The Great Bedroom War (26 page)

“But,
Abejita
, you’re so young, and I—” He lost the ability to speak as her soft hand slipped through the slit in his boxers and wrapped around his throbbing shaft. Just when he thought he might lose his mind from the intense pressure in his groin, she guided his fingers to the slick warmth between her legs.

“Pleeease, Nicky,” she murmured. “I really want my first time to be with you. I’m scared, and you’re the only one I trust not to hurt me.”

She kissed him again, and he was a goner.

CHAPTER 13

At seven o’clock, Chewie greeted Sam at the back door, his tail wagging at full speed. She dumped her tote and purse on the family room’s recliner and knelt to pet the animal who always seemed glad to see her and was far less trouble than his master. “Hello, you funny-looking pooch. I don’t know how you manage to stay cool, wearing that heavy fur coat.” It had been fifty degrees for the last week and now suddenly the temperature was back in the high seventies.

Chewie rolled to his back, encouraging her to rub his stomach.

Nick had been right about how well behaved the dog was. And about her. She had immediately decided to dislike the poor mutt without giving him a chance. She’d never dreamed she could ever be comfortable with a dog, let alone grow so attached to one in such a short time.

She couldn’t help but wonder how many other things Nick had been right about.

Maybe she really was being too hard on him. Casey and Andi had continued nagging her all afternoon to give her ex a second chance.

The house was dead silent except for the sound of the shower running upstairs. Dani had asked if she could sleep at Haley’s house. Sam hadn’t known how to answer, so she’d called Marc to make sure he was up to having her daughter there, and he’d assured her he wanted Haley’s life to remain normal for as long as possible. She’d been pleased to hear him sounding so upbeat.

Sam gave Chewie one more hard scratch and stood, shaking her head. Adam had a stack of patients’ charts he needed to review, so he’d postponed seeing her until the following night. If she’d been smart, she would’ve gone to a movie by herself, rather than face an entire evening in the house alone with Nick. Although, she had a ton of sewing to catch up on, so it was best if she locked herself in her workroom until bedtime.

She wandered into the kitchen to make a sandwich and noticed through the dining room’s doorway that the table had been set for two with her good china and crystal stemware. On the kitchen counter sat a bottle from the local winery she and Nick loved, a crusty loaf of French bread, and a couple of seasoned steaks on a platter covered with a glass casserole lid. The stove held a foil-wrapped pair of twice-baked potatoes topped with cheddar cheese and crumbled bacon waiting to be popped back into the oven with a pan of already roasted fresh garden vegetables.

Damn him. How was she supposed to stay mad at him when he did things like this?

Next to the bottle of wine, a manila folder caught her attention. Frowning, she opened the file and leafed through the thick sheaf of papers that appeared to contain documents referencing her Magic Worry Pals. After glancing at a few pages, staying mad was no longer a problem.

How dare Nick presume to take over her business?

No wonder he’d prepared a romantic dinner. He obviously hoped to sweet talk her into overlooking his pushy wheeling and dealing. This was so typical of him.

She scooped up the file and stomped to the back staircase. When she reached the second floor, she stormed into the master bathroom where Nick, fresh from the shower, dripped on the terrycloth mat.

“Hey, Sammy-bee.” He ducked under the towel while he dried his drenched hair, leaving the rest of his wet, muscled body gloriously exposed.

All at once, he whipped the towel off his head and caught her staring at the drops clinging to his nipples and glistening in the sparse triangle of curls between them. Unlike a lot of men of Latino descent, his body wasn’t covered in hair except for a few strategically located patches that emphasized his unquestionable masculinity.

Several droplets rolled down the narrow strip of fuzz that bisected his six-pack and lured her gaze to the dark nest that cradled his thick, smooth manhood.
El Capitán
chose that exact moment to stir, snapping to attention in an
I’m-thrilled-to-see-you
salute and growing more massive by the second.

Her nipples hardened in response.

Was it actually possible for his lower anatomy to have grown since their divorce?

No. That was ridiculous. Clearly the weight he’d lost and his tighter abdominal muscles had simply created an optical illusion that made him seem larger.

Nick glanced down at his swollen organ and grinned at her as he finished drying himself. “If you were hoping to join me, I’ll be happy to climb back in and lather you up.”

She bet he would.

“I haven’t forgotten how you used to love me soaping up your
chichis
real slow.”

Sam merely glared at him, silently cursing how damp her panties had grown at his suggestion.

“Still not talking to me, huh?”

“You want conversation, Nick? Okay. Let’s talk. What do you call this!” she rammed the file folder into his gut.

He doubled over with a stunned “Ooof!” no doubt more from a reflexive move to protect his exposed privates than because she’d knocked the wind out of him. “So you’ve seen the papers,” he said, straightening up. “What’re you getting so upset about?”

“What am I upset about? You’ve got to be kidding. This is exactly the kind of call-all-the-shots maneuver that made me file for divorce. If you recall, I won a partial college scholarship in high school,”—that she’d never had the chance to use—“which suggests I’m a reasonably intelligent individual and competent to make my own decisions.”

“Nobody says you’re not.” He laid the file on the vanity. “And absolutely no decisions have been made for you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have imagined you coming home from work one day and announcing we were moving to California without even consulting me.”

He dropped his head back and heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’ve apologized a hundred times. But even if we’d talked, I couldn’t have turned down the assignment—not with how much I owe Ken.”

“Why do you think you owe him more than any other employee? For fourteen years you’ve gone above and beyond for the salary he’s paid you. Lots of companies foot the bill for college tuition and grad school.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” With his feet spread and hands on his hips Nick reminded her of a nude Jolly Green Giant. All except for his not being green, that is.

His arrogant stance called her attention back to his huge soldier still saluting her, proudly advertising his unflagging virility.

She jerked her gaze away. “Would you wrap a towel around yourself, please? I don’t care to talk to you while you’re stark naked.”

Releasing an irritated grunt, he yanked the terry bath sheet off the rack and covered himself. “Sammy, we had no health insurance when Dani was born, and she spent three weeks in the NICU. Do you have any idea what that cost? And haven’t you ever wondered how I managed to pay those bills on a salesclerk’s salary?”

No, she was embarrassed to admit, she hadn’t. At the tender age of eighteen, she’d assumed Nick had miraculously taken care of it like he’d handled and fixed everything else.

“The day I went to the hospital’s business office to arrange a payment schedule, I was told the entire bill had been paid by an anonymous benefactor. There was only one person who could’ve done that. I didn’t even work for Ken at that point. The man has treated me like a son from the night he found me having a meltdown in the hospital parking lot.”

Meltdown
? She grabbed the vanity to steady herself. She’d lived with him too many years not to know his definition of
meltdown
wasn’t merely a minor distress. He must have been truly distraught. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

He turned away and shrugged. “I guess I was ashamed. You were forced to marry to a stupid, proud kid who had a lousy three hundred bucks in the bank and a mountain of medical bills. Do you think I wanted you to know how inadequate I was at taking care of you and our baby? Or that I sat in the parking lot sobbing like a little girl?”

“That’s been the whole problem with our marriage all along,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ve always been too proud to let me in, Nick. You’ve believed you had to control everything and keep all the balls in the air entirely on your own.” She picked the folder up and flapped it at him. “And this is a prime example of your self-importance.”

“Sammy, I wanted to
help
you. I hate seeing you struggle. You shouldn’t have to sew all evening after you spend the day chasing kids at the preschool. I just want what’s best for you.”

“Your arrogance never ceases to amaze me. Who are
you
to decide what’s best for me? It’s
my
choice if I want to struggle. You had no right to—”

“It’s still your choice. No deals have been cut. No contracts signed. The only papers in that folder are proposals for you to consider.”

After sharing her lunch with Casey that afternoon, her stomach growled loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

“You’re obviously starving, and so am I.” He waved toward the foggy glass-enclosed stall. “Why don’t we call a truce for the time being? Take a hot shower and get comfortable while I put on some clothes and grill the steaks.” He took the folder from her and tucked it under his arm. “During dinner, we can discuss your options—calmly and rationally. Maybe by the time we get to dessert, we’ll have something to celebrate.”

What did she have to lose? The worst outcome of a cease-fire would be she’d have a delicious meal while she heard him out, and then she could tell him to take his so-called proposals and use them as toilet paper.

“Okay.” She raised her hands in surrender. “I’ll be down when I finish,”

As soon as Nick left with the file, she took a quick shower. Afterward, she opened the bathroom door to clear some of the steam while she dried herself. Goose bumps skittered over her body at the sound of Frank Sinatra’s voice drifting from the stereo downstairs.

Along with being a religious zealot, Sam’s great-aunt Caroline had also been a diehard bobby-soxer. Therefore, Sam had grown up listening to a combination of gospel music and tunes from the ‘40s and ‘50s and inevitably became a devotee of all the famous crooners. One seductive note from Nat King Cole, Tony Bennett, or Old Blue Eyes and she invariably melted into a puddle of lust—something she was certain her Aunt Caroline hadn’t intended.

In a Pavlovian response to the romantic music, Sam spritzed herself with her favorite perfume before the glaringly obvious occurred to her.

Nick the
Rat
had suggested the truce so he could try to seduce her. He knew damn well how that romantic CD mix affected her. Clearly, he hoped to put her in a receptive mood.

She slipped into a thread-bare, white knit camisole and the pink stretch capris she wore on the infrequent occasions she found time to attend an exercise class. While brushing her hair in front of the full length mirror, she couldn’t help noticing her outfit—chosen purely for comfort—hugged her body as closely as a dancer’s leotard, emphasizing all of her figure’s flaws. Although, Nick was usually too busy ogling her breasts to notice her imperfections.

For a split second, she considered changing—until she recalled the way he’d shamelessly flaunted his erection.

No. She could play dirty, too. She smiled, removed her bra, and studied her reflection. The shadow from her nipples showed right through the thin shirt that should’ve been tossed in the ragbag years ago. If he could advertise, so could she.

At that tit-for-tat thought, she froze and stared at herself. Why didn’t she simply admit the truth? Deep down, she
wanted
to surrender to Nick’s seduction. She’d been playing hard to get simply because she was ashamed to acknowledge that all she thought about anymore was having
El Capitán
repeatedly thrusting into her and giving her all of the orgasms she’d missed since she’d issued her no sex with condoms ultimatum to Nick.

She glanced down at the dazzling diamond on her finger and pulled it off. If there was any chance she might weaken and sleep with Nick that night, she couldn’t do it wearing another man’s ring. Adam deserved better than for her to even give the impression she was cheating on him.

One thing had become crystal clear that day. She needed to return his ring and end her relationship with him. It wasn’t fair to string Adam along when she was clearly still in love with Nick.

After applying only a little mascara and tinted lip gloss to avoid being too obvious, she slipped her feet into a pair of wedged mules that flattered her calves and added a little wiggle to her walk. Right before heading downstairs armed for battle, she fluffed her hair and pinched her nipples several times, making them extra plump.

She’d just see how calmly and rationally the oversexed oaf could discuss her options with her so-called
chichis
distracting him.

~*~

Nick lit the candles on the dining room table and then checked the potatoes and veggies he’d slid back into the oven earlier. After opening the wine to let it breathe, he stepped out on the deck to finish tending the steaks. A moment later, Sam joined him.

“Still like it medium rare?” He glanced up from the smoking grill, and his heart nearly seized. ¡
Ay, caramba
!

Considering how little Sam’s shirt concealed, she might as well be topless.

It was still a balmy seventy-five degrees outside so there was no way she could be chilled. That left one reason for her nipples to stick up like that.

He mentally crossed his fingers. Good-bye sofa bed, hello master bedroom.

After several seconds of staring, he gradually recovered and remembered where they were. He glanced to the house visible behind theirs and then to the two on either side of them. “Are you crazy coming outside like that?”