Forbidden Fantasies Bundle(50)

“What kind of problems?”

His landlord maybe? Couldn’t play the girlfriend angle. Plumbing out? Eviction? He’d already tried noisy neighbors. Damn. He needed a good lie…. “I thought it would be good for security at the center. There’ve been robberies in the area.” This happened to be true.

“Really? Robberies?”

“I heard that, yeah.” From the job, though, not media accounts.

She blinked, clearly not believing him, but not angry, either, or suspicious, which is how she should feel. She looked worried about him. “I could advance you some salary. Heck, let’s call it a commission. I know you don’t want that, but…”

She felt sorry for him, for chrissake. He couldn’t bear her pity, even if it got him off the spot. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got it handled.”

“Look, Rick. I’m your friend. I’m happy to help you, if—”

“I don’t want your money.” He hadn’t intended to snap at her, but her sympathy made him feel exposed, as if he were about to take a knife in the chest from a surprise assault.

“I just want to help.” She looked hurt.

Damn. “I don’t mean to be harsh. I’m just—”

“A private person, I know.” She spoke softly, wounded by his withdrawal, and he couldn’t think of a word to say. “But if we’re friends, we should know each other better. Help each other…Anyway…” She shrugged and he felt helpless to respond.

Luckily, their food arrived and they busied themselves eating for a bit, speaking only about the food, which smelled great, but now tasted like dust in his mouth.

After a while, Samantha spoke in a low voice. “At least use the bed in Bedroom Eyes, Rick. Mona’s futon is hard as stone.” She was looking out for him still.

“Thanks, Sammi…” Her nickname came out so easy now. “If you don’t mind me staying there for a night or two. Until I work things out at my place.”

The lie came out so smoothly. He hated hurting her. Maybe he could make it up to her—do something they’d both enjoy that wouldn’t jeopardize the case….

“Listen,” he said, capturing her hands under his, “I’d like to pay you back for all you’ve taught me. How about you come with me on an outdoor shoot?”

“Really?” She blinked, startled. “That sounds fun.” She looked down at where he’d covered her fingers, then up at him. “When and where?”

He squeezed her hands, then decided that was a bad idea, since what he wanted to do was bring her palms to his mouth and kiss each soft surface in turn. He let go and dropped his hands to his lap. “Say Sunday at Oak Creek? I know a great spot.”

He realized he wasn’t just throwing her a bone. He wanted her to come. He wanted to take her to the red cliffs he loved, stand with her beside the swirling creek and beneath the trembling aspens. He wanted to show her his meadow, watch her face when she took it in, breathe in her smell mixed with pine and green and the ironstone aroma of flowing water.

Hell, they deserved a Sunday, didn’t they? They both worked hard. How bad could it be? You want her alone in your favorite place, you chump. That made it very bad, but when she said, “I’d love to,” her eyes shiny with champagne and excitement, he hardly felt guilty at all.





11




SITTING IN RENZIO’S, Rick’s eyes smoldering at her, her body tingly from champagne, an outdoor shoot with Rick had sounded glorious. Especially coming on the heels of his harsh refusal of help. Get out of my life followed by Come on in, the water’s fine.

But that was two days ago. Now it was three o’clock in the morning on a Sunday—the one day she slept in—and the idea of tromping through the woods sounded like hell on earth.

She couldn’t even hope for her sex-under-an-open-sky fantasy, since she’d determined to think of Rick only as her assistant.

What she should be doing is trolling the brunch buffet at the Phoenician, where she could snag a visiting CEO. Brunches didn’t kick off until eleven. She could get some sleep.

She stared at the digital display—she had a half-hour before she had to shower. Her finger bumped the picture Rick had taken of her. She’d framed it and put it on her bedside table as another reminder of what she wanted. In it, she looked so ready. But not for Rick. Not anymore.

Today she planned to learn so much about him he’d stop being fantasy material. However, since she had thirty minutes to kill, one more sexy little story wouldn’t hurt.

She lay back, closed her eyes and let the picture form in her mind. There he stood—Rick as her highwayman, all in black—standing in her bedroom doorway. Samantha spread out under her sheet and let the fantasy unroll in her mind.