by Sybil Bartel
“Oil of Olay,” I quipped. “Answer me. I know you love him.”
“I’ll have to try that.”
I didn’t say anything. She was a hot mess and I wasn’t a therapist. All I could comment on was Myles’s botched proposal. In a complete one-eighty from my usual approach, which was to avoid emotional women at all costs, I put my hand over hers and tried to fix my face with a look of sympathy. Sam jerked like I’d burned her.
I didn’t let go. “I’m trying to help. Myles loves you. I think you feel the same.” Her small hand, her defiance, the sorrow emanating off her—something inside me snapped. Sam was hurting and there was nothing I was going to be able to do about it. I wasn’t Myles and I wasn’t the mother who abandoned her. Unwelcome emotions flooded in and I wanted them gone. I wanted my piece-of-shit mother gone, I wanted my infatuation with Carly gone and I wanted the look on Sam’s face gone. But the only weapon in my arsenal was sex.
Sam glared at me and pulled her hand away. “Why are you really here?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I just sat there, adrenaline and desire for something unattainable pulsing through my veins, mocking my only coping mechanism. I needed a line of pretty bullshit to feed her but this was Sam, the one woman who’d gotten through to Myles. Young, vulnerable, heartbroken, she’d still see through any lie I told her. So I told the truth. “Because what your mother did was shit.”
Her glare dropped. She breathed in slow and fixed her strange gaze on me. “When did your mother leave?”
I almost lurched out of my seat. “Myles told you?”
“No, he never said a word. I swear it. I just figured... I’m sorry.” She looked away.
“You just guessed?” I was incredulous. I hid my past. My whole fucking sanity depended on it. I wasn’t going to be the victim. Never again.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“Why? Don’t be sorry for me.” I pushed my chair back and put the glass in the sink. I was done with this conversation. “Come on, I’m taking you somewhere.”
“You’re not taking me to his house,” she warned.
“No, I’m not. Put something nice on.”
“You’re not taking me out.” Sam eyed me with those blue eyes that didn’t match a single shade you could find in nature. Her long brown hair was in knots and her clothes looked like she’d slept in them. She was a wreck and she was still all attitude.
It made me want to smile. Carly’s comment popped into my head and I cleared my throat. “You’re not that lucky. Go get dressed, do something about your hair.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Go. Get. Ready.”
“Fine.” Sam sulked all the way upstairs.
I stood at her kitchen sink, staring out the front window. I shouldn’t have come here but something about Sam drew me in. Maybe it was the lost look I recognized in her, or maybe it was what Myles told me last night. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t a fucking saint. If Myles hadn’t seen her first, I would’ve been all over her, for a night.
Sam walked back into the kitchen. “Ready.”
“Let’s roll.” I turned around and my jaw about dropped. “Christ.”
“What?” She blushed, hard.
Shit. She was hot, like I’m-gonna-get-in-a-fight-tonight hot. Silky top with her rack hanging halfway out, skintight pants and fuck-me boots. Her hair was still half messed like she’d been up to no good. Add her pout and she looked like a twenty-five-year-old sex kitten.
I shook my head. “Perfect, just perfect.” An hour in the car trying not to stare at her tits. God hated me. And so would Myles. He was going to shit himself when I walked in with her. “He’s gonna kill me,” I mumbled.
“You’re not taking me to him!”
I ignored her and walked out to my car. I even unlocked the passenger door and held it open.
Angry strutting like she was made to walk in those heels, Sam followed me to my car and planted her sexy boots. “I’m not going to see Myles.”
Oh, yes, she was. “Get in.” Because she sure as shit didn’t want to be alone with me in her apartment.
“No.” She didn’t move.
I leaned on top of the door and, just to fuck with her, I slowly raked my eyes down her body. “I got all night.” Yeah, there was no way I wasn’t walking into that club with her on my arm.
She swore and got in.
Like I said, hot.
We didn’t talk until we were on the highway. She’d turned in her seat and was blatantly staring at me. When she didn’t stop, I called her on it. “You’re staring.”
“Where are we going?”
“Orlando.”
“What? No! Turn around, I’m not going to Orlando.”
Where the fuck had she thought we were going when I got on the highway? “Yes, we are.”
“It’s a school night.”
“You’re a big girl.”
“Graham!”
Okay, wrong tactic. I picked up her icy hand and brought it to my chest as I glanced at her. “Sam—”
“Don’t take your eyes off the road!”
I rubbed her fingers between mine. “Trust me.” I wondered if I could trust myself.
Her voice dropped. “Please take me home.”
“It’s going to be fine.” I couldn’t help myself, I kissed her knuckles. But when my lips touched her skin, her scent took hold. Exotic, spicy and dangerous. I released her hand.
“You don’t understand.”
Oh, I understood all right.
“You’re not going to take me home, are you?”
“Myles will.” He’d fucking better.
Sam sighed. “I don’t know about that. He’s going to be really angry.”
“Maybe.” I was trying to decide if I cared anymore.
“He’s not going to be happy when I walk into his gig.”
“He’ll get over it.” After he got over being angry at me, he’d take one look at her and drag her to a dark corner. At least, that was what I’d do.
“This is a bad idea. He’s upset with me.”
Jeez, she knew how to beat a dead horse. “In that case, I’ll take you to a great restaurant for dinner and I’ll drive you home.” I winked at her, liking the idea. “The jealously alone will kick him back to his senses.”
“I thought you were his friend.”
“Oh, I am.”
“You know this is kidnapping.”
“You got in the car willingly.”
“I’m seventeen.”
Shit, don’t I know it. “I’m not making out with you.” I glanced at her shirt.
“Graham! That was out of line.”
So was her shirt. “It was a statement of fact.”
“Are you always this way?”
A total prick? Yeah. “Only on my best days.”
She didn’t respond.
I watched the street lights speed by.
“Why do you act like you don’t care about anything?” she asked quietly after a few miles.
“It’s not an act, sweetheart.”
“You care about Myles or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe I just want a shot at you when he fucks up.”
“I’m not your type,” she said, all confidence, like she knew what the hell she was talking about.
“I don’t have a type.” If they were willing, they were all my type.
“Yes, you do.”
All right, I’d play. “What’s my type?”
“The broken ones.” She didn’t hesitate.
“Hate to call bullshit, but we’re all broken in one way or another.”
“The fragile-I-can-be-fixed-with-the-right-guy ones. To be more specific.”
What the fuck was she talking about?
“Like maybe a certain pretty bartender that hides behind her smile and watches you when you aren’t looking? The one you pretend not to care about?”
Who was this girl? “I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”
“She likes you. That fundraiser Myles dragged you to at the bowling alley last month? I saw it. And you’re different around her, you pay attention to her. I’m not talking about the way you pay attention to the groupies, I’m talking about something more. I know you like her. Why do you pretend not to?”
Jesus. I tried to forget that night. It’d been hell watching Carly smile at the band members and all the jerks hanging around as she bent over throwing strikes. “I don’t do relationships.”
“Why not?”
Was I really going to have this conversation? Fuck. I guess I was. “I’m incapable.” I was never going to fall into the trappings of a relationship. I wasn’t going to turn into my mother, bitter, angry, violent. I’d made myself a promise a long time ago. The day I hit a woman again was the day I killed myself. Self-preservation meant staying single.
“Not from what I’ve seen,” Sam said dryly.
“Didn’t say I couldn’t close the deal, I said I don’t do relationships. One night isn’t a relationship, it’s a means to an end.”
“Doesn’t that get tiring after a while?”
I looked at her like she was crazy.
“Let me rephrase, don’t you want more? Don’t you want someone there when you come home at night, someone who actually knows your last name?”
Carly knew my last name. “Not happening.”
“Because you choose not to, not because you’re incapable.”
Because she was Myles’s woman, because her mother had taken off, and because she was young as hell, I reined in my temper. “I am the way I am for a reason, and trust me, that’s a relief for any woman out there looking for a ring.”
“How long have you been friends with Myles?” She asked quietly.
“Six years.” What the hell did that have to do with anything?
“That’s a pretty long relationship for someone who doesn’t do relationships.”
“Not the same thing.” Not even close.
“I disagree. Work goes into any relationship. There’s trust and respect and communication. Why is it different?”
“I don’t fuck Myles.”
“Just so you know, you can’t scare me off with your crude words.”
“How can I scare you off?” Because right now I wanted out of this conversation.
“You can look me in the eye and honestly tell me I’m wrong about the bartender, or—” her voice went all whiskey, “—you can try to fuck me.”
I burst out laughing. “You are hard core, Samantha Collins.”
“And don’t you forget it.” She smiled a real smile for the first time all night.
“Amen to that.” Damn, Myles had his hands full.
Neither of us spoke after that. I had nothing else to say. I’d told her more than I’d ever told Myles. Not that he didn’t know, we just never talked about it.
I parked at the club and Sam silently made to get out of the car but I stopped her.
“No matter what goes down tonight, I’ll take you home if you want me to.” For Sam’s sake, I hoped Myles didn’t fuck this up.
“Thank you.”
I stared at her. She was too mature for her age, a maturity that only comes from pain. I wondered what shit had gone down in her life. “Myles is a good man.”
She watched me a moment. “That was never the problem.”
“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Myles had chicks flocking to him, good looks, killer voice, money, and the personality to carry it all off. I was man enough to say he was the total package.
“Because I can’t give Myles the life he deserves.” Her voice was bravado but the sorrow in her expression told a different story.
After the lecture she’d given me about relationships, she was gonna pull this bullshit? I called her on it. “Life is a gamble.”
“I don’t want to gamble with Myles’s happiness.” She looked stricken.
“Is that really your choice? Myles made his decision when he asked you to marry him.”
“I can’t jeopardize his future.”
I had to appreciate her idealism but I couldn’t let it go unchecked. “His life was jeopardized when he was born, all our lives were. That’s what life is. It’s fragile and short and full of pain. You reach for the joy when you can and accept the rest.”
“I won’t interfere with his music. Loving me would only tie him down. He needs to focus on his music now.”
No way, I wasn’t going to let her go down that road. She had to see the flip side. “Myles has been focused on music since he was born. He lives and breathes it, nothing will change that, not even you. But maybe you should consider that he loves you because no one else can.”
She looked like I’d slapped her. “That isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not. Fate never is.”
Chapter Seven
Ego
I gave my name to the door man and we went in. Salsa music from Carlos’s band pounded through the club. Taking Sam’s hand, I led us through the crowd. Glancing back to make sure she was okay, I saw the very moment her gaze fell on Myles. All I could think was that I wanted someone to look at me like that.
I leaned down to her ear. “I knew this was a good idea.”
She ignored my comment. “Who’s he playing with?”
For a second, I stared at her, surprised Myles hadn’t told her. He played with Carlos’s band every chance he got. It was the only link he had left to his life before his parents died. “This is Myles’s father’s band. The front man with the guitar, Carlos, was Myles’s dad’s best friend. He leads the band now.”
“Does he play with them often?”
I shrugged, not wanting to rub it in her face that music was Myles’s first love. “He plays a lot outside our band.” Myles was all about the rush. He loved being on stage as much as he loved playing. The rush of a live gig, I got it, there was nothing like it. But the attention that went along with it? Myles could fucking have it, I hated it.
Sam didn’t respond. Myles was killing it on stage, his hands flying across his guitar with the impossibly fast beat.
I glanced back at Sam. In the flashing colored lights and the excitement of the crowd, she looked lost, beautiful but lost. “Wanna dance?”
She shook her head right as Myles saw us. Shock then anger contorted his features. Barely finishing the song, he kicked his stool over, jumped off the stage with his guitar and pushed through the crowd toward the back.
Shit. I snaked an arm around Sam and pushed us through the crowd. We found Myles backstage, kicking his guitar case open.
Sam cowered into me and I lost it. “Hey!” He didn’t get to throw a fit, no fucking way, not when I’d brought her here for him.
“Leave.” Myles didn’t turn around.
“Don’t be a dick.”
Myles went still. “I’m. Not. Asking.”
Sam wrenched away from me and I grabbed her, just barely. “Turn the fuck around and deal.”
Myles turned slowly, the rage in his face matching mine. I didn’t give a shit. I was doing him a favor, a big fucking favor.
Myles lowered his glare to her. “You can’t do this to me.”
This time I let her go. Sam bolted out the door and I couldn’t blame her. I felt guilty as hell for bringing her. I ran a hand over my head as Myles stood frozen, staring after her. For Sam’s sake, I said something. “You dumb motherfucker. Run.”
Myles snapped his attention to me. For a split second I thought he wouldn’t listen.
“Shit!” Then he ran after her.
I gave it five minutes then I followed to make sure he wasn’t fucking her over. When I found them in the parking lot, I knew I was a cynical bastard. “I’d say you came to your senses, but you’re making out in a parking lot while your band’s in the middle of a set.”
Myles whispered something to her.
“You can thank me later,” I said snidely.
“Shut up, Graham.” But he held his hand out to m
e. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” He wouldn’t be thanking me if he knew half the thoughts in my head tonight. “You gonna finish the set?” If not, I was out of here.
“Yeah.” He looked down at Sam. “Wait for me?”
Sam, all sex kitten and ripe for the taking, purred at Myles. “Of course.”
My mind went south. Fuck, I needed an hour with one of the skanks in my contact list. I shook my head and we went back inside. Without a second glance at Sam, Myles went back onstage. The crowd pushing into Sam and me, I formed a protective barrier around her and moved us closer to the front. When we got to the edge of the dance floor I leaned toward her ear.
“You gonna dance with me now?” I grabbed her hand before she could protest and spun her around once.
“Stop.”
Please, I mouthed, not letting go of her hand. I was dying to dance with her. I knew she was with Myles, I knew she didn’t want me, but I felt like I had something to prove. And it felt a lot like it had to do with Carly.
Sam shook her head.
“Why not?”
She looked at me from under her lashes. “I don’t know how.”
Didn’t she know better than to give me a challenge like that? “We’ll stumble through together.” I turned her around, pulled her against my chest and took one of her hands.
I never should’ve touched her. Her spicy scent alone drove me crazy, but when she began to move with me, her hips against mine, fuuuuck. She was sexy and hot and, I had to remind myself, untouchable. This was not a girl. This was temptation. She might not have done the salsa before, but Sam could dance. Everything about her was fluid, graceful. She mirrored my movements, reminding me how long it’d been since I’d had sex.
I turned her back around before I embarrassed myself. “Nothing to it.”
The innocent joy on her face made me feel like a pervert.
The song ended and a slower tune began. Stupidly, I let one hand wander to her hips while I fingered a damp strand of her hair, and she stepped back.
“What’s up, doll?”
“Stop it,” she warned.
“You said it yourself, you’re not my type.” I took the step she’d taken to separate us and put my hands on her hips. Yeah, I had something to prove all right.
For three seconds Sam didn’t move, then she gave in and finished the song with me. Having proved I was fueled by testosterone and ego, I led her to the bar. Myles was almost done with the gig and, to be honest, I needed to hand her off. Her intensity, or maybe it was mine, was playing hard on me. I needed to be alone. Or just away from her, or having sex.