Twice the Temptation (36 page)

 
Still kissing her, and fairly certain the stable was wired into Samantha’s bloody video security system, he trailed his fingers down her arm until he set the wet velvet bag into her fingers. The original plan had been for her to discover the gift at her leisure and when he wasn’t present to add any pressure to the process.

 
Since she’d let him go diving in his lake to recover it, though, he assumed that she was fairly interested in receiving it. Backing off a little, he undid the soggy, delicate ties and pulled the mouth of the bag open.

 
Samantha watched his hands as he took the bag back and turned it upside down over her palm. A small gold
triangular setting, a sparkling diamond at each of the three points, and a gold chain pooling beside it, winked at them.

 
“Oh, Rick,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

 
Carefully he opened the clasp and looped it around her throat, fastening it behind her neck. “I bought it when I was in Paris. My timing—”

 
She put a finger across his lips. “Your timing sucks. Thank you.” Removing her fingers, she replaced them with her lips.

 
“You’re welcome. Have your fellow turn off the security cameras in here, why don’t you?” he suggested.

 
She chuckled against his mouth. “I am not having sex in here with the horses watching us.”

 
“Sex is perfectly natural in the animal kingdom. I’m certain they won’t mind.”

 
“Iwill. And so will Briggs. Besides, I’m going for a ride.”

 
“You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

 
Her brow furrowed. “It’s not really about you—except to stop you from saying I’m scared to ride.”

 
“Ride me,” he murmured, unbuttoning the top fastening of her blouse and slipping his hand along her collarbone.

 
“You are so slick,” she returned with a slow smile.

 
“Here you are Miss Sam, boss.” Briggs emerged from a stall, Molly in tow while Livingston already waited.

 
“Cool,” Samantha answered. “You’ll have to show me how to…get on board.”

 
Richard slid an arm up the back of her shoulder and leaned down to brush her ear with his lips. “Riding at this moment is going to be extremely uncomfortable for me.”

 
She snorted. “That’s your own fault.”

 
Bloody splendid. He did his best to conjure images of
ski crashes in the snow and the Queen in a thong, though that felt distinctly unpatriotic. It only helped a little, but hopefully enough that sitting in the saddle wouldn’t permanently damage him.

 
Briggs was demonstrating how to step into the stirrup when Richard walked forward. “I’ll take it from here,” he said.

 
With a nod and a grin that said he’d heard or seen at least part of their exchange, the groom retreated to the tack room. Samantha tugged Richard’s damp open shirt forward over his hips. “Are you sure you want to participate?”

 
“Yes. Plant your foot in my hands and swing your other leg over.”

 
“Okay. You know, I thought that a dip in the lake might have helped you out,” she commented, running her gaze along the length of him in a way that had him going from the Queen to John Cleese in drag just so he could keep a little dignity. “Maybe you should try it again.”

 
“After dinner,” he returned as smoothly as he could, “I want to see you wearing that necklace and nothing else.”

 
She sat in the saddle while he pushed her toes through the stirrups. “Are you trying to distract me, or warm yourself up?”

 
“Distract you from what?”

 
“From realizing that I’ve just put my life in the hooves of a very large animal with only a thin strip of leather to get him to do what I want.”

 
“Her,” he corrected. “And Molly’s the calmest animal I own.” She should be; he’d made the purchase with Samantha and her lack of horse experience in mind. He attached a line to Molly’s bridle and, hanging
on to the other end, stiffly mounted Livingston. “Besides, you’ve dealt with people a great deal more frightening than her.”

 
Samantha settled a little, clearly uncomfortable, before she looked across at him. “Are we still arguing?” she asked.

 
Yes. “I don’t know yet. Why do you ask?”

 
“Because I’m letting you lead me around.”

 
Coming from the background she’d had, even as small a concession as this was a big deal for Samantha. Especially if they were still fighting. “I hope you know by now that arguments or not, you can still trust me.”

 
She nodded, not quite able to hide her grimace. “Okay.”

 
“Okay.” With a cluck he sent Livingston forward at a sedate walk through the tall, wide stable door. Molly followed obediently along behind them. Samantha gripped the low saddle horn with both hands and muttered to herself. He couldn’t hear it all, but he caught a few words. Apparently she felt stupid and was about to break her neck.

 
Considering that she’d never attempted anything without excelling at it, Richard wasn’t overly concerned about her neck. Not because of Molly, anyway. It was the rest of Samantha’s life—the parts she wouldn’t discuss with him—that would get her killed. And that was becoming more and more unacceptable to him.

 
“How are you doing?” he asked, twisting in the saddle to look back at her.

 
“I haven’t fallen off yet,” she returned tightly. “Maybe we should have started with a Shetland pony.”

 
Self-deprecations aside, she had a good seat and a firm grip on the saddle. Mentally crossing himself, Richard kneed Livingston into a canter. Most of his
attention on Samantha, he angled them along the lakeshore.

 
“Rick, stop it!” she snapped, grabbing for the reins with one hand and missing.

 
“What’s that man’s name?” he asked.

 
“What?”

 
“From this morning. Tell me his name.”

 
“Fuck you. Stop!”

 
“You’re not in any danger. You just don’t like this because you’re not in control. That’s how I feel every time you step into trouble and then won’t talk to me about it.”

 
She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and threw it at him. She had exceptional aim, even on horseback, and it bounced painfully off his skull. With a curse he pulled up. “Dammit! That was not—”

 
Samantha wiggled her feet out of the stirrups and half fell to the ground. Leaning down to swipe up her phone, she strode back toward the house. Rubbing his temple, Rick kicked out of the saddle and charged after her.

 
He tackled her to the ground. Very aware that she would come up swinging, he grabbed for her wrists, using his greater weight to keep her pinned. Instead of fighting against him, she shoved hard with her feet against the upside of the slope. Before he could brace against it, they were rolling down the slight hill toward the lake.

 
“Fuck,” he muttered, as they splashed into the shallows and he went under. Again.

 
Releasing her, he shoved to his feet. A few yards away, Samantha scrambled back onto shore.

 
“You fight dirty,” he panted.

 
“Look who’s talking, Mr. Canterbury Death Trot.” Shaking out her hair, she squelched free of her shoes and jacket. “Don’t ever do that again.”

 
“I was making a point. Your life isn’t just about you any longer.”

 
“I know that. And you challenging that guy to his face this morning is not the way to scare him off a job. So try to keep in mind that it’s not all about you and your hefty testosterone levels, either.”

 
“Fine.” He slogged out of the water. “Include me, or don’t. You know I’m willing to help. But if you choose to keep me out of it, I expect to remain out of it. Publicly, legally, politically, socially, and any other adverbs I can think of. So you decide, Samantha. Once again, I’m leaving it up to you.”

 
Grabbing Livingston’s reins, he strode with the two horses back toward the stable. Silence followed him. Bloody hell. Why was it that he could negotiate billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat, but he couldn’t manage a discussion with Sam without losing his temper and causing a fistfight?

 
“Shepherd,” she said from behind him. “Bryce Shepherd. That’s his name.”

 
Thank God. He slowed. “Is he any good?”

 
“He’s pretty good. I can handle him.”

 
“Thank you for telling me.”

 
It didn’t answer his other questions—the ones about whether Bryce Shepherd had been flirting with her for a reason, and how well she knew him. He would trust her for now, because he quite simply had no other choice. Not if he wanted to keep his sanity—and his heart.

 
Chapter 7

 
Friday, 11:20 p.m.

 
Samantha closed her eyes, putting everything tosensation. Rick kissed the nape of her neck, sliding his hands thickly from her hips up her backbone to her shoulders, and out along her arms to twine his fingers with hers. Her breath caught as he parted her thighs with his knees and then pushed inside her from behind.

 
She rocked with him as he thrust, her eyes still closed. God, she could feel him everywhere. The cool sheets warming beneath her pressing breasts, the pair of pillows beneath her hips, his feet holding hers apart from one another, the heavy way he filled her, pushed and retreated, then pushed again.

 
Groaning, she came, pulsing and writhing beneath him. She squealed girlishly, the only time she ever made such silly, carefree sounds. Rick chuckled breathlessly against the back of her head, then abruptly withdrew.

 
Her eyes flew open again. “Hey!”

 
“Turn over,” he panted, pulling on her left shoulder.

 
Like she’d argue with him now. Samantha turned over to look up at his face. With his fingertips Rick ran his finger along the gold chain of her new necklace, straightening it between her breasts as he leaned down to lick across her nipples.

 
“That does look good on you,” he commented.

 
“So do you. Get down here.” Pushing the pillows onto the floor, she grabbed for him with her hands and her feet, pulling him back down on top of her. He entered her again, and their dance continued.

 
Now she kept her eyes open; she enjoyed watching him as much as he did watching her. His deep blue gaze, charcoal-colored in the light from the fireplace, took her in, reading her expression probably better than anyone else alive or previously dead had ever been able to do.

 
“I love you,” he whispered, kissing her hard.

 
Resting his weight on her hips and one elbow, with his other hand he teased at her breasts, revving her up all over again. The necklace jolted rhythmically up over her shoulder and down onto the sheets again.