He pulled her off the walk into the thick grass. Sam gasped and wobbled as her heels sank right in. She lifted a startled gaze to his.
“Piggyback, or in my arms?” he asked.
“What?”
“We’re going around the back.”
Any woman in the history of his dating life would have stopped cold, stared at him as if he were crazy, and quite possibly even pitched a fit. At the very least, she’d have attracted attention by complaining about the ruining of her heels.
Not this woman.
She pulled the long strap of her little black purse over her head and one shoulder, settling it against her back. Then she tugged up the hem of her dress from mid-thigh to high-thigh. “Piggyback.”
He could have kissed her. Instead, he turned his back and bent down a little.
She hopped on. He felt her reach behind, probably checking to make sure she wasn’t flashing anyone. “Okay,” she said.
He gripped her legs at his sides, adjusting her slightly, and now his hands were each filled with a smooth, tanned thigh. They were firm and lean, and so were her arms, which encircled his neck. “Hold on,” he said, enjoying the feel of her toned body plastered to his and the loose tendrils of blond hair clinging to his neck and jaw.
“All set,” she said in his ear, her mouth brushing his skin.
A delicious shiver slid down his spine, reminding him that it had been a while since he’d indulged in what was too often thrown at him. In any case, the evening was definitely looking up. Despite the warm night, he began to move through the grass at a fast clip, ignoring the occasional twinge in his knee, concentrating instead on the athletic yet somehow perfectly soft body snugged so intimately to his.
They made it to the line of palm trees undetected, and slipped between them. Now they were far enough off the path so that if people glanced over, they’d merely see a couple walking, but would have no idea of their identity.
Perfect. “You okay back there?”
“Mm-hmm.”
The sound vibrated from her chest through his back, and his hands involuntarily tightened on her bare legs. What had started out so innocent had turned unexpectedly and pleasantly…hot.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her mouth close to his ear, causing more shivers down his spine.
Was he? He was melting, that’s what he was, and it had nothing to do with the weather. “Believe me, I’ve got the good end of the stick on this one,” he assured her, extremely aware of his fingers on her smooth, warm flesh.
They reached the building, and Jack moved alongside it. He headed around to the kitchen entrance. Finally he stepped out of the grass and onto concrete. He slowly—reluctantly—let go of her legs so that she could slide to the ground.
And slide she did. He felt every single inch of her, and when he heard her heels hit the deck, he turned. Before he could say a word, the door flung open and Heather stood there in a floor-length sheath of shimmery gold, her long dark auburn hair twisted in some complicated up-do. “You made it,” she said with relief. “Quick, inside.”
“You leaked this to the press,” he accused.
Guilt flashed quickly. “Yes, but only because this time the stalking little bastards are actually going to get the charity’s name out there and do some good, so screw them. Plus I made sure they paid the thousand-dollar price tag for the evening. Each.” Heather pulled them both into a large, bustling kitchen. There were servers rushing around, filling their trays from bins on the counters.
Heather shut the door behind them and hugged him tight. “You’re a sweetie for doing this.”
“Just remember that the next time you’re pissed off at me for something.” Jack pulled free and reached for Sam’s hand. “Sam, this is Heather Knight, my sister. Heather, meet Samantha O’Ryan.”
“The date I begged you to find.” Heather looked Sam over.
His tough, versatile, intriguing, beautiful beach girl looked right back.
“So. Are you real?” Heather asked.
“Excuse me?” Sam blinked. “Real?”
“Did he hire you, or are you his real date?”
“Hey,” Jack said. “Play nice.”
“Hire me?” Sam glanced from one to the other, and then laughed at Jack. “Tell me you are not that hard up.”
“I am not that hard up.” He shot Heather a glare, wanting to strangle her. “She’s just insanely bossy. You know, the much older sister routine—”
Heather growled at that. “I’m only eleven months older than you, you big lug.”
“So you’re admitting to being insanely bossy?”
Heather rolled her eyes. “Okay, yes. That part is true.”
“You’re both crazy,” Sam decided.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Heather actually even looked it. “I’m just a little protective.”
“I guess I can understand that.” Sam’s gaze hooked and held Jack’s. “Just as you should understand, I am your brother’s date. Real date.”
Servers continued to hurry past them, but all Jack saw was Sam—the adventurous woman with the contagious smile and amazing eyes in the sexy little black dress. “Definitely a real date,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.
Sam’s grin spread.
And Heather sighed with relief. “Finally, then.”
“Just make your money for the kids tonight,” Jack said before she could plan their wedding. “Make enough that I don’t need the monkey suit again for a while.”
“Thanks to a great lineup of auction items, I will. Oh, and I got your donation, by the way. You didn’t have to do that, not on top of all the money you’ve already—”
“Just tell me you have food in there, lots of it, because I’m starving.”
“Oh, there’s food. Amazing piles of it,” Heather assured him. “It’s going to get every person in there in a check-writing mood, I hope.”
“Good.” But Jack’s smile suddenly felt a little weak thinking about the evening still ahead, and he braced himself to keep smiling until lockjaw set in.
Sam shot him a curious glance, but didn’t say a word. She just reached out for his hand, which he found himself grabbing on to like a lifeline.
At the moment, it was all he had.
3
SAM LET JACK lead her out of the kitchen and into the main area of the club, which was one huge open room with thick white pillars, gleaming tile floors and sweeping windows overlooking the hills of grass. Beyond them was a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean, aflame as the sun set.
Sam tore her eyes from the sight and prepared to be swallowed up by the crowd. She also expected to lose sight of her attractive date because apparently, Jack was a big draw tonight. Already women were staring, most of them with dreamy smiles on their faces, making her feel as if she were back in high school with the captain of the football team at her side like a piece of eye candy.
But even back then, she’d never cared about popularity. She was who she was, and she dated guys who felt the same. Things hadn’t changed much. She still didn’t care about image, and as a result, her dating circle, small as it was, involved mostly fellow surfers or customers of Wild Cherries. No one had come along and turned her head in a long time.
And yet she felt her head turning now.
Spinning, in