It Happened One Night (5 page)

“You didn't answer me, sweetheart,” Sam said.

“I didn't have to,” Harley said. “Some things you just know.”

E
ven before Sam and Harley left her parents' house to go to her apartment, she'd made up her mind to give their marriage a real try. She wasn't clear on when the notion had settled, but it was somewhere between the time he'd stifled Marcie's continual whine and made her like it, and the joke he'd told that had her father laughing aloud. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her father that way—his eyes sparkling and slapping his leg in glee from the punch line of Sam's stupid joke. Something told her that if he could do that to her parents' staid, cocoonlike existence, then she needed to think about what their life might be like.

God knew hers was in a rut. At least it had been
until she'd gotten on that plane to Las Vegas. All too aware of the man in the seat beside her, she gave him a nervous smile and clasped her hands a little tighter in her lap, trying desperately to calm down. By the time their cab reached her apartment, she was trembling, but from anticipation rather than fear.

Sam knew Harley was in a panic. He'd seen it set in the moment they'd said their goodbyes to her parents. By the time they'd shut themselves inside the cab, she'd been a mess.

Now that they'd arrived at her apartment, it was up to him to put her at ease, and he knew just how to do it.

He got out of the cab, and as the driver took his bag out of the trunk and set it down on the sidewalk, Sam reached in his pocket for money to pay.

Harley felt as if she was coming down with the flu. Her teeth were chattering and her stomach was turning somersaults. Every muscle in her body was straining to run, and yet the only place she really wanted to go was into Samuel Clay's arms.

The faint light from the streetlight on the corner exaggerated the size of his shoulders, making him seem broader, almost menacing, as he straightened, then turned to face her. He looked at her and smiled and Harley exhaled softly. It was going to be all right.

Sam picked up his bag, took Harley by the hand and together, they started toward the door to her apartment building. A few steps from the door, she stumbled
. His grip quickly tightened as he pulled her close against his side.

“Honey...are you okay?”

She sighed. “I will be.”

He gave her hand a squeeze. Moments later they were inside the building and climbing the stairs to the second floor. Harley opened the door and then looked at Sam.

“Welcome to my home,” she said softly.

Sam set his bag down just inside the door and gave it a small kick as he took her in his arms. Harley sighed again, only this time it was from the inevitability of this moment.

“The door...lock the—”

Sam reached behind him and turned the dead bolt without looking, unwilling to take his gaze from Harley's face.

“I've dreamed about this nonstop for days.”

Harley's knees went weak. “I'm a little bit scared.”

“June Bug, the last thing I would ever do is hurt you.”

“June Bug?”

“Yeah. We've got a lot of them back in Oklahoma. They're persistent little things, too. They come out at night and spend the biggest part of their lives trying to assassinate themselves against the brightest lights that they can find.”

Harley almost smiled. “So, are you saying I have a death wish, too?”

Sam shook his head and cupped the palms of his hands against her cheeks.

“No, but you're damned persistent in claiming you don't remember anything about us, and I can't accept that. I
won't
accept that. I think the more time we spend together, the more you're going to remember.”

He brushed her lips with his mouth, letting the sound of her soft moan feed his soul.

“I know you remembered the strawberries and champagne. I saw it in your eyes.”

Sam's hands were underneath her jacket and unbuttoning her skirt. When he pulled her close against him, Harley felt the hard ridge of him against her belly and shuddered with sudden longing.

“Yes, I remembered.”

He was pulling off her clothes now, piece by piece. His voice was tugging at her senses, his touch making her ache for so much more.

“Then make some more memories with me, Harley June. Make them now, before you forget how much you cared.”

Harley reached for his belt buckle.

“First door down the hall on your right.”

It was all Sam needed to know.

* * *

Harley's bedsprings squeaked. The rhythm matched the hard body sound of flesh against flesh. Sam was sprawled on top of Harley, his long arms holding the upper half of his weight from her body as he drove
home the point he'd been trying to make ever since that day in Las Vegas when she'd come to in a blue fog. No matter what else was lacking between them, it wasn't sexual chemistry.

Harley's heart was pounding, her eyes were closed. Every fiber of her being was focused on the body-to-body contact between her and Sam. With her fingernails digging into his forearms, her legs wrapped around his waist, she was lost in the ride, chasing elusive and mindless pleasure with the stranger who was her husband. The feeling continued to build, pushing them to a frantic need for completion.

The end came suddenly. One second it was just a good feeling and the next thing it was there, ripping through her body and up her throat in a husky, guttural groan.

For Sam, it was the trigger that made him lose his control. In the space of a heartbeat, he was helpless. The climax was upon him, washing over him in waves. One thrust. Another thrust—and another and his mind went blank. Only afterward did he think to raise his weight from Harley as he gathered her in his arms and rolled so that she was on top, resting on him.

He tangled his hands in the dark lengths of her hair as the aftershocks still reminded him of what they'd done.

“Dear Lord,” Sam whispered, and pressed a kiss on Harley's brow.

She was quiet. Too quiet. Lying silently in his arms.

He lifted his head.

“Junie...are you okay?”

“No,” she mumbled.

His heart jerked. In his selfish need for completion, had he hurt her? The thought horrified him.

He scooted her off his chest onto her side, then rose up on one elbow to stare down at her face. Even in the shadows of her bedroom, he could see tears running down her face.

“Baby...what's wrong? Please tell me I didn't hurt you.”

Harley shook her head and then covered her face with her hands.

He had to strain to hear her answer.

“No, you didn't hurt me,” she said.

“Then what's wrong? Why are you crying?”

She looked at him then, her heart in her eyes.

“I didn't know I could feel like this—be like this. I don't know who I am anymore.”

Sam reached for her, encircling her shoulder, then sliding his hand across her back as he pulled her close.

“I  do,”  he  whispered.  “I  know  who  you  are. You're my wife.”

Harley shuddered on a sigh.

“But that's just it. Don't you see? How can I be a wife when I don't even know my husband?”

Sam felt her confusion, and if he'd been honest, he would have admitted to some worries of his own. But
his greatest hurdle had already been passed when he'd found her again.

“Look at it this way, darlin'. We've got this making love stuff down to a science and the rest of our lives to get acquainted.”

“You're a crazy man, you know that?” Harley whispered.

Sam grinned. “Yeah. Crazy for you. Now come here to me, woman, and close your sweet eyes. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow and we'd better get some rest.”

Harley stiffened. “What's happening tomorrow?”

“For starters, packing what you want to take with you  when  we  fly  home.  The  rest  we  can  have shipped.”

“Home?”

“Yes, baby. Home. To Oklahoma City. I've got to be on duty in two days.”

“Duty.”

Sam smiled. “If you keep repeating everything I say, we're never going to get any sleep.”

“You mean being a fireman.”

He chuckled. “It's what I do, remember?”

“You fight fires.”

Sam sensed where this was going.

“Yes, just like I've been doing for the past fourteen years.”

“Have you ever... I mean...were you—”

“June Bug, I was in more danger in Las Vegas
when I pulled you off that poker table than I've been in any fire. I knew the moment your arms went around my neck that I was in too deep.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

He heard her sigh. “I wish I could remember that.”

This time, it was Sam whose voice was tinged with regret.

“Yes, well, so do I, June Bug, so do I.”

* * *

The trip to Oklahoma was anticlimactic compared to the scene Harley's mother had made at the airport in Savannah. She'd cried and she'd begged and then resorted to threats, at which time Sam's patience had run thin. He could tell that Harley was already nervous, and her mother's behavior was adding to her guilt. Despite the fact that he didn't want to incur his new in-law's wrath, he was too afraid of losing Harley to stay quiet any longer. When Marcie grabbed Harley's arm and threatened to disinherit her, Sam lost his cool.

He stepped between Marcie and his wife, his voice low and angry.

“Mrs. Beaumont, I do not appreciate listening to you threaten my wife.”

“She's my daughter!” Marcie cried.

“Then quit acting like a bad version of
Mommie Dearest.
”

Marcie gasped in anger and would have said more but Dewey hushed her instead.

Sam shoved a hand through his hair in frustration and glanced at Harley, who was struggling not to cry.

“Look, I understand your reluctance to see your daughter leave, but no one's forcing her. Don't you want to see her happy?”

“Yes, but—”

Harley took a deep breath and interrupted.

“Then, Mama, you're going to have to trust me to make my own decisions.”

Marcie glared, still unwilling to back down.

“I always dreamed of watching you walk down the aisle in our church in Great-Grandmother's wedding dress. The vestibule would be filled with lilies and forsythia and I'd be dressed in pink. It's my best color, you know.”

Harley sighed. “Mama, that's your dream, not mine. Besides, lilies are for funerals and I'm thirty pounds heavier and six inches taller than Great-Grandmother was. I could never wear her wedding dress, even if I waited another forty years to get married.”

“Hush, Marcie,” Dewey said. “It's Harley June's life, not ours.” Then he looked at Sam. “I made those calls. According to your boss, you're one of the best firemen on the squad. Your pastor speaks highly of your whole family, and your banker was assuring as well.  I  am  trusting  you  to  care  for  my  daughter,
and...” He looked at Harley June. “I am trusting my daughter has enough sense to take care of herself. If things aren't right, she knows how to get home.”

Sam sighed. “Fair enough.” He glanced at Marcie one last time. “Mrs. Beaumont, it's been a pleasure meeting you, and I've promised Junie that we'll come back to Savannah for Christmas, okay?”

Marcie's anger shifted slightly. “Really?”

Harley nodded and smiled. “Yes, Mama, really.”

“Well, then,” Marcie said. “I suppose that's that.”

Within a few minutes of the cease-fire, the plane started to board. No one was more relieved than Sam when Harley allowed him to take her by the hand and lead her down the walkway toward the plane.

A few hours later, the flight attendant had the passengers making preparations for landing at Will Rogers Airport in Oklahoma City. For Sam, it was none too soon.

* * *

“This is it,” Sam said, turning into the driveway.

Harley leaned forward in the car, her gaze fixed on the sprawling, single-story brick home.

“It's really nice,” she said.

Sam smiled. “Don't sound so surprised.”

Harley blushed. “I didn't mean that—”

“I was teasing,” Sam said, then he pointed toward the front porch as he killed the engine. “I inherited it from my grandfather. It's a nice neighborhood. You won't be afraid here, I promise.”

“It's not the house I'm afraid of.”

“I hope you're not referring to me.”

There was both shock and hurt in Sam's question and Harley heard it. She looked at him then, still unaccustomed to the fact that this big gorgeous man was actually her husband.

“Just the situation in general,” she said.

Sam hesitated then nodded. “I can accept that...at least for now.” He leaned across the seat and brushed a kiss across her lips. “It's going to be all right, June Bug.”

Harley made herself smile. “So give me the cook's tour, okay?”

They got out and started toward the front porch when someone called out Sam's name. They turned to see an elderly woman across the street, waving at them.

Sam waved back.

She came off her porch and headed for the street before Sam could stop her.

“Sorry,” he told Harley. “That's Mrs. Matthews. She's nosey but nice.”

“I have survived my mother's raising. I can take anything, remember?”

Sam chuckled. “Your mother's okay.”

“She's spoiled and controlling and living in the past. Other than that, I'm sure she's no different from anyone else's mother.”

Sam squeezed her hand in warning as Edna Matthews crossed the curb and started up the walk.

“Prepare to be grilled.”

“Yes, well, since you're still smoking from what my mother did to you, I'm sure I will survive.”