The door to Samantha’s apartment swung open, and she gave him a fearsome scowl. “What are you doing here, John?”

He took a deep breath and willed himself to stay calm. Ryan was right. He needed to man up and tell Samantha what was in his heart.

Knowing she was still furious, he came up with a way to offer his apologies and hopefully break the tension between them. He thought he was pretty clever and had his fingers crossed that she’d accept his admission of manly stupidity.

After a bolt of inspiration, he tapped into the wonders of Yelp and Google maps, found what he wanted, and ran into a party store even though his driver offered to do it.

Every groveling apology needs a prop. Or a prize, right?

While she glared him down, John swung the arm he held behind him to the side and then brought it in front of him. In his hand, he held a pretty goddamn realistic play sword from the Wonder Woman movie.

“I came to fall on the sword, Samantha. I was a fucking idiot, and I’m more sorry than you can possibly imagine. I think you’re a wonderful mom and wasn’t trying to take away your authority.”

“What were you doing, John? What in the world were you thinking?”

He swallowed and nodded his head, so she knew he agreed with her opinion of his dumbassery. Her arms remained crossed, and she still had him in the hallway. The only way out of this was to do what Ryan said.

“Honestly, Sam? I was thinking I’m in love with you and had some crazy idea that impressing you with my parenting potential would give me an advantage.”

Her head performed a series of half double takes. Eyes that normally looked at him with warmth squinted fiercely.

“Excuse me, what?”

“I’m falling on the sword for you, Sam. For you and Chelsea. And yes, I know what I’m saying. Please give me a second chance. I, um, well, you see, it’s true. I’m in love with you.”

Her expression registered shock. She shook her head. To clear her thoughts? Probably, he surmised.

“John.”

He handed her the sword. “Samantha, please.”

“Oh, my god,” she muttered when the fake plastic weapon was in her hand. “What am I going to do with you?”

With a grimace, he admitted, “You know I have a hard time reading these things, so tell me how thin the ice is, okay?”

It was his turn to be shocked when her free hand shot out and grabbed his to pull him inside her apartment. He took four steps and stopped, unsure of his status and wishing he was better at reading the tea leaves.

She shut the door quietly and turned the locks. Motioning to him for quiet with a finger at her lips, she tiptoed away from the door and waved at him to follow. They were in a hallway. Samantha stopped at a half-closed bedroom door and stuck her head in. A few seconds later, she pulled the door closed and walked further—to another room on the opposite side and at the end of the hall.

He was pushed into the room rather abruptly. Stumbling as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he immediately realized they were in her bedroom.

Holy crap.

He hadn’t been in a woman’s bedroom since ... well, since before his father died. His sex life, what there was of it, involved business sex and nothing more. Bedrooms, romance, and seduction weren’t part of the deal once he was CEO of the company.

Uh-oh.

His palms grew warm. The collar of his shirt felt far too tight. Not even sliding a finger between the fabric and his skin made any difference.

He smoothed a hand down his tie and then wondered who in their right mind put on a suit and tie at nine o’clock in the evening.

Shit. He did.

Frozen to one square foot of space, John worried he was sweating bullets as Samantha walked the perimeter of the room, switching on a low lamp and shutting the blinds. She stood the sword in a corner.

What was happening?

She moved a pile of laundry from a hope chest at the foot of her bed, placed it on a chair, and then sat on the wooden trunk.

He felt his brows rise.

The fact he hadn’t noticed until this very second that she was in a nightgown and robe reminded him what a clueless dimwit he was.

Would he have noticed if she was naked?

Damn. He hoped so, but with his track record, John couldn’t be sure.

“Now,” she said with a sharpness that made him jolt. “I think we need to talk.”

Okay. He could do talking ... but why was she looking at him like that?

And what should he do with himself? Stand there? Pace? Maybe fall to his knees?

“So you’re in love with me. Do I have that right?”

John gulped heavily and nodded eagerly. In an awkward attempt to appear cool and hip, he slid a hand into a pocket of his slacks and assumed a casual posture.

At least, he hoped it was casual.

When she coughed on a snicker and looked at the floor, he knew it wasn’t.

She recovered and sat straighter, tugged the sides of the robe together tighter and yanked on the sash. Crossing her legs, though, made the robe slide off her exposed thighs. Whatever she was wearing beneath the robe was short because all he saw was the pink robe and none of the rest of the white evident around her throat.

Just like that, he was a dead man.

As the sight of her tongue swiping around her lips distracted him, he didn’t catch the beginning of what she said. But he heard the end.

“Tell me what being in love with me means. Use your words, John.”

A reflex chuckle shot from his throat. Use your words was one of Jen’s favorite expressions.

“It means I don’t dread the office anymore because I get to see you. It means I think about you day and night. It means I’ve driven my assistant nuts because of you. It means I want to be with you all the time. To hear your thoughts, listen to you laugh, and experience the enormous love you have for your daughter. It means I want to blow up that motherfucking war and make everyone pay for taking your fiancé from you. It means I worry about you, all alone, trying to do everything. It means I want to take away your sadness, Sam, and spend my life doing nothing but bringing out your smile. Do I know what love means? Yeah, it means you.”

They gazed at each other in the dim light. He held his breath. When he was sure he couldn’t stand there another second, she sighed and stood.

“That was quite a speech.”

“I meant every word,” he assured her.

Her smile, when it came, meant the world made sense again.

“The way I see it, we could dance around each other, play dating games, try to act grown-up.” She sniggered. “Something that I fear would be a challenge for both of us.”

He perked up. What was she saying? Was this her way of helping him down off the emotional ledge and cutting him a break?

“Or,” she drawled in a voice that grabbed his balls and squeezed, “we could bypass all that nonsense and go right for the main event.”

John nodded. Whatever she said, he would agree with.

Wait, what? The main event? His eyes searched for hers. She was moving slowly toward him, her hands on the sash of the robe.

“Er, uh, the, uh, what? Sam?”

She smiled, and the sash came undone. A second later, the silken robe slithered off and drifted to the floor. Underneath, she wore a white tank top that barely made it to her navel and a pair of polka dot panties.

The curves scaring him shitless were on display. It was all he could do to stand still when she walked right into his personal space and began removing his tie.

“You’re thinking I’m bold and brazen, aren’t you?” she asked teasingly. “Believe me,” Samantha said with a happy laugh, “it’s all an act, but I figure if we wait for you to find your moment, the time would be counted in dog years.”

She tugged on an end of the tie and slowly pulled it from around his neck. The effect was strip tease-ish. Next, she went for the buttons of his shirt.

“Feel free to slip off the jacket at any time.” She chuckled.

“Uh, Sam?”

She winked and laughed. “I love that you call me that. And because we both know I could have ripped your head off and made you feel awful for taking the liberty, I found your boldness sexy.”

His anxiety vanished in a flash. He enjoyed her playful side, but she had a thing or two coming if her taking control meant she thought he was a boy or, worse, a loser in the bedroom.

His suit jacket dropped on the floor, and he pushed her hands away to finish with the shirt buttons. With a smirk, she stood back, crossed an arm around her middle, and rested her elbow there as she eyeballed him and tapped a finger on her lips.

“Why, Mr. Lloyd,” she purred. “What have we here?”

He grinned or maybe he leered and ripped his shirt open with a dramatic flair. The custom-made garment joined the jacket on the floor.

“Oh, my,” she exclaimed when his chest was bared.

He might not be a workout freak and haunt the gym day and night, but he did enjoy playing tennis and employed a local pro to take him on once or twice a week.

And he swam—like a motherfucker—because when he was alone in the water with just his thoughts, John found one of his few moments of Zen.

If there was a scale for guys his age, he was vain enough to figure his forty-two years stacked up pretty damn well against a lot of others.

Samantha must have agreed because she stared at his torso and gave a soft, appreciative whistle.

“One naked chest deserves another,” she said in a husky, deep drawl. When she whipped off the thin tank top, John made a bunch of decisions based solely on the magnificence of her boobs.

First, he would marry her. Immediately. And second, he planned to make love to her until she had nothing left to give.

He came back from a boob fantasy when her laughter cut through the thick sexual haze engulfing him.

“What the hell is it with men and boobs? Is it genetic that you all lose your shit?”

“You can’t be serious,”” he told her with a disbelieving snort. “I mean, come on! Have you seen those things?”

His hands moved through the air—cupping, molding, and gesturing in every possible way to demonstrate the bodacious magnificence before him.

“If I could, I’d take a picture and then have the image recreated in mosaic tile on the wall of my shower, so when I jerk off, I can do it while enjoying the view.”

She gasped, and her mouth dropped open. “Why, John! I think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Her laugh made him smile. “But let’s get one thing straight. If I have anything to say about it, you won’t be wasting a perfectly good woody on a suds session.”

He slapped his thigh and barked with laughter. “Suds session? Bwah!”

She said, “Shh,” and jumped to cover his mouth with her hand.

“Parenting rule number one: don’t wake the kid. Not if you know what’s good for you.”

John didn’t waste another second. He grabbed the hair at the back of her head with a forceful yank, angled her face just so, and helped himself to an overflowing handful of tit.

He didn’t ask or seek permission—not after her eyes flared at his aggressiveness. With a growl, he claimed her lips and crushed them beneath his own. She shimmied against him, her arms around his waist and hands on his back.

Restraint forgotten, he demanded much, and she gave all as he plundered her mouth. The whimpers and moans coming from her turned him on.

Desperate for air, she pushed back and breathed heavily. “John,” she murmured, her voice filled with awe.

“Is this the main event you want, Sam?”

“Don’t think badly of me for not playing coy, but I want to be with you, John. I do. I do,” she cried and then dove onto his mouth.

He became bold about feeling her up as his tongue danced with hers. She was trembling, and he was ready to take her breath away.

After toeing his shoes off, he backed her up, step by step, until her legs hit the side of the bed. When she was trapped, he broke the kiss and made a meal of her neck and shoulder as she mapped his torso with her hands.

What he did to her boobs was nothing less than a royal feast. She tasted so good, and his tongue enjoyed the alluring softness of her skin. Lust was pulling him further and further from sense. It would be so easy to take her right now.

And then he remembered.

“Shit, Sam. Stop. Wait. Hold on.”

“Why?” she wailed. “I thought this what we both wanted.”

His stomach lurched from the disappointment and uncertainty in her voice.

He lowered his forehead to hers and held her arms. “Don’t be mad, but I didn’t come prepared.”

“Prepared? Oh. You mean birth control?”

“I’m such an ass,” he muttered. “I didn’t think you’d talk to me, much less get naked.”

Her snorting chuckle sounded funny in the silence. “Well, I can see you were never a Boy Scout. Aren’t scouts supposed to always be ready?”

“Ouch,” he grunted.

She ruffled his hair and kissed him on both cheeks. “Well, don’t sweat it, honey. I’ll do the Girl Scout thing for both of us, okay?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, I take the pill. Without it, my cycle would be a monthly science project. And I haven’t been with anyone in years, so I’m fairly sure there are no lurking shadows in my sexual history.”

“Are you saying we can still do it?”

He needed the clarification because he wasn’t interested in slowing down.

“You silver-tongued devil.” Samantha giggled. “You blow me away with romance. First, you’re jerking off in the shower, and now, you wanna know if we’re gonna do it?”

“Okay. Message received. I should work on my seduction lines.”

“There ya go.” She laughed. “And to clarify, you wonderful, sweet, adorably sexy man, yes, we’re gonna do it. Maybe more than once.”

There wasn’t much to say after that.

Samantha demonstrated she was a combination of shy and wanton, and he gave himself over to the sheer perfection of being with her by taking them on a slow, achingly tempestuous journey of lovemaking that left them stunned.

She was in his arms on her side stretched next to him with her head on his shoulder as he held her hand over his heart. Her silence didn’t feel ominous, but he didn’t like it, so John asked her if she was okay.

“I’m confused,” she whispered.

He kissed her fingers one at a time and tucked her hand against his chest. “Talk to me.”

Tilting her chin up, she kissed his cheek and murmured a very astute question.

“How can you be so completely different?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’ve never met a shyer man, John. But that was no wallflower in my bed rocking my world. And then there’s the you in the boardroom. I don’t think I understand.”

He sighed heavily and kissed her forehead. “Well,” he began, “maybe the best way to explain is this. My dad always told me that it was perfectly fine to be shy. He said there wouldn’t be the word shy if some people weren’t made that way. And then he said something I never forgot. He said that some of the world’s best actors were shy, but that didn’t stop them from acquiring the skills and coping mechanisms necessary to be something they weren’t. When I’m at work, I’m not John. I’m Lloyd Global. My father’s shoes are impossible to fill, but knowing he had my back, even after he was gone, made it possible for me to simply be him. I feel like I’m channeling him sometimes. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m hopeless outside the boardroom.”

“And the tiger who just devoured me in one sitting? Where’d he come from?”

John smiled. She had a clever way of expressing herself.

“Darlin’,” he drawled. “My dick isn’t shy.”

She slapped his chest and cracked up. Suddenly sitting up, she pushed some hair off her face and frowned.

“Do you think I’m cheap for seducing you?”

He chuckled. “Aw, honey. Don’t make it sound as though I was unwilling. You just altered the timeframe. And because you did, I’m going to blow up another one.”

She shrugged. “I’m the impatient type. What can I say?”

Well, damn. She served up that line so perfectly, he had no choice but to ace his return.

“You can say yes when I ask you to marry me.”

Her boobs did a fetching jiggly dance when she squirmed around on the bed and gaped at him.

“Marry you?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Hold on.”

Scrambling off the other side of the bed, he grabbed his pants and searched the pockets. Opening his wallet, he took out the diamond ring he’d been carrying around, tossed the leather billfold aside, and quickly returned to her side of the bed. He sank to one knee at her feet, held up the ring, and cleared his throat.

“Samantha Matthews. I love you, and even though you haven’t said it back, I know you love me too.”

She blushed so pretty he momentarily got lost in her beauty.

Snorting with laughter, he said, “I’m going to ask Jenna to talk to you about using your words.”

She chortled and made a face.

“Anyway, my love, why wait? I’m too old to play games. Marry me because you know you want to. Marry me because I’ll love you till my dying breath. Marry me because a happily ever after like this won’t come around again. Marry me even though I’m a hopeless buffoon and will always do dumb Space Camp shit.”

The sparkle in her eyes filled him with elation.

“Will you, Sam? Will you marry me?”

She made a time-out sign and giggled. “Hold up. Let me see if I have this straight. You didn’t have a condom in your wallet, but you had a diamond ring?”

The goofiest grin he had in his arsenal spread on his face. “Wait,” he drawled, “it gets better. I also have a little forget-me-not diamond charm on a necklace for Chelsea. If you say yes, I want to ask her too.”

“Oh, my god!” she cried and jumped from the bed into his arms, knocking him onto his back. It was a miracle the ring didn’t fly from his grasp.

She covered his face and neck with kisses, declaring him the white knight she hoped would one day come and sweep her and Chelsea away. Away from the regret and the sadness of a life in limbo.

Samantha opened her heart and shared how it felt that Chelsea’s father didn’t live to hear his daughter’s first cry. And she told him how lonely and harsh the long, empty years had been as she struggled to be mom and dad to the daughter she was raising by herself.

Her honesty humbled him. He would make sure she never, ever regretted letting him in.

Straddling his chest, she offered a lovely view of her spectacular assets as she nattered on and on. John felt the smile in his soul before it moved through his heart and onto his face. Could this night be any more perfect?

Her hand came out, and she twinkled her fingers in his face.

“So yes, John Lloyd. I will marry you.”

He grinned and slid the ring on her finger. “And I can ask Chelsea too? She gets a say as well.”

“Are you ready to be an instant dad?”

“Fuck, yeah,” he crowed. “I can’t wait. And if you both are okay with it, I wanna adopt Chelsea. You’ll never have to worry about anything, Sam. I’ll tell her all about her birth father, and we’ll find traditions to honor his part in the making of our family.”

“Our family.” She smiled and held up the sparkling ring. Then, she shyly lowered her eyes as she made a quiet admission.

“I have to tell you the truth, John. Billy and me? We weren’t engaged. Not really. We talked about making it official before his last deployment but never did anything about it.” She shrugged, then bit her lip and grimaced. “He didn’t tell his folks I was pregnant. I guess he didn’t have time since we found out after he was back in the war. When they came by to tell me he was gone, they, um, didn’t react favorably to a surprise grandkid.”

He stroked her arms and murmured, “I’m so sorry.”

“When it was clear they wanted nothing to do with Chels and me, I moved us here. I don’t know why, but it felt right to get swept up in a big city. I didn’t want the closed-minded judgy types in a small town to affect our lives.”

“I’m glad you moved, and I’m glad you held on during what had to be some tough times. And I’m grateful to whatever or whoever brought you to Lloyd Global.”

“Everything changed.”

“Yes, it did.”

“Are you happy, John?” she whispered.

“I am. Are you, Sam? Happy? Can we make this crazy brew go down smooth?”

He wasn’t sure what was so damn funny when she started laughing like a lunatic.

“Crazy brew?” she shrieked with laughter. “Go down smooth! Ah, ha-ha!”

He laughed too, but he didn’t know why.

“Why, Mr. Lloyd, is that your way of asking for a blowjob?”

She held up the ring and sighed melodramatically. “And I suppose this means I sort of have to gag and bear it.”

“Hey.” He chuckled with his hands held up in surrender. “I just buy the jewelry and bring the dick. What you do after that is up to you.”

Leaning down, she dragged her swaying breasts back and forth on his bare chest before sweetly kissing his waiting lips.

“Now that I’ve had an up-close glimpse courtesy of the main event, I think it’s safe to say that I’m very much looking forward to being your cock slut. If you’re willing to be my teacher, that is.”

“Cock slut, hmm? I like how that sounds Mrs. Soon-to-Be Lloyd.”

She laughed and squirmed on his groin. “Maybe we should take some measurements?”

“You mean like seeing how much your sweet mouth can handle?”

“I’m detail oriented.” She gravely smirked. “Simple details are best. Example: if Dick and Jane have sex, and Jane’s mouth can take six inches but Dick’s dick is almost nine inches, what is the outcome?”

“In less than ninety seconds, you managed to get the terms cock slut and Dick’s dick into the conversation. I genuflect to your amazing ability to be filthy with ladylike flair. My mother will love you.”

The mention of his parent had the same effect as a bucket of ice water dumped on Samantha’s head. The concern and worry were not at all hard to read as the emotion flashed in her expression.

“Your mom. Right,” she murmured so quietly he might have been reading her lips instead of hearing the words.

Very slowly, she lifted off his body, swung a leg, and sat with her back to him.

John sighed, sat up, and kissed her shoulder.

“We’re going to have a serious talk now, right?”

She looked back at him and nodded.

“Why are moms always a buzzkill?” He groaned. “Well, shit. If we have to do this, let’s get dressed, or my brain will be understandably distracted.”

Samantha stood, avoiding his eyes, but moved into his arms for a warm embrace.

“Want some coffee? I have decaf.”

“Sure,” he answered. “Whatever.”

Pushing off his chest, she bent to scoop up her robe and put it on as she walked to the door. With a reminder to be quiet, she apologized although he didn’t know why and crept from the room.

The second he was alone, John rubbed his face with both hands and scratched the shit out of his scalp. A lot had happened in the past couple of hours. Sam no longer wanted to push him off a cliff, they’d made love, gotten engaged, and were on their way to round two of lovemaking when she pulled the plug and ran for safe ground.

Mom. Damn. That had to be it.

He squinched up his face and growled.

Women.

Fuck.

He dressed and double-checked to make sure he looked human before leaving the bedroom. It was almost midnight, but that didn’t mean Chelsea wouldn’t wake up and appear. He didn’t want to scare her by coming off as weird.

The phone he’d put on mute earlier vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that Ryan was calling.

“Yep,” he answered. “What do you want?”

His brother’s answering chuckle indicated how odd John’s terse greeting was.

“Catch you at a bad time, bro? Shit, man. I thought you’d be having a shit fit because I didn’t get back to you right away.”

John didn’t have time for this. “I can’t talk right now.”

“It’s straight up midnight, John. What the hell? Why can’t you talk?”

Tension shot into his back, so he rolled and shrugged his shoulders. “Look,” he grumbled. “I’m with Samantha, and this isn’t a good time.”

“John,” Ryan soberly growled. “What the fuck does that mean? Are you okay? When you say you’re with Samantha, does that mean you’re at her place?”

“I took your advice, Ry. Balled up and bared my soul.”

“Whoa. What?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “You heard me. Things were fine, and then Mom came up, and well, now things aren’t fine. I gotta go. Wait,” he barked just as he was about to end the call. “What happened with Jenna? Does she still work for me?”

Ryan laughed. “Yes, but there may be a change in her status.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you do you, bro, and I’ll do me. And maybe at the end of the day, we’ll both be a lot happier.”

“Because of Jen and Sam?”

Ryan agreed and said good-bye.

The aroma of coffee reminded John he had a woman to deal with. He smiled. Was he nervous as fuck? Yes. But everything would be okay. How he felt by being with Samantha told him all he needed to know. Nothing short of all he had to give was what this situation required.