Compromising Positions

He grabbed the pizza box and six-pack of beer from the passenger seat, then hopped out of the pickup. When he reached Benny’s door, he found it locked, so he walked to the window and rapped on the glass. She glanced up and their eyes locked for a long moment. A groan slipped from his throat and his pulse quickened.

Sam pointed to the door and Amelia shook her head, turning her attention back to the book. Undeterred, he rapped on the glass again, this time holding up the pizza and beer. She shook her head again. Sam had no intention of letting her win this battle.

He set the pizza and beer on the sidewalk, shrugged out of his jacket and slowly began to unbutton his shirt. He was nearly finished by the time she looked up. Amelia scrambled off the bed and hurried to the window.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted, her words muffled through the glass.

“Let me in,” he said. “I brought dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said, shaking her head.

“It’s cold out here,” he said, rubbing his chest.

“Put your jacket on.”

“Let me in.”

Sam saw the indecision in her gaze. Finally she mouthed a curse and headed to the front door. He grabbed his jacket and the dinner and reached the entrance just as the lock clicked open.

Sam slipped inside and followed her into the makeshift bedroom. The bed had been made with bedding he recognized from the inn. One of the Blackstone’s picnic baskets sat at the foot of the bed, along with her overnight bag. Confirming his suspicions that Sarah was a traitor, Amelia was wearing a sweater that looked like one of his sister’s thrift-shop finds.

“Where have you been?” she asked. “I didn’t expect you to leave me alone with the bed for so long.”

“I trust you. Besides, you could never get this bed apart and loaded before someone called me.”

“I’ll find someone to help me...like Benny. I’m sure he could be persuaded.”

“If Benny could be persuaded, you’d be halfway to Boston by now.” Sam dropped his jacket on the floor and circled the bed, setting the pizza down in the center. “I brought dinner. I thought you might be hungry.”

Amelia shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. Isn’t there some way we could work this out?”

“I’m willing to entertain offers.” He opened a beer, helped himself to a slice of pizza and leaned back into the pillows, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Get your dirty shoes off my bed!” she cried.

He grinned. “My bed. And if I’m not mistaken, also my quilt and my pillows.” He slid the pizza toward her with his foot. “Have a slice.”

“I’m not that hungry,” she murmured.

“Come on, Amelia. Let’s just call a truce for tonight and enjoy some dinner.” He grabbed a beer and opened it, then handed it to her. “Go on. Relax.”

“I don’t drink beer,” she said.

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