THE RESTLESS VIRGIN

by Peggy Moreland

  "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out," Sam replied dryly.

  "Isn't it possible that he had pressing business matters to attend to?"

  "It's possible, but I doubt it. At all her other lessons, Nash has insisted on being in the arena with us."

  Thoughtfully, Camille ran her pen through graceful fingers, then laid it aside. "Let's forget about yesterday's lesson for a moment and focus on your impressions of the evening. Let's begin with you telling me where he took you."

  "Sfuzzi's."

  Camille nodded approvingly. "A lovely restaurant with lots of atmosphere and excellent cuisine."

  "I wouldn't know." At Camille's puzzled look, Sam added, "I barely ate anything."

  "Why?"

  Sam squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. "I don't know. Too nervous, I guess."

  "Does he make you feel uncomfortable?"

  "That's putting it mildly."

  "Explain for me, please."

  Sam sighed, propping her elbows on the chair's arms and lacing her fingers across her abdomen. "First, he's a man and all men make me nervous."

  Camille held up a hand, stopping Sam before she could go on. "Not all men make you nervous. You have a very nice relationship with your brother-in-law."

  "Yeah, but that's different. Jesse's family."

  "He wasn't always. I distinctly remember meeting with you shortly after he returned. As I recall, he received an injury to his arm that you considered your fault and you administered first aid."

  Sam remembered the incident, too, and how difficult it had been for her to touch Jesse, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out where Camille was going with this. "So?"

  "You were afraid of him, but you overcame that fear once you realized that he meant you no harm."

  Sam narrowed an eye. "And you think that once I realize Nash doesn't mean to harm me, I'll be able to relax around him, too?"

  "It's a possibility worth considering."

  Sam tossed back her head and laughed at the ceiling. "You've got to be kidding! The guy ties me in knots!"

  "But you're attracted to him."

  Heat stained Sam's cheeks as the truth burned its way through her. "Yeah, so what?"

  "That attraction may be what is tying you up in knots, not the fact that he is a man."

  Sam slowly sat up straighter in her chair. "Do you think so?"

  "I do."

  Sam's brow furrowed as she gave the possibility consideration. She cocked her head and frowned at Camille. "Assuming that's true, then what?"

  Camille lifted her hands, palms up. "That's up to you. And Nash of course," she added judiciously. "When will you see him again?"

  "My next lesson with Colby is scheduled for Monday."

  "Excellent," Camille said, rising. "And this time, don't wait for him to approach you. You make the first move."

  After sending Colby to the barn to unsaddle Whiskey, Sam glanced toward Nash's Mercedes. Just like the last lesson, he'd remained inside his car throughout the entire hour. Kind of hard to make the first move when he was holed up in his luxury bunker on wheels. But Sam was determined to follow Camille's instructions. She strode in the direction of the car and tapped on the window.

  Engrossed in a computer printout, Nash jumped at the unexpected intrusion, then quickly pressed the button to lower the window. "What's wrong?" he asked, straining to look behind her. "Where's Colby?"

  "Nothing's wrong. She's unsaddling Whiskey." Sam dipped her chin, working up the courage to say aloud the one sentence she'd been practicing for days. She hauled in a steadying breath and lifted her head, meeting his gaze squarely. "I just wanted to thank you again for dinner last week."

  When she saw the frown lines that gathered between his eyes, Sam immediately regretted having brought the subject up. "Anyway," she said, her cheeks burning, "I had a good time and just wanted you to know." She took a step back, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "I'll get Colby."

  Nash swore under his breath as she whirled away. He'd hurt her, embarrassed her, and Sam didn't deserve that kind of treatment. She was kind and generous to a fault. The least he could give her in return was honesty. And his friendship. There was no harm in that. He stuck his head out the window and shouted, "Sam!"

  She slowly turned back to look at him.

  He shouldered open the door and stood, bracing an arm along its top. "I had a good time, too."

  "You did?"

  "Yes, I did. To be honest, the evening turned out much better than I expected."

  The reluctance with which he made the admission registered, but the sincerity was there, too, and it was the sincerity that Sam focused on. A warmth spread through her, curving her lips. "For me, too," she said, and took a hesitant step toward him.

  Gray eyes held her, and Sam stopped, mesmerized by the intensity in them. Suddenly self-conscious, she fished in her back pocket for the paper she had tucked there earlier. "I picked this up the other day and thought you might want to give it some consideration."

  Nash stretched out a hand and took the wrinkled paper. "What is it?" he asked, shaking it open.

  "An entry form for a quarter-horse show in Austin. They have classes in all age groups."

  He snapped up his head to look at her. "And you want Colby to compete?"

  "She's ready. Plus it will give her the opportunity to meet some other kids who share her interest in horses."

  "I don't know," he murmured uncertainly. "Do you really think she's ready for this?"

  "I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't. But I would like to get in an extra practice next week if we can."

  "When?"

  "Wednesday afternoon would work for me."

  He shook his head. "I've got meetings all day."

  "How about if I just pick her up and bring her over here? You could drop by for her on your way home from work."

  "That's a lot to ask of you."

  "Not really. I'll be in your area anyway, vaccinating some horses. It wouldn't be any trouble to swing by and pick up Colby."

  "If you're sure…"

  "I am. Just tell her to be ready around three." Sam started to turn away, then whirled back. "Oh, and Nash," she said, "I'm glad you had a good time, too."

  She turned and strode for the barn, her face burning. "Okay, Camille," she muttered under her breath. "I did it. Now what?"

  Sam was working in her supply room early Friday morning, unloading a new shipment of supplies, when she heard a car stop in front of the barn. Wiping her hands on a rag, she walked to the barn's entrance. Her heart did a slow flip when she saw that it was Nash.

  "Hi," she said, as he stepped from his car. "What are you doing here so early? Our lesson's not until five."

  He closed the door and walked toward her. "Yeah, I know, but I thought I'd stop by on my way to the office and let you know that we won't be coming for our lesson today."

  Sam frowned and tucked the rag into her back pocket, trying to mask her disappointment. "Oh? Why not?"

  "Colby's grounded."

  She bit back a smile. "What did she do this time?"

  Nash heaved a sigh. "She ripped up all the stakes that the road crew put in place earlier this week."

  Sam started to laugh, but quickly sobered when Nash shot her a dark look.

  "It's not funny," he grumped. "Now I'll have to order the crew back out to redo the survey. It'll put us weeks behind in cutting the roads."

  "Did you ask her why she did it?"

  Nash snorted. "Didn't need to. She's made her position clear. She doesn't want to leave Rivers Ranch, so she's doing everything within her power to postpone the inevitable."

  That Colby would go to such lengths to stay on the ranch, knowing that she would surely be punished, tugged at Sam's heart. "Do you have to move?" she asked hesitantly. "Couldn't you just build your subdivision somewhere else?"

  Nash snapped his head around to frown at her. "You can't just move a subdivision. The plans are all laid out to fit that tract o
f land."

  "Would it cost so much to have the plans redrawn? I mean, you have to live somewhere. Why not Rivers Ranch?"

  Nash folded his arms across his chest and turned away.

  "The cost is irrelevant. I've already told you that I'm not a rancher. I'm a developer. That land means nothing to me but as a potential investment."

  "But, Nash—" Sam began.

  He turned his wrist, glancing at his watch. "I've got to go. Are you still willing to pick Colby up on Wednesday?"

  Sam's shoulders drooped in defeat. The man was just too dang stubborn. "Yeah. Tell her to be ready at three."

  "Come on in!"

  At Colby's invitation, Sam opened the back door and stepped inside the Rivers' kitchen. Colby sat on a bar stool, tongue tucked determinedly in her cheek as she spread creamy icing over a chocolate cake. An older woman, who Sam assumed was Colby's grandmother, stood at her side, holding the bowl for her. The woman glanced up, her gaze meeting Sam's. Sam saw the disapproval before the woman masked it behind a forced smile.

  "Oh, dear! Is it three already?" she asked, setting aside the bowl. She took the knife from Colby's hands. "Run and wash up, sweetie. We don't want to keep your teacher waiting."

  Colby shot Sam a grin as she slid off the stool. "Back in a flash," she promised as she skipped from the room.

  Sam took another step inside the kitchen, extending her hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Sam McCloud."

  The woman dropped the knife into the bowl and wiped her hands on her apron before accepting Sam's. "Nancy Bigelow, but everyone calls me Nina."

  "It's nice to meet you, Nina. I've heard quite a bit about you from Colby."

  Nina chuckled and picked up a pastry bag filled with pink icing. "Yes, our little Colby is quite a talker. She comes by it honestly, though. Her mother—my daughter, Stacy—was a talker, too. Such a friendly person. Never met a stranger." She bent over the cake and began to write.

  Intrigued, Sam watched the words Happy Birthday take shape.

  "You're really good at that," Sam commented, wondering whose birthday was being celebrated. She knew it wasn't Colby's, because Colby had already told her that her birthday was May first, which had passed several months before. Nash's, then?

  Nina squeezed off the y in Birthday with a flourish. "Years of practice," she replied and leaned over the cake again.

  Fascinated by the artistic flair with which the woman manipulated the bag, Sam watched as a pink S appeared. A t followed and Sam's stomach did a slow flip. No, it can't be! she told herself. But before she could deny what her eyes were seeing, an a appeared, followed by c and y. Happy Birthday Stacy. Sam silently read the words and glanced up to find Nina watching her.

  "Today is Stacy's birthday," Nina said cheerfully. "We're having a special dinner tonight to celebrate. All of Stacy's favorite foods. Chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, English peas. And, of course, chocolate cake."

  Sam was struck dumb. She didn't have a clue how to respond. A birthday party for a dead woman? She'd never heard of such a thing! Thankfully, she was saved from having to come up with a response by Colby's appearance.

  "Are you ready to go?" Colby asked, dancing up to Sam's side.

  "Yeah," Sam replied, tearing her gaze from the decorated cake. "Let's get out of here."

  * * *

  Five

  « ^ »

  Sam was a wreck throughout the riding lesson, worrying about whether or not she should mention the birthday cake to Nash when he came to pick up Colby. In her mind, such fascination with a dead person was unhealthy. Spooky, even. She wasn't sure if Nash was aware of Nina's plans, but she was worried about the emotional effect all this might have on Colby.

  A shiver chased down her spine as she pictured again that birthday cake, and she forced her attention to Colby, who was putting Whiskey through a maze of cones, practicing lateral moves. "That's it for the day, Colby," she called out. "Walk him a few laps to cool him down."

  "Looks like I'm just in time."

  Sam turned to find Nash standing behind her. She'd been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't heard him arrive. Though it was obvious he'd come straight from work, he'd loosened his tie and removed his jacket. Mandy stood at his side.

  "Are y'all done for the day?" her sister asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Good! We're cooking hamburgers out on the grill and I thought Colby and Nash might like to join us."

  Colby rode by at that moment and heard the invitation. "Can we, Daddy? Please?" she begged as she guided Whiskey up to the fence.

  By the amiable smile on his face, Sam knew Nash was going to accept the invitation, but before he could, she stepped between him and his daughter, blocking Colby from his vision. "Could I talk to you for a minute?" she asked. At his puzzled look, she added, "In private."

  He lifted a shoulder, peering at her curiously. "Well, sure."

  Sam climbed the fence and dropped to the other side, then headed for a shade tree on the far side of the barn. Nash fell into step beside her. As soon as they were out of range of Mandy and Colby's hearing, she stopped and turned to him. "You and Colby can't eat with us."

  Nash stared at her, his surprise obvious. "All right," he said slowly.

  "What I mean is," Sam said in frustration, "is that Nina has planned a special dinner for y'all tonight."

  Nash's face relaxed into a smile of relief. "Oh, if that's the only problem, I'll call her. She'll understand."

  Sam caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I don't think so." At Nash's puzzled look, Sam heaved a sigh. "She's planning a birthday party for Stacy," she blurted out. "She's baked a cake and everything."

  The blood drained from his face. "Oh, dear God," he murmured. Just as quickly, the blood raced back, flushing his cheeks a livid red. His lips thinned to a thin white line of fury. He whirled, turning his back on Sam and paced away a few steps. "I should've known she'd pull something like this," he muttered angrily.

  "Like what?" Sam asked, confused.

  Nash spun, tossing a hand up in the air. "Like this! She's constantly shoving reminders of Stacy at Colby and me, but she's never gone this far. I suppose it's because of you."

  "Me?" Sam asked incredulously. "What do I have to do with any of this?"

  "Colby's crazy about you and she's convinced that you and I are—well—" he stammered, suddenly embarrassed "—well, that we're involved or something."

  Sam's breath came out in a rush. "Involved? You mean, like—"

  Nash frowned, nodding. "Yeah, like that."

  Sam placed a hand at her throat, suddenly feeling faint. "But we're not."

  "Yeah," he agreed dryly. "But try convincing Colby of that." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Listen, Sam, I'm sorry to have involved you in all this."

  Sam swallowed hard. "You don't owe me an apology. It's Colby you should be worried about." She shuddered remembering that birthday cake, and the cheerfulness with which Nina had set about decorating it. "It just doesn't seem natural to celebrate the birthday of someone who … well, who's dead," she finally said, unable to think of a gentler way to express it. "I worry about the emotional impact on Colby."

  "You're right. It isn't natural, and I intend to put a stop to it before it goes any further." He set his jaw and turned his face to the sky, already dreading the confrontation. After a moment, he lowered his gaze to meet Sam's again. "I hate to impose on you like this, but could I leave Colby here? I don't want her around when I discuss this with Nina."

  "Well, yeah, sure."

  "I don't know how long I'll be gone…" he began uncertainly.

  "Don't worry about Colby," she assured him. "She'll be fine."

  Colby, exhausted after roughhousing with Jaime and the dogs, had crashed around nine. It was almost ten now, and Sam was beginning to worry. Was it possible that Nina had turned on Nash, harming him in some way? Sam squeezed her palms against her temples, squelching the thought. No, she told herself firmly. The woman might be a little off
, but she wasn't dangerous. Pathetic, maybe. But not dangerous. She was simply a mother who had loved her daughter dearly and was having a hard time accepting her death.

  Unable to stand the waiting any longer, Sam opened the front door, seeking the porch and a clearer view of the drive. She dropped down on the steps to watch for Nash's return.

  Moonlight filtered through the trees surrounding the McCloud homestead, tatting the thick saint augustine grass on the front lawn into a lacy web of silver and dark green. A breeze wafted across the wide porch, bringing with it the scent of honeysuckle, Sam's favorite fragrance. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, letting her shoulders relax muscle by muscle. When she opened them again, twin points of light danced on the drive.

  She bolted to her feet, watching as Nash's car approached. He parked in front of the house and climbed wearily from his car. Moonlight played over his features and Sam's heart twisted at the exhaustion she saw etched there in the dejected slump of his shoulders.

  "Oh, Nash," she said sympathetically. She wanted to hold him, to comfort him, but the best she could do was to lay a hand on his arm.

  Before she knew what was happening, he was drawing her closer, wrapping his arms loosely at her waist. He pulled her to him and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

  A sigh shuddered through him, reverberating through Sam and drawing a lump to her throat. Forgetting her own fears, she tightened her arms around him and offered him the only thing she was physically capable of giving … her comfort.

  And comfort was exactly what Nash needed. He was drained, both emotionally and physically after the confrontation with Nina. The hours spent trying to reason with her had been difficult and exhausting. But the warmth of Sam's body slowly seeped into his, chasing away the chill of loneliness, melting away the layers of guilt and frustration.

  He drew Sam closer, burying his nose in her hair. He desperately needed to forget Nina's hysterics, the accusations she'd hurled his way. Inhaling deeply, he filled his senses with the scent of honeysuckle that filled the night air but seemed to begin and end with Sam. Gradually he became aware of the soft curves pressed against him, the swell of breasts, the tautness of the abdomen that nestled so perfectly against his groin, the feel of gentle fingers soothing the tension from his back.