The Color of Forever: Book Two: Forever Cowboys Series (18 page)

Ben, however, had seemed hesitant about going to bed with her. Most of the time, anyway. Samantha recalled his passionate lovemaking in the meadow and cursed the poachers with renewed vigor. Besides being a threat to Ben, they had popped up at a most inconvenient time and interrupted what was stacking up to be a spontaneous session of uninhibited sex among the wildflowers.

Damn! Her brows drew together as she wondered how much longer it would be before she got Ben back to that point again. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but kept seeing his strong, muscular body above her as he kissed and caressed her lips and breasts until she was on fire. She had felt and seen the hard bulge in his jeans and knew he had wanted her with a desire to match her own.

Those dratted poachers! Still, lying there in her bed alone thinking lustful thoughts of Ben, she knew that no matter how disappointing it was that the men had appeared to prevent their lovemaking, it was nothing compared to the seriousness of what they were doing to the poor animals they slaughtered for black market profits. Ben had explained to her that deer and antelope antlers … even their heads … were sold as trophies and that antlers from big horned sheep could command a price of $20,000 on the black market.

She had been stunned. No wonder poaching was a serious problem, with the black market rewards so lucrative. She recollected all the years she had existed without ever once giving a thought to any of these weighty issues. Sure, she had heard little bits about poachers but had blithely assumed they were in places like Africa. Not here in the United States. Yet another thing she had been wrong about, it seemed.

The look that had passed between Trey and Bandy when she expressed her misgivings about Ben going after the poachers alone, along with Bandy’s comments on the subject, puzzled Samantha.

They had almost seemed amused at her fears. But men were like that, she knew. Most of them refused to see danger in almost anything and wouldn’t admit to being afraid lest they be branded sissies. She was glad they were so supremely confident in Ben’s ability to take on criminals with weapons, single handedly, but she couldn’t share their casual attitude about it.

No matter how smart, well educated or brave he was, Ben seemed too innately kind and gentle to be a real warrior who could cold bloodedly shoot someone if he had to in self defense.

Look how he had hidden from the poachers there in the meadow. Samantha didn’t believe he was a coward, but she felt that he had shown he’d rather play it safe and even though it wasn’t a trait she particularly liked about him, nobody was perfect. The fact was that Ben’s goodness made him special and she wouldn’t trade that for a ton of male bravado.

If she had been serious about him, that is, she mentally qualified. Which of course she wasn’t but even as a friend, she valued his good qualities and was willing to overlook a few small faults or failings. It seemed out of character, then, for him to actively search for the poachers by himself. She grappled with this paradox for a moment before drifting off to sleep.

Maybe he felt safe enough taking them by surprise. Yes, she thought drowsily. That must be it.

Her last thought before slumber claimed her was that she hoped he was right.

Samantha typed the last word of her manuscript she planned to send to an editor in New York who had promised to look over these first three chapters of the book and the synopsis. If she liked it, Samantha felt hopeful she’d buy it and her career as an author would be officially launched. She thought about the freedom that would bring her.

No more dashing to get on crowded public transportation where she and all the other passengers were packed in like sardines. No more annoying office politics that had derailed more than one person’s career and their whole future with it. No more being stuck inside a tall building within a small, claustrophobic cubicle of an office without even a window to see the world outside and no fresh air at all.

She sighed wearily and arched her back, deciding to take her work over to Mari for editing and proofreading. Marielle’s new career as an illustrator for childrens’ books was still in its infancy stages but her enthusiasm was contagious.

She had encouraged Samantha to make the most of this time by writing something, to find out if her dreams of becoming a published author were more than just pleasant fantasies. Mari had been allowed to read short stores Samantha had written down through the years and was convinced that her friend had the makings of a best selling author. But, Samantha reminded herself cautiously, Mari
was
her friend. Her best friend. Of course she’d be inclined to be generous in her appraisal of Sam’s talents as a writer.

The editor she was sending the synopsis and first chapters to would be much more unbiased in her opinion. If Samantha really did possess enough talent to have a chance at success in writing, this editor would tell her so, frankly. If she didn’t, the editor would tell her that, too.

Glancing at the old mantel clock that had been ticking away for many years, she saw that it was already five o’clock. Time had flown while her fingers rushed to keep up with her thoughts as the words poured out of her onto the paper. Getting started on the book had been the hardest part. But now that she was a good way into it, the story began to flow and take on a life of its own. She felt tired but exhilarated, happy that she wasn’t experiencing too much of the dreaded writer’s block.

As she drove over to Mari’s with her partially written book, her thoughts returned to Ben. She hoped he’d stop by this evening and bring her up to speed on the hunt for the poachers. He had come by very briefly yesterday evening, not even staying for coffee, and explained to her that he had a minor crisis at the ranch that required his attention. Samantha had seen the anger flashing in his eyes when he told her he had found another antelope killed and stripped of its antlers. He said he had no way of knowing what other animals had fallen to the poachers and was determined to catch them before much more time had passed.

Later on, sitting out on Marielle’s wide, covered front porch and sipping a glass of Consuelo’s delicious homemade lemonade, Samantha watched anxiously as her friend read the chapters of the book she had printed and brought over.

Finally, after what seemed an age but was only a few minutes, she was relieved to see Samantha lay the pages on the round table between their chairs and turn to her with a beaming smile and a thumbs-up gesture of approval.

“Sammy, this is fantastic! Honestly. It started off with a great hook to snag the reader’s interest and kept on being engaging. I love the synopsis, too. Your years of reading mysteries are paying off now because this will be a great addition to the genre when you’re finished with it.”

Samantha felt relief pour through her at Marielle’s words of praise. She knew the compliments weren’t made lightly and that if something was off and needed fixing, Mari would tell her so straight out. Reminding herself that Mari had worked as an editor for one of the world’s most prestigious publishing companies, she knew she could trust her friend’s judgment.

“Thank you, Mari,” she replied sincerely. “I’m going to give it one more quick read-through and then mail it off to the editor I’ve been talking to about it. Then sit back and wait, which will be agony,” she finished wryly.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Sam. It’s really good and she’ll want to snatch it up before you shop it around anywhere else.”

“I hope so,” Samantha told her friend. “If I can sell this first book, I’ll be able to leave my job and write full-time. It will be tight for a while, but I’ll have a small advance from this book and some savings, too. If worse comes to worse I can loot my 401K although I’d rather not. I would so love being able to earn a living working from home!”

“It’s wonderful,” Marielle told her. “I’m not making all that much yet with my illustrations but I’m getting there and as someone who recently dropped out of the corporate rat race, I can tell you from personal experience that you’ll never have a better boss than yourself.”

Marielle chuckled. “Remember what Lily Tomlin said about it: ‘The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat.’ ”

Samantha laughed uproariously. “No kidding! I don’t want to win anymore. I want to drop out.”

“Just wait, Sammy. It’s going to happen for you.” With these words, Marielle’s expression sobered. “Sam, she said gravely, “I want to talk to you about something and I hope you won’t be mad. I’m only bringing it up because I’m your best friend and I love you and want you to be happy.”

“What?” Samantha was slightly alarmed. Mari looked really serious all of a sudden.

“It’s about Ben.”

“Ben?” Samantha echoed. “What about Ben?”

Marielle leaned toward her and spoke earnestly. “Other people might not notice it as much but after knowing you since kindergarten, I can read you like a book most of the time. I can tell you’ve fallen for Ben Connors, or at least got a huge crush on him.”

Samantha was stunned. She had barely even discussed Ben with Mari! In the usual way of things, she would have. But she had kept her own counsel this time simply because her feelings for Ben were such a jumble she didn’t want to try and put them into words, even to her best friend. How had Marielle picked up on it?

“Ummmm…” she began. “Well … I uh, I am strongly attracted to him. I mean, he really turns me on. I told you that.”

“Yes, you told me that. But what you didn’t tell me was that it goes a lot deeper than lust and wanting to have sex with him. You have real feelings for him, Samantha. I can tell.”

“Well, yeah, I admit I do
like
Ben,” Samantha said, trying to recover her wits and head the conversation off from veering into the forbidden territory of things she wasn’t prepared to discuss.

“What’s not to like? He’s a really nice guy … sweet, considerate, kind. Who wouldn’t like him? But that’s all it is, Mari.
Like
, as in friendship.”

Marielle quirked a delicate eyebrow. “Really?” she drawled. “Is that why you were so worried about him going after those poachers you were practically wringing your hands?”

“Well of course I’m worried about him, Mari! We’re friends, after all. We haven’t even slept together so I think I can safely say it’s just a friendship and still will be even after we have sex. If we ever do. But I haven’t fallen in love with Ben and I won’t. Believe me. It ain’t gonna happen, girlfriend.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Samantha asked, shocked at her friend’s lack of understanding. “
Why not?”

Have you known me all my life without understanding that I’m a city girl? That I thrive on night life and crowds and life in the fast lane? I could never fit in up here, Mari. I like it okay and I’m happy for you that you’ve acclimated so well, but it isn’t for me. Besides,” she went on slowly, “Ben is the kind of guy who wants the whole deal with kids and all that.”

She shrugged. “You know me better than that. I don’t want to go that route with babies and dirty diapers and 2 am feedings.”

Marielle skewered her friend with a penetrating look. “Why not?”

“For heaven’s sake, Marielle, what’s with the why nots today?” Samantha was

surprised at her friend’s persistence in pursuing this subject.

“I’ve never wanted to have kids and do the housewifey thing. I don’t know why not. I only know I don’t. Besides,” she went on with a wry grimace, “it hasn’t ever been a problem because men don’t fall in love with me. Not really. The ones who have sworn undying love always turned out to be either cheats or weirdos or … in Tony’s case … stalkers and mobbed up gangsters.”