The Color of Forever: Book Two: Forever Cowboys Series

by Whitley, Hope

  “Well, if you’re sure,” she told him doubtfully.

  “Trust me, I’ll be fine,” he replied, reaching across the small table and covering her hand with his. Looking up, Samantha was struck anew by the ever-changing color of his eyes. Right now they appeared so light a blue as to be almost silver, which was pure dynamite with his thick, dark, out-to-here eyelashes.

  “But I like it that you’re concerned about me.”

  Whoa! Samantha suddenly didn’t care for the way this conversation was going. Yes, she had been worried sick about him but encouraging him to think that her concern was anything more than that of a friend wasn’t fair to him, since she’d be leaving as soon as it was safe to go back home. Snatching her hand away, she pushed her chair back abruptly and crossed to the sink with her sandwich plate and coffee cup, feeling a need to put more space between them.

  She cleared her throat self consciously. “Of course I’m concerned about you. We’re friends.”

  Ben’s expression clouded for a moment. “Of course,” he said easily, smiling. “But I’m still glad you care.”

  Samantha felt horrible. He was hiding it manfully but she knew her words had stung. Still, better not to foster any illusions about their relationship. If she allowed him to think that her feelings for him were more than just friendship … and lust … it would make it that much harder when the time came for her to leave.

  And that time would inevitably come.

  She had been on the verge of asking him to spend the night but decided against it now. This didn’t seem to be a propitious time for seduction. When Ben stood up and stretched

  his six feet plus of lean, well chiseled masculinity, she maintained a distance between them just in case she couldn’t resist the temptation to throw herself on him and beg him to make love to her.

  After seeing him to the door and locking it behind him, Samantha went to bed and lay awake for a while, sternly lecturing herself on all the reasons she shouldn’t lead Ben on.

  They were good reasons. But she felt a dull sadness anyway, thinking about going away and never seeing him again. It was only that he was a genuinely nice guy and she didn’t want to hurt him, she told herself firmly. That’s all. She was trying to be a nice person herself and had to be cruel to be kind if it looked like Ben was getting too hung up on her.

  That’s all it was. Consideration for his feelings. Nothing more. It was only natural that she feared for his safety going up alone against two armed and dangerous men.

  Still, lying there in the old fashioned feather bed staring at the moonlight slanting through her window, illuminating the bedroom with its pale golden glow, she wished with all her heart that Ben was lying there with her.

  Safe in her arms.

  Ben, too, lay awake thinking about Samantha.

  How close they had come to making love out there in the meadow today. He inwardly cursed the poachers who had interrupted them and yet at the same time was almost glad for the intervention. It was taking iron self control not to throw her down and take her and that self control had failed him this morning.

  But good grief, he was only human and Samantha was so damned sexy! Everything about her turned him on, making him as randy as a sex starved teenager. That outfit she had worn today, for example. Those well worn denim jeans clung to her rounded bottom and shapely hips in a way that left no doubt about what was inside them … a woman ripe for lovemaking. Her blouse wasn’t water sheer but it allowed her cleavage to show, along with that delicious little lacy bra holding her full breasts.

  A man would have to be dead to resist her. Ben was very much alive and finding it harder and harder to control himself around her. It didn’t help matters that she so obviously wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  He had wanted to show her that he was different than the men who had desired her body without wanting her heart. He wanted to leave no doubt in her mind at all that to him she wasn’t just a roll in the hay, she was everything he’d ever want in a woman, a lover and a mate. To do that, he had been prepared to postpone physical intimacy between them until he had time to show her how special she was to him in every way.

  If he had the ghost of a chance with Samantha, he somehow sensed that he would have to prove himself to her, convince her that he wanted all of her instead of just her body. Her fantastically sexy body, he thought longingly. Her hot little body that was made for love … made for him. It might be wishful thinking, but he seemed to be making a little progress with her. She had been noticeably worried about him today. That surely meant something, didn’t it, that she was concerned for his safety?

  Plus, she always seemed glad to see him, her beautiful face breaking into a warm, happy smile every time they met. He could tell she liked him and desired him sexually. Could loving him be that big a jump?

  He hoped not.

  While it chafed not to greedily take what she was offering so willingly, he felt that careful strategy was needed to win a bigger prize than just having sex with her, regardless of how badly he wanted her and how spectacular the sex would be. The stakes were high, but this was a game he couldn’t afford to lose. Because if he lost, he lost Samantha O’Brien and the prospect of that was unbearable.

  The next day dawned bright and clear, a perfect Springtime day. Samantha woke up feeling more refreshed than she had counted on after tossing and turning all night and having vivid dreams about Ben being shot by the poachers when she did sleep, waking up in a cold sweat with her heart pounding in fear.

  He really seemed to have penetrated into her innermost self, she thought with an unhappy frown. She couldn’t recall ever worrying about any of the men she had dated. But then, why would she? None of them had had especially dangerous jobs, after all. Not like Ben’s job, which she saw now could be quite hazardous.

  Was her fear for his safety excessive for a mere friend? She pondered this weighty question while she enjoyed coffee out on the porch. This morning sunrise ceremony had quickly come to be a high spot in her daily routine. Who would have thought it? Samantha O’Brien, the party girl who slept until noon on the weekends and didn’t stir out of bed before 9am through the week when she had to be at work by 10. Had she ever seen a sunrise before coming here?

  She didn’t think so. If she had been awake at that hour of the morning it was after being up and out all night and she was too tired to notice the sun one way or the other. But this … this was something special. This celebration of each new day staged by the rising sun over the mountains was nothing short of awesome.

  Sitting outside now in one of the comfortable old, weather beaten rocking chairs and sipping her first cup of coffee of the day, Samantha gloried anew in the show nature was putting on as the fiery sun began peeking over the mountains in the distance. Liquid gold with blazes of crimson red, dusky pink and orange slowly began to overcome the deep purple and blue of the night sky in a brilliant display that rivaled and surpassed anything mankind could create with all its technology.

  With a twinge, she realized that she would miss this morning ritual when she went back to New York. Still, a beautiful sunrise and equally stunning sunset couldn’t make up for the excitement of the city, she reminded herself. Nature would only take a girl so far and Samantha couldn’t imagine missing out on sales in the big department stores or Times Square or Central Park or any of the other thousand and one things to do in the city.

  She had acquired an appreciation for nature that she hadn’t had before, true. But to give up her fast-paced, exciting life of nightclubs, parties and the trendy young crowd she ran with for the beauties of nature?

  Shaking her head, Samantha answered her own question. No.

  But would she … could she … give up her life in the city for a sexy cowboy who was the sweetest, nicest guy she’d ever known? Was it possible that she would find life with Ben so fulfilling that she didn’t hanker for her old life? Could one person, no matter how wonderful, replace an entire life style?

  She shook her head again
. Not likely. Of course, she was jumping the gun again because Ben hadn’t expressed an interest in spending the rest of his life with her. So it was probably a moot point. Samantha decided to look at it realistically. Ben Connors was a movie star handsome, extremely sexy man who could undoubtedly have his pick of any available female within fifty miles of here or further. She had been to his ranch a few times and been impressed with its size and the big, sprawling, multi-level log house that he called home.

  Built by his great grandfather and then built onto with each subsequent generation, he had explained to her that his parents went ahead and deeded the land and this house over to him when they retired and set out to see the world. They had turned into first class globe trotters, he had laughed, and built a small house on some more of the family land, just down the road from Ben’s ranch. From the warm affection in his voice when he spoke of his parents, it was obvious that he had a great relationship with them.

  But he had mentioned one thing in a joking manner that had given Samantha food for thought. His parents, he had told her, asked him often when he was going to settle down and give them grandchildren.

  Even if she did fall in love with Ben and he with her, that alone was a deal breaker.

  Samantha couldn’t see herself in a maternal role. She liked children okay, but somehow having kids of her own had never seemed like an option or anything she would ever want to do. Why she felt that way, she didn’t know. She only knew that having babies had never seemed to have a place in her future.

  A man like Ben would want children. She felt sure of that much. He’d be a wonderful father, too, she was also certain of that. But for her it wasn’t in the cards, which was just one more reason to be careful and not lead Ben on or give him false hopes in case he did start falling for her.

  No, she would make it clear to Ben that while she wanted his body, she wasn’t interested in claiming his heart. That would be better for both of them and was the decent thing to do. That way, they could enjoy a mutually pleasurable affair and part on friendly terms when her time here was at an end.

  Yes, she told herself firmly, that was the best way to handle the situation. Enjoy the sex and make great memories of her time up here in the mountains with a red hot cowboy and then go back home with no regrets on either side.

  As Samantha rose to go in and refill her coffee cup, she wondered why reaching such a wise decision left her feeling so sad and empty, like there was a big hollow place where her heart should be.

  After tidying up the house and hanging some laundry out on the clothesline, Samantha settled in to work on her book the rest of the day. It was hard to concentrate, though, because her thoughts kept going to Ben and what he was doing. She wished he would go ahead and call in another game warden to help him with the poachers, but had to acknowledge that he knew his business. If he thought he needed help, she had to believe he’d ask for it.

  The day dragged by slowly. She had little appetite for lunch and decided to take Marielle up on her invitation to eat dinner with them this evening. Consuelo was making paella, which happened to be one of Samantha’s favorite things in the whole world of food. Maybe if she got out of the house and went over there to visit and enjoy a fantastic meal, she’d be able to shake these doldrums that had plagued her all day.

  Taking a wicker basket, she went outside to gather the dry laundry in. It smelled so good! She sniffed appreciatively, inhaling the fresh scent of towels and sheets that had been dried by the sun and clean, pure air.

  Another first, she thought as she put away the clean linens. She knew that some people had clotheslines in New York but she had always done her laundry at a laundromat near her apartment and had no idea how amazing it was to dry them outdoors. Of course, she had to admit that the air in the city couldn’t compare to that up here. Too many exhaust fumes, factory smoke and other not so sweet smells.

  She stopped in mid-motion of folding sheets. What was wrong with her? Why was she constantly comparing this place with New York? It wasn’t like there was a contest, for heaven’s sake. She wasn’t weighing the pros and cons of each location like a prospective property buyer. The two places were naturally very different but just because laundry hung out on an old fashioned clothesline smelled heavenly, it didn’t mean that the city had failed some sort of test.

  She’d try out some new fabric softeners when she went back home to make her laundry smell as good as this. As soon as this thought entered her mind, Samantha knew that no chemical product could match fresh air and sunshine.

  Oh, so what, she told herself irritably. She was starting to sound like one of those old housewife ads from the 50s where an attractive woman gushed over this detergent or that furniture polish. As long as her clothing and linens were clean, that would be good enough. It wasn’t like laundry was the be all and end all of her existence. Maybe the sooner she could go back home the better. She was turning into a completely different person. The chic, sophisticated city girl who came up here a few weeks ago was becoming a stereotypical hausfrau. This wouldn’t do at all.

  Samantha resolved to make more of an effort to hang on to her real identity and stop letting this place change her into someone out of a WWII edition of Good Housekeeping.

  She ran water for a bath, looking forward to having dinner with Mari and Trey and hoping that Ben would come by there if he stopped here and found her not at home. The thoughts of him having a confrontation with those two poachers continued to make her uneasy.

  “Mari, that was a delicious meal.” Samantha dabbed her lips with a napkin and sat back, feeling pleasantly full after a superb dinner featuring paella and ending in deep fried sopapillas. Consuelo had told her that sopapillas, which were deep fried yeast dough with pockets inside just made for dollops of butter and drizzles of honey, were a favorite in Mexico and that their name meant “little pillows.”

  They were little pillows of goodness and Samantha intended to ask Consuelo for the recipe before she went home this evening.

  She hadn’t been feeling especially hungry when she arrived tonight. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, worry about Ben had affected her appetite. Few things were able to put a dent in her normally healthy appetite, so she had to face up to the undeniable truth: Ben’s well being was vitally important to her.

  However, shortly after she had gotten there, Ben had shown up and was naturally invited to join them for dinner. Seeing him alive and well, unscathed by whatever had transpired today in his efforts to catch the poachers, restored Samantha’s appetite and she ate heartily.

  Consuelo’s seafood paella was to die for! Rich and flavorful with a variety of fish and shellfish served atop a bed of Spanish bomba rice with saffron, it was beyond delicious. Marielle had stayed in the kitchen with the cook and housekeeper as the dish was prepared and shared her knowledge with Samantha.

  “The sofrito is very important to the overall recipe, Sam. It’s a sauce made with smoked paprika, garlic, onions, tomatoes and peppers sauteed in olive oil.”

  “Nom nom,” Samantha replied. “This is the best paella I’ve ever had. Mari, I must confess that if I had Consuelo to cook for me I probably wouldn’t be motivated to learn to cook myself. She’s a jewel.”

  “She sure is. She keeps the household running smoothly and I agree, her cooking is as good as any four star chef. But I still enjoy learning to make good food and I couldn’t ask for a better teacher than Consuelo.”

  The two men had been talking between themselves about ranch and livestock matters, discussing the best pasture grass, fencing, the current market prices of beef and lamb and more in that vein. They discontinued this conversation when the girls stopped talking.

  “Ben,” said Samantha, “have you told Trey about the poachers?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” he replied. “I stopped by here this morning and clued Trey in on their activity in the area so he can be on the lookout for them.”

  “Any trace of them today?” Trey asked his friend.

&
nbsp; “Yeah, more than a trace. I found where they’ve been tracking a big grizzly. No signs of them catching up with him yet, thank goodness.”

  “Why would they want to kill a grizzly bear?” she asked Ben. “For the fur?”

  Ben shook his head, looking disgusted. “No, they slaughter a bear and then cut out its gall bladder. Bile from the gall bladders of bears is used in traditional Chinese medicine and there’s a huge black market trade for it. Bear paws, too, are in demand on the black market. They’re considered an exotic delicacy on the menus of upscale Chinese restaurants. A lot of the bear paw trading is between Russia and China, but the U.S. is involved, too.”

  “That’s terrible!” Marielle exclaimed. “Aren’t there laws against it?”

  “Yeah,” Ben answered. “There are laws against international trade of any protected or endangered species. The thing is, though, that this just drives the price up on the black market, which encourages poaching and illegal trade.”

  “Oh, Ben,” she cried, “they won’t kill our mama and baby bear, will they?”

  Ben looked across the table and saw that Samantha’s stunning deep blue eyes were welling with unshed tears. He wanted to comfort her … take her in his arms right here, right now, and kiss her until she forgot everything else in the world. It gladdened his own heart to see that hers was so easily affected by cruelty to animals. In his opinion, people who didn’t like animals were suspect and not people he wanted to be around. He didn’t trust people who didn’t like animals and he especially didn’t trust people that animals didn’t like. Animals seemed to have a sense about the character of human beings that other humans lacked, in his experience.

  “Not if I can help it,” he told her. “The bear they were tracking today was traveling alone and from the size of its prints, almost definitely a big male.”