Authors: Samantha James
She had a very pleasant visit with her
mother and some old friends, stayed five days, and came home on
Wednesday. But the slight upswing in her mood didn't last more than
a few minutes after she pulled into the driveway. She couldn't help
but notice that Jason's silver BMW was conspicuously absent from
the driveway next door. A thick layer of sand covered the small
block of asphalt, crunching under her sandals as she stepped out.
The surf was roiling and vicious looking as it washed up on the
sand, the foam-flecked waves matching the leaden-gray color of the
sky. Overhead was a thick layer of clouds, churning and twisting as
they forged their way north.
A fierce gust of wind blew her hair across
her face as she searched her purse for the key. She was still
combing her fingers through it to restore a little order when she
set her suitcase down in the living room and walked toward the
kitchen.
She stopped short on the threshold. She was
never sure why, but her eyes were drawn upward to the plaster
ceiling. "Oh, no!" she groaned. What she saw made her heart sink.
Several large splotches marred the surface of the plaster. Dammit,
her roof was leaking! It had rained lightly in Astoria the night
before and that morning, but there must have been a downpour here.
Her mouth drooping, she changed into jeans and an old plaid shirt,
heaved a ladder from the garage and clambered onto the roof.
She was cautiously optimistic about what she
found. A number of faded black shingles in an area above the
kitchen were either damaged or completely blown off, but she was
hopeful that the entire roof wouldn't need to be replaced--at least
not right now. A few more years and she wouldn't mind, but her
little car was also showing signs of wear and tear. She couldn't
pay for a new roof if she couldn't make it to her job, and a new
car would probably have to take priority over a new roof.
Mindful of the blustery wind, she made her
way slowly down the sloping incline toward the ladder. She was
nearly there when a fierce gust of wind snatched at the lightweight
aluminum ladder. It toppled over in front of her horrified eyes and
crashed to the ground.
"Lord, what next?" she moaned aloud. She
crept to the edge and looked down. The house was old, higher than
many of its low-slung contemporaries. It was maybe fourteen feet to
the ground. Her eyes shifted toward the beach. It was deserted,
except for a few people several hundred yards away, too far for
them to hear a shout for help.
The wind tore at her hair and shirt, its
chill penetrating the thin cloth. She shivered. At times, late
June on the Oregon coast wasn't much warmer than any other month of
the year. Samantha looked down again, an odd feeling in the pit of
her stomach. She had no choice but to jump. The sidewalk edged the
house, and she doubted she could clear it and make a cushioned
landing on the grass.
"Oh, well," she murmured in meager
consolation, "at least if I break a leg I'll have the rest of the
summer to recuperate."
She flexed her knees and cautiously raised
herself. It was then that she saw Jason emerge from the sliding
glass doors of the house next door onto the deck. He was back!
"Jason!" She swallowed her excitement and
stood up a little further. "Jason!"
He remained where he was, looking out to sea,
strong hands braced on the cedar railing. Samantha called to him
repeatedly, but the sound was carried away by the wind. Finally she
stood up as far as she dared and waved her arms, praying that in
this precarious position on the edge of the steep roof she
wouldn't suffer the same fate as her ladder. "Jason!"
Finally his head turned. She made a sweeping
gesture with an arm, repeating it until he had stepped off the
deck and started toward her. She was too far away to see the
expression on his face but it wasn't hard to imagine the amazement
that must have been written there at the sight of her perched on
the roof.
At last he stood on the ground below,
grinning up at her. "What on earth are you doing up there?" He
shook his head and perched his hands on lean denim-covered hips.
"Don't tell me—--it's just as I thought. The woman with her feet
planted firmly on the ground with her head in the clouds is trying
to get a little closer to the stars? Or chasing rainbows
instead?"
Samantha scowled. She should have known. Why
was it that this man and this man alone had a knack for finding her
in such ridiculous situations?
"The wind blew my ladder over! Just put it
back up against the house and then you can leave!" she snapped. "I
can find my own way down!"
"Not on your life!" Before she knew it he'd
swung the ladder up against the house and was scrambling up the
rungs. His dark head poked over the eaves. "A lady in distress!
This is my big chance to be a real hero—probably my only chance!
Even you wouldn't be so cruel as to take it away from me!" He
grinned at her and crooked a finger at her. "As soon as you swing
your feet over the side, all you have to do is put your arms around
my neck and leave the rest to me!"
Samantha's jaw dropped. "You—you can't mean
to carry me down!" she sputtered. "Why do you have to play at being
a hero now! Weren't you ever a boy scout?"
"Never had the honor," he said smartly.
She glared at him. "You idiot! You'll break
your back—you'll break both our backs!"
His eyes made a leisurely appraisal of her
body, which was crouched before him. She felt a tingling sensation
in her breasts despite the dancing lights in his eyes. "You're not
all that heavy, are you?"
Samantha rolled her eyes skyward. "Will you
please move so I can get down?"
"Not a chance," he repeated stubbornly. "I
could just as well go home and pretend I never saw you—and take the
ladder along with me." His eyes began to dance again as he added
hopefully, "Unless you'd rather I caught you when you jumped?"
With that Samantha gave in. She lowered one
leg cautiously over the side of the house and inched her way onto
the ladder next to Jason. The only way the two of them could fit
between the narrow metal rails was to face each other and she found
that to keep her balance she did, indeed, have to curve an arm
around Jason's neck. She'd been cold only seconds before, but now
her skin burned where his hand rested on the small of her back. It
seemed to take an eternity to reach the bottom. By then her
breathing was shallow and irregular--and it certainly wasn't from
fear.
Their bodies were fused together from the
neck down, her curves molded intimately against his lean contours.
Her face was mere centimeters away from his. Their noses brushed
several times as he cast a downward glance every so often to guide
their descent. Samantha found her eyes lingering on those firm
lips so close to her own. To her horror, she found herself
wondering if he was as affected as she was by the unavoidable
movement of their hips against each other. She uttered a silent
prayer that he was!
And she was right, if the hardness riding
against her tummy was anything to judge by.
Jason didn't speak until they had reached the
bottom. "How about an instant replay?"
His other arm had come around to encircle
her, bringing her even closer to the taut length of his body. His
breath was warm against her face, his tone very husky.
A gentle finger lifted her chin. "I missed
you, Samantha. I missed you... very much."
Every fiber in her warned against him. He
was a charmer, a sorcerer, a rake. But at this moment, Samantha
wanted nothing more than to be charmed. He was looking directly
into her eyes, and what she saw in his made her heart leap wildly.
Was there a woman on earth who could help but respond to such a
man? Certainly this one couldn't. Excitement skittered along her
spine and the way she quivered all over, she wasn't sure she would
be able to stand if he let her go.
"I—I missed you, too," she said softly, and
knew with every ounce of her being that she didn't lie.
"You're very agreeable all of a sudden." His
tone had lightened, but the look in his eyes hadn't. "Will this
mood continue... through the night?"
Something inside her responded to the
elemental blaze in his eyes. "For the next few minutes at least,"
she whispered.
"Do I dare press my luck?" He bent his head
so that his mouth rested just at the corner of hers.
Her fingers slowly explored the muscled
contours of his shoulders, covered by a layer of beige cambric. It
took a tremendous effort to talk, even to breathe. "Maybe... you
should."
"Maybe I will."
The soft tone touched something inside her
even as his mouth brushed slowly, evocatively, across hers. His
hands moved down ever so slightly to lightly grasp her hips and
pull her to him. Her pulse jumped erratically at the intimate
contact between his thighs but she reveled in the supple feel of
his flesh beneath her fingertips and the taut strength of his
thighs molded against her own. She gasped when his lips claimed
hers more fully, his tongue demanding entrance even as she gave
it.
When Jason finally released her mouth, he
looked down at her, his eyes on her trembling lips. "We don't have
to worry about your nearest neighbor watching," he said softly,
"but there's a better place for this."
Samantha's head was spinning and she hardly
realized when he tugged on her hand and led her inside. It wasn't
until his body propelled her gently backward on her bed that she
understood what was happening. She made a small murmur of
protest.
The tiny sound was swallowed by his mouth
over hers. Samantha was achingly aware of the hard length of his
body as it lay over hers, of the subtle distinctions between their
bodies. Her breasts were crushed by the unyielding bulk of his
chest, her legs tangled in the sinewy length of his. He kissed her
again, a kiss so warm and tender and so full of promises that she
shook with the delicious feelings it roused in her. Her heart
seemed to stand still.
"Jason—" Her voice shook with the effort it
took to speak. Was this right or wrong? She'd entered into a
relationship willy-nilly once before, expecting the sun, the moon
and the stars. Would she regret it if she and Jason made love? Or
would she regret it more if they didn't? Heaven help her, she
didn't know! She could scarcely think!
"Jason, please... I can't do this."
"Sure you can." His voice was warm and
faintly teasing against the corner of her lips. "All you have to do
is relax while I do all the work. But the next time..."
Samantha closed her eyes against the picture
his words evoked. For a moment all she could see was her naked
limbs entwined seductively with his, his dark face smiling
brilliantly up into hers.
"Jason, please! I'm sorry, but I can't!" Her
voice finally rose above a whisper. "I have to think about
tomorrow!"
"I don't care about tomorrow." The hoarsely
muttered words were muffled against the upward slope of one
breast. Half the buttons of her shirt were already undone.
His head was dark against the pale skin
already revealed, the contrast so deeply inviting that her hands
expressed an alarming tendency of their own to bury themselves in
his hair as his lips continued their torturous magic over her
skin. It was only by clutching fiercely at his shoulders that she
stopped herself.
"But I do!" She took a deep shuddering
breath. "I wish I didn't but I do!"
His body stilled against hers. One lean hand
moved upward to trace the curve of her jaw, the touch almost
unbearably tender as he lifted his head slightly to gaze up at her.
"You can't say no," he murmured softly. "You don't want to say
no."
That was beside the point. Couldn't he see
that? A summer affair was all he could possibly want from her,
perhaps not even that. A fling. Could she settle for that? Deep in
her heart she knew she couldn't. Not from Jason. Not from any man.
If they made love she would expect all that should rightfully come
with it--emotional ties, commitment. All that was dear to her heart
Jason blithely brushed aside. She wanted love, and he wanted
sex.
The thought scared her as much as it startled
her. Her heart began to thump with thick uneven strokes.
She pushed frantically against his chest
even as her fingers tangled themselves in the silky mat of hair
revealed by the opening of his shirt. "I can't say yes, either!"
she moaned.
And somehow that seemed to say it all. She
felt his eyes boring into her, and never in her life had she felt
so miserable. His fingers covered hers and guided them over his
chest so she could feel the rapid rhythm beneath.
"Be still, my heart," he murmured softly.
There was something almost mocking in that
velvet tone, and Samantha looked quickly away. Silently he pulled
away from her and tucked his arms under his head, looking at the
ceiling. She sat up slowly on the edge of the bed.
"I should have asked you to come to New York
with me," he remarked conversationally. "Wooed you, courted you,
wined and dined you. You'd have liked that, wouldn't you?" He
paused. "Could I have won you over, Samantha?"
Her fingers trembled as she struggled to
fasten her shirt. If he had done all those things, would they have
meant anything? Or would they have been no more than empty
meaningless gestures, a means to an end. "Why didn't you?" she
asked, and then wished she hadn't.
"Would you have come?" he countered
quietly.
Again, she felt his eyes on her. They no
longer touched, but she was as much aware of his body sprawled next
to her on the bed as if they were wrapped in the most intimate of
embraces. "I—I don't know," she whispered miserably.
The words seemed to hang between them,
creating an invisible barrier. "You see now why I didn't ask. I
didn't have time to let you weigh all the pros and cons before
deciding." His tone was light, almost bantering, but there was no
denying the slight mockery and impatience.