Explosion of Love (The Armstrongs Book 6) (3 page)

Morning came and Samantha lay in the bed, well rested for the first time in…she couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up in the morning relaxed and happy.

Normally she woke up, dragged herself out of bed, had a few cups of coffee, and then hauled herself to whatever shoot was on the schedule for the day.

She stretched her arms above her head and then rolled over onto her side, enjoying the feeling of being rested and not having anywhere to be right now. Her mind drifted, appreciating the texture of the sheets on her skin, and the sun peeking through the curtains.
It will be a beautiful day. With Grant.

Even more amazing was that she almost had forgotten why she’d fled to Chicago in the first place. But the scene that had probably ended her career reared its ugly head, and she groaned as she replayed it in her mind.

She had been
the
top contender as the new fashion model for Silueta – a very coveted position that most models would kill for. And what did Samantha do with the position? She accused the marketing director of being a lying, dishonest slime bag. In public. With lots of people looking on and listening to her completely lose her temper.
God, when am I going to learn to control that part of me?

She groaned and rolled over in the bed, burying her heated cheeks in the pillow as she remembered the scene, one frame at a time. She had been furious and…

“You don’t have to think about that right now,” she audibly lectured herself. “You came here to get away from the situation and try to find happiness in your life once again. At least for a little while.”

She scooted over in the bed, feeling better after her little pep talk. She continued to push New York to the back of her mind, as she mentally got ready for the day.
I’ll  pretend everything is fine and enjoy the beach. When was the last time I went to Sandy Beach? I wonder what has changed?

When they were kids, they had spent all their summers at Sandy Beach. Grant’s parents owned a beach house up there, and her parents had always rented a villa nearby.

The Armstrong and Paxton kids had been inseparable growing up. They’d lived in the same neighborhood in Chicago, and spent the summers together in Sandy Beach.

She remembered the summers at the beach as some of the best memories from her childhood. Fun and lazy days in the sand without the confines of school and household chores. Long hours in and out of the water. Chasing each other in the surf. Building sand castles only to have them knocked over. Alliances made and broken as their siblings had taken sides; sometimes with their own family, and other times aligning themselves with the others based upon age.

The Paxtons had permanently moved from Chicago to Sandy Beach, ten years earlier, taking their three youngest children with them. Grant had been eighteen at the time and had stayed with his two older brothers in Chicago while he attended college.

She wondered if she’d have the chance to meet Grant’s parents and some of his siblings during her stay in Sandy Beach. She hadn’t seen any of them since she’d moved to New York and it would be a nice reunion.

A wave of sadness swamped her.
I wish there was a way to go back to that innocence once again. To recapture the happiness of my childhood and the simple life.

She didn’t remember when her life had become so burdensome. It wasn’t something she’d planned. Yes, she’d been driven. Her dream of becoming a top fashion model had consumed her early teen years. But once she’d achieved her dream, what did she have to show for it? A broken relationship that never should have started. Few real friends. Stress. Sadness. Emptiness.

When it came right down to it – she didn’t like her life!
How pathetic is that?
She was still lying there thinking gloomy thoughts when she heard the doorknob turn. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.

***

Grant stood in the door to the guest room with a cup of coffee in his hand and peeked inside. He had intended to wake her up, but when he saw her eyes closed as she still slept, he leaned against the doorjamb and watched her for a few minutes.

She looked so cute. An arm and a leg had slipped out from the blanket, and he allowed his eyes to skim what his hands were dying to touch. Her skin looked so soft, he longed to caress it, to stroke her long auburn hair, and then learn the feel of her skin with his fingertips.

But he did none of these things. Instead, he took a few steps towards the bed and called to her, “Good morning, Sammie.”

She scrunched her eyes once before she opened them. Then she sniffed the air and her eyes opened wide. “Hmm, you sure make the best coffee in the world. I’ve missed that in New York.”

“It’s the coffee maker. It’s the best one on the market and the only one that can brew a decent cup of coffee.”

Samantha grinned as he highlighted the benefits and features of his coffee maker. It was his pride and joy – a La Pavoni Professional machine. Sam had more than once teased him with his attachment to that machine and called him a coffee snob.

He’d bought it when he was still in college, saving up every penny for almost a year before he had the thousand dollars it took to purchase the magnificent piece of kitchen wizardry. The model he’d chosen was in solid brass, and it wasn’t just a coffee machine, it was one of the first espresso machines designed for residential use. It steamed and frothed the milk, and made a great cup of coffee, espresso, or cappuccino. A steam machine that prepared the perfect cup of coffee. Every time.

When he took a breath, she jumped in with a teasing question: “So, was that the reason you didn’t keep the job in Alaska, because you couldn’t bring your La Pavoni there?”

Grant grinned at her. “You know me too well. I wouldn’t have dared to take it someplace like that.  With the ever-changing weather conditions, the frigid temperatures, and the high humidity at times, an appliance like the La Pavoni would have suffered oxidation.”

I sound ridiculous
. More than one woman had complained that he seemed to love that coffee machine more than her.
Because it’s true. You never loved any woman except Sam. And she has never complained. No she’d let me rave about my La Pavoni again today even though she’s heard it all before.

Samantha scooted out of the bed and walked toward him. “Lead on, then. Let’s see if this coffee is as good as you claim, and as good as I remember.”

Grant handed her the cup and watched as she took her first sip. “Good?”

She swallowed and licked her lips before she nodded. “Heaven.”

While he stood there, the heat rising in his body and with the hope of seeing her licking her lips in that sensual way again, she finished the first cup and handed it back to him. “More, please.”

“You’re the same bratty thing you’ve always been.”

“And you love me for that.”

He didn’t answer; she didn’t have to know how right she was.
I love her.

“I made breakfast. Are you interested?”

“Much so. I’m starving.”

He left the guest room and went to the kitchen to make another two cups of coffee. When he’d finished, she came out of the guest room, took a seat at the bar, and watched as Grant pulled waffles and a bowl of fresh fruit from the refrigerator.

He watched her as she ate. She’d always enjoyed food and despite being a top model now, she still could eat like a hungry teenager. Most of the women he’d dated in the past had only picked at food when in his presence, a habit he found annoying.

They finished breakfast and then headed out for the beach.

“I need to stop at the hardware store before we leave the city,” he informed her when they were a few blocks away from his apartment.

“Okay,” she replied. Her next question caught him off guard. “So, who’s the latest girlfriend?”

Grant kept his eyes straight ahead. “There isn’t one.”

“No girlfriend? What happened to bad boy Grant?” she teased him.

A flash of embarrassment zipped through his body when he thought of his younger, wild, and hormone-driven self. He’d been such a jerk, using the girls for sex and throwing them away.

“I’m not like that anymore.”
I want you and nobody else.
But he could hardly tell her that.
She was his friend and he didn’t want to lose her friendship, even if it meant he would have to stuff his own feelings. Keeping her friendship was more important than confessing his real emotions.
Besides, it’s not like you ever gave her a reason to think of you as boyfriend material.

They arrived at the hardware store and he grabbed a cart. He pulled out a sheet of paper and began methodically going through the store picking up a myriad of things.

“You weren’t kidding when you said the place needed some repairs, were you?” she asked, watching as he chose plumbing fixtures for under the sink.

“No, I wasn’t. Did you change your mind about going?” he asked.

“No such luck. In fact, I think this is kinda fun.”

Then he sent her on a mission to choose a faucet in the next aisle. He gave her a once-over when she walked away, glad she couldn’t see him doing so.
God, she looks fricking hot in those cutoff shorts and that t-shirt.

Her very short denim cutoffs, with rips in all the right places, accentuated her gorgeous butt and her endless legs. She had the shorts paired with a spaghetti-strapped tank top. The tank top itself would have been considered risqué, because it barely covered her jutting breasts and ended well above her belly button. But she wore a flowing thing over it that resembled a blouse, without buttons. It flowed out and behind her. The brilliant orange color intensified the tan of her skin.

He’d noticed more than one of the men in the hardware store checking her out and regretted sending her into the other aisle alone. He followed her and watched her chew on her bottom lip as she looked over the various faucets before choosing one. It wasn’t the cheapest model, but it wasn’t extravagant either. Exactly what he’d have chosen himself.

She turned and grinned at him. “See what I found. This one would be perfect for our…your beach house.”

Grant returned her grin, not commenting on her slip of the tongue, and they continued making their way through the store. By the time everything on his list was marked off, they had two carts filled with items, and a small load of lumber waiting at the checkout counter.

He paid for everything and led the way to the truck where he stashed everything in the bed, tight on top of the tools and cables and whatever was already there.

“When was the last time you cleaned out the bed of your truck?” she asked with a teasing lilt to her voice.

Grant stared at her and asked, deadpan, “Why would I want to do that?” He managed to keep a straight face for all of ten seconds before they both burst out laughing.

“This is fun,” Samantha told him, climbing up into the truck before he could get there to open her door.

When Grant saw what she’d done, he sent a scowl her way, but her response was to wiggle her fingers at him and grin ear-to-ear.
She’s asking for it!
In more ways than one. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be heading to the beach with than her.

He thought about her attire and then shook his head as he realized that other people only saw the façade she allowed them to see. She was the perfectly coiffed, always stunningly attractive, top fashion model. But with him, right here and now, she was a normal girl who headed to the beach in ratty cutoffs and a thin t-shirt.

If her manager and the photographers could see her now.
I bet they’ve never heard of a top fashion model going to a hardware store to buy plumbing fixtures for a do-it-yourself project.

During the one-and-a-half hour drive Grant had tried to prepare her for the sorry state of the beach house.

But when she saw it for the first time, it reminded her so much of the house she and Grant had dreamt of, she had to take several deep breaths to contain the emotion welling up.
It’s the perfect house for us. Well...I mean, for him. It’s the perfect little beach house for Grant!

She looked beyond the run-down state and the repairs that needed to be done, and saw the beauty and amenities it offered. It was small two-bedroom structure with clapboard siding on the outside that had faded to a dirty gray color, lending even more character to the structure. On the south side were a screened-in porch, and a small loft area reaching up into the rafters. A single dormer window poked out from the A-frame-shaped roof, and the double French doors off the back of the house lent an additional touch of charm. 

Samantha instantly fell in love with the house. That sentiment deepened, when she discovered the direct access to the sand beach at the lake. The house was not too big, and not too little. Simply perfect.

And the overgrown garden with beautiful wildflowers made it resemble Sleeping Beauty’s castle. She was so excited and happy; she launched herself back into his arms once he’d parked the truck and came around to help her out.

Grant wrapped his arms around the wriggling female, chuckling, “Be still, or we’re both going to end up falling to the ground.”

“It’s beautiful!” she told him, her voice slightly higher than normal.

Grant spun her around several times, sharing her enthusiasm. He’d done the same thing millions of times before, but this time something was different. There was a new awareness between the two of them, and when he set her back down on her feet, she could tell he was feeling it as well.

Things between them had changed. The emotions she was feeling for him weren’t those of a good friend. Her body was tingling where he’d touched her and everywhere else. 
How can that be?

She hid her emotions from him as best she could and chalked up what she was feeling to being on the rebound.
He’s your friend and in all those years has never shown any romantic interest in you. Don’t make a fool out of yourself.

Grant seemed to be as embarrassed as she was, because he buried his hands in the pockets of his pants, leaving her feeling even more unsettled about the situation. She grabbed her bag from the backseat of the truck and mumbled, “I’ll go unpack.”

She heard Grant unloading the supplies they had purchased, and after a long half hour of hiding inside the house, Samantha was lured back out to partake of the sunshine and water.
Besides, Grant’s my best friend. It’s ridiculous to hide from him. I’m here to have fun, not to hide inside.

Grant was working in the small kitchen, putting the final touches on the cupboard doors, when she found him. He’d purchased new knobs and pulls for all of the kitchen cabinets, and a few new hinges for two of the upper cabinets that were in need of major repair.

She watched him from the opening to the kitchen, her eyes tracking a bead of sweat as it ran down the back of his neck and soaked into the fabric of his t-shirt – something a number of other drops of sweat had done, judging by the water ring around his neck.
God, that is so sexy. Sexy? Girl, since when do you think a sweating guy is hot? And since when do you swoon over Grant, getting wet in all the wrong places? What on earth is wrong with you?

She must have made some noise because he turned and looked at her. “Hey! Let’s hit the water. I need to cool down. This humidity is a killer.”

Samantha nodded her head, needing to cool off herself, but not because of the outside temperature. No, watching him had a fire burning inside her.

“I’ll go change.”  She did so, thankful that she’d tossed a bikini into her suitcase, just in case. As she exited the bedroom a few minutes later, she almost lost her footing when she saw Grant dressed in his bathing shorts, waiting for her.

He’d put on at least twenty pounds of pure muscle since she saw him the last time, evenly distributed between his muscular chest and well-defined abs, his massive biceps with the sexy tattoo and his powerful thighs.

“Ready?” he asked, swinging a towel around his neck.

Samantha kept her eyes averted from his naked chest. With the blood rushing through her body and her pulse speeding up, she nodded.
Ready for you? Always. Never.

She rushed forward and immersed herself in the nice fresh water in one big jump. The cool water helped ease the heat she was experiencing, but wasn’t cold enough to make her shiver.

“The platform?” he inquired as they both surfaced.

“Who’s first?” Samantha didn’t wait for his answer, but struck out with long, sure strokes of her arms and kicks of her feet. A platform rose out of the lake a few hundred yards away. It provided a docking station for boats, but the Armstrong and Paxton kids had used it as a ground zero and sunbathing deck since they’d first come to the lake.

Grant beat her to the platform, and after levering his body out of the water, he reached down a hand and helped her up on the platform.

She tried to pretend nothing was different and stretched out on her stomach on the sun-warmed wooden deck. The warmth of the sun felt amazing on her back, and she sighed and let her eyes close.

He followed suit, and after several minutes of companionable silence, he asked the question she’d dreaded since she’d arrived at the airport: “So what happened with Craig this time?”

Samantha answered him without ever lifting her head up. “That cheating bastard ruined my career.”

“How’s that?” Grant inquired, keeping his voice calm and his body still on the platform, which she was thankful for. It was embarrassing enough to tell him her big screw-up; she didn’t want to look into his eyes while doing so.

“Remember I told you Silueta was looking for the
Face of the Year
and I wanted that contract? Bad.”

“Sure, Sammy, you told me that this is one of the biggest and most important contracts in the fashion industry.”

She marveled at how well he’d listened; he had nothing to do with fashion and still he’d remembered every word.

“Craig was completely against it.”

“Why?” Grant asked, an edge finding its way into his voice.

“He didn’t think I was good enough, and he didn’t think I could handle the pressure.”

“So you didn’t go for it?”

“Off course I did!” She felt her temper rising, but when she looked at him, the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. Telling Samantha Armstrong she couldn’t do something was like waving a red flag in front of a raging bull.

Her brothers had played to that flaw in her character whenever they wanted her to do something and she had balked at it. She had hated being played by them, but then she’d hated being told what she couldn’t do even worse.
I have to get a grip on my temper or this will end badly one day.

“So, against Craig’s advice you applied for the position?”

“I did. I was already modeling for them, and thought that would give me an advantage. My agent made the appointments and I passed the first two castings. They promised to call me for the final casting, but didn’t.”

“So, what exactly happened that set you off?”

She sighed, blood rushing to her cheeks at the memory of Craig’s betrayal. “I went to the bathroom as the afternoon wore away, and I asked Craig to answer the phone if it rang. Their marketing director had promised me they would make a decision before the end of the day. I thought I had the job in the bag.”

“So, they never called?” Grant asked, confused.

Samantha pushed herself to a sitting position. “No, they called. Craig told me they called and informed him they had decided to postpone their decision for a month or two.”

Grant took her hand into his and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’m not sure I can follow – how did he ruin your career with this? They’ll come around and call you when they’re ready.”

“No!” She jumped up and paced the platform, before she continued, “He told them I wasn’t interested any longer and they needed to find someone else. Imagine my surprise a few weeks later when I attended a big Silueta event and found out that Cindy was the new
Face of the Year.
They replaced me as their model and I hadn’t even been told that.”

Grant remained silent, waiting out her burst of temper.

“I lit into the marketing director with every curse I came up with. I called him a lying slime bag in front of everyone. The heads of the company, visiting foreign press, key players in the fashion industry, you name it. I blew it in the biggest way possible.”

She sped up her pacing on the small platform.
This is so humiliating. And it’s my own responsibility.

“You know me. My temper went on a roll, and any thought of holding back was long gone. At least I didn’t physically attack him. Just verbally assaulted the poor man.“

“That is bad. Really bad. But you wouldn’t have wanted to work with them, if they use these kind of tactics, Sammie.”

“They don’t. It was Craig. He’s the lying, dishonest slime bag who conned me. He made that up. In reality they called to offer me the contract and he said I wasn’t interested anymore. Can you imagine that?”