Bringing Down Sam (9 page)

Slowly turning his full attention to his cousin, Sam asked, "What are you talking about?"

Sam's father chuckled. Eve saw the glint in his gray eyes and wondered if she'd imagined his moment of softness. He again appeared the ruthless tycoon she'd imagined him to be. "Well, son, I'm naming Robbie as managing editor of
His World
. He's going to be your new boss."

“Never say no to sex with a beautiful woman.” – from 101 Ways To Avoid Commitment

Though Eve could feel by the rock-hard stiffness in his body that Sam was churning with emotion, he didn’t say a word. Instead, with a murmured congratulations to his cousin and a curt nod to his father, he turned his back on them both and led Eve to the bar. Mr. Kenneman, as if knowing he’d pushed his son as far as he could, didn’t try to stop them. Instead, he led Robbie off to introduce him to other senior members of the magazine's staff.

Sam ordered them fresh drinks, but otherwise said nothing for a full minute.

Finally, she broke the silence. “So I guess your cousin taking over isn’t a good thing?”

He barked a laugh. “Robbie’s a nice guy…but he’s not a leader.”

“Your father seems to think he is.”

His jaw stiffened. “My father has always used Robbie as a pawn to try to get what he wants out of me. No matter what Robbie does to suck-up or stay in his good graces, he’s always going to be a nephew, not a son. My father knows I’ve figured that out, and that I worry about Robbie, and he uses it to his full advantage.”

Wow, that
was
manipulative. And how interesting that Sam knew it, and, rather than feeling more confident in his own position in the family, instead felt protective of his weaker cousin.

Eve sipped a glass of expensive champagne, thinking about that, wondering how it fit in with the rest of what she knew about Sam so far.

Nothing fit, not really. Not with the image of the man she’d had going into this whole thing. Which confused her to the point of real consternation.

Finally, after a long, introspective moment, Sam squared his shoulders, shook his head and said, "Forget it. I can't even think about it tonight. Let's just try to enjoy the evening."

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “We don’t have to stay.”

That hadn’t been a breathy, sultry invitation, merely an understanding, friendly offer. She had no idea whether he’d read it that way, though, and held her breath, waiting. Would he hear seduction and turn into the single-guy-on-the-make? Or would he realize she’d spoken in sympathetic friendship and remain the all-too-likable man she was coming to know?

“Thanks Eve, I appreciate it, but I’m fine. We’re here, might as well soak the old man by scarfing down some free food and booze,” he replied with a warm smile.

Friendship
. She just didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad one.

Sam got them each some hors d'oeuvres and they began to mingle. The food was good, the alcohol free, the crowd a pleasant mix of professional journalists, wealthy investors, excited hangers-on, and model types. And since they managed to avoid coming face-to-face with his father again, they actually enjoyed themselves. Sam was funny and charming, only a little flirtatious, and relaxed. Because she knew he had to still be thinking of what had happened with his father, Eve didn’t bother to try to revert to sultry vixen; he didn’t even seem to be in the mood to notice, so she behaved as much like herself as she could.

At one point, Eve noticed Diana Gerard enter into a conversation with Sam's cousin Robbie. Her friend looked perturbed. Eve saw the way Diana held her entire body rigid, though her expression didn't reveal her anger. But Eve had known her for a long time. She knew Diana was royally ticked off about something.

"Diana and Robbie don't appear to be getting along too well," Sam said as he followed her gaze.

"I don't imagine Diana is any more pleased about the change in management than you are. She's worked hard to overcome the attitude about a woman editor at
His World
and now it looks like she's going to have to start all over again."

“Sexist jerks, those magazine moguls,” he murmured.

She chuckled. “I think Diana can hold her own. She doesn’t let anyone push her around.”

Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow. He stared at her, his green eyes studying her as if he could read her thoughts. She suddenly realized she'd made it pretty obvious Diana wasn’t a stranger.

"Know Diana pretty well, do you?"

"Slightly," she mumbled. Eve gulped a sip of her champagne, trying to think of a quick way to change the subject. She slid her empty glass onto a tray carried by a passing waiter. "Want to dance?"

He didn't respond. Grabbing his arm, she tugged him outside toward the area being used as a dance floor. She hoped the band would continue playing some fast music so they could avoid conversation, but as soon as they reached the other dancers, the music slowed and the mood shifted.

"Do you ever wait for people to accept or decline your invitations?" Sam asked.

“Maybe I’m not used to people saying no to me.”

Eve slid one arm up to rest on his shoulder. She took his free hand in her own. Before she could move their joined hands to the side, she felt him gently twist her arm, pushing their entwined hands into the curve of her back, just over her buttocks, as he pulled her body close to his.

"I'm leading," Sam insisted as he began to move to the beat of the music.

"For now," Eve whispered. He heard her. She felt his chest move as he chuckled.

The patio was crowded with other couples, but Eve felt as if they were completely alone. She found herself melting into him, secure in the strength of his arms. She had a mad impulse to press her lips to the flesh below his earlobe, where the scent of a tantalizing male cologne tickled her nostrils. For a brief time, she was able to forget what had brought them here tonight, able to just enjoy the sensations washing over her. She liked being in the arms of a strong man, savored the soft breeze of the balmy night, and lost herself a little in sweet music.

But it didn’t last.  

"So, Eve, how is it you know so much about Diana?" His voice was silky, his tone deliberate. Eve knew he was suspicious of her. The thought rankled. Here she'd been getting all hot and bothered about the feel of his arms around her and he'd still been trying to figure her out, like someone working on a particularly tricky riddle.

"Oh, I don't," she said brightly. “Just a little, but, you know, I know her type. Those kind of women just amaze me, you know, how they just push their way into business, losing all their feminine skills."
Forgive me, Diana!

Sam looked down at her, seeing the way her eyes sparkled. Her smile was wide and guileless, her words obviously flirtatious…yet her entire body was rigid. He saw the effort it took her to keep the vacuous grin and nearly laughed out loud when the realization struck him: Eve Barret was lying through her pearly white teeth.

His absolute certainty that she was playing him—and had been all along—sent a strange sense of relief flooding through Sam. He’d suspected it for quite a while, now he had no doubt. It wasn’t just that she put on a persona in public vs. private, like a professional model might have to do, she was doing it for
him
. Why, he had no idea. What she was after, what she wanted, what she hoped to gain…not a clue. But this woman in his arms had an agenda that involved him and had since the minute they’d met.

The relief intensified and he gave himself a huge mental break. Since he'd met her, his body and his mind had been receiving differing signals from the woman. He was drawn to her physical beauty, of course. In fact, all he had been able to think about while they danced was how much he wished they were both naked. Their conversations had confused the hell out of him—making him laugh one minute, putting him on guard the next, and making him want to turn and forget he’d ever met her the one after that. It had seemed so superficial, only skin deep, so he hadn't been able to understand why she would have aroused feelings of jealousy while she danced with his cousin. Why he was so interested in discovering what was behind those big blue eyes.

Now, however, he understood. He was attracted to the real woman; the fake one he just didn’t get. Sam could absolutely tell the difference between the two, her mask had slipped away decisively. Of course, she would try to put it back into place, but it was too late, he could now see completely through it. He'd heard it in her voice, seen it in her unguarded expressions.

Sam felt as if he was looking at one of those framed 3-D pictures. The kind where, if he stood back and studied it long enough, and let his eyes get blurry and out of focus, the inner image would appear. And once spotted, it was impossible to look at the picture again without seeing the true depth within. It popped out at you, obvious and in-your-face, never again looking the way it once had.

That was how he suddenly saw Eve. She was so much more than the sum of her parts, the real woman had revealed herself and he was never again going to look at her and see the vapid, shallow model.

The only thing he couldn't figure out yet was
why
she was acting. But he looked forward to investigating.

"Oh, I agree completely. So masculine of women to think they can just intrude in the corporate world." Sam felt her stiffen even more in his arms. He pressed his face into her curls so she wouldn't see the grin tickling his lips. "Women were meant to be appreciated for so much more than their minds!"

This time he heard her hiss through her teeth. She was as mad as a wet cat. But she kept her cool. Sam admired that. So far, she wasn't rising to the bait. "For instance, I'm sure there are lots of things about you for a man to appreciate." 

"Wouldn't you like to know," she retorted. Her words were light, taunting, but Sam heard the anger beneath them.

"Yes. I suppose I would."

She seemed startled, and Sam wished he hadn't said anything. After all, he was trying to figure out her secrets. The last thing he needed to do was reveal his own interest in her.

"Don't you think men can appreciate all types of women?"

"Of course they can appreciate them. But how would a woman ever expect to find a man to marry her if she's competing with him for the same job?" Sam sent a mental apology to his sister, Lyssa, a happily married attorney who would probably still be arguing cases before a jury right up until the moment she went into labor. "Of course, for guys who never plan to settle down, it's perfect. If a woman's wrapped up in her job, she won't be panting for an engagement ring."

"Sounds like something right out of your book," Eve snapped.

"Oh, you've read it? And here I thought you didn't know who I was!" He watched her take a deep breath, knowing she was silently reprimanding herself for her mistake.

"Well, I haven't really read it. But I've heard about it."

He saw the tiny frown she couldn't hide. "So, have you heard good or bad?"

"I guess it depends on the sex of the person doing the talking," she said dryly.

Sam chuckled. "Don't believe everything you hear. I've found it necessary to make my own judgments...not to be deceived by appearances."

"You aren't easily deceived, then?"

He shook his head slowly. "Not for long. For instance, you are not deceiving me one bit."

She sucked in a deep breath, her blue eyes widening. "What do you mean?"

Sam didn't want to tip his hand too soon. He didn't intend to let her know he was on to her just yet. "I mean, your body is stiff as a board now, but ninety seconds ago you were dying for me to kiss you."

He had to hand it to her, she didn't react as he'd expected. She didn't play coy, didn't feign shock. Instead, she tilted her head back in challenge. "Wrong.
I
was planning to kiss
you
."

Sam let his stare rest on her full pink lips, which parted as she slid her tongue out to moisten them. The invitation was impossible to miss.

Not caring that his father and dozens of colleagues milled around them, Sam slowly leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. After the tiniest hesitation, her mouth softened and welcomed his, her lips parting so they could share each breath. Sam groaned, deep in his throat, and focused on the pleasure of her mouth, drinking in the taste and feel of her. He didn't try to deepen the kiss, didn’t plunge his tongue deep to devour her, claim her, though he very much wanted to. For now, there was just this first exploration…innocent, yet sultry. Simple, yet incredibly pleasurable.

They didn't stop dancing. Their mouths were just one more place they touched— softly, gently—as they moved to the music. Sam had no idea how long the kiss lasted, just knew it wasn't long enough. Finally, however, he noticed the song had stopped, and the band was preparing to take a break. Drawing his mouth from hers, he straightened, staring down at Eve's flushed face, noticing her eyes were closed, her long lashes resting on her cheeks.

"Let's get out of here."

Eve slowly opened her eyes, realizing they'd stopped moving. She was still reeling, mentally, shocked that one kiss could melt away every ounce of doubt or confusion, could evaporate all the reasons and excuses and schemes that had led her here, to this moment.

Sam still held his arm curved over hers, pressing into the small of her back. She glanced down, noticing they touched from chest to thigh. Good thing, too, considering  her legs were weak, quivering, and without his support she didn’t know if she could remain standing. Her breasts were aching with need, her nipples thrusting hard against the fabric of her dress, and every inch of her throbbed with arousal.

“Eve?”

She wasn’t thinking, was led only by emotion and need and the memory of that kiss and the feel of his body pressed against hers.

She nodded.

Smiling down at her, he stepped away and she instantly missed his warmth. The evening wasn’t cool, but it felt as if whatever cocoon had wrapped them together in heated awareness had been suddenly stripped away, and she shivered. Not noticing, Sam took her arm, leading her off the dance floor, his steps sure and certain. Hers, less so.