****
By the time she’d made it downstairs the following day, it was late morning. Their clothes had been cleaned up, the dishes done. A picture of the two of them caught in the act of making love would have been the only thing plainer than the message left for the staff to find. Her face was hot with embarrassment and she lowered her gaze every time she passed Mary or Louisa the next day. The women were terribly polite. In fact, Samantha would have rather they nudge her arm and give her a thumbs up than act as if they cleaned up after Blake and his lovers every week.
As it was, Samantha broached the subject of previous lovers to Blake as they packed their clothes. “So, Blake,” she started all-innocent like. “Tell me, will I find any remnants of lovers past hidden in any of your dressers?”
He stopped and stood to stare at her, but she didn’t skip a step while packing. After all, she was the one who needed to pack clothes. Blake had all he needed on two continents.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You know… did Vanessa have a drawer of her own here, or Jacqueline?”
His stare bored holes into her back, but she refused to look him in the eye. She shouldn’t care, but she wanted to know if he entertained his lovers in his home often.
“I never found anyone drawer-worthy,” he told her.
Well, that was something. “Not even one panty left behind?”
She kept packing, not looking his way. I’m pathetic.
“Samantha?” He’d moved to stand behind her. His hands reached out and touched both her shoulders to turn her toward him. His grey eyes caught hers. “I’ve only had this home for four years. You’re the only woman who’s slept in my bed.”
An inner smile blossomed deep in her chest but she held it from spreading over her lips, not wanting him to see how much his words pleased her.
Samantha nodded.
He placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Would it bother you if there had been a drawer full of another woman’s things?”
It shouldn’t. Three weeks ago, they were strangers. “Well, I guess not…” Hell, yes.
“Samantha?” Her name was drawn out in a slow knowing slide.
“Okay, yes,” she confessed. “Because…” She searched for a valid excuse and found one within easy reach. “Your staff will think better of me, or us… as a couple, if I’m not just a number here at the house.”
Pathetic. She shouldn’t be trying to be more than a number. She should, however, be trying to build barriers around her heart, her feelings, and avoiding any emotional attachment to the man staring deep in her eyes.
“You’re not a number, Samantha. If you ever feel like the staff here, or in Europe, are treating you otherwise, you need to let me know.”
She shook her head. “Everyone’s been wonderful.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed briefly, as if trying to solve a riddle, then he turned away to finish his minimal packing.
When she turned back to her suitcase, she allowed a tiny smile to cross her lips. It was wrong of her to romanticize what was happening between them. They were only having a mutually satisfying sexual relationship and just happened to be married. No big deal.
“So, Samantha?” Blake forced his way into her thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever had any drawer-worthy men in your life?”
Her hand hesitated. “No.” Was the short answer to her lack of a personal life.
They continued packing.
“Any recent boyfriends who might knock on the door?”
Samantha slid a glance over her shoulders. Blake had his back to her while he fiddled with something in his hand. Okay, so her husband was curious about her past. It wasn’t as if hers was splattered all over the tabloid news like his.
“The boyfriend well has been dry for some time,” she offered.
“How dry?” he asked as the last word left her lips.
She turned and waited for him to feel her eyes and return her stare.
“When my father went to jail, I didn’t allow myself to get close to anyone.”
“You were twenty one when your dad was convicted.”
“Right.”
“There’s been no one since…”
“None.”
He pondered that for a minute, gaze drifting toward the ceiling. “So that means…”
“I’ve had two lovers besides you,” she gave him, knowing that was where this conversation was going. It was strange, knowing exactly where his thoughts were. “One in high school, because everyone goes to senior prom, and another in college.” The one who twisted her mind in two and ruined her trust in men.
There must have been something that crossed her face, because Blake dropped the questions and walked toward her again.
“Call it a male thing, but I like knowing I’m in a very exclusive list.”
Thoughts of her college years, of the turmoil and pain of that time were hard to push away. She forced a smile on her lips and a flip comment from her tongue. “Well, if a girl can’t sleep with her husband, who can she sleep with?”
Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Right.”
He started to turn away, but a wedge had somehow formed between them. “Blake?”
“Yeah?”
“I like knowing I’m the only one who’s been here.”
Silence stretched before them. Both staring at each other and saying nothing. When Blake turned back to his task, Samantha finished hers.