container. “Bunnies cannot be trusted.”
Stunned, Clare began to realize Sam’s dilemma. He wanted to change her, and he wanted to jump her bones. Succeeding at one would probably cost him the other. His ethics were at war with his libido. The mighty Sam was human after all. Knowing that eased some of the anxiety in her gut.
Toying with her ice cream, Clare asked, “What are we going to do about this?”
Sam’s ethics struggled with a healthy sex drive. Ethics won. “What do you want to do about this?”
“I don’t know.” Clare cocked her head and her brow as she slowly withdrew the pink plastic spoon from her mouth. “But I’m having fun again.”
Sam almost choked when the spoon caught on her full lower lip, offering him a tantalizing sight of her tongue as it brushed against the cradle of the spoon. When Clare repeated the seductive performance with the next bite, Sam groaned and took his frustration out on his dish of ice cream.
She let him polish off several bites in silence. The final rays of daylight twisted through the sunset and accented the pale wheat and gold in his blond hair. The man was hold-your-breath gorgeous, and she knew that hair would feel like spun silk between her fingers. Before she did something foolish, she said, “Tell me about your class, Sam. Is that all you do, or do you have a real job too?”
“You don’t consider the class a real job?”
“A six-week-long party is not a real job.”
“Why do I get the feeling you disapprove of everything I do?”
“Of course I don’t,” Clare quipped with a grin. “You haven’t told me everything you do yet.”
Half finished with his banana split, Sam wiped his mouth and crumpled his napkin into a ball. “I’m a consultant.”
“Don’t tell me—let me guess.
The fun doctor.
”
Sam gave an exasperated sigh. “No, an export consultant for the Far East. Among other things, I help companies understand the nuances of Asian languages. Like communication in English, they can be filled with ambiguity.”
“You?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“I don’t know.” Clare shrugged and knitted her brows. “I guess I thought that dealing with Asian businessmen would require a … a more polished image.”
Sam pretended to be offended. “And I’m not polished?”
“Maybe that’s not the right word,” Clare backpedaled and tried to put her impression of him into words. She couldn’t see him in a power suit holding a Mont Blanc fountain pen. She couldn’t see him with a day planner. All she could see was his killer smile and the mountain of chaos on his desk. “You’re … well … rowdy.”
Genuine amusement shook Sam as he realized that to Clare the word
rowdy
bordered on insult. “I guess I am—now anyway. Before you knew me, I was buttoned-down and bottled-up. Obsessed with my company and oblivious of life. Now I’m … rowdy.”
“People don’t change that much.”
“You’re right. People don’t change. They rediscover parts of themselves they’ve lost.”
“I don’t need changing. I’m not lost,” Clare said, knowing that his words were for her benefit.
“No, I think I’ve discovered you just in time.” Sam’s glance roved over her bare shoulder and back to her mouth.
Warmth spread through Clare’s belly at the thought of Sam discovering anything about her. She imagined his strong hands and fingers as he explored her body.
Sam.
When had he become Sam and not Tucker? Her libido supplied the answer—
the moment you started thinking about his hands.
When a man puts his hands on a woman’s body, it’s time to drop the last name.
“Gosh, look at the time,” Clare said suddenly, ignoring his comment and the meaningful look he tossed in her direction. She slipped the errant edge of her jersey back over her shoulder. “You promised you’d have me home early.”
“So I did,” agreed Sam, and checked his watch. “But it’s still early. Mickey’s little hand is only
Stunned, Clare began to realize Sam’s dilemma. He wanted to change her, and he wanted to jump her bones. Succeeding at one would probably cost him the other. His ethics were at war with his libido. The mighty Sam was human after all. Knowing that eased some of the anxiety in her gut.
Toying with her ice cream, Clare asked, “What are we going to do about this?”
Sam’s ethics struggled with a healthy sex drive. Ethics won. “What do you want to do about this?”
“I don’t know.” Clare cocked her head and her brow as she slowly withdrew the pink plastic spoon from her mouth. “But I’m having fun again.”
Sam almost choked when the spoon caught on her full lower lip, offering him a tantalizing sight of her tongue as it brushed against the cradle of the spoon. When Clare repeated the seductive performance with the next bite, Sam groaned and took his frustration out on his dish of ice cream.
She let him polish off several bites in silence. The final rays of daylight twisted through the sunset and accented the pale wheat and gold in his blond hair. The man was hold-your-breath gorgeous, and she knew that hair would feel like spun silk between her fingers. Before she did something foolish, she said, “Tell me about your class, Sam. Is that all you do, or do you have a real job too?”
“You don’t consider the class a real job?”
“A six-week-long party is not a real job.”
“Why do I get the feeling you disapprove of everything I do?”
“Of course I don’t,” Clare quipped with a grin. “You haven’t told me everything you do yet.”
Half finished with his banana split, Sam wiped his mouth and crumpled his napkin into a ball. “I’m a consultant.”
“Don’t tell me—let me guess.
The fun doctor.
”
Sam gave an exasperated sigh. “No, an export consultant for the Far East. Among other things, I help companies understand the nuances of Asian languages. Like communication in English, they can be filled with ambiguity.”
“You?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“I don’t know.” Clare shrugged and knitted her brows. “I guess I thought that dealing with Asian businessmen would require a … a more polished image.”
Sam pretended to be offended. “And I’m not polished?”
“Maybe that’s not the right word,” Clare backpedaled and tried to put her impression of him into words. She couldn’t see him in a power suit holding a Mont Blanc fountain pen. She couldn’t see him with a day planner. All she could see was his killer smile and the mountain of chaos on his desk. “You’re … well … rowdy.”
Genuine amusement shook Sam as he realized that to Clare the word
rowdy
bordered on insult. “I guess I am—now anyway. Before you knew me, I was buttoned-down and bottled-up. Obsessed with my company and oblivious of life. Now I’m … rowdy.”
“People don’t change that much.”
“You’re right. People don’t change. They rediscover parts of themselves they’ve lost.”
“I don’t need changing. I’m not lost,” Clare said, knowing that his words were for her benefit.
“No, I think I’ve discovered you just in time.” Sam’s glance roved over her bare shoulder and back to her mouth.
Warmth spread through Clare’s belly at the thought of Sam discovering anything about her. She imagined his strong hands and fingers as he explored her body.
Sam.
When had he become Sam and not Tucker? Her libido supplied the answer—
the moment you started thinking about his hands.
When a man puts his hands on a woman’s body, it’s time to drop the last name.
“Gosh, look at the time,” Clare said suddenly, ignoring his comment and the meaningful look he tossed in her direction. She slipped the errant edge of her jersey back over her shoulder. “You promised you’d have me home early.”
“So I did,” agreed Sam, and checked his watch. “But it’s still early. Mickey’s little hand is only
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