SAM REARRANGED THE remaining canapés on the platter to make room for a new batch as the servers rushed around her. Fine wine and conversation flowed freely in the art gallery she’d managed to charm into hosting the charity event, along with artworks donated by local artists. The caterers she’d hired were worth every dollar they were charging and the evening was to all intents and purposes a huge success.
So what the heck are you doing hiding out in the kitchen when the results of all your hard work are out there?
She paused and thrust out her bottom lip to blow cool air into her hot face. She should be reveling in her success. Instead, she was hiding in the kitchen, hoping no one would notice she was having a breakdown. Because that’s exactly how she’d felt ever since Adam had uttered those cryptic words, stolen her breath along with her mind and then fallen asleep.
That was two days ago.
Two days since she’d heard his pager go off; two days since he’d grunted irritably as he’d rolled away from her and she’d curled around his pillow to hold his heat to her a little longer. Exhausted, she’d been vaguely aware of him smoothing the hair off her cheek with a gentle hand before kissing her softly.
“Gotta go,” he’d murmured against her mouth between kisses, and when she’d moaned and let her lips cling sleepily to his, she thought he’d murmured something that sounded like, “We can’t go on like this, Sam. We need to talk,” but she must have dreamed it because other than a bouquet of wildflowers that had appeared on her desk the following day without a card—from Adam?—she hadn’t so much as received a call or text message from him.
There’d been no talking and things had gone on exactly as they had. One of them disappearing after a hot night of sex and then...nothing.
Or maybe—maybe he’d been kissing her off. Had the flowers and the cryptic message been his way of saying they were done? Is that what he’d meant by we can’t go on like this?
She had no idea and the suspense was killing her.
Fortunately, organizing tonight’s event had kept her too busy to obsess and she’d managed to push everything firmly to the back of her mind. Until he’d arrived, looking Hollywood handsome in a dark designer suit over a white T-shirt that emphasized his tall rangy build, overlong inky hair and coppery gold skin. It had also emphasized the glowing amber eyes that reminded her of a large mountain cat lying in wait.
Like a besotted adolescent, she’d known the instant he’d arrived by the shiver that had raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Engaged in a spirited debate about the stereotypical views that persisted in discussions on Native American art, Sam had looked up and locked gazes with him. That seemingly endless moment of connection had sent a wave of heat and longing storming through her and she’d promptly forgotten what she was saying.
In truth, it had lasted only a second before he was swamped like a celebrity, and she’d been left feeling hollow and alone in a roomful of people. A feeling so common that she’d run and hidden. It was mortifying to discover that she was still that insecure little girl desperate to belong. It made her angry and emotionally raw.
Fine, she admitted, thrusting out her bottom lip and exhaling explosively. It was seeing him surrounded by all those beautiful women that had all her insecurities swamping her. God. She wished she had more experience on how to handle these kinds of situations but she was an emotional coward; preferring to lock down her emotions. And hide.
Besides, did she go out there and demand to know what he’d meant or pretend that everything was fine? Pretend that seeing Tiffany Travers, legendary man-eater and celebrity tech-heiress, wrapped around him like Christmas ribbon didn’t send shards of hurt and anger ripping through her?
Or did she—?
“Darling, what on earth are you doing hiding in here?” Aunt Coco’s voice jolted Sam rudely out of her silent self-debate. “Are you all right?”
Hastily composing herself, Sam turned with a smile she hoped appeared genuine. “Of course I am,” she assured the older woman. It wouldn’t do to let the other woman know just how ragged her nerves were or worse—why. “Have you seen all those red stickers? I don’t think there’s one item left for sale.”
“I have and I also know that the caterers are excellent and can handle everything in here,” Coco said. “Now come, everyone’s asking for you.”
“In a minute,” Sam promised a bit vaguely. “It’s been so insane the past week. I just need a quiet moment.”
Aunt Coco frowned and after a couple of beats, reached out to cup Sam’s face between her elegant hands. “You look unhappy,” she murmured, studying Sam with gentle intensity that had Sam wishing she were better at hiding her feelings. “You’ve been quiet and withdrawn the last few days. Are you regretting moving here and taking over the foundation?”
“Oh, no,” Sam hastened to assure the older woman. “Not at all.” That was the one thing she didn’t regret. “I’m enjoying the challenge. It’s much more rewarding than babysitting artwork and I like feeling that I’m helping make a difference.”
“You are, but I can’t help but think that I’ve made a mess of things by encouraging you to break away from Lilian.”
“You haven’t,” she insisted firmly, giving Coco a quick hug. Leaving Boston was the best thing she could have done. “And I’m not unhappy. It’s just a headache, that’s all.” Yeah, he was a big headache. Then because she needed to stop thinking about him, she said, “In fact, I’m really glad we’ve had a chance to reconnect. I missed you and grandpa.”
“And we missed you, darling,” Coco murmured, her green eyes misting with tears. “You are so like him, you know. Sweet and caring and so full of life and vitality. With your gentle nature, we were worried Lilian would crush you.”
“She nearly succeeded,” Sam muttered, ashamed to recall all the times she’d buckled to her grandmother’s dictates, giving in rather than fighting for her own identity.
“I couldn’t be happier that you accepted the job. For me, for the foundation and for—Adam.”
Sam stilled a moment, then returned her attention to arranging canapés, hoping that Aunt Coco bought the casual move, knowing she wasn’t fooling anyone. “Adam?”
There was a short pause before Coco’s softly chiding voice said, “I know you and I know Adam, sweetheart. Something happened in Juniper Falls that’s making you unhappy.”
“Nothing happened,” she lied, desperate for it to be true. “And I’m just tired. Really. The past two weeks have been hectic with all the details for tonight.” She sent Aunt Coco a preoccupied smile she hoped the other woman bought. “I wanted this evening to be a success.”
“Well, it certainly is that,” Coco said with a chuckle. “In fact, we’re all in agreement that this should become an annual event. With a little more time, I’m positive you could badger even more artists into contributing. You’re doing a wonderful job, just as I predicted. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
She reached out and hugged Sam. “Oh,” she said archly as she released her. “And just in case you were wondering, Tiffany Travers came with Paul Gilberts and abandoned him the instant she saw Adam arrive alone. She’s been after him since before her divorce.” She paused as though to let her words sink in before continuing. “Are you going to let her get her hooks in your man?”
Sam’s startled gaze jumped to Coco’s. “He’s n-not mine,” she protested quickly, ignoring the sudden pressure in her chest that felt very much like panic, especially when Coco’s eyebrow arched. “Really, Aunt Coco, nothing happened.” Well, nothing other than a few hot nights of sex—and maybe a looming heartbreak for her.
Coco cocked her head and studied Sam in a way that made her nervous. Casually turning away from that shrewd glance, she reached for the container of canapés.
“Does this have something to do with your plan?” Coco demanded, clearly not done.
“What plan?” she asked absently.
“That ridiculous life plan you concocted,” Coco said briskly. “The one that stops you from throwing caution to the wind and grabbing life with both hands.”
“That’s not why—”
“Adam is not Lawrence,” Coco interrupted smartly, clearly not done having her say. “He would never have a relationship based on lies and deceit. He values family more than anyone I know. He’s fiercely loyal and feels deeply even if he’d like to deny it.” She sighed, cupping Sam’s face. “Oh, darling, that plan isn’t you. What happened to emotion and joy? Whatever happened to spontaneity and taking a risk on life and love?”
Sam’s eyes widened at the woman’s vehemence. “Love?” she gasped, appalled. “Aunt Coco—”
“Dammit, I could shake you,” the other woman snapped. “Your grandfather would be ashamed of you for being such a coward.”
Coming on the heels of her own self-flagellation, the accusation stung and Sam took a step back only to ram her hip into the counter behind her. She sucked in a sharp painful breath and curled her fingers around the edge to steady herself. “C-coward?”
Oh, damn. Did Coco know she still had panic attacks and avoided anything that would cause them? Did she see the pain and panic threatening to break her apart inside at the thought of Adam moving on to someone like Tiffany Travers—or one of the other gorgeous, sophisticated women surrounding him?
“Yes,” Coco affirmed firmly, and for an instant, Sam wondered if she’d spoken out loud. “For hiding and ignoring what’s in front of your nose.” And with that parting shot, she spun away and left Sam gaping at her retreating back, too shocked to admit that she hadn’t thought of her plan in weeks.
“You okay, Ms. Jefferies?” the head server enquired.
She nodded quickly, embarrassed that anyone had heard her being called a coward. “I’m fine,” she said firmly, returning to the job she was making a complete hash of when he looked unconvinced. “Rough day.”
Hell, rough year. But she would be fine, she vowed fiercely. Soon. Maybe. All she had to remember was that she wasn’t the kind of woman to inspire grand passion or loyalty in men and she’d be fine. Lawrence, whom she’d known most of her life, had been promised the position of CEO of Gilford Pharmaceuticals once Lilian retired if he married her and had been quite happy to live a lie to gain access to the Gilford billions. She felt like a complete idiot for not seeing that sooner. Or that he was gay.
Adam? Well, who knew what motivated him? Because she had no idea. Maybe the gossip was right. Maybe he had a thing for socialites—a very temporary thing that allowed him to exorcise his demons without engaging his heart.
Scowling at the platter, she forcibly moved a couple of canapés. Not that she was a socialite. Far from it. She’d always had a job, wasn’t exactly known for being fashionable and was rarely seen at the “right” parties with the “right” people.
As much as she hated to admit it, she was more Samantha than Amanda. Amanda was fun and spontaneous, full of courage and vitality. Amanda was sexy and exciting while Samantha was...meh. She was bland, uninteresting and—bleh.
Was it any wonder, she asked herself when she returned to the party and immediately caught sight of Adam, head bent intimately toward Tiffany and laughing as they shared a joke, that he would prefer being in the company of gorgeous, exciting women?
Ignoring the knife-sharp pain spearing through her body, she spun away only to lurch into someone right behind her. She stumbled back a step, an automatic apology on her lips.
“Oh,” she gasped when she saw exactly who it was. Her heart sank. The last time she’d seen Blake Lowry had been their dinner date where he’d hinted that a donation came with a price. A price she wasn’t prepared to pay.
“Mr. Lowry. I—I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“Samantha,” Blake Lowry drawled smoothly. He lifted his wine glass and took a sip of excellent Zinfandel, his eyes glittering as they swept over her in a way that made her uncomfortable. “I thought you’d agreed to call me Blake?”
“Yes, of course,” she said graciously, pasting on her social smile as she edged away under the guise of facing him. Blake Lowry, it seemed, thought every woman was flattered by his attention, one of those obnoxious men who thought their money and social status gave them permission to take what—and whom—they wanted, regardless. “Have you tried the lobster rolls or the salmon and watercress wraps? The caterer’s recipe is—”
“As excellent as they are,” he drawled, lifting his hand to brush intimately at a tendril of hair that had escaped her updo. “I’m not interested in swapping recipes, Samantha.”
“What about the artwork?” she asked, dislodging his hand by turning to the large painting of the New Mexico landscape beside them. “I noticed earlier that you were interested in the sculpture. Have you met the artist?”
His eyes dropped to her breasts and she had to force herself not to recoil, reminded that she was more than adequately covered—in the front, at least. “I’m much more interested in why you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Not at all,” she said sweetly. “As hostess, I’ve been busy and—”
“Too busy to spend time with a potential donor?” he interrupted softly, catching her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm. Sam’s instinct was to snatch her hand away but she resisted the urge, especially when he tightened his grip on her fingers. What she couldn’t stop, however, was the irritation that stiffened her spine.
“Of course not,” she said graciously, all but gritting her teeth. “I—”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” he interrupted again, much to Sam’s growing annoyance. He’d done that during their dinner too, reminding her that he was the kind of man who wasn’t interested in anything a woman had to say, only that she made him look good. “Why don’t you tell me more about your little foundation while we admire the artwork?”
Adam looked down at Tiffany Travers, who was practically bonded to his side, and wondered how he was going to pry her off without causing a scene. For years, petite blondes had kind of been his type—a shrink would have a field day with that, considering his mother was one—but now all he could hear was the sound of husky laughter drifting over the noise of the crowd. Husky laughter that had the power to make him smile even when he didn’t feel like smiling.
Especially as she was purposely avoiding him; which made as little sense as the emotion he’d caught in her expressive eyes before her public mask had slipped into place. As a foundation board member, he was forced to play the social game when all he wanted was to hunt her down and demand to know what game she was playing.
Watching her out of the corner of his eye while pretending interest in the conversation around him, Adam decided that dealing with Samantha was like tracking the elusive spotted lynx. As frustrating as it was, those rare glimpses he had only made him more determined to catch her.
Her back was to him and the sight of her long slender, naked spine had his blood pressure hiking to dangerous heights. And not in a good way. Especially with pretty boy’s hand straying to the dip in her waist just above the shallow dimples at the base of her spine. He wanted to march over there and physically remove the offending touch but since she didn’t seem to mind, he couldn’t very well toss her over his shoulder and drag her into his cave like a Neanderthal.
He wanted to publicly claim her as his but he was all too aware that she’d chosen the golden god with his casually tousled blond hair, careful bronzed tan and elegantly expensive suit. Teamed with the effortless confidence the social elite seemed to be born with, it identified him as someone who’d grown up in the same world as Samantha. Together, they drew the eye, standing out among the other couples filling the gallery. Smooth, polished with the kind of class that shouted money—and lots of it.
It was something Adam would never have and could never offer Samantha. Not the billions her family was reputed to be worth. He was who he was and he’d long since come to terms with it. Living in San José, rubbing shoulders with the upper classes and dating socialites would never make him one of them and he was fooling himself if he thought he had anything to offer Samantha other than the brutal hours of a busy surgeon.
None of that seemed to matter, however, because the sight of another man touching places where Adam’s lips had been was eliciting some pretty fierce emotions that smacked of jealousy. Since he’d never been jealous over a woman before, the roiling emotions were as unwelcome as they were unexpected.
Which is probably why he stayed where he was surrounded by women he had little interest in while visually tracking Sam’s movements and tracing the delicate line of her spine, the pale creamy skin between the wide V of silver-shot black. Most of the women present were dressed far more provocatively than Samantha, but none of them looked as sexy or classy.
With determined effort, he tried to ignore the swirl of anger and confusion, and focus on Tiffany’s high titters and breathless account of her week in Cabo San Lucas. Frankly, he couldn’t have cared less about her topless bathing or the new micro bikini she was offering to model for him.
All he could think about was watching the guy dip his head to whisper something in Sam’s ear. All he could wonder was if she was shivering the way she did when Adam kissed the soft skin beneath that same ear. And all he could imagine was punching the guy in his perfect nose.
Damn the stuffed shirt for looking like he was anticipating molding Samantha into something as erotic as the sculpture they were studying, he thought with a burst of fury as the guy suddenly tugged her toward the dark hallway that probably led to the owner’s offices. Empty and quiet this time of night.
Abruptly excusing himself, Adam ignored Tiffany’s shocked protest and wended his way between the wine-guzzling crowd discussing everything from the San José Sharks’ recent win to the price of tech stocks.
With his gaze locked where he’d last seen Samantha, Adam didn’t stop until he stepped into the passage, just in time to hear a husky voice say, “Mr. Lowry—Blake, stop. As flattered as I am by your offer, I really need to get back and...oh!”
Adam heard a faint scuffle, an outraged squeak and took a couple of long strides down the darkened passage, arriving in time to see Samantha pinned against the wall, trying to avoid the man’s hands and mouth.
By the time he reached them, Samantha’s dress had been ripped off one smooth shoulder and the guy’s hand was up her skirt.
“Blake, stop.”
Her shocked squeak had fury exploding through Adam’s skull, and before he knew he’d moved, he’d grabbed the other man and flung him against the opposite wall. After one quick glance at Samantha’s shocked face, he turned to face Lowry, taking care to block her body with his.
“I distinctly heard the lady say stop,” he drawled, tamping down the fury that darkened the edges of his vision. If there was one thing he hated, it was men forcing themselves on unwilling women.
“Who the hell are you?” the man demanded, looking furious at the interruption. With a jerk, he adjusted the jacket Adam had practically ripped off him and smoothed his hair back into its preppy neatness.
“A witness if Miss Jefferies decides to press charges,” he said, ignoring Sam’s soft moan of humiliation.
“Charges?” the guy drawled, one eyebrow arching arrogantly as he flicked imaginary lint off his jacket sleeve. “For what exactly?”
“Assault,” Adam snapped coldly, his eyes narrowing dangerously as the other man began to laugh, gaze scathing as it swept over Adam.
“You seriously think anyone’s going to believe the word of a redskin over me?” His insulting emphasis reminded Adam of all the times he’d been called redskin and half-breed. “Do you know who I am, Tonto?”
Adam’s muscles hardened, and as though she knew he was imagining lashing out at the man’s smug face, Sam grabbed hold of his jacket. “Please, Adam,” she murmured, tightening her grip. “Let it go.” And when he and the other man continued their stare-down, she rasped in a low intense voice, “Please.”
After a tense silence, Blake gave a bark of mocking laughter, his gaze flicking over Sam with insulting lewdness. “You’re welcome to her, Cochise,” he drawled insolently, pushing away from the wall where he’d been lounging. “Mousy ice queens aren’t my thing anyway, but it was fun seeing if I could get her to melt.”
With a contemptuous smirk that said, My proposition still stands, babe. Let me know if you’re willing to trade a nice chunk of change for your little charity, Blake Lowry turned and sauntered off, leaving a tense silence in his wake.
Furious that she would put up with being mauled and insulted by a smug, arrogant jerk because of his money and social standing, Adam spun around abruptly, forcing her to release her grip on him. Startled by his abrupt move, she backed away, looking wide-eyed and wary. Not that he could blame her since aggression pumped hot and fierce through his veins.
Unable to help himself, he raked his gaze across her disheveled appearance, taking in the way her dress sagged on one side, exposing a pale shoulder and the tempting swell of her breast. Her elegantly upswept hair looked a little mussed and Adam hated that the other man had seen her like this—soft and tousled and anything but ice-queenly.
Fury rolled through him again.
After a long pause, he lifted a hand to slide the dress back over her shoulder with fingers that shook.
A visible tremor moved through her as her head jerked up, her eyes wide and liquid as their gazes locked. Suppressed emotion darkened her eyes and one lone drop of liquid clung to her lashes. The sight of it tilted the earth on its axis and something clenched hard in his chest.
Feeling abruptly off balance, he fisted shaking hands and shoved them into his trouser pockets to prevent himself from reaching for her. “You okay?” he rasped, telling himself fiercely that nothing had changed. When suddenly everything had.
Seeing her in her social element among other beautiful people had brought home to him how little he had to offer her. He refused to be like his father and he’d been kidding himself thinking there could be a future for them. He didn’t fit into her world any more than she fitted into his and he’d be damned if he’d beg.
Her throat worked spasmodically before her voice emerged low and husky as she said, “I’m fine...thank you,” in a tone so polite his jaw clenched.
And because he felt as though his life were spinning out of control, he gave a brief nod and walked away before the crushing need to yank her into his arms and beg her to love him overwhelmed his common sense.