Free Ladies' Man by Suzanne Brockmann

her down close to him, his arm around her shoulders. He tugged her chin toward him and covered her mouth with his in a deliciously sweet kiss.
    When he pulled back, he searched her face rather intently. “You okay?” he asked softly.
    Ellen couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ve never even remotely done anything like this before,” she admitted.
    “I assumed as much,” Sam told her, “considering I’m only boyfriend number three.”
    She glanced at him. “I’m not sure one night, in the back of a limo, makes you eligible for the title of boyfriend.”
    “How about two nights in a row, dinner at a real restaurant this time before we go to my place—or yours—and make love in a real bed?”
    Ellen shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I think I need some time to recover.”
    For a brief moment he looked as if he were about to argue, but then he nodded. “Fair enough.”
    She was definitely twisted—she absolutely didn’t want him to argue with her, but at the same time, she couldn’t help feeling a little bit hurt that he hadn’t even tried to change her mind.
    She looked at her watch. “Wow. I had no idea it was so late.”
    Sam could recognize a hint when he heard one. Despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to ride around with Ellen in his arms until the sun came up, he knew that she was ready for him to go. He’d dropped many a similar hint himself in the past—
Would you look at the time? I really should go
….
    That didn’t necessarily mean anything bad, he tried to reassure himself. It
was
late. Ellen was no doubt also thinking of the driver, who’d been in the limo as long as they had, but who had been having a whole hell of a lot less fun.
    He pulled her close to him again and kissed her, his confidence restored at her immediate response. Despite the fact that she didn’t want to have dinner tomorrow night, he had to believe from the way she was kissing him that she would definitely want to see him again. Who was he kidding? Of course she’d want to see him again. Women almost always did.
    He wasn’t conceited—he was simply able to acknowledge the truth. There were many things he wasn’t particularly good at, but seducing a woman—charming her and giving her pleasure throughout an entire evening—now,
that
was one of his strengths.
    Sam sat forward slightly, looking out the window, catching the numbers of the cross streets as they went past. “We’re not far from my place.” They were even closer to where his car was parked in the precinct lot, but he’d had quite a bit of that champagne and he didn’t want to drive. Besides, he didn’t really want to go, and this would add another three minutes to this incredible, outrageously wonderful evening.
    Ellen picked up the phone, buzzing the driver. “Hi, Ron,” she said. “We’re going to drop Sam off now.”
    Except Ron would know the instant he pulled in front of Sam’s building that Sam wasn’t T. S. Harrison. Someone who pulled in a seven-figure advance the way T.S. did wouldn’t live where Sam lived. It didn’t seem fair to burst Ron’s bubble before being able to introduce him to the real T. S. Harrison. That would happen soon enough, but definitely not tonight.
    Sam gave Ellen a much more upscale address a few blocks away from his place, and she relayed the information to Ron. The evening was warm and dry; Sam wouldn’t mind the walk.
    They arrived there much too quickly, and he slipped on his jacket and sneakers, straightening his hair one last time as Ron opened the door for him.
    “Ellen,” he started, but she touched his lips with one finger.
    “You don’t have to say anything,” she told him, leaning forward to kiss him good-bye.
    “Yes, I do,” he countered. “Because I still don’t have your phone number.”
    Something flickered in her eyes. “If you really want my phone number, you can probably figure out how to get it.”
    Sam laughed. “Are you serious? You’re not