Compromising Positions (9 page)

“You are far too romantic,” Amelia muttered to herself. “And that's going to get you into trouble.”

Where had that romantic streak come from? Amelia wondered. It certainly wasn't genetic. And she hadn't learned it from Edward. His notion of romance was to bring her flowers every Friday afternoon—the exact same bouquet from the same florist, every week.

Amelia steered out onto the street and headed toward Benny's place. A few minutes later she pulled up in front of the storefront. Benny was standing on the front stoop, a wide smile on his face. “Didn't expect that you'd be back,” he said as she walked toward him.

“Neither did I,” she admitted. “This time we're going to do things a bit differently. If we're lucky, we can both benefit from this silly little game.”

“Yeah?” He laughed. “Well, I like the sound of that. You just tell me what to do.”

5

S
AM
GRABBED
THE
picnic basket from the front seat of his truck, then hopped out and crossed the street in front of Benny's Antiques and Auction Gallery. The lights were on inside. On the street, an elderly couple and their golden retriever stood at the window, staring at the scene inside.

He joined them, taking in the room that Amelia had created. An eclectic collection of furniture had been arranged in the window and perfectly decorated with antique linens and quilts, old crystal vases and Victorian lamps. She'd even brought in an old gramophone.

A moment later she appeared, carrying an old oil lamp. She set it on a small table draped with a lace tablecloth and set with antique china and silver.

He rapped on the window. When she saw him, she smiled and waved.

He waited as she left the window space and unlocked the front door. “Come on in,” she said, stepping aside to let him pass.

“What have you done?”

“I made it look good. Vivian said there might be more media coming, so I figured I might as well up my game a little. And Benny has offered me a job doing his windows for the rest of my life, so I have that if this falls through. He also promised to marry me, but we're going to wait on that.”

“It's nice,” he said. “Sarah made us some dinner. I'm sorry I'm so late.”

“You're here now. That's all that matters.”

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “I want to kiss you, but those people are watching.”

“Go ahead,” she replied. “Give the crowd a thrill.”

“All right. I'll do my best.” He slipped his arms around her waist and bent her back in dramatic fashion. Then he kissed her. The sensation of his lips on hers sent a rush of desire through his body.

“How was that?” he murmured.

“Perfect,” Amelia replied.

He pulled her upright, then grabbed the picnic basket and opened it. “I'm starved. Let's have some dinner.”

The moment he opened the basket, the smell of food wafted into the air. He handed her a series of containers and she took them over to the table and arranged them neatly. When he withdrew a bottle of wine, Amelia smiled. “Sarah thinks of everything.”

He poured them both a glass of wine and handed her a goblet. Softly touching his glass to hers, he took a deep breath. “To tonight.”

“Tonight,” she said.

He held out her chair for her. “Where did you find all of this?” Sam asked.

“I went digging through Benny's collection. He has two floors of antiques. He's quite the collector. And he knows his stuff. Your chair is a Burton Sawyer ladder-back. Burton Sawyer made furniture in Albany right after the Revolutionary War. His pieces can be quite valuable. And I believe this table is a Francis Harrington. He's famous for that slight curve cut in the feet.”

“Benny isn't the only one who knows his stuff.”

“I'm good with the furniture and textiles, but I still have a lot to learn about silver.”

They enjoyed their dinner, lingering over the wine. All the tensions of Sam's day started to dissolve as he sat with her. For the first time he understood the pleasures of having a partner in life. He'd never given that aspect of a relationship much thought. His reluctance to tie another person to the anchor that was the Blackstone Inn had always been first in his mind.

But with Amelia he felt he could talk to her about almost anything and she'd listen intently and know exactly how to reply. She really was an extraordinary woman, the kind of person who could fascinate him for many years to come.

And yet it was impossible. She didn't belong here, stuck in a small town, tied to responsibilities that weren't her own. He could never do that to her.

“So what was going on at the inn this afternoon?” she asked.

“Mechanical meltdown and financial ruin,” Sam said. “Just when things start to look up, we get thrown a curveball and we're back to square one. Actually, this time, we're back to negative numbers.” He sighed. “The truth is I need some quick cash, so I'm willing to let you buy the bed. I have no idea what it's worth. I trust you'll give me a fair price.”

She seemed surprised at his offer. “You're ready to give up?”

“For a price. I have a plumber who has to be paid before the end of the day tomorrow.”

“How much do you need?”

“At least ten thousand. But twenty thousand would be better.”

“I'm sorry but your bed isn't worth more than three,” she said. “And I can't buy it. We don't have the budget for that. My job is to get people to gift pieces to the museum.”

He sighed. “It was worth a try,” he said. Sam pushed back from the table. “So, what's the plan with this window thing? How long are we supposed to sleep here?”

“Not long,” she murmured. “You said you needed ten thousand?”

Sam shook his head. He should never have brought it up. It had just felt so good to have someone to share his troubles with, but now he realized that it made him look incompetent. “I'll figure it out.”

“The other day, when I was staying in the room at the end of the hall, there was a little mug on the table with flowers in it. I think it might be a Revere mug.”

“Paul Revere?”

She nodded. “I'm not sure you could find a buyer in a day, but you might be able to use it as collateral for a bank loan. I did a bit of research on the internet and one similar to it sold for thirty thousand last year. They don't come up often.”

“You're telling me that we have a mug at the inn that's worth thirty thousand and it's just sitting in one of our rooms.”

“With flowers in it. I'd have to have our silver curator look at it, to be sure. But I've already taken a few photos with my phone and sent them to him for his initial impressions.”

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, stunned at the revelation. If she was right, then his problems were solved. Could it be that easy? “It's like you came along at the perfect time.”

Amelia shrugged. “I could have slipped the mug into my bag and you never would have missed it.”

“Like you tried to steal the bed this morning?” he teased.

Her smile faded. “That was not my best moment,” she said. “I'm sorry about that.”

Sam frowned. “I did give you the benefit of the doubt at first. I assumed you had some kind of business in town and couldn't unhitch the trailer on your own.”

“No, I got all the way to the interstate before I stopped and reconsidered.”

He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to it. “Why did you come back?”

“I didn't want to end it like that. In an act of dishonesty. And I didn't think we were finished yet,” she said. “I guess I'm not perfect.”

“I'm not, either. And we're not finished,” he said. “You were right about that.”

Would they ever be finished? Sam couldn't imagine reaching a point where he would be willing to let her go. Yet he knew he would have to.

Her life was in Boston. She was a city girl with dreams that could only be met in a place such as Boston or New York. Millhaven would never satisfy her. Hell, he could barely stand the small town and he'd spent his whole life here.

And yet Sam had to wonder how different he'd feel if he had someone to share his life. Would the inn still seem like an anchor or would he begin to see the possibility of finding true happiness here? She'd already changed him in tiny ways. Was Amelia capable of causing such a profound shift in his life?

He stood and wandered over to the gramophone. “Does this thing work?”

Amelia followed him, standing beside him as he peered inside. “I don't know. There are records in the cabinet. We can try it.”

“A little music might be nice.” He heard her shudder beside him and he turned to find her rubbing her arms. “Cold?”

“It's a little drafty in here. The wind has picked up and it seems to blow straight through that glass window.” She handed him a record. “I think it's time to pull the curtains.”

She walked over to the side of the display window and pulled a cord, dropping a thick velvet curtain across one half of the window.

“Guaranteed not to fall down in the middle of the night.”

“Where did Benny get that?”

“It's out of the old movie theater in town,” Amelia said. She pulled the other side and suddenly they were alone in a cozy room, soft lighting creating shadows on the false walls.

Sam cranked up the gramophone, then slipped the record out of the sleeve. “This is Rudy Vallee. ‘If You Were the Only Girl in the World.'”

“Really?” Amelia said.

“It has a great beat and it's fun to dance to,” Sam said. “I'll give it a ten.”

“It's a thought-provoking title,” she said.

Sam put the record on and dropped the needle at the edge. The gramophone crackled for a moment before the sounds of a saxophone drifted out of the old speakers. A few moments later a wavering voice was added. Smiling, Sam listened to the words.

When he turned around, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling off the edge. She patted the spot beside her.

“You don't want to dance?” he asked.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him down to the mattress, then stood in front of him. When she reached for the top button of her sweater, Sam held his breath, his mind flashing back to earlier in the day, when he'd left her naked and alone.

He braced his hands behind him on the bed as he watched, taking in every detail as her clothes came off. Inch by inch, she revealed her pale skin. And though it was a fairly tame striptease, to him it was incredibly sexy and provocative.

When she was finally free of all her clothes, he took in the full impact of her naked body on his senses. He felt his breathing grow shallow and his pulse quicken. Heat seemed to snake through his bloodstream, setting his nerves on fire. He wanted to touch her, to pull her body into his arms and kiss her, but Sam waited.

“Now you,” she murmured.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, then slowly stood in front of her. He'd never been shy about his body. He considered himself a decent-looking guy. But he wanted Amelia to see him as more than just some ordinary man. He wanted her to need him, to be obsessed with him the same way he'd become obsessed with her. Then she'd never want to leave.

He'd never made love to a woman where so much was on the line.

* * *

A
MELIA
TOOK
IN
the beauty of Sam's naked body. Until this moment her casual observations of his form had usually ended when he noticed her staring—or when her body's reaction was too much to bear. But right now Amelia didn't care that her gaze kept dropping to the more unfamiliar spots of his body.

She understood male anatomy, in theory. But Sam was only the second man she'd ever seen naked. Edward had only ever wanted to have sex in the dark, but even still it was clear that Sam was a much more...developed specimen than Edward. Sam was lean, but still muscular, with beautifully defined biceps. Her gaze drifted down to his legs, which were long and covered with a soft dusting of hair.

“How long are you going to stare at me?” he asked, a boyish smile on his lips.

“Do you have somewhere else you need to be?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“And where is that?” Amelia asked.

“Inside you.”

His words caused a shiver to skitter up her spine. His words took away any doubt she might have about what they'd be doing together. Amelia took a step toward him. “I've never really looked at a real naked man before. Not in great detail. I've studied all the great nudes, of course, but those are just paintings and statues. They aren't living, breathing flesh. There's a difference, you know.”

She moved behind him and ran her hands across his back, her fingers stopping over a raised scar on his right shoulder. “When did you get this?” she asked, pressing a kiss to the spot.

“When I was young and stupid. I jumped off a cliff over the Hudson and hit a rock on the way down.”

“Ouch,” she said.

“So, what
is
the difference?” he asked. “Between a real man and art?”

“The artist wants to portray perfection—the perfect proportions of the human body. Without the scars. But he can't paint the warmth of your skin or the softness of the hair on your chest. He can't show me the scent of your skin.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her around in front of him. “Do you always do so much talking when you're naked?”

“I've never been quite this naked before. Am I talking too much?”

He slowly shook his head, his gaze still fixed on her face. “It's all right. You can ask me anything.” Sam smoothed his hand down her torso and then between her legs.

Amelia gasped as he began to caress the damp folds and the cleft beneath. A powerful tremor raced through her body and, for a moment, she thought her knees might give way beneath her. Sam seemed to know exactly what he was doing. She could only pretend at competence.

He kissed her hungrily, desperately, and she grew light-headed. With an arm around her waist, he pushed her toward the bed. The edge of the mattress hit the backs of her knees and she fell into the soft quilts, pulling him along with her.

He pinned her arms above her head and kissed a trail from her lips to her collarbone. Then, releasing his grip on her hands, Sam delved lower, finding her breast, then her nipple.

Amelia arched beneath him; a silent invitation to continue. She needed more. Her mind was filled with images—quick, fleeting—giving her just a quick taste of what he might offer her.

He seemed fascinated with her breasts, his tongue and lips drawing her nipples to hard peaks. But then his exploration continued. Anticipation surged when he gently pushed her knees apart and slid off the bed to the floor.