Brazen

9

Mac finally fell asleep near dawn, and Sam crept out onto the balcony to watch the sun rise over the distant mountains. Even the incredible beauty, the deep hues of yellow and burnished red glowing against the increasingly blue sky, couldn't hold her interest. Her gaze kept straying back to the man inside.

He'd wanted to talk. She'd brushed him aside. She'd had no other choice. She had a life waiting. She and Mac had shared a week. An incredible, amazing, never-to-be-forgotten week. Could it be more? She didn't know because she hadn't let him finish. She couldn't, not until she'd sorted out her personal problems.

Thanks to Mac, she felt ready. He'd taught her how to find the woman inside herself. A woman she hadn't known existed.

She'd spent her life searching for something that had been forever out of reach. She'd done so by pleasing first her parents, then Tom. Never had she put her own needs first. She hadn't even thought to try. Without realizing it, she'd allowed herself to become empty and unfulfilled. When her mother had asked for her promise, Samantha thought she'd found their acceptance at last. She was wrong. She'd had it all along. She just needed more than they were capable of giving.

But she was no longer a little girl seeking affection. By the time her father had brought himself to the brink of disaster, bailing him out had been second nature. Sacrificing herself was something everyone expected. Even she hadn't truly questioned her decision. Until Mac had shown her all she'd be giving up.

In return for all he'd taught her, she'd given him the only gift she could before leaving. She'd asked him his name and offered hers in return. Freely given information without him having to push.

But she owed Mr. Ryan Mackenzie so much more than she could ever repay. And not just for giving her the passion-filled week she'd sought, or the love she hadn't. She gripped the iron railing in her hands as she faced the truth. She owed him for making her face herself.

And having done that, she knew.

She could not marry Tom.

If she turned her back on the woman she'd discovered, she would betray her innermost self. Worse, she'd betray Mac and their time together. Sam would never do that. She couldn't. She respected him too much to throw away everything he'd given her, not the least of which was a renewed sense of self-worth. She'd learned she couldn't sell herself for anyone, including her father.

What about your father, a little voice in her head asked? How could she bring herself to betray him? You aren't responsible for your father, Sam. Mac's words came back to her and she knew he was right. Her father was the parent, she was the child, and very often those roles became reversed with age. But that didn't mean she had to sacrifice everything. "You can't give up the rest of your life because he's having trouble with his." Mac was right about that, too. There had to be another way. "Be there for him, advise him and help him if you can." Together, she and her father would work through this, and she'd be there for him every step of the way. He'd be stronger for the experience, just as she'd be stronger once she told both Tom and her father the wedding was off.

Her stomach contracted, tightening into a knot as she acknowledged what awaited her. An annoyed and humiliated fiancé, a betrayed parent and the unemployment line. Because once she ended her engagement, Sam had no doubt Tom, in his position as her boss, would terminate her immediately. And then?

Tom would move on, find another trophy to dangle on his arm and a competent financial planner to replace her. As for her father, she'd talk to his doctors and figure out whether he was capable of working again. Relocating seemed like a possibility for them both and would spare him Tom's wrath and the loss of status and dignity. One thing she knew. Her only parent would forgive. She had to believe that. After all, her mother and father had adored one another. Didn't she deserve the same? She'd agreed to this marriage because of a promise to her mother. A promise that had given her the sense of belonging she'd desired from parents who had loved, but hadn't known how to give in the ways a child needed.

But she was a woman now. One who'd been shown all she wanted out of life. She would never love anyone the way she loved Mac, and if he didn't want her forever, she'd rather be alone than settle for less. To do otherwise would demean them both. As she walked away from the balcony and back into the room, she laced her fingers over her stomach, trying without success to still the churning inside.

Why did doing the right thing have to hurt so much? Though she planned on coming back, she didn't know what awaited her upon her return. In silence, she packed her bag and paused by the bed one last time. She glanced down at the man sprawled on top of the covers and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

She hated to leave him this way. She hated to leave him any way, but she had no choice. Too many unresolved issues remained in her life. If she stayed, she'd be tempted to throw herself into his arms, declare her undying love and refuse to face the outside world. If she stayed, she'd have to listen.

A part of her didn't want to hear him say he'd wanted their fantasy week and nothing more, though she knew she might have to face that eventually. But there was the other possibility. That he'd want her forever. Her heart beat more rapidly at the mere thought.

Sam wouldn't know what Mac desired until she confronted him. And until she freed herself from the engagement that bound her, she had no right to ask.

Leaning down, she brushed one last kiss over his lips. "I love you," she whispered softly.

Rolling over, he threw one arm above his head, but he didn't stir. Would he understand or would he hate her for slipping away before he awoke? The most she could do was hope. A tear trickled onto her cheek and she wiped the moisture onto her arm. Then she forced herself to pick up her bag and head down to the bar, closing the door behind her. At least she knew where to find him when she was ready.

Seems he'd underestimated his Samantha. Mac knew the instant she left the room, and less than ten minutes later, he heard the slam of a door and the sound of an engine. He didn't need to glance out the window to know he'd see the red taillights of her replacement rental car peeling out of The Hungry Bear parking lot.

Letting her go was the hardest thing he'd ever done. But he had no right to hold her when she so obviously wanted to be gone. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned. He'd banked on a couple of extra hours together. She'd bailed out early without saying goodbye. She was conflicted and confused, that much he understood.

He had only her parting whisper, words he wasn't meant to hear, to reassure him. "I love you, too, sweetheart." Mac said the words aloud for the first time.

He'd always thought the words would be the hard part. Never had he imagined the woman he wanted in his life would be elusive and hard to tie down. Whatever her reasons, Samantha deserved to do things on her own terms. Just as he'd decided to handle telling her the truth about him on his. Mac leaned over and reached for the phone.

An open-air lobby greeted Sam as she walked into The Resort. Plant life surrounded her, as did plush chairs and glass-top tables with Indian-drum-style bases. She placed her luggage down on the terra-cotta floor, allowing a bellman to take her bags. The hotel exuded warmth, tasteful decor, and as her fiancé had reminded her more than once, it came with a five-star rating.

"Can I help you?" A young clerk, a nice-looking man who couldn't have been more than twenty, greeted her with a smile. The eager look on his face reminded her of her own early days at her first job.

"My name's Samantha Reed. I'm with the financial conference that starts tomorrow morning." She glanced at her watch and cringed. "I realize my room probably won't be ready until much later, but I was hoping to at least store my things." She'd been in such a hurry to leave before Mac woke up that she'd forgotten she'd be temporarily homeless until a room became available.

Ignoring the pain in her chest that accompanied the mere thought of Mac, she focused on her empty stomach instead. "And I'm starving. Is there a restaurant where I could have breakfast and sit for a while?"

The young man glanced up from the computer and shot her a beaming smile. "Actually, we're all set up for you Miss Reed. Your room is ready."

She blinked in surprise. "Must have been a slow week for you to have rooms ready this early."

"I, uh, yes. We had some early checkouts." He busied himself typing information into the computer.

She glanced around while she waited. The hotel sported a comfortable atmosphere in the beige, cocoa and white color scheme she'd described to Mac in her fantasy home. Their fantasy home, she thought, feeling the onset of tears.

Obviously she couldn't put her bartender behind her. Even this luxurious hotel reminded her of Mac.

"Miss Reed?" The clerk's voice grounded her thoughts. "If you'll just sign here…"

Sam scrawled her name and accepted her white coded key.

"Room 315A. Take those elevators in the corner and someone will be around shortly with your luggage." He pointed toward an alcove nestled between several shops. "The restaurant is down one level and is already open for business. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks again…" She leaned over the counter to read the name on his tag. "Joe. There is one more thing." She hated to ask, but she needed to know. "Has a Mr. Tom Webber checked in yet? Same conference."

The clerk tapped in a few computer keys. "Why, yes. Late last night. As a matter of fact, he left this for you."

A nervous fluttering arose in her stomach. "Thank you." She looked down to see an invitation to a firm cocktail party late this afternoon and a handwritten note informing her he'd be by to pick her up fifteen minutes before. So they could arrive together, arm in arm. A command performance, part of her obligation as his soon-to-be wife. She'd have to get to Tom before the party or perform as planned and wait until afterward to talk to him. The thought made her ill.

She glanced at her watch. It was too early to awaken her fiancé no matter how much she wanted this trauma behind her. Well, she could take care of other things in the meantime. At least her father was an early riser, and he deserved to hear her decision before Tom called him, raving about broken deals and dire consequences.

As she headed for the bank of elevators in the corner, she wondered if Tom might accept things better than she anticipated. Perhaps he'd made idle threats to her father, ones he'd never meant to carry out. He'd seen a man weaker than himself and preyed on that weakness. It didn't mean he'd follow through.

Tom was a nice-looking man, more than capable of attracting women. This wasn't a love match, and there were plenty of women more beautiful than she was, women more willing and better suited to play the role of a rich man's wife. Not that she believed anything could salvage her position in Tom's company. He was ruthless in business, and his personal life would be no different. To save his ego, Tom would never keep her around. To save her sanity and find the life that suited her best, Sam would give her notice regardless.

Her room was at the end of a very long, elegant corridor. Light wooden hand-carved sconces lined the walls and lit the way. If she understood the signs correctly, this floor would be on the pool level, but her room was in the opposite direction.

Without warning, the rooms became farther apart until there were no consecutive doors anymore. When she reached room 315A, she discovered there was also a 315B. Connecting rooms, she assumed, and her stomach cramped in a tight knot.

She hoped Tom hadn't gotten any crazy ideas about spending any intimate time with his fiancée. Until now he'd been content with holding hands in public for appearance's sake. She hoped that hadn't changed. It would only complicate what had to be done.

She inserted the card key and opened the door to her room. Suite, she mentally corrected herself as she took in the spacious area that defined the word luxury. Not one amenity was missing. She stood in an oversize room with a kitchen in one corner and living area in another. Her sweeping gaze caught a plush couch, tables, telephone, VCR and large-screen television. A person could live here well beyond one weekend and never want for a thing. There had to be a mistake. She should have realized it the minute the clerk told her there was a room available on an early weekday morning.

Curiosity took over, and she decided to explore before reporting the error. One partially open door led to a bathroom. She peeked inside. Taupe-and-cream marble, not the standard ceramic usually found in hotels, covered the floors, vanities and Jacuzzi tub. She glanced upward, seeing the full-service shower massage with nozzles everywhere, even in the marble walls.

Wow. She and Mac would have a blast in a place like this. Imagine all the uses he would find for the myriad jets in the Jacuzzi and stall shower. Heat blasted her body as she recalled their first time together in the old tub over the bar. She wrapped her arms around her, but it wasn't the same. She missed him already.

The extravagance here was impressive, but she'd been happier at Bear's. Because Mac had been with her. This suite and its luxuries meant nothing to her without him.

Finishing her brief tour, she noticed two more unopened doors. One she assumed would lead to a bedroom, the other possibly to her fiancé. She shivered at the thought. No noises sounded from either room. If Tom was inside, at least he was still asleep.

Sam quietly picked up the phone and called the front desk, explaining her predicament to Joe.

"I assure you there's been no error, Miss Reed."

"I've been to many conferences, Joe, and I can assure you my company doesn't splurge on suites for its employees." A standard room would be more likely.

"Let me check." Sam heard the clicking of computer keys before the clerk came back on the line. "Well, you're right."

"I knew it."

"You've been upgraded."

"Courtesy of?" she asked, but she already knew the answer. And she refused to remain here and be obligated to Tom when she knew she was about to break off their engagement.

"Hang on a minute, let me check."

Sam drummed her fingernails against the glass tabletop. As things stood now, she'd have to pay for her expenses out of her own pocket, and she certainly couldn't afford to splurge on a suite. She'd have to budget carefully until she found a new job, and she didn't want to dip into her small savings unless absolutely necessary.

What kind of financial planner would she be if she didn't heed the advice she gave her own clients? Save and prepare for the future had always been her mantra. Too bad her dad hadn't listened. Then she wouldn't be in this predicament now.

Wrong. If she'd asserted herself from the beginning, if she'd taken control of the situation another way, she wouldn't be in this predicament now. She refused to blame her parent because she'd succumbed to old habits, agreeing to play the dutiful daughter out of a sense of misplaced need. Part of her new outlook meant taking responsibility for her role in this mess.

"Miss Reed? This upgrade's on the house," Joe informed her.

"Are you sure? But why…"

"I'm sorry, but I've got to run. An emergency, you understand. If you have any questions, just stop by the front desk later." A click was followed by a dial tone.

She'd been disconnected. "Five-star service my…" At least she knew Tom wasn't lurking in the next room. She slammed down the receiver. Loud.

If her accommodations weren't thanks to Tom, then whom? An even better question would be why?

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Valet," a voice called.

Great. Now her luggage would be deposited in this room, making it even more difficult for her to leave. She accepted her bags and tipped the bellman, then she called down to the front desk one more time. Joe insisted things were in order, refused to listen to her arguments and claimed there were no other available single rooms.

Sam tossed her arms in the air. "What else can go wrong?"

She tried her father, got his answering machine and left a message asking him to get back to her later. Ignoring the early hour, she called the hotel operator and asked to be connected with Tom Webber's room. His personal voice mail, another amenity of this lovely hotel, informed her he had an early tee-time and lunch with clients, but he would meet up with everyone at the reception this evening.

She raised her gaze heavenward. "I had to ask?" Lowering herself onto the small couch, she propped her feet up and sighed. Confession was postponed, and all attempts at room switches would have to be done in person.

She had a day to kill. A day she could have spent with Mac, if she hadn't been so darn stubborn, so… The phone rang, cutting her off. "Hello?"

"Hi there, Sammy Jo."

Her heart began a rhythmic pounding that echoed in her ears. "Mac? Is that you?" Stupid question, but she was so relieved to hear from him she could have cried.

"Anyone else call you Sammy Jo… besides Zee, and he's outside waxing my car with no access to a phone."

"Waxing your… He's eighty years old. Do you want to give the man heatstroke?"

"I'm joking, Samantha."

"Oh." She laughed, even as she swiped at a stray tear that trickled down her cheek. "But I'm not. No one calls me Sammy Jo but you."

"Damn right," he muttered. "And don't you forget it."

He wasn't angry. She would have heard it in his voice. At least she thought she would have, but she couldn't be sure. "Mac?"

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"I… I'm glad you called." She paused, listening to his steady breathing, letting the sound burrow into her heart and reassure her. "And I'm sorry I walked out on you this morning. But I have things I need to take care of here, and I didn't know how to say goodbye, and now I'm sorry because we would have had more time, and I don't know if you're angry. Of course you have every right to be, but…"

"You're rambling," he interrupted her.

She grinned, pictured him grinning back, and the tightness in her chest eased for the first time since she'd left him in bed. "I know."

"Because you're nervous."

"Yes."

"I can take care of that, you know." His husky tone caused every nerve ending in her body to quiver. He aroused her with innuendo, relaxed her with his voice and touched her with a simple phone call.

She squeezed the receiver in her hand. "How?"

"Trust me, sweetheart."

"I do."

The simple admission did Mac in. He eased himself back against the pillow, wishing he weren't alone, that he didn't have to settle for her voice over the phone.

But the bar needed work, and Mac wasn't one to turn the reins over until the place had been cleaned up. He wouldn't ask Zee to help out, either. The old man had planned his weekly trip to the cemetery to visit his wife's grave. Mac couldn't intrude on his solitude. So until Bear returned in a few hours, Mac was on his own.

Think resourceful, Mackenzie. "Okay, sweetheart. Relax and tell me where you are."

She sighed. "My room."

He laughed. "I know that. I called you, remember? Describe it."

"Well, there's been some sort of mistake, and right now I'm in a suite. It's incredible. The colors, they're like a dream. My dream, the one I told you about, remember?"

As if he could forget. A house, a home, children, his and hers. Samantha's soft voice drifted over him like a cloud. She was happy in his hotel, in the suite that adjoined his, the one his sister used to live in before she got married and moved a few hours away.

"And Mac?"

"Yes?"

"You should see the bathroom. The colors are heaven, and the tub? It's a Jacuzzi." She'd dropped her voice, and the husky sound brought him back to the moment he'd first seen her, dirty from the desert but irresistible, nonetheless.

"You know what else? It's got a shower massage." She paused a beat. "Hand-held, Mac."

He groaned. A pulsing began in his groin that only grew with each image she evoked. He'd pictured her in his tub, naked and relaxed, all soapy skin, legs spread wide…

"Are you there?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "Yes. I thought I was the one that was supposed to be taking care of you."

"I thought we could take care of each other." The pause this time seemed less deliberate. "We were good at that, weren't we?" she finally asked.

"You know we were. Have you eaten yet this morning?" He grasped for everyday conversation. Safe conversation that led him away from thoughts of Samantha, shower massages and making love. Long distance didn't cut it.

A direct flight from Arizona to New York wouldn't cut it, either.

"No breakfast yet, but I'm starving." She let the word drawl out on her tongue in a way that shot his resolutions to hell and back. "What about you? Are you hungry?" she asked.

Ravenous, he thought, but not for food. He glanced at the clock. A couple of more hours and this damn charade would be over with. "What are your plans?" he asked, steering her back to safe ground.

"Well, I have a cocktail party around four today, which is an obligatory thing, and then I've got… some personal business to take care of."

At which point he'd be back where he belonged and more in control of the situation. And himself. So far, he'd managed to keep the truth from Sam by offering Joe, his newest but most eager employee, a bonus if he managed to have Sam treated like a princess. One who had no idea who'd placed her on the throne.

That was Mac's job, one he planned on handling tonight.

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'll be doing my usual thing later on."

"Sounds good. Wish I could be there."

You will, sweetheart. You will. "I've got to clean things up around here… before Bear comes back."

"I never got to meet him."

Her wistful voice knocked a hole in his heart. "Maybe someday."

"Yeah. Maybe." Though he hated like hell leaving her with the impression that things between them were uncertain, she'd given him no choice. The telephone hadn't been invented for personal revelations this big. "Got to go, sweetheart."

"Bye, Mac."

He waited until she hung up the phone before doing the same. Then he dragged himself into the bathroom and turned the cold water on in the shower, full force. It would help ease the ache of desire, but not completely.

Only Samantha could do that. She had no idea what she did to him, and he wasn't talking just physically. Their relationship transcended sex. She taught him new things about himself, about his ability to love and give, but more important, she seemed to learn more about herself each day as well.

He finally had her where he wanted her, but the thought made him uneasy. As long as she remained in the dark, everything would be fine.