The Sex Diet

Hank winced, rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a regretful smile. “It’s not here.” He shot Tina a pointed look. “We’ve had some computer problems lately.”

“Hank,” Samantha all but wailed, scratching the inside of her wrist. “What am I going to do? It never occurred to me to call and verify my reservation. I talked to you a couple of weeks ago, remember?” She blew out a breath, cast him a glance. “When will the people who are in my room be leaving?”

Hank checked, braced his arms against the counter. His blew out a breath. “Not until Sunday.”

“Oh, hell.” She shifted, seemingly at a loss. “What about any of other rooms? Will any of them come available?”

Hank made a show of checking, but knew the answer to that without looking. “We’re booked solid.”

She swore, rubbed a hand over her elbow.

Hank frowned. “Is something wrong?”

She arched a brow pointedly. “You mean aside from the fact that I don’t have a room, friend?”

“Yeah.” He gestured to her hand. “You’re scratching.”

She immediately stilled and flushed like a kid who’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “No, nothing is wrong…except for the fact that I’m tired and hungry and I’ve been looking forward to this vacation all year. Which, I distinctly recall telling you in a recent e-mail,” she added pointedly. She pushed a hand through her curly locks. “God, I can’t believe this is happening.”

A deeper explanation lurked behind that guilt-provoking excuse, but Hank didn’t have any idea what on earth it could be. He studied her thoughtfully. Something else was at work here. Still, she was right. Given the recent reservation screwups, he should have checked and made sure that hers were secure. He just hadn’t thought about it. Things had been too damned crazy.

She rolled her eyes, then heaved a dramatic put-upon sigh. “Well, if you’ll help me get my bags back out to my rental car, I guess I’ll head straight back the airport.” She moved to pick up a bag.

“No, you won’t,” Hank heard himself say. “You can stay with me.”

She straightened slowly. “What?”

“You’ll stay with me.” So much for avoiding her like the plague, Hank thought, but then what choice did he really have? This was Sam. He couldn’t let her leave. And he didn’t want her to. Having her here this week would be the only thing that would make it bearable.

Her brow puckered. “Where?”

“In my room,” he said patiently, nonchalantly because that was how he was supposed to feel, how a friend would feel. But he didn’t—not by any stretch of the imagination. There was nothing patient or nonchalant about the blood sizzling in his crotch. He’d had a hard enough time battling his lust over the years without her turning vamp on him. It was a nasty turn of events, but he’d simply have to deal with it. He’d had a lot of practice, after all.

Her expression grew comically blank. “Your room?”

Despite his present turmoil, Hank chuckled. “Have you developed some sort of hearing disability that I’m unaware of? Of course, my room,” he said with mock exasperation. “Where else? You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“But you hate that couch.”

He heaved a dramatic put upon sigh, tried to look humble. “All the more reason you should appreciate the sacrifice.”

A reluctant grin tugged at her lips. “I’d forgotten just how full of sh—”

“Shining light and goodness I am, I know,” he finished magnanimously. He sighed deeply. “Just say thank you, and it’ll all be worth it.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Thank you.”

The issue settled, he smacked his hand against the counter. “Besides, you’re probably saving my life,” he added grimly.

“How so?”

He shot her a look. “Mom and Pop would kill me if I let you leave.”

Her eyes suddenly glittered with a warm, knowing humor and her lips curled into a distracting smile. “In that case, I’d hate to be the cause of your untimely demise. How are the pioneers, anyway?”

With effort, Hank forced his gaze away from that ripe mouth. It was unusually carnal, a fact he’d noticed many years ago when he’d almost made the monumental mistake of kissing her. Sam had always been the one woman he could trust, could bare his soul to, could confide in. She was his sounding board, his voice of reason, and was always good for a laugh.

For lack of any better explanation, he liked himself when he was with her, and he couldn’t say that about anyone else. Theirs had been the ideal relationship. His feelings for her had always been strictly platonic, there’d been nothing remotely sexual about it—until the summer she turned eighteen.

Hank could still remember the moment his interest had shifted, could still feel that terrifying combination of affection and lust as sharply today as he had the afternoon it had happened. He and Sam had taken the ferry over to Dauphin Island, for what reason exactly, he couldn’t remember now. But the trip back—that was one he’d never forget. He and Sam had been standing side by side—a pose as natural as breathing—had been leaning against the railing watching the surf lap at the hull of the boat. He’d caught a glance of her from the corner of his eye—the soft slope of her cheek, that woefully familiar smile, and just like that—in the blink of an eye—his feelings had changed. He’d been hit with the nearly blinding urge to kiss her right then.

But he hadn’t.

He and Sam had a good relationship and he’d had no intention of letting something as fickle as lust screw it up. Not now, not ever. Though it had almost happened once. Drink had dulled his determination and, though common sense had prevailed in the end, he’d almost kissed her and ruined everything.

Since then, he’d never let his guard down, had learned to keep the attraction under control. He slid a glance over her and felt his mood turn grim. A premonition of dread resonated in his belly. Undoubtedly it would be more difficult now.

“The pioneers are fine,” he managed to say belatedly in answer to her question. The thought of his Mom and Dad drew a smile.

His parents had taken an Alaskan cruise for their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, had fallen in love with the Last Frontier and decided to turn the B&B over to him and head off to Alaska. Though he enjoyed running the B&B, he still missed them terribly. During the off season, he made regular visits, however those small bits of time never seemed like enough to catch up.

“That’s good to hear,” she said, then bit her bottom lip. “Are you absolutely certain that you don’t mind if I stay with you? I could take the couch. Or try to find another hotel.”

Hank shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll stay here. Let me get your bags and I’ll show you to…our room.”

Hank came around the counter, hefted Samantha’s bags and gestured for her to follow him down the hall. That fruity, mantrap scent swirled around his head once more, making his nerve-endings hum and his blood sizzle. He blinked, feeling almost dazed, then mentally swore and shook off the sensation.

He looked back at her from over his shoulder and her absolute beauty slammed into him once more.

She’d mentioned in passing conversation over the past year that she’d made some changes to herself, had been spending a lot of time at the gym, but he’d never dreamed that this would have been the end result.

He should have known better.

That’s what he’d always liked about Samantha. No bullshit. Yes meant yes and no meant no, and he never had to worry about being politically correct or any of that other crap. He could just be himself with all his little idiosyncrasies and imperfections, and know that she wouldn’t pass judgment. Furthermore, when she set out to do something, she did it. Failure with her was simply not an option. Still… “What kind of perfume are you wearing?”

A frown wrinkled her brow. “None. Why?”

Hank turned back around, continued down the hall to the back of the house. “You smell good. Fruity. Sweet.”

She hummed under her breath. “Must be my fabric softener.”

Some fabric softener, Hank thought. It made him want to rip her clothes off.

He was suddenly hit with the insane urge to slide his hands over her newfound curves, taste her ripe, peachy breasts and sample that utterly carnal mouth of hers, to fasten his mouth on her sex and see if that hot slick valley between her thighs smelled as sweet and fruity as the rest of her. To see if it tasted as sweet as she smelled.

Hank squeezed his eyes shut and, with extreme effort, derailed that demented train of thought. This was not good, he thought as he slipped the key in the lock. A mixture of anticipation and doom congealed in his belly as he pushed the door open and ushered her into his room.

So much for the quarantine, Hank thought numbly. Unless he wanted to move out of his house, he wouldn’t have a prayer of avoiding her. And the hell of it was…he didn’t want to.