Protective Instincts (12 page)

"Sean asked her but her family had a reunion to attend. The kids are too young for Sean to be included in an out-of-town thing."

"You're right. Boys can be so much in love, or lust, at that age."

"Or at any age, dear teacher." Sam took her hand. He kissed each finger slowly, gazing into her eyes. "At any age." He smiled slowly and just too damned sexily.

He sucked her pinky finger into his hot mouth.

She swore her insides melted.

"Come on, everyone," Esther called. "You, too, Sam and Brit."

Trestle tables held food and ice tea pitchers. Rachel had outdone herself with fried chicken, sliced meats, potato salad, and more. Sandwich fixings included sliced tomatoes and lettuce, as well as all kinds of condiments and breads. Baked beans and bean salads added to the bodacious spread. Chocolate pies and banana pudding vied with chocolate and coconut cakes, as favorite desserts.

Monster, the traitor, settled between Sean and Drew.

Brit took her food and sat down between Esther and Becky. She was sure there wasn't room for anyone else. Her smugness fled when Sam sandwiched himself between his sister and her. Esther scooted over to give him more room, but Brit had nowhere to scoot. Scoundrel!

The spring sun beat down, warming everything. But the sun wasn't the reason Brit felt too warm. Sam sat so close their legs touched from thigh to knee. Every time he moved, Brit felt the play of his muscles against hers. The fabric of their jeans might as well have been non-existent for all the good it did. The rat kept making it a point to brush elbows with her, looking at her to see her reactions. She hoped he couldn't see her panic. It would be best if he couldn't see the flush that warmed her face, or the pulse beating wildly in her throat, or the rising of her chest as she gulped air.

She caught very little of the conversations. Concentrating on eating instead of the man beside her took more effort than Brit would have thought possible.
If I could think about anything but this pest, I could enjoy the company of these people.

Everyone did some serious eating.

"Mom, chicken's great. Looks like Jesse was hungry. Jesse, 'member the time we ate ourselves sick with plums? I thought my belly would never stop hurting. Your aunt thought we'd poisoned you and gave you castor oil." Sam rambled more than she'd ever heard him.

Eating had never been so sensuous for Brit before Sam. She found her gaze returning to him. Each time his tongue whipped out to lick food from his lips, she licked her own. She imagined that he was licking her lips and she was licking his. There was a spot of chocolate beside his mouth. She wanted to lick it off; chocolate and Sam, a tasty combination. Each time his Adam's apple moved she wanted to press her lips to his throat and work her way to his lips. Heat pressed from all sides, threatening to smother her with thoughts about the exasperating man. Conversations around her faded. Her eyes felt heavy as she blinked, trying to force her vision to clear. God, it was hot!

"Don't you agree, Brit?" Becky cut into her thoughts.

"Huh? I'll have to think about that." Brit hedged. Brit hadn't the foggiest notion what Becky was asking, but Sam was grinning at her. He looked so smug she was sure he knew what she'd been thinking, what he was likely thinking, judging by his grin.

"What do you think, Sam?" Becky glanced in his direction.

"Uh, you're probably right, Becky. I always take your side."

"You look tired, Teach," Sam drawled in that sexy, bedroom voice that made her melt. "Want me to take you home and put you to bed?"

"Yes indeed, Son. That poor girl looks all tuckered out. Take her on home, unless she wants to lie down at the house. We've plenty of rooms."

"That's okay, I'd rather go home and take a shower and relax, but I do want to help you clean up, first," Brit started to stand, but when she met Rachel's gaze she stopped.

"Never you mind, now. We'll clean up. You just rest."

The ride home was quiet, except for the snoring of the tired Monster. Finally, Brit broke the silence. "Your family is nice. Growing up with them must have been great. Have you always lived there?"

"Yeah, Dad bought the land and house from a man who was too old to tend to it. The guy's first wife had died years back and he was ready to move to a retirement community. He was looking forward to living close to people and enjoying his remaining years. He died on the golf course at the age of ninety-seven."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," Sam grinned. "He made love to his new, thirty-year old, wife that morning and went straight to a big tournament. The old guy was almost at the end, when he keeled over onto an opponent's ball. He died smiling. They called off the game out of respect." Sam shrugged.

Brit's incredulous look made Sam grin even more. "You're making this up. You can't be serious." She shook her head at him.

"Sounded serious to me. Golfers are serious about their games. No one wanted to move the body to hit the ball under him. They couldn't have finished for a while, anyway. There were paramedics and an ambulance to haul him away. You know, no one was in the mood anymore. Rumor has it he became a daddy posthumously."

Sam wanted to make Brit laugh. She wouldn't smile when she heard what Drew had suggested. A vision of a very pregnant Brit stunned him. His pants became tighter again. He was too old to be a Daddy again, or was he?

Sam wanted her to keep talking. He loved the sound of her husky voice with her mixture of Georgia upbringing and education.

Sam had remained quiet as Brit told him of her family.

Her smiles made it clear how much she cared for them.

"Why didn't you stay with them when your husband died?"

"I did, but it was too easy to dig myself into a rut and let them take care of me." Brit shrugged. "My family is supportive, maybe too much so. Everyone took care of me, even my niece. She shared my pain and took me out of myself. She was the person I first told about Julie's suggestion that I apply for a teaching job here. The kid gave me good advice. In some ways, the loss of her mother made her grow wise for her twelve years. My family loves Julie and knew she could help me. And she has!"

They sat in Sam's truck, in front of Brit's house for a while. Neither appeared to want to break the mood. Together, each started to speak --

"Sam --"

"Brit, I would like nothing better than to help you with that shower, then tuck you in bed."

Sam's pulse raced when he slowly kissed every inch of Brit's face, thinking of the earlier wish to lick chocolate from her cheek. The rush of heat that swept his face should have warned him to stop, but he preferred to listen to the voice of desire, which out-talked the voice of reason. After all, how much trouble could they get into in broad daylight? He dragged his mouth from her cheek to her parted lips and moved hungrily over them. He nipped at her sweet lower lip. Her gasp allowed his tongue inside to rub against her teeth and gums.

Brit wound her arms around his neck, almost choking him as he tried to slide from under the steering wheel. Heat traveling from her thighs to her belly threatened to consume her with pent-up desire. Only his groan allowed her to break the mind-numbing kiss.

"Sam?" Brit whispered, frightened by his pained expression.

"It's okay, honey." He winced. "I strained my back stretching the wrong way. I hate to stop when we're having fun. I want to stay and make love to you for hours." Sam smiled. "We almost gave your neighbors a real show. If I hadn't strained my back …."

Brit teased, "I don't neck with old men, especially in broad daylight."

The pained expression returned to Sam's face.

"What's wrong? Does you back still hurt? Sam? Sam?"

"Not this time." He rubbed his neck. His belly hurt and he felt nauseous. Not those damned premonitions, again. Likely something he ate. Brit's attacker was in jail. How could she still be in danger?

"How about I check the place for you? I won't stay long."

"But you've installed state-of-the-art security measures and the attacker is put away in jail. And I've got my guard monster."

"Humor me, please." Sam looked determined enough to keep her in the truck if she didn't humor him.

"Fine. We'll do it your way." She leaned over the seat to shake her dog. "Wake up, Monster. We're home again."

Sam got out of the driver's side of the truck.

Brit unlocked her door and punched in her security code.

"You're not safe, bitch! You will die."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Not again!
Would she ever be free of whoever wanted her dead?

"Why?" Brit clutched her temples, paced from the door to the answering machine.

Monster glued himself to her side, when he wasn't running to the back door, scratching and whining.

"Okay, Monster, we'll come with you in a few minutes. Calm down, boy," Brit patted her dog. "Stay."

"Honey, your attacker is probably a hit man. Whoever hired him isn't likely to give up just because he's out of commission. They can hire someone else." Clasping her shoulders, Sam stopped her frantic movement. "We need to check your messages. We need to call the police. Then you and I need to figure what threat you could possibly be to anyone."

"Right. Rewind the machine and let it play all the way through. No, wait; let me get a glass of iced tea." Her glass shook as she dropped ice into it. "I'd prefer a shot of something stronger but I need a clear head." She grabbed the plastic pitcher from the refrigerator. "Want anything?"

"You're right about the clear head. Tea for me, too." Sam called after her, as she marched into the kitchen.

"Fresh water for you, baby." She filled Monster's bowl with tap water. She didn't leave food or water out anymore. He paced between his bowl and the back door, whining. "I know. Drink your water. We'll check outside soon." She'd let him out after they'd gone through her messages. When she could stall no longer, she went to join Sam in her living room.

Fortified with glasses of iced tea, Brit and Sam stood beside the answering machine. When he punched the play button, she welcomed the arm he put around her.

One hang-up. Dial tone.

Brit let out a pent-up breath.

One sales call. Dial tone.

Brit took a long swallow of tea.

One credit card protection offer. Dial tone.

Sam smiled and squeezed her shoulders gently.

An angry voice she recognized too well blared across the speaker. "Think you're safe, don't you? Well, you're not. It's time." Dial tone.

Monster actually growled at the voice.

Brit held her breath so long she nearly fainted.

Hang-up call. Dial tone.

Monster licked Brit's hand. She stroked his big head.

"Check your back porch." A gruff voice. Dial tone.

"Wait," Sam warned. "We don't want to disturb any evidence. The cops should be here anytime now." Sam pulled Brit into his arms, stroked her back, comforting her. "We're in this together. Drew is checking things in Atlanta. He knows how to access all kinds of computer files. I don't think this a local problem."

"What are you saying?" Brit looked into Sam's eyes.

"Have you ever witnessed a crime or testified against anyone?"

"No, I can't possibly be a threat to anyone. I don't
know
anything about anyone."

"Drew suggested the killer may be connected with one of your husband's cases."

"What?" Brit turned at the sound of the doorbell. "Let's let the police in."

"Check, first," Sam reminded.

"Yes, Sam, I did," Brit opened the door. "Officer Briggs." She let her favorite policemen in. "So good to see you, again."

"Mr. Samuels, you must spend a lot of time here."

"Someone has to look out for Mrs. Roberts." Sam's anger came through in his tone.

"I'd like to hear the answering machine tapes. Mr. Samuels said there were more threats?"

Brit cringed as the messages replayed. Officer Briggs made notes, commenting occasionally.

"Better check the porch." He started for the front door. "I'll go around from the front and check things out."

"Why not just go through the back door?" Brit raised an eyebrow

"It could be a trick. The door may be booby-trapped."

Brit hadn't considered that possibility. Good thing Sam hadn't let her go out. Good thing she hadn't let Monster out.

"Holy Sh --!"

A voice crackled from the small radio unit Officer Briggs pulled from his coat pocket. "What is it?"

"Sick! We need the camera and extra help. Don't let Mrs. Roberts out."

"Stay here," Detective Briggs ordered. "Keep her inside." He started to open the door. "What is the code?"

Sam reached around and punched the numbers.

Opening the door let in a stench. Briggs let himself out.

Sam peered out the back door window. "Good God Almighty."

Garbage covered the porch. A dead cat hung above the steps. The paper tied around its neck glared white in the afternoon sun. As soon as these small-town jokers were gone, he'd call Drew. Then he'd arrange for his security to install perimeter cameras and wiring to watch her and her house. "Brit, can you get me your camera?"

She tried to see around Sam. He wouldn't allow it.

"When the cops finish their work, I'll let you see."

Looking through the camera, he described what was happening, trying to soften the shock. Monster whined and paced. He was as anxious to see what was happening as Brit was.

Within an hour, Detective Briggs assured Brit and Sam the mess was bagged as evidence and taken to the station.

"Are you sure you don't know who would have a grudge against you? Maybe someone made a threat against your husband and is taking it out on you."

"Not that I know of." Brit raised her shoulders.

"There was a note. It was more of the same. This time Mr. Samuels was mentioned. We'll send someone to check your home, Sir, if you want to go with me.

"Thanks, but I don't want to leave Mrs. Roberts alone. Let me check my messages." After using his cell to check his voicemail at home, Sam shook his head. "None so far."

"What about Sean? Is he in danger?

"Nah, he's spending the weekend at the ranch. He has plenty of company and protection."

Officer Briggs took the tape from her answering machine and placed it in one of the unending supply of zippered plastic bags he labeled. All but one man left to check out Sam's house. A new team arrived to bug her house and phones.

They had barely replaced the old tape when the phone rang again. The new tape recorded a laughing tormenter. Caller ID showed that the caller was too shrewd to use home phones or the same pay phones. "Unavailable", she hated that one.

Sam placed gentle hands on Brit's shoulders.

"Teach, while you still have company I'm going home to pack my overnight bag. You and I are going to spend the night in a hotel. I need to get you away from all this. The boys in blue have more work to do here."

She didn't argue.

* * * *

Douglas would have laughed, if he'd been anywhere but in jail. It had cost him a small fortune to arrange the phone calls to the teacher. It was amazing how easy it was to get to phones in jail. Using a calling card purchased by another inmate's mother should screw up the caller ID thing. Arranging the trashing of her yard had been a stroke of genius. The men he'd called to get that job done owed him big favors. According to the Polaroid prints they'd shown him, they were just about even.

His inept employers and their bumbling lawyers hadn't been able to get him out on bail. The judge hadn't been amenable since he'd been as good as caught in the act. At least he had an alibi for this last little harassment of the teacher. The guards carried big sticks and stun guns. But they were also dumb enough to let him make his calls in private.

He'd spread around a few bucks and gotten the favors he needed. He even made calls from the infirmary. Now all he had to do was find a way out of this dump. When he made it out of here, he'd go for the teacher and kill her, slowly, painfully. He'd make her watch him kill the man and the blonde friend first.

* * * *

Sam returned to Brit's house and found her sitting on her sofa with her canine protector. When she rose to greet him, he took her into his arms and made a suggestion. "I've called my brother to book us into a hotel on the way to Atlanta." He kissed her temples gently. "We can sneak out now."

"Yes. I don't think I could sleep here tonight," she murmured. "Let's go away, anywhere."

Sam helped her pack a small bag for her and one for Monster. He put their stuff in his truck and drove to a large hotel forty miles away.

Brit watched Sam handle the truck like a part of himself. Attempts at conversation fell short. What would they have discussed? Her thoughts were not to be said aloud. She wanted this strong man to hold her. She wanted to feel wanted and alive. She wanted to forget she was in danger. She needed Sam.

The bench seat of his truck beat bucket seats but the seat belts were confining. What the Hell difference did seat belts make when someone was trying to kill her? Without the restraints, Brit would've been all over Sam, probably causing an accident. She was adult and could wait a few minutes more. Maybe.

Registering as a couple, using phony names, and paying cash at the multi-storied hotel felt illicit. They'd stopped at a gas station to call their parents to let them know not to call home that night. Sam's mobile number would let them be reached in case of emergency. A stop at a restaurant had been wasted since neither had any appetite for food. The picnic was only one reason. Take out boxes would ensure Monster's supper.

She remembered little about the hotel lobby, but it seemed tastefully furnished. Drew must have had great influence to get the hotel management to allow Monster to stay with them.

The suite was huge. Monster settled down on the lush beige carpet in one bedroom. Sam placed their baggage in the large bedroom. Brit stood at the door watching him.

"Sam." Her voice was thin.

Instantly he was at her side, taking her face in his hands. Her arms circled his waist, her hands pressed into his back. She loved his strong gentle hands. His touch warmed her clear down to her feet. His moist breath tickled her skin. His lips touched her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose.

When she thought she could not wait another second, he touched his moist lips to hers in a chaste kiss. With parted lips, he kissed her again, slanting his mouth, licking and tasting.

When one hand moved to touch her breast, she felt it swell to fill his palm. Hunger blossomed with a vengeance.

Starved for his taste, she parted her lips and slipped her tongue inside his mouth.

With a moan, he moved both hands to her bottom, pressing her against him. She wanted to feel his touch all over her body. She wanted all he could offer – now!

She trembled in his arms. "Brit," he whispered. "Scared?"

She brushed her cheek against his chest, kissed his throat. "No," she said against his skin, "not as long as you hold me."

She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, branded his chest with kisses, then his neck, then his chin.

"Make love to me, Sam."

"Not so fast, Teach." Sam touched his lips to her forehead. "Take it easy, love."

"But I need you. I need for you to make love to me."

"We have all night."

Brit shivered again. "But what if I can't? If I wait too long I might lose my nerve. What if I can't, what if I panic?"
What if I disappoint him?

"We'll take things slow and easy. If you need to stop, we'll stop," Sam's voice rasped. "So, sweetheart, take charge. Make love to me. Take me, take me now!" He flung his arms wide and grinned. "I'm all yours."

Brit chuckled against his chest. "You got it, bud, I'll take you to heights you've never been before."

She kissed his throat again, unbuttoned another button. Tunneling his hands through her silky hair, he tilted her face up. Lowering his head, he kissed her slowly, gently, thoroughly.

Brit needed this man. Sam was so different from Tommy. Was she disloyal to want this man so much? Surely not! She needed to feel alive and clean. She needed to enjoy a normal sexual experience with someone who cared. She needed to know she could stop whenever she wanted to.

Kissing Sam made her feel cherished. He made her feel he needed her as much as she needed him. He was handsome, manly, sexy as all get out, gentle, in control, and caring.
If Sam can't help me through this, no man can. I can do this. I can. I must.

Sliding her hands inside Sam's shirt, Brit absorbed the rough texture of springy chest hair between her fingers, against her palms. She gasped into his mouth when he picked her up and moved to a couch. Without breaking the kiss, Sam seated them, with her in his lap.

Kissing Sam, nipping at his lips, Brit tried to stoke his passion. She wanted him to make love to her but he held back. Why was he waiting? If he would just make love to her, she would know she wasn't scarred for life.

Changing positions, she became more aggressive. She straddled his legs and faced him. "Too many clothes," she yanked his shirt from his jeans. Gliding her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, she exposed his sculpted torso.

Gripping the bottom of her blouse, she yanked it over her head. Heat and moisture spread through her loins. Sam's emerald eyes glittered. She knew she was tempting him. His heat burned through their clothes.

Emboldened, she slowly unclasped the front catch of her lacy bra, freeing her breasts to press against him.

"Come to the bed, lie with me. We need to slow down."

"Why? I need you now." Snaking her arms around his neck she pressed her breasts against him.

"Hang on." He rose with her. "Lock your legs around me." She knew making his way to the bedroom wasn't easy while she kissed his face and rubbed against him.

When Sam reached the large bed, Brit leaned over to grab the satiny coverlet and toss it back. He toppled them onto the bed.

He lay on his side facing her. He kept his touch gentle. Her pebbled nipples begged for more than his touch. Dipping his head, he stroked his tongue over a nipple, then its mate.

She clutched Sam's shoulders. Tension built to an unbearable peak. When Sam's hand moved between her thighs, touching her through her jeans, she felt heat spiral inside. Her world flashed, went dark. She floated and she wanted him with her. He pushed her over the edge.

Sam hadn't taken his pleasure. If she could just rest for a few minutes, she would show him real earth-shaking pleasure.