THE RESTLESS VIRGIN

by Peggy Moreland

  Glancing up into the rearview mirror, she saw Colby running down the road behind her, her hands outstretched, tears streaking down her face. Nash was two steps behind her. As Sam watched, tears burning her own eyes, Nash scooped up his daughter and hauled her up into his arms. With his hand cupped behind her head, he pressed her tear-streaked face to his chest and dipped his head low over hers.

  Turning her gaze back to the windshield, Sam gulped back the wad of emotion that plugged her throat. "Don't worry, Colby," she whispered tearfully. "I'll take care of him for you." She dragged a hand beneath her eyes. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

  That last scene at the Rivers Ranch played through Sam's mind for days. Nash scooping the heartbroken Colby into his arms and dipping his head low over hers, tears glistening in his eyes. The image was the epitome of what a father's love should be. Compassionate, comforting. Remorseful, for he knew that he was the cause of his daughter's misery. Strong, because he had held fast to his decision to send Whiskey away, knowing that discipline was as important to his daughter as his love.

  But the images that played through Sam's mind at night, the ones that spawned her dreams were different. They were of Nash. Only Nash. He was with her in her bed, his arms wrapped tight around her, his body pressed close to hers. He would kiss her, whisper sweet, seductive words in her ear. And because it was a dream, Sam would respond to him. She'd touch him, kiss him, tease him with her lips until he moved over her. She gloried in the feel of his naked flesh rubbing against hers, the swell of his arousal pressing against her femininity. Locked safely in the web of her dream, she would arch to meet him and take him deep inside her where the fires burned the hottest.

  But then she would wake up and reality would hit when she found herself alone, with nothing but a yearning that was growing stronger every day. If she was a teenager, she supposed she'd describe her growing infatuation with Nash as a crush. But what would a grown woman label the attraction? Lust?

  Probably, she decided, as she climbed into bed. She rolled to her side, plumping her pillow beneath her head. And why not? Nash was gorgeous and sexy as hell. The only problem was, Sam was neither of those things. Why would a man like Nash Rivers bother to look twice at a woman like her? Even if by some twist of fate he did notice her and decide to approach her, Sam knew she'd just freeze up—she always did when men got near her.

  So what was the point of torturing herself by thinking about him, dreaming about him?

  "Because that's all I have," she whispered sadly against her pillow. "And probably all I'll ever have." She closed her eyes, waiting for him to come to her in the hazy cloud of a dream.

  "Jesse," Sam ordered, addressing her brother-in-law. "Hand me that pair of wire cutters."

  Jesse nabbed them from the tailgate of the truck and passed them to Sam, then knelt down beside her. "Need me to do anything?"

  Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Sam swiped at the sweat beading her forehead before angling her hand slightly to slip the cutters between the cow's rear leg and the strand of barbed wire that was wrapped around it. "Just make sure she keeps her hooves on the ground. I've had about all the abuse I can handle for one day."

  Jesse chuckled, but braced a hand low on the cow's leg while Pete, the foreman on the Circle Bar, tightened his hold on the rope around the cow's neck. "And who's been abusing my favorite vet?"

  Sam made the first snip and carefully began to unwind the wire from the torn flesh. "One of Burt Cornish's goats didn't like the idea of me messing with her baby. Kinda took it personal, I guess. Butted me right square in the behind while I was trying to give her kid her shots."

  Jesse laughed, then winced as a chunk of hair and hide stuck to one of the barbs Sam peeled away. "I swear," he said in disgust, "cows have to be the stupidest animals on this earth. Trying to bust through four strands of barbed wire when she's got over a hundred acres in her own pasture to graze." He shook his head. "Plumb loco, if you ask me."

  Sam repositioned the cutters, putting her muscle behind her grip. "You know what they say about the grass always being greener on the other side," she said through clenched teeth. She grunted when the wire gave way and rocked back on her heels. Lifting her forearm again, she dragged it across her forehead before resuming the tedious job of plucking the embedded wire from the flesh.

  A horn blasted and Jesse spun around on the balls of his feet. A smile built on his face as he rose, shoving back his hat. "Looks like Mandy's going to pay us a visit. Man, I hope she brought a cooler along. I could sure use a cold one about now. How about you, Pete?"

  "I s'pose I could choke down a beer if'n it was offered to me," he said drolly. Pete turned his head in the direction of the approaching truck. "Who's that with her?"

  Sam huffed an impatient breath. "Are you two going to help me, or not?"

  Jesse braced his hands against his knees, leaning down. "Sorry. What do you need me to do?"

  "There's a spray bottle in the back of my truck. Get it, and that yellow jar of ointment while you're at it."

  Jesse straightened and moved to the side of the truck to do Sam's bidding. "Hi, sweetheart!" he called as Mandy pulled up beside him and parked.

  Mandy swung down from the truck and rose on tiptoe to press a kiss on her husband's waiting lips. Though Sam's attention was centered on the cow's leg, she heard the smack and groaned. "Good grief," she muttered. "Are we going to doctor this cow, or play kissy-face all day?"

  Mandy laughed, taking the spray bottle and jar of ointment from her husband. She moved to squat down beside Sam. "Trouble?"

  "Yeah." Sam took the bottle and sprayed the cow's leg with disinfectant. "These dang Barrister cattle haven't got the good sense to stay out of barbed wire." She spared her sister a frown as she traded the bottle for the jar. "What are you doing out here?"

  "I brought someone to see you."

  Sam cocked her head over her shoulder just as Nash rounded the front of the truck. Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. Although she'd received a check from Nash to cover Whiskey's expenses, she hadn't seen him or heard from him in the week since she'd hauled the horse away from Rivers Ranch.

  As usual he was dressed to the nines, right down to the shine on his Italian loafers. "What's he doing here?" she whispered under her breath.

  "He came to the Double-Cross looking for you." Mandy lifted a shoulder as she rose. "Said it was important, so I offered to drive him out." She turned back to the truck, waiting for Nash to join her. "Nash, I'd like you to meet my husband, Jesse Barrister. Jesse, this is Nash Rivers."

  The two men shook hands. "Pleased to meet you," Jesse said, smiling.

  "Likewise," Nash replied. "I've had the pleasure of meeting your stepmother, Margo. Although, to be honest, she never mentioned any stepchildren."

  Listening to the exchange, Pete snorted, then quickly looked away when Jesse shot him a frown. "She wouldn't," Jesse replied dryly, then chuckled. "But then again, I rarely admit to having a stepmother, either. What can I do for you?" he asked cordially.

  "Well, actually I came to see Sam."

  Her cheeks burning when she felt four pairs of eyes hit her back, Sam dipped two fingers into the ointment and began smearing it on the cow's scraped and torn flesh. "Come to check on Whiskey?" she asked without sparing Nash a glance.

  "Partly." A pinstriped knee appeared next to hers as Nash hunkered down beside her. Already hot from spending a day in the sun, Sam's blood turned to near boiling as she felt the heat of Nash's body pulse against hers. "But I wanted to talk to you, too," he added quietly.

  Sam's heart shot to her throat and lodged there. He'd come to see her? Could it be possible that he was interested in her? "What about?"

  "About giving Colby lessons again."

  Quickly Sam rose, swiping the palms of her hands down her jean-clad thighs, feeling like a fool for thinking he'd come to see her. She started gathering her supplies. "Why the change of heart?"

  Nash pressed his hands to his knees, rising.
"She's been miserable ever since you took him away. Cries constantly."

  Sam tossed the supplies into her toolbox and plucked out a stained rag. Wiping her hands, she looked at him over her shoulder. "So you want your horse back?"

  Nash stole a glance at Mandy and Jesse. "Well, no," he mumbled. "Not exactly."

  Mandy, always sensitive to others' feelings, must have sensed that Nash wasn't comfortable conducting this conversation in front of a bunch of strangers because she looped her arm through Jesse's and tipped her face up to his. "Are y'all through here?" she asked him.

  Jesse looked at Sam. "Are we?"

  "Yeah." Sam turned to Pete. "You can let her go now. Just keep an eye on her. If you notice any swelling, you'll need to pen her for a few days. If that happens, call me and I'll drop off some antibiotics."

  While Pete eased the rope over the cow's head, Mandy opened the truck door. "Jesse, you and Pete hop in and I'll give you a ride back to the Circle Bar. Sam, you don't mind driving Nash back to the Double-Cross, do you?"

  Before Sam could come up with an excuse not to, Pete and Jesse were climbing into Mandy's truck. "Well, no, I guess not," she mumbled disagreeably as she watched the door close behind the three of them. "Get in," she ordered Nash, then climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

  Before he had a chance to close the door fully, she was making a wide U-turn, then heading for the gate that opened onto the highway. Pete stood at the opening, waiting for Sam to drive through before closing the gate behind her. As Sam passed Mandy's truck, she cast a sour look her sister's way. Mandy merely smiled and waggled three fingers.

  "Nice family," Nash commented.

  "They have their moments."

  "You have two sisters, right?"

  "Yeah. The other one lives in New York."

  "You're lucky. I don't have any brothers or sisters."

  "You want one of mine?" Sam asked dryly.

  Nash chuckled. "No, but Colby might take you up on that offer. She's always complaining about not having any sisters or brothers to play with."

  At the mention of Colby, Sam's frown deepened. "She's taking it pretty hard, huh?"

  Nash caught the knot of his tie and gave it a tug. "To say the least." He frowned as he craned his neck to release his shirt's top button. "Nina won't budge on me bringing the horse back, though."

  "Who runs your house, anyway, you or this Nina person?"

  Nash chuckled, though the sound lacked humor. "Nina, without question." He propped an elbow against the door and laid his index finger along his upper lip, staring at the landscape as it flashed past. "Nina's my wife's mother, not mine," he said after a moment's silence. "After Stacy died, Nina moved in with me to help care for Colby. Since she was a widow and didn't have any other responsibilities, the arrangement suited us both. At least it did for a while. Now—" He dropped his hand, guilt at the disloyal thought making him sit up straighter in the seat. "She means well. She's just—well, she's just overprotective. Which is understandable, I guess, considering Colby's all she has left in the world."

  "But Colby's your daughter," Sam reminded him firmly. And all that you said you had left in this world, she added, silently. "Not Nina's."

  He glanced at Sam then, and his eyes were filled with so much remorse she wished she'd kept her remarks to herself. But it was too late to take the biting words back now.

  "Yes, she is." He sighed and turned his gaze to the windshield. "All of this is my fault, really. When my wife died, I was so consumed with my own grief, that I just let Nina take over. The arrangement worked perfectly when Colby was a baby, but when she started walking and talking and demanding more and more freedom, the problems started. Now, more often than not, I find myself caught in the middle, trying to smooth things over between the two. I've considered hiring someone else to care for Colby, but it would kill Nina if I did that. Besides, I need Nina. The thought of Colby being cared for by strangers—well, it isn't something I care to think about."

  His explanation gave Sam a pretty good idea of the setup in his home and his affection for his daughter, but didn't sway her opinion much of Colby's grandmother. "She can't keep Colby in a plastic bubble all her life."

  "I know that. Or at least I do here," he said, touching a finger to his head. "But Nina can be stubborn, and Colby…" He wagged his head, chuckling ruefully. "Well, you've been around Colby enough to see how she is."

  Sam smiled in spite of herself as she braked the truck to a stop in front of the barn on the Double-Cross. "Kinda like two old billy goats going head to head, are they?"

  "That would be putting it mildly." He sighed again, twisting around on the seat to look at her. With his leg angled, one knee almost touched Sam's. "I'm just trying to find a way to keep them both happy. Colby wants her horse, but Nina refuses to allow him back on the ranch for fear Colby will sneak off again to ride him … and get hurt."

  That knee bothered Sam a bit. The V-shaped view of his crotch worried her more. An image of him naked, as he appeared in her dreams, formed in her mind. She frowned and scooted closer to her door, trying to focus on the conversation rather than that image. "I can see your problem," she muttered.

  He draped an arm along the back of the seat, and the cab, already small, shrank a little more from Sam's perspective.

  "I think I've come up with a solution," he said, looking at her intently. "But its success will depend on you."

  Sam was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. She caught the neck of her T-shirt and stretched it, craning her head. Was it just her, or was it getting hot inside the cab? Carefully avoiding his knee, Sam leaned to crank the air conditioner up a notch. "How so?"

  "Would you agree to let Whiskey stay on here for a while?"

  "I already told you that I'd keep him as long as you want, but what good will that do? Colby still won't have her horse."

  "No. But if we could pick up the lessons again, it would be a compromise of sorts."

  Sam cocked her head over her shoulder to stare at him, her hand stilling on the air conditioner control. "You mean bring Colby here?"

  "Yeah. The arrangement would remain the same, except that Colby and I would come here instead of you driving to the Rivers Ranch." He paused to haul in a deep breath. "That is, if you're willing," he added, his uncertainty obvious.

  Willing? Sam groaned as she peeled her T-shirt over her head, rehashing her conversation with Nash in her mind. Obligated was a much more fitting word. Leaning to the shower stall, she twisted on the faucet, then stepped back and peeled her jeans down her legs. She kicked them into the corner, then stepped beneath the spray and shut the door. Water sluiced over her head, down her back, between her breasts. With a sigh, she turned her face up, letting the spray wash away the day's accumulation of sweat and grime.

  How could she say no to Nash when his request was Colby's only chance of spending time with her horse? She couldn't refuse. She knew it, and she suspected that Nash Rivers knew it, too. So now—because she was a softhearted wimp—she'd set herself up for another couple of hours of torture each week with Nash Rivers. Camille would be delighted, Sam was sure.

  Frowning, she grabbed the bar of soap from the dish and briskly rubbed it between her hands. She wouldn't think about him, she told herself firmly. Not now. She was hot and tired and deserved to relax after the day she had put in.

  The scent of honeysuckle rose, heightened by the steam and friction of her hands. A gift from her sister Merideth, the soap was one of Sam's few concessions to her femininity. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes, emptying her mind as she rubbed the fragrant bar down her arms and across her chest. Cupping a breast, she tipped it up, tracing the dark areola, then opened her eyes and dipped her chin, watching the nipple bud.

  She closed her palm over her breasts, flattening it, and let her head drift back as delicious sensations moved through her body in waves. She traced the flow with a sudsy palm, drifting from the swell of her breast, down her abdomen, to the nest of curls between
her legs.

  Was this how her body would respond to a man's touch? she wondered fleetingly. Would she ever be able to let a man get close enough to find out? Unexpected tears welled up behind her eyes. She wanted so desperately to have what her sister Mandy shared with Jesse, what women all over the world enjoyed every day.

  She wanted to experience desire firsthand. She wanted a man to touch her and not know fear. She wanted to feel a man's lips on hers without also feeling repulsion. She wanted to feel the heat of a man's body, the scent of his masculinity and not feel as if she were suffocating. She wanted to laugh and tease and touch without remembering the man who had robbed her of the ability to do all those things.

  Closing her eyes, she let her mind go, plucking the memory of Nash's hand at her cheek from those that flashed by. Long, tapered fingers tanned to a rich, golden brown. Gentle, yet strong. Undemanding, yet sure. The hollow of his palm, cupping her jaw. Eyes, hard as flint at moments, yet full of love when turned on his daughter. Teasing at times, full of gut-wrenching emotion at others. A man of many moods, but a man confident in himself and unafraid of displaying his emotions … or of touching.

  Sam sighed, dragging her soap-slickened hand back up the length of her body to her breasts. Her fingertips bumped the turgid nipple and electrical shocks ripped through her middle. Would his touch be as gentle here? she wondered dreamily. Would her body respond any differently than when he'd simply touched her cheek?

  The tears spilled over her eyelids, mixing with the spray from the shower. Would she ever know? Or was she destined to live her life with her desires locked tightly inside her own body?

  She wanted so desperately to be normal. She wanted so desperately to be a woman in the fullest sense of the word. She wanted … with a shuddery sigh, she dropped her chin to her chest, refusing to give life to that last thought.

  She might want Nash Rivers, but he would never want her. Not in the same way she was beginning to want him. And why should he? Sam McCloud was an emotional basket case. A woman, yes, but one who'd worked hard for years to hide her femininity. And Nash was a man, an unbelievably handsome man, who probably had scores of beautiful women fighting for his attention.