Bound to You Page 12

  So, Jenna went to clean up the mess herself. The couch and floor were littered with popcorn pieces and pizza crumbs, and cola bottles covered the coffee table. No telling how much her sister had spent on this little party.

  Realizing she’d need a trash bag from the kitchen, she turned into the foyer, and almost ran headlong into Sam, who was still loitering. She looked into his warm, earnest blue eyes - eyes she had loved for so very long.

  She stepped to the side, away from his warmth and penetrating gaze. “Sorry,” she said and maneuvered around him.

  He let her pass then fell in step beside her, in the narrow hallway beside the stairs. She stopped to see why he was acting so odd.

  He looked down at her with eyes as wild as the Strickland men she’d seen in the post office all those years ago. He propped his hand against the wall by her head, forcing her backward, leaning so close she could smell his mesmerizing scent beneath the faint and appealing scent of cologne. His gaze traveled the length of her body, and he released a soft groan of pleasure, which seemed wholly involuntary. His blue eyes glittered, his left shoulder turned inward - a powerful shoulder stretching against white cotton.

  She jumped when she saw that he was leaning forward, moving inside her realm of personal space, seeming to drift over her like a shadow, and his lips brushed lightly across her cheek, angling downward toward her lips.

  She gasped when his mint-scented breath drifted in her mouth. “What are you doing?”

  “This is about more than Ethan,” he said in a deep, sensual voice. “I think you know that. This is about you and me and something we had. Something amazing.”

  Her breath shuddered in her throat and she could barely find a voice. “A long time ago.”

  He leaned back, just a little, to meet her gaze. When he looked up his face was red and she felt equally flushed.

  “God, you still get me excited,” he said, his voice dropping to a velvety growl. His hand slid up her arm shocking her with the intensity of heat and flesh.

  When he leaned closer, her first reaction was to pull away, but she couldn’t resist him. She’d never been able to resist him. Involuntarily, she grabbed a handful of his shirt as his warm lips closed over hers, his hand on her neck pulling her closer. He kissed her softly, gently.

  The feel of his heat, his breath, the foreign feel of his soft lips on hers, startled her and sent her body buzzing. It had been so long since anyone had touched her – like this.

  Memories came crashing back, making her dizzy as she was pulled through time to a dark night on a sparkling pond. She’d wanted this for so long, to feel his heat and touch again. Slowly melting, she gave into temptation and laid her hand on his shoulder, then let it drift up to his soft hair, floating back to that night with the world spinning as he’d smothered her body with heated kisses. His kisses were still familiar, her body had not forgotten – nor had her heart.

  His lips were so soft, yet firm and skilled. He pulled her closer, spreading her lips with his tongue, sending a violent tremor straight to her gut, pulling her farther from reality.

  As if suddenly jolted by electricity, he seized her roughly, driving his tongue into her mouth, heating the kiss by a hundred degrees, and she grabbed onto him in response, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pressed his hard body against hers.

  Vaguely, she remembered her sister upstairs, her son sleeping in his room. They were out in the open, in full view, and yet she couldn’t seem to care. If he decided to take them both to the floor, she knew she wouldn’t stop him.

  His hand dropped to cup her bottom and he ground his erection against her. She pulled on him, wanting him closer. Needing more.

  “I have to go,” Brianna said cheerfully upstairs. “My sister’s griping at me.”

  Sam didn’t seem to hear and didn’t slow his advance, griping her thigh to lift her leg, to make space for him to press closer, but Jenna was startled back to reality.

  She pushed against him, horrified by the thought of Brianna catching them this way.

  “Stop it!” she hissed, pushing his hands off her to maneuver to the side, away from him.

  He stopped, and backed up with a wicked smile. Brianna came trotting down the stairs.

  “Don’t give up on me,” he whispered. “This isn’t over.”

  Jenna rushed up the stairs, acutely aware of Sam’s gaze on her backside. On the landing, she quickly turned her sister around. “Forget the mess. It’s time for bed. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

  “What’s wrong?” Bri asked, falling in step back up the stairs. “Are you mad?”

  Jenna knew she must have appeared red all over. Her body was still on fire and she could barely walk in a straight line. “Just tired. It’s late. Sam’s worried about Brandon so he’s staying on the couch in the living room. Stay in your room.”

  “Okay. Whatever.”

  At Brianna’s door, she snatched the cell phone from her sister’s hand. “And give me back my phone.”

  “Fine,” Bri said, frowning wildly. “Wow!” She went in her room and slammed the door.

  Jenna checked in on Ethan then went to her own room. She closed the door and then stared at the doorknob, wondering if she should lock herself in. Wondering if she really wanted to.

  Unable to decide, she backed away from the door and fell back on her bed. She pressed her hand against her stomach and let herself relive every second of the incredible turn of events, the intensely exciting adventure Sam had created.

  She hadn’t realized the need had been there, living dormant inside her all these years, until Sam’s touch had brought that need to life with a vengeance. What she would have given to be free to run wild with him, to return his smiles and heated touches, to be reckless again.

  She turned onto her side and saw Ethan’s toys piled on the chair.

  But did Sam really want to be with her, or did he only want sex? What did men usually want? She sat up, alarmed by her own thoughts, by her own actions. What was she doing?

  She had to keep her relationship with Sam separate, professional, centered on Ethan.

  Before she could let herself give in to temptation, she jumped up and locked the door.

  ***

  Sam watched Jenna take the stairs with steps as light as a dancer’s and disappear into the depths of the second floor pulling her sister along. Feeling drunk, he couldn’t help but drink in every nuance of her appearance. Her hips were wider now, offering that wonderful feminine swell from her slim waist; her posture more controlled, depicting her maturity into adulthood; her hair was several inches shorter, cut bluntly across the bottom, instead of rounded as she’d once worn it.

  Noticing the changes in her drew his thoughts back to the first time he’d really noticed her. The first time he’d noticed her as a potential conquest. He’d never been attracted to the refined, overly manicured type but something about her had caught his eye. Her crystalline surface of perfection had seemed like a mask to him. He’d felt compelled to remove that mask and see what was underneath.

  He wandered into the cavernous living room. The house was mostly white with high ceilings and way too much air. It made him feel jittery, almost like a thief creeping about in the night. This was why he’d never shown Jenna the courtesy of picking her up for their dates at her home. Fear and pride. He hadn’t wanted to be left standing awkwardly in the overtly white house while her father circled him with the eyes of a shark.

  No wonder she didn’t trust him - he hadn’t stood up for her when it counted. He hadn’t risked his pride to treat her in a decent, respectable manner. He’d been nothing but one disappointment after another for her. In fact, he found it amazing she was letting him come this close to her. Or be around his child.

  He had one hell of a mess to clean up where she was concerned.

  He took her grandmother’s broken clock off the mantel and sat down to check it over, needing to keep his mind busy.

  But just as he’d set the clock on the coffee tabl
e, lights shined through the front windows.

  He jumped up and went to look past the gauzy white curtains. There it was again – that silver Porsche, coming up the lighted driveway. Stewart, coming back for more. Pushing his luck.

  Sam didn’t hesitate, instantly mad as hell, and turned locks on the front door to head out and confront this guy. He slapped at a long row of switches by the door and lights came on all around him, and on the porch. Truths needed to be understood. Truths Brandon Stewart needed to accept one way or another. Jenna was off-limits. Off this guy’s agenda.

  Sam crossed the porch but before he’d even made it to the bottom of the steps, Stewart put his car in gear and hit the gas, rubber smoking on the pavement. Sam stood and watched the Porsche fly down the drive.

  “Yeah, you better run,” he whispered to the taillights. He waited until he was sure the guy was gone before heading back inside. He shut and locked the door and was about to turn the lights off when he saw Jenna standing up on the landing under a chandelier, hugging a pillow, still fully dressed.

  “That was him?”

  “Don’t worry,” he told her. “He’s gone.”

  She stared down at him for a moment. Long enough he wondered if she was offering an invitation, or planned to come down to see him.

  He took a step forward and she immediately took a step backward. She tossed the pillow down to him. “There’s a quilt in the hope chest in the den.” She turned as if to leave, then turned back. “I’m glad you were here,” she said. “Thanks.”

  And then she jogged back up the stairs.

  She turned off the lights from upstairs, leaving him standing in a dark foyer, holding only a pillow.

  He turned toward the lights of the living room and sat down again. He would never forget the summer she’d returned from college looking like a model straight from a fashion magazine. Testosterone had buzzed through the town with talk of her fine development that summer, and Sam had been no exception.

  Jenna probably didn’t remember the incident, but there had been a reason he’d sought her out at the Fourth of July dance.

  An incident that had set him in motion - had set him off on a quest. He’d been hanging around outside Sparky’s Drive-in with his buddies one night when she’d come walking out with friends. All talk had stopped as they’d watched the girls walk across the parking lot. But he’d only seen Jenna. At first, he hadn’t found her more interesting that her curvaceous parts, until she’d turned and met his gaze.

  Something had happened in that moment, something unusual, and powerful enough to make him take a personal interest in her. An interest personal enough to make him burn with fury when his friends let their conversation of her turn raunchy.

  He’d turned and popped his buddy, Tony, right in the nose for no other reason than a bizarre sense of possession over a girl he’d never actually met.

  He’d paid for his temporary insanity. He’d lost a good friend that night. But he still didn’t regret it.

  And once he thought about it, he realized that ridiculous incident at the drive-in had been the last time he’d stood up for her.

  But he was standing up for her now. Wasn’t he? Or was he doing what he’d done before? Setting her up for pain and disappointment?

  He looked at the clock but didn’t feel like messing with it now. He was tired. And he wanted to turn out the lights, close his eyes and let himself relive the kiss he’d shared with the woman so close upstairs. God, she was hot when she let herself go. He could still feel her soft body in his arms.

  His mind drifted back to the night on the pond three years ago. The night they’d finally given in to temptation and let nature take over. That night had been pure insanity. He was surprised they hadn’t set the raft on fire. Maybe they had. He remembered falling in the water afterward. That had been the best night of his life, splashing around with Jenna.

  She’d been so fun and full of life back then, so full of light and energy, like a drug he’d become addicted to. He ached to see that Jenna Morgan again. And after the hot kiss they’d just shared he found himself filled with a renewed hope he would find that spirited Jenna again, one day.

  ***

  Brandon Stewart parked in front of his condo and got out of the car, stumbling as he forgot about the curb. He’d messed up, drunk too much, and lost out on an opportunity to gloat tonight. He certainly hadn’t expected Jenna to call in reinforcements. What had she done? Hired a freaking bodyguard? He knew she didn’t have any family left to protect her.

  It didn’t matter. Tomorrow, he’d have his revenge.

  He’d had no trouble convincing his father over dinner. Since the divorce, all he had to do was threaten to go to his stepmother and his father would cave. The same worked in reverse, but this time he needed something only his father could provide.

  Tomorrow, he’d show Jenna what real money and influence was all about. Tomorrow, he’d make her suffer.

  ***

  Jenna had to drag herself out of bed the next morning. She’d stayed up till the wee hours of the morning staring at the old photograph of Sam and remembering every nuance of his kiss in the foyer. Trying to decide what he’d meant by it. Hoping, and trying not to hope, that it had meant something wonderful. Something that wouldn’t eventually hurt her. She’d finally fallen asleep hugging a pillow, giving in to the temptation to dream of a future with him.

  And once she’d finally fallen asleep, she’d slept like the dead. The night had passed in a flash. She stumbled across the room, ran into the door when she forgot it was locked, and finally managed to get across the hall to see if Ethan was awake yet. She found his bed empty. Normally, she wouldn’t be alarmed. He sometimes got up early and went downstairs to play or Brianna sometimes took him down and fed him. But after Brandon Stewart’s recent harassment, she began an immediate search.

  Brianna was still in bed, sound asleep on her stomach. Jenna went in to shake her sister awake. “Hey,” she said, “it’s time to get up. Have you seen the baby this morning?”

  Bri lifted her head and squinted. “What? No.”

  Jenna’s worry increased dramatically. She knew her son. He’d be in the kitchen, the den, or his playroom in the solarium. She rushed down the back stairs to the kitchen. She stopped and held her pounding head for a moment when she saw Ethan at the table eating dry cereal from a bowl and banana pieces from a plate.

  Then she noticed Sam. She’d half expected him to leave sometime during the night and her heartbeat thudded in her chest at the sight of him. Then she quickly covered her mouth to stifle a harsh gasp. Her grandmother’s precious mantel clock was scattered in pieces across a towel on the table.

  “Hey,” Sam said, holding up a tool and a piece of gold metal, “don’t panic. I know what I’m doing.”

  She stepped closer and tried to hide her concern. He came from a family of clockmakers. Surely, he’d been trained. “What’s wrong with it?”

  He took a moment to let his gaze travel her body. She hadn’t thought to put on a robe and only wore a long white t-shirt. She crossed her arms, not sure exactly what he could see.

  “Careful of that,” he said, moving a bowl with some kind of liquid in it. She’d nearly tipped the bowl when she’d bumped into the table staring at him. “Ultrasonic cleaning solution. I don’t think it’s been cleaned since it was built probably a century ago. A clock like this should be cleaned every three or four years. Plus, I don’t know who’s been fiddling with it, but we’ve got some pieces in the wrong places here. Did someone take it apart and try to put it back together?”

  Her mind was muddy and she tried to remember – tried to ignore the flexing muscles in Sam’s hand as he worked. “I don’t know. Can you fix it?”

  He flashed a confident, almost mischievous grin. “It’ll sing when I’m done. Literally.” He picked up a small bird she’d never seen before. “It comes out of a door at the top and chirps. It’ll also chime when I’m finished.”

  “Oh. It’s a cuckoo clock
?” She’d had no idea.

  She noticed a large wooden case and various tools set out on the towel along with the clock pieces. “Where did the tools come from? The garage?”

  He frowned at her as if she’d said something funny. “These are special instruments passed down through generations of my family. Mom wants me to fix one of her clocks so I brought them with me. They were still in my truck.”

  “Well, I really appreciate it.” She went to give her son a kiss on the head and noticed he smelled fresh and wore a different shirt than the one he’d worn to bed. “Did you change his diaper?”

  Sam chuckled. “He asked me to. He found me sleeping on the couch and told me to get up. Told me, get that?” Sam smiled proudly. “He knows what he wants. He picked out that shirt and told me exactly what he wanted for breakfast, too.”

  Wow. “Well, thank you for watching him.” He’d even made coffee. She went to get some, taking her travel mug out of the cabinet. Once she’d had a fortifying sip, she went to the fridge to get milk for Ethan’s cereal.

  “I tried that,” Sam said. “But he didn’t want milk.”

  “Nanners and zeros,” Ethan sang, kicking his chair. “Nannerrrrs and zeeeeeros.”

  Sam laughed. “He means I gave him Cheerios and part of a banana.”

  “I know what he means,” she said, a little testy from lack of sleep, and went ahead and poured Ethan some milk into his sippy cup. “But, thank you for feeding him. And watching him. And, everything. Did you get some breakfast? Help yourself to whatever you want.”

  He sent her a slight smile. He was so beautiful, even first thing in the morning. He hadn’t shaved yet and the dark shading made him even more handsome. “I ate the other half of Ethan’s banana,” he said. “Want some cereal?”

  She looked at the clock over the sink, a working clock, and realized she was running late. She must have hit the snooze button a couple of times before finally hearing the alarm. She didn’t even have time for a shower. “Oh! No time. I overslept.”