Secret Games

She actually managed to make her voice work. “I Dream of Jeannie? Really?”

“Really.” A dimple flashed, and she couldn’t find a shred of anything that even remotely resembled self-consciousness in his face.

Which was probably a good thing, considering she was experiencing enough self-consciousness for the two of them.

“Don’t worry. Maggie, the warrior princess, works just as well.” His finger tapped the bottom of her chin, and the mouth she’d let fall open snapped shut. “Or will I get to meet Maggie, the damsel in distress?”

Love-’em-and-leave-’em Maggie a damsel in distress? That wasn’t how she wanted Sam to think of her, but by the time she’d rallied her thoughts enough to think of a reply, he’d arched a dark brow in a familiar expression that had never before made her stomach swoop.

“Maggie the damsel in distress, I think. You’re the one who needs the favor, which means I’m coming to your rescue. So, Mags, am I your knight in shining armor?”

She stood there gawking at him, one small part of her brain cursing herself for not only letting go of the reins, but allowing them to be dragged beneath the horse.

Who was this man bantering about sex with her? Maggie had no idea. When she’d arrived in Niagara, she’d expected to meet nice, safe Sam. Where was he? And who was this man leading her into a store that looked like the embodiment of a designer lingerie magazine?

Sam’s sexy twin?

He came to a stop so abruptly that Maggie ran into him. Absently, he steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, his gaze fixed above her head. “Now that doesn’t look comfortable.”

Following his gaze to the half mannequin on the wall, Maggie felt her heart stop in midbeat.

Fitted around the half mannequin’s pelvis was a bright-red leather apparatus suggestive of a pair of medieval panties.

“Leather Chastity Belt,” Sam read from the display card propped on the stump of the mannequin’s thigh. “‘Keep your treasures under lock and key. Supple high-quality leather harness with fully adjustable waist strap and T-back for a comfortable fit. Available in Valentine-red, shell-pink, lavender-purple, mint-green and canary-yellow.’” He paused, considering. “Definitely not canary with your hair, but the shell or mint would work. What do you think?”

He glanced down at her, so obviously trying to contain his laughter that Maggie couldn’t help but smile. Damsel in distress, indeed.

“Definitely shell,” she said, and to her amazement, not only did her voice sound almost normal, she actually felt better. “Pink’s one of my better colors.”

Sam gave her hand a quick squeeze, before dragging her onto the next display, and then the next. By the time they reached the men’s undergarments and saw the briefs that proudly proclaimed one double entendre after another, their wisecracks had grown so raucous and loud that they drew the saleswoman’s attention.

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked with a knowing smile, as though they weren’t the first couple to come unglued in her establishment.

“We’re just looking, thanks.” Sam edged Maggie toward the door, while whispering, “Candy condoms. Not good for protection—”

“But a very tasty treat,” she finished.

They’d barely made it to the promenade and out of earshot before dissolving into gales of laughter.

The ice was broken. Maggie felt back in control again.

“Thanks,” she said, gulping air and massaging the stitch in her side.

“You’re welcome.”

He didn’t even have to ask what she referred to, and that’s how it always was between them, natural, relaxed. That was her strongest reason for asking Sam to come to Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast—who else could make her feel comfortable while she observed sexual interaction between couples?

Only Sam.

“Ready to head upstairs?” he asked.

Her tummy did that crazy swooping thing again, but Maggie ignored it. “Let’s go.”

But once they were sealed inside the elevator and headed toward the fifth floor, their antics in the sex shop became a distant memory in the shadow of Sam’s six-foot-plus presence, swallowing up all the air in the cramped space.

“We really should talk, Sam. Some sort of game plan. Don’t you think? We should have an idea of how to go about everything, and you need to know exactly what I’m looking for.” The words tumbled from her lips in a rush he couldn’t possibly have understood.

But whether Sam understood her words or not seemed moot, because the elevator suddenly ground to a halt, somewhere between the third and fourth floors.

“Ohmigosh, what happened?”

“Looks like elevator trouble,” he said unnecessarily. “Probably just a glitch. This is an old hotel. I’m sure we’ll be moving in a minute, but in the meantime…”

Maggie’s surprise died a swift death as Sam crowded her against the paneled wall.

The elevator’s lights threw misty shadows across his face, made it appear changed, so very different from the man she’d known forever. He had her off center, and her impulse was to laugh and push him away, put things back to normal between them. But there was nothing normal about the boldness in his gray eyes. Her laughter dissolved in her throat.

“Sam, what—what are you doing?” she asked, a feeble attempt to regain control over this crazy moment, to sidestep his unexpected move.

He arched a dark brow, visual confirmation that she should be able to guess what he had planned, even if she chose to deny it. He let her coat drop to the floor with a soft whoosh. It lay at their feet unheeded. Indeed, how could she heed anything but the strong fingers he slipped around her neck?

His touch was so warm, so startling, she could only stand there motionless. As far as touches went, this one should have been innocuous. They were standing in an elevator and he was only touching her neck, after all, but Maggie could feel the warmth of his fingers as though each had been dipped in hot wax.

When he hooked his thumbs beneath her chin and nudged her face upward, Maggie’s breath shuddered audibly. She caught the slight smile curving Sam’s mouth as his face lowered toward hers. Then dark silk hair and faint traces of aftershave kicked her senses into overdrive as his lips grazed her ear.

“I’ve got a good idea how to go about everything, and I know exactly what I’m looking for.”

His voice was husky and sure, and she mouthed a silent, “Oh,” while her knees turned to jelly.

She could only stare, waiting for him to back off now that he’d delivered his powerful message. He didn’t. His breath lingered around her ear, doing crazy things to her insides, urging the breath to remain clamped tightly in her chest.

He traced her lips with his thumbs, deliberately, purposefully, as though he’d wanted to touch them forever and that alone gave him the right.

But that couldn’t be. This was Sam. He may have tried to segue their friendship into romance once upon a time, but Maggie knew he’d only been experiencing a knee-jerk reaction to their closeness. They’d known each other for so long that testing out the romantic waters had seemed the next logical step.

And even if he had wanted to try sparks for a while, he’d been just as content to go back to their friendship. Hadn’t he?

Yes!

He simply hadn’t dated in a while and was caught up in the sensual atmosphere. That was all. She needed a favor, and as always, he’d been willing to help. He was also getting a weekend away in the mix. Though he’d insisted on making the reservation, Maggie fully intended to cover the cost of the suite at checkout. This wasn’t a date; it was a favor.

And this was Sam, she reminded herself desperately. Sam her best friend. Sam who couldn’t possibly know she’d entertained a few fantasies about him through the years. Sam who was suddenly trailing a path along her jaw with his warm velvet mouth. Sam who was suddenly kissing her.

The world as Maggie had known it swerved off-kilter.

His mouth was hot, sweet…intense.

And demanding. He deepened his kiss with a bold stroke of his tongue, and suddenly, without consciously willing it to happen, Maggie was kissing him back.