her nemesis. “Then whose type am I?” she demanded archly.
Sam hooked an arm about her waist and pulled her into the tantalizing warmth of his embrace. “Mine.”
Chapter Three
“YOU’RE NOT JUST NOSY,” Nora sputtered. “You’re nuts!”
Sam grinned victoriously, his hot glance skimming her from head to toe. “Can I help it if I know what I want?”
“You also know I was supposed to get married today.”
“And yet, when you talk about not getting married,” he scoffed, using the arm anchored around her waist to bring her even closer, “you look nothing but relieved.”
“So maybe my fiancé was not my Mr. Right,” Nora theorized hotly.
He grinned at her display of temper, his glance taking in the bare curves of her shoulders before returning with sensual deliberation to her eyes. He stared at her with taunting intensity. “And maybe in running away the way you did, even if it was at the very last minute, you stopped yourself from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
Suffused with heat everywhere Sam’s eyes had gazed, as well as everywhere they had not, Nora swallowed. She wished she was wearing anything but this beaded white satin wedding dress, with its flirtatiously full skirt and long, closely fitted drop sleeves and bosom-revealing neckline.
Determined not to let Sam get the better of her, in conversation or anything else, she made herself take a tranquilizing breath.
“As it happens,” Nora told Sam, glad at last that someone understood she’d prevented a mistake in running away, not made one, “that’s precisely what I did.”
Slowly he lowered his face to hers. His golden-brown eyes glittered rapaciously. “Then I’ve got nothing to worry about, even if your groom does show up here to reclaim you, do I?” he asked in a soft, silken voice.
Fighting the electric heat Sam’s touch elicited, Nora relaxed slightly in the comforting cradle of his arms. “I don’t think he’ll come after me,” Nora replied sadly. “And even if he did, it wouldn’t make any difference.”
“Good.” Satisfaction filled his eyes as he dropped one hand from around her back and lifted her chin to his.
“Why do you say that?”
Still gazing deep into her eyes, he curved his hand around her cheek and chin. “Because I’m old enough to know that chemistry like this comes but once in a lifetime, and I want my own chance with you,” he said softly.
Nora threw up her hands. She’d never met anyone more persistent. Furthermore, she knew by the confident, controlled way Sam held himself that he would never be satisfied unless he held the upper hand. And wasn’t that what she was trying to get away from? Men who would rule her life?
“Don’t you care that I’m on the rebound?” She pushed the words through clenched teeth, finding it hard to hang on to her cool.
Sam merely grinned from ear to ear. “Are you?” Sam asked, leaning forward. As he did so, his lips touched her temple. “’Cause I could’ve sworn by the way you’ve been acting today that you never really loved this Mr. Wrong of yours in the first place.” He paused and looked deep into her eyes.
He hadn’t even tried to kiss her lips, though he could have, and he was merely touching her face, yet Nora’s nipples tightened painfully beneath her lacy bridal corset. Lower still, there was a definite pressure building, and a new weakness in her knees. And the startling desire to feel his lips on hers—not just in a momentary experiment, but in a passionate explosion of feeling that went on…well, indefinitely.
And that, Nora thought, was crazy. She didn’t even know this man! Furthermore, she was not the kind of woman who could be swept off her feet. Not ever. And yet it appeared, she thought as she drew a shaky breath, that Sam Whittaker was doing just that.
“You didn’t love him, did you?” Sam probed.
Nora’s eyes widened at the low, masculine promise in his voice. “N-no,” she said as color poured into the high, sculpted planes of her face.
“Good,” Sam replied in a low, gravelly voice. “Then that’s all I need to know,” he said, pulling her against him. He threaded one hand through her hair. His lips grazed hers, tenderly at first, then with building passion. Nora was engulfed by so many sensations and feelings at once. The woodsy scent of him, the minty taste of his mouth. His lips were sure and sensual, his body was hard and warm. The man knew how to kiss! Knew how to draw a thrilling, incredibly sensual response from her, the kind she had read about but never really dreamed existed. And it was only then, when Nora realized what Sam had done to her, in getting her to respond that way to him, that he slowly drew back.
Not sure she could stand unassisted, Nora wreathed her arms about his shoulders and held on tight. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she could barely catch her breath as she stared up at him.
He looked down at her, breathing just as erratically, appearing just as stunned, just as pleased. He smiled at her then, ever so softly and reluctantly, released his grip on her. “You’re free now.”
Nora blinked up at him dizzily, aware that she’d never felt more lovestruck than she did at that moment. “To love again?” she asked.
Sam ran his fingertips down the open wedge of the back of her gown, eliciting another series of tingles—and the realization that her trouble some zipper was no longer jammed. “To get out of the dress.”
“Oh.” Embarrassed at the unspeakably ardent direction of her thoughts, Nora started to step away from the dressing room wall.
Sam planted a hand on either side of her and leaned in close. “But don’t give up on the other,” he told her softly. “You’re free to do that, too.”
Looking deep into Sam’s eyes, Nora could almost believe that it was all that simple. She wanted Sam—at least for now; she should have him. But common sense prevailed, telling her this was not the type of diversion she should be allowing herself, not when she still had so much about her life to sort out. Like where she was going to live, and how she was going to get her father to listen to her and stop meddling in her life. And she had to do all that without completely destroying the only familial relationship she had left in her life in the process.
Determined to put first things first, Nora flattened a hand across Sam’s chest and pressed against the solid male warmth. But before she could speak, the pager attached to his belt began a steady, insistent beep.
The edges of Sam’s mouth tightened into a frown. As he reached down to turn off the pager, his eyes met hers. “Guess I’ll see you later,” he drawled.
Nora sighed. Whether it was wise or not, she had been afraid that would be the case.
WHEN NORA CAME OUT of the dressing room some fifteen minutes later, her wedding gown folded and looped over her arms, the crowd in Whittakers had barely thinned. People were still lined up in droves, purchasing gloves, hats and snow boots, chatting excitedly about the three or so inches of snow that were now on the ground.
Before Nora could do more than smile a hello at another group of curious townspeople, her
