Sam decided he’d treat this just as he did any competition he’d set his mind to winning. He’d play hard and give it his all. Strategy. It always came down to strategy. And with Cupcake the best strategy would be to reel her in slowly, like a doe he was trying to lure closer to feed from his hand.
Sam fell asleep with a grin on his lips. He’d waited over a decade to take his not-so- pudgy princess to bed, and he’d be damned if he’d go home before it finally happened. He wasn’t certain if he was quite ready to settle down and make a family just yet, but maybe he was. Hell—who could say what he was or wasn’t ready for ‘til the time came.
But there was something he was definitely ready for. One way or another, Sam “The Slam” Tremont wasn’t leaving Tampa Florida ‘til he gave Gwenyth Marie Jones the fuckin’ of a lifetime.
Poor little girl. She’d never know what hit her.
Chapter 5
“You’re lookin’ good, boy, lookin’ real good.” Granddad Willy nodded toward Sam as Verlene fussed over him, slathering Sam’s baked potato up with a heavy dollop of creamy butter and the smooth as sin sour cream Willy had made from scratch.
Harry slapped Sam on the back and grinned. “You don’t look much different. A few more laugh lines, old man, but not much different.”
Sam grunted affectionately at his lifelong pal. It was good to have someone to verbally spar with again. Most people approached him with kid gloves, afraid to offend him in any way. “You’re one to talk, Jones. I see more than one laugh line or two crinklin’ at the corners of your eyes as well.”
Harry chuckled. “The ladies rather like my laugh lines. They say it gives me character.”
Willy harrumphed, drawing Sam’s attention toward him. He had to grin at theMadeat-shirt old Willy was wearing today. “You date some strange women, son. Your Grandmama, on the other hand, was always partial to my backside.” He inclined his head in a gesture of pure male ego. “She’s a butt woman, my Verlene.”
Said butt-woman rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Sam laughed. God he’d missed this bunch.
Dinnertime began with the same flair and panache as it always did at the Jones family home. Sam closed his eyes briefly as he inhaled the aromas of the food rising up around him. He could barely stand the wait. He was just dying to fork a bite of the green beans that had been prepared in bacon fat into his mouth. This was true southern cookin’ at its finest here. Yet another thing he’d missed about this place.
Verlene and Willy had really outdone themselves tonight. Steak, baked potatoes, green beans, freshly baked bread… ecstasy, pure and simple. Sam just wished Cupcake would hurry up and get her cute little backside upstairs. He was itchin’ to see Gwen again in a way he’d never itched to see another woman. That, and the fact that he was hungrier than he didn’t know what and he knew they would never start dinner without her.
Sam took a sip from his bottle of imported beer as he surveyed the motley group surrounding him. They were all so different, so unique from each other. Willy was outrageous, in both attire and mannerisms. Verlene was his opposite, as elegantly and gracefully feminine as her husband was brusquely masculine. Harry was a bit on the prudish, shy side, but was as nonjudgmental of others as a person could get. Gwen was… well…
Gwen was just Gwen. She was the baby of the family and as such she’d adopted characteristics of all the Jones’. She was as elegant and graceful as Verlene, as opinionated as Willy, and as tolerant of differences as Harry.
The Jones’ were one hell of a good people. They were all very much their own person, yet they respected everyone’s differences and loved each other deeply. Perhaps that’s why Sam had spent more time at the Jones house growing up than he had at his own. Every kid wanted some place where they felt accepted.
Even now, after a decade of absence, the elder Jones’ were treating Sam like their prodigal grandson come home. They offered him no recriminations on his past behavior, they demanded no explanations. They simply accepted him, for whatever it was worth. And Sam realized it was worth a hell of a lot. He’d never give them up twice.
Harry glanced at his watch and then at the pile of food spread out on the dining room table. He frowned. “I’m giving Gwen another two minutes and then I’m going downstairs to fetch her from the dark room.”
Willy harrumphed. “Best idea I’ve heard all day.” He waggled his eyebrows at his grandson. “You know how your sister is when she turns her mind to her pictures. Just like Verlene, she is. Gwen will be down there all day and night with the rest of them Vantry photos and won’t see fit to resurface ‘til tomorrow.”
Sam raised a brow. “Vantry photos?”
Verlene smiled warmly at Sam, then nodded. “Uh huh. Gwen just got back from cataloguing their women’s swimwear line in LA.”
Harry grinned affectionately at Sam. “We’re very proud of her. The Vantrys were so impressed with the photos she developed before leaving LA that they’ve asked her back to catalogue the men’s line in a few weeks.”
Well isn’t that interesting. “No kidding.” Sam tipped back his beer bottle and took a swig. He made a mental note to call Lee later and inform his agent that he’d decided to take the modeling job after all. “I always knew Gwen would make something important of herself.”
Harry nodded as if that was a given. “She’s tenacious, my sister.”
Sam wondered if Cupcake would be just as tenacious in bed. Something told him she would be. Sighing, he shook his head to clear it of his lusty thoughts, then concentrated on downing the remainder of his beer.
“Two minutes are up,” Harry declared as he tossed his napkin on the table and made to stand up. “I’m going to fetch Gwen.”
Verlene shook her head and chuckled. “Hungry, are you? Well sit back down, sugar. I hear your sister coming up the back stairs now.”
Sam’s heartbeat accelerated. His pulse raced in anticipation of seeing her again. He sipped from what was left of his beer and frowned, highly annoyed by that fact. He glanced toward the doorway he knew Gwen would soon materialize into, hoping he looked more devil-may-care than he felt.
Lord have mercy.
She hadn’t changed out of his jersey, or out of those Daisy Duke shorts. It was enough to drive a sane man over the edge and back again. Swallowing roughly, Sam polished off the remainder of his beer while he got his raging hormones back under control. Strategy. It always came down to strategy. Now if only he actually had one.
