Bringing Down Sam (10 page)

 Out of the corner of her eye, Eve caught sight of Diana. Her dark-haired friend smiled and gave her a quick wink. She had obviously seen them dance, and noticed they were leaving together.

Eve suddenly felt sick. While they'd danced—and kissed—she’d allowed herself to forget why she was spending the evening with Sam. That kiss had somehow erased his annoying comments about women, all the problems, the reality. Eve had just fallen into the fantasy and let herself melt in his embrace. 

She was incredibly attracted to him. And if this had been a legitimate date, and he'd suggested they leave, she would probably have dragged him out of the room to get him alone somewhere, especially because she already knew him well enough to know the sexist comments were merely to get a rise out of her.

Yeah. If this were real, she’d have no reservations.

But it’s not. You’re a liar and a fraud.

When they reached the front door, Eve gulped and said, “Are you sure you want to leave? This is probably good publicity for you. We can stay."

"No. I've had enough of this crowd."

Eve grimaced helplessly as he held the door open for her and followed her out of the club. While they waited for the valet to bring his car, she tried to think of a way to get herself out of her current predicament. Sam obviously thought they were going to progress to some serious physical action once they were alone.

The very thought of it sent waves of erotic anticipation rolling through her.

Eve had never in her life had a one night stand. Her physical relationships had always been based more on her need to feel emotionally connected to someone rather than on pure physical desire.

She sensed it could be different with Sam. Their bodies fit so well together on the dance floor, she knew they'd be perfectly matched for intimacy. It was so damned tempting. It was also, unfortunately, a really bad idea.

But she’d backed herself into a corner here. And frankly, she had no idea how she was going to get out of it.

Or if she wanted to.

When the valet brought his car, Sam opened the door for Eve, noticing that she pulled her hand out of his as quickly as possible and that she practically hugged the door, as far from him as she could get. She was pulling away, physically and emotionally. Though disappointed, he couldn't say he was surprised. The woman was playing a game. Obviously she hadn't intended for it to go so far.

Though they'd only exchanged a kiss, a relatively sedate kiss, there had been intense heat, pure physical attraction. Sam had felt it. He still felt it, minutes later. And he knew Eve had, too. She didn't want to, though.

When they reached the condominium building, Sam made no effort to wait to be invited up. He took her arm firmly as they walked through the garage to the elevator. "I think I'm interested now. In the offer you made earlier."

Eve followed him into the elevator. "Offer?"

"Uh-huh. Before we left. You offered me...a drink. I think I'll take you up on it now."

His mouth said drink. But Sam knew his eyes said something else entirely. She pulled away from him, skittish and nervous. Eve was suddenly so easy to read. She didn't want to be alone with him. He'd wondered earlier that evening if she was a tease, the type of woman who enjoyed being admired but not actually physically touched. That was not the case, however. She'd liked being in his arms. No question about it. When he'd first suggested they leave the party, she'd known exactly what he was really suggesting. He'd seen the excitement in her eyes. Now, though, she regretted it. Sam was determined to find out why.

Though the elevator was roomy, he stood so close to her his trousers brushed her dress. He kept one hand curled over her elbow, not giving her a chance to pull away from him.

When they reached her floor, she quickly walked to the door of the penthouse. "You know, Sam, I'm afraid I overdid it with the champagne. And it always gives me a headache. You will let me offer you a drink another time, won't you?"

He shook his head and hid a smile.
Headache my ass!
"If you've had too much to drink, you'd better let me in so I can take care of you. Don't you worry about a thing." Not allowing her a chance to protest, he took the key from her hand and ushered her into the condo.

"I will be fine, I just need to lie down."

"Right. You just go in and lie down. I'll bring you a drink and some aspirin. How about a cold cloth for your head?"

He heard her small groan of annoyance. "Look, you don't need to go to all this trouble. I'm just fine."

"Well, if you're fine, maybe I'll stay for that drink."

He saw her bite the corner of her lip indecisively. She didn't want him taking care of her. Nor did she want him staying to socialize. Sam enjoyed her discomfort. It served her right for trying to scam him.

"Maybe I should lie down," she finally said. He saw her bottom lip curve out in a tiny pout. She didn't like being coerced. Sam imagined she was used to getting her own way.

"Okay, go on, I'll be in in just a minute."

She gave him one worried stare over her shoulder as she left the kitchen, crossed the living room and entered a door on the opposite side of the condo. Sam quickly glanced through the cabinets in the kitchen, noting she had absolutely no food. The refrigerator was nearly empty, too. He wondered how long she'd been in town.

Finding some bottled water, he grabbed it, then crossed the living room and knocked lightly on the bedroom door. "Eve? Can I come in?"

Silence. Sam gently pushed the door open. The room was nearly dark, lit only by the light emerging from the attached bathroom. He saw a form huddled under the covers of the king-sized bed. Crossing the room silently, he found Eve curled up on her side, with her hands beneath her chin, pretending she was sleeping.  

"Eve?" She still didn’t reply. No way was she asleep. She'd left the kitchen less than five minutes before. He'd be willing to bet she still had her dress on!

"Gee, I guess your headache's better already. But you might need this anyway." Sam spoke in a whisper, as if he believed she was out cold. She let out a dramatic sigh and shifted under the plush comforter.

Sam unscrewed the top of the bottle he held. "Eve? I think the best way to cure a headache like yours is with some nice, cold water."

Not even hesitating, he lifted the bottle and poured a fast, steady stream onto her forehead.

Eve screamed when the cold water hit her head. She shot straight up, thrusting the covers off her body. "Just what are you doing?" Jumping out of the bed, she wiped the water off her face with her hands.

Sam stood right next to her, a smirk on his lips. "I guess that helped. Maybe you'll feel well enough now to take off your shoes and clothes before you climb back under the covers."

Eve saw him glance knowingly at her white dress. "Yeah, well, when I do it'll be alone, pal!"

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Miss Barret...if that is your name."

Eve stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, who the hell are you really?"

Eve felt her imaginary headache begin to turn real, pounding in her temples. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sam gave her a look of disbelief as he plopped down on her bed and leaned back against the headboard. She noted he avoided the large puddle near her pillow.

"If you're a brainless bimbo, I'm in line for the Nobel Prize for literature. Now, who are you?"

Eve eyed him warily, wondering how much to admit. "My name is truly Eve Barret."

"Okay, the rest of it?"

Gingerly sitting down on the corner of the bed, Eve said, "I started modeling as a kid." So far, so good. She wasn't actually lying yet.

"Why the act?"

"What act?"

"Don't play dumb. Although, you do it well. Why the brainless-breathy-blonde act?"

Part of her ached to tell him the truth. She was already uncomfortable with the whole situation, and would just as soon have ended it right away. But she wasn't ready to tell this guy she'd had the nerve to think she could make him fall at her feet, pining away in love with her. He'd laugh in her face before shutting the door on it.

"Well," she finally explained, "I guess it's what people expect. You know, a lot of executives expect tall, blond models to have a certain way about them."

"A certain stupid way?"

Eve nodded.

"So why'd you keep it up for me? I'm not an executive."

Eve struggled for an explanation. Suddenly an unpleasant look crossed Sam's face. "Wait a minute. It's my father, right? You found out he's the new owner of a number of magazines, and you were trying to get to him through me?"

Unable to suppress a trill of laughter, Eve shook her head. "I'm afraid impressing him was the last thing I did tonight. He looked at me like I was some kind of unpleasant insect. No, I swear, your father had nothing to do with it.”

"Then why?"

She paused. "I guess it was just easier to keep it up all the time than to slip in and out of character." She watched him, trying to determine if he believed her or not. His expression seemed to soften.

"Now, if you don't mind, I am feeling a headache coming on. Maybe you'd better go." Eve crossed the room to her bedroom door, waiting for him to follow. He didn't budge. She looked over her shoulder and put one hand on her hip. "Well?"

"You did it again. You never do wait for people to answer, do you? I'm not going anywhere."

"What do you mean?" she asked warily.

"I mean, you issued an invitation to me."

"Oh, have your silly drink, if you must. Then you can leave."

Sam chuckled. "That's not the invitation I meant.”

Eve crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Oh? I don't recall inviting you to do anything else."

He slowly stood and crossed the room. Eve watched him, eyes wide, feeling like a stalked animal. His stare was unwavering, his steps smooth, steady and deliberate. When he reached her side, he tilted her chin up with the tip of one index finger. "Don't you?"

Eve shook her head, unable to tear her eyes from his. She licked her lips nervously.

His generous mouth curved into a smile. "Maybe your invitation was silent. Maybe you're even inviting me again right this second."

And he was right. She was. Because all she wanted right now was for him to kiss her again, to continue that sultry exploration they’d begun on the dance floor. Now that she no longer had to act a part for him, and could be free to be something like her real self, she wanted that kiss more than anything, even if a voice deep inside her told her she didn’t deserve it.

She remained silent, not even trying to duck away when he put his hands on either side of her, pressing them flat against the bedroom door, effectively trapping her just inches from his chest.

“I liked kissing you,” he whispered.

“I liked it too.”

And then he was. Kissing her. Tasting her. Driving her crazy.

His mouth was soft, nibbling at her lips until she parted them and welcomed his tongue with her own. Tilting her head, she invited him deeper and their tongues swirled and tangled, lazy, slow and sultry. She lifted her arms around his neck, holding him even more tightly, driven more than a little mad by the press of his long, hard body against her softer curves. His kiss was hot, demanding, but his tongue tasted sweet and she thought she could happily drown in him. She felt his fingers trail a course from the nape of her neck all the way down to the small of her back, and shivered when he gently slid them inside the waist of her dress, stroking her hip, nearing her bottom.

Eve reached for Sam's jacket, trying to shrug it off one shoulder. Instead of helping her, however, he ended their kiss and pulled away. She wanted to cry, missing his warmth and his strength and that amazing mouth.

Fearing her legs wouldn’t hold her, she leaned back against the door, sucking in deep, ragged breaths. Sam took another step back, watching her from a foot away. He didn’t reach for her, didn’t try to lead her to the bed—or pick her up and toss her on it.

Hell.

“Is that really all you wanted?" she asked when she could finally speak.

He shook his head and rubbed a not-entirely-steady hand over his jaw. "Not by a long shot."

Oh, thank heaven.
For an awful moment, she’d feared he would be satisfied with that one long, hot kiss.

“But it'll do for a start.”

His gaze drifted down her body, pausing to stare at her curves through the white dress. She felt her already aching nipples grow even tighter beneath the fabric and wanted him to touch her with his hands the way he did with his eyes. She saw him clench his jaw, saw the pulse beating in his temple as he stared hard at her. There was no way he could possibly hide his thoughts—the intensity of his stare betrayed him, as did his quickened breath. Eve felt a thrill course through her body. He was claiming her. She waited for her conscience to shout out, demanding that she show him the door, but she couldn't hear a thing except the pounding of her heartbeat in her own ears. 

"Goodnight, Eve."

She froze. "What?"

"I said, goodnight. I think it's time for me to go."

"Go?" Her voice squeaked. "You want to go now?"

Knowing she must sound like an idiot for parroting his words, she shook her head hard. He was walking out on her? After that kiss, he was just going to walk away?

"Don't look at me like that," he said softly, and his voice held a note of something sounding like regret. "You have no idea how much I want to take you up on your latest invitation. A few hours ago, I would have."

Eve shook her head hard and straightened, trying to shake off the physical sensations still sparking through her body. Sam cupped her cheek with his warm hand, but she yanked her head back, feeling too rejected to have him touch her at all.

What an idiot she'd been! She'd decided earlier in the evening that there was no way she was going to sleep with Sam Kenneman and she should have stuck with that decision. At least then she wouldn’t feel like such a fool, standing in her bedroom, a quivering mess, aching for someone who didn't want her.