can’t possibly know, and I’m not going to stand here defending myself and my choices to you.”
“Great,” she said, nodding sharply as her temper once again rose to meet his. “So you’ll just keep hiding yourself away until the rest of your life slides past?”
Sam snapped, throwing both hands high. “Why the hell do you care if I do?”
“Because I saw you with Holly,” Joy said, moving in on him again, flavoring every breath he took with the scent of summer flowers that clung to her. “I saw your kindness. She needed that. Needs a male role model in her life and—”
“Oh, stop. Role models. For God’s sake, I’m no one’s father figure.”
“Really?” She jammed both hands on her hips. “Better to shut yourself down? Pretend you’re alone on a rock somewhere?”
“For me, yeah.”
“You’re lying.”
“You don’t know me.”
“You’d like to think so,” Joy said. “But you’re not that hard to read, Sam.”
Sam shook his head. “You’re here to run the house, not psychoanalyze me.”
“Multitasker, remember?” She smiled and he resented her for it. Resented knowing that he wanted her in spite of the tempers spiking between them. Hell, maybe because of it. He hated knowing that maybe she had a point. He really hated realizing that whatever secrets he thought he’d been keeping were no more private than the closest computer with an internet connection.
And man, it bugged him that she could go from anger to smiles in a blink.
“This isn’t analysis, Sam.” She met his gaze coolly, steadily, firelight dancing in her eyes. “It’s called conversation.”
“It’s called my family,” he said tightly, watching the reflection of flame and shadow in the blue of her eyes.
“I know. And—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry.”
“I have to,” she said simply. “And I am.”
“Great. Thanks.” God he wanted to get out of there. She was too close to him. He could smell her shampoo and the scent of flowers—Jasmine? Lilies?—fired a bolt of desire through him.
“But that’s not all I am,” she continued. “I’m also a little furious at you.”
“Yeah? Right back at you.”
“Good,” she said, surprising him. “If you’re angry at least you’re feeling something.” She moved in closer, kept her gaze locked with his and said, “If you love making furniture and working with wood, great. You’re really good at it.”
He nodded, hardly listening, his gaze shifting to the open doorway across the room. It—and the chance of escape—seemed miles away.
“But you shouldn’t stop painting,” she added fiercely. “The worlds you created were beautiful. Magical.”
That magic was gone now, and it was better that way, he assured himself. But Sam couldn’t remember a time when anyone had talked to him like this. Forcing him to remember. To face the darkness. To face himself. One reason he’d moved so far from his parents, his sister, was that they had been so careful. So cautious in everything they’d said as if they were all walking a tightrope, afraid to make the wrong move, say the wrong thing.
Their...caution had been like knives, jabbing at him constantly. Creating tiny nicks that festered and ached with every passing minute. So he’d moved here, where no one knew him. Where no one would offer sympathy he didn’t want or advice he wouldn’t take. He’d never counted on Joy.
“Why?” she asked. “Why would you give that up?”
It had been personal. So deeply personal he’d never talked about it with anyone, and he wasn’t about to start now. Chest tight, mouth dry, he looked at her and said, “I’m not talking about this with you.”
With anyone.
He took a step or two away from her, then spun back and around to glare down at her. In spite of the quick burst of fury inside him, sizzling around and between them, she didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Another thing to admire about her, damn it. She was sure of herself even when she was wrong.
“I already told you, Sam. You don’t scare me.”
“That’s a damn shame,” he muttered, trying not to remember that his mother had warned him about lonely old recluses muttering to themselves. He turned from her again, and this time she reached out and grabbed his arm as he moved away from her.
“Just stop,” she demanded. “Stop and talk to me.”
He glanced down at her hand on his arm and tried not to relish the heat sliding from her body into his. Tried not to notice that every cell inside him was waking up with a jolt. “Already told you I’m not talking about this.”
“Then don’t. Just stay. Talk to me.” She took a deep breath, gave his arm a squeeze, then let him go. “Look, I didn’t mean to bring any of this up tonight.”
“Then why the hell did you?” He felt the loss of her touch and wanted it back.
“I don’t like lying.”
Scowling now, he asked, “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Joy folded both arms in front of her and unconsciously lifted them until his gaze couldn’t keep from admiring the pull of her shirt and the curve of those breasts. He shook his head and attempted to focus when she started talking again.
“I found out today about your family and not saying something would have felt like I was lying to you.”
Convoluted, but in a weird way, she made sense. He wasn’t much for lies, either, except for the ones he told his mother every time he assured her that he was fine. And truth be told, he would have been fine with Joy pretending she knew nothing about his past. But it was too late now for pretense.
“Okay, great. Conscience clear. Now let’s move on.” He started walking again and this time, when Joy tugged on his arm to get him to stop, he whirled around to face her.
Her blue eyes went wide, her mouth opened and he pulled her into him. It was instinct, pure, raw instinct, that had him grabbing her close. He speared his fingers through those blond curls, pulled her head back and kissed her with all the pent-up frustration, desire and, yeah, even temper that was clawing at him.
Surprised, it took her only a second or two to react. Joy wrapped her arms around his waist and moved in even closer. Sam’s head exploded at the first, incredible taste of her. And then he wanted more. A groan slid from her throat, and that sound fed the flames enveloping him. God, he’d had no idea what kissing her would do to him. He’d been thinking about this for days, and having her in his arms made him want the feel of her skin beneath his hands. The heat of her body surrounding his.
All he
