by Julie Jaret
“God, Sam... Are you sure there’s no time for--”
His phone vibrated on the counter. He checked it and gave her an apologetic look. “They’re almost here.”
She tugged her shorts back on and let him pull her against his chest. “Good luck with the rest of the shoot.”
“I’ll be in town for another week before we go to the next location.”
Natalie shook her head, hoping he didn’t see her eyes welling. “My father would never stand for all the media. Plus, I’m so far behind on my billable hours. Now that things are back to normal, I need to start putting in fifteen-hour days again if I want any chance at partnership.”
“Well-- fuck.” He kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t expect to be saying goodbye today.” His phone vibrated again and he scowled.
Natalie backed out of his arms and walked him to the door. “You’ve got my number. Keep me posted on things. I want to see your Carl Jung film someday.”
He picked up his bag and opened the door, then turned back to her. “It’s funny... occasionally, I meet people on location shoots and they’re curious about where I’m staying -- at a hotel, renting a loft or whatever. Next words out of their mouth, they invite me to stay at their house. Like they don’t know how fucking creepy that is, considering we literally just met.”
“Um. Yeah. That’s weird.”
“It’s happened at least a dozen times over the years.” He flashed a grin that would’ve drenched her panties, if they weren’t still on the kitchen floor. “It’s been fun, Nat. If I’d had any idea that crashing with a stranger might be like this, I would’ve accepted every one of those invitations.”
And with a crinkle of those deep, dark eyes, he was gone.
Soon as the door closed behind him, Natalie allowed herself a five-minute ugly-cry, then washed her face and threw on something appropriate for Sunday afternoon in the office. There was no time for reflection or regret. She had too much work to do.
Some law offices were empty of people on the weekends. Chandler & Simmons, P.A. was not one of them. Natalie knew she’d have the company of many associates and even some law clerks. Naturally, none of the partners could be found at the office between Friday happy hour and Monday morning.
Not usually, anyway.
But today, she saw a few partners and most of the other associates as she trudged down the hall. Thankfully, Jeff had his back to the door when she passed his office. She really did not want to deal with that schmuck. It was never fun coming into the office on a weekend, but now more than ever the trek from the parking garage to her office felt like walking a radial path through Dante’s circles of Hell.
Not surprisingly, her desk was piled high with files and documents to review and sign. It would have been overwhelming enough to give her an instant migraine, but Kari was an angel sent down from legal assistant heaven. The stacks were all clearly labeled so Natalie didn’t have to go hunting for anything. That made her even more resolute to win the partnership -- she wanted to give Kari a much-deserved raise.
After an hour of mental meandering and Sam-pining, Natalie finally settled into a working groove. Which made it all the more annoying when someone interrupted with a knock on her closed door.
“Whoever it is, I’m buried. Can’t talk right now.” The door swung open anyway. “Seriously, I’m-- Dad? What are you doing here?”
“So kind of you to grace us with your presence. I had wondered whether I needed to draft a memo to have you removed from the payroll.”
“I had a stomach bug. Emma told you I was working from home.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. The hours you’ve been billing are unacceptable.” And with a curt nod, the elder Simmons pulled the door shut on his way out.
Thanks for your concern, Dad.
Natalie shifted into overdrive to fill her billing sheet. Having something to prove was a great way to activate single-minded focus. She got a lot done over the next few hours and felt good about her productivity, especially since she had ordered dinner to be delivered so she could work straight through until evening.
When her phone rang flashing an unfamiliar number, she sent it to voicemail. A minute later, she received a text from the same number: its the delivery guy i cant get down your street sorry.
With an exasperated sigh, she called him back. “You can’t get down my street? What does that mean?”
“It’s like blocked-off, yo. I can wait here if y’wanna walk down and getcha food.”
“Crap. Yeah, okay. Be right there.”
Not surprising at this hour, the office was empty (silver lining of working on a weekend: the elevator’s right there when you need it). She hit the Lobby button and clunked her head on the wall in frustration. Fucking Atlanta roadwork. Right up there with death and taxes.
The door dinged open and that’s when shit got weird.
The lobby was packed with people. Strangers, mostly.
What in the actual fuck is going on?
The cacophony of hundreds of conversations bouncing off windows and marble floors did nothing to help her figure that out. She spotted a few of her fellow associates but Jeff was with them, so she headed in the opposite direction. And saw her father talking to a group of people, none of whom she recognized. He hadn’t seen her, yet and she wanted to avoid him.
She was about to suck it up and go talk to Jeff and the others, when the crowd around her father shifted.
And there was Sam.
His gorgeous face was clean-shaven again, dimples creasing in friendly response to a story someone was telling. He had changed into a crisp, white button-down that skimmed his wide shoulders and narrow waist so perfectly, it looked to have been custom-made for him.
Natalie froze for a moment. While she couldn’t let anyone -- least of all, her father -- know she had been harboring Sam the last few weeks, she also couldn’t ignore him. She moved through the mob, dodging elbows, handbags and a few news cameras. The closer she got to Sam, the more tightly-packed the bodies were.
When she finally neared the inner circle, she saw some of the other partners there as well. Dowdy Margaret Byington was staring at Sam like she wanted to devour him whole. Thomas Porter was being his usual charming self, regaling everyone with stories of his daughter’s Sam Danmore obsession. While everyone’s attention was on Thomas, she tapped Sam’s arm.
He was shocked to see her. That much was obvious. And something that looked like joy bloomed in his eyes. Before he could say anything, she held out her hand.
“Mr. Danmore, I’m Natalie Simmons. I’ve been a fan of your work for a long time.” As they shook hands, she saw in Sam’s expression the moment he realized how they both came to be here.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” A reporter nearby showed interest in their conversation and Sam instantly transformed from the Sam Danmore Natalie knew to Sam Danmore the man-whore. He gave her the trademark cocky grin. “Tell you what, darlin’, stick around after the press conference and we can talk about just how big a fan you are.”
While her body was deciding how to respond to the man-whore in full-flirt (to breathe or not to breathe, that was the question), her father clamped a hand on her shoulder.
“Sorry, Sam. Natalie, don’t bother Mr. Danmore.”
Sam’s grin faltered a little. “No worries, sir. I’ve never been too busy to talk to a pretty lady.”
A slick, Hollywood-looking guy Natalie assumed was Sam’s PR manager came over. “Sam, we’re ready, man.”
With an exaggerated wink at Natalie, Sam followed the guy out to the cobblestoned loading area in front of the building.
Chapter Seventeen
IN FRONT OF the sculptural fountain (which Natalie hated because it looked like an enormous, bronze runny nose), a table faced rows of folding chairs filled with reporters. The street was jammed in both directions with parked cars, news trucks and spectators held back by police barricades.
That explains why I had no dinner.
Natalie snorted. Of course, the first reporter he pointed to would be a hot blonde from god-knows-which news affiliate. Probably a YouTube channel, she thought, then immediately berated herself for being a snarky bitch, even if it was only in her own mind.
The reporter from Hot Blonde News stood and in a throaty Marilyn Monroe voice with the body language to match asked, “Hey, Sam... Where have you been the last few weeks?” With her suggestive tone, it sounded like he had disappeared from her bed. She was clearly extending an invitation. Whore.
Really? She’s the whore?
Who was it that fucked him in the middle of a restaurant?
Sam gave Blondie the grin -- the trademark sexy, slow one. “Sorry, darlin’. A man’s gotta keep some secrets.” Then he winked and took the next question.
Although they’d agreed that morning that Sam wouldn’t divulge where he had been and with whom, it was still a relief to hear him honor that agreement. And since that was the biggest question on everyone’s mind, the press conference didn’t last long.
She hung around as the crowd thinned, hoping to steal a few last moments with Sam. As the place cleared out, her chances of avoiding her father and their colleagues dropped to nil. Eventually, Sam and his PR rep were surrounded by lawyers and Natalie’s skulking in the shadows was more likely to draw attention than hide her. She wandered over and hovered on the outskirts of the group.
“So Sam, where are you staying while you’re in town?” her father asked.
Sam flicked a glance at Natalie and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“I can’t stand hotels for more than a couple nights, so I’ve been renting a loft apartment downtown.”
“Well, that’s unnecessary. We’ve got more than enough room, and I know my wife would be thrilled to have you stay with us.”
Unbelievable. She couldn’t even look at Sam. Her eyes teared with the effort it took to avoid doing so.
“Thanks, but it’s a comfortable place and I’m only in Atlanta another few days.”
“Fair enough,” her father clapped him on the back. Then in typical Edmund Simmons, III, Esq. form he added, “But I insist you stay with us tonight. We’ll have a small get-together to celebrate your freedom.”
Oh, Christ.
“That’s really nice of you, Ed. How can I say no?”
“You can’t!” Natalie’s father laughed and squeezed Sam’s shoulder like they were old friends.
Sam warmed her with a grin that made his eyes crinkle and her panties wet. “Will Naomi be there?”
“Who? Oh, my daughter? Naturally, she’s welcome to join us if she’s happy with her billable hours today.”
She grinned up at Sam. “I wouldn’t miss it. And it’s Natalie, but you can just call me ‘Nat.’”
“Excellent.” He smiled at everyone, then spoke only to her, “I look forward to seeing all of you again.”
“Likewise!” said every fucking cell in her body.
* * *
Sam called her phone as she inched out of the parking garage in post-press-conference traffic.
“I want to see you.”
She couldn’t stop the smile. “You’ll see me tonight at my dad’s house.”
“I want to see you before that.”
“Will you do me a favor?”
“I’ll do you a lot of favors.” His chuckle was a sexy rasp.
That sounds promising...
FOCUS!
“Great. I’ll call you back.” She wished she could’ve seen his face when she hung up on him. Twenty minutes and a few more phone calls later, he was in her car again. Before she could pull away from the curb, he had her face in his hands and his mouth on hers.
“Don’t distract me,” she broke the kiss. “We don’t have a lot of time before my dad’s little party.”
“I know. That’s why I’m trying to use the time wisely.”
“Tempting, but no. Buckle up,” she grinned and floored the gas. “I’m gonna show you off a little.” She kept him talking about the press conference and news from his reps, so she wouldn’t have to answer any questions. Didn’t keep him from putting his hands on her, though. Not that she minded, even a little.
When they pulled up to the gym, the lot was empty but for two cars. Minimal lights were on inside.
“It looks closed.”
“It is,” she smiled. When she tapped on the locked glass door, Evan opened it.
“Natalie honey, we know fitness emergencies, and you are not a fitness emergency, so what’s the OH MY GOD!”
She was grinning so hard, her face hurt. “Evan, meet Sam Danmore. Sam, this is Evan, my kickboxing trainer.”
The two big men shook hands and Sam grinned, “Great to meet you, Evan. You do good work.” He flicked a glance at Natalie’s ass.
“Thank you, Sam Danmore. KEV! Will you come out here, please?”
“Jesus, what’s the big OH MY GOD!”
Evan hadn’t taken his eyes off Sam for a moment. It’s possible he never even blinked. “Look who’s here, honey.”
There was much shaking of hands and gushing about movies. Sam posed for pictures with Evan and Kevin for the gym wall and all of them flashed their abs at one point, which left Natalie in a puddle on the floor. Sam was his genuine self with them, which made her fall for him just a little bit harder.
Yeah, could’ve done without that...
Sam chuckled, “Hang on a sec -- you guys are Evan and Kevin, and you’re partners?”
Natalie smirked. “Cute, right?”
“I dunno about cute,” Sam began. “When Evan opened the door, I thought you brought me here to get my ass kicked.”
They all turned to the door when Gabby gasped, “No way!”
Natalie laughed. “Gabby, Sam Danmore. Sam, this is my friend and old college roommate, Gabby.”
Sam shook Gabby’s hand. “Roommate? Oh hell. I think I owe you an apology, don’t I?”
“More to Nat, but I guess so, yeah...”
He gave her a hug and to no one’s surprise, all was forgiven.
When asked how she and Sam had met, Natalie explained it away with, “Connections. Lawyers know lawyers who know other lawyers.” One day she’d tell them the true story, but not until her partnership was a lock.
They had to get going soon, so Natalie gave Evan and Kevin the condensed version of the first time she and Gabby “met” Sam, swore everyone to secrecy about her having anything to do with Sam whatsoever, and promised more info as soon as it was safe to share it.
There was just enough time to drop Sam at his apartment and run home to change before they were due to show up -- separately -- at her parents’ house. Since he refused to get out of her car without kissing her (deeply and thoroughly enough to leave her wanting and panting as she drove away), she got there a bit past fashionably late.
Natalie arrived after a couple dozen lawyers had already converged on her parents’ house, where her father was delighted to show off his latest acquisition: the movie star. Obviously, she knew people frequently tripped over themselves around celebrities, but seeing her parents and colleagues behave that way was an uncomfortable surprise.
Professionally-coiffed and country club chic, her mother giggled and acted even more vacant than usual. Her father spoke about film financing in a know-it-all tone that nobody questioned, despite the fact that it sounded like he was reciting information he had found on Wikipedia. Not for the first time, Natalie gave thanks that her sweet, vapid sister and her political-candidate husband lived out of state.
In addition to familial embarrassments, Thomas Porter showed off pictures of his pretty, twenty-something daughter, then called her and handed the phone to Sam for a brief and awkward conversation heard by all. Margaret Byington had more than her usual two glasses
of wine and got a little handsy, before someone put her in a cab. Blackmailing bastard Jeff Worthington, IV tried so hard to become Sam’s new best friend, he unconsciously assumed the persona of one of Sam’s earliest and cheesiest action movie characters.
It was funny listening to Jeff brag about his new car and his boat -- until he slung a possessive arm over Natalie’s shoulders and announced to the room that they had been secretly dating for the last year. She pushed him away before anyone could congratulate them.
“He’s kidding. Quit joking around, Jeff.” It was amazing she didn’t crack a molar, she was gritting her teeth so hard. Sam’s smile looked brittle when she glanced at him.
Jeff kissed her cheek. “Nat’s concerned about the partnership we’re competing for. But I know I’d be elated for her if she was chosen. I would hope she’ll be happy for me if I am.” Only two people in the room recognized that statement as a threat. Natalie saw Sam’s jaw clench. It was frustrating, but she was forced to keep her mouth shut until she figured out what to do about the fucking (literally) video.
Jeff’s hand on her back made its way to her waist and skimmed the top of her behind.
“Hey, Jeff,” Sam said with the same smile he gave the serial killer in Dead Man’s Curve, just before throwing him off a bridge. “Show me that sweet car of yours.”
“Yeah, bro. Let’s do it!” If Jeff had a tail, he’d have wagged it.
Ten minutes later, Natalie gave Sam a quizzical look when he returned alone. “Where’s Jeff?”
“He had to go.” His half-smile combined with the dangerous glint in his eye did flippy things to her belly, and made her wish she’d brought an extra pair of panties. Part of her was relieved there were no bridges near her parents’ house.
She had hoped for some time alone with him once everyone who wasn’t either family or a movie star cleared out, but her father beat her to it.
“You like cigars, Sam?”
“Not since an unfortunate twenty-fifth birthday, I’m afraid.”
“Time to give it another shot, then. C’mon.”