Breaking the Ice

Chapter 17

17

“Do you think it’s inappropriate to have erotic daydreams about your boss when he’s talking to you?”

“No. I think it’s inappropriate to have them and do nothing about it.”

“I can hardly jump him in the middle of the shop, Bec.”

“Of course not, there’s a back room isn’t there?”

Samantha laughed. “And what do we do about the customers?”

“Put a back-in-five-minutes sign on the door.”

“Gee, thanks, but I was kinda hoping it might last longer than five minutes.”

“Hey, never underestimate the complete and total sexual high you can get from a quickie. I think they’re underrated.”

“Forget it, Bec.” Samantha sighed. “I’m not going there when I know any relationship would have a short shelf life. Anyway, it’s just my eggs talking. I don’t really want Nick.”

“Careful Sam, I can hear your nose growing.”

“Okay, I do but… it’s not as easy as all that. I like our friendship. If we cross that line for good then it’ll never be the same again. We’ve already kissed and I’m pretty sure I may have propositioned him under the influence of vodka recently and there’s this increasingly weird vibe between us. And Ray should be stuffing up right about now so it won’t be long until I’m gone, and he’s a freaking hockey god who’ll be out of here come September.”

“Okay, fine. But couldn’t you both just have a bit of fun together in the meantime?”

“But what if I miss the guy who wants to have babies with me because I’m too busy having fun with Nick?”

“Then maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Oh God, Bec. You sound like Nick now. I’m getting a little sick of the whole it’ll-happen-when-it’s-meant-to-happen philosophy.”

“Maybe he has a point?”

“Or maybe he’s a guy who’s worked out the perfect way to avoid any kind of commitment and will probably end up old and alone.”

“Alone doesn’t have to be bad, Sam. I have four kids, five if you count their father who can be extraordinarily childlike from time to time, and alone sounds divine.”

“Well I don’t want to do alone, Bec. I want a baby.”

“Hey, you’ll always have us. Which reminds me, I popped a gift in the mail for you from Jess. She made you something in art class.”

“Aww, how sweet.”

“Don’t get too excited, she is only five remember.”

“I’ll love it whatever it is.”

“Well… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Samantha hurried to work. She was running late. She’d slept through her alarm because she’d been in the middle of a particularly horny dream about Nick. Did women have wet dreams? Because if they did she’d just had her first!

Placing her hand on the doorknob, she took a deep breath, quelling yet another re-run of the dream. She had to work with him today. She would be totally useless if she let her dream replace reality. He was her friend, not a pirate. She was a plain Jane nobody, not a beautiful wealthy princess. They worked together, he had not kidnapped her to hold for ransom. And he never had, nor was likely to, tie her up and seduce her.

No matter how much she might want him to.

Get a grip, Samantha!

Unfortunately, he was the first thing she saw as she walked in and he looked at her like he had in the dream just before he had picked her up, thrown her over his shoulder and taken her to his bedchamber and said?—

“What on earth are you wearing?”

She blinked. “Wh… what?”

“Around your neck.”

Samantha struggled to bring herself out of the sexual morass of the fantasy and absently stroked her neck. Her niece’s necklace hung there in all its garish splendor. Made from broken cannelloni tubes that had been dyed black, it looked like the mandible of a prehistoric beast complete with rotting fangs.

“Jess made me a necklace at school. I promised her I’d wear it today.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Black?”

She shrugged. “It’s her favorite color.”

“Is Bec not worried about that?”

Samantha almost smiled at the familiar way he mentioned her sister. As if he knew her. Which of course he didn’t. But she supposed he felt like he did given how often she talked about Bec and the kids. “Nothing much worries Bec. She figures it’s just a stage.”

“She sounds like a pretty cool mom.”

“She is.” Samantha brushed past him to offload her bag in the back room, glad to end the conversation. It was absurd to be jealous of Bec and especially ironic considering that Bec was a little jealous of her and her footloose and fancy-free lifestyle.

Why was the grass always greener?

She picked up the feather duster and took a deep breath. Must. Act. Normal . Must not think about what had happened in the dream. Must pretend did not fantasize about being ravaged by Nick all night.

“Oh, so you’re going to keep it on?” Nick glanced at the necklace.

“Yes.” Samantha didn’t glance at him as she answered, just disappeared into some shelves. “I told her I would wear it, so I’m wearing it.”

“She lives in Denver. She’ll never know.”

“She’ll know.”

“She’s five!”

Samantha suppressed the glow she got from Nick knowing her niece’s age. “ I’ll know.”

“You’ll scare the customers.”

Samantha sighed. Nick obviously didn’t understand his client base or the emotional connection women had with children. Take that, eggs . Ever since the kiss they had been fixated on Nick, but this proved he’d be lousy father material.

Quit whining about him already.

Samantha peeped at him from between the shelves as she dusted. “The customers are female. They’ll think it’s cute and sweet and will come back because that girl at Birdie’s was wearing a particularly horrendous piece of edible art around her neck that her five-year-old niece made for her. The grannies will love it. Think of it as a marketing strategy.”

“Hmm.” He looked dubious. “If you say so.”

“Nick.” She strode to the end of an aisle, shoving her hands on her hips, exasperated. “You have a gazillion nieces and nephews. You should know this stuff.”

His gaze fell to her necklace again and then lower and she was rooted to the spot by that stare until the bell dinged, breaking the weird inertia.

“Samantha, how are you today, dear?” Dulcie asked in her crackly voice.

“Never better, Dulcie.” And you have excellent timing.

“Oh, look at your necklace, how gorgeous. Did one of Bec’s girls make that for you?”

“Jessica,” she confirmed, shooting Nick an I-told-you-so look over the old lady’s head.

“What a sweet girl you are, wearing something so ugly because little fingers made it so lovingly. Isn’t she sweet, Nick?”

“Like apple pie,” he agreed with teeth gritted, causing Samantha to smile despite herself.

“The things we do for kin,” Dulcie said with a smile as she headed for her dose of Barbara.

The morning was busy, which didn’t allow for much chat between the two of them with suited Samantha just fine; she was still pissed at Nick anyway. She couldn’t really articulate why other than the fact he was everywhere including, now, apparently, in her dreams.

Wasn’t it bad enough she had eight hours of salivating at work? She’d lost count of the number of times he had brushed past her and she’d wanted to yank him behind a bookshelf and kiss him senseless. Or a muscled arm would come into view and the urge to lick it was almost overwhelming.

At the first sign of a lull, Nick announced, “I’m going to Martha’s. One friand or two?”

Samantha looked up from cataloging books out the back. “None, thank you.”

“ Really? ”

“I’m on a diet.” She wasn’t but the surprise in his voice, like he couldn’t believe she could go without a goddamn friand, irritated her even more.

Her eggs were being really bitchy today.

“I thought you were okay with your curves these days?”

“We have a love-hate relationship.” Which was not a lie. The constant battle and internal chatter about her round hips and thick thighs never went away fully. One moment she was fine with them, the next she wasn’t. It was exhausting, frankly.

“Well, if it helps, I think they’re awesome.”

No, it did not help. “That’s because you don’t have to wear them,” she replied waspishly.

He departed with a shrug and her stomach grumbled and the urge to kick over a bookshelf rose like a vengeful beast. Great! Now she was going to have to pretend to be on a stupid diet because she couldn’t tell him the truth.

I’d much rather gnaw on one of your biceps, Nick, if you don’t mind.

Nick got the hell out of the shop. Samantha was in a strange mood today. In fact, there’d been a strange kind of vibe between them for a while. Since the alley. Kissing her had been a mistake. Going to her apartment the night of the vibrator – forever to be known as V-Day – had been a mistake.

The closer he got to Sam the closer he wanted to get. And Samantha and her eggs weren’t in his plans. Nor was he in hers.

It was good to get out and breathe in the fresh air and sunshine and put some distance between them. Inside the store everything revolved around Sam. Outside the store with people recognizing him, he remembered he had a professional sporting career to get back to.

Distance – that was all he’d needed. Distance.

From gnarled pasta and those curves. From pirates and tattoos. From her eggs and their wacky demands. Next time the desire to push her behind the shelves and kiss her senseless came over him, he’d just step outside.

Easy.

Nick decided against a friand for a change, buying a lemon meringue tartlet instead and returning with it to Birdie’s in case the lull had ended. It hadn’t so, ignoring the daggers coming from her direction, he wolfed it down at the counter, the sweetness of the fluffy meringue and the tartness of the lemon dragging an appreciative moan from his throat.

“Hmm.” Nick stretched, drumming his fingers on his belly. “That was good .”

Sam glanced at him from the couch where she was reading what must be her hundredth Larry and Stretch , her gaze coming to rest on his hand. Not just rest but linger.

His fingers stilled. Hell, his breath stilled.

But then her eyes lifted, flicking upwards, meeting his briefly before returning to her book and he wondered if it had happened at all.

“You have food on your mouth,” she murmured as she turned a page.

Nick watched her read, apparently engrossed and so damn detached, unlike himself who was practically humming from the hot sweep of her gaze. Looking at her now, no one would ever guess that she’d kissed him passionately in an alley and practically thrown herself at him after the vibrator debacle.

Not that she appeared to remember the incident. She certainly hadn’t mentioned it.

Irked suddenly, Nick wanted her to look at him. He wanted her to look at him like she had that night in the alley. Like she had when she’d propositioned him after a half bottle of vodka.

“Here?” he asked, deliberately pointing to the wrong spot.

She looked up, glaring at him impatiently, the exact opposite of the alley, yet he felt gratified in some bizarre kind of way by any response. “Other side,” she said derisively as she returned her attention to the book.

Nick licked it off, not wanting to push her any further. Jesus. Hadn’t he just decided on a distance strategy? Why was he goading her? And why was she in such a mood?

“You haven’t forgotten we’re going to the Book Fair this afternoon?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nope.”

“You’re not going to” – his eyes dropped to the necklace – “wear that are you?”

Another glower as she eyed him. “Absolutely. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.”

Nick held his hands up in surrender. He wasn’t entirely sure why she was so pissed at him today, just that she was. She was acting irrationally, like a… guy who hadn’t been laid in ages.

And on that he could most definitely relate .