Clear, curious eyes met his. "Who hurt you, Mac?"
"That's the strange part. No one woman in particular. No one meant enough to me." Until you. He pressed a kiss against the top of her hand. "It was the life and the fact that these women were capable of carrying on an affair while their husbands were staying in the same hotel that turned my stomach. So when I met you and you liked me for who you thought I was, I didn't correct you. And by the time I needed to come clean, you had backed off emotionally."
She stood quietly, obviously respecting the way he needed to explain. But she pulled their hands against her cheek as she waited.
"I guess my views were jaded. I just didn't realize how badly until I turned on you. You paid for something you hadn't done, Samantha." He untangled their hands and walked toward the window overlooking a park, putting space and emotional distance between them. He'd had his say. The rest was up to her.
Like the first time, she had to come to him.
Sam watched him stare out the window and beyond, to the grassy park below. Mac was wrong. He wasn't the only one to blame. She'd been selfish and unfair. By coming to him with an agenda, she'd set him up without knowing the background and baggage he'd brought with him to this relationship.
And yes, they'd had a relationship. Despite what she'd told him, she hadn't been able to convince herself steamy sex was all she and Mac had shared.
She paused a few feet behind where he stood. He'd managed what she thought was impossible; he'd diminished the anger and hurt. Instead she felt even more love for this special man.
"I'm equally to blame, Mac."
He turned and faced her, leaning against the window.
She swallowed hard. "And seeing as how I understand better now, I guess that absolves you, too." She shifted from foot to foot.
"So now what, Sammy Jo?" The distance between them couldn't be more than four feet, but to Sam, it felt like a chasm the size of the Grand Canyon. This wasn't like them. She and Mac had always shared a remarkable comfort factor she'd never felt with anyone else.
He'd come this far for her. She had to go the rest of the way. Honesty, she reminded herself. The very thing they'd lacked until now was the one thing that could bring them back to each other.
She held out her arms. "You could lose the distance between us," she whispered. If he'd just hold her, she would know everything was okay. The words would follow.
He looked at her, his dark eyes more serious than she'd ever seen them. "One question."
She pulled her arms back to her chest, her hands curling into fists. Her nails dug into her skin. "Yes?"
"Do you trust me?" A question they'd asked each other many times over the course of the week together. Never had it held so much meaning.
She knew what he was really wondering. Did she trust him despite the lies and omissions, despite the horrible things he'd said and implied, despite the reality of who they really were?
None of it changed what mattered most. What they meant to each other. "Do I trust you?" She repeated the question aloud. "With my life."
The second Mac had his answer, he held out his arms and she jumped forward, plowing into him full-force. She didn't know who was more relieved, Mac or herself, when she was finally back where she belonged. His deep, heartfelt groan told her he felt it, too.
This was right.
They were right.
Needing to taste him, she sealed her lips against his and kissed him with an urgency she'd never felt before.
He broke the kiss first. "Does this mean you've forgiven me?" he asked, moments later.
She tipped her head back and looked into his dark eyes. "I think we both needed forgiving."
"Meaning our lies canceled each other out?" he asked wryly.
She shook her head. "They weren't lies, they were omissions."
"That took on a life of their own because of how we felt about each other."
Drawing on every bit of reserve strength, she met his steady gaze. "And how is that?" she asked. Because for all they'd shared, not once had the words been spoken.
"I love you." His words wrapped around her heart and filled every empty space inside. "I do, Sammy Jo. And if that means shelling out money to get your father back on his feet, I will."
"My father…"
"The reason you'd marry a man you don't love."
"How did you know?"
He grinned. "Easy, sweetheart. I know you." He grasped her hand and twisted the ring she still wore on her third finger. His ring. "It just took me time to get over the shock and start thinking like a rational human being."
"Thank you," she whispered. Considering his views on women and his wealth, this offer proved how very much he loved her. "But Dad and I have come to an understanding. I had him checked by a doctor, and physically, he's fine. He realizes the extent of what he's done and is ready to get back on his feet."
"Sounds like you've covered a lot of ground in a short time," Mac said.
"Thanks to you. You made me see I couldn't give up my life for him… and once I met you, I didn't want to."
"I can help your father pay off his debts, if you'll let me."
She shook her head.
"You're not saying no because you're afraid I'll think you're after my money."
"I'm saying no because our life, our love has nothing to do with his problems. But for the record, I'm not looking for a hand on your wallet."
"No?"
She shook her head once more. "But I can think of plenty of other places I'd like to put my hands." She grinned as she reached for the zipper on his jeans. "For the record, Mac, I know you, too."
"You do."
Samantha nodded. "I was wrong to think I didn't," she murmured, kissing his lips, his face and neck. The rasp of his zipper being lowered resounded in the small room.
Mac suppressed a shudder as desire ripped through him.
"It isn't what you're wearing that matters. It's what's inside the clothes that counts." And apparently she wanted to get there as soon as possible. She yanked on his jeans and he helped her get them around his legs and into a pile on the floor.
Her gaze fell on his erection, and her hands quickly followed the direction of her stare. She gripped his hardness between her soft fingers.
"No underwear," she said with a grin. "I like it." He let out a harsh groan. They'd have plenty of time for foreplay. The rest of their lives, if Mac had his say, but right now he needed to be inside her.
Reaching beneath the short denim skirt, he found her skimpy underwear. "About as much as I love the fact that you wear these things," he muttered. "Because they're so damn easy to get rid of." With one jerk of his hand, he ripped the silk garment off her body.
"Wow." Her eyes opened wide.
"You think that was good?"
"Impressive."
"Considering I'm a nice guy, or does that label no longer apply?"
She touched her face to his, aligning her cheek against his more-roughened skin. "You're still a nice guy, Mac."
"You said you'd have liked forever, even in a small apartment over a bar. What about in that fantasy house you described? Would you move to Arizona, Sam? I spent the last few days pulling together a list of firms who would be more than happy to have your talent on board. And I know some people who could help your father start over. What do you say?" he asked, holding his breath.
Her soft moan nearly undid him. Then her words did. "That's a yes, in case you weren't sure."
Lifting her by the waist, he held her at the tip of his erection. In one easy stroke, he slid himself inside her.
Sam moaned as they joined together at last. Her moist and wet body accepted him like he belonged to her. Because he did. She exhaled at the ecstasy she'd found with her bartender that wasn't.