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He choked. “Right.” But he did as she asked, working dye into each section and then combing it out.
His gentle manipulation made her breath catch every time, and heat spread from where his body pressed against hers. She could so easily slip her arm around his hips and lean into his embrace.
But she couldn’t. Because when the mob left Marcus, he’d leave too, returning to his life on the east coast. She’d be left heartbroken again, but worse, because she’d be doing it to herself. Gritting her teeth, she reviewed child abuse laws in her head, studiously ignoring the delicious warmth of his hands running through her hair.
“Okay.” He stood, peeling the gloves away with a squelch. “I think we’re done, or as done as we’re going to be. I hope it works. I’m going to pick up dinner.” He left the bathroom, and water ran in the sink outside the door, then a door slammed shut.
Sam scooted down, resting her head on the edge of the tub. Unfortunately, the cold of the fiberglass couldn’t wipe away the warmth and need Trevor’s touch had left behind. And adding insult to injury, there was only one bed. Even if she physically survived the Russian mob, her heart wouldn’t. She was such a fool. Sam gathered her hair into a shower cap, checked her watch and stood.
“Food’s here. Come and get it while it’s hot.”
She scrubbed the brown smears from her hands and the edge of the tub, wishing her longing for Trevor would swirl down the drain, too. But it wouldn’t be that easy. No, just like the lingering tint under her nails, Trevor’s impact would stain her heart.
She took in a deep breath, then let it out along with her dreams of a different life with Trevor. Then she left the bathroom. She took the open chair at the table next to the bed.
“I hope spaghetti is okay. It was the special of the day.” He shrugged and chuckled. “We’re already wearing clothes we can stain, so why not get tomato sauce all over too?”
She forced a smile and picked up the Styrofoam container, opening it. The scent of smoky tomatoes, browned beef, and Italian spices made her mouth water. Twirling a forkful of noodles, she sucked them down. “Wow. That’s delicious.”
He stared at her mouth, then shuddered. “Right? Much better than I’d expect for the middle of nowhere.” Looking at his container, he spun his fork through the strands, perfectly coated with sauce.
Sam concentrated on her dish. No sense in watching his mouth and making her longing worse. They ate in silence. She carefully avoided thinking about all the carbs she was eating and simply enjoyed the toasty garlic bread dripping with real butter. If the mob caught them, counting calories wouldn’t be an issue any longer. She’d enjoy what they had and worry about weight and inches later.
After dinner, she rinsed her hair, refusing Trevor’s help. It would have been easier, but she couldn’t handle his touch without wanting more. After the water ran clear, she towel dried her new locks. Using a hair dryer would be faster, but the heat might damage her color and she didn’t want to redo it anytime soon.
She grimaced at the brown stains left on the white towels. They probably didn’t have enough cash to leave a tip to cover additional cleaning, but someday, she’d come back and bring replacements. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, then applied her night cream, hoping to get home before she ran out. She’d avoided wrinkles so far, but with the amount of stress she was enduring, she needed every advantage she could get. Fair or not, her looks helped her in the courtroom, and she wanted to hang on to that advantage.
Back in the bedroom, Trevor leaned against the headboard on the left side. “Looks different, but not bad.” He twirled his finger in the air.
Sam turned, letting her still-damp hair fan across her shoulders. Anxiety made dinner sit uneasily in her stomach.
“Color is pretty even, although there’s more red toward the bottom.” He snorted. “I’m definitely not a pro.”
She smiled at him and shrugged. “I’m sure it’s better than if I’d done it by myself.” He reared back against the headboard, wide-eyed. She crossed her arms, remembering she wasn’t wearing a bra. She hadn’t meant to tease.
He jumped from the bed, pushing past her. “I’ll just brush my teeth.”
Sam grimaced. She’d been careless. Going to the far side of the bed, she put another thin towel over the pillow and climbed in. Trevor had turned a pillow sideways, leaving it between them; a wise move. Recovering from the stress of the last few weeks, both of them would seek the comfort of the familiar. Smarter to avoid trouble from the start than try to heal wounds later.
Sliding down, she sank into the slightly too-soft bed. Hopefully, that would help keep her on her side of the bed, too. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing, trying to meditate her way into sleep.
The water shut off, then the far side of the bed dipped. Sam rolled slightly toward Trevor, so she turned onto her other side, away from him.
“Goodnight, Sam. Sleep well.”
“You too.” Sam returned to her meditation, trying to forget that a strong pair of arms waited to comfort her, because the cost was just too high.
Sam squinted and tried to shift out of the beam of sunlight hitting her eyes, but she couldn’t move. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her back into a hard, warm body. Stay or go? Trevor’s firm embrace comforted her but filled her with longing for more, and she’d already endured enough.
She lifted the arm around her waist and rolled out, replacing her body with her pillow, and shivered in the relative chill. After tiptoeing into the bathroom, she filled the small coffeepot and set it brewing. They’d both need the caffeine for another long day of driving. At least she assumed they’d leave; maybe he’d want to stay another day.
Returning to the main room, she avoided looking at the bed and opened her bag, pulling out a change of clothes, including an expensive bra and panty set. She’d drawn the line at buying plain underwear; if the bad guys were checking out her undergarments, what she had wouldn’t matter. The luxury brand was a splurge, but the confidence it gave her mattered, whether that was in a courtroom or facing off against Trevor.
She showered quickly, rinsing but not washing her newly colored hair, and dressed. The basic baggy sweats were a long way from her normal professional clothes. Combined with the new hair color and glasses, she looked like a different person, and she’d enhance that with makeup. Moving to the sink, she laid out her tools. She spread a darker shade of foundation, then used light and dark contouring sticks to make her jaw line softer. She added heavy, dark eye makeup with winged liner, darkened her brows, and used a deep berry matte lipstick. A curling iron or rollers would help; curls or frizz would change her even more. But since she didn’t have those, she parted her hair in the middle and created loose, sloppy braids on either side of her head. For a last touch, she slid a fake lip ring on, adjusting it so it didn’t pinch too badly. Slide a beanie on and she’d look nothing like Samantha Kerr, attorney at law.
The coffee maker beeped, so she poured two cups, doctoring hers. She carried them to the small table in the bedroom and then shook Trevor’s shoulder. “Trevor? Coffee’s ready.”
He rolled over, blinking, then jolted back. “Whoa. You look like a different person, Sam.”
