"Come in!" Darling Montgomery called. "That will be Mason," she muttered, leaning further under the sink so that she could connect the sink's U-pipe more tightly. "The Jefferson cowboy with the plan to change all these dratted old pipes to efficient PVC. Won't that be a nice change!"
She was certainly tired of banging on old, leaky, easily clogged metal drainpipes. With a steady stream of customers at Darling's Bed & Breakfast in Union Junction, Texas, she needed pipes that didn't back up, toilets that flushed and lights that stayed on. Most fix-its she could do herself — no hard chore since she loved this charming B and B she'd inherited from her beloved grandmother ten years ago.
With no husband and no children, she enjoyed nurturing her guests. Darling's B and B had a farther-than-local reputation for excellence and caring.
"It's my desserts that are the real problem,"
Darling murmured, standing to wipe her hands.
"Fix those,
Mr. Anything-You-Can-Do-I-Can-Do-Better
Jefferson."
"Excuse me," a strange man's voice said behind her. "Not to get into a family squabble or anything, but from where I stand, it sounds as if you could use some help."
She whirled around. "I'm so sorry! I was expecting someone else!"
A confident cowboy grinned at her. "So I gathered. Someone you have competitive issues with."
Switching to hostess mode, Darling said, "I'm Darling Montgomery."
"I'd like to say you certainly are darling, but I'm afraid I'm already pushing my luck."
She looked more closely at the man as she pushed a lock of short, chocolate-colored hair behind one ear uneasily. He was a cowboy, yes — she recognized that from the well-worn Wranglers to the seen-better-days felt hat to the devil-may-care grin. A young cowboy, she guessed. He didn't have enough scars and bitterness on him to be middle-aged.
She certainly had all the prerequisite scars and maybe a touch of world-weariness of the middle-aged. She ignored the flash of regret and the sting of attraction making her wish she wasn't so disheveled from banging around under a sink. "Consider your luck pushed. What can I do for you, stranger?"
"I hear you rent rooms," he said with a drawl from a part of the country she didn't recognize.
"And there's a sign out front that says so," she said impatiently.
"Yeah. But I also heard you're a wonderful hostess with a ready smile and a family style," he said easily. "My name's Sam Lightfoot. Can we start over? I didn't mean to startle you."
He extended his hand. Darling hesitated. She didn't want to touch him — she was dirty and sweaty and he was way too cute. A boy, she reminded herself. She didn't have to worry about anything.
Assuming a motherly air, she swiftly shook his hand, withdrawing from what was really just a touch. "I have a room available. I'm sure you're tired. Would you like dinner tonight or just breakfast in the morning? Breakfast is served on the antique mahogany sideboard in the formal dining room."
He grinned at her. She flushed.
"Am I making you nervous?" he teased.
"No," Darling fibbed, wishing she weren't wearing a tight tank top, the kind that looked so cute on younger models in the Victoria's Secret catalog but just looked comfy on her. "You're not making me nervous at all. Are you trying to?"
"Absolutely not."
"Excellent. Then we'll get on famously. Now, shall I show you to your room?"
"Would you like me to help you with that U-pipe first?" Sam asked. "I'm assuming that if I take you up on the dinner offer, I don't get it until the sink is in working order. And I'm real good at fixing things, I promise."
He laughed, the sound low and sexy, almost a growl of a chuckle. Darling's hair practically stood on end from the sensual fire it sent through her. "I have a friend coming, thank you," she said briskly. "I've got it under control. Are you just driving through Union Junction?"
"Yeah. Just driving through."
"Rodeo?"
He shifted on one foot, setting down his denim duffel bag. Dark brown hair fell over one eye, which he carelessly swiped back. "Maybe."
"Oh, you're the asker, and I'm the askee," she said. "You know, Mr. Lightfoot, for all the questions you've asked of me, I think I deserve to ask a few of my own. Especially as you'd like to stay in my home."
The flash of irritation she'd glimpsed on his face was quickly replaced by studied nonchalance. "Of course. Here's my credit card and my driver's license so that you can charge my room."
She took the items, more out of curiosity than anything. His driver's license picture showed the same man who stood before her. How could anyone look sexy in their license photo? His address was stated as Billings, Montana.
And then she held back a gasp as the birth date caught her eye.
He was twenty-nine.
And she'd been fighting some strange sizzle inside her forty-year-old body. A flush crept up her neckline — darn it, she could feel the pinkness rising to the top of her flesh. Slowly, she raised her gaze as she handed back to Sam the driver's license and credit card.
He was smiling at her, knowing exactly what she was thinking!
"You're gonna say I'm jes' a baby," he drawled deeply to annoy her.
"Yes, I am," she snapped.
"You have those competitive urges, you know. So you're older than me."
"A lot."
He nodded, and she sensed he was vastly amused by her attraction to him.
"The only competitive urges I have are in the rodeo," he said. "I prefer to leave the competition out of the bedroom."
She stiffened.
"Now, don't get all bent out of shape," he said easily. "I didn't say your bedroom."
Her eyes widened. "Do you have personal references? I really don't think —"
"Hey," Mason said with a hearty laugh as he walked into the kitchen. "Sam Lightfoot, you old dawg!"
The two men embraced, pounding each other liberally on the back. "So, you took me up on my recommendation, I see," Mason said. "You'll like it at Darling's. I've known her since we were practically babies."
Darling flushed crimson. She'd had a crush on Mason during their teenage years, despite the age difference. Later in life, that feeling had minimized to the comfortable friendship between them. He had his eleven rowdy Malfunction Junction brothers to raise and a five-thousand-acre ranch to run, and she'd had her grandmother to care for. And then a B and B to make profitable. "You know this man?"
"Yeah. He's the best on the circuit when it comes to fixing busted bones and rearranged chops."
"Busted bones? Rearranged chops?" Darling repeated, her gaze caught by Sam's laughing, dark one.
"Sure. Didn't he tell you?" Mason said. "This is Dr. Sam Lightfoot. One of the best men at fixing things that you'll ever meet."
Sam looked at Darling, grinning. From the moment he'd heard her call out to "Come in!" and found himself staring at her dynamite little fanny as she wrestled under the sink, he'd hoped the rest of the package was as cute. What a nice surprise to discover that not only was she adorable, but she had attitude he liked, too. Yeah, he saw the protective wall go up; he saw the nervous sweep of her hand through her dark hair; he saw the self-conscious glance of her gaze before she pulled her posture straight and looked him in the eye.
She dug him as much as he dug her — and she was going to protect herself.
Fine with him. He knew all about being gentle. Doctors had to have those skills. Did no good to have a patient startled or scared of him. He'd perfected his technique, and there was no human he couldn't soothe.
"Well, Doctor," she said, "my sink helper is here, so your kind offer of repair assistance won't be needed. Which is best, since I don't make my guests work for their keep. Let me show you to your room so you can put your stuff away." She glanced at Mason. "You can get to work with your theory."
"Theory?" Sam asked.
"That older isn't better and that new is just what I need." Darling walked from the kitchen so that Sam would follow her, which he did, but not without a raised brow at Mason, who shrugged at him and bent to get under the sink.
"So, you and Mason know each other well?" he asked as they walked through the B and B, aware that something more than handyman issues were going on between Darling and Mason. "Beyond the diaper stage, that is."
"We've never dated, if that's what you're asking," she replied briskly.
He hadn't figured. During a few of their rare meet-ups, he remembered Mason wheezing about his next-door neighbor, Mimi.
But he was glad to know she wasn't throwing the ol' hanky down for Mason. "So, you run this place by yourself?"
"Yes." She turned down another hall.
"It's nice."
"It's wonderful," she replied, opening the last door along the hall. "Large bedroom, bathroom, a door that opens to the outside so you can come and go without coming through the main part of the house. Mini fridge. Anything else you think you would like, Doctor?"
He smiled and watched her eyes widen. "I think you've taken care of just about everything, Miss Darling."
She paused. "Did you say you'd be staying only one night?"
"Actually, I was planning on a week."
She stared at him, and he saw a pulse beating in her pretty neck. Whoa. He was going to have to be extra-gentle with Darling. "Will that be all right?" he asked softly.
"I — of course. Any friend of Mason's is welcome here. There are guest cards on the bureau. Please fill them out in the mornings and leave them in the box in the kitchen. That way I'll know your food preferences and also anything else you may need to make your stay in Union Junction more comfortable."
Ah. She was going to use the card trick. Communication by note card. No chance of interaction there. And he hadn't missed the hint about using the door in his room so that he wouldn't have to go through the house. No chance of interaction there, either.
She was so soft, so sexy. So feminine. So well-defended emotionally.
He just couldn't let her get away that easily. "I could use a tour guide," he said with no hint of a grin. "If you have an afternoon free." He kept his voice calm and kind as if he were tending a patient. "Or an evening."
Darling stared at Sam. Was he hinting at a date with her?
"I imagine you're busy cooking and stuff for your boarders during the day. I guess evening would fit your schedule better," he said.
She relaxed slightly, although still keeping a sharp eye on him. He didn't appear to be hitting on her, and she doubted he would, knowing that Mason was a good friend of hers.
Still... "Exactly what would you be interested in seeing, Mr. Lightfoot?"
"Sam," he said. "I'd like to see what's in this Union Junction that Mason thinks so highly of."
"You know, Mason probably has a little time on his hands. He'd be a better tour guide than me." Briskly, she turned to leave his room, finding Mason standing behind her.
"Mason would be a better what?" Mason said. "Sorry, came in on the backend of that conversation."
"Be a better tour guide. Sam wants to see the town. His old friend should do the honors."
Mason glanced at Sam over the top of Darling's head. "Sure. I've got time now."
The breath Darling had been holding slowly left her. She wasn't even going to ask if Mason had fixed her sink. Sam leaving with Mason would provide her with a gracious way out of this conversation — and for the rest of the week, she was communicating only by note cards!
"All right." Sam put his duffel on the bed. "I'm up for a ride around town. And I'll spring for dinner."
Darling beamed as the two men walked out the door. Then Mason popped his head back inside. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
The smile slipped instantly off her face. "What do you mean?"
"Lock up and come on. You're going with us."
"No, I'm —"
"Come on," Mason said. "Didn't you hear Sam say he was buying dinner? It'll seem rude if you don't join us. And anyway, you've got nothing better to do than stand there rooted to the floor. Come be a good hostess."
"My hostessing doesn't extend outside my B and B." She glared at Mason. "And he didn't invite me, which is actually not a problem."
Sam stuck his head around the door. "Miss Darling," he said, "I promise that the only thing I'll bite tonight is my food. And you could certainly use a margarita."
"I could?" was all she could manage. Why had she imagined he'd gone on down the hall and couldn't hear her conversation with Mason?
"I think so. Don't you think so, Mason? After wresting with those pipes, she deserves a margarita."
"Those pipes are fixed," Mason said cheerfully.
"That took you five seconds!" Darling said, outraged. "And I worked so hard!"
"Ya gotta know what you're doing," Mason said smugly. "And ya gotta have the right hands for the job."
Sam winked at her. "He's bragging. And using one of my lines."
Oh, right. Physicians had to have the right hands to treat patients. "I get it," she said. "Do you find that your patients respond well to lines?"
"Yeah, and the ladies respond even better," he said, getting a grin out of the usually dour Mason. "You're a tough case to crack, but we'll help you think up some lines of your own by the end of the evening if you come with us. Come on, Miss Darling. It'll be fun, I promise."
Darling hesitated.
"Come on," Mason said. "You deserve some fun. Margaritas and dart-throwing. Maybe some dancing. C'mon. Take a load off for a while."
It sounded fun. Actually it sounded wonderful. But glancing at Sam, Darling had a million thoughts going through her head. He knew that she was attracted to him, and that she didn't like it — none of which seemed to worry him. Without sexual attraction coloring her responses, Darling knew she would treat Sam like any other man many years her junior. Simply like one of Mason's friends. So what difference could one night possibly make? Nothing was going to happen, especially with Mason there.
Sam waited patiently for her answer, his eyes gleaming, and suddenly, Darling threw ten years of pent-up caution to the wind.
"Let me change," she said. "And then I'm ready to challenge two handsome men to a game of darts."
Mason and Sam went to the truck to wait while Darling freshened up.
"So, what's her story?" Sam asked Mason. "Beyond the B and B reference you gave me."
Mason shrugged. "Not much more. The B and B became her life once her grandmother passed. It's her tie to everything she holds dear."
Sam nodded. "A homemaker. Never planning to leave Union Junction."
"I can't see it. She's comfortable here." Mason rested his arms on the wheel. "Why? She catch your eye?"
"Not if she's caught yours."
"Nah. We're just friends. I suppose you figured out that she's closer to my age than yours. She's four years older than me, actually."
"So, about your theory..."
Mason looked at him. "What?"
"That older isn't better."
"Pipes for the house, friend. I'm sticking to my story on that one."
"Yeah, but would it bother you if I decided to convince her that older isn't necessarily a bad thing?"
Mason met Sam's eyes. "She really did catch your fancy."
Sam gazed out the window, watching Darling walk across the yard to the truck. She was dressed in hot-pink cropped pants and high-heeled white sandals. Her top was a crisp, white blouse that showed her arms and a little neckline. Curves bounced and swayed and Sam wondered why a woman like her didn't have men lined up on the porch ringing her doorbell.
Location, location, location, of course. Union Junction was small, and she knew everybody here too well for them to be on anything but brotherly terms.
Lucky for him. "I just think I might be in the right place at the right time," he murmured, hopping out to open the truck door for Darling. "You look real nice," he told her.
She looked at him a second too long, as if he'd surprised her. "Thanks." Stepping under his arm, she slid along the truck seat next to Mason. Sam got in next to her, and closed the door.
"Okay, shall we give Sam the tour of the old town square?" Mason asked. "Hang on a sec, my pager's gone off." Checking the screen, he said, "Bad news, friends. I'm needed back at the ranch. Unfortunately. I know the evening won't be the same without me, but you'll have to manage."
And then he grinned at Sam.
"Uh, okay, that's too bad, Mason. We'll take my truck," Sam offered, hoping Darling wouldn't go gun-shy and forego the evening. She did look as if her protective layer had been stripped away.
"Go on," Mason told her gently. "Get out of my truck and go have a good time."
Sam opened the truck door and got out. Darling slid past him, and he breathed in the scent of lavender. As she headed toward Sam's truck, he quickly reached out and snatched the pager off the seat where Mason had laid it. "Bring home Chinese food; no groceries. Frisco."
He glanced at his friend, appreciating the ruse. "Needed back at the ranch, huh?"
"Guess so."
Sam grinned. "Thanks, Mason."
"I'll see you tomorrow. Make good use of your time."
Sam planned to.
Slamming the truck door, Sam hurried after the curvy package he'd just been gifted with for the evening. Darling stood by his truck, waiting, and he hoped that was a good sign. Staring down into her face to gauge her mood, he opened the door for her. The smile he gave her was meant to reassure.
"You know," she said, "you don't need me for throwing darts and drinking beer."
Oh, yeah, I do. "Don't chicken out on me now," Sam said. "Darts is a lonely game without a friend."
She raised her brows. "All right," she said, her tone reluctant. "You know, I think what bothers me about going into town with you is...is..."
"That you're older than me," he finished.
Darling smiled slightly. "Well, yes. I don't want to offend you. But people might think it's strange that I'm showing a man eleven years younger than me around town."
"Oh, is that the bed-and-breakfast syndrome? You don't go out with your boarders because it might look like you're a lonely spider with a web meant to catch prey?"
She gazed up at him. "Something like that. I do have my reputation to consider, Sam. If I date my boarders, then people will assume other things go on in my house. And then they won't recommend me anymore."
"I see." He grinned at her. "I do see the problem."
"It is a problem."
Sam nodded. "But there's just one thing I should point out. I think you're beautiful. And I've never been worried about spiders. 'Physician, heal thyself' and all that. This wouldn't really be a date, anyway, as much as showing the poor lonely fly around town for a friend, not necessarily rolling me up in your web."
She stared at him. "Are you daring me, Doctor?"
He grinned. "I'm saying you're in good hands."
Darling slid into his truck, deciding that one night without her reputation wasn't going to kill her livelihood. Darts wasn't dancing, after all. Now that would cause people to talk. "I have to be home by ten."
"Yes, Cinderella." Sam gunned the engine. "Not a moment later. Now relax. I promise not to make you any more nervous than you are."
Her mouth opened. "I'm not nervous."
He headed down the neat driveway. "Good. I'm not, either. Although I should be. I'm with a real attractive woman who claims her desserts suck."
Darling laughed. "Just how long were you standing there while I was talking to myself?" Her back end had been sticking out of the cabinet while she wrestled and made unattractive grunting sounds. And conducted a soap opera with herself. "It wasn't my most attractive moment."
Sam shook his head. "From where I was standing, Darling, it was a very attractive moment."
Darling took a deep breath, the smile hitching on her face. "Sam, I get the strangest feeling that you're coming on to me."
He watched a slow-moving truck roll across the farm road before he got on the main road into town. Then he looked directly into her eyes.
"I'm sure trying to."
Darling took a deep breath, unprepared for his expected honesty. "Maybe I don't want you to come on to me."
At the same time, Sam's attention flattered her. The woman in her perked up, came to life, assessed his eyes, his fingers, the curve of his lips, his chest and the waist that tapered into nice jeans that hinted at hidden pleasures. The smell of his truck was pleasant, manly. Evocative of hard work and maleness. Even the way he held the steering wheel was confident. Her heartbeat began beating in a new, different and nervous way.
She liked it.
"Just say the word and I won't," Sam told her. "If you don't mind us making this a real date, we can give it a shot. If you do mind, it'll be a friendly game of darts and nothing more."
Well, he certainly was confident about putting her in the driver's seat. Darling felt her interest flare, something she hadn't equated with a man in a long time. The feeling was new and exciting, and maybe just a little bit dangerous. And yet, it felt safe, too, since Mason thought so highly of Sam.
She was being offered the closest thing to a "safe fling" that could possibly exist, and Darling was ever so tempted. What would it be like to be kissed again? Her brow wrinkled. When was the last time she'd been kissed?
"You know, I could explore my wild side. It's new territory for me. Any rules to the game?"
"Yeah. Quit acting like you're about to atrophy, calcify and roll yourself into an old folks' home. I don't want you to think of me as a boy in short-pants. Can we make a deal on that?"
"Yes, if you'll answer one more question on the age thing. Do you always hit on older women?" she asked, curious.
"Can't say they've ever been my preference. You would, in fact, be the first," he said, his voice even.
"Why me, then?"
He sighed. "I don't know, Darling. You've got sassy pants when you're bent under a sink. You're a nice lady. I'm dying to know if you can throw a dart worth a damn. Does it have to be more than that?"
"You're explaining the rules of the game to me. But it doesn't have to be more than that as far as I'm concerned." Sam liking her figure forced her to admit to herself that he was a pretty appealing package as well. To be honest, it had been a long time since a man looked at her the way Sam did — more honestly, no man had ever gazed at her with the obvious interest his gaze held.
A pleased shiver ran up her spine.
"Well, then." He shoved his hat back and gazed at her as he stopped at a stop sign. "Are we calling this a date?"
All of Darling's senses absorbed the tension of the moment as she looked over the very handsome, very virile man sitting next to her.
What do I have to lose?
"Definitely a date," she said.
Sam liked how Darling shored herself up and opted for fun instead of caution. It showed that she trusted him.
"Good," he said, smiling at her. "What do I need to know about Union Junction?"
Darling smiled back at him. "It's old. It's small. The townspeople are genuine and proud of their history. Everybody knows everybody, which has its good and bad points."
"Were you born here?"
She nodded. "What about you?"
"Born in Montana. My folks split up when I was young, and a neighbor mostly raised me. Figured I didn't have much chance to see the rest of the country if I stayed where I was, and I was ready to move on, so I hit the rodeo circuit. Was doing fine until I took a spill off a bronc that put me into the hospital. While I was getting put back together, I decided medicine was safer. And more interesting." He glanced at her. "All those nurses in white uniforms, you know."
She shot him a slanted brow.
"Teasing." He laughed. "I went to college, got my degree, and then another, picked a specialty and decided to hit the rodeo circuit again, this time to help out my fellow riders. It's good to me. Travel a lot, make lots of friends, see the country." Stopping the truck in front of the building that had once housed the town's beauty salon before hard times had forced it closed, he glanced at Darling. "And tonight's my lucky night."
"Because?"
"I met you." He got out of the truck and came around to her side, opening the door so he could help her down. Somehow, she found herself sliding down the length of his body more than moving straight to the sidewalk. "Don't suppose you're much for traveling the U S of A in a truck."
She held her breath as he set her down. "I think the town square is far enough for tonight."
He tweaked her nose gently. "You're so careful."
"Careful?"
"Guarded."
Darling looked away for a second. "Maybe I haven't had many younger men try to sweep me off my feet and into their truck and onto the open road."
"Maybe I'm the first."
She put her hands on her hips and stared up at him. "Maybe you are."
"Good," he said, "then I'll also be the first to do this."
And then he pulled her to him, putting his lips on hers and kissing her breathless.
"Whoa," Darling said, pulling away after a moment. "Sam, I —"
"Yes?" His eyes gleamed down at her in the lamplight. "You...have a boyfriend? Don't like kissing? Aren't interested?"
Her response to his kiss told him she was very interested, the rat. But his passion for her was such a surprise that she needed a moment to regroup. "I don't have a boyfriend. I like kissing. I am interested. I thought kisses came at the end of the evening, though, and you caught me off guard."
"Oh. I disturbed the natural order of things."
"Yes, you did."
He winked at her, hoisting her into his arms and carrying her down the street. "Sam, put me down!"
"Am I disturbing the natural order of things again?"
"Yes!"
He set her down gently, pretending to look around to see if anyone on the deserted street was watching him play with her. Pretending to whisper in her ear, he said, "But if you had to be honest, would you admit you liked it?"
She gave him a playful push on the chest. "No."
"I'm shocked."
Darling laughed. "No, you're not. You think you've got me figured out. I'm going to throw darts now," she said, walking backward ahead of him, facing him so that she could tease him the way he was teasing her. "You can stand out here, or we can get down to the business of the game. I think you're stalling because you know I'm going to win."
She pointed to the softly glowing, small orange neon sign on the otherwise darkened sidewalk. Nothing else was open. "Beat you to the dartboard. Loser forfeits a kiss."
He howled, running after her. She shrieked and leaped through the doorway of Lampy's Bar. Before Sam could reach her, she'd snatched up a handful of darts. "I won."
"You had a running start!"
"And the element of surprise. Deal with it, Doctor."
He stared at her, his eyes intent.
"What's the matter?" Darling asked. "Scared of the forfeit? Don't like not being in the driver's seat?"
"You must have liked my kiss, to make sure the deck was loaded in your favor."
"Doctor," she said, "quit talking and pay up."
Sam was intrigued. He liked Darling trying to turn the tables on him. Still, it wasn't good for her to get too cocky. "Forfeits come later," he said, turning away.
"Meanie!" she said, laughing and pounding lightly on his back. "Now I'll have to beat you at darts."
"You can try. We could put a bet on this to make it interesting."
"Like what?"
"Winner collects any forfeit they choose. Any forfeit — not including sex."
Darling looked at him. "That's an interesting addendum."
"I don't want you to think I'm trying to take advantage of you. It's not good manners to pick on the weaker sex." He shot her a playful wink. "Ladies first."
"You already owe me a kiss," she reminded him.
"Not if I win. I can opt out."
"I don't think you would." She gave him an arch look, backed-up, aimed — and hit the wooden board beside the circular board. "Oops."
Sam blinked. Hmm. Mason had said she was good at this game, so she had something up her sleeve. It would be fun seeing what it was. He threw a dart, hitting a bull's-eye with authority.
"Would you look at that?" she said. "Dead on the money. What does the loser get?"
"A slash in the Loser column," he said, removing his dart from the board. "And no kiss."
"Guess I'd better get to winning."
And for the next hour, Darling proceeded to beat the pants off of him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the best of her. She was focused, she had purpose, and he liked being the object of her determination.
"Whew!" he said at the end of the last game. "You win."
She smiled at him, putting the darts back where they belonged.
"So, what's your prize, Miss Darling?" he asked, watching her walk toward him with sweet intent on her face. He very much liked that she had a playful side.
"The kiss you already owe me," she said, "unless you're going to put kisses under the heading of sex. Which would be a total cop-out."
"No," he said huskily, wrapping his arms around her when she got close enough and pulling her tight to him. "You worked hard for your kisses, Darling. I like you wanting me that bad."
"Maybe I don't want you that bad. Maybe I just want to be kissed."
He laughed. "Don't chicken out now. Just for that, you have to say it. Or no prize for you."
"No." She glared up at him, but he wouldn't let her out of his arms.
"Honesty is the best policy, Darling. You were doing so good there for a while."
"Until you made the crack about earning your kisses." She gave him a look of total disgust but quit fighting in his arms, he noticed.
"You did, you know," he said softly. "Your body gives away what you won't say with your lips."
She glanced away for a minute. "Then may I suggest you listen to my body? Because I'm going against everything my mind is telling me by being on this so-called date at all. Common sense tells me not to make a fool of myself; practicality tells me nothing good can come of this. Remember, I'm not good at disturbing the natural order of things. I've already used up all my bravery."
"Say it," he demanded.
"I want you to kiss me," she said without hesitation.
"Sam," he prompted.
"Sam, I want you to kiss me," Darling said breathlessly.
Fire flooded Sam's body — and he didn't waste another moment.
Darling wasn't prepared for the storm of emotions sweeping her as Sam kissed her. He held her face so gently, but his lips demanded her complete compliance. She kissed him back with every ounce of enthusiasm she'd ever had, trying to get closer to him.
When they pulled apart, she felt like a reborn woman. "Gosh," she murmured. What else could she say? She'd never been kissed like that in her life. "Some prize."
Sam laughed, pulling her with him to the door. "C'mon. Show me the town."
They walked along the empty sidewalk streets, she tucked comfortably under his shoulder, as if they'd done this many times. The moon shone overhead, brightening the winter sky.
"Where is everybody?" Sam asked. "Or are we the only ones with a penchant for darts?"
"Union Junction isn't exactly flush with business," Darling said. "It was always a small town, but people have moved away to find work. The economy's been tough on us."
"So are any of these stores still open?"
"Lampy's is usually busier than it was tonight." Darling pointed across the street. "The Peppermint Patty sells wonderful baked goods and ice cream, and teas of varying types. It's a family affair, owned by Patty and run by her crew of kids. No father, so the kids grew up in the store and branched it out. We hold our church circle meetings in there. Bored with history yet?"
He stared down at her, giving her tingles. "No."
"All right. In the middle of the square, you see the courthouse."
"Of course. Obligatory to small towns."
Darling smiled. "Pretty much. Then we have the Dusty Mule."
Sam peered in the window. "Aren't all mules somewhat dusty?"
Darling stood beside him. "Yes, but this is actually a consignment store for clothes. If you see a really pretty dress on someone at church or at a party, you hustle in here the next day to see if the owner put it up for sale. Some of the ladies around here sew like a dream, and they advertise by wearing their creations. It's a small but efficient economy, and keeps us from having to drive into the city." She gave him a wry look. "Ma Carsons's clothes don't get bought very quickly. She loves pickled onions too much. On the other hand, her daughter, Clove, sees ladies bickering over hers."
"Poor Ma Carsons," Sam said, sympathizing.
Darling's eyes twinkled. "On the bright side, if you're very understanding about the onions, and you catch her on a day when her pipe is full, Ma Carsons can teach you how to make a vanilla soap that is so wonderful you never want to leave your house."
His brows rose. "Kudos to Ma."
"That's right." Darling nodded. "Now I've told you all about Union Junction."
"I fear you've only scratched the surface."
She turned to face him. "What about your home? Do you miss it?"
"No."
She blinked. "You must. No girlfriend back home, no family? Friends?"
His eyes darkened. "I wouldn't be here with you right now if I had a girlfriend. I have a rodeo family and rodeo friends. And that's it. There are no Dusty Mules or Ma Carsonses I care to think about."
She drew in a breath. "Am I being nosy?"
"Are you?"
"No. I'm being interested."
He smiled. "My world's just not like yours, Darling, full of interesting anecdotes and storybook framework."
Drawing away, she said, "Home is what you make it."
"And I think home is where you take it. For me, that's on the road."
Darling looked down, and Sam hoped he hadn't hurt her feelings.
"We're similar and yet so different," she murmured. "Too different."
"Not that much." He put his arm around her and they walked aimlessly toward the truck.
"Age, lifestyle, desires. What more is there?" Darling asked.
"Ah, the desire word. That makes me think of you." He kissed the top of her head. Of course his feelings were sharply sexual right now. He was so attracted to this woman. But he'd also heard her underlying question: Did they have a future?
He frowned. Why did he think of future in relation to Darling? She'd pointed out the very obvious facts separating them.
"It's nearly ten," Darling said, glancing up at him. "I really do need to get back. The morning goes smoother if I have everything prepared the night before, especially the tea and bread."
Fun and games were over. "All right. Let's head that way." She had a business to run, so he tried not to think about the fact that any other woman would be trying to get him into her bed.
Somehow it was better this way.
The drive back to the B and B was companionably quiet, with both of them thinking.
"I had a good time," Darling told him when they'd gotten out of the truck and walked to the porch.
"I did, too." Sam gazed down at the lady looking up at him. He read hope in her eyes, hope that he'd put there. For an instant, he felt regret. Darling was extremely attractive to him — more so than any woman he could remember. It was her maturity, it was her sense of fun, it was the total package.
And yet, her tour had told him more than just fun history of Union Junction.
This was a woman with strong, deep ties to her community. He was a man with essentially none.
They had no future, and it wasn't fair to play with her heart. Not when she had so much more to lose than he did. He was going to ride off to the next rodeo. She'd remain here with her memories, sipping tea at the Peppermint Patty and trading clothes at the Dusty Mule.
"Good night," he said.
Darling nodded. "Good night."
She went inside, and he stayed on the porch, waiting until he'd heard her close the kitchen door. He heard a pot come out of a drawer, water turning on in the sink Mason had repaired.
Sam shook his head. "I'm going in," he said.
Sam headed into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks. Darling had slipped on a pink apron that said Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice in scrolling white letters down the length of her cute little body. "Whew, I'll say so," he said.
"Say what?"
Darling looked so surprised he'd entered her private domain that she remained still, wooden spoon in hand. "Never mind," Sam said. "Can I help? How many guests do you have on the premises right now?" He talked fast to overcome the sudden fantasy that had hit him. High heels, naked Darling, pretty pink apron —
"Are you all right?" Darling asked him. "You seem...rattled."
I'm just fine, Suzy Homemaker. Except that I'm having a helluva sugar craving. "I'm fine, thanks. How about I stir?"
She glanced down at the round bowl on the counter in front of her. "There's nothing to stir yet."
"Oh." He was invading her space, but he hoped she wouldn't make him leave.
"Here." She handed him a bowl of long green bean things. "Snap those."
"Snap them?"
"Yes, Sam." Her smile was teasing. "Like this." Efficiently she snapped the beans, and he stared, wondering if her fingers looked so delicate with everything she did. He tried snapping like she did, but it wasn't as crisp nor beautiful. Yet he set himself to learning it. He really, really wanted to watch her move around her domain.
She was damn sexy for a woman wearing an apron. There was major movement in his jeans, and Sam forced himself to think beans and not lust. But the kitchen table was like a mirage, a sexual playground, shimmering in his gaze.
"You're awfully quiet," Darling said over her shoulder.
"Just trying to keep my mind on the ass," he said helpfully.
"What?" She turned to stare at him.
"The task, the task. Mind on the task." He raggedly kept snapping beans, wishing he wasn't experiencing sexual overload over Darling in her kitchen. She sprinkled cinnamon into the bowl, and the aroma of it drifted to him. Quietly, he edged his chair over so he could sit closer to her.
"Would you like a bite?" she asked, holding up a spoonful of whatever it was that she was fixing, and right this second, he didn't give a damn what it was. He stood, putting the bowls on the counter, and grabbed Darling like a man grabbing at salvation.
He consumed her lips as if they were his last meal; he practically tore her clothes off. The thing that heartened him was that she was totally into him, too, reaching for him, pulling him toward her.
"Sam," she murmured. "Oh, my, Sam."
That was all he needed to hear. The kitchen was his.
"Cooking is more fun than I ever thought it could be," Darling said, after she'd recovered from the acrobatics she and Sam had just performed. "Let me get some of the cinnamon off your face."
"My God," Sam said, helping her up, "I may take up cooking lessons. I may join the Julia Child fan club. I saw an ad once for the Naked Chef, and now I think he may have been on to something."
Darling tried not to feel self-conscious about her body and the fact that she had a butter pat stuck to her rear. She tried surreptitiously to reach it.
"Let me," Sam said gallantly, using the opportunity to feel her fanny with enthusiasm.
"Sam." Darling laughed a little nervously and backed away.
"Don't be shy about a little oleo," he said. "What's a bit of margarine between friends?"
"Oleo?"
"That's what my mom called it. But she never wore it on her ass." He picked up a raw carrot and chewed on it thoughtfully. "At least not while I was around."
While his attention was otherwise engaged, Darling speedily put her clothes back on. Her composure would be a little harder to regroup. He'd made her feel so incredibly sexy and good — and yet, she'd just let a man eleven years her junior totally blow her mind.
"It was good, wasn't it?" Sam said, sitting back down on the chair and snapping beans again.
She felt herself blush. "Yes."
He gave her a stare that gauged her mood. "I feel you slipping," he said, "and it's not because of the butter. You wish we hadn't done that."
"Well, I feel...awkward."
"Why?"
Because he was sitting in her kitchen, watching her every move, making her feel as though she were the kitchen queen of sex, and she wanted him again! "I don't know," Darling murmured. "Maybe it's the age factor."
He tapped her hand lightly. "Who was it who said no cop-outs? I believe that commandment fell from your luscious lips first."
She turned away, washing her hands. Reaching for a sponge to wipe down the counters and the kitchen table, where somehow flour had flown everywhere, she said, "Maybe it's because you're Mason's friend."
"Forget about that. Mason would be happy for me."
"Because you had sex in my kitchen?"
"No. Because I like you."
"Okay." She quit wiping and stared him in the face. "What exactly do you want from me? A quickie every night while you're here?"
"Are you offering? Because I really don't think you'll have to twist my arm too hard."
She tossed the sponge at his smiling face and left the room, heading to her bedroom.
"Hey, where are you going?" he called after her.
"To shower." She needed desperately to get away from him and think about what she'd just done.
"Hey." He caught up with her as she reached her bedroom, and kicked the door shut behind her. "Darling, you need to relax. Otherwise, I'll have to find another place to stay, and I'd really rather stay here. With you."
She looked at him, realizing she'd never had a man inside this bedroom and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Encroached? No. Happy?
Happy that it was Sam.
"I'm in big trouble," she whispered.
"Why?" he whispered back. "We used a condom. And I can run to the store and get you some more flour."
Darling looked at the younger man in front of her. With cinnamon still smeared across his face like war paint, he was sexier than she knew how to handle and greatly in danger of making her fall for him. "I don't want a teen crush," she said. "That's what this feels like."
He frowned. "You don't take me seriously — what we just did seriously — because of my age?"
His whole body stiffened, and instantly, Darling realized she'd carelessly said words she couldn't take back.
"So I really don't stand an even chance with you." Sam couldn't believe he'd misjudged the situation like that. He'd thought Darling was mature enough to handle the way he was feeling about her. If she didn't feel the same, that was fine. That was life. Sometimes two people's emotions and needs didn't meet on the same plane.
But if she was counting him out because of something stupid like their age difference, then they really had nothing further to talk about. It made him sad.
It also made him angry. "Excuse me," he said, turning to leave. "I'll be going in the morning."
"Sam, wait," Darling said.
He turned. "For what? Until I grow up by your definition?"
She blinked, and momentarily he was saddened that he'd misjudged her insecurity. Then he realized what a waste of time it would be to worry about what she was thinking. He certainly couldn't change it. "I'm going to get back in my sandbox now."
And then he left.
Darling stared after him, knowing she'd let her doubts ruin a beautiful evening. He was right. She hadn't taken him seriously since the moment she'd met him. At least not serious for a meaningful relationship. "I'm out of practice," she muttered. But could she tell him that?
No. It was only half the truth.
The age thing was only part of her hesitation.
"You're so well-defended emotionally," Sam said, popping his head back inside the room, "that you've picked your age as the big barrier. But that's not all it is."
"I know," Darling said.
"And I'm a doctor, not a psychologist, but I think I know what's really bugging you. You're afraid."
"Could you be more specific, Doctor?" she asked. "Because I don't think my fear of spiders is actually coming into play here."
"I can be as specific as you need. You're afraid of falling in love. Need I elucidate further?"
She held up a hand. "I think that was just sparklingly clear. Thank you."
"You're welcome. And now I'm going."
Then he left, this time closing the door behind him.
"That will teach me not to sleep with my boarders," Darling murmured, taking a fast shower and changing into fresh jeans and a light blue T-shirt that read Union Junction's the Heart of Texas. "Bad, bad Darling."
Of course, Sam might have hit irritatingly close on some salient points. It was best not to go there, though. What was the point? He'd be leaving in the morning.
And even if he hadn't made that decision, he would have left eventually.
"What was I thinking? The worst possible package of temptation and I fall for it like a desperate woman." She padded down to the kitchen in feathery slippers and found Sam putting the raisin-cinnamon muffins she'd intended to bake into the oven. "What are you doing, Sam?"
"Cleaning up the mess in here. I'm not one to just ride off and leave a mess behind me."
Uh-oh, double entendre. She wrinkled her nose, smelling the warm fragrance of spices and appreciating the fact that he was wearing her pink apron. "That looks good on you."
"I'm masculine enough for pink. Unless Mason were to show up, and then I might hear about it for a while. But I thought I'd put myself in your shoes for a while — apron, as it happens to be."
"That's free-thinking of you."
"Well, that's me." He peered into the oven at her handiwork. "Free."
Darn it. Of course, that was the bottom-line problem. He was free to go, and would be going — in the morning or at the end of the week — and she'd be left with a lonely, broken heart. "Guess I'll snap the rest of these beans," she said brightly.
"What you're missing in this recipe," he said, holding up the muffin recipe, "is vanilla. I put it in fairly liberally. Like a tablespoon."
She stared at him. "I don't think vanilla is the total problem with my desserts."
"No. It's an adjustment. A tweaking of the recipe. I think you'll be surprised what a new attitude can do to your muffins."
He was picking on her. "I don't need a new attitude."
"Well, you think about it, Darling." He pulled off the apron, handing it to her. "I feel fairly certain not everything in life is bland or spicy. There's probably 'just right' somewhere in between."
She took the apron, put it on, but when she turned around, he was gone. Somehow the kitchen seemed smaller and lonelier without him in there.
Twenty minutes later, when the buzzer went off, she pulled the pretty muffins from the oven, setting them on a rack to cool. "Vanilla," she murmured, taking one to taste. "Mm, delicious. Mm!"
So Sam was right about her muffins. But that didn't mean he was right about her heart.
Darling decided to throw courage, common sense, and inhibition to the wind. Sam thought she was giving him short shrift; he was right. She was looking too much at herself and not enough at his feelings.
A woman shouldn't be so insecure that she pass on one of the most flavorful moments of her life. She pulled out a tray, lined it with a lace paper doily. Four muffins on a plate and two mimosas were placed on the tray.
Carrying the tray to her room, Darling exchanged the feathery slippers for high heels. She wore nothing except the pink apron. Fluffing her hair and putting on a dash of lightly flowery perfume to override the cinnamon, she peeked into the hallway to make certain no boarders had come in.
Then, very quietly, she made her way to the back of the house where Sam's room was. She tapped lightly on the door.
"Come in," he called.
Closing her eyes for an instant to steel her nerves, Darling slid the door open with a pointed-toed shoe. Sam was lying in the bed talking on the phone. He was freshly showered, his dark hair awry and wet, his strong chest bare above the fresh white sheets.
She nearly lost her nerve right then and there.
"Room service," Sam said to whoever was on the phone. "Gotta go." He hung up. "You can set it down right there, Miss Room Service."
She did, then backed up to the still-open door. "Just thought you might like a snack."
"Close the door," he said.
"I didn't mean to bother you —"
"Darling, please close the door."
She swallowed, feeling suddenly ridiculous with nothing on under the apron and her vulnerability exposed. "I just wanted to apologize —"
He got up from the bed and strode to the door. He was naked, and Darling couldn't take her eyes off him.
"I'll close it for you," he said.
She stared up at him, her pulse pounding in her ears.
"I like a woman who knows how to offer a nearly naked apology." He grinned at her, glancing at the tray. "I see two drinks over there, possibly mimosas, and some awesome muffins — more than I can eat. Were you planning on staying?"
"I like this apron," Sam said, "but it actually covers too much." He helped her pull the full-length apron off. "Now," he said, his eyes taking in every inch of Darling's nudity. He had her down to just black pumps, and he was feeling much better about their problem. "Care to join me?"
He moved the tray to the nightstand and dove back into bed. Patting the space next to him, he said, "Don't just stand there nude. Bring your apology over here."
It was obvious that Darling had used up her sexual bravery by the way she hit the sheets, jerking the covers up to her chin. She looked at him, her expression shy.
"Can you eat lying on your back like that?" Sam perused her. "Hope you brought a straw for your mimosa because, unless you know some really amazing way to get liquid down your esophagus while on your back, this doctor says he's going to have to perform the Heimlich on you. Only, it'll go something like this," he said, rolling her onto her stomach and tearing the sheet from her. Then he spanked her, three rapid, gentle but firm spankings that brought a howl of laughter from her as she tried to flip back over.
He wasn't about to let her, now that he'd warmed the rounded skin. "That's for treating me like a child," he said softly into her ear as he lovingly rubbed her fanny. "But you get definite props for the seduction attempt. Very mature of you."
She giggled, and now that she'd made the first move, Sam allowed himself to make slow, lingering love to her, telling her with his body everything she didn't seem to understand about his feelings. He took the time with her that they hadn't taken in the kitchen, and while fast and furious had been mind-blowing, leisurely and adoring was even better.
Afterward, he pulled her into his arms, laid her against his chest, and handed her a muffin. "So thoughtful of you to plan ahead. I know I'm ravenous."
"I can testify to that."
In the act of putting a glass to his lips, he grinned. "Now, now, no sexual innuendo from you. Or I'll have to —"
"Sam." Darling sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts.
"Please. You really don't have to be so formal. I adore your body." He tried to tug the sheet down, but she held his hand.
"Sam. This is important. Yes, being older than you bothers me, but I can get over that. In fact, I already am."
"Good. Let's not have anymore of that. Changing a stubborn woman's mind can wear a guy out."
Darling took a deep breath. "The problem is I don't want to fall in love with you."
There. She'd said it. Laid her heart on the line. And everyone knew that a man ran from a serious discussion.
"Well," Sam said thoughtfully, "I can't wipe that particular fear away. If you're afraid of falling in love, I'm not going to be around long enough to change your mind."
So that was it? Then she'd been right to try to protect her heart. Okay, it had been fun to have him teach her that she was attractive. It had truly been fun and liberating to discover her sexy side.
But she'd obviously have to simply chalk this interlude up to experience. Losing her heart to a born drifter was simply not an option. She had deep roots in Union Junction, and giving up her lifelong dream of running her B and B to follow a drifter on the rodeo circuit would be ridiculous, especially at her age.
Sure, she was alone, and maybe, just maybe Sam had hit her at a lonely time. And sure, nothing would please her more than if Sam decided to stay a little while longer, maybe even long enough to develop roots of his own.
Yet she knew with the wisdom of maturity that men like Sam didn't hang around a bed-and-breakfast forever, not with the open road calling. Darling knew in her heart that if she used her feminine wiles to persuade him to stick around, he'd always pine for the freedom he'd once enjoyed, and would grow to resent her for making him settle down. If Sam wanted to stay, it was a decision he had to make willingly.
"Thank you for being honest." She reached over to swipe one of the glasses off the tray. "You were right about the vanilla. There are some times in life when neither bland nor spicy is appropriate."
"Excuse me? Are we talking about food or love?"
"Both," Darling said with a smile. "But you'll have to decide the context, Doctor."
"You're losing me here," Sam said. "And I'm sensing emotional withdrawal."
Then she was doing everything right. "Don't worry about that. It won't require surgery."
"Hey," he said, "I don't think I like that snippy tone. It smacks of one-night stand."
"Isn't that what we just determined? You're leaving. I was simply a pit stop."
He stared at her, his eyes wide with surprise. "I would never think of you that way."
"It's okay, Sam. I completely understand the recipe now." She ate her muffin, licked her fingers, and got up from the bed. "See you in the morning."
But she didn't. Sam left in the night.
Mason came by a week later to help Darling change some pipes in the B and B's bedrooms' baths. "By the way, what did you do to my friend?"
Darling looked up from the PVC she was measuring. "What do you mean?"
"I happened to see Sam at a rodeo in Lubbock this past weekend. His face was hanging lower than his britches."
"Sounds painful." She went back to measuring.
Mason grunted. "Women can be so cruel."
"Women can be so cruel? Let me tell you, men get exactly what they have coming to them. It's the old you-reap-what-you-sow theory."
"Whew." Mason rolled his eyes. "I'm glad I'm not the one whose heart you threw to the wolves."
"No one's heart got thrown." Darling handed him the PVC. "It was a perfectly happy ending."
"Then why was my buddy drowning in his beer mug?"
Darling layered her heart with an extra-tough mental shield. "Mason, I don't want to talk about Sam. Any relationship I have is off-limits discussion with you. I hesitate to remind you that the townspeople have for years called your ranch Malfunction Junction. And there's a good reason for that, which has to do with you and your wild 'n' woolly brothers. Please don't try to fix my life when yours is pretty much as messed-up as the pipes in this house."
She burst into tears.
"That's what I thought," Mason said, pulling her into his arms for friendly comfort. "I told Sam you weren't nearly as black-hearted as you'd tried to convince him you were."
She sniffled. "Shut up, Mason," Darling said, liberally using his flannel shirt as a tissue for her eyes. "You don't know anything about love. You and Mimi have avoided falling for each other for years."
"Well, let's not talk about that," he said hastily. "Let's concentrate on the L word you just used."
"It slipped out," Darling said miserably. "Don't tell Sam."
Mason raised his head to glance toward the kitchen door. "Don't tell Sam what, Darling?"
"That I fell in love with him."
"And damn glad I am to hear it," Sam said, stepping into the room.
"Sam!" Darling jumped into his arms. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again!"
"You wouldn't have. You scared me too much, woman." Sam looked down at her. "Mason convinced me to come back and talk to you."
"I'm glad he's good for something." Darling sniffed. "Next you have to fix your own love life, Mason."
"I'll be going now," Mason said hastily. "I'll be swiping a muffin off the kitchen counter as I make my escape. "Did I ever tell you those are the best muffins I ever tasted?"
Sam and Darling laughed as Mason quickly exited, leaving them alone.
"New recipe," Darling said. "My boarders have been requesting them ever since that night." The night he'd left her.
"So," Sam said, "last time I checked, you were worried about falling in love alone."
"Right." Darling stared into his eyes. "But I've accepted that you're a rolling stone."
"Me? You were kicking me out emotionally before the sheets even got cold."
"I might have been a bit too hasty."
"Yeah. I didn't even get to romance you properly."
"Romance me? You mean there was more?"
"Definitely. That was just the hors d'oeuvres."
Happiness bloomed inside her heart. He really was crazy about her. "Thank you for coming back."
"I had to, so that I could ask you to marry me. I love you, Darling Montgomery. Will you marry me?"
Darling's whole world burst into sparkling colors. "Yes," she said without hesitation. "Yes!"
Sam grinned at her. "I like the fact that you didn't ask how this is going to work."
"Then I'm glad you noticed that I learned a lot from you, and one of those things is not to think too far ahead. I know that it will all work out."
"Trust is a good thing in a relationship." He kissed her forehead, holding her close to him. "And one of the things I learned from you is...history," Sam said. "Roots. Ties. I bought the old doctor's office on the square. I'll be right there with the Dusty Mule so I can see you fight over Clove's dresses. And I'll be right there where we can drink lavender tea together at the Peppermint Patty."
"And the rodeo?"
"On the weekends, I'll head to the rodeo and fix up my busted friends who don't have a good woman to keep them home."
"That sounds like a very smart plan. Union Junction hasn't had a good doctor in a long time." Darling put her head against Sam's chest, feeling the solid warmth and strength of him. "You're awfully young," she said, her voice teasing. "How can you be so certain I'm the right woman for you?"
He lifted her chin with a finger. "I've been all over this country a few times. I knew when I met you that you were what I'd always been looking for." He kissed her lips gently. "Besides, I've got advanced degrees, lady. I'm a smart man."
She laughed. "I love you, Sam."
He smiled and held her close. "Then serve me a generous portion of love, Darling. I'm starving for you!"
The End