Compromising Positions (8 page)

“I'm going to stop at the bank and see if they'll give us a short-term loan for the boiler. Then I'll rework the housekeeping schedule for this weekend. You and I will have to handle everything.”

“Eleven rooms? I can't do that and cook.”

“Then I'll do it,” Sam said. “With what we make this weekend, we should be able to pay for a good bit of the boiler. After that, we've got to find a way to get more business.”

Sam grabbed his keys and started toward the front door. “Call James and tell him we'll get the money. He can install the boiler tomorrow.”

“What if the bank says no?”

“I'll deal with that when it happens. Just say we have the money.”

Sam's truck was parked where he'd left it, in front of the old stone kitchen. He reached for the door of the pickup, then stopped himself and instead walked to the front door of the cottage. If she had left to run errands, her luggage would still be there.

He jogged up the steps and walked inside, holding his breath. “Hell,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the empty spot on the floor. She was gone.

Maybe he'd misread what was happening between them. He'd assumed that the battle for the bed was just a game they were playing, an excuse to spend more time with each other. Possession had been important at first, but Sam's priorities had changed. He cared more about Amelia's wants and needs than he did his own.

So where did he go from here? He should hop into his truck, drive to Boston and take his damn bed back. But all he really wanted back was her. Was that crazy? He barely knew her, yet when they were together something seemed so right.

Sam crossed the room and stood at the hearth, staring down into the spent embers. The door squeaked behind him. When he turned, he expected to see Sarah with another declaration of doom. But instead he came face-to-face with the girl of his dreams.

They both stared at each other for a long moment, neither one moving. He inhaled a sharp breath, suddenly short of oxygen. Then, as if the spell were broken, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, his lips coming down on hers.

The kiss spun out into one long, delicious encounter of damp lips and desperate sighs, of cold hands trying to find warm skin. He slammed the door shut behind her, then pulled her toward the bed, their lips clinging together as they moved.

He didn't want to know the truth of why she'd left or why she'd returned. It didn't matter. She was here in his arms and that was enough.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured. “I shouldn't have left.”

“I don't care,” he said, his lips hovering over hers.

“But I need to explain. It wasn't just about the bed. I got...frightened. Over what was happening between us. About the hold you have over me. And...I care about what you think of me.”

“I think you're wonderful and beautiful—”

“And honest,” Amelia added.

As they stood by the bed, they began to shed clothing, casting aside barriers with each item tossed to the floor. Her jacket, his shirt. Her sweater, his jeans. And when they stood in front of each other in just their underwear, Sam kissed her again, this time more gently, waiting for her to invite him into her bed.

He exhaled slowly as she picked up his hands and pulled him to the bed. They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs.

Sam ran his fingers through her hair and molded her mouth to his, their kisses growing more desperate by the moment.

Amelia reached between them to unhook her bra but a frantic rapping at the door caused her to freeze. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and questioning. Were they going to ignore the knock or continue?

“Sam? Sam, are you in there?”

He cursed softly. “My sister,” he murmured.

“You'd better get it.”

Sam grabbed the quilt from the bed and wrapped it around her, dropping a kiss on her lips. “Stay right here.”

Sam strode to the door and opened it a crack. “What do you want?”

“Something happened. There's water leaking all over the basement. I think it's coming from the water heater,” she said.

“Not the boiler?”

“No. You don't have to come right away. It's just a puddle right now. But if—”

“I'll come,” he said. “I'll be there in a few minutes.”

He closed the door and pressed his forehead against the rough planks. He turned and walked toward Amelia, gathering his clothes along the way. “There's an emergency I've got to tend to,” he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head. “Will you wait for me this time?”

She nodded. “I'll be right here.”

When he was completely dressed, Sam gently took the quilt from her, exposing her body to the cold. He worked at the clasp of her bra, then hooked his thumbs into the fabric of her panties and pulled them down over her hips.

Amelia leaned into the warmth of his body as he ran his hands over her silken skin. She shivered and he pulled her closer. “There. Now you know I'll be back.”

Amelia grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around her again, then sat on a nearby chair. “I'll be waiting.”

“I'll try not to be too long,” Sam said.

As he walked out the door, he glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. He'd been waiting for this moment since the second he'd set eyes on her. After she'd run away with the bed, he'd assumed it would never happen. Now she was here again and he wasn't letting a damned leaky water heater get between them.

“This place is going to drive me mad,” he muttered as he strode up the drive to the inn. It was time to make some hard decisions about his life, about what he was willing to give up just to keep the family legacy alive.

* * *

“I
JUST
GOT
a call from the
Globe
. They're running a little article and a photo in their arts section tomorrow.”

“A photo?” Amelia leaned forward on the chair, pressing her cell phone more closely to her ear. “What kind of photo?”

“I don't know,” Vivian said. “He mentioned something about John and Yoko. I don't really care. The
Globe
seemed fascinated by your little standoff over the George Washington bed. You can't buy publicity like this, darling. Whatever you've got going on there, don't stop. I want this story to last as long as possible. I've got our marketing department on it and I'm hoping that we can get one of the local television stations to send a news crew.”

“But we moved the bed,” she said. “I thought it was a little...unseemly. I mean, people were watching me sleep, and Sam agreed that we could bring it back to the inn.”

“Well, take the bed back to the store,” Vivian said. “I want you out there, in the public eye, selling this story. When was the last time they ran a story about the Mapother on the network news? Never.”

There had to be a way to dissuade Vivian, Amelia thought. The last thing she wanted to do was to return to Benny's and sleep in that window. “There is one thing,” she said. “I think I've found a piece of Revere silver.”

“Where?”

“Here at the inn. I haven't had a chance to go through their collection, but one of the innkeepers told me they have cupboards full of old silver.”

“All right, we'll make that priority number two. As soon as we get more press on the bed, we'll move on to the silver. This could be the luckiest week the Mapother has ever had. Keep up the good work, Amelia. I'm quite proud of you.”

Amelia switched off her phone and slumped down on the chair. This was crazy. They'd just packed up the damn bed that morning. Now she'd have to haul it back and do it all over again. And she'd have to ask Sam to sleep with her. If that wasn't the most humiliating thing she'd ever done, she didn't know what was.

But she needed this job. Going back to her parents was impossible. There were some surrenders that she'd never agree to and that was one. She'd worked hard to take complete control of her life and she didn't want to give it up.

She stood up and grabbed her purse, dumping the contents out on the bed. She'd tucked the credit card in a hidden slot in her wallet and hadn't touched it in two years. Amelia pulled it out and stared down at the small piece of plastic.

Her father had given her the card on the day she'd left home, trying to convince her that she'd never be able to make it on her own. The card didn't have a limit and he'd told her to use it whenever she needed, but Amelia had refused to touch it. It was time to cut the very last tie to her old life and do what was necessary to make a success of the life she'd built.

She walked to the small kitchen on the other side of the wall. She found a pair of kitchen shears in the silverware drawer and took them out. She hesitated, then replaced the shears in the drawer. She never intended to use the card, but it was the last link she had to her father, and she wasn't quite ready to sever it just yet.

With a soft sigh she grabbed her clothes and put them on. Sex with Sam Blackstone would have to wait. She had a bed to move, and since she'd be living in Benny's front window, she was going to make it look a lot better than it did right now. And there would be no falling tarp. A proper curtain would protect them both from prying eyes.

She pulled Benny's card out of her wallet and quickly dialed his number. “Benny, it's Amelia Sheffield. I'm going to need your help. Can we meet at your shop in about fifteen minutes?”

When their plans were finalized, Amelia stuffed everything into her purse and headed for the door. She'd get their “bedroom” set up and then she'd explain the next few days to Sam. One thing was perfectly clear: she had to convince him to give her the bed. Maybe not for keeps, but at least for the course of her President's Day exhibit. She pulled on her jacket, gathered up her luggage and tossed it into the Lexus. Thank goodness they hadn't brought the bed back inside. She carefully turned the SUV around and slowly drove out to the street.

The skies had darkened to gray and it looked as though there was snow coming. She could imagine the town covered with a glittering coat of white and smiled at the romance of it. Though she loved living in Boston, Amelia understood the appeal of small-town life. The pace was slow, the people friendly.

And then, there was the man. Though there were plenty of available guys in Boston, she hadn't managed to meet many of them. She'd come to Millhaven and met the sexiest single guy in the state of New York in her first few minutes.

Amelia smiled to herself, steering the truck down the long hill into town. He was an incredibly passionate man and, for some reason, he'd decided to turn that passion in her direction. She ought to enjoy it while she could.

A sound of a honking horn interrupted her thoughts and she glanced in her sideview mirror to see a pickup trying to pass her. Another car was approaching in the opposite direction and she pulled closer to the center line, hoping to prevent an accident.

The oncoming car passed a moment later and the pickup pulled up beside her. To her shock, she realized that it was Sam's truck and he was behind the wheel. He shouted at her but she shook her head, unable to hear what he was saying.

When they reached the bottom of the hill, Sam slowed the truck and she followed him as he pulled over to the side of the road. Amelia rolled down the window as he jumped out of the truck and strode to her.

He looked angry. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I—I'm taking the bed to Benny's,” she said.

He opened his mouth, as if to shout at her, then snapped it shut. “Why would you take it to Benny's? We just moved it this morning.”

“It's a long story, but my boss wants us to set it up there again. I guess we got some publicity from last night and she wants more. So, I have to ask if you'll sleep there tonight...with me...”

“Amelia, I have an inn that's falling down around me. I have guests coming in for the weekend and we have no heat and no hot water. I've got to find a way to pay for the repairs with absolutely no money.”

“I'll take care of the bed,” she said. “Don't worry. It's fine if you don't sleep there tonight. Vivian will just have to deal with it.”

“I have to get back to the inn. Can we talk about this later?”

“Sure,” she said. Amelia paused, then reached out and touched his cheek with her fingertips. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I'm not sure,” he said. “Right now, I feel as if the earth is shifting beneath my feet. I'm going to have to make some hard decisions.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. “I might be able to help.” She remembered the credit card in her wallet, the one her father had given her in case of emergencies. This qualified as an emergency on all counts. And she would feel no guilt in using it for someone other than herself.

He chuckled softly. “There's not much you could do about it. This is all on me.” He glanced over his shoulder as a car passed them. “So...I have to get going.”

“I might know people who could give you the money—”

“No,” he said.

“But—”

“No,” Sam repeated. “I'll figure this out. I always do. I don't need your help, Amelia, but thank you for the offer. I do appreciate it, though. I'll see you later.”

He reached through the window and cupped her face in his hands, giving her a soft but urgent kiss. “Things don't seem quite so dire when I'm kissing you.”

“Ah, so I can help.”

“Maybe you can,” he murmured.

With that, he turned and strode back to his pickup. Amelia fought the impulse to run after him, to kiss the worry off his forehead and make him smile. She and Edward had never shared their worries or concerns with each other and she hadn't thought it a big deal. But now, a man she'd known for just three days had exposed his vulnerable side and she wanted to wrap him up in hugs.