Page 59 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

“So, I heard you ran into Sam Ackerman the other day.”

Becca froze, her hands in the meatloaf mixture. It was Thursday evening, which meant it was meatloaf night at the North household. Meatloaf had been the Thursday dinner staple for as long as Becca could remember and ever since she’d returned home from college, she and her mother had resurrected the ritual. She enjoyed spending the time with her. She loved her mother very much and felt lucky to have her. They’d lost her father way too soon.

But those words… The name of Sam Ackerman rolling off her tongue… Those words were the last words she expected to hear coming from her mother’s mouth this evening.

“I, uh…”

She picked up the ball of meatloaf mixture and transferred it to a baking pan. Vigorously pressing the meat into a loaf shape, she finally replied.

“Um, well. Yes.”

“Yes, you ran into Sam?”

She smacked the meatloaf with the palm of her right hand.

“Yes. I met him. When I bought the pansies.”

“Ah yes, the pansies. Cathy Baker is really enjoying them. I hope you don’t mind. I had no more room in the flower bed.”

Trudy stepped up beside her, watching Becca work her hands over the meat.

“You can stop beating up the meatloaf now. What’s up with you?”

Becca stilled her hands and looked at her mother.

“I like him.”

Shew. She said the words.

After a moment, Trudy smiled.

“He’s a very nice man. I like him too. Very helpful at the nursery.”

Becca swallowed.

“No. I mean yes. He was helpful. But no, I mean I like him. A lot. You know. As a woman, I like him. As I man. I’m not making sense and it is problematic.”

A slow grin spread across her mother’s face.

“In a strange way, Becca, you are making perfect sense. And your liking him is a problem?”

Biting her lip, Becca nodded. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Nora.”

“Nora doesn’t like him?”

“Oh no, Nora likes him just fine. As a woman”

“Ah.”

“Umhmm.”

“Well shit.”

Trudy leaned a hip into the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. She studied Becca for a minute then added.

“But what does Sam think?”

Throwing up her meatloafy hands, Becca gasped.

“He likes me, I think. Which is surprising you, know, because of Nora. I mean, he asked me to lunch, not her. He almost kissed me. He flirts with me. He is really nice, Mama, but Nora…”

Trudy took a breath, grasped Becca’s arms, and squared herself to face Becca.

“But Nora nothing. Rebecca North, you have been kowtowing to Nora Patterson since you were in elementary school. You always thought she was prettier, more popular, smarter—somehow you felt she was the one who deserved the attention, not you. I don’t know why but…?”

“Don’t you get it?”

Becca interrupted.

“I didn’t need the attention. Nora did. She thrives on it. I didn’t want the attention. If people were looking at her, they left me alone. And it usually worked until—”

She stopped.

“Until Sam?”

Becca felt like crying.

“Until Sam. I don’t know what to do, Mama. I don’t want to hurt her, but I like him a lot. And she’s got him all tied up in this matchmaking TV show thing and well, I just…”

Trudy shook her head.

“I know nothing about a matchmaking TV show thing but what I do know is this, Becca. Be true to your heart. Make yourself happy for once. Nora will survive.”

“She’s more fragile than me.”

“And you’ve, in part, made her that way.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Now look. She’s stronger than you think. Give her credit and tell her the truth. And give yourself a chance. Hell, give Sam a chance. I think you two would make me some cute grandkids.”

“Mama!”

Becca was a little horrified at that statement.

“You’ve just jumped miles ahead of me. There will be no grandchildren for you anytime soon!”

Trudy smiled and grasped the meatloaf pan, sliding it away from Becca.

“We’ll see about that. Now, go wash your hands and peel some potatoes. You know I like mashed potatoes and gravy with my meatloaf.”

She sidled off and Becca watched her mother finish the meatloaf and put it in the oven. Children? With Sam? Turning toward the sink, she washed her hands with liquid dish soap and fantasized what life with Sam might be like.

Fact was, she would never know, unless she did the thing she didn’t want to do.

But she had to.

She had to tell Nora.

****

Sam couldn’t wait for Suzie to fix things.

He wasn’t a very patient man and he’d been patient long enough. He was a man with things to do, places to go, and people—no, a person—to see. Becca. That’s why he decided to take matters into his own hands. He hoped to hell and back he was making the right move. After all, it was Saturday night. It had been five days, no six, since he’d seen Becca and he’d had no word whatsoever from Suzie that she had fixed things. He wasn’t going to sit at home alone and mull this over any longer.

Becca could be out on the town. He could be interrupting a cozy date. She might be washing her hair. She might not want to see him.

But he was taking the risk anyway.

Lucky for him, Becca has signed up for his mailing list at the nursery when she was there a couple of weeks ago. Of course, he was probably not supposed to use that information for personal reasons, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He wasn’t waiting any longer. He had her address.

Hell, what would she think? Him showing up here unannounced and uninvited?

The moment he lifted his fist to rap his knuckles on the wooden door to her apartment in the Old Harbor Falls neighborhood, his gut plunged and spiraled and he broke out in a fine sweat. He almost backed away and turned back toward the stairwell.

“You can do this, Ackerman. Full speed ahead.”

I’m not waiting until next week when I have to see her in front of a whole slew of people. He turned and headed back to the door.

He didn’t want to wait any longer to spend time with Becca. He’d put off having a relationship for a while now. It was time to see move this forward.

Nora or no Nora.

****

Settled into her couch, a cozy mystery in her hands, a cup of Earl Grey at her elbow, and a quilt wrapped around her, Becca idly turned another page. It was the perfect evening to end an ideal hermit-like Saturday afternoon and evening. She’d holed up and had been pretty much lazy, letting her head clear a little, while attempting to keep her thoughts from wandering into dangerous territory—territory that involved both Sam and Nora and about what she was going to do about the two of them.

About Nora. About Sam.

What to do?

She’d thought she had it figured out after she left her mother’s last night. She would tell Nora and then tell Sam that she wanted to take him up on the interrupted lunch date offer. That she wanted to finish that almost kiss from the other day. But once she got to work this morning, and listened to Nora fret about the upcoming shoot, and how she couldn’t wait to see Sam again, and how she just knew it was going to work out between the two of them, Becca changed her mind. How could she upset Nora’s apple cart before this television shoot?

Becca would just have to wait a little longer to tell her—after all this matchmaker stuff was said and done.

Now, though, she wished she’d gotten it over with. If she had, she might not be sitting here idly turning the pages of a book she really wasn’t that into. Reading generally provided the safety net she needed. So far, that approach didn’t seem to be working this evening. She rarely read cozy mysteries but this new author by the name of Scott had seemed promising.

She had already read the last Calloway thriller and she didn’t dare touch a romance tonight. No, not with her mood. This evening she wanted to get lost in something entirely different. And something that didn’t remind her one bit about her situation at hand.

I need to escape.

Yeah. Tell me about it.

It didn’t seem to matter what she was reading, or thinking, or doing. Sam’s words, or his face, or a mannerism clicked back into her psyche on cue. Didn’t matter at all. He was just, everywhere.

Sighing, she turned another page. Had she even read the previous one? Oh yes, there was a murder, a woman pushed down the staircase, and the young heroine had rushed out of her bed and breakfast room to see her lying motionless at the foot of the stairs. Glancing about, she saw no one else. Slowly, she moved forward, descending a step at a time and picking up speed, keeping her eyes on the body to observe any sign of movement. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the heroine bent to get a better look at the woman and....

A brisk knock rapped at Becca’s door. She jumped and squealed a little.

Untangling herself from the quilt, she rose and glanced toward the clock. A little after eight. Nora, she knew, was having dinner with her folks. Her own mother was about ready to turn in for the evening. Early to bed, early to rise, was her mantra. It could be any number of other friends, but they usually were busy on the weekends. Unless they were stopping by to drag her out of her cozy nest.

Well, she’d just quickly send them on their way.

The door unlatched and unbolted, she swung it wide, expecting to see either Candy or Bea or Rachel, but instead she met eyes with....

“Sam?”

A hand went to her hair. Had she combed it lately? Glancing lower, she checked to see if she had on a stained shirt. Had she showered? Drat! Teach her to hole up and be a hermit.

“What are you doing here?”

“You look fine, Becca. May I come in?”

“Wha...?”

He brushed past her. Bold of him. She stood there with her mouth open looking like an idiot, likely.

“You might want to close both the door and your mouth, sweetheart.”

With a swing of her arm and a jerk of her lower jaw, she did just that. Turning, she looked at him standing in the middle of her living room.

“I’ll be right back,”

she told him, taking in that wicked grin of his as she flew toward her bedroom.

Once there, she sucked in a breath and looked at herself in the mirror. Okay, yes, she had showered earlier. Good thing.

Her makeup was fading but heck, what did he expect showing up here like this? She usually didn’t wear much makeup anyway.

The hair was fine. A bit tousled but that was okay. Her white T-shirt left a lot to be desired, so she stripped it off and found a bright red one, instead. Red was a good color for her. Her black workout pants would be just fine.

Looking at her feet, she was relieved to see that the pedicure she’d had three days ago was still in good shape. The red toenails matched her shirt. Nice.

Inhaling deep, she took another look in the mirror, held the breath to quell her flappable nerves, and then exhaled. With steps much less hurried than the ones she came into the bedroom on, she walked into the living room.

Sam leaned back on the couch, reading her cozy mystery.

That sight gave her heart a little warm jump-start. He looked too damned good there. On her couch. In her apartment. In her life?

“Hi.”

He put the book down. “Hi.”

Patting the couch beside him, he added.

“Come sit next to me. Let’s talk, okay?”

She nodded.

“All right.”

Likely, she sat way too close to him, for at the very instant that she did, his arm went around her and all she wanted to do was lean into him and put her head on his shoulder. He must have sensed that because he whispered.

“It’s okay. I’d like that.”

She did, and he held her with both arms. Closing her eyes, she nuzzled into his shoulder and loved how it felt to be there. Wrapping his arms tighter around her, she heard and felt his exhale. She shifted closer. Together, it felt like they melted into one another.

It had been some time since a man had held her like this. The warmth that radiated from her chest toward him, and the all-encompassing feeling of him surrounding her, was something that she’d waited a long time for. Sam was worth waiting a long time for.

He moved a hand to her face and brushed her long hair back. She lifted her head to look into his eyes, while he made tiny, feathery strokes over her cheekbones and forehead.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. I know I should have called but I was afraid you’d tell me not to come. You’d want to do the right thing, and in the process, you’d shortchange yourself. I know, Becca, that you are in an awkward position with Nora, but...”

“Sam?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Please kiss me.”

His gaze played over her face for only a second, and then he leaned in to touch his lips to hers.

Becca savored the firm, salty taste of his lips. He brushed them over hers, wet and hot and giving, and she knew at that moment if it were possible to get any closer to him, she wanted to do that. A very dangerous thought. With his fingers threaded through her hair at her temples, he held her still while he teased and played, and they mingled lips and tongues. A tingling sensation started at the friction and radiated through her. In her throat, her heart pounded.

Breaking away with a gasp, she whispered.

“Wow. Some kiss.”

“There’s more if you want.”

“But you wanted to talk.”

“I can talk with my lips.”

“I’m not sure this counts as talking.”

He shrugged.

“Works for me.”

A bad-boy grin lit up his face.

Becca was lost. They should talk, yes, but this was magic. And she so needed some magic.

“Becca,”

he whispered while lowering her slowly to the couch.

“let’s relax and see what happens, okay? Let’s lay here and talk and kiss and whatever else...”

His voice drifted off as he nestled into the crook of her neck and laid soft nibbles there.

Whatever else was what worried her. Now, it appeared she didn’t have a lot of willpower. But she had to resist him, didn’t she? Even though she knew that, intellectually speaking, as his body crowded closer to hers, and she was cradled there between him and the back cushions, all she wanted was him.

All of him.

Maybe they should talk.

She fiddled with the placket of his shirt and sat up a little, pushing them both back up into a sitting position.

“I am in a difficult place, Sam. Nora is my best friend and my employer. Not that she would fire me, she wouldn’t do that, but she likes you, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Don’t you think deep down she realizes that there is nothing between us? At some point, Becca, Nora is going to have to understand that. I mean, I’ve done nothing to lead her on. That television show fiasco should have made it apparent. We don’t have a thing in common.”

She agreed.

“It’s the fantasy of it all. That’s just Nora. She’s infatuated with the idea of being in love, and this matchmaking thing is so fairytale like. She’s having a difficult time giving that up, I think. The thing is, Sam, she’s been so wrapped up in her own world, she has no clue that there is a spark between us.”

“It’s more than that.”

“What?”

“It’s more than a spark. Don’t you think so too?”

She did. But should she say that to him.

“I do think there is something different, maybe special, more-than-spark-like happening between us.”

He grinned and Becca’s heart melted a little. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over hers.

“Yes, definitely more-than-spark-like,”

he whispered.

Becca put her hands on his chest and pushed back a little. She wanted the kiss. More than anything. But they needed to talk.

“I know, Sam. But it’s more than that. It’s the Suzie and Patricia thing, too, and the additional television show. They are all counting on you and Nora to make this work, so Suzie has a good show, and Patricia is successful, as well, and...”

Sam placed a forefinger on her lips.

“No, that’s not what I want to talk about, Becca. Between you and me. It’s more than spark-like even, isn’t it?”

More than a spark-like?

His fingers dropped to her collarbone. He dared to trace down to the center of her cleavage with a forefinger. A sexual thrilled raced down her abdomen and lower. He whispered.

“I can’t get you out of my head. Haven’t been able to for weeks. I want like hell to see if I can ramp up that spark. I want to fan it until it licks higher into some kind of erupting flame...”

Oh. My. God. Becca watched his eyes as he laid his palm flat on her chest and inched his fingers under the V-neck of her t-shirt.

His hand felt so, so good there.

This was moving fast. Way too fast. Wasn’t it?

Was this what she wanted? To be with Sam this way? Sexually? Before they even really got to know one another?

Hell, she didn’t want to make this another one-night stand, did she?

She whispered.

“Will you still call me tomorrow?”

Pulling back, he looked into her face. “What?”

Her breathing deepened.

“Whatever happens in the next few minutes, will I still hear from you tomorrow?”

Sam studied her.

“I’m moving too fast. Look, Becca. I’m sorry. I should go. I shouldn’t have come. I—”

Becca swallowed hard.

“Answer the question, Sam.”

His gaze narrowed.

“If you are asking me if this is a one night, wham bam, thank you ma’am attempt for me to get into your panties, to love and leave you, and never see you again, then the answer is no, Becca. That’s not my plan at all. And if that is the kind of man you think I am, then well—”

“Fan me,”

she whispered, the words barely falling from her lips.

Sam’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Lick the flame, Sam. Ignite the spark.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded.

“I want you.”

He stared into her eyes for a moment.

“Ah, hell, Becca.”

He breathed the words.

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman and once I have you, I don’t think I’m ever gonna want to stop having you. You’re sure?”

“Ignite the spark, Sam. I’m smoldering here.”