Tawny Weber – A Seal's Desire (страница 7)

Sammi’s mouth dropped.

But no words came out.

It wasn’t their expectant looks that shocked her, so much as how perfectly normal they all seemed to feel asking such intimate questions. Not even in college had her underwear choices come into conversation. But now that she was marrying, everybody thought it was their business?

“Speaking of kink... Guess who’s back in town?” Taking pity on Sammi’s horrified expression, Blythe addressed the question to everyone—and in a friendly tone, too. “This guy is amazing. Think orgasms by the dozen. The man every other man envies. Sergeant Satisfaction, Captain Climax, General G-Spot.”

That’s all it took to bring an image to Sammi’s mind of a wicked smile, warm hazel eyes and toffee-colored hair with just a hint of curl. Even as a teen, the man had exuded sex appeal, so much that people rarely looked past it to see what a sweet guy he was.

To Sammi, he’d been a hero. He’d protected her from bullies when she was seven, then when he’d learned that they were harassing her because she couldn’t read yet, he’d taught her in secret himself. He’d made Sammi feel as if she could do anything. His unquestioning belief in her had been a turning point in Sammi’s life. Years later, he’d even helped Sammi get her job here at the inn. Talk about a hero.

“Laramie’s back?” Sammi said a second before Amy did. Everyone giggled except Sammi, who was wondering why Amy would know Jerrick’s bad boy. She’d grown up in Abilene, not Jerrick.

Blythe continued talking before Sammi could ask, and before she could analyze the tight feeling in her stomach over how Amy—or any woman under the age of thirty-five if the rumors were to be believed—would know Laramie.

“Long and lean, sexy as sin and hotter than Hades.” Blythe made a show of fanning her hand in front of her face. “He’s fueled the fantasies of every woman in town from the age of fifteen to fifty.”

“He’s fueled fantasies in a lot of towns, from what I hear,” Mia chimed in. “Laramie is a legend in West Texas.”

“I heard rumors about him when I was at college in San Antonio,” Clara mused, looking modest in her simple silk teddy. “Didn’t he go off to become a secret agent or something?”

“I heard he was a drug lord, although some people say he’s really DEA and that’s a cover.”

“No, no,” Amy interrupted. “He’s a cowboy. He’s riding broncs in the PRCA, you know, the rodeos. He was in Las Vegas last year for National Finals.”

Actually, he’d left Texas to join the Navy twelve years ago. By now, he’d probably achieved his dream of being a SEAL. But Sammi kept that to herself.

“Guys like that are bad news,” Clara declared, dabbing her lips with a napkin before she rose to dress. “Nothing more than man-whores.”

“Laramie isn’t bad news,” Sammi defended, not able to let that comment go by. “He’s really a sweet guy.”

“Ooooh,” echoed every voice in the room.

“Not like that.” Sammi rolled her eyes. “I knew him when we were kids. He even got me the job here at the inn.”

Actually, he’d found Sammi trying to hitch a ride to the bus station with grand plans to run away. He’d convinced her that running wasn’t the answer over an ice cream sundae, then brought her to the inn where he’d convinced Mrs. Reed the housekeeper to hire her.

“That’s right,” Blythe remembered. “His mom worked here before she died.”

“I’ll second the sweet-guy vote. And it’s unfair to call him a man-whore,” Amy said. “I’ve never heard of Laramie costing women anything more than a little heartache.”

“A little heartache is a fair price for the kind of memories he’s credited for. I’ve heard he can go all night, rocking it like a jackhammer. And that smile.” Blythe popped a grape into the air, caught it between her teeth, then bit into it with a snap and a grin. “Panty melting.”

“Just what every woman wants. Melted panties.” Sammi frowned, wondering why everyone seemed to think sex was so damned important. Sex was messy and awkward, usually made up of mythical expectations and ridiculous requirements.

“You’ll see,” Mia said, giggling as she slipped into her Alexander Wang dress. “A few months of honeymoon sex, and I’ll bet you melt every pair you own.”

Since she didn’t figure sex—not even sex with a legend such as Laramie—could be worth a single pair, Sammi could only laugh.

“Not to worry. You’ll have enough panties to get you through a year of hot sex,” Clara assured her with a comforting pat on the shoulder. “The lingerie shower will ensure that.”

“A lingerie shower?” Sammi paused in the act of pulling on her jeans to frown. Her eyes shifted from one woman to the other. But they looked as surprised that she’d asked as she was to hear about it.

“You know, a shower for lingerie,” Amy said, her expression two shades away from condescending. “Next Friday afternoon.”

“I know what a lingerie shower is,” Sammi said, trying not to clench her teeth. “I thought we were having a couple’s bridal shower.”

“I’m throwing the couple’s shower,” Clara said, looking up from repacking her cache of lipstick. “We’re each giving you one. Amy, Mia and I.”

“Three bridal showers?” Three? Her mind echoed faintly. But why?

She shot Blythe a desperate look, but her friend was nodding along as if having three separate showers was completely reasonable. That or she’d bonded with the other women over sex talk.

“I’ve got your bachelorette party covered,” the traitor said, tucking her feet back into her high-tops. “And don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s a party hot enough to melt your unmarried panties right off.”

It was all Sammi could do not to cover her butt with her hands and tell them all to leave her panties alone.

3

“SAMMI JO, DID YOU hear who is back in town?” Fiona Green set down the last of the boxes of vegetables she was delivering to wave a hand in front of her face. “Hoo, baby, it’s gonna be a hot couple of weeks.”

“Because Laramie’s back?” Sammi asked absently, paying more attention to the order she was checking than to the tenth announcement today of Laramie’s return. All around her the kitchen hustled and bustled through breakfast service, the cacophony of voices, dishes and cooking soothing after a night of lousy sleep.

“Laramie. The man is drool worthy. He’s the kind of guy who just looks at a woman and, poof,” Fiona blew on her fingertips, “her clothes disappear.”

“Uh-huh.” Sammi Jo grinned as she signed off on the delivery. “Good luck staying dressed.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“You do?” Sammi’s smile dimmed. Fiona had been a couple of grades behind her in school. How young did Laramie like them?

“No, but I know women who have. And they’ve told me.”

“Ahh.” Relieved, and late, Sammi said her goodbyes and scurried around two waiters, the line chef and a busboy, double-timing it to the dining room.

What was it with everyone’s obsession with sex?

She tried to wrap her mind around it all.

First the bridesmaids—and in the stuff of nightmares, Mrs. Ross. Then her newest guests had asked to change rooms three times, all in search of a bed that gave the best bounce. If that wasn’t enough, her favorite sitcom had launched a new storyline about—yes, of course—sex.

Added to that, all the staff could talk about was the fact that Laramie was back in town. Two of the maids appeared to be wearing lingerie—while another had asked for the day off to go to the spa for a body buff and glow. Last night, even the kitchen staff had debated what foods were best to seduce the man.

Sammi Jo felt as if she should warn poor Laramie. Or she would if she wasn’t so irritated with everyone putting all of the sex thoughts in her head—and a little afraid that with this theme, she’d see her mother sashaying through at any time in Daisy Dukes and pink pumps.

And then there were the cheating rumors. Those she’d rather ignore, but the sidelong glances and pitying looks she’d garnered over the past few days warned her that the issue couldn’t be avoided.

Which meant she had to talk to Sterling.

Sammi glanced at the clock on the wall, winced and hurried through the staff entrance to the inn’s dining room. The morning sun already shone bright through the wide, arched windows. It was gratifyingly full for a Thursday morning. The dining room boasted twenty tables clothed in white with matching china and pretty carafe centerpieces. The window’s arch was echoed in the entry, where Sammi Jo had switched out the hostess stand for a mahogany piecrust table. The overall effect was elegantly cheerful, she thought as she moved through the tables, pausing to check with the head waiter to make sure nobody needed her help.

“Good morning,” she greeted when she reached the table next to the window. “I’m sorry I’m late. We’re a little short staffed in the kitchen.”

“I was afraid I was going to have to eat alone,” Sterling said with a wink as he set aside his iPad.

Sammi slid into her seat, smiling at her fiancé. Dark eyes contrasted with his wheat-blond hair, and while maybe his lips were a little thin and his chin a smidge weak, he had a clever personality and a Yale polish that made quite a package.

She was glad that he was so much more than a walking, talking erection with roaming hands and a one-track mind. Then her smiled dimmed. Maybe it was only with her that his mind never hit that track? They were to be married in three weeks. She knew he was interested in sex; there were too many rumors to pretend otherwise. But if she asked, what if she found out something she didn’t want to know. Like, what if he was a closet deviant? What if, after they married, he’d want to wear her new underwear and have her spank him with chilled vegetables? Was that worse than him not wanting her at all?