Song of the West (10 page)

Sabrina's eyes met her husband's in silent satisfaction. Perhaps it will not be necessary, their unspoken message said.

“Come, little sister,” Dan said. “If you can tear yourself away from your new friend, I sure could use a cup of coffee now.”

As the trio trooped back toward the house, Jake swung through the back door. “Delivery just came. It's in the living room.”

“Oh,” Dan murmured, looking entirely too innocent. “Come on, Sabrina, we'd best see what it is.”

“Is it the piano?” Sam asked Jake, as Dan and Sabrina disappeared inside.

“Looked like one to me. I guess that's another present that'll go over big. Walk to the truck with me,” Jake commanded, and captured her hand before she could protest.

“Really, Jake, I have a million things to do.” She trotted to keep pace with his loose, lanky stride.

“I know, you're indispensable.” Stopping by his truck, he reached in the cab and produced a package. “But this seems to be the time for gift giving. I thought I'd let you have your present now.”

“You didn't have to get me anything.”

“Samantha.” His drawl was lazy, but his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I never do anything unless I want to.” Taking her hand from behind her back, he placed the box in it. “Open it.”

Lifting the statue from its tissue bedding, she examined it in silent amazement. The alabaster was smooth and cool in her hands, carved into the shape of a horse and rider in full gallop. The artist had captured the fluid grace, the freedom of motion. She ran a hesitant finger over the delicate features.

“It looks like me.” She lifted her eyes to Jake's.

“And so it should,” he answered easily. “It's supposed to be you.”

“But how?” She shook her head, torn between pleasure and confusion.

“A man I know does this kind of thing. I described you to him.”

For the second time that day, Samantha found herself at a loss for words.

“Why?” The question was out before she could swallow it.

Slowly, a smile drifted across his face. He pushed back his hat. “Because it suits you better than furs and diamonds.”

She braced herself to meet his eyes again. “Thank you.”

He nodded, his face solemn. He took the box from her hands and placed it on the hood of the truck. “I think a birthday kiss is traditional.”

Swallowing, she took an instinctive step in retreat, but he gripped her arms and held her still. She offered her cheek, and his laughter broke out, full and rich on the summer air. “Sam,” he turned her face to his, and his eyes sparkled with humor, “you're incredible.”

His lips met hers. His hands moved from her arms to her hips, drawing her firmly against the hard lines of his body. She submitted to the embrace, as long as his arms held her, as long as they were mouth to mouth, as long as the heat from his body infused hers, he owned her, and she could not run.

Finally he drew her away, bringing his hands to her shoulders while hers rested on his chest for support.

“Happy birthday, Sam.”

“Thank you,” she managed, still breathless from the impact of his embrace.

He lifted the box from the hood of the truck and placed it in her hands before sliding into the cab. “See you tonight.” With a salute, he started the engine. The truck moved down the road, leaving her staring after it.

Chapter Ten

Party sounds filled the house. Laughter and voices and music mingled and drifted through open windows to float on the night air.

On this evening, the twins were dramatically different in their appearance. Sabrina's pale blue gown floated around her, cunningly disguising her pregnancy. Her hair was a glinting halo around rose-tinted cheeks. Samantha's black-striped satin clung to her body, her halter neckline plunging deep to a wide, gathered waist. Her hair was free and thick around her shoulders.

As she moved and mingled with the crowd, Samantha searched for a tall, lanky form, noting with increasing despair and a gnawing jealousy that a slim, dark woman had also as yet failed to put in an appearance.

Cornered by an enthusiastic young cowboy, Samantha was feeling her attention begin to wander from a detailed account of horse breeding when her eyes met dark jade across the room.

He was standing with two men she did not recognize, and Lesley Marshall stood beside him. She was elegant in an oyster-white gown. Her fine-boned ivory hand was placed from time to time on Jake's arm, as if, Samantha thought grimly, she were flaunting her possession.

Furious with the sudden feeling of inadequacy, Samantha turned to her companion with a dazzling smile. He stammered over his lecture, his words grinding to a halt. She tucked her arm in his and used her eyes without shame.

“Howdy, Tim.” Jake appeared from nowhere and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. “I'm going to steal this little lady for a moment.” He paused and smiled easily into Samantha's mutinous face. “There's a couple of people she hasn't met yet.”

Without waiting for an assent, he had her unwilling hand in his, propelling her through the crowd. “Tim won't be the same for weeks,” he whispered close to her ear. “A woman could get run out of town for using her eyes that way on susceptible young boys,” he warned, pulling her through the sea of people.

“You don't have to drag me.”

“I know a stubborn mule when I see one,” he countered, without bothering to lower his voice. Her furious retort was swallowed as Jake presented her to the two men who flanked Lesley.

“Sam, I'd like you to meet George Marshall, Lesley's father.” Samantha's hand was enveloped in a hearty grip. “And Jim Bailey,” he continued, nodding toward the second man.

“Jim only works with cattle on paper. He's a lawyer.”

“My, this is a mighty pretty girl!” George Marshall boomed. Giving Jake a sly wink, he patted his daughter's shoulder.

“You always manage to rope in the pick of the herd, don't you, Jake?”

Jake slipped his hands easily into his pockets. “I do my best. But then, roping them's one thing, getting them's another.”

“Well, now, little lady,” George's genial voice continued, “Les tells me you're a gym teacher.”

“That's right, Mr. Marshall.”

“Now, you just call me George,” he instructed, squeezing her shoulder with a genial affection. “Tell me, why isn't a pretty little thing like you married and settled down instead of running around some gymnasium?”

Jake was grinning with obvious enjoyment. Samantha tossed her hair behind her back, but before she could think of a suitable answer, George's laughter boomed through the room.

“I like this girl,” George announced to the group. “Looks like she has spirit. You come over to our ranch any time, little lady, any time at all.”

In spite of herself, Samantha found herself liking his expansive hospitality. “If you'll excuse me now, I've got . . . got to get a tray out of the kitchen.” She gave the group an all-encompassing smile and melted into the crowd.

In the kitchen, she pulled a tray from the refrigerator to give her excuse credibility and was glad she had when Jake followed her in a moment later.

“George is a good man. He has the right ideas when it comes to women.” Smiling knowingly at her, he leaned against the door watching her every move.

“That's your opinion,” she returned tartly, bustling around the kitchen in an attempt to ignore him.

“Sit down a minute, Sam.”

She glanced up, immediately wary, then lifted the tray as a defense. “No, I've got to get back.”

“Please.”

Despite herself, she lowered the tray to the table and herself into a chair.

“I ran into Jack Abbot, the school principal, the other day.”

“Oh?”

“He told me the girls' phys ed instructor isn't coming back next term.” Leaning back in his chair, Jake studied her. “He's going to offer you the job.”

“Oh,” she repeated before she could stop herself.

“He wants you pretty bad. He really needs someone this fall. I told him I'd be seeing you, and that I'd mention it. He's going to call you officially, of course.”

How simple, Samantha thought.

How simple it would all be if I didn't love this man. I could stay where I want to stay, work where I want to work. But now, I've got to refuse, I've got to go away.

“I appreciate your telling me, and I appreciate Mr. Abbot wanting me, but . . .”

“Don't appreciate it, Samantha, think about it.”

“You don't know what you're asking me to do.”

He rose to pace the room, his hands seeking the depths of his pockets. “I'm just asking you to think about it. You like it here. You've made friends. You like being near your sister. You'd still have the satisfaction of doing what you feel you're suited for. Is it so much to ask that you consider it?”

“Yes, it's quite a lot. Jake, I don't want to argue with you. There are things I have to do, the same way there are things you have to do.”

“All right.” He nodded, then repeated slowly, as if coming to a decision. “All right, there
are
things I have to do.” Moving over, he captured her chin between his thumb and fingers.

His arms slipped around her waist to bring her close, his mouth lowering to brush her cheeks and the corners of her lips. “Come home with me now, Samantha. We can be alone there.” His voice had become low and seductive, as his fingers trailed over the bare skin of her back.

“No, please don't.” She turned her face away.

“I want to make love to you. I want to feel your skin under my hands, all of you. I want to hear you sigh when I touch you.”

“Jake, please.” She dropped her head to his chest. “It's unfair, here, like this.”

“Then come home with me.”

“No, I can't.” She shook her head without raising it. “I won't.”

“All right, Samantha.” He framed her face and brought it up to his. “I said I'd give you until the baby was born. We'll stick to that. We won't argue tonight. Let's call it a truce for your birthday. Agreed?”

He kissed her once, briefly, and turned to lift the tray. “Then we'll both do what we have to do when the time comes.”

Leaving her confused, Jake moved through the doorway.

Rejoining the festivities, Samantha moved from group to group, but her thoughts were only about Jake. Why was he so interested in her career choices? Why did he want her to take the job in Wyoming?
Maybe he cared for her.
For a brief moment, she allowed hope to shimmer. Her eyes swept the room to find him. Finally she spotted him. He was dancing with Lesley. The shining cap of her raven hair brushing his cheek, the ivory of her hand entwined with the bronze of his. Samantha winced as he threw back his head and laughed at something Lesley had said for his ears alone.

Care for me?
her mind repeated in a scathing whisper. Grow up, Samantha,
caring
and
wanting
don't always mean the same thing. In a few weeks, she comforted herself, she would no longer be subjected to this constant pain. When the ache had eased, she could visit Bree again. Jake would probably be too busy with his wife to spare time for visits to the Lazy L. Samantha felt her heart contract with pain.

She turned away and bumped solidly into Jim Bailey.

“Sorry.” He took her shoulders to steady her. “I didn't see you.”

“It's all right,” she returned, offering a smile. “Besides, I think I ran into you.”

“Well, no harm done either way.” She watched his eyes slide past her and focus on Jake and Lesley. “They look nice together, don't they?”

Embarrassed that he must have seen her staring at them, Samantha nodded, and looked down at her empty glass. “Come on, we better get you a refill.”

A few moments later, they joined the group around the piano as Sabrina played.

“So, you're a lawyer.” She smiled at Jim. “I don't think I've ever met a lawyer before.”

Jim returned her smile. “And you're a gymnast.”

“No, actually, I'm a gym teacher now.”

He lifted his glass in a toast and drank. “I remember you. I've always been an avid fan of the Olympics. I thought you were fabulous.”

“Well, that's nice to hear after a decade.”

He tapped his glass to hers. “Well, Olympic star, would you like to dance?”

“I'd love to.”

Samantha enjoyed Jim Bailey's easy conversation. She learned during their two dances that he was interested in getting into politics. His dark good looks and ready wit would certainly be assets, she decided.

“Sam.” Sabrina motioned to her as they moved back toward the piano. “It's your turn. Union rules.”

“Okay,” Samantha agreed, sliding onto the bench.

She played with practiced ease, moving from one song to the next. Time slipped through her fingers. As in a dream, she was aware of the voices behind her, the faint, drifting breeze of Wyoming through the open windows.

Someone sat beside her. Recognizing the lean fingers that lifted to turn the page of her sheet music, she faltered and missed a note.

“You and Jim seem to have hit it off.” Samantha heard the click of his lighter over the sounds of the party.

“He's a very nice man. Have you known him long?”

“Oh, only since we were about eight and I gave him a black eye and he loosened a few of my teeth.”

“Sounds like a loving friendship.”

Jake again turned the page before she could do so herself. “Well, after that we sort of stuck together.” He pushed the curtain of hair behind her shoulder, and Samantha struggled not to break the thread of the melody. “The two of you seemed to have a lot to talk about.”

“He's very charming, and we have a few mutual interests.”

“Hmm.” Jake shifted slightly in his seat. His thigh brushed hers, and her fingers responded by hitting three wrong notes.

“You play very well.”

Was he being ironic? She turned to look at him, but found no mockery in his jade eyes.

“Pleasantly,” she corrected. “I get the general melody, but the details are a bit fuzzy.”

“I've noticed that you have a tendency to shrug off your own capabilities. Are you aware of that?”

“That's not true. I just know what I do well and what I don't.”

“You're a very tough critic, and you're inclined to underestimate.”

“Honesty,” she countered, finishing the song with a flourish. “I am a totally honest person.”

“Are you, Samantha?” he said softly. “That's what I plan to find out.”