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I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Grayson's Vow.

Long chapter..

MERCEDES

Knocking softly on Sam's bedroom door, I bit my lip and waited for him to answer.

I'd woken alone in my own bed this morning, still nude and still wrapped in the hotel sheets.

When I recalled what happened between him and me, I felt embarrassed, but underneath that was a deep feeling of tenderness. He had obviously understood the pain Chris had caused and had sought to remedy some of it.

And funny enough, it had worked. He had made me feel beautiful and desirable... all at a cost to himself. In fact, I was pretty sure he had been left severely frustrated.

I felt badly about that, but when he finally answered his door and smiled at me, I let out a relieved breath.

He obviously wasn't angry about it.

Still, he'd left my room...

I wondered why he hadn't stayed, and why he hadn't tried to satisfy his own arousal.

I would've let him... I honestly might've begged him if I hadn't fallen asleep directly afterward, half drunk with pleasure and the exhaustion of a long, emotional day.

"Morning," he said.

"You left my bedroom last night," I blurted out. My face went hot.

He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes moving over my face for a moment as if trying to read my thoughts. And I lowered my lashes to conceal my eyes.

"I thought you needed a good night's sleep, and I didn't know if you'd be okay if I stayed. I didn't want to wake you to ask. You'd had a hard day."

His thoughtfulness flowed over me like a warm embrace and I looked up into his now darkened eyes again...

"Thank you," I said. "For...um...everything."

A strange smile slowly blossomed on his face...

"You're very welcome," he said. "Ready to get going?"

I nodded, still staring at his mouth...that beautiful, sensual mouth, I now knew could bring so much pleasure.

But when I realized those lips were curving into an even bigger, knowing smile, I ripped my eyes away and looked down at my suitcase in my hand.

I heard his soft chuckle even as he grabbed his bag and I kept my head lowered. Then we both walked out to the hall.

"You sure you don't mind making a stop at the drop-in center?" I asked, broaching a new topic and eyeing him sideways. I wanted to change the subject I knew we were both thinking about as we walked towards the elevator.

I loved the way he looked fresh from the shower... his blonde hair a shade darker, partially wet and tousled, and his clean masculine scent enveloping me.

I wasn't sure how what we'd done the night before was going to change anything as far as our relationship went, so I waited for a signal from him.

Maybe it wouldn't change anything at all. That's what he'd indicated to me when he'd first talked about altering our deal.

'Temporary,' I reminded myself. He wants our relationship to be temporary. 'So don't get any ideas in your stupid head, girl.'

"Not at all," Sam said. "As long as we don't stay too long. I'd like to get back to the vineyard early enough to get some work in today."

"We won't stay long," I reassured him. "Just long enough to say hi and write them a check. I have a few other charities I'd like to write checks to as well, but I can put those in the mail."

Half an hour later, we pulled in to the drop-in center's parking lot in the Tenderloin district, arguably the most dangerous neighborhood in San Francisco.

But rent here was affordable, unlike most other locations in the city, and there was a high homeless population.

When Sam and I entered the building, an old, obviously homeless man pushed past us, and the noise of talking, laughter and a crying child somewhere in the background filled the air.

Then a smell I recognized as sloppy joes hit my nose...

Seconds later, a woman with short, black curly hair came rushing towards us, a familiar face I knew well.

"Is that you, Mercedes?"

She let out a small screech even as she drew me into her arms, hugging me to her soft, thick body.

I laughed...

"Hi, Sherry."

"Girl, I was so upset I wasn't here the other day when you stopped in. Eduardo told me you'd been by. It's been far too long." She looked at me with motherly concern, sizing me up. "Well you look good. But how are you really? And what happened to your face?" she asked, pressing her fingers gently on my cheek and turning my head so she could see the large mark that still hadn't entirely faded.

I smiled, letting her warmth move through me...

"I'm good. And that is courtesy of my father. But I'm okay."

She scowled, pressing her lips together...

"What a piece of work! I'm glad I never voted for that man. Anything I can do?"

I shook my head.

"It's taken care of." I looked at Sam beside me. "Sherry Collins, this is Sam Evans." I purposefully didn't offer an explanation of our relationship. She eyed me suspiciously, but held her hand out to Sam and smiled warmly at him. "We can't stay long, Sherry, but I wanted to write a check. I've talked to Eduardo about the situation with funding."

She sighed...

"I have to be honest, Merce, we're going to have to close the doors until the grant comes through."

"Well, now you don't."

I smiled and she hugged me again...

"You have such a huge heart, sweet girl. Bless you." With tears shimmering in her eyes, she turned to Sam... "Would you like a tour of our facility? Oh and Merce, there are a few kids you know outside. They'd love it if you went and said hi," she said, winking at me.

I glanced at Sam who was looking around the facility I'd spent so much time in. It was so strange to see him here.

"Do you mind?" I asked.

He looked back to me...

"No, go ahead."

Fifteen minutes later, I had written out the check and was outside playing a game of tag with the kids. When I looked up, laughing breathlessly and trying in vain to control the hair wildly flying all around my face, I caught Sam's eye.

A small boy named Matty tagged me and shrieked with delight. And I laughed again, high-fiving him for his stealth moves.

Meanwhile, Sam was standing just outside the door, his gaze dark and a small smile on his face as he watched our game.

I felt momentarily embarrassed that I'd been so involved in child's play and went jogging over to him, calling goodbye to the kids.

"Hey," I said, attempting to catch my breath.

"Hey, yourself. Looks like you were having fun."

I shrugged...

"Yes, I was. They're great kids. Ready to go?"

He nodded.

"I can see why you're so supportive of this place. It seems like they do great work."

I smiled brightly at him and his eyes moved to my cheek, a frown appearing just before he looked away. It still bothered him that I'd been hurt.

That realization warmed me.

"They do," I said, simply.

After saying goodbye to Sherry, we got back on the road, heading for Napa... Heading back home...

'To your temporary home,' I reminded myself.

And yet, I found myself excited at the prospect of returning to my small cottage and seeing Alice, Harrold, Willie and Carlos. And my sweet little Fifty Cent.

The feeling concerned me, though...

I was acting like Evans Vineyard was my home. But it wasn't. In fact, I would be leaving there in a matter of weeks.

Although Sam had offered me the option to stay longer, I now knew that would only make things harder.

I'd relented and been physical with him and while I didn't regret it, I knew it would only make our parting difficult for me...even if in some small measure.

I'd never let him know it, of course, but I knew it was the truth. However, now that the damage was done, was there really any reason not to enjoy him while I could?

Perhaps I'd leave him with my heart slightly bruised. But wasn't a slightly bruised heart worth the electricity we created together?

I shivered just remembering the way he'd touched me the night before... the way he'd seemed to know my body better than I did.

"Cold?" he asked, putting his hand in front of the vent to test the temperature of the air.

"No," I said, but didn't dare explain why I'd shivered.

The ride went quickly with Sam and I chatting mostly about casual topics. I'd had enough heavy with what had happened at my father's house and then at the hotel.

"Oh," I said when we were about half an hour into the drive. "I forgot to mention your party has a theme."

Sam raised one brow...

"Oh? What?"

"Well, I thought about the first thing I said about your house when you took me on a tour."

He was silent, obviously not remembering. Finally he said,

"That it was the lair of a dragon?"

I huffed out an impatient breath.

"No, I said that about the maze."

"Oh, right. You'll have to remind me what you said about the house."

"I said it looked like a fairy-tale castle."

"O-kaay..."

I rolled my eyes, pretending to be even more exasperated with him.

"The theme will be a fairy-tale masquerade. It's perfect. And the date is two weeks away. I circled it on the calendar in the kitchen and in your office."

"Two weeks? Will anyone even show up on such short notice?"

"They'll be even more likely to show up. Planning it with such little notice sends the message we don't care whether they're there or not. They'll be intrigued. The whole town will come."

Hopefully.

Sam chuckled...

"Okay. I'll save Party Psychology 101 to you."

I smiled and said,

"Plus, I have limited time to make my mark on your life."

"Oh, you've made your mark. Trust me."

I chuckled softly...

"I mean a positive mark. Something lasting..."

I mused, thinking about all the ways I hoped my plans for the party would benefit him for the long term.

He glanced at me for several beats and then looked back to the road. A small smile played on his lips, but he didn't say anything.

When we arrived back in Napa, it was just after noon. Sam took our bags out of his truck and started for the house...

"I'm going to put these in the foyer. Why don't you come down to the winemaking facility with me and see what you've invested in."

He shot a charming smile over his shoulder, squinting into the sunshine, and my stomach flipped.

"Okay."

I'd lived here for weeks now and had never been invited inside that mysterious building where he seemed to work constantly. I was eager to find out what was inside.

Sam was back outside thirty seconds later, saying it appeared Alice and Harrold were out and they must've taken Fifty with them.

So I walked with him down the hill, past the lush smell of roses and small white flowers that smelled sweet and woody at the same time.

I inhaled deeply, sighing...

"It smells so good right here."

"Roses and hawthorn flowers," he said, his expression grim. "My stepmother planted them years ago when she was pregnant with Stevie. Alice told her the rose symbolizes balance...the flower is the beauty and the contrasting thorns are a reminder that love can be painful. The hawthorn flowers however, were the last things she ever planted here."

"Oh, why?" I asked, thinking about the rose pin Alice had let me borrow on my wedding day.

"Because she was planting the day my mother...the woman my father cheated on her with...showed up to drop me on their doorstep. And she never ceased telling me that the fragrance of these flowers reminded her of the worst day of her life... The day she'd discovered she'd been betrayed, and that every time she looked at me she'd be reminded of that fact."

My heart froze and then thrummed painfully in my chest...

"Oh," I breathed, taking Sam's hand and squeezing it as we walked. "That's... I'm so sorry. How cruel."

You must favor your mother, I'd said. Yes, to everyone's dismay, he'd answered.

Oh, Sam... Now I understood his bitterness. And also his deep loneliness.

He smiled over at me grimly...

"She actually tried to have them ripped out several times, but they just wouldn't go away. Kind of like me, she'd said."

He smiled again, as if unaffected. It must've wounded him deep inside his heart, though. It would be almost impossible if it hadn't.

I squeezed his hand again and moved closer as we walked, offering the comfort of my presence if he wanted it.

The thought of the beautiful man walking next to me being unwanted and unloved by anyone made my heart ache. But at the same time, I couldn't help but feel honored.

He was such a private person and usually so reserved. And yet, he'd shared something so deeply personal with me.

"My stepmother was involved in so many charities in Napa, I could barely keep track. I think she was mostly in it for the ladies' luncheons," Sam said.

He chuckled, but it held little amusement.

I looked up, studying his profile, understanding suddenly, that initially, he had judged me to be like her.

"I guess there are different types of generosity. And I'm sorry your stepmother couldn't find the generosity of heart to show more kindness to a little boy who wasn't hers."

He looked over at me, the expression on his face almost shocked.

"It's all in the past, I guess."

Sadly, I didn't think it was.

Hesitantly, and not knowing how far Sam would open up to me, I asked,

"Will you tell me about your mother?"

"My mother?" His brows knit together. "Truthfully, I don't know much about her other than she was a ballet dancer. She was a member of the New York City Ballet when she met my father. They had a one-night stand. And she got pregnant. And because of her pregnancy she was asked to leave the company. She had trouble supporting me, blamed me for the ruin of her career and her body, then decided she couldn't look at me anymore. So she dropped me here with my father and left. And I never heard from her again."

"How terrible and selfish."

And then to be dropped here to be the subject of even more blame, bitterness, cruelty and exclusion. No wonder he was so guarded.

"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" he asked, a small smile of wry amusement on his lips.

I released a breath...

"Yeah, I guess we are." I bit my lip considering our stories. "Funny how much we have in common."

"We don't balance each other at all, do we?"

I laughed softly...

"Not at all. We're all wrong together."

He moved in front of me and turned around so I was forced to stop in my tracks. Then he took my face in his hands and smiled down at me.

"Not all wrong," he murmured, bringing his lips to mine.

His mouth was soft, his kiss slow, but it spread sensations through my entire body just as his kisses always did.

Then he pulled away too quickly, leaving me gazing dizzily up at him, my hands flat on his hard chest.

His smile was slow and filled with male pride, and I couldn't help but smile back at him.

I shook my head in exasperation while I did it.

"Come on, dragon," I said, pulling on his hand. "I'm going to find out what you do in the depths of that dark cave you inhabit so often."

He laughed, following me the rest of the way.

When we opened the door to the stone building at the bottom of the hill, Sam called out,

"Carlos?"

"Back here," I heard Carlos call.

The room we had entered was large with overhead skylights that lit the entire area with shafts of sunlight.

There were several large machines that stood to either side of the doorway and what looked like huge stainless steel barrels behind those.

Sam walked over to the nearest machine...

"This is a sorting belt where the grapes go when they first arrive after being picked. They're sorted by hand to remove any undesirable-looking fruit, any leaves."

He walked along the enormous piece of equipment, past conveyer belts, and finally pointed up to what looked like a small escalator.

"That's the de-stemmer. The stems come out right there," he pointed to a metal receptacle. "And go back into the vineyard soil."

He moved along and I followed him...

"This is the second sorting table," he explained, pointing to another table with room for at least eight people to stand at. "It moves the fruit past the workers and they pick out any final pieces of stem or undesirable fruit by hand." He gave me a look filled with charm and a note of self-mocking. "Here at Evans Vineyard, we believe the quality of the wine comes from the quality of the fruit. We spend a lot of time ensuring the fruit is sorted with care and diligence."

I gave him a smile in return, raising one eyebrow.

"I have no doubt. How many people did the vineyard employ when it was in full running order?"

"A hundred and seventy-five."

And he had six employees... only one full-time, three part-time...one of whom was mentally slow...and two who were old and more family than staff. If I hadn't realized exactly how much he was struggling before, I sure did now.

Sam showed me the stainless steel fermenters and then walked me into a second large room where there was similar-looking equipment.

But instead of stainless steel barrels, this room held what looked like very large wooden fermenters at the back of the wall.

Carlos looked to be installing something and was focused intently on what he was doing. But he gave us a quick nod and then went back to work.

As Sam took me through the room, I listened as he described the various functions of the equipment, paying attention to his descriptions, but also noting the enthusiasm emanating from his entire body.

He loved this... I wanted to stand back and simply watch him as he moved, his eyes bright with pride and his broad shoulders held high.

He seemed to be alive with energy.

"Carlos is installing a new shaker berry sorting machine," he said. "One of the first things I ordered with the generous Jones investment."

I laughed softly...

"A good investment, it seems." I studied him for a moment... "Your father would be proud of you, Sam."

Very suddenly, an expression came over his face that made him look like a little boy, shy and vulnerable. Then he stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels.

"I think he would've been," he said softly, finally smiling back proudly. "Do you want to see where the barrels are stored for aging?"

I smiled and nodded, realizing how very much he was still affected by his father's judgment of him.

I understood it more than most, but for some reason, it made me incredibly sad.

Sam took my hand and led me to a door at the back of the room. The air was suddenly cooler and there was barely any light.

Still holding my hand, I followed him down a long, cement hallway of sorts which opened up and there were rows upon piled rows of barrels.

The air smelled of pungent wood. I inhaled, drawing the damp earthy air into my lungs...

"These are burgundy barrels, made with burgundy wood from France," he explained.

"Hmm," I hummed. "How long do you age the wine?"

"This wine has been aging five years. It's almost ready to be bottled. Which, again, thanks to your investment, can now happen."

So it was put in barrels right after his father became ill. One of the last things accomplished here at Evans Vineyard.

Until now...

"You bottle it here?"

"We will," he said. "Once my new bottling machine arrives."

"I never knew so much went into the process," I mused, looking around at the barrels.

"I've just shown you how the fruit is processed, but even more goes into the winemaking itself. I'll show you that someday, too."

Someday...

And yet, my days here were numbered.

But before I could dwell on that, I realized that Sam had moved closer to me...

I sucked in a breath, noting the look of intensity on Sam's face. Even in the dim light, I could see the fire in his eyes.

I took a step back and pressed my body into the cement wall behind me. And his hands came up on either side of my face even as he leaned towards me.

His lips met mine...

The air in this room was so cool, but his lips against mine felt especially warm and so very soft.

"You're so warm," he murmured, obviously having had the same thought.

Leaning back in, he ran his tongue along the seam of my lips, and with a groan, I opened for him.

He brought his hands up to my face, and I wrapped my arms around his torso, holding him so I didn't slide down the wall.

Why did his kiss enflame me the way it did, and yet relax every muscle in my body at the same time?

Sam's kiss was filled with confidence, his body so very warm and solid as it pressed into mine.

He ran his tongue everywhere... along the sensitive ridge of the roof of my mouth, the inside of my cheeks, along my teeth and then back to tangle with my tongue as if seeking to know every part of my mouth.

I tried to hold back the moan that came up my throat, but it was a wasted effort...

Pressing into him, I moaned yet again, my heart beating insistently, sensations pulsing between my legs, and my sensitive nipples rubbing deliciously against his hard chest.

I had kissed men before...okay some of them more boys than men...but suddenly I realized that I had never been kissed.

Not if this was the way a kiss made you feel. Because I have never, ever been kissed like this.

"You," Sam said as he broke from my lips. "Are so delicious. I can't get enough of you."

And then, thank the Lord, he leaned back in and kissed me again, his tongue slipping into my mouth as I ran my hands down his lean, muscled back.

He was so beautifully built, so broad and tall, and so solid. A thrill shot through me at the intriguing feel of the unfamiliar contours of his masculine body.

I wanted to know every part of him, every dip and hard plane.

I could feel the hard press of his erection at my belly and it sent a jolt of arousal through my blood, heating it.

So I decided to be bold and adventurous...

I moved my hand down between us, rubbing it over the hard bulge at the front of his jeans. He jerked, pressing himself more into my hand...

"Mercedes," he rasped. "I have to stop. God help me, if I don't now, I won't be able to."

I shivered...

I felt the same way. I almost wanted to beg him not to stop...to take me right here against this cold wall. But no, Carlos was right outside the door. He could walk back here any minute.

Plus, when I gave myself to Sam, I wanted to have lots of time. And I wanted it to be in a bed.

Sam stepped away from me and my eyes wandered down to the evidence of his arousal. The front of his jeans looked strained and full.

I swallowed, wanting very much to feel it in my hand again.

Yes, I wanted him. I could freely admit that to myself. I wanted him with an aching desperation that scared me witless and excited me senseless.

I thought I could resist him, but I underestimated the power he possessed when he was not only bent on seduction, but when he allowed me to glimpse the tender side of his personality.

And now, I had no desire to resist...

"We should get back," I said, smoothing my hair as best as possible.

Sam studied me for several beats before using one finger to move a wayward curl of hair off my cheek.

"Stay with me tonight," he whispered. "Come to my bed, Mercedes."

Fear and want coiled simultaneously in my belly. It would be playing with fire. I knew it would be.

And yet...

I wanted to.

I wanted to know him intimately.

I wanted him to make me feel beautiful and desirable like he'd done the night before.

I wanted to know the feel of his body as well, what he liked and what made him wild with passion.

I might develop feelings for him, in fact, I probably would. Perhaps I already had. But I'd manage them. After all, what was life without a few exciting adventures?

Wasn't it worth a little heartache to know a touch like Sam's?

One that lit me up from the inside out?

What if I never knew one like it again?

Shouldn't I snatch this experience up while I had the chance?

Even if difficult, I would manage my emotions. And I would never, ever allow myself the foolish hope that becoming physical with my husband would lead to feelings on his part.

"Yes," I said, boldly meeting his eyes.

Triumph filled Sam's expression and he took my hand, pulling on it. We called goodbye to Carlos and then stepped outside into the bright sunshine.

We strolled up the hill and when we entered the house a few minutes later, I grabbed my suitcase, which he had placed inside earlier and turned around to return it to my cottage.

"Hey, whoa, where are you going?" he asked.

I turned...

"To my cottage."

"You're not staying there anymore. I moved you up to the house."

"You moved me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. I liked my little cottage. I liked having my own space. And if things were going to advance between him and I in other ways, it was going to be imperative I had a place that was only mine.

"Yes. Part of the reason you were sick is that you were breathing in all that dusty air, taking cold showers..."

"That's ridiculous! I had a virus. You don't get a virus from dusty air or cold showers."

"Maybe. Maybe not. You're still moving into the house."

"I'm not."

"You are."

We stood in a standoff in the foyer for several moments, until Sam crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall.

"You already agreed to stay in my room tonight."

"Yes, tonight, but that doesn't mean I'm moving in with you."

"You are."

"I'm not," I ground out. The grand staircase caught my eye and I looked at him, raising one eyebrow. "I'll race you. Winner gets his or her way."

He laughed...

"Race me? Oh, little witch, you don't stand a chance in a race against me. You might as well surrender now."

"I'll never surrender. And I don't mean a foot race. I'll race you down the bannister. You take one side, I'll take the other."

I'd been dying to slide down that bannister since I'd first seen it. And this was the perfect opportunity.

I was a bannister-sliding expert. If anyone knew grand stairways, it was me. My father's home had three.

Sam laughed again...

"You must be joking."

I raised both brows in answer...

"No, of course you're not joking. This is ridiculous, you do know that, right?" But he began walking towards the staircase.

I followed and when we'd made it to the top, he moved to the right and I moved to the left.

I positioned my butt up on the dark polished wood...

"I can't even believe I'm doing this," Sam muttered, positioning himself on the other rail.

"If you're nervous, I'll give you a head start," I said, smiling prettily at him.

He grinned back devilishly...

"No need, witch, let's do this."

I wiggled my butt on the rail, settling into place.

"On your mark, get set, go!"

I squealed as we both took off, sliding quickly down the smooth wood.

I balanced precariously, shrieking when I almost tipped off the side, but righted myself before I fell.

Then I heard Sam laugh next to me, but didn't dare look over at him.

Gathering speed faster than I thought I would, the end came quickly and I went flying forward into empty air, unable to land on my feet and instead catching myself on my hands as I hit the hard marble floor.

I felt briefly winded and thought I heard the door open and close in front of me, but couldn't help breaking into peels of giggles when I heard Sam's deep laughter from next to me.

I looked over to see him sprawled on the floor as well. But I was pretty sure I'd hit the floor first.

However, we both laid there for a moment catching our breath, our laughter fading. Then I glanced up and realized there were four pairs of shoes standing in front of us and when I raised my head, I saw Harrold with one brow raised.

Next to him, Alice's expression was a shocked one as she gaped first at me, and then over at Sam.

I began standing slowly, the laughter fading entirely as I noticed the equally shocked looks on the faces of a tall, handsome blonde man and a stunning blonde woman in front of me.

The blonde man suddenly broke into a big grin and startled chuckling...

"Hi," I breathed, coming to my full height and taking a step forward. I held out my hand. "I'm..."

"Stevie," Sam said, his voice strangely clipped. "Olivia..." I swung my gaze to him and saw his expression was very suddenly without humor and instead coldly removed. "What in the hell are you two doing here?"

Stay safe!