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Life is about to get sticky for businessman, Samuel Stevenson.
Raised in Texan society, groomed to take over his step-father’s company, and the hope of every debutante mama this side of Dallas, he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a thorn in the company’s side: Samantha Dawson, owner of The Sticky Cowgirl.
But, fall in love he did.
Now, his job is in jeopardy, his mother is beside herself, and Samantha won’t budge an inch. Will Samuel lose everything, or will the boot wearing, curves twitching, sassy mouthed rancher’s daughter show him exactly what he’s always wanted?
Outside The Worthington Building, Sam took a deep, less than fortifying breath. “Maybe no one will be in, yet,” she whispered to herself. She glanced to her left and right, then stepped forward.
“Can I help you miss?”
A security guard sat behind a desk, looking expectantly at her as she exited the rotating door. Sam hadn’t counted on a security desk. She should have.
Hell, she shouldn’t even be here. If she’d thought it through before she’d left her bakery, she’d… “I-I’m here to see Samuel Stevenson with Turner Enterprises.”
“Awfully early for a meeting,” he remarked. “Do you have an appointment, miss?”
No. “Yes. I ah… It was last minute. He asked me to bring over some of my new sticky buns. He’s thinking of having a breakfast catered.” The lies floated off her tongue with more ease than they should have.
He gave her a skeptical glance. “Sticky buns, huh? Mr. Stevenson —”
“Yes, sticky buns,” she said with confidence. This she could talk about. This she didn’t have to hem and haw over. She plastered on her best smile and held her hand out across the desk. “My name is Samantha Dawson. I own a bakery called The Sticky Cowgirl.”
His mouth broke out into a smile and his stern look vanished. “Oh yes. I’ve been in your little place. Down by the river, right? My wife is in love with the cinnamon buns you make. You know, they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but that was before they had a chance to meet my Mrs.”
“Yes, that’s me. And I have several new flavors celebrating summer. Raspberry lemon, strawberry lime, blueberry vanilla, blackberry lime.” Sam pulled one of the to-go containers out of one of the carry-out bags she’d filled before she left the store. She wanted to leave a taste for Samuel and his boss and anyone else he worked with so they could see why she was popular. She worked hard. Or rather, her grandmother’s recipe worked hard. “Here. Why don’t you take a sampler box home and see what she thinks.”
“Thank you. I’ll do that. She’ll be excited I met you. She raves to all her friends all the time and always sends me down when we have family come from out of town.”
Sam blushed. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before. Next time you come in, be sure to ask for me so I can say hi. May I go on up to see Mr. Stevenson?”
“Oh. Oh yes. Twenty-fifth floor.”
Samantha’s eyes widened. “How many floors are there?”
He winked at her. “Twenty seven.”
“Well, then. He must be pretty important,” she said flippantly.
“He’s the boss’s stepson and vice president.”
“Oh. Then yes, I would guess he is very important. Thank you so much. I hope your wife likes the new flavors.”
“I’m sure she will. Elevators are just around the corner to the left, there.”
With a nod and an uncertain smile, Samantha headed toward the elevator bank. Six elevators. Three on one side and three on the other. She pressed the up button and was surprised she didn’t have to wait but a split second for the doors of one to open. Once inside, she selected twenty-five from the columns of floor numbers and tried to calm her racing heart as the car took her up.
It was a chance she took, arriving unannounced to see a man she didn’t want to like, who as it turned out was the vice president of the company she was fighting. As much as she accused Jacks of jumping first and asking questions later, she was much the same way sometimes. In no time, the elevator pinged and jolted to a stop. It was whisper quiet when the doors opened and she came face to face with the man she didn’t want to want, but who she wanted to crawl all over and screw six ways to Sunday.
“What are you doing here?”
They both asked the question at the same time. “You first,” Samuel said as Samantha stepped out of the elevator.
“I wanted… I wanted to bring some of my sticky buns by. Your turn.”
“I work here.”
“This early in the morning?”
“Is that the only reason you’re here? To drop some sticky buns off?”
“It was…” she hedged.
“Let’s stop beating around the bush, Samantha.”
She could do that. Right? She could say it, do it, make the move. Couldn’t she? “I’m here for you,” she said, a heartbeat before she pulled his head down. She laid a kiss on his mouth, open and hot and more aggressive than she’d ever been with a man before.
His arms wrapped around her and he pressed her back against the closed elevator doors. Lost in the taste and smell and feel of him against her, she nearly dropped the bag of buns she’d brought.
Samuel tore his mouth away and caught her free hand. “Come with me,” he murmured.
Down a hallway, one side was glass looking out over the still sleeping downtown landscape of San Antonio, and the other side was closed office doors. At the end of the hall, Samuel led her into a corner office. It overlooked the river far below and she could see for miles and miles looking straight ahead. It was a gorgeous view and held her in thrall.
He took the she’d brought and without a word, urged her toward the desk. “The office will begin filling up soon,” he whispered against the side of her neck.
Samantha took a deep, shaky breath. “We’ll have to be quick then.”
“We shouldn’t even be doing this.” But even as the words left his mouth, his fingers were on the back of her sundress, unzipping it. “I love that you wear these dresses. So pretty and feminine.” He dropped the dress to the floor and she stepped away from it. “And your curves. Fuckin’ beautiful and lush. Everything a woman should be.”
Samantha couldn’t think of anything to say. She’d never thought about whether she was big or small, skinny or curvy. She only knew what she liked, what she liked to wear. Cowboy boots and sundresses in summer. Jeans and boots and flannel plaid the few times it got cold in winter. But that Samuel thought she was feminine and pretty? Yeah, she melted right there in his office.
“D-do you have a condom?”
“I do. Don’t worry.”
“Do you do this often?”
“Sex in my office? No. You’re the first.”