by Various
“Dammit!” he muttered, and shoved away. “I can’t do this, Sam.”
She quickly scooted into a kneeling position. “What? Why?”
“You have all the right moves, do all the right things to me, but I keep expecting you to look at your watch. Hell, I have no idea if I’m actually pleasing you, or if it’s all just an act.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Have you ever seen the old movie, Klute, with Jane Fonda?” Sam shook her head, looking bewildered. “Jane Fonda’s character, who is a hooker, is entertaining a client. The guy’s totally into it and probably thinks she is, too, because she’s moaning and gasping at all the right times. Then, all of a sudden, she glances at her watch and we know, even if the poor guy doesn’t, that it’s all just a job to her.”
Sam was silent a few moments. “And you think I’m the same way. Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s how you come across, yes.”
Saying nothing, she pulled the quilt around her and drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around her blanketed knees. Her dark hair spilled across the brightly colored ring-like pattern. His eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and for the first time he noticed his surroundings. He looked around in surprise, taking in the cozy decorations of the bedroom, from the old-fashioned quilt on the natural pine sleigh bed to the white lacey curtains on the window to the collection of antique frames and glass bottles on the bureau. The room had true warmth, unlike the rest of her condo. Unlike her.
He focused his attention back to the silent woman on the bed. “Look, Sam. Maybe we should just admit this isn’t working and call it a night.”
Her gaze went to the darkened window. “Well. I guess I should’ve known you couldn’t keep your promises.”
His jaw clenched. “What the hell does that mean?”
She shrugged. “I mean, you didn’t honor your commitment to your two marital contracts, why should I have expected you’d honor this one?”
His breathing shallowed and his blood burned through his veins. “You. Bitch,” he said in dangerously even tones. Sammy Jo or no, he’d had enough. Guilt could only take a person so far. He stood and grabbed his clothes from the floor, marching out of her bedroom and into the tiny bathroom across the hall to dress.
When he came out a few minutes later, he expected to find Sam waiting for him in the living room, angry as hell and holding open the front door, his coat in her hands. But she sat on the edge of the bed wearing a short floral robe, the light from the hallway bathing her face in shadow.
“Just so you know,” he said to her. “When I said we should call it a night, I meant just for tonight. But this is good-bye for good.”
Her shoulders jerked when she heard the front door slam. He’d really left.
She’d all but chased him away. Maybe she’d gone overboard in her attempt to stay emotionally detached. But it was always afterward. Never during.
Tears overflowed her eyes and drizzled down her cheeks. She’d screwed everything up. She covered her face with her hands and let herself cry for a few moments. She’d treated him horribly and now he was gone. She knew she deserved his wrath. She’d been a bitch, as he’d said. No way around it. She swallowed a lump in her throat. Becoming a mother was back to being a distant dream.
Brushing away a tear, she knew it probably served her right. She should have been nicer. She’d likely never see him again.
The thought brought another lump to her throat.
Chapter 10
The rain had picked up along with the wind. Icy gusts blew sideways into the building, buffeting John as he ran down the stairs. By the time he’d reached his car in the parking lot of Sam’s condominium complex, he was drenched. The weather matched his ugly mood.
After Valentine’s Day, he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t see her again. But when she’d come to his office yesterday, he realized the extent of his weakness for Sam Rossi. Call it guilt or just plain lust, he’d agreed to come over tonight against his better judgment. Then she’d turned on him like a viper snake.
He beeped his alarm off and unlocked the doors. He climbed in, trying not to get too much water inside the car. The woman didn’t even have the sense to keep two fighting fish apart. And now she wanted to have a baby? What had he been thinking? God. He was glad to be rid of her. He ignored the little twinges of guilt in his gut.
He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. So what if he was more attracted to her than anyone else he’d ever known? So what if she was all he thought about these days? He was a normal, healthy man with normal, healthy needs. It was lust, pure and simple. Powerful lust such as this could make a man think crazy thoughts.
He backed carefully out of the parking space — some joker had parked inches from his car on the right side. Another parked illegally behind him, making it necessary to go back and forth from reverse to drive several times to maneuver into the lane between the spaces. Christ! Even her parking lot drove him crazy.
Pulling into the mouth of the driveway, he idled while a couple of cars passed on Northgate Way. When it was clear to go, he was about to lift his foot from the brake when a flash of white in his rearview mirror caught his eye. He focused on the reflection and then turned around to see if he was seeing things. Nope. Sam was running toward his car.
He was tempted to gun it, but it was the sight of her wearing nothing but that flimsy floral bathrobe, her bare feet slapping and splashing against the puddled pavement, that urged him to wait.
He rolled down the window as she closed in on him. Her hair was plastered to her head, rivulets of water streaming into her face. Her expression was distorted, obviously from the harsh weather. She couldn’t possibly be crying. Her robe had loosened, the sash slack at her waist, the sopping lapels gaping. The pale valley between her breasts beckoned him as her chest heaved from the recent exertion. He could almost say he hated her right now, yet his hormones raged like a sex-crazed teenager’s.
“What do you want?” he barked over the sounds of the car and the weather.
He could’ve sworn her bottom lip trembled. She was probably just cold. “I j-just wanted t-to apologize.”
Yeah, whatever. “Okay, you’ve apologized. Now, go inside before you freeze to death.” He rolled up his window, but her hand snuck in at the last minute. He either had to roll it back down or crush her fingers. It was a tough call.
“What?” he snapped when the window was down about six inches.
“I w-was out of line b-back there.” She hugged herself. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrowed. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she looked sincere in her apology. He nodded curtly. “Okay. Thank you. Now, good night.” He started to roll up the window and again her hand stopped him. “Dammit, Sam. You’re flooding my car. What? What!”
“Please, I just—” She bit her trembling lower lip. “Can’t you come back to my place? I w-want to talk to you.”
“Call me tomorrow. We can talk then.”
“I’m not leaving until you t-talk to me.”
“Fine. I’ll leave.” He rolled up his window and had every intention driving off. She just stood there and hugged herself tighter. He’d never met such a stubborn woman before. She’d let herself freeze out there just to prove a point. He cursed under his breath and lowered the window. “Okay, get in.”
“I’m s-sopping wet. I don’t want to ruin your seat.”
He swore again. “It’ll dry. Now get in, dammit, before I change my mind!”
He flipped the locks as she circled his car. He reached over and opened her door. The pounding rain slanted into the automobile, but he barely noticed. Sam’s robe had parted as she climbed into the leather seat, revealing a long length of smooth, gorgeous thigh.
On a second look, it wasn’t so smooth. It was covered with goose bumps. His good manners prevailed and he wriggled out of his coat. “Here,” he snapped. Wordlessly, she took the coat from him. Her icy fingers brushed his in the exchange. He told
himself he couldn’t care less if she froze.
“Y-you’re still mad at me,” she said, pulling his coat around her body.
“Yep.” He backed into an empty parking space.
“I don’t blame you. I was pretty n-nasty.”
“Yep.” As long as he didn’t look at her, he could keep his cool.
“John, please.” She touched his arm. Her hand trembled. She was obviously cold. It couldn’t possibly be from emotion. “Throw me a rope, okay? I’m t-trying to apologize to you.”
“Fine. You’ve apologized. Your conscience is clear. Now, do us both a favor and get out of my car.” He shifted in his seat to glare at her. Mistake. Two fat tears overflowed her beautiful eyes and mingled with the rain on her cheeks.
Her bottom lip quivered and her fingers shook as they brushed tears away. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” She scrambled out of the car and closed the door before he could react.
John closed his eyes. He would regret this later, he was sure of it. He turned off the engine, got out and jogged after her. “Sam!” He squinted through the sleet to see her. She ran unevenly ahead of him, like a drunken Batman with his big black coat waving like a cape behind her as she wobbled along. Then he noticed the pavement wasn’t all that smooth and she ran barefoot over it. He cursed again and quickened his pace. He caught up with her half-way across the parking lot and grabbed her arm.
“What’s this all about?” He spun her around to face him. “What do you want from me?”
She blinked rapidly. “I j-just—just—” she sputtered and stumbled, falling against him. He caught her arm to steady her, then put her firmly away from him. That old trick wouldn’t work with him.
She winced and lifted her heel, examining her foot. Her fingers gripped his forearm for support. This woman knew all the tricks.
Even though he knew he wouldn’t see anything, he looked around her to peek at her supposed “injury.” The streetlight above them glistened upon a cut on her heel that oozed blood. His first thought was somehow she’d planned this, then he realized he was giving her too much credit. “You’d better get inside and take care of that.” He reached for her arm. “Here, I’ll help you.”
After a few steps of her walking on her tippie toes, his gallant side took over. He scooped her into his arms and hurried toward her condo. She didn’t even struggle and had the nerve to put her arms around his neck. Shameless.
“Where to?” he asked, kicking her door shut with his heel.
“The b-bathroom, I guess.”
He strode into the bathroom and set her on the counter. He turned on the tap and held her foot under the gentle stream of water. “Here. Keep your foot there a minute. I’ll be right back.”
He returned with a crocheted throw from her bed. He helped her off with his coat and wrapped her in the small blanket that didn’t cover her nearly enough to his liking. That robe was plastered to her like a second skin. The cold weather had hardened her nipples and they strained erect against the damp material.
He swallowed back his inopportune desire and forced his attention to her foot. In this better light, he could see the cut wasn’t all that big or deep. It just bled a lot. He gently scrubbed his fingers over it, washing away tiny pebbles and grit. She shifted on the counter and her robe and blanket shifted as well. He knew if he looked just right, he’d get a good glimpse of—
He jerked a towel from the holder beside the sink and pressed it against her heel. “Where are your first aid supplies?” he barked. Sam directed him to the medicine cabinet. He pulled out the bandages and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. After tending to her foot, he said, “You should change into some dry clothes.”
He helped her off the counter and left the bathroom. She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “John?” He kept his gaze blank as he met her eyes. “Please don’t leave until I come out?”
John clenched and unclenched his jaw. He nodded slightly then headed toward the living room. He sat on the couch, his back stiff. Oddly, he regretted he wouldn’t see Sam again. Even though she was a royal pain in the ass, she was damn enjoyable in bed. He’d miss the sex.
He stood again and walked over to the bookshelves on the opposite wall, absently scanning the titles of her book collection. Surprised, he pulled out a few paperbacks. Flowery scripted titles, rugged half-dressed men embracing scantily-clad women with incredible cleavage and flowing hair. His eyebrows lifted. Romance novels. He remembered the time he’d found his mother’s stash of books in the back of her closet and how upset she’d been and how she’d made him promise not to tell his father. It wasn’t until John was older that he’d realized his mother had always been a hopeless romantic. She still was, he thought, thinking of her, now remarried and visiting Paris with her husband. His brows drew together. Was Sam? He put the books back, puzzling that question. It was hard to fathom.
Almost as hard to fathom as that dirty fish bowl next to the books. He glanced around for fish food, figuring if Sam hadn’t remembered to clean the bowl, she probably hadn’t remembered to feed the fish. Poor Scarlett.
He spotted the jar of food on top of the computer desk and dropped some foul-smelling flakes into the mucky waters. “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn,” he muttered, grinning in spite of his foul mood.
He heard Sam come out of the bedroom and then heard the water running in the bathroom. He pictured her splashing water on her face, combing out her wet hair and touching up her makeup. She was obviously one of those women who couldn’t stand to be seen at anything less than her best. He could have predicted that the first time he laid eyes on her.
But when she came out moments later, he saw he was wrong. She wore a baggy pink sweat suit. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, smudged mascara shadowed her lower eyelashes and her hair was a mess. She no longer looked like an exotic Barbie doll, but a human being. Curiously, she’d never been more appealing to him.
“Could I talk you into staying for a cup of hot tea?” Sam asked quietly, trying to gauge his expression, and failing. He stood at the front door, his coat draped over his forearm. His gaze skimmed over her, his eyes hard and unreadable.
“Why?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he said, “Good luck with everything, Sam. I’ll see you.”
His hand was on the doorknob, when she blurted, “Wait.” He blinked, clearly annoyed. His eyebrows rose as he waited for her to continue. She hobbled closer and stared into his eyes. He glared into hers. “I-I don’t know what to say,” she said. Wasn’t that the truth?
“‘Good-bye’ works for me.” He wasn’t going to give her an inch.
“I’ve really made you hate me, haven’t I?”
“You’ve made it awfully hard not to.”
She forced herself not to look away from his hard expression. She cleared her throat. “I want you to reconsider.”
“About helping you get pregnant?” he asked. She nodded. “I don’t think so.”
“Please, John. It would mean so much to me.”
His jaw-line pulsed as his gaze shot through her. “And you’ve just been bending over backward in gratitude, haven’t you? No, Sam. I’m not changing my mind.”
“Why not?”
“For one, I’m fed up with your games. When it suits you to be nice and act interested, you are. But when it doesn’t—” He pressed his lips together. “I also don’t get enough pleasure out of our time together. Yes, the sex is great. But afterwards, you’re cold as a snake. Maybe it’s just me, but I prefer warm-blooded women.”
She felt the sting of his words and of unshed tears. Before she could figure out what to say, he said, “Good-bye, Sam.” He turned the doorknob.
“Wait, wait, wait!” she spit out. “John, I—” She couldn’t let him leave. Think. Think! She touched his arm. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
“Now there’s a surprise.” He stared at her hand on his arm. She removed it.
“What if I told you if you changed your mind and decided to
help me again, things would be different?” she asked.
John’s eyes narrowed. “How so?”
“Afterwards. I wouldn’t be so… cold, as you put it.”
“I’d say you were a desperate woman willing to do anything to get her way. What’s that have to do with your lying to me?”
“I never said I lied to you. I said I wasn’t completely honest.”
“There’s a difference?”
Sam took a deep breath. “I was faking it.”
He blinked and shook his head in a succession of little jerks. “Gee, thanks, Sam. That’s just what a man wants to hear.” He stepped over the threshold.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “No, no!” she said quickly with a muffled laugh and grabbed his arm. “God, John. I didn’t mean that. Believe me, it wasn’t necessary to fake that with you.” The twitch of his lips told her the comment was well received. And she hadn’t even planned it. “I meant the way I behaved afterward. It was an act.”
He stepped back into the entry way, but his hand remained on the doorknob. “I’m listening.”
If he would quit looking at her like she was trying to sell him a cruise in the Bermuda Triangle, this would be a whole heck of a lot easier. She took a deep breath. “When we first met, I didn’t like you at all. I mean I really didn’t like you. See, I—” She glanced away and cleared her throat. “I have this—this ‘thing’ about men who’ve been married more than once. I know it’s kind of irrational. My dad’s on his fourth marriage since leaving my mom high and dry, and my ex-husband is on his fifth. So, when I met you…”
“You hated me on sight.”
“Well… yes.” She cleared her throat again. “Anyway, as I tried to come up with a list of prospective donors to approach, your name was at the absolute bottom. But then I started thinking you might be the perfect donor because you obviously disdained commitments and weren’t looking for a relationship any more than I was. I figured it might not be so bad I didn’t like you. In fact, it was a good thing. I wanted someone I was totally impartial to, you know? I wanted no emotional entanglements, no strings, no commitments. And you seemed to fit the bill perfectly.”