The Unsung Hero (9 page)

Samantha frowned as he sat down beside her.
"About tonight," he prodded gently. "All my wasted effort."

She cleared her throat. "Yes, well—"

"Wait! Don't start yet—-I'll be back in just
a minute!" Jason suddenly jumped up and strode into the kitchen,
coming back with two more glasses of wine. He set them on the
raised hearth, extinguished the single lamp that burned on the end
table so that the only light came from a dim lamp burning in a
corner of the dining room, then switched on the stereo and tuned in
some soft background music. Finally he pulled her down onto the
plush carpet in front of the fireplace.

"Jason—" A protest hovered on her lips as he
pressed a glass into her hand and joined her on the floor. He'd
refilled her glass frequently during dinner and she was beginning
to feel the effects. She looked at him suspiciously. "Are you
trying to get the two of us drunk?"

"Not to worry." He broke into an audacious
grin. "Alcohol affects a man's ability—don't you remember? You
pointed that out just yesterday."

"It's supposed to affect his performance—not
his ability!" Sitting up straight, she inched back from him,
arranged her skirt over her knees and darted him an indignant
glance. "And I distinctly remember you telling me that you've never
had that problem!"

He shrugged and leaned back against the
hearth. "Always a first time, always a first time." Looking wholly
innocent, he patted the spot beside him. "why don't you come and
sit by the fire? If it doesn't keep you warm, I think I can
manage."

She glared at him. "Jason Armstrong, you just
never quit, do you? I'm beginning to think you have a serious
problem with the word 'no.'"

"Funny, I don't remember you saying
that."

Samantha ignored him. "And furthermore," she
continued hotly, "it's as plain as the nose on your face—"

"Whose?" He stared pointedly at the sunburned
tip of her nose.

She said a silent prayer and counted to
twenty. "And furthermore," she reiterated, "it's as plain as the
nose on your face that the dinner and the music are all part of a
little planned seduction scene on your part." Suddenly she stopped.
That elusive something that had been dancing around in her brain
the last few minutes was back again.

"Wait a minute," she breathed. "Wait just a
minute. What you said before... about watching the sunset..." She
snapped her fingers and began to quote. '"We could watch that
mystical moment when the sun goes down and...'"

"And sun-warmed day becomes moon-kissed
night," he finished, a triumphant gleam in his eye.

Samantha jerked upright to
her knees. "You used that line in
Midnight
Enchantment
! That's what Beau said to
Pauline the first time they—" Her mouth clamped shut and an angry
finger sliced through the air. It was the same, almost exactly!
Both fists landed on her slim hips. "He set her up! He knew she'd
never be able to say no once he turned on the charm! He had
everything planned, right down to the sheets on the
bed!"

Jason lifted his glass in a silent toast.
"You see why females were known as the weaker sex in those days,"
he said mildly. "Pauline deserved what she got, to say nothing of
wanting it. She was trying to blackmail him into marriage."

"Beau was a scoundrel, especially at first!
And Pauline only did it to save her family!"

Jason sighed. "Oh, yes, those southern
belles. Noble if not wise." His brown eyes crinkled as he looked
at her. "But if you'll recall, they didn't end up using the
bed."

"Is that why you dragged me
down in front of the fireplace?" His smile set her teeth on edge.
"I can't believe it! Your own private version of
Midnight Enchantment
!
Dammit, how could you?"

"I couldn't resist." He shrugged, sending her
a teasing smile. "My heroes get to have all the fun and I have to
do all the work."

And he thought she was ripe for the taking?
Samantha seethed. "I suppose if I checked the bed I'd find satin
sheets?"

Jason snapped his fingers. "Darn! I knew I
forgot something. Beau had a lot of trouble smuggling crimson
satin sheets through the blockade." One corner of his mouth turned
up ruefully. "I don't have any excuse, though. I guess I should
have borrowed your copy and checked." Looking up at her, he smiled
apologetically. "I suppose that means you're safe for tonight. My
heroes might be rather unscrupulous, but I'm not."

Samantha snorted. "That's a joke! Your
heroes might be unscrupulous at times but at least they have a
heart."

"Even Beau?"

"Even Beau." She eyed his loose-limbed form,
now stretched out lazily on the carpet, his dark head propped
against his hand. "Especially Beau! I'm not so sure about you!"

Jason lifted himself to a sitting position,
long legs tucked up in front of his chest. "Wow!" he said softly.
"You've really got it in for me! I guess I'm going to have to
change while I'm here."

"As the saying goes, if it ain't broke, don't
fix it! You keep telling me you're in perfect working order, so why
bother?" She turned and would have flounced from the room but
suddenly Jason was there before her. She hadn't known he could move
that fast.

"Well, then... couldn't we use a
bandage?"

Samantha looked up to find a hopeful
expression on his face, but his eyes were dancing with devilry. She
suddenly realized he had cupped her shoulders in his hands and was
gently running his fingertips over the bare skin of her arms. An
occasional finger trespassed into the sleeve of her dress.

"Fine," she muttered. "You do that." But the
words lacked their former heat. Already she was weakening. She was
beginning to suspect that staying angry with this man was indeed a
lost cause.

And that was her last thought for a very
long time. His mouth came down on hers, hard and tender, inviting
and demanding. Samantha felt something inside her blossom and
grow, something she hadn't felt in years, something she'd never
felt before. She shivered when his mouth left hers to blaze a
trail of fire down the slender column of her neck to the wildly
beating pulse throbbing in her throat.

Her body was lifted and fitted even more
closely against his unyielding bulk. Never before had she felt so
helpless, so much a puppet in the hands of a master, but she
couldn't have cared less. She felt a sensation not unlike a
feather drifting slowly down to earth, unaware that she'd been
swept from her feet and borne downward until she felt the plushness
of the sofa at her back.

"God, you're sweet." Jason's groan was
muffled against her parted lips. "And soft...I've never touched
anyone so soft."

Samantha opened her eyes to stare at the dark
face hovering just above hers. The shooting flames of the fire cast
flickering shadows over his lean features, throwing into prominence
his straight nose and full sensuous mouth. Driven by some need she
didn't fully understand, she lifted a hand to him.

"You don't have to say that." Her fingers
came in contact with his lower lip, trembling slightly as they
traced the shape of it. "You don't h—"

His mouth opened to nip gently at her
fingertips while long fingers tangled in her hair and pulled her
mouth to his. His lips swallowed her halting whisper. His laugh was
a little shaky when he finally drew away. "Yes, I do. I want to."
He gave her another lingering kiss. "Don't you know that?"

"Jason..." His name was a whisper, a prayer,
a demand and a plea. His response was all she had ever dreamed of
and more. His fingers caressed and explored, glided and probed.
She moaned as he turned so that they lay facing each other, their
legs entwined together. She ached to feel his touch on her bare
skin and arched against him in an effort to make known her silent
plea, delighting in the bold thrust that surged against her.

Aching desire rippled through her body, so
strong it almost shocked her. She was on fire, naked flames of
longing sizzling through her blood. Jason Armstrong was all that
she had ever wanted in a man, all that she needed, all she had ever
dreamed of. He was a renegade, an outlaw, and she was his prey; a
brigand and a pirate, and she was his booty, his prize. He was a
wealthy sea captain, a mighty landowner and she was his mistress,
his beloved bride and his most treasured possession. She was the
woman who could tame all of those men and gain a world in the
bargain. He was the dream lover she had always yearned for, the
tender suitor whose arms would shield and protect her forever.

He invited and she gave; she yielded and he
took; he dominated and she controlled. And all the while, her mind
was carrying her farther and farther away, to a place she'd never
been before, a place that existed only in the mind--a Garden of
Eden, a castle in the air. But the pleasure his roaming hands gave
was only too real, the warm breath filling her mouth and fanning
her skin all too tangible.

It no longer mattered that this was a stage
supplied by Jason; the wine, the fire, the moonlight streaming
through the windows and bathing the room in a silver glow, nothing
but props. Never before had Samantha felt so alive and so vital, or
so wanted. Wanted by the man above her. He was Beau. He was
Marshall. He was a dozen other imaginary heroes all rolled into
one, the man she'd always wanted but could never have. He was the
most exciting man on this earth and he wanted her.

She moaned, a tiny sound of protest. Her
fingers were curled in the silky mat of hair on his abdomen, his
skin was warm and faintly damp. Their clothes were a barrier she
could no longer tolerate. Her eyes opened, dazed and
pleasure-filled, and her fingers began to fumble with the buttons
of his shirt. Jason's eyes opened, too, and he smiled into hers.
The smoldering warmth she saw there sent a rush of pleasure surging
through her body, and she took a deep breath to clear her swelling
senses. The heady scent of his cologne filled her nostrils as she
lifted her head and teasingly brushed her mouth across his, but
suddenly she froze.

She sat up, blue eyes wide and dazed as they
swept around the room. She sniffed, and sniffed again. Then her
mouth opened in a soundless scream.

"Fire!" she managed to gasp. "Fire!"

Chapter 5

Samantha finally pointed an arm toward the
fireplace. Through the wire-mesh screen, flames could be seen
licking eagerly upward. Jason jumped up from the couch and stared
across the room. His eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped open and he
stood rooted to the floor as if he was cemented in place.

"For God's sake!" Samantha dove across the
floor. Ghostly billows of smoke climbed toward the ceiling.
Grabbing the poker from the set of brass-finished tools on the
hearth, she shoved it inside the screen and searched frantically
for the handle of the damper. When it was finally opened, she threw
open the windows and pushed aside the sliding glass door across the
room.

Jason still stood where she'd left him. His
jaw had finally closed, but there was a stupefied look in his eyes
as they moved disbelievingly from the fireplace to where Samantha
stood with her hands on her hips.

She'd adjusted her dress while opening the
windows, but Jason's partially unbuttoned shirt hung half in and
half out of his slacks. His fingers had carved half a dozen
pathways through his dark hair. Gone was the dashing and debonair
soul of an hour before. But despite his rumpled appearance, he
still looked damnably good to her.

She wasn't sure how welcome
the admission was, because in the face of her near surrender, she
realized there would have been no stopping either one of them in
only a few short minutes. An unwilling smile tugged at her lips.
Jason Armstrong had almost killed them both--well, perhaps that was
an exaggeration. But she could imagine the headlines of the weekly
Lincoln City newspaper.
Neskowin Lovers
Succumb to Smoke.
And to think she was
worried about succumbing to
him
!

It was her outright laugh that finally
penetrated his dazed state. "What's so funny?" he growled. He
finally moved to take her arm and pull her into the dining
room.

"You," she said brashly. "Don't you know
you're supposed to open the damper before you start a fire? But
then I guess you wouldn't—" she grinned impishly "—coming from
Southern California. You must worry more about how to keep cool
than how to keep warm."

Jason scowled. "I forgot about it." He stared
at her a second before a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "I
guess I should be glad you smelled the smoke before it did any real
damage. I don't think David would be very happy if I told him I
almost managed to burn down his house."

At the mention of his friend, Samantha's
smile faded. It was an almost unwelcome reminder that Jason's
appearance in her life was only temporary. She would never see him
again after this summer, and it was altogether possible he wouldn't
be staying that long.

Heaving an inward sigh, she made a move
toward the entryway but Jason stopped her.

"You're not leaving yet, are you?"

She hesitated. Much as she hated to admit
it, this was no more than a game to him. Love was probably a game
to him, he'd as much as said so yesterday. And yet his devilishly
handsome features touched something inside her that made her want
desperately to throw caution to the winds and let the magic flow.
Hard to believe of a woman who meticulously planned even her meals
two weeks in advance.

Her hair swirled gently on her cheek as she
shook her head. She softened her words with a slightly wistful
smile. "I think I'd better."

His self-assured air was back in full force
and running full speed ahead. "Why? 'The night is still young,'"
he quoted in a deep velvet tone, " 'and who knows what untold
pleasures await the two of us?'"