Private Paradise (6 page)

She could see how Sam, without anyone to push
him would fall through the cracks and learn to rely on his looks
and charm to get by. But that summer it seemed he realized he
needed to buckle down and get to work if he wanted any real future.
“I don't want to end up some forty-year-old loser, drifting around,
trying to pick up women half my age like….” He trailed off, but
Carla knew he was talking about his dad. “That's why after this
summer, I'm enlisting in the army.”

The decision had shocked Carla. “Really? The
army?” she asked, the disbelief evident in her voice.

She felt the muscles of his chest tense
against the hand she rested on him. “What? You don't think I can do
it?”

“
It's just,” she'd started, her hand
making small, soothing circles on his chest as she tried to form a
tactful way to make her point, “isn't the army all about rules?
You're not exactly the most by the book guy I know.”

He let out a soft chuckle and she felt him
relax. “I can't really argue with that.”

“
Especially not after they found it was
you who took Mr. Ramsey's car joyriding and stuffed it full of
packing peanuts.”

Sam let out another soft laugh and ran his
hand up and down Carla's spine as she snuggled even closer. “That
wasn't even the half of it. And the only reason I got caught was
because Natalie Cushman ratted me out after I told her I wasn't
going to take her to prom.”

At the time, Carla had felt a little pinch in
her chest as she remembered the details of that story. Even as a
freshman and a nerdy one at that, Carla would have had to be dead
not to hear about what went down between those two. Natalie
Cushman, who had been hooking up with Sam on and off all spring,
had been so heartbroken when Sam had declared, in front of all five
hundred students who had first period lunch, that he wasn't her
boyfriend and he didn't do “stupid ass shit” like prom, that she'd
immediately gone to Mr. Ramsey, the shop teacher, and told him that
Sam was the one who had stolen his car back in February.

The reason she knew? Natalie had been with
him.

“
I always thought it was unfair that
Natalie got off free and clear and you got suspended and had to do
four weeks of summer school.”

Sam's strong pecs rippled against her cheek
as he shrugged. “I was the one who did it. She was just along for
the ride. Besides, I was such a dick to her about the prom I feel
like I deserved it.”

He was silent for a few seconds. “Want to
know something? I kind of wanted to go to prom. But I didn't have
the fifty bucks to buy one ticket, much less a couple hundred for
the limo, the dinner, and all that other bullshit.”

The admission had made Carla's chest tight
and brought the sting of tears to her eyes. It was one thing to
realize someone was poor, but it was another to realize how that
translated into normal everyday things like prom.

“
I didn't go to prom either,” she
whispered. “No one asked me.”

Sam rolled her to her back and propped
himself up with his elbows on either side of her head. “I can't
believe what a bunch of dumbasses the guys in your class are, not
seeing how hot and smart you are.”

Carla smiled into the darkness and pulled him
down to her, her heart exploding in her chest at his words. Sure,
he'd left a string of broken hearts including Natalie Cushman's in
his wake, but Carla was different. She had to be. There was no way
Sam had said things to them like he'd said to her. No way he had
shared his secrets and his hopes for the future. And there was
Chris, one of Sam's best friends. No way would he screw over his
best friend's cousin.

And, she was convinced, no one had really
loved Sam. Not like she did.

She cringed now, her fingers tightening
around the cold wrought iron of her balcony railing, remembering
just how stupid and naïve she'd been. How convinced she'd been that
she and Sam were destined to be together, especially after Sam's
father had shown up unexpectedly the first week in August, drunk
and demanding to see his son.

Carla and Sam had been on their lunch break
and were flirting over burgers and fries when Frank O'Connell had
burst into the employee dining room. His eyes had locked first on
Sam, then Carla. The grin he gave them both was a little blurry
around the edges, but it couldn't hide the light of pure nastiness
in a pair of blue eyes that were a bloodshot, watery version of his
son's intense gaze.

Conversation stopped as everyone turned to
watch the commotion.

Sam had frozen, his face a grim mask.

“
Come on kid, I haven't seen you in
weeks. Aren't you happy to see me?”

Only Carla knew Sam well enough to see the
flush of embarrassment creeping across his tanned cheeks. She stood
up and offered her hand. “Hi, Mr. O'Connell, I'm Carla DeLuca, a
friend of Sam's.”

Frank had focused his gaze on her and Carla
fought the urge to squirm as he eyed her up and down, his dark brow
cocked and his mouth quirked in a creepier version of his son's
cocky grin. “Well, Sam, I can see with this little thing to occupy
you, you wouldn't be missing me too much.” He'd continued to hold
her hand as his gaze narrowed on her face. “Why do I know you? Wait
a minute, you were in the paper. Valedictorian of your class this
year?”

Carla had nodded, surprised Sam's dad read
the paper, much less retained any of the information in a brain
that was obviously pickled. “That's me,” she said, snatching her
hand away and surreptitiously wiping it on her uniform skirt.

Frank's smile had taken on a cruel cast. “I'd
think a smart girl like you would know better than to mix it up
with a loser like Sam here.” He chuckled and turned his attention
back to Sam. “I guess it just proves, you show a girl a good enough
time in the sack and even the smartest ones will be panting after
you like a bitch―”

Sam had exploded from the table, grabbed his
father by the wrist, and twisted his arm up his back. He started
pushing his father, who was struggling and shouting obscenities,
toward the door. “Stay out of this, Carla,” Sam had shouted when
she would have followed.

More than the words, it was the look on his
face that froze her where she stood. His mouth pulled into a snarl,
his eyes bright with fury like she'd never seen. She watched,
helplessly, as Sam dragged his father outside.

Later, when Carla tried to bring up the
incident, Sam snapped at her to forget it. “He hit me up for cash.
He does it all the time.” He'd shaken his head and stared off into
the distance, a look of sadness in his eyes so profound that, even
now, remembering how he'd treated her, Carla still felt a pinch in
her chest.

That was the moment she'd fallen completely,
utterly under Sam's spell. When she came up with her plan.

Eleven years later, the memory of how
stupidly eager she'd been, the way she'd thrown herself at his
feet, made her cringe.

It was mid August, a week before Sam was set
to head off to Fort Jackson in South Carolina for basic training.
Three days after that, Carla was heading to the University of
Arizona. Though they spent nearly every free minute together, they
hadn't had a single discussion about what would happen after they
left the resort. Whether they'd stay together, seeing each other as
much as they could. Whether they'd stay in touch at all.

As the day of his departure loomed closer,
Carla became more convinced that she and Sam were meant to be, that
there was no way she could stand to be halfway across the country
from him.

So she came up with a plan. Unfortunately
Sam's response hadn't been what she'd been hoping for.

They were up on their usual spot on the mesa,
lying on their backs, staring at the stars. Carla still had her
clothes on, though Sam had edged his fingers up under the front of
her shirt to draw lazy circles on her stomach. Slowly, gently, in a
mesmerizing pattern he worked his way up, until soon his fingers
brushed the undersides of her breasts. She knew she only had a
short window before hormones took over and she'd be too distracted
to think, forget talking.

“
I need to tell you something,” she
said, catching his hand before it could reach up to cover her
breast.

“
What?” he murmured, his voice muffled
as he kissed the spot on her neck guaranteed to make her
shiver.

“
The University of South Carolina
offers almost exactly the same program as U of A. I talked to the
Dean and if I wait until winter quarter to enroll I can probably
get a scholarship to cover tuition.”

His mouth froze on her neck. “So?” The wary
tone in his voice should have tipped her off, but miss know it all
Carla who saw the solution before everyone else was like a horse
with a bit in her teeth, barreling to the finish line.

“
So,” she'd laughed, “that means
instead of going to Arizona, I can be close to you while you finish
basic.”

Sam sat up so quickly Carla's head, which had
been resting on his arm, thumped against the hard- packed earth
under their blanket. “Basic only lasts nine weeks. Then what will
you do?”

Carla's stomach had sunk to her feet at his
response. “I― I don't know.” She hadn't thought that far ahead. “I
suppose I could transfer to be closer to you―”

“
What, you'll be like my stalker,
following me all over the place?”

Carla remembered how the cold had overtaken
her at the cruel tone in his voice. In the moonlight, she could see
the change come over his face, his mouth pulling into a sneer, a
look of pure meanness on his face that she'd never seen on him
before. Still, like a moron, she couldn't stop pushing forward.
“Not your stalker,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Your
girlfriend.”

“
Who ever said you were my
girlfriend?”

Any response she might have made stuck in her
throat as his words hit her like a punch to the chest. She couldn't
move. She couldn't breathe. She could only sit there mutely as he
went in for the kill.

“
I don't know what you think we've got
going here, Carla, but I'm just hooking up.”

She wanted to point out all the time they'd
spent talking, the way they spent every free moment together even
if they weren't fooling around, but she couldn't make her mouth
form the words.

“
Don't get me wrong, it's been fun.
You're hot, and you have a killer rack, but I'm only twenty-one. No
way am I going to tie myself down to one girl now.” He made a
scoffing sound that made her stomach clench so hard she thought she
was going to throw up. “Especially not an uptight virgin who gives
a lousy blowjob.”

She remembered going cold and hot, the
roaring in her ears so loud it was like a freight train going
through her head. To this day she didn't remember getting up,
scrambling down the hill, and sprinting back to her room. At some
point she must have fallen, because when she became aware of
herself and her surroundings both knees were bloody and her palms
were scraped.

She'd spent that night, curled up on her bed,
too stunned to even cry, trying to tell herself that this was all a
horrible nightmare. That she was going to wake up, and Sam would be
there, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, his teeth showing
white against his tan skin as he smiled down at her in a way that
made her feel beautiful, special, like there was no one else in the
world for him and never would be.

But the next morning she'd woken up in her
bed, her hands and knees stinging as she pulled on her uniform and
went to serve the breakfast shift. On her way to the dining room
she'd seen him on his way down to the marina. The smile that
automatically pulled at her lips got stuck as he looked past her as
though she didn't exist.

She'd died a thousand deaths in the next
three days before he left. It was torture, watching him go on like
nothing had happened. To see him smile and flirt with the leggy
blond from ASU. She'd walked around feeling like an anvil was
crushing her chest, and even though it felt like he'd torn out her
heart and crushed it under his heel, she knew if he gave her one
smile, one word of apology, she'd fall right back into his
arms.

The day he left, she'd climbed up onto the
butte where they'd laid out their blanket so many nights. From
there she watched his car pull away from the resort and disappear
into the desert. She'd sobbed for hours, and when she finally
stopped she vowed to herself that was the last time she'd cry over
Sam O'Connell.

As much as she'd hated Sam for what he did,
she'd hated herself more. She'd known who Sam was and what he was
like well before he kissed her that first time. She was supposed to
be so smart, the top of her class, but like Frank O'Connell said,
even the smartest women could be made into fools when it came to
the wrong man.

Eleven years later, Carla felt the pain of
her broken heart, the sting of humiliation, as keenly as she'd felt
it then. It chased away the lingering arousal from her dream,
reminding her that even if her body remembered the pleasure of his
touch, she'd never be stupid enough to give in to temptation
again.

In case Carla was at all inclined to ignore
all the reasons why she shouldn't take a walk down memory lane with
Sam, she was presented with an object lesson less than three hours
into Sam's first day on the job.

“
Where is Sam?” she snapped impatiently
at Bryce, her second in command who managed sales, catering, and
events. Looking at her watch, she saw Sam was almost ten minutes
late for their meeting to discuss the security strategy for an
upcoming wedding. The bride, a daughter of a former president,
employed her own security detachment, and they were eager to be
briefed on how Sam planned to address the need for heightened
security during the event.