Before We Kiss (Fool's Gold #14)
Susan Mallery
CHAPTER ONE
“RETURNING TO THE scene of the crime?” Dellina Hopkins asked as she stared at the dark-haired man standing on her porch. She supposed the polite response to his presence was to invite him in. And she would...in a minute. But first she was going to make him work for it.
Sam Ridge, all six feet of dark-eyed, arrogant handsomeness, narrowed his gaze. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” he asked.
Dellina smiled. “No. Would you, if you were me?”
He surprised her by flashing a grin. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“An honest man.” She bumped the door open wider with her hip and stepped back to let him in. “It’s a miracle.”
He moved into the house. Dellina let the screen door slam into place, but left the thick wooden door open. It was summer in Fool’s Gold, and plenty warm. The breeze would be nice. Plus―and this was the part she would never admit to Sam―having the door open meant they weren’t totally alone. Okay, they were alone, but it didn’t feel so intimate. And based on what had happened the last time they’d been together in this house, that was a good thing.
Sam paused in the middle of her living room, as if not sure where to go. His head turned slightly and she had a feeling he was glancing down the hall—toward her bedroom. No doubt remembering what had happened some five months ago.
Dellina wanted to say it hadn’t been her fault—that everyone was allowed to be stupid on Valentine’s Day. Or in her case, on Valentine’s Day night. Only she had known exactly what she was doing and it had been as wonderful and disastrous as anyone could have imagined. Now both she and Sam were going to have to deal with the consequences.
He turned to face her, then motioned to the sofa. “We should probably have a seat.”
“Will that make things easier for you?” she asked.
“If I say yes, will you sit?”
“Probably.”
“Then yes. It makes things easier.”
Dellina settled in one of the club chairs while Sam took the sofa.
He moved with controlled power. It was the former professional athlete thing, she thought, watching him sit down. At the risk of sounding like a groupie, she had firsthand knowledge that the man knew how to use his body. Of course, the last time she’d been in his presence, she hadn’t been interested in sitting. Or talking. But then neither had he. They’d practically tumbled over each other in their race to her bedroom. He’d—
Dellina pushed the very visceral memories away. Yes, Sam had been delicious in bed. But then things had gone downhill. She needed to remember what was important. He was here about a job. Not his unrequited lust for her. Based on how he’d been avoiding her for the past several months, when it came to her, he was plenty requited.
But he was also in a bit of a pickle.
The old-fashioned phrase made her want to smile. Yup, Sam needed her. Not in a delicious take me now kind of way, but for business. She was a party planner and he wanted to plan a really big business event. He was stuck and she was his way out. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, circumstances went her way. So after five months of being able to ignore her and that single night, he’d been forced to face her. Was it so very wrong of her to enjoy the moment? She thought perhaps not.
She rested her hands flat on her thighs and looked at him. “How can I help you?”
His dark gaze settled on her face. “Really? You’re not going to admit you know what any of this is about?”
She blinked deliberately, then opened her eyes wide. “When you made your appointment to speak with me, you didn’t mention a subject.” Of course she knew why he was here, but again, a little emotional torture seemed the right kind of payback.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “All right. We’ll play this your way. I’m Sam Ridge. I’m a partner at Score.”
She grinned. “I know who you are, Sam. We don’t have to pretend that much. Just tell me what you want and we’ll move on from there.”
He swore under his breath. “You’re friends with Taryn. You’ve done work for her. How long are you going to punish me?”
He was right about Taryn. She and Dellina were friends and had worked together several times. Score, the PR firm in question, had moved to Fool’s Gold just after the first of the year. Three of the partners were former NFL players and Taryn was the glue that held the company together.
“I haven’t completely decided how long you should be punished,” she admitted, wondering if batting her eyes again would be too over-the-top.
He sighed heavily. “Fine. We’ll do this your way. Now that we’ve moved our business here, my partners and I want to have a big party for our clients. We’ve booked a hotel, but that’s as far as the planning has gotten.”
“A party,” she breathed, and pressed her hand to her chest. “That sounds really nice.”
* * *
IN TRUTH, BEING a neurosurgeon or the person who used to land the space shuttle probably made the top-ten list of jobs designed to give a person an ulcer. Sam would guess whoever was in charge of the ball dropping in Times Square on New Year’s Eve probably had a few sleepless nights. But he would add that being a kicker for an NFL team had its moments of stress. When he’d been with the L.A. Stallions, he’d been responsible for twenty-six wins, including three during play-off games and one Super Bowl victory. He knew what it was like to have everyone watching him, both in person and on TV, and have his job performance critiqued endlessly.