Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1)

by Carly Phillips

  How could he have been so blind not to have seen her actions for himself?

  Harrison must have recognized Clay’s stunned expression because he continued on, his tone softer. “The thing is, we’ve known all along where Samantha has been. The night she left, Conrad called the security firm he keeps on retainer and made sure they found out exactly where she was. They updated Conrad with daily reports, and when she ended up staying here with you, he was provided with a full background report on you, as well.”

  Clay instinctively cringed, certain a man like Conrad Jamieson hadn’t been happy to discover Clay’s past. No doubt the other man felt Clay wasn’t good enough for his daughter. Yet he’d left Samantha alone for three weeks, with him. “If Conrad knew where Samantha was, why didn’t he just come and get her?”

  Harrison shrugged. “There was something in your background report that assured him that you were trustworthy, so he figured that Samantha just needed to sow some wild oats before she settled down and married me.”

  “For the sake of the investment firm.”

  “That would be correct,” Harrison said with an impassive nod. “I know Samantha doesn’t love me, and quite frankly, I don’t love her, either. She’s too spirited, way too independent, and I know she’d be miserable in a structured marriage like ours would be. She wants to have her own life, her own career, and the fact that she gave it all up and agreed to her father’s terms, in exchange for this money, tells me just how important you are to her.”

  It was as if Harrison was giving him permission to go after Samantha, and maybe, the other man would be grateful for not having to go through with the arranged marriage, too.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Clay asked.

  “Because despite everything, I’d rather see Samantha living the kind of life she wants to, with the one person who will support her and make her happy,” Harrison said, his voice ringing with sincerity. “And I know that man is not me.”

  Fuck yeah, because Clay was that man. And he’d do whatever it took to fight for Samantha, to make sure she knew she was his in every way and belonged right here, with him.

  “Have a good afternoon, Mr. Kincaid,” Harrison said, then turned around and walked back toward the entrance.

  Once Clay heard the door shut, he sat down in the nearest chair, his heart pounding so hard in his chest it was like a roar in his ears. He caught sight of the envelope of cash that Harrison had left behind, once again in awe of what Samantha was willing to sacrifice for him.

  The ironic thing was, he didn’t need the money. Hell, he had more than enough in the bank to pay off Wyatt—not that Clay needed to do that any longer—and for them to buy a real house and furnish it any way she wanted. Yeah, he was jumping ahead of himself, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted everything with Samantha, and he wanted it now.

  Clay’s first instinct was to take the money to Conrad Jamieson and bring Samantha back where she belonged. But he couldn’t, not just yet. Not until he knew for certain that Wyatt was off the streets and there was no threat to Samantha’s safety.

  But once that happened, he was going to get his girl.

  * * *

  Clay spent the next day pacing in his apartment like a caged animal, anxious and edgy as he impatiently waited for Levi’s call that Wyatt was in custody. Hours passed, and just when Clay thought he was going to climb the walls, his brother finally contacted him. The sting had gone off without a hitch.

  While Wyatt had initially taken off running when he realized he’d been set up, he’d been surrounded by a dozen undercover cops who apprehended him before he could get away and charged him with first-degree murder. The best part? Levi had been the one to look the prick in the eyes as he read Wyatt his Miranda rights.

  As soon as Clay disconnected the call with Levi, he picked up the envelope of cash on the table, along with his car keys, and headed out to his truck. Levi, being the awesome brother that he was, had given him the address to the Jamieson estate in River Forest, and Clay headed in that direction, not caring that he was driving over the speed limit. He’d risk a ticket for Samantha. Hell, he’d risk anything to be with her.

  When Clay arrived at the address, he reached his first roadblock. The house was secured by a massive gate that required him to press an intercom and announce himself. It made sense that someone as wealthy and high-profile as Conrad Jamieson would have an elaborate security system, and Clay reluctantly gave his name to the person on the other side of the speaker and told them that he was there to see Conrad. Once Clay settled things with Samantha’s father, he’d head straight for her.

  The intercom went silent, and, filled with dread, Clay waited for some kind of reply. For a long moment, he thought he was going to be denied entry, but finally those huge iron barriers parted to let him in. And it was damn good thing, too, because Clay was not opposed to scaling the fence in order to get to the house and Samantha.

  The driveway leading up to the enormous house was long, ending in a circular drive in front of the mansion. He parked his truck, and, envelope in hand, he got out of the vehicle and rang the doorbell. Seconds later, a middle-aged woman dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks greeted him and politely requested he follow her to Conrad’s study.

  The old man was obviously waiting for him.

  The inside of the house looked like a palace. Hell, it was a palace compared to anyplace he’d ever lived—shockingly ostentatious and an obvious showcase for all the wealth that Conrad had amassed. And it was so not reflective of the woman he’d come to know over the past three weeks. No, Samantha had been sweet and unpretentious, and completely at ease without all this opulence and grandeur.

  It felt as though they’d walked a mile before the housemaid finally stopped in front of a set of closed double doors and turned to him with a smile. “Mr. Jamieson is waiting for you inside,” she said, then left him standing alone.

  He put his hand on the decorative gold doorknob and exhaled a deep breath. He’d thought he’d at least be intimidated about meeting Samantha’s father for the first time, especially under the current circumstances, but Clay was so certain of his feelings for the man’s daughter that any anxiety took a backseat to his intentions—if that’s what she wanted, too. Because he realized that for all his self-assurance, the two of them had never talked about being together beyond the temporary affair they’d agreed to.

  Yeah, that’s because you were a grade-A idiot who clammed up anytime things got too emotional between you.

  All that was about to change.

  Shoulders back and head held high, he opened the door and stepped inside yet another lavishly decorated room that smelled like leather and some kind of exotic spice. Samantha’s father sat behind an enormous desk in an equally imposing chair that—no doubt deliberately—made him look like a king sitting on his throne.

  Let the beheading commence, Clay thought with wry humor as he walked the rest of the way inside the study.

  Conrad leaned back in his chair, deceptively casual as he watched Clay’s approach.

  Clay wasn’t afraid of the older man, but he’d be a liar if he didn’t admit that it would be nice to have his approval. However, gaining Samantha’s parents’ blessing wasn’t a requirement for him to lay his heart out and give her the choice of being with him forever.

  He stopped in front of the desk. “Mr. Jamieson,” Clay acknowledged with a nod, determined to treat the man with respect, despite the fact that he’d blackmailed his daughter into staying away from Clay.

  He then pushed the envelope of cash across the surface, well aware of the other man scrutinizing everything about him. “While I appreciate the money you sent to help me out, I’m returning it all. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. In fact, you had to have known that I’ve got a couple million dollars sitting in the bank, since you did a background check on me. So why even bother?” Clay asked the question that had been swirling in his head ever since Harrison had left the bar.

  “Two re
asons, actually,” the older man said evenly. “One, it worked to bring Samantha back home. And two, I wanted to know what kind of man you truly are.”

  So it had been some kind of test? Clay kept hold of his temper, reminding himself that testing Clay was the man’s way of looking out for his child—as screwed up as that might be.

  “To be honest with you, sir, I’m more than a little pissed to find out the money came with an ultimatum to Samantha.”

  The corner of Conrad’s mouth twitched with something akin to amusement before he shrugged, his expression once again bland. “I was getting tired of waiting for my daughter to come to her senses and come home.”

  “So you blackmailed her?” Clay swallowed back the bitterness threatening to surface. “You forced her to give up the life she wanted so you could use her as some kind of collateral to secure your business and marry her off to a man she doesn’t love?”

  A spark of anger flickered in Conrad’s gaze. “She’s my child, and I want the best for her.”

  “Then let her make her own decisions.” Clay braced his hands on the edge of Conrad’s desk and leaned closer, his impatience getting the best of him. “Let her live her own life.”

  Conrad frowned at Clay. “That’s difficult for a man like me to do.”

  A man who wanted complete control over everyone and everything in his domain.

  Clay straightened again, aware he was fighting for both Samantha and the life she wanted to live. “It’s not about what you want. You can’t force a vibrant, independent woman like Samantha to be someone or something she isn’t and expect her to be happy.” Though he wondered if Samantha’s happiness mattered in the scheme of Conrad’s needs and plans.

  Rocking back in his chair, the older man eyed Clay speculatively. “And where do you think you fit into my daughter’s life?”

  “Same answer, sir. It isn’t about what I want, either. But I do know I will do everything in my power to make her happy.”

  “Happiness in the way you mean it is way overrated.” Conrad raised a brow. “You do realize you’re all wrong for her.”

  Clay felt as though the old man was testing him again, otherwise he’d have thrown him out by now. Although he didn’t appreciate the hoops he had to jump through, this man, whether he liked him or not, was Samantha’s father.

  And Clay loved Samantha. “I may not be an investment banker or someone from your social circle, but I’ve never felt anything as right as being with Samantha.”

  “And you’re certain she feels the same way?” Conrad asked.

  Clay thought of their last night together and knew it with absolute certainty. “Yes, I am.”

  “Let me tell you something, son,” Conrad said, his tone surprisingly calm as he met Clay’s gaze. “I didn’t like what I read in your background report, and your past leaves a lot to be desired. But the man you’ve become despite how you grew up is what impresses me.” He steepled his fingers and studied Clay through a narrow but, dare he say, approving gaze? “I admire the fact that you overcame such adversity, that you raised your brothers, and that you help people less fortunate.”

  Clay swallowed hard, shocked as hell that the other man was giving him even that much validation. And despite telling himself that what other people thought didn’t matter, he was surprised to find that what Samantha’s father thought of him did. At least a little.

  Sensing Conrad wasn’t finished, Clay remained silent.

  “Ultimately, you took care of Samantha when a lesser man would have taken advantage of her, especially after finding out who she is and what she’s worth.”

  Clay shook his head in annoyance. “None of that matters to me.” He tapped the envelope on the desk, reinforcing his point.

  “I believe you. And that’s exactly what I was hoping you’d do.”

  Clay shook his head, not surprised he’d been right. The money had been a test. He held on to his anger, reminding himself Conrad Jamieson lived in a world Clay couldn’t even begin to fathom.

  “If I had my choice, Samantha would marry Harrison,” Conrad said flat out, not sugarcoating his feelings. “I told myself what she had with you was just a little fling, and she’d get bored and tired of doing without. That she’d come back home, settle down, and appreciate the fact that marrying Harrison would provide her with the lifestyle she was accustomed to, and the firm would remain in the family.”

  Clay clenched his jaw, disgusted by the man’s lack of faith in his daughter’s self-worth and independence.

  “Needless to say, when she called me and told me that she needed the money, I saw my chance to make sure she returned home where she belongs and left you behind.” Conrad exhaled, the sound rife with resignation. “But here you are, returning the money, which tells me much about your character and even more about what my daughter means to you.”

  Clay remained in place, but this conversation was taking too long, when all he wanted to do was get to Samantha. Still, he would give the man the respect he didn’t deserve. For a few more minutes max, then he was going after his woman.

  “For what it’s worth, about an hour ago, Samantha informed me and her mother that despite the fact that we’d helped you out, she was going back to you tonight. My daughter is determined to be with you even if she has to work every day of her life to pay us back.” He shook his head. “Like I need the Goddamned money.”

  Clay couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at his lips. Yeah, that was his sassy cupcake.

  Conrad managed a reluctant laugh, too. “She’s defiant and stubborn, and I really tried to give her the best. But what I’m coming to realize is that I could never force Samantha to fit into the mold that her mother and I so painstakingly groomed her for. Not without her coming to resent us more than she already does.”

  “She’s independent and proud. Like you,” Clay said.

  Conrad let out a heavy sigh. “Letting her go is one of the most difficult things we’ve ever done, but I don’t want to lose my only child, and that’s what would happen if I did anything more to keep her away from you.”

  Clay could only imagine how difficult this was for a dignified man like Conrad to admit. But it was clear that he truly loved his daughter, and when push came to shove, he wasn’t going to coerce her to stay and marry a man she didn’t love. Clay gave him props for that.

  So he did what he could to assure him that Samantha would always be in good hands. “I know I’m not who you would have hand-picked for her, but I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to give her a good life. To protect her and respect her and be the kind of man who deserves a woman as special as she is.”

  “Since I have no choice in the matter, that’s what I’m counting on,” Conrad said gruffly.

  “I love your daughter,” Clay said, just in case his feelings mattered. They were words he’d never spoken to another woman before, and he realized he’d been waiting all his life for the right woman. For Samantha.

  Clay heard a soft gasp from behind him, and he turned around to find Samantha standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and shimmering with moisture as she stared at him in surprise. His heart thumped painfully hard in his chest. She was so damn beautiful, and nothing else in the world mattered except making her his.

  “Do you mean it?” she asked, her voice quivering with emotion.

  He cleared the tightness from his own throat and smiled. Yes, he absolutely loved her. “Cupcake, you should know by now that I always mean what I say. I love you, more than I thought I could ever love another person. And I don’t want to live another day without you in it. Ever.”

  Unable to stand the distance between them, he started for her at the same time she ran toward him. When she reached Clay, she jumped into his arms, securing her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. He laughed at her enthusiasm and anchored his arms under her butt to hold her in place as she buried her face against his neck, holding him so impossibly tight.

  “I love you so much, Clay.” Sh
e pressed her hands to his jaw and looked into his eyes. “There is no way I could have stayed away from you.”

  “Me, either,” he said, meaning it.

  Her father cleared his throat, and Samantha surprised Clay with a laugh. “Get used to it, Daddy.” Grinning, she stroked her thumbs across Clay’s cheeks, her gaze suddenly filled with regret. “The moment I got home, I realized what a huge mistake I made. I’m so sorry.”

  “Just don’t ever leave me again.”

  “Never,” she promised, then said the words he wanted to hear. “Take me home.”

  * * *

  As soon as they reached Kincaid’s, Clay lifted Samantha out of his truck and hauled her over his shoulder like a caveman claiming his woman. And that’s exactly how he felt, and claiming her was definitely first on the agenda.

  Hanging upside down with his arms banded around her knees to keep her in place, she laughed happily as he carried her across the parking lot and up the back stairs, then into his apartment.

  The moment he stepped through the threshold and the door was closed behind them, he smacked her on the ass through the cute little dress she was wearing, sharp enough for her to suck in a startled breath.

  “Owww!” she protested as she squirmed on his shoulder. “What was that for?”

  “That was for not telling me why you were leaving me.” He swatted her again, more lightly this time. “And that was for not letting me know you planned to ask your father for the money to bail me out of trouble,” he said as he continued on his way into the bedroom.

  “But you needed it,” she insisted. “For Wyatt.”

  He flipped her onto the bed, flat on her back. He straddled her thighs, and she looked up at him with that soft, hot look of desire in her gaze. But he refused to be distracted until they settled a few things.

  “Let’s get one very important thing straight right now,” he said, bracing his hands beside her head so they were face-to-face. “I don’t need your money, your parents’ money, or anyone else’s money. I have a couple million sitting in an investment account that I inherited from Jerry with this bar.”