Return to Me (2 page)

“Forget a man who looks like that? No way.” This from Allie, who’d even stopped flirting with the cute guy at the bar to weigh in on the sexiness of Noah McCall.

Samara gave an emphatic shake of her head. “Looks aren’t everything.”

Allie flashed a wicked grin. “No, but they sure don’t hurt.”

While the girls continued chatting, Samara retreated back to her thoughts. What could Noah want to talk to her about? The last time she saw him, she’d been lying on the bed with the room whirling around her. Noah had just carried her to bed, kissed her on her forehead, and walked out the door.

Samara had wished more than once that she’d either had too much to drink so she wouldn’t remember her humiliation, or that she hadn’t had anything to drink at all. Unfortunately she’d been sober enough to remember Noah’s refusal and just drunk enough to have issued the invitation in the first place.

In Paris for the wedding, she thought she had accepted and resigned herself to the fact that the man she planned to marry, Jordan Montgomery, was in love with another woman. She told herself she was happy for them. Jordan and Eden had suffered enough and deserved every happiness. But that was before Eden walked in the room for the ceremony and Samara saw Jordan’s face. The tiny crack in her heart became a gaping crevice. Never had she seen a more honest, naked look of adoration.

After the wedding, they’d all gone to a small restaurant to celebrate. Since she, Noah, and a friend of Eden’s were the only guests, the party broke up quickly. The happy couple headed to their honeymoon and Dr. Arnot, Eden’s friend, said goodbye and left. Barely saying a word, Noah had disappeared abruptly, leaving Samara alone at the table.

The first time she met Noah, she’d been instantly attracted to him … until he opened his mouth. Within seconds, the man had her fuming. He’d been arrogant, cocky, and evasive and those were just his good characteristics. She’d gone to him for help and he’d practically laughed in her face.

Samara was used to people, especially men, being nice to her. At just a little over five feet tall, with a slight build, creamy magnolia complexion, and large, ice-blue eyes, most men tended to treat her as a fragile doll. It wasn’t something she encouraged or took advantage of, just something she was accustomed to having. With five older brothers, she’d been taught how to take care of herself, but that didn’t stop men from feeling as though they needed to protect her.

Noah McCall hadn’t even acted as though he knew she was a woman. He’d refused to give her information on Eden for Jordan, laughed at her temper, and then had practically thrown her out of his office.

So why had she found herself sitting alone at the table, fantasizing about him? Were those broad shoulders really as strong as they looked? Was his short ebony hair as soft and silky as it seemed? Did his deliciously sensuous mouth taste of the wine they’d had with dinner?

Physically, Noah McCall was the most perfect-looking man she’d ever seen. Tall, muscular, with a swarthy complexion and the deepest, darkest brown eyes she could ever imagine. The kind of eyes a woman could lose her soul in, lose herself.

What happened next was inevitable, but also one of the most painful experiences of her life. Why couldn’t she forget? And now, how could she, when the cause of that pain had stood in front of her only minutes ago?

Samara took a gulp of her slushy margarita. She remembered everything as if it were just yesterday … overwhelming need, consuming heat, and then cold, frozen reality.

“Would mademoiselle care for more wine?”

Samara blinked up at the waiter, a little surprised he’d had to ask. Couldn’t he recognize when a woman wanted to get rip-snorting drunk? She nodded emphatically, wondering vaguely why her neck felt so loose on her head.

“No, mademoiselle would not care for more wine.”

The masculine, somewhat harsh voice disturbed her pleasant fog. She glared hazily up at Noah McCall. Or Beautiful Jerk, as she’d come to call him in her mind. He merely shot her a condescending, knowing look that rattled her down to her four-inch stiletto heels. Just who did he think he was?

“Mademoiselle would most certainly like another drink. Who do you think—”

A large, male hand covered the top of her glass to prevent the waiter from carrying out her wishes. Samara stared at that hand. Swarthy dark skin, slightly raised veins, and a scattering of ink-black hair. All in all, a very nice hand. Why didn’t it belong to a nice man?

He pulled a chair close to hers and sat down beside her. “Come on, sweetheart. I think it’s time for a long summer’s nap for you. As tiny as you are, one more drink and I’ll be picking you up off the floor.”

Samara gave him the glare she’d practiced on her brothers, a little disappointed when he just grinned at her … just as her brothers often had. Well hell, she’d just lost one man and now this handsome hunk was treating her like his kid sister. For a woman who’d always been fairly confident in her powers of attracting men, her ego had taken some major bruising lately.

Needing to reassert herself as a sexy, desirable woman, Samara took the hand that had covered her wineglass and held it between her hands. She turned it over and ran her finger in a soft, zigzag movement down the inside of his palm.

The hand closed on her finger. Samara gasped and looked up at him, losing all breath. Desire, hot and potent, promising her endless hours of pulse-pounding pleasure, burned in his eyes. Then, as if a wave of cold water had hit him, the heat disappeared and cool arrogance returned.

Samara snatched her hand back and stood. The room blurred, spun, and then settled into a surreal, fuzzy setting. She grasped the table with her fingers, refusing to acknowledge that if someone so much as pushed her with a fingertip, she’d keel over.

A loud sigh drew her gaze back to the table. Noah’s too-perfect mouth lifted into one of the sexiest smiles she’d ever seen. Knowledge hit her, causing another wave of dizziness. She wanted him. It was as simple and unadorned as that. The thought sobered her quickly. Could she do this? Actually have sex with a man she didn’t like, when she was quite certain that if she knew him more, she’d like him even less? Her entire body throbbed with the answer … an unequivocal yes.

Hanging on to the table with one hand, Samara held out the other to Noah. She was a little bewildered when he just stared at it without taking it. Then shock waves pulsed through her when he took her hand and stood beside her.

Drawing her to his side, he tucked his arm around her waist, his big hand resting just below her breast. Samara leaned against him with a sigh of sheer, unadulterated, pleasure-filled relief. His body, hard, warm, and reassuringly masculine, felt delicious.

As he guided her between tables, she barely noticed the amused and curious faces they passed. If she’d been more sober and aware, she might have been embarrassed to be almost carried through the restaurant. Instead she felt only abject relief that they were leaving as the incredible anticipation for what was about to happen mounted.

Noah led her outside and a taxi appeared before them. He nudged her into the backseat and then slid in beside her. His arm came around her shoulders again. Groaning softly, Samara snuggled deeper under his arm and rubbed her face against his jacket. He smelled delicious … clean, masculine musk. A strong surge of heat flushed her body.

Closing her eyes, she was surprised to feel herself drifting off and blinked her heavy eyelids rapidly, not wanting to miss one second of this glorious feeling. Since staying awake was imperative, she decided that one of the best ways to do this was to kiss him. No way would she fall asleep with those delicious lips on hers. Cupping his cheek in her hand, she brought his head down to her level and pressed her mouth against his.

His lips … soft but firm, and incredibly arousing, tasted of the dark chocolate mousse he’d had for dessert. He allowed her to press little kisses against his mouth and then with what sounded like a soft curse, he turned her body, pressed her against the seat, and set his mouth on hers.
Heaven.
His mouth ate at her, moving ravenously, he swallowed her groan of arousal as she sank deeper into his arms. When his tongue teased at her lips, asking for entrance, Samara obliged.

With the first plunge of his tongue, any semblance of grogginess disappeared. He made love to her mouth. His tongue plunged, retreated, licked at her lips, and then plunged once more. Over, then over again. Never … ever … had she thought she could become aroused and close to orgasm by a kiss alone.
Dear, sweet heavens. This man knew how to kiss!

The kiss ended as abruptly as it had started. One minute she was rounding a curve, the sun hot, glowing, heating her skin, headed straight to paradise, and the next second everything came to an abrupt, screeching stop.

She blinked her eyes open. Noah’s hard midnight gaze burned into her like a laser, but she was gratified to hear him panting slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was low, thick with arousal.

He jerked his head at the window. “We’re here. Get out.” The words were like chunks of ice and ground from him as if he had to dig them out with an ice pick.

Reality and embarrassment slammed down on her. Before she could respond, he tilted her chin with his finger and brought her gaze up to his. “Samara Lyons, you are a dangerous woman.”

Taking her hand, he helped her out of the taxi. Stumbling a little in her heels, she held tightly to his hand as he pulled her toward the heavy glass doors of the hotel entrance.

Samara didn’t know what to think. First he’d acted disgusted with her, then as turned on as any man could be. Then he turned cold and unemotional. Now he was acting like the overprotective brother again.

At least now, after all that, she was much more sober. Hell of it was, she still wanted him. The alcohol had loosened her inhibitions, but they hadn’t made her want this man. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit she had wanted him from the first time she saw him.

Noah led her into a crowded elevator, his arm once again draped over her shoulder as if he were concerned she’d collapse at his feet. He thought she was still tipsy and she took advantage of that to lean into him. Had a man ever felt this wonderful against her body before?

When the elevator stopped, Noah maneuvered her around the people in front of them and led her down the narrow hallway. A curious thought hit her when he stopped at her hotel room door. Not once had she told him where she was staying, what floor she was on, and certainly not her room number. How had he known that?

Once inside the room, he closed the door and released her.

Samara turned toward him, wanting more than anything to wrap herself in his arms again and relive the magic she’d experienced much too briefly moments ago.

Without warning, Noah scooped her into his arms and carried her across the room. Thinking he meant to settle her on the bed and follow her down, Samara giggled at such an amorous gesture. Though he hadn’t seemed the type, she appreciated the romanticism.

In an unceremonious and undignified move, he dumped her on the bed. Her body had barely stopped bouncing before he kissed her forehead and growled, “Watch how much you drink next time.”

Stunned, she watched as he strode across the room. Her lips finally unfroze just as he opened the door. “Where are you going?”

Without looking at her, he snapped, “Home.”

“But … but … why? I thought you wanted …”

Finally, he turned toward her and her heart shriveled. The cold smirk was back in place. “Have a good flight home.” He walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  “Sam, are you going to eat your fajitas or just absorb them through osmosis?”

Jerking her head up, she blinked at Rachel. “What?”

She gestured at her plate. “You’ve been staring at your food for five minutes. Something wrong with it?”

She shook her head. “I’m just not as hungry as I thought.”

Rachel knew a lie when she heard it. Her hand touched Samara’s wrist. “You okay? Did ‘Mr. Too Sexy for My Heart’ upset you?”

A smile tickled her lips. … Her best friend could always lighten her mood. “He’s a friend of Jordan’s. Seeing him reminded me of some things I’d rather forget.” Rachel didn’t need to know that it wasn’t remembering Jordan’s marriage to another woman that upset her, but rather the gorgeous man who’d had the nerve to turn her down.

She also knew not to mention his name. Few people knew who Noah McCall was or what he looked like. Jordan and Eden had explained that no matter what, his identity should always be kept private. She had no problem with that, since she didn’t even want to think about the jerk.

With almost no appetite, Samara forced herself to eat at least one fajita. Two margaritas in her system meant slightly tipsy for her. She needed something to counteract the alcohol. Though seeing Noah had sobered her up quite well. Funny how he seemed to be able to do that.

  After driving through the apartment complex twice, Samara blew out an exasperated curse. She was going to have to park quite a distance away from her apartment entrance. She’d only been in Birmingham a couple of months. Since she hadn’t known if she’d like living in the South, she had moved into an apartment. Now, having decided she did like it, she would soon start looking for a small house. She was already tired of living like a sardine. Having grown up in an oversized, rambling house, with a giant yard, several dogs and cats and assorted other animals her brothers were always finding, she missed the comfort of a private home.

Grateful for the well-lit lot, Samara grabbed her purse in one hand and her keys in the other. Almost to her building, she stopped abruptly and bent to adjust the strap on her shoe that had rubbed a blister on her heel. She adjusted the strap and straightened.

Hard, muscular arms wrapped around her, trapping her. A big body pressed against her. A hand covered her mouth, stifling an automatic scream. Her heart and adrenaline raced. Samara screamed muffled curses against the hand as her feet were swept off the pavement.