Текст книги "The Man Must Marry"

Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Most likely, he’d been waiting for her to do it herself.

And she almost had, the day she’d stopped by David’s office and found a red-headed bombshell missing some clothes sitting on his lap. Willa had taken Jennifer’s hand, turned and walked away, and

gotten into her car and driven off. At least she’d remembered to fasten Jennifer’s seat belt. Otherwise, her niece would likely be dead.

A normal woman would have screamed and torn that bimbo off her husband’s lap, then sued David for divorce, along with every dime she could get from the slimy worm. Instead, she had maimed her innocent niece.

Recovering in the same hospital as Jennifer, only to walk out eventually, had made Willa realize that her own children were better off unborn. She’d been known to poison people with her cooking, she’d broken more dishes than she could count, and she’d gotten into enough mishaps as a child to gray her mother’s hair prematurely.

She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t marry a man and watch him grow exasperated, then impatient, and eventually angry. Indifference would follow shortly, and the marriage would finally die a bitter death. And this time, with a man as good and strong as any of the Sinclair men, Willa would die with it. She stood up finally and squared her shoulders for the coming battle. She was leaving Rosebriar. Tonight. She was going home, locking all the doors, and keeping the world at bay. Maybe next week, she’d be able to think clearly enough to find a way to make sure Tidewater International remained intact and the grandsons got their rightful inheritance.

Yes. She would fix this mess or die trying.

Chapter Nine

Willa’s nose woke upbefore her eyes did, to the pungent aroma of a sour-mash distillery. She tried to wipe the odor away but couldn’t seem to move her hand. Nor could she feel her arms. Apparently, they didn’t want to wake up, either.

She finally forced her eyes open, only to snap them shut with a groan. Oh, Lord, she was waking up in bed with the grandsons. Thank God she was fully dressed.

Still, Willa was reluctant to open her eyes again and find out exactly whose arm was pinning her down. And whose leg was thrown over her thighs. No wonder most of her body was asleep; the man weighed a ton.

Oh, God, was it Sam?

The men had led her up to Abram’s room, pulling her into the celebration of their grandfather’s life with drunken charm. Another bottle of brandy had come upstairs with them, but she had refused to drink any, still queasy from her previous night’s scotch marathon.

Instead, she had climbed onto Abram’s massive bed and leaned against the headboard while the men had sprawled around her, and she’d listened to their tales of a strong man who had lived every one of his eighty-five years to the fullest. Sometime around two in the morning, she’d fallen asleep. A short while later, she’d half awakened to see somebody stumble out of the bed with a curse and go over and stop the pendulum on the clock on the opposite wall. She’d slept more peacefully then. She’d actually snuggled into the closest man with a sigh, feeling warm and protected and utterly content. Now, though, nature was calling. She was also mad that she had so easily been talked out of leaving last night. She wasn’t any closer to a solution to her problems, either. If anything, she had one more.

She was falling in love with the Sinclairs, every damn last one of them. Finally finding the courage to open her eyes, Willa lifted her head to see Jesse on the far side of the bed, his mouth open and one arm thrown over his eyes. Ben was snoring beside him. Which meant it was Sam’s chest she was snuggled against.

Figures. He volunteered to be the one to marry me.That’s what they’d told her last night. For the good of Tidewater, Sam Sinclair would sacrifice himself to a dead man. He was even up to the task of getting her pregnant, too.

How noble of him.

Well, he could damn well walk down the aisle by himself. She was going to find a bathroom, then the kitchen, and then she was stealing a car and driving toMaine . She wasn’t flying on one of those commuter planes again.

Praying he wouldn’t wake up, Willa carefully tried to move Sam’s hand. It immediately tightened, then started kneading her softly. Despite herself, she moaned.

Dear Lord, she had to get out of there!

She tossed his hand away, scrambling off the bed before any of the men could get their bearings. Sam shouted when she pushed off his chest. He bumped into Ben, pushing Jesse off the bed with a yelp of alarm. Ben sat bolt upright, his eyes wild, his hair standing on end, his fists raised for battle. Then all three of them grabbed their heads and started cursing. Willa couldn’t help but smile. Hangovers were such just rewards—and really handy when a woman wanted everyone to overlook the fact that she’d just spent the night with them.

“What in hell is all the hollering?” Sam hissed with obvious restraint, slits of blue fire escaping his bloodshot eyes.

Bolstered by the fact that she couldn’t possibly look any worse than he did, Willa gave him a smug smile. “Go back to sleep. It’s still early,” she said, determined to brazen her way out of this. At the very least, she hoped to buy herself time.

Sam dropped his head into his hands with a groan. Ben flopped back onto the pillow, whimpering in agony. Jesse remained sitting on the floor and simply laid his head on his knees, quietly cursing. Willa escaped.

Realizing she was limping because she was wearing only one shoe, she slipped it off when she reached the hallway, then tried to decide which direction to go. She was in the family wing, which meant her room was at the opposite end of the house. She headed down the hall at a run, determined to be long gone before anyone realized she was missing. She smiled again, thinking about the shoe she must have lost in Abram’s bed, and she wondered if Sam would show up on her doorstep inMaine , seeking the princess it would fit.

Willa suddenly scowled. As fantasies went, Abram Sinclair was the fairy godmother from hell—and Sam was not her Prince Charming!

Standing under a hot shower until the water ran cold went a long way toward making Sam feel human again. He had even greater hope that the coffee he smelled would go just as far toward restoring his memory. He was more than a little ashamed of getting so drunk last night and even more worried about what he might have said.

“Please, God, don’t let me have proposed to Willa,” he whispered. “And if I did, let her be so hung over that she doesn’t remember.”

Sam stopped at the kitchen door and slowly cracked it open. Ben and Jesse were seated at the staff table, their hands curled around mugs of steaming coffee, staring at nothing. Peg was just setting a large platter of dry toast on the table, and Emerson was perched on a stool at his desk, scribbling in his journal.

Emerson took more notes than a field scientist, and Sam suspected the man saw his employers more as a social experiment than a job. Either that, or he was planning to write an exposé when he retired.

“It’s safe to come in,” Ben said, his voice sounding as haggard as he looked. “Willa hasn’t come down yet.”

Sam entered the restaurant-style kitchen and took a seat at the table. They’d given everyone the next few days off, but Peg, Emerson, and Ronald lived at Rosebriar. Peg immediately set down a mug of coffee in front of Sam—black, steaming, and smelling less strongly of maple syrup than he usually liked. “Thank you,” he said, wrapping his hands around it and blowing on the surface. He eyed the platter of toast. “Do you have any maple spread?” he asked as Peg walked to the stainless-steel island that ran the length of the kitchen.

“You slather that toast with anything sweet, and you’ll throw up.” Peg picked up a piece of paper and glanced at it briefly, then reached under the island, grabbed a couple of jars of spices, and placed them in a box on the counter. “That’s why I only put a drop of syrup in your coffee. It’s going to take a whole loaf of dry toast to sop up all that brandy you boys drank last night.” She headed into the pantry, returned with an armful of canisters, and set them in the box with the spices.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, picking up some toast when his stomach growled.

“I’m packing what supplies I want to take with me.”

Jesse and Ben came out of their stupors and frowned at her. “Um, Peg,” Ben said. “You’re supposed to stay working for the next three months before you go to your cottage.”

She turned to look at the table of men. “I will be working, just not here. I only have four, maybe five days to get myself up toMaine and get familiar with my new digs.”

“Maine?” Jesse said. “What are you talking about?”

“Miss Kent became my boss when she inherited Rosebriar,” Peg said, placing some packets in the box,

then picking up the box and setting it by the door that led to the garage. She walked back to the island with an empty box in her hand and looked at her list again.

“You’re going toMaine with Willa?” Sam asked, confused as well as surprised.

“Then who’s going to take care of us?” Jesse asked before Peg could answer. She smiled. “Poor babies,” she said with mock sympathy. “The kitchen staff is capable of feeding you, and I’m not taking any of the house staff with me, so you don’t have to worry about dust bunnies attacking in your sleep. Emerson will watch over everything here. Willa said her house is too small for more than just me to take care of, so I’m going toMaine alone.”

“You’ve spoken to Willa about this already? When?” Sam asked.

“This morning. She got all flustered when I said I intended to go keep house for her and tried to talk me out of it. But when I started listing some of the dishes I can cook and told her that I’ve always wanted to see theMaine coast, she finally relented.” Peg’s face reddened slightly. “I might have bullied her a bit, but that poor thing needs looking after right now. She’s had quite a shock. She was in such a hurry to leave before you boys came down, she finally just scribbled her address on a paper, told me to be in Maine in five days, then left.”

“She’s gone!” Sam yelped, standing up.

“When did she leave?” Ben asked.

“How did she leave?” Sam asked right behind him.

“Ronald took her,” Emerson interjected, swiveling his stool to face them. “They left in the Stutz Bearcat. Ronald told Willa she had only three months to enjoy it.”

Jesse strode over to the desk and picked up the phone. “I’m calling him to bring her back here this minute.”

“When did they leave?” Ben asked.

“Nearly three hours ago.”

“And you guys just let her?” Jesse said, angrily punching numbers on the phone.

“What were we supposed to do?” Peg asked. “Lock her in the pantry until you boys sobered up?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done that to one of us,” Sam drawled. “Hold up, Jesse,” he said, going over and hitting the off button on the phone. “We knew Willa would likely leave today. Maybe we should let her. It’s going to take her some time to come to terms with what’s happened, and we’re probably the last people she wants to see this morning.”

“But what about Cobb?” Jesse asked.

Sam shrugged. “Willa’s as safe with Ronald as she would be with any of us. And we know where she’s going and how she’s getting there. I’ll give her a few days to calm down, then show up on her doorstep and tell her that I’d like to rent her cottage.” Sam warmed to his idea as he formed it on the fly. “I’ll tell

her I need a little vacation myself and that I want to use up whatever remaining rent Bram had.”

“That’s perfect,” Ben said, grabbing a piece of toast. “It’ll be easier courting her on her own turf.”

Sam was thinking the same thing, until Ronald walked in the back door.

“Where’s Ms.Kent ?” Sam asked. “I thought you were driving her toMaine .”

Ronald’s face took on a dark tinge. “She’s on her way home.”

“On her way how ?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. She asked me not to.”

Sam took a step toward him. “But I’m asking you to .”

“I’m sorry, Sam, but I work for Willa now.”

Sam gritted his teeth against the throbbing in his head. “Ronald, there’s a chance one of Cobb’s grandsons might bother Willa because of Bram’s bequest. How about you go back to wherever you left her, pick her up, and drive her toMaine yourself?”

Ronald’s face paled. “I never considered Cobb or his grandsons might bother her.” He suddenly brightened. “It’s okay, though. Nobody can get to Willa for the next few days. By then, I can be inMaine to look after her.”

“I’m going to look after her inMaine ,” Sam growled. “And what do you mean, nobody can get to her for the next few days? Where the hell is she?”

“I promised Willa I wouldn’t say. I can only assure you she’s safe.”

The phone suddenly rang, and Jesse answered it. “Sinclair residence,” he said. He listened to what the caller had to say. “What!”

Jesse paled as the caller repeated what he’d just said. “How long ago? And nobody stopped her?

Where in hell was security?”

Sam made a lunge for the phone, but Jesse hit the off button. “That was the marina,” he said. “They said that when they went to move the RoseWind to its summer mooring just now, they were told a lone woman had taken her out.”

All three brothers turned in unison to glare at Ronald.

Ronald took a step back, his hands raised in supplication. “She’s a world-class sailor. She told me she grew up on a schooner.”

“She can’t get off an elevator without tripping over her own feet,” Sam snapped. “She’s probably hanging from the rigging by now, if she hasn’t fallen overboard!”

“I went down to the dock and helped her get under way,” Ronald said. “She was as nimble as a cat from the moment her feet hit the deck. And she sure as hell knows her way around a sailboat.” He

actually stepped closer. “She told me she needed to spend a few days at sea, alone, to think. I think it was cruel, what Abram did to her. The woman was nothing but nice to him, and he blindsided her on that video tape. I really feel sorry for her.”

Sam’s anger instantly evaporated. “Yeah. Bram may have thought he was helping Willa, but he really screwed up her life. And that’s why I’m going to fix this.” He looked at Jesse. “Call our helicopter pilot, and have him pick me up on the front lawn in an hour.”

“You’re flying toMaine ?” Jesse asked. “But it’ll take Willa several days to get home.”

Sam headed to the back staircase leading to the family wing. “I’m not flying toMaine , I’m sailing.”

“How? Willa took the boat,” Ben said.

Sam stopped with his foot on the bottom step. “She’ll only be a few hours out by the time I find her. I’ll board the RoseWind and sail up with her.”

“And just how are you going to board from a helicopter?” Ben asked in alarm.

“I’ll have our pilot get as close and as low as he can, and I’ll jump into the water.”

Jesse snorted. “You’re assuming Willa will stop and fish you out. She’ll more likely throw you the anchor.”

“She won’t let me drown,” Sam assured the five incredulous people gaping at him. “She’s too softhearted.”

Chapter Ten

Willa was so involvedplotting her course on the nautical chart that it took her a while to realize the comforting drone of the radio she’d tuned to the NOAA weather station was being drowned out by a familiar noise she couldn’t immediately identify. She scanned the horizon behind her from west to east, noticed some boats scattered several miles away, and finally decided the source of the sound was the helicopter in the distance. It seemed to be on a zigzag course, flying from one boat to the other, then moving on to the next one as if searching for something. Only it wasn’t orange, nor was it large enough to be a Coast Guard helicopter.

The sleek black aircraft reminded her of the fancy one she’d seen on Donald Trump’s Apprentice show. But then, probably half the corporations inManhattan had helicopters. But this one was working its way out to sea, and Willa didn’t think such helicopters had a very far range. It would either have to rendezvous with a large ship or head for land soon, she decided, as she glanced at her sails to make sure they were catching the maximum breeze. She checked her compass heading, then stood and adjusted the wheel to a more northeasterly course. She sighed, wishing she had gotten a ride in Tidewater International’s helicopter before she’d left.

But wait—she owned a good portion of Tidewater now. For the next three months, she probably had the authority to call the office and ask them to send the helicopter up to Keelstone Cove!

She could take Shelby and Jennifer and Cody for a ride in it, and they’d buzz all around town, and the kids could wave to all their friends. Ten-year-old Cody would think she was the coolest aunt in the world.

Even better, instead of having Ronald drive Jennifer and her date to the homecoming dance in the Bearcat, as she and Ronald had discussed on the way to the marina, she could let her niece use the helicopter. How extra-cool would that be?

Whew! This being rich was heady stuff.

But the way she figured it, how many people got to be stinking rich for three whole months? Abram had cursed her with this outrageous bequest, so why not take advantage of it while she tried to find a way out of it? Thus the brilliant idea of sailing the RoseWind toMaine instead of driving home. That’s also why she’d agreed to let Peg come keep house for her. With any luck, Peg’s cooking would put another ten or fifteen pounds on her, and then she’d see if Sam Sinclair still wanted to marry her. A cook, a chauffeur, a helicopter, a sailboat, a mansion, mountains of money—what more could a girl ask for?

“Don’t get caught up in your daydreams, Willamina, or you’ll forget the price of keeping everything is a husband,” she reminded herself, only to have her words get lost in the thump-thump-thump of the fast-approaching helicopter.

Holy smokes, it was coming right at her!

Willa scrambled to catch her chart before it blew away, then lunged for the wheel, turning the RoseWind to keep the sails from slapping in the turbulence. The helicopter swung in a wide arch and flew over her again, and she frantically waved it away with one hand while adjusting the wheel with the other.

“Get away!” she shouted, despite knowing that the pilot couldn’t hear her. “If you get any closer, you’re going to shred my sails!”

The helicopter returned and settled into a hover just off her starboard side. “Break sail and pull about,”

came a booming voice over its loudspeaker. “I want to come aboard.”

Willa went stone still and gaped at the helicopter. That’s when she noticed “Tidewater International” in broad gold letters on the fuselage. They had chased her down?

“Turn your radio to six-three,” the voice boomed over the thump of the spinning blades. Willa checked the set of her sails, then went to the radio, turned the dial to six-three, and keyed the mike. “Don’t get any closer than you are. You’ll shred my sails.”

“Come about, Willa. I want to come aboard.”

“Sam?” she squeaked in surprise, only to forget to key the mike. She pushed the button. “Sam?”

“Stop the boat, Willa.”

She shaded her eyes with her hand, scowling at the helicopter keeping pace beside her. “Sam, you can’t land here. The mast is in the way.”

“Just stop, and I’ll jump in and swim to you.”

“Are you nuts? No—go away.”

“I’m coming aboard, Willa.”

“You jump, and it’s a long swim home. I am not letting you onboard this boat.”

“The RoseWind isn’t set up for solo sailing.”

“She is now. Go away, Sam. I don’t want to talk to you, your brothers, or anyone else for the next five days. When I get home, I’ll call to let you know I made it okay.”

“And if you don’t make it okay?”

“Then you and your brothers become very wealthy men. I can’t do anything about the Tidewater shares, though. Sorry, but you’ll have to blame Abram for that one.”

“Stop the boat, Willa.”

“No can do, Sinclair. And you’re going to run out of fuel before I run out of wind. So go away.”

Willa set down the mike, grabbed hold of the wheel with both hands, and stared straight ahead, pointedly ignoring the lunatic. Or she tried to, until the chopper got close enough to make her sails flutter again. She scrambled to the winches and tightened the mainsail down even further, then did the same to the jib.

Just as she turned, she heard a loud splash. Willa looked over to see Sam break the surface of the water with a shout and grab hold of a dry sack he’d obviously thrown down first.

“You idiot!” she screamed, rushing to the rail. “You’re going to drown!”

The helicopter pulled away, going several hundred yards east before hovering again. Willa quickly ran to the wheel and turned the RoseWind into a stall, then broke both sails to let them flutter in the breeze.

“You get right back on that helicopter!” she shouted to Sam, who was a good hundred yards away. He simply kept swimming through the gentle swells toward her. He was having a difficult time of it, though, with his bulky life vest and having to tow his dry sack.

“You are certifiably insane!”

He kept swimming toward her.

“I mean it, Sam! I don’t allow idiots on my boat.”

He stopped about ten yards from the RoseWind and treaded water. “Goddamn, the water’s cold. Th-throw me a line, Willa.”

She pointed at the hovering helicopter. “Go back.”

Teeth chattering, he gave her an incredulous look. “How? I have no way of getting back in the helicopter. If you don’t throw me a line, I’ll drown.”

“You should have thought of that before you jumped.”

His head disappeared below the surface.

“Sam!” She ran to the stern, grabbed the throw buoy with the attached rope, and tossed it at the dry sack and the bobbing orange vest. “Sam!”

He reached out and grabbed the buoy just as his head popped up. He sputtered, sucking in large gulps of air. “P-pull me in,” he said, his voice faint as he looped his arm through the buoy ring and rolled onto his back. “I’m fading fast.”

She immediately began pulling him in, alarmed at how difficult it was. If Sam got so cold he lost the use of his muscles, there was no way she’d get him into the boat by herself. “Hang in there, Sam!” she urged.

“Help me by kicking your feet.”

He made a weak attempt to move his feet.

“Oh, Sam, what have you done?” she cried, straining to pull him in. “I won’t let you drown. You’re going to be okay. Keep kicking.”

He began floundering like a hooked marlin.

“Maybe you’d better save your energy instead,” she told him. He bumped into the side of the boat, immediately turned upright, and smiled up at her like the idiot he was. “Easy, Sam. Don’t get all slap-happy on me,” she warned, worried that he was getting hypothermia. “Let go of the bag.”

“P-pull it in f-first,” he sputtered, making a weak attempt to lift it toward her.

“Let it go! I’ll get it later.”

He finally let go of the sack and grabbed the rope with both hands. “Pull me to the back of the boat. There’s a ladder there,” he said, kicking his feet to send him in that direction. Willa hauled him to the stern, glancing at the helicopter that was still hovering about two hundred yards away. “That pilot should have his license revoked,” she growled, dragging Sam around to the ladder.

“He’s as much of an idiot as you are for letting you jump.”

“You’re starting to hurt my feelings,” Sam said, grabbing the ladder and quickly climbing out of the water.

He stepped onto the deck and immediately pulled her into a cold, wet, and surprisingly powerful embrace. He kissed her full on her gaping mouth, then gave her a lopsided smile. “I knew you wouldn’t let me drown.”

She gave him a hard shove with every intention of pushing him back into the ocean. “You faker! You weren’t drowning!”

He spun away before she could shove him again and waved at the helicopter. “I would have been in trouble in another ten minutes,” he said, signaling the helicopter to leave.

“Enjoy your sail, boss,” the pilot’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker as he arched around the RoseWind and headed back toward land.

Sam unfastened his life vest and let it fall to the deck with a soggy plop. Then he grabbed the gaff hook clipped to the rail and snagged his dry sack. “Damn, that water was colder than I expected,” he said with a shiver. He headed down the stairway leading below. “Your sails are flapping, Captain. You might want to reset them and get us under way.”

Willa stood frozen, watching him disappear below.

What in hell had just happened?

“You were conned is what happened,” she muttered, going to the wheel, turning the RoseWind back onto her course. “Another Sinclair just pulled the wool over your eyes!” She stomped to the winch and furiously cranked until the mainsail snapped taut and the boat strained forward. “Because you have the word ‘sucker’ written across your forehead,” she continued, resetting the jib. “First Abram and now Sam. And people wonder why you don’t want to get married again!”

She stomped back to the wheel, checked her compass heading, and plopped down onto the bench.

“Now what am I supposed to do? I am not spending the next five days cooped up on this boat with that…that…lunatic.” She shook her head, unable to believe he’d actually jumped.

“Here’s a jacket,” Sam said when he appeared on deck, dressed in dry clothes and with a towel covering his wet hair. “Sorry I got you wet when I hugged you, but I was just so damned glad to be alive. You’d better put this on before you catch a chill.”

“And you’d better put on a life vest, in case you accidentally fall overboard,” she shot back, taking the jacket and setting it on the bench.

He sat down beside her and began rubbing his hair dry. “This boat’s too small for us to wage war on, Willa.”

“You should have thought of that before you bullied your way onboard.” She gave him an angry glare.

“You and your brothers talk big about walking away from Tidewater International, but that’s obviously a big fat lie if you’re willing to jump out of a helicopter to get those shares.”

He stopped drying and glared right back at her. “I’m not here because of Tidewater. I came to save you

. You can’t get off an elevator without nearly killing yourself—I half expected to find you hanging from the rigging.”

She lifted her chin. “I am a damn good sailor.”

“So you say.” He started drying his hair again but then suddenly dropped the towel around his neck and eyed her suspiciously. “Unless it’s all been an act.” He smiled—not very nicely, either. “I’m beginning to suspect you aren’t a klutz at all. You knew exactly what Bram was hoping for when he sent you down here, so instead of hurting the old man’s feelings, you made sure the three of us wouldn’t ‘crawl to Maine on our knees’ for you. That’s why you dressed like a bag lady and got into one mess after another.”

“Bag lady? I’ll have you know that was Maureen’s best business suit, and she was nice enough to lend it to me. You and your grandfather are the duplicitous ones, not me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “When have I been anything but up front with you? From the moment you stumbled off that elevator, you’ve known exactly where I stand.”

“I certainly have—right up until Abram left all his worldly possessions to me. Then you were suddenly more than willing to kiss klutzy little me.”

He leaned in close, his face only inches from hers. “You are about to go swimming yourself, lady,” he said with lethal softness. “I kissed you before any of us knew what was in Bram’s will.”

Willa refused to lean away. “You are getting off my boat inBristol , Mr. Sinclair.”

“You and what army are going to make me?”

“Me and the Coast Guard.”

He kissed her.

Again!

Before Willa could even gasp in surprise, he pulled her against his chest and had her in a lip lock. Man, oh, man, if he thought he was going to spend the next five days kissing her and…and…

By God, she’d show him duplicitous.

Willa kissed him back. She leaned into him with the most feminine purr of delight she could muster, kneaded her fingers into his beautifully broad chest, and parted her lips. Willa’s hormones started jumping up and down in joy, and she knew—she knew —that if she kept this up too long, she was asking for trouble. Spending five days alone at sea with Sam’s beautiful chest and her raging hormones in such close proximity might be more than she could handle.

The arms around her tightened, and the mouth exploring hers got aggressive. Drat the man, he was calling her bluff!

Now what? If she got more aggressive herself, they’d both be naked in two minutes. She’d kiss him as if he was God’s gift to women for ninety more seconds, and if he didn’t pull away in abject surrender, then she’d…think of something else. She could endure anything for ninety seconds. But she hadn’t counted on his equally talented hands, especially the one he slid under her sweater to cup her breast.

She moaned in pleasure.

She’d have to remember not to go braless around him, and just as soon as he stopped kissing her, she was putting one on.

What had she been doing again? Oh, yeah, she was kissing Sam until he cried uncle. So the faker had better back off pretty soon, if he knew what was good for him. And she would have told him exactly that if her mouth wasn’t so busy making him sorry he was even born. Sam ran his thumb over her nipple. Willa arched her back, pressing her breast into his palm as she tried

to remember her mission. She didn’t think sprawling out on the bench seat, with Sam’s wonderful body sprawled on top of her, was what she’d had in mind. But Lord, his weight felt wonderful. It had been so long since she’d been in this position, and it felt so right . What was she supposed to be doing again?

Something about ninety seconds…

The cool air suddenly blowing across her breasts brought her back to her senses, but the incredibly warm mouth that covered one of her nipples sent her right back over the edge. Yup, Sam Sinclair was going to cry uncle any moment now.

“Oh, God, please don’t stop,” Willa said as she slid her hands under his sweater. She thought she’d died and gone to heaven when her fingers found his soft, deliriously sexy chest hair. Boy, did she love it when a plan came together.