Deception (Southern Comfort) by Lisa Clark O'Neill Page B

still holding the negligee.  She glanced at it briefly, wondering if maybe Josh had…
    Nah.  That would never happen.
    After tossing the garment back into the box and pulling the lid closed, she worked the lock on the door and swung it open.  There, in all his shining, perfect glory, was the reason she’d probably never get married.  What was the point in dragging someone else into a farce?  She’d only end up comparing her husband to Josh, like she’d done with every other man she’d met in the past eight years, and like the rest he’d end up a dollar short and a day late. 
    How was it that one person could be both the best and the worst thing that ever happened to you?   
     
    JOSH’S breath backed up in his lungs when Samantha opened the door.  Something about her managed to pull at every one of his heart strings.  He knew it was probably a bad move on his part, tracking her down like this, when she obviously hadn’t wanted anything to do with him last night.  She’d probably been embarrassed, sure, but…
    That didn’t explain the Houdini she’d pulled eight years ago.  They’d been close, then.  Really meant something to one another, or so he’d thought.  And then she up and left town without a word.  He’d tried to track her down, probably would have reported her missing at some point – Lord knew he’d suspected foul play when he’d first discovered her gone – if he hadn’t eventually run across her brother, who’d told him that Sam was taking classes, putting herself through school.  Josh had been… really proud of her.
    Incredibly hurt, but really… proud.
    And now, here she was, looking sheepish and defiant and lovely, standing in the doorway of a hovel of an apartment in a part of town that made him itch to palm his weapon, and he wanted so badly to just wrap her in his arms and take her out of here and never, never let her go.
    But she’d run away from him once, and he couldn’t risk smothering her again.  So he’d just see that she was okay, offer whatever support or friendship he could, and sweat bullets thinking about her living beneath a drug-dealing male prostitute.
    Shit.  Who was he kidding?  He wanted her out of here tonight.
    “So… is it okay if I come in?”
    Sam stepped back, and he moved past, careful not to touch her.  After all these years and well, after seeing her – all of her, God, he had to put that image out of his mind – last night, he didn’t trust himself to behave at all appropriately if he got her in his arms.  He’d have her pinned beneath him on that broken down sofa so fast it would make her head spin.
    Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Not helping the cause, Josh.  Beating back his libido, he waited for her to lock the door.
    “How did you find me?”  Sam turned, pressed her back to the door, and looked at him with guarded eyes.  There were smudges of fatigue beneath those hazel beauties, and he felt something inside of him crack.
    “I followed you,” he admitted, glancing around and wondering if she was going to offer him a seat.  The way she was hovering pensively near the door wasn’t the most encouraging of body language.
    “From the hospital?”  He could see wheels turning in her head.  She’d been jumpy in the parking lot, almost killing herself when she tripped over that cat, so maybe she’d sensed he was there.
    “Yeah.  I was parked a couple of rows away from you in the parking lot.”
    The shoulder slump definitely showed relief.  “So you saw –”
    “The thing with the cat.  Yeah.  But, you know, up until that point, you looked like you were ready to kick some mugger ass.  I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to mess with you.”
    She laughed, which was good.  But then she regarded him with renewed suspicion.  “How did you know I would be at the hospital?”
    “Well, aside from my superior detecting skills, I, uh, talked to Justin.”  Josh saw the shadow move across her face, and he ached in places he’d