The Diva Diaries

by Karen Anders

  Spot quivered. His head was up, his ears flicking forward. Suddenly, the big horse let out a long, shrill whinny and broke into a trot. If Sam hadn’t been holding on, Jenna would have met the ground.

  And Sam suddenly knew it wasn’t danger. Through the rushing downpour, the horse had gotten a whiff of hay and oats. “Atta boy,” Sam praised the animal, leaning into the gait. That was all the encouragement Spot needed to leap almost to a full-out gallop.

  “Are we here?” Jenna yelled.

  “We’re close,” Sam said, directly into her ear. Then it was all he could do to concentrate on his riding as the line shack started to take shape in the pouring rain.

  When they hit the barn, the hail pelted them as Sam quickly dismounted and pulled at the small barn doors. His slick fingers slipped on the metal lock as he pulled keys out of his back pocket. Finally, the lock sprung and he pulled open the doors. He grabbed the reins and led the horse inside. Jenna ducked as they cleared the doorway. Sam went to her and grabbed her by the waist, he helped her to dismount.

  He handed her his key ring. “Go up to the shack and unlock the door. I’ll bed Spot down and get the generator going. There are dry clothes in the bedroom closet. Get changed.”

  Jenna took the keys and put them into her pocket. She pulled the saddlebags off the horse and threw them over her shoulder.

  She brushed past him and went to Spot. She gently rubbed at his forehead, and if the big gelding had been a cat he would have begun to purr. She whispered, “Thanks for getting us here.”

  Then she moved toward Sam and stopped in front of him. “Thank you, too.” She tried to smile, but her mouth only turned up at the corners.

  “Come here,” he said gruffly.

  He opened his arms and she walked to him. He drew her up in a firm embrace, burying her face against the curve of his neck. Sam felt her inhale raggedly as she burrowed deeper into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. With a shaky sigh, she slid her arms around his waist. Pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, he slid his fingers along her wet scalp, dislodging her hat. Cradling her head in his firm grip, the heavy, wet silk of her hair tangled around his fingers. Sam closed his eyes and hugged her hard, a wave of reaction making his chest constrict. Shoot, but she filled up something that was empty and aching inside him.

  He felt her take another deep, relaxing breath, and he smoothed one hand up her back, holding her tightly against him. Easing in a tight breath of his own, he brushed a kiss against her temple, then spoke, his voice husky and rough. “You’re welcome.”

  A shiver flowed through her and Jenna slipped her arms around his neck, the alteration in her stance bringing her flush against him. Sam drew an unsteady breath and angled her head back, making a low, indistinct sound as he covered her mouth in a kiss that was raw, dictated by the need to soothe and encourage. Jenna went still. Then, with a muffled gasp, she clasped him and gave in to his profound, reassuring kiss. She moved against him, and Sam shuddered and tightened his hold, a rage of delight moving through him like the strong beat of his heart. Making him wish, ah shoot, wishing he could draw her right inside him and keep her there forever.

  Pulling his mouth away, he looked down into her eyes. “Now, get yourself into that shack and put some dry clothes on, greenhorn.”

  She smiled this time and reached out and caressed his face. Ducking down to grab her hat, she left the barn, running out into the storm.

  For a moment he couldn’t move. The caress along his jaw wasn’t sexual in any way, but it had shaken him like a tremor. Shook him more than a blatant sexual move would ever have. It was an emotional connection and, for some reason, Sam felt as if he’d just been let out of a dark, tight space, as if he could finally take his first breath.

  He had received something from her that he hadn’t expected. An extraordinary gift and it unsettled him.

  IT TOOK SAM twenty minutes to strip the saddle and bridle from the horse, give him water, feed and hay from the supplies kept at all the line shacks on his property. Then he went into the storm to where he kept the generator and started its motor. By then, hail the size of golf balls was hitting the tin roof constantly.

  Although he referred to these havens in the wilds of the back forty as shacks, they were more like old-fashioned log cabins made quite comfortable to pass the time in if there happened to be a sudden blizzard, or, in this case, a tropical storm.

  He opened the cabin door and was greeted with a blazing fire. A pan of beans was already heating and Jenna was wringing out her hair in the sink in the kitchen. He stood for a moment in the doorway, another one of his stereotypes going down the tubes. It didn’t look as if she’d had any problem starting the fire and figuring out what their priorities were. He could see how she shivered, and another realization hit him with the force of a horse’s kick right in the gut. She’d forgone her own comfort to set the blaze and get something hot for them to eat. Tiffany would have already been in dry clothes, complaining about the cold, waiting for him to set the fire and cook the food.

  The thought made him gruff. “I told you to get out of those clothes.”

  Jenna stiffened at his tone. “I assumed it was more important to start a fire and get some food going.” She wanted friction between them and leaped at the chance to spar with him. The embrace, the kiss, the sheer tenderness of that moment in the barn had rocked her, terrified her, made her crave for distance between them.

  She was here to get that damn diary that was now like a weight around her neck. She found it harder and harder to remember the real reason she was visiting Texas. Every time Sam got within a few feet of her, she couldn’t seem to remember her own name. He was multifaceted, gorgeous, interesting as hell and she wanted, craved, to know more about him. And that shamed her because she’d promised her gran that she would get that diary. Instead, she’d slept with Sam and enjoyed his company for days. She could assuage her guilt a little since she’d made two tries to get to the desk and Sam had thwarted both attempts.

  She turned to the sink and reached for the tap, but Sam was there. “Don’t touch that. Stay away from the all water faucets, and sinks. Metal pipes can transmit electricity and there’s still plenty of activity out there.”

  “I need water for coffee.”

  “You need to get out of those clothes.”

  Jenna put her hands on her hips. “Okay, I will, but I’ll need some hot, strong coffee after I’ve changed.”

  He sighed and she had to fight the urge to touch him. He went to a cupboard and opened it. Inside were numerous full-to-the-gallon plastic containers of water.

  “You really believe in being prepared. I found batteries, a radio, candles, a flashlight with batteries, canned goods and firewood, all easy to access.”

  “And you had no problem setting the fire.”

  “No, I have a fireplace in New York.” She grabbed up one of the water jugs and proceeded to make coffee in his old electric percolator. “I also found a first-aid kit. We should take care of your forehead.”

  After opening a drawer and pulling out that first-aid kit and a soft cloth, she placed the kit on the countertop. “Grab one of those jugs.” He hefted a jug and walked back to the counter.

  “Clothes first, doctoring second.”

  He turned and, before she could protest, grabbed her arm and pulled her into the tiny bedroom. He left her standing in the center of the room as he rummaged through drawers. “Get your clothes off, Jenna.”

  Jenna tried. She began to fumble with the buttons on her shirt. Her fingers felt thick and achy, and she couldn’t seem to get a purchase on the buttons. Sam turned with his arms full of clothes.

  “Here,” he commanded, already out of his coat, his jeans just as wet as hers. For some reason, though, he wasn’t shivering. Jenna couldn’t understand it. Slinging his cache over his shoulder, Sam reached for her shirt and freed a few buttons. “I’ll do it.”

  Jenna stiffened abruptly, the thought of Sam doing something so intimate wormed right
through her.

  “No,” she protested, forcing her fingers to try to latch on to a button. “No, I’ll do it.”

  But her fingers slid purposelessly across the button.

  Sam pushed her hands away and impaled her with his best glare. “Darlin’, you are stubborn. Let me do something for you. I got you in this predicament in the first place.”

  Jenna closed her eyes, too shaken by Sam’s proximity to face him. He stripped off her shirt and then unsnapped and unzipped her jeans. Jenna could feel the quick brush of those fingers against her breasts. She wished he would touch her in a more sexual way, because this concern for her was almost too much to bear, especially since she was here under false pretenses. She didn’t want Sam to care for her. She wanted him to be one of those males that gave her sex and sent her on her merry way. Why did he have to be so sweet?

  “I don’t know if these pants will fit around your hips.”

  That opened her eyes. “Are you calling me fat?”

  He grinned a real grin. The kind two people trade who’ve shared something special or perilous. “Well, shoot no. I was just thinking that most of these things are for guys and, well—” his gaze went down her body “—you ain’t, well, a guy.”

  Jenna dropped onto the edge of the bed, warmed more by his smile than by any fireplace or dry cotton. Feeding on that smile, she savored it like first sunlight.

  He went down on his knee in front of her, pulled off her boots, the wet jeans and underwear. He sorted through the pile of clothes and found a pair of sweat-pants. “I think these will fit around your hips.” He gave her a snide grin.

  “Don’t start on my hips again, Sam.”

  He handed her a cotton undershirt and a sweatshirt. He stood and stripped and put on dry clothes.

  Then it was to the kitchen and the hot coffee flavored with cloves. It warmed her down to her toes.

  Soon she found herself sitting on the couch in front of the fire with the water, cloth and first-aid kit.

  Before he could protest, she took his chin and angled his cut temple for her scrutiny. It wasn’t deep, but it was angry and red. The rain had washed off most of the blood so that the cut oozed slowly. She gently bathed the blood away.

  The warmth of his face made her knees weak and her hand reached out to grope for the first-aid kit. At this moment she desperately needed something to hang on to.

  Her mind went back to a calendar that one of her friends at Julliard had hanging in her little one-room apartment. She had been from Wyoming and Jenna guessed the calendar was a reminder of home. Each month depicted a cowboy stud and June had featured a particularly rugged one. The caption had read I’m The Kind of Man Your Mother Warned You About.

  And how. Her mother didn’t need to tell her this man was too wild, raw, untamed. She could feel the danger in him—feel the lethal quality hum through her body, pump through her veins potent and heady.

  You shouldn’t be daydreaming, a little voice said caustically in her head. Looking into his eyes, she knew suddenly she’d have plenty to daydream about now. She felt as if she could drown in his dark blue eyes. Warm, expressive eyes. Yet she knew the moment she got the diary in her hands, she’d be gone. She was a grown woman, not some child who didn’t know the score. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness flooded over her. No, she wasn’t a child.

  She put the cloth down on the coffee table and pulled apart the wrapping for a butterfly bandage. She pressed the bandage to his temple. Her hand remained on his face though, feathering lightly over his skin. His rough, callused hand came up and covered hers. The gaze he leveled at her was hypnotic, steady and seductive, his eyes burning liquid blue.

  “Aren’t you going to kiss it and make it all better?” he asked, tilting his head in an adorable way.

  The weakness in her knees seemed to radiate throughout her whole body with slow languid fingers encompassing all her traitorous muscles.

  She moved forward, close to his face, and kissed his bandaged head. “All better?”

  She stared at him. She couldn’t help it. He was much too fascinating for her own good. Her mind went back to that calendar. That picture of the handsome cowboy had also included a wolf in the background. She was reminded of that graceful gray wolf sighting prey in those fierce, hungry eyes.

  She now found out what it was to be the prey.

  Sam’s touch felt like no other man’s as he trailed his fingertips down her arm. Her breath trembled at the electric sensation of his bare flesh against hers. The rain pounded against the roof in a comforting beat.

  Like the hard beat of her heart against her breastbone, it was so loud she was sure Sam could hear it.

  The fire roared as small sparks exploded into the air and were consumed by the blaze. The wind picked up and rattled against the walls of the shack, water dripped in a slow cadence in the sink. Around them the air seethed with a tangible force. Something alive. It smelled of hearth and home. It sounded like the cry of rapture. It felt like the hot, taut skin of a lover.

  Very gently, Sam placed kisses over her face, rubbed at her bottom lip with the rough pad of his thumb. He was so close to her that she could see the thick, lush length of his eyelashes as they fluttered closed, hiding his intense gaze from her. His hard jaw beckoned her hand, masculine, with a dark stubble that made him appear just a notch sexier. As if he needed that.

  Jenna reached up and drew her hand through his hair, and his chest lifted in a little sigh. Something deep inside her thawed. Something so long frozen, Jenna never even knew it existed. Sam’s eyelids fluttered open and Jenna lost herself in the depth of his vibrant gaze.

  His strong arms came around her in a tight embrace, the fresh rain-washed smell of him wrapped around her senses, traveled deep inside her and twirled around her heart. His mouth traveled in a slow, seductive slide. He kissed her lobe, whispered her name, the sound of it like a prayer.

  In the depths of his eyes his desire shimmered in stark open view, a shimmer that was mirrored and built in her own soul. There was also wariness, protection and distance that she was aware he found difficult to maintain.

  “Jenna…”

  His voice rasped, overcome with his need. Jenna shivered with the answering plea on her lips. She watched the loneliness in his eyes shift like ghostly shadows. She heard the irregular tempo of his breathing, felt the fine edge of his vulnerability and sensed the unraveling of his control, as hers simply broke free from her.

  Her heart knew him, and it was inevitable that they would come to this moment in time. She’d peeled away his defenses and crept close for a peek inside him, knowing that whatever it was that made up Sam Winchester played at her like the ancient music of passion, bonding, intimacy. She’d demanded from him without words, intuitively drawing him to what could perhaps be his downfall as well as her own.

  It might not be prudent or smart, but it was what she craved. And she’d known it deep inside for a long time.

  There was incredible character in this man, born of the code of the West, ingrained and unapologetic. But there was hot, turbulent need, a need so great it could overwhelm her.

  That need, freed from its bonds, flashed over her, igniting her own desire with the tinder of his mouth, the kindling of his hands, the scorching heat of his body. His mouth moved over hers in a dazzling, sighing blending that left them enveloped in each other’s arms. It whipped up flames that seared her, that propelled her to answer Sam’s intensity with her own.

  He crushed her to him. He lifted a hand and cupped her face, tilted her head back so that he could slake his thirst with her. His fingers were rough, but the whisper of his breath on her was as sweet as honey. The thunder of his heart shuddered through her. The solid wall of his chest comforted her and tormented her. Jenna lifted her own hands, sought the hard ridge of muscle, the devastating heat of skin, the overwhelming feel of surrender. Her insides staggered with the capacity of his heart, vibrated with the power of him, dissolved with the compassion of him.

 
His hands were impatient, his mouth greedy, his body eager. Jenna absorbed it all and it went to her head like potent wine. She reeled with the intoxication of it. His comforting arms, his broad shoulders, his taut chest. So solid, so sleek, brushed with firelight and shadow, so supple beneath her seeking hands. His hips slid hard and aching against hers.

  He bent a little, one arm sweeping down her back as he gathered her up in his arms.

  “In front of the fire, Sam.”

  He turned to look at the blaze and when his eyes returned to hers, they were smoldering. He took pillows from the couch, his muscles delineated in the glow from the fire. He spread them on the floor, along with the soft blanket that had been thrown across the back of the couch.

  Sam wrapped her in his arms and buried his face in her damp hair as they stumbled together to the makeshift bed in front of the fire.

  In Jenna’s secret heart, in the worst days of the sheer loneliness, she had wished for warmth and light. Her imagination could never have predicted the reckless feel of Sam’s hunger. She’d only hoped for the seductive heat, the sizzling union of a man and a woman.

  She discovered that night what it cost her to give what she had never given before. She sank to the floor, tangled in Sam, her body knotted with wonder, marveling at the connection her heart made with Sam’s.

  With hands made unsteady by need, he stripped himself, then her. He took her nipples, his mouth insistent, arousing and almost unbearable. He suckled, caressed, nipped, until Jenna scored his back with her eagerness. She bucked against him, writhed beneath him, delighting in the rasp of hair against the sleek skin of her belly. Devastated by the pulse of him against her.

  His mouth was a hot brand against her skin, always present against her breasts, her throat and her belly. He paid special attention to her mouth. His kisses lashed her, showing her no mercy, making her surge to heart-pounding life. She tasted cloves and coffee on his tongue and smelled the rain in his hair.