Scarlet felt the heat. The lust. The high-voltage current.
It was a simple kiss, really.
Sam’s supple lips sweeping over hers.
Feathery light. A whisper of a kiss, in truth.
One that was amazingly perfect.
One that kindled every fiber of her being.
Her lids had fluttered closed for the briefest of seconds. Now she looked up at him and wondered how on earth she’d step away and go about her business. Let him go about his.
Because that wasn’t at all what she wanted to do.
Her heart stammered in her chest. Adrenaline flowed through her veins.
She waited with bated breath for him to make another move. For him to recognize that she was still standing there, open to whatever came next.
But the “next” seemed to trouble him, for Sam was the one to take the step back. Physically as well as mentally, she noted with dismay.
He said, “I’ll let you get some sleep. Don’t worry about your tire. I’ll call over to a guy I know in Lakeside and we’ll get it worked out.”
“That’s very kind of you.” What else was she going to say? He was retreating.
From the torment in his eyes, clouding the blue irises, she surmised he was torn by the idea of staying and what that might entail … and leaving when he apparently believed that was the right thing to do.
Because of his fiancée?
Because he still felt loyalty to Cassidy? And Scarlet wasn’t just a bar or a nightclub pickup?
She didn’t know of course. Could only speculate. But the uncertainty in his eyes made her heart ache for him.
To ease both their consternation, she said, “Dinner was wonderful, and I know I’m going to get a good night’s sleep. Thanks again.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.” He dragged his gaze from her. Then took the stairs to the first floor.
Scarlet watched him go, catching his reflection in the oversized windows.
Sam was definitely the soul-stirring type.
But he was clearly caught up in emotions and memories that plagued him. Didn’t loosen their hold on him.
Scarlet could relate. At the same time, a burning desire to help him assuage that pain he clung to—that continued to claim him—gnawed at her insides.
She slowly circled his room, her fingertips gliding over his books, his knickknacks, his furniture. It was a damn shame the bed wouldn’t smell like him, because she found warmth and security in his virile scent. Had the overwhelming urge to snuggle against him. To be close enough to him to be enveloped in his presence and surrounded by his muscles.
A wholly unfamiliar sensation.
Then again, when Michael had climbed into bed behind her last night and spooned her she’d been thrilled and aroused to be engulfed by him. That, too, had been a wholly unfamiliar sensation.
One she craved to feel again.
She craved a lot of forbidden pleasures when it came to these two men.
As Scarlet removed her tank top and bra and unzipped her jeans, she imagined Sam doing it. While Michael watched.
Although her internal temperature soared, she went into Sam’s closet and found sweaters folded in dresser drawers. She selected a navy-colored one that almost matched the hue of the T-shirt he’d worn this evening, which complemented his lighter eyes, and pulled it on. Then she settled in the large bed, thinking it was way too much space for one person. And finding that reality a somewhat disturbing one, particularly on Sam’s behalf.
He should have gotten his full dream. A wife. A child. Maybe several kids. Hell, he had the acreage to add on. Fill this house with tons of laughter and lots of puppies.
A tear formed on the rim of her eye. Whereas Michael appealed wholeheartedly to the adventurer in Scarlet, Sam’s damaged soul called to hers.
Not exactly something she was at ease owning up to. It would be in her best interest to keep all of her past pains locked up tight. Not speak of her parents and their tragic, harrowing deaths.
It was saner that way.
Yet she couldn’t deny that hers and Sam’s heartbreak made them kindred spirits. And Scarlet found solace in that.
So much so, she was able to stare up at the glowing pink clouds and the soothing snowfall captured in the hint of moonlight and breathe a bit easier. Although it was apparent there was a need for release from the overwrought emotions that permeated this stunning house, a surprisingly peaceful synergy flowed through her.
At first, Scarlet had no idea how that could be possible—when two wrecked people and one abused puppy were currently residing under the same roof and the entire space was rife with distress, she shouldn’t have found even a small measure of tranquility.
But she did.
Because the fires snapped and crackled, warming the air.
The snow fell in fat, pristine-white flakes.
The scent of venison roast and caramelized onions still lingered. Mixed with the tinge of apple-cinnamon.
So beyond the suffering, there was an inviting degree of comfort.
No hustle and bustle. No shoving thoughts and dismal feelings under the rug, because they’d pretty much been laid at both Scarlet’s and Sam’s feet. Like Michael, Sam had many layers to him that she wanted to strip away. In due time.
Admittedly, her interactions with both men helped Scarlet to expand her tunnel vision on work and humanize the case she was focused on.
Not something she normally did. But in this instance, it felt right.
Michael wasn’t her thief.
She was convinced of that.
Nor was Sam.
So … Who was?
Mitcham had nothing to gain, aside from recouping the initial expenditure on the collection. But seriously. The man was worth more money than she—and pretty much most of the global populace—could comprehend. So that didn’t make sense. Not to mention, he’d purchased the artwork for his new bride. What sort of monster would gift the woman he loved with such a rare treasure and then turn around and rip it from her hands?
It wouldn’t exactly be a clever way to welcome her into his home.
And Karina wasn’t a fathomable suspect herself. By marrying Mitcham, the woman had just scored everything she could possibly want—a rich, handsome husband, a mansion, and a prestigious art collection.
So who the hell would benefit from stealing the works?
An aficionado outside the mansion walls, sure. As Michael had implied. But something crucial Scarlet had learned from Jewel when it came to high-end collectors was that they wanted to show off their prizes. Put their acquisitions—no matter how those acquisitions had ended up in their possession—on display. Like trophies.
If one couldn’t brag about such an impressive array of paintings without drawing suspicion—and the FBI to their doorstep—then what would be the purpose of procuring them? Especially under such high stakes?
Scarlet’s brain churned as her thoughts ran rampant.
She’d be exhausted come morning if she kept this up, but she’d yet in her twenty-eight years of existence figured out where the off switch was.
So she mulled over more scenarios and possibilities. But like the FBI, she was coming up empty-handed.
Fatigue would eventually catch up to her. Until it did, she allowed everything from the probable to the absurd traipse through her mind. Knowing if she hit upon one tiny feasible concept, something bigger might gel.…
Morning came with the soft rays of sunlight penetrating the thin clouds and the glorious aroma of strong coffee wafting through the air. Scarlet grinned while still in that groggy state between a sinful dream of two magnificently built men in the form of Michael Vandenberg and Sam Reed and the reality of a hearty cup of joe awaiting her.
She wouldn’t have left the two magnificently built men in lieu of coffee, of course. Were they not a mere dream. One beyond her reach.
Shoving away the covers, she didn’t think of dragging on her jeans and top while she brushed her teeth, swept a hand through her hair, and then headed downstairs. Wearing nothing but Sam’s sweater and a thick pair of socks.
She followed the delicious scent of caffeine and breakfast. Jonesing for both. And for Sam.
Strolling into the kitchen, she was greeted by a lumbering puppy. His paws were a bit too large for his short stature, and then there was the matter of him being in obvious pain that made it difficult for him to actually scamper across the hardwood floor.
Prompting Scarlet to ask Sam, “Did the vet prescribe anything for the bruises and cuts?”
“Low-dosage aspirin and an antibiotic. I’ve been giving him both.”
“Right.” Scarlet really had nothing ingenious to contribute on the subject of healing a dog. “I’ve never actually owned a pet, so I have no clue what taking care of an injured one entails.” Still, she gently scooped the pup up into her arms. And was rewarded with a soft lick on her cheek. She laughed.
Sam said, “My experience with animals is that TLC can sometimes be the best medicine.”
“Yeah. You have a point there. Rudy seems to respond to it.”
From his place at the stove as he scrambled eggs, Sam jerked a brow at her. “Rudy?”
She eyed the pup and gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t know. Fido is so not right. Spot? Jack? Ideas?”
“I’m thinking more along the lines of Cletus.”
Scarlet stared at Sam. “Seriously?”
“Why not?”
“Cletus,” she slowly repeated. Gave an even slower shake of her head. “Gotta tell you, I’m not seeing it.”
“Hmm. Then it just might be Rudy.”
She snickered. Told the Lab, “He’s totally humoring us. But I like Rudy. How do you feel about it?” Another lick, this one just under her left eye. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Sam chuckled. “One little good-night kiss and you’re namin’ my dog?”
“Someone has to do it. And that kiss might have been little, but it packed a hell of a punch.”
“Sort of like you running around half-naked in my house, wearin’ my sweater. Pretty sure those are my socks, too.”
“They are. You did tell me to help myself to anything.”
His gaze slid up her bare legs and he grinned. “Trust me, I am not complaining.”
Heat rushed through her. Scarlet put the dog in his bed and then set the island for two, now that she knew where everything was located. She poured a cup of coffee for herself, then topped off Sam’s mug. Next, she retrieved the tiny pitcher of creamer from the fridge, along with the orange juice.
Sam flipped pancakes on the griddle and added two small stacks to side plates. He put out a serving bowl filled with the eggs and another plate with bacon and sausage links. Added toast. Scarlet went back to the fridge for the butter and two kinds of jam.
They worked well together. Perfectly in sync. Not bumping into each other. And again, the comfortable silence that stretched between them was enthralling. Enjoyable.
Scarlet was a chatterbox by nature, because her mind was always whirling. But that peaceful feeling she’d experienced last night as she’d lain awake in Sam’s bed and stared up at the snowy pink heavens remained with her this morning. Even after he’d mentioned their brief kiss and following the way he’d so hungrily taken her in from head to toe a few moments ago.
It was too damn bad he’d felt compelled to shower and fully dress before starting breakfast. She would have liked to see him fresh from slumber, in pajama bottoms and nothing else. His brown hair tousled, sleep still in his sky-blue eyes. His voice low and rumbling.
She bit back a moan as desire flared against her clit. She couldn’t imagine anything sexier than waking up between this man and his stepbrother. The three of them naked and huddled together. Their bodies entwined. Sam’s and Michael’s hands on her. Sam kissing her lips, Michael nipping at her neck.
Scarlet pulled in a raspy breath.
Sam eyed her curiously. “What are you thinking over there?” he asked as he settled next to her, on the end of the raised counter.
“Honestly? That you’re wearing too many clothes.”
His laugh was light and stirring. But then as he reached for his coffee, his expression darkened. His eyes glowed seductively, though she didn’t miss the glimmer of something troubling around the fringes.
Scarlet debated whether she should make an inquiry as to the latter or let it lie.
But since beating around the bush wasn’t really her style, she bucked up and said, “You’re sending a lot of mixed signals, Sam.”
“Yeah.” He gave a slight nod. “I know.” He sipped his coffee, then set his mug aside. “On the one hand, I was sort of hoping you’d get lonely in that big bed all by yourself and come downstairs. Crawl under the covers with me, in front of the fire.”
She swallowed down some OJ and a lump of uncertainty before saying, “It’s not like the idea didn’t cross my mind. It was a very appealing notion. But you backed off after that kiss, so I figured me joining you wasn’t what you wanted.”
“It was exactly what I wanted,” he said with conviction, pinning her with a solid look. But as was usually the case, there was contradiction rimming his irises. “It was also not what I wanted.”
Needing to get to the heart of the matter, because Scarlet wasn’t one for riddles or games, she ventured, “This is about Cassidy, isn’t it? This was going to be her home. The two of you were going to live here.”
“She never set foot in this house,” he vehemently said, his sudden intensity taking Scarlet by surprise. “So there are no ghosts haunting me here.”
“But in your mind…?”
“I have reservations,” he confessed.
“You mean demons.”
He stared at her.
Scarlet told him, “I never, ever talk about my parents’ deaths. In fact, I rarely speak of them in general. I didn’t have much difficulty doing it with you last night. I can understand how you feel. I empathize with you. And I will admit that my inability to really process what happened to them and release all of my horror and pain makes it extremely hard for me to get close to people. It’s why I don’t date. Anything could happen, and I don’t feel I’m fully equipped to deal with another personal tragedy. But then again…”
She chewed over this new direction of conversation and a piece of sausage. Sam waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. They were still a bit murky; her insides a bit tangled.
Eventually, Scarlet said, “I feel as though I know precisely what you’re going through. Maybe it’s not fully true, but I do have a good idea. And so I understand that you wanted to kiss me, but that you didn’t want to. That you wanted me to come to you last night. But that you didn’t want me to. The desire is there. But so, too, are the demons.”
“I’ve always been aggressive when it comes to my desires. No–holds–bared. But with you?” His eyes bored into her. “There’s something about you. Something that tells me it wouldn’t just be sex.”
“And that bothers you.”
“Bothers you, too,” he pointedly said. “Otherwise, you really would have crawled under the covers with me.”
Scarlet considered this as she finished her breakfast. She couldn’t deny he’d hit the nail on the head. The problem was, she couldn’t exactly say it was just sex with Michael, either. Because she continued to think of him. And wanted to explore more with him.
This was all getting very convoluted. Scarlet suspected a little advice and perspective from Jewel and Bayli might be in order.
But now wasn’t the time for that.
Sam pushed back his stool and stood. He collected dishes and took them to the sink to rinse them off and load them into the dishwasher. Scarlet helped him, not saying anything. Not entirely sure what it was she was supposed to say.
She relished the nearness of him. Inhaled his scent, purposely brushed her arm against his as they worked. Felt all the sparks and exhilaration he’d so easily incited from the second she’d gotten out of her rental and absorbed the full effect of Sam Reed.
Lover of horses. Rescuer of abused and abandoned puppies. Savior of damsels in distress. Builder of breathtaking homes.
He was like the Horse Whisperer, John Wayne, and Frank Lloyd Wright all rolled into one.
With the exterior of a Hugh Jackman–Chris Hemsworth mash-up.
It was no wonder she was having premature hot flashes.
Sam collected the silverware, put it in the basket, and turned on the cycle. Standing behind Scarlet, he reached around her on both sides to wash his hands at the sink she blocked.
He sniffed her hair and said, “I see why Rudy burrows against your neck.”
A sensuous shudder chased down her spine. Leaving her a little breathless as she said, “You’re not seriously going to call him that.”
“It’s starting to grow on me.”
“Clearly Old Yeller’s out of the question.”
“Clearly.” He wiped his hands, then added, “I have work to do in the stables. Your tire will be delivered this afternoon, so make yourself at home.”
“I have e-mails and such to catch up on. I brought my laptop, so I’ll be fine. I assume you have WiFi?”
“Indeed I do.”
“Well then. I’m all set.”
He gazed at her a few seconds more. Eventually he said, “I didn’t have any involvement in the disappearance of my mother’s art collection, Scarlet. In fact, I was angry that it happened, because it really broke her heart. That gift from Mitcham meant a lot to her. I don’t give a damn that Michael and I have trouble relating to him. Somehow, Mitcham clicks with my mother. If you saw them together, you’d be shocked, I’m sure. But you’d also get what I’m talking about.”
She sighed in resignation. “I can see how the FBI ran out of suspects.”
He swept his warm fingertips over her cheek. “You believe me?”
“Hard not to. You have a solid alibi. Misty and Pembroke corroborated Michael’s story and I’m sure there were plenty of witnesses to see the four of you enter and leave the guesthouse at the times you and Michael both stated.”
“I don’t have any reason to lie about it.”
“No, I suppose not.” She was contemplative a moment, then added, “I also rely on character. I’m a great judge of it, and I have no reason to doubt either of you. Michael’s a bit pissy with me when it comes to my questioning, but I can recognize now what that’s all about. He was born with a phenomenal foundation, but he had to build the walls on his own. He doesn’t appreciate someone taking a hammer to what he’s constructed. I’m an intruder and that sets him on edge.”
“Very astute.” Sam’s head bent to hers and he gave her another of the feathery kisses that teased her senseless. As much as she wanted him to just haul her up against his hard chest and kiss the hell out of her, the way Michael would do, she found Sam’s emotional and physical tug-of-war titillating. Perhaps because she knew that when the dam broke they’d both be overpowered by lust and longing.
And that was a sexy thought, rife with anticipation and danger.
He grinned at her, as though reading her mind and liking the fantasies she wove. Then he spun on his boot heels and headed out.
Scarlet released another long breath. Fanned her flaming face with her hand.
She had the distinct feeling that she and Sam were on a crash course to spontaneous combustion.
And it was going to be explosive.