"I'm at Jack's now, and I'm fine. More or less."

"More or less? What does that mean?" Panic and fear filled her voice. "I'll be right there-"

"No, really. I'm okay." Sam looked down at her bandaged hand, which was beginning to throb like a son of a bitch. "Just a few stitches in my hand, that's all. Lorissa, we're both out of a steady job."

"Hey, we've been poor before."

Sam leant on the countertop and closed her eyes. The adrenaline was finished. The sexual excitement was gone. And she was left with nothing but a bone-deep weariness. "But this time, it's bad. I have nothing. Nothing left."

"Honey, being jobless, that we can manage. Homeless, too. You know you'll stay with me. But being without you… nope. No can do. So I figure everything is damn good. Now tell me where Jack lives, I'll be right over-"

"I'll be okay but can I meet you at the café in the morning?"

Lorissa was quiet a moment. "Is he taking good care of you then?"

Sam felt a hand settle on her shoulder, a big, warm, comforting hand, and her eyes filled. Was he taking good care of her? He'd held her hand in the ER, even after turning an entertaining shade of green when they'd brought out the needles. He'd carried her into his house, given her his bed and then had caved when she'd thrown herself at him, loving her body and soul into the oblivion she'd asked for. "Yeah. He is." Her voice trembled. She still didn't look at Jack, standing behind her, using two hands now to massage the tightness out of her neck and shoulders, moving his fingers in a soothing, circular motion, up and down her spine. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You promise you're okay?"

"I promise I will be."

"Oh, Sam." Lorissa started to cry. "I love you."

She bit back her sob. "Love you, too." Reaching out, she hung up the phone, but kept her head down. "Sorry," she managed to Jack. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." With his long fingers, he scooped her hair out of his way, baring her neck to him. "I knew you weren't sleeping. I was just trying to give you your space."

That was so unexpectedly sweet, she felt a tear break loose. She kept her head down until she thought she could control her emotions. "Thanks."

Again he stroked his hand over her back. "I think you've had enough space, Sam."

Lifting her head, she turned on the bar stool so that she could face him. He'd pulled on a pair of sweat bottoms and nothing else. In the harsh glare of the kitchen light, his hair stuck straight up-probably from her own fingers. He had a five o'clock shadow on his jaw, and his shoulder sported a red mark that looked suspiciously teeth-shaped-her teeth.

He looked sexy as hell, and she wanted him again. Standing, she slipped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against him. "You're right. I don't want any more space. Not for the rest of the night. Take me back to bed, Jack."

"Your hand-"

"Will be fine, as long as you've got yours on me." She sighed when he scooped her up against his warm, hard chest. "I guess I need to reconsider this he-man thing. I think I like it." Her arms slipped around his neck. "I like it a lot."

Back in his bedroom, he set her on the rumpled bed. The only light came from the hallway, slanting shadows across the room as he lowered himself over her, bridging her body with his arms. He stroked the lone tear from her cheek. "I don't suppose you'd take a pain pill and get some rest."

She ran her hands up his bare, sleek back, then down again, slipping them beneath his low slung sweats to hold on to the sweetest, hardest male buns she'd ever seen.

A low laugh escaped him as he cupped her face and moved his hips against hers. "Okay, so you're not ready to sleep, yet."

"Don't tell me you are." A little moan escaped her when he rolled his hips again, his body unmistakably responding to their play. "Oh, goodie."

"And this time when we're done," he murmured softly, dropping a sweet, clinging kiss on her lips, "if you still can't sleep, you'll tell me."

"I don't want to keep you up all night."

"You'll tell me," he said firmly, kissing her again, then lifting his head and looking into her eyes. "And I'll keep you company until you can."

"What will we do?"

"Whatever you want."

"Jack-"

Again he lowered his mouth to hers, and she met him halfway. It was what she wanted, the mindlessness of it, the easy release. Hot, fast, sweaty sex-just what the doctor should have ordered.

Only it was as if he already knew her too well because he changed tactics on her, giving her the one thing she couldn't resist, or hide behind. Gentleness. Tenderness. An unfathomable soul-wrenching connection, lingering over her mind and spirit, until she was practically sobbing with it.

He took her where she'd never been before, something that would have terrified her, if she hadn't sensed he was right there with her, just as lost, just as terrified. And by the time it was over, and they lay gasping and panting in each other's arms, she knew she was also fulfilled, another thing she'd never experienced before.


* * *

Sam woke up in the arms of a big, warm, naked man, which was a great way to start the day.

Unless you'd burned your home and place of work to the ground the night before. Just as quickly, her euphoria died, replaced by a gut-crushing despondence. My God, it had really happened-

Jack's eyes opened, and in their sleepy depths was sorrow for her as he stroked her hair from her face. It was a gesture that tugged even further on a heart that felt as if it had cracked open last night.

God, this man. He had a way of making her melt. He was so wonderful, so hot, so sexy… and so not her future.

They'd already agreed on that.

Only problem, she no longer even knew what her future did hold. All she knew was that she had to go see Wild Cherries by daylight. Had to go take an assessment and make some decisions.

Her heart squeezed, but she slipped out of his arms and got out of bed. "I've got to go."

He bent an elbow and propped his head up with his hand, lying in that great big bed looking like one great sexy temptation. "Why don't you let me make you breakfast first?"

She walked toward the bathroom. She picked up her panties and pulled them on. "You really know how to cook in that fancy kitchen?"

"Why don't you stay and find out?"

There was her bra, beneath her discarded robe. Straightening, she began to put in on. "I can't. I want to get to the café."

With a sigh, Jack roused himself out of bed. His two feet hit the floor and then he rose, quite impressive in all his morning glory. "I'll drive you."

"I can call a cab-"

"I'm driving you." He came close, cupped his hands to her face and tilted it up to his. "Did you really think I'd let you do this alone? Face it in the light of day all by yourself?"

Damn it, her eyes stung again, and she tried to turn away but he held her in a gentle grip of steel. "I'm sticking," he said in a voice that had as much strength as his hold. "We do this together."

"Lorissa is going to meet me there. Red, too. I'll be fine."

"Sam-"

"I don't need a baby-sitter, Jack."

"Yeah. I can see that." He looked her over for a long moment, then dropped his hands.

She turned away from him because she couldn't handle the emotion he stirred within her. She also couldn't handle putting on her dirty bathrobe, and picked up his sweats and T-shirt. "Can I-"

"Anything."

Nodding, she pulled on his clothes, rolling the waist of the sweats to her hips so they'd fit better, and tying his shirt at her waist. Then she turned and faced his hurt silence. "It's not like we are each other's futures, Jack. We talked about that, on day one. We're not, we know we're not."

Again he just looked at her for a long moment, then went to his dresser for clothes for himself. "Sometimes, Sam, things change, even when you don't want them to."

She went utterly still. Could he possibly believe that? Or was that just a certain body part talking? Because in her experience, thinking ahead never mattered, things happened. And they never happened as planned. The word future, and all it entailed, was just a slippery, untenable dream. "My future is a charred black pit. And I need to get to it."

He fastened his Levi's. Grabbed a clean shirt and pulled it over his head. Looked at her.

And the message in his eyes nearly brought her to her knees.

He had feelings for her, she didn't doubt that. Hell, she had feelings for him, too-big, scary, gargantuan feelings that would probably overwhelm her if she didn't already have the fire to deal with.

"It doesn't have to be so cut-and-dried," he said very quietly.

Oh, yes, it did. Otherwise, she could get quite accustomed to his beautiful face and those eyes looking inside her, deep inside, to the real Samantha O'Ryan. With no effort at all, she could fall hard, she thought, and rubbed the physical ache spreading beneath her ribs. For the first time in her life, she could really tumble, and the joke would be on her.

Because he wouldn't fall, not for her.

Are you sure? asked a hopeful little voice deep inside. Are you sure he wouldn't?

Of course he wouldn't. They weren't even in the same league. He was wonderful, and for now thoroughly engaged with her, but that wouldn't last. No, for both of them, this was nothing more than a quick fling, beautiful and hot, but coming to an end.

Better not to take the plunge at all, than to land on her face in the mud.

Lorissa had taught her that years and years ago after her own disastrous attempt at love had failed so badly, and Sam had taken that mantra to heart. She managed a smile, even though she knew it was a sad one.