Bringing Down Sam (21 page)

Sam ducked, laughed…then raced her to the bathroom. 

“Asking a woman to move in with you is like inviting a virulent case of shingles into your life. They both tend to stick around for a long time, and are really tough to get rid of.” – from 101 Ways To Avoid Commitment

Considering there were no more secrets between them, and there was no more reason to pose as some kind of visiting model, Eve decided a few days later to get out of the
His World
condo. Though she’d intended to go to a hotel, or to stay with one of her friends, Sam had other ideas. Which was how, after knowing him for only a week, she agreed to stay with him in his apartment. She had barely even decided to do it when she suddenly found herself there Thursday afternoon, unpacking her suitcases and planning to stay awhile. She still had another week before she needed to get home to prepare for the coming school year. A week to fully savor this wonderful, crazy, unexpected, just about perfect relationship with Sam.

He’d brought her over during his lunch hour. After giving his cat a stern talking to about “being nice,” he’d offered Eve the use of any drawers she wanted and kissed her goodbye so he could go back to work for a while.

At first, Quigley had circled her like the shark on the edge of a feeding pool, spying on her from the doorway, then from under the bed. Eventually he’d come within striking distance, but Eve was sure to make no sudden moves.

“Get used to it, my friend,” Eve said to the animal, who’d just jumped up to the top of Sam’s dresser to glare at Eve while she unpacked. The cat lifted his paw and stretched his front claws perilously close to a few folded shirts Eve had just placed on top of the dresser. “No you don’t,” Eve said with a reluctant chuckle as she scooped her clothes out of the cat’s line of reach.

Quigley meowed and licked his paw, oh-so-innocently—as if he hadn’t been planning to rake holes in her favorite top.

“Listen, I’m not going anywhere, so we’re going to have to learn to get along.”

The creature gave her a look that would be called withering if it were from a human, but, considering it came from a cat, could only be called typical feline. Then he leapt down and sauntered away.

“Well, at least you didn’t draw blood at this skirmish,” she called after him.

Once she’d finished stowing her few possessions, Eve went into the kitchen, looking for something she could make them for dinner. Sam would be home from work soon, and waiting for him, planning dinner and their evening, felt incredibly domestic. She couldn’t stop the wishes skirting around in her brain as she pictured the night to come, and all the nights they could have after that. She imagined the rest of her belongings here—not just a few days’ worth of clothes and shoes. A picture of her best friends on the dresser, her favorite jazz cd’s stacked with Sam’s rock and roll under the stereo. It was almost too easy to get caught up in the fantasy.

Reality hadn’t intruded on that fantasy so far, because Eve was keeping the whole thing very close and private. She had told Diana she was leaving the condo, but hadn’t confessed she was going to be staying with Sam. After having skipped out on their Tuesday night dinner, she’d been put through an interrogation, so Eve had admitted she was seeing Sam, but had been unwilling to explain beyond that.

Her friend had demanded details about just how far their relationship had progressed, but Eve hadn't been forthcoming. Her emotions were still too new, too raw, to be shared. After making love with Sam so many times since Sunday, in so many delicious—wicked—ways, she’d been still a bit dazed by the sensation of being so physically in tune with another person. Maybe that’s why he’d had such an easy time convincing her to come stay with him for the week. His enthusiasm was contagious, and somehow he’d made it seem perfectly natural that she should do so.

So, like an optimistic rider on an old-fashioned carousel, she was leaping for that brass ring, determined to grab what happiness she could with him while she had the chance.

By four o’clock Thursday afternoon, Sam was more than ready to go home. He’d just come out of a meeting with his co-workers, during which everyone discussed the changes coming directly at them. Though there had been some laughter, and some bad jokes, for the most part, everyone was worried. James speculated that, if given the reins, Sam’s cousin, Robbie, would replace regular features like, “Sonny the Sports Shrink” with something like, “Otis the Opera Hound.” And others soon chimed in with potential tales of gloom and doom. They were mostly exaggerations, but the whole building was on edge, wondering just what changes were going to be made by the magazine’s new publisher.

Sam had watched, listened, wracked his brains for solutions. One thing he hadn’t done was cave in to his father. Despite liking some of the things the older man had talked about last Sunday at Sam’s apartment, and the several prodding phone calls that had followed, Sam hadn’t agreed to be involved in the management of the magazine. And he wouldn’t. He still relied on Jacob Kenneman’s keen business sense, knowing the old man would never let this thing get too out of hand. His father was engaged in a game of chicken. Sam knew it. His father knew he knew it. Unfortunately, the staff wasn’t in on the game. So nobody else had realized that there was no way in hell his father was going to let Robbie mess-up
His World
.

Sam had tried to talk to his cousin. They’d met for lunch that afternoon, and he’d done everything but come out and warn Robbie that he was being used as part of a carrot/stick lesson between father and son. Robbie had laughed off the whole thing, insisting he knew enough not to count on anything. That was the best Sam could do. 

It was hard to reconcile his miserable work week with the fact that, personally, Sam was experiencing the most wonderfully passionate, exciting time of his life. 

“Eve,” he murmured aloud as he signed off his computer and shut down for the day. She was at his home. Waiting for him. There was no sense of strangeness that a woman he’d only known a week had moved in with him, though only temporarily.

When Eve had told him she wanted to vacate the condo, Sam hadn’t hesitated before asking her to stay with him. Having her in his home seemed as natural as stepping in the shower each morning or kicking off his shoes every night. She insisted she only had a week to spare and he intended to make the most of it. And once she went back to her place outside the city…well, he might need to buy Exxon stock because he had a feeling he was going to be burning through a lot of fuel.

He drove home faster than he should have, sped through yellow lights when he normally would have slowed down. Another driver flipped him off when Sam inadvertently cut in front of him at an intersection near his apartment. Sam waved apologetically, shrugging, probably looking like the love-struck goof he’d become.

Love-struck?
Where the hell had that thought come from? He nearly banged his head on the steering wheel when the realization hit him. He’d fallen head over heels, ass over elbows, in love with Eve Barret.

But somehow, instead of feeling trapped, worried, like some of his readers might expect, Sam felt a huge sense of relief, and certainty. He was capable of all of it. Every bit of it. Love, commitment, marriage, rugrats. He had a long, mental image of all of them as he pulled his car into the parking lot and bounded up the steps to his apartment. Knowing Eve stood on the other side of the door made all those things suddenly seemed entirely possible. Maybe they were at the end of a road they’d just started traveling, but he was okay with that, and wasn’t looking for any Detour signs like a lot of other single-and-plan-to-stay-that-way guys might be.

He was willing to keep on driving and see where they ended up.

“Luu-cy, I’m home,” Sam called in his best Cuban accent as he entered the apartment. He didn’t quite know what he expected. Well, maybe he’d fantasized a little about walking in and seeing Eve wearing one of the sexy items he’d glimpsed in her suitcase as she was packing. Something black and silky.

Instead, he heard something crashing to the floor in his kitchen, followed by mumbled curse words. Wishing he’d warned Eve not to try to feed Quigley, since the cat refused to eat anything Sam didn’t prepare with his own hands, he headed toward the noise. 

“You’re early,” she said accusingly. “You startled me.”

Sam had to bite his bottom lip to stop the laughter that threatened to spill out. Eve Barret, stunning super-model of yesteryear, sat on her butt in his kitchen, with half a jar of spaghetti sauce spilled all over the front of her blue T-shirt. Correction, he noted, his blue T-shirt.

“What’re you doing?”

“I was trying to clean out this refrigerator,” she informed him haughtily, still sitting on the floor. As he stepped into the kitchen to help her, his feet nearly flew out from under him, sliding through the huge puddle of red sauce.

“Stop,” she ordered. “Don’t come any closer.”

He obeyed, reaching down to take his shoes off so he wouldn’t track anything into the carpeted living room. Some sauce had splattered onto his socks, too, and he pulled them off as well. Dropping them to the floor, Sam took one giant step back out of the kitchen. Eve, meanwhile, held the bottom of the T-shirt out, cupping it like a bowl to contain the sauce. Carefully balancing as she rose to her feet, she scooted over to the sink and dumped the mess right in.

“I thought I’d be all done and cleaned up, with dinner waiting, before you got home,” she muttered, sounding disgusted with herself.

“You don’t have to clean for me, Eve.” Sam wished he’d taken the time to straighten up better the night before. Not that he was a slob, necessarily, but he knew his housekeeping skills weren’t exactly his strong suit.

“I was just trying to keep busy.” She wet some paper towels and tried to blot the stain off the shirt.

“Wait a minute,” he said, daring to step over the spill to stand beside her. “I think we’re better off letting it soak.”

She followed him as he led her out of the kitchen, through the apartment to the front bathroom. Plugging the drain, Sam filled the sink with cold water, then reached out to the bottom of the shirt. She didn’t protest as he started pulling it up, and in fact lifted her arms so he could pull it all the way off.

“Oh, my, you did find your lingerie,” Sam said, his voice thick and husky as he saw the black bra.

She smiled slowly. “Funny that I packed my sexiest nightgown for this trip. I can’t imagine what I was thinking when I left home.”

“I believe you were thinking about seducing me and breaking my heart.” When she winced at the reminder, he chuckled and lifted a hand to her mouth before she could apologize again. “Or maybe you were thinking that you were going to meet a guy who’d charm you right out of your panties.”

“And you did.”

“I don’t know that it was just my charm,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug.

She tapped a fingertip on her cheek and eyed him assessingly. “Your smile helped, as did those beautiful green eyes of yours.” Her gaze dropped, lingering on his shoulders and his chest before dropping to his hips. Her eyes darkening, she added, “And you do have…other…assets.”

He moved closer, cupping her bare waist with his hands. “Assets?”

She licked her lips and nodded. “You have the most wonderfully kissable mouth.”

“Right back at you,” he whispered as he moved his lips to hers and gave her a warm, I’m-happy-to-see-you kiss.

As he ended the kiss and began to draw away, she reached around him and grabbed his butt in her hands. “And you have the ass of a Greek god.”

Laughing, he replied, “Right back at you, Athena.”

He lowered his stare to the lacy bra, liking how her breasts nearly spilled free of the restraint. The bra was meant to push up, obviously, and didn’t cover much of the white flesh above the rosy pink nipples peeking through the lace. Sam felt his mouth go dry and he had to swallow hard. But this was her first night here, and he didn’t want her to think he’d invited her just so he could have his wicked way with her every spare minute of the day.

Every other minute…well, that was another story.

“Speaking of hot bodies, I meant to ask you, do you mind if I use your weight bench while I’m here?” she asked as she ran the tip of her index finger along the thin strap of her bra. She tilted her head, coy and yet seductive, keeping his attention as she moved her fingertip across the small front clasp holding the fabric taut. “I need to work out.”

A flood of visual images hit him hard. In the brain. Lower. Visuals of her straddling him on the bench, taking him, controlling the pace as she rode him into oblivion.

“I would say there’s no time like the present, but this doesn’t look like your workout bra.”

A slow, sultry smile spread across her lips and he knew she was on exactly the same sexy, mental page. “I think I could manage.”

“I guess that would be okay, then,” Sam mumbled as he bent down to press a kiss on the soft spot of skin where neck met shoulder. He flicked his tongue on the pulse beating there, feeling her shiver and drop her head back.

Eve sighed, a long, drawn-out whisper of pleasure that rolled out of her throat. Sam followed the sound, pressing kisses to her nape, her throat. Lower. He felt her reach up to run her long fingers through his hair, and chuckled when she tightened her grip and tugged his head down.

“Patience,” he whispered as he brushed his lips on the soft flesh at the top of her breast. She whimpered, leaning back against the doorjamb, her arms falling to her sides as he kissed a path down her deep cleavage. Eve smelled delicious, clean and fresh, but with that spicy fragrance that he would always associate with her. Sam breathed deeply, imprinting the memory of her scent in his brain, knowing it would stay there forever.

When he got to the front clasp of her bra, he deftly opened it using his teeth, then lifted his head to watch her lush breasts fall free. He reached for her, needing to fill his hands with her, but she stepped into the hallway, giving him a womanly, come-hither look that was as old as time.