Compromising Positions (15 page)

“A happy bundle of joy.”

“Whom she immediately placed in the care of a nanny. My father, of course, wanted a boy. That never happened. I believe my mother was happy I was the only one.”

He reached out and took her hand, twisting her fingers through his before he pulled her wrist to his lips. He pressed a kiss against the pulse point and Amelia smiled. “It was always a bit lonely.”

“And what about you? Did you and Edward talk about children?”

Sam watched an uneasy expression flit across her face. He immediately wanted to take the question back. It was too soon, too personal. “You don't have to answer that. It's none of my business.”

“It's all right. We did talk about it. Edward wanted a big family. Secretly I didn't want children at all. That was one of the reasons I wanted to end it. I didn't want to be in the same situation as my parents.”

“So, no children?”

Amelia took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I just never thought I'd be a good parent. I didn't exactly have the best role models. I barely spent any time with my parents when I was young. And when I was older, I only wanted to escape them.” She gave him a heartbreaking look. “I should want to have children.”

“I suppose it doesn't come naturally to everyone,” Sam said.

“What about your parents?”

Sam didn't want to tell her the truth, but they'd promised to be honest with each other. “My folks were great. We grew up running the inn, running around town, playing along the river. Some people would call it idyllic.”

She smiled. “Some people would insist mine was idyllic simply because my mother bought me anything I wanted and dressed me in designer clothes. It looked very lovely from the outside, but it wasn't like having a real mother.”

“What about your father?”

“Oh, he was different. He wasn't around much, but when he was, he was at least affectionate. He used to hug me and kiss the top of my head. But only if I got good grades or did something commendable.”

“Jeez, you are a mess,” Sam said. “With a childhood like that, it's lucky you haven't become an ax murderer or a raving psychopath.”

Amelia gave him a playful shove. “Thank you for all the support.”

“No,” he said, grabbing her arms and forcing her to face him. “Listen to me. I understand why you want to live your own life. You make your own future. Whatever you decide, Millie, you're going to make it happen.”

She stared at him, her expression doubtful. “I can make anything happen?” she whispered.

“Anything,” he said.

Amelia reached out and began to unbutton the crisp white shirt he wore. His tie was already loosened, but she brushed it aside to focus on his shirt. Sam watched through half-hooded eyes. He moaned softly when she pressed her lips to the center of his chest, soft flesh meeting hard muscle.

Sam raked his fingers through her tousled hair, gently tempting her to glance up at him. But she was determined to do exactly as she pleased, to take advantage of his nearly constant need for her.

When she reached his belt, she made quick work of the buckle and moved on to the zipper on his trousers.

Sam closed his eyes, his mind focused on the touch of her fingers, first smoothing over the fabric of his boxers, then reaching inside to wrap around his shaft.

When her lips closed over him, he tipped his head back, arching instinctively, aching for more. Her mouth was warm and damp, her tongue teasing at him until he was harder than he'd ever been before.

As she began to move over his tip, her fingers stroked in a gentle rhythm. It was easy to get swept away by the sensations coursing through him. Usually she didn't take him to completion this way, but tonight Amelia had different plans.

Moments of exquisite pleasure washed over him but Sam tried to hold on to a bit of control, determined to make this last as long as possible. He edged closer and closer to release and Amelia allowed him, knowing as he did that his orgasm would be incredibly powerful.

The fire cracked and popped, catching his attention for a moment. A tiny lapse in his control and his body betrayed him. A surge of pleasure and then the spasms struck so suddenly, so powerfully, that a deep gasp exploded from his chest.

These pleasures had become a daily part of his life; a delicious treat that he enjoyed morning, noon and night. But the erotic indulgences required Amelia. In less than twenty-four hours she'd be gone. Was he really prepared to live without her? He'd promised her she could have her own life. But how could he offer her that?

8

A
MELIA
STOOD
AT
the sink in the inn's kitchen the next day, staring out at the drifts of powdery snow. Though the snow had stopped during the night, the wind was still blowing, creating problems with the roads.

She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Vivian's number. Vivian usually got into the office before ten, but with the snow in Boston, it would be difficult to get around.

To Amelia's surprise, her boss picked up after one ring. “My wandering curator!” she cried. “How's it going out in the hinterlands? Have you secured that bed yet?”

“I have,” Amelia said. “I just wanted to let you know I'm going to try to get back tomorrow, weather permitting. I'll call Steven with my estimated arrival time and ask if he'll help me unload the trailer. I also have some interesting new leads on silver and pewter pieces.”

“Lovely,” Vivian said. “I'll be looking forward to your return. And you may want to phone your mother. She called me last night looking for you. I told her where you were. I hope that's not a problem.”

Amelia winced. “No. I'll give her a call. I was supposed to put in an appearance at her Valentine's Day Ball for the Philharmonic. She's probably wondering why I didn't show.”

“I wish your mother would focus some of her fund-raising prowess on our little museum,” Vivian said. “Perhaps you might ask her to throw a ball for us?”

“I'm afraid she has her pet causes, Vivian. I doubt that she'd want to help an organization that employs her only daughter and keeps me from reaching my full potential as a Boston socialite.”

“Hmm. That's a shame. Well, darling, drive safely and I'll see you tomorrow.”

“'Bye, Viv.” Amelia switched off her phone and moved away from the window. Leaning back against the edge of the sink, she rubbed her forehead with the corner of her phone. Dealing with her mother was forever a trial. No matter what the occasion, she always left Amelia feeling silly and ungrateful. She could work magic with guilt and Amelia was her favorite target. But if Amelia was ever going to truly be independent, she'd need to stand up to her mother.

“Hey, there. What are you up to in here?”

She opened her eyes and smiled at Sam. His hair was tousled and his eyes were sleepy. There were moments when Amelia was overwhelmed by his frantic passion and other moments when his boyish charm could send her pulse racing.

“I thought I'd get a start on the pewter.” Amelia had spread the inn's collection of pewter across the large worktable in the center of the kitchen, sorting the pieces by type. “I need to photograph each piece.”

He crossed the room and slipped his arms around her. “I can help,” he said.

“No, that's all right. You can go relax.”

“Sarah and James are sound asleep in the parlor,” he said. “And they both snore.”

Amelia giggled. “I guess they are made for each other,” she said.

The four of them had exhausted themselves over the weekend, culminating with their own champagne party in front of the fire, a gathering that had spontaneously turned into an engagement party for Sarah and James.

“I'm going to try to leave tomorrow,” Amelia said. “If the wind dies down tonight, I think the roads will be clear.”

“I could drive you back,” Sam offered. “Maybe spend a bit of time in Boston.”

Though she'd thought about different scenarios for their future, she'd never really been able to picture Sam in Boston with her. He seemed so perfect here at the inn, amid all the townspeople of Millhaven who had known him for years and years. He just had to realize that for himself.

“I'll be all right,” she said.

“I'm sure you will,” Sam said. “But Sarah and James can handle the weekday guests. I'd kind of like to see your life in Boston, so when we're apart, I can imagine where you are and what you're doing.”

“There's not much to see,” Amelia warned him. “I spend most of my time at—” She caught herself, swallowing her next words as something odd occurred to her. Was he afraid that she would return to Edward? She reached out and smoothed a lock of hair from his temple, allowing her fingers to linger. “What are you worried about?” she asked.

“I'm...worried you'll end up in a ditch somewhere.”

“Sam, I'm going home to my job. I'm not going home to Edward.”

“But you're going to see him,” Sam said.

“Maybe. But only to put an end to it once and for all,” she said. She smiled, shaking her head. “If you ever meet Edward, you're going to find it amusing that you were ever concerned about him. He's just so...well, he's nothing like you.”

The weather had made it impossible to formulate any definite plans for her departure, but she figured tomorrow would probably be the most logical choice. The roads should be cleared; the bed was packed and ready to go. There was nothing keeping her here.

Except her heart, she mused. She and Sam had talked about what would happen...after. But Amelia wasn't sure she wanted to make plans. In truth, she needed to put some distance between them.

It was so easy to get wrapped up in the passion of the moment with him; hormones racing through her body and making her believe that she couldn't live without him. The whole week had been like a fantasy. And yet fantasies often withered in the light of the real world. She'd fought hard for her own life and that life was in Boston.

“Amelia?”

She looked up to find Sarah standing in the doorway. “Hi. You're awake.”

“Someone is waiting for you at the front desk. She says she's your mother.”

Amelia gasped. “My mother?”

“She came in a limo. And she looks really pissed. Do you want me to bring her in here?”

Amelia grabbed a towel and wiped her hands. “Yes, bring her in here.” She began to pace, her nerves on edge. She hadn't talked to her mother in a few months. Whenever they spoke, the conversation turned into an advertisement for Edward and the benefits of making a good marriage.

She'd obviously seen the photo of Amelia in the
Globe
. No doubt she'd discussed her “problem daughter” with Amelia's father and they'd decided her behavior warranted a face-to-face meeting. So she'd called Vivian to find out where she was staying.

“I'd like to meet your mother,” Sam said.

“This would not be the best time for that,” Amelia replied, grabbing his arm. “Why don't you go into the parlor? If things are all right, I'll bring her in.”

* * *

H
ER
MOTHER
SWEPT
into the kitchen as if it were one of her perfectly decorated salons. She wore a size two Chanel suit in her favorite color—taupe—and a full-length mink that she usually saved for winter luncheons with her friends.

“Hello, Mother.”

She crossed to Amelia and kissed both cheeks, clutching her gloves. “Darling. You look pale and thin.”

Amelia bristled. She couldn't ever remember her mother paying her a genuine compliment. “Thank you, Mother. I do feel paler and thinner. Why are you here? I'm sure it's not to comment on my health.”

Olivia Gardner Sheffield regarded her daughter with a cool eye. “I don't know. I assume only a serious illness would prompt behavior like this, Amelia. These awful pictures of you and some stranger in a bed. They've been all over the news. I thought you'd at least taken a respectable job and now I find out it requires you to do the most tasteless things.”

“Mother, you're making more of this than you have to. It was a publicity stunt and nothing more.”

“Nothing more? Why are you still here? Is there something going on between you and this man?”

Amelia got up and went to the sink, fetching a glass of water for herself. “That's none of your business.”

“No? What about Edward? He's a part of our family. His parents are our oldest and dearest friends. How am I supposed to—”

“I'm in love,” Amelia finally said. “With Sam Blackstone.”

The moment the words slipped out of her mouth she knew they were the truth. The words had just come naturally, without thought, without fear.

“Oh, Amelia, don't be ridiculous. You've only just met this man. One does not fall in love in a week. Love takes time and respect and care. This is about...lust. Plain and simple. He's an attractive man, but that will not pay the bills. And you'll see that once you're home.”

She shook her head. “I'm not going home with you, Mother.”

“Do you realize what's at stake here? I got a call from Edward's mother a few days ago. Edward has met someone, a woman from a wealthy Brazilian banking family. She's very interested in marrying him. He is ready, Amelia, and if it isn't you, it will be someone else.”

Amelia waited for some strong reaction to the news but nothing came. The most she could muster was a brief sense of happiness for an old friend. “I'm glad,” she murmured. “He deserves someone who will love him.”

“Amelia, you have to realize that this will affect your inheritance. We can't in good conscience give you ten million dollars if you're going to choose so unwisely.”

Amelia had never cared about the money before. She'd always seen it as a form of control. But now her thoughts had changed. This was money her grandfather had left her. Married or not, it was her inheritance and her parents shouldn't be able to keep it from her.

“I'm glad you mentioned the money. When I get back to Boston, I intend to look into my inheritance, Mother. After all, I've never seen anything in writing that expresses Grandfather's wish that I be married in order to have it. My cousins got their money when they turned twenty-five. Why would I have different requirements, Mother? Can you explain that?”

Her mother opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Amelia knew she'd hit a nerve. Were her suspicions correct?

“I have a car waiting,” Olivia said, giving Amelia a disdainful look. “Go get your things and you can ride home with me.”

“I'm staying here, Mother. I'll be back in Boston tomorrow. I'm sure you'll have more to say to me. I can't guarantee that I'll want to listen.”

“You were always a stubborn child,” her mother said.

“No, I wasn't, Mother. I was a very compliant child. For a long time I was willing to marry a man I didn't love, just to please you. But now I know that I could never do that. I want a future with a man who stirs my passions and feeds my soul. I want to need him more than I need food or air. And when I'm living my last days, I want to be certain that I've been loved better and longer than any woman on earth.”

“Well, that certainly is a nice little fantasy,” Olivia said.

“It's not a fantasy, Mother. It can be real. Trust me on this. It is real.”

Her mother slowly put her gloves on, then adjusted her mink coat, tugging the collar up around her neck. “I can only hope that you'll come to your senses once you get home to Boston.” She strode toward the kitchen door.

“I wouldn't count on it,” Amelia called.

She listened to her mother's footsteps against the hardwood floors and winced as the front door slammed. A few seconds later Sam strode in.

“Are you all right?” he asked, crossing the room to take her hand.

Amelia nodded. “Fine.” She glanced around. “I—I need to finish this inventory.”

“Leave it,” Sam said. “Go get yourself bundled up. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

“You'll like it, I promise.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his lips soft and searching. It was the perfect thing to erase the memory of her mother's visit. Sam had an uncanny knack for giving her exactly what she needed.

There would be time enough later to appreciate all the bridges she'd just burned.

* * *

S
AM
INSTRUCTED
A
MELIA
carefully on what to wear. While she was dressing, he went to organize her surprise.

The Blackstone Inn, over the course of the years, had acquired a number of carriages and sleighs that were kept in a small barn on the corner of the property.

It had been years since his grandfather had kept horses, but since the Blackstone carriages made appearances at each of three summer parades held in Millhaven, Sam had formed a partnership with an old friend and local horse breeder, Dan Wheeler.

Dan and Sam trained two horses each year to pull the carriages and the occasional sleigh. One of the horses, a gentle mare named Prissy, stood silently in front of the sleigh, the bells on the harness jingling as she angled her head to stare at Sam.

“She's all set,” Dan said. “I took the sleigh for a spin and the snow is perfect on the roads. Packed and smooth. Just take it easy.”

“I will,” Sam said. “Thanks for doing this for me on such short notice.”

“No problem,” Dan said with a grin. “When romance calls, guys like us have to answer.”

“I've got to pull out all the stops. She's leaving tomorrow.”

“Time for some serious action,” Dan said, nodding.

The front door to the inn opened and Amelia stepped outside. “I can't believe you're making me go out in the cold on my—” She stopped short the moment she saw the horse and sleigh.

“Dan, this is my...friend Amelia Sheffield. Amelia, this is Dan Wheeler. He's providing the horse.”

Her gaze was still fixed on the horse as she approached. “Wow.” She slipped her arm through Sam's. “I've never been on a sleigh ride.”

“Well, hop on board,” Sam said, pulling her along beside him. He spanned her waist with his hands and lifted her into the sleigh, then helped her settle the heavy lap robe over her legs. Dan held on to Prissy until Sam got into the sleigh and took the reins.