“Just what I’ve read.”
“Giving your fifth-grade education a workout with big words like lap and dance?”
“Yeah. And with letters like f and u. ”
“Little ears.” Autumn lifted her finger off her fork and pointed to Conner. “We rented the same house last summer and real y enjoyed it, but I’ve read that it’s kind of stormy this time of year.” She talked about clamming and sitting on the beach. She talked about Conner flying his kite and the little Moclips museum. She’d never talked so much in her life, but she kept it up until both men retreated back into their caves and shut the hel up.
“Are you about through talking?” Vince asked her before he took a bite of his croissant.
“Are you?”
“Not by half.”
“Then I’m going to have Conner fil your ears with nonstop knock-knock jokes.” She held up one hand. “I swear to God, Vince.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, defeated for the moment. Sam laughed, and Vince shot him a look that said he was retreating, but the war was far from over.
“Knock knock.”
“Not now, Conner. Just eat your dinner please.”
“Where’s the green bean casserole?” Conner asked.
Of course the one thing she didn’t make was the one thing he asked about. Since she was leaving in the morning, she hadn’t gone al out. She’d cooked just the basics, and not a ton, so she wouldn’t have a lot of leftovers to rot in the refrigerator. “We’l have it at Christmas.”
Vince poured gravy on his potatoes and turkey and looked across at Sam. “How’s that shoulder?”
“About 60 percent.” Sam lifted his elbow away from his body and grinned. “Thanks for asking, frog squat.”
Conner laughed, Vince’s gaze narrowed, and tension pul ed at the back of Autumn’s skul . She didn’t know what a frog squat was. She was sure Conner didn’t know either, but she was fairly sure it wasn’t nice. She pointed to Sam. “Did you hear what I said to Vince?” She knocked on an invisible door. “Until your ears bleed.”
He tilted his head back and laughed like everything was just hilarious. Then he settled in and ate as if he was on death row, and this was his last meal. He seemed happy and relaxed, like he ate dinner at her house every day. Like they were friends. Like they hadn’t been going at each other’s throat a few months ago, and like her brother wasn’t staring holes through him. He didn’t seem bothered by anything, and several times she caught him watching her as if he was looking for something.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Not a thing.” He reached for more turkey and stuffing. “You’re a very good cook. I didn’t know that about you.”
Why would he? “Thank you.”
“Hey, Dad, you should move in here.” Conner pushed his peas beneath his rol as if his mother wouldn’t notice. “We have a bedroom downstairs.”
Autumn’s forehead got tight and achy.
Sam chewed and swal owed as if giving it some thought. “I don’t know. I have a lot of stuff. And where would I put that water wal you like so much?”
Vince muttered something under his breath that sounded like an impossible suggestion for where Sam could put the “water wal .” By the time dinner was over, Autumn was so tense her spine felt brittle.
Vince looked at his watch and placed his napkin beside his plate. “Gotta get back to the grind.”
Vince was her brother, her friend and protector. Besides Conner, he was the only family she had, but she was relieved to see him go.
“I drew you a picture, Uncle Vince. It’s in my art center.” Conner jumped down and ran from the room Vince stood and tucked his Titan Security shirt into his Dickeys.
Sam leaned back and pointed to Vince’s belt. “Where’s your gun, cowboy?”
“I don’t need a gun, asshole. There are more than a hundred ways to kil someone.” He smiled. “And a hundred ways to dispose of a body in places it wil never be found.”
Autumn knew he was kidding. Kind of. “Wel , I hope you come over while I’m gone and eat the leftover turkey. Or do you want to take some with you. Pie?”
Vince ignored her. “I wasn’t around the last time you hurt Autumn. I’m here now, and it’s not going to happen again.”
Sam folded his arms across his chest and leaned the dining-room chair back on two legs. “I heard you the first time.”
There’d been a first time? Where had she been? She stood and fol owed her brother into the living room. “What was that about?”
He gave her a big hug, the kind of deep squeeze that settled in her bones and let her know how much he loved her. The kind of love that would last forever. No matter how much he made her mad. “Cal me when you get to your beach house tomorrow, so I know you’ve made it.”
She didn’t tel him not to worry about her. He would anyway. “I wil .”
“Here it is.” Conner walked into the room and handed Vince the picture. “We’re playing putt-putt like last year.”
“Yep. There you are.” Vince pointed to the little blond figure, then folded the paper and put it in his breast pocket. “I’l study it at work.” He gave Conner a quick hug, then moved down the stairs. “I’l come over while you’re gone, check up on things, and eat the leftovers.”
“Thanks.” She raised her hand as he walked out the door and shut it behind him.
She felt like a half-ton brick had been lifted from one shoulder. The other half ton was stil in the dining room. “Are you going to help me clean up?”
she asked Conner.
He shook his head. “I gotta draw Dad a picture.” He took off down the hal to his bedroom. Typical. “Tel me when it’s dessert time,” he cal ed out over his shoulder.
Autumn walked into the dining room and stopped in her tracks. Sam stood at the kitchen sink, the spray nozzle in one hand. Autumn’s gaze stuck on the stretch and pul of his thin sweater across his wide shoulders and big arms as he reached for a plate on the counter. He whistled as he rinsed in one side of the sink and bent over to put the cleaned plates in the dishwasher. No man had ever done her dishes. Sam towering over her sink, squirting water al over, then bending over, was about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen in her life.
He rose and looked across his shoulder. “That was fun.”
“That was the dinner from hel ,” she said as she grabbed the basket of croissants and moved into the kitchen, the heels of her red pumps lightly thudding across the vinyl floor. “I wouldn’t have guessed you knew how to load a dishwasher.”
“Growing up, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen. After my dad died, my mom went to work ful -time, so El a and I had to split up the chores.”
She’d never thought of Sam as a kid, losing his father or stepping into his dad’s shoes. A lot like Vince. Only their father hadn’t died. He’d run off.
“Most of the time I paid El a to do mine.” Sam chuckled. “Which used to make my mom livid because then I’d have to ask her for more lunch money.”
She’d met his mom a few times when she’d come to Seattle to spend time with Sam and Conner. “How’s your mother?” she asked, as she set the basket on the counter.
His blue eyes looked across at hers and slid to her mouth. “Good.” His gaze slowly moved down her body, over her breasts and the curve her waist and hips in the tight skirt, al the way to her red shoes. “She’l probably be here for Christmas.”
“That wil be nice for Conner.” She ignored the tingle in her pulse and opened a drawer by his right hip, pul ing out a rol of tinfoil. “You don’t have to clean up.”
“It’s the least I can do for inviting myself.” He raised his gaze to hers and dried his hands on a dish towel. She’d cleaned as she’d cooked, so there wasn’t much more to do. “I thought Conner invited you.”
“Conner’s five.” One corner of his mouth lifted, and fine lines appeared in the corners of his eyes. “I might have planted the suggestion in his head.”
She paused in th
e act of tearing some tinfoil. “Why?” Why was he there? Rinsing her dishes, fil ing up her kitchen with his big shoulders and bigger presence. Running his gaze up and down her body and making her stomach take a tumble.
He flipped the dish towel onto her shoulder, then moved into the dining room. Her gaze took a journey of its own, moving down the back of his gray sweater to the back pockets of his black wool pants. There were just some men on the planet who fil ed out a pair of pants to perfection. Sam was one of those guys.
“Curious,” he said as he returned with the turkey.
“No.” She wasn’t curious. She’d seen his butt, and even though it had been a while, she imagined that it was as tight as ever. The kind of tight that came from serious exercise.
“What?”
“What?” She looked up into his eyes and tore off a big chunk of tinfoil.
“You asked why I’d invited myself.”
Oh yeah. She tossed the rol into the drawer and shut it with her hip.
He set the turkey on the counter. “And I said I was curious.”
“About?”
“About what you and Conner do on Thanksgiving.”
That’s right. She’d al owed herself to get distracted, but in her own defense, she was a bit unnerved. “Probably the same thing you do. Only on a different day.” She covered the platter with the tinfoil, scrunching it around the edges.
“I haven’t done the whole Thanksgiving thing in years.” He closed the dishwasher with his foot. “Here or in Canada.”
“That’s sad.”
“Not real y. I’m never sure where I’m going to be on that Monday or Thursday.”
That explained his presence. He had nothing better to do. “You real y don’t have to stay and clean up.”
“The quicker the dishes get done, the sooner I get pie.”
“Seriously?” She’d been so tense, stil was, that she hadn’t eaten much, but Sam hadn’t suffered from nerves. He’d eaten more than anyone. “You want pie?”
“Honey, I always want pie.” He looked into her eyes and reached for the dish towel. Slowly, he pul ed it from her shoulder. “It’s been a while since I’ve had good pie.”
Somehow, she doubted that. “No pie jokes.” She lifted a hand and rubbed the back of her neck.
“I never joke about pie.” He tossed the towel and moved behind her. He pushed her hand aside. “Pie is serious business.”
“What are you doing?”
“You’re al knotted up.” He pressed his thumbs into the base of her neck and pushed inward. “You were so tense during dinner, I thought you were going to shatter.”
She’d thought she might shatter, too, and his hands felt good. So good, she almost moaned out loud. Total y inappropriate, though, and she’d stop him in a minute. “That might have had something to do with you and my brother acting like idiots.” Then he pressed his thumbs into the base of her skul , rubbed in tight circles, and she put her hands on the counter to keep from melting into a puddle by his size-fourteen loafers.
“It could have been worse.”
She dropped her head forward and her hair fel across her cheeks. “Yeah. You two could have jumped across the table and stabbed each other with butter knives.”
He laughed and slid his thumbs beneath the col ar of her blouse. “Unbutton your shirt.”
“Are you high?”
“Not today.” He squeezed her shoulders in his big hot hands. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course not.”
“That’s probably wise.” He laughed, a soft little chuckle that slid up her skul with his thumbs. “Your col ar is in the way.”
“I’m not taking my shirt off.”
“Not off. Just maybe two buttons to loosen up your col ar.” He pressed his fingers into her knotted shoulder muscles, and her eyes about rol ed back into her head. “I get my kinks worked al the time. I’m pretty much a professional.”
Two buttons. She raised her hands and unbuttoned her shirt to the white bow in the middle of her white bra. His voice got a little deeper, and he said, “Slide your hair to one side.”
With her right hand, she reached behind her and pul ed her hair over her right shoulder.
He pushed the back of her col ar. “One more. I promise I won’t look.”
She unbuttoned one more, and somehow the top of her blouse was halfway down her shoulders.
“Better?” His hands squeezed her bare shoulders.
“Yes.” Definitely not safer, though. But God, his hands were magic, sliding over her skin and pressing into her taut muscles. The tips of his fingers slid across her col arbone, and his thumbs worked the knots where her neck met her shoulders. Her tension eased, and she relaxed. With each magic squeeze of his warm hands, her guard lowered, and her body heated.
His palms worked outward, pausing to squeeze the bal s of her shoulders and slipping down her arms. His hands spanned her ribs on the outside of her blouse, and he pressed his thumbs into her spine. “Are you sure you don’t want to take off your shirt?”
No, she wasn’t sure at al . She wasn’t sure she didn’t want to lean back into him, into his solid chest, and stay there a while. “I’m sure.”
He slid his hands down her sides to her waist then to her hips. She felt his warm breath by her ear. “I like your skirt.”
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she swal owed hard. “It’s vintage.”
“It’s tight,” he whispered against the sensitive side of her neck. “It makes your ass look good.” His palms slid to her bel y and pul ed her back against his chest. The curve of her bottom pressed into his groin. “It gives me bad thoughts.” Through the fabric of his pants and her skirt, his erection brushed against her bottom. “Wanna hear a few?”
Yes, she did, but she knew it was a real y bad idea. Her voice was weak and not at al convincing when she answered, “No.”
He kissed the side of her throat. “Is this stil one of your sweet spots?” The wet press of his hot mouth forced a shudder to work through her relaxed body from the inside out. “Mmm,” he hummed against her skin, adding delicious little shivers and sending her into a sensory overload. She turned and put her hands on his chest to stop him. Through the thin wool of his sweater, and the hard muscles of his chest, she could feel the beating of his heart, much faster than the slow smooth touch of his hands. “We can’t do this.”
One of his hands moved across her bare shoulder to the side of her face. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.” His lips touched hers, and her breath caught in her throat. “Thinking about you and wondering.”
“What?” Her fingers curled into his sweater.
“Wondering what it is about you that made me lose my mind six years ago.” His lips brushed hers, and hot little shivers tingled her spine. She couldn’t help it. It was involuntary, just like her palms sliding up his chest, over his shoulder. His face was so close, his nose touched hers. She didn’t want him to lose his mind. She didn’t want to lose her mind, either.
“Wondering if being with you would make me lose my mind now.” He slid his palms to her behind and cupped her bottom in his hands. “I wonder if it would be like the first time we had sex.”
She wondered if he even remembered.
He pressed her against him, against the long length of his erection just left of his zipper. “When we were going at it so hard we fel off the bed. So hard we both got rug burns.”
Okay. So he did remember.
He rocked against her pelvis. “Would it be like that again?”
Her breath caught in the top of her lungs, and she moaned a soft, “Yes.” She didn’t know if she meant yes she remembered or wondered or wanted more. Maybe al three. She couldn’t think straight, then he kissed her, and she couldn’t think at al . It started with a gentle press of his lips that she felt in the backs of her knees and the soles of her feet. Her heart pounded, and she opened her mouth beneath his. His tongue touched hers, warm and wet, and he tasted like suppressed aggr
ession, reminding her of something she hadn’t had for a long time. Something she’d forgotten she liked so much. Hot sex with a hot-blooded man.
Her pounding heart sped up, flooding every part of her body with liquid fire. Her emotions remained detached from the long, slow kiss, but her body was ful y engaged. Aching with need. Itching for him to soothe the desire tightening her nipples. His pectoral muscles bunched as she slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders and rose to the bal s of her feet. She pressed the length of her body into his. Against her bare cleavage, she felt every fiber of his wool sweater. Against her pelvis, she felt his rock-hard erection, and she opened her mouth a little wider and devoured him with passionate, feeding, kisses. Undiluted lust twisted her stomach into knots. It had been so long since she’d felt so alive. So burned up inside. So long since the overwhelming urge to touch and be touched. To eat him up, run her mouth al over him. She moved her hands over his shoulders and back, ran her fingers through his cool hair. She wanted him badly. Wanted the hot push and aggressive tug of sex with Sam. The tumble and grind until she exploded and imploded al at the same time.
Just like before.
She pushed back from the insanity and gasped for breath. She couldn’t do this. Not with Sam of al people, and not while her son was in his bedroom coloring pictures.
His hands on her waist tightened, and he pul ed her toward him once more.
“No, Sam.”
His hands on her waist tightened, his breathing hard as if he’d just finished an hour of sprint training. “Yes, Autumn.”
“No.” Saying no to Sam wasn’t easy, but being with Sam was impossible. The last time had cost her a huge chunk of her heart and changed her life completely. She swal owed hard and shook her head. “No.”
He looked at her through blue eyes smoldering with lust and determination. She’d seen it before. Years ago. She’d fal en for it then. She was older now. Wiser, too.
“What are you doing, Sam?”
“The same thing you’re doing. Getting real y turned on.”
“Conner could walk in here at any second.” But that was only a part of why she’d stopped him.
“I’m sure you have a lock on a door in one of the rooms in this house.”
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