The Unsung Hero (13 page)

It wasn't lost on her. "Did you really expect
me to just leave everything at the drop of a hat and go away with
you?" she said stiffly.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Why not?" That
dark brown gaze sent a prickly feeling up her spine as he gave her
a long probing look. "There's nothing wrong in indulging yourself
once in a while, accepting a dare, taking a chance. There's an
element of chance in everything we do, especially in love." He
laughed softly, and Samantha had the feeling he was baiting her.
"But you haven't discovered that yet, have you?" he asked
softly.

Her eyes narrowed as she turned to look at
him.

"We make our own destiny, Samantha. You can't
sit on the sidelines forever and expect opportunity to come
knocking on your door. You're just not a gambling woman, are you?"
He sat up as her back stiffened. "You're almost a female Jekyll
and Hyde—prim and proper on the outside, while inside there's a
hopeless romantic who wants nothing more than a white knight to
sweep her off her feet. But if that actually happened you'd
probably be afraid to go along for the ride."

She bridled at the amusement in his tone. He
was probably only needling her because she refused to go to bed
with him! "You make it sound like I'm a shrinking violet!" she
muttered.

"Oh, I wouldn't go quite that far. Your
tongue is a little too tart for that." He flashed what would have
been a disarming grin under any other circumstances, then his look
grew thoughtful. "But it doesn't hurt for someone to let themselves
go once in a while. You included."

Samantha glared at him. "You really think I'm
prim and proper?" she demanded.

"Without a doubt," he informed her
brashly.

"And naturally if it was up to you, you'd
prefer that I was fast and loose!" she retorted hotly.

"Oh, never that," he vowed promptly, but the
gleam in his eyes belied his words.

Samantha watched as he stretched out again on
the bed. He looked very big and relaxed lying there, but above all,
so intensely masculine it nearly took her breath away. Suddenly she
knew what he was doing— he was waiting for her to make the first
move, handing control over to her. It was there in his eyes,
warmly inviting but faintly challenging. He wanted her to be the
aggressor and take charge of whatever might happen. And how she
wanted to! It was crazy, absolutely ridiculous, for her to say he
made her mouth water, but that was how she felt.

Only the knowledge that he wouldn't let her
retain control for long stopped her. There was too much of the male
hunter in him for that. And if things ever progressed too far,
would she be able to stop him? Would she want to stop herself?

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "You
only want me because you can't have me," she muttered.

The minute the words were out of her mouth
she knew they were a mistake. They were much too provoking to a
man like Jason . . .to any man, she recognized belatedly.

He was across the bed like a flash of
lightning. "Who says I can't?"

He was quick but she was quicker. She bounced
off the bed and was across the room as his hands grabbed empty air.
"Jason, stop," she pleaded, half laughing, half in earnest. "How
did this conversation ever get started!" she moaned.

"It started because you refused to go to New
York with me."

"You never asked!"

"But you would have said no and we both know
it!"

Samantha sighed. She wouldn't admit any such
thing, because he was the one who might have been surprised. He had
the power to turn her life completely upside down, and she had the
feeling he knew it! "You wouldn't have wanted me tagging along
anyway," she protested halfheartedly, "especially if you were
going to see your wife—"

"My ex-wife--and the matter was between our
attorneys. As it was, I didn't have to make the trip to L.A. after
all. The business took care of itself." He looked at her rather
oddly. "Is that what's bothering you? My ex-wife?"

Samantha shook her head, a little confused by
the emotions rioting through her. "I don't know." She hesitated.
"Well... maybe. I'll admit I've wondered what kind of woman could
make you fall in love with her." She drew an unsteady breath. "Was
she pretty?"

"Yes." Jason seemed to hesitate. "More than
that. She was beautiful."

An unexpected pain squeezed her heart. So
his wife was beautiful. She hadn't wanted to hear that, and yet
even if Jason had denied it she would have known. "Were you.. .
married long?"

Again he seemed to hesitate. He rose and
moved to stand at the window, watching the waves crash against the
jagged outcropping of rock on the shoreline. "My marriage took
place during the hot-blooded days of my youth," he responded
lightly. "A time when even the best of us are given to excesses.
How long was I married to the beautiful Hollywood starlet?" He
smiled thinly. "Too long, it seems. Now if you don't mind, I'd much
rather talk about something else."

She was only too glad to dismiss the subject.
She wished now she hadn't bothered to ask about his wife. Taking
advantage of her place near the door, she left the intense
atmosphere of the bedroom behind. Jason followed her into the
kitchen where she forced her mind elsewhere.

She gestured up at the stained ceiling tiles.
"I don't suppose you know anything about roofing?"

She made the remark simply to break the
uneasy silence between them, but she gaped as he began to roll up
his shirt sleeves. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said calmly.

"You?" She blinked disbelievingly, then had
to tear her eyes away from the sight of those muscular
forearms.

"I worked my way through college, and I was
brought up not to be afraid of a little hard work." He studied her
for a minute. "Or don't you trust me to do a good enough job?"

She would trust him with just about
anything, she suddenly realized . . . everything except her love.
Somehow it made her warm toward him, while at the same time
knowing it was best to keep a safe distance away. There was, she
suddenly realized, a lot to admire about him. And it wasn't only
his looks, she assured herself hastily. Yes, there was more to
Jason Armstrong than brawny biceps and a good-looking face. He was
diligent, hardworking, intelligent, and he'd made a niche for
himself in the romance publishing world. Probably not an easy
task, especially since a man would undoubtedly have two strikes
against him from the start.

Impulsively she laid a hand on his arm. "Of
course I do," she told him, smiling a little shyly. Her eyes met
his, and the sudden flare of warmth she saw there made her senses
swim. She had to turn away or lose herself in those toasty brown
depths. "I think there are some shingles in the garage. I hope
they're not too old to use."

"They're fine," he assured her once he had
examined the string-bound bundle. One knee bent on the concrete
floor, he looked up at her suddenly. "I don't come cheap, you
know."

Samantha blinked. "Cheap?" she echoed.

"Not much comes free these days. And the
best is never free."

"The best!" She gasped indignantly. Why, of
all the conceited, egotistical... "Maybe I should hire a roofer
from Lincoln City," she informed him icily. "Or better yet, I
could do it myself and probably do just as good a job as you!"

"So you're as resourceful as you are pretty."
His grin was back in place. "An irresistible combination in a
woman—now I know why I'm falling so hard." He shifted to both feet,
picking up the bundle of shingles as he rose. "Is supplying the
food for a picnic on Sunday asking too much in exchange for
repairs by an expert roofer?"

An expert roofer... Falling so hard... Who
was he trying to kid? He was no more an expert roofer than she was,
and she was the one who had been falling since day one, and he
probably knew it!

She shook her head. "Jason, I don't
think—"

"That's the trouble with you. You do a
little too much thinking." He paused to grab a hammer from the
assortment of tools hanging from the pegboard on the wall, then
looked back at her over one broad shoulder. The warm intimate look
in his eyes sent her pulse racing madly. "Two o'clock okay?"

"Two o'clock is fine." She wasn't even aware
that she had spoken until he was halfway to the house. She stood
and stared as he scrambled up the ladder as if he was a monkey. He
had done it again, she thought in amazement. Seduced her with his
eyes—-and with his words! If she had any brains she would tell him
what to do with his picnic! If she had any brains she would forget
she had ever set eyes on Jason Armstrong!

If she had any brains she would take this
chance at heaven in whatever way, shape or form she could, and
worry later about the consequences.

Much later that night she voted strongly in
favor of the latter.

But Samantha later reflected that Jason was
right. She could never be totally free and fanciful and carefree.
There was too much to be lost, and everything to gain. Life with
her father, and Alan, had taught her that much at least. She'd
never had a casual fling with anyone. To her, body and soul were
only to be given and shared if the relationship was serious. Alan,
in fact, had been her first and only lover. Could she handle an
affair with Jason, with each of them going their separate ways when
the summer was over? But maybe it wouldn't come to that, she later
told herself cautiously.

And then again, maybe it would.

It was a question she wasn't sure she wanted
to answer. For the first time in her life, Samantha found herself
procrastinating. She didn't want to think about tomorrow, or next
week, or even next year.

Instead she thought of how
much she had now, at this moment. She had never thought it possible
that she could grow so close to a man who couldn't share her
beliefs in what was perhaps the most important thing in life—love.
But it
was
happening, and it was wonderful. Samantha knew he was taking
precious time away from his grueling writing schedule, yet it
seemed to bother her more than it did Jason.

They had dinner together nearly every
night--at his place, at hers, at a quiet restaurant in Lincoln
City. They walked on the beach on moonlit starry nights. They
laughed and talked about silly things, mundane matters, everything
but affairs of the heart. The one thing that was on Samantha's mind
more and more, and the one thing she wanted to avoid at all
costs.

Jason gave her his undivided attention, made
her feel beautiful, young and utterly feminine as she'd never felt
before. But even while she basked in the warmth of those feelings,
she knew she couldn't let herself fall for him as she longed to do.
So she urged herself to tread lightly, as lightly as he.

But she was never quite sure if she was
succeeding.

Sunday dawned clear and beautiful. Hazy
streamers of sunlight floated down from the sky, gilding the
dancing waves of the ocean with a bright dazzle. At precisely two
o'clock, Samantha and Jason walked along the beachfront not far
from home. Sheltered on one side by an outcropping of rock and by a
pile of driftwood on the other, the tiny alcove protected them from
the wind and prying eyes alike. They spread a blanket on the warm
sand, and while Samantha unpacked the hamper she'd brought along,
Jason unrolled a fluffy beach towel he'd tucked under his arm,
grinning when he brought out a bottle hidden in the folds.

Her eyes widened. "Champagne!" she exclaimed,
then looked at the food spread on the blanket. "With fried chicken
and potato salad?" She laughed and pulled one last item from the
hamper. "I brought paper cups!"

"That's all right." The cork flew open and he
reached for one of the cups. "Drinking champagne from paper cups
doesn't make the occasion any less special."

Samantha broke off a chunk of crusty French
bread and handed him a plate. "What's the occasion?"

"I finished the first draft
of
Quest for Love
last night." His eyes grew warmer by degrees as they met hers
across the small blanket. "But that takes second place to the real
occasion. Any time is special when I'm with you."

Her heart turned over at the smile he gave
her but she forced her attention to his first words. "You're
finished already?" she asked in surprise. "You've only been here a
few weeks."

"It was in the works before I came." His
eyes took in her slim figure, clad in a white one-piece terry
sun-suit. Tied loosely at each shoulder, it showed off the light
honey tan of her bare legs and arms. "And I did say once I was
feeling especially inspired thanks to you."

Despite his avid gaze, a feeling of dread
suddenly gripped her. "So now that it's finished you'll be sending
it off to your publisher?" Her heart fluttered as she nibbled on a
chicken leg. That wasn't the real question and she knew it. It
somehow brought home the fact that there was an end in sight for
the two of them, an end she wasn't yet ready for.

His low chuckle surprised
her. "It's a draft, Samantha. I usually do at least two, change a
few things here and there." He shrugged. "Maybe add a scene or cut
a few." He paused for a moment before adding quietly, "That reminds
me, have you finished
Love's Sweet
Bondage
yet?"

Her eyes flew to his face. He was studying
her openly, his look intent. It was a shock to realize he actually
looked almost grave. Her gaze faltered a little under his scrutiny.
The merest hint of a smile now played at his lips, but that
indefinable emotion in his eyes seemed to have deepened. She sensed
that it was somehow important to him that she finish the book- but
why? Confused, she looked away.