It was the ultimate rejection, the mother of all brush-offs. She put a hand to her stomach, worried she was going to lose the light dinner she’d had before Steve arrived.
Completely oblivious to her reaction, Sam continued arguing his case. “Don’t worry, I won’t hook you up with any losers. I know you better than anyone, so just think of it as a pre-screening program.”
“I don’t need your help to find someone, Sam,” she said quietly.
He looked hurt. The big idiot. She couldn’t believe he was so blind and misguided.
“But I want to help. I know I’ve been a shit lately, and I know this is really important to you. It’s the least I can do.”
She had no more words. She simply stared at him. Perhaps he saw the pain in her eyes because he reached for her hand. Stroking her fingers absently, he held her eyes steadily.
“I love you more than anything in the world, and if you want a family, you’re going to get one,” he said, deeply sincere. “You deserve the best, Laney. A husband who adores you, kids for you to nurture. I know you’ll make a great mom. And I’ve been thinking—these kids of yours are going to need an uncle to teach them how to do stuff. Skate and surf, whatever. So I’m signing up in advance, Uncle Sam, ready to go.”
Delaney pulled her hand free from his and stood. She couldn’t look at him, she was so angry. How dare he stand there and offer her half a loaf? He was so thick! She wanted to hit him on the side of the head with something large and heavy.
Deep inside, she knew it wasn’t his fault. She was the one changing the rules after all these years. But she was aching so much, and he was standing there, rubbing salt into her wounds.
“I’m only going to say this once—I can find my own husband,” she said coolly.
Sam’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. “What’s wrong now, for Pete’s sake? I’m trying to be nice here!”
“I’m not a bloody charity case, Sam. Men do find me attractive without having to be corralled into a date by my best friend.”
“I’m not saying that! Did I say that? I just want to help!”
“Well, you can’t. This is between me and my future husband. Ever heard the saying three’s a crowd?”
Sam puffed his cheeks out as though he wanted to say something extremely rude but was restraining himself through sheer dint of will.
“Fine. I was just trying to be a good guy. More fool me,” he said, stalking toward the door.
Delaney beat him to it, swinging it open to speed him on his way.
“You want to spend your time thinking about someone’s personal life, why don’t you concentrate on your own?” she said.
This surprised Sam so much that he froze on the threshold.
“You’re not getting any younger yourself, you know, Sam,” Delaney said, pleased to see the look of consternation creasing his face. “Can’t be an overgrown kid all your life.”
With that she pushed the door shut, forcing Sam to skip forward or risk barking his heels.
Guilt kicked in about twenty seconds later. She was such a bitch! The only thing Sam had done wrong was not return her feelings. Which he didn’t even know she had! Offering to help her find a life partner wasn’t a deliberate, malicious act on his behalf. She had no doubt that if she told him how she felt, he’d bend over backward to try to feel the same way. The very thought of which made her skin crawl and her toes curl in her shoes—Sam trying to love her would be ten times worse than Sam oblivious to her love.
The poor, unknowing man had just come to offer his help and support. And she’d thrown it back in his face.
She strode around her apartment a little, wondering what had happened to the calm, easygoing, rational woman she used to pride herself on being. She felt as if she were on a roller coaster, never knowing when to expect the next dip or rise in her emotional state.
But there was no reason for Sam to keep copping the fallout from her meltdown.
Guilt driving her, she grabbed her house keys and slipped out the door. The stairwell was just to the left of her apartment, and she took the steps two at a time as she made her way to Sam’s place. She’d apologize for going off-tap. She’d thank him for his thoughtfulness in wanting to help her get a head start on building a family. And then she’d tell him in a much nicer, calmer fashion that she could handle the quest for a husband on her own.
Finding herself facing Sam’s front door, she paused to take a deep breath before knocking briskly. Tucking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, she ducked her head and waited for the familiar sound of Sam approaching his door. After a few moments, she realized he wasn’t coming. Frowning, she rapped on the door again. Again, nothing. Her frown deepened. God, had she pissed him off so much that he was refusing to let her in now?
“Sam. I’m sorry. Okay?” she called.
Nothing but silence. Delaney chewed her lip. Sure, she could keep yelling her apology through the door. But she didn’t exactly relish all their neighbors being in on the conversation.
Making a decision, she selected Sam’s spare key from the collection on her key ring and slid it into the lock.
“I’m coming in, Sam. I just want to say I’m sorry,” she called as she twisted the key in the lock.
To her surprise, Sam wasn’t waiting on the other side of the door. The apartment seemed deserted, and she guessed that he must have gone out after their big fight. She was turning back toward the door when she registered the sound of the shower running.
Right. That was why he hadn’t heard her. She hovered uncertainly, unsure about whether to go or stay. Then she shrugged. She and Sam had always treated each other’s apartments as extensions of their own. Probably a couple of arguments and some incidental sex on the side weren’t cause to change their unspoken arrangement.
Having decided to wait, she glanced around Sam’s living space, looking for a diversion to keep her overactive mind busy. His living area was dominated by large, bright red leather furniture, modular and very practical for the way Sam lived—neither food nor drink could stain it, and sand brushed off easily. Modern paintings covered most of the wall—big, bright, bold exercises in color and form. They reminded her of Sam, somehow—full of energy and life, yet chaotic and unfocused. And incredibly compelling as a result.
Pressing her lips together, she turned toward the balcony and gravitated to her favorite seat in Sam’s place—a squishy, formless-looking armchair made by a local furniture designer. Covered in a dark navy cord, it was incredibly comfortable and Delaney sank into it with a sigh. Staring glumly at the blue sky outside, she dropped her chin into her hands and tried to think ahead to a time when she wouldn’t have to endure the wrenching, aching pain around her heart. It had to happen. Once she’d made the break, the awful, tight feeling had to go away. Please, God, she prayed. Let it go away as soon as possible.
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t note the sound of the shower finishing, and she was completely off guard when Sam padded out past her, his naked body still half-wet as he headed for the kitchen.
Delaney froze, eyes widening as she scanned the back of his body from head to toe. She’d had sex with him twice now, but both times she’d been too busy grabbing him and holding on for dear life to truly appreciate his remarkable body.
His shoulders were broad and his back well-muscled from years of surfing and skiing and swimming. Despite all the atrocious junk food he consumed, his torso still narrowed athletically down to his hips. His butt deserved an hour of appreciation all to itself—pert and tight and rounded, it was the epitome of a sexy male ass. And now she knew exactly how firm and right it felt in her hands as she urged him to go harder, deeper, faster….
Swallowing a surge of lust, she finished her visual catalogue, eyes running down his long, muscular thighs and calves.
She should say something. This was like spying, with him not realizing she was there. She opened her mouth to speak, then Sam turned around. She forgot whatever it was she’d been about to say. He had such a good chest—the firm, masculine mounds of his pecs covered in a light sprinkling of hair that tapered down to an arrow as it moved south of his navel. The hair blossomed more thickly again at his groin, the perfect showcase for his pièce de résistance. Sam was a man who would never have to feel inadequate in the men’s change room, that was for sure. She squirmed in her seat a little as her eyes found his penis and stayed there. Just looking at him brought back the memory of how hot and hard he’d been as he slid inside her.
The very vividness of her thoughts were enough to launch her to her feet as she belatedly realized that Sam had at last registered her presence.
“Sam, I’m sorry—I used my spare key. I was just waiting, I didn’t mean to intrude….” she said, already striding toward the door.
She deliberately didn’t make eye contact with him, instead keeping her eye on her goal—the door, and freedom from her own desires.
But Sam moved faster, darting across to catch her before she reached the exit.
“Delaney, wait!” he said, grabbing a hold of her arm.
Delaney stiffened and froze, terrified that if he looked into her face he would see exactly how much she longed for him.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s all. I’ll come back. Or you can come down to my place. Or we can talk about this at work tomorrow,” she babbled mindlessly, eyes glued to the door.
“I’m sorry, too,” Sam said. She could feel his breath warm on her face. “And you’re right—finding a husband is your business, not mine. Hell, what do I know about relationships, right?” he said.
Delaney managed a tight little nod. She was trembling, inside and out. He was standing mere inches from her, his whole amazing body gloriously naked. Her knees felt weak, and she almost couldn’t hear her own thoughts over the frantic beating of her heart.
“I have to go, Sam,” she choked, trying to pull her arm from his grasp.
“Why?”
She couldn’t answer him, and he wouldn’t release her. In the end Delaney was forced to lift her face and make eye contact with him.
His irises were the darkest blue she’d ever seen them, and he scanned her face intently as she pleaded with him with her eyes. Surely he could see how tortured she was? How much she wanted him, needed him?
“Laney,” he said, his voice harsh.
She gave a little gasping hiccup, a last attempt at resistance, and then she couldn’t help it, she was leaning toward him and he was leaning toward her and her hands were sliding around his strong, muscular shoulders, her fingers splaying as she gloried in the feel of him under her hands.
His mouth angled over hers and she met the hot rush of his kiss with her own desire, forgetting to breathe or think or even stand she was so lost in the moment.
Sam’s arms flexed to take her weight, his grip firming on her torso as he held her close. She could feel his erection hardening between them, and the greedy, hungry part of her wanted everything, all of it, right then and there.
As her blood thrummed through her veins, moment melted into moment: the delicious unfurling of sensation as Sam pressed his open mouth against her neck, his tongue whirling swirls against her sensitive skin; the sweet pain of her breasts pressed against the hardness of his chest; the dull ache of desire as she rode Sam’s thigh where he’d pressed it between her legs.
Sam murmured his appreciation of it all as he slid her top down over her shoulder, exposing her bra. She let her head drop back up as she felt the rasp of his whisker-stubbled face against her skin. She wanted him so much. Too much.
The realization made her stiffen in his arms. Unless she was a glutton for punishment, now was her chance to step back from making yet another mistake. She closed her eyes, biting her lip as Sam’s mouth at last found her nipple through the satin of her bra. Her hands reached for his head, and while she still had the strength she gently but firmly pushed him away. Sam at last seemed to register the tension in her body, and he lifted his head and locked eyes with her again.
“Not again, Sam,” she said.
Frustration and anger crossed his face like clouds scudding across the sun. His body tensed as he made to move forward, ready to use everything in his sensual arsenal, no doubt, to win her round to his point of view. Which he could do, very easily, she knew.
She shook her head, stepping backward, pushing his hands away.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she said weakly.
She didn’t dare even glance at the stunning erection standing out proudly from his body. She knew she didn’t have enough willpower to resist that much enticement. Instead, she lunged for the door. Within seconds she was on the other side and heading for the staircase. She heard it open after her, then Sam called down the stairwell for her to wait.
The shocked squeal of Sam’s neighbor stepping out of the lift took care of any pursuit he might have been planning, and Delaney scurried down the remaining stairs and into her own apartment.
Her top was still off her shoulder, her bra exposed, and she straightened her clothes with shaking hands. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she paced in front of the door, seriously shaken by what had just happened. She had no control where Sam was concerned. She had to face that fact now, and do something about it.
Reaching for the phone, she pressed a well-worn speed-dial number. Her sister answered on the first ring.