“A picture of a couple strolling hand in hand in between rows of blueberry bushes probably wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world,” she said as Sam handed her a bottle of iced tea.
“Are you calling us a couple?” That mischievous glint twinkled in his eye.
“Not in a million years. I meant a real couple. A model couple. Hey, why are you sitting right next to me?” she said as he settled down uncomfortably close.
“It looks comfortable here. And I like how you smell.”
She could have gotten up and moved to the other side of the blanket, but that would just have been childish.
They sat in silence and ate their sandwiches. He’d layered on just the right amount of tangy mustard and mayonnaise, and the lettuce was clean and crisp. She didn’t bother trying to hide her appetite around him. That was one nice thing about eating with a bear. He wouldn’t look on in horror as she chowed down on two big, fat sandwiches.
She washed down the last delicious bite with the rest of her iced tea, and glanced over at Sam, who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at her. He had a sensual, hungry look on his face, and that amused gleam had changed. Now his gaze held a raw animal hunger that filled her with pulsing desire. Her nipples swelled and hardened, and she felt them rubbing against her shirt, shamelessly announcing her arousal.
“We can go back now,” she said quickly.
“Not until after dessert.” He dug a spoon into the blueberry pie and held it out to her. A blob of jelly plopped on to her chest. She was about to protest, but as she opened her mouth he shoved the spoon in, all sweet and tart and melting onto her tongue. She let out a low moan, and his breath quickened.
“I am so sorry I spilled that on you.” Sam moved closer to her, his body pressed up against hers.
“No, you aren’t.” Her breath was coming faster too, panting. She couldn’t hide her arousal.
“No, I’m not. Here, let me get that for you.” He bent down and slowly lapped the jam off her breast with his warm, velvety-smooth tongue. He took his time, his tongue caressing her heated skin with three long, luxurious laps.
“Oh,” she choked out.
Panting, he sat up and cupped her chin in his hand. “You’ve got some on your lips,” he said, and brushed his lips against hers. An electric shock sizzled through her body and she quickly pulled away.
“What are you doing?” she choked out, her voice gone husky with desire.
“It’s called kissing. Here, let me show you how it’s done.”
She should have said no…but the next thing she knew, he was kissing her again, and she was actually kissing him back. Passionately. Her lips parted, and his tongue invaded her mouth, firm, probing, masterful.
She felt arousal wash over her in a mighty wave, and she whimpered even as he kissed her. His other hand tangled in her hair even as he maintained his firm grip on her chin, but she felt embraced, not trapped.
Then the rumble of an approaching engine startled them and they jerked apart.
Marjorie pulled up in a Range Rover. With her were two beautiful young women who looked like younger versions of her, sitting in the back seat. They had artfully streaked blonde hair that was flat-ironed and glossed to perfection.
“Everything all right here?” she called out.
“Fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” Sam yelled back, looking annoyed.
“Blue said you were stranded out here, so we came to rescue you.” Marjorie flashed a quick, disapproving look at Clover, leaving no question as to what she was rescuing Sam from.
“Rescue us from what? We’re a quarter of a mile from the house. I’m fine,” Sam said through gritted teeth.
“We should head back,” Clover said abruptly. She quickly began putting plates back in the picnic basket, then grabbed the blanket they’d been sitting on.
“Sam, you remember my daughters?” Marjorie’s tone went all sugary.
“Since you’ve introduced them to me more than a dozen times, yes, I do.”
Marjorie’s smile faded for a moment, then she pasted it back on. “Well, there’s only one seat back there, so you ride with them.”
Sam looked unhappy but he grabbed the picnic basket and climbed in with an exasperated look on his face, settling between the two girls, who squealed excitedly like teenagers at a rock concert. Marjorie looked expectantly at Clover, gesturing at the front passenger side door.
“I’d rather be swarmed by bees in my human form,” Clover said, and she turned and started walking in the direction of her office.
