CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Flynn was up early the next morning. He walked the dogs through the woods, enjoying the fairly cool fresh air and the birds singing. The surroundings couldn’t be more removed from his L.A. high-rise lifestyle. He could go days without being out of a building, a car, or a dark screening room.
He whistled as he made his way toward the garage, the dogs romping alongside.
His condo suited the pace of his life. Professionally decorated, great views, all the amenities on site, including his gym and maid service. He didn’t have a dog, so he didn’t have to be bothered tramping down the fifteen flights or taking the elevator to walk one.
The Corgi barked excitedly and dashed after a squirrel.
Flynn smiled.
That dog knew how to enjoy herself.
The aroma of fresh brewed coffee greeted him as he walked into the apartment. Sami stood at the granite kitchen island, chopping an apple. She looked sleep-rumpled and beautiful.
“I trust that the sofa proved comfortable,” she said.
“Yep,” Flynn said, admiring the camisole and the way it clung to her curves.
“Please help yourself to coffee,” she said.
He strolled across the room, followed by the dogs. “Thanks.” He saw that she already had a cup so he fixed his, added his cream and sugar and pulled out one of the bar stools. “Feel free to put me to work,” he said.
She furrowed her brow. “I’ve been thinking.” After a sip of coffee, she said, “About Chase and what I did wrong.”
“Chase?”
“The doctor I went to Morton’s with last night.”
“Oh,” Flynn said. “Forgot all about him.”
“It’s possible I didn’t mention his name,” Sami said. “If you were he and had run off with that deer-in-the-headlights look, would you consider giving me a second chance?”
“What do you mean?”
Sami gave him a look that said he ought to be following her train of thought. Flynn shrugged. “Not at my sharpest first thing in the morning,” he said. “Do you mean should you ask him out?”
She nodded.
“And what would be different?”
She widened her eyes. Slowly, she explored the V in her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. Fluttered those gorgeous lashes. Not one word did she speak.
Flynn’s groin responded. “I guess you were listening to the advice I gave you last night.”
She lifted her coffee cup and swayed slightly, circled slowly and lowered the cup.
“God, Sami, you’re dangerous.” Flynn got off the stool and took a step away from her. Back toward the living room. He didn’t trust himself, not with her so close and so kissable, wearing only a scanty camisole and some sort of flowing cotton bottoms.
“I gather that means your feedback is that I could try restarting the dating relationship with Chase.”
He frowned. “Yes, dammit.”
She arched her brows. “I do not understand why a profanity naturally follows your affirmative.”
His instinct was to stride towards her, take her in his arms, carry her to the bedroom and show her exactly why. Instead, he swallowed some coffee and stood his ground. He had no right to touch her. No right to complicate her search for True Love.
Hell, she deserved to achieve her goal.
Sami finished slicing the apple. She did not understand why Flynn seemed upset. He’d given her his professional dating advice quite freely. She would better understand if he’d shared his tips with her and she’d ignored them. He should be happy she was such a quick study. She put the slices on a plate and held them out to him.
He shook his head. “No, thanks.”
Sami nibbled on a slice. “Do you think I should ask Vonnie to set us up again? Or call him myself?”
She wasn’t sure, but she thought he groaned. “Did you truly get a good night’s sleep on that sofa?”
He shrugged. “Good enough. Call the guy. Just be yourself.”
Sami tipped her head to one side. “Being myself is what drove him away.”
“No,” Flynn said. “Being afraid to be yourself is what actually happened.”
She looked a question at him.
He waved a hand. “All that data you threw at him. And at Sean. You don’t do that with me. You’re just being you.”
“But I’m not dating you,” Sami said.
“So pretend you’re not dating that guy.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Now, that does present a novel approach.”
Flynn moved to the island and set his cup down. “Let me know how it works,” he said.
“I’ll need a means to contact you,” Sami said.
Flynn reached into a pocket, pulled out his wallet and handed Sami a business card.
“Flynn Lawrence, Personal Manager to the World’s Best Talent,” she read aloud. Then she saw the initials beneath his name. MBA. CPA. She wrinkled her brow. “Why do you try to come across as a college dropout?”
“Marketing. Got to sound one’s horn.” Flynn popped an apple slice into his mouth, despite declining her earlier offer.
“You are a man of many talents,” Sami said.
“Yeah, well, all the degrees in the world don’t count without results. So, are you making that call or not?”
Sami stretched her arms over her head and smothered a yawn. “It’s early.”
Flynn checked his watch. Shook his head. Pointed to her phone lying on the island.
Sami frowned. “Do you boss Cameron Scott around in this fashion?”
He grinned. “When necessary.”
Sami didn’t want to do it. Chase probably didn’t want to see her again. Ever. She slid one foot against the calf of her other leg.
“What have you got to lose?” Flynn didn’t say it in a flippant way, but in a gentle voice.
Sami gave him a slight smile and picked up her phone.
“I’ll leave the room if you want,” he said. “Or help you through it.”
“You can stay,” she said. “But I’m not insecure or helpless. I can manage all on my own.”
He nodded and took another bite of apple.
Chase answered in a sleepy-sounding voice. Sami made a face at Flynn. “Good morning, Chase. This is Samantha Pepper.”
“Hey,” he said.
Sami almost hung up. If it hadn’t been for Flynn standing nearby, smiling encouragement at her, she would have done so. “Hey,” she said, trying for casual.
“Hey,” he repeated.
Flynn rolled his eyes and made drinking and eating motions with his hands.
Sami took a deep breath. “Did Vonnie tell you I get nervous on dates? And that makes me talk. A lot. Too much.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Vonnie said something to that effect. I’m going sailing this afternoon. Want to come with?”
Sami looked over at Flynn. “Wow,” she mouthed to him. “Love to,” she said.
“I got that you like to drive yourself,” Chase said. “Meet me at Hamilton Creek marina at one o’clock, ‘kay?”
“That would be—" Sami saw Flynn making cutting motions across his throat. “’Kay,” she said.
Flynn wondered what in the hell he was doing coaching a beautiful babe like Sami into a date with another guy. Okay, okay, he was helping her achieve her goal of True Love. But why in the hell did standing there listening to her feel so uncomfortable? Why did he feel the weirdest sensation of being abandoned? “So, that went fairly well,” he said. His reactions didn’t matter. Helping Sami was his purpose here.
“Surprisingly,” Sami said, gazing at her phone. “But I’ve never been sailing in my life. How am I supposed to know what to do?”
Flynn shook his head. “Sami, Sami, you don’t need to know anything. You wear that fricking dangerous bikini and loll around on the deck letting that guy know how much you admire his skill.” That bikini. Flynn closed his eyes against the image of Sami half-naked on some jerk’s sailboat.
“Do you still have a headache?”
“Guess I must.” One look at Sami in a bikini and That Guy would forget all about how she’d scared him off at dinner. Flynn winced. “Here’s another part of the dating technique lesson.”
“Really?” Sami was practically glaring at him. “Your advice amounts to me acting like a Barbie doll. What intelligent, responsible, successful man wants a mindless piece of arm candy?”
“More than you can count,” Flynn said. “But I’m not telling you to turn into a piece of marshmallow fluff. Just ease into the getting-to-know-each-other stage. Once a guy knows how fabulous you are, he’s not going to mind your talky-talky ways.”
“That doesn’t qualify as bait and switch?”
Flynn shrugged. “Want to keep chasing every guy away on the first or second date or do you want to give someone a chance to get to know you?”
“A valid point,” Sami said. “What is the additional advice you would like to offer me?”
“Talky-talky,” Flynn said, but he smiled. “Make sure That Guy knows you have a date tonight with someone else.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Guys want what they can’t get too easily,” Flynn said. “Besides, I have a performer I’m checking out at eight. I’d like your opinion.”
“I see,” Sami said, but in a voice that said she didn’t.
“Sami, you’ve got a good ear,” Flynn said, even as he was kicking himself mentally. “I’d appreciate your coming with me.”
“What you are actually attempting to do,” she said, “is to manipulate my sailing date with Chase so that if all goes well, I will be forced to end early, thereby causing him to pursue me because he will be under the impression he’d better act fast because I am one hot commodity.”
“Bingo,” Flynn said. Plus, dammit, he wanted Sami to share the evening with him. He respected her musical taste and valued her observations. Practical stuff.
She shrugged and started to smile. “I concede to your experience, Flynn ‘Playboy’ Lawrence,” she said.
“I’ll be here to collect you at 7:30,” Flynn said. Whistling, he waved so long, found his keys and strolled out the door. The protesting barks of the Corgi erupted. Flynn kept on walking, faster, to his rental car. He didn’t want to be anywhere in sight of Sami when she donned her bikini and tripped off to meet the man he couldn’t help but think of as That Guy.
Sami couldn’t believe the difference between the afternoon sailing with Chase and a couple he’d also invited as contrasted to the torturous dinner the evening before. She had relaxed and enjoyed the wind and the water and admired Chase and the other man’s boat-handling skills. The expression on Chase’s chiseled face and the shock in his gorgeous blue eyes when Sami said she couldn’t go to dinner because she had another date was priceless. He’d promptly asked her out later in the week, his first night off.
She couldn’t wait to tell Flynn he was practically a genius.
She’d kept her response to no more than a simple “’Kay.” And she’d managed to widen her eyes and produce a come-hither smile. Sami opened the door of the garage apartment, allowed the dogs to dash down the stairs, and rewarded herself with a high-five.
Dating could be fun.
With a smile on her face, she headed down the hallway, shrugging out of her sun cover-up and untying her bikini top strings as she walked. She’d made it to the doorway of the bedroom when she heard Ruby barking her head off. Darn it. She had less than an hour till Flynn was picking her up, and after the sun and the wind she needed a shower.
Sami scooted across the bedroom and out onto the balcony. She called Ruby, who ran around the garage, followed by the other dogs.
And by Flynn.
Sami waved and called hello, thinking he’d be pleased with her progress. But he looked anything but pleased, standing below the balcony, dark glasses covering his eyes, a grim line to his mouth.
“I’ll be ready soon,” she said. “Come on up.”
“I’ll wait outside,” he said.
She shrugged. And that’s when she realized her bikini top had slipped free and her breasts were open to the air. And to Flynn’s view. “Oh, my,” she said, grabbing at the scant fabric and the string ties. She backed from the balcony into her bedroom and walked straight to the shower, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. She showered quickly, hoping Flynn didn’t think she’d knowingly stood there covered only in her short shorts.
In record time she was standing in the walk-in closet, gazing at the choices open to her. Nothing, but nothing worked for going out to a music club.
Except for the one dress she had no business slipping off the hanger.
And onto her body, smoothing the silky fabric over her waist and hips. Surely Jonni Scott wouldn’t mind. Just one more night.
Flynn had gotten nothing done that afternoon. Disgusted with his lack of concentration, he took himself off to the pool. Even a punishing series of laps did nothing to banish the image of Sami in a skimpy bikini making goo-goo eyes at some hotshot doctor.
Doctor! What better profession for a prospective husband for Sami?
Flynn left the pool behind, dried off, and gazed around, for the first time, to see who else was poolside. Action. That’s what he needed.
At the far end of the pool a young couple lay entwined in one another’s arms. To their right, two men lay stretched on the chaises, reading. A child’s voice called from the changing area. A pretty blonde in a one piece Speedo appeared in pursuit of the now-running kid. Flynn turned away. Single or not, the kid was a no-deal.
He dropped his towel on a chaise, tugged a shirt on and walked slowly to the exit. In his suite, which seemed to echo with emptiness now that Sami and the dogs weren’t there with him, he ordered a burger from room service and forced himself to open a folder of contracts.
Sunlight poured in. He glared at the light. Too bad it was a perfect day for sailing. Sunny, a nice breeze, not too hot. His burger arrived. Flynn took a bite and pushed it away. Too bad the dogs weren’t with him. They’d gobble it up.
He turned to page two of the first contract.
He didn’t have a dog.
He picked the burger up again, forced another bite. He had work to do ahead of his morning meeting.
Cameron’s next film was going to be shot on location in Nashville. The role was a bit of a risk for Cam, given the main character of Oscar-winning screenwriter Beetle Leonard’s film was a country music star drowning in sex, drugs and alcohol. Beetle’s wife, Amity, had gotten to be friends with Jonni in New Orleans, and she’d asked Jonni if she thought Cameron would like to see the script.
Flynn turned a page.
Frowned.
Maybe he had been against the film because the set-up was too much the way Cameron used to live. Back in their party days.
Flynn took another bite. Not so much the drugs, but definitely the sex and alcohol. And then Cameron had met Jonni and that was the end of that.
Runaway Heart wended its way through a hell of a lot of turmoil, but finally arrived at a happy ending. Maybe that’s why Cameron had agreed to do the film. His buddy and Jonni believed in happy endings.
For everyone.
Flynn finished the burger.
Some days it did seem to him that everyone was one half of a couple.
He pushed the empty plate away and turned the page.
Better to be alone and open to possibility.
Better to be free and able to push on down the road.
He checked his watch, wondering if That Guy had asked Sami out for dinner yet. Because of course he would. What guy could resist Sami Pepper in a bikini? If Sami did as Flynn had instructed her, That Guy would be drooling.
Flynn jumped up from his chair, almost sending the room service tray flying. It was too damn quiet in the suite. Usually he found it conducive to work. Today, no. He’d shower and take his paperwork downstairs to the lobby. Coffee and noise. Distractions. That’s what he needed.
By seven, he was finished with his work and in his rental car heading for Belle Meade. He whistled as he drove, happy to be prepared for his morning meeting tomorrow. And even happier to be driving to pick up Sami.
All three dogs bounded up to greet him. Flynn grinned and managed to pet each of them, despite Ruby circling his ankles with excited yelping. He glanced up and saw Sami popping her head out of the door.
“I’ll be right down,” she said, “but you may need to walk up to get the dogs inside.”
Flynn did as suggested, stepping into the living room as Sami appeared from the other side. She glided toward him, a vision in a low-cut, slinky black dress.
“Hello, Flynn,” she said, her voice bubbly. “I’ve been waiting for you to arrive so I can tell you what a genius you are.”
Her eyes sparkled. Her skin glowed. She smiled all over. Flynn stood in the middle of the room, studying her, unable to keep from wondering why she looked so damn happy. Had she and That Guy…
“I did everything you told me to,” Sami said. “Chase was practically eating out of my hand.” She laughed. “And the other guy seemed to like me, too, though I didn’t try to get him to notice me since he was with a woman.” She tipped her head to one side. “He did ask for my number, though.”
“Is that right?” Flynn stuck his hands in his pockets.
Sami nodded. “And Chase asked me to dinner tonight.” She flashed a demure look at him. “But I did just as you instructed.”
“And?”
“You were right.” Sami played with the ends of her hair. “We’re having dinner later this week. His first evening off.”
“Well, good. Good for you.” Flynn cleared his throat. Tried to sound pleased.
“And I’ve promised myself not to conduct any research on sailing between now and then,” Sami said.
If there’d been another couple on the boat, she and That Guy couldn’t have gotten too physical, Flynn concluded. “You look extra beautiful tonight,” he said.
Sami fluttered her lashes. Said nothing.
Flynn laughed. “I’ve created a monster.”
She smiled. “It’s fun to get outside of me.”
Flynn held out a hand. “Don’t get too far away from yourself, Sweet Stuff,” he said, tucking her hand in his. “Ready?”
Sami’s first instinct was to correct Flynn, to remind him that her name was not ‘Sweet Stuff.’ She opened her mouth then closed her lips. “’Kay,” she said, giving him a wide-eyed smile and letting her hand rest in his as they walked to the door.
“Practicing on me?” Flynn said.
She merely smiled again and walked down the steps to his car. She even waited while he opened the door before she slid into the seat. She’d definitely prefer to be behind the wheel, but since he’d invited her, she didn’t fuss over that point.
Flynn headed toward downtown. He seemed preoccupied. Sami glanced over at him, studying his slightly-frowning expression. He hadn’t seemed to notice she wore Jonni’s sleek black dress, which was odd, given how he’d goggled at her the night Jonni had insisted she change into it. “Did you have a difficult afternoon?”
He looked straight ahead. “What makes you ask that?”
She shrugged. The neckline of the dress slipped a bit lower.
Flynn bit his lip.
“My observation of your body language is that you exhibit a degree of tension you did not seem to experience this morning.”
Flynn nodded. “You got that right.”
“I’m sorry for you,” Sami said. She inhaled deeply. “I had such a lovely time out on the sailboat on the lake. I wish everyone could have had a beautiful afternoon.”
“So you like this guy?”
Sami cocked her head to the side, considering Flynn’s question. “Vonnie was correct that Chase and I have similar goals and compatible interests. Despite my knowing nothing about sailing. And he has never taken a philosophy course.”
“Nada on Descartes? Blank page on Locke?”
Sami eyed Flynn. “Do I interpret that comment correctly if I infer that you have studied philosophy?”
He shrugged. “But I don’t own a sailboat.”
Sami considered Flynn’s general attitude. If it were any other man besides the proclaimed playboy, she’d conclude that he was a teeny-weeny bit jealous. But why should Flynn, who had no interest in her as a woman to develop a relationship with, be at all jealous? “Oh, don’t you?” she said.
“No place to stash it where I live.”
“Where do you live?”
“Marina del Rey.”
“Marina?” Sami repeated the word. “Doesn’t that imply a harbor?”
“Very good, Dr. Pepper.” Flynn finally showed a hint of a smile. “How about no time to spend lounging around? And my penthouse serves my needs.”
“No yard? No pets?”
He shook his head and swung down a side street, where he parked the car. “This place is off the beaten path. One of the reasons I like it.” He got out of the car, walked around and opened her door. Holding out a hand, he said, “I do like the way you look in that dress.”
She smiled at him, pleased that he’d finally noticed. “Thank you,” she said.
“It’s the kind of dress that makes you want to peel off the wrapper,” Flynn said. “I guess it makes me cranky that I’m not the guy who gets to do that.”
“Oh,” Sami said, widening her eyes involuntarily. “Well. Oh.”
“Let’s go listen,” Flynn said, pointing to a building on the corner. “Then we can grab a bite and you can give me your thoughts. Sound okay?”
Sami nodded. No wonder he’d been grumpy. She felt like doing a little dance of feminine power, but decided that such a reaction was inappropriate. It wasn’t Flynn she was trying to attract. It was Chase, with all his husbandly qualities.
Chase, who according to Vonnie, valued marriage. It was a miracle he hadn’t been nabbed by some lucky woman, her friend had told her, but Chase had been determined to establish himself professionally before committing to a bride. Flynn opened the door to the music club and motioned Sami in.
A throaty voice that reminded Sami of Janis Joplin’s recordings filled the room, dominating the various conversations going on in the crowded space. A purple-haired woman in a flowing caftan sat on a stool on a small stage, accompanying her soulful voice on an acoustic guitar. Flynn threaded a path through the clusters of standing listeners and found them a tiny bar table.
He disappeared and returned with two drinks. Sami eyed hers, thinking of the strong martinis she’d downed the night before. Flynn must have sensed her reaction as he leaned close and whispered, “Club soda.”
She smiled her thanks and let herself fall under the spell the woman’s voice and lyrics were weaving. The crowd must have felt it, too, as most of the voices hushed. The singer did three more songs, then stood, clasped her hands over her heart and bowed before she walked off to the back. Applause broke out.
Flynn was grinning. “Yeah, baby,” he said.
“Who is she?” Sami said, leaning close, as a babble of voices had burst out after the woman left the stage.
“Violet Abernathy.” He winced. “Terrible name, but it’s the one she was born with and from what I know of her, she’s not going to change it.”
“The purple hair is to match her name?”
He shrugged. “Tonight purple. Tomorrow, who knows? That’s Violet. Unpredictable genius. Part of her charm.”
Sami realized her immediate reaction to his comment was a thrum of jealousy. Flynn hadn’t called her a genius, ever. Yet she was. She had the MENSA membership to prove it. “I gather that you’ve heard her before?”
Flynn nodded and sipped his club soda. “She’s a friend of someone I helped out once upon a time.”
“Oh,” Sami said, for once, lacking a sentence to string together.
“We’ve never been lovers,” Flynn said.
“That is certainly none of my business,” Sami said, glad the dim lighting hid the flush on her cheeks.
“Admit it, Sweet Stuff, you were wondering.” Flynn smiled and patted the back of her hand. “You have such soft skin.”
“Thank you,” Sami said, deciding to ignore his first comment.
“I never mix business with pleasure,” he said. “Business is long term. Sex is for living in the moment.”
Sami frowned. “For every bad example you can cite of an unhappy relationship, I can name at least a dozen good stories of long-term, loving couples.”
“Save your breath, Dr. Pepper,” he said, but added a smile. “Here comes Violet. I left my card with the bartender and asked him to point out our table.”
Lugging a guitar case, the singer made her way slowly in their direction. She was stopped and congratulated by many of the audience members. She nodded and moved on, with scarcely a hint of a smile. Her eyes were dark and somber, Sami realized as Violet stopped at their table.
Flynn stood and the two of them bussed cheeks. Flynn introduced them and offered Violet his seat.
“I’ll stand,” she said.
“You have an unusual voice,” Sami said.
Violet nodded.
“I would offer the observation that your music emanates from pain,” Sami said. “Experienced, not imagined.”
Violet nodded again. She turned to Flynn. “You should keep this one.”
“Can I get you a drink?” Flynn said.
Another performer had walked on to the small stage. No one in the audience seemed to be paying attention to him. He strummed a few chords, smiled nervously, and cleared his throat.
“Vodka. Straight,” Violet said.
Flynn headed to the bar.
“Fuckheads should pay attention. How would they like to be sitting up there and be ignored?”
Sami’s jaw dropped. Of course, the young woman was correct.
“Here, hold this,” Violet said and shoved her guitar case toward Sami. She then walked straight to the stage and grabbed the microphone. In her throaty voice, she got the crowd’s attention, had the young man introduce himself, asked him what he was singing first and stayed there, singing along with him.
The crowd shut up and listened.
Flynn returned with Violet’s drink. “That’s one hell of a woman,” he said. “Nothing is going to stop her.”
“And you’re going to represent her?” Sami wrinkled her brow. “Musicians often don’t make much money, do they?”
“Movies,” Flynn said. “Cameron’s next film is set in the country music world. He’ll be on location here. I need the perfect up-and-coming musician to play his love interest. And I don’t want a name actress. I want a singer who can rip Cam’s guts out.”
Violet had turned the mike over to the man and was making her way back to them.
“Have you discussed this with her?” Sami said.
“Not yet. I wanted to see your reaction.” He smiled at her. “I can tell it’s a ‘yes.’”
“She may laugh in your face,” Sami said. “She doesn’t seem like a woman with the patience for making a film.”
He winked. “Leave it to me.”
“I do believe it is possible you could talk an octopus into giving up ten legs when the whole world—and the octopus—knows it only possesses eight.”
“You give the darnedest compliments,” he said, picking up Violet’s drink and holding it out to her.
The singer took a long swallow. “Don’t fucking talk,” she said.
Sami fixed her gaze on the young man on the stage. His voice lacked control and depth in the two covers he performed. He came across like a dim light after Violet was no longer singing beside him. The buzz of conversation built again. Violet glared but said nothing. When he was done, she turned to Flynn. “Cosey told me you’d be in town again.”
Flynn nodded. “She tell you anything else?”
“Some crap about making me a movie star.”
Flynn nodded again. “Not crap.”
Violet finished her drink and held out the glass to Flynn.
Sami slipped off her high stool. “I’ll get it,” she said. “You two can talk business.”
“Grey Goose,” Flynn said, with a wink, and passed her his AmEx. Sami hesitated, and then accepted the card. It was, after all, a business meeting. She worked her way to the bar and finally managed to order the drink.
A man close to her right smiled at her. “That’s a real drink, little lady.” He ran his eyes over her. “I like a woman who can handle her liquor.”
Sami opened her mouth to deliver a lecture, starting with his condescending terminology and concluding with his incorrect assumption that she was ordering a drink for herself. And then she closed her lips. The man was dressed in jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved shirt open at the neck. He wore a heavy silver watch and no wedding band. He lifted his bottle of beer in a salute to her, obviously realizing she was looking him over.
He smiled and somehow he was standing close enough now that their hips were touching. “I bet you’ve got a highway of broken hearts behind you,” he said.
Sami widened her eyes, let her tongue just touch her lip and shook her head.
The bartender brought her drink.
“Put that on my tab,” the man said. “And bring me another Bud.”
Sami started to object.
The bartender disappeared.
“Bottoms up,” the man said, clinking his bottle to the drink glass.
Sami hesitated. She should open her mouth and explain the drink was not for her. The man took a swig of his beer. “Name’s Rod,” he said. “Rod Parks.”
Sami almost fell over. “The Rod Parks?”
The man nodded. “Don’t hold that against me,” he said with a wink.
Sami lifted the glass and took a sip. She grimaced and started coughing.
Rod patted her on the back, his big hands warm. And rather comforting, Sami thought in surprise. Of course she knew who Rod Parks was. Everyone in Nashville knew the name. He’d been on radio for years and years. She wondered what he was doing in a bar alone.
“Something tells me you’re not used to straight vodka,” he said into her ear. “Maybe you ought to let the fellow behind the bar soften that up a bit.”
Sami took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I must confess the drink is not for me. I never should have allowed myself to pretend that it was my beverage. This drink was meant to be delivered to Violet, the singer. I was to have paid for it with this credit card.” She flashed the AmEx she held in her hand.
Rod motioned the bartender, ordered another Grey Goose and asked for tonic and ice. He was served at once and poured a bit of the first drink over the tonic and ice. He handed it to Sami, picked up the fresh drink and his own and said, “Let’s go deliver this. If I know Violet, she’s getting pretty cranky having to wait.”
“Do you? Know Violet?”
Rod shrugged. He leaned close to her ear. “Yep. She’s quite a girl.”
Sami hesitated. Surely she should inform Mr. Parks that he should refer to Violet as a woman and not as a girl. And then she decided to skip the lecture. Instead, she added a bit of a sway to her walk. Wouldn’t Flynn be impressed that she’d met a man and hadn’t scared him off? And not just any man, but a celebrity.
Flynn and Violet had their heads close together. They appeared to be whispering to one another, lost to the crowd around them.
“They make a nice-looking couple,” Rod said. “I sure would like for Violet to settle down with a steady man.”
Sami thought he sounded rather paternal, but then, he probably was old enough to be Violet’s father. “Are you related?”
“She’s a friend of my niece. But never mind that,” Rod said. “What’s your name, pretty lady?”
“Sami,” Sami said. “Short for Samantha.”
“Sami,” he said, rolling the word on his tongue, as if tasting it. “Nice. Very nice.”
“Brought your poison,” Rod said, as he handed the drink to Violet.
“Hey, Rod,” said Violet. “Meet Flynn Lawrence. He wants me to make a movie.”
Rod and Flynn shook hands, each eying the other as if they were trying to decide whether to step outside and brawl or do business together. Rod was standing close enough to Sami she could feel his breath ruffling her hair.
“You two know each other?” Flynn asked, looking at Sami.
She fluttered her lashes. “We met at the bar.”
Flynn frowned. “Practicing, Sami?”
She did the eye-widening trick.
Flynn frowned.
“I’m not stepping on your territory here, am I?” Rod said to Flynn.
Flynn shook his head.
The next thing Sami knew Rod had slipped a hand around her waist. “Tell me about the movie, Violet,” he said.
“I play me. And I act like I like having hot sex with Cameron Scott.” She rolled her eyes, which was the greatest show of expression Sami had seen on the singer’s face. “Like he’s old enough to be my father.”
“Not quite,” Rod said, skimming a thumb in a circle on Sami’s waist. “But you know us older guys are a lot like whiskey.” He tightened his hold. “Just get better with every passing year.”
Flynn frowned a second time. Violet wrinkled her nose.
Sami found she was having difficulty taking a deep breath. Every time she tried, Rod’s hand seemed to edge closer and closer to her breast. She was mortified to be standing there glued to his side like a Barbie doll while he talked to the others. And yet, in some perverse and very unfamiliar way, she did feel a teeny bit flattered.
“I’m a personal manager,” Flynn said. “I handle Cameron Scott. I’m offering to handle Violet.”
Rod stroked Sami’s side. “Hmm. Sure that’s not what we might call a conflict of interest?”
“Wouldn’t offer if it was,” Flynn said, almost glaring at Rod.
“Violet, you two come see me tomorrow and I’ll have my agent there, see what he says.”
Violet downed the last of her drink. “Got another gig.” She picked up her guitar case and made her way to the door.
“She doesn’t expend excess energy on needless dialogue,” Sami said, worming her way a bit free of Rod’s grasp.
“As usual, Sami Pepper, you hit the nail on the head,” Flynn said. “Got my credit card?”
Sami passed it over, managing to slip free of Rod’s arm. She reclaimed her seat.
“Join me for dinner, Miss Sami Pepper?” Rod smiled at her.
Flynn glared yet again, rather pointedly Sami thought. No doubt he was waiting to see if she’d correct Rod’s use of ‘miss’ and inform him pointedly that she was Doctor Pepper. But Sami was nothing if not a diligent student. Flynn had given her lessons and she was going to show him just what a straight A pupil she was. “Why, Rod,” she said, drawling his name just a bit, “I’d love to, but I already have plans.”
“Now that’s just plain old disappointing,” he said. He pulled out a card case and handed her a business card. “Call me. Soon.”
She accepted it and tucked it into the deep V of her neckline, something she’d certainly never done before.
He chuckled, kissed her on the cheek, and tossed a card on the table for Flynn. “You and Violet come see me. We’ll talk business.”
Flynn gave the old geezer a curt nod and shoved the card in his pocket. As soon as he’d moved away, he turned to Sami. “Ready?”
She drew back slightly, as if surprised at his tone.
“We’ve heard Violet,” Flynn said. “Or do you want to stay and add a few more scalps to your belt?”
“Excuse me?” Now she looked annoyed. “What’s your problem?”
Flynn shrugged and got off his seat. Another singer took the stage and whatever Sami said to him was drowned out. She headed toward the door, Flynn following. She walked with a sexy sway, the black dress clinging to her hips and flowing with her movements. He frowned. He should have stayed the hell away from Nashville.
Out on the sidewalk, Sami halted. She put her hands on those gorgeous hips of hers and lifted a hand. “Will you please explain why you have transmuted into one of the grumpiest human beings to grace the planet?”
Now that was more like the Sami he knew. The Sami he liked. But what could he say? He had no right to complain about her flirting with Rod. “Hungry,” he said, his voice terse.
“Then let’s go to dinner,” she said starting toward where they’d parked the car.
He opened the passenger door. She slid in. The black dress slipped high on her thigh. She seemed not to notice. Flynn reached in, twitched the fabric so it fell to her knees, and slammed the door.
Instead of heading to the restaurant where he’d planned to take Sami, Flynn turned the car in the direction of Belle Meade. He had to get away from Sami. Now. Before he did what he knew he shouldn’t do.
“Did you notice how well I applied your teaching principles?” She was smiling and leaning forward, effectively giving him a luscious view of her breasts.
“A little too well?”
She widened her eyes. “Are you giving me an A plus?”
Flynn took a corner too fast. The tires squealed and he backed off the gas a bit. “Is that what you want for letting that old fart maul you?”
“He was not mauling me. He was expressing interest in me as a—an attractive and interesting woman,” Sami said.
Flynn snorted. “He was looking for a one night stand. A quickie. Any idiot could see that.”
“Any idiot?” Sami sat up straight. “I’ll have you know I am a—“
“Fucking genius.” Flynn swung onto the road leading to the estate and the garage apartment. He couldn’t get there fast enough.
“I think you should slow down,” Sami said.
Flynn knew that as wrong as she’d been to think Rod was a decent dating prospect, she was right about his speed. What the hell. Did he want to end up like his brother? He braked and gentled the car. “Sorry.”
“For speeding or for calling me an idiot?” Now she sounded plain old mad.
“Both.”
“Apology accepted.” She shifted and that damn dress showed even more boob. “You will note that I did not accept Rod’s dinner invitation, which means he would not have achieved what you say was his goal. But just how did you surmise he was interested in a meaningless sexual interlude?”
Flynn drew into the drive, punched the code into the gate, and didn’t speak until he’d stopped the car in front of the garage. Then he turned toward Sami, breathing fast. She watched him, her big eyes wide and unblinking. “God,” he said, “forgive me.” He pulled her close, across the console, plunged his hands into her hair, and, drawing her to him, lowered his mouth and kissed her hard. Hard. Greedy. Too damn needy. He couldn’t think, he could only take.
She moaned and lifted her arms, cradling his neck, mating her tongue with his. Flynn managed a sane enough moment to pull away, thrust open his door and barreled around to her side of the car. He held out his hand and she stepped from the car.
“I’m the one who is an idiot,” he said, “but I can’t seem to help myself.”
She gave a shaky laugh, reached up and kissed him.
Flynn pulled her close and lifted her in his arms. She gave a gasp of surprise but linked her hands behind his neck. He took the stairs two at a time and waited with her in his arms while she fumbled in her small purse for the key. Once inside, all three dogs ran toward them.
“Do they need to go out?” Flynn didn’t want to let Sami out of his arms. He didn’t want his rational mind to take control again. Or hers.
She shook her head, stroked the side of his cheek and whispered, “Let’s go to my room.”
He strode down the hall, pausing inside the frilly blue and white bedroom long enough to shut the door behind them, and then lowered her to the bed. Her dress was hiked up to her thighs and one strap had slipped down her arm. Flynn caught his breath. Kicked off his shoes. A sliver of moonlight came through the French doors, highlighting the swell of Sami’s breasts. He lowered himself close to her and tasted her breasts, pushing the other strap off her shoulder. Soon he had the dress pulled down and her bra free. Normally, he was all about the hunt, the chase, the play and the games.
But right now, what he wanted was to bury himself in Sami. It was a crazy, irrational driving need, but he didn’t care.
Sami arched against Flynn. His touch, his tongue dancing on her nipples sent shivery, so delicious sensations throughout her body. When Rod had had his hand around her waist, she’d felt confined. With Flynn, she threw herself open, wanting him to touch her. Everywhere. She moaned his name.
Flynn lifted his head. “Yes, Sweet Stuff?”
She smiled. “Let’s not ruin Jonni’s dress.”
“Right.”
She held her arms over her head, stretching out on the coverlet. “Pull it over my head?”
He made a growling sound in his throat and did as she asked.
Lying there wearing only her bikini panty, Sami gazed up at Flynn.
He yanked his shirt off, tossed it over his shoulder, and unzipped his pants. “You’re driving me crazy, Sami Pepper,” he said.
“And you are overdressed,” Sami said, feeling rather daring and sexy. She rose on one elbow and tugged on his slacks.
The pants joined the shirt. He stood beside the bed, still wearing his briefs, the bulge showing just how crazy she was driving him. Sami ran her tongue over her lips and beckoned Flynn to her.
He kicked off his briefs and straddled her, one knee between her thighs. “Now who’s overdressed?” He ran a finger along the edge of her panty, and then traced circles lower and lower.
Sami gasped and shivered the way she did when eating her favorite ice cream. She ought to stop, ought to consider how she’d feel in the morning when Flynn had moved on.
Because he would. He’d been quite frank and open about his lifestyle.
His fingers teased her lips open, dipped and circled.
His breath was quick and raspy.
Sami opened her legs wider and lifted her hips slightly, her arms still splayed over her head.
Flynn bent and she felt his lips moving gently and then tugging at her panty. He pushed the fabric down her legs, so that it tangled around her ankles, and lowered his mouth to taste her.
Sami moaned and sighed his name. She twisted her fingers through his hair, drawing him closer as she moved in tandem with his devilishly wonderful greedy tongue.
She gave herself up to the sensations. As she came, she cried out his name again. He slid up to her face and swallowed her words with his mouth. Sami clung to him.
“Hot, hot Sami,” Flynn said, his lips against her cheek.
“Hot for you,” she said, reaching for his erection nudging against her tummy, wanting the same deliciousness he’d just given her. Then part of her brain, her so-called genius brain, kicked in. “I don’t have any, um, her…”
“Protection?” Flynn kissed one eyelid, then the other, caressing her breasts. Then he got up and seemed to be feeling around on the floor. When he climbed back on the bed, he was ripping open a condom packet.
Sami felt a flutter of apprehension. Flynn the playboy. Of course he was prepared. Had he intended to have sex with her? Or did he carry it in case he got lucky, no matter who the female happened to be? Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face.
Flynn lay beside her and took her in his arms. “Let’s not think. Not tonight.” He kissed her on her neck, her throat, and moved to her breasts. She arched, offering him what he wanted. What she wanted.
Sami nodded. “No thinking.”
Flynn sat up, tugged on the condom, and rolled her on top of him. “I want to see every bit of you,” he said. He held her gently by the waist and lowered her slowly, slowly onto him, filling her with his heat.
Sami danced against him, drawing him deeper and deeper. She wasn’t a virgin by any means, but somehow she’d never known the freedom of being the one on top. She gasped and rode the rhythm of his surging movements. Flynn was kneading and sucking her breasts. Just when Sami thought she couldn’t feel any better than she had, she rode a hot wave of orgasm. Flynn grabbed her cheeks harder and harder and exploded into her.