Moonlight on Monterey Bay (11 page)

Sam’s gaze shifted back and forth between her and the room.

“Well,” she demanded, “say something!”

Sam smiled slowly. His voice was low. “Maddie, this is right.”

“What?”

Later she wondered if this was one of those Freudian things, but no matter, at the time it seemed to be the only course of action. So without thought, Maddie threw her arms around Sam and hugged him tightly, jubilantly. Her head was back, her dancing eyes looking up into his face.

And Sam did what seemed even more right, and what the yearning deep in his gut told him to do. He met her slightly parted lips with his own, pressed lightly, then with an insistence that had been building beyond control. “Oh, Maddie,” he moaned, threading
his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer, and moving his tongue until it touched the tip of her own. He swallowed her small gasp, then moved his tongue slowly around her own.

Maddie, too, moaned, but didn’t move away. Her arms were still around his bare shoulders, her fingers clasped tightly around his neck. His bare chest, damp with salt water, was pressed against hers. She knew if she let go of him it would be all over, she would crumble like a soft sock at his feet. It wasn’t muscles or bones holding her together, but a wonderful delicious, rushing emotion that gave her support as it coursed through her veins. She kissed him back, loving the taste and feel and strength of him, and she wished against the wall of reason that the moment would never end.

It was Eeyore who forced reality to intrude. With a slow, furry shove, he moved his ample body between their legs. Maddie sucked in some air, her hands still wrapped around Sam for support. She blinked. “So,” she said slowly as the cool air fanned her heated cheekbones, “you like it that much?”

Sam’s husky chuckle sent shivers along her spine. “Yes,” he said, his smile caressing her face. “In fact, I like it more than that. Want me to show you?” He circled her waist, his strong fingers slipping beneath her jeans and gently massaging the tender skin.

Maddie shivered uncontrollably. “I’ll take your word for it, Sam.” She moved back, a painful move
that warred with every nerve ending in her body. My lord, she thought, struggling for sanity, what was going on here? She wanted to drag him upstairs, throw him on the floor, undress him.…

Instead she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, took a deep breath that came out in a small hiccup, and managed a wobbly smile. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. A simple thank-you would have been okay.”

“Nope. Not in a million years. That wouldn’t come near to saying what I wanted to say.”

“Oh,” Maddie said, and for perhaps the first time in her life she found herself at a loss for words.

“Besides the fact that I like kissing you, Maddie. A lot.”

“Well, thanks, Sam. You’re … you’re not bad yourself.”

“I’ve improved, then?”

She remembered that first time, in nearly this same spot, remembered with a clarity she wouldn’t admit to. It had been marvelous, even then, no matter what she had told him. “Yes,” she managed feebly. “Much better.”

“Good. I try.”

“Lots of practice?”

Sam’s laughter was husky, strong, and stirred her again. She bit down hard on her bottom lip.

“Haven’t had much lately, but I wouldn’t mind trying,” he said. He held her head in the palm of his
hands and soaked in the look of her. Then he traced an invisible line down her cheek, across her lip. “So where do we go from here?” he asked.

Maddie looked around. “How about down … on a chair. Furniture. How about you try it all out while I get us each a nice glass of cold water.” She started to walk away, but Sam caught her hand and pulled her back. “Maddie,” he said with sudden intensity, “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but whatever it is, it deserves some attention.”

“Mixing business and pleasure isn’t a good idea.” Her voice lacked conviction.

“Has anyone ever owned up to that damn saying? It’s nonsense. Mixing business and pleasure can be a great way to do business.” The words, nothing Sam had ever given conscious thought to before, came out without deliberation, fitting the moment. Before Maddie could respond, he kissed her again, his lips moving more slowly this time, with more familiarity.

Maddie felt their bodies move as one, but she didn’t know they were sitting on the couch until she released her arms from his neck and didn’t fall. His kisses continued, slow and delicious, and when his fingers moved beneath the edge of her sweater, she simply sighed and enjoyed the tingles that danced along her spine, up and down her arms, and then lower, into parts of her that she hadn’t paid much attention to for a long, long time.

She felt a rumble, a startling reaction to his touch.

But in the next second the rumble took on a gravelly voice, Eeyore barked, and Ralph, his T-shirt stained, lumbered noisily into the room.

Maddie shot over to the end of the couch and her face turned crimson when Ralph’s hearty laugh accompanied her movement.

“Sorry to interrupt this little love fest, folks,” he said with a lascivious grin. “It seems we forgot something.” With that he circled the couch and bent his ample form over to retrieve a clipboard filled with smudged sheets of paper.

Without engaging in further talk, he grinned again, waved, and disappeared.

Maddie stood up slowly, reluctantly. “It looks to me like some greater force is looking out for us, making sure we don’t do anything stupid.”

“Stupid?” Sam was still on the couch, his dark skin contrasting with the light upholstery fabric. Sunlight caught in the deep tawny hair on his chest. His hands were clasped behind his head, his feet stretched out in front of him.

“You know what I mean.” She busied herself in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water.

“I know that when you and I are together in a room, Maddie, something conspires to draw us together. Frankly I think
that’s
the greater force. And if it has a name, I wouldn’t mind thanking it.”

Maddie handed him a glass of water. Her hand shook slightly.

“I want to know you better, Maddie,” Sam continued. His voice was softer now. “I don’t often feel that way. I guess I’m too quick sometimes to dismiss people. But I couldn’t dismiss you if I wanted to. I find myself thinking of you at the damnedest times.” He took a long drink of water, and his eyes, looking over the rim of the glass, remained on her face. His week of frustrating rationalizations were nothing but a pile of splintered thoughts now. He needed to be around Maddie more; for whatever reason, toward whatever end, he couldn’t quite grasp.

Maddie’s gaze rested on the panoramic ocean view. She walked slowly over to the large chair near the fireplace and sat down. Her hands rubbed the polished wooden arms. Finally her gaze came back to Sam. “I was prepared not to like you, Sam. There was a feeling about you that is everything I try to avoid.” She paused for a minute, looking at him with steady, clear eyes, and then went on. “But the thing of it is, I
do
like you. Against all my better judgment, I do.” She shrugged, a slight, innocent gesture that sent Sam’s blood racing.

“Good. That’s a start, then, isn’t it?”

A start? A start to what? What was the finish? Maddie wondered. Aloud she said quietly, “Sure it is. There’s no reason why we can’t be friends, Sam.”

Sam’s slow smile washed over her. “Well, good. We can let things be, not disturb the rhythm. See what happens.” His eyes moved from her face and
roamed around the room. “And I do like what you’ve done here. I didn’t expect it to make any difference. I really didn’t care one way or another what you put in here. I just wanted something to sit on, to sleep on.” He shook his head, his forehead creasing. “But it’s strange—”

“Strange?”

“As much as I always liked this place, there was always something missing.” His gaze drifted around the room, touching each piece of furniture, each splash of color and accent, until it rested once more on Maddie’s face. “I used to dream about having a place like this when I was a kid. But it was more a feeling than anything else. And after I finally could afford the dream, I built it, but something wasn’t right. It never matched that young kid’s dream. And now … now I think it’s getting there. Somehow you tapped into the dream.”

Eeyore accepted the compliment, licking Sam’s leg with enthusiasm and saving Maddie from an inadequate response. His words moved her, and more than was appropriate, she suspected, for a client’s simple appreciation for a job.

Sam looked at his watch. Nearly six. He had promised the mayor that he’d attend the opening of a new civic theater. He frowned, then looked again at the wonderful, earthy room. He’d go, and he’d do his duty, but the realization hit him forcefully that it wasn’t at all where he wanted to be. He wanted to
stay exactly where he was; in fact, there was nowhere on earth he wanted to be but here, in this high, cool room with the slanted rays of sunset falling across his knees. And with Maddie, looking more at home in his house than he did.

He’d leave, but he’d be back. Soon. And with an understanding that didn’t need words, he reluctantly rose from the couch, touched Maddie briefly on the top of her head, grabbed his shirt, and left.

SEVEN

Maddie squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and lifted her foot onto the next rung. There. Finally.

It had taken her fifteen minutes to climb the ladder that reached up to the ceiling of Sam’s living room. But she had made it, and as long as she didn’t look down, she’d be just fine. She lifted the end of the long vine and threaded it through the last ceiling hook that the carpenters had installed the day before, then released her breath. There. Perfect.

She had found the flowering tropical plant in a house on Front Street that had been badly damaged in an earthquake and was being demolished. But Maddie knew the instant she saw the aged plant, its thick braided stems trailing artfully across the ceiling of the old house, that there was another home for it—a perfect home.

“Amazing,” said a voice below her.

Maddie’s heart leaped up into her throat, then slowly settled back. Although her heart still did a two-step, she was no longer surprised when Sam appeared unexpectedly. For days he had been showing up at the beach house, a casual dropping in to check on things, see if she needed anything, to comment on a carpet or a painting. The day before, he had brought lunch, a vegetable pasta in a lemon sauce that they had eaten on the sun-drenched deck. “No meat,” Sam had said, and the gesture warmed Maddie’s heart.

“Need any help with that?” he asked.

She shook her head and moved down the ladder carefully. “It’s all done.”

“You didn’t grow that plant just for this place.”

“No.” She grinned. “This plant is nearly as old as you, Sam.”

“That old, huh? How did it end up here?”

“Well, Greta—her name is Greta—needed a home.” Maddie looked up at the vine, her hands on her hips. Its roots were planted in a corner pot, and the long green stem wound its way all the way up to the ceiling, then looped from one ceiling beam to the next. Sunlight from the skylights washed over the leaves and fell across the floor in dappled, fanciful designs. “It’s a match made in heaven, don’t you think?”

Sam wrapped one arm around her shoulders and looked at the plant. “Okay, Greta,” he said, “exactly
what are your needs? And who in hell is going to meet them?”

“Her new owner.” Maddie smiled sweetly. “And besides the basics—water and plant food—Greta needs music now and then, not heavy stuff—light jazz, maybe some Enya.”

“Enya?”

Maddie shook her head and sighed. “I can see I have some work to do here. Actually Mozart would be good too. She doesn’t need much water, Sam.”

“I can probably handle it.” He watched the sunlight play on Maddie’s hair. It brought out highlights—streaks of wine and blue black. He traced the lines with the blunt end of his fingers. “I’ll be down often enough, but whoever cleans the place for me can check on old faithful up there.”

“Good idea.” Maddie brushed the dust from her long gauzy skirt. “I think you’ll find Greta good company.”

“That’s something I’m not worried about.” He rubbed her neck. “So, when does the rest of the furniture come?”

“Monday. Most things should be here by then. The upstairs rooms, the deck furniture.”

The warmth of his fingers relaxed her neck. She turned slightly, lifted her head, and looked up at him.

Sam breathed deeply. He’d been pretty good about keeping his desire in check. It flared now and then, when she brushed against him, when their eyes met,
when she swept by him and the fresh, clean scent of her body filled his nostrils, but he managed to hold it at bay. But how long could he handle wanting Maddie more than was reasonable, knowing it wasn’t a good idea? “Maddie, I—”

“Oh, Sam.” She sighed. “Me too.” She raised herself on tiptoe, wound her arms around his neck, and kissed him tenderly on the mouth. Sam reacted immediately, a time bomb at zero hour, and pulled her roughly to him. He nipped at her lip gently, traced it with his tongue, then kissed her fully and deeply until he could feel it in every inch of his body.