She wasn’t proud of herself, but not as appalled as she should be either. Like she’d told him last night, she was mostly embarrassed. And confused that she’d given it up with the one man on the planet that she’d sworn she’d never let touch her again. She was still confused about why he’d shown up at her door last night. Why she’d let him in and why he was still there.
“Hey, Mom,” Conner called as he ran up the path toward her. “Come see the castle.”
She set her magazine aside; she had known it was only a matter of time before Conner made her look at his castle. She stood and moved down the steps toward him. He met her in the middle of the tall grassy path and she cupped her hands over his red ears. “You’re cold. Don’t you want to go in now?”
He shook his head. “Dad made a dragon. Come see.”
She took his cold little hand in hers and moved down the short trail. Sam stood in front of the “castle” with his hands on his hips. The knees of his jeans were as wet and sandy as Conner’s, and his ears were just as red.
A cold breeze ruffled his hair, and dirt smudged his cheek. “What do you think?”
She cocked her head to one side and studied the castle. Up close, it looked less like a pile of sand. It was square, with four turrets and a moat, but the most impressive thing about it was the size. Like everything Sam did, it was big and over-the-top. “It’s always been a dream of mine to go on a tour of European castles. Who knew I’d see one in Moclips.”
“You dream about touring old, stone buildings?”
“Oh yeah. I hear Germany has some of the best and most haunted.”
“See the dragon?” Conner pointed to what looked like a snake with a big head slithering through the sand toward the castle. “He protects the boy in the castle.”
“From what?”
He looked up at his dad and squinted against the sun. “From what, Dad?”
“Girls.”
She laughed and lightly socked him in the stomach. He grabbed her hand before she could pull away. “You’re cold,” she said.
“The other day at the Key, you said I was hot.”
With her free hand, she pushed at the strands of red hair blowing across her face. “And today you’re filthy.”
Sam wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her heels. He pressed his dirty sweatshirt against her and laughed. “You’re too clean. I like you better when you’re dirty, too.”
“Sam!” She pushed at his shoulders and tried to squirm out of his hold. But Sam was bigger and taller, and she didn’t stand a chance.
He tightened his grasp and lifted her until her toes dangled above the sand. His heated breath whispered across her chilled cheek, “Wanna get real dirty with me?”
She grabbed onto his shoulders, afraid if he didn’t stop she’d get warm all over. That she’d like the way it felt to be held so tight by a strong man. By Sam. “Not in front of Conner!”
His lips brushed the corner of her lips. “Just a little dirty, then?”
“Stop, Sam. You’ll confuse him.” Like the confusing, hot riot tumbling in her stomach.
He raised his head and said as he stared into her eyes, “Are you confused, Conner?”
“Yes.”
Sam looked over her shoulder, but he didn’t let her go. “What about?”
“If the castle doesn’t have a door, how will the boy get out to ride the dragon?”
Sam smiled and lowered Autumn, slowly sliding her down his body until her feet touched the sand. “There’s a hidden door that the people who live inside know about.”
“Oh.” Conner nodded as if that made perfect sense. “I’m cold now.”
Autumn looked over her shoulder at Conner. “You wanna take a bath?”
“Yeah.”
She stepped out of Sam’s warm arm, and together the three of them walked up the trail to the beach house. Like they were a family. The family she’d longed for when she’d carried Conner in her womb. The family she’d desperately wanted for her child, but that hadn’t happened. They weren’t a family, and they never would be. Sam was Sam. A spoiled athlete, so used to getting everything he wanted, when and how he wanted it, that he had no clear boundaries.
Autumn was a working mom with very clear boundaries. Or at least she did when Sam wasn’t around touching her and whispering in her ear. Maneuvering her before she realized she’d been maneuvered.
Like before.
“Are we going to Paddie’s?” Conner asked, as they entered the house.
Autumn closed the sliding glass door behind her. “I think your dad probably has better things to do.”
Sam glanced up at Autumn through his clear blue eyes.
“At home.”
His brows lowered a fraction, and he looked at Autumn for several long moments. “Yeah. I gotta get back.”
“No, Dad.” Conner hugged his wet leg. “You can sleep in my bed.”
“Thanks.” He placed his hand on Conner’s hair. “But I have some stuff to do.”
“Tell your dad good-bye, and I’ll go run your bathwater.”
She moved toward the back of the house and walked into the bathroom. She was doing the right thing. Setting boundaries for Sam. Putting a protective distance between him and her. It was best for her. For Conner, too. Best not to confuse him because even though he said he wasn’t confused at the moment, he would be. She ran four inches of warm water, then shut off the faucets.
“Get in there and get the sand out of your ears,” she told Conner as she moved into the living room.
“Okay. Bye, Dad.”
“Bye, buddy.” Sam had changed into dry pants and a black polo and stood in front of the sofa, stuffing his duffel. He glanced up as Conner ran from the room. “You blow hot and cold faster than any woman I’ve ever known.”
“And you come on stronger and more intensely than any man I’ve ever known. But we both know that it doesn’t last with you, Sam.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“We’re talking about my fear that Conner will wake up one morning, and you won’t be around.”
“Are you back to that?”
They were always back to that. And maybe it was a little bit about her, too.
“Conner is my son. I’m not going anywhere. I know I haven’t always been the best father, but I haven’t been as horrible as you paint me either.” He shoved the sweatshirt into the duffel. “But this isn’t about Conner. It’s about last night.”
Partly that was true. “It can’t happen again.”
He looked up, his brows lowered over his blue eyes. “Why not? I had a good time, and I know you did, too.”
She couldn’t deny that but… “There are consequences to that kind of fun.”
“You can’t keep using Vegas like a shield.”
“I’m not.”
He returned his gaze to the bag. “You are, and it’s getting old.”
“It’s not something a person just gets over.”
“It’s not something you can get over because you don’t want to. You want to hang onto the past. You want me to always be the bad guy.” He zipped the duffel and looked across at her. “And I admit, I’ve done some bad things, but I thought maybe we were getting past all that.”
How could she get past it? She’d patched around it. Sewn her life back together, but it was still there. It didn’t hurt, but it couldn’t be forgotten like it had never happened. The little boy in the bathtub was a constant reminder.
“But now I see that you want me to pay for Vegas for the rest of my life.” He picked up his duffel. “Tell Conner I’ll call him in a few days.” He walked out of the house, and Autumn stared at the closed door. Was he right? Did she want him to pay for the past? Forever?
No. She wasn’t that sort of woman, but she also wasn’t the sort to whom forgiveness came easily. Not that he’d ever asked for it.
The Tuesday after Moclips, Natalie picked Conner up from kindergarten and took him to the Key Arena to
practice with Sam. Around five, the assistant returned him home. Several days later, Natalie picked up Conner and his little backpack to spend the weekend with his dad.
That same Friday night, Autumn met with the Ross twins at a bridal store downtown so that Bo could try on dresses. Chelsea was still waiting until after her breast reduction surgery to try hers on, but she had plenty of advice for her sister. One gown was too poofy, and yet another too plain. They bickered about everything, and Bo tried on at least ten dresses before she walked from the fitting room in a sleeveless gown with an Empire waist and beautiful draping.
“Oh, Bo,” Chelsea sighed. “That looks beautiful on you.”
And it did. Perfect for a woman of her build. There was enough built-in boning that the top kept her heavy breasts lifted and covered while the draping elongated her body.
That night, Autumn checked the home phone to see if Conner had called. He hadn’t, and she went to bed missing him. The next day she called vendors, checking in and touching base regarding an intimate Christmas charity event she’d been hired to manage at an estate in Medina. The hostess requested trays of hot and cold hors d’oeuvres be served an hour before the sit-down dinner for thirty. They’d planned on the standard four servers, but Autumn hired six. There had been times in the past when she’d had a last-minute no-show, and it was always better to err on the side of caution.
Always.
By the time Natalie dropped Conner off Sunday afternoon, it became very obvious that Sam was avoiding her. Things between them had gone back to the way they were before the Savage wedding. Back to neither her nor Sam speaking. She didn’t like it. She’d hoped they could be friends. Friends was easier, but maybe no contact with Sam was for the best. Being friends with Sam had led to getting naked. And that was bad. Or rather good. Too good, and she couldn’t be trusted. Although she was in no danger of another Hound Dog wedding and a wrist tattoo, she just might, might lose her mind and like him more than was wise. And as in business, the same was true in life. It was always better to err on the side of caution.
Always.
It wasn’t until the fourteenth of December that she finally heard from Sam himself. It was Monday, a little before noon, and he called to tell her that he’d been cleared from the injured list and would be leaving for a week. Hearing his voice made her miss him. More than was wise.
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
She’d always known he would head out on the road again. He played hockey. It was his job. Still, she was a little disappointed. For Conner’s sake, of course. “Oh.”
“So tell Conner that Nat will pick him up on the,” he paused as if he was looking at a schedule, “the twenty-second after school.”
He was going to hang up. “Sam?”
“Yeah.”
She picked up a pen and clicked it with her thumb. “Why are we back to this place?”
“What place?”
“The place where you have your assistant drop Conner off. I thought we’d become friends.”
“You wanna be friends?”
Click click. Was that so impossible? Was he so mad, suddenly disliked her so much again, that he didn’t want to be in the same building? “Yes.”
“Friends like before or after we had sex on the floor?”
Her thumb stopped. “Before.”
“Not interested.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be your friend.”
“Oh.” She swallowed her disappointment. It might be for the best, but she suddenly didn’t want what was for the best. She didn’t want to hate Sam and have Sam hate her. What choice did she have? “Okay.”
“I want to be your lover. I can’t pretend I don’t want more. I want to be with you, Autumn. I want to get you naked and throw your legs over my shoulders.”
She dropped the pen.
“I want to leave a mark on the inside of your thigh.”
She rose and must have had some sort of out-of-body experience. It was the only way she could explain what she heard herself say, “I have two hours before my next client, and I’m not wearing panties.”
She could practically hear him swallow just before he asked in a low, raw voice, “Are you at home?”
“My office.” She gave him the address, and he was at the door in twenty minutes. While she waited, she reached beneath her polka-dot dress and took off her underwear. She put them in a desk drawer next to her thumbtacks and paper clips.
“Lock the door behind you,” she told him, when he walked into her office. She picked up the phone and buzzed Shiloh. “I’m with a client,” she said. “Take messages.”
“Did I just see your baby daddy walk in?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She hung up as Sam flipped the lock and leaned back against the door, waiting. Waiting for her to make the first move.
And she did. She rose and unbuckled the belt around her waist. “You got here in record time.”
He might have waited for her to make the first move, but he didn’t wait for the second. He pulled his shirt over his head as he moved toward her. “I may have run a light or two.”
The dress slid down her arms and hips into a puddle of blue and white at her feet. She stepped out of it, wearing nothing but her white bra and silky slip. She reached for the buttons on the front of his jeans. He grabbed her hand and stopped her.
“Tell me what you want, Autumn. I’m never quite sure with you.”
“I want you.” She looked up into his hot gaze. The hot gaze that sent warm shivers across her skin. “Just like last time.”
“Two orgasms?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“I want to be lovers.”
“For how long?” He dropped her hand. “Until you get mad and kick me out the door again?”
“I don’t want to be mad and kick you anywhere.” Not anymore.
She popped one button at a time then slid her hand into the pouch of his boxer shorts. And in case he worried that they might repeat the past, she added, “You don’t have to worry that I’ll fall in love with you again, either.” She wrapped her hand around his erection, and he sucked in a breath.
His lids lowered and he brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “What if I fall in love with you?”
She turned her face into his palm. “You won’t.”
Chapter Fifteen
Any Man of Mine:
Thinks I’m Hot in the Morning
“How was your day at work?”
Autumn took a bite of a Take ’n’ Bake pizza and carefully laid it on the plate. She looked across the table at Sam and Conner by his side. When she’d come home around five thirty, Sam and Conner had been downstairs, playing with Conner’s plastic golf set and watching SpongeBob Square Pants. Sam had offered to “make dinner,” and had found an organic pizza with fresh tomatoes, goat cheese, and spinach.
“Interesting.” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a paper napkin. True to his word, he’d thrown her legs over his shoulders and given her two orgasms. “How was your lunch today?
“So good I’m having the same thing for dessert?”
Conner smiled around his bite. “Ice cream?”
“Yep.”
After dinner, Sam helped Conner with his spelling at the coffee table while a Chinooks-Bruins game played across the television screen. The two sat on the floor and Autumn lay on the couch behind them. There was work she could be doing, but she much preferred watching Sam deal with the sometimes agonizing task of helping Conner spell.
At one point Sam jumped to his feet and yelled at the TV, “You’ve got to be f-ing kidding me.”
“Little ears,” she reminded him.
“What?” He glanced across his shoulder at her. “I said f-ing.”
“What’s f-ing mean, Dad?”
Autumn lifted a brow.
He returned his gaze to Conner and sat back down. “Freaking, but you prob
ably shouldn’t say it.”
Several times he touched the back of her leg through her jeans or rubbed her bare ankle.
“When are you leaving, Dad?” Conner asked as he flexed his writing hand.
“In the morning.”
“Oh.” Conner’s brows lowered, and he cracked his knuckles. “When are you coming back?”
“Saturday, but then I’m gone again Tuesday.”
“Please don’t crack your knuckles,” she reminded him.
He stopped and picked up his pencil. “You’ll miss my school holiday program”
“I’ll be home for Christmas though. And your mom can tape your program for me.”
On the surface, it looked like a nice family scene. Like Moclips. Mother, father, and child, and Autumn got that uncomfortably anxious feeling in her stomach again. Like the nice picture wouldn’t last. That at some point it would crumble at her feet.
She was no longer afraid that Sam would backslide and put his son on hold while he lived the hard-partying life of a popular athlete. Some switch had flipped in Sam, and he truly wanted to be the father Conner needed. But that didn’t make them a family. It never would, and she worried that Conner might get the wrong idea. That he might start to hope for things that just weren’t going to happen.
So far, he seemed okay. He hadn’t mentioned Sam moving in for a while.
“Your h is backward,” Sam pointed out to Conner, then he glanced at the screen and jumped up again. “Control the damn puck, Logan. Settle down and control the damn puck. Pass it!”
“Language, Dad.”
He glanced down at Conner. “What did I say now?”
“Damn.”
“Oh. I don’t think damn really counts.”
At nine o’clock, Sam put Conner to bed, and Autumn moved into the kitchen to answer the telephone hooked to the wall next to the refrigerator.
“Hey, sis.”
She walked to the sliding glass door, stretching the long cord. “Hi, Vince.”
“Are you busy?”
It was definitely not a good time for a visit. “Yeah. I’m putting Conner to bed,” she lied. “And then I think I’ll hit the sheets myself.” With Sam.
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