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in front of
the room she usually avoided at all cost, he banged into her which sent her
tripping into the door frame. The sudden, hard contact fired him to life. He
felt himself throb, his groin grew tight. These Navy white pants didn’t hide
anything.
    “Damn. Sorry. But you’re taking me to
the S room?” His voice was never high
like that. If anything, he thought maybe she’d been about to ask him for a
motorcycle ride over the new Hoover Dam bridge to prove her trust in him. Hell,
he’d have been more prepared had she gone and fetched some random show guest
and thrown the two of them in there while she stood outside, “trusting” him. This? Wanting to go inside S room? With him? Nowhere
on his radar.
    There was something about this room she
hated.
    And very little else to do inside
besides be together. Which he was sure she also must hate after the way he’d
hurt her before.
    He had one word for her and feared like
a little girl that saying it would be the one thing to push her away for good.
But he had to say it.
    “No.”
    This wasn’t a place to enter on the premise that you trusted a person. You
either went in here not caring a damn about what might happen, like most of the
show patrons he’d brought, or fully aware and in control of yourself. No in between. Sam had watched her tow the line throughout their entire conversation.
    “I won’t take you in there. You’re not
ready. Don’t be stubborn and ask me how I know that. I just do.”
    “It’s not up to you right now.” Her lips
stopped speaking, and it was clear that was the last thing she would say until
he either followed her in or left her in the hallway, alone.
    Like fire that realized it was on dry
ground and free to burn, the thought of being in there with her jolted his body
awake. Years old, buried, and desperate desire, came out of hiding. He would
put himself through hell to be able to have her and not hurt her. But standing
directly behind Emma as she unlocked and opened the black door, he saw how he still engulfed her.
      From
her petite shoulders came a giant heave as she took the first step inside.
    In that instant, he knew she was wrong.
He could and should choose not to go inside, but he did have something to show
her. That she was safe when they were together. He couldn’t believe that was
what this had turned into but he found some small ground to stand on and be
thankful. He wouldn’t piss this opportunity away. A man took responsibility for
his actions, no matter how far in the past they’d happened and how much time
he’d spent racking up distance, hiding. Sam would be the ambassador of control
and restraint once they were on the other side of this door.
    He had to prod her forward the next
step. And the next, which set off a mile-long trail of red
flags.
    He waited and let her be the one to turn
and close the door.
    As soon as he heard it click, he slid
his hands inside the tight pants pockets and held them there.
    The room was dark and chilly, and her
breathing echoed in his ears. He went in search of the light switch. The low
bulb setting purposely only lit the room one shade lighter, but it was enough
to see the shadow dampening her pretty face.
    “Okay,” she said out loud, like she was
her own coach. “Okay.”
    “We’re out of here, Emma. Now.”
    She held up her small hand and he’d have
latched onto it had his hands been available. “No. We’re not leaving. I’m fine.
I just needed a second,” she said. That wasn’t her “I’ve got this” voice. She
was acting and not doing a very bang-up job of it.
    Sam had no choice but to touch.
    He fumbled around and found her other hand
and took it into his, receiving an instantaneous jolt of comfort. He hoped he
affected her the same way but couldn’t be sure. She was awfully still.
    Emma looked at the neon hands of the
wall clock. “We have one hour before the second show lets out,” she said.
    “I’m assuming you have some plan, Emma.”
God, please tell