That night, Autumn checked the home phone to see if Conner had cal ed. He hadn’t, and she went to bed missing him. The next day she cal ed vendors, checking in and touching base regarding an intimate Christmas charity event she’d been hired to manage at an estate in Medina. The hostess requested trays of hot and cold hors d’oeuvres be served an hour before the sit-down dinner for thirty. They’d planned on the standard four servers, but Autumn hired six. There had been times in the past when she’d had a last-minute no-show, and it was always better to err on the side of caution. Always.
By the time Natalie dropped Conner off Sunday afternoon, it became very obvious that Sam was avoiding her. Things between them had gone back to the way they were before the Savage wedding. Back to neither her nor Sam speaking. She didn’t like it. She’d hoped they could be friends. Friends was easier, but maybe no contact with Sam was for the best. Being friends with Sam had led to getting naked. And that was bad. Or rather good. Too good, and she couldn’t be trusted. Although she was in no danger of another Hound Dog wedding and a wrist tattoo, she just might, might lose her mind and like him more than was wise.
And as in business, the same was true in life. It was always better to err on the side of caution. Always.
It wasn’t until the fourteenth of December that she final y heard from Sam himself. It was Monday, a little before noon, and he cal ed to tel her that he’d been cleared from the injured list and would be leaving for a week. Hearing his voice made her miss him. More than was wise.
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
She’d always known he would head out on the road again. He played hockey. It was his job. Stil , she was a little disappointed. For Conner’s sake, of course. “Oh.”
“So tel Conner that Nat wil pick him up on the,” he paused as if he was looking at a schedule, “the twenty-second after school.”
He was going to hang up. “Sam?”
“Yeah.”
She picked up a pen and clicked it with her thumb. “Why are we back to this place?”
“What place?”
“The place where you have your assistant drop Conner off. I thought we’d become friends.”
“You wanna be friends?”
Click click. Was that so impossible? Was he so mad, suddenly disliked her so much again, that he didn’t want to be in the same building? “Yes.”
“Friends like before or after we had sex on the floor?”
Her thumb stopped. “Before.”
“Not interested.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be your friend.”
“Oh.” She swal owed her disappointment. It might be for the best, but she suddenly didn’t want what was for the best. She didn’t want to hate Sam and have Sam hate her. What choice did she have? “Okay.”
“I want to be your lover. I can’t pretend I don’t want more. I want to be with you, Autumn. I want to get you naked and throw your legs over my shoulders.”
She dropped the pen.
“I want to leave a mark on the inside of your thigh.”
She rose and must have had some sort of out-of-body experience. It was the only way she could explain what she heard herself say, “I have two hours before my next client, and I’m not wearing panties.”
She could practical y hear him swal ow just before he asked in a low, raw voice, “Are you at home?”
“My office.” She gave him the address, and he was at the door in twenty minutes. While she waited, she reached beneath her polka-dot dress and took off her underwear. She put them in a desk drawer next to her thumbtacks and paper clips.
“Lock the door behind you,” she told him, when he walked into her office. She picked up the phone and buzzed Shiloh. “I’m with a client,” she said.
“Take messages.”
“Did I just see your baby daddy walk in?”