Compromising Positions. Kate Hoffmann
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second battle of the bed,” Amelia said.
“Don’t expect him to surrender. If you take on Sam Blackstone, prepare yourself for a long siege. He can be very stubborn.”
“It’s just a bed,” Amelia said.
“I know,” Sarah replied. “It’s not that valuable and he’s never seemed attached to it in the past. I mean, it was a gimmick to bring guests to the inn. But he seems to be obsessed with it now.” Sarah paused. “Or maybe it’s you he’s obsessed with and not the bed.” She cupped her chin in her hand and smiled at Amelia. “This really will be fun to watch.”
Amelia sighed softly. “So I suppose I don’t need to ask whose side you’re on?”
“Oh, I’m rooting for you,” Sarah said. She came out from behind the counter. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You could wrap up one of those pies of yours. And I could use a couple of pillows and some sheets for the bed. And some comfortable clothes to wear. I didn’t intend to spend more than a night here.”
“I’ll put together a little survival kit,” Sarah said. “Why don’t you go pack your things and I’ll have them ready when you come down?”
Amelia trudged up the stairs and headed to her room at the end of the hall. When she’d left Boston, she’d expected to be less than a day. She’d expected to show her letter from Abigail Farnsworth, pick up the bed and haul it back to the city. But now that simple task had turned monumentally complex and all because of Sam Blackstone.
She unlocked her room and stepped inside. Crossing to the bed, she flopped facedown across the handmade quilt.
Maybe she ought to just give up and go home. The thought of spending a few more days with Sam was beginning to frighten her. He already had such a powerful effect on her emotions—and on her body.
Never in her life had a man held that kind of power over her. Though she tried to stop thinking about him, tried to keep her body from reacting to his touch, it was no use. And when they weren’t together, Amelia had to stop herself from getting caught up in some silly fantasy. And the fantasies were only becoming more vivid as time progressed.
At first she’d imagined him kissing and touching her, and that wild, exhilarating feeling when he pulled her into his arms. But now she’d moved on to naked bodies and soft beds, whispered urges and orgasms that seemed to last forever.
Amelia rolled onto her back and pulled the pillow over her head. Her professional reputation was on the line here. She’d come to Millhaven for one thing: to get the Washington bed that she’d been promised. And suddenly that goal had become twisted up in this game with an impossibly handsome and sexy man.
Every instinct she possessed told her to give up and go home to Boston. She could make the exhibit work without the bed. Grabbing the pillow, she tossed it across the room. It hit a small tea table that sat beneath the window and something clattered to the floor.
Amelia crawled off the bed and retrieved the silver tankard that had held a small bunch of flowers and some water. The tankard looked old; clearly a rip-off of a Revere design and burnished by a believable patina. She flipped it over, searching for the maker’s mark. Her gaze came to rest on a familiar set of letters: P REVERE.
Revere silver had been reproduced many times over the years and was often marked with the original hallmark. It was impossible to tell if the tankard was a true Revere.
The weight felt right for silver and the patina looked authentic. What were the chances that the Blackstone family owned some original Revere silver?
“Pretty good,” Amelia murmured. She took a couple quick photos of the tankard and the hallmark with her phone and sent them to Lincoln Farraday, the museum’s expert in silver and porcelain. She placed the tankard back on the table and headed for the door.
When she walked downstairs, Sarah was waiting for her, a large wicker basket dangling from her arm and two down pillows resting on a nearby chair. “I put some brownies and cookies in there, too,” she said. “And a couple of menus from the restaurants in town that deliver. And a box of condoms.” She smiled apologetically. “It pays to be prepared.”
“Nothing is going to happen,” Amelia said.
“Has he kissed you yet?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know my brother. There haven’t been many women in his life, but when he finds someone he likes, nothing gets in his way.”
“And you don’t know me,” Amelia said. “I’m pretty determined myself.”
“Did you see the tankard full of flowers in your room? He picked those flowers for you,” Sarah said.
“And where did he get the tankard?”
“We have whole cabinets full of old silver. I stopped trying to keep it polished years ago. We use glass vases instead.”
Amelia walked to the front door and Sarah held it open for her, the pillows clutched in her arms. “If I survive the night, I’d like to see the silver collection.”
Sarah shrugged and waved Amelia out the door.
As she hurried to her truck, a shiver skittered through her as she thought about sleeping in the same bed with Sam.
Then she remembered her words to Sarah. She didn’t have to sleep with him. She didn’t even have to let him into the building. This was a battle of wills and he had no idea how stubborn she could be.
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