Bringing Down Sam (25 page)

Everything else would work out. She just knew it.

Stopping at the store on the way home from work, Sam grabbed a bottle of champagne and a dozen roses. No, they wouldn’t be able to break open the bubbly until after they drove out to Eve’s home. And no, he wasn’t exactly celebrating the fact that she was moving out of his place when he had decided he really liked having her there. But he wanted her to know he still wanted her, wanted
them
, whether she lived in his apartment or seventy miles away.

When he got home and walked inside, he called, “Eve, I’m home.”

He got nothing but a plaintive
meow
in return.

Quigley walked over, his head down, and rubbed himself against Sam’s leg. He’d swear if a cat could sigh, this one just had.

“What’s wrong, big guy?” he asked, bending down for a scratch. “You in trouble?”

Rising again, he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the chair, wondering why Eve hadn’t come out to say hello.

Then he noticed something. Her purse wasn’t on the table where she usually left it.

Something else was.

“What the hell?” he muttered, spying a layer of pages spread over the flat surface.

Stepping closer, and seeing pictures he recognized—along with a salacious headline about Eve—he muttered an obscenity.

It didn’t take long to read over the smear piece and by the time he was finished, the article mock-up was crumpled in his fisted hand. He wanted to hit someone, to punish whoever had done this. He had no doubt Eve had seen this, had been hurt by it. Had, he suspected, fled because of it.

A quick walk around the apartment confirmed that suspicion. She was gone. Her things no longer hung beside his in the closet, her suitcase was missing, his toothbrush stood alone on the bathroom counter.

He went back to the living room, looking for a note. Nothing. Checking his phones for a message produced the same result. So obviously she was so wounded by this personal attack, she had run out of here, thinking only to get away and lick her wounds.

There was only one person he could think of who could be responsible for this.

His father.

He had the access to the files at
His World
, and certainly had detectives and researchers who could have dug up the dirt. Why on earth his father would do it, though, was completely beyond him…unless it was just mere impulse, a mini fit to get Sam’s attention, like when he’d bought
His World
. 

“Or blackmail?” he whispered out loud. His father had never interfered in Sam’s love life before, but had he decided he needed to step in and “protect” Sam from a woman with Eve’s shady past? Did the Kenneman name mean so much to him that he’d drive away someone Sam was crazy about?

It was a definite possibility. But there was another possibility as well. That it might all be directed at Sam. His father hadn’t gotten what he wanted by cajoling or verbal threats, so he’d targeted the woman Sam had fallen in love with, hoping to get her to change Sam’s mind about taking over the magazine.

One thing was sure, whatever the reason, all that really mattered was the act. And that act had hurt the woman he loved. Badly.

“Oh, God, Eve, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, sinking onto the couch to think.

He wished she’d stuck around to talk to him, but obviously she couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. Hell, he didn’t blame her. She had to be wondering if she’d escaped one damaging, patriarchal relationship only to land in another one.

 “Jesus, what a screwed up family we are.”

He hoped she just needed a time-out and that she hadn’t decided he wasn’t worth the hassle.

What if she was gone for good? What if she’d decided she didn’t want to be involved with someone who came from such a dysfunctional family? Of course, she was, too, so maybe that’s why this had hit her harder. She may have decided she just couldn’t handle any extra baggage.

Whatever the case, he knew he had to give her time to think, time to figure out what she wanted. She would be in touch sooner or later.

Maybe that would give him time to figure out what to do, too. Time to decide which was worse: loving her and bringing her back around his manipulative, crazy father who’d blackmailed and hurt her?

Or letting her go.

“If you get into a big fight, for heaven’s sake, don’t go after her! Let her come to you and apologize.” – from 101 Ways To Avoid Commitment

The next few days were among the worst in Eve’s adult life. She couldn’t remember being this miserable since her father had first been arrested and she’d realized just what kind of man had raised her.

Could she even consider putting Sam through that same kind of agony? It was already bad enough that he knew his father had played around as a young married man. But this…well, Jacob Kenneman had stepped into Sam’s personal life in a big way and Sam wasn’t going to get over that very easily if he found out.

Whether he’d found out, she didn’t know. Because he hadn’t called her.

She had reached for the phone to call him a dozen times since leaving Friday. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep the pain out of her voice if she spoke to him, however, she’d resisted the impulse. In her note, she’d asked him to contact her in a few days, and she felt sure he would.

“But it’s been a few days,” she reminded herself out loud Monday evening as she made herself a salad for dinner.

Three days had gone by and there had been no call, no messages from Sam. She’d even checked her caller ID on her cell and home phones, wondering if he’d tried to reach her but hadn’t left a voice mail. Nope.

The pessimist inside her, who was used to being disappointed, tried to whisper that he wasn’t going to call, that it had been a fling and he was happy she was gone. That the blackmail scheme hadn’t mattered, in the end, because Sam simply hadn’t cared about her the way she had him.

She crushed that voice ruthlessly, stomping it with mental stiletto heels worn by nearly every cell in her body that would swear he loved her.  

Chopping up some veggies with ruthless precision, she was startled into dropping the knife when a knock sounded on her apartment door. Her heart lurched, as did her stomach, but she forced the reaction away. She hadn’t even gotten around to giving Sam her address; it couldn’t be him.

Wondering if one of her neighbors had decided to pop in to see where she’d been for the past few weeks, she wiped her hands on a dish-rag and went to the door. When she looked out the peephole, and saw the golden-brown haired man standing outside, emotion welled-up within her. Obviously, he had tracked down her address.

She yanked the door open, tears rising to her eyes. “Sam?”

“Are you speaking to me?” he asked, his whole body tense, his voice low and uneasy.

“What kind of question is that?”

“I wasn’t sure. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see my face again.”

Never see him again? That would kill her, it surely would.

But the best way to convince him of that wasn’t with words. Saying nothing, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Ditto, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Reaching down, he picked her up, holding her hips so she could wrap her legs around his waist, then walked into the apartment. He kicked the door shut behind him and they stood there, right in the foyer, clinging to one another. They’d made love like this once—him holding her with those powerful arms, driving into her as she arched mindlessly back, knowing he’d never let her fall. But this wasn’t sexual, it was filled with tenderness, fueled by emotion. They simply didn’t want to be apart for a moment more.

Eventually, she lifted her head and looked up at him, seeing that his beautiful green eyes shone with moisture.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t want to see you?”

He nodded slowly.

“Crazy man. I’m in love with you, Sam,” she murmured, unable to hide that fact anymore. “The past couple of days have been the longest of my entire life.”

“I am crazy in love with you, too, Eve,” he admitted as he moved his mouth to hers.

Their lips came together in a soft joining, their kiss asking the most important question—
Do you still want me?
—and answering it—
Oh  yes.

Finally, she let him go and he lowered her to her feet. Taking him by the hand, she pulled him into the living room so they could sit down and talk. But she didn’t want to be away from him, not even a few feet, so when she gestured toward a lounge chair and he sat on it, she made herself a place right on his lap.

He squeezed her around the middle, saying nothing.

Eve, sensing what had made him ask that crazy question about whether she wanted to see him, voiced her suspicion. “You know?”

“Of course,” he said with a brief nod. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up all over the place, adorable and sexy. “I’m so damned sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Sure it is. I fell for you and made you a target of a spoiled, rich man who doesn’t care who he steps on as long as he gets his way.”

Swallowing hard, she whispered, “I didn’t want to be a wedge between you.”

His jaw fell and he stared at her intently, as if looking for the truth in those words. “You mean, that’s why you left and didn’t call or anything? Because
you
were worried about
me
?”

“Yes. Why did you think?”

He barked a hoarse laugh. “I thought you were trying to figure out whether you wanted to be involved with the son of someone so rotten.”

“Uh, haven’t I told you about my father? Did you
read
that article?”

His hands tightened around her waist. “I mean, I didn’t think you wanted even more drama and angst in your life.”

“I want
you
in my life, Sam,” she said, her tone fervent. “I just didn’t want it to be at the expense of your family.”

“It’s not,” he told her.

“So you and your father…”

“Oh, him I’m never speaking to again. But we weren’t much of a family, anyway.”

She heard the pain through the flippant words. “Sam, you can’t…”

“Of course I can. And I did. I thought about it all weekend, went in to the office this morning and turned in my resignation letter. Then I called my father, told him he was a manipulative bastard and that I was through letting him try to pull the strings on my life and hung up.”

Her mind reeling, she tried to imagine that conversation. “He didn’t say anything, offer any kind of explanation?”

“Oh, he stumbled and stammered a bit, tried to play innocent, but I told him to save it for someone who wanted to hear. Which I didn’t.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t say that—we’re the ones who owe you an apology.”

She dropped her head onto his shoulder, gently kissing the side of his neck, rubbing her fingertips over his broad, hard chest.

Sam reached down and lifted her face to him so they could kiss again. This time their mouths opened and their tongues met in a hungry exploration. Until Friday, they’d been together every day for two weeks; even the brief separation had left her hungry and restless.

“Damn, I’m crazy about you,” he muttered against her mouth.

Eve turned around to face him, straddling him on the chair, cupping his face in her hands as they kissed again and again. It tasted different, somehow, to kiss a mouth that had sworn he loved her, and Eve felt certain she would feel this combination of ecstasy and satisfaction for the rest of her life if only he was by her side.

Eventually, his hands went to her waist and hers went to his top button. He pulled and she tugged and clothes went flying to the floor. He kissed his way down to her chest, plumping one breast with his hand and tweaking her nipple while covering the other with his mouth. He sucked gently, tenderly, and she almost cried at how good it felt.

“I need you, Eve.”

“I need you, too,” she whispered, lifting her soft skirt all the way up so her bare legs rested on his khaki-covered ones.

He smoothed his hands up her thighs to her sex, his fingertips moving easily beneath the elastic edge of her skimpy panties. When his thumb skimmed over her clit, she jerked, desire exploding within her. Sam continued to explore for a minute, touching her gently at first, then more firmly as he slid one long finger into her wet channel and gently thrust in and out.

She whimpered, feeling so good but needing so much more. Rising on her knees, she shimmied as he tugged the panties away. She had to grip the chair behind his shoulders when he moved his hand right back to where it had been, adding another finger to the mix as he pleasured her into a frenzy.

“Gotta have you,” she said between hoarse, choppy breaths. Reaching for his belt buckle, she unfastened it, her hand shaking as she felt the rigidness of his cock. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Ditto.”

He stretched out a little, reaching for his pocket. Eve put her hand on his, stopping him. “It’s been two weeks since I started back on the pill. And I trust you completely, Sam.”

He smiled up at her. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Eve, I swear it. Making love to you without any kind of barrier has been my fantasy since day one.”

“Mine, too.”

He stopped digging for the condom and concentrated on pushing his pants and boxer briefs down and out of the way. She wouldn’t even give him time to get them all the way off, almost desperate to feel that thick ridge of masculinity inside her, skin to skin.

Clutching his shoulders, she lowered onto him, easing down, impaling herself on him in one slow, deliberate thrust.

He groaned, holding her tight. She stayed very still, savoring every sensation.

Any sex with Sam was good. This was lovemaking—totally natural, uninhibited and right. Good didn’t even come close to describing it.

They began to move together, rocking, thrusting in a gentle give and take. But it had been three long nights since she’d had him. She’d missed him so much that within just a few moments, she was driving herself hard, slamming her body down onto his lap, taking them both spiraling to the utter pinnacle of human pleasure.