Bringing Down Sam (11 page)

"So what's different now?" she finally asked, her tone icy. Though she stared down at the carpet, tense and angry, Eve couldn't resist when he tugged her chin up and made her look at him. She sensed unshed tears in her eyes and hated him for putting them there. "What is it? You discover I have a brain so now I'm not good enough to sleep with? What the hell changed things, Sam?"

He didn't say anything for a heart-stopping moment, and Eve regretted showing how hurt she was. But she couldn't help it. For some reason, this rejection had brought out a lot of old memories she thought she'd put aside. Feelings of self-doubt, of being unworthy, crept into her mind, dancing around her head with malicious glee, taunting her with accusation.

Eve was always good enough to shut up and look pretty in front of a camera. But she wasn’t supposed to worry her little head about things like contracts or deals, or what her father was doing with all the money she earned.

Finally Sam's voice drowned out the echoes. "Oh, Eve, sweetheart, you've changed things. A few hours ago, I figured I'd come back here, and we'd end up in bed. And then I'd never see you again. I’d already half-decided that if I'd slept with you tonight, I wouldn't have called you tomorrow."

"You're presuming an awful lot. I never said anything about sleeping together," she muttered, trying to convince herself with her own voice.

"No, I don't imagine we'd have done much sleeping."

She glared at him. "That's not what I meant."

"Whatever. The point is, Eve, you're worth the wait."

She paused, glancing into his face. His green eyes glittered in the low light of the bedroom; he looked both anticipatory and regretful.

"Worth the wait?"

"Oh, yes," he said as he brushed his fingers across her jaw. His thumb came to rest on her bottom lip, and he slid it back and forth. Unable to resist, Eve parted her lips and caught the tip of it between her teeth. He gave her a slow, sultry smile, but didn't try to pull away. "Now I see there's someone I want to get to know inside this lovely package. I can wait. You are definitely worth waiting for."

Sam pulled his thumb away and replaced it with his mouth. He kissed her lightly, sliding his tongue along the outline of her lips, teasing her, arousing her, but not taking more.

"I do love foreplay," he whispered against her lips. "Days and days worth of it. I want to look forward to you like a kid looks forward to Christmas."

Eve shuddered, from the feel of his kiss, from the sensuous words bombarding her senses, from the hot smell of him.

"And maybe you'll learn to trust me."

"Trust you?" she whispered, unable to think, unable to do anything but feel as he continued his sensual assault. 

"Uh-huh. I don't like secrets, Eve. And I cannot abide deceit. While there are still so many mysteries hanging between us, I'll just concentrate on foreplay."

This time he didn't tease her lightly with those hot lips, he devoured her like a starving man a banquet. His hands dropped to her hips as he kissed her deeply, and he pulled her hard against him, so she could feel his rock-hard erection pressed into the juncture of her thighs. Eve went soft and wet and hot, every nerve ending flying to life, every inch of her aching for him. 

And then he stopped kissing her, turned on his heel, and left.

"Never date a jock. Your buddies see a woman beat you at a game, they'll never let you live it down. Besides, if she's too toned, she might just kick your ass when you try to leave." -- from 101 Ways To Avoid Commitment

Eve slept fitfully, if at all, after Sam left. When she awoke early Sunday morning, she was unsure if she'd dreamed the entire fiasco of the previous evening. Had Sam truly kissed her like he wanted to devour her and then just walked out? "The jerk!" she muttered out loud as she glanced at the clock wondering why she was awake after only a few hours sleep. 

She heard a muffled pounding from the front door of the condo. Grabbing a robe, she staggered into the living room, nearly banging her knee on the glass coffee table. Not even glancing through the peephole, she yanked the door open. "What?"

"Good morning to you, too," Sam said with a cheery grin. "Ready to go?"

"Excuse me?"

"We've got big plans today...time to hit the road, doll, let's go, let's go."

Sam nearly laughed out loud at the look of befuddlement on Eve Barret's make-up smeared face. She hadn't even cleaned up before going to bed last night, and looked like nothing less than a raccoon in the bright light of morning. "You look like hell."

She glared at him. He grinned, pushed past her into the living room and plopped onto the sofa.

"I don't recall having plans. What exactly are we supposed to be doing?" she asked.

"The game starts at ten, then a big cookout in the park with a bunch of the guys. After that, who knows?" Eve looked completely lost, and Sam finally stopped teasing her. "We didn't have plans, Eve. I just woke up this morning, started getting ready for my weekly softball game, and realized I'd like to spend the day with you. What do you say?"

She looked at him suspiciously and Sam remained completely impassive. He spread his hands in a gesture of innocence and gave her his most charming grin. "Please?"

He saw by the tiny tug of her mouth to one side that she was considering it. "Pretty please?"

"With sugar on top?" she asked with a pointed glance.

"Oh, yes, lots of sugar on top," Sam said, knowing she heard the suggestion in his words, and not caring one bit.

"Well...I suppose it would be nice to spend the day outside. And I do love softball."

"Great! I knew there was something special about you, Eve Barret. You can be my cheerleader."

"Cheerleader my butt. I can play," she retorted. "Bet you twenty bucks I can hit any curve you throw me."

He leered at her. "I'd rather you throw the curves at me."

Chuckling, she let him in and walked toward the bedroom. "Give me ten minutes."

"I think you need twenty," he retorted. He ducked as a pillow from a chair sailed across the room toward his head.

She took thirty. Eve nearly cried when she walked into the bathroom and saw just how hideous she looked. No wonder he'd commented on her appearance.

"This is nuts," she muttered as she quickly showered then towel dried her hair. What was she doing spending a day with Sam? Her scheme was over, he'd already pegged her as a liar and she'd begun to suspect he wasn't as much of a jerk as her friends thought he was. So there was no reason to see him anymore.

But she couldn't resist. "It's the damn dimples," she said aloud as she quickly braided her still wet hair and put on a bit of makeup. She'd always been a sucker for dimples...be they on cute, apple-cheeked toddlers or gorgeous, green-eyed, hunky men.

Eve lied to herself for just a few more seconds. Then she stared at her face in the mirror and admitted the truth. "It's also the lips, the hands, the grin...and, oh, yeah, that little comment about foreplay." Her reflection did not disagree.

Dressing quickly in a pair of jean shorts and a red tank top, she yanked on her sneakers and pulled her favorite Phillies baseball cap out of her suitcase. She tugged her braid through the hole in the back of the cap as she entered the living room and found Sam dozing off on the couch.

"Come on, big shot. You woke me up, now let's see what you can do," Eve said. Walking behind the couch, she leaned over and shoved his feet off the side. His legs slid, too, and the momentum pulled him off the couch. He landed with a thump on the floor. Sam kept his eyes closed, lying there, between the base of the sofa and the glass coffee table.

"Well?" she insisted.

"I thought you wanted to see what I could do. I figured you preferred the floor.”

"Yeah, well, I thought
you
weren't interested," she retorted, feeling hot blood rush into her face.

He opened his eyes and peered up at her intently. "Ahh-ahh, I never said that, Eve. If I recall, what I said was..."

"Never mind," she interjected. "I've completely forgotten."

His smirk called her a liar. She ignored it. "Let’s go. You said your game started at ten."

"But there's such a great view from down here," Sam said with genuine regret as his gaze slid up her bare legs.

Eve felt the stare as if his eyes were fingers, and her breath caught in her throat. She wondered if she could see the goose-flesh rising on her skin. "Come on," she managed to say as she self-consciously turned and walked toward the door.

"If you insist," he said with a sigh as he followed her out.

They drove to a nearby city park, talking about nothing more significant than the weather at first. Eve kept glancing out the corner of her eye, looking at Sam's legs as he drove. She liked men with good legs. Nothing was worse than going out several times with a great guy who looked good in a suit, then seeing him in shorts and finding out he had scrawny chicken legs.

Sam didn't. She'd noticed how good he looked in gym shorts and his black T-shirt as they rode down in the elevator. His arms were thick and she wouldn't be a bit surprised if he told her he lifted weights. His body was hard, his chest broader than it had appeared in his suit or tux. And his legs were powerful, heavily muscled and tanned from an obviously active outdoor lifestyle.

The fact that the man's body was just as appealing as his face made Eve even more uncomfortable in the close confines of his car. Having been in his arms, with the memory of his kisses keeping her up half the night, she was aware of each shift he made, every breath he took.

Finally, he broke the silence in the car. "Sleep well?"

"Oh, like a rock," she lied. "The bed is huge."

She nearly kicked herself as soon as the words left her lips. "Of course," she said quickly, trying to cover her embarrassment at what he'd certainly think was a come-on, "since it was so big I was able to sleep on the
dry
half!"

"Sure, Eve," Sam said. She heard the laughter in his voice.

When they arrived at the park, Eve saw several vehicles parked near the ball field. A few men were warming up, whistling at their wives or girlfriends who were sitting at nearby picnic tables. Some children played near the dugout, more on a swingset. "Are most of your friends married?" Eve asked in surprise.

"Some. There are a few of us holdouts. And we bachelors take it as our personal responsibility to make them as envious as possible." Sam grinned as he swung the car into a parking place and cut the ignition. "We lie about our fabulous sex lives, act like we escort beautiful women to expensive restaurants every night of the week. The usual stuff."

"And is it a lie?"

"Generally," Sam admitted. "Most single guys would give their right arm for a home-cooked meal and someone to moan to about their day, though they'd never admit it. And as for the sex factor...didja ever read the article I wrote for
His World
about married sex vs. single sex?"

"Can't say I ever did," Eve replied warily, wondering if he was about to say sex was one reason men wanted to stay single.

"Most married men typically get more sex than bachelors."

"Are you saying most married men cheat?"

Sam laughed. "No, Eve, I'm talking about sex within the marriage. Single guys like to pretend they're gettin' it all over the place, but most thirty-something, professional men are socially aware, and just don't sleep around too much. Men in safe, long-term relationships have the best sex...so I'm told."

Eve didn't know what to make of his comments. Here was a man who'd written a handbook telling men how to avoid commitment, basically saying married men had it better than single men.

"Aren't you contradicting what you wrote in your book?"

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "When are people going to get it...the book is a joke, Eve. It's one long, rambling, 'I'm a sexist pig' joke!"

Though she'd figured that out before now, Eve felt relief course through her. All her instincts had been telling her Sam was a good guy since the first time they’d met. Now he was confirming it…he wasn’t the guy the world thought him to be. And if some men were taking his words seriously, and hurting women—like her own friends—could that really be held against him?

No. Not by any reasonable person. "I thought that might be the case."

"People who know me understand," Sam said. "I wrote the original article because my editor called me, said they needed a funny piece on relationships, and I had just had a griping session with some guys about commitment. It flew off the top of my head."

"And the book came out of the article?"

"Exactly," he affirmed. "It could just as easily have spun out of my articles on living on macaroni and cheese and hot dogs, or flavored condoms!"

She grinned. "Living on flavored condoms?"

"Different article."

"Whew!"

He chuckled, flashing that dimpled grin that she was quickly coming to adore. She thrust off the reaction, reaching for the door handle.

Sam placed a hand on her arm. "So are we clear now? I'm not a sexist pig. All those things I said last night while we were dancing were just to get a rise out of you."

"All clear, Sam. And, I have to say, I'm glad. I'm very glad." Eve didn't mean for her words to sound as intimate as they did. She should have kept it light but she was unable to keep the genuine emotion out of her voice. She was, indeed, glad to know her impressions were correct.

"So, maybe now, you feel like coming clean with your own confession? Don't bother to deny it. I know there's more to the story of Eve Barret than you've let on."

She swallowed hard, realizing he still hadn't given up on finding out all of her secrets. It was the gentle humor in his eyes that made her think it might not be such a bad thing to tell him the truth. The guy had a sense of humor, after all. Maybe he would be flattered. Maybe he would admire her ingenuity and suggest they see each other again. Maybe when he found out she'd schemed with a bunch of girlfriends to make him fall in love with her, then dump and humiliate him, he'd just chuckle himself all over the place.