“Gwenyth Marie! Open this door before I break it down!”
Gwenyth’s facial expression went from glaring to scowling. “Why should I? And what are you doing here?”
“Open. The. Door.”
Gwenyth winced at the ice in Sam’s voice. She had no idea why he was here or why he was so worked up, but she sensed that now was not the time to ask him to work on his communication skills. “Oh alright,” she relented, however reluctantly. Unlatching the deadbolt, she slid the connecting door wide open. “Now, what are you doing here and why are you so angry?”
But Sam wasn’t paying her any attention. He stalked into the room and scanned the suite thoroughly. Growing more and more agitated as every second ticked by, Gwenyth marched over to the center of the room where Sam stood glowering down at her and did a little glowering of her own. “What has gotten into you!?”
“Who were you talkin’ to in here?” Sam’s voice was calm and controlled, but each word was bit out with unmistakable menace.
Gwenyth’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, then furrowed in annoyance. “My grandmother, you Neanderthal.”
“Neanderthal!” he growled.
Gwenyth’s arms crossed defensively over her chest. “Just what do you think you’re behaving like?” She gestured with one hand across the expanse of the suite. “You start pounding on my door, scaring the hell out of me I might add, then you come stalking into my room, not even bothering to say hello, then all but accuse me of having an affair with Grandmama!”
Sam’s face colored. He cleared his throat and looked away. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled. He kicked the floor with the toe of his shoe, suddenly feeling defensive. “But I did see a situation just like that on Jerry Springer once. In fact, I—” At Gwenyth’s narrowed eyes, he blushed again and shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Gwenyth took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. Her bare toes tapping impatiently against the carpeting, she balled her hands into fists and glared at Sam. The mentally counting thing wasn’t working. “What,” she ground out bitterly, “are you doing here?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed defensively. His hands flew to his hips. He clenched his jaw and regarded her sullenly. “I came for you!”
Chapter 10
“Now, would you care to explain what this is all about?”
Sam inwardly flinched at the incredulous look smothering Gwenyth’s face, but outwardly he managed to retain his cool. Sweet Jesus, he could hardly blame her for wanting to rip his face off. He still didn’t know what had possessed him to fly off the handle like that.
It’s called jealousy, Tremont.
Sam frowned at his own musings. He’d never, ever acted this ignoble over a woman in his life. Here he was trying to lure Gwen toward him and all he was succeeding in doing was scaring her away. And now, on top of everything else, he was going to have to break the news to her that he was her lead man for this week’s photo shoot at Vantry Sportswear. How was he to go about doingthat?
Sam decided that a placating smile was as good a place to start as any. “I apologize for bargin’ in here the way I did, Cupcake.” He threw in a beguiling bat of the eyelashes for effect. “Can you forgive me?”
Sam gulped in dismay when Gwenyth’s eyebrows rose a disbelieving notch. She wasn’t falling for the eyelash batting routine at all. Well that was just great. Now how was he going to get out of this? And how was he ever going to explain himself to Gwen when he wasn’t exactly certain that he understood why he’d done what he’d done to begin with?
When Sam had heard Gwenyth’s sweet voice carrying through to the connecting door, his stomach had clenched, wondering who it was she was in there talking to. Had another man accompanied her to California? Was it Trevor? Was the candy-ass lawyer in her suite even now, seducing her, touching her body the way Sam had?
And then, sweet Jesus, when the talking had ended and a gut-wrenching silence had ensued, it was all he could do to keep from crying. The things that had gone through his mind hadn’t been pretty. They’d been devastating.
At that point, higher level reasoning hadn’t existed. Thoughts of his own precarious position and how he was going to explain his presence in LA to Gwen hadn't factored in. The only thing that had gone through Sam’s mind was breaking down the door, killing whatever male was on the other side of it, and carrying Gwenyth off to the nearest dungeon where he could lock her away and keep her from all other males forever. Sweet Jesus, he was a goner.
Sam realized from the look on Gwenyth’s face that she was expecting to hear the truth in its entirety and would accept no less. But there was no way on earth he was going to admit to the intense pangs of jealousy he kept experiencing, so he prepared himself for verbal battle and offered her the piece of the truth that he was ready to give her. “I’m Vantry’s lead model for the men’s swimwear line.”
Whatever Gwenyth had been expecting to hear, that hadn’t been it. Her eyes widened in shock as she searched his face. “You’re what?!”
Sam swallowed nervously. “I’m Vantry’s lead model.”
“B-but…no.”
Gwenyth dragged in some much needed air as she dazedly floated to the other side of the suite and plopped into the nearest chair. Just how in the world was she supposed to spend her time in California figuring out what she wanted if Sam was here with her the entire time? And half naked in a swimsuit no less! That last thought set her teeth on edge. “I can’t believe you’re just now getting around to telling me this,” she gritted out.
Sam followed her across the room and took the chair next to Gwenyth’s. “I didn’t want you to get angry with me, sweetheart.”
“I see,” she bit out. “And you want me to get angry with you now?”
“Of course not.” Sam sighed like a martyr. “Gwen honey, I made this commitment to Vantry Sportswear before you and I started sleepin’ together.” That much was true. Sam smiled at Gwenyth as he took her hand and pulled her from the chair next to him and onto his lap. “Let’s not fight over something neither of us can get out of, okay baby?” His hand sought out her nipples to flick them back and forth, reminding her of the affect his touch had on her senses. “We’re both obligated to fulfill our contracts, Gwen.”
