Seducing Sam

by Verdenius, Angela

  The light from the passage was behind Carly, outlining that soft, rounded body, picking out the inward dip of her waist between the swell of her rounded hips and an impressive bosom.

  For a brief instant he wondered what her breasts looked like free of the confines of shirt and bra. Big and full? Pendulous, as were many heavy breasts? Pink nipples? Brown? He for sure knew without seeing that they’d over fill his palms, and he could only imagine how warm - or even a little cool - her skin would be against his.

  Would she smell sweet there, if he buried his face in that luscious cleavage?

  No doubt she’d slap his face if she knew his thoughts, but damn, he was just a red-blooded man who found her generous figure rather enticing.

  To be truthful, it had been awhile time since he’d found any woman enticing.

  Forcing all nefarious thoughts from his mind, he smiled. “Hey, Carly.”

  “Sam.” Surprised, she opened the security door.

  And that, right there, told him a lot. He was a good judge of character and no way would she have opened the door to someone she didn’t trust. It made his smile even wider.

  “What can I do for you?” she queried.

  Crusher dashed out and proceeded to snuffle Sam’s feet. Grabbing hold of one of the sneaker laces, he tried to tug it free.

  “Crusher, no.” Carly bent down to grab him.

  Her head being level with his crotch had Sam’s good intentions sliding, and he had to resist the temptation to reach out and smooth his hand along the skin of her back where it peeked out between her shirt and pants waistband. He could only imagine how her skin would be, all warm and silky. He could lick down her spine and dabble the tip of his tongue right in the dip of-

  “Sorry.” Straightening, Carly looked down at the wriggling dog in her hands. “He’s a shocker for taking things.” She flashed Sam a sudden smile, her small teeth white between her naturally pink lips.

  Pink like fairy-floss. He could lick them, too. Suck them and kiss them and lick his way inside-

  “Anyway.” Nuzzling the top of the dog’s head, she peered up at him. “What can I do for you, Sam?”

  Scream my name in a very throaty way. Swallowing back the retort, he shook his head. Where were these thoughts coming from? Hell, he had to get himself in hand, and not in the deviant way Alan would have taken that thought.

  When Carly’s friendly expression started to turn a little wary at his continued silence - and no doubt ogling eyes - Sam gave himself a mental head slap. It cleared his thoughts.

  Dirty bastard that he was.

  “Your hand.”

  “Huh?”

  He gestured to her hand. “I came to take the dressing down and check it.” He lifted the first aid kit he held.

  “Oh, it’s fine.” Carly shrugged. “I meant to take it off yesterday and forgot.”

  “Damn.” Sam frowned. “I should have come across then. I missed a day.”

  Her eyes gleamed in amusement. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Reaching out, he took her hand, cupping the back of it in his palm. Yep, small hand, soft with a few calluses. The Primapore wasn’t exactly pristine. “Can I have a look?”

  “I kind of thought that was what you were doing?”

  At the humorous tone he glanced up, struck by how her soft brown eyes twinkled. Would they go all hot like melting chocolate in the depths of passion?

  Jesus.

  Dragging his thoughts back once more to the issue at hand, Sam smiled back at her. “I guess so.”

  “I can look at it myself, you know.”

  “I’d just like to make sure it’s healing okay.”

  “All right.” She held the door open. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll wash my hands.”

  Easily reaching above her, he placed one hand on the screen door. “After you.”

  “So chivalrous,” she teased.

  “Mum raised me right.”

  Man, that tease had his knees going weak. That was what happened when one went to sleep and dreamed dreams so sensual that his morning boner was hard enough to hammer nails into wood. Sensual dreams that featured Carly Miller and her nightie.

  Following her inside, Sam couldn’t help but look at her bottom as it swayed with every step. Man, did she have any idea what that did to him? Probably not, or she certainly wouldn’t have let him into her home.

  Sobering thought and enough to make him finally push every lusty thought away. For now, at least, he wasn’t fool enough to think he could just forget his dreams involving him, her, and a bed.

  In the kitchen, she bent down to place Crusher on the floor. “I’ll just wash my hands.” She left the room.

  Sam looked down as he felt the tugging on his sneaker. Crusher had a firm grip on his shoelace, his nose all scrunched up and eyes narrowed as he tugged, little back legs braced, paws slipping on the tiles.

  “Yeah,” said Sam, “I don’t think it’s going to work.” Placing the first aid kit on the bench, he squatted down and after separating Crusher from his shoelace, gave him a scratch behind the ears.

  Crusher went all dreamy-eyed.

  Sam was still laughing when Carly returned.

  “Now he’s your friend for life.” She stood next to the bench.

  “Good to know. I won’t have to fear for my life whenever he comes near.” Sam glanced around. “Do you mind if I wash my hands?”

  “Sure.” She gestured behind her. “The bathroom is down the hall.”

  A quick hand wash with rose scented liquid soap and he returned to the kitchen to find her still standing at the kitchen bench.

  “I didn’t know where you wanted me,” she said.

  If she only knew…

  Wondering what the hell was wrong with him - man, those dreams were playing havoc with his common sense - Sam came to stand before her. “Anywhere you feel comfortable. Here or the kitchen table.”

  “Here.” She held out her hand.

  Carefully, Sam peeled off the old Primapore and inspected the wound. The steri-strips were intact, and while the edges of the wound were pink, he was satisfied. No ooze and no redness.

  Opening the first aid kit, he took out some saline and sterile gauze. Using tweezers, he deftly cleaned the wound before putting on a new Primapore.

  “It’s too soon to leave it open,” he told Carly when she touched it.

  “Whatever you say, doc.” She smiled.

  “That’s nurse, actually.”

  “Somehow, I can’t quite seem to bring myself to call you ‘Sister’.” Her smile grew wider. “If they still call nurses ‘sister’, that is.”

  “Sam’ll do.” He grinned back.

  This close to her, he could smell the scent she wore, something light and flowery that he wanted to get a bigger sniff of, preferably with his nose right against her neck.

  Man, talk about schoolboy crushes. He hadn’t had one in years. Probably the remains of the dreams.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” she queried as he threw the dirty dressings in the bin.

  He leaped on the invitation like a starving man on a haunch of roast beef. “Love one, thanks.”

  Pushing the first aid kit to the end of the table, Sam sat down on the opposite side so that he could watch her as she put the kettle on to boil and retrieved mugs from a cupboard.

  While watching her was pleasurable, he didn’t want to strain any budding friendship by staring at her in silence. Really, he had to get a grip on himself. He wasn’t a schoolboy anymore, and a dream was only a dream. Reality was far different.

  Stretching out his legs, he crossed his ankles and settled back against the chair. “How’s Ed this morning?”

  “Hung over.” She spooned sugar into one mug and looked at him inquiringly.

  “Two teaspoons.”

  Spooning in the sugar, she continued, “I got up during the night and made him drink some water, gave him Panadol early this morning, and he insisted he was feeling a little better and went to work.” She fl
ipped a teabag into each mug. “Looked like crap, but you have to admire the man.” A small smile played around her lips.

  “Bit of a workaholic, is he?”

  “Actually, yes, but that’s not why he went to work.” Amusement shone in her eyes when she glanced across at him. “Ed didn’t want to be nagged.”

  “Guilty conscience?”

  “Very much so.” Taking a biscuit barrel from the end of the kitchen bench, she put several biscuits on a plate and brought it to the table, setting it in the middle.

  Enjoying the feeling of companionship, Sam watched her contentedly until he noticed her sudden frown as she poured the hot water into the mugs. Her expression was distinctly troubled when she held up the milk bottle.

  “Not for me, thanks,” he replied to her unspoken question.

  By the time she sat down opposite him, her expression hadn’t lightened, though she tried to hide it.

  “Everything all right?” he asked as she took a tentative sip from her mug.

  “Of course.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  Wondering if he’d actually mistaken her welcome, Sam glanced around the kitchen before looking back at her. “Were you busy when I came over? I’m sorry if I-”

  “Not at all. I’m glad you came over.” Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “Thanks for last night, Sam, I don’t know how I would have managed if you hadn’t been there.”

  “Don’t sweat it.”

  “Really. It’s been awhile since…” She hesitated, dropping her gaze to the mug around the top of which she ran one finger. “Ed’s sort of going through a rough patch.”

  “I kind of gathered that from what he said last night.”

  “Slurred, you mean.”

  “Sure.”

  Carly smiled slightly. “Always so polite.”

  “I try.”

  “Bet it isn’t hard for you.”

  If she knew about his dreams, he doubted she’d be sitting so calmly across from him. Probably run away screaming if she even had a hint.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Almost straight away he wondered why he offered.

  Sheesh, he never got involved in other people’s problems. Yet somehow the words just fell out of his mouth, and even as he was silently appalled at himself, he meant it.

  Helping people at work was one thing, being there for friends another, but he’d only known Carly for a few days, and Ed, well, he’d just met him last night, yet there was something about them both that he liked.

  “That’s sweet, Sam, but we’ll be fine.”

  He should have felt relieved, so he wondered why he didn’t.

  Taking a biscuit, Carly slowly turned it over and over between her fingers. “Ed’s my uncle.”

  Glad he hadn’t yet taken a bite from his own biscuit because he’d have surely choked, Sam stared at her. “What?”

  “Ed. He’s my uncle.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Her eyes crinkled engagingly at the corners. “I’m dead serious.”

  “Kind of young.”

  “Yep. Late life baby.”

  “Ah.” Now it made sense.

  “Big surprise for my grandparents. In more ways than one.”

  “So you two are close.”

  “Yeah. We grew up together like cousins.” Carly dunked her biscuit into the mug. “He’s an all right bloke, you know.”

  “He seems like it.”

  She looked seriously at him. “Ed isn’t the kind to get drunk normally. I know you must be a little worried about things.”

  Sam raised his eyebrows in silent query.

  “I met your neighbour, Debbie.”

  No guessing that Ed hadn’t made a good impression on Debbie. Sam knew how she valued appearances, and Ed wasn’t exactly what she perceived as having good taste in that area.

  “Debbie’s a little more…refined.” Picking up his mug, he took a sip to hide his grin.

  “Yeah. She wasn’t impressed with Ed’s jokes. Not that Ed let her think it was one.” Carly sighed. “Anyway, I just want you to know that Ed loves his bikes, and he has like-minded friends, but they’re not a rough group.”

  He could see where this was going. “Carly-”

  “Please.”

  Not about to argue, he nodded. “Okay. Go on.”

  “They’re not a bikie mob, not like Hells Angels or anything like that. They’re just a bunch of blokes who like motorbikes. They meet now and again, have a few drinks, but they’re not rowdy, there’s no fighting. And it’s actually only a few blokes, you know? Not a club or anything.”

  Why was she so worried? Frowning, Sam studied her. She was biting her lip, fidgeting with the handle of the mug.

  Looking up, she saw his frown. “Sam, I promise you, there’re no wild times, wild parties. No drugs. We’re just ordinary people. Last night wasn’t something that’s going to happen regularly, I promise you. Ed’s not like that, we’re not like that. I-”

  Understanding dawned, and leaning across the table, Sam laid his hand over hers to stop her fidgeting fingers. “Honey, stop.”

  “Sam, I-”

  “Carly.”

  Dropping her gaze, she went silent.

  “Honey, look at me.” When she raised her eyes, he could see the uncertainty in them and it tugged at something way down deep inside him. Soothingly, he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Nothing of the kind crossed my mind.” Wisely, he didn’t mention his fleeting doubts about the peace of the neighbourhood when he’d heard the motorbike roaring off down the road. “I don’t think you’re that kind of people.”

  “We’ve just met.”

  “And already I’ve patched you up and helped pour Ed into bed.”

  “Pour?”

  “In his sodden state, it was definitely ‘pour’ and not ‘put’.”

  She grinned faintly.

  “And yet I still came over to check your hand, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’m sitting here drinking your tea and eating your biccies, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Right.”

  Turning her hand, she linked her fingers through his and squeezed gently. “Thanks, Sam.”

  Hell, that little squeeze of his hand had warmth spreading right up his arm, and when she smiled so gently, he had the sudden urge to lean across the table and kiss her, to touch his lips to those inviting, plump ones, to drown in her soft brown eyes and-

  “You are such a good man. I just know we’re going to be friends.”

  That was like a dash of ice water to his rapidly heating ardour. Just like that - fizzzzzz! Heat chilled down.

  Mustering his professional shield, he smiled at her, released her sweet little hand, sat back, raised his mug in salute and said, “Friends.”

  Well, look at him, tough man, good man. Freakin’ idiot. But then Carly smiled again, her shoulders relaxing, and the warmth in her eyes was so genuine, so happy, that he tamped down his irritation and smiled widely at her.

  “Friends,” she echoed, and clinked her mug to his.

  How the hell he managed to swallow he’d never know. Just like he didn’t know why he felt a little down, a little deflated. It wasn’t like there was actually anything to be inflated about, was there? Damn, he needed Alan right now. No, he needed someone to talk to who didn’t have his head screwed on slightly sideways. The only advice he’d get from his idiot friend would be dirty and screwed.

  Taking off his glasses, he polished them on his shirt. Maybe he should just go home, have a cold shower, find some common sense in his peaceful garden with SJ for uncomplicated company.

  “Hey, man.” Ed entered the kitchen.

  Welcome diversion. “Hey, Ed. How’re you feeling?”

  “Like shit this morning, but not too bad now.”

  The skinny, tattoo-laden bloke was still a little pale, but apart from that, he looked normal.

  Crossing to the table, Ed grabbed Sam’s hand and sh
ook it. “Thanks for last night, man. Really appreciate it.”

  “No worries.”

  “Shitty thing to do to Carly.” Ed ruffled her hair, skilfully avoiding her hand when she went to slap his.

  Sam slipped his glasses back on and crunched into another biscuit. “You had a rough day.”

  “She told you?”

  “Only that you’d had a rough day.”

  “She’s a good kid.” Pulling out a chair, Ed flopped down into it.

  Carly rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Uncle Ed.”

  “She doesn’t deserve to have to put up with that kind of thing.”

  Interested despite himself, Sam waited, but when Ed said nothing further, he switched his gaze to Carly. She only shrugged.

  One thing he was discovering was that she didn’t open up easily to people, so he guessed if he wanted to know what had happened to Ed, he’d have to wait and see, because sure as God made green apples, he wasn’t going to ask. He never pried into people’s business and he wasn’t about to start now.

  Friends respected friends’ privacy. Friends. There was that word again. It was a good word. Yes, it was a good word. Friend. So he wasn’t sure why he wanted to grimace a little when he thought about it.

  Man, he must be coming down with something, or maybe it was the tea making him a little jittery.

  “By the way,” Ed said casually, “you know a tall redhead?”

  “No,” Sam replied.

  “Va-va-voom figure?”

  It kind of sounded familiar…

  “Because there’s one standing at your front door.”

  Okay, that kind of rang a bell…

  “She’s looking pretty pissed off, too.”

  The ringing of the bell became a clanging of warning. “Uh-oh.” Sam, sprang to his feet. “Shit!”

  Ed grinned widely.

  Startled, Carly pushed upright. “Is everything all right, Sam?”

  “Damn it. My date!” Dorothy! Saturday night! Oh shit. “Sorry, gotta go.”

  Feeling like an idiot and a prick all rolled into one, Sam hurried from the house and across the street. Yep, Dorothy was standing on his veranda, her arms folded and one high-heeled foot tapping angrily as she watched him run across the road.

  The smile she forced didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sam?”

  “Sorry. Sorry.” He patted her shoulder, slid the key into the lock and opened the door, stepping back and placing a hand at her elbow to usher her inside.