Brazen

3

Sam wiped down the table and pocketed the tip left beneath the glass. As quickly as she'd taken over Theresa's job, she'd fallen into a steady rhythm. She wasn't half bad at cocktail waitressing. The overall pace here was slower than back home, which made for an easier transition. She enjoyed the customers, and they seemed to like talking with her. An easterner provided them with a source of amusement for the evening, and their slight accents intrigued her.

"Hey, honey. Another one in the corner."

Sam rolled her eyes. She had no idea where Zee got his endless supply of energy. Hers was dwindling fast. She ducked behind the bar in search of Mac's secret supply of Zee's liquor.

"You holding up okay?"

Her heart tripped in reaction to the husky voice. Good thing her feet didn't do the same or she'd lose her night's take paying for the damage. She turned toward Mac. "I'm fine."

"You had a rough walk over here." His gaze lingered on her canvas sneakers. His caring amazed her. The man needed a cocktail waitress or he'd have had to close down earlier, yet he'd sent Theresa home, and now here he was concerned about a few cuts and bruises on her feet-the feet of a woman he'd just met.

He had a soft spot beneath the rougher exterior. Sam liked that about him. Too much, considering.

"Tell the boys this is last call," he said.

She nearly kissed him in relief, but with a bar full of people, and their last session still fresh in her mind, she pushed the idea aside. As she went to serve her last drinks and clean up the increasingly empty tables, her nerves prickled with the awareness of being watched. The sensation only heightened as the night wore on, until just thinking about Mac sent her senses into heated overload.

Finally, she shut the door behind the last paying customer of the night. Without turning, she heard the sound of the stools being swung on top of the bar. Mac preparing to clean the floors, she assumed. She couldn't face him. Not with her emotions so fragile after the way she'd attacked him in the storage room earlier.

"And especially not after agreeing to spend the week in his bed," she muttered aloud.

The bar had been so busy, that except for his intense gaze and the times she needed to request orders, she'd managed to avoid anything personal between them for the rest of the night. Of course if she stayed here, she'd have to look him in the eye sooner or later.

Who was she kidding? If she stayed here, she'd be looking at a lot more than dark eyes framed by incredibly long lashes. She'd be looking at Mac. All of him.

Well, she'd wanted hot. She'd wanted to experience excitement and passion. He'd given her firsthand proof he could provide all three. The memory invited a rhythmic pounding and accompanying dampness between her legs. She refused to walk away now, even though guilt threatened her plans. Her conscience had picked an awful time to kick in.

She might not love Tom, and he might have bribed her into this engagement, but Samantha took commitment seriously. Throwing herself at one man while engaged to another bothered her more than she cared to admit. But not enough to change her mind. And she sensed that decision had more to do with Mac than the need for a one-week fling. She wanted this time with this man.

Tom would never know, and except for his ego, she wondered if he'd even care. Each of them would provide a function in the other's life. She would be a trophy to hang on his arm, he would give her the cash to bail out her father. She was the only one not personally gaining from the deal.

"Except for the fact that it led me to you," she murmured. Her gaze darted toward Mac's broad back. Muscles in his upper arms and neck flexed as he worked. Strong and self-confident as he was, she doubted he'd appreciate knowing that technically she belonged to another man.

She ran her thumb over her temporarily bare ring finger. She didn't like thinking of herself in terms of ownership, but she knew how men viewed the world. A man like Mac might get picky over little details-like her upcoming wedding. Since she'd never see him again afterward, there was no reason to risk losing this once-in-a-lifetime chance.

"Sammy Jo, come do one more shot before I let Hardy drive me home." She rolled her eyes. She never should have told Zee he could call her by that ridiculous name.

"Sammy Jo?"

"Samantha Josephine," Zee said. "You want to get to know a lady, you have to ask the right questions."

"Sammy Jo." Mac leaned on the handle of a large mop as he studied her. His heated gaze swept over her body, lingering on places he had no business observing in public. Places he'd seen earlier that evening. She had the definite impression he was remembering much more than what was currently before his eyes. "Sammy Jo," he said again, this time in a much more seductive, huskier voice. "Now, that works for me."

Her name on his lips worked for her, too in any form. Forcing herself to break eye contact, she turned to her drinking buddy. "I'm sorry, Zee, but I'm done for the night." She couldn't swallow another glass of water without her bladder exploding. As much as she liked the old guy and enjoyed his company, she'd humored him enough for one evening.

With a forced smile, she looked at Zee and hiccupped. Loud.

Mac chuckled. Zee grinned. "Told you I could drink her under the table. 'Night, all. Catch you tomorrow." He walked out of the bar, his designated driver hot on his heels.

Mac closed the door behind him and turned the dead bolt shut. Talk about defining moments, Sam thought. From now on, she'd associate the sound of a lock clicking into place with this man and this night.

"Alone at last." He adjusted the brim of his baseball cap and grinned. Then he crooked a finger in her direction. "Come here… Sammy Jo."

His dark eyes glittered with unchecked desire. Her heart threatened to explode in her chest, but she walked toward him, transfixed by the heat in his gaze and the way he made her body ache with one searing look.

Three steps, maybe four, and she reached him. Without prelude, he cupped his hands over her cheeks and kissed her. His tongue worked its way into her already-open mouth and sought hers. Sam expected a hard, demanding kiss, much like the ones they'd shared earlier. She could have handled one of those.

But the tender way he kissed her, learning the deep recesses of her mouth and then nibbling on her lower lip until she nearly cried at the unexpected sweetness of the assault-well, that she couldn't handle at all. When he lifted his head, his gaze caught and held hers.

She couldn't catch her breath, so she didn't try. As for the lump in her throat, she swallowed and attempted to talk over it. "What was that for?" she asked.

"You looked uncertain and I wanted to make sure you remembered why."

She didn't have to ask "Why what?" Why she'd plastered her body to his earlier. Why she'd agreed to stay with him. Why she shouldn't change her mind. He had no way of knowing she already knew. He was the answer to all those questions. His incredible masculinity and the chemistry she could generate only with him. She'd come west on a mission of sorts, but even in her wildest, most erotic dreams, she'd never imagined Mac.

He grasped her by the waist and settled her on one of the few stools still standing on the floor. Thanks to her loose, flowing top, his hands cupped bare skin, and the touch made her long for more. Instead his hands went to her feet, and he unlaced and pulled off her sneaker. He massaged her aching arch through her white sock.

She leaned back against the bar and sighed with delight. "Wow, that feels good."

He groaned. "I could think of lots of things that would feel better, but something tells me you need this more."

"You know a lot about someone you just met." She was still thinking about the reassuring kiss, not her sore feet.

"You're easy to read."

She forced her heavy eyelids open. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that." Because he wasn't, which made this a very one-sided relationship. Whoa. Not a relationship. A one-night stand or, if things worked out, one week. But not a relationship, which implied long-term commitment. She was already embroiled in one of those.

Sam didn't like the way her thoughts were going, and she tried to concentrate on her feet instead, which wasn't difficult, since he'd pulled off her other shoe and settled in to work. His hands massaged and coaxed along her arch and up her calves.

Long, sensual strokes alternated with short, deep thrusts of his fingers into her tender muscles. "You surprised me tonight," he said.

"You mean you aren't used to being mauled by women?" Sam held no illusions. He might have taken charge, but she had definitely approached him first.

He laughed. "I was talking about you helping out around here. You pitched in when I needed it most. I appreciate it."

His hands had moved higher, working their way up her thigh. She tensed, but under his continued ministrations, she began to relax again and enjoy.

"I can pay you Theresa's salary," he said.

"You already paid Theresa her salary," she reminded him.

"Because her family needs the money and Bear won't mind. You don't need to work for free. It isn't much, but…"

Sam could barely concentrate on anything but the feel of his hands on her bare skin and the thought of where they were headed next. But through the tingling sensations and the desire, she got a solid view of Mac. A special, caring man… hers for the duration of her stay, if she wanted him to be. And she did.

In return, he needed to know what she wanted from him, and that didn't include cash. "I don't want your money, Mac."

He muttered something she almost missed. Something that sounded like "That would be a first," but his agile fingers had reached the hem of her skirt and she knew she couldn't trust anything she heard except her own rapid breathing.

"Why not?" he asked. "You earned it."

"I don't take payment for things I enjoy, and I enjoyed helping you."

"I'm sure you picked up a lot in tips tonight, anyway," he said.

"I didn't do too badly for my first night." She grinned.

"You're a hell of a woman, Sammy Jo." His drawl was deliberate, she knew, as was the way his finger dipped beneath the lace in her panties. At that first intimate touch, she let out a slow moan, accompanied by a tremor her body couldn't control.

"Is this the way you show your gratitude?" she asked, trying to keep the moment between them light even as his finger moved over the lace, rubbing back and forth with unerring accuracy. It didn't work. Fire shot straight through her body, making her burn.

"No, sweetheart. I'm doing this because it turns you on and I enjoy that." To her disappointment, though, he slipped his fingers out from beneath her skirt. His hand shook as he placed it on her thigh. That telling gesture made his withdrawal easier to take. She wasn't alone in this swirling, all-encompassing state of desire.

"But I want you wide awake and participating, not exhausted from working behind the bar." He placed a gentle kiss on her lips before bending to retrieve her shoes.

"Go on up and I'll meet you after I've cleaned up."

Sam blinked, her mind unable to comprehend his words because her body was strung so tight she thought she might explode. She could attempt to seduce him, but she didn't want their first time to be in the bar.

Despite her inexperienced technique, she'd made it this far. She was more than content to let him take the lead. As she offered a wave and headed for the stairs, she realized Mac was right. She was exhausted. From the look of things down here, he might be a while and she could put the time to good use. After she relaxed, she would set exactly the right mood.

Mac hit the top step at a run. When was the last time he had a woman he'd invited warming his bed? Okay, not his bed, but he'd make do. Because not only did he like what he saw, but he liked what he'd learned about her, too. She wasn't selfish and greedy, but considerate and giving beyond belief. Not only to Mac when he needed a hand, but to Zee and the other regular customers, who made it a point to mention how much they liked his new waitress. She fit in, which surprised him, considering he'd bet his last dollar she'd never waited tables in her life.

They generated such instant and spontaneous combustion, it was hard to believe he'd only known Samantha for a couple of hours. When he opened the door, he walked into a candlelit room. He had to give her credit for ingenuity. She must have snuck back downstairs while he was cleaning and swiped the red candle holders from the tables. Thick white candles flickered in the darkness, casting a muted glow, creating a sexy atmosphere.

Mac's gaze went straight for the bed to see what other surprises awaited him. Samantha had crawled on top of the covers fully dressed, cuddled up with one pillow… and had fallen fast asleep.

His gaze fell on her sleeping form. Light from the candles shimmered over her face, drawing his attention to her delicate profile, high cheekbones and full lips. Lips he'd like to sample again. It wouldn't be happening, he thought, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. Which was a good thing, considering he'd promised himself to take things slowly and read the subtle signs she gave out. Not the overt ones, like the candlelit room decorated for seduction.

He eased himself beside her on the bed and tucked a wayward strand of hair off her cheek. She sighed softly and cuddled close to him. Interesting how she instinctively went toward him, even at her most defenseless. His heart gave a lurch.

In sleep, she looked more lost than she had when she'd wandered into the bar. Judging from the trouble she'd gone to setting up this seduction, he sensed, as he had earlier, that she considered a sexual encounter an answer to her problems. It would be too easy to succumb to temptation and take what she offered. If he did, he'd never see her again.

Mac didn't know how he knew this to be true. He just did. Losing Samantha before he got to know her wasn't an option. For now, he would take care of her and give her time to confide in him. Even if he had to sit on his hands and pray, he'd damn well do his best not to muddy the waters with sex. At least not yet.

Her eyelashes fluttered against her soft skin and she murmured to herself in her sleep. A bad dream? Mac pressed a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the throbbing in his groin brought on by even that innocent touch. Because more than he wanted her, he wished he could make whatever she was running from go away.

He wasn't anybody's white knight, and he didn't normally look for the nearest damsel in distress to rescue. But he wanted to protect this woman. He wanted to take care of Samantha. Mac didn't question why. He had a week to find out.

When his internal clock woke him early the next morning, he realized he hadn't slept much at all. How could he with Samantha's small but firm body tucked into his and her hand wrapped around a morning erection that had nothing to do with the time of day and everything to do with the woman beside him?

Good intentions aside, he'd gone to bed wanting her and awakened wanting her even more. Last night's erotic episode after closing stayed with him. He could still recall her moist heat against his fingertips and could easily envision his body sliding into hers. The soft noises coming from beside him told him she slept soundly, which put off the inevitable test of his resolve.

With a groan, he rolled over and dragged himself out of bed. He couldn't help but glance back once more. She'd rolled to his side of the bed and wrapped herself around a pillow. His pillow. And damned if she didn't look like she belonged there. Mac shook his head. A cold shower would take care of his problem at least temporarily. It would also clear his mind to face the start of his week with Samantha.

Sam waited until she heard the bathroom door closing behind Mac before flipping onto her back and opening her eyes. An arousing masculine scent filled her nostrils at the same time the sound of running water reached her ears. Mac's scent, Mac's shower. The same Mac she'd avoided this morning after awakening with her hand wrapped around his… his… She couldn't even think the word, let alone utter it aloud.

She forced herself to sit up and glanced around the room. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, and the candles she'd lit earlier had burned or been snuffed out. She glanced at a small bedside clock. The gleaming digital numbers told her she'd slept past her normal 7:00 a.m. wake-up time. Long past. Apparently bartenders had to alter their internal clocks to conform to late hours. She'd have to adjust, at least for the week. While she was with Mac.

She took another look around and cringed. She'd fallen asleep before he'd come up last night, and as a result, she'd awakened to face a failed seduction attempt. Mortified, she hadn't been able to make the first move, other than the unconscious one. Given the fact that she'd felt him pulsing against her palm, hard, warm and very male, she'd counted on him to act first. Obviously he had other plans.

She ought to be grateful she'd slept through making a complete fool of herself. Sam tossed the covers off. If she was dressed and out of the apartment before he finished his shower, she'd give herself some time to think. Her mind always worked better when she was outdoors, and with the fresh air and open spaces Arizona offered, she'd probably figure out how to handle a man like Mac in no time.

Bending down, she pulled out a cream-and-peach-flowered sundress and laid it out on the bed. She tipped her head to the side. The shower still pulsed in the background. So did the beat of music she no longer had to strain to hear.

The refrain sounded throughout the bedroom and she couldn't suppress a grin. So he liked music when he showered, she mused. She now knew one more thing about Mac. The thought pleased her. So did the fact that they shared the same taste in music. Her hips swayed to the country-and-western beat as she pulled her shirt over her head and shook her hair out behind her.

The jarring sound of a door opening startled her from the easy rhythm of the music. Unthinking, she whirled toward the sound, only to find herself facing Mac, bare-chested with a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing more.

"You've got rhythm," he said with a grin.

She felt burning heat rise to her cheeks. Water dripped over his bronzed skin. Her fingertips itched to follow the same path. "The shower's still running," she said inanely.

"Forgot my razor. It's new." He stepped toward the wooden dresser at the same time she made a dive for her clothes. The man was destined to see her at her worst, she thought, struggling to pull the soft cotton over her exposed breasts.

Clothed, but nowhere near composed, she turned back toward him. He studied her with an inscrutable expression, but there was one thing she couldn't mistake-the burning desire in his gaze.

She swallowed hard, then forced a smile. "Have everything you need?" she asked, careful to keep her gaze at eye level. Away from the towel that rode low on his hips, revealing a tan line and a swell of passion she couldn't mistake.

"Not nearly," he muttered.

She licked her lips, not knowing how to answer that.

"As long as you're up, I thought I'd take you out, get you a decent breakfast. There's nothing good in the refrigerator downstairs," he said.

She blinked, stunned by the absurd intimacy of the situation. She and Mac were sharing a morning routine and comfortable conversation while they were both barely dressed. They were strangers, for heaven's sake.

Her mind and her heart shouted in denial. They might have met only yesterday, but she and Mac were far from strangers. She felt too comfortable in his presence, too safe in his arms. The realization shook her composure.

She didn't know if she could get food into her nervous stomach, but a trip away from the bar and these close quarters seemed like an excellent idea.

She wasn't wearing a bra. Not unless she put one on when he'd gone downstairs to give her a minute or two of privacy. Mac gripped the steering wheel, his fists clenched as hard and as tight as his body. This morning's shock still hadn't worn off. He'd stepped out to find Samantha half-naked, her body bracketed by sunlight, her dark hair falling against the white skin of her back. And then when she'd turned around… all his good intentions had nearly been shot to hell right then and there.

When his choices had come down to tossing her onto the bed or tossing her onto the bed, he knew he was in trouble. Breakfast in a restaurant, sitting across from each other in a decent-size booth, had seemed like a good way to take the edge off the escalating sexual tension between them. He'd been wrong.

She'd sat across from him wearing the dress she'd grabbed for earlier, and all he could think of was her full breasts as they'd looked before she'd managed to run for cover. Even now, as he drove through the countryside, he couldn't think of anything else. She'd asked him to detour and show her the sights on their way back to the bar. That, too, had seemed like a good idea at the time. But considering his current train of thought, he wasn't sure Arizona 's rock formations would take his mind off Samantha.

He needed to give her space. He wanted all the time her week with him would allow, but there was no way he could continue to keep his hands to himself if she tempted him at every turn. Even her graceful hand movements aroused him.

"Mac, stop!"

He slammed on the brakes, nearly sending them into a skid. He didn't know if he was more on edge from inhaling her scent in the confines of the small car, or from thinking about her incredible body and what he'd like to do with it. The car screeched to a halt and he shoved the gear shift to Park. Luckily, they'd hopped onto a back road that was rarely used.

He darted a worried glance at Samantha.

"You stopped. I didn't think you'd take me literally."

"When someone screams in a car, I figure they're either going to be sick or they have to…" He shook his head. "Never mind. What's the emergency?"

Looking sheepish, she asked, "What's the little village over there?" She pointed to the scenic cluster of shops and stores in the distance. A panoramic picture of arches and rooftops painted in a variety of pinks, greens and light browns rose against the blue sky.

"That's a small place called Cave Cove. A tourist trap with Indian dolls, T-shirts, turquoise jewelry and other southwestern stuff you easterners like to bring home." Despite the commercialism, the place brought money into the town's economy and provided jobs for the locals. Mac wasn't a shopper himself, but his sister and mother always picked up unique pieces in the small stores during each of their monthly visits.

He shifted gears, intending to continue toward their destination, when her warm hand on his arm stopped him.

"Could we go there first?"

"If you want a mall, there's an upscale place back in Scottsdale." Which he hated, but for her, he'd force himself to endure it.

"A large indoor mall? Air-conditioned so I can freeze?" She rubbed her arms at the thought. "Expensive shops and obnoxious sales help? No, thanks. I get my fill of that back home."

He'd just bet she did. From what he'd seen of her clothing so far, everything had designer tags or labels, similar to the type of things the shops stocked at The Resort. No doubt she frequented similar upscale places in whatever state she did her shopping.

He glanced over. She'd crinkled up her nose in distaste. Samantha dressed well and looked gorgeous, but she obviously didn't enjoy the process, nor did she make it her life's work.

"You sure you want to stop there?" he asked.

"I'd really like to take a look around. Please?" She peeked up at him through wide eyes and batted those lashes in a move she still hadn't quite perfected.

He laughed hard. "Okay, we'll hit the stores and save the sights for later."

"Do you think they have those little dolls? Because I promised myself I'd pick one up while I'm here."

"I know for a fact they do." Thanks to his sister's collection. If he ever brought Samantha with him to Sedona, his mother and sister would take to her immediately.

Whoa. Mac stopped himself. It was one thing to think about a lifetime commitment in the abstract, but it was a whole different story for him to think of Samantha being accepted by his female family members. Although she would be. He knew it as certainly as he knew Samantha would accept them.

He glanced over. She'd perched her sunglasses on top of her head in an unconscious move that was as honest as it was erotic. Even her everyday movements tantalized him.

She rested her forehead against the car window and gazed longingly toward the quaint town. "It's incredibly beautiful here," she said quietly.

"It is, isn't it?" These surroundings were as much a part of him as his blood, but he never took them for granted. He hadn't grown up wealthy. When money came later on, a man tended to appreciate all he had. Mac did. He glanced at Samantha once more. And when he found what he wanted, he didn't let go.

"Peaceful," Sam said. "No skyscrapers, no smog, no bumper-to-bumper traffic or blaring car horns."

He hummed the theme song to Jeopardy before answering, "What is… New York City?"

She laughed. "You could have just asked where I'm from."

"You live there?"

"Work there. I commute from New Jersey, forty minutes a day."

"Why?"

She looked out the window. Mountains provided a backdrop for a wide variety of cacti and plant life. Looking at the sun overhead, a bright ball of fire in an otherwise clear blue sky, she shook her head. "I have no idea. I was born and raised there, so I stayed, I guess. Plus financial planners do best in New York. What about you?"

"An Arizona native."

"So you have family here?"

He nodded. "Mother and sister, a brother-in-law and a six-month-old nephew."

She didn't like thinking about him as a man with family, people who loved and cared about him. Somehow that made him too real, too unforgettable.

"What about you?" he asked. "Any family?"

"Just my dad."

His understanding groan filled the small car. "What happened?"

"My mother passed away a couple of years ago… and…"

"And?" he prodded when she remained silent.

"Dad didn't cope well. He's a stockbroker and works for one of the big brokerage firms in the city." And of course, Sam, in her quest for parental approval, had gone into financial planning, a similar field, to emulate her father and make him proud. She was never quite sure she'd accomplished her goal, so it was a good thing she loved her choice of careers.

She sighed. "First he neglected his clients, then he tried to compensate. I didn't know until recently, but in the last year, Dad's been dipping into high-risk stocks and losing a lot of money. His boss wasn't pleased when several of his clients took their business elsewhere. Both his professional and personal portfolios are a mess. The worse things got, the more time he spent doing anything but watching the market…" She cut herself off with a laugh.

Tipping her head to the side, she met his gaze. "You're easy to talk to, you know that?"

"Then keep going." He lay a hand on her arm, and she let the warmth seep through her.

"If you're sure you want to hear."

Dark eyes reassured her. "I do."

"He's nearly broke. I should have seen it coming, but I didn't." And considering the solution, oh, how she wished she had. Sam shook her head. "I was so busy with my own life and job that I didn't realize what was going on. By the time I did, he'd not only fallen into serious debt, he'd lost most of his long-standing clients."

His hand moved from her arm to her fingers as he cupped her hand in a gentle grip.

"You can't control his life for him."

"No, but I'm not so sure he can, either. At first I thought it was a grief-induced lapse and he'd snap out of it. But now I think he's just getting older and less meticulous, more forgetful, maybe. If I'd paid more attention…"

"You aren't responsible for your father's actions."

She raised an eyebrow. If only he knew. "I promised my mother I'd take care of him," she explained. Problem was, her dying mother had envisioned Sam teaching him to use the washing machine, not giving up her own freedom to ensure her father didn't lose the house or his status in the community.

"Besides, I've always done the right thing," she murmured. Always sought her parents' approval… their elusive affection. She'd found both at the time her mother had passed away. She loved her father and wanted to help. But everything she wanted would now cost her dearly. She tipped her head for a glance at Mac.

"I can understand that kind of vow," he said. "I promised my father the same thing."

Too real, too unforgettable. She drew a shuddering breath. This morning would have been the perfect time to escape, before she got to know him, before she got to like him.

But since it was too late for that, Sam decided she wanted his understanding as well. "So you can see how a promise can change your whole life…" She stopped herself before she revealed too much, realizing how honest she'd been and how dangerous the level of emotional intimacy had become.

This week wasn't reality, she reminded herself. It was a sliver of time that belonged to her and Mac alone. She had no business bringing her real life into the picture, as if he were someone she could confide in. Someone who would be around when all was said and done. Because no matter how much she grew to like him, no matter how much she might care, Samantha had to walk away. Regardless of how painful it might be.

She'd be hurting him, too, and that thought bothered her most of all. She wrapped her free arm around herself to ward off the unwanted chill, a chill that came from deep inside her.

As if sensing the conversation had ended and respecting her silence, he shifted to drive and pulled back onto the road. Her other hand remained safe in his, his touch warm and comforting on her skin. "I'm sorry about your mother," he told her, his gaze fixed ahead. "And I know that any solution to your father's problems will be tough on you. Be there for him, advise him, and help him if you can. But remember, you can't give up the rest of your life because he's having trouble with his."

If he only knew. She slid her gaze to the window, unable to look at him. Although he knew she was leaving for the conference next week, he had no idea how final their goodbyes would truly be.