Sleeping with the Sheikh. Brenda Jackson
tongue, the velvet feel of his lips, his extraordinary skill. Those memories had served her well. No one had kissed her this way before or since. No one.
Sam abruptly broke the kiss, pushed away from her and stood. “I apologize,” he said, sounding like the prince, not the man.
Andi felt angry, ashamed, weak. She lowered her eyes to the discarded photo and card, reminders that the kiss had come about from Sam’s need to provide comfort and perhaps receive some comfort in return, not his need for her. From grief, not from desire. Although they were in a dusty attic, not stretched out by a pond, history seemed intent on repeating itself.
“This cannot happen again, Andrea,” he stated, then quickly left the room without the jeans, Paul’s gift or the baseball. Left Andi alone to mull over what to do about Samir Yaman.
She agreed it shouldn’t happen again if she wanted to protect her heart, even if she still wanted him, and she did. Regardless, she had to accept that he was here, at least for the time being, and she needed to deal with it.
Andi gathered the jeans and laid the picture and card on top, then on second thought, grabbed the baseball in her free hand. She stood and sprinted down the stairs to find Sam standing in the second-floor hallway beside the attic entry, his forehead tipped against the wall.
“Here,” she said, offering him the jeans. “Try these on. Maybe they still fit.”
He pushed off the wall with both palms and faced her. “I doubt they will, at least at the moment.”
When her confusion cleared, Andi lowered her eyes to the evidence below his belt stating loud and clear that he wasn’t at all unaffected by the kiss.
She raised her gaze to his espresso eyes that expressed self-consciousness and, amazingly, the same desire she had seen the night he’d made love to her.
Maybe this was the answer. By making love with him again, maybe she could somehow, some way get him out of her system, find out for certain if the precious memories were nothing more than the imaginings of a girl who had turned to a man during her sorrow. Not love, only a need for solace.
She doubted Sam would be so quick to accommodate her, but that certainly didn’t mean she couldn’t try to persuade him, beginning now.
She shoved the jeans and photo against his chest, forcing him to take them from her. Then, with a courage she didn’t know she possessed, she rolled the baseball slowly down his groin and slipped it into his pocket. Before she retreated, she ran a fingertip over the obvious bulge below his belt. “If you need any help with this, let me know.”
With that she hurried to the first floor, not daring to look back to see his reaction. Before she made it out the door, she heard what sounded like a baseball hitting plaster, and she figured she’d probably driven home her point. Now she would attempt to drive him crazy with need, drive him back into her arms, and in doing so, drive him from her heart for good.
She’d have to take it slowly, plan carefully and, most important, remember she intended to tell him goodbye, once and for all.
Sam sat at the breakfast table, exhausted from physical labor and lack of sleep. After the way Andrea had touched him two days before, the kiss, the promise in her words, he had stayed awake both nights in Tess’s room, tensing at every sound, worried that Andrea might come to him and he might not be able to turn her away. But in fact she had barely spoken to him as she carried on with her normal activities, not once mentioning the kiss or her proposition.
Sam had avoided her, but he couldn’t avoid her now, especially when she occasionally glanced at him while moving the scrambled eggs around on her plate. He found himself staring at her mouth several times, watched while she nibbled at her food. Everything about her enthralled him, from the slight spattering of freckles across her nose, to the fragile column of her throat and that same fire in her eyes that caused his heart to pound in a fearsome rhythm.
He had tried to listen for the sound of the transport scheduled to bring the filly, but he hadn’t been able to concentrate. Before, the family dog, an Australian shepherd named Troubles, would have alerted everyone. Odd, he hadn’t noticed until today that the dog was no longer around.
Pushing his plate back, he asked, “Where is Troubles?”
Tess shook her head and spoke around a bite of toast. “He ended up on the wrong side of a tire when Chance was four.”
“And you haven’t found another?”
“I haven’t had time,” Andrea said as she stood.
Or the money, Sam thought. “I could provide one.”
Andrea picked up their plates and slipped them in the sink. “That’s not a good idea. With the traffic on the highway, I’m afraid we might lose another dog, and I don’t want to put Chance through that again.”
Sam hated the thought that his son had suffered through such a loss, but he was coming to realize that loss was a part of life that could not be avoided. “Then he remembers?”
Tess swiped at her mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, he remembers, but he’s okay with it. Andi told him that Troubles was with Uncle Paul, jumping from star to star.”
Obviously, Andrea still maintained a fascination with stars. The night Paul died she’d insisted that the brightest held his soul, and that she would hang her dreams on him for safekeeping. In that moment Sam had recognized that his love for her was as infinite as those stars. Making love with her had been a natural expression, a means to show her, since he had never told her.
The sound of a truck brought him out of his recollections and back into the present.
Andrea wiped her hands on a towel and faced him. “Do you think that’s them?” Her excitement came through in her tone and the widening of her blue eyes. The first time Sam had witnessed her joy since Chance had left.
“Perhaps we should go see.”
Before he could move, Andrea had already raced down the hall toward the front door.
“I swear,” Tess said, then chuckled. “Nothing gets that girl more excited than a good horse.”
Sam knew all too well what else excited her, but he would be wise to keep that out of his mind. “True. I hope this one doesn’t disappoint her.”
Tess propped her legs on the opposing chair and sent him a wicked grin. “I doubt she’ll be disappointed. I’m sure you’ll see to that while you’re here, if you haven’t already.”
Without response Sam left the room, determined to ignore Tess’s veiled suggestion. Nothing would please him more than to please Andrea in every way possible. But he would have to settle for providing a prize filly, otherwise he would be repeating past mistakes, knowing that he would have to leave her once again.
He joined Andrea at the rear of the massive trailer and waited for the filly to be unloaded. Sam was more than a bit apprehensive since he had never purchased a horse sight unseen. But when the man backed the filly down the ramp, Sam acknowledged that she was a treasure, as was Andrea who stood staring at the two-year-old. The woman had wonder in her eyes as she watched the filly prance about, restless with the need to run after her journey.
“Sam, she’s unbelievable,” Andrea said, almost in a whisper.
“I have to agree.”
The man held the lead rope up. “She’s all yours.”
When Andrea failed to move, Sam said, “What are you waiting for?”
Andrea stepped forward and took the rope, then allowed the filly to sniff her free hand before scratching her behind the ears. As if the horse somehow knew she had found a friend, she settled down, accepting the display of affection without protest.
“What’s her name?” Andrea asked.
“At the stables we called her Sunny,” the man said. “Her registered name is Renner’s Sun Goddess.”
“Sunny