by Sandy Loyd
“I was talking about Kate,” he said, mentioning his sister-in-law.
“How’re she and the baby?” Sam grinned, paying no attention to his affronted tone. “It’s been a while since I last saw her.”
“Both are doing great. My godchild is six months old tomorrow.”
“Spoken like a true uncle.”
“Kids are fun.” All teasing left his demeanor. He shook his drink and studied the contents, working to understand his unsettled mood. Was he a selfish, self-absorbed bastard who couldn’t commit, as Kate had accused right before they’d broken up? She hadn’t pulled any verbal punches back then, had even claimed everything in his life had come too easy, especially women.
Of course, he’d denied it. Hell, he wasn’t selfish. Nor was everything handed to him. True, women did seem to find him appealing, but so what? He always put his friendships first and he gave regularly to charity. Both time and money. He just wasn’t good in the relationship department. He had to admit, commitment scared him. What if he made a mistake? At times, like right now, Kate’s remarks echoed in his mind and he wondered if they didn’t hold too much truth. He certainly didn’t want to be that type of person. He took a sip. “I can see the allure of fatherhood. Paul took to it like he was born for the role.”
“Do I denote a hint of dissatisfaction?”
He shrugged, and said honestly, “Maybe.”
She didn’t say anything for the longest time. He was beginning to think she’d dropped the subject until she asked softly, “Do you ever wish it had been different?” When his eyebrows rose in question, she added, “That it had been you instead of Paul?”
“Sometimes I wish I had what they have.” His gaze moved to the picture window, overlooking the San Francisco Bay. A blanket of fog rolled in, slowly covering the bay like a carpet. He stared through holes left in the white, billowy patches, as if what he saw held the answers to love and happiness. He just didn’t think he had it in him to commit to a woman.
“I loved her but I was never in love with her,” he said, of his one and only long-term relationship. He’d dated Kate for so long without committing, their prior relationship had become a running joke among his family with Paul as the main instigator. Now his brother was happily married to her.
A sigh escaped.
Yeah. He’d love to experience with someone what they had found. After seeing Paul and Kate together, he realized the emotion he’d felt for Kate had been hollow compared to what his brother felt. He was well into his thirties and had dated a broad range of women without succumbing to anything close to what he assumed love entailed. He’d tried, especially in the last three years. He simply reached a certain level in his relationships and lost interest without understanding why, yet fully understanding the consequences. Love, marriage, and fatherhood simply weren’t in his future. Maybe Kate’s observations weren’t so far off the mark after all.
“She was easy and there. And like the bastard I am, I took advantage of it.” He broke off and grunted. “Nice try, but it won’t work. We’re supposed to be figuring out a way to help you with Winthrope, not dissecting my failures.”
“Do we have to? Thinking about him and what he said just depresses me. Mostly because he’s right.” Sam swirled her frozen drink, put the glass to her lips, and downed the contents in one long gulp. “You know, when you promised me tequila, margaritas weren’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“I happen to like my margaritas. Besides, you got your tequila.”
“Yeah, but the ice and lime juice dilute it too much. Earlier, I was drinking shots and the tipsiness has worn off. Discussing failures requires more liquid courage. Unfortunately, after one of these, I’m still too sober.” She held up her glass. “This is for lightweights.”
“Lightweights, huh?” When she nodded, he grinned. “Can’t have that.” He got up and headed toward his kitchen.
“So, what’re we going to do?” she asked, following. “Drink it straight out of the bottle?”
“Never let it be said that James Morrison is a lightweight. My ego won’t allow it.”
She leaned against the doorjamb while he picked up the knife lying on the black granite countertop and rinsed it off. He reached for a lime.
“Real limes? How impressive.”
“Yeah? Stick with me, kiddo, and I’ll impress the hell out of you.”
“You already do.”
He began cutting the lime and ignored the way her approval slid over his back, much like a warm blanket. He also tried to ignore the way her blouse stretched, outlining a pair of well-proportioned breasts as she propped her back against the doorjamb with her hands behind her.
Quit looking at her. He concentrated on cutting, but his gaze wouldn’t cooperate with his brain’s signal and kept moving in the direction of the open V of her shirt.
Funny how he’d never noticed before. He did now. Samantha Collins had a damned fine body.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Morrison. She’s off-limits. Not only is she a colleague, she’s a friend who’s practically engaged to a nice guy—a man you know socially. Just because he’s being an idiot, doesn’t mean you should be a bigger idiot and take advantage.
He sighed and went back to cutting, forcing his head down so his eyes stayed focused on the limes. When done, he handed her the salt and two shot glasses. Then he grabbed the plate of limes and bottle of tequila. “Come on. We have some serious drinking to do.”
~
“Okay.” Sam trailed after him, as he strode from the kitchen in the direction of the sofa. He set the limes and bottle on the coffee table and relieved her of the salt and glasses.
She watched him line up the ingredients in single file in front of him and pour tequila into the glasses, before both got comfortable sitting Indian style next to each other in the space between the sofa and coffee table.
“So, what do I do first?” Excitement filled her. “Limes, salt, and tequila. I had friends who used to do this in college.”
“You’ve never done shots of tequila before tonight?” When she shook her head, he grinned. “You really need to let loose more.”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing?”
“I give you an A for effort. Here’s to fun.” He held up the shot glass.
She copied his movements…licking the salt, downing the shot, and sucking on the lime.
“Whew. That’s powerful.”
“I aim to satisfy. You got a double shot. Can’t have you calling me a lightweight.”
She giggled. “I wasn’t referring to you when I made the comment.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows shot up; he clearly expecting her to continue.
“Yeah. I was talking about myself. I just want to make sure I do it right because I’ve never been drunk before.”
“So, how is it you’re twenty-nine and still a virgin?”
He grinned when she shot him a surprised, “What?”
“You’ve never had a hangover, right?” His startling blue eyes danced, drawing a desire to join him in the steps. She couldn’t take her gaze off his amused smile as she tilted her head to the side. He really was charm personified.
“See! A mere virgin if you’ve never experienced a hangover. It’s a rite of passage. So, answer my question.”
“What question?” She picked up the bottle, ignoring a sudden urge to grin, and poured the next round.
He chuckled. “For a virgin, you’re a natural. I’m not dropping the subject. How did you survive college without at least one hangover?”
“I couldn’t risk drinking then.” Her thoughts drifted to her college days—a lifetime ago. Back then, she’d had too much riding on her scholarship to ever let loose and have a good time like all her friends, who thought of college as one big party. Doing well in college was a stepping-stone to a better life and she couldn’t risk screwing it up with something as stupid as drinking. Times had certainly changed since then, she realized, after her best-laid plans had veered so far off course. In fa
ct, she’d use tonight as a catalyst to a new, spontaneous Sam. “But I’m all for it now.”
“I should warn you. The side effects can be brutal.”
“Oh? I think I’ll survive.”
“Yeah, you will, but you’re going to hate me in the morning for luring you into temptation.”
“You have it backward. I led you. You’ll probably hate me.”
“I doubt it.” He tossed out another chuckle then picked up his shot glass.
“I know why I want to get drunk. I’m just not sure why you do.”
“I need a reason?” He saluted her with his glass, saying, “Cheers,” and followed the ritual.
“It’s so unlike you.” She grinned. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you drink more than two glasses of wine. So…why are you letting me lure you into temptation on a Friday when you could be with Veronica instead of me? What happened with her?”
“Does it matter?”
Her grin stretched. “Call me curious.”
He shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me.” Then, after a long pause, he sighed. “I felt like I was going through the motions with her, and I wasn’t in the mood to do it tonight. I’m glad I found you. This is a lot more fun. The headache will be worth it.”
The smile he sent made her think he really meant the sentiment, and she felt the same way. She was having the time of her life. A headache would be a small inconvenience in exchange.
Sam wasn’t sure how many shots she drank; she only knew she was feeling no pain. They never did get around to talking about Charles and her inflexibility, which was fine by her.
She didn’t think she could laugh any harder when James relayed the story of how his brother and sister-in-law, who were sworn enemies at the time, got together after a snowstorm stranded them for several days in Lake Tahoe.
“I want you to know, I made sure Paul suffered for stealing my girl.”
“Was she?” His eyebrows rose, and she answered his implied question honestly. “Seems to me, if she’d been yours, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.” She needed to take her own advice. If Charles was truly hers, his loan officer didn’t stand a chance either.
“Maybe. If I had thought of her as mine, I wouldn’t have let him steal her. That’s probably the same reason why I never seriously pursued the only other woman I’ve ever been totally attracted to. After getting to know her, I’d lost my chance. By the time I realized her allure, she belonged to someone else.”
“No?” His comments about someone he’d never mentioned before brought her out of her thoughts and, giggling, she slapped his knee. “You mean someone actually stole your heart? Who was she?” Oh yeah. She was definitely feeling no pain when she could make such personal jokes about his love life. That he was responding in kind meant he was just as far-gone.
“No one. Just a fond memory of what might have been…” He sighed, staring wistfully at the full shot of tequila he held. “Oh, the things we do for friends,” he said softly, before he finally downed the liquid and placed the glass on the table.
~
James touched her head as Sam reached across the table. She straightened abruptly, glancing at him with a question in her eyes.
“You know, if you let your hair down once in a while, it’d help.” His words slurred a bit, which meant he was far too wasted, but by that point he didn’t care. “Make you appear softer.”
He released the clip from its usual tight grip, creating a startling effect. He couldn’t take his gaze off her. He stilled the urge to run his hands through the thick, lush halo of silky softness that surrounded her face. Those lovely tresses highlighted expressive brown eyes, giving her an almost innocent appearance. She was quite pretty when she wasn’t being so serious.
“I don’t want to be softer. I’m fine the way I am.” With an unsteady movement, she yanked her clip out of his hand, and bent to pull her long hair together.
“Charles might like you softer.”
“Really?” Sam dropped her hands and drew her eyebrows together while her hair fell around her face again.
“All men do,” he said, nodding. “Men want women to be women.” He smiled. She looked so hopeful…so adorable…so irresistible…and, God help him, so kissable.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice came out in breathy wisps of air.
“I must be drunk.” He shook his head to clear it. “All of a sudden I had an urge to kiss you.”
She giggled. In seconds, her giggle erupted into uncontrollable laughter.
Though he knew she was as wasted as he, irritation swept over him as he stiffened. “You find the thought of kissing me funny?” He moved in closer. For some reason, he couldn’t ignore her reaction.
“No.” Her laughter died as quickly as it sprang to life. Her expression turned solemn.
Sam leaned against the sofa and ran her tongue nervously along her mouth before she bit her bottom lip, while studying him with huge, beautiful doe eyes. Her actions did nothing to ease his desire to smother her with kisses, in fact drew his attention to those pouty lips. Why had he never noticed before how perfect they were for kissing?
Whoa, back up, Morrison. This is Collins you’re lusting after.
Despite the fact that her inclined position gave him an unobstructed view of a rounded, ample breast, he forced all sexual thoughts out of his brain. Yet, when she cleared her throat, sat up straight, and said too convincingly, “I’m immune to you, is all,” they snuck back in and wouldn’t budge. Especially after she added, “I’m not a gullible female who’ll fall for a pretty face.”
Her statement rankled, and his mind wouldn’t let go of her implied challenge.
James had drunk too much tequila, and he knew damned well he should let her comments pass. He should stay on his course of helping her with Winthrope…he should remember they were friends. Hell, he should definitely ignore the heat now pooling in his groin at what a tempting sight she made, sprawled out next to him half exposed, with those generous, full lips begging to be kissed. Too late, he realized his biggest mistake. He should never have gotten drunk with her. Not tonight.
“So, you’re immune to me?” He leaned in closer and smiled smugly at the doubt now shrouding her overconfident expression. “That’s bullshit,” he whispered as his mouth hovered over hers. Giving into impulse after pushing all sanity aside, he lowered his head and captured those lips. Once he leapt into craziness, Sam surprised the hell out of him. She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him closer, and inhaled his tongue in a wholly unpredictable way, sucking him in further. Nothing of her actions reminded him of his straight-laced friend, but he was too caught up in his own unexpected reaction to care.
He deepened the kiss. Savored what she offered with her tongue and mouth.
Of their own volition, his hands found her breasts. He took in the citrus scent of the limes mixed with the perfume she always wore. He’d never thought about it before, but her smell was intoxicatingly sexy, just like the feel of her. Eventually, he traced her bottom lip with his tongue. Tasted salt. Her loud moan floated somewhere above him, inciting a hunger he’d never experienced before this moment.
Stop, his mind screamed. Before your need for her veers completely out of control and you ruin a friendship. Even you aren’t that much of a selfish bastard. Somehow, James found the strength to pull away, but he teetered on the edge of absolute insanity.
With his head mere inches above hers, he studied her expression. Her eyes were closed and a serene smile rested on her lips. How could such an unremarkable face elicit more desire, which still strummed at a fevered pace through his veins? Every cell in his body vibrated with yearning. He shouldn’t want her, but he did.
Sam chose that moment to open her eyes, and the warmth spilling from them did nothing to ease his fight to stay motionless and not succumb to the lust pumping in his bloodstream.
“That was nice.”
Nice…nice? “That’s all you have to say? It was nice?” He’d never
been so insulted. She’d given him one of the hottest kisses he’d ever had, and the only descriptive term she could use was nice?
“Okay, so you know how to kiss.” She slurred the words. “I never doubted that.” Her voice trailed off and her head slumped back. It took him a moment to realize she’d passed out