The Diva Diaries (14 page)

When the calf was about twenty feet from the horse, the buckskin leaped from a standstill to a full-out gallop. His big hindquarters ate up the ground easily, gaining on the calf. Sam's heavily muscled thighs gripped the sides of the horse, the rope up over his head, spinning in what looked like an effortless action.

She was awed by his easy command. The way man and horse worked as one, each seeming to know without cues or sound what the other expected. They were fluid action, power, intelligence.

Sam threw the rope with a quick flick of his wrist and Jenna's breath caught at the beauty of perfect harmony. The rope dropped over the calf's neck and immediately, in a blur of motion, Sam dismounted on the gallop, as the horse braked to a spectacular stop. The rope drew taut and the calf was pulled from his feet. In moments, Sam had three of his legs tied. He walked back to the horse, who never once let the rope go slack, and mounted. As soon as Sam was in the saddle, the horse took a step forward. The calf was still tied.

Everything must have happened in about eight to ten seconds from start to finish.

And it struck Jenna hard to the heart that more than anything—more than the townspeople, more than the chores, more than even the bucking bronc—this was the essence of who Sam was, and how closely he identified who he was with what he did. He didn't live as a cowboy. He was a cowboy.

It was a revelation and made her realize that she wouldn't be the woman for him. He needed someone who understood this lifestyle and could help him, support him, be part of it. A woman born of the West, brought up on a ranch, knew the terms and how to do what was necessary.

Shaken, Jenna couldn't take her eyes from him as he sat on the horse watching one of the cowhands untie the prone calf and set him free. She tried to breathe around the tightness in her chest. She understood why the cowboy was such a powerful sexual symbol. He was simply too potent. Too overwhelmingly male.

Sawyer moved down the corral fence as Sam dismounted and led the horse.

“Yehaw,” the visitor crowed. “That's a Jigsaw get all right.”

“Do you always buy from Sam?” Jenna asked, her attention on Sam as he slid his hand over the buckskin in quiet praise.

“I wouldn't trust my horseflesh to anyone else. The man's a genius with anything on four legs.”

Sam relinquished the buckskin to Red with a nod. Jenna could see the sweat beaded on Sam's brow as he removed his sweat-stained hat and wiped at his forehead.

Sam didn't use the gate but climbed the corral fence and landed next to Jenna and Ty. Tooter had disappeared.

She retreated as Ty and Sam began to talk about competitions and horseflesh. Retreated to the house, first stopping in the kitchen to collect her lunch, then on to her room, where she deliberately changed back into the clothes she'd brought with her. She knew where she belonged and it was most definitely not here and not with this man. The realization that she had the power to bring Sam to his knees shivered through her. Tempted, so tempted to use it to bind him to her, but what would that mean for him? In time, she was sure she could talk him into selling the ranch, leaving Savannah. She was that sure about her power over him. It was something her mother wouldn't hesitate to do.

For Jenna it would be the ultimate evil. Jenna swore vehemently to herself.

She was absolutely nothing like her mother.

She would never, never destroy Sam like that.

Never.

He was better off without her and any influence she had over him.

She picked up her violin and began to practice.

Jenna hadn't expected to fall in love with this kind of lifestyle. She hadn't expected to fall in love with the town of Savannah. There was a closeness that tugged at her heart, a warm, easy feeling that Jenna wanted to capture and hold in her heart. It was like drinking tea with her gran, walking in the moonlight with her gramps and having him name the stars for her. It was like home.

The more time she spent at the Wildcatter the less she wanted to leave.

But leave she must.

A
KNOCK ON THE DOOR
hours later made Jenna drop her bow from the strings of the gleaming violin.

“Come in.”

Sam poked his head around the door. He was grimy and looked tired. “Sorry to disrupt you, but you wanted to check out the honky-tonk tonight. Still up for it?”

Jenna almost told him that she needed to continue to practice, but she couldn't help herself. She craved time with Sam, time that was quickly running out. “Yes, I would, but are you sure you can leave Jigsaw's Pride? You said she's going to drop her foal tonight.”

“Late tonight. Trust me, but if it makes you feel better, I've told Tooter to call me on my cell if there's any problem.”

“You look tired.”

“Nothing that a shower and some time with you won't cure. I'd like to teach you how to Texas two-step. Gives me the chance to get my arms around you. I'll be ready shortly.”

“I'll be waiting.”

Jenna showered and put on a pair of the faded jeans she'd bought. She picked up one of the cotton shirts
and toyed with the collar. With the devil inside her, she went to her suitcase and opened it. Inside was a black spaghetti-strap shirt that would hug her curves and probably drive Sam crazy. Grinning, she pulled the shirt on. She quickly braided her hair and went downstairs.

She walked through the living room and stopped short. Sam was already in the foyer. The chandelier shone on his sinfully dark hair. He was dressed in a red T-shirt that made his shoulders look impossibly broad. It was made of silky material that delineated his back muscles and biceps and tucked into a pair of sinfully tight black leather pants. She followed the line of his powerful legs down to his feet.
Red
boots. He was wearing red boots.

He shook Jake Stanton's hand, handed him a check, then opened the door for him. Looked like Sam's office was finished. When he turned around, his eyes moved over her. He whistled long and low. “Nice. I can see I'm going to have to keep you close tonight or some randy cowboy's going to steal you away.”

She walked up to Sam and draped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his, emotions and revelations making her voice uneven. “He'd have to kidnap me to get me away from you. And what about all the cowgirls who are going to take one look at you and swoon?”

He flashed her a grin. “I'll just step over them as I escort you onto the dance floor.”

They laughed and she reached up and ruffled his hair. “You are bad.”

His blue eyes locked with hers and for a moment
he forgot to breathe through the grip of his hunger for this one woman. He savored the fact that she wanted him as deeply as he wanted her. And he was well aware that time was running out and soon she'd be gone.

He closed off that thought, because he wasn't willing to think about her leaving him. He lifted her face with one hand on her delicate jawline and fixed his mouth to hers, first gently, then with more fervor, as if to prove that fact to himself.

Jenna responded by rubbing her lips against his, opening her mouth to close it over his lips in what seemed like a bittersweet kiss. Their tongues dueled intimately before Sam sent his deep into her mouth, an indication of what he wanted to do to her. Sam could feel the womanly curve of her hip pressed tightly against the hard ridge straining against his pants.

He broke the kiss before he entered the point of no return. “We'd better get going before I haul you back up the stairs and into my bed. Last night seems such a long time ago.”

Jenna looked up at him and smiled. “Yes, it does.”

When they were in the truck and cruising through the darkness, Jenna asked. “Is Jake finished with your office?”

“Yeah. He did a fine job.”

“You'll get a chance to use that beautiful rolltop desk.”

“It makes the paperwork almost bearable.”

They pulled up to Windy Bill's Honky-Tonk and
Saloon. As they exited the truck, the throbbing beat of the bar's music filled the night air.

They entered the place and Sam paid the cover. As they moved inside, Sam could see numerous couples on the dance floor. The bar was huge because Billy had expanded a few years ago due to the large number of couples coming from Galveston and Houston to enjoy the dancing and electronic bull.

Sam greeted numerous people as he walked by the crowded tables and busy bar. He was gratified that a few people called out to Jenna, too.

“Would you like to sit at a table?”

“Sure.”

They settled in and soon their waitress, Ann Louise, was sidling up to their table. She was a perky blond pixie with a big heart and a pleasant smile. “Hey, Sam, how's my old uncle Red doing? I haven't seen him in a week.”

“He's full of cuss and fight as usual.”

“Tell him I said hey, and I'll visit next week.”

“Sure will.”

Ann Louise's curious eyes fell on Jenna. “You that musician I've heard so much about? I heard you were staying with Sam.”

Jenna smiled. “Yes, I am.”

“Nice to meet you. I really hope you're enjoying your stay. It's an admirable thing you're doing playing your fiddle to help out with the hospital. Sam is really dedicated to it. So what can I get you?”

“Beer would be fine. Jenna?” He was dedicated to the hospital, a project that had brought Jenna here. She'd been generous with her time. Sam felt the same
pang of loneliness when he thought of his empty house. He would really miss her.

“I'd like a beer, too,” Jenna replied.

Ann Louise smiled and moved on to the next thirsty customer.

“Would you like to have your first lesson?”

Jenna gazed at the crowded dance floor and looked apprehensive.

“It's not really hard, Jenna. Come on. You can trust me,” Sam said, taking her hand.

She stood and clasped his hand. He led her to the dance floor. “Follow me.” He took her hand, arranging her into the classic waltzing position. “You'll be stepping back while I move toward you. It's a two-step and pretty simple. It's four steps to six beats of music like this.” He demonstrated by moving his feet and Jenna backed up. “Slide along. Don't pick up your feet.” She was getting into the rhythm. “That's it,” Sam said as he moved with her around the floor. “Fast, fast, slow, hold.”

They danced that song and then the next. Sam liked the feel of her in his arms. He could imagine them dancing like this every Saturday night.

“Sam, can we try that twirling thing everybody's doing?”

“Brave little greenhorn, aren't you.”

“Yeah, I take the bull by the horns.”

“When I twirl you, don't worry about getting back into my rhythm. The gentleman always follows the lady. So just start with the two-step when you come out of the spin. Are you ready?”

Jenna nodded her head and Sam began to spin her,
trying other moves like crossing her over and spinning her back. Jenna followed right along. She was laughing and having a good time. Her eyes sparkled.

His gut clenched. Maria had been telling him for years that he needed a woman. He couldn't argue with her. But he sure as hell didn't need
this
one. He could still feel the silk of her hair in his hands, could see the smoke of surprising desire in her eyes. He could hear the sharp intake of her breath as he'd held her in his arms, her laughing in the hay, her standing in front of him with whiskey sliding over her hot nipple.

He knew better. Tight jeans were never enough of an excuse to lose your sense of direction. And Sam had never had a doubt about the direction his life would take from the moment he'd heard his father was ill. He'd quit the Rangers without a backward glance and had gone home. Ranching was in his blood. He would never be able to give it up.

But as he moved with Jenna in his arms, he was tempted to tell her that she seemed to fit in here. It had surprised him how easily she'd moved through his world, charming the small-town community, eating at the diner and buying clothes at a store that certainly wasn't Neiman Marcus or Bloomingdale's.

She'd helped him with a newborn calf, ridden in the rain and spent the night in rough surroundings without a problem. She'd tumbled him into the hay without an ounce of squeamishness. Damn, he liked her. In fact, he felt even more than that. It was only Jenna Sinclair, with her hot eyes and her soft mouth, with her gut-wrenching fire of enthusiasm, who could break this man's heart if he let her.

The song ended, and breathless with the spinning and laughter, Jenna said, “I need a drink.”

They settled at their table and Jenna took a few gulps of her beer. Sam eyed her and smiled.

“Not very ladylike, is it?” she said, and laughed as she licked foam from those luscious lips. Sam felt his groin tighten and forced his hormones to heel.

Someone yelled out, “Hey, fiddler. Why don't you give us a tune?”

Sam looked at Jenna and she looked at the band.

The man with the fiddle held it out to her. Jenna gave Sam a mischievous smile, got up and walked over to the stage. The bar quieted. It was the first time that had ever happened in noisy Windy Bill's. Jenna looked out on the crowd, leaned over and said something to the band members. Big grins broke out on their faces. She put the bow to the fiddle and started playing a resounding version of a popular country-dance number. Most of the couples got up to dance.

Sam couldn't take his eyes off Jenna as she dipped and swayed and thoroughly enjoyed the number. Jenna played the last few notes and everyone clapped.

Jenna walked back over to the table, grinning.

“Where did you learn that tune?”

“I had a teacher who believed that we should learn all types of music. I loved that song and played it over and over until I learned it. It really helped me to play classical music better.”

She sat down and Sam's cell phone rang. He pulled it off his belt and answered, “Winchester.”

It was the first time in Sam's life he'd ever heard Tooter panicked. His blood ran cold.

“Sam, I don't know how it happened, but Jigsaw's Pride is in trouble. I've already called the vet,” Tooter said.

“We'll be right there.”

 

J
ENNA STOOD
at the window that overlooked the foaling barn and waited for news of the mare and foal. She was anxious. Very anxious, because Sam had looked so worried. It hit her in the truck how much he cared for the mare. Why not? It was Jigsaw's first offspring and Sam's first result from a horse he believed in. She remembered how he'd told her about crying when he'd gotten the first foal he'd ever bred. Though the mare had already given him seven sturdy foals, two fillies and five colts, Jenna knew he couldn't bear to lose the horse and her unborn foal.

It was driving her crazy. She wasn't accustomed to caring this much about anyone except her grandparents. She should be sleeping. She had a concert tomorrow, but she couldn't seem to rest. Her music just didn't seem as compelling in the face of this crisis.

She should be sensible.

Instead, she was fascinated. She was driven. She was—God help her—worried sick about Sam. She'd come here to the Wildcatter to retrieve her gran's diary. That was all. It had been a simple plan. Even now, when she could have gone down to that desk and searched through it, she just couldn't seem to do it. The guilt would be too much. It would seem like such a horrible betrayal of a man who'd been simply wonderful to her.

How could she enjoy such a small town? The hus
tle and bustle of New York seemed so far away. And having had a taste of a simpler life, she'd discovered she liked its rhythms and characters.

And she'd been able to concentrate on only one character. One rugged, enigmatic character with the most intriguing smile and a rigid code of the West she couldn't help but admire.

It should have been so easy.

Now it was a complicated mess.

Only two facts remained. She had to get the diary and she had to leave here. Yet the night passed and, as dawn's first light filtered over the quiet ranch, she turned away from the window, went out the door and down the stairs. But as she made her way to Sam's office, the front door opened. Sam stood there, seemingly struck dumb. He just stared at her as if his heart had been broken. Jenna knew immediately.

She went to him.

“We lost them both. The foal was stillborn and…” The words jammed in his throat. He closed his eyes, the dark stubble emphasizing the hard set of his jaw. His immobility would have alarmed her if he hadn't been clasping her hand so tightly. The tangible feel of his skin against her own made her chest unutterably tight.

Jenna tugged him until he crossed over the threshold and stood in the foyer. “Come with me, Sam.”

He followed her up the stairs to his bathroom. An uneasy tremble beat against her breastbone. She propped him against one wall. She could see clearly the fatigue on his face, the sense of loss in his eyes. Her vision blurring, Jenna turned on the tap and ad
justed the water temperature until it was perfect. When she touched him, her chest grew tight at the way he was shaking. Quickly wiping away her tears, she slid her arm around his waist. “Come on, Sam,” she whispered unevenly. “Let's get you into the shower and to bed.”

For a moment, she thought he was going to protest. But he sighed unsteadily and straightened. With his cooperation, Jenna started to undress him, clenching her jaw against the tender feeling that sluiced through her. Once he was free of his boots, jeans, shirt and underwear, she helped him into the shower and quickly undressed herself.

He shuddered when she wrapped her arms around his waist and pushed him under the spray. She washed him with quick efficiency, lathering his hard, muscled body and enticing him to rinse. Soaping his hair, kneading his scalp with the pads of her fingertips trying to give him some small degree of comfort.

Once she got him wiped off, she took him to the bed, where he stretched out on his back, his arm across his eyes, his jaw taut.