* * *
Some of the mourners returned to the house for a buffet lunch and the conversation dwelt on the two fugitives, thought to still be in the neighborhood.
“I suggest we all keep our doors and windows locked until the pair is caught,” the local newspaper editor recommended.
“Not the best, when we’re used to coming and going as we please,” the vicar said with a grave shake of his white head. “People aren’t going to like being imprisoned in their homes.”
Sam left them to their discussion and went to the kitchen. Without turning her head, she knew Mac was behind her. His tie and jacket had been removed and he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Sam had been conscious of his every move. A respected member of the community, his raw energy seemed to command attention from everyone.
“You look really good,” he said, and her heart beat an erratic tattoo as she faced him. Lightly he touched the bracelet again and Sam shivered as she pulled free of his mesmerizing touch.
She glanced down and shrugged. “Thanks. Peter gave me the outfit.” That wasn’t strictly true, for she would pay for it out of her wages, even though Peter told her not to worry about payment.
“Ah.” He nodded as he swept his eyes over her. “For services rendered?” he drawled. It was meant as an insult
“That’s none of your business.”
“Probably not.” His shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. “Actually I wasn’t referring to your clothes. You’d look fabulous in a sack.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her, making her feel naked. “You’re very beautiful. But that’s such an over-rated word isn’t it? There’s an untouched air about you, a purity in your features. I wonder if that’s an illusion.”
“As I said, my sex life is nothing to do with you,” she snapped, pushing at his chest when he suddenly reached out and jerked her into his embrace.
“You think not?” With a muttered curse he ground his mouth down over hers, and with a small whimper Sam melted into him.
Leaning his weight against the table, he roughly pulled her between his parted legs. Sam exulted in the power she possessed to arouse him so easily as he slid his hands to her buttocks, cupping the soft mounds and pressing them to the evidence of that arousal.
Dragging his mouth from hers he, rasped, “You will forget him.”
It dawned on her what she was doing, what she’d allowed him to do. Once again he was steamrolling her with his passion.
“Let go of me,” she ordered, stiffening.
He ignored her plea, running his hands up and down her spine before resting them on her bottom again. No other man would be allowed to take such liberties and get away with it.
“Not again. I swear I’ll make you forget him.” He crushed her to him until she could barely breathe. “Why fight fate? We belong together. I make you tremble when I touch you and that’s better than no response. It’s a start.”
“I’m just as susceptible to a good-looking guy as the next woman.”
“Huh. You look at me as if I’m something found beneath a rock, but your body tells a different story.” Ignoring her puny efforts to free herself he kissed her with a hungry urgency that made her weak at the knees. Sam had to cling to him or collapse in a heap. His throaty groan was like music to her ears. He wanted her and that was an enticing aphrodisiac.
A noise behind them startled Sam, and Mac jumped erratically as they drew apart. Barbara entered the kitchen and as she went to the sink with a tray of used glasses Sam saw Mac’s jaw was rigid. Every part of her still shook in the aftermath of that kiss and her lips felt swollen. When Mac brought his gaze round to meet hers his eyes were filled with smoldering heat.
He cleared his throat, saying, “I’ll be off now, Barbara.”
“So soon?” Barbara busied herself around the kitchen, acting as if she hadn’t just interrupted their passionate kiss.
He walked over and placed a quick kiss on Barbara’s cheek. “Sorry, work to do.” Sam stood there, turning the bracelet around her wrist as Mac came back to face her. “Rusty needs his stiches out. Will you fetch him to the surgery tomorrow?”
Sam stared at him, wishing she knew what he was thinking. He seemed unconcerned, while every cell in her body still zinged like a taut bowstring that had been plucked.
Without another word he picked up his jacket and left.
“Sorry I interrupted,” her mother said into the silence.
“Perhaps it was just as well you did.” Sam left the room without giving her mother a chance to make another comment. She wasn’t up to discussing her feelings.
Wandering into her bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed. What a joke that he seemed to think he had to force her to forget Peter. While in Mac’s arms she’d forgotten her name and where she was. For all she’d been aware of while he kissed her she could quite easily have been naked in the middle of the main street.
Sam sighed. How she would have liked to hide herself away, but common courtesy forced her to go and talk with the guests. When the last straggler left, Sam, Barbara and Marie cleared away the leftovers, used crockery and glasses, and stacked the dishwasher.
Once everything was back in place all three sat in the sitting room discussing the funeral and some of the guests.
Marie sipped on the tea Sam had made. “I do wish you’d come back with me for a few days,” she said to Barbara.
Barbara played with her wedding band. “I’m not sure I’m up to it.”
Marie shook her head. “You have to visit your solicitor, so why not do it now?”
“Sounds feasible to me, Mum,” Sam said.
Barbara frowned. “I don’t think I should leave you here. After all, you came over to be with me and I really shouldn’t desert you. And what about those thugs? I don’t like the idea of you staying alone in the house—not while they’re on the loose.”
“I’ll be all right, honestly.” Sam’s smile was meant to encourage. “You go ahead. I can catch up on a few friends.” That was the last thing she wanted to do—but a chance to be alone with her feelings might be a good idea.
“All right—I’ll think about it.” The telephone rang and Barbara picked up the receiver. “Hello, can I help you?” She looked puzzled. “Yes, she’s here.” With a look that said she had no idea who was on the other end she handed Sam the phone, saying “It’s for you.”
“Sam?”
Sam groaned silently. Why was Peter calling her? “Yes, it’s me.”
“Darling, when are you coming home?” The endearment and his soft laugh grated on her nerves. She wanted to shout that she was home. “I’m missing you like crazy.” He sounded like the petulant man he was. “You know what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder.”
Sam knew all about that—hadn’t she grown fonder and fonder of the man she’d alienated herself from? It was irrational and petty, but Peter irritated her beyond belief and she gripped the phone hard to quell an insane urge to slam it down.
Impatiently, she sighed. “I’ve only been here a couple of days. I really don’t know how long I’ll be staying. You did tell me to take as long as I need.”
“But darling, how will I manage? I must have been out of my mind to tell you, in a moment of rashness, to take as long as you like. What will I do?” It was the wail of a person used to getting their own way.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said tartly. “Goodbye, Peter.” Before he had a chance to say more, she replaced the receiver in its cradle.
He would not be happy with that. Peter always liked the last word.
Marie and Barbara were pretending they hadn’t heard the conversation.
Sam wanted to scream. As soon as she returned to Melbourne she would make it patently clear she was fed up with him, and his infantile behavior. That would more than likely get her sacked. But who cared? There were many openings for an experienced saleslady in the fashion industry. She would have no trouble finding another job. Yes, she would find another
position—away from Peter and his possessiveness.
Lonely Pride Page 18