Any Man of Mine

Chapter Fourteen

Any Man of Mine:

Recognizes the Need for Speed

Sam stood at the kitchen counter and lowered a couple of whole-grain waffles into the toaster. The previous night’s storm had blown over, and the bright morning sun poured in through the windows.

“Mom makes pancakes that look like hearts.” Conner knelt in a chair by his side, waiting for the waffles to pop up.

“You told me, but you shouldn’t tell anyone else.”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause some guys at school might not understand heart pancakes and think you’re a sissy. You don’t want to get your butt kicked.” He put his hand on Conner’s head and ruffled his fine hair. Sam had risen with the sun pouring in through the windows and had already jogged five miles on the beach. He’d needed to clear his head. To think about the last two days. About Thanksgiving and last night. Had he been bored?

Yes. The Chinooks were on the road, and he was dying to get back in the game, but that wasn’t the real reason. He could tell himself that it was about Conner. That he wanted to spend more time with his son before he was cleared to play. And that was true. He did want to spend as much time as possible with Conner before he left again, sometimes for weeks at a time, but Conner wasn’t the only reason. And if Sam was honest with himself, he’d admit that his son wasn’t the reason he’d jumped in his truck last night and driven through a storm. It was Autumn and the hot compulsion he felt whenever he was around her. The percolating memory of a few days in Vegas and not getting enough.

He’d arrived on her porch last night, rain beating on his shoulders and running down his face, staring at the door. Hot compulsion and percolating memory churning in his gut. He’d stared at the door, a tangle of confusion and desire. For the first time in a very long time, uncertain about a woman. Uncertain whether she’d let him in or slam the door in his face. Uncertain whether she’d let him touch her all over with his hands and mouth. Uncertain if she’d get naked and let him do something about the hard-on she’d given him the night before.

Sam had had a lot of sex in his life. A lot of sex with a lot of different women, but he’d never had sex like that. Autumn had been so hot and turned on. So wild in a way that had nothing to do with whips and handcuffs and naughty outfits but everything to do with how much she wanted him. She hadn’t been faking it. Hadn’t been trying to impress him or play games. She’d wanted him. Maybe it was just because she hadn’t had sex in over five years. Maybe not. Either way, he wanted more.

A lot more.

Earlier, when he’d returned from his jog, he’d found Conner watching cartoons in the middle of the fold-out.

“Dad?” Some sort of long blue fruit snack had been hanging from one side of Conner’s mouth. “You’re on vacation, too?”

Sam had brushed the forearm of his sweatshirt over his sweaty forehead. “Yep. Is your mom up?”

Conner chewed, and the blue snack slipped up his chin. “Not yet.”

“What are you eating?” he’d asked.

“Fruit By The Foot. Want some?”

“No.” He’d checked the cupboard and was surprised that there wasn’t any real food. Just coffee, some milk, and kid snacks. “Get dressed, and we’ll go get some real food.” It took them about twenty minutes of driving to find a strange little market that smelled like a weird combo of fish and kettle corn.

“Get a few plates down,” Sam said as he slid his hand down Conner’s back.

Conner climbed up on the counter and opened a cupboard. “I saw a slug yesterday. Yuck. I hate slugs.”

“I smell waffles,” Autumn said from the bottom of the stairs. “This is a ‘no cooking’ vacation. Where did you guys get breakfast stuff?”

Sam looked over his shoulder at Autumn, moving toward the end of the counter in her dried wiener-dog pajamas, and his throat got a little tight. He’d seen a lot of naughty lingerie in his life, for some reason, the wiener dog was hot as hell. Maybe it had something to do with the memory of her cold wet breasts the night before.

Conner peeked around the cupboard door. “Mom, Dad’s here,” he announced. Like she hadn’t known that. Like she hadn’t jumped on top of him last night.

“I can see that.”

“We found a little store while you slept.” Sam pointed to the toaster. “Up for some waffles?”

She raked her fingers through her hair and pushed it behind her ears. “Coffee first.” Her bare feet moved across the kitchen floor, and she grabbed a mug above the coffeemaker. Morning light poured in through the windows and caught in strands of her red hair.

“What do we have planned for today?”

She looked at him as she poured. “Well, we were going to the Fireman’s Breakfast Feed this morning.”

“Oh.” The waffles popped up, and he quickly put them on the plates Conner had set on the counter. “Lucky you. Now you don’t have to go.” He put a little butter and syrup on both. “What else?” He handed the plate to Autumn, but she shook her head. Her hair fell across her shoulder.

“Kites.” She blew into the mug. “At some point, clam chowder at Paddie’s Perch.”

He carried his and Conner’s plates to a small kitchen table. He wasn’t at all surprised she had everything planned out. In Vegas, she’d had a long list. Most of which she never got the chance to cross off. Thanks to him. He smiled at the memory. “What about building sand castles?”

“We don’t have the stuff.”

He cut into his waffle. “You do now.” Her gaze narrowed and he held up one hand. “I know the world does not revolve around me, but it was Conner’s idea to build a sand castle.”

“Like it was Conner’s idea to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner?”

He shoveled a waffle into his mouth and chewed. Yeah, kind of like that, but sand castles were so much better than kites.

She raised the mug to her lips, then lowered it slowly. “Where did you get those clothes?”

He glanced down at his Chinooks T-shirt and jeans. “I brought a duffel.” He’d set out last night, spur-of-the-moment, sure, but he’d come prepared to stay. Prepared to figure out what it was about her. Now and five years ago that made him act like a kid again. Like he was thirteen, fantasizing about the girl down the street and riding by her house on his Haro Freestyler, just on the off chance he’d catch a glimpse of her. These days, he had a truck instead of a bike. He was a man not a kid. He liked to think he’d developed some skill with women. A little finesse. Maybe a little charm. That he didn’t have to hunt a woman down. Stalk her through the night.

Yeah, that was what he liked to think, but there he was, with Autumn in Moclips, feeling like he was a kid again. Uncertain and freestyling.

“I thought you just jumped up from Benihana and drove here,” she said.

She pursed her lips and blew into her mug, and his head got all twisted around with thoughts of what he’d like her to do with that mouth. Things he shouldn’t even think about so early in the morning but couldn’t help. “I may not have been an official Boy Scout, but I’m always prepared.” He looked at her and smiled around a bite of waffle, remembering her grabbing the condom from his hands and tearing it open with her teeth. “I always keep a duffel of stuff in the truck. Mostly to change at the Key.”

“Well, Mr. Unofficial Boy Scout, I didn’t particularly want to dig around in the cold wet sand today.” She took a drink. “So I’ll watch from the deck.”

“Can I have some juice, Mom?”

She moved to the refrigerator and opened the door. Sam’s gaze moved down her back and hips to her nice butt. “Do you want some, Sam?”

Oh yeah. “Yes, please.”

She poured the juice, and he purposely kept his gaze off her wiener dog as she moved toward them. She set the juice on the table, and his hand slid up the back of her thigh.

Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Eating my waffle,” Conner answered.

Sam didn’t know and dropped his hand. He hadn’t meant to touch her at all. It had just happened, like it was just a natural thing for him to do. Like they were a couple. A family, but of course, they weren’t either of those things.

Autumn was his son’s mother, but they weren’t family. She was hot and sexy and made him want more, but they weren’t lovers. She was the girl he thought about, but she wasn’t his girlfriend.

So what was she? To him.

It was fifty degrees, and a breeze blew Autumn’s hair across her face. She wore a heavy sweater, jeans, and Ugg boots as she lounged on a chaise above the beach. She was glad she wasn’t kneeling in the wet sand digging with little plastic shovels. Flying a kite had made much more sense, but she had to admit that there was a little piece of her that was glad she wasn’t down on the beach, holding a kite and getting chapped lips. Up close to the house, the wind was a bit calmer.

She lowered the Bride magazine she held in her hands and peered over the top at Conner and Sam. They’d been at it for a couple of hours. Longer than she would have thought they’d last. From where she sat, the castle looked like a pile of sand with a moat. Mixed with the sound of the ocean and seabirds, snatches of their voices came to her on the breeze. Conner’s childish giggles blended with Sam’s much deeper laughter. More than his charm or the lust in his blue eyes or the touch of his hands on her aching body, or just the pure beauty of Sam, seeing those two blond heads bent together over a pile of wet sand, pinched one corner of her heart. She was in no danger of falling in love with Sam. She’d been there, done that, learned the lesson the hard way. But she might be in danger of liking him, and liking him was scary.

It had been two months since the Savage wedding and the afternoon Sam had brought Conner home late. Two months since Sam had become more involved in Conner’s life. Somehow that had translated into Sam’s being in her life more. So much so that she’d ended her more-than-five-year sexual drought with him on the entry-room floor last night.

She wasn’t proud of herself, but not as appalled as she should be either. Like she’d told him last night, she was mostly embarrassed. And confused that she’d given it up with the one man on the planet that she’d sworn she’d never let touch her again. She was still confused about why he’d shown up at her door last night. Why she’d let him in and why he was still there.

“Hey, Mom,” Conner called as he ran up the path toward her. “Come see the castle.”

She set her magazine aside; she had known it was only a matter of time before Conner made her look at his castle. She stood and moved down the steps toward him. He met her in the middle of the tall grassy path and she cupped her hands over his red ears. “You’re cold. Don’t you want to go in now?”

He shook his head. “Dad made a dragon. Come see.”

She took his cold little hand in hers and moved down the short trail. Sam stood in front of the “castle” with his hands on his hips. The knees of his jeans were as wet and sandy as Conner’s, and his ears were just as red.

A cold breeze ruffled his hair, and dirt smudged his cheek. “What do you think?”

She cocked her head to one side and studied the castle. Up close, it looked less like a pile of sand. It was square, with four turrets and a moat, but the most impressive thing about it was the size. Like everything Sam did, it was big and over-the-top. “It’s always been a dream of mine to go on a tour of European castles. Who knew I’d see one in Moclips.”

“You dream about touring old, stone buildings?”

“Oh yeah. I hear Germany has some of the best and most haunted.”

“See the dragon?” Conner pointed to what looked like a snake with a big head slithering through the sand toward the castle. “He protects the boy in the castle.”

“From what?”

He looked up at his dad and squinted against the sun. “From what, Dad?”

“Girls.”

She laughed and lightly socked him in the stomach. He grabbed her hand before she could pull away. “You’re cold,” she said.

“The other day at the Key, you said I was hot.”

With her free hand, she pushed at the strands of red hair blowing across her face. “And today you’re filthy.”

Sam wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her heels. He pressed his dirty sweatshirt against her and laughed. “You’re too clean. I like you better when you’re dirty, too.”

“Sam!” She pushed at his shoulders and tried to squirm out of his hold. But Sam was bigger and taller, and she didn’t stand a chance.

He tightened his grasp and lifted her until her toes dangled above the sand. His heated breath whispered across her chilled cheek, “Wanna get real dirty with me?”

She grabbed onto his shoulders, afraid if he didn’t stop she’d get warm all over. That she’d like the way it felt to be held so tight by a strong man. By Sam. “Not in front of Conner!”

His lips brushed the corner of her lips. “Just a little dirty, then?”

“Stop, Sam. You’ll confuse him.” Like the confusing, hot riot tumbling in her stomach.

He raised his head and said as he stared into her eyes, “Are you confused, Conner?”

“Yes.”

Sam looked over her shoulder, but he didn’t let her go. “What about?”

“If the castle doesn’t have a door, how will the boy get out to ride the dragon?”

Sam smiled and lowered Autumn, slowly sliding her down his body until her feet touched the sand. “There’s a hidden door that the people who live inside know about.”

“Oh.” Conner nodded as if that made perfect sense. “I’m cold now.”

Autumn looked over her shoulder at Conner. “You wanna take a bath?”

“Yeah.”

She stepped out of Sam’s warm arm, and together the three of them walked up the trail to the beach house. Like they were a family. The family she’d longed for when she’d carried Conner in her womb. The family she’d desperately wanted for her child, but that hadn’t happened. They weren’t a family, and they never would be. Sam was Sam. A spoiled athlete, so used to getting everything he wanted, when and how he wanted it, that he had no clear boundaries.

Autumn was a working mom with very clear boundaries. Or at least she did when Sam wasn’t around touching her and whispering in her ear. Maneuvering her before she realized she’d been maneuvered.

Like before.

“Are we going to Paddie’s?” Conner asked, as they entered the house.

Autumn closed the sliding glass door behind her. “I think your dad probably has better things to do.”

Sam glanced up at Autumn through his clear blue eyes.

“At home.”

His brows lowered a fraction, and he looked at Autumn for several long moments. “Yeah. I gotta get back.”

“No, Dad.” Conner hugged his wet leg. “You can sleep in my bed.”

“Thanks.” He placed his hand on Conner’s hair. “But I have some stuff to do.”

“Tell your dad good-bye, and I’ll go run your bathwater.”

She moved toward the back of the house and walked into the bathroom. She was doing the right thing. Setting boundaries for Sam. Putting a protective distance between him and her. It was best for her. For Conner, too. Best not to confuse him because even though he said he wasn’t confused at the moment, he would be. She ran four inches of warm water, then shut off the faucets.

“Get in there and get the sand out of your ears,” she told Conner as she moved into the living room.

“Okay. Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, buddy.” Sam had changed into dry pants and a black polo and stood in front of the sofa, stuffing his duffel. He glanced up as Conner ran from the room. “You blow hot and cold faster than any woman I’ve ever known.”

“And you come on stronger and more intensely than any man I’ve ever known. But we both know that it doesn’t last with you, Sam.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We’re talking about my fear that Conner will wake up one morning, and you won’t be around.”

“Are you back to that?”

They were always back to that. And maybe it was a little bit about her, too.

“Conner is my son. I’m not going anywhere. I know I haven’t always been the best father, but I haven’t been as horrible as you paint me either.” He shoved the sweatshirt into the duffel. “But this isn’t about Conner. It’s about last night.”

Partly that was true. “It can’t happen again.”

He looked up, his brows lowered over his blue eyes. “Why not? I had a good time, and I know you did, too.”

She couldn’t deny that but… “There are consequences to that kind of fun.”

“You can’t keep using Vegas like a shield.”

“I’m not.”

He returned his gaze to the bag. “You are, and it’s getting old.”

“It’s not something a person just gets over.”

“It’s not something you can get over because you don’t want to. You want to hang onto the past. You want me to always be the bad guy.” He zipped the duffel and looked across at her. “And I admit, I’ve done some bad things, but I thought maybe we were getting past all that.”

How could she get past it? She’d patched around it. Sewn her life back together, but it was still there. It didn’t hurt, but it couldn’t be forgotten like it had never happened. The little boy in the bathtub was a constant reminder.

“But now I see that you want me to pay for Vegas for the rest of my life.” He picked up his duffel. “Tell Conner I’ll call him in a few days.” He walked out of the house, and Autumn stared at the closed door. Was he right? Did she want him to pay for the past? Forever?

No. She wasn’t that sort of woman, but she also wasn’t the sort to whom forgiveness came easily. Not that he’d ever asked for it.

The Tuesday after Moclips, Natalie picked Conner up from kindergarten and took him to the Key Arena to practice with Sam. Around five, the assistant returned him home. Several days later, Natalie picked up Conner and his little backpack to spend the weekend with his dad.

That same Friday night, Autumn met with the Ross twins at a bridal store downtown so that Bo could try on dresses. Chelsea was still waiting until after her breast reduction surgery to try hers on, but she had plenty of advice for her sister. One gown was too poofy, and yet another too plain. They bickered about everything, and Bo tried on at least ten dresses before she walked from the fitting room in a sleeveless gown with an Empire waist and beautiful draping.

“Oh, Bo,” Chelsea sighed. “That looks beautiful on you.”

And it did. Perfect for a woman of her build. There was enough built-in boning that the top kept her heavy breasts lifted and covered while the draping elongated her body.

That night, Autumn checked the home phone to see if Conner had called. He hadn’t, and she went to bed missing him. The next day she called vendors, checking in and touching base regarding an intimate Christmas charity event she’d been hired to manage at an estate in Medina. The hostess requested trays of hot and cold hors d’oeuvres be served an hour before the sit-down dinner for thirty. They’d planned on the standard four servers, but Autumn hired six. There had been times in the past when she’d had a last-minute no-show, and it was always better to err on the side of caution.

Always.

By the time Natalie dropped Conner off Sunday afternoon, it became very obvious that Sam was avoiding her. Things between them had gone back to the way they were before the Savage wedding. Back to neither her nor Sam speaking. She didn’t like it. She’d hoped they could be friends. Friends was easier, but maybe no contact with Sam was for the best. Being friends with Sam had led to getting naked. And that was bad. Or rather good. Too good, and she couldn’t be trusted. Although she was in no danger of another Hound Dog wedding and a wrist tattoo, she just might, might lose her mind and like him more than was wise. And as in business, the same was true in life. It was always better to err on the side of caution.

Always.

It wasn’t until the fourteenth of December that she finally heard from Sam himself. It was Monday, a little before noon, and he called to tell her that he’d been cleared from the injured list and would be leaving for a week. Hearing his voice made her miss him. More than was wise.

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

She’d always known he would head out on the road again. He played hockey. It was his job. Still, she was a little disappointed. For Conner’s sake, of course. “Oh.”

“So tell Conner that Nat will pick him up on the,” he paused as if he was looking at a schedule, “the twenty-second after school.”

He was going to hang up. “Sam?”

“Yeah.”

She picked up a pen and clicked it with her thumb. “Why are we back to this place?”

“What place?”

“The place where you have your assistant drop Conner off. I thought we’d become friends.”

“You wanna be friends?”

Click click. Was that so impossible? Was he so mad, suddenly disliked her so much again, that he didn’t want to be in the same building? “Yes.”

“Friends like before or after we had sex on the floor?”

Her thumb stopped. “Before.”

“Not interested.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh.” She swallowed her disappointment. It might be for the best, but she suddenly didn’t want what was for the best. She didn’t want to hate Sam and have Sam hate her. What choice did she have? “Okay.”

“I want to be your lover. I can’t pretend I don’t want more. I want to be with you, Autumn. I want to get you naked and throw your legs over my shoulders.”

She dropped the pen.

“I want to leave a mark on the inside of your thigh.”

She rose and must have had some sort of out-of-body experience. It was the only way she could explain what she heard herself say, “I have two hours before my next client, and I’m not wearing panties.”

She could practically hear him swallow just before he asked in a low, raw voice, “Are you at home?”

“My office.” She gave him the address, and he was at the door in twenty minutes. While she waited, she reached beneath her polka-dot dress and took off her underwear. She put them in a desk drawer next to her thumbtacks and paper clips.

“Lock the door behind you,” she told him, when he walked into her office. She picked up the phone and buzzed Shiloh. “I’m with a client,” she said. “Take messages.”

“Did I just see your baby daddy walk in?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She hung up as Sam flipped the lock and leaned back against the door, waiting. Waiting for her to make the first move.

And she did. She rose and unbuckled the belt around her waist. “You got here in record time.”

He might have waited for her to make the first move, but he didn’t wait for the second. He pulled his shirt over his head as he moved toward her. “I may have run a light or two.”

The dress slid down her arms and hips into a puddle of blue and white at her feet. She stepped out of it, wearing nothing but her white bra and silky slip. She reached for the buttons on the front of his jeans. He grabbed her hand and stopped her.

“Tell me what you want, Autumn. I’m never quite sure with you.”

“I want you.” She looked up into his hot gaze. The hot gaze that sent warm shivers across her skin. “Just like last time.”

“Two orgasms?”

“Yes.”

“Then what?”

“I want to be lovers.”

“For how long?” He dropped her hand. “Until you get mad and kick me out the door again?”

“I don’t want to be mad and kick you anywhere.” Not anymore.

She popped one button at a time then slid her hand into the pouch of his boxer shorts. And in case he worried that they might repeat the past, she added, “You don’t have to worry that I’ll fall in love with you again, either.” She wrapped her hand around his erection, and he sucked in a breath.

His lids lowered and he brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “What if I fall in love with you?”

She turned her face into his palm. “You won’t.”