Seduce Me

6

The next morning, Sam sat on her surfboard in the same water she'd swum with Jack only a few hours before. Lorissa perched on her own board alongside, and as they watched their friends and fellow surfers ride some waves, they talked.

Or rather Lorissa talked, hounding Sam for the scoop on the night before.

But oddly enough, Sam didn't feel like giving any details, even though the thought of Jack still put a grin on her face.

"Come on, tell me something." Lorissa's body rose and fell gently as a swell rode beneath them.

"I told you, I had fun."

"I need more than that."

"I'll tell you this wave is mine." Sam started paddling to catch it, then heaved herself up to her feet.

When she got back to Lorissa, she wasn't alone. Skurfer, an old high school buddy who owned the surf shop they all went to, smiled. "Did you score last night?" he wanted to know.

"We're what, eight years out of school? Can't we come up with a better term than score?"

"Sure." This from Nash, another of their longtime friends, and Sam's old middle-school crush. He offered them an alternative word, a four-letter universal term, and everyone laughed.

Except Lorissa. Still straddling her board, she put her hands on her hips. "Sam did not score with a blind date. She's too careful for that." She looked at Sam. "Right?"

"Right." Sam eyed the incoming set of waves with newfound determination, because maybe riding them, she could get some peace. "And if whoever's next in line doesn't hurry up and take more interest in these breakers than my sex life, then they're going to lose."

The guys went together, while Lorissa and Sam watched.

"You didn't sleep with him," Lorissa said in a low tone.

"Is that a guess?"

Lorissa eyed her for a long time. "No, it's the truth. You like sex as much as anyone I know, but oddly enough for someone who doesn't want to be in a relationship, you need more than one date to get intimate. You didn't sleep with him, I'd bet my next paycheck on it."

No, she hadn't. But God, she'd wanted to. "You know that for sure, huh?"

"Well, it's not like you've changed your policy over the years. Like I said, rule number one, you don't sleep with a guy until you know him. Rule number two, you scratch your itch and dump him."

"Hey. I don't-"

"Yes, you do." Lorissa's smile was sad. "We both know by the time you like a guy enough to sleep with him, it's the kiss of death for that relationship because you don't like being part of a couple. Relationships scare you."

"Would you stop with the R word?"

"What's the matter, am I making you jittery?"

Sam sighed. "I'm taking this one." She started paddling toward the next wave.

"You're taking it because you know I'm right," Lorissa called after her.

"I'm going because this is a good one-"

"Was he a jerk?"

Startled, Sam glanced back and saw real worry in Lorissa's eyes.

"Because if he was," she called out. "I'll kill him. And I'll kill Cole, too, who vouched for him. I'll kill them both, slowly."

Sam looked up into the perfect wave cresting, and… let it go.

With a sigh, she paddled back to where Lorissa sat in her patriotic red, white and blue bandeau top and ancient, shredded blue surfer shorts, straddling the board that Sam had bought her for Christmas three years ago. Concern, fear and regret were stamped all over her.

Sam's heart tightened. Last night while driving along the coast, she'd had that burst of feeling isolated, and yet she wasn't alone at all.

So what made it so hard to reach out, to accept love? She had no idea, but she reached out now, because the truth was, the only reason she'd been able to go on after losing her parents had been because of the woman looking at her right this minute. Lorissa had loved and bullied and loved her some more, more than anyone else all these years. "He wasn't a jerk. Not even close. In fact, he was…" Heavenly Delicious. Magnificent. "A perfect gentleman," she said finally.

Even when he'd stripped off his clothes and dove into the ocean, with that long, lean, hard heat rubbing up against her-

"Okay." Lorissa cocked her head, searching Sam's expression carefully. "So why all the secrecy- Oh. Oh, damn," she breathed softly. "You like him. You really like him." Lorissa's face split into a wide grin. "Tell me the truth."

Sam should have taken that wave. "I had a good time," she admitted, and when Lorissa just waited, she sighed. "Fine. Make that a great time."

"So you're going to see him again? Has he called? Have you called? Stop holding back on me, damn it!"

"It's only been a few hours. And you're the one who should spill, you neglected to tell me he was an ex-NBA star."

"Actually, I didn't know." Lorissa looked thoughtful. "I guess I should have matched his name with the stories." She shrugged. "I've never been much for watching basketball."

Yeah, neither had Sam.

"So… what's next? Another date? Or did you give him the famous Sam Blow-Off?"

"Well… next weekend we're doing this… thing."

"Omigod, you're going on date number two!" Lorissa looked as though she'd just won the lottery.

"I'm just helping him and his sister at some charity carnival. That's all. Not really date number two."

"Uh-huh."

"It's not." Giving up convincing Lorissa when she couldn't even convince herself, Sam took the next wave.

On Monday, Sam skipped her morning surf to make her monthly trek out to San Juan Capistrano.

As she had on the first Monday of every month without fail for five years, she got out of her car at the secluded little house on the beach, walked up the steps and knocked.

And pulled a check from her purse written from her checking account for just enough money to make her wince-especially after dropping $800 on Jack Knight at the auction.

The door opened and there stood Red-a sixty-five-year-old, lanky lean, skin-tanned-to-leather, long-haired beach bum. The beach bum who'd given her a job when she'd been fourteen with too much free time on her hands.

The same beach bum who was her mother's older brother, a man who'd never wanted children and yet had taken her in when her parents died, giving her what he could when life had taken so much away.

And as always, just the sight of Red caught her by the chest and squeezed.

In return, his light blue eyes twinkled and warmed. But he was duty-bound by habit to give her his monthly scowl as he leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. "Is it that time already?"

"You know it is."

"Yeah. So what do you want?"

Grabbing his hand, she slapped the check into his palm. "What do you think?"

He peered down at the piece of paper, and as it did every month, his scowl deepened. "Is it any good?"

"Deposit it and see."

"Maybe I don't want to go to the trouble." Nothing ever changed about this dialogue. As always, he tried to hand the check back to her. She put her hands behind her back. "What's the matter, my money not good enough for you?"

"I keep telling you I don't want your money."

"I bought your place, I'm paying for your place. You hold the mortgage. How many times do we have to go through this? Just deposit the damn check and reduce my damn debt, and soon enough I'll stop showing up on your doorstep."

"Fine." He jammed the check into the pocket of his faded Hawaiian surf shorts, which hung low on his skinny hips. "I suppose you've been staying out of trouble."

"I suppose." She peered in past him to look at the small place he'd been slowly renovating now that he'd retired. "You hire a maid for this sty yet?"

"Yep, with your money, thanks. Sure you don't want to take the check back?" He looked at her with some amusement. "You could buy yourself some cooking lessons. Learn to make brownies."

"Ha, ha." Everyone knew about her determination to make decent brownies.

And really, the urge made perfect sense. Any psychiatrist would have had a field day with it-her mother had always made brownies, and they'd always been perfect and scrumptious.

Sam knew deep down she wrecked her own batches on purpose. She must have a thing against being truly happy, or wanting real love, or being afraid… something stupid like that.

She didn't care. She still tried to make brownies the way her mom had.

"Well, then, maybe buy yourself some new clothes," Red suggested, eyeing her denim cutoffs, tank top and flip-flops. "Or even get a haircut. Find yourself a man."

"Shows what you know. I don't need to get new clothes or trim my hair to get a man."

"Uh-huh. I see you've got yourself a real big rock on that marrying finger."

She glanced down at her ringless hands and rolled her eyes. "I'm not interested in getting married. Why would I be?"

"Maybe because I'd like to see you happy and taken care of."

Everything within her softened. Still she had her tough facade to keep up. "I can make myself happy, thank you very much, and I certainly can take care of myself."

"Really? You've got it all covered, huh?"

She lifted her chin. "You bet."

"And kids? You going to give yourself kids?"

"Look, I didn't come all the way down here to get a lecture."

"Then why are you still standing here?" Because he was the closest thing to a father she had, and sometimes she just liked to look at him. "Traffic's a bitch. I figured you'd want to feed me the leftovers you'd just be throwing away anyway."

"I suppose." He stood back, gestured her in with a jerk of his head.

The moment she reached the top step, he put his hand on her shoulder, then pulled her in for a big hug. She dropped her tough stance and held on tightly.

"Leftovers that I'd be throwing away?" he murmured, his body shaking as he let out a belly laugh. "Have I ever fed you leftovers?"

"No, because thankfully you're such an awesome cook there are rarely leftovers for more than an hour." She grinned.

"Then I suppose it's lucky for you I just put together lunch."

"Oh, really?" She batted her eyes, making him laugh again, because they both knew he'd planned on her coming and that, as always, he'd made them a meal.

"Come on," he said, and drew her inside, toward the kitchen that smelled delicious. "And tell me what's new."

She did exactly that, leaving out only the news of her date with Jack Scandal Knight, probably for the same reason she hadn't spilled all to Lorissa-she had no idea what exactly to say.

For a year now, Jack had been concentrating on keeping a low profile, on just amusing himself.

He'd been pretty damn successful at it, too. He hung out with friends, rode his bike for miles every morning. Lately, he'd been spending more time with the kids Heather helped, and at the old rec center. And most recently, he'd been organizing and coaching basketball teams.

He'd been content with that, or as content as he could be. But then had come his blind date with Sam. It didn't make any sense that he couldn't stop thinking about her. She'd run with him from the reporters, she'd made the charity event fun-not an easy feat-and then later… Her kisses had made him so hot, and those little sounds she'd made in the back of her throat when he touched her, even hotter.

Not to mention bodysurfing half-naked by moonlight on a first date. That had been a welcome first. In comparison, his slow, unplanned life seemed just a tad boring. Maybe he was ready for the next phase of retirement, whatever that might be.

He hoped it included Sam.

He had looked up the number for Wild Cherries, but when he'd called, no one answered. Later, he had driven by the place, but it had been closed.

Seemed even beach girls took days off. Which was too bad because their next date seemed a long way off.

What he really needed was a distraction. And thankfully Monday night was poker night with his buddies. This was their chance to get together and blow off steam-a time to vent and forget that they were all famous celebrities, athletes, politicians… Every week, they took as much joy in razzing each other for whatever headlines they'd shown up in that week as they did in actually playing cards.

This week, Jack was the host. Cole showed up first. As always, he came dressed to be seen, wearing expensive clothes with a casual air that always boggled Jack's mind. Jack dressed up only when he had to. They'd become friends in college while sharing a dorm room, and though they'd led vastly different lives, Jack in basketball, and Cole in marketing, they'd remained tight. Mostly because Cole never deferred to Jack's celebrity status, and never talked B.S. Two traits not easily found in Jack's world.

Cole slapped a stack of magazines against Jack's chest and headed straight for the vodka behind the bar. "You're going to suffer tonight, buddy."

Jack looked down at the magazines in his hands. He'd made a few covers. Splashed across People, US Weekly and a handful of others, were shots of Jack piggybacking Sam in her little black dress across the rolling grass hills at the country club.

Another set showed them at the buffet table, oblivious to the upscale crowd around them, sharing some food, their heads close enough to kiss. On his face was a look he hardly recognized.

Pleasure.

He didn't quite know how to describe his expression in the next photo, where he was tugging Sam out of the club, other than that it was one of sheer determination, hunger and pure, unadulterated lust. "Oh boy."

"Yeah." Cole swallowed his first shot, set the glass on the bar and smiled. "She's something. You can thank me any time. You going to do her?"

"Shut up, Cole."

Cole stopped in the act of pouring another shot. He looked Jack over for a long moment. "So the pictures are telling the truth."

"What truth?"

"You're into her."

"I don't know what I am."

"No?" Cole toasted him with his glass. "Well, you'd better figure it out before the other guys get here, or they'll tear you apart."

They tore him apart anyway until he lost all dignity. And in a sign of how far he'd lost his edge, he also nearly lost his shirt, too.

On Tuesday, Jack refereed three boys' basketball games and then, needing a different kind of connection, tried calling Sam again-yet another sign of how far gone he was. While he sat in his car listening to the phone ringing, he tried to create a mental list of the things that had bothered him about her, his usual MO for not having date number two.

But his list turned up short. In fact, it was non-existent.

"Hello," she answered breathlessly.

"Sam, it's Jack."

Silence.

"Jack Knight," he said, and felt very stupid.

"I remember who you are, Jack. The first man I've ever bodysurfed with at midnight."

An idiotic grin split his face. The first? He liked that, he liked that far too much. "So how are you?" he asked, discovering that the usual easy conversation starter, the one that had always meant nothing, suddenly mattered. He really did want to know how she was.

"I'm up to my elbows in brownie mix if you want the truth, and this time, I have a good feeling about it."

"Why? Do you usually have a problem with brownies?"

She sighed. "I make the best sandwiches under the sun. Cookies, too. But I'm an utter failure at brownies. Today, I break the curse."

"Want a personal taster?"

"You mean…"

"For brownies, I'd drive to China. I'll come over and sample them for you."

"No! I mean, I'm not sure that's a good idea. I've never managed a good batch yet."

"If they're awful, I promise I won't even mention it."

"Look, I- No. No, thank you. I'm sorry-"

His grin faded. He'd misread everything. "No, it's okay. I understand-"

"It's just that the other night was so…" She let out a breath.

"Yeah." From stupid to mortified.

"So I guess I'm just hoping that by Saturday, I'll see you and realize I've just exaggerated how much fun you were."

Suddenly, he didn't feel anything but good, damn good. "Best of luck with the brownies, Sam."

"The brownies-" Something clanged in his ear, and he realized she'd dropped the phone. He waited, and when she came back, she was irritated. "Got to have that oven checked. The damn thermostat is out and it's over-cooking everything."

"Blaming the oven?"

"What? You want to hear that you distracted me and I overcooked them? You've been distracting me for days. Go away, Jack. And stay out of my head until Saturday. Please."

"I will if you will."

"You're having the same problem?"

She sounded far more wary than amused, and his own pleasure faded, replaced by other emotions he didn't want to face. "See you Saturday," he said softly, and hung up.

He lasted two days, during which he kept himself busy organizing and registering basketball players for a kids' league at the rec center before he called Wild Cherries again. He'd have called her at home, but didn't have that number. He liked that she hadn't given it to him-it meant she'd been utterly honest about being commitment phobic, which was always a damned attractive trait in a woman.

And yet his heart had started a heavy, excited beat at the thought of hearing her voice again.

"Wild Cherries," she answered the phone, sounding breathless. "Can I help you?"

"Sam."

"Hey." There was a smile in her voice, and suddenly there was one on his face as well.

"Just wanted to hear you."

"You're hearing me. What's up?"

"You surf today?"

"Yeah." She covered the mouthpiece to speak to someone, but he could still hear her. "Knock it off, Nash, I am not going to tell him that."

"Tell me what?"

"I made the mistake of serving a few friends some lunch and now they're being obnoxious."

"What did they want you to tell me?"

She hesitated, then laughed. "That they'll, and I quote, kick your butt if you hurt me. They don't realize they're threatening Jack Scandal Knight."

"Holy crap," said an awed voice.

Sam laughed. "As for surfing, it was rough today, and I got my butt kicked out there. Lorissa had a great time laughing at me when I face-planted right in front of her."

"You okay?"

"Not a scratch. How about you? What are you up to?"

Thinking of you. "Lost at poker the other night. Badly."

"Ouch. You should play me sometime, it will make you feel better about yourself." She laughed. "I'm horrible. Last time I played strip poker-"

He choked out a laugh. "I was not playing strip poker with the guys."

"Oh." She laughed, too. "Of course not. So how about that weather, huh?"

"Oh, no, we're not changing the subject, yet. About this strip poker thing…"

"It was a long time ago," she said primly now, though he could still hear the smile in her voice.

"How about we rectify that?"

"Are you suggesting-"

"Definitely I'm suggesting. We play. I'll give you pointers."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey, I have your best interests in mind."

Her soft chuckle was outrageously sexy. "Maybe some other time," she said. "Did you see the magazines?"

He sighed. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Don't be. A customer actually asked me for an autograph today. Famous for a day, at least."

"You're being an incredibly good sport."

"That's life, right?"

"It is, isn't it. You know what? You're just what I needed today."

"Yeah?" She sounded pleased.

"Yeah."

"So… I'll see you on Saturday?"

"Unless I could talk you into that poker game. Tonight."

"Not tonight. Not… yet."

But she didn't say not ever. She asked him about Heather then, and he asked her about her latest sandwich creation, and before he knew it an hour had gone by, and she had to go because apparently Lorissa was getting irritated about handling the café while Sam chatted on the phone with him.

That night, he dreamed about holding her hot and wet in his arms, just as when they'd body-surfed, talking and laughing, kissing. And despite not getting her into bed, that first date had rivaled any night he'd ever spent with a woman; in fact, it ranked up there as the hottest, most sensual night of his life.

Saturday came before Sam knew it. The morning was chilly and foggy, but that didn't stop her from surfing and swimming with Lorissa and the gang as usual. When they were done, Lorissa opened the café and Sam went upstairs to get ready for the carnival.

"Stop it," she told her overly excited reflection in the bathroom mirror. "He's just a guy."

Yeah, just a guy. A very gorgeous guy who made her laugh and could kiss her every last brain cell away.

Not today, she told herself. Today was just for the kids. Today, he would irritate her in some way, surely he would. And then she'd be free from thinking of him, of dreaming of him.

She heard gravel crunch as a car pulled into the parking lot, and ran to the window, pressing her nose to the glass to catch sight of Jack's Escalade. Her stomach tightened.

So much for irritating her. But the day was young yet, and she'd never gone through an entire second date without wanting to ditch the guy. So really it was only a matter of time.