effort, Hank forced his gaze away from that ripe mouth. It was unusually carnal, a fact he’d noticed many years ago when he’d almost made the monumental mistake of kissing her. Sam had always been the one woman he could trust, could bare his soul to, could confide in. She was his sounding board, his voice of reason, and was always good for a laugh.
For lack of any better explanation, he liked himself when he was with her, and he couldn’t say that about anyone else. Theirs had been the ideal relationship. His feelings for her had always been strictly platonic, there’d been nothing remotely sexual about it—until the summer she turned eighteen.
Hank could still remember the moment his interest had shifted, could still feel that terrifying combination of affection and lust as sharply today as he had the afternoon it had happened. He and Sam had taken the ferry over to Dauphin Island, for what reason exactly, he couldn’t remember now. But the trip back—that was one he’d never forget. He and Sam had been standing side by side—a pose as natural as breathing—had been leaning against the railing watching the surf lap at the hull of the boat. He’d caught a glance of her from the corner of his eye—the soft slope of her cheek, that woefully familiar smile, and just like that—in the blink of an eye—his feelings had changed. He’d been hit with the nearly blinding urge to kiss her right then.
But he hadn’t.
He and Sam had a good relationship and he’d had no intention of letting something as fickle as lust screw it up. Not now, not ever. Though it had almost happened once. Drink had dulled his determination and, though common sense had prevailed in the end, he’d almost kissed her and ruined everything.
Since then, he’d never let his guard down, had learned to keep the attraction under control. He slid a glance over her and felt his mood turn grim. A premonition of dread resonated in his belly. Undoubtedly it would be more difficult now.
“The pioneers are fine,” he managed to say belatedly in answer to her question. The thought of his Mom and Dad drew a smile.
His parents had taken an Alaskan cruise for their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, had fallen in love with the Last Frontier and decided to turn the B&B over to him and head off to Alaska. Though he enjoyed running the B&B, he still missed them terribly. During the off season, he made regular visits, however those small bits of time never seemed like enough to catch up.
“That’s good to hear,” she said, then bit her bottom lip. “Are you absolutely certain that you don’t mind if I stay with you? I could take the couch. Or try to find another hotel.”
Hank shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll stay here. Let me get your bags and I’ll show you to…our room.”
Hank came around the counter, hefted Samantha’s bags and gestured for her to follow him down the hall. That fruity, mantrap scent swirled around his head once more, making his nerve-endings hum and his blood sizzle. He blinked, feeling almost dazed, then mentally swore and shook off the sensation.
He looked back at her from over his shoulder and her absolute beauty slammed into him once more.
She’d mentioned in passing conversation over the past year that she’d made some changes to herself, had been spending a lot of time at the gym, but he’d never dreamed that this would have been the end result.
He should have known better.
That’s what he’d always liked about Samantha. No bullshit. Yes meant yes and no meant no, and he never had to worry about being politically correct or any of that other crap. He could just be himself with all his little idiosyncrasies and imperfections, and know that she wouldn’t pass judgment. Furthermore, when she set out to do something, she did it. Failure with her was simply not an option. Still… “What kind of perfume are you wearing?”
A frown wrinkled her brow. “None. Why?”
Hank turned back around, continued down the hall to the back of the house. “You smell good. Fruity. Sweet.”
She hummed under her breath. “Must be my fabric softener.”
Some fabric softener, Hank thought. It made him want to rip her clothes off.
He was suddenly hit with the insane urge to slide his hands over her newfound curves, taste her ripe, peachy breasts and sample that utterly carnal mouth of hers, to fasten his mouth on her sex and see if that hot slick valley between her thighs smelled as sweet and fruity as the rest of her. To see if it tasted as sweet as she smelled.
Hank squeezed his eyes shut and, with extreme effort, derailed that demented train of thought. This was not good, he thought as he slipped the key in the lock. A mixture of anticipation and doom congealed in his belly as he pushed the door open and ushered her into his room.
So much for the quarantine, Hank thought numbly. Unless he wanted to move out of his house, he wouldn’t have a prayer of avoiding her. And the hell of it was…he didn’t want to.
SAMANTHA COVERTLY SCRATCHED the underside of her arm as Hank busied himself with opening the door. The minute she got into this room, she would have to excuse herself to the bathroom and pop an antihistamine before it was too late and these mere tingling irritations turned into full-blown hives. That would not be good, and the last thing she needed was for Hank to become suspicious. Samantha inwardly shuddered. She would die of mortification and embarrassment if he ever found out the lengths she’d gone to in order to get her rightfully deserved orgasm. Quite honestly, being strip-searched by a butch lesbian with a billy club fetish held greater appeal.
Hank walked across the gleaming hardwood and dropped her bags at the foot of his rumpled four-poster bed. “I’ll clean out a couple of drawers and see if I can make some room for you in the closet.”
“Thanks.” She jerked her thumb toward the en suite bath. “I’ve got to…”
Hank nodded succinctly. “Sure.” He glanced around the room, winced, then shoved a hand through his sun-bleached hair. “I’ll straighten up a little bit, too.”
“Still not letting housekeeping in?” Samantha said as she carefully picked her way over dirty clothes and orphaned shoes. She remembered that he’d always been a slob, and frankly, found the idea ridiculously endearing. Of course, she probably wouldn’t if she had to clean up after him.
“Nah,” he replied, absently gathering trash from the nightstand. “I can’t ever find anything after they’ve been in here.”
Samantha grinned and let herself into the bathroom, then sagged against the closed door.
Sweet Lord. No matter how many times she saw Hank, no matter how many times she told herself that this time things would be different—she wouldn’t be so affected by him—she always felt like the wind had been knocked from her sails, felt the ground shift beneath her feet. A curious buzzing sounded in her head and a hot sweet rush of affection and desire flooded her, pushing an instant smile to her lips. She’d undoubtedly looked like a goofy geek—she couldn’t help it, that’s who she was—but she’d never been able to pretend to be less than thrilled when she saw him. She simply couldn’t help herself.
When he’d strolled into the foyer looking like he’d just stepped off the set of Baywatch and immediately flashed that gorgeous, oh-so-lazy smile at her, it had been all Samantha could do to keep her watery knees from buckling. That achy place between her legs had throbbed and her nipples had tingled. She’d always been in lust with him—show her a female who wasn’t
