The Unsung Hero (6 page)

"Jason Armstrong," she muttered as she shed
her nightgown, "you can save your verbal sparring for the worthy
opponents in your novels. It's only nine o'clock in the morning and
already I feel like I've been through the Hundred Years'
War—twice!"

But inside the tiled shower, Samantha found
herself admitting that her feelings toward Jason were a muddle of
confusion at best. There was no denying the magnetic pull she felt
when she was around him. It almost reminded her of the time with
Alan, but even then she wasn't sure it had been quite so strong.
But feelings of attraction aside, she didn't know if she could even
like a man whose views on love were so different from her own. Face
it, lady, she scolded herself, you're a hopeless romantic, and
you'll never be satisfied with a man who isn't the same. And even
though Jason wrote the most divine love scenes imaginable, she
decided that he probably had no romance left in his soul.
Undoubtedly because he poured everything he had into his books, she
decided with a rare touch of cynicism.

But dreamer that she was, with the warm
steamy water spraying over her body and lulling her into languid
complacency, Samantha couldn't help but wonder what it would be
like to have Jason Armstrong make love to her. Remembering the
exciting warmth of his mouth and the lingering touch of his
fingertips against her bare skin sent a fiery throb of awareness
pulsing through her veins, making it only too easy to imagine the
weight of his hard male body over hers, the heat of his naked skin
scorching her own.

She shook her head disgustedly at such brazen
thoughts, then laughed as she realized she was chiding herself for
her "unseemly" daydreams unnecessarily—exactly as if she was an
eighteenth-century maiden instead of a modern woman. Still smiling,
she turned off the spray and stepped out of the shower.

"God!"

Samantha whirled in surprise at the sound.
Jason stood in the doorway, brown eyes exploring with keen and
undeniable male interest the slender lines of her glistening body,
still damp with moisture. Stunned by his unexpected appearance, she
could only stare at him for what seemed an eternity before grabbing
for a towel.

"Damn it, Jason Armstrong!" she sputtered
hotly. She fumbled with the ends of the towel as she tried to
secure it around her body. "I thought you left!"

"I did." A half-smile tipped his mouth as he
stepped forward. "Here, let me." His eyes finally lifted to her
face as he deftly tucked the ends of the towel between her breasts,
his warm fingers brushing the delicate skin of the valley
between.

Annoyed and despising herself for the flush
she knew was staining her cheekbones at his intimate touch, as well
as for being caught in the nude, she brushed past him into her
bedroom. She jerked open a dresser drawer and grabbed a handful of
underwear before turning to him.

"Next time you come into my house—or my
bathroom," she told him heatedly, "knock!"

"I did." His eyes were full of humor as he
watched her stalk to the closet, her jerky movements loosening the
dampened towel precariously. "I didn't hear the shower, and when
you didn't answer I assumed it was safe to come in. And the door
wasn't locked, either."

"I don't usually lock it when I'm here by
myself!" she muttered viciously, tugging at the towel and
surveying the array of summer clothing. She glanced angrily at
Jason, who was leaning against the bathroom doorjamb. His arms were
crossed over his chest, and there was an expression of amusement on
his handsome face. So he thought she was funny, did he? Well,
she'd had enough of him laughing at her. Before the summer was
over, the tables would be turned, she vowed silently.

"What do you want this time?" she asked
tautly, marching back across the room. She held a brightly colored
blouse, which had miraculously survived a vicious yank from the
hanger.

He straightened up immediately, his smile
fading. "First things first. Your mother phoned."

"I'll call her back after I'm dressed," she
muttered, more to herself than to him.

"No, you don't need to."

"I don't?" Surprised, she stopped dead in
her tracks. Surely her mother hadn't told him not to have her
return the call. She never missed a chance to chat--never!

"Uh, no." Did he sound contrite? "She's on
the line yet. That's why I came to get you."

"Oh, no!" Samantha dived for the bedside
phone. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I got... sidetracked."

An exaggerated leer crossed his face as she
glared at him and picked up the receiver. "Hi, mom," she said,
forcing a cheery tone, feeling like a volcano about to explode when
Jason sat down next to her and ran his fingers caressingly down the
side of her arm. "Sorry I took so long." She shot a pointed look at
Jason while trying to inch away from his disturbing touch. But with
his tall body on one side, the pillow and headboard on the other,
she had little leeway.

"That's okay, dear. My nine o'clock
appointment canceled at the last minute and my next one isn't until
ten." Her mother owned a small beauty shop in Astoria.

"Business good so far this summer?" Samantha
aimed a jab at Jason's ribs that he easily parried. His other hand
feathered up to her neck and softly stroked the downy skin on her
nape.

"Better than last year." Samantha could hear
the anxious curiosity mingled with concern in her mother's voice.
She anticipated the next question. "Who was the man who answered
your phone?"

"A neighbor," she answered quickly, hoping
her mother wouldn't think she and Jason... "I, ah, I was outside
taking a quick swim--"

"So early in the morning? Wasn't the water
awfully cold?"

"Yes... cold, very cold, stimulating," she
said in a rush, the words tumbling out one after the other. "You
know—" she gave a feeble laugh "—it gets the blood going." Why was
she the world's worst liar?

"So why wasn't your neighbor in his house
instead of yours?"

And why wasn't her mother one to mince words?
"He... he heard the phone ring while he was passing by. He came to
get me.. .which is why it took so long."

. "You really should lock your door when
you're not home," came her mother's rather dry comment. "Do you
know when you'll be coming to visit next?" Her mother continued
while Samantha stifled a groan and looked at Jason. "I won't
schedule any appointments while you're here. Lana can manage the
shop for a week or so if you're planning on staying that long."

Despite the change of subject, Samantha had
the distinct impression her mother hadn't believed a word she'd
said; it didn't help when Jason's head dipped low to explore the
sensitive place where her long neck joined one slender
shoulder.

"Will you stop that?" she whispered fiercely,
covering the mouthpiece with her hand. His head dropped lower
still, and his mouth grazed the rounded tops of her breasts.
"You...you sex fiend!" she hissed. Her fingers clutched
convulsively at the wisp of nylon she still held in her other hand
while she tried to ignore the tingle of pleasure racing down her
spine.

"What was that, dear?"

"Uh... I was just saying... I have a friend
in Seaside. Maybe I'll stop and see her on my way."

"Seaside? You've never mentioned her before.
Who is she?"

Samantha groaned inwardly. If only her mother
was a little less on the ball! "She's an old friend from college."
She forced a laugh. "I'm sure I've mentioned her. Her name is—" her
eyes lit on Jason's book lying on the nightstand "—Cathryn James."
Lord, she had better hang up now! She'd find herself in over her
head if this call didn't end soon. Thank heaven her mother hadn't
picked up a book in years!

"That name does sound familiar, now that I
think about it." The soft voice on the other end of the line
sounded thoughtful. "Wasn't she your roommate during your freshman
year?"

"Uh...yes, that's her. Mom, I really should
be g-"

"Very pretty, I recall you saying once, but
not terribly bright."

Samantha was sinking ever deeper into a grave
of her own digging. She knew she should end this conversation
right now, but she couldn't resist a backhanded swipe at Jason. He
was watching her with a look that reminded her of a cat stalking a
helpless mouse, only he was about to find out that the mouse had
the jaws of a lion.

"That's her, mom," she said sweetly, glaring
at Jason. "Big on looks, short on brains." At her mother's
surprised silence, she amended hastily, "But she really is nice and
I'm looking forward to seeing her again." At this, Jason, who had
been shaking his head, grinned broadly.

"You still haven't told me when you're
coming, dear."

"I'm not sure, mom." She glanced acidly at
Jason, hardly able to believe he was actually behaving himself,
but grateful that the subject of "Cathryn" had been dropped.
"Between teaching and working on my house all year, I've hardly had
a minute to myself. How about sometime next month?"

"That's fine, Samantha. Try to let me know a
few days ahead, though."

"Sure, mom. I'll call you later."

She'd barely pressed the 'off' button than
Jason spoke up. "That was quite a performance," he chided mildly.
"Do you think she swallowed any of it?"

"Probably not," Samantha answered shortly.
"Since I've never lied to my mother before, I'm sure she knows the
difference."

"The way you were hem-hawing around, I
wouldn't be at all surprised." He raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't
you tell her the truth about why I was here?"

Samantha was already feeling enough guilt
without Jason adding to it. "The truth?" she snapped. "That we've
known each other less than a day and already you're coming and
going from my house exactly as you please? If you'll recall, I
didn't know why you came back again--and I still don't!"

Jason merely smiled at her, clearly not at
all disturbed by her anger. "I'm not sure you want to know right
now," he murmured, rising lithely to his feet.

"You're right. I don't!" She pointed at the
bedroom door, still standing ajar. "I think you've overstayed
your welcome."

He wasted no time in pouncing. "So you were
glad to see me?"

"Of course I wasn't!" When was she going to
remember that this man made a living juggling words? She was going
to have to watch what she said around him.

"Not even a little?"

The little-boy plaintiveness in his voice,
whether feigned or real, reminded her for all the world of one of
her second-graders. She felt her heart doing strange things in her
chest. "Well... maybe a little," she relented cautiously. Jason
Armstrong was impossible— irresistible! And she was a fool. There
was no way someone as average in looks and manner as she was could
ever hope to land a man like Jason Armstrong. Given his casual
outlook on love, the odds for any woman were probably a million to
one.

But to her surprise, and then growing
delight, he bent over and kissed her again, lightly at first and
then with increasing urgency. His hands framed the oval of her
face, and Samantha was aware of a yawning chasm of desire spreading
through her body.

"Say yes," Jason murmured against her mouth,
his tongue tracing the outline of her lips with moist sensuous
strokes. "Yes..."

All pretense of thought had long since
vanished under the onslaught of his touch. Samantha lifted heavy
eyelids to gaze up at him longingly. "Yes," she whispered in husky
compliance, vaguely hoping he would continue this passionate
assault on her senses. Her lashes drifted closed again.

A low laugh of satisfaction vibrated against
her cheek. "I knew it." There was a kind of pleased self-
complacency in his voice as his breath fanned her skin. "I knew I
could get you to say yes." One last kiss against the corner of her
mouth and Samantha was deprived of his vital male warmth.
"Remember, seven o'clock tonight at my place."

At his abrupt withdrawal, her eyes flew open
and she was brought to an almost painful awareness. She tugged at
her rapidly slipping towel. "Wait!" she cried, seeing that Jason's
long strides had already taken him halfway across the room. "Seven
o'clock at your place...for what?" Dear Lord, what had she done? He
could have demanded anything... anything! And after a taste of his
abundant male charms, she realized that anything could very well
turn out to be everything.

He paused at the doorway, one hand curled
around the knob as he gave her a lazy smile. "Second thoughts
already? I can guarantee you won't be disappointed."

That was exactly what she was afraid of. She
swallowed nervously. "Disappointed in what?"

Jason shook his head, brown eyes glinting
teasingly. "My, my," he admonished gently. "You'd make a terrible
businesswoman. Don't you know you shouldn't sign your life away
without first finding out the terms of the agreement?"

"Terms, nothing!" she sputtered. She was
becoming a little annoyed with his deliberately evasive tactics.
"All I want to know is what I'm in for tonight—if I decide to show
up!"

"Oh, you will," he assured her smugly. He
leaned against the door frame. "And you can expect delight and
pleasure far surpassing anything you've ever known before." At her
indignant gasp he continued as if he hadn't heard her, the firm
lines of his mouth still turned up in that infuriatingly confident
smile. "Something to tempt your awareness, whet your appetite, a
total seduction of the senses "

"No." Samantha shook her head. She took a
deep breath, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of
disappointment rising within her. Jason Armstrong might take such
things lightly, but she was one person who couldn't discard the
principles of a lifetime for one fleeting moment of pleasure.

She looked up and met his gaze unflinchingly.
"Let's get one thing straight," she said clearly. "I'm not
coming—"