Compromising Positions (4 page)

“You can ride with me,” he shouted as she headed toward her Lexus.

“No, I'll take my truck. I'll need the trailer for the bed.”

He leaped out of the truck. “You still believe you're going to get the bed?”

“I'm hopeful,” she called.

“I think you're going to be disappointed.”

Sam watched her start her truck, then hopped back into his own and turned the key in the ignition. He drove silently into town and within a few minutes pulled up in front of an old storefront on Center Street, on the north end of the business district.

Gold letters painted on the huge glass window identified the place as Benny Barnes Antiques and Auction Gallery. Benny, one of the town's more colorful characters, had added his own personal tagline to the window: I Buy Old Stuff.

Benny had agreed to take the bed, along with the other disputed pieces, and hold them until ownership had been determined. Ever the marketing genius, he'd taken the opportunity to get some publicity out of it for himself, setting the Washington bed up in his front window with a lovely hand-painted sign and antique bed linens.

As Sam parked beside her, Amelia hopped out of the truck, not waiting for him to get her door. She stood in front of the wide plate-glass window and Sam joined her.

“Nice to know I can keep an eye on it,” Sam muttered.

A worried expression crossed her face and she gnawed on her lower lip. “Right.”

He rested his palm on the small of her back as he held the front door open for her and they stepped inside the dimly lit interior. Jerry was waiting for them, stretched out in a tattered wing chair, a mug of coffee in his hands.

“Morning,” he said, nodding to the two of them.

“Morning, Jerry,” Sam said. “You remember Amelia Sheffield. She stayed at the inn last night, so I let her know about the meeting.”

Jerry frowned, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “Will you excuse us, miss?” he said, getting up and grabbing Sam by the arm. He dragged him to a quiet corner of Benny's office. “You're giving aid and refuge to the enemy now?”

“I'm confident we'll prevail,” he said. “And she's a paying customer.”

“Yeah? Well, you'd best watch yourself. A woman that beautiful is nothing but trouble.”

They walked back out to Amelia and found her inside the large display window, examining the details on the bed.

“Well, I've got good news and bad,” Jerry began. “Good news is there's no one else making a claim on this piece. Bad news is Miss Abigail has decided to leave the decision up to you two.”

“How's that going to work?” Sam asked.

“Hell if I know. But you're going to have to fight this one out yourselves. When you've got it sorted, give me a call and I'll write up the paperwork. Until then, Benny says he'll keep the bed here.”

After he walked out, they stood next to each other, silently, both of them weighing their options. Amelia was the first to speak. She removed her phone from her purse. “Where can I buy some bed linens? Sheets and a pillow?”

“Why would you need that?”

“I'm going to stay here, live here in this bed, until you give up your claim. Unless you want to give up right now, which would save us both a lot of time and trouble?”

“I'm not giving up. It's my bed. It's a family heirloom.”

“And you thought by seducing me, I might forget that point? Well, I haven't. You can kiss me all you want, Sam Blackstone, and it's not going to shake my determination.” She sat on the edge of the bed.

“You want to stay here in this dusty old window?”

“Yes. I hope the store has a bathroom. Why don't you go check on that for me?”

“I'm not going to stay here,” Sam said.

“Then you're giving up already?”

“No. But this isn't the way to decide this. We could flip a coin. We could arm wrestle or cut cards. We don't have to live here.”

“Well, I am going to live here. I'm going to sleep in my bed until it's all mine.”

He cursed beneath his breath. This was crazy. How was it that she was dictating the terms? Hell, they could take the bed back to the inn and live in relative comfort and seclusion.

“Hello! Anyone here?” A moment later Minerva Threadwell came around the corner. She wore a bright purple warm-up suit and had her gray hair pulled into a tidy bun at the top of her head. Rabbit-fur earmuffs covered her ears and she looked as if she'd just happened in on her morning walk. “Oh, here you are. I just got a tip that there was new development on the bed. I can get it into our Thursday edition.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her notepad and pen. “Care to comment?”

Sam groaned. “Is this really what you consider newsworthy, Minerva?”

“It's a small town,” she said in a clipped tone. “I take what I can get. So, whose bed is it, yours or hers?”

Amelia pulled a business card out of her pocket. “Amelia Sheffield of the Mapother Museum. And it seems Miss Farnsworth left the decision up to us. So, I'll just be staying here, sleeping in this bed, until Mr. Blackstone agrees to let me take it to Boston for my exhibit.”

“Well, this is an interesting development,” Minerva said. “Kind of a John Lennon-Yoko Ono thing.”

“What?”

“Oh, right,” Amelia said. “A sleep-in.”

“So you two are going to sleep in the bed together?”

“I'm not sleeping here,” Sam protested.

“Then what's to prevent her from taking off with your bed in the middle of the night?” Minerva asked, an inquisitive arch to her eyebrow.

Sam cursed beneath his breath. “I guess I'll be sleeping here with her.”

Minerva's smile widened. “Now, that will make the story even more interesting. You'll be sharing the bed?”

“No,” Sam and Amelia said at the same time.

Then Sam realized this could be the opportunity he'd been hoping for. “I mean yes,” Sam said. “It's only fair. It is my bed.”

“It's my bed and you won't be sleeping in it,” Amelia said.

“Which is it?” the reporter asked. “Are you going to sleep together or not?”

“Yes,” Amelia said.

The reporter turned to look at Sam. “And...you're all right with that?”

“Sure,” Sam said. He sent Amelia a lazy smile. “I don't plan to do a lot of sleeping.”

He heard a tiny gasp catch in Amelia's throat and took satisfaction in the realization that he'd managed to rattle her. Miss Cool and Collected had a weak spot. Was she imagining what might happen once the lights went out?

“What's so important about this bed?” Minerva asked.

“George Washington slept in this bed,” Amelia said.

“I expect he slept in many beds over the course of his life,” Minerva commented.

“It's not very important,” Sam countered. “But it's always had a home with the Blackstone family. Ms. Sheffield doesn't seem to understand the value of family traditions.”

“Do you have proof that George Washington slept in the bed?”

Amelia nodded. “Of course. Mr. Blackstone's grandfather included paperwork on the provenance with copies of Washington's signature from the inn's guest book. I've done other research, as well.”

“Would you care to elaborate?” Minerva said. “I'd also be interested to know the value of the bed.”

“On second thought, I could have been wrong,” Sam murmured. “Maybe that wasn't the bed in the corner room. I may have confused things.”

Minerva looked back and forth between the two of them. “I'd like to send Wilbur over to take a photo. How long do you think it will be before the two of you are in bed together?”

“I'll leave that up to Ms. Sheffield,” he said.

“No comment,” she murmured, her cheeks flushed with color.

“I have enough for now, anyway,” Minerva said. “I know how to contact both of you. If I need anything else, I'll drop by.” She sighed. “Wilbur's going to want to get this on the noon news.” Minerva tucked her notepad into her pocket and hurried out the front door.

They stood in silence for a long moment before Sam clapped his hands. “All right,” he said. “We're on. I say we meet back here at noon with everything we need and then we'll get started.”

“All right,” Amelia said, tipping her chin up. “The battle for the bed starts at noon. May the best...person win.” She held out her hand and he shook it.

She was ready to leave it at that, but he wasn't. Instead he slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her against his body. His lips covered hers in a deep, damp kiss, their tongues creating a delicious connection he didn't want to break. When she pulled away, he looked down into her wide eyes.

“May the best man win,” he whispered.

Her expression hardened and she wrapped her hand around his nape and pulled him into another kiss. Her mouth was soft and searching, her tongue tracing the width of his mouth, teasing him in a way that was more provocative than he expected.

The blood in his body warmed and desire flooded his senses. His hands skimmed along her torso and settled on her hips, holding her against him. The friction between them caused an instant reaction in him.

But Amelia wasn't about to let him take control. She stepped away and gave him a coy smile, her lips still damp and glistening. “Don't you mean the best woman?”

* * *

A
MELIA
WATCHED
THROUGH
the plate-glass window as Sam drove away. When he was finally out of sight, she turned to the bed. By her estimate, it would take about a half hour to disassemble it and get it loaded into the trailer. If he came back at noon, that would give her a half-hour head start to Boston; a half hour before he even realized she was gone.

She didn't regret deceiving him. This was war and she had to use whatever advantage she was given. He'd have done the same thing given the opportunity. She hurried over to the bed and examined it. Getting the canopy off on her own would be difficult, but once that was done, the rest of the bed would come apart quickly.

She crawled up on the mattress and began to untie the stays on the fabric covering. Struggling with a knot, she had a brief flash of conscience, then reminded herself that all was fair in love and war.

Her mind skipped to the kiss they'd shared earlier. His powerful and demanding; hers defiant and daring. Somehow she'd allowed desire to become part of their battle and it wasn't helping her gain the upper hand. Every time he touched her, she felt weak, vulnerable, and yet so amazingly alive that she wanted to cry out. Her body pulsed with a need so powerful it threatened to sweep her away. She'd never experienced anything remotely similar when Edward had kissed her, and he was supposed to be the love of her life.

Her parents had never seemed to share any passion between them and Amelia had always assumed that those emotions were saved for the privacy of their bedroom. But now she realized that it was impossible to hide such intense reactions. She felt her need with every breath she took. She wanted Sam to kiss her, to touch her, to throw her down on the bed and have his way with her.

She cursed softly as she worked at the knot. Amelia Gardner Sheffield was not the kind of woman who wielded her sexuality to get what she wanted. Until she'd met Sam, she hadn't been aware that she had that power at all.

But was it a power she wanted to wield? She could soften him up; make him more amenable to her. And once he'd fallen for her, he'd want to give her the bed. But she'd been manipulated her whole life. She didn't want to do that to someone else.

“You need any help with that?”

The voice startled her and she spun around quickly, losing her balance. A man stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. He chuckled, then held out his hand. “Benny Barnes. I don't think we've met.”

“Oh,” Amelia cried, stumbling off the bed. “This is your place. No, we haven't met. Amelia Sheffield. Mapother Museum of Decorative Arts. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“So you're the one fighting with Sammy over this bed,” Benny said. “No one mentioned you were such a pretty little thing.” He grinned widely. “Can I give you a hand?”

“You could help me take this bed apart and move it into my trailer,” she said.

Benny shook his head. “Nah, I'm afraid I can't do that. Unless Sam gives me the word, the bed stays here.”

“I see,” Amelia said. “You're a friend of his?”

“This is a small town, miss. Everyone is friends with everyone else. Minerva filled me in on the whole situation. I have to say, you've got your work cut out for you. That Sam is used to getting what he wants. We went to high school together. He was a few years younger than me but, yeah, we were good buddies. Wasn't as popular as me or as smart, but we hung out.”

Benny puffed out his chest and continued to talk about his high school exploits, nodding and smiling as if she were impressed. Maybe he thought she was. After all, she had invited herself to spend the night in his place of business.

“I'd like to thank you for allowing this to play out in your front window.”

“No problem. It'll bring a lot of attention to my business. As a thank-you, why don't you let me take you out to lunch? Or how about dinner? I can show you around town, introduce you to the right people.”

“There is one thing you can do for me,” Amelia said with a warm smile. “I could use a sheet or something to hang over the front window. For privacy.”

“Well, you can't do that,” Benny said. “What would be the point? I gotta promote the hell out of this thing.”

“Well, I can't just change in front an open window... Is there a bathroom?”

“There's one in the back, but it's a little rough. I live upstairs. You're welcome to use mine. I'll just leave the door unlocked and you can come up whenever you need anything.”