Seduce Me (7 page)

“Yeah.” Cole swallowed his first shot, set the glass on the bar and smiled. “She's something. You can thank me any time. You going to do her?”

“Shut up, Cole.”

Cole stopped in the act of pouring another shot. He looked Jack over for a long moment. “So the pictures
are
telling the truth.”

“What truth?”

“You're into her.”

“I don't know what I am.”

“No?” Cole toasted him with his glass. “Well,
you'd better figure it out before the other guys get here, or they'll tear you apart.”

They tore him apart anyway until he lost all dignity. And in a sign of how far he'd lost his edge, he also nearly lost his shirt, too.

 

O
N
T
UESDAY
, Jack refereed three boys' basketball games and then, needing a different kind of connection, tried calling Sam again—yet another sign of how far gone he was. While he sat in his car listening to the phone ringing, he tried to create a mental list of the things that had bothered him about her, his usual MO for
not
having date number two.

But his list turned up short. In fact, it was non-existent.

“Hello,” she answered breathlessly.

“Sam, it's Jack.”

Silence.

“Jack Knight,” he said, and felt very stupid.

“I remember who you are, Jack. The first man I've ever bodysurfed with at midnight.”

An idiotic grin split his face. The first? He liked that, he liked that far too much. “So how are you?” he asked, discovering that the usual easy conversation starter, the one that had always meant nothing, suddenly mattered. He really did want to know how she was.

“I'm up to my elbows in brownie mix if you want the truth, and this time, I have a good feeling about it.”

“Why? Do you usually have a problem with brownies?”

She sighed. “I make the best sandwiches under the sun. Cookies, too. But I'm an utter failure at brownies. Today, I break the curse.”

“Want a personal taster?”

“You mean…”

“For brownies, I'd drive to China. I'll come over and sample them for you.”

“No! I mean, I'm not sure that's a good idea. I've never managed a good batch yet.”

“If they're awful, I promise I won't even mention it.”

“Look, I—No. No, thank you. I'm sorry—”

His grin faded. He'd misread everything. “No, it's okay. I understand—”

“It's just that the other night was so…” She let out a breath.

“Yeah.” From stupid to mortified.

“So I guess I'm just hoping that by Saturday, I'll see you and realize I've just exaggerated how much fun you were.”

Suddenly, he didn't feel anything but good, damn good. “Best of luck with the brownies, Sam.”

“The brownies—” Something clanged in his ear, and he realized she'd dropped the phone. He waited, and when she came back, she was irritated. “Got to have that oven checked. The damn thermostat is out and it's over-cooking everything.”

“Blaming the oven?”

“What? You want to hear that you distracted me and
I
overcooked them? You've been distracting me for days. Go away, Jack. And stay out of my head until Saturday.
Please
.”

“I will if you will.”

“You're having the same problem?”

She sounded far more wary than amused, and his own pleasure faded, replaced by other emotions he didn't want to face. “See you Saturday,” he said softly, and hung up.

He lasted two days, during which he kept himself busy organizing and registering basketball players for a kids' league at the rec center before he called Wild Cherries again. He'd have called her at home, but didn't have that number. He liked that she hadn't given it to him—it meant she'd been utterly honest about being commitment phobic, which was always a damned attractive trait in a woman.

And yet his heart had started a heavy, excited beat at the thought of hearing her voice again.

“Wild Cherries,” she answered the phone, sounding breathless. “Can I help you?”

“Sam.”

“Hey.” There was a smile in her voice, and suddenly there was one on his face as well.

“Just wanted to hear you.”

“You're hearing me. What's up?”

“You surf today?”

“Yeah.” She covered the mouthpiece to speak to someone, but he could still hear her. “Knock it off, Nash, I am not going to tell him that.”

“Tell me what?”

“I made the mistake of serving a few friends some lunch and now they're being obnoxious.”

“What did they want you to tell me?”

She hesitated, then laughed. “That they'll, and I quote, kick your butt if you hurt me. They don't realize they're threatening Jack Scandal Knight.”

“Holy crap,” said an awed voice.

Sam laughed. “As for surfing, it was rough today, and I got my butt kicked out there. Lorissa had a great time laughing at me when I face-planted right in front of her.”

“You okay?”

“Not a scratch. How about you? What are you up to?”

Thinking of you.
“Lost at poker the other night. Badly.”

“Ouch. You should play me sometime, it will make you feel better about yourself.” She
laughed. “I'm horrible. Last time I played strip poker—”

He choked out a laugh. “I was
not
playing strip poker with the guys.”

“Oh.” She laughed, too. “Of course not. So how about that weather, huh?”

“Oh, no, we're not changing the subject, yet. About this strip poker thing…”

“It was a long time ago,” she said primly now, though he could still hear the smile in her voice.

“How about we rectify that?”

“Are you suggesting—”

“Definitely I'm suggesting. We play. I'll give you pointers.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hey, I have your best interests in mind.”

Her soft chuckle was outrageously sexy. “Maybe some other time,” she said. “Did you see the magazines?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don't be. A customer actually asked me for an autograph today. Famous for a day, at least.”

“You're being an incredibly good sport.”

“That's life, right?”

“It is, isn't it. You know what? You're just what I needed today.”

“Yeah?” She sounded pleased.

“Yeah.”

“So…I'll see you on Saturday?”

“Unless I could talk you into that poker game. Tonight.”

“Not tonight. Not…yet.”

But she didn't say not ever. She asked him about Heather then, and he asked her about her latest sandwich creation, and before he knew it an hour had gone by, and she had to go because apparently Lorissa was getting irritated about handling the café while Sam chatted on the phone with him.

That night, he dreamed about holding her hot and wet in his arms, just as when they'd bodysurfed, talking and laughing, kissing. And despite not getting her into bed, that first date had rivaled any night he'd ever spent with a woman; in fact, it ranked up there as the hottest, most sensual night of his life.

 

S
ATURDAY CAME
before Sam knew it. The morning was chilly and foggy, but that didn't stop her from surfing and swimming with Lorissa and the gang as usual. When they were done, Lorissa opened the café and Sam went upstairs to get ready for the carnival.

“Stop it,” she told her overly excited reflection in the bathroom mirror. “He's just a guy.”

Yeah, just a guy. A very gorgeous guy who
made her laugh and could kiss her every last brain cell away.

Not today, she told herself. Today was just for the kids. Today, he would irritate her in some way, surely he would. And then she'd be free from thinking of him, of dreaming of him.

She heard gravel crunch as a car pulled into the parking lot, and ran to the window, pressing her nose to the glass to catch sight of Jack's Escalade. Her stomach tightened.

So much for irritating her. But the day was young yet, and she'd never gone through an entire second date without wanting to ditch the guy. So really it was only a matter of time.

S
AM RAN DOWN
the stairs of her apartment and through Wild Cherries, planting herself at the counter as casually as she could, just as Jack walked through the gate and stepped onto the patio.

Calm, she reminded herself. Remain calm. At least it was a cool morning. Usually the thermometer hanging above her head had neared ninety by now, if not more, but today it was only seventy.

And yet, just seeing Jack sent her inner temperature off the chart.

Because of the cooler weather, the café had stolen the beach crowd and was filled with people looking for hot tea and coffee instead of the usual juices and iced tea. Sam knew Lorissa and the two high school kids she'd hired this season could handle the café in her absence.

In fact, Lorissa stood only a few feet away, on the other side of the counter, rag in hand as she wiped it down. She lifted her brow, signaling she'd seen not only Jack's arrival, but Sam's run through the place.

Skurfer was sitting a few tables away with some of his buddies, and by his smirk, he'd seen, too. She grimaced back, but her heart did a backflip as Jack walked through the filled tables directly toward her. He wore a white polo shirt, San Diego Eels sweat pants that buttoned down the outside of his legs, mirrored sunglasses and an unreadable expression.

She sat there on a bar stool, her pulse frantically beating in her ears. Lorissa set two mugs of hot chocolate in front of her. “Careful,” she whispered. “You're drooling.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam watched Jack come close and took a deep breath. “Hey,” she said, as casually as she could.

“Hey, yourself.” A slow smile lit his face, and he shoved the sunglasses to the top of his head. His eyes were smiling, too, and she decided that was a good look on him.

Very good.

He draped his tall frame on the stool next to hers, accepting the drink when she slid it over to him. “Thanks.” He took a sip. “It's not as warm today as I'd hoped.”

Maybe not, but it was sure hot in here, she thought, watching his Adam's apple slide up and down as he drank.

He reached over, taking her hand, holding it away from her as he looked her over.

She wore a sundress today, the same color as the sea. She knew the thin, wispy material of the dress played peekaboo with the bathing suit she wore beneath it and also knew that she looked quite passable.

The heat in his eyes told her she may have pulled off more than quite passable.

“Another dress over a bathing suit,” he said after drinking some more.

“I took the words
dunking booth
to heart.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I'm hoping she's just messing with me.” He stood and, still holding her hand, pulled her to her feet as well.

“I guess we're going to find out.”

“Yeah.”

Because his smile had faded, hers did as well. “What's the matter, Jack?”

He shook his head, then brought his free hand up to her face to sink into the hair she'd left free and flowing over her shoulders.

Out of the corner of her eye, she knew Lorissa was watching their every move.

“I thought about you all damn week,” Jack murmured.

That took her breath. So did the light kiss he dropped on her lips. “Let's go?”

“Yes,” she said. Incredibly aware of the interested gazes of the people around them, she
couldn't admit that she'd been thinking about him, too.

Every single living second.

“Have fun.” Lorissa took their cups away. “Be careful.”

They walked to the parking lot. Jack opened the passenger door for her, but instead of sliding in, she looked up into his eyes. “I thought of you, too.” She shut the door on his surprised expression.

When he came around to the driver's seat, he didn't say a word, thank God. He didn't have to, his smile said it all.

Have fun,
Lorissa had said.
Be careful.

Right. Only there was no way she could she do both at the same time, not with this man.

 

T
HE CARNIVAL WAS
abuzz with preopening activity. Jack stared at their booth. “She really meant it.”

Sam laughed. There were wild rides and row upon row of games, where you could lose as much money as you wanted, and more. There were arts and crafts booths as well, and a wide variety of food stands selling high-fat fast food. On the walk to their booth Jack had been stopped a few times for autographs, and though he did it happily enough, he deflected any personal questions, private as always.

Music filled the salty air, blaring out of speak
ers set up at the end of every row. Sam found herself grinning with anticipation and excitement as she eyed the dunking booth in front of them. A large tank of water sat beneath a bench that looked rather like a diving board, and above it, a bull's-eye for people to throw softballs at. When one hit the mark, the seat—with one of them on it—would drop. “Look on the bright side,” she said. “That's a long throw and a rather small target. No kid is actually going to be able to hit that. We'll be dry all day.”

“Yeah? Why don't you go first and make sure. In fact, I'll throw first, just to check it out.”

“Oh, no,” she said, laughing, backing up a little at the wicked look in his eyes. “You should go first.”

“And why is that?”

“Um…” To see if he looked as good wet in the daylight as he had by moonlight? “To make sure it's safe,” she came up with brilliantly.

He laughed knowingly, and when his cell phone rang, he flipped it open. “What now, Heather? Uh-huh…listen, didn't we just see you three minutes ago sitting on your throne at the ticket booth collecting money?” His eyes shot to Sam's. “You're opening for business and you need my butt on the hot spot? Gee, thanks. Yeah, yeah, love you, too, but I wouldn't sleep with both eyes
shut tonight if I were you.” He snapped the phone shut, slid it into his pants pocket and looked at the dunking booth with what could only be dread.

Sam had to laugh. “I know you're not afraid of water.”

He cut his gaze back to her as he kicked off his shoes and then tugged off his sweats. Beneath he wore knee-length dark blue swim trunks. “I'm not afraid of anything,” he said, and pulled off his shirt.

She worked on not swallowing her tongue. As she'd seen the week before, the man hadn't lost any of his muscle tone in the year since he'd stopped playing. She'd made it her business to look up and learn about his career this past week. He'd been a true athlete, one of the best, until multiple knee injuries and the subsequent surgeries had taken him off the top of his game. He claimed not to be afraid of anything, but she knew better—because he'd told her himself. “Except commitment,” she reminded him. “You're afraid of commitment.”

His shirt hit her in the face. When she pulled it away, after first gulping in a big breath to catch his delicious scent, he lifted a brow.

“Isn't that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?”

She lifted her chin.

“Fine,” he said. “Neither of us like to admit being afraid of anything. We're big, bad toughies
with an impenetrable surface.” He walked toward the ladder that would take him to the hot seat. “But I'll bet your sweet ass that my impenetrable surface is going to freeze right off if anyone manages a hit.”

“Don't worry,” she crooned, struggling to hold back a laugh at the look on his face as he sat there, tanned and sleek and shirtless, his long legs dangling down nearly to the level of water, looking like he'd rather have an enema. Poor baby. “I'll bet that water isn't that cold.”

“I'll be sure to let you know.” He eyed the crowd now running in from the main gates. Before another minute passed, there was a long line of kids waiting to dunk Jack Scandal Knight.

Secretly, Sam hoped someone got him. She wanted to see that finely honed-to-perfection body all wet and gleaming. She wanted that a lot.

The first kid was a young girl, maybe seven years old. Sam took her tickets, and in return gave her two softballs. “Dunk him,” Sam said. “He can't wait to hit the water.”

The girl's first throw fell short of the tank. She thrust out her lower lip and looked up at Sam with determination in her eyes. “I wanna dunk him.”

Sam pulled the girl over the line, and a good five feet closer to Jack. “Try again.”

“Hey,” Jack protested.

Sam smiled sweetly at him. “Hey, back.”

The girl missed again.

Sam thought she heard Jack's relieved sigh flutter over the air.

The next kid was a young teen and looked to have a good arm on him. Sam handed him two balls. “Dunk him.”

“I will,” he promised, and his first ball hit the very edge of the target, but bounced away without releasing the seat.

“Come on, you can do it,” she said, avoiding looking at Jack while the kid wound up for ball number two.

“Sam?”

This from Jack.

The kid paused in his throw.

Sam looked at Jack.

“For every kid you encourage to dunk me,” he said silkily, “I'm going to buy a ball when you're up here, and believe me, I'm not going to miss, not once.”

Everyone in line laughed.

Sam's stomach dropped to her toes. “That might be expensive. And besides, I wouldn't want you to throw like that. You might hurt your shoulder. In fact, I'll make a warning sign because, now that I think about it, retirees shouldn't play at this booth. Too dangerous to their health.”

More laughter.

Jack's face broke slowly into an extremely evil smile. “Oh, don't you worry about my health, sweetheart. I might be retired, but I'm still in full working order.”

Sam's hormones jumped.

The young teen threw his second ball.

And down Jack went. The splash he made had the kids hooting and hollering, and when he surfaced, he tossed back his wet hair and looked right at her. He continued to do so as he effortlessly pulled himself back up and reset the seat.

Dripping wet.

Glistening.

Looking like the pagan god of sin, with water streaming down his body and those glittering eyes on hers, he smiled at her with pure wickedness.

She swallowed hard. “Next,” she squeaked.

A young woman stood there, clearly as in awe of Jack as Sam was. She licked her lips and made sure she was as close to the line as she could get. “I'm standing here until I dunk him,” she told Sam. “I don't care how much money it takes.”

It took five bucks.

And this time when Jack climbed back up, he looked at Sam and mouthed, “Two.”

She blinked.

“That's two people you've gotten to dunk
me,” he clarified. “Don't think I'm not keeping track.”

“It's my job,” she said weakly, but when she handed balls to the next person in line—another young woman—Sam didn't offer one word of encouragement.

When she missed, Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

But then came the most adorable little girl ever. She couldn't be more than four, with long dark hair and the darkest eyes Sam had ever seen. She was clutching the hand of a woman wearing the official tag of Heather's charity.

“This is one of our kids,” the woman said. “Thelma is in a group home near the rec center, and some of the money we earn here today will go toward new play equipment in her yard.”

Sam looked down into Thelma's dark eyes and felt her heart crack. “Well, then, sweetie, this game is on me.”

“I get a ball?”

“You get as many balls as it takes to dunk Jack Knight,” Sam rashly promised, and pulled a twenty out of her pocket to add to the day's earnings. Then she picked Thelma up and tucked her on her hip. With her other hand she grabbed a basket of balls and stepped over the line. “Dunk him.”

Thelma giggled, and threw her first ball, which went about three feet.

Sam stepped even closer to the tank, and the target. She met Jack's eyes.

He lifted a brow. “Three, Sam?”

She thrust her chin in the air. “Again, Thelma.”

Thelma missed.

Sam moved even closer.

The crowd was cheering loudly now. Jack looked both intrigued by Sam's interference, and also quite resigned.

The third throw was beautiful. Thelma hit the target and Jack took another bath.

When he surfaced this time, he didn't climb back onto his seat. He got out of the tank. He didn't grab a towel; he came directly toward Sam, who was just about to put Thelma down, but suddenly felt holding the thin, warm body close was a good idea. “Thelma, what do you say we go—”

“Hi, there.” Jack bent a little and smiled into Thelma's eyes. “Do you know who I am?”

“You fly through the air and you make baskets.”

Jack laughed, and so did the people around them. “I did,” he agreed. “And now I'm going to make this pretty lady holding you fly. Right into the water, like I just did. Do you want to see that?”

Thelma clapped her hands.

Sam's heart started beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Faster. “Well, I don't really think Thelma wants to get down right now—”

Thelma opened her arms to Jack.

Wet and all, he took the little girl from Sam and smiled sweetly down into her face. “That's a girl. Want to help me?”

Thelma nodded.

And everyone looked expectantly at Sam.

“I don't think I ever agreed to actually get into the tank,” she said, glancing over at the water, which suddenly looked very, very cold. “I'm pretty sure I just said I'd help.”

“Yes, and this is going to be a great help,” Jack told her. “Seeing you in a bathing suit, and wet, will help me tremendously.” He waggled a brow challengingly. “Unless you want to chicken out, of course.” He smiled down at Thelma, happy in his arms. “I'm sure the kids will understand if you don't want to—”

“Oh, fine.” Stepping back, she untied the strap of her halter sundress from around her neck, unzipped it and let it fall. She kicked it up to Jack, who caught it and grinned at her, taking in her white bikini.