Everyone they met had only one thing they wanted to talk about: how Oliver was handling the shocking reappearance of his father after an absence of fifteen years. Sammi was impressed how smoothly Oliver handled the inquiries without giving away his true feelings. If she hadn’t seen firsthand how much the situation upset him, she might have believed that he was as nonchalant as he appeared.
After they’d been circulating for over an hour, Sammi slipped away for a much-needed restroom break, and when she returned to look for Oliver, she found him deep in discussion with a group of men. Deciding not to interrupt, Sammi headed out the French doors for a breath of air and crossed the small terrace to the iron railing. The view of New York City at night was spectacular from the eighteenth floor. She shivered in the late October chill but refused to go back inside until she’d drunk her fill of the myriad of lights.
“Hello.” A slender blonde in a hot-pink Valentino gown sidled up to Sammi. She affected the languid expression of a socialite who’d attended far too many of these sorts of functions and found them utterly tedious. “I noticed you’re with Oliver. Did he bring you to this event?”
“Yes.”
“You look familiar.” The blonde puckered her pink lips as her expression grew thoughtful. “But I know all of Oliver’s friends, and I’m sure we’ve never met.”
Sammi scrutinized the attractive blonde and wondered if this was one of Oliver’s former lovers or someone he’d photographed. Maybe both?
“That’s probably because we’ve only known each other a few weeks,” Sammi said.
“Are you two dating?” The woman had been sizing up Sammi in turn, evaluating her fashion choice through narrowed green eyes.
Unsure how to answer, Sammi sent her gaze darting toward the French doors in the hope that Oliver might come looking for her and broadcasted a silent plea for rescue.
“We’re friends,” she explained, hoping the careful answer would satisfy the woman’s curiosity.
“Of course. Oliver doesn’t date.” The blonde went on as if Sammi hadn’t spoken. “Lots of women have tried and failed to hold his interest. Once he gets you all figured out, he tends to move on.”
Sammi thought about that photograph that he’d never taken of her and her belief that her appeal would be diminished once his curiosity was satisfied. When he’d invited her to move in, he gave her clear reasons why this would benefit them both. But that was before they’d rekindled their physical relationship. Was she a fool to think that sex would add dimension to his purpose for keeping her around? Could he develop feelings for her that had nothing to do with the fact that she was expecting his child?
The familiar scent of Oliver’s cologne brushed her senses as a tuxedo jacket settled over her bare shoulders. She gathered the lapels together, her skin tingling as Oliver’s muscular frame became a solid presence at her side. The blonde’s eyes went wide as his strong arm enfolded Sammi in a warm embrace.
“Hello, Bianca,” he said. “I see you and Sammi have met.”
“Sammi?” the blonde echoed, arching one eyebrow.
“Samantha Guzman,” Sammi said, supplying her full name.
“I was just asking her if you two are dating,” Bianca said, sending a crafty smile Oliver’s way.
“And what did she say?” Oliver’s fingers tightened in warning as Sammi drew in a sharp breath.
Bianca focused all her energy on Oliver, acting as if Sammi had ceased to exist. “I’m more interested in what you’d say.”
While he appeared unimpressed by the blonde’s games, Sammi was vibrating with dismay. She and Oliver should’ve coordinated their answers to the tricky questions that were sure to come their way. Still, she caught herself holding her breath in anticipation of what Oliver’s answer might reveal.
“You know I don’t talk about my personal business,” Oliver said, neatly dodging the question. “But if you’re wondering whether I’m off the market, then the answer is yes.”
A mild earthquake rocked Sammi’s equilibrium at Oliver’s claim, leaving her a little dizzy. But then she noticed Bianca’s scowl and understood that he’d intended to discourage the beautiful socialite.
“Have you ever been on the market?” Sammi murmured, filling her tone with ironic humor as Bianca left them alone on the terrace.
His offhanded shrug admitted nothing. “What did you tell her about our relationship?”
“That we’re friends.” When he stiffened, nerves fluttered in her stomach. She tugged on his sleeve. “We are friends, right?”
“Is that all we are?”
Sammi quaked as his irritation flared. Wasn’t “friends” a safe answer? They hadn’t defined their relationship. What had he expected her to tell the curious woman with the sly green eyes?
“I don’t know if that’s all we are,” Sammi said, her emotions churning. “We haven’t talked about anything having to do with us.”
“I asked you to move in. Isn’t that proof that I want you in my life?”
Sammi was painfully aware that even though they were sleeping together, they were a couple by circumstance rather than choice.
“Yes, but because of the baby.” She recalled what Bianca had said about his short attention span where women were concerned. “And you asked before we slept together again. I can’t help but feel like we’re rushing into something neither one of us is ready for.”
“Is that really how you feel? Like you’re not ready for what’s happening between us?”
What was happening between them? They were fantastic in bed, but there was an indefinable something they were not willing to share with each other. They were letting sex be a substitute for intimacy.
“I think we both hold back.”
“Maybe we should talk more about this.” He glanced around. “But not here. Let’s go.”
Ten
Sammi’s words preoccupied Oliver as they said goodbye to their host and left the party. He directed their
