Or she might stop at a deli and gather cold cuts, fresh artisan breads and salads along with pastries or cartons of ice cream for dessert.
She had never attempted to feed her dinner guests with food she cooked all by herself, so this was a momentous occasion and marked yet another first for her since she got here. Samantha reflected briefly on how those firsts were stacking up.
First time she realized that she liked animals. First horseback ride. First time to see a bear outside of a zoo. First time to stop and really enjoy nature such as the glorious sunrises and sunsets she had come to love up here. First time to make a serious stab at writing a book. First time in years to sleep through the night instead of tossing and turning for hours due to the chronic insomnia that plagued her in the city.
First time to try cooking and the discovery that she enjoyed it. She walked into the eat-in kitchen of Mari’s little ranch house and critically surveyed the round dining table. It was on the small side but plenty large enough to accommodate the four of them. Samantha had gathered some of the first wildflowers of Spring and placed them in an old blue quart canning jar that she had found under the sink. It had probably belong to Marielle’s grandmother, the original owner of the little house.
Personally, she thought the bouquet and rustic vase looked fabulous and just as pretty as something from a fancy florist shop. There was a cheerful red and white checked tablecloth on the table, plus snowy white linen napkins found in a drawer in the antique sideboard that occupied space on one kitchen wall.
Moving to the stove, she removed the lid from a large cast iron dutch oven and checked the rich, hearty stew simmering there. It smelled wonderful! Samantha inhaled a rewarding whiff of the stew’s tantalizing aroma and hoped it would taste as good as it looked and smelled. She had tweaked a Beef Bourguignon recipe to make it a simpler, more rustic dish. Carrots, potatoes, celery, mushrooms, onions and other good things came together with a beef roast and melded together in delicious harmony.
The meal would begin with a tossed salad. Fragrant saffron rice would accompany the beef stew that would be ladled over it when her guests arrived. It was done and set on a back burner to keep warm without overcooking. Opening the oven door, she gazed in appreciation at the gorgeous loaf of homemade honey wheat bread she had made. It was right on schedule and should be finished baking by the time they got ready to sit down and start eating.
Dessert was a simple flan, baking along with the bread. It was made with fresh eggs and would have a thick, yummy caramel sauce when she turned it out onto a serving plate. To make the flan, she had consulted Consuelo, Trey’s invaluable housekeeper/cook and general factotum who kept his household running like a well oiled machine.
Not only had Consuelo shared her time honored recipe, but she had come over today and walked Samantha through every step of making it, right up to popping the delectable dish into the oven to bake. It smelled divine, too, and Samantha’s mouth watered in anticipation of eating a slice of the heavenly dessert made Spanish style for a dense, sweet custard.
All in all, she was pleased with her efforts. This cooking thing wasn’t all that hard and she was liking it more and more. She decided to check into some culinary classes at NYU when she got back home. It seemed surprising to her now that someone who enjoyed good food as much as she did hadn’t learned to cook a long time ago. But better late than never. Discussing this state of affairs with Mari yesterday afternoon, she had learned that her friend had experienced a similar revelation and was getting cooking lessons from Consuelo.
Samantha had been invited to join them and was eager to get in on the next lesson. She looked around the cozy, cheerful little kitchen one last time and then headed to the front porch to wait for her dinner companions.
After a quick glass of very good wine before dinner, supplied as a hostess gift to her from Ben, Samantha and the other three trooped into the kitchen to eat. Samantha was immensely gratified when all three of them expressed their satisfaction with the meal. Ben and Trey had second helpings of the beef stew over rice and several thick, crusty slices each of buttered bread still warm from the oven.
The flan received lavish praise and Samantha credited Consuelo for its perfection. After the meal, they took cups of freshly brewed coffee out on the front porch and spent a companionable hour chatting. Laughing and talking, the time seemed to fly by.
“Sam,” said Marielle, rising from one of the old porch rockers, “come on and I’ll help you clean up the kitchen.”
“I won’t turn down free labor,” Samantha replied, laughing.
The two women stood in front of the antique white enamel sink. As there was only one sink instead of the modern double ones, the dishes were washed in a separate pan, then rinsed and dried by hand. Samantha washed while Mari dried. They talked while they worked, Samantha filling Marielle in on the latest gossip she had just heard through the grapevine about Dee, a mutual acquaintance back in New York.
“So, the engagement is definitely off,” Samantha related. “I suppose catching your intended with your so-called best friend would be enough to put the skids on a wedding.”
“That’s awful,” Marielle exclaimed. “Neither of us has ever liked Dee much but I wouldn’t have wished that on her and I’m sure you wouldn’t, either.”
“Wrong,” Samantha replied, grinning mischievously. “You’re forgetting that my ex-boyfriend Josh cheated on me with Dee. Good thing for me I found it out before we got as far as an engagement or wedding.”
“I had forgotten that!” Mari turned to look at her friend. “You were really into him, too. I know you must have been hurt. Refresh my memory—how and when and where did you catch them? I remember the general facts but the details are sketchy.”
“It didn’t require any amateur sleuthing on my part, believe me. Josh left his computer on while he went to take a shower one night when I was at his apartment and there were naked pictures of Dee and him on the screen, engaged in what could only be called kinky sex. Very kinky.”
“Oh yeah, it’s all coming back to me now,” Marielle responded. “Poor you. I hate to say it, Sam, but you’ve had a knack for picking losers.”
“ I know. I swear I could go to a church social and pick up Bluebeard.”
“But you’ve met some really nice guys,” Marielle went on. “I can think of three right off the top of my head.”
“Like who, specifically?” Samantha inquired, washing the pots and pans and handing each in its turn to her friend to dry and put away. Marielle stopped drying to hold up a finger for each nice man Samantha had dated as she named them off.
“Well, for starters there was John Willingham, the guy my ex-fiance fixed you up with.
Unlike my ex, he was super nice. He sent flowers to your office after your first date, remember? Two, there was George something-or-other, the guy you met at that publishing conference. He seemed like a great guy. Well mannered, considerate, didn’t try to hustle you into bed on the first date. Three was Allen, your neighbor that lived one floor below you. He was handsome, had a great job and spent money on you like crazy. He even wanted to pay for you to have your portrait painted for him, remember?”
Marielle took up the linen towel to begin drying dishes again. “And that’s only three. There were other men just as nice as those. You culled every one of them for some reason or another.”
Samantha meditated on this for a moment before replying. Now that Mari pointed it out, she had dated quite a few nice guys. What had been the problem?
“I just didn’t like any of them,” she finally replied. “I mean, I liked them okay but there wasn’t any physical attraction. None of them turned me on at all. There was no point in stringing them along or wasting time in a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t fall in love with any man who didn’t press my buttons, if you know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean. Trey pushes all of my buttons on a regular basis.” Both girls laughed at Marielle’s remark and her exaggerated, naughty w
ink.
“What about Ben? Does he push your buttons?”
Samantha leaned closer to Marielle, lowering her voice to be sure she wasn’t overheard. “Does he ever! I’m telling you, Mari, just being in the same room with Ben turns me on. I catch myself fantasizing about having sex with him. He’s so incredibly hunky!”
“So, you seem to be breaking a pattern with Ben,” Marielle said thoughtfully. “He’s very much a nice guy and yet you find him sexy.”
“You’re right. I hadn’t thought about it that way but now that you mention it, the men I’m usually attracted to physically are not all that nice. It’s the Bad Boy Syndrome,” Samantha said, laughing. “There’s something about the bad boys that can’t be tamed that drives a lot of women wild and unfortunately I’m one of them.”
“Until now,” her friend pointed out.
“Well, yeah. Until now. It sort of worries me, Mari. I mean, since I am so attracted to Ben and nice guys never turn me on, maybe he has an evil twin that hasn’t come out yet.”
Marielle laughed and drying the last pan, teasingly popped Samantha’s denim clad rear with the dish towel. “Oh you! Trey has known Ben all his life. They grew up together. Believe me, if he had an evil twin Trey would know about it. Just accept it for what it is, Sammy, without over-analyzing things. Ben Connors is a genuinely nice man and you’re attracted to him. Why not just relax and go with the flow? And another thing, Sam. Has it ever occurred to you that goodness, kindness, trustworthiness and integrity can be sexy, too?”
Samantha nodded, but her expression was troubled. What was happening to her? What was different about Ben that made him so desirable when he was cut from a whole different cloth than the edgy, high-risk guys that usually captured her interest?
Could she simply stop worrying about the reasons Ben was so attractive to her and enjoy it while it lasted? Samantha reminded herself that she wasn’t a dewy eyed ingenue. She was a battle scarred veteran of the war between the sexes and had few illusions about the myth that there was someone for everyone.
That might apply to other people, but she no longer believed it would happen for her. For whatever reason, she seemed incapable of inspiring lasting devotion in a member of the opposite sex. After all, even most of the bad boys she had dated had eventually fallen in love and settled down. It was just that none of them had been interested in settling down with her.
So, no need for her conscience to kick in about the possibility of hurting Ben when their brief affair ended. Once it finally got started, she qualified silently, wondering how much longer it would be before they became lovers. When it came time to end it, Samantha figured that Ben would be like all of the other men she had dated and go his way without her … no broken heart.
That should have made her feel better, but for some reason … it didn’t.
Samantha stood on the porch waving goodbye to Marielle and Trey as they drove away after dinner was over and the dishes cleared.
Ben, standing beside her, threw an arm across her shoulders. “Dinner was fantastic, Samantha. For somebody who’s just learning to cook, you’re doing a fine job.”
She basked in his praise, warmed by his words of approval. She didn’t think he was just showering her with false compliments, either, because he and Trey both had filled their plates twice and followed up with generous sized portions of the flan, still warm from the oven.
“It’s the oddest thing, Ben. I’ve discovered that I like to cook after all these years of not being remotely interested in kitchen-y stuff. It feels good to make something that pleases other people and of course I appreciate good food, too.” She looked up at Ben, her heart shaped face glowing. With a flicker of disquiet, Samantha realized that although Trey and Marielle had each praised her efforts lavishly, hearing Ben’s complimentary comments meant much more to her.
His strong, well muscled arm felt so right around her, so warm and comforting— Samantha broke into her own thoughts. Comforting? Where had that come from? Why would she need comforting?
No, she hastily corrected her inner self, maybe not comforting. But it made her feel safe and secure, sheltered from harm and the hard edges of life. She snuggled closer to him unconsciously and felt his partial embrace tighten.
Samantha slowly turned to face him and for a long moment her heart stood still as she drank in his rugged good looks and saw the smoldering desire in his amazing eyes.
Deliberately, she tilted her face up to him, offering her lips. Ben drew her to him and placed both arms around her as he bent his head and kissed her lightly. She responded by putting her own arms around him and pulling him closer to her.
With a groan, Ben claimed her waiting lips again, this time in a deep kiss that spoke of hunger and need and raw sexuality. When his tongue flicked hers, she felt her blood turn to molten lava coursing though her veins, sending heat down to the center of her femininity. She moaned softly and moved a hand to slip it under his shirt in front, thrilling to his broad chest and latent strength.
He followed suit, sliding a hand under her sweater and pushing aside her wisp of a bra to cup a full breast. When his thumb rubbed against the swollen peak of a nipple, Samantha felt her bones turn to water. She melted into his touch, molding her pliant body to his, wanting even more closeness.
Ben kept kissing her, each kiss building in intensity until Samantha felt that he was somehow reaching deep down inside her to the secret places she had never allowed another man to enter. His warm breath and searching tongue as it explored her wet, open mouth brought her to a plateau of sexual desire she had never experienced. She felt her entire being begin to open itself to him, like a flower opening its petals to the warmth of the sun.
Drawing a ragged breath, Ben stepped away from her. “Samantha, you’re making me crazy.” He gave a shaky laugh. “We’d better say goodnight now. I’ve got a long day tomorrow and you said you were determined to write a whole chapter of your book.” His smile faltered and died on his lips as he stared at Samantha’s lips, red and swollen from his kisses. She saw desire flare in his eyes once more, but he deliberately stepped away from her—out of arm’s reach.
Samantha felt let down and somewhat disappointed. But she was shaken by the depth of her response to this man and felt the need to put some space between them. She needed to examine her feelings and try to figure out why he had such an electrical effect on her and she wasn’t capable of rational thought while in his arms exchanging passionate kisses.
“Um … yeah. You’re right,” she stammered.
“Yeah,” he replied, staring at her intently with those incredible whatever-color-they-were eyes. “So, I’ll just be going now and I’ll see you tomorrow evening if you think you might be up for a ride.”
Samantha’s heart lifted at the invitation. “Sure! I’d love to and after a day at the keyboard I’ll be ready for some fresh air.”
“Okay then,” Ben said with that million dollar smile that never failed to wow her. “See you then!”
She continued to sit out on the porch, gazing at the sky with its stars so much brighter and closer-seeming than she had ever witnessed in the city, lost in her thoughts. She felt that she was teetering on the edge of a precipice and if she lost her balance and fell it would be a long way to the bottom. Her feelings for Ben were new and disturbing. Sure, she had thought herself in love a few times before, but she had never felt the tumultuous emotions for any man that she was feeling for this one.
Always a player, even when she had lost at love Samantha had been able to shake it off and go her own way, basically heart whole. Truth be known, her pride had been more hurt than her heart when some man decided she wasn’t his dream girl after all.
But this time, something felt different. She was experiencing the faint stirrings of feelings she hadn’t even known she was capable of. Ben Connors made her want to be better than she was, or at the very least as good as she could possibly be.
In all of her other affairs of the heart, Samantha had held back
and kept much of herself in reserve because regardless of what she told herself at the start of a new relationship, deep down inside she hadn’t expected it to work out. Exactly why she was such a defeatist about her chances of finding lasting love, she didn’t know. She only knew that somewhere along the line she had stopped believing or even hoping that her own personal Prince Charming would appear.
So, she had played the game with only half her heart engaged, afraid of being hurt and disappointed again as well as knowing that the man of the moment wasn’t capable of claiming all of her heart. Looking back on it, she she wondered if she had been merely marking time until the right man came along.
If that was the case, was Ben Connors the right man?
No! Samantha sat up straight and marshaled her wayward thoughts. Ben couldn’t be her Mr. Right. He was perfect out here in his natural habitat but this remote, wild land could never be her home. Sure, she had to admit that she had gained a deep appreciation of its beauty. But she was like a fish out of water here. She was born and bred a city girl. Bright lights, huge department stores, crowds of people and 24/7 traffic jams … that was her world.
Not here, regardless of how breathtaking the scenery or how pure and fresh the air, especially to someone like her who was accustomed to breathing exhaust fumes.
No matter how sexy and wonderful he might be, Ben was not for her. It was clear that he had old fashioned values and probably old fashioned ideas about the woman’s role in the family unit or society in general. He treated her with the utmost respect and consideration, granted. But Samantha was willing to bet that if their relationship got serious, he’d have very traditional ideas about what he expected of her.
Cooking, cleaning, having babies, keeping house … no doubt these were what Ben considered appropriate for his woman. She had discovered that she enjoyed learning to cook, but Samantha was far from being a domestic goddess and couldn’t imagine herself ever tied down to a brood of children and never ending loads of laundry, a female whose social life consisted of PTA meetings and the occasional get-together with local friends.
The Color of Forever: Book Two: Forever Cowboys Series Page 9
