For the Longest Time (12 page)

“Go ahead, I know what you have to do. My dog growing up was the same. Where are the kittens?” she asked.

“Upstairs, first bedroom on the left,” he said. “Just watch it when you open the door. They're escape artists.”

“Got it.” She gave him a small salute and turned away. Jake watched her go, then looked down at his dog. “Honest to God, Tucker. Way to make an impression. Come on. Treat time.”

Tucker burst into action, galloping down the hall toward the kitchen and leaving Jake to walk after him. He heard the door upstairs open, heard Sam's delighted coo, and smiled. There was nothing like being slobbered on by a big mutt to make you comfortable someplace, he guessed. He liked seeing her here, seeing her with his ridiculous dog. Under all the stylish black clothes Sam was still as earthy and real as he remembered.

Which was good, because if he was going to sell her on sticking around the Cove for any length of time, she was going to need to be okay with a certain amount of earthiness. He was having a hard time imagining her covered in dirt, though.

The light on his answering machine was flashing, which surprised him. Mostly people just called his cell, though because of his job he tried to have more than one method of contact available. He pulled the cell out of his pocket, frowning at it, and saw he had a missed call. Must be he hadn't felt the vibration.

Shit.
All he could do was hope that it wasn't urgent, and that if it was, someone had gotten ahold of Dr. Perry. There was a twenty-four-hour emergency vet down in Salem, but sometimes, there wasn't time to get there.

He hit P
LAY
on the machine and immediately wished he hadn't. It wasn't an emergency. It was a dispatch from movie night. He could hear laughter in the background as Shane's voice piped up on the speaker.

“Hey, man, are you coming over? You've still got time before we fire up the movie! Don't just sit there with your dog, you asshole. I know you're probably just standing there listening to this.”

In the background, there was an amused, feminine chorus of “Jake, we miss you!” He recognized Cici's voice among them, bright and crystal clear. The idea of seeing her again, of her being back in town, didn't bother him much . . . though her absence last night had been a relief, considering. He had a feeling that putting Sam and Cici in the same space might not go very well. Even if she didn't want him anymore, Cici had been territorial as hell. And Sam, well, he didn't remember her being a fighter. Would that dynamic hold? He wasn't really sure he wanted to find out. Not anytime soon, anyway, while he and Sam were in the early part of . . . whatever this was going to be. He dug in the cupboard and fished out a jerky treat for Tucker while the message finished.

“Anyway, come over,” Shane said, and then another voice piped up in the background.

“Don't bring the freak!”

Cici.

There was a burst of laughter, a click, and the message ended. Jake blew out a breath and leaned against the counter. Well, that wasn't promising. He'd figure out a way to deal with it somehow, though. Because blowing this for a second time wasn't an option. If he walked away this time, it would be for the right reasons. Not this crap.

But he needed time to show Sam some of the good he'd promised her before he even attempted to navigate this brewing issue with his friends. It pissed him off that they would even make it an issue. Were they really that
insular? He'd just looked at it as having a close group of old friends. It bothered him to think that from the outside, it might look like something a lot more intimidating. And that his easy acceptance of the way things were might not have helped.

Unsettled, Jake headed upstairs to where he could hear Sam crooning softly to the kittens. She had a nice voice—another surprise. Sweet and low and soothing. And she was singing, of all things, “Don't Stop Believin'.” Jake turned the knob and slipped quickly in before any of the furry crew could make a break for it. Sam was perched on the edge of the bed, Loki gathered up beneath her chin in what looked like a state of complete bliss. The kitten's eyes were half closed, and when Sam abruptly stopped her song Jake could hear the faint purring.

The other kittens played or groomed themselves or nibbled on the food in the dish. One of them looked to have made a mess with the water. Again. Sam looked up at him, charmingly embarrassed.

“Um. I like my cat.”

“I noticed. Journey isn't something you sing to just anybody.” She laughed, and he decided that Sam and her matching kitten were the most fetching things he'd ever laid eyes on. Her pale hair tumbled over her shoulders, and her eyes were luminous against her fair skin. She watched him steadily, wary but far more open than she had been, and he wondered if he'd been quite right about her not being a fighter. She'd given Thea a black eye all those years ago, supposedly. And though he'd seen a range of emotions from her so far, fear wasn't among them.

He wanted to know about her time in New York. He wanted to know what had happened to her, wanted to
know everything. The thought was sudden and fierce, and Jake pushed it back, completely unnerved. This was a first date, not a damned engagement. They had time to figure each other out and whether they clicked.

He didn't know why he couldn't just enjoy himself. That was usually something he was good at.

Jake settled himself on the floor and joined Sam in fussing over the kittens, trying to simply be in the moment for once.

“So . . . you missing out on something? I could hear Shane's voice all the way up here,” she said. His heart clenched for an instant, but she didn't appear to have heard the parting shot.

“No, just a stupid movie thing,” he said. “We do it a lot. I know what I'm missing, and it isn't much.”

“
We
meaning . . .”

“Max, Thea, Shane, Fitz, Kallie, Ryan.” Cici's name was on the tip of his tongue, but something held him back. He was wary of spoiling the night when they finally seemed to have achieved a little bit of comfort with each other. The month he'd quietly hung around Sam had been during one of his breaks from Cici—breaks that had, at that point, been increasing in frequency. It had taken another couple of years for it to end completely, mostly because they'd been physically compatible longer than they'd worked in any other sense.

He knew Sam would remember the first part. He didn't feel like getting into the second.

“Wow. The roster really
hasn't
changed at all.”

“Yeah, well, we're all still here. It kind of made sense,” he said.

“Do you get out of town much?” she asked. “I mean, what do you
do
?”

It seemed to be an honest question, not a dig, so he didn't mind answering. “I don't know. I work. I watch movies in Max's basement. We go to the Tavern sometimes. Cookouts in the summer. Fitz has a sailboat.”

The corner of Sam's mouth curved. “Oh God. You're a complete townie now, aren't you?”

He frowned, feigning hurt. “Hey. I go to Salem sometimes.”

“Sometimes.”

“Once in a while,” he said, unable to quite remember the last time he'd gone. It had been a while. Maybe quite a while.

Shit, I am a townie.

“Maybe I'm not the only one who needs an education on some things,” Sam said. “I'm going to need to think about this.”

“That sounds ominous,” Jake replied. “I'm afraid.”

“Yeah, well, you should be. I'll curse you with my Henry weirdness. Next thing you know you'll be coloring your hair blue and wearing leather pants of your own.”

“That's . . . terrifying, actually.”

They laughed, and something in Sam's smile pulled at him in a way he was completely unused to. It wasn't just desire—though there was plenty of that. She was simply so different from anyone he knew. Their eyes met, and Jake wished he could remove all the kittens from the equation for just a minute so he could kiss her. He saw the flush in her cheeks, and knew she understood exactly what he was thinking. Sam cleared her throat and looked away, breaking the moment.

“Well. This has been great, but I really should get back.”

“Big plans for the rest of the night?”

“Yeah,” she said, “pajamas. Cocoa. Possibly scarfing some of the oatmeal raisin cookies my mother baked earlier. A real walk on the wild side. You know.” She looked down at Loki. “Are you sure I can't have him yet?”

“One week. He still needs his littermates. They come to work with me, get socialized, and this week they'll get their first round of vaccinations. They're all pretty consistent with the litter box, at least, even if they're a mess about everything else. But I'd like him to be eight weeks before he heads out into the world. It would be a huge help if you know anybody who might take some of the others.”

She pursed her lips. “I know all of three people well enough to ask, and two of them are my family. Don't think that's going to be much help.”

He tipped his chin down to look at her. “Where there's a will, there's a way. Artists like cats, right? You now work with a bunch of artists. So, that's perfect. I can also strap you to a chair and make you watch depressing animal rescue ads until you agree to help.”

She gave him a beleaguered look. “I'll see what I can do.” Then she looked around at all the kittens and sighed. “I'm not really much of a joiner, so I never got into rescue or anything, but . . . I really will ask around. In my sad and limited capacity. Okay?”

“Good enough.”

Jake put the kittens he'd been playing with in the round pet bed he'd tucked into the corner, then stood. Sam reluctantly detached Loki from her scarf and put the mewing kitten with the others. The two of them slipped quickly out the door and headed down the stairs. Tucker looked up from where he'd flopped in the foyer, and his tail began to thump against the floor.

“Don't even think about it,” Jake told him. Still, the
dog scrambled to his feet and greeted them all over again, though minus the jumping this time. They headed back out into the night, stepping onto his porch. The air had the crisp bite that he loved about October, and he watched Sam pull her jacket a little tighter around herself while he locked up again.

“You sure you're not interested in sticking around? We could watch a movie or something,” he said, knowing she wouldn't accept even as he wished she would.

“No. You have your own movie to go to, and my pajamas are calling. I'm not a late-night girl anymore.”

“I'm just going to come back here and hang out on the couch with Tuck,” Jake replied, enjoying the surprise on her face. She didn't seem to think she was enough entertainment for an evening. What she didn't realize was that anything after this would pale in comparison.

They stood there on his porch, under the single light above the door, and the tension that always thrummed between them quickly intensified. He could smell her perfume again . . . hell, he could almost taste her. He wanted to. The only thing holding him back was how still Sam had gone, like a deer scenting a predator. Her eyes never left his face, and she seemed to be waiting . . . though he wasn't sure for what. He'd just have to make a guess. Or engage in some wishful thinking.

Or just go for it.

Jake stepped closer and was relieved to see he'd guessed correctly. She tipped her chin up to look at him, taking the final step to finish closing the space between them. He managed a smile as he lowered his head to hers. “Sam,” he murmured.

“Mmm?” she asked. But her eyes were already closing, her mouth lifting to his.

He savored the brief, final moment of anticipation, and then sank into the kiss he'd waited years for. Her lips were petal soft, and parted at his touch. There was a teasing brush of her tongue, and Jake met it with a languid stroke of his own, sliding his arms around her.

She fit so perfectly to him, every curve and hollow. Jake felt her slide her hands over his shoulders, then higher as one hand curved around the nape of his neck. She pressed against him, and he let her set the pace as she angled her head, toying with his lips, his tongue, and then plunging with a speed that took his breath away.

Sam's confidence caught him off-guard. Maybe it shouldn't have—she was a beautiful woman. Anyone could see that. Still, the speed with which she took control of the kiss nearly brought him to his knees. She rose to her toes, fitting herself against the length of him, against where he was already hard and hot. Sam sighed against his lips, the pleasure in that sound reverberating through him. The sweetness in that first touch of their lips vanished, burned up in the flames that quickly caught between them.

Jake's hands skimmed over her back, through her hair, his breathing growing ragged as Sam's body shifted gently in time to each thrust of his tongue. Every light pulse of her hips arrowed straight to his core, shattering every rational thought until there was nothing left but the way she felt in his arms. When he reached down to grip her hips, pulling her hard against him, she gave a soft, breathless moan and fisted her hands in the fabric of his coat.

He couldn't get enough of her. The kiss turned wild, feral, as the night dissolved into red-hot nips and licks, the rake of her nails through his hair, the restless
movements as they chafed against the clothes that separated skin from skin. He'd had no idea it would be like this. That she could possibly want him as much as he wanted her.

That this much want was even possible.

The blast of a car horn crashed through his haze, blowing a hole in the warm cocoon they'd wrapped themselves in. Still, it took a few seconds for his brain to reengage, even when Sam stilled and gasped, pulling her mouth from his to turn her head when a voice shouted at them.

“Get a room!”

There was raucous laughter as a beat-up old car sailed by, full of what looked like teenagers. Jake wasn't sure whether to laugh or throw rocks. He looked down into Sam's face, and felt a purely male satisfaction at the sight of her swollen lips, her cheeks reddened from rubbing against his five-o'clock shadow. She looked up at him with an embarrassed little smile, one eyebrow arched.