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“No, dear. I just want my kids to be happy is all.”
A new voice joined the conversation. “Well, rest easy, Mama McKenna, because this kid is happy.”
Riley froze. Sam. Immediately her shoulders went back and her spine straightened as she armed herself for the inevitable sparring.
To say nothing of the protection she needed from the thick layer of lust that threatened to choke her whenever Sam Compton was around.
Their regular Wednesday-night dinner guest had the opposite effect on her mother, turning the usually implacable Erin into a pile of goo. It was disgusting. The woman already had two sons of her own, but to the casual spectator you’d think this semi-adopted one was her favorite.
“Sammy. You came,” Erin said, scooting around the counter to give him a hug. “I thought you had a date tonight.”
Riley didn’t turn around. She’d have to deal with him eventually—she did every week. But after the unexpected spanking conversation with her mother, she needed an extra minute to build up her defenses.
Because while she couldn’t say she’d ever really been intrigued by the spanking thing, there was no telling what her loins would do in the presence of this guy.
But quickly she was realizing that keeping her back to him wasn’t nearly enough. She could still feel him. She’d always been able to feel him, starting with that day he’d walked into this very kitchen, where she’d been sitting on this very stool.
That had been over ten years ago, and nothing had changed.
Well, except for pesky little things.
Like his marriage. And his divorce. And the fact that he’d never so much as tried to kiss her.
“Angela can’t make it,” Sam said in his low, don’t-give-a-shit growl. “She’s a nurse and had to take an extra shift at the hospital.”
A nurse. That was new. Usually they were waitresses and actresses and singer-songwriters.
“An extra shift, huh?” Riley asked innocently, pretending fascination with the cable bill that her parents had left out on the white tile counter. You’re sure it had nothing to do with her suspicion of you having genital warts?
“That’s what I said.” His voice was easy. Clearly they weren’t going to discuss her stunt with the STD pamphlets in front of her mother. Fine with Riley.
Her mother clucked. “Well, that’s a shame.”
“Yes. Shame,” Riley said.
Her mother ignored her.
Sam didn’t. “Hey, Ri.”
“Hey.”
“Saw your most recent article. Heady stuff.”
She didn’t let herself respond to the mockery in his tone.
“I’d say I liked it less than the whips-and-chains piece, but more than the one about the gin-and-tonic-flavored lube.”
Riley carefully let her eyes go sleepy and her lips pouty before giving him a slow glance over her shoulder. “Intrigued, are we?”
But Sam Compton was immune to that look. Which was ironic, considering that he was the one who had inspired her to start practicing it back when she was seventeen and just beginning to understand the power of breasts and eyelashes.
And Sam wasn’t without some looks of his own. His eyes darkened just slightly before he gave her his trademark crooked grin. “Oh, I’ve been plenty intrigued. Some of your tips have proven to be very helpful in the bedroom.”
He didn’t bother to dodge Erin’s swat on the back of the head. “Sorry, ma’am, but you know I’m just supporting your middle daughter’s career endeavors.”
Erin gave him an arch look but didn’t rant at him the way she would have at her own sons. “Did you bring the stuff?” Riley’s mom asked Sam, returning to her cooking duties.
“Yup. You sure about this? Does Josh know?”
