by Karen Anders
Get the diary and get out.
Sam smiled at her from the other side of the bed. “So, what were you going to say?”
“That it’ll only take me forty-five minutes to get ready to go into town.”
She left Sam’s room and hastily showered and dressed, but when she opened her door, she realized that Sam wasn’t ready yet. She closed the door, taking a deep breath. Walking over to the bed, she bent down, opened her briefcase and pulled out her grandmother’s diary.
November 20, 1957
Her name was Madam Bridgett Delacroix. After she saw my performance, she invited me to come to her estate and stay overnight. I was thrilled because, after several days of practices and performances, I wanted to see something of France before I left.
When we got to her estate, lunch was served on her patio in view of the magnificent gardens.
While we were eating, a gorgeous man came over to the table. He had dark eyes and hair. When he was introduced to me, he kissed my hand, lingering over my fingers. It sent goose bumps up and down my arm. She introduced him as her good friend Henri and, soon after, took my hand and led me into the house.
I could feel his intense eyes on me as I walked away. I really wanted to stay in the garden and talk to him, but my manners are impeccable and I couldn’t be rude to my hostess.
There were erotic paintings on the walls and scandalous sculpture decorating her shelves and tables. I tried not to look, but the art fascinated me. She saw my interest and indicated that I should look at whatever I liked.
I asked her where she had gotten all her art. She smiled with a secret light in her eye and told me here and there.
November 21, 1957
The next morning, when I went downstairs, I found her in the living room. She was just closing my diary. I realized that I left it downstairs the night before. I took it out of her hands, telling her that it was private. I was very upset.
She was intrigued with my journey and told me that she was a courtesan. She said that as a lady, she reserved her time for a select few. She was always attentive, personable and responsive. She said her services were available to affluent gentlemen who desire to experience the ultimate in first-class companionship.
She took my hand and led me upstairs to her room. There she went to her jewelry box. She pulled out a fine gold chain and put it in my hands.
She told me to wear the chain under my clothes and it would make me feel sexy and powerful.
She told me that Henri was very interested in me and if I was interested in continuing my journey, she was sure he would oblige me.
I agreed and she told me to go to my room. I did and disrobed, draping the fine chain around my waist.
When I heard the knock on the door, I told him to come in. He came up to me. His warm hands caressed my waist, making my skin tingle as he circled my whole body. He told me I was beautiful and released the pins in my hair. The feel of it cascading over my shoulders and down my back was a sensual goad. I moaned softly when he moved the heavy mass of my hair and softly kissed the back of my neck. His lips were soft, heavenly. He toyed with the chain at my waist and I felt the desire in my belly increase with each featherlight touch of his fingers. His hands moved up my body, cupping my bare breasts.
“Please” was all I could whisper and he kneaded my flesh. I feverishly wanted his hot palms against my sensitive nipples.
He groaned as he moved around to the front of me, taking my mouth in a burning kiss that ignited my blood. Then his mouth moved down to my nipples and he sucked and bit them until I couldn’t breathe. His mouth moved lower, his tongue stroking my skin. When he came back to my mouth, I reached for his belt and unfastened his pants, pushing the offensive garments off him.
The hardness of his erection filled my hands. He looked deep into my eyes. He asked me if I knew how to pleasure a man with my mouth. I hadn’t ever tried it, but I wanted to.
He led me to the bed and sat down, drawing me between his thighs and tugging me into a kneeling position. I lowered my mouth to take him. He groaned and thrust against my lips and then he was inside. I had no idea that a woman had such power over a man. He told me what to do. Oh, his words were wicked, wild and wonderful. I made him writhe and saw his hands clench in the coverlet. It was heady and wonderful.
Finally he couldn’t take any more. He dragged me onto the mattress and told me that it was now my turn to be pleasured. When his mouth touched my sex, I cried out with shocked pleasure. Again, I had no idea.
Finally he surged up my heated body and plunged himself inside me with a force that made me arch and cry out.
He was big and hard, with a fullness that made me twist beneath him. It was thrilling and passionate, beyond my imagination to conjure.
Afterward, I left in the car I’d come in, carrying another souvenir to add to my growing collection of erotic jewelry. A tangible object to remember the passion I shared in a beautiful estate in Paris. A passion that was wonderful yet still unfulfilling. My journey would have to continue.
Jenna placed the diary back into her briefcase. She closed her eyes, wondering how any other man could possibly have been better in bed than Sam. Even now, standing here, she wanted him again.
Without hesitating, she left the room and made her way back to Sam’s. She shed her clothes and opened his bathroom door.
He leaned into her when she stepped into the shower, her hands slipping around his waist, her body pressing up against the hard muscles of his back. “Do you mind if it takes an hour for me to get ready?”
Sam turned around and laughed softly as he took her mouth.
JENNA IMAGINED that Savannah would be a one-street town with a stoplight, a grocery store, bank, diner and town hall. There was a town hall, but the town had more than just one bank. There were several and, although there was a diner, there were also many eating establishments they passed on their way to Kellar Mercantile. They stopped in front of the redbrick store and Sam ushered her inside.
“Hi there, Sam,” a young woman said as she approached them. “This here that pretty musician I’ve heard so much about?”
“She’s the one. Knocked the socks off the high-rollers from Houston and Galveston the other night with her fine performance.”
The woman stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Lurlene Kellar. My father and mother own the store. We’re so happy that you were kind enough to volunteer to help us out. My ma isn’t as well as she’d like us to believe and the new hospital makes me feel a lot better about her getting the proper care she needs.”
A new, unexpected concern gripped Jenna. She hadn’t considered these people when she’d volunteered her services or what the new hospital would mean to them. She was from New York where emergency help could be called in the blink of an eye. She’d never worried about getting health care. But these people were dependent on the one hospital close to their town, and for the first time in Jenna’s life she felt as if her music made a material difference. Instead of playing for the intense enjoyment of people, she was actually making a contribution to better these people’s lives.
Jenna took Lurlene’s hand and squeezed in genuine pleasure. “Thank you for being so kind.”
“It’s not kindness but the dang truth.”
“Lurlene—” her mother looked up from ringing up a customer “—you watch your language.” She nodded and smiled at Jenna and Sam before returning her attention to the customer.
Lurlene looked chagrined and Sam didn’t help any when he laughed and nudged her. The young girl pushed him back and snickered.
The easy way these people had with each other suddenly made her envious. She always shopped in the same stores in New York, but not one of the salesladies knew her by name.
“What can I show you today?”
“This little lady needs the works—jeans, boots and shirts. She only packed city clothes.” Sam rolled his eyes.
“Well, you came to the right place. Let me show you what we have.”
/> Going up and down the aisles, Lurlene started to pile jeans and shirts onto Sam’s outstretched arms until she reached the boot section of the store.
Jenna looked at all the gleaming leather, then down at Sam’s boots. It hit home that his sturdy, battered boots with a good-size heel had seen more wear and tear than her shoes ever would. Sam was a one-hundred-percent, dyed-in-the-wool cowboy and she had the privilege of seeing him work his ranch.
Lurlene left them at the dressing room and went back to the front of the store.
Jenna changed quickly and stepped out of the dressing room, watching Sam’s eyes light up as she faced him. “Sam, what do you think of these jeans?”
Sam swallowed. He knew she had a tight little figure because he’d seen her naked, but there was something stirring about a woman in a pair of jeans that molded and cupped every beautiful inch of her body. It was enough to make a man sweat. “They look painted on, but there’s not a damn thing wrong with that.” He stood up and walked over to her, glancing over his shoulder to check where Lurlene was. When he spied her helping another customer, he backed Jenna into the shadow of the dressing room doorway.
“But let me check the fit.” He slid his hands over her buttocks while Jenna buried her face in his shirt and tried to muffle her laughter.
“You are incorrigible, Sam Winchester.”
She looked up at him and he smiled at the glint in her eyes. A jolt to his heart made him move closer to her. He suddenly felt he couldn’t get as close as he wanted to.
“How about some lunch? You kept me too preoccupied this morning for breakfast,” she groused.
“Perish the thought of you not being able to fill out these jeans to perfection,” he said, squeezing her butt and letting her go. “I just have to stop at the Levoie Steel and Leather Works to pick up a new set of roping spurs.”
“Roping spurs?”
She looked up at him with the most adorable confusion on her face. So different from the way she’d looked last night. She’d been light and fire in his arms; burning him, melting him until he couldn’t think, only react. He remembered her soft skin, her harsh cries, the feel of her rapture and the satisfaction he felt because she was beneath his hands, his body, in his bed where he’d wanted her from the start.
He shouldn’t have, but he did. He told himself this was a temporary affair. She didn’t belong here with him. She belonged on stages in cities around the world—places he’d only read about.
“Let’s pay for this stuff and I’ll show you what I mean.”
It took no time at all to cash out and walk the short distance to Levoie’s.
Sam went up to the counter and rang the bell. A large man came from the back and smiled. He pulled a box out from under the counter. “Here you go, Sam. Just what you ordered. I finished them yesterday.”
Sam opened the box and pulled out the steel spurs with the leather buckles. “Fine craftsmanship as usual, Tiny.” He turned to Jenna. “Roping spurs are used to control a horse when a cowboy is roping cattle,” he said, showing her the pair. “There is no tie-down under the heel like there is for rodeo spurs.”
“That makes sense. I guess I didn’t realize that there were different spurs for different jobs. I just like the way they jingle when you walk.”
“You do?”
“Sure, it’s such a sexy sound. Come to think of it. I like the way you walk. Purposeful, solid, like you know where you’re going and what you have to do. Not to mention your cute butt in the tight jeans you wear.”
He rolled his shoulders at her compliment, trying to tamp down the sheer undiluted pleasure he got from her words. “The jingling is caused by jingle bobs and that’s the only reason they’re on the spurs.”
“Hey, Tiny, show Jenna a pair of regular spurs.”
She took the spurs that Tiny gave her. “These little teardrop-shaped thingies?”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling when she made the rowel spin. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure, but don’t I need a hat?”
“You sure do and I know exactly the right one. He walked over to the ladies hats and chose a black Mexican-style hat with little conchos around the brim. When she walked over he set it on her head. “Come on, cowgirl, let’s get something to fill your belly.”
9
SAM SHIFTED in his seat, his eyes glued to the computer’s flat screen. Ensconced in an overstuffed chair in his disassembled office with the laptop on his lap, he tried to concentrate on the column of figures in front of him, but his mind just simply wandered.
The morning had dawned bright and clear, and even though it had been almost a week that Jenna had been on his ranch, he knew that soon their time would run out. She would go home and he would get on without her.
He’d left her in his bed, sleeping off another night of lovemaking. Although he hadn’t had much sleep, he felt invigorated and decided to do his chores early. With time to spare, he’d come to his office to tackle the books.
She’d been a revelation last night, a miracle. She’d been incredible in his hands, her skin so soft he’d wanted to lay his head against it and dream, her eyes so deep and sweet that he’d drunk from them like a well. As he pitched bales of hay to the pastured horses, he thought of the dance of her body in the shadows. As he filled troughs he remembered the song of passion on her lips. As he trudged through mud and grass, he was warmed by the memories of her candor, her spirit, her hunger.
And Tooter had never been as hostile about Tiffany, even as he’d warned Sam about her highfalutin ways. Did Tooter see a more immediate threat in Jenna? And, if he did, what did that mean to Sam’s heart? Tiffany had barely grazed the surface. But Jenna, she was deep under his skin. A fever that heated and infected his blood.
Ten minutes later, swearing softly, Sam clicked on all the appropriate icons to shut down the computer. He wouldn’t get anything done anyway. The thought of the way he had left Jenna this morning filled his senses. Her exposed shoulders, the spill of her coffee-colored hair on his pillow, and the silhouette of her smooth curvy body filled his mind. He wondered if she was still asleep.
The sound of the opening door drew Sam’s eyes. But where he expected to see Maria ready with her dusting supplies, he saw only the delicate features of Jenna. Her slim body was decked out in her new jeans and red-and-gold-plaid shirt. He swallowed hard when he saw her bare feet and her sexy painted toenails.
She moved across the floor toward the back of his office. In the dim light, he was sure she didn’t see him. She stopped in front of his prized Remington sculpture of a cowboy and bucking bronc that his great-grandfather had gotten for a song before the sculptor had become a legend. Gently, she ran her hands over the sculpture and he wondered what thoughts were going through her head. She turned away from it and he saw that she was looking straight at his new desk. When she started in that direction, the noise from the laptop, as it closed down, startled her. She whirled around and met his eyes.
She went rigid and her eyes widened in alarm. True alarm and every Ranger instinct in him went on full alert. She’s up to something, the cool rational cop part of his mind told him. He set the laptop on the small table near the armchair and rose. The male part of him wanted to crush her to him and ignore his gut instinct.
“Jenna, what’s going on?”
She stared up at him and he felt himself melt inside, but if she were up to something, he would have to shore up his resolve. He grabbed her by her upper arms. “I asked you a question.”
“I’m sorry. It’s such poor manners. I’m fascinated with you, with everything about you. Your office was too tempting for me to resist.”
She placed her hand on his chest and the warmth from her palm started his heart beating hard. His eyes narrowed, not sure whether he was being foolish or if he really did see guilt and alarm cross her face, rather than simple embarrassment.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. The sculpture, the Ranger memorabilia and your antiques say so much about you.�
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“And that would be?”
“You care about your past and your ancestors. Family is important to you. That draws me to you because it reminds me of my gran. It reminds me how she would hold dear those things that identify us as a family. The old photographs and the new. The things she chose to surround herself with defined her as nostalgic and sweet.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. With that, his suspicions diminished and his heart twisted. He quite literally couldn’t stand a woman’s tears. But Jenna’s overwhelmed him, brought all his tender emotions to the surface, brought him to his knees. Her grief was clear in her brown eyes and he remembered how she had comforted him yesterday morning when he’d become all soft about his father’s passing. He felt so small that his suspicions were precluding his offering her the same comfort.
He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “Jenna, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky because I had to be cooped up in this office with figures and boring paperwork.”
She reached up and touched his face and he leaned into her hand. “Why don’t we get out of here for a while?” he suggested.
“I have to practice.”
“Later then?”
She nodded.
“How about a tour of the ranch from horseback?”
“I’ve never ridden before.”
“Then it’ll be an interesting experience. I guess I’ll get back to these numbers and after you’re finished practicing, put on your boots and hat and meet me at the corral?”
“Okay.”
“ARE YOU PLUMB CRAZY?”
Sam put his hands on his hips and faced down his foreman. The little man straightened to his full height, bristling with outrage as he continued. “She’s been nothing but a distraction since she got here. Dawson’s coming by with those mares he wants serviced. We have foals and calves dropping all over the ranch, yearlings to round up, brush to clear, fences to mend and a herd to move to spring pasture. Does it sound like you have time to lollygag with this woman?”
