by Lori Foster
That rolling and pitching feeling in her belly was back, but she beat it down, hoping, praying she was being silly and Sam just got up for a glass of water or to use the bathroom.
She slipped out of bed, and the cool breeze sweeping in from the window chilled her naked skin. Sam’s suitcase was open in the middle of the floor and she took a T-shirt from the pile that looked liked he’d thrown all his clothes in haphazardly. Pulling it on over her head, she went in search of him.
He wasn’t anywhere in the house. She peered through the sliding glass door in the living room that let out to a sprawling deck, but she didn’t see him there either. Then something caught her eye down by the shore.
A man was standing at the water’s edge. Kat’s heart drummed in her chest; even if she didn’t recognize the broad shoulders in the white shirt that stood out in the dark of night, her hormones did. That was Sam down there on the beach. Only this time, he wasn’t looking for her. He’d left her side and sought solitude in the waves.
Kat thought she might be ill.
“Don’t cry, dammit. You brought this on yourself,” she berated herself, turning and going back to the bedroom. She curled up on the bed in Sam’s T-shirt, the scent of him surrounding her, the memory of their lovemaking all around her. She’d never been so sad to learn the truth about anything in her life.
The sight of him down at the water’s edge was the answer to the question she’d been too afraid to ask: he wasn’t over Patti. She’d suspected as much anyway. That was why she’d quit her job. For months, she’d thought Sam was recovering from the loss, that his heart was healing. She’d even nearly gotten up the nerve to tell him that she wasn’t what he thought she was, but then she saw the invoice from the florist. An arrangement was to be delivered annually to the cemetery and the plot number where Patti was laid to rest. That confirmed for her that Sam wasn’t past the grief, that he might never get past it. She’d done the only thing she could; she’d decided to make a fresh start, and that meant quitting her job. She needed a place where her heart wouldn’t hurt every time she turned around.
But he’d come after her, dammit! He shouldn’t have done that. And when he did, she should have been firm and made him sleep on the sofa. At least then she wouldn’t know what she was missing. Now she forever would. And the memory of his lovemaking had ruined her for any other man. Damn it all!
She heard the door slide shut, and she knew he was back. He didn’t come into the bedroom right away, and by the time he did, the bitterness had left her and she was physically and emotionally drained. The bed dipped as he slid in beside her. When he’s back asleep, she resolved, I’ll leave first thing.
Sam spooned up behind her, his arm going around her, pulling her against him. Kat choked back the sob that rose in her throat. She was hurt that he couldn’t love her, but even more disappointed that she’d allowed herself to be vulnerable. It wasn’t Sam’s fault, but this feeling of regret was exactly what she’d tried to avoid by coming down here.
The rhythm of his breathing as he settled into sleep calmed her, but she started to like it a little too much. She had to get out or she might not leave at all. What little dignity she had left gave her the impetus to slide out from under his arm, and tuck a pillow there in her place.
Sam rolled and clutched the fluffy pillow to him; the muscles in his broad back rippled and flexed, and Kat fought the almost overpowering urge to crawl back in that bed. But her pride stopped her cold. She’d already compromised it so much. This had to be the end of the line. She wanted every part of Sam, and not just his body, sexy as all get out that it was. But if he couldn’t give her his heart along with it, then she had no choice but to sever their association for good.
She turned her back on the temptation before she could talk herself into yanking that pillow out from under him and making room for herself against his warm, powerful, sleeping body.
Quiet as a mouse, she quickly dressed and packed her small suitcase. She tiptoed through the house and sat down at the table in the dining room to leave Sam a note, telling him not to follow her this time. This was good-bye.
She propped the paper on the hutch and left the small light on so he’d be sure to see it, then took one last look around. Not a trace of her was left behind. Well, except her heart, of course. Sam completely had that now.
She sighed and unlocked the door, wondering how long the hurt would last, if it would ever pass.
“Halt!” Sam’s voice boomed from the hallway.
Kat jumped nearly a foot. He’d scared the hell out of her. Murphy’s Law, she thought. If something could go wrong, it would. And it always did.
Her fright spurred her temper, and she turned around, her face screwing up as she stared at Sam, standing naked in the archway. “Halt? As in ‘Hark, who goes there?’” She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “Who says that?”
Sam ignored that blatant sarcasm. He leaned against the archway, crossed his arms, and tipped his head. “Where ya going, Kat?”
Think. Think hard. Think fast. Her eyes darted around the room. “Since you’re staying here, we’ll need more food?” You are so bad at this, Murphy, she thought.
“What? The local Shop-N-Bag run out of paper and plastic? You use your suitcase to haul your groceries home now, do you?”
She shrugged, and looked at anything but his face—and the rest of him.
“Get back in the bedroom, Kat,” he said coldly in that lawyer voice of his, and she knew he meant business.
Unbelievable! Her mouth dropped open. “You don’t really expect us to—”
“Oh, ho ho,” he chuckled, but his face went deadpan except for the daggers his eyes shot at her. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.”
Kat’s brow furrowed, certain she’d just been insulted.
“I don’t go in for angry sex, and right now? I could tear the New York City phone book in half, I’m so pissed at you.”
Kat stood at the front door; the image of him tearing into that impossibly thick book made her fight a grin. That was mad, all right!
Sam’s voice was full of scorn and it drew her attention back to him. “I don’t trust you not to sneak away again like a thief in the night, and I need to put some clothes on.” The muscle in his jaw flexed and his lips were drawn back over his teeth.
Kat shook her head, her shoulders slumping in resignation now. “Why do we have to do this, Sam?”
Sam threw his arms up in the air, gesturing wildly, shouting, “Because I love you, you crazy woman!”
Her eyes nearly bugged out and she stood frozen. Not only had he shouted at her again, but Sam was as shocked as she was at what he said.
He recovered first, cursing and expelling an exasperated breath. He was obviously upset that he’d spoken before thinking. But her failure to close her mouth or come back with a snappy retort made him grin. “Took the wind right outta your sails there, didn’t I, honey?”
Boy, had he! But he hadn’t meant to say it, and dammit! Saying it didn’t prove it. She had proof that he was lying through his teeth. She felt cornered, torn between lashing out at him and still caring too much to call him a liar to his face. She addressed the last part of his outburst instead. “You don’t have to resort to name-calling, Sam.”
He folded his arms again, and took that damnable casual stance, leaning against the wall. “Can we go back in the room so I can get dressed and then we can talk?” He tipped his head; his brows rose as he looked down at his morning erection. “Unless you’d rather I stay right here like this … parts of me standing at attention?”
Oh, he was annoyed at her! More so than yesterday, she guessed. He was resorting to being crass again. Well, two could play at that game. Her head gestured to his throbbing penis as she approached. One eyebrow arched. “I didn’t know you could actually make that thing jump on command.”
He cast her a dull glance. “It’s got a mind of its own where you’re concerned, sweetheart.”
She snickered, but as she came abreast
of him, he lifted an arm and barred her passing. She looked up at him, confusion creasing her brow. “What now?” she asked, her resentment clear.
Sam turned his hand up. “My keys please, klepto?”
She wasn’t used to seeing Sam behave like this. He was always in control. But time and again since he’d arrived, she’d pushed him beyond his tolerance. Banter was one thing, even the sexual tension she’d dealt with. But this provoked attitude was something entirely new. They were walking a fine line with each other, and any misstep was going to do damage to them both.
“Okay. Jeez,” Kat grumbled, but dropped the keys into his palm. “That’ll teach me to take a cab from the airport.” Now she was stuck here until Sam decided they were done.
He chuckled humorlessly and followed close behind her as she continued down the hall and into the bedroom. If she didn’t know better, she might think he was enjoying himself, in spite of his agitation.
He grabbed the shorts he’d taken off when he came in from the beach and put them back on. “I want some answers, Kat. I want to know why you were taking off again, but I have a more important question.”
“Which is?”
“Do you have no reaction to the fact that I told you out there that I love you? Or”—he grinned wickedly and wriggled his eyebrows, another sign that he wasn’t quite as mad as he’d let on—“did the sight of my naked body distract you that much?”
“Oh yes, Sam. That’s it exactly.” She preened, then rolled her eyes as she dropped into the chair. The heat rose up Kat’s neck to her cheeks. She really, really didn’t want to have this conversation. But they needed to or he’d just keep chasing her, and that wouldn’t do. She looked up at him. “Sex isn’t love, Sam. And I know for a fact that you aren’t in love with me.”
“First of all, I love having sex with you. But I do know the difference, Kat. And I wouldn’t have taken you to bed if I didn’t love you.”
Kat felt her anger rising. Liar! she wanted to shout, but the lump in her throat was back and she had to think about that more. She wouldn’t cry, dammit! She remained mute, but she focused her gaze on the springy hair on his chest as he stood over her, his hands on his hips.
“I’d also like to know why you let me believe that you were promiscuous.”
Kat almost choked. Oooh, busted, she thought. Here she was, silently condemning him for being a liar, when that’s exactly what she was. He had some tough questions! Ones she wasn’t ready to answer yet. Instead, she went on the offensive, saying, “I saw the invoice, Sam.”
He took a seat on the end of the bed, facing her. She was distracted by his spread legs as they bracketed her knees, the soft hair on his thighs tickling hers and making her remember the feel of them sliding along hers in the bed. Too close, she thought. But he smelled so good; she’d been wrapped in the subtle, spicy scent of his cologne when she’d worn his T-shirt. And she hated that the memory of his beard stubble made her skin tingle and tighten. She didn’t like feeling aroused when he obviously had himself under control. He appeared gentle, encouraging, but determined. She could see it in his eyes and in the position he took. They were going to finish this, one way or the other.
“What invoice?” he asked quietly.
She drew a deep breath as she met his direct gaze. He was troubled, but she didn’t know if that was from her second attempted vanishing act, or the truths she was about to reveal. Now that they’d gotten this far, there was no turning back. She was going to spill everything, and hope that they could at least remain friends when it was all over.
“For the flowers for Patti’s grave. I know I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t know what it was, and everything comes through me first at the office, but that invoice hadn’t. So I read it.” She justified her actions while hiding her shame for looking at something he obviously hadn’t wanted her to see. She understood that it was personal and didn’t have anything to do with her, but it didn’t make her feel any better. He nodded, but something else he said made her curious. “And how do you know I’m not promiscuous, Sam?”
His voice was menacing, like a rumbling volcano ready to erupt, but he kept it capped, saying, “Camelot told me you haven’t had a date in six months, when every morning you’d come in, telling me about some man or other who’d shared your company the night before. Things started to fit together after that. I’ve been confused and frustrated, trying to figure you out. The party girl you told me you were didn’t gel with the woman I know.” His eyes were accusing, judgmental.
She shot right back, fueled by his rising ire. She told him how much it hurt every time he’d look at her like he wanted her, then in the next minute he’d have his poker face on, and she felt cheated. “That was why I let you think I was a wild child. At first, it was that stupid policy that Jonah made you and Elliot sign. I was so angry. He had no right, legal or otherwise, to tell you whom you could and couldn’t date within the firm. So I rebelled a little. And I don’t know if you noticed, but I gave you names of men who work there, I just didn’t specify with last names because I didn’t want them to get in trouble for my bluff. I just let you believe I was dating every man I saw, and frankly, I was running out of employees! But you didn’t seem to care. You know Elliot’s assistant, Summer?”
He simply nodded, not uttering a word as she picked up speed. He’d broken the dam, and he was letting the deluge rush free.
Well, he asked for it, she thought. “She told me I was playing with fire, but I told her that Jonah was wrong, and so were the both of you for going along with it.” She couldn’t stop her damn blabbering mouth. She was exposing herself for the fraud she was. “But then I started to see you for the kind, loving man that you are.” Her throat was tight with emotion, thinking back to the man she had watched emerge from a black hole of despair. “Oh, you had a chip on your shoulder those first months after I got there, but I knew it was because of Patti’s death. That wasn’t the real you. Not from what Jonah told me.”
She glanced at him briefly, feeling her belly tighten in knots, his focus was pinned on her. She dropped her eyes to her hands in her lap, not able to maintain eye contact. “Those looks, Sam, the ones that made me breathless and excited. They gave me hope that you were getting past the pain. But before you’d follow through, you’d look away and pretend they never happened. That’s when I decided to let you believe I wasn’t such a good girl. I couldn’t stand the guilt in your eyes after every one of those lusty glances. I wasn’t going to be responsible for you feeling like you’d been unfaithful to Patti by wanting me, even if it was just a physical reaction.” She finally met his gaze, tipping her head up, hoping he could see her compassion. “And then tonight, I knew for sure.” Her voice sounded pitifully weak to her own ears; her throat was dry and her lip quivered. This was taking it out of her more than she thought it would.
“Tonight?”
She sighed and closed her eyes as she nodded. Giving her his undivided attention made her long for the attention he gave her earlier. But she drove her point home instead. “What man would leave the bed of the woman he’d just made love to, unless his heart wasn’t in it and his guilt drove him from it?” Her lashes were heavy with tears. The hurts that had been eating her alive these past months were exposed now. Maybe someday it wouldn’t make her feel ill to recall that image of him down at the water. But her mouth had been like a runaway train, speeding along, not even seeing the trouble up ahead.
Sam’s face had drained of color as she poured out her reasons for quitting her job; she’d even unintentionally answered his question about why she’d pretended to be something she wasn’t. But he simply sat there listening, his hands finding their way to hers as they rested on her knees. His thumbs circled her palms, having a calming effect on both of them.
But it didn’t last.
He squeezed her hands, making sure she had no avenue of escape. “You are a crazy woman,” he growled at her, his brows lowering over his eyes.
“So you said,” Kat replied dry
ly, wondering how he got her to switch gears from sadness to annoyance so fast. She’d just bared her soul and he was calling her crazy? Again? She was glad at least she hadn’t come right out and said she loved him. He might call her certifiable.
Sam sighed, swiping his hand down his face. He dropped his head. “Ah, Kat, I’m sorry. For so much, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, haven’t you, honey?”
She shrugged when he looked up at her, then lowered her eyes. He was incredibly masculine and gentle at the same time. She wanted him to soothe her, but how could he do that when he was the one causing the pain?
“I’d never hurt you intentionally, honey.”
She shrugged again, but his hand cupped her chin.
“Never, Kat,” he said, bringing her face level with his. She couldn’t avoid his direct stare. “But we’ve been dealing at cross purposes here, and I need to make a few things clear to you, okay?”
He looked too resolute for her to do anything but nod in agreement. It wasn’t like she could go anywhere anyway.
Sam took her hands again and stared down at them. “I loved Patti, Kat. I’ve never made a secret of that.”
She nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered. This hurt, dammit! Whether it was intentional or not, hearing him say it was so hard for her.
He went on. “Just because she’s gone doesn’t mean that she should be forgotten. In fact”—his head lifted and his gaze pinned hers—“I don’t want to forget her.”
Kat bit her lip. Okay, she hadn’t expected him to come right out and say that. She considered taking back her thoughts that he was gentle and kind. This felt cruel and unusual. But she forced herself to keep her mouth shut. The sooner he finished, the sooner she could get away and lick her wounds. They were gaping right now. She closed her eyes and fought back the tears. She so didn’t want to cry in front of him, but it didn’t seem like she was going to have much of a choice.
“Kat, look at me.”
Figures, she thought. Never easy. She slowly opened her eyes, and her heart squeezed. He looked so good sitting there in nothing but his shorts, his dark hair tousled, looking like he’d run his hands through it, his blue eyes staring into hers. He wanted her to understand, and she did. In fact, if she weren’t in love with him, she’d find it terribly romantic that not even death could stop him from loving Patti. But she was in love with him, too, and from where she was sitting, it sucked. But when he spoke, she got the shock of her life.