Brazen

10

Sam bolted upright in bed. A sheen of perspiration covered her body, courtesy of the sensual dream she'd just experienced. Strategic parts of her body still tingled with the memory of Mac's hands on her skin, his lips tasting hers. She wrapped her arms around her waist to still the trembling, the yearning for something she couldn't have.

Because although Mac had called, he hadn't mentioned seeing her again. It hurt, she admitted, and she'd have to deal with that.

First she had to cope with reality, and that meant getting herself out of this gilded cage she couldn't afford. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her purse when she caught sight of her left hand and Mac's ring.

The ring she had to remove and replace with Tom's… at least until she officially ended things between them. Although she wanted nothing more than to keep Mac's ring close to her heart, she wouldn't humiliate her fiancé, despite his threats to do the same to her father. She might not love him, he might not love her, but they had an agreement. Once she'd said yes, he'd never been anything but accommodating and reasonable in their dealings. He deserved the same respect from her.

Her hands shook, and as she slipped the turquoise-and-silver ring off her finger, a premonition shook her, one similar to the eerie feeling she'd experienced in the tourist shop. As long as you wear this ring, you will be wed for eternity. Did that mean if she removed the ring, she'd break the spell?

"What spell?" Sam shook her head at her foolish musings. She'd never believed in such nonsense before and she refused to start now.

After carefully placing the special ring in her purse, she eased Tom's three-carat diamond attention-getter onto her finger. The gold band felt cold against her skin. Suppressing a shiver, she darted into the hall and shut her door behind her.

Back in the lobby, she waited until Joe finished with another couple before waving to capture his attention.

"Good afternoon, Miss Reed."

She smiled at the courteous young man. "Hello, Joe."

"What can I do for you?"

"Well, like I said on the phone, there's a problem with the room, I mean the suite."

"It's not to your liking?"

"I like it just fine, who wouldn't? It's just that I don't belong there. I don't know who authorized the upgrade, but it's a mistake. One I can't afford. So please check your computer and find me an ordinary, standard room."

He shook his head. "I already told you there aren't any other rooms available."

She wanted to scream in frustration. "You said this morning you had quite a few early checkouts."

"And just as many check-ins. If it makes you feel better, this one won't cost you…"

He must have caught her warning look because he stuttered before continuing. "This won't cost you more than the standard room you think you should have." He practically beamed again. "Satisfied?"

She slapped her hand on the desk. "Not by a long shot." But it wasn't Joe's fault. "I'm sorry. But please just put my name on a waiting list or something and let me know if an opening becomes available. Is that all right?"

"Yes, Miss Reed."

"Good."

His gaze had settled on her hand. Her left hand. "That's a lovely ring."

"Thank you," she murmured.

"I always knew Mr. Mackenzie had good taste. He's my idol, you know. I'd like to learn as much as I can about hotel management from him and then…"

Sam's brain screeched to a halt after his first few words. And she wasn't so certain she wanted it to click back into gear.

"Joe," she said, interrupting his running monologue.

"Yes?"

"You said Mr. Mackenzie." So what? Surely there were dozens of Mackenzies in Arizona. It was a big state. It didn't mean anything. "That wouldn't be Mr. Ryan Mackenzie, would it?"

He grinned. "Oh, he said you were sharp and had a great sense of humor. That's funny, Miss Reed. Of course it's Ryan Mackenzie. The boss said to take care of you until he got back, but he didn't say he'd be popping the question in the meantime. But look." He lifted her hand up to the light. "He most certainly has."

"The boss… as in manager?"

Joe blinked and didn't answer. Obviously he was unsure whether she was joking or whether he'd blundered. She had no desire to cause him problems, but she needed to know the truth.

She forced a grin. "Relax, Joe. I'm kidding. I know Mr. Mackenzie's status here as well as you."

His shoulders slumped in relief. "I knew that. I mean, I'm astute. I may never be an owner like him, I couldn't afford to purchase anything this grand, but I'll work my way up…"

Sam patted Joe's hand. "I'm sure you will." As soon as he learned the meaning of discretion and the value of silence.

A hollow, numbing feeling settled in her stomach. "About the room, I'll take it up with Mr. Mackenzie," she said woodenly before turning and walking away.

She made her way through the lobby in a haze of shock and disappointment. When she found an empty, oversize club chair, she settled in, curling her legs beneath her.

He'd lied. Her sexy bartender wasn't one. Oh, he was sexy all right, but he was no bartender. She wanted to be angry, furious and betrayed. And she was.

Even though that made her a hypocrite, because she'd done some omitting of her own during this week's retreat. She couldn't hold his lies against him, considering she'd wanted him to forgive hers. But she'd wanted him forever, while he'd wanted nothing of the sort.

His mistruths had a purpose, one that was now glaring and clear. This week had been a fantasy, nothing more. While she was giving herself to him, revealing a part of her nature she'd never shown another soul, a part she'd never known existed, he was withholding his true self.

While she was hoping and praying for a future, he was enjoying her newfound sexual freedom. The irony wasn't lost on her. Mac had gotten from this week everything she thought she'd wanted when she'd arrived.

And now? To Mac, the conference and her convenient stay at his hotel was probably a way to keep her around until she left for home. So he could continue enjoying their sexual exploits. She didn't want to believe it, but what else had this week been, but a festival of sex and sin?

Her heart begged her to be fair as a barrage of questions assaulted her. The emotions and feelings, could they really be all one sided? And what about the ring, Sammy Jo? It figures that little voice would return now. Oh, Mac must have had a good laugh over the silver trinket she was afraid would bankrupt him. She'd been a cheap date, Sam thought wryly.

And what about his dreams and his revelations? The desire to build a house, the fantasy about children? "You said it yourself, Sammy Jo." He'd told her from the beginning they were indulging in their fantasies, and fantasies had a definite end.

When she left, he'd probably wave goodbye and say thanks for a good time. Why not? She'd provided one willingly.

Sam didn't know what hurt more, her stomach or her heart. Looks like she'd be ending her engagement but winding up alone after all.

She buried her face in her hands as the realization washed over her. She'd gotten everything she came for. And not a damn thing more.

Mac strode through the lobby of his hotel. Knowing he couldn't risk running into Samantha, he'd showered, shaved and changed before leaving Bear's. Upon his arrival at The Resort, he tucked his bag away in his office closet, checked on his employees and made himself as scarce as possible.

Now a little before four in the afternoon, he needed to make sure things were on schedule. "Everything all set, Joe?" Mac leaned against the front desk in full view of the side elevators, so he could catch sight of Samantha before she could view him.

"Just like you instructed on the phone, Mr. Mackenzie."

After a week of being just Mac, he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder and see who else the young clerk could be referring to.

The name wasn't the only thing that felt strange. His clothes, a pair of black trousers, a white linen shirt and a sport jacket, standard for Resort clientele-hell, it was standard attire for him-felt stiff and awkward on his body.

Mac envied Bear and the relaxed comfort of his life. He never had before. Was it because his closest friend had found himself a soul mate, a woman who was willing to readjust her life and priorities in order to fit into his? Or was it because the time had come for Mac to stop living out of a hotel and move into a real home? A little of both, he assumed. He just couldn't be sure he'd end up with either.

But his friend had. Like Samantha, Bear's woman had merely been passing through his part of the world.

Impossibilities.

Improbabilities.

Bear would never desert Zee, just as Zee for all his zest and zeal, would never enjoy life outside of the Southwest. Which was why the old man didn't know all the details yet. It had taken some time, but Bear's lady, now his fiancée, understood that one of them had to sacrifice if they were to have a life together. Mac understood the same thing.

But with a hotel this size, his sister two hours away and his mother aging and incapable of handling responsibilities this huge, he couldn't be the one to give. That left Samantha, a woman with an older father and responsibilities of her own. Compromise, he reminded himself.

He turned to Joe. The guy had worked an extra shift and would be clocking out soon. "The flowers?" Mac asked.

"All set, sir."

Although he understood the necessity, the formality grated.

"The room will be filled as soon as she leaves for her cocktail hour," Joe said.

"The dinner?"

"Taken care of." If the clerk's smile grew any wider, his face would crack. Apparently pleasing the boss was high on his list.

" Champagne?"

"Done."

Mac had never been a hearts-and-flowers, romantic kind of guy. He still wasn't, and based on what he knew of Samantha, all he needed to do was explain why he'd neglected to tell her the truth. He didn't need to impress her with his wealth and surround her with luxury.

He might not need to do those things, but he wanted to. More than anything, he wanted to take care of her, to know she was safe in his suite of rooms and that she was his to come home to every night. He wanted her to know she was loved.

Because she didn't expect anything from him, he wanted to give her all that he had. And if he had to be honest with himself, he couldn't help think, courtesy of Zee, that some honest-to-goodness romance would smooth the way for the truth.

And a future. "The ring. Was it delivered?" Mac asked. He'd called in a favor and asked a good friend, a jeweler in town, to help him out.

"It's gorgeous. Fits her like she was born to wear it. If I do say so myself, you have exquisite taste, Mr. Mackenzie."

He'd been referring to the one he expected to be delivered, not the one currently on Samantha's finger. "Maybe the extra shift was one too many, Joe." Or the kid was a bigger kiss-up than Mac had originally thought. Although his enthusiasm and hard work were commendable, he often went overboard. If Joe thought he could butter Mac up by gushing over the turquoise-and-silver ring, he had a lot more to learn.

Not that Mac didn't love Sam's ring and all it represented. He did. But this kid wouldn't know that. "I'll check in with Jim myself," Mac muttered. If his friend said the package would be here, it would. Still it couldn't hurt to check.

After all, what was a marriage proposal without a diamond ring?

"Uh, Mr. Mackenzie?"

"Yes?"

"Miss Reed at one o'clock," The kid nodded toward the front desk. He'd been watching too many James Bond movies, Mac thought, but at least one of them had remained alert.

Mac had nearly been caught unaware, and he moved to the side of check-in behind a marble pillar. Too much hinged on tonight's surprise to blow things now. His location hid him well. He had a clear view of the front desk and of Samantha as she approached.

His first look stunned him. He should have been prepared. He'd known, or at least sensed, what kind of world she came from. Even so, the woman approaching the desk didn't resemble his Samantha. After a week of seeing her, sometimes in short skirts, other times in a casual dress that hugged her curves, and more often than not, stark naked, her outfit now was something of a shock.

Sure, the silk dress clung to her breasts and accentuated her hips and curves, but it covered much more than it revealed with its high collar and long sleeves. Her dark hair, in stark contrast to the cream-colored silk, had been pulled on top of her head with a few stray strands brushing her shoulders.

She appeared regal, cool and aloof, all words he'd used regarding other women who frequented this hotel, but none he'd ever thought to use about the woman who'd spent the week in his bed. Until now. Mac would bet The Resort she wasn't wearing sexy lace underwear beneath that dress.

"Excuse me."

A deep male voice sounded from behind her as an older man came up by her side. Mac drew the line at eavesdropping and snooping even in his own hotel, but he couldn't leave without calling attention to himself, so he waited.

"Yes, sir?" Joe asked.

"My fiancée is expecting a call from her father. Please have her paged at the cocktail party in the Western Ballroom if the call comes through."

"My pleasure, sir."

Mac stifled a chuckle. At least Joe kissed up to the guests as well.

"And your fiancée's name?"

The man laughed, a rumble from deep in his throat. "Why, this young lady here," he said with pride.

Mac expected him to pull a woman from behind him. Instead he reached for Samantha's hand and rested their hands on the counter.

Mac's gut twisted painfully. He'd been in barroom fights in his youth, but this punch to his stomach was much more brutal and infinitely more severe.

"But… but…" Joe stuttered and shot his boss a confused look. Mac placed his fingers over his lips, indicating the clerk shouldn't give him away, and nodded that Joe should go along. After all, the older man knew what he was talking about.

His Samantha had an extremely large diamond on the third finger of her left hand. The same finger that had once held Mac's silver ring. The token of his affection. Token being the operative word.

What did she need with his tin ring when she had that huge bauble hidden away? For that matter, what did she need with a penniless worker when she had a rich man waiting? He now understood why she'd dodged personal questions and avoided his attempts to get closer.

Mac studied the other man, wishing he could criticize, but the guy was well-dressed and not the potbellied aging gigolo he often saw with the younger women here. The only thing Mac could jump on was age, which brought one of two choices to mind.

Had Samantha amused herself with Mac, the bartender, enjoying a fun-filled week of sex before settling down with the rich but older catch? Or had she pegged Ryan Mackenzie within minutes of entering The Hungry Bear and set her sights on his wealth immediately? Lord knows Zee had a big-enough mouth, and Mac hadn't exactly sworn the older man to secrecy.

He didn't know which possibility was worse.

They started to walk away when Samantha turned back to the desk. "Joe?"

"Yes, Miss Reed?"

"Has Mr. Mackenzie returned yet?"

The younger man opened and closed his mouth while Mac held his breath until Joe responded, "No, not yet." The kid just earned himself a raise, Mac thought.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Watching the couple walk away, he clenched his hands into tight fists. He had his answer.

The past week came back to him in flashes of truth. She'd come to him that first night in the storeroom and played up to him until he'd asked her to stay. She hadn't jumped right into his bed, but teased and flirted until his control hung by a thread. The sex had been incredible, beyond his wildest imaginings. Yet his every attempt at emotional intimacy was met by her turning his attention back to their physical relationship. Even on the day they'd shared their dreams, she'd tried to pull away. Yet she'd finally bared her soul. Or so he'd thought.

But a woman who knew all along she was engaged to another man wasn't capable of sharing anything. Least of all her heart. She'd merely seen Mac as a better prospect and had gone after it.

Why marry a staid, conservative… dull type if she had a raging inferno waiting for her instead? Hell, the passion and fire between them burned so strong it nearly consumed them both, Mac couldn't deny that truth. He doubted Samantha could, either. So she'd told him what he wanted to hear. "I love you," being the words he had in mind.

If she'd been after sex alone, she wouldn't have whispered those three little words before her abrupt departure. But a woman with an agenda, one who'd strung him along, who'd whetted his appetite and curiosity from day one, who'd fed him every fantasy he wanted to hear… That woman probably sensed he was awake and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, wanting him to react accordingly.

And he had.

He ignored his thudding heart. He ignored the warning words in his brain telling him something was wrong. That his Samantha didn't have it in her to lead him on, to hurt him on purpose. Because despite all he'd viewed in the years since opening The Resort, he'd fallen for the very act he'd tried so hard to avoid.

Samantha epitomized every woman who walked into this hotel. The only difference was her ability to fool him. He didn't want to believe, but he couldn't discount what he'd seen. Mac had twenty-twenty vision.

He also had no trouble hearing, and she'd asked for him by name. She knew. For how long?

"Joe?"

"Yes, sir?" The kid looked as if he wanted to back off and comfort him all at the same time. The thought made Mac want to throw up. It also made him mad as hell. He didn't need anyone's sympathy.

"In your dealings with Sam… Ms. Reed, did you happen to discuss this hotel?"

The clerk paused in thought. "Yes, sir."

Hope sprang to life inside him. "And you told her I owned the place?"

Joe frowned. "Let me think. No, sir. She joked a little and I wasn't sure whether I'd blown things at first, but I believe her exact words were, I know Mr. Mackenzie's status here as well as you."

"I see." And he did, only too well.

"Should I… um, cancel your plans?"

"No." Mac slapped his hand on the desk. "Leave everything as is." Why go to the trouble of changing things now?

To think he'd spent a week feeling guilty when his lie of omission paled in comparison to Samantha's. No, he wouldn't change his plans. He wanted the satisfaction of seeing her face when she walked into a room full of flowers.

He wanted her to think she'd gotten everything she'd calculated and planned for.

And most of all, he wanted to see her expression when he yanked everything out from under her.

Because only then would she know how it felt to be taken for a soaring ride and then dropped hard to the ground. And because one small part of his heart wanted to hear her explanation. Even though it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference.

Her feet ached from standing in pumps that weren't made for the shape of the human foot. As soon as Sam made it to her room, these shoes were going in the trash. So was this outfit that looked like she'd rifled through her mother's closet, playing dress up.

Which in a sense she had. Tom preferred she dressed classy and sedate. Though he liked his women young and beautiful, he appreciated presentation. He wanted other men to envy him, not because he'd picked up someone who dressed to attract attention, but because he'd chosen the finest. Beauty speaks for itself, he'd said, and half her wardrobe had been acquired in the last six months to accommodate him and fulfill her end of the bargain.

Which had finally come to an end.

She stepped off the elevator and pulled her cream-colored pumps, bought to match her cream-colored dress, off her feet. Padding down the hall in stocking feet felt nothing short of heaven. Similar to the way she'd felt leaving Tom behind in the hotel bar.

She'd wanted privacy. He'd preferred the bar. She'd explained what she had to say was better done in private. He'd insisted she looked too beautiful to waste on an empty room. Finally Sam had given in and found a corner where they could be alone. She couldn't help it if he insisted on being dumped in public.

He'd taken the news gracefully. She knew he would. Tom was nothing if not civilized, and he'd never make a scene. But he had quietly reminded her that her father's reputation was on the line. To which she'd just as quietly asked him why he needed to pay for a wife when other women would line up to do the honors. The thought had silenced him for a while, and Sam could only hope he'd keep quiet at the country club regarding her father's financial state. Which, as Tom also reminded her, wouldn't be improving any time soon. No installments of money would be forthcoming to pay his debts.

She'd known that as well, and thanks to her dad's phone call earlier, he did, too. She'd been paged and had rushed to a private pay phone to return the call. Funny, but her father had sounded almost relieved. Maybe she'd underestimated him. She'd promised him they'd find a different solution and they'd talk when she got home, but her father hadn't hung up without telling her he loved her. A swell of emotion clogged her throat on hearing those words. She didn't have to sacrifice her life to gain his love.

Old patterns, Sam thought. He'd cajoled her into marriage and she'd agreed without fuss. He must have known she would. He also must have sensed her unhappiness. She should have taken control and ended things sooner. Everyone would have been better off.

Except that she'd have never met Mac. Never enjoyed this once-in-a-lifetime week. Though she wouldn't have her happily ever after, she'd treasure the time they'd shared. But she still had to face him once more. He'd lied and so had she. Sam couldn't plan the rest of her life without confronting the man she loved.

And she did have a life to plan since Tom's parting shot left her immediately unemployed. Also not a surprise. She'd reached her room, and she was dying to change out of this awful dress. Grabbing her shoes with one hand, she opened her door with the other. The suite was dark except for a dim light shining in the bedroom. She didn't remember turning the lamps off in the sitting area, but maybe housekeeping had been in.

She dropped her pumps and made her way through the dark suite toward the bedroom, unzipping the back of her dress and shimmying out of it as she walked. The silk pooled at her feet and she kicked it aside. Freedom had never felt so good. As she reached the bedroom, she hit the light switch on the wall.

The sound of a sharply drawn breath startled her and she whirled around, belatedly realizing she had nothing on her to use against an intruder.

"Damned if I didn't underestimate you again." She thought he muttered something about underwear, but she couldn't be sure.

"Mac." She exhaled a sigh of relief. At the sight of him, she forgot everything except her racing, pounding heart and the sheer joy of being in the same room with him again. She started a forward leap into his arms, but the hard look on his face stopped her midstride.

Suddenly she felt vulnerable and alone, two things she'd never felt with him before, and she wrapped her arms around herself to cover what little she could.

"You were expecting someone else?" he asked.

She studied his face, puzzled by the harsh tone, and said the first thing that came to mind. "You shaved."

He raised a hand to where his mustache had been. "I had my reasons."

"I see." She didn't. Not at all, but a sense of foreboding chilled her. She didn't recognize the stranger now standing in front of her. And the lack of a mustache wasn't the only thing that separated him from the bartender she'd known.

But she hadn't really known him, that little voice in her head reminded her. His masculine scent was the same, so was the effect it had on her body. Sex, she told herself, was apparently all that they'd had.

Her thudding heart made that statement a lie.

Reaching out, he toyed with the lace strap of her bra, his fingers idly playing with the material while his calloused hands whispered along her skin. She trembled beneath his touch, but his hands felt as cold as his voice had sounded.

"I thought maybe the sexy lingerie, the underwear that doesn't cover a thing, the tousled hair falling over your shoulders… was in preparation."

"For?"

"A seduction. You're good at that." His darkened eyes told her he remembered, too. But he played with her and she didn't appreciate the game.

"Of whom?" she snapped.

"That's what I'd like to know." Releasing her bra strap, he walked toward the window that overlooked the patio of greenery she'd admired earlier in the day.

As she watched him go, she looked around her for the first time. Multicolored bouquets with flowers she couldn't name decorated the room along with matching balloons in reds, pinks, whites and a variety of other shades. Her heart kicked into high gear, and hope blossomed like the flowers surrounding her.

She felt light-headed and dizzy. On the edge of a precipice, on the verge of getting all she wanted. Maybe. Was he upset she hadn't noticed his romantic efforts? Embarrassed he'd gone to the trouble? Maybe this was his way of apologizing for misleading her, and if so, she'd forgive readily. Once she leveled with him, perhaps they could start over.

She hoped with all her heart they could begin anew.

Ignoring her near-naked state-she'd stopped being embarrassed around him sometime after the first couple of incidents-she walked to where he stood and touched the rigid line of his back. "Mac."

He stiffened further.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner. I had a lot on my mind, but… it's so beautiful. And you did all this for me?"

"Yes."

"Thank you." She wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling the ripple of muscles against her skin for a brief second before he jerked away.

"Don't," he muttered.

"I don't understand." Fear slowly replaced hope.

"No, I don't suppose you would. I bought this for you, too." Turning, he opened a small jeweler's box.

A large diamond ring glistened brightly against the black velvet lining. "Mac, it's beautiful…"

"And even larger than this." He pulled her hand roughly out in front of her. Her silver-and-turquoise ring hovered between them.

She met his gaze. Confusion sparked his eyes, then dark anger followed.

Not understanding his reaction, she glanced down at his ring. She'd put it back on as soon as she'd left the bar. She'd wanted something of the Mac she'd known, even if he had turned out to be someone different than the man she'd believed him to be. "I love this ring," she said. "I thought you did, too." She lifted her gaze back to his.

"You're good, Sammy Jo. Better than I even imagined." He snapped the box closed and shoved it into his front pants pocket. "Tell me something. Would you have said yes?"

"Of course, but…"

"Of course. One question, then. What would you have done with fiancé number one?"