Читать книгу One Blazing Night - Jo Leigh - Страница 10

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SAM LEANED AGAINST the wall, staring out the window of the smart apartment from an angle so Matt couldn’t see her when he finally arrived.

If he arrived. But of course he was coming, because he’d said so. She’d hate to think she’d gone through the crazy whirlwind of deciding what to wear for nothing. Good Lord, she must’ve tried on everything in her closet, avoiding the sweatshirts, T-shirts and leggings that made up most of her wardrobe. She wanted to look good for Matt. But the few dresses she owned for wearing to conferences and business meetings made her feel like an impostor when she put them on.

So Sam had compromised. Business slacks with her nicest San Diego Comic-Con T-shirt. She’d had the shirt for a long time, but it would be new to Matt. It was blue with long sleeves. She’d tried pushing those up, but her arm freckles made the decision to wear them down very easy. Still, it was a good hair day and she was thankful for small favors.

Now it was all she could do not to run back home and put on a sweatshirt and leggings. What had she been thinking?

Ha. As if she didn’t know. Matt was coming. Today. Any minute. So she could give him the key. Which meant she’d slept like shit. When Clark had offered to give him the key, she’d immediately said no. He’d seemed agitated. Probably because it meant she wouldn’t be working. But screw it. SOC was her company, and she could take a few hours off if she wanted to.

Or maybe Clark wasn’t piqued because she wouldn’t be working but because of why she wouldn’t be working. Did he not like Matt? Huh. She’d have to think about that. Was it because she’d worn her dress pants? Did Clark think she was selling out? Trying to be someone she wasn’t? The fact that she turned into an idiot when she was around Matt wasn’t anything new in her life, and Clark had no doubt caught on. Her crush had lasted a really long time.

Clark might be upset at her foolishness, and she couldn’t fault his logic. Especially when she considered that Matt wouldn’t care what she wore.

She shouldn’t have cared, either. But she had the feeling Matt would look spiffy and handsome as hell and she hadn’t wanted to— Something caught her eye at the window. Oh, God. Matt. He was here. Getting out of a taxi—

Not a town car. Most of his family lived here. Their corporate office was located downtown. She hadn’t expected a taxi.

Or for her reaction to be this bad.

How had her mouth already dried up? Her heart had been pounding since she’d seen him in her peripheral vision. For heaven’s sake, butterflies and panic were battling to the death in her chest. Why hadn’t she just let Clark give him the damn key?

Matt was taking his time. Checking out the brownstones that lined the street before taking the shady brick walkway that led to the apartment. He looked like her Matt, but different, too. Broader of chest, certainly. He seemed taller, but she doubted that was true. Maybe his black jeans and gray V-neck sweater made him appear taller than the six foot one she knew he was. His jacket was dark, maybe suede, and looked as if it would be nice to curl up against.

Not that she would be curling up against anyone.

Even his luggage looked sharp. And—wow—he’d brought a lot. An extra-large suitcase on wheels and a brown garment bag. Was he planning to stay until winter?

Just as he was reaching the front door, she realized she’d been squeezing the key so hard it had left a deep groove in her hand. The hand he’d want to shake. No, he’d want a hug.

She hadn’t considered—

The sound of the doorbell made her jump. Oh, this was going to be a load of fun. Why was she stressing so much? This was Matt. They were practically brother and sister. Except for that one time... Shit. Why did she have to think of that?

She needed to concentrate on breathing. And trying not to pass out. After a long, deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the door.

Holy crap. Matt’s brown eyes and perfectly shaped mouth were the same, yet he was so much better-looking than she’d remembered. A man now, not a boy. And the smile he gave her sent shivers through her body. She knew that grin. It changed his face. He could look really serious and foreboding if he wanted to, but when he whipped out that grin, he became a tease, a wink, a promise.

“Wow,” he said, his voice lower, maybe not. “You look great.”

“Me?” She pointed at him. “You—”

“Look the same, just old.” He paused, waited. “Mind if I come in?”

“Of course.” She quickly stood aside. And she wasn’t disappointed that there’d been no hug. Hugs were overdone. They hadn’t seen each other for years. She closed the door, focusing on the image of his smile, even as she understood it would haunt her dreams for ages.

* * *

MATT LEFT HIS LUGGAGE off to the side and watched Sam turn in her Comic-Con shirt, with her copper-colored hair shifting over her shoulders. She was a woman now, beautifully sculpted with curves that hadn’t been there when he’d last seen her. But that shirt? That was pure Sammy.

He couldn’t get over it. The pictures online hadn’t done her justice at all. She didn’t have prom-queen beauty—that wasn’t Sam. She could stand to put on a couple of pounds and her smile was a little crooked, but she had amazing green eyes that lit up like firecrackers. Standing there in front of him was everything he’d always liked about Sammy, with the addition of womanly grace that only time and experience could bring.

He couldn’t wait another moment. “Come here,” he said, holding his arms out, taking the first step.

A blush stole over her cheeks but she came willingly, and then she was in his arms. A second later, hers went around his waist, under his jacket.

It wasn’t the MIT hug he was used to.

They’d never pressed this close, never hung on for beat after beat of his quickening heart. Damn, she smelled good.

He pulled back. She released him instantly, but he wasn’t quite ready to abandon ship. He held on to her shoulders and gave her a head-to-toe inspection.

“Logan was right. You’ve turned into a stunner.”

Her brows, a little darker than her hair, came together as she frowned and took a half step back. “You don’t have to say that stuff to me, Matt. I don’t need to be flattered.”

“You think I wasn’t being sincere?”

“No. I mean, I know I’m okay. But I’m not— I’m in shape because I think better when I’m running. It’s not about...anything else.”

“I’m glad you’re fit, but I wasn’t lying. I think you’re beautiful, and that’s just the truth.”

“Okay,” she said as the blush darkened. “That’s fair enough. I think you’re beautiful, too.”

He laughed. “I think the word you were looking for was handsome? I hope?”

“Fine. Handsome. Hot as hell. Drop-dead gorgeous. Mouthwatering—”

“Okay. That’s enough.” Matt laughed, mostly at himself. How could he have forgotten her quirky tendency to drive them all nuts with the thesaurus in her brain. “Hey,” he said, giving her another once-over. “You’re taller. By a lot. When did that happen?”

Sam looked confused and then dropped her gaze to her toes, peeking out from under the hem of her slacks. “I’m wearing heels,” she said and then lifted her right leg to show him the proof. “Anyway...” She stuck out her hand. The key rested in her palm. “Here’s the key.”

Matt accepted it, wondering why she suddenly seemed so nervous.

She moved back and turned in a jerky motion. “This is it,” she said, gesturing widely. “It’s still a prototype. I’m working out the kinks.” She took off walking down the hall and he lagged a few seconds behind until she reached the junction of kitchen and living room. “The fridge and pantry are fully stocked. Feel free to use or consume anything.”

She picked up some brochure from the kitchen counter. “You’ll find everything you need in here, including chefs who will come here to cook or have something made-to-order delivered. The masseur is terrific, especially his sports massage. I know you know Boston, but there are a bunch of delivery menus by the pantry. And if you have any problems or questions—”

“You’ve used this masseur?”

“What?” Sam frowned. “Of course not.”

“You said he was terrific.”

“I could find out which doctor you should use if you had an enlarged prostate. It doesn’t mean I have personal experience.”

Matt let out a laugh. He’d missed this. She never had thought like everyone else. Thank goodness that hadn’t changed. “Point taken.”

“As I was saying, if you have any questions, just call the office. Clark knows this place inside and out.”

Confused, he looked down at the brochure she’d shoved into his hand. When he lifted his gaze again, he realized she was about to leave. Three steps away, he nabbed her wrist. “What? Where are you going? I want you to show me around, not give me some brochure.”

“I should get back to work,” she said. “Besides, Rick and Logan didn’t need me to hold their hands, and they did fine.”

“Tough. They didn’t have to beg for an invitation, either. So now, Sammy, my friend, you get to show me where I’ll be staying for the next few days.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “You have a lot of luggage for a few days.”

“You know corporate is here. I’ve got the annual dog and pony show to attend.”

“So why didn’t you leave your stuff at the office?”

“I came straight from the airport.”

“Really?”

He realized he’d been absently stroking her wrist when he felt her pulse leap. She pulled her arm back and he let go.

“Half an hour,” he said. “That’s not too bad. Right? Then you can go back to work.”

She closed her eyes, her long lashes brushing the tops of her smooth pink cheeks. “Fine,” she said, as if he’d asked her for a huge favor. “First lesson.” Turning to face the living room wall, she said, “Call Clark.”

Instantly, a monitor graphic appeared on the wall just to the right of the curved big-screen TV. The monitor was done so well it was difficult to believe it wasn’t three-dimensional.

“Yeah?” Clark’s voice was clear and irritated sounding as Clark removed his glasses and squinted at them. The guy looked almost the same as he had back at MIT.

“I’ll be a half hour longer than I planned.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t have any appointments, right?”

“Right. But don’t tell me you’re going to make it up later, because you really have to get some sleep. Pop a Xanax, do some yoga. Whatever it takes.”

“Fine. I’ll drug myself to sleep tonight.”

“Good.” Clark’s gaze shifted and he gave Matt a brief nod, then turned to Sam. “I’ve got that thing I’m working on,” he said, pointing at his desk.

“Go,” she said. “End call.”

Matt got the impression Clark didn’t like that Matt was keeping her from work. “I was going to say hey.”

“Next time. Jeez. He’s worse than my mother. Who loves him to death, of course.”

“I think that was the most I ever heard him talk. But you guys are cool, right?”

“Yes,” she said, the hesitation clear in her voice. “We’re a finely tuned machine. We just got a new assistant, Tina. She’s bright but still learning.”

Matt’s mind lingered on the other man. “Anything happening with you and Clark?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it all about work, or is there something romantic—”

“With Clark?” Sam’s eyes widened. “Ew. No. He’s like a brother.”

“Just asking.” Pleased with her reaction, Matt smiled. Although, what did he care? He liked Clark, and if he and Sam had hooked up, it would’ve been a good thing. So what the hell—

“Do you want a tour or not?”

“Lead on.”

“So, this is the living room. If you want a fire, just tell it to turn on, and it will. You can use any wall in the house for a call, but be careful. Someone accidentally made a call from the shower, so...”

He hadn’t expected her to stop walking, and they nearly collided. He put a steadying hand at the small of her back.

She jumped at the contact, then stiffened. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“My fault,” he said. “You okay?” She nodded and visibly relaxed. He lowered his hand, distracted by what was happening around them. The walls on either side of the fireplace had turned from white to violet. When he turned around, he realized the walls in the foyer were also shades of purple. It was fascinating. “Is that your technology?”

“The colors? Yeah. It’s in all the rooms.”

“What determines the color change?”

She cleared her throat. “The walls contain sensors that read the temperature of the person or people in the room. The sensors also pick up a lot of other things, like breathing and walking patterns, tonal qualities. They still need some refinement, but almost all the gizmos here do.”

“That’s incredible.” Matt turned slowly, taking everything in. “I can already see how effective these kinds of walls could be. In high-risk situations, in hospitals—heck, in homes and hotels. This is a big deal, Sammy. Same with the monitors. The potential is unlimited.”

“They’re all just prototypes. But you’ve probably stayed in some of the best hotels in the world. You’ll let me know how this compares, yes?”

He nodded as she led him into the high-end kitchen for a second time. He found himself only half listening as she explained something about ordering food, but he figured it didn’t matter—he had the brochure; he’d figure it out. He wasn’t here for the whiz-bang stuff, except for the fact that Sammy designed it.

It was clear this place made her tremendously happy. Those green eyes of hers glowed with beautiful intensity. She spoke faster, too, when she was describing the apartment’s amenities. Sometimes skipping words, then going back to chase them down. He loved every second of it.

The technical stuff was utterly lost on him. But this was Sammy, the girl he remembered. The heels were unexpected, though. He knew she hated them. In fact, he could only remember her wearing them twice, and both times she’d taken them off at inappropriate times. Once, she’d been in the dean’s office with some big-money alumni. Matt hadn’t been there, but she’d told him that halfway through explaining her thesis, her feet had started killing her, so she’d taken off her heels and put them on the dean’s desk. She’d shrugged and wondered why he’d been bent out of shape about it. The alumni had handed over a major check, which was what she had been there for...

Now she was walking him to the bedroom, and the walls were turning from violet to something much darker. When they entered the bedroom itself, the colors started climbing the wall, swirling as if there were smoke in the paint, or whatever it was.

“Oh, crap,” Sam said. “I forgot something.” She turned around and walked past him as if the apartment were on fire.

He followed her back down the hall. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine. You can take your bags to your room if you want. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Should I be worried?”

The walls in the hallway had turned scarlet, and there was something about them that made him kind of...aroused. Not what he wanted to be. The two of them weren’t like that. If she caught him with a pup tent, he was not going to be happy.

“You don’t need to follow me,” she muttered over her shoulder.

“Just hold on a second, will you? Tell me what’s going on.”

“Your bag. In your room,” she said. “Now would be good.”

Completely baffled, he stopped and watched her enter the kitchen and walk to the pantry. She opened the door, stepped inside, then closed the door behind her.

“What, you need a cookie?”

“Go put your bag away,” she said, her muffled voice sounding stressed.

“Are you sick? You can tell me.”

“Matthew. Go. Away.”

“Fine,” he said as he wandered into the living room and waited by a glass table that sat in front of the couch. It was the perfect vantage point, putting the pantry door in his line of sight without his crowding her. There was a small fountain trickling away somewhere, which was very pleasant, but he only had eyes for the pantry. He noticed, as he stared, that the room smelled really good. Was that what was making him horny? He was pretty damn controlled about these things, but after a few minutes of deep focus, he started to wilt.

Maybe it wasn’t the smell. The color of the walls, then? But why would she want him to get worked up? The idea didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have, but it still made no sense.

The minutes ticked by and he considered getting his bags and putting them in the bedroom, but no. He was going to wait for her. If she was sick, he wanted to be available. Although a person about to be sick would usually head to the bathroom, but then, Sammy had always walked her own unique path.

The walls went white. All of them, all at once. It was highly dramatic. And a little scary. “Sam?”