Breaking Away (40 page)

“You don’t have to show me the letters, Mrs. Cross.” Taylor smiled, his expression more a grimace as the color in his cheeks grew even darker. “While you were in the restroom, I notice a typo in our information. You’re correct about the time issue. I’m sorry I got ahead of myself and didn’t double-check my information.” He fell silent a moment, clasping and unclasping his hands on the desk. “I think we’ll be able to accommodate a longer mortgage than the two years.”

Sam studied his expression. Why was he caving so easily? Was it the threat of a lawyer getting involved?

“What would you say to five years?” he asked.

Nervous tension brought her heartbeat up a notch. “Five years is little more than a car loan, Mr. Taylor. There’s certainly more equity in a house than a car, and it doesn’t depreciate like a vehicle. If I’m required to pay two hundred a month in insurance, I’d like a ten-year loan. And if I can pay it off earlier I will.”

“Seven years,” he countered. He sat down in his desk chair.

Still wary, she eased down on the edge of the straight-backed chair. Did she really want to deal with this shyster? But the bank held the mortgage, and she had no credit history other than the twenty-five thousand dollars
she hadn’t spent.
“What would the payments be including insurance and closing costs?”

After nearly an hour of haggling, they settled on seven and a half year loan with fixed interest.

“I’ll have my secretary type up the agreement and you can come in on Friday to sign the paperwork.”

“I’d like my lawyer to look it over before I sign it. Can you fax or email him a copy of the document when it’s ready?” she asked.

“Certainly. Just write down his email address or phone number.” He slid a pad over to her. Sam retrieved her billfold, removed a business card and copied down the number and email address.

With a relieved sigh, she rose and gathered her things. She was nearly an hour late, but she felt she’d held her own and achieved something she could live with.

“When you looked at my credit history, were you able to see anything about the credit card that was taken out in my name?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just the balance and that it is a major credit card.” He reached for the mouse, typed in a command and pulled up an image on the screen. He printed it and handed her the paper.

The address for the card was a post office box. “I’ll file a police report tomorrow. Thank you for printing this off for me.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you on Friday.”

She said goodbye. Once outside in the car, she gave free rein to the nervous trembling she’d barely managed to suppress throughout the ordeal. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel and took deep, cleansing breaths until she felt steadier. A sense of victory and excitement began to build inside her. She’d dealt with this herself and she’d come out on top. She couldn’t wait to get home and spend the rest of the evening celebrating with Tim and Joy.

Twenty-five minutes later she swung into the driveway, parked the car, and shoved open the door. High-pitched squeals came from behind the house. A muggy heat hung in the air, though the sun was setting. The light-weight jacket she wore felt too heavy after only a few moments. Carrying her backpack over her shoulder, she wandered around the corner of the house to the gate.

Joy dodged out from behind the gas grill, her hair and clothes wet, the nozzle on the end of the hose in her hand. “Mommy!”

Water struck Sam in the face.

She jerked her head aside and threw up a hand to shield herself from it. The stream stopped and she wiped her face to clear her eyes to find Tim holding the water hose down with one hand while gripping a water gun in the other.

He and Joy wore identical looks of shock, as water streamed down her face and her hair dripped. She laughed, shucked her pack and jacket, hooked them on the fence, then opened the gate.

“Give me that,” she said snatching the nozzle from Joy. She turned the hose on Tim and shot him in the chest.

Joy squealed behind her as they chased him around the yard. He was fast and wily, getting in shots with the water pistol she wouldn’t have believed possible. He must have been an amazing marksman in the military.

When they were all soaked, she dropped the nozzle in surrender.

She was breathing hard from all the exertion, as was Joy.

“I’m out of ammunition,” he complained as he sauntered toward them, shoving the water gun in the pocket of his shorts as though it were a holster. The wet t-shirt clung to his chest, showing dark swirls of the hair and the muscles beneath.

Her mouth grew dry with need and she slipped an arm around his waist, leaned in close against him, and brushed away the water running off his chin.

He slipped an arm around her in immediate response and smiled.

“How come they never have wet t-shirt contests for guys?” she asked. “You’d win.” She rose on tiptoe to press her lips to his.

Joy giggled and they both turned to find her watching them.

“How did your meeting go?” he asked.

“Good. I have to go back on Friday and sign the paperwork.” She gave his waist a squeeze. “I know I’m late. Have you two eaten?”

“I went ahead and fed Joy, but I wanted to wait for you.”

What had she done to deserve him?

“I’ll go dry off and change, then come back over. We sort of made a mess in the kitchen.”

“The flour mishap?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah. I didn’t realize how much help a five-year-old could be. I’ll pitch in with the cleanup.”

Sam laughed.

He dipped his head and kissed her again.

“I’ll get Joy ready for bed so we can relax while we eat.” She released him with such obvious reluctance, he smiled.

She followed him to the fence and he handed her backpack and jacket to her.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised.

The words ‘I love you’ clung to the tip of her tongue. She wanted to say them. But how would he feel about hearing them?

Instead, she went into the house with Joy. She groaned when she caught a glimpse of herself in her dresser mirror. Her hair lay plastered to her head, and her eye makeup was smeared. Her blouse, still damp, lay against her breasts like a second layer of skin, her nipples pushing against the fabric. Her face flushed hot. To his credit, he’d looked her in the eye the whole time they’d talked, but he’d probably seen plenty during their water fight. What had she been thinking?

She’d been on a high after conquering a major problem standing in the way of her and Joy’s security. On her own! Despite the lingering disquiet about the credit card issue, she was still flying.

Sam washed her face and changed into jeans and a t-shirt while Joy put on her pajamas. She was drying her hair with a towel as she opened the door to Tim. All he had to do was look at her and every nerve came alive just waiting for him to touch her. How had this happened? How had she fallen in love with him? She’d believed she’d never want to be alone in a room with a man…ever again.

Yet, now she wanted to make love with Tim, more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

CHAPTER 30

T
he chicken was dry, the peas a little overcooked, but the salad and bread were okay. And none of that mattered a damn to Flash as he sat across the table from Sam and wished they could be in the bedroom, alone, getting busy.

The message he’d just read on his computer from Captain Jackson had set off his inner alarm. He was running out of time. He was trusting his commanding officer to do right by him, but if he contacted NCIS, they’d sure as fuck pick him up. The thought of leaving Sam, leaving Joy, was like a kick in the gut.

For the first time in his life he’d found something he wanted as much as getting back to his team. Maybe more.

From the moment Sam had sprayed him in the chest with the water hose, he’d been hard. The condom he’d slipped into his shorts pocket was burning a hole through the fabric against his hip. He hoped to use that condom tonight…if it was the right thing for Sam.

He couldn’t push her, not after everything she’d been through. But Jesus—he wanted to. He’d even settle for another petting session.

“I’m going to check on Joy. She’s gone quiet. That usually means she’s either fallen asleep or she’s up to something,” Sam said as she rose from the table.

She peeked around the edge of the divider between the kitchen and living room. A smile lingered on her lips as she returned to her seat. “She’s nearly down for the count. She actually squealed like a normal kid today. She loved helping you cook.”

“I’m not sure how successful that was,” he said holding up a small piece of chicken on the end of his fork. “I think we might use these for slingshot ammunition.”

Sam grinned “Shhhh…” she pressed her finger to her lips.

His eyes fastened on her mouth and he tried not to fantasize where it might linger on his body. He’d dreamed about that more than once.

“Don’t let Joy hear you say that. She thinks they’re the greatest nuggets ever.”

Flash chuckled. “What we both lacked in cooking expertise, she made up in enthusiasm. She was so covered in flour and other stuff, I thought a water fight might be the only way to get her clean. The shirt she had on may never be the same.”

Sam laughed. “It’ll be fine. Are you finished?” she asked. At his nod stood and took their plates to the sink. She returned with a bowl and two teaspoons. “Why don’t you serve us up a couple of scoops of ice cream for dessert and I’ll put her to bed. There’s mint chocolate chip.”

He wasn’t hungry for ice cream. He was hungry for her. But to please her, he dug a couple of scoops of ice cream out of the carton. When she padded back into the room barefoot, he shut the container and shoved it back into the freezer.

“Do you want this?” Sam asked, touching the bowl.

He shook his head.

No. He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath of air.

She grasped his hand, led him through the living room and down the hall to her bedroom.

Flash’s heartbeat tripped into overdrive and his breathing became uneven.

When she closed the door and locked it, he smiled. “Does this mean you have designs on my body?” he asked.

Sam laughed. Then stifled the sound with her hand. She leaned back against the door and ran her eyes from his face, down over his chest then paused at the obvious bulge pushing against the zipper of his cargo shorts, a bulge that grew as her attention remained directed there. For a moment concern kicked in to dim his desire. He had to let her maintain control of what happened. Once they got this first time behind them, it would be easier for them both.

When her gray-green gaze rose to his face again, and she smiled, he nearly sighed aloud in relief.

“I think about your hands touching me, all the time,” she said, pushing away from the door. “I never thought I’d experience that.” She moved to the nightstand, opened the top drawer and set a box of condoms within easy reach.

She approached him, the newfound confidence in her long, slow stride sexy as hell. He swallowed, and moistened his lips. He withdrew the condom from his pocket. “I brought my own, just in case.” He tucked it in her hand and sat down on the bed to draw her between his legs.

“Only one?” she asked.

He chuckled, delighted by her humor. “I didn’t want to assume too much.”

Her eyes swept over his face, the look in their depths causing his breath to hitch. She ran her hands across his shoulders. Flash buried his face between her breasts and breathed in her sweet honeysuckle scent. He looked up and she reached for his glasses and set them on the dresser, then tugged at his shirt. He eagerly shed the t-shirt, kicked free of his deck shoes and slid back up on the bed.

God, he wanted to be inside her, moving, feeling her surround him. Just the thought nearly took him over the edge.

But he had to let her control how fast they got there.

Sam slipped her shorts off, leaving on her panties, shirt and bra. She crawled onto the bed. Instead of cuddling against his side as he expected, she straddled his hips and leaned down to kiss him, her hair falling like silk against the side of his face. Their tongues tangled, and he drank in her passion as her palms moved over his chest.