For the Longest Time (4 page)

“Is he around? Jake, I mean?” Sam asked when Cass continued to watch her with naked curiosity. The younger girl was openly gawking. Sam shifted her weight from one aching foot to the other, wondering whether she'd accidentally applied the lip gloss to her nose or something.

“Yeah, he's here. I'll let him know you're waiting,” Cass said, getting to her feet. She stopped on her way out
from behind the desk, though, and looked at Sam with a light frown. “You look . . . different. Good, I mean. But I almost didn't recognize you.”

“Thanks. It's, ah, probably the hair,” Sam replied.

Cass just gave her a puzzled look and headed around the corner, down a short hallway and through a door that gave Sam a quick peek at a wall of cages, a couple of which were occupied, and some equipment. She looked around, trying to focus on anything but the fact that Jake was somewhere in the building, waiting for her. The woman with the terrier on her lap smiled encouragingly, and Sam returned it before trying to look engrossed in a bulletin board covered in fliers for lost pets, pets needing new homes, pet photographers, kennels . . .

“Hey, you're right on time.”

She turned, startled at how quietly he'd come up behind her. She didn't have any time to steel herself against him, to stomp her attraction into submission before it could get the better of her. Instead, all she could do was react, which her entire body was more than happy to do. Everything tightened, from her chest to her thighs, and the blood rushed to burn in her cheeks. There were only a couple of feet between them, not far enough that she couldn't smell the subtle, clean scent of his cologne. Not far enough to escape the magnetic pull of the dimples that winked in his cheeks when he smiled with what looked like genuine pleasure.

He hadn't thought she'd show, Sam realized. Which made this a triumph of sorts, even though she felt like disappearing through the floor. She needed to get a handle on how to deal with Jake, and soon. As things stood, his white vet's coat might as well be a bare chest and leather pants.

Mmm. Leather pants.

Oh God, she was a mess.

“Hey,” was the only word she could manage at first, and in a breathy sex-kitten voice that she absolutely had not intended to use. It was hard, though, considering taking an adequate breath wasn't going that well.

It was another triumph to see the way Jake's eyes widened as he took a good look at her. “Um. Wow. You look amazing,” he said. “There some kind of cocktail party I didn't get invited to?”

“Yeah, no,” Sam replied, flexing hands that wanted to start playing with the long strand of Murano glass beads she had around her neck. “I had a thing. I mean”—she blew out a flustered breath and looked heavenward, annoyed with the way she lost the power of coherent speech around him—“an interview. I'm going to be working at Two Roads.”

“The gallery? Cool. Congratulations,” Jake said easily, and his smile warmed her from head to toe. It was as impossible to resist as it had always been, she realized. What was she
doing
here?

“Thanks,” Sam said, and the lingering pleasure from the morning's success burst through in a grin she couldn't manage to hold back. “I'm really excited about it.”

“You should be.” He hesitated, then said, “You were an amazing artist.”

Just for an instant, the years fell away, and she was nothing more than a girl standing in front of him. A girl with her head full of a boy who'd turned out to be little more than fantasy, like most things she'd loved. And in her hand was her heart.

“Jake . . . I . . . can I talk to you for a second? I wanted to show you something.”

An incredulous look as his friends began laughing. At her. And she knew she'd made a mistake, finally working up the nerve to talk to him at school. Here, they were supposed to be strangers. Too late, she understood that she'd crossed a line that he never would.

“Uh, thanks, but no thanks. You can keep . . . whatever that is.”

Sam's smile vanished, her pleasure crumpling just like that long-ago offering. At least then she'd had the good sense to throw it at him. It was some small comfort that the wadded-up sketch had hit him right in the forehead. She might not be an athlete, but she'd always had good aim.

“So, can I see the kittens?” she asked, crossing her arms as she moved the subject back to neutral territory. He seemed to take note of the change in her, some emotion she couldn't identify tightening his features for just a moment before he relaxed again and nodded.

“Absolutely. Come on back. You can hang out with the monsters in my office while I try to scarf down some lunch.”

“Fine,” she said, her voice overly bright, and followed when he turned to walk back down the hallway. She could do this, Sam decided. It was ancient history. It was over with. If he wanted to keep it friendly, she was willing. But the girl who'd once looked at him with stars in her eyes was long gone. He needed to remember that. And so did she.

N
o matter how weird it was for her that Jake was now both an adult and a guy who merited his own office, Sam could at least be glad that his choice of decor indicated he didn't take himself too seriously.

“Nice bobbleheads,” she said, then took a sip of her latte.

He didn't look the least bit sheepish when she turned to watch him shut the door behind her. “Thanks.”

“And your Iron Man poster really sets off the diploma next to it.”

“Red metal badassery enhances any room, you know,” he replied. “Didn't they teach you that at art school?”

“No. I guess I should have taken Decorating with Superheroes 101 for one of my electives.”

“I could give you some pointers,” he said. “I've been told I'm a natural with the medium.”

“Yeah. I'll keep that in mind.” Sam smiled despite herself and shook her head, looking away before Jake decided her amusement meant more than it actually did. She had a feeling she was on shaky ground here. It was too easy to fall back into their old, easy banter, even after all this time. The natural advantage still seemed to be his. Jake was as comfortable in his own skin, and with his
considerable appeal, as he'd ever been. And she . . . wasn't. Flustered, and determined not to morph back into an awkward teenager, Sam let her eyes skim the room. The space didn't contain much but a cluttered desk, a filing cabinet, a mini fridge, and a small end table with a coffeemaker on it. Tucked into one corner was a large cage full of small, furry creatures making an awful lot of noise. Relief mingled with delight and made her smile.

“Kitties!” she said, feeling only a little ridiculous as she hurried to the cage and crouched down to look at the little faces smooshed against the door. Jake appeared at her side almost instantly, too quickly for her to move away. He plucked her latte from her hand.

“You won't want them knocking this over. Caffeine is the last thing this crew needs. Go ahead, open it. You can entertain them while I inhale lunch.”

Without another thought, she sat on the floor, took off her heels, shoved them to one side, and unlatched the wire door. Six warm little bundles of fur in varying colors piled out, climbing over one another, big eyes taking in the wide world of Jake's office as they set out to explore it. Loki emerged last, and Sam burst into surprised laughter as he climbed into her lap and right up the front of her. It was cute enough that she could disregard the tiny little claws poking through her dress and into her skin. Mostly.

“Your love is painful, little man. What
is
it with you?” she asked, looking down into his big green eyes. Since purring was the only response she got, Sam kept one hand on Loki to give his precarious position some support and used the other hand to play with his siblings. They might have been born outside, she thought, but they
seemed to be warming up to humans just fine. Any trepidation she'd felt about being alone with Jake vanished in the face of her amusement at the kittens' antics. In the space of a few minutes, she was too busy laughing, chasing after the unruly brood on her knees while Loki hung on for dear life, and letting her hands get covered in playful scratches to care what the other human in the room was doing. She looked up only when Loki decided that her shoulder might be a better vantage point for him.

“Ouch! Damn it, Loki, let me . . . um . . .”

She paused in the middle of trying to detach him from her dress and had just set him on her shoulder as her eyes locked with Jake's. It suddenly occurred to her that she was crawling around his office on her knees, covered in cat hair, and that he'd been perched on the edge of his desk watching her do that for an extended period of time. Eating a chocolate pudding cup, no less. She blew a lock of hair out of her face. Naturally, she thought, even her hair was working against her.

“What?” It sounded defensive and abrupt, but Sam was caught completely off guard by the look on Jake's face. His mouth was curved up just a little in a bemused smile, and those pretty eyes of his had gone soft and warm. He didn't have any right to look at her like that, she thought as her cheeks went hot. And he didn't have any right to stare at her quietly while she made a complete ass of herself on his floor, which she wouldn't even be doing if he hadn't lured her here with baby animals. Her thigh stung as one of the two tabbies decided it wanted her attention. She shot it an exasperated look even as she sank back onto her butt and helped the kitten into her lap. Loki took the opportunity to try to groom her. That or he was eating her hair.

You're not helping me get it together, here, guys.

Jake dropped his eyes briefly, as though he was as embarrassed to be caught staring as she was to find him doing it. When he raised them again, though, none of the warmth had faded. Her heart did a fluttering, nervous little dance in her chest. Under normal circumstances she might have said to hell with it and bolted, but Jake had planned his little trap well. She was stuck here, covered in fur and kittens and completely at his mercy.

It was diabolical enough that she had to give him some grudging respect . . . even if she still had no idea why he was making the effort. They'd been through this once. She wasn't his type. He'd made it abundantly clear that she wasn't his type. And she, in turn, had tried very, very hard to convince herself that he wasn't hers.

The effort it took to draw in a normal breath was irritating. Sam raised her eyebrows when Jake stayed silent. “Staring while you eat your lunch is rude,” she informed him. “And why are you eating a pudding cup anyway? What are you, like, five?”

One side of his mouth curved up. Insulting him was one way to break the tension, she guessed. Though coming off as caustic wasn't necessarily how she'd meant to deal with him. Just another reminder that she had no idea what the hell she was doing.

“Speaking of rude,” Jake replied. “Don't judge me for my taste in snack food.” He wagged his plastic spoon at her before setting it, and the empty pudding container, aside. She hoped that would be the end of it. He could joke a little; that she could handle. But just as she'd started to relax, his gaze turned speculative again.

“So . . . you settling in okay?”

“For being here all of twenty-four hours, sure,” Sam
said, trying to disentangle Loki from her hair. She had an unpleasant suspicion that Jake was going to try to steer the conversation into personal areas, all of which she had decided were off limits to him. He was her cat's vet. She could be cordial. But if he thought they were going to be buddies just because they shared a small, unpleasant slice of history, he had another thing coming.

Of course, that might have been clearer to him if she wasn't sitting on his floor covered in cats.

“Damn it, Loki!”

Jake breathed out a soft, amused exhalation through his nose as he watched her struggle. “Want some help with that?”

“No.” Sam gave Loki another tug and managed to get him free from both her shoulder and her hair, though the ripping sound she heard made her wince. The little black kitten mewed angrily and squirmed in her hands before she put him down next to one of his siblings. A quick pounce later, Loki dashed off, his infatuation momentarily forgotten.

“He's easily distracted, at least,” Sam said, trying to smooth the hair on that side of her head back into place. It felt like a lost cause, but she had to try.

“My advice would be to invest in a lot of cat toys. And maybe take one of his littermates, too.”

“Oh, thanks. Great advice. Not that you have a vested interest there or anything,” she replied.

“Of course not. I'm just being helpful. And you definitely shouldn't think about the overcrowded rescue that will have to take the rest. And how they might grow up in a shelter without their own homes. Put that stuff right out of your mind.”

Sam pressed her lips together and exhaled loudly. “Is
‘guilt' one of the services you offer here? I don't remember seeing that on the sign.”

“I consider it a free bonus.”

“Uh-huh. What a deal,” she replied as he grinned at her in that particular way he had, chin down, eyes sparkling with mischief. Settled on the edge of his desk, he'd stretched out his long legs, his body language completely at ease. He'd always moved with casual grace, and the kind of self-assurance you couldn't fake. She knew. She'd tried. The longer she let her gaze linger on him, the warmer the room seemed to get. Why didn't he find something else to look at? Why did his lab coat have to fit those broad shoulders so well? Why couldn't he have shaved his stubble this morning? And since when did she find stubble sexy anyway?

Heat pooled uncomfortably at the apex of her thighs, and Sam knew she needed to get out of here before she did something stupid. What that might be, she wasn't sure . . . but it didn't matter. Most things she could imagine doing with Jake fell into that category.

We're not friends
, she reminded herself.
We never really were. And we're not going to be, because people don't change that much.

“I should let you get back to work,” Sam said, suddenly sure that she ought to be anywhere but here. She had enough crap to deal with right now without this extra, self-inflicted weirdness.

He didn't even bother to look at his watch. “I've got time,” he said. Something about the way he said it prickled across her skin and sounded warning bells in the part of her mind dedicated to self-preservation.

“I actually don't,” she said, hoping he'd understand it for the all-purpose dismissal that it was. “I've got a bunch
of stuff to take care of today. Can't really stay. This is great, though. The kittens and your office and . . . everything.” She widened her eyes a little at how idiotic she sounded, gave her head a small shake, and grabbed the two nearest kittens instead of continuing to let words come out of her mouth. She could feel Jake's eyes on her as she scrambled gracelessly to her feet, trying not to think about how high her skirt was hiked up from sitting on the floor. Apparently, the entire purpose of Jake's existence was to help her figure out just how many different shades of red her face could turn in a single sitting. She had a horrible suspicion that right now she was setting some kind of new record.

Then Jake was up and moving, silently helping her gather up the rogue felines and put them in their cage. She tried to move quickly, anxious to put some distance between herself and Jake Smith, Life Ruiner, before she screwed up and was nice to him again. It was easier to just be distant. You'd think she would have figured that out where he was concerned, but apparently all it took was a great pair of shoulders and the right amount of stubble to torpedo her common sense.

Well, and the eyes. He has great eyes.

She yanked her dress back down with one hand after scooping Loki out from beneath the end table and planted a kiss on the kitten's head, feeling guilty about the abbreviated visit as she put him back with his siblings.
Soon
, she told herself.
He'll be home soon, and I can fuss over him without an audience.

“Bye, sweetie,” she whispered as she shut and bolted the cage door.

When she straightened, Jake was only inches from her. She sucked in a startled breath, then tilted her head
to try to scan the floor for wherever she'd shoved her shoes. Her stomach twisted itself into a series of intricate knots. He smelled incredible.

I hate my life.

Watching her steadily, Jake lifted one hand. Her heels dangled from his fingertips.

“You really don't have to go,” he said when she snatched them and shoved them on her feet, completely annoyed with herself.

“Yes, I do. I really do.” Leave it to her to turn a casual nothing of a visit into some kind of major psychosexual drama. It had been a mistake to come. The ground she'd gained since leaving this town had been hard won, and it obviously still needed shoring up before she was ready to engage Jake on any level past walking by him on the street. Retreat sucked, but right now it was better than any alternatives she could come up with.

“Then maybe you'd be interested in dinner. Say, Friday night. I'd like to catch up.”

On some level, she'd sensed this coming, even if she didn't get it. At all. But all the parts of her that should have been gloating at the opportunity to finally reject him with a few icy words and a smile seemed to have quit functioning from shock. She was left to scramble with what was left to form a reply.

“I'm pretty busy right now, Jake.”

“That's okay. I'm flexible.”

Sam bristled at the easy way he brushed off the rejection. Typical for a guy who'd always gotten what he wanted. “I'm not,” she said more firmly, grabbing her purse from the corner of his desk. “Look, I appreciate the thought, but I'm not interested.”

He was quiet for a moment, which she hoped would
last until she got out the door. She was suddenly desperate for air that didn't smell like Jake's cologne. Or more specifically, air that didn't make her want to bury her face in Jake's neck.

“Just leave me a message when you have a firm date I can bring Loki home,” Sam said. “I'll see you around.”

“Sam, wait. Just hang on a second.”

She paused with her hand on the doorknob, had a quick and furious debate with herself, and then turned back to look at him. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his white coat, and something in his expression, so earnest and open, reminded her painfully of the boy she remembered. The memory held her in place like nothing else would have.

“Look, I get it. I was a jerk kid.”

She raised her eyebrows, startled by his bluntness. It provoked some of her own. “Yeah,” she blurted, “you were. And?”
You were also beautiful, and perfect, and painful. . . .