Don’t know where to put furniture. Had another delivery. Will return later to move it where you want.
S&J Delivery
He ignored the quick stab of disappointment when there weren’t any signs of Maddie. He had imagined her strolling around the house as if it were her own, that dark braid moving in slow motion between her shoulder blades.
He shrugged, tried to tell himself it was just as well, and walked on in. Hell, he could move furniture as well as anyone. He’d arrange the stuff himself. Physical labor was nearly as good as a cold shower in such situations.
But when Maddie and Eeyore arrived ten minutes later, Sam hadn’t moved a thing. She could see him through the open front door, standing at the end of the hall, looking into the living room. He was leaning against the door frame, his hands shoved in the pockets of khaki shorts, and for a minute Maddie felt dizzy with the simple urge to walk up to him and touch him. Just a touch, that was all, a palm pressed on the flat of his back, a finger brushed along his hairline, across his ear. Silly.
“Hi,” she said instead, her voice lifting more than she intended.
“Maddie,” Sam said, turning slightly, and her heart lifted at the magical way he said her name.
Sam was smiling at her, but he wasn’t moving, and now he looked back to the living room and the furniture she had so painstakingly found. Maddie frowned. Why wasn’t he saying anything?
“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”
He turned and smiled at her again, but it was an odd smile, Maddie thought, certainly not what she was expecting, not the look of pure delight at the absolutely incredible furniture.
She moved closer, her dark brows lifting curiously. She peered around his shoulder into the living room.
Her mouth opened, closed, then fell open again. But no sound came out. Stunned, she stood and stared at the room. Finally, after what seemed like a long time, Maddie broke the silence with an expletive that startled even Sam.
“Shame on you,” he said, raising one brow. His eyes were full of laughter.
Maddie gulped. “I don’t know what happened here, Sam—”
The airy living room was crammed with furniture. In the center was the focal point: a high canopied bed fashioned from thick dark wood. Ponderous sweeps of crushed, crimson velvet looped from one ornate poster to the next. The matching dresser was low, backed by a huge oval mirror in a masterfully carved frame of naked bodies twisted around one another in a variety of innovative poses. The tufted sofa, upholstered in the same plush velvet, stood off to one side, and leaning against it was a nearly life-size portrait of a Rubensesque odalisque, her naked body reclining sensuously on a furry blanket and her plump, bejeweled fingers lifted into the pastel-tinted air. Love seats with velvet heart-shaped backs and gilded chairs were scattered everywhere.
“Interesting choices,” Sam murmured, “but I don’t know about the portrait. Don’t you think Madam’s lipstick clashes with the velvet on the bed?”
His words punctured the tension like a needle in a tight balloon, and Maddie released a whoop of laughter. It came from deep down inside of her, bubbling up and erupting into the air, filling the room and shaking her slender body until tears ran freely down her cheeks. She tried to talk, tried to say something intelligible to Sam, but then she heard his own laughter, deep and rumbling, mixing with hers.
And then it was Eeyore’s tarn to get into the act. Tiring of sitting still between Maddie and Sam, he bounded across the room and in one flying leap landed smack in the middle of the wide bed.
Maddie’s laughter increased.
“I think he likes the bed,” Sam observed. “Maybe it comes in a smaller size.”
The dog thumped his tail wildly.
Maddie walked over and wrapped her arms around him. She scratched him behind his ears and scanned the room once more. “It might take a little getting used to—”
“I’m already attached.”
“It does have a certain ambience.”
“No question about that.” Sam walked over and leaned against the high bed, his shoulder rubbing against Maddie’s. His deep blue eyes crinkled.
A pounding on the door sent Eeyore’s ears upright. Heavy footsteps followed immediately. “Hey, lady, off that bed,” demanded a scowling, bearded man in overalls. Behind him was another man, this one sporting tattooed biceps. “You gonna ruin that bedspread,” said the first.
Maddie ran her palm over the velvet. “Perish the thought. That would be a disaster.”
“Sure as hell would. That’s a special bed, y’know.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Sam said. “But I think it’s made for heavy use.”
“This ain’t your furniture,” the bearded man said slowly, waving one hand through the air. “A mistake was made here. Happens occasionally.” Then he guffawed loudly and grabbed the painting, swinging it up into the air. “Cute babe, don’t you think?” He looked at Sam and winked broadly.
Sam tilted his head, scrutinizing the painting. “Lots of personality,” he said finally. “We’ll miss her.”
“I know what you mean, mister,” the delivery man said. “She’s the gen-u-ine thing. Ran a house up in San Francisco in the thirties. Things were easier then,” he added, looking longingly at the painting.
“Where is the furniture that belongs here?” Maddie finally asked.
“In the truck. No problem, little lady. We’ll have it in a jiffy. The folks at the summer theater were a little”—he glanced at Maddie, coughed, and continued—“they were a little peeved when we brought in that plain stuff. Said it wouldn’t work at all for The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.”
“I don’t suppose so,” said Maddie.
“So you can have it back,” he offered graciously.
“Decent of you,” Sam said, nodding.
“No problem. We like to please folks. All a part of the business.”
Maddie slid off the bed and stood next to Sam. She peered at the name pin on the man’s dirty white T-shirt. “Okay, Ralph,” she said, “let’s go for the plain stuff.”
“Won’t brighten up the place the way this beautiful furniture does,” Ralph said.
“We’ll have to adjust,” Maddie said.
“That bed would be a lot of fun, if you get my drift.” Again the grin was directed toward Sam. “But, hey, you can’t have everything.” With that Ralph motioned for his silent partner to pick up a gilded mirror and follow him out to the truck.
Maddie looked at Sam and grinned, then shrugged. “Easy come, easy go.”
“It’s going to be a tough act to follow, Maddie—”
“I’m up to the challenge.” She looked out the door, saw that Ralph had begun to unload the correct delivery, and glanced back at Sam. “I think it’s time you took a swim.”
“That’s been said to me in far less delicate ways.”
Maddie smiled. “I want you to see the room the right way, with everything in its place. Give me an hour or so.”
Sam looked down to the beach. It was a perfect California afternoon: blue skies, hot sun, and a light, cool breeze. He looked back to Maddie. “I should probably give those guys a hand—”
“Nope. It’s their job. We don’t need you.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, turning him slowly toward the door, and pushed him gently. “I found a pair of swim trunks in the boat house. They’re washed and hanging in the bath, if you want them. Or try nature’s way, whatever. See you in an hour.”
“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”
Maddie grinned, then turned and walked out the front of the house to the truck.
Sam watched her go. A half smile slipped across his face. Her slim, faded jeans fit perfectly. A loose cotton V-neck sweater fell over her breasts, then rested on the pleasing roundness of her buttocks. She wore no makeup. No pretense. She took his breath away.
And with the image of her long lean body crowding his mind and disturbing other parts of his anatomy, he descended the steps to the boat ho
use. When he finally plunged into the ocean, he discovered that a swim in the cold, bracing sea was just what he needed.
It took an hour to get the old furniture out and the new in. With Maddie directing, Ralph and his buddy, perspiration streaming down their weary faces, shifted and juggled and arranged, then rearranged. When Maddie finally announced, “It’s perfect!” Ralph pushed his partner toward the door before she could change her mind.
For a few minutes Maddie fussed, moving a chair a few inches this way, a vase to the center of the table, straightening a pillow. And then she stood back against the wall and smiled. She loved it, every single solitary bit of it.
She bit down on her lip. But would Sam?
Before she could go and find him, he came to her. She felt his presence before she saw him. She knew he was behind her, standing at the deck doors, looking in at the room. He was frighteningly quiet. Slowly Maddie turned around.
“Well?” she said. She had told herself it didn’t matter if he wasn’t enthusiastic. It was perfect, whether he realized it or not. Some of the furniture was hand-carved, some plain and straight and simple, but all of it was made of wood by local craftsmen whom Maddie had charmed and bribed and talked out of their favorite pieces, and the final product looked as if it had sprung up right there in the room, right along with the house. The sofa, upholstered in a natural, loose cotton fiber with muted streaks of tan and green and blue, was set in a wooden frame that encased the pillows like a box. It was long and simple and clean. The sides and back were inlaid with pieces of a darker wood that outlined the whole. Neat pillows along the back invited one to curl up in the softness and look out over the rolling waves of the ocean. And the tall bookshelves, reaching clear up to the skylight, polished and smelling of linseed oil, were lovely. Each item was different, special, but bound to the next like a friendly relative. The large coffee table, with its thick sheet of glass, held up by slender, curved pieces of driftwood, and the tall piece of brilliant blue pottery in the center, the muted rug beneath it, were all exactly as Maddie had envisioned them.
But Sam’s silence made her realize that what had been in her mind might not be at all what Sam had been expecting. And if there was an opposite to the kind of decorating she had seen in his office, this was it. He could, quite conceivably, hate it.
“You’ll get used to it, Sam,” she said. “I know it’s not what you’re accustomed to, but it’s really perfect for this house. Honest. East of the Ocean shouldn’t be cluttered with elegant things, you know. Or maybe you don’t, but it’s true. This house needs simply to sit back and be beautiful all by itself.” She would have gone on longer, words pouring over words, but she ran out of breath.
Sam’s gaze shifted back and forth between her and the room.
“Well,” she demanded, “say something!”
Sam smiled slowly. His voice was low. “Maddie, this is right.”
“What?”
Later she wondered if this was one of those Freudian things, but no matter, at the time it seemed to be the only course of action. So without thought, Maddie threw her arms around Sam and hugged him tightly, jubilantly. Her head was back, her dancing eyes looking up into his face.
And Sam did what seemed even more right, and what the yearning deep in his gut told him to do. He met her slightly parted lips with his own, pressed lightly, then with an insistence that had been building beyond control. “Oh, Maddie,” he moaned, threading his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer, and moving his tongue until it touched the tip of her own. He swallowed her small gasp, then moved his tongue slowly around her own.
Maddie, too, moaned, but didn’t move away. Her arms were still around his bare shoulders, her fingers clasped tightly around his neck. His bare chest, damp with salt water, was pressed against hers. She knew if she let go of him it would be all over, she would crumble like a soft sock at his feet. It wasn’t muscles or bones holding her together, but a wonderful delicious, rushing emotion that gave her support as it coursed through her veins. She kissed him back, loving the taste and feel and strength of him, and she wished against the wall of reason that the moment would never end.
It was Eeyore who forced reality to intrude. With a slow, furry shove, he moved his ample body between their legs. Maddie sucked in some air, her hands still wrapped around Sam for support. She blinked. “So,” she said slowly as the cool air fanned her heated cheekbones, “you like it that much?”
Sam’s husky chuckle sent shivers along her spine. “Yes,” he said, his smile caressing her face. “In fact, I like it more than that. Want me to show you?” He circled her waist, his strong fingers slipping beneath her jeans and gently massaging the tender skin.
Maddie shivered uncontrollably. “I’ll take your word for it, Sam.” She moved back, a painful move that warred with every nerve ending in her body. My lord, she thought, struggling for sanity, what was going on here? She wanted to drag him upstairs, throw him on the floor, undress him.…
Instead she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, took a deep breath that came out in a small hiccup, and managed a wobbly smile. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. A simple thank-you would have been okay.”
“Nope. Not in a million years. That wouldn’t come near to saying what I wanted to say.”
“Oh,” Maddie said, and for perhaps the first time in her life she found herself at a loss for words.
“Besides the fact that I like kissing you, Maddie. A lot.”
“Well, thanks, Sam. You’re … you’re not bad yourself.”
“I’ve improved, then?”
She remembered that first time, in nearly this same spot, remembered with a clarity she wouldn’t admit to. It had been marvelous, even then, no matter what she had told him. “Yes,” she managed feebly. “Much better.”
“Good. I try.”
“Lots of practice?”
Sam’s laughter was husky, strong, and stirred her again. She bit down hard on her bottom lip.
“Haven’t had much lately, but I wouldn’t mind trying,” he said. He held her head in the palm of his hands and soaked in the look of her. Then he traced an invisible line down her cheek, across her lip. “So where do we go from here?” he asked.
Maddie looked around. “How about down … on a chair. Furniture. How about you try it all out while I get us each a nice glass of cold water.” She started to walk away, but Sam caught her hand and pulled her back. “Maddie,” he said with sudden intensity, “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but whatever it is, it deserves some attention.”
“Mixing business and pleasure isn’t a good idea.” Her voice lacked conviction.
“Has anyone ever owned up to that damn saying? It’s nonsense. Mixing business and pleasure can be a great way to do business.” The words, nothing Sam had ever given conscious thought to before, came out without deliberation, fitting the moment. Before Maddie could respond, he kissed her again, his lips moving more slowly this time, with more familiarity.
Maddie felt their bodies move as one, but she didn’t know they were sitting on the couch until she released her arms from his neck and didn’t fall. His kisses continued, slow and delicious, and when his fingers moved beneath the edge of her sweater, she simply sighed and enjoyed the tingles that danced along her spine, up and down her arms, and then lower, into parts of her that she hadn’t paid much attention to for a long, long time.
She felt a rumble, a startling reaction to his touch.
But in the next second the rumble took on a gravelly voice, Eeyore barked, and Ralph, his T-shirt stained, lumbered noisily into the room.
Maddie shot over to the end of the couch and her face turned crimson when Ralph’s hearty laugh accompanied her movement.
“Sorry to interrupt this little love fest, folks,” he said with a lascivious grin. “It seems we forgot something.” With that he circled the couch and bent his ample form over to retrieve a clipboard filled with smudged sheets of paper.
Without engaging in f
urther talk, he grinned again, waved, and disappeared.
Maddie stood up slowly, reluctantly. “It looks to me like some greater force is looking out for us, making sure we don’t do anything stupid.”
“Stupid?” Sam was still on the couch, his dark skin contrasting with the light upholstery fabric. Sunlight caught in the deep tawny hair on his chest. His hands were clasped behind his head, his feet stretched out in front of him.
“You know what I mean.” She busied herself in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water.
“I know that when you and I are together in a room, Maddie, something conspires to draw us together. Frankly I think that’s the greater force. And if it has a name, I wouldn’t mind thanking it.”
Maddie handed him a glass of water. Her hand shook slightly.
“I want to know you better, Maddie,” Sam continued. His voice was softer now. “I don’t often feel that way. I guess I’m too quick sometimes to dismiss people. But I couldn’t dismiss you if I wanted to. I find myself thinking of you at the damnedest times.” He took a long drink of water, and his eyes, looking over the rim of the glass, remained on her face. His week of frustrating rationalizations were nothing but a pile of splintered thoughts now. He needed to be around Maddie more; for whatever reason, toward whatever end, he couldn’t quite grasp.
Maddie’s gaze rested on the panoramic ocean view. She walked slowly over to the large chair near the fireplace and sat down. Her hands rubbed the polished wooden arms. Finally her gaze came back to Sam. “I was prepared not to like you, Sam. There was a feeling about you that is everything I try to avoid.” She paused for a minute, looking at him with steady, clear eyes, and then went on. “But the thing of it is, I do like you. Against all my better judgment, I do.” She shrugged, a slight, innocent gesture that sent Sam’s blood racing.
“Good. That’s a start, then, isn’t it?”
A start? A start to what? What was the finish? Maddie wondered. Aloud she said quietly, “Sure it is. There’s no reason why we can’t be friends, Sam.”
Moonlight on Monterey Bay Page 8