“What?”
“My reaction too. Every fucking press photo taken that night shows us together. Hell,” he barked with angry amusement, “there’s even one of Andi giving her the most epic side-eye you’ve ever seen.”
She swung in front of him and claimed her hand, waving both like a football referee calling a play. “Whoa. Hold on. She impersonated your girlfriend at a media event? That is so not cool. Why didn’t Andi do something?”
“She couldn’t. Not without causing a scene in front of the press. And afterward, when she did light into her for stepping over the line, Tara’s defense was that I led her on.”
“What a bitch.”
“It gets worse,” he ground out.
“Aw, come on! For real?”
“She also went after one of the guys who represents Kyle’s sponsor. Flat out seduced him, although he denies sleeping with her. Kyle told me about it and asked how I thought he should handle it. Playing the fucking hero without a clue, I told him I’d take care of Tara because I figured Andi was at her breaking point with the wedding coming up.”
They were at the door to her room. He pulled her keycard out of his pocket where he’d stashed it hours earlier after she lent Kelly her tiny purse because she had spilled wine on hers.
“Long story short. Fucking Tara, in a move of sheer desperation, played the pregnancy card. First, she tried to play on my sympathy, and when that didn’t work, she changed tactic and threatened to pin the deed on me.”
“Get the fuck out,” Samantha howled.
“Needless to say, that didn’t end well for her. Andi reacted exactly as you’d expect, and Kyle, well, Ky freaked so hard she’s lucky to still be walking.”
“Um, is she pregnant?”
“I have no fucking idea. Remember, this was just a few weeks ago. But she knows where the boundaries are with me. I’m sorry she chose tonight to test them.”
She shrugged off his apology. “No need, no need. I’m used to Tara’s peculiarities. She’d sell me to the gypsies if she could.”
“Territorial over Andi?”
“I’m sure.”
“Is Tara the reason why you never come to Florida to see Andi?”
She put her hands behind her back and leaned against the door, looking up at him as she chewed on her lip.
“I wish it was that simple, Ryan. Technology makes it far too easy to stay connected while being apart. And I’m not nearly as together as you may think.”
Was that a reference to California losing its allure? He sensed her shift, knew she was listening to the voices in her head.
“Is your day completely filled up tomorrow?”
“Mmm-hmm. We get started right after breakfast and go all day. Getting married is a full-time affair.”
“Would you have breakfast with me, Samantha?” He rushed the asking and felt he sounded a little desperate, so he kept talking, hoping to smooth any gaffes. “I’ll come to you,” he suggested. “With room service. Anything you want.”
“Anything?” she asked with a silly grin.
Oh, shit. He sensed a challenge coming at him that being on an island in the middle of the Pacific might be hard to meet. Mentally crossing his fingers, he smirked with a shrug.
“Okay. Then strawberry shortcake. With loads of whipped cream. Loads, Ryan,” she scolded in all seriousness. “I’m talking a mountain, not a bump. And Earl Grey tea. A whole pot. Cream and sugar on the side.”
“My trainer would be clutching his heart about now. No protein first thing in the morning?”
“I’ll be good for the wedding. Promise.” She giggled as she crossed her heart. “Steak and eggs. Already placed the order!”
Satisfied that he had her on board for a morning get-together, he playfully moved her aside and inserted the key card in the door lock. “What time?” He was asking as the door popped open and he turned to hand her the room key.
He caught her just as she was straightening up and smoothing her dress into place. A pair of white silk panties dangled from her finger.
Taking them, Ryan had a moment of sheer incredulity, quickly replaced by a speeding train of desire. He studied the flimsy panties, marveled that this was what she wore and then balled them up and pressed them to his nose. His eyes locked on hers as he inhaled and a slight shudder of ferocious arousal shook him.
“Um, uh,” she murmured. “Seven o’clock okay?”
Stuffing the potent reminder of what was at stake into his pocket, he gave her the room key and escorted her inside, being careful to remain outside. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be much of a gentleman if he got her alone right now.
“Seven o’clock, it is, Goddess Samantha.”
He winked and started to turn away as she giggled merrily. “Loads, Ryan. Not a bump. Remember!”
And then she shut the door, and he silently threw an exaggerated winning fist pump into the air.
Wandering from the patio sliders back to the bed, which lay in a crumpled mess after her sleepless night, Sam sat on the corner and yawned.
Rubbing her hands up and down her face, she let out a long, throaty groan as she tried to wipe the exhaustion away. Not even her daily sun meditation had helped very much. Thank god, the wedding wasn’t today. She didn’t want to show up in pictures for the rest of time looking like a hag.
Standing, she barely managed to straighten her shoulders before taking hesitant steps toward the bathroom. Along the way, she grabbed the robe left draped over a chair from last night, slipped it on, and then stopped at the door to the bathroom.
Sam didn’t reflexively dislike many things. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t completely true—she disliked clothes with in-your-face patterns, cooked zucchini, and candles pretending to smell like roses. She also hated bathroom lights. Something about the intense brightness and the light bouncing off tile and chrome made her twitchy.
Belting the sash of the robe with brutal efficiency, she reached inside the door, found the light switch on the wall, and flicked it on. The long rectangular space flooded with light. Stepping into the blazing brilliance was like walking into a spotlight.
Her first glance in the large mirror confirmed her worst suspicions. There were faint, gray smudges beneath her eyes, and her skin looked like shit. Ten minutes later, with her hair piled in a sloppy mess on top of her head, she looked halfway presentable, smelled of toothpaste and body lotion, and had less of a sleep hangover.
That was when she heard a tapping at her door. Oh crap, really? Was it seven already? Dashing from the bathroom, she flung open the door to her room without bothering to check the peephole and stopped dead.
How the hell did he manage to look so devastating this early in the morning? Her eyes narrowed at the peevish thought, and somehow, she managed not to sound grumpy when she spoke.
“Hey.” Not being grumpy was one thing but not rolling her eyes at how stupid she sounded was another.
Ryan grinned. On anyone else’s face, the expression wouldn’t mean much, but the Sommerfield smirk, as he and Kyle described it, was unabashedly sexy.
Damn.
“Morning,” he chortled in a cheerfully exuberant voice.
Sam jolted when he leaned in and kissed her soundly in greeting. Oh! They were doing hello kisses? She didn’t know.
She waved him in and quickly shut the door. A delicious aroma from two large cups on a carrier he juggled along with a good-sized white bag enticed her to follow him like a dog on the scent. He went straight out to the little private patio and started arranging the chairs, the table, and the breakfast items he pulled from the bag.
Checking out the feast, her fatigue and grumpiness vanished the second she spied the two individual strawberry shortcakes in domed, clear plastic containers. He showed her two more containers filled with whipped cream. Enough for a family of six. Sam laughed at his boyish enthusiasm when he took control, held out a chair, and after seating her like the maître d at Sardi’s, proceeded to give them a memorable interlude to start wh
at, for her, would be a nonstop day.
They ate, drank their beverages, and talked about absolutely nothing. And everything. He knew more about ice hockey than a Florida boy should, had an ongoing love affair with a classic blue Camaro, and preferred a button-down shirt to a Henley any day.
He also watched Saturday morning cartoons and swore on everything holy that he knew how to country line dance.
If she’d bothered to put on panties, they’d be soaked once he made the quirky admission. One thing Sam loved was watching line dancing of any kind. Country. Soul Lines. Even kids doing the Electric Slide. The very idea of a big, sexy guy getting down in a line dance had giggle-swoon stamped all over.
When it was time for him to head out, she was genuinely bummed their early morning time together was ending. If not for the fact that a dozen women would pitch some monumental fits, she’d have canceled on her plans and gladly spent the day with Ryan doing nothing. His brand of nothing was more exciting than a day crammed with activity.
They were walking toward the door when all of a sudden he grunted, “Fuck it,” turned and grabbed her so fast she just froze. A surge of excitement ricocheted throughout her body when he slammed her against the wall. Whatever this caveman alpha thing was, it electrified Sam.
He was pressing his body to hers—they were joined from stomach to knees—and he was looking at her like he was sketching her with his eyes.
“Another thing you can’t do around me,” he ground out in a manly voice dripping with seduction, “is turn up in a short flimsy robe with nothing underneath.”
She gasped when his meaning hit home. He’d caught her half-naked, and she hadn’t bothered to correct the situation.
His hand, big, warm and powerful, slid effortlessly inside the silk robe and cupped her breast. The shaky moan she heard made her tremble even more. That was her!
She felt him move and then settle in a soft spot where her body cradled the bulge of his manhood. Feeling him grind into her as his hand massaged her boob almost sent Sam to her knees.
And then he claimed her lips, his arm around her waist crushing her body to his. His sexy mouth covered hers with hungry passion, and she surrendered without hesitation.
The velvety softness of his lips and tongue as it boldly swept her mouth made shivers break out along her body. Whimpering and desperate for more, she clung to his big body.
When he pulled on her nipple and pinched it, she started to shake uncontrollably.
Sam tried to speak, but his voracious mouth wouldn’t back off. Finally, he put his lips on her neck and did wicked things to her flesh that made her mind go fuzzy.
“Ryan,” she gasped. “I, uh, oh.” Her shy moans sounded completely out-of-place in such a hot, steamy moment.
Just when she was sure she’d do anything he asked, he drew away and gave her a long, assessing inspection.
“In case I didn’t make this clear,” he told her in a low, throaty growl, “next time it’s you in a robe and nothing else, I will fuck you where you stand.”
Her mouth fell open. Literally. He stroked around her lips with one finger then looked deep into her eyes. Sparks flew when they connected.
“Understood?”
Remembering the panties she had sent him off with last night, Sam swallowed with a bit of difficulty and nodded her head.
Yeah, she understood. Understood that if she had a lick of sense, she’d get some condoms to stash in the bedside table because, well, because you never know.
“Hey,” Kyle called out as Ryan rounded the bend to his room. “Was just looking for you, man. Where’ve you been?”
It never occurred to him to be anything but straightforward. This was his blood-brother and best friend. He could tell Ky anything.
“Samantha,” he admitted as he approached closer. “Breakfast.”
He saw Kyle’s eyes flare and then they quickly move over him. “Oh, okay,” he murmured. “Different clothes from last night. So this was an early morning date and not a sleepover wake-up duty.”
“Fuck off,” he snorted. Pushing open the door to his room, he pushed Ky inside and curled his lip as he started to say something. Kyle beat him to the punch.
“Holy shit!” He laughed. “Leading with the Elvis sneer? This really must be serious then.”
Dickhead. He might as well have dumped a bucket of ice on his head.
“What the hell’s the matter with you? Of course, it’s serious, you putz. Haven’t we already established that point?”
“Just checking, Ry. And you can drop the menacing growl. That girl is Andi’s family. It’s in the husband job description that I watch out for Sam. Keep her safe.”
“From me?” He asked the question with outraged incredulity.
“Especially from you. She can’t play the game, and you know it.”
“I am not playing games with her.”
After jacking him up until Ryan was pulsing with offense, Ky chuckled, smacked him on the back, and said, “That’s all you had to say, man.”
Seriously?
“I need to borrow the hiking watch you brought. The one with the GPS.”
Responding to the whiplash request, he fished the fancy watch from his bag and handed it over. Kyle and his dad were going off by themselves—one of those Sommerfield bonding traditions—which meant Ryan was spending the day with his parents, Aunt Mel, and Ali, of course. Family time.
Before ambling off, Kyle leaned against the doorjamb and spoke with rare solemnity. “This is the best thing I’ve done—my whole life. Finding Andi, asking her to marry me.”
He didn’t think saying anything was necessary, so he focused on what Kyle was sharing.
“Getting on the pro tours is great and everything, but nothing compares to being with her. Just being around her. . .” He shrugged. “Andi makes me feel,” he said, pausing as he searched for a word. “She makes things right. Ya know? All I ever think about is her. And it feels completely natural.”
Ryan was beginning to understand where his cousin was coming from. Hanging out with Samantha was so easy. And pleasant. As for thinking of nothing but her? Already a done deal.
Before Kyle left, he remembered to let him in on a little tidbit of information Ryan was pretty sure the other man needed.
“FYI. I caught the tail end of Steve Carmichael sneaking out of Barbara’s room around six fifteen this morning.”
Kyle snickered. “Good for her! Hope he was packing a little blue pill ‘cause the lady blew past cougar and went straight to cheetah without breaking a sweat a long time ago. She can chase her prey to ground faster than anyone I know.”
Ha! Actually, Ky’s description of Barbara West was winning. She looked like a fair-haired Jessica Rabbit, and he wasn’t being facetious at all.
He hated to pop Kyle’s bubble of amusement, but he hadn’t shared what he saw for no reason.
“Dolores Carmichael,” was all he said.
“Shit.” Kyle’s face twisted into a grimace.
They talked quietly for another minute, and then Ky took off. Ryan glanced at his watch. He had two hours to kill. The horny teenager running his libido chimed in.
Get naked. Remember how soft Samantha’s breast felt. Think about her sexy whimpers and moans. And jerk off.
Ryan snorted. So that’d take up about two minutes before he came like a porn star unloading on cue. What about the rest of the time?
Didn’t matter. Not really. Jerk off, don’t jerk off, he was still going to do nothing except think about her. Not even releasing what the guys at one of his shops called D-S-S, or deadly sperm surplus, would make much difference.
He thought about Kyle’s admission that Andi was the best part of his life. In a lot of ways, he understood.
It’d taken him some time to get there and figure it out on his own, but once he had, Ryan pulled the plug on the empty hookups and half-encounters that clogged up his romantic life. He didn’t make an announcement or anything like that because being labeled a pussy
wasn’t his idea of fun. For him, the truth was remarkably simple. Anyone can get laid. Fucking wasn’t the problem.
He craved an emotional intimacy that wasn’t met by getting his wang drained. Go ahead and laugh, he thought to himself. Stupid expression, yeah—but accurate.
Samantha gave him more than a small taste of what he craved. He liked being around her. Liked the energy she gave off. Liked that she wasn’t wired for game playing. And really liked the care she showed for her friend. He found something about loyalty immensely sexy.
He snorted a joyless laugh. Loyalty was sexy?
Yep, he was definitely a pussy.
“Miss Evers,” Andi murmured when they were left alone for two minutes. “Is that a love bite I see on your neck?”
It was, so there was no use in denying what Andi was busily figuring out in her brain.
“Yep. Was taking dental impressions and one slipped.”
For one second, Andi stared at her confused and then broke into a quiet laugh.
“Were these, um, impressions left last night or this morning? I only ask,” she said innocently with her hands waving from Sam’s head to her toes, “because that looks suspiciously recent.”
Feeling lighthearted and oh-so-very naughty, she rolled a shoulder and calmly admitted, “He brought breakfast. I was, uh, grateful.”
“So you let him chew on your neck?”
“Something like that.” She chuckled as a warm flush crept onto her face.
Andi stood stock-still, her hands on her waist and studied Sam with an intensity that made her tummy flutter.
“What?”
“You’re thinking about sleeping with him, aren’t you?”
“Andi! Shush. What the hell?”
Wearing a rueful expression, her friend drily responded. “That did not sound like a denial.”
Sam made a pained face and put down the stack of bras and panties she was considering getting. She looked around. At the far end of the exclusive ladies boutique, the bridesmaids were gathered around a laughing Lisa who must be telling one of her ribald suburban mom stories. Tara was there and looked to be having a good time.
The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) Page 12