Bringing Down Sam (8 page)

“I think they’re looking at you.”

 “You’re dreaming. Every guy here’s surreptitiously wiping drool off his chin.”

“You attract that type, do you?” she asked, keeping her tone innocent, though she suspected her eyes were twinkling.

That drew a laugh from him. “Don’t start playing shy now, Eve, I know you’re used to the limelight.”

Eve figured there was one positive side effect of the attention. Nothing helped warm a man up more than the thought that someone else was interested in his date.

She gave a calculated shrug and a sigh. "I suppose. Although, I was serious, it could be you they're staring at. You do look awfully handsome tonight, Sam." She wondered if she sounded as fawning as she thought she did. Nearly gritting her back teeth, she continued, "I'd say you're the most attractive man here."

She wasn't lying. He was the most handsome man in the room. It wasn't just his face, his thick hair, his green eyes. It wasn't just the powerful body clad in the stark black tux that accentuated his maleness. The attraction, she suddenly realized, was in his demeanor. He simply didn't care. He'd walked into the room without the slightest concern about what people thought of him. She nearly envied him that. She'd gone through her whole life getting hurt because she cared too much what people thought and said about her. First her father, whom she'd tried so hard to please, especially after her mother left. And later the photographers, the media, the people who loved her when she was big and turned on her like a wolf pack on raw meat when the truth about her father hit the news. She'd been hurt by their defection, devastated when people believed she'd been involved in his illegal activities.

Diana, Leanne and Ruthie said she cared too much, that allowing others to hurt her, whether they were important in her life or not, was her Achilles' heel. She had been working hard to cure herself of it. But it was still tough walking into a room full of strangers. She took a deep breath and drew on her modeling background, bringing a plastic smile to her lips and lifting her head as they crossed the room.

"Is that why you pressured Diana into getting me to bring you here tonight?" Sam asked, piercing the protective bubble she'd so carefully erected.

She glared at him before she could stop herself. His lips twitched into a tiny grin as he saw her annoyance. It was becoming increasingly difficult to remain flirtatious with this man when he seemed so bent on battering down all her defenses and getting at the real her.

"Aren't you flattered?" she said, nearly biting the inside of her cheeks to avoid telling him to take a flying leap into the swimming pool.

"Should I be? It's obvious you're an ambitious, beautiful woman who wants to be seen and recognized. What better way to do it than to show up on the arm of the country's latest freak show exhibit, the man who's turned back the clock on relationships by one hundred years?"

Eve heard the hint of bitterness in his voice, and wondered at it. His tight-lipped stare and narrowed eyes told her he would not welcome any questions, however, and he seemed to regret being so candid. "I know what it's like to be a freak show," she murmured softly. "I know that more than you can imagine."

Realizing she had forgotten to pitch her voice up to the irritating breathless squeak, Eve quickly glanced up into Sam's eyes. He stared at her searchingly, as if looking through the shape-shifting mask she'd been wearing, trying to find the real Eve Barret.

Impossible
. No one knew the real Eve Barret. She'd struggled so hard to distance herself from her father and her childhood that sometimes even
Eve
didn't know who she really was.

"Samuel," a strong male voice called.

Eve felt Sam’s whole body stiffen. She took a step closer to him, not liking his sudden tension. Laying a hand on his forearm, she felt his muscles tighten under her fingers. His hands curled into fists and his knuckles turned white. She looked up at his face, amazed he could have an expression of such nonchalance while so completely rigid.

"Damn," he muttered. "The vultures are descending."

Curious, Eve followed Sam's stare and studied the two men approaching them. “Who are they?” 

"My father. And my cousin."

Eve sucked in a nervous breath. She had never expected to actually have to meet any of Sam's family members. She remembered what she'd heard about Jacob Kenneman, knowing he was a steely-eyed, sharp-tongued, ruthless businessman. He bought and sold companies like some people used tissues.

"Hello, Father," Sam said curtly as the other two men reached them. His tone was slightly warmer when he turned to the younger man, "Howya doin', Robbie?"

His cousin's weak smile seemed genuine as he held his hand out to shake Sam's. Eve watched in silence. Robbie appeared older than Sam, but exuded none of his cousin's confidence. The other man had the same light brown hair, but where Sam's was thick and shot with gold, Robbie's was plain and a little dull. His face wasn't unhandsome, and, in fact, he somewhat resembled Sam. But where Sam's features were distinct and strong, Robbie's were softer, more rounded. Sam exuded casual sexiness, and utter confidence that was irresistible to women; his pale cousin looked like a man you’d want to protect.

"I have been trying to reach you; have you gotten my messages?" Sam's father barked.

"Sure, I've gotten them," Sam replied, a note of annoyance evident in his voice. "You threatened to buy my agent's company and fire her if she didn't get me to call you back. How could I not hear about it?"

Eve watched Sam's father school his features into even more rigid lines. He was handsome, powerful, silver-haired and elegant, with a money clip where his heart should be. His gray eyes were colder than steel, and when he turned them toward her, she nearly cringed. "Young lady, if you would excuse us, I would like a moment with my son."

She was startled by his rudeness. He hadn't even waited to be introduced before telling her to take a hike. Next to her, Sam's stance grew even more rigid, and she knew he was close to losing his temper. Not sure why she wanted to protect him from the confrontation, Eve looked at the older man and gave him her sultriest smile. "Why, sir, I can certainly understand why you'd need some time alone. Such big, powerful men as you must have lots of important family business to discuss." The man gave her his full attention and she continued. "Unfortunately, Mr. Kenneman, Sam here has vowed to protect me and stay by my side this evening, haven't you darlin'? And I am afraid I am not inclined to give up my escort."

She pushed herself even closer to Sam, implying an intimacy between them that did not actually exist. She felt his approval. Sam's arm dropped heavily across her shoulders and he tugged her against him.

Sam's father glared. Eve did not back down by so much as an inch. The older man grew red in the face, and next to him, Sam's cousin suddenly looked at her with new interest. "You need protection?"

"Eve's a model," Sam replied. "As you can imagine, she gets a great deal of attention wherever she goes."

"Well, Sam, why don't you let me whisk your Eve off for one dance, then you can have a chance to talk to your father." Robbie stared hard at Sam, as if stressing the importance of the meeting. "I think you'll want to hear what he has to say."

Before Eve had a chance to argue, she found herself tugged away by Robbie. Under other circumstances, she might not have minded. The man seemed nice enough, was somewhat attractive, and, judging by the absence of a wedding band, available. He seemed like a good, safe man—and she'd love to introduce him to Ruthie—but he wasn't his cousin. And his cousin was the reason she was here.

Watching over her shoulder as they walked outside onto the patio, Eve caught Sam's eye. His father had immediately begun speaking to him, but Sam didn't seem to be paying any attention. He was entirely focused on Eve and Robbie. He looked troubled about something. She could only imagine it was because of whatever his father was saying to him.

Robbie led her into the middle of the dance floor and took her in his arms. When Eve dared one more look at Sam across the crowded patio and into the reception hall, their eyes met briefly. Though he forced a small smile, she could still see the look of deep concern on his face. And Eve, who had gotten herself introduced to the man specifically so she could toy with him, once again felt an uncomfortable pang of regret.

Because, she suddenly realized, she liked this man and felt almost protective of him. Which would make breaking his heart a bit of a problem.

Sam couldn't even hear what his father was saying at first. He was too busy watching his cousin hold Eve in his arms, feeling an unfamiliar pang of tension in his gut. Frankly, he couldn’t understand why. It wasn't as if he'd brought the model to the party because he wanted her for himself; well, beyond the instant lust any man would feel in her company. But it didn’t go any deeper than the surface.

Yeah, right.

Okay, sometimes when the almost plastic mask shifted and he caught a glimpse of the real woman underneath, the attraction went way deeper. Still, she seemed determined to keep holding that mask in place by the tips of her pretty fingernails. If he didn’t like it, she’d probably move right on to another man who would. Which meant he might not be the one to bring her home. But the thought of Robbie being the man in Eve's bed sent a chill down his spine.

Admit it, the thought of anyone else going home with her tonight is pretty nauseating.

Sam stopped swirling the mixed drink he held in his hand. He stopped pretending to listen to his father as the older man rambled on about some new major purchase the company had just made. Because, suddenly, a realization hit him.

He cared. For some reason, he cared who Eve Barret might end up with. He cared who she danced with. That unfamiliar pang in his gut was called jealousy. He was jealous of his own cousin, poor old knock-kneed Robbie, over a woman he hadn't so much as kissed, had barely spoken with, and thought was a brainless tease.

Okay, he conceded, he knew behind those silly stares of hers she was more cunning than she let on. There was depth to her. He'd heard it in her voice once or twice, when she'd dropped her guard and her stupid accent. Still, he hadn't even cared too much when one old girlfriend had cheated on him. Why, then, did he care about Eve? He couldn't begin to think of a reason.

"Did you hear what I said to you?" his father said, obviously noticing Sam's inattention. 

Sam shrugged. He hadn't heard a word. “Nope.”

The older man actually growled. “Would you take your eyes off that female and pay attention to me?”

“That female has a name. If you’d remembered your “Be Polite” lesson from kindergarten, you might have learned it.”

The older man had the grace to flush slightly. Because, while his father was a bossy blowhard, he wasn’t usually rude, especially not to complete strangers. Or beautiful women.

“This is important,” he insisted.

“Okay then. Why don't you just cut to the chase."

His brief instant of remorse fading, the old man suddenly looked overconfident, self-satisfied, and Sam felt an instant of misgiving.

"I've been trying to tell you, Samuel. I've just closed a deal I've been working on for a long time. The Kenneman Corporation has bought out a large chunk of Wilshire Publications."

It took a minute to sink in. The name was familiar. Then he understood. Wilshire Publications was the logo in the upper left corner of his paychecks from
His World
magazine.

"You've bought the parent company that owns
His World
."

"Not the whole company. Just some of its more troubled holdings."

Sam didn't have to ask. The hint of pleasure in his father's eyes told him what he needed to know. He simply shook his head.

"Yes, Sam, including the poor rag you've been working for."

Eve had to concede that Robbie was a good dancer, and he was pleasant company. Unfortunately, he hid a series of veiled personal questions in his seemingly nonchalant conversation. She found herself defending her privacy with each reply and breathed an audible sigh of relief when the music ended.

"Thank you for the dance, Mr. Kenneman. Perhaps we should go back inside now," she said, not waiting for his reply as she pulled out of his arms. He didn't protest as they returned to the reception hall.

As soon as they entered, Eve spotted Sam and his father, nearly nose to nose, obviously involved in some kind of confrontation. Robbie tried to slow her down, but Eve slid her arm out of his and continued walking. Three different men approached her, asking for a dance or offering a drink, but she looked straight ahead, not paying them any attention.

She reached the duo just in time to hear Sam's father say, "Heaven knows why I bothered. I'm sure I'll lose money."

"Heaven might not know why, but I do," Sam said, and Eve heard the bitterness in his voice. "You'd do anything to get at me...anything to drag me back under your thumb."

Eve watched as the elder Kenneman sucked in his breath and visibly winced. She wondered if her first impressions of the man had been wrong. He appeared to be bothered by his son's anger, but Sam didn't even seem to notice.

Sliding a hand on Sam's shoulder, Eve flashed him a bright smile. "Miss me?" Sam nodded slowly, took a deep breath, then slid his arm around her waist. His father watched in silence. 

Finally Sam forced a pleasant expression to his face. "Father, I'm sorry to tell you this, but you've wasted your money. Someone didn't do their research. My book's selling like crazy and I've got a contract to produce three more. I won't be working for
His World
much longer, I'm only there now because I like it too much to give it up entirely."

"Too bad." Robbie joined them, standing next to Sam's father. "I was hoping I could count on you to stick around and help me out for a while."

"Help you out with what?" Sam asked.

"Well, with turning the magazine around. I've got some great ideas, which I plan to run by all the editing staff next week. I'd hoped you would be involved."