Книга - One Blazing Night

One Blazing Night
Jo Leigh


He's a friend…with great benefits!As far as inventor Samantha O'Connel is concerned, work is better than food, a social life…even sex. Of course, all it takes is a single phone call from Matt Wilkinson—the ridiculously hot object of her girlhood fantasies—for Sam to discover even she has some naughty needs that won't be ignored.Sam's biggest challenge is that while Matt is just as much a workaholic as she is, he's also a wealthy, sexy bachelor who could have any woman he wants. With the help of the cutting-edge “smart” apartment she designed, Sam might just be able to get deliciously and nakedly close to Matt. Close enough to show him that this nerdy brainiac can be his every fantasy…even it's only for one blazingly hot night.







He’s a friend...with great benefits!

As far as inventor Samantha O’Connel is concerned, work is better than food, a social life...even sex. Of course, all it takes is a single phone call from Matt Wilkinson—the ridiculously hot object of her girlhood fantasies—for Sam to discover even she has some naughty needs that won’t be ignored.

Sam’s biggest challenge is that while Matt is just as much a workaholic as she is, he’s also a wealthy, sexy bachelor who could have any woman he wants. With the help of the cutting-edge “smart” apartment she designed, Sam might just be able to get deliciously and nakedly close to Matt. Close enough to show him that this nerdy brainiac can be his every fantasy...even if it’s only for one blazingly hot night.


“Watching you...seeing your pleasure...is exciting...”

“You’re prejudiced,” Sam teased as she sprawled beside Matt on the couch.

“Yep.”

They were quiet for a moment. Watching the tape of themselves avidly. It wasn’t the kind of sex that was scandalous. It was slow. No music. But it was raw and exciting. The feeling of being inside Sam swept over Matt, making his belly clench. It was a little crazy considering what he’d just figured out.

He touched her cheek, wondering if she was seeing the same thing he was. They weren’t just having sex. They were making love.

By all rights the realization should’ve scared the hell out of him.

“This makes me want you all over again,” he whispered, pulling her onto his lap.

Her voice became husky. “Prove it...”


Dear Reader (#ulink_6d7ea08e-fccf-5334-906f-5a48c7dbeb33),

Welcome back to the Three Wicked Nights trilogy! Finally, I get to write Sam’s book. She’s the one who designed the smart apartment. The one the guys looked after when she was at MIT. Only, not all of her college heroes have given the apartment a trial run.

In fact, the only one she’s lost touch with is Matt Wilkinson, the heir apparent to the Wilkinson family. Matt has large shoes to fill as he rises up the corporate ladder, but a short trip to Boston changes things.

He surprises his old friend Samantha, who lends him the smart apartment, but she’s freaked out by his arrival! Doesn’t he know that she had a crush on him for far too long?

Matt isn’t just coming to catch up with Sam. He wants to make amends for something he’d done in the past. Something that he’s never forgiven himself for.

What neither of them counted on was that the spark between the old friends lights up like a beacon from the moment they see each other. Only this time it’s not a girlish crush Sam has, but a full-on case of unrequited love.

I had a great time writing this book. Matt is one of my all-time favorite heroes, and I hope you fall in love with him just like I did.

You can find me at jomk.tumblr.com (http://www.jomk.tumblr.com). Come on by and drop me a note!

Take care,

Jo Leigh


One Blazing Night

Jo Leigh




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


JO LEIGH is from Los Angeles and always thought she’d end up living in Manhattan. So how did she end up in Utah in a tiny town with a terrible internet connection, being bossed around by a houseful of rescued cats and dogs? What the heck, she says, predictability is boring. Jo has written more than forty-five novels for Mills & Boon. Visit her website at joleigh.com (http://www.joleigh.com) or contact her at joleigh@joleigh.com.


To my friends Jill Shalvis and Debbi Rawlins and my wonderful editor, Birgit Davis-Todd.


Contents

Cover (#ubfb2c8c0-531c-58c4-b311-906cab1cfc46)

Back Cover Text (#u973a57bd-6a00-54b8-b760-b2891d7da3f7)

Introduction (#u0b33bc7d-4723-5f5c-b3c7-090d4d06b110)

Dear Reader (#u5f0ae74c-4dab-51ee-8d8f-a95bd2d7c653)

Title Page (#ua0c4cf6d-96fe-5022-b20c-2f8b89169d34)

About the Author (#u6d87e1fb-1931-54c9-ab1b-ad684ae93212)

Dedication (#u0a61337b-22ce-57cf-a186-440c1d8aa8cd)

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1 (#ulink_38a706e8-ff2d-5c9a-8648-c1525074c929)

AS THE MUSIC from her headphones blasted the sound track from Raiders of the Lost Ark, Samantha O’Connel narrowed her eyes in her attempt to read a note left by her newest part-time employee, Tina Albert. Tina was an MIT student, just like the other six people Sam employed at her company, SOC Electronics. Tina was cute, bright, witty, completely dedicated to doing a good job. And she had terrible handwriting.

It wasn’t her fault, really. By the time Tina was born, there were millions of teenagers who hardly ever needed to write. They came of age at the dawn of smartphones. But Tina would have to learn to write more clearly.

Sam rubbed her eyes and took another look. Maybe she could have read the chicken scratches if she hadn’t worked until midnight. She’d skipped dinner and hadn’t looked up until just past midnight. Again.

She was getting old. At twenty, sleep had been optional, but at twenty-nine, there were only so many nights she could get five hours and feel refreshed the next day. She certainly needed to be alert.

Ah. The note was a reminder that the new hard drive had been delivered to the smart apartment. Sam didn’t have time to install it and wouldn’t for at least a week. Neither would Clark, though she wouldn’t have asked him to anyway. The prototype apartment was her baby—she’d bought the building in Boston’s Financial District with her personal money and designed all the electronics herself. Luckily, the new drive wasn’t actually necessary for the apartment to function, but it would help with the intermittent sensor problems she’d noted on her logs.

So far, the apartment was a raging success but needed some refinements. No paying guests had stayed there yet, only her friends and family. Each one had given her a critique and made suggestions—some of them really good—but she was too busy for a hobby that was so complex. Sadly, that was the only kind of hobby she liked. Well, except for gaming. Which was more part of her DNA than a hobby.

Clark, who’d been her assistant since her senior year at MIT, had told her they needed to hire people to help with administrative duties, man the booths at trade shows, and more important, take over some of the testing of new parts and equipment, the writing of instruction manuals and the handling of customer support lines. Which meant whomever they hired had a steep learning curve from day one.

She’d always hated delegating, but when Clark pointed out the new employees would be taking over things both of them hated to do, she’d jumped all over it. With the exception of Tina, the students all worked on the second floor, under Clark’s supervision, so that Sam had minimal contact with them.

It wasn’t that she was a snob; she just wasn’t the most social person. She’d started working on her own in high school, and with one notable exception, her solo work habits had solidified at MIT. By the time she’d graduated, she’d decided, against her parents’ firm objections, not to accept the invitations to join Google or Apple or Microsoft and to just do what she liked. So she’d started SOC Electronics—not only her initials, but also the acronym of a computer miracle device called the System On Chip, which integrated all the components of a computer into a single chip.

She’d become a corporation before she’d turned twenty. It had been difficult to work with Clark in the beginning, but now he was like another pair of her own hands. In the end, Sam was in charge of the tech creation and problem solving. Clark was in charge of the rest. Tina was a one-off. She was really smart, but dammit, she was still afraid to jump in during brainstorming sessions.

Sam sighed. She was probably being too harsh on the girl. Tina had a lot of potential, and in time, Sam believed she’d turn out to be a real asset. If Sam had got enough sleep last night, she probably wouldn’t be feeling so cranky.

Lesson? For God’s sake, go to sleep at a sane hour even if it meant not completing a drawing or leaving a task for the next day.

She grabbed her phone and set the alarm. At eight o’clock she’d stop working, no matter what. Then she’d make sure she was asleep by eleven.

Her cell phone flashed with a new call, making her jerk as if she’d been slapped. It was only Clark getting her attention. After pulling out her right earbud, she turned to find him coming from the clean room at the back of the building.

By the time he’d passed the computers and large schematics workstations occupying the middle of the workshop, he’d pulled off his clean-room whites, leaving him in his regular jeans and T-shirt. “I’m doing a run to the stationery store after lunch. If you want anything—”

“Yes.” She swiveled her chair so she could look straight at him. Her gaze caught on the nifty new 3-D resin printer that she couldn’t even play with until this job was done. Tina was going to learn everything there was to know about the machine so she could show Sam how to use it. “I need more mechanical pencils.”

“Already? You do know that most people don’t use a pencil a day, right? What am I saying. You want more pencils, I’ll get them for you. Anything else?”

She winced but said it anyway, as quickly as she could. “A combo falafel-and-shawarma plate with a side of baba ghanoush?”

Clark gave her a very judgey look. “Sam. It’s almost lunchtime. Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take me to find a parking spot?”

“We could send Tina.”

“Tina isn’t here this morning. Remember? Dentist. She has a thing about Novocain... Never mind.”

Sam almost suggested sending someone from upstairs, but she was sidelined by Clark’s comment. He knew Tina had a thing about Novocain? Huh. Clark often talked about the troops, but this was a new level of detail. “Admit it,” she said as she smiled. “You want a falafel, too, don’t you?”

He looked very put-upon even though it was more out of habit than any real issue. He really was the safest human she knew. It helped that he had no interest whatsoever in her social life.

“Yes,” he said. “Dammit. You’re evil. And you have to call in the orders. But you’re still evil. A pox upon thee.”

“Oh, my...you had the D&D tournament last night, didn’t you? It must have gone well or you’d have already bitched to me about it.”

“I’m still in.”

“Cool. Watch out for that guy, the blond with the—” She wiggled her fingers near her ear. She hated those big black plugs in the middle of the lobe. They made her skin crawl.

“Oh, he’s out. He’s out so far he has to wear an oxygen tank.”

“Well played, Dark Mage of Harrow Glen.”

He bowed, then took off his bootees, but that didn’t make his courtly gesture any less goofy. Hell, she was just as bad. Her love of computer games and the cosplay that came with it had been the genesis of her whole career, one that was more successful than she could have ever predicted.

In the past four years, she’d revolutionized spyware with her new sensor technology and signed a multimillion-dollar contract with the US Department of Defense. But it was her coding skills and the development of two different antihacking programs that had brought in the big money. She rarely thought about that, though. She was happy with her little house and her huge lab. They were on adjoining plots of land in Bay Village, and being so close to the heart of downtown Boston made everything so simple. That she was a wealthy entrepreneur felt so discordant with the image she held of herself. Truth was, she was happiest playing “Ms. Pac-Man” on the vintage arcade machine she kept in her living room.

As Clark raided the petty cash for lunch money, she called in their orders. The Falafel King was number seven on the speed dial. What did that say about her life? Nothing she wanted to think about now. After ordering, she went to her drafting table and took another look at the schematics for the nano drive she’d been working on. The temperature issue was fixed—sort of. It would mean the buyers would have to build special cold rooms that had to be so safe they’d stand up to the end of the world. But that wasn’t the problem she was working on today.

After putting her earbud in once more, letting her classical music light up her brain, she put her cell phone close enough that she’d notice if Clark called again. Then Sam began her review of the design in her usual way, starting wherever her eyes fell, usually somewhere in the middle. God, how her technique had driven her professors insane.

Something occurred to her—a bright shiny idea that might just solve an issue she’d shoved to the back of her mind, and then she was in the zone.

At the worst possible time, she caught her cell phone flashing. “Clark,” she muttered as she ripped out her right earbud and answered. “What?”

“Huh. That’s one way to answer the phone.”

It wasn’t—

But it couldn’t be—

Matthew Wilkinson. Matt? Matt!

Sam hadn’t heard his voice in a very long time.

Her eyes shut tight as the world stopped turning. As the memories piled one on top of another. He was her first. Her very, very first love. And her first heartbreak.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been dancing on the head of a pin, but surely he must have thought she’d fainted or something. Well, something had definitely happened—most of her major organs were spinning around like tops.

Matt had been one of her best friends back in her MIT days. She’d been fourteen as a freshman, so all her friends had been four or five years older—and they’d all happened to be guys. They’d bonded over gaming, Marvel comics and bad horror movies. And none of them had been bothered by her age. The guys had protected her. Teased her. And they hadn’t cared that she had the social skills of a paper clip.

“Hello? Still there?”

“Hu...hi, Matt?”

“You okay?”

“Just dropped my pencil,” she said, gripping the phone so tightly she thought it might break. “Sorry.”

“I know it’s been forever. How are you, Sammy?” he asked, his voice dipping lower in a way that made her melt.

No one called her Sammy. She hadn’t heard that name in so long she’d figured she’d never hear it again. It made her blush, and she was grateful there was nobody there to see her. She needed to get off the phone. She couldn’t think. There was too much going on in her head and she’d already started doodling, which wasn’t helping. All she needed to do was tell him she’d call him back. “I’m...I’m...fine. I’m good. Better.”

“Better? Was something wrong?”

“No. Not as such. No. Just— That would be no. Nothing was wrong. I meant to say ‘richer.’”

He laughed. “I’d kind of figured that after reading about your work. So you weren’t quite as dim as we all led you to believe, huh?”

“Not quite.” Her face was so hot she was reasonably sure she was going to burst into flames any second. She was a jumble of emotions. It wasn’t fair, him calling her out of the blue. It had taken her so long to get over him, after all. “How are you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice cheerful.

That should buy her a couple of minutes. But she needed to listen. What if he said he was dying or something and she missed it?

“I’m good. Jet-lagged. Just got in from Tokyo.”

“Godzilla stirring up trouble again?”

“I wish,” he said, his voice the same. Exactly the same. She wanted to curl up under the covers and dream about him for a week. “Nothing but boring contracts to negotiate.”

“But you still like being a lawyer, right?”

“Some days are better than others. But yeah.”

“And you’re living in New York?” Was she supposed to know that was where he lived? Oh, God. Why was she still talking?

“I am,” he said, the words delivering both disappointment and relief. If he’d moved back to Boston, she would’ve died. “Hey, I heard from Logan last night.”

Logan was part of the gang that had always had her back in college. “I saw him in June,” she said, thankful for the safe shift in conversation.

“Yeah, I know. He said that crazy apartment of yours is not to be missed. I’m a little hurt that I wasn’t invited for a test run.”

Hi there, worst nightmare! She held back the groan that had come with the thought. “We haven’t talked since you... For a long time. I wasn’t sure...”

“That’s true,” he said, rescuing her as he’d done so often when her words got stuck. Then he sighed. “I want to blame it on traveling the way I do. And my marriage. Or my divorce. Pick one, and it’ll be true. Bottom line? I’ve thought about you. Especially when I’ve happened to catch yet another article about some new, brilliant thing you’ve invented. To be honest, I figured you’d probably only answer the phone for Stephen Hawking, not guys like me.”

“Not a guy like you? I talk to Logan and Rick. They’re not Hawking. I don’t even know Stephen Hawking. He never calls.”

“Never writes? Bastard.”

She smiled and some of her parts relaxed. Not her heart, though. That was still doing cartwheels even as she tried to put on the brakes. “I’m still me,” she said, as a reminder to herself more than him. “Still can’t talk on the phone worth a damn. Still watching my old copies of Robot Chicken and playing ‘World of Warcraft.’”

“Thank God,” he said. “I’d hate it if you weren’t you. No, that’s wrong. We all change, and I’m sure you have, too. You’re certainly doing a great job in the career department.”

“I have people. Lawyers. A financial planner and a business manager. They talk business. I talk to tech people, so that’s like school.”

“I’m glad. I really am. Look, I’m coming to Boston for a week or so, and I’d love to stay in that smart apartment, at least for a few days. But mostly, I want to see you.”

See her? Why? “Okay,” she said, because she was an idiot and she couldn’t think straight and this was Matt. “When are you coming?”

“In three days.”

“Oh. Wow. I’m not exactly sure of the schedule, so when Clark gets back, I’ll have him check, okay? He usually makes things, um, happen, so, you know, he’s at lunch but he’ll give you a call.”

After a tense pause, Matt said, “I will get to see you, right?”

No. The word she was looking for was no. She couldn’t see him. Not in a million years. It would be a disaster of epic proportions. “Yeah. Of course. I’ve got some deadline things, but, you know.”

He laughed. Quietly. Fondly. And that was the stuff that made him so dangerous. He was rich, gorgeous, smart as a whip and could have any woman on the planet. And he was her friend. The problem was that she’d fallen in love with him two minutes after midnight on her sixteenth birthday and now it was all too clear she hadn’t let go of that silly pipe dream. Great. This couldn’t suck more.

“I’m glad Clark is still there with you.”

“Yeah. Couldn’t do it without him. But he also does some cool stuff on his own.”

After a brief silence that proved to Sam it was impossible to swallow with a dry mouth, Matt said, “I’m excited to see you, Sammy.”

“I’m wearing a Black Widow sweatshirt and black tights I bought at a flea market in Cambridge.”

“Okay. Wait. Didn’t you used to wear something like that back at MIT?”

“Yep. Same sweatshirt.”

“That’s my girl.” This time Matt’s laugh put her on edge. She felt like that socially inept teenager he’d befriended a lifetime ago. “Okay, I’ll let you get back to work,” he said. “Let me know about the apartment.”

“Will do.”

After they disconnected, she put her cell phone back where it belonged, picked up her iPod and changed the music to Led Zeppelin.

The pounding drumbeat synced to her thudding heart. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t. God. But what if...?

* * *

MATT DRANK IN the sight of the New York City skyline, and as always, he lingered on the Chrysler Building, his favorite. It was a clear fall night, and from his twenty-fourth-floor penthouse, everything looked the way it did in the movies. His trip to Asia had lasted two long months but was well worth it. He’d negotiated a nice purchase price for an international hotel chain, Voyager Hotels. It was a big win for Wilkinson Holdings and for him personally. He needed all the points he could get with the board meeting coming up. It was time for him to take the next step up the ladder, which meant taking charge of the London office. Since WH was a family business—his family’s—there were people on the board who believed every victory of his was somehow manipulated by his father and two uncles.

Even with all the politics that came with being in-house counsel for a top-100 company, he wouldn’t change anything. Well, except for that London gig. He wanted that. Enough to play the game the way his father had taught him.

But right now it felt great to be home. It also felt great to be alone. He needed to relax for the next couple of days, get over the jet lag before he went to Boston and made nice at the corporate office. The company’s annual gala for the Boston Children’s Hospital was coming up—a great cause but always a chore. Two days after the fund-raiser was the annual board meeting.

He’d much rather think about his upcoming mini vacation. Although Boston was really home. He’d been born and raised in Beacon Hill. Gone to two universities in Cambridge, had a lot of friends who lived in the city.

The only one he cared to see this time was Sam. She’d been on his mind since he’d heard from his buddy Logan McCabe. He and Logan both lived in New York but rarely saw each other, with Matt’s crazy travel schedule. But as soon as Logan had told him about the smart apartment and Sam, that was it. Matt had picked up the phone and she’d answered, and it was like going back in time.

She was terrible on the phone. Always had been. But it had been great to hear her voice. Logan had said she’d stepped up her game when it came to the business and was still a workaholic. Matt had known from their first few conversations at MIT that she was going to play in the big leagues one day.

He’d seen a couple of pictures of her online, neither of which had been very good. It seemed she was still camera shy, mainly because of her freckles, he imagined. She’d always hated them. There was just a spray of them across her nose, but she thought they made her look hideous. That and her copper penny–red hair.

She’d tried dyeing it black once. What a nightmare that had been. Goth and Sam did not go together. She was far too earnest and far too sensible to fall in with a crowd that demanded such conformity. Eventually, her hair had grown out and the nose ring had disappeared. He wondered if she still had that row of piercings climbing up the outer shell of her left ear.

Damn, he was anxious to see her. After he’d graduated and moved out of the house the gang had shared off campus, he hadn’t spoken to Sam but for a couple of times. Then he’d started law school and she was working on her second master’s, and with their hectic schedules the communication had dwindled to a few texts here and there, mostly around the holidays and special occasions. Once he’d married Vanessa, he and Sam had stopped texting.

He wasn’t sure why, but for his part it had felt like the right thing to do, even though Sam wasn’t a romantic interest. Hell, she was five years younger than he was and so much smarter that there was no chart for it. Not that he was a lightweight, because goddamn Harvard Law Review his second year. But she was made of different stuff.

Back at MIT they’d bonded over computer games and insomnia, right along with Logan and Rick, who’d also lived at Randall Hall, and the four of them had become thick as thieves. They had all felt somewhat protective of Sam. She might have been smart enough to take on Hawking, but she hadn’t been quite old enough to navigate university life on her own. So the guys had kept their eye on her in the dorm and had even run interference a few times on campus. One particular incident still made him wince and smile at the same time. It had ended with him getting a hell of a shiner.

Sometimes he’d wondered if Sam felt that talking to him, to the three of them, was like talking to a pet. She’d never implied that she felt she was intellectually above them, but none of the rest of them had been able to understand the complexity of her studies. They hadn’t had to. They hadn’t cared about her grades, her habits, any of that. The four of them had laughed a lot. Watched a lot of weird movies. Played a lot of computer games. She always said they made her feel normal. Well, normal-ish.

He couldn’t wait to see her.

He’d had a beer with dinner, but now it was time for a little Johnnie Walker Black. Nightcap of champions.

Matt’s bones ached and he had that plane smell on him. He’d let the scotch settle him down, have a long hot shower, then hit the sheets.

But as he sipped his drink, another memory, not a great one, stirred. Like so many college kids, he’d done his share of foolish things, made a few reckless choices, engaged in some risky behavior that would’ve stunned anyone who knew him now. He wasn’t proud of any of it, but that night long ago when he’d messed up with Sam was the worst. The truth was, things had changed after that. He’d learned a lot about the wisdom of sobriety that night. That was all in the past, though, and now he’d have a chance to get to know her again. At least, he hoped so. She’d sounded a little reluctant. But then, with Sam it was hard to tell for sure. He’d forgotten just how much she disliked talking on the phone.

Picturing her with the stupid nose ring, he smiled. Seeing her again and catching up was going to be pure, uncomplicated fun.


2 (#ulink_3270fbcb-3453-5dff-9cf9-f5b44d2307d0)

SAM LEANED AGAINST the wall, staring out the window of the smart apartment from an angle so Matt couldn’t see her when he finally arrived.

If he arrived. But of course he was coming, because he’d said so. She’d hate to think she’d gone through the crazy whirlwind of deciding what to wear for nothing. Good Lord, she must’ve tried on everything in her closet, avoiding the sweatshirts, T-shirts and leggings that made up most of her wardrobe. She wanted to look good for Matt. But the few dresses she owned for wearing to conferences and business meetings made her feel like an impostor when she put them on.

So Sam had compromised. Business slacks with her nicest San Diego Comic-Con T-shirt. She’d had the shirt for a long time, but it would be new to Matt. It was blue with long sleeves. She’d tried pushing those up, but her arm freckles made the decision to wear them down very easy. Still, it was a good hair day and she was thankful for small favors.

Now it was all she could do not to run back home and put on a sweatshirt and leggings. What had she been thinking?

Ha. As if she didn’t know. Matt was coming. Today. Any minute. So she could give him the key. Which meant she’d slept like shit. When Clark had offered to give him the key, she’d immediately said no. He’d seemed agitated. Probably because it meant she wouldn’t be working. But screw it. SOC was her company, and she could take a few hours off if she wanted to.

Or maybe Clark wasn’t piqued because she wouldn’t be working but because of why she wouldn’t be working. Did he not like Matt? Huh. She’d have to think about that. Was it because she’d worn her dress pants? Did Clark think she was selling out? Trying to be someone she wasn’t? The fact that she turned into an idiot when she was around Matt wasn’t anything new in her life, and Clark had no doubt caught on. Her crush had lasted a really long time.

Clark might be upset at her foolishness, and she couldn’t fault his logic. Especially when she considered that Matt wouldn’t care what she wore.

She shouldn’t have cared, either. But she had the feeling Matt would look spiffy and handsome as hell and she hadn’t wanted to— Something caught her eye at the window. Oh, God. Matt. He was here. Getting out of a taxi—

Not a town car. Most of his family lived here. Their corporate office was located downtown. She hadn’t expected a taxi.

Or for her reaction to be this bad.

How had her mouth already dried up? Her heart had been pounding since she’d seen him in her peripheral vision. For heaven’s sake, butterflies and panic were battling to the death in her chest. Why hadn’t she just let Clark give him the damn key?

Matt was taking his time. Checking out the brownstones that lined the street before taking the shady brick walkway that led to the apartment. He looked like her Matt, but different, too. Broader of chest, certainly. He seemed taller, but she doubted that was true. Maybe his black jeans and gray V-neck sweater made him appear taller than the six foot one she knew he was. His jacket was dark, maybe suede, and looked as if it would be nice to curl up against.

Not that she would be curling up against anyone.

Even his luggage looked sharp. And—wow—he’d brought a lot. An extra-large suitcase on wheels and a brown garment bag. Was he planning to stay until winter?

Just as he was reaching the front door, she realized she’d been squeezing the key so hard it had left a deep groove in her hand. The hand he’d want to shake. No, he’d want a hug.

She hadn’t considered—

The sound of the doorbell made her jump. Oh, this was going to be a load of fun. Why was she stressing so much? This was Matt. They were practically brother and sister. Except for that one time... Shit. Why did she have to think of that?

She needed to concentrate on breathing. And trying not to pass out. After a long, deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the door.

Holy crap. Matt’s brown eyes and perfectly shaped mouth were the same, yet he was so much better-looking than she’d remembered. A man now, not a boy. And the smile he gave her sent shivers through her body. She knew that grin. It changed his face. He could look really serious and foreboding if he wanted to, but when he whipped out that grin, he became a tease, a wink, a promise.

“Wow,” he said, his voice lower, maybe not. “You look great.”

“Me?” She pointed at him. “You—”

“Look the same, just old.” He paused, waited. “Mind if I come in?”

“Of course.” She quickly stood aside. And she wasn’t disappointed that there’d been no hug. Hugs were overdone. They hadn’t seen each other for years. She closed the door, focusing on the image of his smile, even as she understood it would haunt her dreams for ages.

* * *

MATT LEFT HIS LUGGAGE off to the side and watched Sam turn in her Comic-Con shirt, with her copper-colored hair shifting over her shoulders. She was a woman now, beautifully sculpted with curves that hadn’t been there when he’d last seen her. But that shirt? That was pure Sammy.

He couldn’t get over it. The pictures online hadn’t done her justice at all. She didn’t have prom-queen beauty—that wasn’t Sam. She could stand to put on a couple of pounds and her smile was a little crooked, but she had amazing green eyes that lit up like firecrackers. Standing there in front of him was everything he’d always liked about Sammy, with the addition of womanly grace that only time and experience could bring.

He couldn’t wait another moment. “Come here,” he said, holding his arms out, taking the first step.

A blush stole over her cheeks but she came willingly, and then she was in his arms. A second later, hers went around his waist, under his jacket.

It wasn’t the MIT hug he was used to.

They’d never pressed this close, never hung on for beat after beat of his quickening heart. Damn, she smelled good.

He pulled back. She released him instantly, but he wasn’t quite ready to abandon ship. He held on to her shoulders and gave her a head-to-toe inspection.

“Logan was right. You’ve turned into a stunner.”

Her brows, a little darker than her hair, came together as she frowned and took a half step back. “You don’t have to say that stuff to me, Matt. I don’t need to be flattered.”

“You think I wasn’t being sincere?”

“No. I mean, I know I’m okay. But I’m not— I’m in shape because I think better when I’m running. It’s not about...anything else.”

“I’m glad you’re fit, but I wasn’t lying. I think you’re beautiful, and that’s just the truth.”

“Okay,” she said as the blush darkened. “That’s fair enough. I think you’re beautiful, too.”

He laughed. “I think the word you were looking for was handsome? I hope?”

“Fine. Handsome. Hot as hell. Drop-dead gorgeous. Mouthwatering—”

“Okay. That’s enough.” Matt laughed, mostly at himself. How could he have forgotten her quirky tendency to drive them all nuts with the thesaurus in her brain. “Hey,” he said, giving her another once-over. “You’re taller. By a lot. When did that happen?”

Sam looked confused and then dropped her gaze to her toes, peeking out from under the hem of her slacks. “I’m wearing heels,” she said and then lifted her right leg to show him the proof. “Anyway...” She stuck out her hand. The key rested in her palm. “Here’s the key.”

Matt accepted it, wondering why she suddenly seemed so nervous.

She moved back and turned in a jerky motion. “This is it,” she said, gesturing widely. “It’s still a prototype. I’m working out the kinks.” She took off walking down the hall and he lagged a few seconds behind until she reached the junction of kitchen and living room. “The fridge and pantry are fully stocked. Feel free to use or consume anything.”

She picked up some brochure from the kitchen counter. “You’ll find everything you need in here, including chefs who will come here to cook or have something made-to-order delivered. The masseur is terrific, especially his sports massage. I know you know Boston, but there are a bunch of delivery menus by the pantry. And if you have any problems or questions—”

“You’ve used this masseur?”

“What?” Sam frowned. “Of course not.”

“You said he was terrific.”

“I could find out which doctor you should use if you had an enlarged prostate. It doesn’t mean I have personal experience.”

Matt let out a laugh. He’d missed this. She never had thought like everyone else. Thank goodness that hadn’t changed. “Point taken.”

“As I was saying, if you have any questions, just call the office. Clark knows this place inside and out.”

Confused, he looked down at the brochure she’d shoved into his hand. When he lifted his gaze again, he realized she was about to leave. Three steps away, he nabbed her wrist. “What? Where are you going? I want you to show me around, not give me some brochure.”

“I should get back to work,” she said. “Besides, Rick and Logan didn’t need me to hold their hands, and they did fine.”

“Tough. They didn’t have to beg for an invitation, either. So now, Sammy, my friend, you get to show me where I’ll be staying for the next few days.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “You have a lot of luggage for a few days.”

“You know corporate is here. I’ve got the annual dog and pony show to attend.”

“So why didn’t you leave your stuff at the office?”

“I came straight from the airport.”

“Really?”

He realized he’d been absently stroking her wrist when he felt her pulse leap. She pulled her arm back and he let go.

“Half an hour,” he said. “That’s not too bad. Right? Then you can go back to work.”

She closed her eyes, her long lashes brushing the tops of her smooth pink cheeks. “Fine,” she said, as if he’d asked her for a huge favor. “First lesson.” Turning to face the living room wall, she said, “Call Clark.”

Instantly, a monitor graphic appeared on the wall just to the right of the curved big-screen TV. The monitor was done so well it was difficult to believe it wasn’t three-dimensional.

“Yeah?” Clark’s voice was clear and irritated sounding as Clark removed his glasses and squinted at them. The guy looked almost the same as he had back at MIT.

“I’ll be a half hour longer than I planned.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t have any appointments, right?”

“Right. But don’t tell me you’re going to make it up later, because you really have to get some sleep. Pop a Xanax, do some yoga. Whatever it takes.”

“Fine. I’ll drug myself to sleep tonight.”

“Good.” Clark’s gaze shifted and he gave Matt a brief nod, then turned to Sam. “I’ve got that thing I’m working on,” he said, pointing at his desk.

“Go,” she said. “End call.”

Matt got the impression Clark didn’t like that Matt was keeping her from work. “I was going to say hey.”

“Next time. Jeez. He’s worse than my mother. Who loves him to death, of course.”

“I think that was the most I ever heard him talk. But you guys are cool, right?”

“Yes,” she said, the hesitation clear in her voice. “We’re a finely tuned machine. We just got a new assistant, Tina. She’s bright but still learning.”

Matt’s mind lingered on the other man. “Anything happening with you and Clark?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it all about work, or is there something romantic—”

“With Clark?” Sam’s eyes widened. “Ew. No. He’s like a brother.”

“Just asking.” Pleased with her reaction, Matt smiled. Although, what did he care? He liked Clark, and if he and Sam had hooked up, it would’ve been a good thing. So what the hell—

“Do you want a tour or not?”

“Lead on.”

“So, this is the living room. If you want a fire, just tell it to turn on, and it will. You can use any wall in the house for a call, but be careful. Someone accidentally made a call from the shower, so...”

He hadn’t expected her to stop walking, and they nearly collided. He put a steadying hand at the small of her back.

She jumped at the contact, then stiffened. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“My fault,” he said. “You okay?” She nodded and visibly relaxed. He lowered his hand, distracted by what was happening around them. The walls on either side of the fireplace had turned from white to violet. When he turned around, he realized the walls in the foyer were also shades of purple. It was fascinating. “Is that your technology?”

“The colors? Yeah. It’s in all the rooms.”

“What determines the color change?”

She cleared her throat. “The walls contain sensors that read the temperature of the person or people in the room. The sensors also pick up a lot of other things, like breathing and walking patterns, tonal qualities. They still need some refinement, but almost all the gizmos here do.”

“That’s incredible.” Matt turned slowly, taking everything in. “I can already see how effective these kinds of walls could be. In high-risk situations, in hospitals—heck, in homes and hotels. This is a big deal, Sammy. Same with the monitors. The potential is unlimited.”

“They’re all just prototypes. But you’ve probably stayed in some of the best hotels in the world. You’ll let me know how this compares, yes?”

He nodded as she led him into the high-end kitchen for a second time. He found himself only half listening as she explained something about ordering food, but he figured it didn’t matter—he had the brochure; he’d figure it out. He wasn’t here for the whiz-bang stuff, except for the fact that Sammy designed it.

It was clear this place made her tremendously happy. Those green eyes of hers glowed with beautiful intensity. She spoke faster, too, when she was describing the apartment’s amenities. Sometimes skipping words, then going back to chase them down. He loved every second of it.

The technical stuff was utterly lost on him. But this was Sammy, the girl he remembered. The heels were unexpected, though. He knew she hated them. In fact, he could only remember her wearing them twice, and both times she’d taken them off at inappropriate times. Once, she’d been in the dean’s office with some big-money alumni. Matt hadn’t been there, but she’d told him that halfway through explaining her thesis, her feet had started killing her, so she’d taken off her heels and put them on the dean’s desk. She’d shrugged and wondered why he’d been bent out of shape about it. The alumni had handed over a major check, which was what she had been there for...

Now she was walking him to the bedroom, and the walls were turning from violet to something much darker. When they entered the bedroom itself, the colors started climbing the wall, swirling as if there were smoke in the paint, or whatever it was.

“Oh, crap,” Sam said. “I forgot something.” She turned around and walked past him as if the apartment were on fire.

He followed her back down the hall. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine. You can take your bags to your room if you want. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Should I be worried?”

The walls in the hallway had turned scarlet, and there was something about them that made him kind of...aroused. Not what he wanted to be. The two of them weren’t like that. If she caught him with a pup tent, he was not going to be happy.

“You don’t need to follow me,” she muttered over her shoulder.

“Just hold on a second, will you? Tell me what’s going on.”

“Your bag. In your room,” she said. “Now would be good.”

Completely baffled, he stopped and watched her enter the kitchen and walk to the pantry. She opened the door, stepped inside, then closed the door behind her.

“What, you need a cookie?”

“Go put your bag away,” she said, her muffled voice sounding stressed.

“Are you sick? You can tell me.”

“Matthew. Go. Away.”

“Fine,” he said as he wandered into the living room and waited by a glass table that sat in front of the couch. It was the perfect vantage point, putting the pantry door in his line of sight without his crowding her. There was a small fountain trickling away somewhere, which was very pleasant, but he only had eyes for the pantry. He noticed, as he stared, that the room smelled really good. Was that what was making him horny? He was pretty damn controlled about these things, but after a few minutes of deep focus, he started to wilt.

Maybe it wasn’t the smell. The color of the walls, then? But why would she want him to get worked up? The idea didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have, but it still made no sense.

The minutes ticked by and he considered getting his bags and putting them in the bedroom, but no. He was going to wait for her. If she was sick, he wanted to be available. Although a person about to be sick would usually head to the bathroom, but then, Sammy had always walked her own unique path.

The walls went white. All of them, all at once. It was highly dramatic. And a little scary. “Sam?”


3 (#ulink_238ec1c5-4f21-5e2f-a052-3f30997a42df)

SAM EXITED THE PROGRAM and tucked her phone in her pocket. She hoped that took care of the damn mood sensors. Except now it was totally dark.

Oh, right. She opened the door.

Matt’s bags were still in the foyer. He was standing near the entrance to the kitchen and was staring at her as if he expected her to say something. Only she wasn’t sure what that thing was.

Matt spoke first. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?” She glanced around her, trying to pretend her being in the pantry with the door closed was no big deal.

Matt walked straight past her, stepped inside the pantry, looked around and then came out a minute later carrying a box of gingersnaps.

She should have gone to the bathroom. Obviously. Why had she headed for the pantry, of all places? “It was just work stuff. The wall-color program wasn’t working right.”

“I see,” he said, opening the box of cookies and holding it out to her.

She grabbed a few, knowing she was still blushing. Not a thing she could do about that. Maybe she should just wear blush-colored makeup. Huh. That way he’d never know when she was really blushing. “Anyway,” she said, still chewing the little piece of cookie she’d bitten off.

“Have dinner with me?”

Her mouth stilled along with her brain. “What?”

“Dinner. With me.”

“I have to go back to work. I have a deadline to meet.”

“Okay. How about I get takeout from one of your many menus and bring it to your lab? I’d love to see it. I wouldn’t stay long. Just enough for a quick tour and a quicker dinner.”

“No,” she said, her heart taking it up a notch. “I really have to work.”

“I understand, but you also have to eat.” He captured her hand and pulled her close.

Her hand, the one without the cookies, went right to his chest. For a moment, she froze. Just being this close to him was amazing... Smelling his wonderful scent, parts of her touching parts of him. She leaned back to look at him, to try to figure out what was going on. And met his gaze. His warm brown eyes. The eyes she’d known so well she had seen them in her sleep. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve filled out nicely,” he said, tightening his arm around her, “but I bet you’re still skipping meals. It’s not a good habit, Sammy. And I don’t want to play a part in it. Tonight that means you’re eating with me one way or another.”

Sam’s mouth opened but nothing came out. She felt more confused than anything. Part of her wanted to melt into a puddle. Because he was flirting? Was that what he was doing? That was the problem. She didn’t know. Not with Matt. Any other man who got this close, she would’ve been able to read.

But one thing was for sure—her heart rarely beat this fast. Even if he was just being nice, there was a fair chance she was going to hyperventilate.

Or she might just throw her arms around his neck and hang on forever. Years’ worth of fantasies didn’t just disappear because she’d forced herself to move on.

She pushed against his hard chest. “How come you’re not bothering your family instead of me?”

Matt let her go so quickly she had to take a step back. “Hey, I’m sorry, Sammy. I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop. You didn’t.” Her heart hurt at his wounded look, and she wished she could take the words back. She felt like a fool, a terrible fool, for making him feel bad when she knew better. He was just being nice. “Fine,” she said, knowing it was a mistake. “We’ll eat. Somehow. Together.”

“Wait. Will that mean you’ll have to work until some god-awful hour?”

He had a point.

She looked down and gasped a little when she saw her hand was still on his chest. He’d let her go, but she hadn’t followed suit.

She smiled in what she hoped was a cavalier way, patted said chest and took a few steps back. “When was the last time you went for a run in the Fens?”

“Oh, man,” he said, pushing a hand through his neatly trimmed brown hair. “I can’t even remember.”

Perfect. “How about you get settled here while I go to the lab for a couple of hours? Then we can go for a run. Or walk. Whatever.”

He laughed. Shook his head. “For your information, Miss O’Connel, I’m in excellent shape, which I know you know. You want to run? I’m in. But after that? We eat.”

She didn’t want to discuss dinner. A run was already on her schedule. For her it was a must, no matter how much work piled up. So it was the perfect solution. They could talk and get caught up with each other. Best of all, she’d be less likely to do something humiliating if they were doing something so casual. “Can you do ten miles?”

“I can, but I don’t want to. I’d rather save time for dinner, even if it’s just a quickie.” He paused while she blushed three shades of red and then he continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “If I remember correctly, a lot of unsavory folks hang out at the Fens.”

“It’s different now. It’ll be nice. I go there a lot. Let’s meet at Westland Gate.”

Matt nodded, then said something she didn’t catch. He’d shifted so that the sunlight coming in through the window picked up some gold in his brown hair. The past ten years showed in his handsome face. Fine lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. His mouth was the same, only now there were long grooves bracketing each side, making him look a little more rugged and very sexy.

“Sam? Did you hear me?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked what time.”

“Time for what?” She remembered as soon as he smiled. And dammit, her cheeks got hot. For the millionth time. Jesus. That makeup idea was sounding better and better.

* * *

IT TOOK HIM no time to unpack. He’d learned all the tricks. Had to, with all the traveling he did for work. But this was different. He hadn’t taken any real time off in so long that he’d forgotten about relaxation brain. It was as if he’d taken a mild anesthetic, so everything was a bit hazy. A strong cup of coffee and a brief nap would solve that. Or a shower.

Coffee first, call his office second, his father third, then shower.

The coffee, it turned out, was simple to make and fantastic. He texted a note to his assistant about the brand, which he’d never heard of, determined to have it stocked in his New York office. There was an extravagant number of treats in the pantry—those gingersnaps turned out to be just the tip of the iceberg. His personal favorite, shortbread, was there—three different types of it. He liked them all. But he had to ration things like that because he still hoped to have dinner with Sam after the run.

He was on the phone for a few minutes with his assistant, Andrew, who’d been busy supervising the work they’d done in Budapest, where Wilkinson was buying land for a new hotel. Nothing new had come up, and they arranged to speak again in a few days.

Matt refilled his coffee before he speed-dialed his father’s private line from his cell phone.

“Matt, I was just thinking about you,” his dad said when he picked up. His old man wasn’t that old. Sixty-two, and he worked out five days a week. Didn’t smoke. Drank in moderation. Was still married to Matt’s mother after almost forty years. “When are you coming to Boston?”

“I don’t know. I’m taking some downtime before all the hoopla starts.”

“Good for you. I told you about that new resort upstate, right?”

“Yeah, you did. It sounds great, but mostly I just want to sleep. You know how it is coming back from Asia.”

“The work you did on the Tokyo job was top-notch. I’ve sent a report to the board. It’ll help.”

“Thanks. But we still have to get Bannister, Truit and Lee over to our side. Or at least one of them.”

“It’ll happen.” His father sounded so sure. “Let me know when you’re coming in. Will you be staying in the hotel?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll give you a call.”

His father made a sound, which was his way of saying goodbye, and Matt hung up the phone. Matt didn’t make it a habit to lie to his father. He just didn’t want to face work yet. The fund-raising gala was coming up, then the board meeting two days later, which would determine his future. Jesus, he hated that his life was out of his direct control.

For now, though, his most pressing concern was getting in the shower.

He pressed the remote that controlled the many, many jets in the shower proper, but he didn’t explore their permutations, because he was too busy checking out all the creams and lotions. Sam hadn’t skimped on anything. The body creams alone were worth several grand in total. La Mer, La Prairie, Guerlain. There were also sea-salt scrubs, high-end body washes and ridiculously expensive shaving gel. The Wilkinson Hotels were known for their luxurious accommodations, but even their finest suites didn’t boast the cornucopia of indulgence that Sam had supplied. She’d even stocked his particular favorites. Had to be pure coincidence since there was no way she could’ve known.

Her paying guests were never going to want to leave after staying here. He hoped she realized she’d be asked to customize the homes of private individuals. If he ever built a home, he was calling Sam first.

Thinking of Sam while his body was being massaged by water from neck to toe, he couldn’t help imagining how much fun it would be to experiment on her. He’d use the La Mer, of course, and the Creed body wash. But that Acqua di Parma Magnolia Nobile shower gel was too sweet for him—perfect for her. Especially if he got to be the one to slather it on.

Oh, shit.

He wasn’t allowed to masturbate to thoughts of Sam. Nohow, noway. He focused on other images. Like Sam in running— No. Even his tried-and-true go-to for nights when all he really wanted was to go to sleep wasn’t cutting it. At last, after he turned the temperature on the jets way down, his libido calmed down, and he finished showering as quickly as he could.

By the time he got his towel, he was cold and angry that he didn’t have better control over his thoughts. This was Sam. Jesus.

The only thing that might explain his traitorous brain was the contrast between the teenage Sam he’d known and the Sam he’d met today.

Regardless, he had to get a grip on his impulses. He shaved at the sink and tried out the Armani aftershave. After putting on his running gear, he had time to search Yelp for takeout by the Fens, in case she didn’t want to come back to the apartment. They could just eat at Bravo if they finished running by seven thirty, but that didn’t sound likely. Or they could grab a pizza or some burgers at one of the nearby take-out joints. Whatever was the quickest. He didn’t want her forced to work half the night in order to squeeze in a meal with him. But it was just so damn good to see her that he’d selfishly snatch whatever time she’d make for him.

A quick look at his watch told him he had a half hour to kill before he left. So he called and ordered a taxi, then watched her awesome smart TV, where some nice person had left a recorded Manchester United game from earlier in the year. Another thing his travels had addicted him to: football. The soccer kind.

When his phone alarm went off, he flicked off the TV with a voice command, checked his wallet and key, got a bottle of water from the store that was Sam’s kitchen, and went outside to wait for his cab. His heart was beating a little too quickly for a man his age. He should probably look into that.


4 (#ulink_e493bf49-35ae-5af0-b463-f5ebb75528c6)

ON THE BEAUTIFUL autumn evening, the Fens had a completely different vibe than the last time he’d been there. Plenty of runners were already in motion. Matt had arrived right on time, but Sam wasn’t there yet. At least, not that he could spot. The thought of her made him smile. He remembered the feel of her hand on his chest, his arm around her trim waist. He’d been about to kiss her, but her soft gasp and shocked look had snapped him out of it.

His own shock had come later. He’d almost kissed Sam. Sammy. What the hell? He was her friend. Not even her close friend after all these years.

Didn’t matter. He couldn’t keep thinking of her as anything but a pal. He’d have to be careful, though. Reading the moods and needs of the girl had been relatively simple, but reading the woman? The thing was, he believed a lot of that girl was still in her. Far more than his college-age self was in him.

Marriage had helped change that, along with his career. Being the heir apparent made everyone think he didn’t have to work hard, when it was just the opposite. The last thing he wanted was to get into a leadership role via nepotism. The idea was abhorrent.

The London job would go a long way toward his proving his worth, assuming he made a success of it. He would.

He would.

The UK office had been sliding for over a year, and while Fairchild, the current manager, had been given a second chance, he hadn’t brought it up to expectations.

Matt had been thinking about the changes he would’ve made for a while now. Not because he’d hoped the guy would fail. Matt simply had a clear vision of how he’d use the office to tap into the Scandinavian markets where Wilkinson Holdings had yet to find a stronghold.

He wondered if he’d ever convince Sam to visit London. It was one of his favorite cities and he could show her so many things. And if she’d come for a stay, he’d take her to Scotland and Ireland, too. It would be terrific.

That was if she’d leave her work for even a week. Which he couldn’t see her doing. She seemed conjoined to her computer. Any real time away and she got antsy, just like back in school. Logan had mentioned he’d hardly seen Sam during his stay in Boston. Hell, Matt didn’t even have the job yet, so there was no use thinking that far ahead.

Where was she, anyway? She was the one who’d set the time and place. Then again, the only time Sam cared about being punctual was when it was work related, and sometimes not even then. She’d once missed a deadline on her final paper in computer science, but after she turned it in, it had been so great the professor had given her an A regardless. When it concerned someone like Sam, rules became obstacles, and obstacles could be breached. He’d used that philosophy many times since his studies at MIT and Harvard.

Not that he could be much of a rule breaker. He was a Wilkinson, after all. He had a responsibility to uphold the family name. A shrink would probably tell him that was the reason for the reckless hobby he’d picked up back in school. His parents would’ve both had heart attacks had they known about the illegal street/mixed-martial-arts fights Matt had become involved in. Logan had been the one who’d figured out that Matt hadn’t got buff by being on the rowing team.

Matt shook his head. Logan hadn’t exactly been the voice of reason back then, and even he’d thought Matt had lost his mind. Matt did a bit of jumping and a few stretches while he kept an eye on the crowd, the street, hell, the sky, in case she dropped in by helicopter.

Finally, seven minutes after their meet-up time, Sam arrived, breathless and wearing shorts. Tight Lycra shorts that hugged her hips and butt, made extra visible by the short snug top she wore. He tried to look up from that inch of pale flesh that peeked out between her clothes, but it took a minute. “It’s about time,” he said.

“I’m sorry, but it’s your fault.”

“Mine?”

“Come on—let’s start,” she said, leading him onto the running path. Starting at a jog, warming up. He ran beside her for the most part. Except when someone else wanted to share the path, and he had to do the gentlemanly thing and fall back behind Sam.

It was pure luck he didn’t trip and fall flat on his face when he got a view of her from behind. She was every bit as gorgeous as from the front. God bless the weather. It usually didn’t get cold until Halloween, which was still two weeks away.

Once the path was clear again, he moved up beside her. “So why was it my fault you were late?”

“I had to rearrange my schedule for the next month.”

“What? For a run?”

“Not exactly, but because I’m going to be late with the current project—which is really cool nano work, by the way—it set off a chain reaction. Let me tell you, Clark was not happy.”

“I imagine he wasn’t. But thank you.”

“Why?”

“I’m hoping this new schedule will allow you to spend more time with me.”

“It might. A little. If I don’t get stuck on a problem.”

“Understood.” Evidently, that was the signal she’d been waiting for to kick their speed up a notch. Maybe two. He was up for it, though. Maybe he could work out some of the tension her shorts had caused.

“It must be really different since you were here last.”

“What?” He hadn’t noticed much besides the woman next to him.

“The Fens. I mean, it’s all cleaned up. The track. They have so many activities on the green. I come here almost daily, either early morning or at dusk, like now.”

He spared a glance at the park. It was pretty awesome. The waning twilight was turning the leaves into jewels, the grass a solemn green, and the pond, the part he could see, was crystalline.

“I actually have a recorder to take down any ideas that pop up while I’m running,” Sam said, snagging his attention again. “And they usually do. It’s supersmall and hidable and very good at focusing on the speaker and not the atmospheric noises.”

“You’re carrying a recorder?”

“It’s under my top. I’ll show you.”

“Um...the recorder?”

She blinked at him. “Of course the recorder. What did you think?”

Matt smiled. “Are you recording now?”

They parted for a moment to let a small woman with two Irish wolfhounds pass. It was quite a sight. They were nearly bigger than their owner.

The moment he and Sam were back in sync, he looked at her confused expression. “I don’t know, Sammy. You’re really good at keeping my ego in check. It’s the first time in years we’re together and you can’t just be present here and now?”

Her shock came as something of a surprise.

“No, wait. It’s fine. I get it. I work a lot, too, and downtime is more of an idea than a practice. I sprang myself on you, and I’m sorry I caused you to change your schedule.” He lightly bumped her elbow. “Tell you what. How about we at least grab a drink before I have to leave?”

Her pace slowed, and she was looking down instead of at the path ahead.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty,” he said. “I honestly understand what it’s like to be buried in work.”

He hoped she believed him. Not spending time with her would be a disappointment, more than he’d imagined before he’d seen her again. But now, when he realized the attraction thing wasn’t going away, he needed to be careful. Her legs in those shorts? Her hair in a goddamn ponytail? Jesus. Yes, he’d do them both a favor by backing off.

She still hadn’t said anything, which was worrisome, but he recalled that back in school she’d get quiet like this when she was trying to absorb new information or solve a problem. It gave him time to notice that almost every guy they passed was staring at her.

After an uncomfortable few minutes he saw they were checking her out both coming and going. One asshole was being a particular jerk and Matt gave him a warning look. The guy ignored him.

Matt shook his head with a wry grin. “You’re going to get me in trouble again, aren’t you,” he muttered under his breath.

“What? What are you talking about?”

He hadn’t meant for her to hear. “Uh, the guys who are ogling you as if they’ve never seen a woman before?”

“What guys?”

“All of them?”

A short bark of laughter sent her head back and her ponytail swinging. “You’re imagining things. If anything, they’re probably staring at you. And what did you mean by getting you in trouble again?”

“You know, that time I got the shiner. Back in the day?”

“I remember, but that had nothing to do with me.”

“Are you joking? Of course it did.”

“I wasn’t even there. You were at a soccer game and some fans got rowdy. You also had a split lip and a good-size bruise on your chin. I think Logan got hurt, too. Rick was the only smart one and stayed out of it.”

The hell he had. Matt snorted a laugh. Rick had jumped in neck deep right along with him and Logan. The bastard had just got lucky and come out of the fight without a scratch.

It dawned on Matt that they’d lied to her about that night. A group of jocks had said some pretty nasty things about Sam, so the three of them had taken care of the problem, then made up the soccer story. Those guys had never bothered her again.

She’d got awfully quiet.

Matt looked over at her. She wasn’t at his side.

He looked back. She hadn’t just slowed down; she’d come to a dead stop in the middle of the path.

And she looked pissed. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was nothing.”

“Matt. Tell me. I can see it was no soccer game.”

He walked back to her and pulled her to the side of the path so others could run through. “Look, none of us wanted you to know. That group, Kenny and his crowd, the jocks that used to come by? They said some stuff we didn’t like. I admit I threw the first punch. But that was Logan’s fault.”

Sam’s brows turned downward and she started walking toward the exit. He just had room to be at her side.

“What did Logan do?” she asked.

“He told me to stand back so I wouldn’t get my ‘pretty face’ messed up. Of course I had to take the first shot. I got the shiner when I turned to flip Logan off and Kenny sucker punched me.”

Sam stopped again and stared at him, her expression completely neutral. Until she burst out laughing.

“Why is that funny?”

“I didn’t give a crap what those idiots said. I knew Kenny and his buddy Mark, and between them they couldn’t come up with a grammatically correct sentence. How they got into MIT is anyone’s guess.”

She shook her head. Then her red-tinged eyebrows came together again. “Although I might have been hurt if they’d said really ugly things. I was pretty naive at the time. So thank you for defending my honor. And quite literally taking it on the chin.”

He smiled, warmed by her thanks, her blush. The way the sun’s last rays made her hair shiny like copper and her face golden. He couldn’t help brushing a few strands of hair away from her eyes. “Anytime, Sammy.” He nodded to the exit, just a few feet away. They’d clocked only about four miles, which meant they had some time. “So, what do you say about dinner?”

“Later,” Sam said, not looking pleased. “Maybe.”

“Come on, Sammy. We can get some takeout on the next street. We could eat it in a cab to your place, and then I’ll take the cab back to the apartment.”

“Eat in the back of a cab? No, thank you.”

“Okay, we won’t eat it until we’re at your place.”

She sighed and led him out into the bustle of downtown Boston, where she didn’t stop until she hit the curb and raised her hand for a taxi.

“So,” he said. “You leave me no choice. I’ll have to call Clark to make sure you’re getting the kind of nutrition that’ll put a little meat on those bones.”

She brought her hand down and faced him. “Matthew. When I was a kid, you and the other guys were the best thing I could have asked for. What you three did for my annoying self was beyond wonderful. And you’re right. Back then I needed the nudge now and again. Okay, a lot. But I’m a grown woman now. I don’t need you or Clark or anyone telling me when I should eat. If I’m hungry, I get food. Yes, sometimes I forget or skip a meal—everyone does. But I’m healthy, I assure you. I can take care of myself. No one needs to tell me what to do. Understand?”

She turned and threw her right hand into the air again, and a cab pulled up within seconds.

“Yes. I understand. I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant any disrespect.”

“I know that, you idiot.” She went to the taxi door but didn’t open it. Yet.

“Old habit—you got me there,” he said. “That won’t happen again.”

“Thanks. But I really do have to work. I’ll grab something on the way—”

“Yeah, but—”

“What did I just tell you about me being a grown woman?” She opened the passenger door. “Tomorrow. We’ll have dinner tomorrow.” Then she grabbed his shirt, pulled him down a few inches and kissed him square on the mouth. It wasn’t a long kiss, and there was no tongue involved, but it shocked the shit out of him, and by the look on her face as she pulled back, her, too.

After clearing her throat, she darted into the taxi. But before the door slammed, she said, “Thank you for caring.”

Matt put his hand on the edge of the passenger door. He stared at her for a few seconds. “Now you’ve done it, kiddo. I will find a way to know this new, beautiful grown-up woman. You can count on it.” Then he stepped back to the curb and watched her taxi drive away until it became a blur among other yellow blurs.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, then remembered he needed a ride home, too.

* * *

THE PICTURE ON Sam’s computer showed a 3-D bridge being built by a Swedish company she followed on Facebook. Their printer was several levels above her new baby. The bridge had thrilled her when she’d first set eyes on it yesterday, and she’d immediately thought of seven different things she could build. She’d have to get a different kind of 3-D printer, but that was okay. When it came to work, she had no hesitation in buying the latest and best equipment. It was also the time she was most grateful about her success. Well, buying fancy printers could never compete with the day she’d bought a house in Cape Cod for her parents. That had been sweet, especially because she’d been able to keep it a secret until the paperwork went through. Talk about a great surprise.

Kind of like the surprise on Matt’s face after she’d kissed him.

She’d kissed him.

Kissed Matt.

With her own lips. It wasn’t anything epic. Not a Titanic kiss or a Mr. Darcy kiss, but she’d kissed him!

What the hell had she been thinking?

It wasn’t even the kiss that was going to do her in, although she’d often thought that if she ever got the opportunity, she would literally die and go to heaven. But no. She was still here. Clark wasn’t, which was good. All she needed was to have Clark come back for something or other he’d forgotten. Pity he didn’t live farther away. When he caught her working late, he scolded her until she quit. Speaking of being scolded...

She’d said she was a grown-up. A woman to be reckoned with. That last part was implied. But it was all out there now.

A stand. That was what she’d taken. A STAND.

Which meant she had to start acting like a grown-up. Not just with Matt, either. She needed to dive into the role with her whole heart. Until even Clark understood he had no right to scold her for anything.

Oh, God.

It wasn’t just taking the stand or kissing Matt on the mouth that was going to cause havoc. She’d changed the ground rules. She’d never—

The broken record of her thoughts jumped to another track. The words he’d spoken at the end. Calling her “kiddo”—that was pretty clever. But his challenge? How could he possibly get to know the grown-up version of herself unless she was that person?

Maybe she’d—

The door opened. Clark. Of course. He frowned at her as he went to his desk. “Why are you wearing your running gear?”

She looked down in surprise, but yes, he was right. “I went running. I just got back a little while ago.”

“Okay,” he said, still glowering as if she’d stolen the Arkenstone. “And didn’t you say you were going to get some sleep?”

“Well, yes, Clark, I did. And I will. I mean, why does everyone want to tell me what to do? I’m fine. I’m great. Fit as a fiddle. I’m not a waif begging for a meal. I said I would get to sleep early and—”

“It’s eleven forty.”

Everything in her brain stopped with a screech. Eleven forty? Holy... “P.m.?”

“Yes, p.m.”

Sighing loudly, her head fell to her upraised hands. When the internal lashing ended, she said, “Why are you here so late?”

“I forgot my Deadpool comics for Jay.”

She nodded a little. Boys and their toys. Who was she to talk? She had the entire series of Buffy Dark Horse comics and far too many other collections. Graphic novels. Bobbleheads. Wonder Woman action figure. Lego sets from Star Wars and Star Trek. She moaned again and looked up, hoping Clark was gone, but no luck. He continued to scowl.

“You practicing for the Dour Looks Olympics? You can do better.”

“I’m just reminding you of the things you asked me to.”

“When I was a teenager. Maybe it’s time to stop. It’s been ten years, and you’ve been great at it, but maybe it’s time I take responsibility for my life.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He thought about it for an achingly long time. But finally said, “Let’s go a week. Then revisit.”

She wanted to lay into him so bad, but she held back like an adult. Clark might have a point. She did miss a lot of meals when he was away. But that was then and this was Matt, so... “Fine. One week.”

How hard could it be?


5 (#ulink_ce890694-e5cf-5383-87db-9a43098ab26a)

SAM BRUSHED A hand down her dress one last time before she walked into Row 34. That Matt had made a reservation for the same day was impressive, but then, the Wilkinson name was a powerful thing in Boston. She had arrived early, as she’d planned, which would give her time to rehearse so she’d be ready when Matt arrived.

The gleaming restaurant was already packed. She scoped out the crowd as she followed the host, her way illuminated by a long row of low-hanging lights. The industrial-chic seafood place hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d been there, although the clientele seemed more upscale.

When she finally reached their table, Matt stood by his chair, smiling at her as if his early arrival hadn’t ruined her chance to prepare. Damn. She clutched her purse, feeling the two stacks of three-by-five-inch cards she’d painstakingly filled with alternative versions of the speech she planned to make. Version A was simple. A nice but firm message that while it was lovely to see him, she had to put work first, so this would be their only dinner, but before he left Boston, they could meet for a drink. Period. Version B, on the other hand, wasn’t simple at all.

She couldn’t resist Matt’s smile, and her heart couldn’t help jumping with a mixture of excitement and want whenever she was in his presence. If she’d thought he was her dream man when she was sixteen, he was proving to be even more tempting to her at twenty-nine. God, he looked mouthwatering in his linen shirt tucked into worn jeans, with a sports jacket that pulled it all together perfectly. Matt had style coming out the wazoo and she was so glad she’d found her wrap dress still in the dry-cleaner bag.

She thanked the host and took her seat. Pointing to the brochure that sat in the middle of the table, she said, “You brought that?”

“I did,” he said as he settled into his chair. “We’ll talk about it later, if that’s okay. First, you look beautiful. That’s a great dress.”

“Thanks,” she said, willing herself to take the compliment and not tell him anything about the dry cleaner. “I got it for a security conference. I had to make a presentation.”

“I bet you wowed them.”

“It was cool because I was talking to techheads. They got it. When I had to talk to the CEOs...that was tricky. They all got glassy-eyed and kept checking their watches. Interestingly, almost all of them committed to buying stuff when they clearly didn’t understand how it worked.”

“Men are such idiots,” Matt said.

Sam not only laughed but had an instant flashback to learning the art of dry humor from the man himself. Matt had been her gold standard, that by which she measured all humor. Except coding humor, which was always funny.

“It’s so good to hear you laugh. Laughter is like fingerprints, I think. No two people do it exactly the same.” He was quiet for a moment, took a sip of water, then met her gaze. “Although yours has matured,” he said, his voice low and thoughtful. “Like a fine wine.”

“Hmm,” she sniffed. “According to Clark, my whining has become my defining trait.”

Matt shook his head, his eyes on her the whole time. “I never remember you whining. The only thing you ever bitched about was gaming. Or comics. Never work. You loved solving problems.”

So why couldn’t she solve her Matt problem? Now that she was looking at him, it was doubly hard to execute plan A, which was also known as the Parachute Plan. The one that would eject her from the temptation and the turmoil, the nights of guilt-ridden masturbation.

At the mere thought, her cheeks felt hotter. She hid behind the menu, although she might have been too late. “Oh. They’ve changed the menu since I was here last. Did you see?”

“I’ve never been here. But— Never mind.”

She uncovered her face. “No. No fair. Finish.”

“Where’s the waiter? I want some of that concierge beer.”

“Tell me. I’ll just annoy you until you do.”

He laughed. “Good to know some things never change. Fine. I looked up the restaurant on Yelp. And TripAdvisor. And Facebook. And Chowhound.”

She didn’t want to laugh, but of course she did. “What did they say?”

“Eat here. Great oysters, great beer, great lobster roll.”

“And with the addition of their incredible onion rings, you’ve just described what I’m going to order.”

He smiled at her and covered her hand with his. She hadn’t realized that she was leaning forward. Not boobs-on-the-table forward, but enough. He had really nice hands. They were big, with long, strong fingers and neat cuticles. His hands looked much better than hers. But keeping manicures took time. Besides, she rarely had reason to give much of a damn about her appearance.

Not that he seemed to care about her nails. The way he was looking at her, his dark eyes somehow darker even though the lighting wasn’t that bright, plan B—where she had just enough sex with him to get him out of her system—was sounding better and better.

Their waiter, Xander, arrived. He called Matt “Mr. Wilkinson” and put bread and butter on the table before he told them the specials. In the end, the only difference between her order and Matt’s was beer. He wanted the pilsner; she wanted the lager. Of far more importance was the fact that he’d moved his hand from hers, and she wanted it back. Now.

Which was not good. Not good at all. She’d have to go with plan A if she was going to survive his visit. At least she’d still have her imagination and her vibrator.

Taking in a nice deep breath, she quoted verbatim from her first three-by-five card. “It’s been really good catching up with—”

“Hey, I forgot— Oh, sorry.” He nodded at her. “Go ahead.”

“That’s okay. You go.”

“We’re building a new hotel in London. A big one, with over a thousand rooms. There’s an existing hotel but we’re stripping it down to the foundation and starting over. It’s across the street from where they hold London Comic Con. I can’t be any help next year, but the year after that, I can hook you up with a suite and food, even a limo pickup from the airport. Anything you want.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I thought of you when we were putting the deal together. Have you been?”

“To the London con? Yes. Two years ago. I was on a panel for the game I helped design. It’s all about lady dragons. Pretty awesome stuff. But yeah, it was fantastic. My only trip there and I didn’t get to see much of the city at all.”

“I think we should try to fix that. And also, you worked on a video game about lady dragons? That must have been—”

“A dream come true. It really was. It doesn’t do all that well as a story, though, because it’s pretty technical.”





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