The One She Left Behind (Harlequin Super Romance) (19 page)

Or she’d kick him to the curb the minute he showed up at the door. “I can only promise I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.” She started to walk away before turning back to him again. “You know, Sam, I’ve been blessed to have a second chance to set things straight with my daughter. If it can happen for me, it can happen for you, too.”

Sam didn’t believe that for a second, but he needed to make an effort to make amends. He needed to put the past to rest while he still had time. What that involved remained to be seen, but not trying could haunt him for the rest of his life.

S
HE HAD TOO MUCH STUFF
. Savannah realized that after she’d sorted through the remainder of the items she planned to take with her, those silly little things that only she could appreciate. Since her mother’s departure, she’d occupied her time in an ongoing debate with her sensible side—to throw or not to throw away. Her pack rat persona had won out. At this rate, she’d have to find the closest shipping service and send a few boxes to Chicago. She had no idea how she’d cram it all into her limited-storage condo, but she’d deal with that later.

Savannah spent the next half hour wandering through the house, committing each and every room to memory. The knotty pine walls in the kitchen, the outdated rose wallpaper in the bathrooms, the scarred hardwood floors in hallways, spoke to a legacy that she would always embrace, even though her mother understandably could not.

She lowered herself to the bare parlor floor, feeling as
though she would lose an important part of herself the minute she left the house behind. Feeling as if she would be closing a chapter of her life that she’d clung to for so many years. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but that vow went by the wayside when she recalled all the times she’d sat in this very spot at her father’s feet, telling him about her day and listening to his down-home words of wisdom. She also remembered Sam meeting her in this room so many times, where he’d steal a kiss before her dad would arrive to remind her that she had a curfew. Golden, precious times that she could never get back, or ever forget.

In a house now devoid of occupants other than herself, Savannah had never felt quite so lonely in her life, nor had she ever lost the desire to return to work. Right then, she would happily call the senior partner and tell him to go to hell—and that idea was unequivocally insane. She’d worked too hard to reach her goals to let a burst of nostalgia hijack her career.

Despite her downhearted state, Savannah forced herself to the kitchen for something to eat. Most of the leftovers had been thrown out and only one can of tuna remained in the pantry. She could top the tuna with a slice of overripe tomato and wilting lettuce. Or she could drive into town and grab something to go from Stan’s. That certainly seemed the better option.

Savannah snatched her purse from the counter and on the way out the door, rifled through the contents, including the old greeting-card bundle she’d stuffed inside the bag, in search of her keys. Unsuccessful in her ef
forts, she paused on the front porch, tucked the cards beneath her chin and dug some more.

Impatience suddenly got the best of her. “Dammit, where are you!”

“Right here, ma’am.”

Last she checked, keys didn’t talk, and if they did, she doubted they’d speak in a sexy, Southern, man’s-man voice since her car had been born in Detroit.

Her gaze shot to the driveway, where she spotted Sam standing beside his big black truck, a brown paper bag in one hand, a bottle of white wine in the other and an overtly sensuous smile plastered on his striking face.

Savannah not only dropped the card bundle, she also dropped the blasted purse and its contents at her feet, where the missing key ring landed on her big toe.

She silently cursed the pain and the keys and the man who simply wouldn’t stop shaking her up. “What are you doing here, Sam?”

When he held up the bag and said, “Gracie’s famous chicken and dumplings,” Savannah experienced an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Different location, but the same scenario during that first reunion on the bridge.

After gathering her mess and her wits, Savannah sprinted down the steps and met Sam halfway on the path. “I was just about to go into town for something to eat. Tell Gracie she saved me from a serious elevation in my cholesterol level.”

Sam kept a solid hold on the bag and Savannah’s attention. “There’s enough for two.”

Crazy man, trying to win a dinner invitation. Crazy
girl, about to give it to him, thanks to her sudden inability to be alone. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Nope. Thought I’d join you, if you don’t mind letting me in the house.”

Not a good idea. “It’s a nice evening. We can dine on the front porch.”

“Suit yourself.” As Sam breezed by, Savannah turned to watch him scale the stairs, completely engrossed in the tight black T-shirt hugging his broad back, the fit of his faded jeans and the swagger in his walk.

While she continued to gawk as if he’d grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead—more accurately, his butt—Sam set the bag and bottle on the table next to her key-swallowing purse. “Gracie didn’t pack any plates or utensils,” he said as he turned around to reveal her second favorite view. Nothing quite like the added bonus of a belt buckle to enhance a fine, masculine feature.

When she failed to respond, he added, “We also need a corkscrew and glasses, unless you want me to uncork the bottle with my teeth so we can drink out of our shoes.”

Snapping to, Savannah strode to the front door and muttered, “I’ll get it.”

She slapped the screen back a little harder than necessary, angry at herself for once again succumbing to his charms. Last night should have served as their final goodbye, but clearly Sam had other ideas. Apparently so did her hormones, the only logical explanation for her sex-and-Sam thoughts. That, and simple sleep deprivation. Two nights ago, remorse over what they’d done had kept her awake. Last night, learning about her mother’s
past had robbed her of much-needed rest. And now that she recognized the problem, she could keep a firm grip on her control and in turn, have a glass of wine and sleep like a baby as soon as Sam went home.

She gathered the paper plates and plastic utensils left over from the wake. As far as a corkscrew went, she could only locate a paring knife someone had overlooked in the drawer. They would also have to settle for disposable glasses.

Now if she could just dispose of some extremely sinful images as she made her way to the porch, past the wall where they’d done the deed she’d sworn she would never do again with him. The deed she really wanted to do again.

Only dinner…

Savannah took the chair opposite Sam while he poured the wine. Perplexed, she asked, “Did you use your teeth to open the bottle?”

“Didn’t need to,” he said as he slid the cup in front of her. “It’s a screw cap.”

“That purchase must have set you back a couple of bucks.”

She expected a frown, but he granted her a grin. “We’re in Placid, not Chicago. I’m just glad the town council voted to allow the sale of beer and wine. Otherwise, I’d have to drive two counties over to buy booze.”

Not so lucky if her palate couldn’t tolerate said booze. “I suppose it will have to do.”

After Savannah helped herself to the dumplings, Sam kicked back in the chair and proceeded to stare at her.

“What?” she asked around her first forkful of food.

He laced his fingers together behind his neck. “I’m trying to decide if you look any different now that you’ve made up with your mom.”

Savannah dropped the fork onto the paper plate. “How did you know that?”

“Ruth told me.”

“When?”

“When she stopped by and asked me to look in on you.”

Didn’t anyone ever voluntarily act on her behalf without a request from someone else? “Okay, you’ve looked, I’m fine, you’re obviously not going to eat, now you can go.”

“I don’t want to go.” He leaned forward, took a long drink from the plastic cup and smacked his lips. “I have to help you finish this bottle of fine wine.”

The jury was still out on how fine the wine might be. In order to see for herself, she took a sip and scowled. “I believe this comes from the Burns Going Down Winery in No Hope, North Dakota.”

Sam let go a hearty laugh. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is, unless you like the subtle antifreeze bouquet.”

Suddenly serious, Sam leaned forward and spun his fork round and round. “It’s none of my business, but I’m curious as to what you found out about your mother’s drawing.”

Although Savannah was tempted not to answer, she opened the dam and released troubled waters. She told him the gritty details about her stepgrandfather’s horrific behavior and about her mother’s shame. She also
injected her own guilt into the revelation mix. By the time she was finished, she’d consumed two full glasses of the suspect wine.

“It’s not all your fault, Savannah,” Sam said. “And in some ways, Ruth’s not totally to blame, either. I’m just glad you both finally worked it out. Hating is a big burden to bear.”

“When it comes to your own mother, you should know all about that.” Evidently the stiff drink had loosened her tongue.

“I don’t hate her anymore,” he said. “I do regret that I didn’t clear the air before she died. That’s why I’m proud that you did what you did.”

Proud? That was a first from him. “Thank you. Now pass me some more of that No Hope, will ya?”

He turned the bottle upside down and shook it. “All gone. Want me to go get some more?”

“If we finished that entire bottle, you shouldn’t be driving.”

He winked. “You drank most of it, babe, but I don’t care to go anywhere at the moment anyway.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “I kind of like having you here.”

So much so she completely discarded all the rationale for why she should want him gone.

With the steel nerves of a stunt pilot, she leaned over and kissed Sam. She blamed her inability to resist him on the liquor, when she knew full well she wasn’t drunk. At least not from a few cupfuls of wine. But the way he kissed her back—slowly, provocatively—was more intoxicating than a liter of vodka.

He pulled away and surveyed her face from forehead
to chin before centering on her eyes. “Mind telling me why you just did that?”

“Because I’m lonely.”

He didn’t appear at all happy over her claim.
False
claim. “And I’m the only man under the age of sixty to keep you company?”

That wasn’t even close to the truth. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m fed up with pretending that I don’t want to be with you again. Maybe that’s wrong, but that’s how I feel.”

Savannah halfway expected him to bid her goodbye once and for all. She didn’t expect him to ask, “Do you want me to stay?”

“Do you know any reason why I should?”

“Let me spend the night, and I’ll give you several good reasons.”

Only dinner?
“That sounds tempting.”

“Just say yes, for old times’ sake.”

Only tonight…
“Yes.”

He stroked her arm with his thumb, and Savannah felt it everywhere. “No walls this time.”

She could interpret that several ways but she concentrated on the obvious. “No walls, but I still have a bed.”

He leaned and kissed her softly. “What are we waiting for?”

A bolt of lightning prodding her to steer clear of him. A celestial message written in the scattered clouds, warning her to be cautious. A moment of lucidity when she recognized the chance she would be taking. If any of those signs did happen to come to pass, she chose to ignore them all.

Without another word or even the slightest hesitation,
Savannah held out her hand and guided Sam up the stairs to her bedroom. The waning sun filtered through the partially open curtains, sending a ribbon of light across the bed. She’d once been in an almost identical situation—standing in her childhood room with Sam, plagued by ambivalence, excited by the prospect of finally giving him everything after two years of making him wait. Yet she wasn’t that innocent, impressionable girl now. She knew exactly what was about to happen, including the possible fallout, yet she seemed powerless to halt it any more than she could quiet her racing heart.

As they stood face-to-face, Sam slipped the buttons on her blouse one by one, perhaps to allow her to change her mind. She didn’t, not even after he’d removed every last bit of her clothing, from top to bottom, with agonizing slowness. After he seated her on the mattress, he began to undress while Savannah watched with more than a passing interest.

First, he sat on the wingback chair set against the opposite wall and toed out of his boots. Next, he pulled the T-shirt up and over his head and, last, worked his jeans and boxers down his narrow hips, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on hers. Keeping her on edge when he stalked toward her sporting a look and physical evidence that said he meant business. Pleasurable business.

Sam pulled her to her feet, leaned around her and raked the quilt and sheets back, sending several stuffed animals flying. She would have found that comical had she not been in such a needy state.

Savannah expected that same rush of passion, that same uncontrollable combustion that had driven them
two nights ago in the foyer. Instead, Sam claimed the place where she had been, moved her between his parted legs and as she stood before him, explored her body with both his eyes and hands as if taking all the details to memory.

She supposed that with age came patience—and experience. He demonstrated that by trailing his warm lips down her torso in a series of light kisses, and he didn’t stop there. All those years ago, he’d never been quite so bold. But then, she’d been much more reticent and he’d always respected that. Tonight, he’d clearly decided to pull out all the stops, and she had no desire to stop him.

Savannah felt as if Sam were testing her limits, seeing how much she could take as he used his mouth to bring her to the brink. If he wanted her to beg, he certainly had the method and the means to make that happen. But she didn’t have to plead before he brought her to a climax so strong that she shuddered with the force of it. And just when she believed her legs would give way, he brought her back onto the bed in his arms and guided himself inside her.