Worth the Risk

She glanced at his jeans. They were a snug fit, but the apartment was adequate for her with two bedrooms, a living area and an efficient kitchen’s worth of charm. “It’s more than enough for me.”

Sammie wouldn’t show him the bedrooms but he took it upon himself to walk down the hallway and poke his head into both rooms anyway. Then, as she stood in the middle of the living room with the draft store plans in hand, he sauntered back over to her. “It has potential.”

“It’s a mess right now.” Boxes of her clothes cluttered the floor at her feet. Photo frames and a set of dishes were stacked haphazardly on the kitchen counter. “I had a few things shipped from back East, but I’m mostly starting from scratch.”

“You have a bed.”

“Necessity of life, isn’t it?”

“You got that right.” His blue eyes darkened as he looked at her, and Sammie reminded herself that Jackson was a player. Flirting and teasing women were as natural to him as breathing. He wasn’t a jerk about it either. He was a man who genuinely loved being with women. She couldn’t fault him his killer looks and compelling charm.

Don’t take him seriously, and you’ll do fine, Sammie.

He bent down to flip open one box lid and raised his brows. “And boots.”

She’d packed three large boxes of her own boots. “Another necessity of life.”

He grinned. “Let’s hope the women of Scottsale agree with you.”

“I’m counting on it.”

With a hand firmly on her back, Jackson led her toward the door. Before she locked up, Sammie glanced around at the textured walls and high arched doorways that accented the Southwestern flavor of the place and sighed.

“It’ll feel like home before you know it,” Jackson said, as if reading her mind.

This adventure was so new to her. She’d packed up her Boston apartment, leaving what was familiar to her completely behind. When she thought of it that way, shivers of apprehension rode up and down her spine. After all, she was an only child who’d lost her father and her business in the blink of an eye.

Now she fended off a full-fledged panic attack. She didn’t want Jackson to see her moment of weakness. She’d moved three thousand miles away to a city with no coastline. It was a place foreign to her in most respects. But then, she thought about her best friend, Callie, and the rest of the Worths. They were her family now, Jackson included, and that notion made the knots in her stomach loosen. She bucked up her courage, giving herself a mental pep talk. She could do this and she would be successful. She smiled at Jackson as she turned the key in the lock. “I think so, too.”

Jackson walked Sammie to her car, and juicy peaches sprang to mind. He figured since peach trees didn’t grow in the desert, the sweet fragrance had to be coming from Sammie. “You smell delicious.”

“It’s my hand lotion. I put some on while we were in the apartment. It’s kind of strong. If I’m making you hungry, I’m sorry.”

There was hunger, and then there was hunger. Jackson glanced at the boots that hugged her calves. Even in a pair of jeans, with no leg showing, she turned him on. It was a damn shame.

Sammie was off-limits.

“Good thing we’re going to lunch. I might have me some peach pie for dessert.”

And it was a good thing he’d begun thinking straight again. He should have never laid a hand on Sammie. He’d been through the reasons in his mind a hundred times and had finally come to the conclusion that it wasn’t only her boots that had appealed to him.

Right before she’d walked into that bar in Vegas, he’d learned that Blair Caulfield was coming back to Red Ridge. Beautiful, rich, deceitful Blair Caulfield, the girl he’d once loved, was on her way to her hometown to cause havoc in the guise of tending to her ailing Aunt Muriel.

Jackson wanted to think he was over her, but one minute he was on the phone hearing the news of her return from a close friend and the next minute he was finding solace in the arms of the unsuspecting Sammie Gold.

In a way, Sammie had been just what he’d needed that night. To make him forget Blair and the heartache she’d caused him.

By the time Sammie had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him, it was all the encouragement he’d needed. And making love to Sammie had been hot. But his lust for her had shocked him back to his senses the following morning. He’d had to do the right thing and set some boundaries.

“You’re driving this time.” Sammie’s voice broke into his thoughts.

Before he could argue she climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up. She added, “I can get a better feel for the lay of the land this way. Without having to concentrate on the road.”

She had a point. Jackson accepted her decision and settled behind the wheel. Sammie had been through a lot lately and she was trying to cope with all the changes in her life. He couldn’t blame her for being gun-shy of driving in a town she didn’t know in a powerhouse of a new car.

He set the drafts in her lap and started the engine. At least driving would keep his eyes on the road and not on her. When she had driven the Navigator earlier, he’d had freedom enough to look his fill. She was cute, with a slender frame and a pleasant face dotted with a few freckles across the bridge of her nose that she tried to cover up with makeup. But she wasn’t even close to the kind of woman who usually attracted him. So why, he asked himself, was he drawn to her? “Do you like hot and spicy?” he asked.

Sammie stammered, “I, uh …” Then she turned in the seat to face him, her body at an angle and both brows digging into her forehead. “What exactly do you mean?”

Jackson grinned. He added innocence to her list of attributes. “Food, Sammie. I’m talking Cajun. There’s this great place just outside of town.”

“Oh.” She was so dang relieved she might have melted into the upholstery as she sank back down in her seat. “That sounds fine.”

It was refreshing to be with a guileless woman for a change, Jackson thought. Someone whose expression told you exactly what she was thinking. She wasn’t coy or pretentious. It was a rare thing.

An hour later, Jackson spread out Sammie’s drafts for Boot Barrage on the cleared restaurant table. They’d eaten chicken and rice and now sat beside each other sipping iced tea.

Sammie took a big gulp of hers. “Wow, my mouth’s on fire.”

“I thought you liked Cajun food.”

Sammie gave him a sheepish look. “I’ve never tried it before. I’m not into spicy.”

“Is that a fact,” Jackson remarked, not allowing his mind to go wicked. “Why’d you agree to it then?”

She stared into his eyes. “I figured this is my year for firsts.”

Her gaze darted to his mouth and lingered long enough to make his groin tighten. The sweet smell of peaches drifted to his nose again. “I mean … I don’t usually venture too far from my comfort zone,” she said.

“You don’t?”

“No. My tastes aren’t very adventurous.”

“Maybe you should change that.”

She shook her head and her short hair moved and then fell right back into place again. “There are enough changes in my life right now.”

Jackson swallowed the last of his tea. “Are we still talking food here?”

Sammie hesitated, then lifted tentative eyes his way. “Uh, just so you know, I’m not the kind of girl … who experiments with food … just because it’s available.”

No. She wasn’t talking about food. “I knew that about you.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’d try Cajun again … just for the record. Though, it’s pretty on the plate and all.”

Jackson hid a smile. They’d already decided this in Las Vegas. They had agreed not to sleep together again, but apparently Sammie had more to say on the subject. “Okay, no more Cajun food for you.”

She smiled with relief and Jackson pointed to the paper laid out on the table, returning to the business at hand. “Now, about your designs …”