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.

Chapter Eight

The advantages to a private jet were sweeter with a woman. Making love mid-flight, and finding a few hours of sleep, should have left them both rested and relaxed as they made their descent. Sadly, he could sense Samantha’s unease and did everything in his power to distract her.

He booked a night at a hotel near the airport, with intentions of joining his family at Albany the following day.

His family had other ideas.

The jet landed in the early morning hours, although for Samantha and Blake, it was very late in the evening. Blake could tell by Sam wrestling her hands that her nerves were on high alert.

He kept his arm around Sam’s shoulders as they stepped out of the jet. At his suggestion, she’d slipped into a comfortable pair of worn jeans and a long sleeve shirt. “No need to dress for the driver of the car,” he’d told her, assuring her they would have time to sleep, shower, and dress properly before facing anyone of importance.

Yet when the car he’d ordered pulled up alongside the plane, and the back door opened, his mother’s high-heeled foot stopped both Blake and Samantha cold.

“You said we weren’t expecting anyone at the airport,” she hissed between thin lips.

“We aren’t.”

There was no denying his mother’s frame as she slid from the back seat of the limousine. The driver held an umbrella over her head to keep the droplets of rain from ruining what a hairdresser had probably spent hours creating.

Despite her previous, horrible marriage, Linda Harrison could have passed for a woman ten years her junior. Dark umber hair was pulled gracefully back under a stylish hat. The long grey coat covered what Blake knew would be a slim-fitting skirt and blouse. His mother always dressed to perfection. Even though the sun was hidden under a thick layer of clouds, his mother wore a pair of large rimmed sunglasses to hide her eyes and the feelings she might reveal under them.

“Then who’s that?”

Blake swallowed. If there was one thing he’d learned about his wife, it was her insecurity. Despite all her ‘shake her fist at you’ attitude, Samantha had an underlying desire to be accepted.

He knew, without a doubt, that his suggestion for her to change out of her silk pantsuit and into comfortable clothes was going to snap him in the ass later.

“That’s my mother.”

Sam’s steps faltered, but Blake kept her moving by the steady pressure of his hand on her back.

“But…”

“Mum?” Blake removed his hand from Samantha’s back long enough to kiss both his mother’s cheeks. “We weren’t expecting you.” His tone was light, but he hoped he relayed his discontent.

“I couldn’t let you and your bride arrive without a welcome.”

Blake returned to Samantha’s side and pushed her forward. “Samantha, my mother, Linda. Mum, I’d like you to meet my wife, Samantha.”

His mother let a smile lift her lips. “A pleasure,” she said, raising her hand to Samantha’s.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”