One Last Kiss

by Kat Martin

Sam awoke to a sound in the night. He felt restless and uneasy, probably because he had so much on his mind. Tomorrow they would be heading out, packing into the high country. The guests were all excited. Even Libby’s attitude had improved. She was ready to go, she’d told him at supper—after Clara had volunteered to take care of the kittens while she was away.

  Libby trusted Clara. Sam was pretty sure she didn’t trust him. Or any other man for that matter.

  He wondered again who was responsible for hurting her and found himself wishing he could land a punch in the city-boy’s face.

  Unable to sleep, he climbed out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and started down the hall toward the kitchen for a glass of milk.

  A noise sounded at the other end of the hall, and he turned to see a faint light coming from under Libby’s door. Knowing he should just keep walking, instead he padded back the way he’d come and kept going till he reached her room. Hearing what sounded like crying from the other side of the door, he knocked gently.

  “Libby? Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” she said, but her voice sounded shaky and a notch too high.

  Sam opened the door, peered into the dimly lit bedroom, and saw Libby sitting on the bed, holding one of the kittens against her chest. Tears streaked down her cheeks.

  She looked up at him, and her lips trembled. “He’s dead, Sam.” She swallowed. “He was the smallest, so I named...named him Tiny. I couldn’t get him to eat, and now...now he’s dead.”

  Sam felt a tug in his heart. He sat down on the bed beside her. “It’s not your fault. You knew it could happen when you brought the kittens up here. He was just too little to survive.”

  She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I know.”

  Sam gently took the miniscule gray body from her hands, went into the bathroom and grabbed a hand towel, wrapped up the kitten, and carried it downstairs to the mud room. He’d bury it in the morning. In the meantime, he needed to get back to Libby.

  He found her just where he’d left her, sitting on the edge of the bed in her shorty nightgown. Thank God it was cotton and not transparent, though he could clearly make out the soft swells of her breasts. He managed to keep his mind out of the gutter and tamp down any forbidden thoughts.

  The bad news was she was still crying. Sam returned to his place beside her.

  “It’s all right, honey. Sometimes bad things happen. You did the best you could.”

  She looked up at him with big, tear-filled blue eyes. “Why does everything I love have to die? My parents, Uncle Marty. Now Tiny is dead.” She sobbed, bent over double, and started crying even harder.

  This wasn’t just about the kitten, he realized. This was about her parents and Marty and the grief she had managed to keep bottled up until now. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but somehow she was in his lap and sobbing against his shoulder.

  “It’s okay.” He gently smoothed a hand down her back. “Just let yourself go.”

  Libby’s arms went around his neck, and she clung to him, her body shaking with the force of her tears. He was bare-chested, and he could feel the dampness on his skin. Sam let her cry until her tears turned to hiccups and she finally relaxed against him.

  “You okay?” he asked, brushing pale damp strands from her cheeks.

  She nodded but didn’t let go. Instead, she drew a little away, looked up at him and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

  For an instant, Sam went still. God help him, so far he had managed to stay away from her, but with her body so warm and feminine against his, nothing could hold him back now. His mouth claimed hers, and the soft kiss deepened into something more, something hot and fierce.

  Libby made a sound in her throat, urging him to take the hot kiss even deeper. Tangling his hands in her hair to hold her in place, Sam ravaged her mouth, taking everything she offered, giving her what she wanted in return.

  “Libby,” he whispered, forcing himself to slow down. “If we don’t stop, I’m going to want more. In the morning you’ll regret it.”

  “I need you, Sam,” she said, kissing him until he groaned. Her waist was tiny before it flared into a pair of womanly hips. Her breasts felt soft and full against his bare chest.

  He eased down the bodice of her nightgown and found that each perfect breast exactly filled his palms. Her skin was smooth as silk, the small tips as hard as berries. He yearned to take them into his mouth and taste the sweetness.

  God, he wanted her. Ached to bury himself inside her.

  He kissed the corners of her mouth, her nose, her eyes, tasted the wetness of her tears, and felt a sharp pang in his chest that finally pierced his conscience. His heart was hammering, the arousal beneath his fly hard as stone.

  Sam released a shaky breath. “Libby...honey. I can’t do this.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with passion.

  “Your uncle was my friend. I can’t betray his trust.”

  She just stared. “I know you want me,” she said. “Men always want me.”

  His chest tightened. “I want you. I won’t lie about it. But this isn’t what Marty had in mind for you.”

  She stiffened, pulled up her nightgown, slid off his lap, and turned to face him. “I don’t care what my uncle had in mind. He’s gone. He’s dead, just like everyone else. I’m my own person now. Uncle Marty doesn’t control my life anymore.”

  “Libby...”

  “Get out, Sam. Go away and leave me alone.”

  He didn’t want to go. He wanted to hold her again, pick up where they’d left off. He rose from the bed and started for the door.

  “I probably would have disappointed you anyway,” she said softly from behind him. “I’m not very good at sex.”

  Sam turned and walked back to her. Leaning down, he cupped her face in his hands. “You don’t have to be good at it, Libby. You just have to be with the right man.” He kissed her softly one last time. Sam warned himself not to say the words but couldn’t seem to stop himself. “This isn’t over. We’ll have time to figure things out.”

  Turning away before he could change his mind and show her exactly how good sex between them could be, Sam opened the door and walked out of the bedroom.

  Chapter Eight

  As soon as breakfast was over, Libby ran upstairs to change into her riding clothes, pulling on the jeans she had bought at the mercantile, which were snug but comfortable, the boots Fran had assured her wouldn’t hurt her feet even the first time she wore them, and a pale yellow Western shirt with pink roses embroidered on the yoke in back.

  The final touch was the straw cowboy hat Fran had insisted she needed as protection against the sun. She grinned as she looked in the mirror. Not bad, she thought, for a city cowgirl.

  She grabbed the small overnight bag of necessities she had packed from the list Sam had given each guest and headed out of the house.

  The horses were saddled and waiting, along with three mules to carry the supplies. Sam had explained that he would ride in front while Big John rode at the back of the group, leading the pack string. She spotted him talking to his foreman, Julio Santiago, who was staying behind with the rest of the hands to handle the cattle and any ranch problems that might come up.

  So far Libby had managed not to think about what happened with Sam in her bedroom last night. It was just a moment of weakness because of the kitten, she told herself. It didn’t mean anything. But dammit, why did the man have to look so incredibly hot this morning?

  Just the way he carried himself turned her on, his shoulders so straight, his strides so relaxed and confident. In his dusty straw cowboy hat, khaki T-shirt, snug jeans, and worn boots, he looked as if he’d just stepped out of a city girl’s Western fantasy.

  Libby hated him for making her want him all over again.

  His eyes raked her from head to foot as he walked up, taking in her hat and boots. The lo
ok in those intense dark eyes said she wasn’t the only one who remembered last night.

  “You ready?” he asked, his eyes carefully fixed on her face. Libby knew she looked good. Score one for her.

  Pasting on a smile, she tipped her head back to look at him from beneath the brim of her hat. “Which horse is mine?”

  Sam pointed to a little palomino mare with the sweetest long-lashed brown eyes she’d ever seen. “That’s Sunshine,” he said. “Most of the others have ridden at least once or twice since they got here, so they’re ready to go. I wish you’d had the chance, but you don’t need to worry. Sunshine’s good-natured and easy to handle, and you’ll be riding right behind me.”

  Oh, lucky me! She could watch his broad back and tight buns all the way to the top of the mountain.

  “You were raised on a farm,” Sam said. “You know how to ride, right?”

  “We used to have a couple of horses, but it was a long time ago.”

  “I’m sure it’ll come back to you, but I can give you a quick refresher course.”

  Sam walked her over to Sunshine, who turned a patient look in her direction.

  “All you have to do is grab the horn, stick your boot in the stirrup, and swing up into the saddle.”

  She bent to the task, saddle leather creaking as she settled herself in the seat.

  Sam adjusted the position of her boot. “Stirrups are just about right.” He lifted the reins over Sunshine’s head. “She’s got a soft mouth, so keep your touch light. You remember how to use the reins?”

  Surprisingly, she did. And sitting on a horse again felt good. Really good.

  He smoothed a gloved hand down Sunshine’s sleek neck, and she remembered his palm kneading her breast. A rush of heat hit her that had nothing to do with the warm sun and everything to do with how good he’d made her feel.

  Sam rested a hand on her thigh, then hastily jerked it away. “Just relax and have fun, okay?”

  Ignoring a fresh rush of heat, Libby focused on the day ahead. She had decided to make the best of the situation. Other people were there to have fun. She wasn’t going to spoil it for them.

  Or so she thought until she saw Max and Vince come out of Wolverine Cabin and walk toward them.

  “I thought they were staying behind to fish,” Libby said.

  “They changed their minds at the last minute and decided to join us. Fishing’s always good up at the lake.”

  Libby said nothing. But as the men walked past, she felt Vince’s pale eyes skimming over her, and a chill slid down her spine. Max nudged Vince toward the barn, where a pair of bay horses stood saddled and waiting.

  Sam tied a bedroll on the back of Libby’s saddle, took her overnight bag and packed it in one of the mule panniers. According to Sam, each side of the box had to be weighted exactly right in order to keep the load from shifting and creating a problem for the mule.

  * * * *

  “Everybody’s mounted and ready,” Sam said. He swung up into the saddle of a sorrel quarter horse with a thick chest and bowed neck and turned to give her a last reassuring glance. “You have any kind of problem, don’t be afraid to let me know, okay?”

  Libby nodded. “Okay.”

  “Let’s go.”

  They set off single file, with the Dunbar family on the trail behind Libby, Caleb looking nearly as comfortable in the saddle as Sam. The perky black horse Caleb rode had plenty of energy, dancing from side to side and tossing his pretty head. Jordy and Suzy followed, grinning from ear to ear, Jenny smiling as she rode behind them.

  Betty on Biscuit and Alice on Red were clearly enthralled. Kim and Brad Hillman mostly grinned at each other, barely noticing the spectacular scenery. Max and Vince rode in silence. They didn’t look particularly happy to be there, but maybe their attitude would improve once they reached the lake.

  Big John led the pack string, three mules plodding along in a line tied together with a length of rope. The riders made their way along the main ranch road, then turned onto a trail across one of the pastures. Clusters of curious Black Angus watched them; then Sam dismounted and opened a gate, and they headed up into the hills.

  Libby shifted in the saddle, but it didn’t take long to get familiar with the roll and sway of the horse, and she found herself relaxing. It was hard to admit, but she was glad she had come. If she didn’t have to look at the broad shoulders and narrow hips of the man in front of her, the dark gold hair that curled over his collar beneath the brim of his hat, she might have thought the day was perfect.

  By lunchtime, she wasn’t so sure. Her legs and bottom were aching, and sweat trickled down the back of her neck. She was working up the courage to swing down from the horse when she felt Sam’s big hands wrap around her waist and lift her down to the ground.

  Pain traveled up her thighs, and Libby inwardly groaned. Sam smiled, and she wanted to hit him.

  “You’ll get used to it,” he said. “If you walk around a little, your muscles will loosen and some of the stiffness will ease.”

  He walked off to help Betty and Alice, but they had been riding in the arena next to the barn every day. Libby had been sure she could talk Sam into letting her stay back at the ranch. Now she was paying the price.

  Eventually, the ache in her legs and behind began to fade. She took one of the sack lunches and sat down on a log next to Jenny, a cool breeze ruffling Jenny’s light brown hair.

  “Where are the kids?” Libby asked.

  “Caleb took them for a walk. The two weeks we spend up here is like heaven for him.” She sighed. “If he hadn’t married me, his life would have been completely different. Sometimes I feel bad about that.”

  “Caleb loves you and the kids. You can see it every time he looks at you. Maybe someday you’ll find a way to give him his dream, and both of you will be happy.”

  Jenny smiled. “We’re saving for a weekend home in the mountains. We’ve almost got enough.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  They chatted as they each ate one of the thick ham-and-Swiss sandwiches Clara had packed, along with an apple, a carton of orange juice, and a chocolate granola bar.

  Sam walked up when they’d finished. “If you need to make a pit stop, there’s an outhouse on the other side of the clearing. I’ll see you back here in fifteen minutes.”

  “We better go,” Jenny said, rising. “We might not get another chance till we get to camp.”

  Libby reluctantly followed, thinking how much easier it was for men out here in the middle of nowhere. She and Jenny joined the other women in front of the wooden outhouse door. When her turn came, she held her breath and fought down her gag reflex.

  “Not exactly the Ritz,” she grumbled as she walked back outside.

  Next in line, Betty laughed and disappeared into the wooden shed.

  As she started back toward the horses, Libby spotted Vince on the other side of the clearing. He was looking over his shoulder at her as he urinated in the grass behind a tree. He turned so she could see that his fly was open, his dick in his hand.

  Heat rushed into her face. Libby turned away and kept walking. She thought about telling Sam. He’d be furious, she was sure, but if Sam confronted Vince, anything could happen, and she didn’t want to ruin the trip for everyone else.

  Besides, she’d known Vince was a dick. Seeing it just proved the point. She grinned. In her line of work, men often made fools of themselves. No way was she letting an asshat like Vince Nolan get to her.

  Besides, she wasn’t really afraid of him. Uncle Marty had insisted she take a self-defense class in Manhattan. She wasn’t particularly good at it, but she’d passed the course. If Vince pressed her again, maybe she’d get a chance to use what she had learned.

  She smiled at the slim possibility the moves she’d learned would actually work.

  Making her way back to the horses, she pu
lled out the half of an apple she had saved for Sunshine, held her hand out flat, and let the horse pick it up.

  Sunshine chewed the treat and gave a soft whiffle of thanks. Libby swung up in the saddle, ignoring a twinge of pain. She ached in places that had never ached before, and once they got to camp, there would be chores.

  And it was only day one. Libby groaned as Sam settled into the saddle of the big sorrel in front of her, and they headed up the trail. She wanted to curse Uncle Marty.

  Then they reached a turn in the trail, and she looked down at the lush green valley below and the tiny speck that was the ranch house and found herself smiling instead.

  Chapter Nine

  Night had settled in. The steaks Sam had grilled on an iron grate over the cooking fire had been a big success.

  Bridger Camp was a permanent fixture in a clearing just above Wolf Lake. Besides the cooking fire, there was a portable stove that had been packed in earlier and assembled.

  The tents had also been set up days ago, each furnished with a pair of cots. There was an outhouse in the forest not far away and a solar shower that could be filled with water from the lake.

  The most popular spot was the fire pit, where the flames were currently blazing into the clear night sky. It was surrounded by a circle of logs that made the perfect spot for everyone to gather after the meal.

  Sam smiled. As campsites went, it definitely wasn’t five-star, but it wasn’t completely primitive either.

  Big John and Caleb had unpacked the mules and tended the horses; then Big John had wandered off somewhere, as he liked to do.

  The honeymooners had taken a blanket and disappeared into the forest with a word of caution not to wander too far away. With their dad’s help, Jordy and Suzy were shaving branches off sticks for marshmallow roasting. Vince and Max sat drinking beer on one side of the fire pit, with Betty, Alice, Jenny, and Libby on the other.

  Sam thought of the way Libby had gone to work when they reached camp, pitching in with the cooking, determined to pull her weight. She was exhausted, he knew, and part of him felt guilty. Libby wasn’t used to this kind of hard labor, or riding, or any of the things she’d been exposed to on the ranch.