"You mean you aren't used to being mauled by women?" Sam held no illusions. He might have taken charge, but she had definitely approached him first.

He laughed. "I was talking about you helping out around here. You pitched in when I needed it most. I appreciate it."

His hands had moved higher, working their way up her thigh. She tensed, but under his continued ministrations, she began to relax again and enjoy.

"I can pay you Theresa's salary," he said.

"You already paid Theresa her salary," she reminded him.

"Because her family needs the money and Bear won't mind. You don't need to work for free. It isn't much, but…"

Sam could barely concentrate on anything but the feel of his hands on her bare skin and the thought of where they were headed next. But through the tingling sensations and the desire, she got a solid view of Mac. A special, caring man… hers for the duration of her stay, if she wanted him to be. And she did.

In return, he needed to know what she wanted from him, and that didn't include cash. "I don't want your money, Mac."

He muttered something she almost missed. Something that sounded like "That would be a first," but his agile fingers had reached the hem of her skirt and she knew she couldn't trust anything she heard except her own rapid breathing.

"Why not?" he asked. "You earned it."

"I don't take payment for things I enjoy, and I enjoyed helping you."

"I'm sure you picked up a lot in tips tonight, anyway," he said.

"I didn't do too badly for my first night." She grinned.

"You're a hell of a woman, Sammy Jo." His drawl was deliberate, she knew, as was the way his finger dipped beneath the lace in her panties. At that first intimate touch, she let out a slow moan, accompanied by a tremor her body couldn't control.

"Is this the way you show your gratitude?" she asked, trying to keep the moment between them light even as his finger moved over the lace, rubbing back and forth with unerring accuracy. It didn't work. Fire shot straight through her body, making her burn.

"No, sweetheart. I'm doing this because it turns you on and I enjoy that." To her disappointment, though, he slipped his fingers out from beneath her skirt. His hand shook as he placed it on her thigh. That telling gesture made his withdrawal easier to take. She wasn't alone in this swirling, all-encompassing state of desire.

"But I want you wide awake and participating, not exhausted from working behind the bar." He placed a gentle kiss on her lips before bending to retrieve her shoes.

"Go on up and I'll meet you after I've cleaned up."

Sam blinked, her mind unable to comprehend his words because her body was strung so tight she thought she might explode. She could attempt to seduce him, but she didn't want their first time to be in the bar.

Despite her inexperienced technique, she'd made it this far. She was more than content to let him take the lead. As she offered a wave and headed for the stairs, she realized Mac was right. She was exhausted. From the look of things down here, he might be a while and she could put the time to good use. After she relaxed, she would set exactly the right mood.


* * *

Mac hit the top step at a run. When was the last time he had a woman he'd invited warming his bed? Okay, not his bed, but he'd make do. Because not only did he like what he saw, but he liked what he'd learned about her, too. She wasn't selfish and greedy, but considerate and giving beyond belief. Not only to Mac when he needed a hand, but to Zee and the other regular customers, who made it a point to mention how much they liked his new waitress. She fit in, which surprised him, considering he'd bet his last dollar she'd never waited tables in her life.

They generated such instant and spontaneous combustion, it was hard to believe he'd only known Samantha for a couple of hours. When he opened the door, he walked into a candlelit room. He had to give her credit for ingenuity. She must have snuck back downstairs while he was cleaning and swiped the red candle holders from the tables. Thick white candles flickered in the darkness, casting a muted glow, creating a sexy atmosphere.

Mac's gaze went straight for the bed to see what other surprises awaited him. Samantha had crawled on top of the covers fully dressed, cuddled up with one pillow… and had fallen fast asleep.

His gaze fell on her sleeping form. Light from the candles shimmered over her face, drawing his attention to her delicate profile, high cheekbones and full lips. Lips he'd like to sample again. It wouldn't be happening, he thought, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. Which was a good thing, considering he'd promised himself to take things slowly and read the subtle signs she gave out. Not the overt ones, like the candlelit room decorated for seduction.

He eased himself beside her on the bed and tucked a wayward strand of hair off her cheek. She sighed softly and cuddled close to him. Interesting how she instinctively went toward him, even at her most defenseless. His heart gave a lurch.

In sleep, she looked more lost than she had when she'd wandered into the bar. Judging from the trouble she'd gone to setting up this seduction, he sensed, as he had earlier, that she considered a sexual encounter an answer to her problems. It would be too easy to succumb to temptation and take what she offered. If he did, he'd never see her again.

Mac didn't know how he knew this to be true. He just did. Losing Samantha before he got to know her wasn't an option. For now, he would take care of her and give her time to confide in him. Even if he had to sit on his hands and pray, he'd damn well do his best not to muddy the waters with sex. At least not yet.

Her eyelashes fluttered against her soft skin and she murmured to herself in her sleep. A bad dream? Mac pressed a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the throbbing in his groin brought on by even that innocent touch. Because more than he wanted her, he wished he could make whatever she was running from go away.

He wasn't anybody's white knight, and he didn't normally look for the nearest damsel in distress to rescue. But he wanted to protect this woman. He wanted to take care of Samantha. Mac didn't question why. He had a week to find out.


* * *

When his internal clock woke him early the next morning, he realized he hadn't slept much at all. How could he with Samantha's small but firm body tucked into his and her hand wrapped around a morning erection that had nothing to do with the time of day and everything to do with the woman beside him?

Good intentions aside, he'd gone to bed wanting her and awakened wanting her even more. Last night's erotic episode after closing stayed with him. He could still recall her moist heat against his fingertips and could easily envision his body sliding into hers. The soft noises coming from beside him told him she slept soundly, which put off the inevitable test of his resolve.

With a groan, he rolled over and dragged himself out of bed. He couldn't help but glance back once more. She'd rolled to his side of the bed and wrapped herself around a pillow. His pillow. And damned if she didn't look like she belonged there. Mac shook his head. A cold shower would take care of his problem at least temporarily. It would also clear his mind to face the start of his week with Samantha.


* * *

Sam waited until she heard the bathroom door closing behind Mac before flipping onto her back and opening her eyes. An arousing masculine scent filled her nostrils at the same time the sound of running water reached her ears. Mac's scent, Mac's shower. The same Mac she'd avoided this morning after awakening with her hand wrapped around his… his… She couldn't even think the word, let alone utter it aloud.

She forced herself to sit up and glanced around the room. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, and the candles she'd lit earlier had burned or been snuffed out. She glanced at a small bedside clock. The gleaming digital numbers told her she'd slept past her normal 7:00 a.m. wake-up time. Long past. Apparently bartenders had to alter their internal clocks to conform to late hours. She'd have to adjust, at least for the week. While she was with Mac.

She took another look around and cringed. She'd fallen asleep before he'd come up last night, and as a result, she'd awakened to face a failed seduction attempt. Mortified, she hadn't been able to make the first move, other than the unconscious one. Given the fact that she'd felt him pulsing against her palm, hard, warm and very male, she'd counted on him to act first. Obviously he had other plans.

She ought to be grateful she'd slept through making a complete fool of herself. Sam tossed the covers off. If she was dressed and out of the apartment before he finished his shower, she'd give herself some time to think. Her mind always worked better when she was outdoors, and with the fresh air and open spaces Arizona offered, she'd probably figure out how to handle a man like Mac in no time.

Bending down, she pulled out a cream-and-peach-flowered sundress and laid it out on the bed. She tipped her head to the side. The shower still pulsed in the background. So did the beat of music she no longer had to strain to hear.

The refrain sounded throughout the bedroom and she couldn't suppress a grin. So he liked music when he showered, she mused. She now knew one more thing about Mac. The thought pleased her. So did the fact that they shared the same taste in music. Her hips swayed to the country-and-western beat as she pulled her shirt over her head and shook her hair out behind her.

The jarring sound of a door opening startled her from the easy rhythm of the music. Unthinking, she whirled toward the sound, only to find herself facing Mac, bare-chested with a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing more.

"You've got rhythm," he said with a grin.

She felt burning heat rise to her cheeks. Water dripped over his bronzed skin. Her fingertips itched to follow the same path. "The shower's still running," she said inanely.

"Forgot my razor. It's new." He stepped toward the wooden dresser at the same time she made a dive for her clothes. The man was destined to see her at her worst, she thought, struggling to pull the soft cotton over her exposed breasts.

Clothed, but nowhere near composed, she turned back toward him. He studied her with an inscrutable expression, but there was one thing she couldn't mistake-the burning desire in his gaze.

She swallowed hard, then forced a smile. "Have everything you need?" she asked, careful to keep her gaze at eye level. Away from the towel that rode low on his hips, revealing a tan line and a swell of passion she couldn't mistake.

"Not nearly," he muttered.

She licked her lips, not knowing how to answer that.

"As long as you're up, I thought I'd take you out, get you a decent breakfast. There's nothing good in the refrigerator downstairs," he said.

She blinked, stunned by the absurd intimacy of the situation. She and Mac were sharing a morning routine and comfortable conversation while they were both barely dressed. They were strangers, for heaven's sake.

Her mind and her heart shouted in denial. They might have met only yesterday, but she and Mac were far from strangers. She felt too comfortable in his presence, too safe in his arms. The realization shook her composure.

She didn't know if she could get food into her nervous stomach, but a trip away from the bar and these close quarters seemed like an excellent idea.


* * *

She wasn't wearing a bra. Not unless she put one on when he'd gone downstairs to give her a minute or two of privacy. Mac gripped the steering wheel, his fists clenched as hard and as tight as his body. This morning's shock still hadn't worn off. He'd stepped out to find Samantha half-naked, her body bracketed by sunlight, her dark hair falling against the white skin of her back. And then when she'd turned around… all his good intentions had nearly been shot to hell right then and there.

When his choices had come down to tossing her onto the bed or tossing her onto the bed, he knew he was in trouble. Breakfast in a restaurant, sitting across from each other in a decent-size booth, had seemed like a good way to take the edge off the escalating sexual tension between them. He'd been wrong.

She'd sat across from him wearing the dress she'd grabbed for earlier, and all he could think of was her full breasts as they'd looked before she'd managed to run for cover. Even now, as he drove through the countryside, he couldn't think of anything else. She'd asked him to detour and show her the sights on their way back to the bar. That, too, had seemed like a good idea at the time. But considering his current train of thought, he wasn't sure Arizona 's rock formations would take his mind off Samantha.