Part 15 (1/2)
She headed upstairs to get dressed and tried to suppress the thought running through her mind that she was actually looking forward to seeing Blade.
A scowl covered Blade's face as he locked his front door to head over to Sam's place. It was quiet, barely daybreak. Yet when he'd glanced out his bedroom window at the park, he'd seen a number of people who were up and walking or jogging. h.e.l.l, why anyone in their right mind would be up at this time of morning was beyond him.
He glanced at his watch. It was a minute shy of six-thirty. He had gotten some sleep last night, but not a whole lot. After he'd taken his shower and gotten into bed, he'd received more phone calls from family members. Now that the word was out that Clayton and Syneda were expecting, everyone was making bets as to where this child might have possibly been conceived. It was a family joke that Remington was conceived in an elevator. There was no telling with this one, since from what he gathered, Clayton and Syneda had an active and adventurous s.e.x life.
Some wondered whether the baby would be a boy or girl. Frankly, he thought Remington was all the daughter Clayton could handle. But others in the family felt that it would serve Clayton right to have another girl, given his playboy bachelor days. Blade chuckled, his sense of humor returning for the first time since learning of the threat to Sam's life.
He glanced around before walking up the steps to her front door. This particular cul-de-sac was quiet. Most of the people had money and could afford the exclusive lifestyle. Even though Windsor Park was supposed to be one of the safest neighborhoods in the city, he still intended to be very cautious, and hoped that Sam would do the same. She might think this was no big deal, but he wouldn't make that mistake.
He figured the reason he was so h.e.l.l-bent on keeping her safe was that there was still unfinished business between them. And although she a.s.sumed that the stunt she'd pulled Monday night was the end of things between them, he had no intention of letting her walk away so easily. She needed to understand that a Madaris man wasn't someone to toy with. And when all this was over, he would deal with her in his own way.
After knocking on her door, he didn't have long to wait for it to open. His eyes slid over her, noticing just how good she looked barefoot and in a pair of cutoff jeans and a tank top. She was definitely not dressed for work.
”I hope you're not thinking of wearing that to the office,” he said, trying to keep his eyes from staring at her cleavage, peeking out from the vee of her tank top. She had nice b.r.e.a.s.t.s and it didn't take much for him to be reminded of how they looked and tasted.
”Of course not. I decided to work at home today,” she said, walking away and leaving him standing in the doorway.
He slowly ran his hands down his face. She had decided to work at home? Had he known, he could have gotten at least three or four more hours of sleep. ”Excuse me,” he said, walking over the threshold and closing the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. ”But did you not tell me you had to be in the office at eight this morning?”
She turned around and he realized that she had noticed the frown on his face. ”Yes, I did tell you that. However, Peyton called and left a message on my phone last night that my eight-o'clock appointment had canceled. Only problem is that I didn't retrieve the message until a short while ago. I figured since you were probably already up, the least I could do was go ahead and fix you breakfast.”
Then, as if that settled it, she tossed her curly hair over her shoulders, turned back around and continued walking toward the kitchen.
The man really was a grouch in the mornings, Sam thought, as she returned to the kitchen to finish preparing breakfast. She hoped he was hungry, since she had cooked a lot of food, and had even made biscuits from scratch. According to Mac, Luke ate a big meal in the morning, so Sam could only a.s.sume most men did.
She was standing at the stove frying bacon when she heard Blade enter the kitchen. She decided not to turn around just yet. Let him continue to stew quietly. One of the first things she noticed when she'd opened the door was just how good he looked. This was the first time she had seen him wearing casual clothes. His jeans actually looked well-worn-even had a rip in the knee-although she wasn't sure if the tear was from a designer or the real thing. His T-s.h.i.+rt, which fit him like a muscle s.h.i.+rt, was a walking advertis.e.m.e.nt for his construction company. And he still had that just-woke-up look, which was s.e.xy as h.e.l.l.
”Need help with anything?”
Now, that question made her turn around. When did a man offer to help in the kitchen? She knew from experience that her father always conveniently disappeared when it was time to do the dishes. And her brother was just as bad.
”What can you do?” she asked.
”Just about anything you can.”
Now, that was a challenge if ever she'd heard one. The Di Meglio men avoided the kitchen every chance they got, but the women definitely knew their way around it, even blindfolded. ”You think so?”
He leaned against one of the kitchen counters and crossed his legs at the ankle. ”I'm sure there are some dishes you could probably make better than me, but I'm confident that I can hold my own.”
Sam turned and removed the frying pan from the stove before turning back to him. She took the bacon out of the frying pan and placed it on a platter. ”You want to explain how that came about?”
She glanced up at the exact moment a smile touched his lips. ”Easily,” he said. ”Felicia Laverne Madaris, my great-grandmother. She made sure all her sons, grandsons and great-grandsons knew their way around the kitchen, regardless of whether we wanted to or not. Some of us fared better than others, but all of us have our specialties. Luke has his ca.s.seroles and Slade is the best when it comes to preparing a well-balanced meal any time of day.”
She nodded. ”And what's your specialty?”
He smiled broadly, which gave Sam a sensation like a shot to the bottom of her belly. ”I can handle just about anything,” he said in a deep, husky tone. ”But my specialty is desserts.”
She felt the heat settle between her legs and felt the tips of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s harden against her top. She swallowed deeply, wondering if he could gauge her body's reaction to his words. Desserts Desserts. That would always be a hot topic for them. She couldn't hear the word without thinking of a parked car, being physically aroused and having oral s.e.x.
She looked away from him and began cleaning the frying pan before putting it in the dishwasher. She knew she had to say something or the heat between them would steam up her kitchen.
”Ahh, if you still want to help, you can go ahead and set the table,” she said.
”Sure thing.”
She could hear the sound of his footsteps across the kitchen floor, then him opening her cabinets, removing dishes, gla.s.ses and eating utensils. She then went to the refrigerator to take out the orange juice. The blast of cool air was just what she needed, but it did nothing to alleviate the tingling sensation that was still pulsing between her legs. She probably needed a cold shower to get rid of that. He hadn't been in her house more than ten minutes-ten nerve-racking minutes-and already her body was betraying her.
She inhaled a deep breath as she closed her refrigerator door. She would get through breakfast with him this morning, even if it killed her.
Blade was convinced that this was one breakfast he wouldn't survive, since Sam's outfit was practically killing him. Talk about being hot. He'd always thought she had gorgeous legs, but he was really starting to go crazy over those luscious brown thighs. And when she bent over to put the frying pan in the dishwasher, he had actually seen her rounded cheeks. Of course, there was the memory of having gone halfway inside her that was driving him crazy, making his erection throb uncontrollably.
Deciding it was best to s.h.i.+ft his gaze elsewhere to get his s.e.x-obsessed thoughts under control, he looked at her china and studied the pattern. Not that he really cared, but it was better than standing there and drooling over her. He thought the design was pretty, just like her. His great-grandmother once said you could tell a lot about a woman by the dishes she used.
He studied the plate in his hand. It was a cool green. He could see that the smooth, transparent surface of the china was made with fine craftsmans.h.i.+p and beauty. And those were the same qualities he saw in her.
”How are things coming over there?”
He glanced at her. His eyes traced her body, from her painted toes to the tousled hair on her head. She was curvy, downright luscious looking. Her beauty was enough to steal his breath and make him proud he was a man. He was determined more than ever to finish what they'd started two nights ago.
s.e.xual tension was building between them and he knew she could feel it just as he could. She was standing in the middle of the kitchen with platters in her hand, looking both s.e.xy and domestic. He looked surprised when he saw how much food was on the platters. Had she expected to feed an army?
”Everything is all set,” he said, finally finding his voice as he placed the last fork down beside a plate. He glanced at the table set for two and thought he hadn't done a bad job.
She walked over to him and put one of the warm platters in the middle of the table, then looked up at him. ”I'm impressed. The table looks nice.”
”Thanks.”
”There's a half bath around the corner if you want to wash up,” she said.
”All right.”
He headed to the bathroom, wondering how he would get through this meal. Somehow he would, and then he would leave and go back to his place and get the sleep he'd been cheated out of.
Sam's eyes lingered on Blade as he left the kitchen. It was only then that she released a deep breath and let her fingers relax enough to set the other platter down on the table. She didn't have to ask herself what there was about being in the same room with him that made her feel this way. The man oozed s.e.xiness in a way no other man could. And it didn't help matters when she looked into his eyes, or caught him staring at her. It was at those times that she could vividly recall intimate moments between them, sensual confessions they had shared.
She quickly walked back to the refrigerator to get the bottle of orange juice. The best thing to do was to keep him occupied with idle chitchat, she thought, and once breakfast was over, he would leave and she would get to work reading the case files that Patsy had dropped off last week.
She glanced up when Blade returned. ”You drink orange juice, right?”