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Strangers. My heart, dammit, skipped in my chest and my throat, dammit, dried up faster than beef jerky in a dehydrator. I kept my expression as neutral as I could, but my face must still have given something away, because Sam’s gaze flared with interest.

  “Are we?” His voice, husky and low, tempted me.

  A lot.

  I nodded. “Yes. We are.”

  Sam stood, all gazillion feet of him. I should’ve felt intimidated with him looming over me, but I only felt…intimate.

  “You need to leave, Sam. Now.”

  He reached to touch one fingertip to my fleece-covered shoulder. The contact was instant, electric, burning. He traced my arm all the way to my elbow and made a right turn to continue until he’d ended at my wrist, where he could go no farther with my hand tucked beneath my opposite arm. Sam’s blue eyes caught mine and held them tight.

  “Don’t you think it means something?” he whispered. “You being here?”

  “I don’t believe in ‘something,’” I said.

  “Too bad.”

  I gave as pointed a glance as I could toward the door. Inside, I shook and quaked. Inside, I got on my knees and took him down my throat and fucked him until we both came ten times.

  Inside. But outside I managed to unhook my hand from beneath my arm and point with a semi-steady finger.

  “Go downstairs and sit with your father. Or leave. Go home.”

  “Can’t. I’m not close to home. I’ve been staying in a hotel for the past month, waiting for the old man to die. But…you already know that, don’t you?”

  I blushed fiercely at the memory of that hotel and what we’d done there. “Go!”

  “Do you treat all your customers so coldly?” He touched the back of his head, then the corner of his mouth. “Or am I just the lucky one?”

  “I don’t ever invite my clients to my personal apartment,” I told him through taut jaws.

  Sam nodded. He hadn’t moved away and the heat from his body was making me sweat inside my heavy sweatshirt. His eyes never left mine, and I didn’t look away from his, either.

  “So I’m not just lucky. I’m special, too.”

  My mouth tried so hard to stay stern, but I lost against the smile. “You have a funeral to go to in the morning. You’re supposed to be sitting with your father. This is a difficult and entirely emotional time in your life—”

  Sam kissed me again. Soft, light, the barest brush of his lips on mine. And like a schoolgirl in one of my role-playing fantasies, I closed my eyes when he did it. It couldn’t have lasted more than a second, but like his legs, that kiss went on forever.

  “What were you saying?”

  This was not a fantasy, and this was not the time nor the place for this. Eyes still closed, I licked my lips and tasted him. “You need to go.”

  “Say it.”

  I knew what he meant, and I smiled without opening my eyes. “You need to go…Sam.”

  His sigh drifted over my skin and I waited for another kiss, but all I got was a chill when his heat pulled away. I opened my eyes and saw him in my doorway. His head nearly reached the top.

  “See?” he said, just before ducking out. “We’re not strangers, after all.”

  And then he was gone.

  Chapter 06

  When I was a kid, Christmas morning always took too long to arrive. I’d wake in darkness and strain my ears for the hint of reindeer on the roof, or the thud of Santa’s boots hitting the floor as he slid down our chimney. I’d creep to my sister’s bed and shake her, though she was nearly always awake, too, and we’d whisper together to urge the sun to rise faster, faster! It never did then, and it didn’t now, either.

  I didn’t know if or how Sam had managed to sleep during his vigil over his father. I knew he wasn’t supposed to, but then he hadn’t been supposed to play the guitar or leave the room, either. Whatever he did was in silence, though, for I didn’t hear even a single note for the rest of the night.

  With three full floors between us, I still felt Sam’s presence beside me in my suddenly too-empty bed. I knew just how he’d feel stretched out beside me, his head on one end, feet at the other. How his body would bump the blankets and ooze warmth all around me.

  It was a very long night.

  By the time I could finally convince myself it was all right to get up, I’d dozed off. Prying my eyelids open I stumbled to a steamy shower, then dressed in my favorite black suit, the one fitted at the hips to give me a silhouette. I paired the outfit with a silky white blouse with wide lapels that layered over the suit’s jacket. The suit was professional but also pretty and feminine. I was dressing to represent my business, but I was also dressing for Sam, and I wasn’t about to pretend otherwise.

  I met the Stewart family first thing Monday morning. Though I’d met Dan previously, this was the first time I’d met his mother. He ushered her into my office and seated her in the middle chair, while he took the one to her right.

  “My brother’s not coming,” he said, revealing a lot more with his expression than with his actual words.

  My heart sank.

  “He’ll be here.” Mrs. Stewart clutched a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes occasionally with it but didn’t sob.

  Dan didn’t sob, either, though his eyes had the red-rimmed look of a man who’s been fighting tears for hours and barely winning. His face had grown a hint of beard and his sandy hair looked rumpled, but he wore the same sort of natty suit he’d worn at our first meeting. He pulled the folder I’d given him from his black leather briefcase, but didn’t open it.

  “Sam’s not going to be here, Ma.”

  Mrs. Stewart shook her head and answered in a quivery voice, “He will. Of course he will.”

  Dan slid a look to me, then shook his head. “I told him not to come.”

  Most families have hot spots that can usually be ignored, but even those who manage to keep everything shiny most of the time can stir up drama when faced with the pressure of dealing with a death. I’d seen just about everything from stuttered accusations to a fistfight over an open coffin.

  There was a moment of awkward silence while Mrs. Stewart turned in her seat to stare at her son. “Why would you do that?”

  Dan scrubbed his face with his hand, but then looked at her. “We don’t need to talk about this now.”

  “Fine.” She faced forward, hands clutched tight in her lap, and now her lower lip trembled with the threat of tears. “Fine, Daniel, fine. You’ve decided it all, haven’t you?”

  Dan shot me an apologetic look, and I gave him what I hoped was an appropriately sympathetic look of my own. “Yeah. Ma, whatever. Let’s do this.”

  I waited a beat to see if she’d reply, but she only sniffed and refused to look at him. I held out my hand for the navy blue folder he still held. He passed it to me. Since we’d already preplanned the arrangements and talked with the rabbi who’d perform the service, there wasn’t much to talk about. In keeping with Jewish tradition, the service would be held as soon as possible, later this morning.

  Mrs. Stewart made a strangled noise, and I looked up. She dabbed her eyes again. “So much to think about! So much to do!”

  Dan looked as if he might reach for her shoulder, but drew back his hand at the last second. “Ma, that’s why I arranged all this ahead of time. There’s nothing to worry about. Dad’s going to be taken care of.” He looked at me. “Right?”

  “Absolutely, Mrs. Stewart.” With Jewish funerals I really didn’t have to do much other than provide the place for the body to rest until burial and get the deceased to the cemetery. “I’ll be happy to help you take care of everything.”

  Mrs. Stewart sighed and gave me a shaky smile and looked at Dan. “I’m sure you will. I just wish your brother was here.”

  “He’ll come to the service.” Dan’s face was stony. “At least, he said he would. He doesn’t have to be here now.”

  “But maybe he’d have some ideas—”

  “Ma,” interrupted Dan in a tone that said