One Blazing Night (15 page)

“Oh, Matt.” She leaned in and kissed him hard. “Of course I do. In fact, you apologized to me that night.”

He stroked her cheek. “Well, I'm glad that I somehow managed to find you again, now that we're both older and wiser...”

“Wiser? You?”

“Hey,” he said, pulling her closer.

“Your hobby is punching and being punched.”

“First of all, I don't have the time anymore. And second, there's more to it than—”

“I've seen the movies. No explanation is going to change my mind. Anyway, I don't need to agree with everything you do to like you.” Or to be in love with him, she thought, but she would never tell him that.

“And the reverse is also true, though I haven't found anything I don't like about you yet.” He leaned back and looked at her through squinted eyes. “You were captivating at the gala. Whether people knew who you were or not. I think you've overcome your social anxiety, Sam.”

Sam rose and hoped her dismissive wave was enough to distract him. They had so little time left. It might ruin things if he knew that just looking at him gave her the same thrill as it had all those years ago. There were no two ways about it: she wanted this man. His friendship, his touch, his advice, his kindness.

This was what love felt like. All the little things just fell into place. And as always, she was navigating this crazy new world of emotions alone.

She knew they could never be together. She might have been useful on his arm for a night, but for the long run? They might as well live in different universes. Just knowing what his family thought about her would make it impossible for them to be together if he weren't consumed with his job and she weren't consumed by hers.

“Wait. Where are you going?” he asked. “We haven't planned out our night yet.”

She stopped halfway to the kitchen. “Right,” she said, although they both knew where they'd eventually end up. “You have a choice, Wilkinson.
Buffy
marathon or ‘House of the Dead 2.'”

“No way. You've still got ‘House of the Dead 2'? My God, woman. You're a hoarder. That game came out in, what—”

“In 1998.”

“Hoarder! What would I find if I opened any of these other doors?”

“Depends. If you're lucky and don't cry like a toddler when I kick your ass, you might find my bedroom behind one of them.”

He was on his feet, frantically trying to unwrap his bandage. “First of all, I get a handicap.”

“Why? Because you have a little bruise?”

“Ha. Funny.”

“Why, then?” She folded her arms, watching him fight the bandage. “We both know the game.”

“You own the fucker. It's been like eight years since I played it.”

“What, you think I have time to play? And it's a damn two-player game. You know I don't like to play those solo.”

“Fine. No handicap. And for the record, my ass isn't the one that's going to be kicked.”

Sam giggled. She couldn't help it. This was ridiculous, but she couldn't wait to play him again. “You stay there. I'll get the Wii. And the Perfect Shots. Oh, and dibs on being James Taylor.”

“Not fair.” Even Matt couldn't deny he'd just sounded as if he were twelve. “God, you're already cheating. You know I wanted to be him. I'm always James Taylor.”

“Yeah, well,
Gary
, I suppose you're just going to have to suck it up.”

He caught her by the waist and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her hard. “You know what I think?”

“I'm afraid to ask. Who knows what goes on in that head of yours?”

He gave her the half smile she liked so much. “I think we should have an appetizer first,” he said and bit her earlobe.

She shivered in agreement.

* * *

“L
OAD
,
YOU
IDIOT
,
LOAD
!”

Matt turned the gun away from the game, seconds away from dying a horrible death at the hands of an ax-wielding headless killing puppet. His gun reloaded, he fired at the screen furiously until Kuarl was dead as a doornail. “Got 'im!”

“Too bad you're going to be killed by Zeal, sucker!”

“Dammit, why didn't you—”

“We're playing against each other. What am I supposed to do? Hold your hand?”

The insult didn't sting as much since he got to watch Sam slam her way through the Venetian labyrinth, killing zombies as if that were what she was born to do. There was no one in his life like her. She made him remember how it felt to be young again.

Something caught inside his chest, and it had nothing to do with the injury he'd sustained in his sparring match. Nothing like that. Although an ache was the closest he could come to putting a name to the feeling. And he was pretty sure it had something to do with needing to tell her about London and then saying goodbye.

She started screaming at him to shoot the damn zombies.

Matt managed a smile.

Goddammit. How was he supposed to move to London when he missed her already?

15

M
ATT
WOKE
UP
SLOWLY
, the scent of Sam and sex making him smile before he even opened his eyes. It was early, he knew that, and he hoped Sam was still sleeping. Moving slowly, he reached out to brush her arm, only to find nothing on the mattress but a note.

She'd gone to work. Asked him to call her later, after he was finished with the board meeting. He wasn't a board member, but he did have things he could be doing in the office today. Especially if the vote went his way.

He crumpled the note as he lay back down, smiling at the thought of last night. He and Sam had killed zombies until after midnight, taking just one short break for hot dogs at 9:00 p.m.

It was her fault they'd stayed up until they'd killed the Emperor. He should have called it quits earlier, though—she had a deadline to meet today. But fun won out in the end. He'd had a blast. Both of them were on their feet shooting, yelling, dying, only to start over again. And again. Laughing, too. Jesus, he hadn't laughed so hard in years.

Years. Their adrenaline-fueled sex hadn't lasted long, but it had been smoking hot all the same.

He took in a deep breath and let it out. He would miss her. Far more than he could have ever predicted. Sam had been the best vacation he'd ever had. Was having. It wasn't over yet.

Damn her deadlines. He wanted to spend every minute he could with her. In fact...

He hurried out of bed and into her oddly plain shower, then got dressed. He'd have to stop by the apartment to put on a suit before he could go to the office. But that wouldn't take long. He'd keep the taxi waiting while he changed.

Grabbing his gym bag, hot coffee in hand, he left through Sam's back door. Her lab was right there, a few yards from her house. Like a damn love-struck teenager, he couldn't resist stopping by and seeing her before he left for the office.

Clark answered his buzz. “Oh, great,” he said, just loud enough for Matt to hear. “Sorry, but you've missed her.”

“Where'd she go?”

“On work-related business. You know we have a killer deadline, and frankly, she looks like shit today. So thanks for that.”

“Whoa, hold on there, buddy.” Matt walked quickly into the lab before Clark could block him. “Why do you keep breaking my balls?”

“If only,” Clark said, not bothering to lower his voice. “You can't wait here. It'll distract everyone, and you'll really throw Sam off her game if you're hanging around.”

“I have no intention of
hanging around
. But fine, I'll leave a note. Just...set me up with a piece of paper and an envelope.”

“You think I'd read your little love note?”

There were only two other people in the office, as far as he could see—both young women who were now watching them—but Matt didn't care who heard him. Something that should've occurred to him days ago had finally registered. “Are you in love with her?” he asked.

“No.” Startled, Clark adjusted his glasses. “I'm not. And neither are you. But that doesn't seem to matter.”

“Quit talking in code. Just tell me what's pissing you off,” Matt said.

“Let's start with the broken Sam you'll be abandoning. Her crush on you? Remember that little thing?”

Matt made a point of glancing at the two women in the room.

Clark followed his gaze. “Can you guys go work upstairs for a while?” Matt and Clark eyed each other for the minute it took the women to trudge up the stairs.

Then Clark was in his face again. “You don't understand what it took for her to get over her crush. You never saw the repercussions. Mostly because you never bothered to follow up with her. It took her a hell of a long time to get over you, and she's been gun-shy ever since. Then you come along again, and dammit, Wilkinson...” He let out a harsh breath. “Look, Sam can't do it. Okay? She can't.”

Matt wasn't sure what he meant by that last statement. But he couldn't bring himself to ask. All he wanted to do was shoot down every point Clark made, but he couldn't do that, either. Matt had worried about the effect this week would have on Sam. Hell, it was doing a number on him, too. “I would never hurt her,” he said.

“So this is serious? Wedding serious? You-staying-in-Boston serious?”

That stopped Matt cold. He had no answer. Nothing was easy about this situation. Mostly, he wondered what Clark had meant when he said Sam couldn't do it. The shitty thing was Matt thought he might know.

Despite all of Sam's assertions that she wasn't a kid anymore, there were parts of her so untested and vulnerable that...

God, what was he going to leave behind when he went to London? At least in New York, she would be just a commuter flight away. London meant jet lag and inconveniently long flights.

“I knew it,” Clark said. “Well, congratulations. You've done a good job of making my best friend's life hell. It would serve you right for me to tell her that it was you who paid me to be her watcher.”

“Now who wants to do something to hurt her?” Matt said, challenging him.

Clark opened his mouth and shut it quickly. His face paled. Matt didn't even need to turn around to know that Sam had walked in on them. What he didn't know was how much she'd heard.

“You paid Clark to be my watcher? What does that even mean?”

Clark looked at the floor.

Matt turned to Sam. “I wanted him to watch out for you. Logan had already joined the army and Rick and I were about to graduate, and I didn't feel comfortable leaving you alone like that.”

“I didn't accept his money after the first year,” Clark said.

Sam's eyebrows rose. “Why not?”

“Because I learned so much from you. Because we'd become friends. That's why I'm still here.”

“And as my watcher, what exactly were your duties?”

Matt sighed. “You were still having some trouble with time management,” he said. “Still skinny as a rail, so you needed someone to remind you about meals and give you a little push to go to class when you got caught up in a project. Nothing major. Just the kind of stuff Logan and Rick and I did for you.”

Sam stared at him as if she had no idea what to say. Finally, she just smiled and took his arm. “I'll be back in a few minutes, Clark.”

Matt assumed Clark had responded in some nonverbal way. Matt looked at no one but Sam as she led him outside. It was a nice fall day. A little cool, but they were both comfortable in T-shirts.

“How long did you pay Clark?” she asked as they stopped in the shade of the building and she faced him.

“It's like he said—he wouldn't take money after the first year. I'd been in law school for only a few months when he sent the check back.” Matt stared at his cold coffee. “Look, I had good intentions—”

“I know you did.” She touched his hand. “Frankly, I think it's sweet. I'm impressed that you even gave me a second thought once you left for Harvard.”

“Of course I did. You know why I'd made myself scarce in those months leading up to it. We talked about it yesterday.”

“I know.” She was studying him closely and making him nervous. “I have a question, and please answer honestly.”

Time to man up. “Ask me anything.”

“Why did you want me to go to the gala with you?”

Matt frowned. It was the last question he'd expected. “I don't know what to say to that. Where is this coming from? You know why.”

“I don't care if asking me was politically motivated. I really don't. I had a good time with you. I'm just curious.”

Jesus. Now Matt understood. “You heard my father's asinine comment.”

“I did.” She winced. “I walked away once I knew neither of you had seen me.”

Great. Just friggin' great. Sam had to be wondering about all the other secrets he was keeping from her.

Man, he sure would've liked to punch something now.

* * *

S
AM
KNEW
INSTANTLY
that
she'd hurt him. That was the thing with intimacy. She could tell when he was hurt. And when he was angry. Now it was both.

“I took you to the gala because you're my friend. I wanted your support and your company. Anything apart from that never crossed my mind. Ever.” He shook his head, an expression of pure disgust on his face. “I know I'm not as smart as you. Jesus, who is? But I've proved my worth to my father and to the company. I don't need you or anyone else as a prop.”

Sam lowered her lashes, then rallied to meet his eyes. “That's not what I meant. I know you're smart, and you're terrific at your job. I just... Galas aren't the kind of thing I'm usually asked to. I apologize.” She touched his arm, trying to let him see she was being sincere.

He pulled her into his arms. “It's not enough that you're beautiful, successful, brilliant and that I wouldn't have wanted anyone at my side more than you? I'm so proud of you, Sammy. Everything about you. Not just your brains.”

“When I heard your dad—”

“You clearly didn't hear me snapping back at him. I swear, Sam—”

“No.” She put a finger on his lips. “Don't say anything more. You don't have to.”

He moved her hand and kissed her fears away, and when she remembered how he'd actually hired Clark to watch over her? If he hadn't been holding her up, she'd have melted right into the ground.

When she kissed him back, she heard his moan. Sadly, it didn't last. Matt pulled back.

“As much as I'd like to do this for the rest of the day, I have to get to the office. There are some issues that...” He stopped, smiled. “Sorry—I just need to be there to see what they've done this time.”

“Don't worry about it. I've got to get back to work.”

“How about we meet up for dinner?”

“It might have to be really late.”

“No problem. I'll call you, okay?”

She nodded. “Go before I can't help myself and kiss you again.”

“That's no way to chase me away. But I'll go,” he said, walking backward. “Despite the fact that you're a better zombie killer than I'll ever be.”

“What a guy,” she said, watching him sidestep a tree. “You're much better about losing than you were the last time we played.”

“When you're the consolation prize? I could have lost a hundred games and still come out the winner.” He bumped into a shrub. “Ouch. I'll call you,” he repeated.

She bit her lip. “After the meeting, do you think you'll know more about when you'll be leaving?” She blurted it out, not even sure she wanted to know the answer.

Matt looked startled. Probably sick of her fixating on the subject. “For London?”

London?
“No, New York.”

“Oh. No. Probably won't know for several days, at least.”

“Okay. 'Bye. Talk to you later.” She watched him jog to the curb, willing her heart to slow its furious beat, but how could she, knowing they still had some time? The London thing had rattled him. Why, she wasn't sure. She knew he traveled a lot. Japan, Germany. England. But there had been an odd moment.

She turned, aware that anyone could've been watching them kiss from the windows. She should have cared, but the thought actually made her walk taller as she headed back inside. She needed to have a word with Clark.

He was there, just as she'd figured. Waiting with a hazelnut latte for her, which wasn't going to get him out of this mess. She asked him to follow her to her office and to close the door behind him, something that was rarely done during work hours.

“So this is a problem,” she said. “He's not even going to be here for much longer. Do you have to antagonize him every time? I still don't get what you're so pissed about. The guy hired you to watch over me. We became friends because of him, and it's been the most amazing twelve years ever.”

“I know that.” Clark put the cup down and crossed his arms over his chest. Not the best sign that he was going to back down. “I don't like that he's going to leave. You know he won't keep in contact with you. He barely texted you after he went off to Harvard. And when he did just now, it was so he could use the apartment.”

“You don't know that.”

“I know people don't change. He married a freaking model. He travels to Asia and Europe all the time. I read he's going to get his trust-fund money in a year or so, and then who knows? He might quit working and become an international playboy.”

“A little wish fulfillment there, Clark?”

“What? No. Well, yeah. Maybe. But my point stands. He's going to leave, and you're going to be a mess. Don't even try to tell me you won't be. I've got eyes. I see you're in love with him. And I don't begrudge you that. If he was living in Boston, if he didn't have the Wilkinson name...if he was just a regular guy, I'd be all for it. Hell, I'd help plan the damn wedding. But he's—”

“Out of my league?”

“No.” He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Then met her eyes. “Maybe. Not for the reasons you're thinking, though. I just—I don't like seeing you get hurt, and he's going to hurt you, whether he means to or not. You deserve so much more.”

“Well, then, it's a good thing I'm married to my work. Look, I appreciate the concern. I do. But having you scowling and angry at Matt doesn't help. I'll be fine. And if I'm not, then I'm going to need my best friend. But I won't come to you if all you're going to do is tell me that you told me so.”

“I'd never do that.”

“And I'm pretty sure Matt's not going to forget about me the day he leaves Boston. Until then, if he happens to come by, please be nicer to him. Although I doubt he will. Please, Clark. We've got too much work to do for me to worry about this.”