Worth the Risk (8 page)

Sam didn’t argue. “They’ll be looking for a woman and a man. Together, but separate.”

“Not a couple,” Meredith observed.

“Exactly.”

Sam let go of the steering wheel then and reached into the pocket that didn’t hold the USB stick. He pulled out the small black box and set it on the dashboard. He watched from the corner of his eye as Meredith reached for it slowly. She flicked open the box, then drew out the modest diamond ring. As she held it up, her expression was one part admiration and one part curiousity, and Sam’s heart lurched in his chest as the deepening moonlight caught in the stone and flickered through the car. It had been years since he’d seen the setting. A hundred memories fought to resurface, and Sam fought right back. He needed to stay focused on the present.

He cleared his throat. “My mom left the ring for my sister, but things didn’t work out the way they should have. I don’t even know why I held on to it.”

Meredith continued to pinch it between her thumb and forefinger. Right in Sam’s view. He had to admit that seeing it against her skin made it even prettier than he remembered.

He suddenly wanted her to put it on. And not because it helped him with his plan.

Sap,
Sam chastised himself. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect.”

At her agreement, he couldn’t hold in his surprise. “It is?”

He’d been expecting her to argue. Or at least to ask him if he wasn’t being a little over-the-top. But she was nodding.

“Yes, definitely. A newly engaged couple would make some noise. Champagne-and-strawberries kinda noise. And we just met, so who would suspect
this
as a cover?” She smiled. “Besides Eileen with her psychic predictions, I mean.”

Sam groaned. “I hate it when she’s right.”

Meredith held the ring up one more time. “If it makes you feel any better, I think she had a more bended-knee ring in mind.”

“Makes me feel worse, actually. Put it back in the box.”

“What?”

“If I expect other people to believe we’re champagne-and-strawberries in love, the least I should do is provide a convincing fake proposal.”

He tugged on the steering wheel and dragged the car across three lanes. Ignoring the loud honks that followed, he swerved onto the shoulder of the road and flung open his door, then bolted around the vehicle to open the passenger-side door, too. He dropped to his knees and met Meredith’s stare with a grin.

Chapter 8

M
eredith’s heart thudded in her chest.

This is just a game,
she reminded herself.
A ruse to help you find Tamara.

But something in Sam’s blue stare made it seem real enough that her pulse thrummed.

“What are you doing?” The question came out in an embarrassing squeak.

“Bear with me. I’m not very good with spontaneity. Or romance.”

“Umm. Okay.” A blush crept up her cheeks.

He nodded toward the ring in her hand. “Didn’t I tell you to put that away?”

She was too nervous to point out that she didn’t take orders. She just slid the diamond-and-gold band back into the velvet and held it out. Sam took it, winked, then snapped the box open once again.

“Meredith Jamison, will you do me the honor of fake-marrying me?”

For a dizzying second, Meredith could see a world where it was all real. Where a crazy twelve hours together led to a lifetime together. Where going through the scariest emotional time of her life helped her come out on solid ground. The
trip-trip
of her heart became a roar. Then a semitruck rumbled by, its light glaring in the dark, and Meredith came tumbling back to reality.

She forced a smile. “Yes, Sam Potter. I’ll fake marry you.”

His handsome face lit up, and the balance between real and pretend tottered again. He pulled the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly, and for some reason, that didn’t surprise Meredith in the least.

She met Sam’s eyes. “What now?”

“Now I use this as an excuse to kiss you again.”

Meredith braced herself for another onslaught of passion. But when Sam pulled himself up and cupped her cheek, he did it tenderly. The kiss still lingered. It still ignited an explosion of fireworks in her head. But it did more, too. It made her feel warm and safe. It made the two-minute delay worth it.

And when Sam pulled away, his teasing grin was gone. In its place was a slightly overwhelmed look Meredith thought must match her own.

“We ready for this?”

His voice was a little rough, and the question seemed to hold a bigger meaning than Meredith imagined he intended.

She swallowed nervously, trying to figure out what the right answer was. But Sam didn’t wait anyway. He just stood, eased the door closed, then made his way back to his own side of the car.

Probably a good thing
.

Because Meredith doubted she’d have been able to manage anything more than a nod. And she was
still
struggling as Sam eased the car back onto the highway. Still silent as the lights of the city became visible on the horizon. And every few seconds, the ring on her finger caught her eye and made her mouth dry.

What would Tamara think if she could see it?

At the thought, Meredith smiled, and at last she found something to say. “It really
is
perfect, isn’t it? Like, extra-perfect.”

Sam glanced her way. “Extra-perfect?”

“Pretending to be married so we can find my sister, the ultimate marriage counselor. It couldn’t possibly be more fitting.”

She liked the way his mouth curled up in immediate amusement. Even if seeing the extra curve of his lips did make her want to be speechless all over again.

“It’d make Tamara happy,” Meredith added.

Sam guided the car onto an exit off the highway. “I can’t tell if that makes you happy, too, or if it annoys you.”

“Both, probably,” Meredith admitted.

She paused, thinking about how to put into words the complicated relationship she had with her sister. But she didn’t have to. Sam spoke for her, seeming to understand a lot of what she felt without being told.

“It’s a tough one, isn’t it?” he said. “You were the grown-up in the relationship for a long time. You’re proud of what she’s done. But she’s your sister, too, and part of you is envious of what she’s accomplished.”

Meredith studied his profile. “Is that how you feel about your sister, too?”

Sam’s smile dipped a little. “Well. She told me it was true, so it must be.”

They’d reached the edge of downtown now, and they both went quiet again. But this time, it felt companionable. Like their similar pasts united them even more than their mutual goal of locating Tamara.

Present.
Check.
Past.
Check.
But what about the future?
Would she get to put a check there, too?

The diamond on her finger caught a flash from a multicolored sign, and for a second it glittered blue, then red, then blue again. Was it a good omen? Meredith didn’t usually believe in them. But what were the chances that the one man who could help her find her sister was also the one man she’d feel a proper connection to? What were the chances that the same man would be carrying a diamond ring in his pocket?

Sam nudged her shoulder. “We’re almost there, sweetheart. Prepare for a bit of a show.”

“A show?”

Sam pointed to his chest. “Rich jerk.” He tapped her knee. “Vapid trophy wife.” He pointed out the front windshield. “Fancy hotel.”

She followed his finger. Just ahead, she spied a glass-fronted building. It rose ostentatiously into the night air, metallic columns decorating the front. And as they got closer—when Meredith thought they should be slowing down—Sam stepped on the gas. By the time they reached the curved driveway, Meredith had to squeeze her eyes shut. She held on for dear life, sure they were going to crash, but willing herself to trust in Sam’s abilities. And just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, the car screeched to a halt and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. Meredith peeled her lids back in time to see a harried man in a hotel uniform push through the smoke and rap on the driver’s-side window.

Sam gave her a final nod, then relaxed his face into a cocky grin. He didn’t bother unrolling the window. He just tossed open the door, jumped straight out and held out his key.

“Park it somewhere it’s likely to get stolen.”

His disparaging tone made him sound completely unlike the man Meredith had been getting to know over the last day. And when the valet didn’t take the proffered keys, Sam pushed it a step further. He reached out and tapped the other man’s name tag.

“Ian, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Well,
Ian
. My wife and I just arrived in Seattle for the first leg of our honeymoon. Our luggage was stolen from our plane. The car rental company gave us
this
instead of the convertible I requested. I’m already guessing that our reservation here will have been lost. So. Instead of standing there like a mindless donkey,
Ian
, take my keys so
I
can do
your
job and open my wife’s door. Then drive this pile of rusted-out bolts off the edge of a cliff. Or at least to a place no one will see it and realize I drove it here. Please.” Sam paused, then added, “Now.”

For a few seconds, the only sound was the hum of the city. Then Ian the valet choked out something unintelligible. He grabbed the keys, promptly dropped them, picked them up, dropped them a second time, mumbled something else and, on the third try, finally managed to hang on to them. And in the time it took him to do it, Sam had made his way to the other side of the car, opened the door and fixed Meredith with an expectant stare.

She stared back. Had he meant to say
wife
instead of
fiancée
? Was it a slip? Or did it mean something?

He looked different. He held his shoulders back, showcasing his full height. He had one eyebrow cocked, one hand outstretched, and his stance gave off a confident, know-it-all attitude. But then he leaned down just a little and tossed her a slow, lazy wink. And just like that, his put-on persona became as attractive as his everyday one.

Did it matter if he said
wife
? And was there any reason Meredith couldn’t enjoy this? Any reason she couldn’t take one tiny, pleasurable thing away from an otherwise dismal situation?

No.

Meredith shoved aside a tug of guilt, swung her leg from the car and resolved to show Sam just how
noisy
she could be.

* * *

Sam couldn’t pretend he didn’t like the extra effort Meredith was putting into their act. As he guided her into the hotel, she clung to him, her slim form a second skin. She smelled sweet. Enticing. When they reached the concierge desk, she ignored the woman behind the desk, lifted her face and pressed her lips to his in a deep kiss that made Sam want to growl. Or throw aside everything on the counter and toss her onto it.

When she pulled away at last, she released a breathless, out-of-character giggle, then smiled at the concierge. “Oops. Didn’t see you there.”

“I bet,” replied the other woman drily.

Sam suppressed a laugh. He reached into his back pocket and drew out a designer wallet. The stack of cash inside was thick enough to draw attention from anyone close enough to see. Which was the whole point right that second.

Sam pulled a gold-tinted credit card from its slot, grabbed a falsified driver’s license as well and placed them on the counter. “Mr. and Mrs. Hall.”

As the concierge picked up the cards, Sam felt Meredith’s hand creep up under his jacket. It slid to his waistband. Then
under
his waistband. Her fingers caressed the skin on his back, and this time he did give in to the urge to growl.

He bent down to speak right into her ear. “You were one of those little girls who always wanted to be an actress, weren’t you?”

She let out another loud giggle, like he’d said the funniest thing in the world, then nibbled the line of his jaw. “Nope. I was one of those little girls who wanted to put away bad guys. Trial lawyer.”

“I don’t think that’s actually a type of little girl.”

“Oh, really?”

Sam ran his palms down her arms, then slipped them to the small of her back. “Uh-huh. Princesses. Rock stars. Mommies. But trial lawyers? No way.”

She pushed her curves against him and stood on her tiptoes to bite his lip. “Misogynist.”

Fierce desire raged through Sam. He wondered if she could tell how quickly this was becoming more than a game. Then he decided she
must
be able to tell. His body wasn’t exactly reacting subtly to her closeness. She didn’t back away, though. Not even when Sam pulled away and met her eyes and said in a serious voice, “Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you call me names?”

A palpable sizzle shot through the air.

“Name calling does it for you?”

“Not
just
name calling.”

“What else?”

“Long walks through bad neighborhoods,” he said, his voice still low. “Being chased by bad guys while in the company of a woman who wants to put them away. Saving lives.”

“Not trophy wives?”

Meredith made a pouty face and Sam couldn’t hold in a chuckle.

She
is
sexy. Damned sexy.

The thought should’ve been redundant. After all, Sam’s attraction to her had been building with each passing moment. Each kiss sent that attraction into locomotive mode. But acknowledging it acted like the flick of a switch, illuminating what had probably been obvious all along. Sam didn’t just find Meredith Jamison attractive. He found her more attractive than any woman he’d ever met.

He leaned down, fully intending on putting that realization into action. But the concierge—whom Sam had all but forgotten about—cleared her throat, temporarily breaking the spell.

“Mr. Hall,” she said. “We don’t appear to have your reservation here.”

“Of course you don’t.” Sam’s irritation at being interrupted translated easily into his act.

“I apologize, Mr. Hall. I don’t have the honeymoon suite available, either. It’s just a—”

“Do you see my name on your preferred guests list?”

The concierge jumped back at his tone. “Yes, and—”

“Is David Turn still the primary operator of this hotel?”

“Yes, but—”

“Dave and I are golfing this week. I’m sure he’d love to hear about my lost reservation and lack of a honeymoon suite. And your wrinkled shirt.”

With another little jump, the woman glanced down at her shirt, then bent back to her computer. As she typed away, Meredith’s mouth brushed Sam’s ear, sending another flood of heat through him.

“You and Dave are buddies?” she asked.

“Dave and Derek Hall are buddies,” Sam amended, dusting her forehead with a kiss. “Or at least they are on hotel records.”

The concierge cleared her throat again. “All of our premier suites
are
empty, Mr. Hall. Second floor from the top. Any of them is yours for the taking. And we can offer you some complimentary wine and maybe some dinner? Breakfast tomorrow?”

Sam fixed her with a cool glare. “I’m going to need more than that, actually.”

“Tell me how we can help.” Now she sounded hopeful.

“Better get a pen.”

With Meredith still clinging to his side, Sam listed off what he hoped sounded like a reasonable list, blaming baggage theft for the items he needed. A high-end laptop. Changes of clothes for the both of them. He put in a food request, too, and not just because she’d offered. Even thinking the word
steak
set his stomach growling. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and he anticipated being in for a long night, searching for connections and clues. And if Meredith touched his rear end one more time, a hell of a lot of non-work-related things, too.

By the time he finished with his requests—ending with a warning that all the items had better be upstairs by the time they get to their room—Sam’s willpower had reached capacity.

He grabbed Meredith’s hand and dragged her across the lobby to the elevators, ignoring the bellhop who struggled to keep up with them. He smacked his knuckle on the up button, pleased when one of the doors signaled its readiness immediately. Before it could even open all the way, he pulled Meredith inside. He pushed her backwards pinned her arms over her head, slid his knee between her thighs and slammed his lips to hers. Hard.