—that you treat Sam with more respect.”
“Excuse me,” Ryan snapped. “I don’t know you either, but I suggest you step out of business between me and my wife.”
“Ex-wife,” Samantha spat.
Lance jammed a finger in Ryan’s chest. It caught Ryan off guard, and he moved back. Samantha tugged on Lance’s arm. She really, really, didn’t want to see the two men fight. Even though she was certain Lance could pummel Ryan’s lean frame, he wasn’t worth it.
“It’s all right, Lance,” Samantha said. “I can handle him.”
At Samantha’s urging, Lance moved away, albeit slowly.
“Now, Ryan, why are you here?”
“I’ve been calling you.”
Samantha smoothed the hair out of her face and wished for something to fidget with. “You’re only supposed to contact me through my attorney.”
Ryan frowned. “You haven’t returned her calls, either.”
“For good reason,” she argued. “I was going to deal with it when I got back to New York.”
Ryan stepped toward her. She flinched. “It can’t wait that long. You’ve got something I want.”
“I don’t have anything you want—unless it’s a swift kick in the gut,” she hissed. “I guess I should have worded my question better, so let me try again. What will it take to get you to leave?”
“The lodge.”
Anger eroded her shock. Ryan always had a way of doing that.
“The lodge? Are you out of your mind? The divorce is final. You’ve already gotten every last penny you could possibly get from me. I’m not just going to let you waltz in here and hand you the keys to my house in Aspen.”
“Maybe this will change your mind.” He dug an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her.
With her pulse pounding in her ears like a damn marching band, she ripped open the envelope and slid out several sheets of paper. Lance stood like a rock at her side, gently stroking a hand up her back. It didn’t help ease the tension as she glanced at the court documents. Seething, she looked up and shot a hateful stare at Ryan. Part of her wanted to drop at his feet and say thank you. Another part, the pissed off one, wanted to smack that smirk right off his face. Sneaky bastard. He was using her—again.
“Are you kidding me?” Her voice was a good five octaves higher. “You’re willing to trade custody rights of Ava for a piece of property?”
He nodded.
Rage bubbled through her. She wouldn’t say no. Ryan knew that much, the bastard.
“And you waited, took everything you could in the divorce, refused to let me see her, and now you are going to use her as a bargaining tool?”
He shrugged. He knocked on the window of the limo and the door opened. A tall brunette in a tailored pant suit and six-inch heels stepped out. Samantha could admit that the woman was pretty. But she was older—at least in her forties. That wasn’t normally Ryan’s style.
And then, when a little girl jumped out, her blond curls bouncing around her cherubic face, Samantha nearly fell to ground and wept. “A
va,” she choked out.
“Mom!” Ava leaped into Samantha’s arms. Samantha breathed her in and just held her. She smelled like peach shampoo with a hint of chocolate. A flood poured from her eyes. She didn’t want to let Ava go. Not now. Not ever.
Samantha sniffled and wiped away the tears. She pulled Ava back and cupped her cheeks. “Oh, my—you’ve gotten so big. I’ve missed you so much, honey.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Are you back from your vacation?”
Samantha’s brows furrowed. “Vacation?”
“Yeah, Daddy said you went on vacation. That’s why you’ve been gone so long.”
Samantha frowned at Ryan. They’d talked about this. She’d told Ava some of the details herself before she’d left. Ryan must’ve covered it all up, not wanting to upset her. Or preparing her to be used as bait. Samantha guessed the latter.
“Oh…well, yes—a vacation. I’m back now, so we can spend lots and lots of time together.”
Ava squealed and kissed Samantha’s cheek.
“So?” Ryan asked. “All the legal stuff is right there in those papers. Do we have a deal?”
Samantha’s heart dropped right on the pavement. It was as though it had a sign that said “step on me.” Ryan had already done that on numerous occasions, so this shouldn’t be any different. A blackness seeped into her heart at the mere sight of him.
“Why?” she asked. She knew it was a stupid question.
He pointed to the brunette at his side. “Carmin doesn’t really do motherhood that well. Plus, we want to travel and Ava’s too young to enjoy the places we want to go.”
Samantha put Ava down, pressed Ava’s head against her jeans, and held her hand over Ava’s exposed ear. “You’re ditching your daughter for a vacation?” Samantha whispered. “And worse, you’re talking about it right in front of her with no care about her feelings?”
“Oh, we’ve talked about it with her.” He bent down in front of Ava. Samantha released her hesitantly. “You want to stay with your mom, don’t you?”
Ava grinned and nodded. “Yup.”
Ryan rose and locked eyes with Samantha. “Is it a deal?”
“Just the lodge?”
“Read all the paperwork.” He waved a hand at the documents clenched in Samantha’s hand. “Then let me know.” He scooped Ava up and set her back in the limo.
“Mom!”
“Wait…Ava!”
Ryan slammed the door shut. “We’ll be in town until tomorrow, then we’re leaving the country.” He plucked a card from his shirt pocket. “Here’s the number. Call me.”
Samantha stood—shell-shocked—on the street corner. Lance’s arms came around her and held her. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying until Lance rubbed his hands across her cheeks.
“Sam,” he said softly, “are you all right?”
She sucked down the sobs. “Yes…no…I don’t know.”
“Let’s get to the diner and we can talk. I hate seeing you like this.”
She twisted out of his arms. The memories of what Ryan did and how much he hurt her were all right there. Samantha couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk herself or her heart for any man. She would die the next time it was broken by someone she loved. The risk was too great, especially now that she had Ava to consider. Her house of cards, of comfort, would forever remain scattered at her feet.
“No,” she replied. “I’m sorry, but I need to be alone.”
“Sam—”
“I have to go over this paperwork. I need to work this out so I can have Ava.”
He tried to stroke her cheek but she stepped away from him, hardening her shattered heart.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“No, I don’t need anyone’s help. I can do this alone.” Without another word, she turned and walked away.
Samantha had rearranged the cups in the china cabinet four times. She couldn’t get them right. The construction mess in the kitchen and bathroom was another problem. She’d cleaned, tidied, and scrubbed every surface she could think of.
It didn’t help settle her nerves or wash away her hatred for Ryan. She’d already made her decision after talking to her attorney. She’d give up her home in Aspen, the loft apartment in New York, and several thousand dollars a month in order to have primary custody of Ava. It would take every dime she had. But if all it took was giving Ryan a few worthless pieces of property and money, she would do it.
He’d kept Ava away for almost a year. He’d known that would make it easier to get things from Samantha. It was his ace in the hole, the one that put the final weight on her house of cards. He’d done it for his new bimbo. What a waste.
If Ryan wasn’t such a heartless idiot, Samantha would tell him what he was missing for practically throwing his one and only daughter into Samantha’s arms. Ava’s laughter. Her smiles. Her inquisitive nature and curiosity. But Ryan was stupid. He would never see those things. He only saw a burden, one that Samantha would happily take from him.
She stomped to the phone, yanked up the receiver, and called the number Ryan gave her.
“Hello?” Ryan asked.
“It’s Samantha.”
A short silence was followed by Ryan clearing his throat. “Have you made a decision?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let’s have it.”
“The answer is yes, Ryan. You can have everything you asked for and in return, I get Ava.”
“Splendid. Ava will be thrilled.”
Those words shot ice through her. “Don’t make it sound like you did this for Ava,” she snapped. “You did this for yourself. You’ve done no more than manipulate Ava and me. Hell isn’t suited for people like you. I hope you’re satisfied.”
“I am.”
“Bastard.” More harsh words slipped out before she could stop them.
Another silence followed her tirade. She wished he’d been close enough to slap, not that it would have done any good.
“Well, Samantha, it looks like someone still has some growing up to do. Maybe you’re not the best mother for Ava after all.”
Reality slammed into her like two tons of bricks. “Ryan—”
“Lucky for you Ava is so fond of you. And I know how much you love her.” Tears scrambled to the surface in Samantha’s eyes. “I only wished you’d cared about me as much as you cared about her. Then maybe we would’ve been okay.”
The tears evaporated, dried up by fury. “What?” she demanded. “I loved you, Ryan, more than you could possibly imagine. It was you—you who let what we had slip away. You choose to sleep with a tramp. No, make it plural—tramps. You chose to use me. You chose to not love me. It was you.”
As she continued to rant, memories—every single hurtful memory with Ryan—rose to the surface and crashed through her, stirring up more anger.
“Believe what you want,” Ryan replied solemnly.
“Fine, I’ll pick Ava up first thing in the morning.”
“Don’t forget to bring the signed documents.”
“I won’t,” she ground out, then slammed down the phone and paced around the living room.
Men. Worthless pieces of trash. They put on a good show, that was for sure. Ryan had. Husband Number One had, too. And Samantha had never seen the truth until it was too late.
She froze. She’d never seen the real Lance, had she? Oh, she’d seen many sides of him. Angry, frustrated, funny, gorgeous. She’d marveled in the way he interacted with Jax and Candice. And Samantha had been amazed at how well he handled her. She knew she was hard to get along with, but Lance never gave up. He’d pushed her until she came to terms with who she was and what she wanted. He’d shown her how to love, wholly and irrevocably. Just that night she’d been planning to let him know.
But as she sucked in a breath, she decided she couldn’t now. She wouldn’t take that risk for the third time in her life.
She was done with men, done with Vermont. She would pack her bags, pick up Ava, say goodbye to Gram, and hide herself aw
ay in the place she called home: New York.
She walked up the stairs toward her room with a heavy heart. Loving wasn’t her destiny. Leaving was.
Lance made his way to the kitchen and wrenched open the refrigerator door. He pulled out a cold Coke and snapped it open. With one long drink it was gone. He tossed the empty can into the recycle bin and plopped down at the table, exhausted in mind, body, and heart.
He wanted to call Samantha to make sure she was okay, to tug her close and kiss all her worries away. Watching Jax at the park without Samantha made him realize how perfectly they all fit together. He and Jax both missed Samantha when she was gone and he now knew he wanted them all to be together, forever.
By acknowledging that, he was overcoming one of his greatest fears: commitment. He’d wanted commitment before, with Jax’s mom. He’d thought he was in love, but he’d been wrong. After she ground his heart into the pavement when Jax was born—well, before Jax was born—he never thought he would trust another woman. But he’d always loved Samantha; he’d just never admitted it to himself, or to her. That was his first mistake.
Samantha still had hills to climb, battles to face, but he wanted to help and be a part of her life. And make it their life. He couldn’t do it without her cooperation or her love, and that was his biggest fear. He didn’t know if she could love, especially after the agonized look on her face after she dealt with her ex-husband. It was pure agony.
He wrenched his phone from his pocket and dialed her number. It rang but no one answered. He clamped it shut, rubbing his face. He thought about trying again, and then thought better of it. If she didn’t want to be bothered, she wouldn’t be bothered. Period. His lips quirked. That was his Sam.
Tomorrow. First thing in the morning he would go to her and tell her how he felt, make her see what he saw in her. He hoped and prayed she saw him the same way.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I don’t know why they call it heartbreak.