Sensual Confessions

Sam pulled into her private garage and within minutes was entering her house. The moment the door closed behind her, she kicked off her shoes. It was only then, in the comfort of her home, that she allowed her mind to drift back to Blade Madaris.

She wondered if he would take her words at face value. Any man with an ounce of pride would. For a woman to come right out and say that she wasn’t interested in him was bold, not to mention ego-crushing.

She had been looking in his eyes when she’d said it, but his reaction was unreadable. But then, she hadn’t hung around long enough after that to really find out. She had driven off like the devil himself was on her tail.

She put her purse and briefcase on the table as she made her way into the kitchen, thinking she’d have a cup of tea before getting ready for bed.

She, Mac and Peyton had decided to take on Clarissa Penton’s sexual-harassment case, but the three of them had agreed that it sounded a lot like Clarissa was trying to get even with her boss for refusing to return her advances.

After turning on the stove to heat the water for her tea, Sam glanced out the window at the lake. She had intended to pull her notes together and go over what they knew about the case so far. As Mac had reminded her, they would be meeting to discuss the case in the morning. But any plans to review those notes had been made before tonight’s dinner. And being in the presence of Blade Madaris for an extended period of time had been unnerving. Although she had tried downplaying the chemistry and mutual attraction between them, it had been there, and blatantly so. But that didn’t mean she would act on it, even though her body was daring her to do so.

It wasn’t because she thought he was too much to handle. To her way of thinking, no man was once he met the right woman. She’d heard a lot of stories about Blade and figured someone needed to knock him off his high horse. But it wouldn’t be her. Not this time. She had enough to deal with. There was her share of the caseload that had been divvied up among the three of them, and her parents were still trying to run her life even from New York.

Antonio and Kayla Di Meglio still hadn’t learned their lesson with Guy, she thought, settling down at the kitchen table with her cup of tea. Guy had joined her parents’ law firm and, according to her father, had a bright future. He was highly intelligent, articulate, a smooth dresser, a sharp lawyer, and he had an interest in politics, which had once been her father’s dream. Guy had even told her parents he had Italian ancestors somewhere in his family. That made him a shoo-in.

Yielding to her parent’s wishes—and against her better judgment—Sam had begun dating Guy. To her surprise she’d really liked him, although she wouldn’t go so far as to admit that she fell in love with him. They dated for almost a year before he popped the question. Because she thought she’d gotten to know him, and believed he was the one man she could live the rest of her life with, she had said yes.

Her parents had turned her wedding into the social event of the year, inviting more than five hundred guests. She’d had bridal showers galore and her wedding dress had been designed by Vera Wang. Her parents had assumed, as she had, that she and Guy would share a long and prosperous marriage, and the storybook wedding would be one they would all remember.

Sam shook her head as she finished her tea and walked over to the sink to rinse out her cup before placing it in the dishwasher. Yes, her wedding day had been one she and Guy would remember, all right, along with her parents and all five hundred invited guests, but for all the wrong reasons.

She had walked down the aisle to take her place by Guy’s side when a commotion in the back of the church got everyone’s attention. Two women with screaming babies came forward to announce that Guy was their babies’ daddy. One even claimed she was pregnant with another child of his. Talk about drama. It took the reverend and the ushers a full hour to get things under control. Later, in Reverend Caldwell’s study, Guy had confessed that the two women’s claims were true. However, he felt the situation had nothing to do with Sam, and they should go on with the wedding anyway. He’d certainly been a fool to think that. She’d told him so, and none too nicely.

Sam walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs to her bedroom, remembering how she’d gone on her honeymoon without Guy. When she’d returned two weeks later, she had gotten a call from Mac, asking if she wanted to become a partner with Peyton and her, realizing their law-school dream of forming their own legal practice.

Mac had been living in Louisiana, and her boyfriend had proved to be no better than Guy when he up and married someone else. Peyton, who’d grown up on Chicago’s South Side, had been working as a community activist and lawyer, wasn’t involved with anyone and was ready for a change. Mac, who was a black Cherokee, was ready to move back home to Oklahoma. Considering everything, the timing was perfect.

Over her parents’ objections, Sam left New York and headed for Oklahoma. But distance had not stopped her parents from trying to interfere in her personal life or wanting to play matchmaker on occasion. In a way, she understood her parents’ desire to have grandchildren. Their friends—the social elite of Manhattan and the Hamptons—were all bursting with pride about their grandkids. At thirty-two, DeAngelo, who was still very much a player, had no intention of settling down and getting married, so her parents had focused their attention on her.

As she stripped off her clothes to take her shower, she couldn’t help but think again of Blade Madaris. Maybe now the flower deliveries would stop coming to the office, since she had a strong suspicion he was behind them. During dinner he had mentioned to Luke that one of their aunts had opened up a florist shop on the ground floor of the Madaris Building. Had he just been bringing Luke up-to-date on what was going on in their family, or was it meant to let Sam know he was her secret admirer? Thanks to Angelo, which is what friends and family called her brother, she knew firsthand how players operated. Send a woman flowers to break down her defenses, her brother would say. Who could resist a beautiful, sweet-smelling, romantic bouquet?

Samari Di Meglio, for one.

She knew from the conversation at dinner that Blade would be in town for only a day or so, not long enough for them to run into each other again. Since he was Luke’s cousin, and a close friend at that, and she was one of Mac’s best friends, chances were their paths would cross again, but hopefully none too soon. Blade was a player who had little regard for the women whose hearts he broke. He was the type of man she wanted no part of, the kind she detested. And after what she’d said to him tonight, she was certain he would stay as far away from her as he could.

Blade chided himself, silently scolding himself for being a fool for getting up at the crack of dawn and hurriedly eating breakfast just to chase behind a woman. It was certainly not the way he usually operated.

He appreciated the car rental company for delivering the vehicle to him and having it ready for him when he walked out of the hotel that morning. A man with a plan, he slid behind the wheel, and now he stood watching from the office window the object of his curiosity as she parked her car. She had no idea he was there awaiting her, and he couldn’t wait to see her face when she did. He liked having the element of surprise on his side.

“I’m not sure it was a good idea to let you in, Blade.”

He glanced over his shoulder and met Mac’s gaze and couldn’t help but smile. Dressed in a blue pantsuit, she looked sleepy but in a beautiful sort of way. It was obvious she wasn’t used to getting to the office this early, but had let it slip that they would be here early since she had to be in court by ten.

“Why do you feel that way?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I think it’s obvious. Sam doesn’t like you.”

He knew that was probably putting it mildly. “I intend to change her mind about that,” he said.

“Personally, I don’t think you can. You didn’t make such a good impression on her at my wedding or my birthday party. That said, I’m going into my office. I’ve seen Sam’s hot-blooded Italian temper in action and I don’t want to be around when she walks through that door and finds you here.”

He watched as Mac hurried into her office and closed the door, and then he glanced out the window in time to see Sam get out of her car. He felt his heart flutter in his chest as she swung her legs around to get out. She was wearing a business suit, with one of those short skirts again, the kind that showed off just what a nice pair of legs she had.

She crossed the parking lot carrying a deli bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. But his eyes weren’t really focused on what she was carrying. They were focused on her and just how good she looked this morning.

Why am I so drawn to her? He couldn’t help but ask himself that. He couldn’t blame his fixation on her beauty, since he’d been attracted to beautiful women before. The fact that she presented a challenge was part of it, he was sure. For some reason, he wanted to best her at her own game. He had to represent the players out there.

As he continued to watch her, he saw her smile at the security guard standing by the entrance. Blade frowned, remembering how the guy, who looked about twenty-four or twenty-five, had given him the third degree until he showed him proof that he was related to Mac. He knew the guard was just doing his job, but Blade thought he’d been more of a stickler than he needed to be.

He watched as the same man who’d given him grief just an hour or so earlier gush like a besotted fool when Sam greeted him with a smile. Sure, Blade would be the first to admit she had that effect on men. But still he didn’t like the way the man was looking at her, mainly because he recognized the look even if Sam didn’t.

He tried to ignore the mounting irritation he felt, and refused to consider, even for a moment, that he was jealous. Being jealous of a woman didn’t fit who he was. Admittedly, he was more than slightly annoyed that she never smiled at him that way, but he intended to change that, as well. He was a smart enough man to know that getting a smile out of her would take time.

He continued to study the two and rolled his eyes. Now they were standing and chatting like old friends. He glanced at his watch, and when he looked out the window again he tried to ignore Sam and the security guard by looking up at the sky. It was the second week in April and the temperature that morning had been cool, but the weather forecast said warm air was moving their way. The sky was a beautiful blue and he couldn’t help wondering how the weather was back home in Houston. When he glanced back at Sam, he realized she was about to enter the building. The clock on the wall said seven-thirty as he quickly moved toward the door.

She opened the door, nearly gasped in surprise when she saw him standing there. Before she could open her mouth to say a single word, he smiled at her, leaned in the doorway and said, “So tell me, Sam. Just what kind of man does interest you?”

Sam stared up at Blade. It had been a long time since any man had rendered her speechless. What was Blade Madaris doing in her office at this time of the morning? She quickly answered her own question when she thought about the question he’d just asked. He was a man whose advances were probably never rebuffed. He was used to women thinking he was the greatest thing since Grandma’s apple pie. For him to show any interest in a woman was a privilege, an honor, or so he thought.

She’d heard that back in Houston he had his choice of single women at his beck and call. Considering that, it was no wonder he was so conceited. The mere thought that she wasn’t like all those other women, and that she’d had the nerve to come right out and tell him he didn’t interest her, probably had him in a tizzy to find out why, or better yet, to prove her wrong.

Instead of answering, she moved passed him and headed toward her office, since she needed time to regain her composure. “Good morning, Blade. You’re the last person I expected to see today.”

“I’m sure I was,” he said, walking in step beside her.

She wasn’t sure what cologne he was wearing but he certainly smelled good. How could his scent be more seductive than a breakfast sandwich and coffee from Walter’s Café?

“I guess you figured what you said last night would have kept me from coming back,” he added, as he followed her into her office and closed the door behind them.

She had figured that. “I was being honest with you, which I felt was best.”

“I appreciate it but I don’t believe you.”

Sam placed the bag and coffee on her desk, and by the time she turned to face Blade a frown had settled on her face. “Excuse me?”

He smiled. “I said I don’t believe you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against her desk. “Are you so conceited that you think every woman alive should want you?”

His smile widened. “For starters, we’re not talking about every woman, we’re talking about you. And yes, I think you want me.”

She gave him a chilly look as the muscles in her neck actually knotted. “Please explain how you figure that.”

He shrugged. “You’ve been sending sexual vibes my way.”

Her brow wrinkled at the center of her forehead. “What?”

“I said you’ve been sending sexual vibes my way. It started at the wedding. I have this uncanny ability to detect when a woman and I connect in the most sensual way. I have a built-in radar that lets me know she’s attracted to me. When that happens, it’s up to me to let her know whether or not I’m interested. If a woman picks up on the ‘I’m interested’ signal, that’s cool. If she doesn’t and if it’s someone I really want to hook up with, then I take things a step further. I picked up on the fact that you’re attracted to me. However, when I responded, so to speak—on two occasions, I might add—for whatever reason, you retreated.”