Compromising Positions

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“All right,” Amelia said, tipping her chin up. “The battle for the bed starts at noon. May the best...person win.” She held out her hand and he shook it.

She was ready to leave it at that, but he wasn’t. Instead he slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her against his body. His lips covered hers in a deep, damp kiss, their tongues creating a delicious connection he didn’t want to break. When she pulled away, he looked down into her wide eyes.

“May the best man win,” he whispered.

Her expression hardened and she wrapped her hand around his nape and pulled him into another kiss. Her mouth was soft and searching, her tongue tracing the width of his mouth, teasing him in a way that was more provocative than he expected.

The blood in his body warmed and desire flooded his senses. His hands skimmed along her torso and settled on her hips, holding her against him. The friction between them caused an instant reaction in him.

But Amelia wasn’t about to let him take control. She stepped away and gave him a coy smile, her lips still damp and glistening. “Don’t you mean the best woman?”

* * *

AMELIA WATCHED THROUGH the plate-glass window as Sam drove away. When he was finally out of sight, she turned to the bed. By her estimate, it would take about a half hour to disassemble it and get it loaded into the trailer. If he came back at noon, that would give her a half-hour head start to Boston; a half hour before he even realized she was gone.

She didn’t regret deceiving him. This was war and she had to use whatever advantage she was given. He’d have done the same thing given the opportunity. She hurried over to the bed and examined it. Getting the canopy off on her own would be difficult, but once that was done, the rest of the bed would come apart quickly.

She crawled up on the mattress and began to untie the stays on the fabric covering. Struggling with a knot, she had a brief flash of conscience, then reminded herself that all was fair in love and war.

Her mind skipped to the kiss they’d shared earlier. His powerful and demanding; hers defiant and daring. Somehow she’d allowed desire to become part of their battle and it wasn’t helping her gain the upper hand. Every time he touched her, she felt weak, vulnerable, and yet so amazingly alive that she wanted to cry out. Her body pulsed with a need so powerful it threatened to sweep her away. She’d never experienced anything remotely similar when Edward had kissed her, and he was supposed to be the love of her life.

Her parents had never seemed to share any passion between them and Amelia had always assumed that those emotions were saved for the privacy of their bedroom. But now she realized that it was impossible to hide such intense reactions. She felt her need with every breath she took. She wanted Sam to kiss her, to touch her, to throw her down on the bed and have his way with her.

She cursed softly as she worked at the knot. Amelia Gardner Sheffield was not the kind of woman who wielded her sexuality to get what she wanted. Until she’d met Sam, she hadn’t been aware that she had that power at all.

But was it a power she wanted to wield? She could soften him up; make him more amenable to her. And once he’d fallen for her, he’d want to give her the bed. But she’d been manipulated her whole life. She didn’t want to do that to someone else.

“You need any help with that?”

The voice startled her and she spun around quickly, losing her balance. A man stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. He chuckled, then held out his hand. “Benny Barnes. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Oh,” Amelia cried, stumbling off the bed. “This is your place. No, we haven’t met. Amelia Sheffield. Mapother Museum of Decorative Arts. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“So you’re the one fighting with Sammy over this bed,” Benny said. “No one mentioned you were such a pretty little thing.” He grinned widely. “Can I give you a hand?”

“You could help me take this bed apart and move it into my trailer,” she said.

Benny shook his head. “Nah, I’m afraid I can’t do that. Unless Sam gives me the word, the bed stays here.”

“I see,” Amelia said. “You’re a friend of his?”

“This is a small town, miss. Everyone is friends with everyone else. Minerva filled me in on the whole situation. I have to say, you’ve got your work cut out for you. That Sam is used to getting what he wants. We went to high school together. He was a few years younger than me but, yeah, we were good buddies. Wasn’t as popular as me or as smart, but we hung out.”

Benny puffed out his chest and continued to talk about his high school exploits, nodding and smiling as if she were impressed. Maybe he thought she was. After all, she had invited herself to spend the night in his place of business.

“I’d like to thank you for allowing this to play out in your front window.”

“No problem. It’ll bring a lot of attention to my business. As a thank-you, why don’t you let me take you out to lunch? Or how about dinner? I can show you around town, introduce you to the right people.”

“There is one thing you can do for me,” Amelia said with a warm smile. “I could use a sheet or something to hang over the front window. For privacy.”

“Well, you can’t do that,” Benny said. “What would be the point? I gotta promote the hell out of this thing.”

“Well, I can’t just change in front an open window... Is there a bathroom?”

“There’s one in the back, but it’s a little rough. I live upstairs. You’re welcome to use mine. I’ll just leave the door unlocked and you can come up whenever you need anything.”

Amelia sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. And I don’t want to keep you from work. I know you’re a very busy man around town.”

“No,” he said. “Not so busy.”

She stood. “Well, then, maybe you can keep an eye on the bed while I go out and pick up a few things? I would really appreciate the help. And I don’t trust Sam Blackstone.”

Benny looked vaguely disappointed but he shrugged. “Sure. I’ll be around for the next hour or two.”

“You won’t let Sam take the bed?”

“Nope,” Benny said. “I’m your man. You can count on me...Amelia.”

She grabbed her purse and headed for the front door, grateful to make her escape. Given time, maybe Benny could be convinced to transfer his loyalties to a new friend. There was nothing to stop her pleading her case to him. That wouldn’t be dishonest, would it?

She headed to the inn to gather up her things. Then she’d have to stop by the local discount store for new bedding and pillows and something to keep her fed. Amelia was willing to give the strategy a few days, and if Sam didn’t relent, she’d come up with a new plan.

When she stepped inside the Blackstone, she found Sarah sitting at the front desk.

“Hello,” Sarah said.

“Is he here?”

“Sam? He raced in and out about ten minutes ago. What’s going on?”

“The second battle of the bed,” Amelia said.

“Don’t expect him to surrender. If you take on Sam Blackstone, prepare yourself for a long siege. He can be very stubborn.”

“It’s just a bed,” Amelia said.

“I know,” Sarah replied. “It’s not that valuable and he’s never seemed attached to it in the past. I mean, it was a gimmick to bring guests to the inn. But he seems to be obsessed with it now.” Sarah paused. “Or maybe it’s you he’s obsessed with and not the bed.” She cupped her chin in her hand and smiled at Amelia. “This really will be fun to watch.”

Amelia sighed softly. “So I suppose I don’t need to ask whose side you’re on?”

“Oh, I’m rooting for you,” Sarah said. She came out from behind the counter. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You could wrap up one of those pies of yours. And I could use a couple of pillows and some sheets for the bed. And some comfortable clothes to wear. I didn’t intend to spend more than a night here.”

“I’ll put together a little survival kit,” Sarah said. “Why don’t you go pack your things and I’ll have them ready when you come down?”

Amelia trudged up the stairs and headed to her room at the end of the hall. When she’d left Boston, she’d expected to be less than a day. She’d expected to show her letter from Abigail Farnsworth, pick up the bed and haul it back to the city. But now that simple task had turned monumentally complex and all because of Sam Blackstone.

She unlocked her room and stepped inside. Crossing to the bed, she flopped facedown across the handmade quilt.

Maybe she ought to just give up and go home. The thought of spending a few more days with Sam was beginning to frighten her. He already had such a powerful effect on her emotions—and on her body.

Never in her life had a man held that kind of power over her. Though she tried to stop thinking about him, tried to keep her body from reacting to his touch, it was no use. And when they weren’t together, Amelia had to stop herself from getting caught up in some silly fantasy. And the fantasies were only becoming more vivid as time progressed.

At first she’d imagined him kissing and touching her, and that wild, exhilarating feeling when he pulled her into his arms. But now she’d moved on to naked bodies and soft beds, whispered urges and orgasms that seemed to last forever.

Amelia rolled onto her back and pulled the pillow over her head. Her professional reputation was on the line here. She’d come to Millhaven for one thing: to get the Washington bed that she’d been promised. And suddenly that goal had become twisted up in this game with an impossibly handsome and sexy man.

Every instinct she possessed told her to give up and go home to Boston. She could make the exhibit work without the bed. Grabbing the pillow, she tossed it across the room. It hit a small tea table that sat beneath the window and something clattered to the floor.

Amelia crawled off the bed and retrieved the silver tankard that had held a small bunch of flowers and some water. The tankard looked old; clearly a rip-off of a Revere design and burnished by a believable patina. She flipped it over, searching for the maker’s mark. Her gaze came to rest on a familiar set of letters: P REVERE.

Revere silver had been reproduced many times over the years and was often marked with the original hallmark. It was impossible to tell if the tankard was a true Revere.

The weight felt right for silver and the patina looked authentic. What were the chances that the Blackstone family owned some original Revere silver?

“Pretty good,” Amelia murmured. She took a couple quick photos of the tankard and the hallmark with her phone and sent them to Lincoln Farraday, the museum’s expert in silver and porcelain. She placed the tankard back on the table and headed for the door.

When she walked downstairs, Sarah was waiting for her, a large wicker basket dangling from her arm and two down pillows resting on a nearby chair. “I put some brownies and cookies in there, too,” she said. “And a couple of menus from the restaurants in town that deliver. And a box of condoms.” She smiled apologetically. “It pays to be prepared.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Amelia said.

“Has he kissed you yet?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know my brother. There haven’t been many women in his life, but when he finds someone he likes, nothing gets in his way.”

“And you don’t know me,” Amelia said. “I’m pretty determined myself.”

“Did you see the tankard full of flowers in your room? He picked those flowers for you,” Sarah said.

“And where did he get the tankard?”

“We have whole cabinets full of old silver. I stopped trying to keep it polished years ago. We use glass vases instead.”

Amelia walked to the front door and Sarah held it open for her, the pillows clutched in her arms. “If I survive the night, I’d like to see the silver collection.”

Sarah shrugged and waved Amelia out the door.

As she hurried to her truck, a shiver skittered through her as she thought about sleeping in the same bed with Sam.

Then she remembered her words to Sarah. She didn’t have to sleep with him. She didn’t even have to let him into the building. This was a battle of wills and he had no idea how stubborn she could be.

3 (#ulink_eab9cf3e-9514-5984-b949-a06d80abc47b)

SAM PULLED HIS truck up in front of Benny’s Antiques and Auction Gallery and shut off the engine. Several minor crises at the inn had kept him from returning until the evening. The sun had set an hour before and the lights inside revealed the bed and its lone occupant.

Amelia sat in the center of the bed, books and papers spread out around her. She’d made a comfortable spot for herself with bedside tables and lamps, most likely provided by Benny. She wore glasses with dark rims that stood out against her pale skin. Her hair was pulled back, revealing the full beauty of her profile.

Sam watched as a pair of pedestrians strolled by the window, then backtracked to peer at Amelia. After a few seconds Amelia noticed them and gave them a little wave before they moved on. He chuckled softly. She was a beautiful but very stubborn woman—a difficult combination and one that fascinated him more and more with every moment he spent with her.

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.