Shameless (19 page)

“Enough!” John circled his desk and grabbed a file from a drawer. “Let’s go over our new marketing strategy for the gym.” He slapped the file on the desk and sat roughly in his chair. “I think we need to allocate more money in the budget for radio. What do you think?”

Alex scratched the long, crescent-shaped scar on his bald head then nodded. “Sure. That would probably be a good idea.”

Twenty minutes later, they’d moved on to a discussion about the kids at the SCHS program, the tension between them having diffused for the most part. “I think you’re right about Brian,” Alex said. “One of us should pay a visit to his mother. And I nominate you, white boy.”

“Great. Thanks a—” A knock on the closed office door halted John’s words. “Yo!” He called out.

The door opened and in walked Sam, looking as sexy and seductive as always. One look at her sucked the tension right out of John’s body and into his crotch. She wore a belted black leather jacket that barely covered her short skirt. Black stockings sheathed her gorgeous gams and she had on the usual stilettos. God, why couldn’t she look ugly just for once, he thought angrily. He was hardly in the mood to be turned on right now, leastwise by her.

“Oh. Am I interrupting?” She looked back and forth between the men.

“Yes,” John barked.

“No,” Alex said at the same time. “I was just leaving. Nice to see you again, Sam. Later, John-boy.” He elbowed John in the side as he left.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” John told her. “You should have called.”

“Sorry.” Sure she was. “I was in the area.” Sure she was. She glanced at the blueprints on the desk and crossed the room for a better look. She pulled off her leather gloves one by one. “What’s this? Are you building another gym?”

“Yes.” He didn’t trust her for a minute. She wouldn’t stop by without a reason. She never did anything just because. She was wearing a dress, which meant she was up to something. God help him.

“Oh? Where?” She untied her coat.

“SoDo.”

“You don’t usually have gyms so close together, do you?”

He planted himself in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest in his most defensive stance. “Alex and I are opening a center for inner city kids. Now what do you—?”

“What a great project. What made you decide to do something like that?”

“I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details, Sam. Why are you here?”

She blinked fast a couple of times, then said, “Well, I know we’re meeting tomorrow night, but I really didn’t want to miss a day, so—”

“Wait a second. You want to do it here? Right now?”

“You said you had a few minutes.”

“A very few minutes, Sam. It would take longer—”

“We can make it a quickie.” She gave him a playful grin and started to remove her coat. The dress underneath zipped up the front. What was it with this woman and zippered clothes? It was enough to drive a virile man crazy.

“No.”

She stopped what she was doing. “What? Why not?”

Was she really that shameless? “Because I’m not going to jump when you say jump. I’m tired of playing by your rules. I’m tired of meeting at that damned motel. And frankly, I’m just not in the mood for impersonal sex right now. Okay?”

She stared hard at him. “All right fine, Mr. Sensitive. Tomorrow night. Be at my place at eight.” She pulled a business card from her purse and jotted her address on the back. She handed it to him. “Don’t be late.”

Sam paced the small living room of her condo, her hands shoved deep into her jeans pockets, not an easy feat considering she’d had to lie flat on the bed to zip them. She either needed to cut down on her Ben and Jerry’s consumption or mix in the occasional run.

She was as wired as a stolen Corvette. Part of it was having spent the night and most of today at her mother’s. She always came away from those visits feeling generally crappy about life. Her mom could never resist making disparaging remarks about Sam’s love life or lack-thereof. And it always depressed Sam to see firsthand how little her mom cared about herself or her surroundings anymore. With each visit, Sam’s resolve to stay happily single was strengthened. She would never allow herself to become so emotionally attached to a man that she’d still be pining over him years later.

Her agitated mood was also due to John’s imminent arrival. She hated that she looked forward to being with him. She hated that she wore her prettiest bra and panties beneath her clothes. She should be angry with him for the way he’d toyed with her yesterday, even though she’d deserved it. He had an irritating way of getting under her skin, kind of like a rash. She could ignore it for a while, but eventually she needed to scratch.

She didn’t need to feel anything toward him. He was the donor father. She had to be in control. Yet, whenever she was with him, she was just the opposite. She didn’t like not having a handle on all her emotions where he was concerned.

She took a deep breath. She could handle John Everest. But could she handle
herself
?
Yes. Yes
! This was her house. This was her agenda. She was in control.
Total detachment. No emotions
.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs outside. Her stomach flip-flopped as if she were on an exciting but frightening carnival ride. She opened the door before John knocked. He shook out his umbrella and placed it point side down against the outside wall. “I’ll take your coat,” she offered, waiting as he shrugged out of the anorak. He looked great as usual. The royal blue polo shirt set off his eyes, and those pants, well, she didn’t need to be reminded about how good he looked in Levi’s.

“No need to hang it up,” he said. “I don’t plan to be here long.”

She blinked twice. “Right,” she said and draped the coat over the arm of the couch. She turned around to see him surveying her place from the entry way, which was actually just a space separating the living room from the kitchen area. His height and size dominated the place. The thud-
ka
-thud of her heart skipped a little faster. Neither of them really looked at each other.

“Did you just move here?” he finally asked.

“A couple of months ago.”

She didn’t miss the way his eyebrows rose as his gaze skimmed the rooms. She saw what he saw — sparse furnishings and cardboard boxes, hardly a picture on the wall, nary a knick-knack.

“I needed a bigger space for when I, um, for once I have a baby,” she explained. “I just haven’t gotten around to unpacking yet.”

He stepped into her living room. His gaze went from the computer desk in the corner, to the stereo next to the couch, to the bookshelves. There wasn’t much else to see. “Is this a beloved pet?” he asked dryly, eyeing the flamboyant scarlet fish in its murky brandy snifter bowl on the shelf.

Sam nodded. “That’s Scarlett.”

“Where’s Rhett?”

“Scarlett ate him.”

He glanced her way. “You’re kidding.”

She shook her head. “They were a gift for Christmas — this red one and a dark blue one. They were together less than one night when she killed him.”

“Sam, this is a Beta. A
fighting
fish. That’s what they do. That’s why they come in individual bowls. You’re not supposed to keep them in the same tank with each other.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the tip.”

The tension between them thickened. If she had a knife… She cleared her throat. “Could I get you something to drink? All I have is water and Diet Coke. I, uh, thought you might bring wine again, but—” She glanced at his empty hands.

His hard gaze pierced her. “What would be the point?”

She felt a sharp pang deep inside she didn’t understand. She gave a quick nod. “Right.”

She hoped her outward appearance gave him no clue to her jumbled emotions.  It was good he no longer thought of their times together as romantic interludes requiring wine and roses. Those had been sweet gestures, yes, but unnecessary. She swallowed hard. Entirely unnecessary.

“I suppose we should just… get on with it,” she said.

“Fine.”

She led him to the bedroom and didn’t bother switching on the light. She took off her clothes without looking at him. He did the same. They crawled into the queen-size bed, pulling the quilt over their bodies. They stared at the white ceiling. Not a single part of their bodies touched. Finally, he slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. His warm breath fanned her lips as he kissed her. But it was different than the other kisses they’d shared. Those had been hot, passionate, lusty. This time was… as flat as the white painted ceiling above them.

“John, what—” she began, her words mumbled against his mouth.

He lifted his head and pulled away. “You’re right. Kissing isn’t necessary to conceive a child. What was I thinking?”

She blinked back unexpected tears. That’s not what she’d meant at all. She’d planned to ask him what was wrong. But she certainly wouldn’t show him any concern now. Why was she even upset? This was just how she’d envisioned these trysts to be. Unstimulating and quick. The duller the better. Now she hoped he would just hurry and get it over with.

John didn’t know if his body would even respond to her tonight. She was as detached and unfriendly as that murderous little Beta fish. But even as he thought that, his body tightened and hardened. Sam Rossi was like poisonous candy. Delicious and deadly. And he was unable to resist.

If he wasn’t already in her bed, he would leave. But he might as well take advantage of the situation. He’d been wound tight as a clock all week, what with putting together the city council presentation and with — dammit! — thinking about
her
. Sex had always been a good stress reliever for him. A relaxant. That’s just how he’d think of it. Sam certainly didn’t put an emotional spin on it, why should he?

With a slight shake of his head, he reached for her. Hating himself for his weakness for her, he kissed her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. She moaned and urged her body closer. His resistance faltered. He drew a hot nipple into his mouth. She gasped and tangled her fingers in his hair. He was just about lost to her. He slipped his hand between her legs and caressed her. She purred.

“Dammit!” he muttered, and shoved away. “I can’t do this, Sam.”

She quickly scooted into a kneeling position. “What? Why?”

“You have all the right moves, do all the right things to me, but I keep expecting you to look at your watch. Hell, I have no idea if I’m actually pleasing you, or if it’s all just an act.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Have you ever seen the old movie,
Klute
, with Jane Fonda?” Sam shook her head, looking bewildered. “Jane Fonda’s character, who is a hooker, is entertaining a client. The guy’s totally into it and probably thinks she is, too, because she’s moaning and gasping at all the right times. Then, all of a sudden, she glances at her watch and we know, even if the poor guy doesn’t, that it’s all just a job to her.”

Sam was silent a few moments. “And you think I’m the same way. Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s how you come across, yes.”

Saying nothing, she pulled the quilt around her and drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around her blanketed knees. Her dark hair spilled across the brightly colored ring-like pattern. His eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and for the first time he noticed his surroundings. He looked around in surprise, taking in the cozy decorations of the bedroom, from the old-fashioned quilt on the natural pine sleigh bed to the white lacey curtains on the window to the collection of antique frames and glass bottles on the bureau. The room had true warmth, unlike the rest of her condo. Unlike her.

He focused his attention back to the silent woman on the bed. “Look, Sam. Maybe we should just admit this isn’t working and call it a night.”

Her gaze went to the darkened window. “Well. I guess I should’ve known you couldn’t keep your promises.”

His jaw clenched. “What the hell does that mean?”

She shrugged. “I mean, you didn’t honor your commitment to your two marital contracts, why should I have expected you’d honor this one?”

His breathing shallowed and his blood burned through his veins. “You. Bitch,” he said in dangerously even tones. Sammy Jo or no, he’d had enough. Guilt could only take a person so far. He stood and grabbed his clothes from the floor, marching out of her bedroom and into the tiny bathroom across the hall to dress.

When he came out a few minutes later, he expected to find Sam waiting for him in the living room, angry as hell and holding open the front door, his coat in her hands. But she sat on the edge of the bed wearing a short floral robe, the light from the hallway bathing her face in shadow.

“Just so you know,” he said to her. “When I said we should call it a night, I meant just for tonight. But
this
is good-bye for good.”

Her shoulders jerked when she heard the front door slam. He’d really left.

She’d all but chased him away. Maybe she’d gone overboard in her attempt to stay emotionally detached. But it was always afterward. Never during.

Tears overflowed her eyes and drizzled down her cheeks. She’d screwed everything up. She covered her face with her hands and let herself cry for a few moments. She’d treated him horribly and now he was gone. She knew she deserved his wrath. She’d been a bitch, as he’d said. No way around it. She swallowed a lump in her throat. Becoming a mother was back to being a distant dream.