by Kristi Gold
She was driving him wild, her eyes now as blue as flames. Sam wanted to touch her, to make her forget the fool who’d had his hands on her earlier. To forget every man she had ever let touch her. Yet he didn’t dare give her more than advice.
“Your clothing leaves little to the imagination, Andrea. I suggest that you consider how you dress from now on.”
“I’m wearing what I wear every day of the week. Plain jeans and T-shirt.”
“Tight jeans and a very thin T-shirt.”
She took a visual journey from his chest to the boots he had bought on a trip into town yesterday. “I’m thinking you’ve got the tight jeans market cornered. But I have to admit they look pretty darned good. I’m still surprised they fit.”
They did, but barely, and the fit at the moment was less than comfortable. “My attire is not the issue at present.” His gaze slid to her breasts. “You have on no bra. How can you expect a man to ignore this?”
She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it out. “This provides plenty of cover.”
“It shows far too much. Hides too little.” Made Sam ache.
“I don’t have that much to see, Sam. But thanks, anyway.”
“You are wrong, Andrea. Wrong and foolish to think otherwise.”
Her sudden smile caught him off guard. “Does this plain old T-shirt get your blood pumping, Sheikh Yaman?”
He couldn’t deny that. “It is practically transparent.”
She reached down and picked up the bucket. Sam believed she meant to carry it into the filly’s stall. Instead she tipped it toward her, spilling the contents down the front of her, then tossed the bucket aside. She pointed at her breasts. “Now, this is transparent.”
Sam could only stare at the dark shading of her nipples that showed through the saturated material. His hands opened and closed with the urge to touch her.
“Like what you see, Sam?” she asked, her tone full of challenge that he dared not answer.
But he couldn’t keep from answering. He spanned the space between them before his brain registered that he had moved. Yet his body was very aware that he now had Andrea against the stall. He took her mouth without consideration of the consequences, thrusting his tongue between her parted lips with the force of his need while his hands searched beneath the wet fabric to cup both of her breasts. She whimpered when he thumbed each peak. Her hips ground against him in a torturous rhythm that made him hard and aching, balanced on the point of losing all restraint. He wanted to take her right there, right then, without regard to location or lack of privacy.
When she raised her arms, Sam pulled the drenched shirt over her head and dropped it to the ground behind her back while he trailed a path of wet kisses down the valley of her breasts. She arched her back, and her chest rose and fell rapidly in sync with his pounding heart, then her breath completely stopped when he drew one nipple into his mouth.
So lost in the taste of her dampened flesh, in the feel of her softness against his tongue, it took him a moment to notice the downward track of his zipper. Realization caught hold and he clasped her wrist.
“No, Andrea.” He stepped back, away from her, then realized, with her standing there bare from the waist up, he was in danger of forgetting himself once again.
Yanking his own shirt over his head, he held it against her, shielding her from his eyes. “Put this on.”
“But—”
“Put it on.”
When she finally took the shirt, Sam walked to the opposite stall, braced his hands above his head and leaned into them. His chest burned from the effort it took to recover his breath and to calm his body.
When he turned again, thankfully she had honored his request. The knit shirt hit her at the knees, but the sharp sting of awareness was still present within him, even though she was now completely covered.
“I promised myself this would not happen between us,” he said, his voice thick with the desire that he couldn’t disregard.
She folded her arms across her breasts. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve broken a promise, Sam.”
“What promise have I broken?”
She strolled down the aisle a few steps then turned. “That night at the pond, you promised you wouldn’t leave me.”
“I meant that moment, Andrea. That night. Not forever.”
“That’s not at all how it seemed.”
Sam recognized that he probably had led her to believe that he had meant always, bringing about more guilt. “I said many things to you that night, but we were both in pain.” Lost in each other, lost in love both timeless and forbidden.
“Then you didn’t mean any of it?”
He had meant most of it, but he hadn’t stopped to consider that he couldn’t keep those promises. “With you in my arms, I had forgotten who I was, what was expected of me. I regret that I was such a fool.”
Andrea shrugged. “Guess that goes for both of us. Except there’s one thing I don’t regret.”
“What is that?”
“Our son. Having him made Paul’s death more bearable, easier to accept that you had left for good. I thank you for that gift. For him.”
Sam doubted that he could feel any worse, any lower. “I regret that I have not been here for him, or for you.”
“And you’re going to have to leave us again. Do you regret that?”
More than she would ever know. “I do not have the luxury to dwell on regrets, Andrea. I’ve very little time left to know my son before I have to return home.”
“Then why don’t we make the best of that time together?” She sent him another lazy smile. “Do what comes naturally.”
Sam clenched his jaw tight. “If you are saying that we should make love, then that would be unwise.”
She moved closer to him, almost close enough for him to touch her again. It took all his fortitude not to reach out to her once more, finish what they had begun.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Sheikh Yaman, I’m a grown woman now, not a girl. I’m not going to fall apart when you leave.” Her gaze faltered, belying her confident tone. “So just in case you decide to change your mind…”
She brushed past him and headed toward the tack room. After a moment she came out and called, “Catch.”
Sam grabbed the baseball midair, confused. “And the point to this is?”
She smiled a devious smile. “Just wanted to let you know that the offer still stands, in case you decide to play ball. Unless, of course, you can’t handle it.”
He could not handle hurting her again, and he would, once he told her the reasons why he could not stay.
She pivoted on her booted heels and swayed toward the barn’s opening. Without turning around, she said, “Water the horse, will ya? I seem to be a little clumsy this morning.”
For the second time in as many days, Sam slammed the ball against the wall, thinking it might be best if he did the same to his head. Perhaps he could pound Andrea out of his brain.
But a thousand blows and a million years would not begin to force Andrea Hamilton from his heart.
Four
When Andi stepped through the back door, she was suddenly assaulted by a cold draft of air and a strong case of chills. But it wasn’t the air-conditioned kitchen that had her shivering, or her still-damp skin. Sam was the cause of her present condition.
She could still feel his soft abrading tongue on her breasts, his hands molding her bottom, his body pressed intimately against hers. Just thinking about him made her feel feverish, the low throbbing ache having yet to subside.
Andi hugged her arms across her chest, a sorry replacement for Sam, but she needed to hide the effects of their recent interlude. She realized all too late that she couldn’t escape her aunt’s scrutiny.
Standing at the sink, Tess grabbed a towel from the counter and surveyed Andi from chin to toes. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Sam wearing that shirt this morning?”
Heat skimmed up Andi’s throat and settled on her fac
e. At the moment she felt like a schoolgirl caught necking in the pasture. Okay, so it wasn’t the pasture, but it was pretty darned close. “I had a mishap with the water bucket. He lent me his shirt since mine was soaked.”
Tess’s knowing grin appeared. “You two already having to cool yourselves off after just three days?”
She released a sigh. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you, Tess.” Andi’s, on the other hand, was long out of the starting gate and still running full-steam ahead, thanks to Sam.
Tess’s forehead wrinkled from a frown as her gaze settled on Andi’s mouth. “I’m not imagining the whisker burn on your face, little girl. I might be old, but I’m not stupid.”
Andi walked to the cabinet and retrieved a glass. Her hands shook as she tried to fill it with water. “I didn’t say you’re stupid, Tess. I’m just saying don’t make too much out of this.”
“I won’t if you won’t. In fact, I think it’s best if you stop and consider what you’re doing before you make another mistake.”
Andi glanced up from the cup to Tess, who now looked considerably more serious. “I don’t consider Chance a mistake, Tess, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Tess leaned against the counter looking primed for a parental lecture. “Of course he’s not a mistake. He’s been a godsend. But getting involved with Sam would be a mistake. He won’t stay this time, either, Andi. You’d do well to remember that.”
If only Tess realized that’s all Andi had thought about the past few days. She didn’t need to be reminded that Sam would leave once again in the name of duty to his country. Knowing didn’t make it any easier to deal with, yet she was determined to keep everything in perspective. She also didn’t expect Tess to understand what she intended to do—make love with Sam in order to get him out of her system.
“By the way,” Tess said as she swiped at the kitchen counter, “the camp called.”
Andi’s chest tightened with panic, and she nearly dropped the glass. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. They called to remind you about parents’ day on Saturday. You have to be there by 8:30 a.m.”
Relief flowed through Andi knowing that her baby was okay. After taking a long drink, she dumped the water into the sink and set the glass aside. “I remembered it was this weekend, but I didn’t know I’d have to be there quite that early. I guess I can ask Sam to feed and water the horses.”
Tess tossed the towel aside and faced Andi, her expression no less stern. “I’ll feed the horses. Sam should go with you.”
The panic returned to Andi once more. “I can’t do that, Tess. Chance might start asking questions. He doesn’t need to deal with any stress while he’s away.”
“And when do you intend to tell him, Andi? Never?”
She hadn’t gotten that far in her thinking. She only knew she didn’t want to deliver any confessions during her son’s first opportunity to establish his independence. “I don’t know when I’ll tell him. Soon, I guess. Before Sam leaves.”
Tess sighed. “That’s up to you, but I still think Sam should go with you.”
“Where are you proposing I go?”
Andi tensed at the sound of Sam’s deep voice coming from behind her. Trapped like a caged rabbit. She had no choice but to tell him about the event.
After facing Sam, Andi’s well-rehearsed smile disappeared when she immediately contacted his bare chest, now at eye level. Her gaze skimmed over the territory marked by sinewy muscle and scattered with dark hair. Her fingers opened and closed with the urge to explore as if they’d been offered a masculine playground designed with a needy woman in mind.
In the barn she hadn’t taken the time to study the details. In fact, she’d intentionally avoided the details after Sam thwarted her seduction. But she couldn’t ignore them now, though she thought it best to stop looking with Tess playing audience.
She put on a casual smile and pulled her gaze back to his face. “Actually, it’s no big deal really. The camp is holding a parents’ day on Saturday.”
His brows drew down into a frown. “Parents’ day?”
She shrugged. “You know, games, a barbecue, that sort of thing. Pretty boring stuff.” Especially for a man like Sam who probably spent his days in some elaborate palace surrounded by jewel-encrusted bowls of fruit and scantily clad women provided for his entertainment. She almost laughed over the absurdity of that stereotypical image, and silently cursed to think it might be an accurate assumption.
Forcing the thoughts away, she turned her attention back to Sam and noted her drenched shirt gripped tightly in his grasp. “I would like very much to go,” he said.
“You would?”
“Yes. It would provide the opportunity to spend more time with my son.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Tess said.
Andi quelled the urge to tell her aunt that no one had asked her opinion on the matter. “I’m still not sure it’s a good idea. Chance might wonder why you’re there.”
Sam’s features turned tightrope tense. “You may tell him I’m there as a friend. I will not force you to say anything more, if that’s your concern.”
The anger and hurt in his tone made Andi flinch internally. She had already denied him many opportunities to know his child, though not intentionally. After all, he had been the one to disappear from their lives. He had been the one to discard her as if what had existed between them meant nothing at all.
Still, she had to consider Chance’s opportunity to know his father. “I’ll think about it.” And she would, long and hard.
Tess brushed past Andi on her way toward the hall. “I’ll leave you two alone to discuss it while I sit on the porch and snap some peas.”
After Tess left the kitchen, Sam offered her the soggy T-shirt. “Perhaps you would like to return my clothes to me.”
Andi couldn’t suppress a devilish smile. “Do you want to do it now?”
“Do what?”
“Exchange shirts.” She took a few steps and stopped immediately before him, close enough to touch the copper surface of his bare skin. “Unless you need something else from me?”
He released a frustrated sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan. “I prefer you stop making offers I cannot accept.”
Determined to keep his attention, she ran a fingertip down his sternum along the stream of dark hair, and paused at his navel. “You can’t accept them or you won’t?”
“We’ve been through this, Andrea. I am not able to accept.”
She sent a quick glance at the proof that he was still willing to play along. “You seem more than able to me.”
He held her hand against his belly and kept his gaze fixed on hers as he exhaled slowly, his muscles tightening beneath her palm. Andi held her breath, wondering if this time he might decide to accept her offer. Maybe this time he would give up and give in, knowing this was what they both wanted. Even though he tried to deny that he did want her, she wasn’t too dumb to read the signs. His eyes were dark, almost desperate, warring with indecision and desire. A slight sheen of perspiration covered his chest and forehead. His respiration sounded unsteady.
No, she wasn’t too dumb to recognize that he wasn’t at all unaffected, either here in the kitchen, or earlier in the barn. As affected as he had been seven years ago.
“Is this really all you want from me, Andrea?” he asked in a low, controlled voice as his fingertips stroked her knuckles. “This and nothing more? And afterward, will you then be satisfied?”
“Yes, I will,” she said in a voice she didn’t recognize.
He pushed her hand away and took a step back. “Perhaps you will, but I will not. If I have you, I promise I would want you more than once, and often, until I again must leave. Ask yourself truthfully if you would want to make love knowing nothing more will ever exist between us.”
With that he tossed her wet shirt onto the table and strode out of the room, leaving Andi to ponder his words, the raw truth she heard in the
m. If she did have him once again—all of him—would it ever be enough?
There would never be enough time now.
Sam tossed his cell phone onto the sofa next to him and sent a string of mild curses directed at his duties. According to his father, the current situation in Barak demanded Sam return home immediately. Sam had bargained for two more weeks instead of four, on the pretense that he still had investments he needed to oversee. Only one week to spend with his son upon his return. Never enough time.
He shoved the newspaper’s financial section off his lap, then scolded himself for acting like a child in the throes of a tantrum. Anger wouldn’t serve him well at this time. He could only make the best of a situation beyond his control.
“Problems, Sam?”
Sam watched as Andrea strolled into the room and dropped down onto the sofa next to him, wearing a guarded expression and a pair of silk pajamas the color of fine champagne. The scent of orchids filtering into his nostrils served to make him forget his current troubles as did the sight of her dressed in feminine attire. Yet he refused to let her distract him. Now that he’d learned he would have to leave sooner, he had much to discuss with her.
“I’m afraid I must cut my visit short. I have been summoned home.”
Her blue eyes widened. “Tonight?”
“No, but I will not be able to stay as long as I’d intended. I must return in two weeks.”
Seeming to relax somewhat, she tucked her legs beneath her and sipped a glass of iced tea. “Was that Rashid on the phone calling to deliver the good news?”
“I spoke with my father. It is his wish that I return.”
She frowned. “Do you always do what he tells you to do?”
Sam had expected her disapproval, but he hadn’t expected her forthright query. “I have obligations, Andrea. Surely you understand, now that you have a child.”
“I don’t see Chance as an obligation,” she said, ire in her tone. “I see him as a joy, not as a chore or a servant.”
Sam lowered his eyes to his hands, clasped tightly in his lap, biting back the sudden surge of anger. “Would you expect me to ignore my responsibilities?”