by Gold, Kristi
In a house now devoid of occupants other than herself, Savannah had never felt quite so lonely in her life, nor had she ever lost the desire to return to work. Right then, she would happily call the senior partner and tell him to go to hell—and that idea was unequivocally insane. She’d worked too hard to reach her goals to let a burst of nostalgia hijack her career.
Despite her downhearted state, Savannah forced herself to the kitchen for something to eat. Most of the leftovers had been thrown out and only one can of tuna remained in the pantry. She could top the tuna with a slice of overripe tomato and wilting lettuce. Or she could drive into town and grab something to go from Stan’s. That certainly seemed the better option.
Savannah snatched her purse from the counter and on the way out the door, rifled through the contents, including the old greeting-card bundle she’d stuffed inside the bag, in search of her keys. Unsuccessful in her efforts, she paused on the front porch, tucked the cards beneath her chin and dug some more.
Impatience suddenly got the best of her. “Dammit, where are you!”
“Right here, ma’am.”
Last she checked, keys didn’t talk, and if they did, she doubted they’d speak in a sexy, Southern, man’s-man voice since her car had been born in Detroit.
Her gaze shot to the driveway, where she spotted Sam standing beside his big black truck, a brown paper bag in one hand, a bottle of white wine in the other and an overtly sensuous smile plastered on his striking face.
Savannah not only dropped the card bundle, she also dropped the blasted purse and its contents at her feet, where the missing key ring landed on her big toe.
She silently cursed the pain and the keys and the man who simply wouldn’t stop shaking her up. “What are you doing here, Sam?”
When he held up the bag and said, “Gracie’s famous chicken and dumplings,” Savannah experienced an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Different location, but the same scenario during that first reunion on the bridge.
After gathering her mess and her wits, Savannah sprinted down the steps and met Sam halfway on the path. “I was just about to go into town for something to eat. Tell Gracie she saved me from a serious elevation in my cholesterol level.”
Sam kept a solid hold on the bag and Savannah’s attention. “There’s enough for two.”
Crazy man, trying to win a dinner invitation. Crazy girl, about to give it to him, thanks to her sudden inability to be alone. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Nope. Thought I’d join you, if you don’t mind letting me in the house.”
Not a good idea. “It’s a nice evening. We can dine on the front porch.”
“Suit yourself.” As Sam breezed by, Savannah turned to watch him scale the stairs, completely engrossed in the tight black T-shirt hugging his broad back, the fit of his faded jeans and the swagger in his walk.
While she continued to gawk as if he’d grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead—more accurately, his butt—Sam set the bag and bottle on the table next to her key-swallowing purse. “Gracie didn’t pack any plates or utensils,” he said as he turned around to reveal her second favorite view. Nothing quite like the added bonus of a belt buckle to enhance a fine, masculine feature.
When she failed to respond, he added, “We also need a corkscrew and glasses, unless you want me to uncork the bottle with my teeth so we can drink out of our shoes.”
Snapping to, Savannah strode to the front door and muttered, “I’ll get it.”
She slapped the screen back a little harder than necessary, angry at herself for once again succumbing to his charms. Last night should have served as their final goodbye, but clearly Sam had other ideas. Apparently so did her hormones, the only logical explanation for her sex-and-Sam thoughts. That, and simple sleep deprivation. Two nights ago, remorse over what they’d done had kept her awake. Last night, learning about her mother’s past had robbed her of much-needed rest. And now that she recognized the problem, she could keep a firm grip on her control and in turn, have a glass of wine and sleep like a baby as soon as Sam went home.
She gathered the paper plates and plastic utensils left over from the wake. As far as a corkscrew went, she could only locate a paring knife someone had overlooked in the drawer. They would also have to settle for disposable glasses.
Now if she could just dispose of some extremely sinful images as she made her way to the porch, past the wall where they’d done the deed she’d sworn she would never do again with him. The deed she really wanted to do again.
Only dinner…
Savannah took the chair opposite Sam while he poured the wine. Perplexed, she asked, “Did you use your teeth to open the bottle?”
“Didn’t need to,” he said as he slid the cup in front of her. “It’s a screw cap.”
“That purchase must have set you back a couple of bucks.”
She expected a frown, but he granted her a grin. “We’re in Placid, not Chicago. I’m just glad the town council voted to allow the sale of beer and wine. Otherwise, I’d have to drive two counties over to buy booze.”
Not so lucky if her palate couldn’t tolerate said booze. “I suppose it will have to do.”
After Savannah helped herself to the dumplings, Sam kicked back in the chair and proceeded to stare at her.
“What?” she asked around her first forkful of food.
He laced his fingers together behind his neck. “I’m trying to decide if you look any different now that you’ve made up with your mom.”
Savannah dropped the fork onto the paper plate. “How did you know that?”
“Ruth told me.”
“When?”
“When she stopped by and asked me to look in on you.”
Didn’t anyone ever voluntarily act on her behalf without a request from someone else? “Okay, you’ve looked, I’m fine, you’re obviously not going to eat, now you can go.”
“I don’t want to go.” He leaned forward, took a long drink from the plastic cup and smacked his lips. “I have to help you finish this bottle of fine wine.”
The jury was still out on how fine the wine might be. In order to see for herself, she took a sip and scowled. “I believe this comes from the Burns Going Down Winery in No Hope, North Dakota.”
Sam let go a hearty laugh. “It’s not that bad.”
“Yes, it is, unless you like the subtle antifreeze bouquet.”
Suddenly serious, Sam leaned forward and spun his fork round and round. “It’s none of my business, but I’m curious as to what you found out about your mother’s drawing.”
Although Savannah was tempted not to answer, she opened the dam and released troubled waters. She told him the gritty details about her stepgrandfather’s horrific behavior and about her mother’s shame. She also injected her own guilt into the revelation mix. By the time she was finished, she’d consumed two full glasses of the suspect wine.
“It’s not all your fault, Savannah,” Sam said. “And in some ways, Ruth’s not totally to blame, either. I’m just glad you both finally worked it out. Hating is a big burden to bear.”
“When it comes to your own mother, you should know all about that.” Evidently the stiff drink had loosened her tongue.
“I don’t hate her anymore,” he said. “I do regret that I didn’t clear the air before she died. That’s why I’m proud that you did what you did.”
Proud? That was a first from him. “Thank you. Now pass me some more of that No Hope, will ya?”
He turned the bottle upside down and shook it. “All gone. Want me to go get some more?”
“If we finished that entire bottle, you shouldn’t be driving.”
He winked. “You drank most of it, babe, but I don’t care to go anywhere at the moment anyway.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “I kind of like having you here.”
So much so she completely discarded all the rationale for why she should want him gone.
With the steel nerves of a stunt pilot, she leaned over and kiss
ed Sam. She blamed her inability to resist him on the liquor, when she knew full well she wasn’t drunk. At least not from a few cupfuls of wine. But the way he kissed her back—slowly, provocatively—was more intoxicating than a liter of vodka.
He pulled away and surveyed her face from forehead to chin before centering on her eyes. “Mind telling me why you just did that?”
“Because I’m lonely.”
He didn’t appear at all happy over her claim. False claim. “And I’m the only man under the age of sixty to keep you company?”
That wasn’t even close to the truth. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m fed up with pretending that I don’t want to be with you again. Maybe that’s wrong, but that’s how I feel.”
Savannah halfway expected him to bid her goodbye once and for all. She didn’t expect him to ask, “Do you want me to stay?”
“Do you know any reason why I should?”
“Let me spend the night, and I’ll give you several good reasons.”
Only dinner? “That sounds tempting.”
“Just say yes, for old times’ sake.”
Only tonight… “Yes.”
He stroked her arm with his thumb, and Savannah felt it everywhere. “No walls this time.”
She could interpret that several ways but she concentrated on the obvious. “No walls, but I still have a bed.”
He leaned and kissed her softly. “What are we waiting for?”
A bolt of lightning prodding her to steer clear of him. A celestial message written in the scattered clouds, warning her to be cautious. A moment of lucidity when she recognized the chance she would be taking. If any of those signs did happen to come to pass, she chose to ignore them all.
Without another word or even the slightest hesitation, Savannah held out her hand and guided Sam up the stairs to her bedroom. The waning sun filtered through the partially open curtains, sending a ribbon of light across the bed. She’d once been in an almost identical situation—standing in her childhood room with Sam, plagued by ambivalence, excited by the prospect of finally giving him everything after two years of making him wait. Yet she wasn’t that innocent, impressionable girl now. She knew exactly what was about to happen, including the possible fallout, yet she seemed powerless to halt it any more than she could quiet her racing heart.
As they stood face-to-face, Sam slipped the buttons on her blouse one by one, perhaps to allow her to change her mind. She didn’t, not even after he’d removed every last bit of her clothing, from top to bottom, with agonizing slowness. After he seated her on the mattress, he began to undress while Savannah watched with more than a passing interest.
First, he sat on the wingback chair set against the opposite wall and toed out of his boots. Next, he pulled the T-shirt up and over his head and, last, worked his jeans and boxers down his narrow hips, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on hers. Keeping her on edge when he stalked toward her sporting a look and physical evidence that said he meant business. Pleasurable business.
Sam pulled her to her feet, leaned around her and raked the quilt and sheets back, sending several stuffed animals flying. She would have found that comical had she not been in such a needy state.
Savannah expected that same rush of passion, that same uncontrollable combustion that had driven them two nights ago in the foyer. Instead, Sam claimed the place where she had been, moved her between his parted legs and as she stood before him, explored her body with both his eyes and hands as if taking all the details to memory.
She supposed that with age came patience—and experience. He demonstrated that by trailing his warm lips down her torso in a series of light kisses, and he didn’t stop there. All those years ago, he’d never been quite so bold. But then, she’d been much more reticent and he’d always respected that. Tonight, he’d clearly decided to pull out all the stops, and she had no desire to stop him.
Savannah felt as if Sam were testing her limits, seeing how much she could take as he used his mouth to bring her to the brink. If he wanted her to beg, he certainly had the method and the means to make that happen. But she didn’t have to plead before he brought her to a climax so strong that she shuddered with the force of it. And just when she believed her legs would give way, he brought her back onto the bed in his arms and guided himself inside her.
He kept his gaze locked on her eyes as he moved slowly, surely, keeping her in a state of prolonged bliss. She preferred a frenzied interlude to a slow dance into oblivion, where she didn’t have time to weigh the repercussions or consider the consequences. Where she didn’t have to feel anything but pleasure.
Yet in that moment, Savannah felt too vulnerable, especially when Sam laced his fingers with hers and raised her arms above her head. She experienced his urgency with every thrust, sensed the tension in his body and saw the struggle in his expression right before he closed his eyes, whispered her name and collapsed against her. He shook with the force of his release and his heart pounded against her breasts as his harsh, uneven breaths broke the silence surrounding them in the place where their lovemaking had begun. A fitting place for it to end, Savannah thought, because after tonight it would inevitably end.
In the meantime, Savannah curled against him, her back to his front, his arms securely around her, and put the fears to rest. She’d wait until tomorrow before she let Sam know that she couldn’t let this continue to keep happening. Not if she wanted to leave with her heart still in one piece.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
APPARENTLY SAVANNAH HAD little regard for her heart. She’d spent three solid, carefree days in Sam’s company without giving her fears a second thought. She’d relearned to drive the tractor, shared nightly dinners with Gracie and Jim, accompanied Sam on a day trip to pick up a few head of cattle and gladly invited him every night into her bed—as well as several points in between the front door and the bed.
And the mornings…
Well, the mornings had proven to be her favorite time of day with Sam. This morning was no exception. At some point during the night, he’d flipped onto his belly, his face turned toward the opposite wall. He had one arm bent above his head on the pillow and his hair curled softly at his nape. Savannah knew it would take only a touch to rouse him and he would keep her happily engaged in another memorable round of lovemaking for hours on end. But she needed to leave him be to make certain she was prepared to return tomorrow to a life without him.
She touched him anyway, tracing her fingertip down his spine to where the sheet covered his bare bottom. As predicted, he rolled to his back and greeted her with a winning smile.
“Woman, you’re going to land me in the emergency room,” he said, his patently sexy voice grainy with sleep.
She lifted the covers for a peek. “You look healthy and raring to go to me.”
“Haven’t you seen those commercials that claim a four-hour erection is cause to seek medical attention?”
She laughed in spite of the fact his hand landed on her breast. “I believe they mean four continuous hours. Besides, I haven’t seen you taking any pills.”
“I don’t need pills,” he said as he nuzzled her neck. “I only need you.”
And she needed him, much more than she should.
The shrill of her cell phone resting on the nightstand prompted Sam’s groan and forced her to check the ID. For the past few days, she’d ignored calls from her immediate superior. Unfortunately, this call couldn’t be ignored.
Brushing Sam’s wandering hand aside, she sat on the edge of the bed, pulled the sheet up for cover and answered with a professional, “Savannah Greer.”
“You need to get back here immediately, Ms. Greer.”
Grant Zurkle, senior partner of Zurkle and Zurkle, was nothing if not a straight shooter. And Savannah found herself right in the line of fire. “I’ll be returning to work on Monday, Mr. Zurkle.”
“Not Monday,” he said. “Tomorrow. You have to start preparing briefs for the Smithfield trial.”
Trial? “Mr. Smithfie
ld agreed to a settlement two days before I left.”
“And we convinced him to withdraw that agreement. We’re going to take this one all the way, and you’ll be sitting second chair on the case.”
She clinched her teeth against the expletive threatening to spew out of her mouth. Normally, sitting second chair would be a boon, but she could only think about having to cut her vacation short and the unwelcome challenge. “Mr. Zurkle, he’s guilty on all counts of sexual harassment. We don’t stand a chance of winning.”
“We’ve dug into the plaintiff’s past and found enough to bring her credibility into question.”
Meaning they would put the victim on trial. Savannah instantly thought about her own mother’s abuse and the absolute injustice of it all. “Again, I feel that—”
“It doesn’t matter how you feel, Ms. Greer. As long as you work for this firm, you will do as you’re told and represent the rights of our clients to the best of your ability.”
What about the victim’s rights? she wanted to say, but reconsidered when she visualized a bright shade of red traveling from his round cheeks to the top of his bald head. One more verbal misstep and she’d find herself unemployed after putting in four-plus years of blood, sweat and sucking up. “Fine. I’ll be in the office first thing in the morning.”
“You’ll be in my office, 7:00 a.m. sharp.”
Zurkle hung up without so much as a goodbye, leaving Savannah wishing she’d told him to shove it where the sun don’t shine.
She turned to Sam for support only to find he’d left the room. Most likely he was in the shower and that led Savannah to grab her robe hanging on the footboard. If she hurried, she could join him, a surefire way to forget the unpleasantness of the conversation. A prime opportunity for another round of lovemaking. A last round.
Savannah refused to succumb to the serious bout of depression threatening to destroy her final moments with Sam. On that thought, she hurried into the hall only to meet him head-on on the landing.