A Dream to Cling To Page 11

  “And cooked by an eagle scout!”

  “And an altar boy, but we didn’t get cards for that.”

  She looked at him sideways. “Little did I dream …”

  “And there’s more to come, my love. Let us feast and make merry. And let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!”

  His deep baritone echoed through the room and Brittany followed him into the kitchen with wings on her heels, a gentle happiness blooming in every secret part of her.

  Eight

  “Oh, Sam,” Brittany moaned as she walked over to the refrigerator, her socks slipping on the smooth floor.

  “No, don’t say it. You don’t have any food.” He and Dunkin were close behind her.

  “I picked up some vegetables on my way in, and I was going to go to the store after I brought in the wood.” She pulled the door open and looked in dismay at the sparse contents.

  “But you fell asleep.”

  She nodded. He bent and looked over her shoulder into the cool interior, his chin tickling her shoulder as he did a quick inventory.

  “Hmm. Well, don’t worry, my lovely Brittany. They don’t call me Improvisational Sam for nothing.” With great flair he swept her over to a high stool beside the large cooking island, then returned to rummage through the refrigerator with the finesse of a Julia Child. “Okay. Fine. Yes, this will do quite nicely. Perfect!”

  She watched as he pulled things out of the refrigerator and plopped them on the counter. It was the only right and decent thing to have him stay, she told herself as he began chopping an onion. And it did feel good to have a man in the house. No, face it Brittany. What feels good is having Sam Lawrence in the house.

  Sam finished cutting the onion, several mushrooms, half a tomato, and a green pepper, then grated some cheddar cheese. He could feel Brittany relaxing by the minute, and that pleased him enormously. Her uneasiness and reticence crept in at odd moments, and he wanted nothing more right now than to assure her that there was no way on God’s earth he would hurt her. He’d keep the mood light, keep the worry from her eyes. Keep everything easy and relaxed … “Okay, Brittany, here we go. We have here, m’lady, the makings for Samson’s super omelet.”

  “Samson!” She covered her grin with one hand.

  He feigned hurt as he cracked the eggs into a bowl. “Of course. That biblical fellow with the strength and dashing good looks.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. Should things get out of hand, all I need is a scissors to lop off that head of hair of yours.…” Her gaze fell on his thick brown hair falling askew over one eye as he stirred the creamy yellow mixture, then poured it into a frying pan. It was wonderful hair, wonderful to run her hands through. “And all strength will be gone,” she finished weakly.

  He began tossing the other ingredients into the pan. “No, that’s where that Samson and I differ.” He looked over at her and smiled a slow, devastating smile. “My strengths are in all sorts of hidden places. But you’re more than welcome to look for them, Brittany.”

  She choked. “That—omelet smells good.” She quickly uncorked a bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

  “Good? Brittany dear, this is a magic omelet, not adequately described by a mere adjective such as ‘good.’ This omelet is guaranteed to make you lust for it the rest of your natural days!” He flipped the omelet neatly onto one of the plates she had set out, cut it in two, and set half on the other plate. “I make the best omelet east of the Rockies.” He paused for a moment. “Hell, probably west too.”

  “Such modesty, Mr. Lawrence! Well, it better be good or the yolk will be on you.”

  He laughed at her silly pun and helped her pile everything onto a large pewter tray. “I’ll properly ignore that. Now, dear Brittany, shall we retire to the warmth of the fire to savor these gourmet wonders?”

  In minutes they were both settled comfortably in front of the leaping flames, their backs supported by plump, oversized pillows, their plates balanced expertly on their laps.

  Sam watched her carefully as she slid a forkful of the rich, moist omelet between her lips. “Well? What do you think?”

  “You’re absolutely right.” She wiped a trace of egg from the corner of her mouth. “Best in the east and west.”

  He beamed. “Now I’m convinced you have wonderful taste.” He reached over and walked his fingers lazily across her hand.

  She eyed him warily, then slipped her hand away to reach for her wineglass. She took a quick sip. “You know, Sam, we have a dog at Petpals who’s a lot like you.”

  He laughed huskily. “He cooks?”

  “No. He begs … for attention. And I usually throw him shoes.”

  He grabbed her foot, rubbing the thick sock over her toes until she wriggled with pleasure. “Shoes … socks … anything will do.”

  “You’re impossible.” She finished her omelet and set her plate down, then wrapped her arms around her knees. “But impossible or not, Sam, I’m still glad you stayed.”

  He poured more wine for them both, then lifted his glass and clinked it lightly against hers. “Here’s to those who stay.…”

  Their eyes met and held as they swallowed the wine. “To those who stay …” she repeated softly.

  She glanced at the nearly empty bottle of wine and pressed one palm to her cheek. “Sam, are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked teasingly.

  He shook his head, watching the firelight cast a glow on her cheeks. “Eagle scout … remember?”

  “My brother Gordie was an eagle scout. And at the awards ceremony one of the older eagle scouts tried to squeeze my thigh underneath the punch and cookie table.”

  “Did he succeed?”

  She laughed. “No. I managed to lower my hand holding a chocolate eclair just as he made his move, and he got a handful of it instead.”

  He poured the rest of the wine into their glasses. “Sounds like you’ve always been able to take care of yourself just fine, Brittany.”

  “Most of the time I do all right.” A shadow passed over her eyes, but disappeared almost as quickly as it came.

  “Brittany?” He slid closer and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I’m fine. A little hazy, perhaps.” She leaned her head back and it settled naturally on his shoulder. “But otherwise just fine.”

  Her lashes fell like butterfly wings onto her cheeks and she sat still for so long, Sam thought maybe she had fallen asleep. An angel asleep in his arms, he thought, his fingers gently combing her hair. And she fit just right. As he moved his hand slightly, her hair swept against his cheek, and the clean, fresh smell of her filled his senses. She was so soft and wonderful. So delicately sensual. So … He swallowed with great difficulty, then his whole body tensed.

  “Brittany, wake up.” He shook her lightly but firmly.

  “Sam!” Her eyes opened wide. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I think we ought to go outside, that’s all.” Because if he didn’t, right this minute, he might burn his eagle scout card!

  “Outside?” Was he crazy? she thought. She hadn’t been asleep at all, just quietly absorbing every small feel and smell of Sam Lawrence. Basking in it, tasting it in her mind, then carefully committing it to memory.

  “Yes, outside.” He was already standing, pulling her to her feet. “That good-luck spell doesn’t work unless you actually touch the snow. Come on.”

  She stared at his back as he headed for the door. The man was totally unpredictable. Wasn’t he enjoying the moment of closeness too? She slipped into her shoes and pulled on her jacket, then quickly went out the door after him. Maybe she just didn’t understand men.

  “Ah.” Sam lifted his face and let the filmy snowflakes settle on his cheeks. “Wonderful!”

  “Inside was wonderful too,” she whispered.

  “The air feels so good.” He stretched his arms wide and breathed deeply, his lungs expanding and the cold air calming his body. He wrapped one arm around Brittany and held her close
.

  Brittany gazed out into the fairy-tale night. The snow was polka-dotted against the inky darkness and barely covered the tall pine trees and fence posts. Along the ground was a thin graceful wave of white. It was beautiful … a beautiful snowy night, and a wonderful man standing close beside her. As the cold air began to penetrate, her head cleared and the dreamy, foggy sensation lifted. But not the feeling of utter happiness that swept through her again and again, like a swiftly flowing river. It was Sam, standing there beside her. He was turning a lovely night into something far more. And with firm determination, she blocked out rational thought and refused to let its icy logic ruin the first snow.

  “In the dead of winter the snow piles as high as a man’s head out here,” she said, looking out toward the dark woods.

  “How high?”

  “Up to here.” She reached up and rubbed one hand across the top of his head, her fingers touching the snowflakes that had settled there.

  She grinned and dropped her head back to catch the snowflakes on the tip of her tongue like she used to as a child. “Do we make a wish?”

  He looked down at her. “I think the good luck comes naturally now. No wish necessary.” With the tip of one finger he touched a lacy snowflake that had settled on the tip of her nose, then bent and kissed it away.

  Her eyes were open, soft and flecked with tiny lights. The fear was gone, the anxiousness he’d seen earlier, and left was a wonderful warmth. It held him silent for a full minute, a minute touched with night magic. “Brittany, you’re going to have to stop looking at me like that,” he said, his words coming out with difficulty.

  When she shook her head, tiny snowflakes fell from her hair like fairy dust. “I can’t,” she said simply.

  “Then I can’t be responsible.”

  “I reached the age of reason long ago, Sam.” Her voice, low and husky, stirred the embers he had tried so hard to smother, and his arm grew tighter around her shoulder, his fingers pressing into her arm.

  “You’re doing crazy things to me …”

  “Kiss me, Sam.”

  “Yes,” he whispered, his breath blowing gently on her parted lips as he brought his mouth down possessively onto hers.

  The sky faded out and the earth lost its feel for Brittany as she clung to him, letting his gently probing tongue and the lovely pressure of his mouth fill her with wonder. She answered him fully, her lips fitting to his as one, perfectly. They separated only long enough to breathe in tiny gulps of air, then joined again. This time they both felt a growing urgency wrapping itself around them.

  Brittany reached up and circled his neck with her arms, pressing her body against his, clinging there and willing away reason. One night, one beautiful night. Surely she could handle that much. “Sam, may we go back in now? And don’t worry about protecting me. I’m a big girl.” Her words were spoken softly, but he didn’t miss a single one.

  He looked down at her, but she had already slipped her arms from his neck and was turning back, one hand reaching for his as she guided him into the house.

  Wordlessly, they removed their jackets and moved back to the fire. Sam poked it into life, then drew Brittany down in front of it. The warmth returned.

  “Here’s to our good-luck snow,” he said. He slipped her wine into her shaking hand and clinked his glass against it.

  They drank silently, reading the growing desire in each other’s eyes. Brittany was overwhelmed with feeling for this incredible man who was so gentle with her, so caring. Surely no pain could come from that. She set her glass down on the raised stone hearth and watched the firelight shine in his eyes.

  “Do you see yourself there, in my eyes?” he asked huskily.

  She nodded.

  “And how do you look?”

  “Cloudy, starry-eyed.”

  His arms wrapped around her and he shifted until she was cradled between his bent legs, her back to his front. “That’s how you make me feel, Brittany. Cloudy … and a little bit in awe of this feeling.”

  She nodded, gazing at the brilliant orange and yellow spears of fire dancing in the fireplace. They seemed to leap from the fireplace right into her, shooting through every inch of her.

  “I’m in awe too, Sam. I didn’t intend to feel this way about you. But I do, and it’s about as controllable as those flames. It’s—it’s all through me, Sam, a forest fire, out of control.” She rubbed her head back and forth against his cheek.

  He nipped softly at her neck as he felt the passion unleash within her. He ran his palms down the length of her arms, his chin tucked closely into the crook of her neck as he, too, stared at the fire. “Have you ever noticed how sensuous the flames in a fire are, Brittany? They dance and curl and twine about each other.…”

  The flames were like dancers, she thought as she tried to control her heartbeat. And it was a love dance they were doing, winding and twirling, the colors changing just like the myriad sensations sweeping through her. She was lifted by a rush of warmth, then light shivers ran through her, then she was bathed in moist desire. She wet her lips and pressed back into the V of his body.

  His hard thighs tightened instinctively around her, locking her against his body and sending a whole new wave of feelings surging through her.

  She could feel the hard heat of his arousal pressed into her back, could feel the strong, quick beat of his heart, and she savored the heat that seared her at each point of contact. Her whole body was strangely alive with the sensations that leaped as powerfully as the flames in front of her.

  Behind her Sam sensed her excitement and desire. His own was just barely controlled. He slipped his hands down to the edge of her shirt and stroked his thumbs across the soft, creamy skin beneath. It was warm and silky and alive to his touch.

  “It’s getting warm,” she murmured.

  He kissed the crook of her neck. “Here, this’ll help.” The bottom button slipped open easily, and he continued all the way to the top, his fingers sure as they rubbed against her skin, his hands reassuring. He parted the fabric and gently cupped her ribs with his large hands, his fingers creating wonderful patterns as he slowly massaged her skin.

  She sighed as pleasure filled her. Sam was so sure, so tender, that she barely felt it when he undid the front snap of her bra and slipped it aside.

  Sam’s breath caught as he looked down at the creamy curves of her breasts. Her skin was flawless, her breasts full and firm as they rose and fell with soft pressure into his palms.

  He’d dreamed of this, of holding her like this, but she was far more beautiful in reality, far lovelier than any fantasy he could have created in his mind. “Oh, Brittany, you’re so lovely.”

  With the grace of the dancing flames he moved from behind her and stretched out along the floor, drawing her down in front of him after he effortlessly eased her out of the flannel shirt and bra. “The fire will warm you,” he whispered into her hair.

  “My handsome, loving eagle scout,” she murmured.

  She lay there, half naked, feeling no fear or alarm or inhibition as his gaze took in the lovely contours of her breasts. She felt only happiness with this man who cradled her head gently against his forearm and looked down lovingly into her eyes.

  He abandoned his own shirt on the couch and her gaze rested on the marvelous thatch of tawny-colored hair that covered his broad chest, glistening with tiny beads of moisture. It was the same Sam who had come to her in her dreams, leaving her reluctantly at dawn. But he was here, really here. She reached up and touched the blond curls, twisting them lightly between her fingers. “Oh, Sam,” she murmured dreamily, “you’re so beautiful.”

  “We’re beautiful, Brittany. Together.”

  “I’m drifting, Sam. I’m in another world.…”

  “It’s the omelet, Brittany. I didn’t mention its side effects, I guess.” His husky laughter touched her heart.

  “I … would … like … that … recipe,” she managed weakly as she moistened her lips.

  “We can proba
bly improve on it if we work at it.” His fingers moved playfully across her breasts, and he watched as the pale brown nipples tightened and grew firm beneath his touch. Her soft moan was music lighting his soul. “You’re so beautiful, my darling, lovely Brittany. So beautiful …”

  His head dipped until he touched each breast with his lips, first one, then the other, slowly tasting the sweetness of her flesh until her body writhed beneath his hot tongue. “Oh, Sam—” she cried, tangling her hands in his hair as his head moved lower, tracing a hot moist trail down her stomach.

  She bit on her lip, unable to fathom the depths of her pleasure. She knew she was in paradise, and she didn’t ever want to leave.

  Sam lifted his head and ran his hand over her, slowly moving lower, covering every inch of her stomach in warm strokes until his fingers touched the top of her jeans. They rested there for just a fraction of a moment before unsnapping the clasp and lowering the zipper, then slipping beneath the material. He could feel her consent, and understood simply and surely that she wanted him to know all of her.

  A hot sweetness spread like wild honey down to her loins, and she felt moist and weightless all through her body. It had been so long. A huge rush of happiness, so powerful it brought tears to her eyes, swept over her.

  He saw her tender expression and paused. “Brittany …?”

  Her hair floated around her shoulders as she nodded, one tear trailing in slow motion down her cheek. “Oh, Sam. Dear, dear, Sam. I want you so very much.…”

  “You’re sure, Brittany?”

  “It’s probably the only thing in my life right now I know for sure.”

  His smile filled her as his fingers continued exploring beneath her jeans, caressing her abdomen, rubbing across her hips. With the strength of his namesake he peeled the denim and silky panties down her long slender legs, leaving them in a pile at her feet. In another single movement he joined them with his own. “There …”