For a full, mind-bending five seconds he found himself focusing on the twin stars of Delaney’s new purchase—two of the perkiest, prettiest breasts he’d seen in a long time. Thrusting up toward the low neckline of her top, they positively begged for a man to reach out and see if they felt as delectable and firm as they looked. Wrenching his eyes away, he continued on his downward spiral into madness as he caught sight of the jeans she was wearing. Painted-on was the term that came to mind. Darkest black, and so tight that if she was a man he’d know what religion she was. But she wasn’t a man. Oh boy, she so wasn’t a man.
“Shit!” was all he could think to say.
Delaney flinched and her eyes flashed at him.
“Thanks a lot. That’s all you can say? What have you done, and shit? Nice,” she said.
Then she turned her back on him and walked away and, for the first time in his life, Little Sam reared up in his boxers and saluted his best friend. Since when did Delaney have such a delectable butt? Heaven. Pure heaven. Round and high and so grabable that when he looked down he saw his fingers had actually curled in anticipation.
Suddenly Sam registered what he was doing, and the fact that he now had an embarrassing, incredibly inappropriate, illicit boner making itself at home in his jeans.
Had the world fallen off its axis? What in the name of all that was good was going on here? Where on earth did he get off cracking a woody over his best friend?
He never had sexual thoughts about Delaney. She was a complete no-go zone where that kind of stuff was concerned. She meant too much to him for him to stuff it up with some stupid sex thing. A long time ago, he’d made a decision—Delaney was out of bounds. And it had worked. It really had. He’d never even peeked when they changed out of their wetsuits at the beach. She was his friend, damn it. You didn’t check out your best friend.
So why was there now a hard-on making its presence felt in his underwear?
Sam shook his head to clear it.
It was surprise, that was all. Delaney’s new look had taken him unawares, made him look at her in a different way before he could get his defenses up. That was all it was.
And he’d offended her with his shocked reaction.
“Shit,” he said again, but under his breath this time. Depositing the beers on Delaney’s recycled Oregon dining table, he followed her into her bedroom.
She was pulling clothes out of the jumble of shopping bags on her big king-size bed. By the looks of it, she’d cleaned out the whole women’s department at David Jones.
“You’ve been shopping?” he asked stupidly, reeling from yet another blow to his perception of the world.
Delaney hated shopping almost as much as she hated makeup and…perfume? He sniffed the air suspiciously, becoming aware that a sweet, light fragrance had wrapped itself around him. It was the odor equivalent of crack cocaine—once he’d had one sniff, he couldn’t seem to get enough.
“What’s that smell?” he demanded.
Delaney threw her hands in the air. “It’s Dolce and Gabbana Light Blue. What’s wrong? Does it smell like horse manure? Is that what you’re going to tell me next?”
Sam blinked at her anger, then admitted to himself that it might be a little justified. The problem was, he was in free fall here, staggering from one shocking revelation to another. But he probably could be a little more diplomatic about what was coming out of his mouth.
“No, it’s nice,” he said.
Delaney went back to clearing out her shopping bags, her movements tight with anger.
“I’m sorry,” he said, painfully aware that he’d hurt her feelings with his insensitive reaction. Although it had been more oversensitive, if he were being pedantic about it.
In fact, her hair looked great, not freaky at all. Silky and touchable. A perfect frame for her sweet face. Which wasn’t quite so sweet anymore, thanks to Mr. Max Factor and friends. More…sultry. Promising.
Sam swallowed and shook his head. It was so not his place to be thinking any of these things about Delaney. She would completely flip out if she had even an inkling that he’d gotten aroused over the sight of her ass in her tight new jeans. Even as he thought it, Delaney turned and bent to pick up something off the ground. He thrust his hands into his pockets to counteract the ass-grabbing urge that once again rocked him, and wrenched his eyes away.
“So, um, I went to the lawyers this afternoon,” he said, trying to get a grip on himself.
“Uh-huh,” Delaney murmured, hanging dress after dress in the wardrobe. He frowned when he saw how short they were. Maybe they were tops, not dresses? If he was to have any chance of keeping his sanity and conquering this sudden, aberrant bout of hyper-awareness where she was concerned, they’d better be.
“He floated another idea, something we hadn’t considered. We get someone in to take over your role, and you stay in the business as a silent partner. Maybe just give advice whenever required, that kind of thing,” Sam said, leaning against the wall.
Delaney shook her head, her newly streaked hair dancing around her face hypnotically.
“But I told you, Sam. I want out. I don’t want to be connected to the business at all.”
Sam should have been more worried about what she was saying, he knew he should, but she’d just emptied out a shopping bag full of lacy, silky scraps. He watched, fascinated, as she sorted through the rainbow-hued mass, matching bras to panties or thongs. Thongs! Delaney in a thong. Delaney’s perfect, ripe peach of a butt in a thong.
Little Sam once again made a determined effort to join proceedings, and Sam fisted his hands in his pockets, dreading the thought that Delaney might look up and see his erection and get completely the wrong idea.
He was not turned on by her new underwear. He was not turned on by her. He was just freaking out over the fact that she wanted out from the business. That was all. His body’s response was just a weird offshoot of his reaction.
Belatedly he realized that Delaney had stopped packing things away to stare at him, waiting for his response.
“Um, right,” he said.
She sat on the bed, offering him an untrammeled view down the neck of her new top.
“Sam, I know this has been a bolt from the blue, and it’s going to take you some time to adjust, but it’s what I want,” she said firmly.
Her breasts rose and fell with each breath she took, straining upward as though they wanted to escape the confines of her clothing. He licked his lips, wondering what color her nipples were.
It was such a basic, primal thought that Sam actually turned toward the door, ready to flat-out run from his own animal instincts.
“What’s wrong?” Delaney demanded. She stood again, and Sam heaved a sigh of relief that he could no longer see down her top. The pressure in his boxers eased a notch, but he didn’t dare pull his hands from his pockets.
“Nothing. Just a bit of…gas,” he said lamely when nothing else came to mind.
“Not in my bedroom,” Delaney said instantly, pointing toward the door. “And you need to get out anyway. My date will be here soon and I need to start getting ready.”
Sam froze. “Date? What date?”
Delaney lifted a shoulder negligently. He just managed to keep his eyes above her neckline.
“Jake dropped by this afternoon. He asked me out to dinner tonight,” she said.
Sam stared at her. “Jake the printing rep? That Jake?”
“Do we know any others?” she asked.
“But he’s a complete sleaze, Delaney. He’s always checking out chicks, and every time I see him out somewhere he’s with a new woman,” Sam said indignantly.
“So? Maybe he just hasn’t met the right woman yet,” Delaney said.
Before he could tell her how wrong she was, what sort of trouble she was inviting, she shoved him out of her bedroom and shut the door in his face.
He could hear the sound of the shower as Delaney got ready for her date, and he tried to keep himself from imagining what she was doing in there. What she looked like naked, those perky, high breasts of hers slick, the nipples pebbled from the water’s warm touch, how she might slide her hands down over her hips and round over that perfect butt…
What was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly having these intimate, crazy-making thoughts about Delaney? She was like his sister. He wasn’t supposed to care that she was a woman. It just wasn’t a factor in their relationship. At least, it never had been. But all of a sudden, it was as though someone had ripped down an invisible force field that had been between them and he was seeing her for the first time.
And Delaney was definitely a woman. A beautiful, desirable woman.
And Jake the sales rep was going to take her out tonight and do his best to get inside the tiny, lacy scraps of silk he’d seen Delaney sorting through earlier.
It made Sam so angry that he almost threw his beer bottle at the wall. The tempo of his pacing increased. She couldn’t go out with Jake. It was a simple as that. Once she got out of the shower, he’d talk sense to her, and she could call Jake and give the guy the brush-off. Then Sam would take her out for burgers or something. They’d have a few beers together, and get things back on their old, solid footing.
The clock in Delaney’s open-plan kitchen read just five minutes shy of eight by the time she emerged from her bedroom. She came wrapped in a cloud of perfume and precious little else from what he could see.
The dress she was wearing was the color of autumn leaves—a dark, burnished orange—and it set off Delaney’s tan perfectly. It had tiny spaghetti straps and a tight bodice that hugged her breasts, then it swooped down over her hips to end a bare few inches below her butt.
“You cannot be serious,” Sam said before he could help himself. He’d planned on staying calm, being the voice of reason. But Delaney could not go out in public in that dress. For starters, it almost certainly violated several decency codes. And it would definitely pose a medical risk for elderly males. Surely she didn’t want to be responsible for giving some randy octogenarian a fatal heart attack?
“Sam, if you haven’t got something nice to say, go home,” Delaney said wearily.
He’d hurt her feelings. Again. Determined to get this right, he crossed to her and put both hands on her shoulders. She tried to twitch out of his grasp, but he just held her more firmly.
“Laney, you look amazing. Hot. Too hot, in fact. There is no way Jake will be able to keep his hands off you,” Sam explained honestly.
“Did it ever occur to you that I might not want him to?” Delaney said, pushing his hands away.
“Well…no. Why on earth would you let a guy like Jake take advantage of you? He’s not good husband material, Delaney, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Because you’re such a great judge of that, right?” she challenged him.
Sam pulled his dreadlocks off his forehead, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get through to her.
“He’s going to look at you in that dress, and all he’s going to think about is sex,” he finally said. There, he couldn’t be more blatant than that.
“Good,” she replied.
“What?”
“I said good. I have had sex before you know, Sam. I do know what goes where. I have needs, too,” she said defiantly.
She pushed her hair behind her ear, and he saw that she was wearing slinky silver drop earrings that drew attention to her long, slim neck. She was so fine and sleek and strong. She was way too good for Jake the rep.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” Sam said after a long silence. “If you’re willing to just put yourself out there like that…I can’t protect you.”
“I didn’t ask you to! I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself,” Delaney all but shouted back at him. Her cheekbones colored up nicely, and her breasts seemed in imminent danger of popping out over the top of her dress.
While he was giving himself a mental bitch-slap for looking in the first place, Delaney crossed to the door and opened it wide.
“Out. Now,” she said unequivocally.
Sam opened his mouth to deliver one last warning, but she glared at him and he closed his jaw with an audible click.
Feeling distinctly hard done by, he moved past her and out into the hall.
“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Sam said.
“Hey there, Sam,” a voice said from behind him, and he turned to see Jake approaching down the corridor.
The cheesy schemer was dressed like Mr. Slick from a fashion catalogue, and he was even carrying a bunch of flowers. Sam felt his lip curl as he eyed the other man.
“Jake,” he managed to bite out. Jake offered his hand, and Sam stared at it for a beat before reluctantly shaking hands. He made sure he squeezed the other guy’s knuckles good and hard, though, just so Jake would know who he’d be dealing with if he got out of line with Delaney.
“Sam was just leaving,” Delaney said meaningfully.
Sam twitched, but he knew he had no choice. She was right—she was a grown woman. A fully grown, fully adult woman. With needs, she’d said.
Great.
“Delaney—you look sensational,” Jake said, bending to kiss her hello.
Sam felt the lip curl make a return appearance as Jake’s arms slid around her, his hands lingering way too long on her lower back. Sam knew exactly what the other guy was thinking: how much small talk do I have to fake before I can get my hands on that amazing caboose?
If he stayed any longer, Sam knew he was going to do something really, really dumb.
“Have a great night,” he said sourly.
Then he turned and walked away.
DELANEY TOOK A DRINK from her wineglass. Across the table, Jake’s lips were moving, but she had no idea what was coming out of them. She gave herself a mental shake. She had to focus on Jake instead of constantly slipping back to her earlier conversation with Sam. It was pointless to go over and over what had passed between them. As if she’d needed yet another reminder that her feelings for him were unrequited, Sam’s attitude could not have shouted indifference more clearly. Although perhaps she was being unfair. He hadn’t been indifferent. He’d been…brotherly. As he always was. A concerned friend. It was enough to make her want to scream.
“Should we get another bottle?” Jake asked, and Delaney realized that she’d drained her glass in one long gulp.
“Um, sure,” she said.
Jake signaled for the waiter, and Delaney forced herself to concentrate. It wasn’t as though Jake wasn’t attractive or fun to be with. Normally she really enjoyed exchanging banter with him when he came into the office. And there was no denying his masculine appeal—he was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. So why wasn’t she sitting here hoping that he’d kiss her when he took her home tonight? Instead, she was wondering how she could head him off at the pass. Would it be unforgivably rude to get a taxi home on her own at the end of their meal? Or should she just go the whole hog and fake an appendicitis attack right now?
Damn Sam Kirk, and damn herself for letting him ruin her for any other man.
“You know, I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while,” Jake said as the waiter moved off.
Delaney blinked. “Really?”
“Yep. But I always kind of got the feeling you weren’t available,” Jake said.
It made her wonder if that was the way other men had seen her, too—unavailable. Was it possible that she subconsciously sent out “keep off” signals because her feelings for Sam were so strong?
“Well, I’m single, always have been,” Delaney shrugged, not quite sure what to say. If she flirted with Jake, she felt as though she’d be doing so under false pretences.
“When I saw you this afternoon I hoped maybe my luck had changed.”
“What do you mean?” Delaney asked.
“New hair, new clothes—the classic relationship break-up makeover,” Jake said.
Delaney stared at him for a beat. In a way, he was right. She was breaking up with Sam. He just didn’t know it.
“It was time for a change,” she said feebly.
“Speaking of which, I still can’t believe you’re leaving Mirk,” Jake said, shaking his head.
“Well, I have been there since the beginning. Nearly eight years now,” Delaney said.
“Why the big move, if you don’t mind me asking? Don’t tell me you got poached by one of the big guys? I know a ton of publishers who’d love to have you on their sales staff,” Jake said.
She tried to find a way to answer without lying. She was doing enough of that with Sam.
“I’m thirty,” she shrugged, opting for brutal honesty. “I realized that I could spend the rest of my life working like a dog…or I could start thinking about the other things in life.”
“Like…?” Jake asked, his dark eyes intent on her.
“You know. A husband, kids. It sounds kind of clichéd when you say it out loud,” Delaney said self-consciously.
“If it’s a cliché, it’s only because most single people in their thirties start looking around, wondering if there are any lifeboats left. No one wants to stay too long on the dance floor and get stuck when the Titanic goes down,” Jake said, smiling self-deprecatingly at his own analogy.
“Especially if you can’t swim,” Delaney added wryly.
“I don’t think you need to worry about not being able to swim,” Jake said warmly. “I bet there will always be some guy willing to share his life raft with you.”
It was a compliment, she knew. And she should probably feel flattered. But she didn’t. Instead, she felt mildly uncomfortable and completely transparent. Surely he could tell she wasn’t interested? A part of her was tempted to confess all to him, apologize for wasting his time and offer to pay for his meal.
She should have waited until she’d expunged Sam from her life before trying to date. She was just perpetuating the same problem she’d always had while Sam was on the scene: no man ever measured up.
Sure, Jake was good-looking. But his brown eyes weren’t half as engaging as Sam’s bright blue ones, and his smile not nearly as sincere and fun-loving. And while Jake was witty and clever—he’d read all the latest books and seen all the coolest movies—he didn’t make her laugh nearly as much as Sam. He also didn’t make her blood fizz in her veins, or her heart shimmy in her chest, and she wasn’t sitting on the edge of her seat, hoping for an accidental brush of his fingers against hers, or the feel of his knee nudging hers beneath the table.
He just…wasn’t Sam. It was as small and as sad as that.
Reaching for her wineglass, Delaney took another big gulp.
Surely taking a taxi home wouldn’t be that bad form…?
SAM FELT LIKE A CAGED TIGER with a bad case of hives. It was ten o’clock. Delaney had been out with Jake for two whole hours. In all likelihood, they were still at dinner, trying to decide whether or not to have dessert, talking about politics over coffee, hoping the weather would be a little cooler next week….
Or old smoothie Jake had already finagled Delaney back to his pad and was even now peeling her clothes off. Sam ground his teeth together at the thought of Jake sleazing his way beneath Delaney’s defenses.
Sam ground his teeth even harder when it occurred to him that maybe Delaney didn’t have any defenses to sleaze beneath. Maybe she was the one grabbing Jake by the crotch and throwing him onto the bed. If Delaney tackled sex the way she tackled everything else in her life, she’d be a force to be reckoned with in the bedroom.
She was fit and tanned from all their surfing. She’d be limber, lithe. And she had needs. Jake would probably think all his Christmases had come at once.
Sam paced some more and worked on reducing his molars to dust.
What exactly did having needs mean, while he was on the subject? That Delaney needed to have sex? That she craved an orgasm? And if that were the case, why couldn’t she just take care of the matter on her own in the privacy of her home without putting him through all this torture? Anything was preferable to the thought of her being with Jake.
Instantly an image of Delaney pleasuring herself popped into his mind’s eye. Her head was thrown back, and one hand cupped a pert, high breast. Her other hand was busy between her widespread thighs, stroking her own wet heat with gentle fingers—
Sam swore explosively. When had he turned into such a Grade-A creep? This was Delaney he was thinking about, imagining naked. Getting the world’s largest, most persistent boner over.
Delaney. The girl next door. His old street-cricket buddy. His business partner. His best friend in all the world. Delaney was not about sex and desire and urges. Delaney was about loyalty, and intimacy and knowing someone would always be there for him, no matter what.