Saturday, 10:34 p.m.  The farm, pool house

Samantha was in heaven, absolute heaven.  Not only had her suitcase arrived, but she'd discovered the pool house was equipped with a sauna.  Even better, it wasn't one of those steam saunas that made a person feel like they were breathing a sponge.  No, it was a dry sauna, the kind with arid, penetrating heat that sunk right into a person's bones.  For the first time in days, Sam was truly warm and it felt incredible.   

Samantha shifted on the bench, enjoying the blissful heat.  Like the rest of the farm, the sauna was well built and well appointed--functional, but with a rustic feel.  Russell certainly had eclectic tastes when it came to home decor, but the overall effect was very homey.  It felt lived in and relaxed, remote enough to be private, yet still a place you could feel comfortable.  Over the years, Sam had taken commissions from a lot of people who had a great deal of money, and she found she much preferred the rustic charm of Russell's home to some of the more ostentatiously ornate houses she'd stayed in. 

He had some lovely things, gorgeous art, exquisite tapestries, luxurious carpets... and he wasn't without his toys.  She'd seen a number of guitars and he had the odd collection of electronic gadgets all men seemed to accumulate, but his home was very livable.  He didn't advertise his wealth the way some of her previous clients had. 

Honestly, right now she didn't care if he wanted to gild the entire place in gold, as long as he left the sauna just as it was.  It wasn't overly large, maybe ten feet square.  It had a low bench about three feet wide that ran all the way around the bottom of the room.  A small distance above that, a second tier ran along the walls.  The entire thing was crafted from a golden wood that had been sanded to a sensuously smooth finish.  From the tangy scent in the air, it could only be eucalyptus.  Samantha found the sharp sent hanging heavily all around her to be just as soothing as the dry heat. 

She'd chosen a spot along the back wall on the second tier of benches.  The air was just a touch hotter than it was on the lower bench and it wasn't long before she'd relaxed completely into a boneless heap.  Under her back, the wood slats were warm and smooth and Samantha thanked her lucky stars that her employer had insisted she make herself at home.  Having spent a large portion of her professional career staying in her client's homes while she painted, Samantha had long ago figured out that when a person was so insistent she make herself at home, they were rarely at ease themselves until she did so, always hovering about asking her if she needed something until she began getting it for herself. 

In this case, Sam couldn't be happier.  She'd gladly raid the Crowe fridge and pantry, get her own towels and sheets from the linen closet, and feel completely comfortable doing her own laundry in their well appointed laundry room... getting to spend the evenings luxuriating in the sauna was just a fantastically unexpected perk.  Sighing happily, and thankful she'd decided to pack her bathing suit despite the fact it was fall in Australia, Sam rolled up the thick white towel and put it under her head as she closed her eyes and let the heat sink into her.

Unaware his sauna was occupied, Russell grabbed a towel from the shelf and stepped into the pool house restroom, swiftly stripping off his clothes.  With a sigh, he wrapped the towel around himself, intent on having a good long sit in the sauna.  He'd had the thing built after filming Proof of Life.  He'd never cared for the cold, and after being subjected to weeks of freezing weather, freak hailstorms and icy blizzards, he'd been willing to give away his last pint for just ten minutes in some thick, dry heat--and for an Australian male in the prime of his life, that was saying a lot.  While he didn't long for the heat like that anymore, he'd discovered having a good sit in the sauna as the cold weather set in made the ache in his shoulder less pronounced.  Russell shook his head ruefully and snorted.  Fuck, he was getting old.  

Lost in thought, he swore colorfully as he tripped over a pile of clothes resting just outside the sauna's door.  A smile followed his halfhearted attempt to reform the once-neat pile.  They were Sam's clothes.  Russell grinned wider, unable to stop the little fantasy tripping through his head.  He saw her in his mind's eye.  Naked.  Sweaty.  Cheeks and chest pink from the heat, making her look like she'd just come hard.  Only in his fantasy she had come hard.  He could almost feel the tickly trickle of sweat as he imagined how she'd feel under him.  Imagined how her hair would be stuck to the moist skin of her neck and how she'd blush so sweetly as her little aftershocks made her tighten up around his hard flesh.    

It was the curse and the blessing of a man gifted with a very vivid and fertile imagination.  It wasn't the first time it had run away with him.  And it didn't help that he'd had a few amorous encounters in there, taking the steam while making more than a little of his own.  He was a hedonistic man, given to excess and the propensity to immerse himself entirely in whatever held his focus.  Work.  Play.  Music.  Food.  Alcohol.  Women.  Romance.  Heartache.  Sex.  He enjoyed engaging on a number of levels and made no apology for the pleasure his senses gave him, nor did he apologize for seeking out experiences to feed that desire.       

Driven by some ingrained masculine instinct, he brought her shirt to his face and inhaled her fragrance.  It made him hard.  He replaced the shirt, noting there were no panties in the pile.  That meant she was either wearing them or a bathing suit.  So, she wasn't naked in there.  Pity.  Intellectually, he knew she wouldn't have dreamed of doing something so unprofessional in a client's home, but he still couldn't help feeling a bit deflated. 

Well, deflated until he saw her through the wavy glass window in the heavy door.  Christ.  His mouth went dry.  And then it turned up in a very male smile of appreciation.  She was wearing a sophisticated (and tiny, the prurient side of his brain added unnecessarily) bikini that was almost the same color as the red wine in the glass sitting beside her.  He all but groaned when she sat up and took the wine in hand, swirling it in the glass and smelling it with a little smile before taking a sip.  The sensuality inherent in the gesture seemed to shoot straight from his brain to that place between his legs that was already uncomfortably heavy.

Fucking hell.  He stepped aside and shook himself before stalking over to the fridge nestled off to one side of the room.  Grabbing a bottle of water from inside, he drank half of it in few swallows, the last of which splashed icy droplets down his chin and chest.  He grunted at the cold and swiped at them with the back of his hand as he stared at the bottle, considering the merits of icy water on a man's body.  He took another sip and attempted to massage away the heavy ache in his groin while he tried to think of anything but Sam.  Footy stats, repairs he needed to make on the farm, snowstorms in the Andes, his mum in her bathrobe and curlers...

The tightness and throbbing eased slightly as the rush of blood subsided.  Some.  At least enough for it not to be so glaringly obvious, he reckoned as he made his way back to the sauna door and fingered the handle.  He knew he shouldn't go in there, especially after the little fantasy he'd just entertained, but he'd never been particular good at restraining himself where attractive women were concerned, especially when he was enjoying downtime between films.  With a grin, he rearranged his towel and pushed the sauna door open, smiling wider as the tangy scent of eucalyptus washed over him. 

Sam started in surprise and he smiled to himself at her sharp intake of air as he settled his heavy bulk onto the warm slatted bench.  But despite the urges tickling along the edges of his consciousness, a carefully placed hand and a little downward push kept his towel from riding high enough for her to see his tackle- if she bothered to look.  Which she didn't, he noted with some degree of irritation.  Regardless of that illogical feeling, a bit of flirting was one thing, but he wasn't in the habit of letting everything hang out in front of his mother's houseguests, confidentiality agreement or not. 

He was still a man, however, and he'd enjoyed her small noise of shock as she'd sat up abruptly.  The quick motion had also made her small breasts bounce in a way he very much appreciated.  The wayward flesh between his legs gave a gentle throb of agreement and he almost laughed as he heard 'Down, boy!' echo in his head.       

He shot her a cheeky grin.  "Now how's a man supposed to hide if you keep sussing out all his favorite spots?"   

She looked much as she had in his fantasy, except for her suit, of course.  He studied her unapologetically but not lasciviously, noting that her flushed cheeks got even darker at his appraisal.  He was not embarrassed to let her see him looking.  It was a natural male response so such enticing visual stimuli.  The flush on her chest deepened and then was hidden from view as she wrapped her towel around herself.  Russell sighed.  Well, that just figured.  He could hardly turn around these days without a woman displaying her charms to try to capture his attention, and now that he was interested in looking, the woman in question was covering them up.  For a man labeled an international playboy, he had a pathetically piss poor track record with the women who actually interested him.  

Despite the heat, Samantha shivered.  God, and she'd thought he looked like a big male animal before.  His golden skin contrasted sharply with the crisp white of the towel and the artist in her couldn't help but be drawn to the beautiful lines of his body.  He was heavily muscled, if not a little thicker through the middle that she was used to seeing, at least on film anyway.  He was obviously enjoying the freedom to eat what he wanted while the camera wasn't on him.  Sam smiled wider.  As a person who loved a good meal, she couldn't find it in her heart to begrudge him that vice.  God knew she had a hard enough time with that one herself.   

While the artist in her may have taken a keen interest in the play of his muscles under his supple skin, the woman in her couldn't help but notice the substantial bulge between his heavy, muscular thighs.  And the way he appraised her without embarrassment.  He did not make excuses for being a man and she found that casual arrogance incredibly attractive.  Samantha's body responded instinctively with a wet rush of desire.  She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, intensely glad for the towel that offered her a bit of respite from his inquisitive stare.  Sam knew she had a nice figure, but she also knew it paled in comparison to the gorgeous women he'd been linked to and she was suddenly a hundred times more aware of her every flaw.   

Though it was clear he'd flustered her, she met his eyes and grinned.  "You, hide?  I don't think so."  She pulled the towel a little tighter around herself and picked up her glass of wine.  He wondered if she was swirling it again because he made her nervous or because she liked the way it enhanced the smell.  Probably both, he mused, feeling a frisson of satisfaction.  Maybe she wasn't so unaffected by him after all.  He was surprised when she held his stare before looking him up and down and then she grinned wryly.  "You don't strike me as the kind of man who hides from anything."  He looked a little too smug at that observation so she added, "You strike me as the kind of man who bides his time in private, waiting to unleash all kinds of havoc on the unsuspecting public."

He burst out laughing, shamelessly grinning from ear-to-ear, but she noticed he didn't deny her teasing accusation.  Still chuckling, he dramatically put his hand over his heart.  "You've wounded me, love."  His eyes danced.  "And here I was thinking I'd earned my 'plays well with others' badge."

Sam smiled.  "I'd say 'plays with others' was pretty apt," she paused, her smile growing.  "I'm just not so sure about the 'well' part."  They both laughed.  Though her words were teasing, Sam felt an intense desire to put as much distance between them as she could.  In another time and place, she might have stayed.  She enjoyed his playful nature, but she felt uncomfortable being so close to naked with someone she was attracted to, especially after her conversation with Mark.  She didn't mix work with romance, and quite frankly, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stay and still keep things strictly professional.  Being next to naked with this man was like handing a pyromaniac a book of matches and telling him to behave himself.  The temptation was just too great.  Sam slid off the bench and stepped lightly to the ground.

Russell's smile faded a little.  "Leaving already?"  He hadn't meant to put her off as she'd obviously been enjoying the heat.  In truth, he also wanted her to stay for more selfish reasons.  For the first time in weeks, he was actually having fun and there was always the chance she'd relax enough to let down her guard a little, and if he was lucky, maybe that damned towel too.  "Please, stay.  I'll be on my best behavior."  He winked at her.  "Mostly."

"You are entirely too charming for your own good."  He preened a bit at her compliment and Sam couldn't help but smile.  He really did wear his heart on his sleeve.  She pulled again at the towel, tucking the end under her arm while she held the front to her breasts with her left hand, leaving the right free to grab her wineglass.  "But I think it would be better if I said goodnight."

His smile faded altogether as he caught sight of the ring on her left hand.  Married?  She was fucking married?  Well, that was just bloody perfect.  Why hadn't he noticed that before?  And why the hell did all the attractive, interesting ones have to be someone else's princess?  Of course, he knew the answer to that already.  They belonged to someone else because they were attractive and interesting.  Fuck.  The women in their early twenties who were free lacked the sophistication and maturity he was so drawn to, and the women who'd been around long enough to have it?--Well, they were usually taken long before he had a chance to meet them. 

Russell could feel himself becoming more tense as his mood blackened.  Well, better he found out now than after he'd spent months getting to know her, flirting with her, maybe even falling for her a little.  He might not have much restraint when it came to certain women, but fuck-all if he'd go down that road again.  Married women were nothing but trouble, heartache, and fucking bad press.  His fingers twitched.  God, he needed a smoke.

"What's the matter?  Your husband wouldn't be pleased if you spent the evening having a sit in the sauna with the likes of me?"  He knew he was being nasty, but he didn't like to be caught so off guard and he was more than a little pissed that yet another woman he was attracted to had turned out to be married.   

Samantha looked at him as if he'd grown another head.  "What?  I'm not married."

"I didn't figure you for a liar, darlin'," he crossed his arms over his chest and glanced pointedly at the ring on the third finger of her left hand.  

Russell was absolutely stunned when a sexy, full-throated laugh burst from her lips.  She clapped a hand over her mouth, cutting off the sound.  A moment later she removed her hand but laughter was still dancing in her eyes.  "Sorry."  Sam smiled at him.  "Really, I'm not married.  I only wear this ring when I travel.  I just forgot to take it off."

"Why the hell do you do that?"  

Samantha shook her head at him in amusement.  "Spoken like a true man."  Feeling awkward standing over him, Samantha sat on the low bench across from him.  "I wear it because I'm less likely to be approached with it on."  Realizing that sounded more than a little arrogant, she blushed.  "Not that I get hit on a lot or anything," her blush deepened as he raised his eyebrows at her.  "I suppose it's stupid, but I guess it just makes me feel safer."

"Safer?"  He just wasn't following.

"Yes, safer.  As in anyone looking at it would think I was probably traveling with a man."  She shrugged.  "It's not always fun to be a woman alone traveling abroad.  Some places can be a little... scary."  She was embarrassed admitting that fear to him, but it was the truth.  Despite her independent nature, there were times she desperately wished for the protection afforded by a man's strong, solid presence. 

"Ahhh, I get you."  Russell nodded, finally understanding what she was getting at.  And he realized he wouldn't want any of the women he cared about traveling the world alone either.  These days, it was a moot point as most of his immediate family traveled with security and most of his friends had security of their own, but the more he thought about it, the more her words rang true.  Even if he wasn't famous, he couldn't imagine his mother or his niece out there traveling the world by themselves.  His father and Terry would never allow it.  For that matter, neither would he... not with his wife and certainly not with his daughter.  Sexist?  Hell, yes it was sexist, but that was still the way he felt about it.  He was protective by nature, especially towards women.  Despite his more liberal views on some matters, he was very old fashioned when it came to that sort of thing.

It was, in part, why he'd found it so hard to find someone he wanted to settle down with.  He wanted someone who'd be with him the way his mother was with his father, willing to stand by her husband despite his propensity to travel the world.  He also wanted someone with the same sort of passion he felt towards life and with the same old-fashioned family values.  He wanted a lady.  His mother managed to keep the Crowe men in line without swearing like a sailor every time she opened her mouth.  Honestly, he'd never much cared for foul-mouthed women, a double standard to be sure considering he swore quite frequently, but he made no apologies for it.  He was far too old to change now, and it wasn't as if there weren't exceptions... he liked hearing his woman talk dirty during sex just as much as the next man.  Hell, probably more so. 

Reigning in that particular line of thought before things became... embarrassing, Russell smiled at her.  "I don't think it's stupid."  He uncrossed his arms and rested his back against the wall.  "You won't need it here though.  We Crowe men are a protective lot."  To say nothing of the security he employed for that very reason.  He attempted to ignore the little niggling awareness that he didn't like seeing her wear the mark of another man.   

Her waning blush was back.  "Thank you."  Samantha took a sip of wine.  "I bet your mother appreciates that." 

Russell chuckled.  "Well, every now and then she appreciates the reminder we all aren't a bunch of hoons hell-bent on embarrassing the piss out of her."

Rising to her feet, Sam laughed.  "I'm sure she does."  She hitched her towel up a little higher.  She needed to leave before he charmed her into revealing something she'd later regret.  "Goodnight, Mr. Crowe." 

Russell suddenly realized she'd never called him by name.  Not once.  In the same breath, he also realized he'd never heard her swear.  Now why would his mind go there?  He pushed that thought aside. 

"My name's Russell, love.  Mr. Crowe is my father."  It was his standard line and he expected the usual response, a laugh, a smile, and acquiescence to his pleasantry.  He watched a strange look briefly cross her face.  After having gotten to know her a little better, he recognized it as the look she got when she curbed her initial response to something he'd said.  It also made him a little nuts wondering what the hell she would have said to him if she wasn't trying to be so damned diplomatic. 

"Censoring yourself again?"  He tossed out casually.  He knew he shouldn't have said that, but he just couldn't help himself.  Her quiet grace and diplomacy made him itch to push her into revealing the more fiery nature he knew full well burned under her calm exterior.  And now that he'd realized he hadn't heard her swear, he suddenly felt the morbid desire to see if he could somehow goad her into it.  Sort of like a good luck charm in reverse.  If he could get her to swear so easily then she obviously couldn't be the lady he'd been looking for.    

She didn't smile, but her eyes glittered.  "Maybe a little."

"I'd prefer you not do that.  We've cleared the air, had a nice chat or two...  Why do you want to go mucking that all up by walking on eggshells again?"  He sat forward once more.  "What's say we make a deal, seeing as how we both have the propensity to speak our minds without the sugar coating?"

Samantha raised her eyebrows at him.  "What kind of a deal?"  

"You speak your mind, I speak mine, and we let the tempers fall where they may."  He held out his hand.  "Deal?"  

She looked from his outstretched hand to his face.  "You could regret this."

He nodded.  "So could you."

He was pleased that she actually took the time to think it over before she placed her palm against his.  "Deal."  

Though her fingers were slender, her grip was firm.  She had good hands.  Strong hands.  He liked them.  When he'd let her go and she'd stepped back, he looked up at her.  "Okey dokey.  Shall we try that one again?"  He grinned at her.  "My name's Russell.  Mr. Crowe is my father."

Samantha took a deep breath.  He'd asked for it.  She met his bright, playful eyes and said softly, and not at all unkindly, "Maybe that's part of the problem."

In an instant, all the amusement was gone from his face and the ice in his eyes made the room feel ten degrees cooler.  He was up and off the bench before she could blink, backing her against the door with nothing more than his powerful presence and the look of absolute fury on his face.  He'd effectively trapped her there as the door only opened inward.  There was nowhere for her to go.  He was so close.  If either one of them drew a deep breath their bodies would have touched. 

"You think I'm not a man?"  He all but growled the words at her.  

"That's not what I said."  Her words were soft, but not hesitant.  Though she should have been cowed, for some unknown reason he didn't frighten her.  Intimidate her by the sheer strength of his presence and by his larger, heavier body?  Yes.  But frighten her into submission?  No.  He'd asked for her honest response and she'd given it.  And there was absolutely no question about it.  He was most definitely a man.     

"You think I'm not the man my father is?"  Christ, Russell didn't even know where that had come from.  All he knew is they were having fun one moment and the next, she'd caught him completely off guard when he was just beginning to open up to her.  And he was absolutely appalled he'd just voiced one of his greatest fears, to a virtual stranger no less.  His jaw clenched and unclenched and he fought the desire to put his hands on her.  Not to hurt her, but to make damn sure she was aware of him as a man.  This close to her, he could smell the musky scent her desire.  He knew she wanted it, knew if he touched her, he'd find her body slick and ready for his.   

Her eyes narrowed as if she knew what he was thinking.  "Whatever issues you have with your father are your own, Crowe."  She shivered under his intense stare.  "Don't put words in my mouth."

His voice dropped and the heavy air seemed to resonate with his low growl.  "Maybe I'd like you better if I put something else in your mouth, love."  The endearment was half growl, half sneer and he smiled as she sucked in a sharp breath at his crude words.  "Fair's fair.  You had your turn, now I've had mine."  He stepped back jerkily, his body still tight with fury and snarled, "Now get the fuck out." 

Without another word, Sam spun on her heel, jerked the door open and disappeared.