Breaking the Ice

Chapter 27

27

“Martha’s Teahouse won a stay of execution.”

“That’s fab, Sam. Looks like you get to feed your addiction for a little longer.”

“Yes, thanks to Nick. I’m sure his high profile helped.”

“Nick to the rescue, huh? He’s a regular knight in shining armor.”

“Bec,” Samantha warned.

“Not saying a word.”

Samantha snorted. “The most opinionated woman in the world suddenly struck mute.”

“What do you want me to say? I can only nag for so long. The rest is up to you.”

“I’m not so sure he wants me anymore. It’s been a week since the protest and having to deal with me in the throes of the worst period on record wasn’t exactly sexy.”

“Well that’s easily figured out. Get him to set you up with another blind date.”

Samantha groaned. “No. Enough already with the blind dates.” The thought of going out with someone other than Nick was depressing as hell. “I can’t take another one.”

“I didn’t say go on one. I said ask Nick to find you one. Watch how he reacts. If he comes over all no-freaking-way then you’ll know.”

Samantha frowned. “Hmmm, maybe.”

“Ha! That means yes. Let me know how it goes.”

The next morning Nick almost swallowed his tongue as Samantha strolled into the bookshop wearing an exceptionally tight tee. It was as if the world’s most powerful magnet had been imbedded into his eyeballs and Sam’s chest was made of metal. Round, soft, warm, squishy, tactile, jiggly, fascinating-as-hell metal.

Holy crap.

This was ridiculous. He’d never wanted to touch a woman so badly. Hell, he’d been celibate for months . And, right now, with Sam in that shirt, his testicles were excruciatingly aware of every second. How was he supposed to go back to Canada and concentrate on hockey with balls bluer than the Crabbers jerseys?

Sure, he could go out tonight and find some woman to bed. But he didn’t want some woman. He wanted Samantha.

He’d been trying not to crowd her since the day Dulcie and Kelly had burst into the shop, thinking that the fight for Martha’s would give her the space she needed to process things. But surely by now she had to realize that this thing between them wasn’t going to go away? And that it had nothing to do with her eggs.

And if she didn’t – too bad. This tension had gone on long enough.

She came out from the back carrying a small pile of books, her hair loose around her shoulders looking like a walking wet dream. Spotting him, she said, “Hey, what’s happening with the blind dates? It’s been a while.”

Nick stared at her as she placed a hand on her hip and cocked it, the fabric of her shirt pulling even tauter across her breasts and thought, over my dead fucking body .

“I’m sorry?”

“My eggs, Nick. Remember? Cheeping, getting older, dying. Jeez, focus.”

Focus ? Nick wasn’t sure if he wanted to shake her or push her against the wall and show her things that would keep her eggs in stupefied subservience forever. “I’m done with the dates. You want to keep going with your harebrained scheme, fine.” Although, it wasn’t fine . The thought of her kiss testing another man made him want to throw things. “Count me out.”

She blinked at him and for long moments they just stared at each other and he remembered how good it felt pushing into her slow and thick and he was sure from the sudden haze in her gray eyes she was remembering too and his pulse thudded like a drum through his head. Her gaze drifted to his mouth and his breath hitched and he took a step toward her.

Then the bell dinged.

In walked Dulcie, greeting them chirpily, and Samantha dragged her gaze off him to welcome the octogenarian, who was utterly oblivious to the screeching friction.

“She has a habit of doing that,” he growled quietly as Dulcie disappeared into the Barbara Cartland section.

“Uh huh.”

Nick closed the gap between them, his hand sliding to her arm. He was definitely sure now that was desire in her eyes. “This isn’t over,” he muttered.

“Uh huh,” she repeated, all breathy.

He leaned in. “Go, before I drag you into the back room and Dulcie Reardon be damned.”

She disappeared fast, seeking refuge with Dulcie and Barbara Cartland, leaving Nick amused, be mused and seriously fucking frustrated.

Thanks to the recent publicity from the protest, Birdie’s was now firmly on the map so it was a busy morning but still, Samantha was excruciatingly aware of Nick’s every move. From the moment his gaze had zeroed in on her breasts she could feel the tension radiating off him. From his clenched jaw to the gravelly menace in his voice, his usual level of raw sexiness had morphed into something even more potent and had ticked around them like a time bomb.

At eleven they hit their first lull and Samantha glanced up from the till as Nick shut and locked the door with an ominous thunk. Their eyes met across the room and Samantha swallowed as he advanced slowly, her eggs trembling in anticipation.

God, how could she want this so much when it scared the bejesus out of her? They didn’t want the same things out of life. Why were her eggs so freaking dumb ? They weren’t going to get what they wanted from Nick.

The phone rang and Samantha almost dropped it in her haste to answer it. “Good morning, you’ve reached Birdie’s Second-Hand Romance Bookshop, this is Samantha.”

Was she stalling for time? With Nick staring at her like he could see right through her clothes at the moment? Heck yeah!

“Sammy? It’s… it’s Ray. Do you have a moment?”

Samantha, staring at Nick as he folded his arms and watched her through narrowed eyes, took a few seconds to compute who was on the other end of the call. Then a slow smile spread across her face. “No Ray , I’m very , very busy.”

Nick raised an eyebrow at the mention of the caller’s name, an expression of surprise replacing his brooding sexiness.

“I really need to discuss some issues with a couple of accounts,” Ray whined in her ear.

Samantha heard the desperate squeak in his voice and pictured him squirming in his seat. Her seat. In her corner office. “I’m sorry Ray, but I don’t work there anymore.”

“Sammy, please. Bob’s on the warpath.”

“I’m not surprised. I did try to warn him about you.”

“I just need some help with a few numbers.”

“Alright, alright. Have you got a pen?” She waited for him to grab one. “Take these ones down… three, nine, one, nine, seven, three, four, three.”

“What are these for?”

“For Bob. Tell him he can get me on that number when he fires your sorry ass.”

Then she dropped the receiver back on its cradle with the greatest satisfaction and burst into the hugest grin. “Did you hear that?”

Samantha clapped her hands excitedly as she walked toward Nick, too energized with jubilation and vindication to stay still. “Ray is positively peeing his pants. Not long now.”

Then, with her excess of energy, she launched herself at his chest, her hands clasping around his neck, hugging him tight. Friends hugged, right? After a beat he picked her up so her feet just lifted off the floor and twirled her around.

“That’s wonderful news.”

Samantha looked up into his handsome face as he let her go. She was breathy from the laughing and the twirling and the excitement and her heart was full looking at him, sharing this moment of triumph with him and hell if she didn’t want to just push up on her tiptoes and kiss his lips off. Even if it would complicate her feelings even more.

The way he was looking at her mouth, she was certain he felt the same way.

Except when she raised herself up, he awkwardly stepped away and she stumbled a little, her cheeks flaming at the rejection. Man, had she read that one wrong.

She brushed her hands down her jeans, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. “I’ve got some… cataloging to do… out back.” Samantha pointed behind as though he’d forgotten where the cataloging happened. “I’ll just… attend to it.”

And she turned on her heel before she did something awful like cry.

Samantha was leaning against the sink, her back to the door when she sensed his presence a few minutes later and she gripped the metal of the sink hard.

“Sam.”

She shut her eyes. “It’s okay, Nick. You don’t have to say anything.”

“No… I do. Look. I’m sorry about before. I wanted to… I didn’t trust myself not to…” He stopped on an exasperated-sounding sigh. “Damn it, will you turn around.”

Samantha wanted to face him about as much as she wanted a hole drilled in her head. But she turned anyway, because it was best to just get this over with. “What? Just say it.”

He looked like he was trying to find the right words and Samantha girded her loins.

“I think you’re gorgeous and sexy and amazing. And I sure as shit do not want to set you up on another date. In fact, when I think about you with someone else, I want to smash things.”

He shoved a hand through his hair and Samantha realized her sister was right. The blind date thing had pushed his buttons.

“But,” he continued, “it looks like you’re about to get your career back and I’m back to Canada next month and not interested in babies and so I thought it might be best to take a step back and not complicate things.”

Samantha knew he was right. He’d made it very plain that recreation, not procreation, was his thing, which certainly wouldn’t keep her eggs happy but suddenly she just didn’t care. At least not more than she cared about these wild, tangled feelings for Nick.

And suddenly a weight lifted off her shoulders. “So… what you’re saying is you wanted to kiss me before, you were just being a good guy?”

“Shh.” He laughed. “Coach wouldn’t be happy if that got out. But yes.” Pushing off the doorframe, he strode to where she stood, stopping a foot away. “I want to kiss you all the damn time. I want to do everything with you all the damn time.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and quirked an eyebrow. “Your turn now.”

Samantha smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Me too.” God help her. “All the time.”

They grinned at each other for a few moments. “And the baby thing?”

She shrugged. “It seems my body is more into you than procreating right now.”

His smile was slow and lazy then, like he knew this was the moment to seize and he was going to grab it with both hands. “So… where to now?”

Samantha didn’t know. The fact that someone like Nick had confessed an attraction to her was a head spin. Someone with her inner monologue was always going to find it difficult to compute that a gorgeous hunk of manhood could be in to her. So maybe it was best they didn’t go straight to the end goal like they had the night of her birthday.

“Do you mind if we take it slow? In case you hadn’t noticed, I have hang-ups.”

He snorted. “Now there’s an understatement.”

She laughed at his playful derision. “I think if I get used to being… naked with you bit by bit…” God. She and Nick were going to get naked together. Eep! “It might help.”

“Absolutely.”

He closed the distance between them until he was standing as close as he could without touching her and Samantha’s heart skipped several beats.

“I propose a plan,” he murmured. “Until you say otherwise, we just spend time kissing. Nothing else.” He leaned in until his lips were the merest whisker from hers. “Just my lips on yours. No hands.” He shoved them back in his pockets. “Just mouths.”

He was so close puffs of warm air brushed her face and she could smell his morning coffee on his breath. “Okay,” she agreed huskily. “Can we start straight away?”

“Fuck yes,” he muttered and took her mouth, his body pressing down the length of hers.

There were no words then, just kisses. A slow meld that had them both breathing hard in seconds. Samantha’s hands gripped the edge of the sink; Nick’s stayed firmly in his pockets.

The kiss deepened and Samantha moaned and shifted against him restlessly. His hands left his pockets, sliding in next to hers, effectively caging her against the sink.

“Is this okay?” he asked as he broke away.

Samantha nodded, without taking her eyes off his mouth, which was satisfyingly wet. “Yes,” she panted. “God, yes. Don’t stop.”

And she kissed him again with a ferocity she didn’t even know she had.

A sharp rap at the front door broke into their passion like a car alarm in a parking lot. They pulled apart as if they were teenagers that had been caught necking by their parents. Then they both laughed as Nick pressed his forehead to hers.

“I’ll go open up.” He kissed her forehead. “You need to fix your lipstick.”

Over the next few days, Samantha gave up putting lipstick on altogether. Every alone working moment they had was spent kissing each other’s lips off. Perversely of course, due to the protest publicity and people suddenly being aware Hawkeye was in town and working at a local romance bookshop, they were having their busiest week on record. Which meant they were continuously stopping and starting, raising the tension to screaming point.

Their plan had quite a few more rules as time progressed. By the end of the first day Samantha had proposed the first amendment.

“I propose that we’re allowed to use our hands but only the waist up and we must stay fully clothed.”

“I like it,” said Nick, immediately taking advantage to cup a breast, rubbing his thumb over the nipple.

“Oh, God!” Samantha’s eyes practically rolled back in her head. “Why didn’t I think of this sooner?” she whispered before pushing him against the wall and grazing her fingernails down his chest.

The next morning, after a night of frustrating erotic dreams, Samantha’s hand wandered down to cup Nick’s fabulous ass. It felt so firm and male and she squeezed it because his kisses were driving her wild and she wanted him so badly.

He broke away. “Nuh uh, Sam,” he teased. “Waist up, remember.”

“That is such a stupid rule,” she murmured against his lips. “Let’s make it knees up.”

“Hell yes,” he agreed readily.

As if to demonstrate the new rule, his hands slipped to her ass, hitching her in close to his very obvious erection. Samantha moaned and rubbed herself along its length like some kind of wildling but oh , she ached to feel him inside her again.

“But still clothed, right?” he muttered.

“Right,” she admitted, breathless from the sheer size of him and the memory of how he had felt. “Clothes on… definitely.”

By the end of the next day, they’d worked out that they could still stay clothed but get the skin-to-skin contact their bodies craved as Nick’s hand slipped under her T-shirt to her bra. A hot jolt rocked through her pelvis and she so desperately wanted to rip her shirt off that she didn’t protest his bending of the rules.

In fact, she figured if he was doing it then so could she.

Another night of frustrated sleeplessness ensued and Samantha walked into the shop the next day one small spark away from complete ignition. She’d taken a few paces toward the back room when Nick’s arm appeared from between the bookshelves and yanked her in with him, subjecting her to a long, deep lingering kiss and, before she knew it, the spark had flared and she was on fire .

Wanting him, needing him.

“I was thinking about the clothed rule,” he said between kisses.

“Oh yes?” She pulled away, breathless. “You have another amendment?”

“I do and it just so happens you’ve worn the perfect shirt to demonstrate.”

“I did?” She looked at her black linen Dolce & Gabbana blouse.

“Uh huh,” he said, kissing her neck and slowly undoing the top button. He stopped for a moment to admire the view he’d created before kissing the other side of her neck and undoing the next one. “I was thinking that I could undo your buttons but you’d still be fully clothed, right?”

He undid two more.

“I mean, theoretically.” The last button popped free. “Your shirt would still be on.”

Samantha thought it was a very clever way around the rules and she gazed at the buttons on Nick’s shirt. “So I guess the same would apply to you?”

“Oh, look at that.” He grinned at her. “I have buttons, too.”

Returning his grin, Samantha made short work of his buttons, pressing her mouth to his chest as each magnificent inch was revealed. When his shirt was finally open, she pushed it aside with both hands and licked his chest from the flat of his dragon-decorated smooth pectoral to the hard ridge of his collarbone.

She’d been wanting to do that since her birthday debacle.

That was all the encouragement Nick needed. Going slow had been a whole new experience for someone used to getting naked as soon as possible. But this slow tease had been out- fucking -standing. Excruciating but mind-blowing.

Tantric, he supposed.

Pushing her back against the shelves, Nick kissed her until she was moaning and clinging to him for support then he lowered his head and sucked a hardened nipple through the lacy fabric of her bra. She cried out at the stimulus as his hand found her other breast, his fingers rubbing at its hard center, causing her to clutch his head and moan.

God. She was killing him! Kissing her, touching her, was driving him mad. He wanted more. To taste her, plunge into her. Swallow her cries as she exploded around him.

The door dinged and he pulled his mouth away from her reluctantly, laying his head in the hollow of her shoulder as he tried to regain some control of his pulse and breathing.

“Next time we do this,” he whispered as he pulled away, doing up his buttons, “I’m going to lock that door.” He thanked God his button-down would hide the massive wood currently trying to bust out of his jeans. “Stay here,” he growled quietly loving her dishevelment. “I haven’t finished with you.”

“Nick? Nick ?”

He frowned. Cynthia? He looked through the shelves. Yup. Cynthia. His sister-in-law always had the most terrible timing.

“Cyn!” He plastered a smile to his face as he stepped out of the bookshelves and hoped he didn’t look as rumpled as he felt. “Oh, and you’ve brought Thomas and little Maggie.”

Ugh. Was it okay to be battling a boner with minors present?

“How’s my favorite niece?”

The squirming eight-month-old broke into a beautiful toothless grin when she spied her uncle Nick and Cynthia handed the baby over. Nick promptly blew noisy bubbles on Maggie’s tummy who giggled delightfully.

“How come she doesn’t laugh like that when I do it?” she complained good-naturedly.

“It’s the whiskers,” Nick said, doing it again and being rewarded with another giggle.

Just then Samantha came out from between the shelves with some books she’d clearly pulled off a shelf as some kind of cover.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Nick,” Cyn said, “I didn’t realize you had a customer.”

“Oh no, it’s okay.” Samantha smiled. “I work here. Just…” She glanced at Nick. “Cataloging.”

“Oh.” Cynthia smiled. “You must be Sam?”

Performing the introductions, Nick watched his sister-in-law’s eyes narrow as she shook Sam’s hand then pointed to her shirt. “Your buttons aren’t done up properly.”

Nick glanced at Samantha’s shirt and her ruffled hair and her thoroughly kissed mouth, which did not help with his erection problem one little bit.

Samantha’s cheeks flushed. “So they aren’t.”

“Buttons are hard,” three-year-old Thomas piped up.

Cynthia turned her suspicious gaze on Nick, flicking over his rumpled hair. “Everything okay, here?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

There was an awkward pause where no one said anything. “Coffee?” Nick asked.