Secret Games. Jeanie London
in a pinch. Sam, the classic nice guy, who should have been safe to come to a romance superclub with.
There’d been nothing safe about his kiss.
This hadn’t been an I’m-doing-you-a-favor type of kiss, but an I’m-hungry-for-you kiss.
Maggie knew the difference.
What she didn’t know was why he’d kissed her that way. She didn’t know this commanding side of him. Nor did she know why the need to press against him, to feel his heat fill the trembling hollows of her body, had grown so insistent.
The biggest puzzle of all was why his kiss had felt so completely…right.
“We do need some ground rules, Mags,” he said, his voice husky and distressingly strong, when Maggie could barely catch a decent breath, let alone manage a sentence. “I’m all for research and observation, but practical application will work here, too. I’m uncomfortable with the fake couple thing. I want to give being a real couple a try.”
A real couple?
No, wait, this wasn’t right. This was her project, and she was supposed to be in control. “But—”
He held a fingertip to her lips. “Think Cupid and Psyche.”
His gaze lifted to that stupid grinning Cupid, and her world canted wildly, though the elevator hadn’t budged. What did he mean? Did he want to slip into her bed late at night and make love to her in the dark? Just the thought scrambled Maggie’s thoughts, and she struggled to focus on his next words.
“You’re looking for ideas about how to put sparks back into long-term relationships and I’m your perfect solution. We’re long-term and I wouldn’t mind sparks.”
“Sparks?” She finally found her voice. “Since when?”
“Fall Harvest.”
Sam didn’t have to say another word. Fall Harvest during Maggie’s freshman year at college had been a weekend filled with events to celebrate a last fling with decent weather, before the snow came and the winter forced everyone indoors.
It had also been the weekend when Sam had tried to turn the corner on their friendship. He’d said he wanted…sparks, but she’d thought it nothing more than a whim.
Fall Harvest had been ten years ago.
“Oh.” Maggie felt weak, suspected that if he hadn’t been crowding her against the elevator wall, she’d have slid into a puddle on the floor.
“No pressure.” He brushed his finger over her bottom lip, and to Maggie’s shock, she trembled in reply. “Let’s just go with it and see what happens.” His smile deepened. “You won’t be sorry.”
One glance into his melting gray eyes revealed the promise of his admission. She supposed on some level she should have known he would still be amenable to sparks. She hadn’t. “But sex will ruin everything, Sam. We’ll never be the same.”
“We can be even better. Trust me.”
Her mouth still tingled with the aftereffects of his kiss, and for the first time since the fourth grade, Maggie questioned whether he was entirely trustworthy.
She’d certainly never seen any indication that such hot blood ran in a man who lived a nice orderly life.
Had she just never looked closely enough?
This was a question to consider…when she didn’t have Sam staring at her with those bedroom eyes, awaiting an answer. Right now she needed to decide whether or not she could hand him the reins. Would he renege on their deal if she didn’t?
She didn’t think so, not because he didn’t get his way. Not Sam. He’d bailed her out too many times to abandon her now.
Trust me.
She did.
“What if it doesn’t work out?”
“We’ve weathered worse.”
No arguing that. “But—”
“No pressure, Mags. Let’s just explore what’s between us. There’s something here. Something great.” He traced her bottom lip, a gentle caress that held a world of sensual promise. “For the weekend.”
“Just for the weekend?”
He inclined his head.
“And you swear that you won’t get all weirded out and stop being my friend once we get home?”
A smile tugged at his lips, but he made a valiant effort not to make light of her need for reassurance. “I swear. No matter what happens, we’ll still be best friends.”
She searched his face and those unfamiliar bedroom eyes for some sign that he could be swayed from this reckless plan if she pushed hard enough. He looked disturbingly resolute.
The simple fact was she needed to be at this superclub, and she had to have an escort to be here. What could some practical application hurt?
Maggie couldn’t come up with a single disadvantage. Research was good, but application could be even better.
If Sam wanted control, she’d give it to him. “Okay.”
He smiled. “You won’t be sorry.”
She closed her eyes and whispered a silent plea that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake in her life. Goodness knows she’d made some doozies.
Sam clearly didn’t think this was one of them, though, and he’d been privy to them all. She found that in itself reassuring. When he moved toward the elevator’s control panel, she found herself breathing a little easier.
He popped open the emergency panel and lifted the receiver from the cradle.
“Try 19,” she suggested. This crazy turn of events qualified as trouble, didn’t it?
He punched in the numbers and someone must have picked up on the other end on the first ring, because Sam was suddenly explaining their predicament and hanging up the phone before Maggie’s racing heart had slowed its rhythm.
“Are they coming to rescue us?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual and unaffected.
“That bellhop sounds just like Scotty from the Starship Enterprise. He said he’d have us moving in a minute.”
“Dougray is the maintenance supervisor.”
“I thought he was the bellhop.”
“Jack-of-all-trades, he said.”
Sam glanced askance, a look that clearly revealed his lack of surprise that she knew so much about one of the superclub’s male department heads before she’d even checked in.
Love-’em-and-leave-’em Maggie. Damsel in distress. The relationship counselor who’d had loads of dates, but no long-term experience whatsoever. Except for Sam.
Maggie had some work to do on her image, but she didn’t have time to consider ways to affect the necessary changes, because true to Dougray’s word, the elevator lurched into motion almost immediately. Sam retrieved her coat from the floor and handed it to her, his strong fingers lingering on hers until she lifted her gaze to meet the promise in his.
“You won’t be sorry, Mags.” The lusty assurance in his voice sent a shiver through her.
“So you keep saying.”
Life as Maggie had known it had just taken the most incredible turn. Her friend Sam Masters had vanished, leaving behind this brazen, possessive and very intriguing man to take his place.
4
THE ELEVATOR FLOOR rumbled beneath Sam’s feet, then lurched into motion, lifting them toward the fifth floor and the top of the superclub. He shifted uncomfortably, the seam of his slacks biting in exactly the wrong place as he subdued