CHAPTER SEVEN
Sami scraped the last bite of the chocolate confection, popped it into her mouth and placed the dish on the room service tray. All three dogs were sleeping happily, no doubt dreaming of the filet mignon Flynn had insisted on ordering for them. Sami sighed and glanced at Flynn, seated opposite her. “Thank you,” she said. She could have added a string of words and phrases to express her appreciation for his support, but the simple two words felt like the right ones.
Flynn dug his spoon into his untouched mousse and leaned toward her. “Another bite?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Sami said, eyeing the temptation.
Flynn shrugged. “Rules and restrictions are so overvalued.” He waved the spoon.
“Don’t you want it?” Her mouth was watering.
“It’s for you.”
Sami scooted closer and opened her mouth.
“That’s better,” Flynn said, and fed her the mouthful.
Sami savored the bite. Once it was done, she said, “I know my limits.”
Flynn gathered the rest of the dishes onto the tray and carried it toward the door.
With a sigh, she sank against the cushions of the love seat and wiggled her toes. Tomorrow she would call her friends, find a place to stay, and move on. Tonight, though, she was both too tired, and too sad, to operate with her usual analytic determination.
Flynn joined her on the love seat. Not too close, but then, there wasn’t a lot of space on the small sofa.
“Are you going out?” Sami asked. “I’m sure this is an early evening for you.”
“Nope.”
She was pleased, but curious. “I thought you said there were a lot of hot clubs in Nashville. It sounded like you meant to hit the scene.”
Flynn shook his head and winced. “A wise doctor told me it’s best to take it easy after a concussion.”
“It has not been my observation during the brief time in which we have been acquainted that your first instinct is to accept—“
“Shh,” Flynn said. “Don’t get all ramped up again in your talky voice.” He stretched his legs out and kicked off his shoes.
“Does it make your head ache to parse my sentences?”
Flynn smiled. “Maybe just a little.”
“Oh.” Sami closed her eyes, reflecting. She felt Flynn’s hand brush the back of her neck and settle against her shoulder. It felt good. Too good. She fluttered her lids open. “Do you think that’s why guys don’t go out with me more than once? Because of my speech patterns?”
He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Sweet Stuff, all I know is that my head hurts. I don’t know about other guys’ pains.”
Sami glanced toward her dogs, all slumbering like canine angels. “I’m so sorry. That’s our fault.” She shifted toward Flynn. “Maybe I can give you a shoulder massage. That often helps cranial tension. The spinal nerves—“
Flynn turned his back on her. “I accept your offer. Massage away,” he said.
“It will be more effective and beneficial if you lie on the floor. Or perhaps we can put the cushions on the floor,” Sami said.
“We’ve got two beds in this suite,” Flynn said.
“Oh, no, Mr. Lawrence. You are not getting me into bed. Or anywhere near a bed.” Sami almost drew back from her offer to massage his shoulders. But it had been her dogs that had caused his fall and he’d driven far more hours than he should have, given his concussion. Plus, he’d been a solid, supportive rock during the awful time at her parents’ house.
“Don’t worry,” Flynn said, pushing away the small table that had held their room service tray and slipping onto the floor in front of Sami. “I’ve no intention of losing that stupid wager you talked me into. Here, spread your legs and I’ll lean back.”
Sami blushed, but did as he suggested. He nestled against the base of the sofa, his head and shoulders heating her inner thighs. She placed her hands on his trapezius muscles on either side of his neck. “Just relax,” she said.
He made a funny noise. She shrugged and smoothed her hands over his shoulders. The cotton of his shirt was thick enough to make the sensation ineffective. “If you unbutton your shirt and pull it off your shoulders, you will receive a greater benefit.”
He made that same noise, but the next thing Sami knew he had his shirt completely off, tossed to the side. The Corgi lifted its head, but seemed to find all in order.
“Much better,” Sami said, placing her hands on his trap muscles once again.
“Right as usual, Dr. Pepper,” Flynn said softly, settling against her legs.
“Close your eyes,” Sami said. “Picture your place of perfect peace. Find that place and hold the image of yourself simply being there.” She kneaded the sides of his neck.
“You would like my friend Holly,” Flynn said. “She talks just like that.”
“The animal boarding friend?”
He nodded.
“She’s a friend who happens to be a woman?”
“Yep.”
“Not a girlfriend?” Sami flashed on Erika asking about her status with Flynn.
“Not Holly.” Flynn cranked his head around. “Holly’s crazy. It would take a most unusual guy to join forces with her.”
“Oh,” Sami said. She wondered if her dates thought of her as crazy. If only a percentage of them, well, a statistically significant percentage, had responded to her questionnaire, she might obtain some helpful data.
“You’re doing it again,” Flynn said.
“Doing what?”
“Thinking too hard.”
“How do you know that?” Sami rolled her shoulders to lessen the tightness.
“Because you stopped the massage.”
“Big leap without any input, but yes, I was thinking.” She went back to soothing his neck. “I’ll quit thinking if you find your place of peace.”
“Right here, right now feels pretty good,” Flynn said. He traced a finger around her ankle. “Mmm, good.”
“Maybe we should forget the place of peace,” Sami said. “Stick to the technical aspects of massage.”
“I’ll shut up,” Flynn said. “What you’re doing feels too good to lose it.”
Sami smiled. She kneaded his right trap, working her way into the latissimus dorsi. Flynn’s skin was fairly pale, which went with his red hair. A swath of freckles dusted his left shoulder. His muscles were taught and defined. She wondered what he did for exercise, but now wasn’t the time to ask.
Or ever.
He had taken her in for the evening. This suite was shelter in an emotional storm. Tomorrow she’d fend for herself.
She sighed.
Technical aspects. Damn. Those were the last thoughts in Flynn’s brain. Sandwiched between Sami’s thighs while her strong hands worked magic on his neck and shoulders took away his ability to think. “Perfect,” he said.
Her hands slowed.
“I am but an amateur,” she said.
He heard a note of sadness in her voice. What the hell was he doing? Accepting massage and comfort from her when she’d had a day from hell? He should be the one consoling her. Flynn scooted away from the loveseat, turning to look at her as he rose from the carpet. Sure enough, a big old cloud had landed on her forehead. He settled beside her, close enough for comfort but not near enough to tempt him into pulling her sweet self into his arms.
“No matter what I do, I’ll never be good enough for them,” she said.
Flynn didn’t need to have the meaning of her words spelled out for him. “It’s always been like that with your parents?”
She nodded. “I am a bright, competent, professional, reasonably attractive woman and when I am in the same room with Emile and Nathalie—especially Nathalie—I let them make me feel like the child who froze during a piano recital.”
“Did that happen to you?”
Sami nodded. “I was eight. I ran off the stage. After that they made me practice two extra hours a day.”
“It’s a miracle you like music,” Flynn said. “But look, I’ve got to quibble with one thing you said.”
She sniffed and glanced over at him. “What’s that?”
“Reasonably attractive?”
She fixed her green eyes on him and he admired the gold flecks near the iris. Flynn tipped her chin with a gentle touch. “Your mother is reasonably attractive. The woman who checked us in to the suite was reasonably attractive. You, Sami, are beautiful.”
Sami blushed. She parted her lips. Flynn pulled her close and kissed her. She sighed and relaxed against his side. He kept an arm around her but didn’t kiss her again.
He didn’t dare.
She tasted so damn sweet.
He stroked her arm. Offering comfort felt pretty good. He was so used to sex for sex’s sake. He had to keep in mind that what he was doing with his arm around Sami was offering comfort to a woman who had had a rough day. A woman who had had her childhood home sold out from under her with no warning. He was not trying to get her out of her panties.
She shifted slightly and one of those slippery buttons on her shirt came undone. The creamy swell of her breasts was a feast for his eyes.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Traitors that they were, they opened again. Damn but that bikini top held nothing back.
“I don’t think I’m beautiful,” Sami said, “but it is nice for you to say so. As a matter of fact, the expression ‘beauty is in the eyes of the beholder’ has been—“
Flynn pulled her down to his lap and buried his face in her cleavage. His lips against her skin, he said, “Don’t talk. Not now.” He cradled her head in one hand and with the other slipped the rest of the buttons of her blouse free.
Sami lifted her arms, laced her fingers around his neck, and pulled Flynn to her, kissing him. His fingers were dancing over her breasts and she realized he was tugging the laces of her bikini free.
“God,” he said, sounding like he was choking.
Sami freed her mouth from his, reluctantly. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer.
He flicked his tongue against one nipple, then the other, sucking, drawing her, tasting. He was moaning or maybe that was Sami moaning. Moaning and arching into his mouth. He moved one hand to her shorts and tugged the button and zipper free.
Sami spread her legs. She knew she ought to stop. Ought to halt the insanity. Everything he did felt too good.
Too good to be true.
What was she doing?
Flynn had her shorts open and half off her hips. He edged his fingers around her thong. “Hot stuff,” he said into her hair, whispering in her ear. “Sweet Sami. Hot, hot, hot Sami.” His lips left her ear and claimed her breasts again.
Sami was lost.
She tried to find his zipper. His erection pushed hot and hard where she lay against his lap. He eased her over and face down across his lap she worked at his zipper. The cool air of the room hit her fanny and she knew she was mostly naked now.
Naked and gloriously free.
“Flynn,” she said. She liked the sound of his name on her tongue.
“Shh,” he said, helping her with his zipper.
His jeans freed, he groaned. “Oh, yeah, baby!”
The Corgi leapt up. Plunging toward the loveseat, Ruby barked. And barked. Shelby and Rusty leapt up, on alert, and joined in the canine chorus.
“Shit,” Flynn said.
Sami wriggled around and sat up. She shushed the dogs, but Ruby was having none of it. She’d been alerted and she raced back and forth in front of the loveseat, barking constantly. Sami hunted for her shorts. “I’ll have to take her out,” she said.
Flynn lay against the sofa, breathing hard. With what looked like superhuman effort, he refastened his jeans. “Damn dog.” He rose and handed Sami her blouse. “I’ll go with you,” he said.
“Oh, no, I can go by myself,” Sami said. “She’s my dog and my responsibility.”
He leaned over and buttoned her blouse, one slow buttonhole at a time. Sami held her breath as he grazed the side of her breasts with his gentle touch. After he did the top one, he brushed a kiss against her lips. “To be continued,” he said.
Sami shivered, in a good way. In such a dangerously delicious way. But what was left of her rational mind assured her there would be no continuation of what had almost gone way too far. She shushed the Corgi again. “We’d better take all three out.”
Flynn collected the leashes and they made their way out of the suite and down the elevator. As they crossed the wide lobby, Sami heard someone say, “What a cute couple with those dogs. Didn’t we see them at the Opry last night?”
Flynn said nothing.
Sami said nothing. She was dying to ask him what was going through his mind, but realized that was a pointless question. No one liked to be interrupted during sexual foreplay. She didn’t like it—but had to be grateful to Ruby for calling a halt. Flynn was a playboy. He made no pretensions to be a tiger of any other stripe.
But she wasn’t looking for a one-night stand.
She wanted True Love.
In silence they stepped outside. Sami pulled a pooch bag out of the holder on Ruby’s leash, in preparation for cleaning up after the Corgi. The others only needed to lighten their bladders.
“Sami,” Flynn said.
She bent down to retrieve Ruby’s poop. “Yes?”
“What happened up there. In the room. I wasn’t trying to hit on you.”
“No?”
“I, er, wanted to comfort you.”
Sami tied the plastic bag and looked around for a trash can. “You weren’t trying to seduce me? To have sex with me?”
Flynn ran one hand through his hair. With the other he kept a firm grip on the two leashes. “Well, damn, Sami, who wouldn’t want to have sex with you? You are one hot babe.”
Sami tossed the bag into a city litter bin. “Reducing me to that description informs me that you were indeed attempting one of your practiced seduction moves. I therefore conclude that you have lost our wager. You have failed to go seven days—even twenty four hours—without attempting seduction.” She knew she sounded preachy. But seriously—only trying to comfort her? What kind of line was that? Her nipples tingled and Sami blushed, just reflecting on how amazing he’d made her feel.
“What the hell,” Flynn said. “It’s true.”
“Prove it.”
A man in raggedy clothing approached. Ruby started barking. The beagle and the Lab joined in.
“My car broke down and I need twelve dollars to fix it,” the man said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Flynn said. “Look, just keep moving, okay? We’re in the middle of an important discussion.”
“There’s a church on Fifth that will give you a good dinner,” Sami said. “Just a few blocks over from here.”
“Appreciate that, ma’am,” the man said and walked on.
“You’re too good,” Flynn said. “You know how you were rubbing my shoulders?”
Sami nodded.
“Very comforting. I wanted to do the same for you. That’s all. I swear.”
Sami didn’t know whether she felt better believing him or believing he’d been so attracted to her he couldn’t keep his hands off her. She bent down and stroked Ruby’s fur. It was stupid of her, not worthy of her intellect, for her to want him to want her for her, for the woman she was, not a ‘hot babe’ and not an object of pity because she failed her piano recital and had weird parents. She patted Ruby’s head and rose. “I believe you,” she said. Considering how amazing she’d felt only a short time ago, she wanted nothing other than to be left alone to cry into her pillow. “Let’s go back inside.”