“Ciao, you big dork,” I replied and I could then hear her laughter which I knew was relieved. My words said I wasn’t pissed at her and I’d given in on the talk.
Then she was gone and I knew at that moment, in Heartmeadow, Indiana, my friend Paula was dialing Missy or Teri or, if she was at a phone that had the option, she was conferencing.
Shit.
I pulled in a soft breath as I flipped my phone shut, tucking it into my bag when Luci unsurprisingly immediately offered, “Tomorrow, when you wake up, you can use my computer.”
God, seriously, it would be a lot better if she was a haughty uber-bitch like all supermodels were supposed to be and not hyper-friendly.
I looked at her and noticed that Sam’s arms hadn’t moved, nor had his body, which was right in my space.
Still, even so, I ignored both.
“Thanks,” I said softly.
“Prego,” she said softly back.
“Luci, give us a minute, yeah?” Sam said, not softly but firmly and there was only one answer to his “yeah?” which Luci gave him after throwing him a radiant, happy, certain she was going to have quasi nieces and nephews imminently as supplied by Sam and me smile before she melted away.
My mind was stuck on giving Luci nieces and nephews as supplied on me by Sam when Sam called me.
“Baby.”
Reluctantly, I tipped my head back to look up at him.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“If I say yes, will you ask me repeatedly until I tell you the truth?” I asked back and he grinned.
Then he answered, “Yeah.”
“Then, no.”
“Talk to me,” he ordered gently.
I shook my head, put my hands to his biceps and pushed back as I started, “Sam, I –”
His arms got tight and it was proved positive I was totally clueless because he was not a small man, he was a tall man, he was definitely a muscular man and thus I should have cottoned onto the fact that he was a very strong man and I knew this in that instant because his arms separated, one going low at my waist, one going up to rest under my shoulder blades. They got tight in a way I knew there was no escape even without trying and suddenly I found myself chest to chest, hips to hips and thighs to thighs, pressed deep to Sam Cooper.
Then his neck bent and his face was an inch from mine.
My stomach pitched, my knees wobbled and my mouth clamped shut.
When he had my undivided attention, he said in a firm, unrelenting but still somehow gentle voice, “That was not a request.”
“I need some space, Sam,” I whispered and it was breathy mostly because I was breathing so hard I was close to panting.
“You’re not going to get it.”
Say what?
“Sam!” I snapped.
“Talk,” he returned.
“I get to decide when I want to talk, not you,” I retorted and that was when it happened.
Right then.
Right there (nearly).
Within maybe ten minutes of showing up at his dead, best friend’s wealthy, gorgeous, famous wife’s fabulous villa on Lago di Como, it happened.
Sam released me with one arm but only to twist, taking me with him and putting the champagne flute on a table within his reach and he repeated this maneuver when he divested me of my bag. Then he shuffled me backwards out the door. Once there, he turned me to his side, his arm clamped around my waist and he pulled me to the very end corner of the terrace balustrade, alone, no one close. There, he twisted me into the corner and caged me in.
And through this, I lost it. Completely. I forgot who he was but I didn’t forget who I was. I didn’t forget what I learned at the hands of my husband. It had been months but I remembered it in excruciating detail.
And Sam’s actions brought back Cooter’s lessons and fear gripped me, extreme and paralyzing.
So when his hands came to either side of my neck, his thumbs at my jaws forced my head back to look at him and I did, his head jerked with his flinch so violently, it was like I struck him and I knew it was written all over my face.
“Baby,” he whispered and his voice was not rough-as-velvet. It was just rough.
“Step back,” I whispered and there was no way to miss the plea.
“Kia.”
“Step back.”
“Kia.”
“Step back.”
There it was.
A whimper.
Weak. Exposed.
Humiliated, I closed my eyes tight, tried to turn my face away and Sam allowed this, his thumbs gliding from my jaws but he kept me pinned and he kept his hands at my neck.
Then he ground out, “He hurt you.”
Oh man.
Oh God.
How did this happen?
Why couldn’t I keep anything secret?
I kept my eyes closed and my face averted.
Sam kept going.
“He did it often.”
I couldn’t escape him so I did the only thing I could. I twisted my neck deeper to turn my face further away in hopes he couldn’t see it.
“He didn’t check it, not once, not fuckin’ once,” Sam kept speaking, his voice now abrasive.
He wasn’t pissed. He was angry.
Oh God!
Sam didn’t relent.
“He broke you.”
“Step back,” I pleaded.
He didn’t step back.
He did something entirely different.
Both his arms closed around me, one at my middle back, the other around my shoulder, his hand up and curled tight at the back of my neck, his fingers pressing in to keep my head turned away and his mouth was at my ear, so close, I could feel his nose brushing my hair.
“I didn’t know.” Now his voice was rough a different way. “I didn’t know. If I had known –”
“Sam, don’t,” I cut him off. “Please just move away.”
His arms got tighter and he ignored me. “I’d never hurt you.”
I swallowed and stopped talking.
“I wanted your attention, Kia. That’s it. I get where you are now, baby, and I’ll never do that again and I would never, no fuckin’ joke, baby, please get this, I would never, ever hurt you.”
I stayed silent.
Sam stayed close.
I didn’t move.
He didn’t let me go.
God, I needed him to let me go!
I swallowed again, hard, and I did it to swallow back tears so my breath hitched and my chest jumped with the effort and his arms got tighter.
“My Dad beat my Ma.”
My head snapped around as my eyes opened, his head jerked back at my movement and his hand at the back of my neck instantly moved to wrap around its side.
“You see that as a kid, you live it, you’re powerless to stop it, it marks you. You got two choices, you keep that shit alive by givin’ in and perpetrating it on your family or you vow it’ll end with him. My brother and me, we vowed it’d end with him and that’s where it ended, Kia. We got older, taller, bigger, that shit stopped and you want, I’ll tell you how me and Ben made it stop but it was us who made it stop. I haven’t seen my Dad in nineteen years and this is because, he knows I see his face, he won’t be conscious long enough to blink at me. You get where I’m comin’ from with this?”
Stunned speechless at his open, raw sharing, I nodded.
He watched me nod. Then his eyes moved over my face. Then they changed, filling with something that made my body tense so tight, I thought tendons would snap but he didn’t seem to notice as the flame that lit in his eyes quickly built to an inferno.
And I would know why when he spoke again.
“Cheated on you and beat you.”
Oh God.
“Sam –”
“You, fuckin’ you. Look at you. What the fuck?”
I pressed my lips together.
He wasn’t done.
“Any woman but fuck, fuck,” he clipped. “You. You. Takin’ a hand
to you would be like takin’ a razorblade to La Scapigliata.”
His last two words jolted me out of our current drama and I blinked then whispered, “What?”
“What?” he shot back, still pissed, definitely, and thus not following me.
“La Scapila-what?”
He stared at me.
Then he repeated, “La Scapigliata,”
I felt my brows draw together. “What’s that?”
“La Scapigliata?”
“Yeah.”
“La Scapigliata. The Head of a Woman. The Lady with Disheveled Hair. By da Vinci. It’s unfinished but it’s still a masterpiece. It’s in Parma. I’ve viewed it twice and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
My mouth dropped open and this wasn’t only because Sampson Cooper, ex-pro football star, ex-dangerous commando and current big, tall, powerful hot guy would be talking about an unfinished masterpiece by da Vinci but because he’d compared me to the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He looked at my mouth then he looked in my eyes then his arm and hand gave me a squeeze before he stated, “Now, I think she finally fuckin’ gets me.”
“Sam –” I whispered.
“I’d never hurt you, Kia.”
“Sam –” I tried again.
“Never, don’t give a shit what you said, what you did. I would not take a hand to you and I would not cut you down anyway I could, verbally or mentally.”
“Sam –” I tried yet again.
“I scared you just now, I get why but I didn’t mean to and I won’t ever do it again so I need to know you believe me.”
“I don’t.”
Yes. That was what I said. It came right out of my mouth and it caused a flash of something I didn’t like to see to score through Sam’s eyes.
“Baby,” he whispered.
“I barely know you,” I whispered back.
He held my eyes.
Then he muttered, “Four months.”
“Sorry?” I asked.
“You said he got whacked four months ago.”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“You’re sellin’ your house, gettin’ a new place and off on vacation, sitting on balconies, drinking alone, tears in your eyes. It’s too early. You aren’t ready to believe me.”
You know, seriously, it was beginning to piss me off how often he figured me out.
So much so, I informed him of this fact.
“You know, Sam, it’s beginning to piss me off how you figure me out. How the heck am I supposed to be intriguing and mysterious if you keep figuring me out?”
Yes. Again. That’s was what I said.
And I knew I didn’t imagine my extreme idiocy when he suddenly burst out laughing, throwing his head back to do it then bending his neck so he could bury his face in my neck and finish doing it as his hand at my neck slid to become an arm tight around me.
“I can see that was amusing to you, the problem is, I wasn’t being funny.”
His head came up, his dark brown eyes still dancing with hilarity and his arms gave me a squeeze. “Intriguing and mysterious?”
“I’m chic and cosmopolitan. Women like that are always intriguing and mysterious.”
“Baby, I knew you all of two minutes when you told me your husband was murdered while doin’ your high school arch-nemesis. That’s intriguing, yeah, but it sure as fuck isn’t mysterious.”
He was right which was also annoying so I just glared at him.
“You also told me you knew me,” he reminded me.
“I do,” I again confirmed then went for the gusto because, what the heck, in my efforts to get him to back off, nothing else was working. “In fact, I borderline internet stalked you.”
I thought he would let me go instantly, repulsed by this news, or at the very least it would creep him out, but instead he started chuckling.
Chuckling!
“That isn’t funny either, that’s creepy,” I informed him.
“You aren’t the first,” he replied which was definitely the truth; Teri was way into him before he even quit football and went into the Army. “And you won’t be the last,” he finished.
“It’s still creepy.”
“Paparazzi was in your business, a picture of you was in front of my face, Kia, baby, seriously, I would look. You were in that dress, I’d look for awhile. You were in a bikini…” he trailed off.
I belatedly forced my arms between us but only succeeded in getting them trapped with my hands flat against the hard wall of his chest. This was another mistake. I’d already had a variety of opportunities to experience the hard parts of his body; I certainly didn’t need another one. It was distracting.
“Okay, can we change the subject?” I requested though at that moment, pressed to him tight when he was accepting me even though I was laying out all my dark secrets, proving without a doubt he should take me back to the hotel, drop me off and never look back, I didn’t know what subject to change it to.
It didn’t matter, as I was becoming accustomed with Sam, I didn’t get the chance.
“No,” he answered.
I rolled my eyes.
“Gettin’ back to the point,” he started and I rolled my eyes back to him. “You said you knew me.”
“Yes.”
“Well, you know what I did. If I didn’t know how to figure people out, what I did, I’d be dead. I was taught to pay attention, close attention. I do it out of habit. I do it with you out of interest. And I’m gonna keep being straight…”
Great. He was going to keep being straight. Wonderful.
He kept being straight.
“I know you’re freaked, I know you’re scared and I know you can come up with a million reasons that you’re not ready, all of which will be excuses. But now that I know exactly what’s behind those shields you got up, baby, and just how flimsy those shields are, you gotta know that knowin’ that makes me no less into you.”
My irritation leaked right out of me, I felt my body start to melt against his and I whispered, “Sam –”
“In fact, it makes me more into you.”
Oh man.
“Sam –”
“And you’ll learn,” his arms got tighter, his face dipped closer and his voice got sweet and gentle, “because I’ll prove it to you, I’ll never hurt you.”
I stared into his eyes and I asked quietly, “Well, will you let me finish a sentence?”
His eyes flared with humor then he said, “Sure.”
“Thanks,” I said back, partially sarcastically and his eyes flared with humor again. Then I got serious and laid it out. “You’re right. I’m freaked, I’m scared and there are a million reasons I’m not ready and I’m not certain all those are excuses.”
“Kia –”
I slid my hand up his chest and touched my fingers to his lips. He went quiet and I slid it back down.
Then I finished on a whisper, “But this isn’t about me. This is about you. You’re a good guy, you can be annoying, but I can tell you’re a good guy. And, seriously, please listen to me, men that are good men, they deserve better, Sam. They deserve the best. And you shouldn’t settle for anything less.”
I watched in the waning light as his eyes grew heated and felt as his arms stayed lock around me tight.
Then he whispered back, “Yeah, totally full of shit.”
I blinked at his bizarre response to my heartfelt words that I thought were very nice and he went on.
“The thing I didn’t get before is that you not only have no clue, you also have no clue you’re full of shit.”
“Sam, I’m not full of shit.”
Suddenly, his head dipped down but to the side and his mouth was at my ear.
“You get that he took something precious from you, your ability to trust. But, I hate to break this to you, honey, he took more and whatever your girl was tellin’ you on the phone that made you freak and if you’d open your eyes to what’s happenin’ right now, you’d see what he took
was more precious even than trust and you’d see you got people around you who want to help you get it back. Do not fuck up and let that opportunity slide. He took that from you, now’s your time to fight and get it back.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ll see.”
“Sam –”
“Just live in the now, Kia, keep livin’ in the now and when I say that, right now, I mean with me and I promise, you’ll see.”
“That doesn’t make me any less scared, Sam,” I whispered in his ear and he lifted his head and looked down at me.
“He strapped you with that too, baby. Fight back and learn to be fearless.”
Something about his words struck hard and it struck deep.
I had lived in fear a long time. I couldn’t remember the last time I woke up and didn’t spend every second of every day living in fear. Even now, even after Cooter was gone, I woke up filled with fear.
It had gone so long I had no clue how to be fearless.
“I don’t think I can,” I admitted.
“You can, everyone can.”
“I’m not sure that’s me.”
“Okay, when you can’t, you learn how to be.”
“Sam, I don’t –”
I stopped speaking when his arms gave me a squeeze and he asked, “Where are you?”
“Sorry?”
“Where are you right now, Kia?”
“In Lake Como.”
He grinned.
Then he bent close again and whispered, “You’re in the arms of the man you borderline internet stalked a day after he asked you out on a date. You didn’t take today to run away. You didn’t sit in your room, listen to me knock and not answer the door. You put on a dress, you walked with me to a euro-trash car and you went out with me. If there’s fear in there somewhere, I don’t see it. What I see is, today you may have been nervous, but you didn’t let that cripple you and right now, you’re here with me. Baby, you’re already fearless.”
“But I’ve been terrified all day.”
“Did you let it stop you?”
“No.”
He said no more.
Ohmigod?
Was he right?
Ohmigod!
He was right!
“She sees the light,” he muttered through a grin, watching me.
“Sam –”
He cut me off. “That’s your first block, baby, use it, step up on it and keep climbing. You’ll get to the other side. You with me?”