Brazen

12

Sam slid the box of office supplies, reference manuals and desktop accessories into a corner of her apartment. At least with the conference still going on, she'd been able to pack up and get out of the office without another confrontation with Tom.

The sizzle and drip of the electric coffeemaker drew her attention, and she poured herself a steaming cup of caffeine. She'd need all the energy she could muster to make some decisions about her life, and she wanted to start tonight. She stared at the classified section of the paper, though she had little drive to search the New York ads. Her heart and her soul remained in Arizona. With Mac.

Despite their last meeting, everything she wanted and desired out of life came back to their week together. But she'd blown that by not being honest from the beginning, or at least as soon as she realized her true feelings. She wondered what difference her honesty would have made. When all was said and done, she hadn't known him at all.

Hadn't she? If she shut her eyes, she smelled his masculine scent, she felt his hands easing their way up her body, and she heard his sensual voice in her dreams. In the dead of night, she conjured up the deep sounds whispered between them as they'd made love. She'd known and loved him well. Which was why his accusations and harsh tone hurt so very much. She'd left, but getting on that plane had been the hardest thing she'd ever done.

The loud buzzer signaling a visitor startled her, and coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup and onto her white lacquered table. Without taking the time to look for a napkin, she jumped up to answer the call. It was probably her father. She'd made some suggestions, and he'd promised to consider the options she'd offered and come by to discuss them. The one thing Sam didn't want was to be out of work and living on her savings for too long. Not with her father's debts still outstanding.

She'd already put in some calls to headhunters in various states where she thought both she and her father could start over. She'd liked Arizona, maybe too much, considering, but she couldn't get on with her life if she was constantly worrying about running into Mac. Of course, it was a big state, but the memories there would be overpowering.

She pressed the answer button that released the door latch downstairs and spoke into the intercom. "Come on up, Dad." She unlatched the door, opened the lock and waited.

Two knocks sounded seconds later. "Don't be so formal," she called as the door slid open wide.

"Hello, Sammy Jo."

At the sound of that deep voice, her heart slammed against her chest and she glanced up. Since she wasn't asleep and couldn't be dreaming, that had to be Mac standing in the small entryway, and oh, was he a welcome sight. Dressed in tan slacks and a white linen collared shirt, he was imposing, refined and still an extremely sexy man.

She might be so happy to see him she wanted to jump into his arms, but his very appearance reminded her why she had to keep her distance. He wasn't her Mac. The man standing in her doorway seemed as out of place in her casual apartment as he was in her life.

She didn't recognize him dressed like this, but wasn't that the point? What did she know of Ryan Mackenzie, The Resort owner?

"How did you find me?" she asked. What are you doing here? would have made her seem too eager. Sam just wasn't sure she was ready to lay her heart out for him to trample again.

He shrugged. "Being an owner has its advantages."

At her obviously confused expression, he grinned. "I checked your registration card at the hotel."

"I see. And you're here to…?"

"Explain."

Anger quickly followed, and she cocked her head to the side. "The way you let me explain?"

He winced. "Maybe I deserve that, but I didn't come all this way to be turned away, Sammy Jo."

The sound of his voice caused a yearning deep inside her soul. She'd probably hate herself later, but she asked, anyway. "Then what did you come for?"

"You." He stepped inside. He stood so close, everything else faded. The blare of the car horns outside and the hum of her air-conditioning unit receded. His unique scent worked to heighten her awareness as well as her memories. "I made you a promise and I didn't keep it."

She recognized the husky undertones in his voice, and she struggled against the automatic arousal that swept through her body. "What promise was that?" she asked.

"I told you we'd use all twelve. We still have some left." He grinned, a charming smile meant to disarm her.

Unfortunately, they'd passed the point where sexual innuendo worked to lighten the tension. "Interesting you should pick that point, Mac. Seems I was right. Sex was about the only honest thing we shared. Everything else between us was a lie."

His hurt gaze cut deep. "You might have convinced yourself of that, but it isn't true."

"No? I don't even recognize you dressed like that." She fingered the collar of his expensive shirt. "And minus the mustache, I'm facing a stranger."

"External things, Sammy Jo. And just one damned convenient excuse so you can protect yourself from me." He circled her wrist with his fingers in a grip so gentle, the gesture caused tears to pool in her eyes. "You don't need to, you know."

Was he right? Was she protecting herself from this man who, until he'd uncovered her deception, had never done a thing but give her pleasure and make her happy? Yes. Because she was afraid. How did she know what had been real between them and what had been part of their fantasy? How did she distinguish between reality and the facades they'd presented in place of the truth?

He reached forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, one that must have fallen out of her ponytail. His fingertips grazed her neck and she trembled, closing her eyes. The gesture gave Mac hope.

It had taken him more time than he'd wanted to arrange things at home, and three days had passed before he could arrive with the news he wanted to give her. Even if he didn't look like himself, he was still the same man she'd fallen in love with. He only hoped she'd realize that fact.

Nothing much he could do about the mustache now. He'd taken one look in the mirror and remembered her words. "Don't ever shave that mustache… At least not while I'm around." Then he'd conjured her image, his Sammy Jo with another man and he'd reacted… to prove to himself she wouldn't be in his life anymore and to give himself some semblance of control, something he hadn't felt since she'd fallen into his arms at the bar.

"You came for me," she said at last, sounding surprised. Wide-eyed, she met his gaze.

Damn, but he loved this woman, and he owed her more than he'd given so far. When this was over, she'd never doubt him again. An explanation was the least he could give her. What happened afterward was her decision.

He lifted her hand, drawing her fingers through his. "The Resort started out as a small bed-and-breakfast," he said slowly.

"Really?"

He nodded. "It was my father's, along with acres and acres of surrounding land. The Resort was like a dream of his. Only, thanks to a heart attack, he didn't live to see it. We grew up comfortable." Needing to touch her, he kept their hands entwined, his thumb drawing lazy circles around her palm. "The money came later, when I sold some of the land to build the hotel and turned it into something big. Of course, the times and the economy had a lot to do with its success."

"I'm sure you're being modest, just as I'm sure your father would have been proud."

"Of the business, yes. Of how I paraded around flaunting my newfound wealth? No." He wasn't thrilled with himself and his behavior in the earlier years. It was humiliating how fast he'd taken to money and how quickly he'd forgotten his roots.

She remained silent so he continued. "I had only myself to blame when women guests started throwing themselves at me, and I guess it went to my head. By the time I realized it wasn't me they liked but my status and money, the damage had been done."

Clear, curious eyes met his. "Who hurt you, Mac?"

"That's the strange part. No one woman in particular. No one meant enough to me." Until you. He pressed a kiss against the top of her hand. "It was the life and the fact that these women were capable of carrying on an affair while their husbands were staying in the same hotel that turned my stomach. So when I met you and you liked me for who you thought I was, I didn't correct you. And by the time I needed to come clean, you had backed off emotionally."

She stood quietly, obviously respecting the way he needed to explain. But she pulled their hands against her cheek as she waited.

"I guess my views were jaded. I just didn't realize how badly until I turned on you. You paid for something you hadn't done, Samantha." He untangled their hands and walked toward the window overlooking a park, putting space and emotional distance between them. He'd had his say. The rest was up to her.

Like the first time, she had to come to him.

Sam watched him stare out the window and beyond, to the grassy park below. Mac was wrong. He wasn't the only one to blame. She'd been selfish and unfair. By coming to him with an agenda, she'd set him up without knowing the background and baggage he'd brought with him to this relationship.

And yes, they'd had a relationship. Despite what she'd told him, she hadn't been able to convince herself steamy sex was all she and Mac had shared.

She paused a few feet behind where he stood. He'd managed what she thought was impossible; he'd diminished the anger and hurt. Instead she felt even more love for this special man.

"I'm equally to blame, Mac."

He turned and faced her, leaning against the window.

She swallowed hard. "And seeing as how I understand better now, I guess that absolves you, too." She shifted from foot to foot.

"So now what, Sammy Jo?" The distance between them couldn't be more than four feet, but to Sam, it felt like a chasm the size of the Grand Canyon. This wasn't like them. She and Mac had always shared a remarkable comfort factor she'd never felt with anyone else.

He'd come this far for her. She had to go the rest of the way. Honesty, she reminded herself. The very thing they'd lacked until now was the one thing that could bring them back to each other.

She held out her arms. "You could lose the distance between us," she whispered. If he'd just hold her, she would know everything was okay. The words would follow.

He looked at her, his dark eyes more serious than she'd ever seen them. "One question."

She pulled her arms back to her chest, her hands curling into fists. Her nails dug into her skin. "Yes?"

"Do you trust me?" A question they'd asked each other many times over the course of the week together. Never had it held so much meaning.

She knew what he was really wondering. Did she trust him despite the lies and omissions, despite the horrible things he'd said and implied, despite the reality of who they really were?

None of it changed what mattered most. What they meant to each other. "Do I trust you?" She repeated the question aloud. "With my life."

The second Mac had his answer, he held out his arms and she jumped forward, plowing into him full-force. She didn't know who was more relieved, Mac or herself, when she was finally back where she belonged. His deep, heartfelt groan told her he felt it, too.

This was right.

They were right.

Needing to taste him, she sealed her lips against his and kissed him with an urgency she'd never felt before.

He broke the kiss first. "Does this mean you've forgiven me?" he asked, moments later.

She tipped her head back and looked into his dark eyes. "I think we both needed forgiving."

"Meaning our lies canceled each other out?" he asked wryly.

She shook her head. "They weren't lies, they were omissions."

"That took on a life of their own because of how we felt about each other."

Drawing on every bit of reserve strength, she met his steady gaze. "And how is that?" she asked. Because for all they'd shared, not once had the words been spoken.

"I love you." His words wrapped around her heart and filled every empty space inside. "I do, Sammy Jo. And if that means shelling out money to get your father back on his feet, I will."

"My father…"

"The reason you'd marry a man you don't love."

"How did you know?"

He grinned. "Easy, sweetheart. I know you." He grasped her hand and twisted the ring she still wore on her third finger. His ring. "It just took me time to get over the shock and start thinking like a rational human being."

"Thank you," she whispered. Considering his views on women and his wealth, this offer proved how very much he loved her. "But Dad and I have come to an understanding. I had him checked by a doctor, and physically, he's fine. He realizes the extent of what he's done and is ready to get back on his feet."

"Sounds like you've covered a lot of ground in a short time," Mac said.

"Thanks to you. You made me see I couldn't give up my life for him… and once I met you, I didn't want to."

"I can help your father pay off his debts, if you'll let me."

She shook her head.

"You're not saying no because you're afraid I'll think you're after my money."

"I'm saying no because our life, our love has nothing to do with his problems. But for the record, I'm not looking for a hand on your wallet."

"No?"

She shook her head once more. "But I can think of plenty of other places I'd like to put my hands." She grinned as she reached for the zipper on his jeans. "For the record, Mac, I know you, too."

"You do."

Samantha nodded. "I was wrong to think I didn't," she murmured, kissing his lips, his face and neck. The rasp of his zipper being lowered resounded in the small room.

Mac suppressed a shudder as desire ripped through him.

"It isn't what you're wearing that matters. It's what's inside the clothes that counts." And apparently she wanted to get there as soon as possible. She yanked on his jeans and he helped her get them around his legs and into a pile on the floor.

Her gaze fell on his erection, and her hands quickly followed the direction of her stare. She gripped his hardness between her soft fingers.

"No underwear," she said with a grin. "I like it." He let out a harsh groan. They'd have plenty of time for foreplay. The rest of their lives, if Mac had his say, but right now he needed to be inside her.

Reaching beneath the short denim skirt, he found her skimpy underwear. "About as much as I love the fact that you wear these things," he muttered. "Because they're so damn easy to get rid of." With one jerk of his hand, he ripped the silk garment off her body.

"Wow." Her eyes opened wide.

"You think that was good?"

"Impressive."

"Considering I'm a nice guy, or does that label no longer apply?"

She touched her face to his, aligning her cheek against his more-roughened skin. "You're still a nice guy, Mac."

"You said you'd have liked forever, even in a small apartment over a bar. What about in that fantasy house you described? Would you move to Arizona, Sam? I spent the last few days pulling together a list of firms who would be more than happy to have your talent on board. And I know some people who could help your father start over. What do you say?" he asked, holding his breath.

Her soft moan nearly undid him. Then her words did. "That's a yes, in case you weren't sure."

Lifting her by the waist, he held her at the tip of his erection. In one easy stroke, he slid himself inside her.

Sam moaned as they joined together at last. Her moist and wet body accepted him like he belonged to her. Because he did. She exhaled at the ecstasy she'd found with her bartender that wasn't.

"Look at me," he said.

She stared into his charcoal eyes, darkened by passion and other more complex emotions she could now let herself name.

"For the record, Sammy Jo, this has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with love." He jerked his hips upward, fitting himself deeper inside her.

"I know." She swallowed an unladylike moan of passion. "But you can't deny that the sex is incredible."

He grinned. "I never did."

"And for the record, Mac, I love you, too."