The True Love Quilting Club (28 page)

She traced the ridges of his chest with a finger, savoring his taut hardness. His lips touched her temple and he nibbled at her skin. Immediately, her body responded. Her breathing quickened, her body stiffened.

“Relax,” he murmured, smoothing his palm over her shoulder, moving his mouth from her temple to her earlobe.

But how could she relax when he was running his other hand over her breasts, lightly playing with her nipples? He shifted, and his mouth followed his hands, his tongue suckling gently on her beaded peaks. And there went those exploring fingers, tracing down her midriff and sliding between her thighs, his masculine fingers finding her feminine moistness and roguishly slipping inside.

Moaning, she encircled his wrist with her fingers, guiding his exploration, showing him exactly how she liked it. He didn’t make a misstep. Every stroke took her intensity up a notch. He kissed the underside of her chin, his lips wickedly hot.

Then he turned her on her side and bumped his hip against her butt. He bent her right leg and edged in closer, positioning himself to sink deep inside her from behind.

“Welcome home, Emma,” he whispered. “Welcome home.”

He moved purposefully, the rhythm easy and languid. She whimpered and pressed against him, urging him to pick up the pace, but he only laughed and went even slower. The tension built slowly. Smooth and silky. She was acutely aware of every breath, every pulse beat. He cupped her buttocks as he slid in and out, in and out, a train chugging
up a hill. Building momentum, working up a head of steam.

His hands pulled her helplessly against him. Rocking. Rocking. Soft, mewling sounds escaped her throat, slipped into the darkened room to mingle with his pleasure-induced groans. His mouth burned the back of her neck, hot and erotic, tender and loving, but he never lost the rhythm. Their bodies were joined, fused, perfectly matched. Each movement elicited more delight, more surprise.

Then he rolled onto his back, took her with him, turning her around until she straddled him. Their gazes met and Emma sank into the exciting comfort of his eyes. He locked his hands around her waist, helping her move up and down on his hard, long shaft.

Swept away by intense sensation, she quickened the pace. Sam met her challenge, raising his hips up, digging his heels into the mattress, giving her a ride to end all rides. He kept at it, chasing her pleasure with a devotion that dizzied her head.

Higher and higher he drove her toward climax. The light of love was in his eyes, real and true and forever. She smiled at him, and he laughed a laugh that hugged her soul.

At the peak, she cried his name, a chant, a litany, a prayer of thanksgiving. “Sam, Sam, Sam.”

He followed right with her, dropping into the precious abyss, freefalling into the sensuous undertow, going under for the third time and loving every minute of it. Drowning, lost, and yet at the same time found.

He held on to her waist as she flopped forward to bury her face in his neck. She drew in the scent of him, breathed deep. This was the smell of love. They clung to each other, quivering with sensation, breathing
deep of life. Sam stroked her, murmured sweet nothings until her heart rate returned to normal and her body had stilled.

“I’ve never felt so special,” she whispered.

“That’s because you are special.” He lifted her chin, looked deeply into her eyes again. “You’re my shining star.”

They slept for hours, until Patches pressed his cold nose against Sam’s bare calf sticking out from under the covers and whimpered for his breakfast. The mid-morning sun seeped in through the curtains, casting a cheery light over the carpet. Everything looked fresh and shiny and new. Sam felt fresh and shiny and new.

Emma lifted her head off the pillow, a sheet crease marking her cheek. She smiled at him and stretched, and the world was absolutely perfect.

He leaned over to kiss her. “Stay here. I’ll make you breakfast in bed.”

“Don’t be silly. I love to cook. I’ll whip up an omelet while you feed your menagerie and call to check on Charlie.”

“How did you know I was going to do all that?”

“Because you’re steady, Sam. A man a woman can always count on.” She looked at him with such love in her eyes that hearing himself called steady no longer made him feel predictable and boring.

Steady was a good thing, and Emma made him feel alive in a way no one ever had. He was her anchor and she was his star. He grounded her; she lifted him up.

While the smell of frying bacon and percolating coffee filled the air, Sam fed the animals and then picked up the cordless phone and stepped out onto the front porch to call Belinda. “How’s Charlie?”

“He’s great. He wants to talk to you. Ever since that boy started talking it’s like a dam burst. As if he was saving up everything he had to say and now he’s just letting it all out.”

“He drove you crazy.”

“Absolutely not. I have five kids. I was already crazy.” She laughed.

“Listen, could you keep him a little while longer? There’s something I need to do and—”

“It’s okay,” Belinda said. “I heard about Emma.”

“I guess this is the part where I apologize for yelling at you for meddling in my life.”

“Apology accepted.”

“If you hadn’t instigated this whole thing and convinced Nina to bring her here…”

“Hey, it was touch and go there for a while.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Belinda…” He took a deep breath. “I love her so much.” Sam realized he’d grown as chatty as his son. There was a time not so long ago when he would never have been able to confess that to his aunt. But Emma had taught him that expressing yourself could be a good thing.

“I know, Sam,” Belinda murmured. “I’m so happy she came home.”

“Me too.” Sam smiled. “Me too.”

After breakfast, as they washed the dishes together, Sam told Emma he had some errands to run, including picking Charlie up from Belinda’s. “Take a long hot bath. Relax. Make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

His suggestion sounded heavenly, so once he left,
she went into the bathroom and drew herself a hot bath. Her body was sweetly sore from the night before. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes glowed and her hair blazed a burnished copper in the light. She’d never thought of herself as a beautiful woman, but in that moment, her looks pleased her.

“This is what being in love looks like,” she whispered, and reached up to trace her image in the mirror. Her pulse skipped. She could hardly believe she was here and that this was happening. Sam had taken her back with open arms. Not only taken her back, but posed a compromise that she’d never thought possible.

The soft feeling in her heart told her she’d come full circle, made the journey back home to her fourteen-year-old self. She’d been lucky enough to end up with the only man she’d ever loved. She’d gone from being an outsider to being a member of the fold. It was all she’d ever really wanted. All her yearning had evaporated. Thanks to Sam and Charlie and the True Love Quilting Club, she was fully sated and blissful.

She slid into the tub, lay back, placed a damp washcloth over her eyes, and let the warm water and clean scent of soap flow over her. She must have dozed off, because a sound in the hallway caused her to jerk upright with a start. “Hello?” she called. “Sam?”

Silence.

“Is anyone out there?” Muscles tensed, she reached for a towel. Had someone broken into the house?

A bumping sound against the door made her smile. Patches. She’d forgotten about the dog. She got out, dried off, and drained the tub. Then she opened the door to find the Border collie lolling on the floor out
side the door. He looked up at her with intent eyes. How had she ever been afraid of this beautiful animal? She headed for the bedroom, Patches trotting at her side. She stepped over the threshold and stopped in her tracks. Someone had been in the house.

On the bed lay a silky jade green dress and a pair of matching heels. Her heart caught in her throat. It was exactly like the dress she’d described to Sam when she was fourteen, when she told him what being a star meant to her—parties and fanfare and fine clothes. Beside the dress was an envelope. Emma opened it and read:

Get used to being spoiled. Put on this dress and come to the Twilight Playhouse at noon—Sam.

Excitement pushed against her chest. What was he up to?

It was almost noon now. Hurriedly, she dressed, brushed her hair, and put on some makeup.

The courthouse clock rang its last chime of the lunch hour as she hurried up the steps of the playhouse, her stomach tight with anticipation. She pushed through the door and stepped inside the lobby, expecting to find Sam, but instead she found Nina sitting inside her office with the door open.

“Emma!” Nina waved her over. “Come on in. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

Tentatively, Emma edged into Nina’s office and saw Malcolm sitting on the sofa. “What’s up?”

Nina pointed at the chair across from her. “Have a seat.”

She frowned in confusion, but sat down and rested her hands in her lap.

“That dress looks beautiful on you,” Malcolm noted.

“Thanks. Sam bought it for me.”

“He has excellent taste,” Nina added, “but I’m sure you already knew that.”

Emma nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“I imagine you’re wondering why Sam told you to come here.”

“Yes.”

Nina spread her hands out on the desk. “This is really Malcolm’s news. He should be the one to tell you.” She turned in her chair. “The floor is yours, honey.”

Emma shifted her gaze to Malcolm.

He got to his feet, clasped his hands behind his back. “Even before Nina and I reconnected,” he said, “I was growing tired of L.A. I was looking to relocate my movie studio. Several producers have made the switch to British Columbia, and Vancouver was on my possibilities list…but then so was Texas. Over the last decade or so, movie making has come of age in the Lone Star State.”

“You’re moving to Texas?”

“I am. I’ve bought land near Fort Worth and just finished making all the arrangements. It’s a done deal.” Malcolm smiled.

“That’s wonderful.”

“I also hope this means you’ll consider working for Shooting Star Studios.”

“You’re serious?” She could scarcely believe it. With Malcolm’s offer, she’d be able to have her cake and eat it too. Live in Twilight with Sam and Charlie and still be able to work for one of the most famous producers in the world.

“I am. You’re a great actress, Emma. It would be my honor to continue working with you.” He held out his hand.

“I can’t thank you enough.” Emma shook his hand.

“Don’t thank me. Nina was the one who convinced me Texas was the place to be.”

Emma swung her gaze to her generous mentor.

Nina stood up and smiled, her eyes misted with joyous tears. “Malcolm has asked me to marry him again.”

“That’s wonderful! Congratulations, Nina, Malcolm. I’m so happy for you both.”

“And we’re happy for you and Sam.” Malcolm moved to put his arm around Nina’s shoulder and draw her close.

Emotion clogged her throat and she thought she might cry.
Joan Crawford
, she thought, trying to stop the tears,
Bette Davis
and…oh, what the hell. She was just going to cry and be done with it. She sniffled.

Nina was sniffling too. She reached for a Kleenex, handed one to Emma, took one for herself, and dabbed at her eyes. “Oh,” she said, “the adventures we’re all going to have.”

They talked for a long while, ironing out the details, discussing a future filled with possibilities.

“We’ll talk more later,” Malcolm said. “Right now, Nina and I have an appointment with a wedding planner.”

“Yes, yes, thank you again.”

“Stay here a bit if you’d like,” Nina invited. “Revel in your well-deserved success. Lock up when you’re done.” She tossed her the keys.

“Okay.” Emma smiled.

Nina and Malcolm left and Emma walked around Nina’s office looking at all the playbills tacked to the wall. She could scarcely believe her good fortune. To
think she could have it all. Sam, Charlie, Twilight, the quilting club, and acting. Her heart overflowed.

She breathed in deep, taking in the slightly musty smell of the old building. There was so much history here. She grazed her fingers over the stone walls, caressed time beneath her fingertips. A sense of connection quilted her to this place, to this town, to these people. She belonged, fully, wholly, completely.

And she couldn’t wait to see Sam. Clearly, he’d been involved in this. She turned to go, Nina’s keys in her hand, and headed for the front exit. She opened the door and spied Patches sitting on the sidewalk. He must have followed her over here.

She started to step out, but the Border collie moved toward her.

“Oh, don’t start. I’m not afraid of you anymore.” Emma moved right. The dog blocked her.

“Patches,” she scolded, “let me by.”

The dog sat on his haunches.

She moved left.

Immediately, he cut her off.

Emma sighed in exasperation. “What is going on here, dog?”

Patches nosed her foot.

“You don’t want me to go forward, nor to the left or the right, where do you want me to go?”

He started intently at the theater door.

“You want me to go back inside?”

He thumped his tail.

She tried to stalk forward, but he went around her. “You’re not going to leave me alone until I go back in there, are you?”

Patches cocked his head.

“Great, not only am I talking to a dog, I’m taking
instructions from him as well. Fine, fine, I’m going back in.” She opened the door, stepped inside the lobby. “Happy now?”

Patches darted in.

“Okay, we’re here. Now what?”

He bumped her knee.

She turned and headed for the theater. The dog stayed right behind her. If she stopped, he’d nudge her. If she went left or right, he cut her off. Obviously, the dog wanted her to go into the theater, but she had no idea why. He bumped her again.

“I’m going, I’m going.” She pushed open the heavy wooden double doors leading into the theater, the sound echoing in the emptiness.