The Sticky Cowgirl (Lone Star Sweets, Book 2) (4 page)

“What are you doing here?”

They both asked the question at the same time. “You first,” Samuel said as Samantha stepped out of the elevator.

“I wanted… I wanted to bring some of my sticky buns by. Your turn.”

“I work here.”

“This early in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Is that the only reason you’re here? To drop some sticky buns off?”

“It was…” she hedged.

“Let’s stop beating around the bush, Samantha.”

She could do that. Right? She could say it, do it, make the move. Couldn’t she? “I’m here for you,” she said, a heartbeat before she pulled his head down. She laid a kiss on his mouth, open and hot and more aggressive than she’d ever been with a man before.

His arms wrapped around her and he pressed her back against the closed elevator doors. Lost in the taste and smell and feel of him against her, she nearly dropped the bag of buns she’d brought.

Samuel tore his mouth away and caught her free hand. “Come with me,” he murmured.

Down a hallway, one side was glass looking out over the still sleeping downtown landscape of San Antonio, and the other side was closed office doors. At the end of the hall, Samuel led her into a corner office. It overlooked the river far below and she could see for miles and miles looking straight ahead. It was a gorgeous view and held her in thrall.

He took the she’d brought and without a word, urged her toward the desk. “The office will begin filling up soon,” he whispered against the side of her neck.

Samantha took a deep, shaky breath. “We’ll have to be quick then.”

“We shouldn’t even be doing this.” But even as the words left his mouth, his fingers were on the back of her sundress, unzipping it. “I love that you wear these dresses. So pretty and feminine.” He dropped the dress to the floor and she stepped away from it. “And your curves. Fuckin’ beautiful and lush. Everything a woman should be.”

Samantha couldn’t think of anything to say. She’d never thought about whether she was big or small, skinny or curvy. She only knew what she liked, what she liked to wear. Cowboy boots and sundresses in summer. Jeans and boots and flannel plaid the few times it got cold in winter. But that Samuel thought she was feminine and pretty? Yeah, she melted right there in his office.

“D-do you have a condom?”

“I do. Don’t worry.”

“Do you do this often?”

“Sex in my office? No. You’re the first.” He turned her in his arms and edged her toward the desk. The papers and files and phone were swept away before he had her laid flat. “I don’t want to rush this. I want time to savor you, lick every inch of you…”

“Maybe one day when all is said and done.” It was a long shot that she hoped for, but it was one she desperately tried to hold on to.

“Yeah,” he kissed her belly and moved up to her breasts still covered in a bright yellow lace bra. “Maybe, but for now…” Samuel nipped at her collarbone and wedged himself between her thighs, thrusting and Samantha nearly swallowed her tongue.

“Please, Samuel,” she begged and started popping the buttons loose on his shirt. One by one, they were undone and soon his chest was exposed. A light sprinkling of hair dusted his body and she was tempted by the sight of his dusky nipples. He said they had to hurry though, so she did nothing more than flick them with her fingernails. He groaned, kissed her hard, and got to work on his pants.

They were pushed down his thighs and she never got to see if he was a boxers or briefs man. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but she’d have liked to know just the same

From out of nowhere he produced a condom and rolled it down his cock. Words didn’t pass between them, only looks, smoldering and hungry in the early morning light. Samuel stripped her of her panties and grazed his fingers through the soft, thin layer of blonde hair between her legs and the wetness within.

“One day, I’m going to take my time and feast on you, Samantha Dawson,” he said a moment before he drove himself inside her.

A moan left her lips at the feel of his body filling her. She lifted her thighs and wrapped them around his hips and forgot everything but him, the man he was right then and there. He wasn’t a businessman and she wasn’t a business woman. They were just two people who wanted and desired each other.

Okay, so maybe she wanted him a little more than she should, and maybe this was a little out of character for her, having office sex with a man she barely knew, but she wasn’t going to regret taking the chance on something she felt flowing through her veins every time she saw him.

He held her by the waist and slid her along the sleek and polished surface of his desk and along the rigid length of his cock. His thumb rubbed at her clit and her breasts bounced against her chest and all the while his gaze never left hers.

Sunlight filtered through the windows and glanced off his hair.

The more she focused on him, on the sensation of being with him, even in a rush, the more aroused she became and the more she wanted him. He fit her, inside and out and deep down, she had a feeling he really got her.

The thrusts quickened and so did his breathing. She wanted a kiss, but she didn’t want to break the spell. Could he tell what she was thinking? Could he tell she wanted him more than just this once?

Her breath hitched when he pressed hard on her clit and then rubbed in a tight circle. She lifted and met each push of his hips into her, taking him as much as he was taking her. They moved in sync, gasps filling the air around them.

“This… You… Damn, baby…”

They were the only words he said, broken and telling her all she needed to know before she shuddered and came, with him following seconds later.

It was sweaty, quick sex. Nothing dirty. There was no time. Nothing thought out or taken for granted. It was only them and all about sating a need.

Only, why didn’t she feel that way? There had to be more to it, more to them. But somewhere in the office a phone rang and the spell she’d been hoping not to break. Shattered.

Chapter Four

Samuel took a deep breath. He didn’t want to say what needed to be said, but business dictated that he make sure she understood. “You know this doesn’t change anything.” She stiffened against him the second the words were out of his mouth. She sat up and scooted just inches away. The loss of her softness hurt like a physical blow.

“Doesn’t or can’t?” Sam glanced at him. “Nevermind,” she said, getting to her feet. “I know it doesn’t.”

Samuel bit his tongue to keep from groaning at the perfection of her curves and begging her to come back to him on the floor. He hadn’t planned on anything like this ever happening with her, but he wouldn’t regret it and he’d do it again if he had the chance. He rolled to his feet and joined her in sorting out the tangle of their clothes. “What were you doing here anyway? What’s in your basket?”

“A new summer line of my sticky buns.”

“Summer line? I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You really are a guy, huh?”

“You should know,” he teased, trying to get some of the lightness back between them. For a little while, they were just a man and woman who were hot for each other. Now, they were enemies again.

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Summer line… Things like lemon, blueberry, raspberry… Bright, summer flavors.”

Her description brought to mind the cheerfulness of her bakery. He could imagine it would be like walking into the sun, warm and welcoming on a gray day. “They all sound amazing.”

“Yes, they do. They taste even better, but if you succeed, I won’t get to make them. Not for a while at least.”

Samuel couldn’t mistake the tinge of anger in her voice, nor mistake the disappointment he heard either. What was it like to feel so passionate about something? A job? A person? He didn’t have a clue. “This isn’t personal.” It was the standard corporate line, but it didn’t fit. Not with Samantha.

“The hell it isn’t. This…” She waved her hand in an impatient gesture between the two of them. “This thing that just happened between us was very personal to me.”

How much deeper could he make the hole he was so obviously digging for himself? “I didn’t mean that. I meant the —”

“Yeah,” she interrupted. “Save it. I know what you meant and you can shove it.”

“Sam, come on. I’m not the boss on this. I’m not at liberty to change the course of this deal.”

“There is no deal, Mr. Stevenson. There’s never going to be a deal.”

“Then why did you bring those samples up here? If you weren’t trying to strike some sort of deal, why come over here this morning? The office isn’t even open. You would’ve had to lie to the guard to get upstairs.”

“I… Fine. Yes, I did. I thought… I thought if you and your goons could just try what I make, that maybe you’d change your minds and leave me alone.”

“My goons? I don’t have goons. My step-father? I guess you could say he has goons, of a sort.”

“Of which you are one.” Her pointed remark was topped off with a short nod of her head and her arms crossed over her chest.

The woman just would not give him a break. Frustrating as it was, it was endearing. “It’s a sweet gesture, Sam, but I’m afraid nothing is going to change anyone’s mind.”

“Not even yours?”

“I told you, I don’t have any say in this. I just —”

“You just do the dirty work. I get it.” She was halfway to the door and Samuel couldn’t think of anything to say. He wanted to change her mind, get her to see that he wasn’t the heartless bastard she thought he was. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned back to him with a curious look on her face. “Can you… Did this mean anything? What went on between us?”

The words filled his throat. Words that might change a little of what she thought about him, but what came out instead was the complete opposite. “It can’t.”

“I see.” No emotion. No surprise. She gave nothing away in the way of reaction to what he said, but he felt it in the current between them.“Well, I should be going.”

“Sam…”

“I can see myself out, Mr. Stevenson. Thank you for your time.”

“Sam, please…” He was desperate to make her see, to maybe give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Please what?”

“Please try to understand.”

“I understand all right. I might be a hick from the country where we talk slower than most, but I’m a smart hick. Enjoy the sticky buns.” Her smile was a little too bright, her voice just a little too tight. He hated it. It was a complete contradiction between the woman she was right in that moment and the woman he knew ran The Sticky Cowgirl shop.

Samuel slumped down on the corner of his desk and stared at the space around him. It lost some of its early morning warmth. The office would be full of people within thirty minutes and all he wanted to do was take the elevator to the top floor, to his penthouse. That wasn’t going to happen though. There was work to do and a woman to put out of her quaint location.

* * * * *

Three days later, Samuel stood a block away from the entrance to The Sticky Cowgirl hardly able to believe his eyes. Samantha Dawson was up to something.

On a normal day the little shop was buzzing with activity, but today, there was a line outside the door and down the block in his direction. He’d come to talk to her, to clear the air. After the way they parted at his office earlier in the week, he felt they needed to talk. He’d given her some time to calm down and process the things he’d said. He might have been a little harsh, but it was for
their
own good and the business between them.

Now, if only he believed his own shit.

He hadn’t expected to find this going on outside her shop though, and he thought carefully about all his options. He could leave and come back another time. He could cut in line at the front. After all, he wasn’t there for sticky buns, so it really wouldn’t be cutting in. It would be rude though, and draw unwanted attention to himself. He could go around back and knock on the rear entrance door.

None of those felt right.

He slipped to the end of the line. “Do you know what’s going on?” he casually asked the man standing in front of him.

The guy looked over his shoulder at Samuel. He was young, maybe college age with black spiked hair, tattoos down one arm and the opposite leg, a ring in one corner of his bottom lip and three through each eyebrow.

Somehow, Samuel wasn’t surprised. The Sticky Cowgirl attracted all sorts. Even him, in his suits. However, today, he’d foregone the expensive, powerful look in favor of the decidedly less expensive throw-all-the-flour-you-want-at-me-but-please-stop-ignoring-my-phone-calls.

“A fundraiser,” the young man answered.

“A fundraiser? Why? For what?”

“Some company is trying to put her out of business.”

Tricky. Samuel found himself oddly pleased at the effort. “Oh yeah. I read something about that. I thought they just wanted the block of buildings.”

“I guess, maybe. All I know is it’s perfect right here and we don’t need any new condo crap buildings. So, she’s trying to raise funds to fight them.”

“I doubt she can raise enough money.”

“She can try. People have been standing in line like this for two days. We love her.”

Samuel could both see and hear it in the man’s voice. “How many times have you been here the last two days?”

He grinned, showing Samuel perfectly straight, gleaming white teeth. “This is my fourth time in line today. I was here three times yesterday.”

Samuel didn’t even try to hide his shock. “That’s seven times in two days.”

“I know, man.” The kid laughed. “I’ve been buying them and taking them around the Riverwalk, handing them out, seeing if I can drum up some more customers for her to help. You ever had one of her sticky buns? They’re fuckin’ awesome.” He stuck his hand out, tipped with black fingernails. “Name’s Shane.”

“Samuel. And yeah, I’ve had the sticky buns.” As it had from the first moment he saw the numbers and saw first hand the loyalty of Samantha’s customer base, he was completely astonished. He was proud of her. She’d fostered the care and concern of the people who frequented her shop. She gave them something good, something that while not wholesome by a doctor’s standard, they were wholesome in their intent. They made people happy, they made people come back.

“Then you know, right? You know we have to save her from those corporate goons.”

There was that word again. Goon. “I know.” He did know and he did know that what was going on with her right now was all his doing. Or rather, it was all Brandt’s doing, but Samuel was the one carrying it out.

Maybe he was a goon.

“It’s good that you’re here. She can use all the support she can get. All these small business people can use our support. Especially the local ones that use local ingredients and local suppliers.”

Samuel was struck by the guy’s words. “Do you go to school around here?”

“Yeah. UT San Antonio. I study business and entrepreneurship. I want to own a business one day.”

“What kind of business, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Nah, man. It’s cool. I want to have a business that helps other small businesses. I don’t have a clear definition in my head yet, but I’m working on it.”

Again, Samuel didn’t try to hide his surprise and the young man laughed. “Yeah, I know. Lookin’ at me doesn’t exactly scream serious or businessman, but suits and ties aren’t always the most approachable for someone my age. I want to appeal to people new in business, my generation and the next one.”

Samuel nodded. “I understand that.” They’d moved up several feet as they’d been talking and the closer they got to the door, the more nervous and uncertain Samuel became. He hadn’t expected the fundraiser, but he probably should have. She said she’d do whatever she could or had to do to beat him. She said she wouldn’t go quietly.

He thought about what he might say to her when he saw her. Should he say hello? Should he tell her that what she was doing was commendable, but it wasn’t going to work? What would she do or say? He just didn’t know.

Samantha Dawson was an unpredictable force in a sundress and cowboy boots.

And Samuel’s stomach grumbled. His young friend standing in front of him must’ve heard the sound because he turned around and smirked. Samuel nodded and gave a half-hearted smile.

Three more feet, give or take one or two, and he’d be inside the bakery. The smell of sugar and caramel and coffee assaulted him. “Has she started selling her new flavors? I heard she was trying something for summer?”

“Yeah. The lemon blackberry is my favorite. My girlfriend loves the strawberry lime.”

“They both sound great.” They both tasted great too. He’d sampled each of the ones she’d brought to his office as had everyone else in working on the project to buy her building and though the sticky buns had gone over well and all had agreed she had a wonderful product, no one was swayed to back off.

Inside the bakery, it was hot and humid, and it was terribly noisy. There were people wall to wall, chatting, drinking coffee or soda, and waiting. They were patient too.

He couldn’t explain it, but it all made him feel odd, like he was the party crasher, the bill collector, the bringer of doom.

Samantha was behind the counter, smiling, greeting each and every customer as they stepped up to place an order. Her hair was up in a ponytail and loose strands pressed against her face and neck in the heat. Her eyes were bright and to look at her right then, one would never know she was fighting one of the biggest battles of her life as a business owner.

Him.

Samuel was good at his job, good at getting the desired results. He was better than good. He was top-notch. He was the go-to guy, the one others looked to for help, advice, to finish the deal. He’d been taught by the best and his teachings had never led him astray, had never failed him.

But this time, he was in uncharted waters. This time, this business deal… The end game results weren’t so clean cut. There was more going on than the usual pressure to sell, threats of eminent domain, and the flashing of a check. There was more going on with him.