Hot Mess (7 page)

“Happy?” he asked after he’d taken a swig.

She smiled. “Getting there.”

CHAPTER FIVE

GEORGEANNE WATCHED SAM PROWL around the kitchen and felt like the annoying kid tagging after the big boys all over again. He clearly didn’t want to be cooped up in this house with her, and he damn sure didn’t want to talk about anything. What was so damn difficult about saying whether or not he’d ever been in love?

“I’m sorry this is a pain in the ass for you,” she finally said when he gave the pasta another sharp twist with the spoon. He glanced at her over his shoulder, then picked up the pot and came over to dump the contents in the strainer. Steam bellowed up from the sink, obscuring his face for a second.

“It’s not a pain in the ass. It’s just been so damn long since I’ve seen you that I’m not sure what to say to you anymore.”

Georgeanne could only gape at him. “How can you not know what to say? We haven’t seen each other in six years—and that was only while you glared at me and Tim at our reception.”

He banged the pan down. “Of course I glared. You were marrying an asshole.”

“Well
I
didn’t know that,” she said primly. “I thought he was wonderful.”
Mostly wonderful
, she amended in her head. After that aborted night with Sam, she’d gone off to college and had a string of boyfriends she didn’t really care about. Then, in her senior year, she’d started going out with Tim. He’d been funny and he’d had just enough of that cocky male arrogance to remind her of Sam. Not a good reason to go out with someone, but by the time she’d agreed to marry him, she’d forgotten all about Sam. Well, mostly forgotten.

“He was always a prick. Too much money, too spoiled, and acted like everyone owed him something.”

She nodded. “You won’t get an argument out of me these days. Go ahead and trash him all you like. But for a while, I did love him. And I think he loved me.”

Sam’s gaze snapped to hers, his dark eyes glittering hot. “Of course he did. He’d have been a fool not to.”

Astonishment ricocheted through her. “Why Sam, are you complimenting me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

She took another drink of her wine. “Well, I don’t know. You’ve pretty much frowned and growled at me since I turned fifteen.”

He looked thoughtful. “Have I?”

“Hell, you even frowned that night out at Hopeful Lake. If there was ever a moment
not
to frown, that would have been it. Or do you always look like that when you’re about to have sex with some woman you’ve taken home for the night?”

“Jesus, Georgie. Why do you keep reminding me about that night?”

She shrugged. “It’s pretty much the last time I had any interaction with you. And it was pretty memorable, you have to admit. Though it could have certainly been more so.”

He turned back to the stove with a growl and she shook her head. “I’m beginning to think you’re a prude, Sam. Every time I mention anything to do with sex, you can’t shut me down fast enough.”

He brought the vegetables and sauce over to the counter and tossed the pasta into the pan, mixing it with short jerking motions of the skillet. “I don’t want to talk about this kind of stuff with you, that’s why. I’m not a prude, but it’s none of your business.”

She was getting mad now and she didn’t quite know why. “It
was
my business when you had your hand between my legs and your tongue down my throat.”

He dished some pasta onto a plate and set it in front of her. “That was twelve years ago, and I’m not discussing it with you.”

Fury and hurt warred for space inside her. “Dammit, Sam, I’m sick of you treating me like I can’t make any decisions for myself. It was
my
choice to give you my virginity, and though it was your choice not to take it, you can’t pretend it never happened. It
would
have happened if you weren’t such a damned uptight sonofabitch—”

His head snapped up. The look he gave her was so full of menace that the words died in her throat. “Is that what you think? Is that what you honestly fucking think? That I pushed you away because I was being a sonofabitch? Because I didn’t respect your
choice?
” He leaned toward her then, until he was nearly in her face. “I respected you and your family too much to do that to you, Georgie. To screw you in the front seat of a beat-up pickup out by the lake when you deserved diamonds and silk and champagne?” He shook his head, hard. “No fucking way. You were trying to be a rebel, and trying to use me to do it. And that’s not a good enough reason.”

She sat back in her chair, stunned. His words rang in her ears.
Diamonds and silk and champagne.
“You thought I was using you to rebel?”

He dumped pasta on a plate for himself. “Why else? You could have had anyone, but you chose me. Your parents were good to me, but do you think they’d have been thrilled to know their little princess was out fucking the boy who, only by the grace of God and their good influence, wasn’t as much of a loser as he was destined to be?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You’ve got it all wrong, Sam. Every bit of it.” She could barely push the words past the tightness in her throat.

He glared at her. “Have I? You wanted me because I was wrong for you, because I was the bad boy. You spent years building up that fantasy in your head. I saw it every time you looked at me.”

She’d known when they’d been kids that he’d been lonely and sad, but she hadn’t known he’d felt like he was bad. How could he be bad? He’d been a part of their family, and her parents weren’t poor judges of character. Oh, he’d gotten into trouble here and there—but never anything serious, and never anything that lasted for long. He
had
been expelled once, but her dad had gone and had a long talk with the principal—and Sam was back in school again. She’d never doubted his character for one minute.

“I wanted you because you made my heart sing. Yes, I was infatuated with you. I spent years being infatuated with you. None of it had anything to do with you being a bad boy. Were you a bad boy? I didn’t know it. All I knew was you were there, in my house, looking handsome and broody and sexy. You played guitar and sang, and you were nice to me—when you weren’t telling me what to do. I adored you for those reasons, no other. When you came home again, I was so certain you’d finally see me as a woman, not Rick’s annoying little sister. Yes, I came after you and I wanted you to be my first—hell, I probably wanted you to be my only, but I did have a healthy fantasy life back then and the idea of marrying you and moving from Army base to Army base seemed like an adventure.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry if you felt like I was using you. It was the furthest thing from my mind, believe me.”

He was staring at her. “It’s post.”

“I’m sorry?” She’d said all that, and all he could say was something nonsensical?

“Army post. It’s an Air Force base; an Army post.”

She picked up her fork and twisted it into the pasta as if she had no cares in the world. Inside, she was trembling. She’d just bared some of her most private feelings to him and he was treating it like it was nothing. “Well, I’ll have to remember that. Thanks for the lesson.”

“Georgie.”

She looked up. He reached over and took her free hand in his. Squeezed. “I’m sorry I disappointed you. I was trying to protect you.”

“It’s not your job to protect me, Sam.”

He gave her a lopsided grin that made her heart stutter. “Actually, it is. Right now anyway.”

“I appreciate that, really. But it only applies to the situation with Jake, not to anything else. Please remember that.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good.”

He blew out a breath. “I wasn’t right for you then. I hope you realize that. I wasn’t in a good place, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You might not have wanted to, but you did anyway. Self-esteem can be a fragile thing at that age, and you shattered mine pretty badly when you pushed me away.”

“I was trying to do the right thing.”

“I know that now.” She took a bite of the pasta to cover her raw nerves. “Oh my God, this is good. So much better than sex.”

It wasn’t a good segue, but it would have to do. Because it didn’t do any good to talk about the past with Sam. She still felt like the annoying little kid. And the fact that he’d been trying to protect her when he’d turned her away twelve years ago? It only made her heart squeeze a little tighter and her emotions twist into knots.

Sam shook his head and laughed. “Now you’re just trying to bait me into saying something contradictory.”

“Maybe.” She took another bite and closed her eyes. “Or maybe not. Seriously, who needs a man when you have this? It’s an orgasm on a plate.”

“You’re laying it on a little thick, G.”

She grinned at him. “So you think. But really, sex is a bit overrated. Even you have to admit that. We get all worked up based on our hormones—and then what? It feels nice for a while and then it’s over.” She shrugged. “I’ve been living without it for over a year now, and I’m no worse off.”

Intense dark eyes raked over her face and something throbbed deep inside her. Suddenly, sex seemed a whole lot more important than she wanted it to be.

“Eat the pasta, G, and shut the hell up.”

“You’re growling again,” she said.

He only glared at her.

* * *

There was a thunderstorm later that night. The crack of thunder and sizzle of ozone woke Georgeanne up. She bolted up in bed, feeling disoriented until she remembered where she was. Sam was on a fold-up Army cot in the living room. He’d given her the bed and stationed himself in the small room right off the front door. She didn’t ask if he was armed. She didn’t have to.

He must have seen the concern on her face because he’d told her it was simply SOP—standard operating procedure. He didn’t expect a threat, but he prepared for one because that’s what he did.

She’d gone to bed feeling only marginally better since she suspected he wouldn’t tell her the truth anyway. There could be a whole boatload of bad guys out there and he wouldn’t let her know it. Except she had to admit that she was pretty confident in the men she’d met earlier today. They were on top of this, whatever this was, and they’d find the person who killed Jake.

Thunder cracked again, and Belle scrambled under the bed. Georgeanne threw the covers back and went into the bathroom. When she came out, she realized she’d drunk the bottle of water she’d set on her bedside table, so she went into the kitchen to get another one.

She could see Sam lying on the cot, one arm thrown over his face, the other beside him. Lightning flashed and illuminated the dark room for a split second, and Georgeanne had to stifle the groan on her lips.

God, he was beautiful. He lay on top of the covers, clad in a pair of shorts, and his bare chest was a sight to behold. Far more muscular than when he’d been seventeen—or even twenty-one. And he was inked. She couldn’t tell what the designs were in that brief flash of light, but she’d seen them there and they made her mouth go dry.

What would it be like to trace them with her tongue? Wetness flooded her at the thought, and her temperature kicked up a degree. She’d told him sex was overrated—and she hadn’t been kidding, but what if it wasn’t overrated with him? What if he possessed the ability to make her feel something more than just the sweetness of a release?

Georgeanne shivered with awareness. It had been so long since a man had touched her. So long since she’d cared. And now here she was, panting over the one man who had always seemed determined not to have anything to do with her.

Compelled by a force she didn’t understand, she crept toward the cot. She just wanted to see him up close, wanted to know if the ripple of muscle was as impressive as it had seemed in that flash of light. Wanted to see him breathing and know he was really here and that she wasn’t somehow imagining the whole thing in a fevered dream.

“What are you doing?”

His voice startled her. She stopped, clutching her water bottle, and swallowed. “Just making sure you’re okay.”

He removed his arm from over his face. She could see the glitter of his eyes in the darkness. “I’m fine.”

He sounded prickly, as usual, and it got to her. “Your virtue is safe with me, Sam. You don’t have to get all edgy about it. I wasn’t coming over to take advantage of you or anything.”

He swung his legs to the floor and sat up. “I’m not worried about my virtue.”

“No, you’re worried about mine. Or about what Rick or my parents would think if you did what you really want to do.”

He tilted his head to the side. “How do you know what I really want to do? Maybe I’m not attracted to you. Did you ever consider that?”

She felt those words like a blow. After everything with Tim, after the heartbreak and betrayal, the idea that yet another man found her less than appealing hurt more than she could say. Yes, she’d done it to herself. She’d poked and prodded and pushed, and for what? So he could tell her he didn’t want her? So she could suffer the sting of humiliation yet one more time?

Georgeanne couldn’t think of one damn thing to say. Instead, she turned on her heel and fled back toward the bedroom. She was inside, throwing the door closed, when a big shape wedged itself between the door and the jamb. She didn’t fight; she just let go and stepped back, arms around herself as he loomed big in the room.