Which would be tantamount to professional ruin.
Which meant she was off-limits.
Sam smothered a frustrated growl. Of all the women in this city, why on earth did his hyper-libido have to zero in on her like a damned homing device? What exactly was it about this woman that had turned him into such a damned lust-ridden, dick-driven wreck?
When she’d gone to make that last costume change, Sam had breathed a tentative sigh of relief. Just the one outfit to go, he’d told himself, then she’d change clothes and leave and he would return to normal. The damned gooseflesh would subside, his scalp would subsist with that infernal perpetual quivering, and the raging erection—which, to his horror, had grown clear out of the waistband of his jeans at one point—would quietly wilt with shame and give him a little peace.
But the sigh of relief had been premature.
When she’d walked back into the studio, Sam’s lungs had momentarily forgotten how to properly function. He hadn’t been able to draw a breath, much less expel it.
For one insane instant, he’d thought she was naked.
The pale-pink teddy had so closely resembled the color of her skin that from a distance she’d almost appeared nude. And upon closer inspection, she might as well have been.
Though there was absolutely nothing precisely sexy about the plain unadorned teddy, it looked sexy on her because it revealed more skin than anything else she’d worn throughout this shoot. She’d obviously had to work up to that outfit, had saved it for last. The fabric draped the mounds of her puckered breasts, whispered over her curvy hips and brushed the tops of her thighs, revealing legs that were flawlessly toned and surprisingly long for someone so petite.
Sam knew that he’d been abrupt with her, had watched that sweet brow furrow in confusion. But due to the fact that he was rapidly losing both reason and resolve, Sam had known he had to speed things up and get her out of his studio before he did something unquestionably stupid.
Like seduce her.
Now all that frantic work had been for naught and Sam faced the unhappy conclusion that his torment wasn’t over, because she’d undoubtedly end up spending the night with him. One could hope that power would be restored to his little section of town first, but he sincerely doubted it. He stifled a dark chuckle. Oh, no. He wouldn’t be that lucky.
Instead of wasting his time hoping for a miracle, Sam decided to redirect his thinking and effort where it was needed the most—focusing on restraint. He’d need every ounce of willpower he possessed and then some to keep his hands off her.
Grimly determined to do just that, Sam led her back into the living room where cozy gas logs burned in the fireplace and emitted a little light as well as some much needed heat. He made a mental note to thank his father the next time he saw him for suggesting the gas heat, gas stove and gas hot water heater.
While the electric blower wouldn’t kick on, the logs would still generate enough heat to keep them moderately warm. Given the fact his blood had been boiling with need since the moment he first saw her, Sam knew he wasn’t in any immediate danger of freezing to death. Still, he’d have hot water for a shower, and the stove would still work, so he’d be able to pull together a quick dinner for his unexpected guest. That was something, anyway.
Sam conjured a smile and gestured toward the couch. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll see if I can scare up a few candles?”
Delaney nodded and did as he suggested. “Sure.”
Sam padded into the kitchen, riffled through his junk drawer and finally located a pack of emergency candles and a box of matches. He made a quick run through his bedroom and snagged his clock radio from his nightstand before returning to the living room. Thankfully he’d backed it up with batteries for occasions such as these.
He handed the radio to Delaney. “Would you mind scanning the radio for some news while I light these? See what we can find out about this power outage.”
“Good idea,” Delaney told him.
By the time he’d lit the last candle, she’d located a station and upped the volume.
“…a jackknifed eighteen-wheeler struck a substation at 5:37 this evening, knocking out power to almost the entire city and turning rush-hour traffic into an extremely dangerous affair. Emergency crews have been dispatched, but officials at Memphis Power are predicting the outage to last at least until the early morning hours, if not longer. Citizens are encouraged to stay at home, as traffic lights are out as well. Stay tuned to WCBX for future updates. All news, all the time. Now let’s take a look at the weather….”
At least the early morning hours… Resignation added more weight to the ball of dread rolling around Sam’s belly. He glanced at Delaney and pushed his lips into a facsimile of a smile. Good news, he’d be sleeping with her. Bad news, he’d be sleeping with her. He stared at the top of her head and watched his career disintegrate. “Well, I guess we need to get comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink?”
Seemingly distracted by her thoughts, Delaney returned his grin. “No thanks, not at the moment, anyway.”
“What about a blanket?” He considered asking her if she wanted to go change, but for some wholly self-serving reason, he didn’t. The idea hadn’t occurred to her yet, and he perversely hoped that it didn’t. If he were suddenly going to turn into a glutton for punishment, he might as well enjoy it.
She nodded. “That would be nice, thanks.”
Sam pulled a quilt from the back of the sofa and handed it to her. Having fulfilled his gracious host duties for the time being, he sank down onto the couch as well. He laced his fingers together, laid them on his belly and expelled a long silent breath. The firelight cast dancing shadows on the walls and floors, and the candles pierced the darkness around the spacious room, lending an even more intimate feel to the atmosphere. He cast a surreptitious glance at the woman seated next to him and felt another vicious jab of lust land in his midsection.
Delaney’s pale blond hair seemed to glow and move like some living thing as the flickering flames bobbed and climbed in the grate. In the golden glow, in that barely-there gown, she looked like a wood nymph or a fairy, and somehow more beautiful and fragile than ever. His heart tripped an unsteady beat in his chest, gooseflesh skittered along his skin and his scalp prickled annoyingly once more. The perpetual hard-on strained against his zipper, tried to point at her like some sort of damned sexual divining rod.
Sam swallowed a curse and decided to distract himself by tossing an old line into the conversational pond. The silence hadn’t necessarily stretched beyond the comfortable—in fact, both of them seemed a little too shocked at the moment to be uncomfortable—but he desperately needed to try and divert his thoughts north of his groin.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You, uh, mentioned during the shoot that you’ve done a lot of things lately that were out of character,” Sam reminded her. “Besides what you’ve done here, what other things have you done recently?”
Delaney cocked her head in his direction and a small smile curled her lips. “Well, for starters, I took off work for the rest of the week.”
“And that was out of character?”
A soft chuckle burst from her throat. “Most definitely. I haven’t had a sick day, much less a vacation, in the last three years.” Eyes twinkling, she cast him a confiding glance. “Much to the annoyance of my perfectly capable staff, I have to make sure that everything—everything—down to the last little detail is perfect with the catalogue before it goes out.” She blew out a breath and shoved her hair away from her face. “I’m manic about it. It has my name on it, it’s got to be right.”
Another rumor that held true. He’d heard those things about her and couldn’t help but be impressed. It was exactly that attention to detail that had made her business the industry competitor it was today.
“So you took a few days off?” Sam said casually. “Sounds like you needed it. Have you got any special plans?”
Her lips slid into a self-deprecating gr
in and she peeked at him through lowered lashes. “Other than shipping all the wedding gifts over to Roger for him to deal with when he gets back from my honeymoon, no.”
Sam winced. “Ouch.”
“I know.” She traced a line of stitches on the quilt with her fingertips. “Though my staff doesn’t believe it, I’m fine. Really,” she added at his skeptical look. “Today was simply an off day.” She shot him a confiding glance. “I found out about Roger and Wendy and my stolen honeymoon today.” Her brow folded in consternation. “Frankly, I was more pissed about the honeymoon. I’d spent months planning that sucker, had seen to every single detail, not to mention that I paid for it. So, in my defense, I really think that I had every right to be upset about that—” her lips formed a secret, almost evil smile “—and I handled it accordingly.”
Uh-oh. That was certainly an ominously mysterious statement. “What did you do?”
“Well, like I told you, I cleared my schedule for the rest of the week, and then I drove over to Roger’s house and vandalized his yard.”
She said it so matter-of-factly, it took a minute for that last sentence to penetrate, and when it did Sam’s jaw almost dropped. “Come again?”
She laughed at his admittedly dumbfounded expression. “I vandalized Roger’s yard.”
“Er, how exactly?”
“Weed killer.”
He arched a skeptical brow. “In winter?”
She nodded. “Roger’s lawn is green year round. His turf is one of those expensive designer blends. He’s very proud of it,” she told him. A hard edge colored her tone.
Sam felt his lips tremble with a suppressed smile. “And you killed it?”
“No, not all of it. Just part.”
Just part? Sam thought, thoroughly intrigued. He turned to face her more fully. “Okay, I’ll bite. What part?”
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and cast him a sly glance. “Not much really. Just the part where I wrote ‘asshole’ in weed killer.”
An unexpected laugh exploded from his chest, then tittered out into an impressed chuckle. “Very devious, Ms. Walker. Remind me never to piss you off.”
She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I didn’t notice you having a lawn.”
“There is that,” he conceded. “But I am fond of that peace lily over in the corner.”
A beat passed, then she said, “I know it was childish, but I just couldn’t seem to help myself. And I felt considerably better when I was finished. Almost went back and stole some of his antique roses as well, but I changed my mind.”
“Ah…weren’t ready to add theft to your rap sheet, eh?”
Smiling, she shook her head. “Nah, not yet, anyway.” She expelled a heavy breath. “So what do you think? Think they’ll get the power back on sooner than what they’re reporting?”
Sam winced regretfully. “I doubt it. If anything, their estimate seems more optimistic than realistic. Still, I suppose it just depends on the damage.”
“I imagine an eighteen-wheeler could do a lot of damage,” Delaney said grimly. “Wonder if the driver is okay.”
“I’d wondered about that as well. They didn’t comment one way or the other, did they?”
“No,” she sighed. “They didn’t.”
“Well, we’ll just keep listening to the radio. They’ll give regular updates. In the meantime, I suppose we should make the best of it. Are you hungry? I could scare up some dinner.”
“You can cook?” she asked, surprised. “How?”
Sam shifted and drew a self-important breath. “I use a nifty little gadget. It’s called a stove. It’s incredible, really,” he deadpanned. “It has these things called eyes—but they don’t really look like eyes—and they get hot and—”
She chuckled softly and rolled her eyes. “I know what a stove is, thank you. I meant how are going to cook with no electricity.”
Chuckling as well, Sam absently scratched his chest and said, “I’ve got a gas stove.”
“Ah,” she sighed knowingly. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Candles, gas logs, a gas stove. Totally prepared. You’re just a regular Boy Scout, aren’t you?”
Right down to the box of condoms in his nightstand drawer, Sam thought and immediately regretted it. Condoms made him think about sex and thinking about sex made him think about having sex with her. Within seconds, a vision of himself plunging between her thighs flashed behind his lids, practically burning the image into his retinas.
“I suppose,” Sam finally replied and conjured the required smile. “I can make a pretty good omelette. Does that sound okay to you?”
Delaney’s stomach issued a hungry growl. She looked up and her lips tucked into an embarrassed grin. “Does that answer your question?”
“Yeah. Everything-but-the okay with you?”
Her brow wrinkled. “Everything-but-the?”
“In your omelette. Everything-but-the, as in everything but the kitchen sink.”
She poked her tongue into her cheek. “Oh, sure. That sounds great. Need any help?” she offered.
“Nah, I’ve got it,” Sam told her, hauling himself up from the couch. He grabbed the flashlight. “Bumbling around my kitchen in the dark might not be safe.” On many levels, Sam thought, as another handy vision of the two of them rocking his dinette table across the kitchen floor flitted through his sadistic mind. “You, uh, just sit back and relax. I’ll be back in a sex.”
Her expression froze.
“In a sec,” Sam quickly clarified with an embarrassed chuckle. “A sec.”
Twin spots of humiliation burned his cheeks as he speedily retreated out of the room. A sex? Sam marveled again. Jesus. What the hell was wrong with him? What was it about this female that had knocked him so far off his game? Granted, he’d made a few choice blunders over the years, but today… Sam exhaled mightily. Today he’d simply outdone himself.
Between the physical annoyances, dropping his camera, and now that whopping Freudian slip, he barely recognized himself. This lust-crazed, eternally-aroused, charm-deficient klutz wasn’t him. He was a professional, dammit, and charming and smooth. Not today, buddy, a caustic little voice reminded.
Sam grimaced. He laid the flashlight aside, leaned against the counter, speared his hands through his hair and contemplated the probable impact of that blunder. A soft humorless laugh erupted from his throat. Good job, Martelli. So much for keeping things on a professional keel.
If she hadn’t realized his problem with her spending the night here before, she most certainly would now. Short of him actually whipping out his rod, he didn’t see how he could have made his thoughts any clearer. Hell, only a moron wouldn’t come to the right conclusion, and Delaney Walker was no moron. He supposed he could pray for a break in her typically sound intelligence, but imagined that would be an exercise in futility.
He seemed to be honing that particular skill, Sam thought with a derisive snort, because he gloomily suspected trying to resist her would be an exercise in futility as well.
At any rate, he’d inadvertently put the ball in her court and all he could do now was wait and see what she planned to do with it. Given the day she’d had and her sudden fascination and proclivity for acting out of character, Sam didn’t know whether to be excited…or terrified. He grunted. Hell, probably both.
BE BACK IN A SEX? Delaney thought as a warm flush of female satisfaction bloomed brightly in her chest. A slow unrepentant smile rolled around her lips as she watched Sam hastily exit the room.
So her belated assumption hadn’t been wishful thinking after all—he was hot for her. She bit her lip and her gaze slid to where he’d disappeared a few seconds ago. What a lucky coincidence…because she was unequivocally hot for him as well. A naughty form of anticipation swirled around in her belly, making it quiver with longing.
From the second she’d landed up against his magnificent chest when the power had so fortuitously gone off, Delaney had been wondering whether providence had finally bestowed on he
r a much-needed break and given her the chance to do the wildest, most out-of-character thing imaginable—him.
A thrill raced through her at the thought. She’d always erred on the side of caution, had always done the right thing, and look at where it had gotten her.
Another woman was enjoying the fruits of her labor, reveling in the dream honeymoon Delaney had painstakingly planned.
Another woman was with the man she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with.
That woman wouldn’t have to worry about returning wedding gifts—or her china, Delaney railed with a silent, frustrated sob. She’d wanted that china, dammit.
No, that woman wasn’t worried about canceling caterers, saving face, or growing old alone. That woman hadn’t been weighing the pros and cons of becoming a lesbian. Delaney humphed under her breath. No, apparently that lonely role had been eternally predestined for her. Irritation flattened her lips.
Well, not anymore.
Or at the very least, not tonight.
If she’d learned anything from her new attitude it was that acting on some of her baser impulses was very therapeutic. She’d felt great when she’d pulled that little vengeful prank on Roger, had felt empowered when she said those slightly wicked things to Sam.
Rather than stifling her darker impulses, she’d probably be much happier if she embraced a few of them. Momentarily threw caution to the wind. Frankly, Delaney wasn’t sure her nerves would hold up to a complete overthrow of her cautious character, but she was feeling particularly reckless today. And it had been thrilling, so very thrilling just to do whatever made her happy.
Undoubtedly sex with Sam Martelli would make her happy.
His splendidly proportioned body loomed into mental focus and a shivery melting sensation whirled behind her navel and radiated out until Delaney bit her lip in longing. That body combined with the skill and unquestionable talent she instinctively knew he possessed would be a sheer delight for the senses. An adventure of a lifetime.
Delaney blew out a shaky breath as indecision gnawed at her. She’d never been one to indulge in casual sex, had never had a one-night stand in her life. She’d always been so careful with whom she shared her heart and her body with, and had always considered casual sex as a misnomer. Could an act that intimate be casual? It had never been for her, and frankly, she’d never met a man who had inspired the overwhelming combination of lust and longing that would propel her toward that end.
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