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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.
