The Diva Diaries (4 page)

Winsome, charming, bewitching…all those words
fit, but no language except the language of the gods could describe the sense of energy and vital essence, the force of spirit within Jenna's delicate features. Her face demanded attention and held it with a magnetic presence. But Sam knew, even if she'd been hidden in a crowd, he would have noticed her with her fine eyes and soft, upswept hair.

Lightning crackled, thunder rumbled, and with each illumination of her face and graceful body, he wanted her more and more until his blood was throbbing with it, beating in time to the delicate, haunting notes drawn from the instrument in her hands.

Sam felt power running though his bones, flesh, fingertips and shaft. She played the final note and waited for the last flash of lightning. The hushed admiration of the audience barely registered with Sam as another flash came. He left his seat and made his way backstage. Compelled by an unseen force that enticed him, drew him with uncontrollable desire. As she stepped into the wing, she collided with his solid form.

He curled steel-fingered hands around her upper arms, steadying her. He so startled her that she almost dropped her instrument.

“Jenna, I…” His voice came out husky and breathless.

Sam had never been so aware of a woman as he was of Jenna Sinclair. His body was tense and throbbing. Her sweet scent teased his senses. Even in the dimness he could discern the voluptuous curves of her body, thinking how perfectly she would fit to him.

“Sam…Sam, I need to change. I don't want to be
late for the reception.” She peered up at him with wide brown eyes, almost making him reel at her closeness. Moments passed by. He took a deep breath to hang on to his resolve and to savor her delicious fragrance.

“Right. I came to drive you over to the hotel.”

“Thanks.”

He let go of her and followed her as she made her way to her dressing room. “Would you like me to wait outside for you?”

“No, I need help with the zipper.”

He followed her inside and Jenna presented her back to him. He pulled down the zipper, his hands tingling at the feel of her silky back. She moved away from him, disappearing behind an ornate screen.

He could hear the rustle of her clothing as she took off the dress, and he closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

When she turned on a light behind the screen, he caught sight of her provocative silhouette and froze. Feeling as if something had thudded into his chest, he fixed his gaze on her, his pulse suddenly heavy. The white light and her dark outline made him think of white sheets and black velvet nights.

His breath jammed in his chest. He watched as she raised her hands over her head and something slinky cascaded down her graceful body, over peaked breasts to the tops of her shapely thighs. Enthralled, enticed, he moved toward the screen. Pressing his fingertip against the screen, he traced the curve of her breasts, the flare of her hips.

He closed his eyes against the surge of desire inside
him, and tried to regain control. She was a city slicker. She lived the same kind of life his ex-wife had left and then regretted once she found herself on an isolated ranch. But Jenna would be gone in a short period of time. He could let his desire reign free. There was danger in letting himself do so, in letting himself get close to her. Traveling, touring, fame were distinct parts of her life, a life she wouldn't give up. Wasn't that what he really wanted—no attachments? Now it made her especially appealing to him.

His hand was still on the screen when she emerged. She stared up at him with a startled look in her soft eyes. She looked at the screen, the light and the distinct outline of the clothing she'd discarded. Her eyes came back to his, sparks igniting in the sultry depths, and she made a helpless sound in her throat. The thought of her hot, silky skin and the sizzling look depleted his resolve. He swiftly captured her against him. The shimmering desire he'd been struggling with raged beyond his power to control, and reason faded.

She gasped as his rough mouth found hers. Softer than the finest velvet, her lips tasted rain-soaked and fresh, as if she had just stepped out of a cleansing downpour.

Jenna couldn't breathe. She had expected to see taunting, maybe invitation, in his eyes when she realized that he had been able to see her naked body as she'd changed. But what she saw was darker, harder. What she saw in those shimmering blue eyes was the same throb of desire she felt in her own chest. The struggle to keep distance, to prevent mistakes. The same
kind of barriers, which were as formidable as hers.

Her hands moved up to his shoulders and into the silky hair on his collar, threading the strands through her fingers.

He cupped her cheek, his fingers sliding into her hair, holding her head steady while he explored the moistness of her mouth. “Sugar pie,” he whispered gruffly, “you taste sweet, so sweet.” In another devastating assault, he invaded her mouth. His touch had her tumbling into the sensation, plunging into the incredible pleasure.

She sucked in her breath when his hands traveled down her body and cupped her buttocks. Sliding his hand along one firm cheek, around to the back of her thigh, he leaned back, bringing her with him. His hand stopped at the underside of her knee as he cupped the delicate joint and lifted her leg.

“Yes…” Her voice caught as she felt the material of his pants against her inner thigh.

His breathing was ragged as he brought the softness of her mound against the hardness bulging in his trousers. She moaned softly against his mouth.

An abrupt knock on the door caused Jenna's eyes to fly open and her desire-drugged brain to realize where she was and what she was doing. She pushed on his chest, wondering how she could have lost her resolve like this.

Sam released her and backed up. “Just a moment,” she called. “I'll be right there.” She took a quick look in the mirror, hastily fixed her lipstick and tried to brush past him to open the door. Sam caught her around the waist and his hot, wet mouth slid across
the back of her neck, the warmth of his kiss filling her with a heavy weakness.

She leaned back. “Sam, I have to open the door. Please.”

“I know,” he said in a whiskey-soft voice, and then he let her go.

As Jenna pulled open the door to greet the excited college students beyond, she realized that the fire her grandmother wrote about had never touched her.

Until now.

Now when she so desperately needed to focus on the task at hand.

She wasn't here for passion. Or was she? The fire beckoned with a sultry, dizzying dance full of promise. A promise that could draw her to that mesmerizing flame until she was engulfed.

What she wanted to know was, would she be able to escape once consumed?

T
HEY RODE IN SILENCE
, but Jenna couldn't get that kiss out of her mind. She didn't dare look at him. Even in the darkness of his truck, she would be able to see his mouth. Unable to help herself, she turned, and the sight of his lips sent shivers of excitement over her skin.

His words drew her head around. “I was out of line. Way out of line.”

He hadn't looked at her as he said it. Jenna knew it wasn't entirely his doing and in that knowledge she could be graceful. “It was spontaneous. Let's face it. When we get close to each other, there are some sparks.”

He heaved a sigh. “And howdy.”

“And if you greet every guest who visits Texas in that manner, I'm coming back.”

He chuckled and turned to smile at her. Which, of course, didn't help one iota. It drew attention to his mouth, warm and soft, then hard and demanding. How would his mouth feel against her flesh, her breasts and between her legs? She squirmed in her seat, wishing they were already at the reception. He'd had to help her into the truck again. This time, she'd only shown a little leg when she'd placed her foot on
the high running board, but Sam, ever the gentleman, had been there to boost her up and into the cab. She wished she'd worn a tight skirt so that he'd have to lift her up and hold her against him again.

When they reached the ritzy hotel where the reception was being held she quickly got out of the truck. Afraid if he put his hands on her she'd go up in flames.

He eyed her and held out his arm for her to link with his. But touching him would be a mistake, so she pretended she didn't see it and walked on ahead of him. When she entered the huge, bustling lobby, he was two steps behind her. Jenna didn't slow, not even to admire the elegance of the rich woodwork, or the mirrored columns and chandeliers. He'd offered his arm again.

There was a large easel in the lobby that held a poster of Jenna and, below it, the particulars of the location for the reception. She continued and had almost made it to the thick navy-blue carpet leading to the reception's ballroom, when she felt his warm hand on her arm.

“Whoa, darlin'. Where's the fire?”

Excitement exploded inside her as every nerve ending in her body screamed out in sensual agony. She gritted her teeth and took a quick breath and turned. “I didn't want to keep the guests waiting.” She forced a smile, hoping that it didn't look forced.

He gestured to the painting in front of her. “I wanted to show you the portrait of my great-grandmother. As I mentioned, the town is named for her.”

Jenna turned her attention to the portrait, glad to take her eyes off Sam. His great-grandmother, Savannah, was even more striking close up and Jenna could see some of the same facial characteristics in Sam. The same strong jawline, deep blue eyes and firm, sensuous lips. She almost groaned out loud.

His expression stilled and grew serious. “She was quite a lady. She helped my great-grandfather carve a life out of the wilderness, brought medicine to Savannah and founded the newspaper. She generally took care of the people in these parts up until she died.”

He was proud of his heritage and he should be. His grandparents had built quite a nice little town. “And you're following along right in her footsteps by modernizing the hospital.”

“Not a bad role model. I wished I'd gotten a chance to know her when she was young.” He laughed. “Quite impossible, since I wasn't born yet.”

Without warning, tears flooded her eyes and she turned away to hide them, but it was too late.

“I'm sorry. I reminded you of your grandmother.”

“It's all right. It's still just so fresh. There are times when it hits me, when I remember she's really gone.”

“I used to think of all these things, you know, in the course of the day, things I would normally save up to tell my dad. I'd think of something and go to pick up the phone to call him, and I couldn't because he was gone.”

“Tell me it eases with time.”

“It does.”

She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief he handed her. “You're a good liar.”

This was all she needed, this tender side of him, with his earnest face and the dark hair on his forehead, and those blue, blue eyes. Her eyes fell to his mouth—again.

“You keep doing that and we won't make it to the reception.”

“Do what?”

“Stare at my mouth. It makes me crazy.”

It makes me crazy.
Her sentiments exactly. He made her crazy.

As they walked down the hall, music filtered out to them. They entered a large room filled with people, long tables draped with fine white cloths and piled high with sumptuous food. Three glittering chandeliers hung overhead. Numerous couples danced on the polished wooden floor to a soft tune.

Applause started somewhere and increased until everyone was clapping. Jenna was taken aback at the warmth in their eyes. Each person they passed offered their congratulations.

Jenna nodded after each person's words, flawlessly meeting and greeting people. Sam felt like a useless lump next to her, stung that she still wouldn't take his arm. The smile on his face began to hurt.

They moved farther into the room. A middle-aged woman with chin-length blond hair struck up a conversation. “You play beautifully. Where were you schooled?”

He eventually got pushed out of her circle and removed himself to get a drink. At the bar, he ordered
whiskey straight up and threw the liquor back, emptying the shot glass. Ordering a glass of white wine and another whiskey, this time a double, he made his way back to her. Elbowing his way through, he handed Jenna the white wine. She smiled at him and brushed his hand with her fingers as she accepted it. For a split second, she hesitated, and then the heat in her eyes exposed her. He suddenly got it. She wouldn't touch him because she was attracted to him. That's why she wouldn't take his arm.

He caught snatches of the conversation.

“Do you travel to exotic places to play your music?” a woman in a shimmering black dress asked, sipping delicately from her champagne glass.

Jenna turned toward the woman, giving her a quick smile. Sam liked the way her face lit up as she answered the questions. “I'm on tour most of the year. I've been to Rome, Saint Petersburg and Budapest. I've done concerts at Christmas in London and New Year's Eve in Milan. They were all beautiful cities.”

“How much do you have to practice every day?” asked a man dressed in a dark blue pinstripe suit, a new Stetson on his head.

Jenna shrugged. “It depends. If I'm learning a new piece, about four hours, otherwise, about two to three.”

“What was it like to go to Julliard?” a dark-haired young woman asked, slipping her arm through her date's crooked one and leaning on his shoulder, dreams in her eyes. She smiled shyly. “I play the piano and hope to get into Julliard next year when I graduate.”

“It was exciting and fun. I got to play my music every day, take dance and theater and even sing.”

“You can sing? Let's hear a song.” The girl's head lifted from the young guy's shoulder.

Jenna looked cornered and Sam muscled his way through again. “Look, she hasn't even eaten yet. Why don't you give her a chance to get a plate and jaw some more before you have her performing again?” He held out his hand and, like a lifeline, Jenna took it. A jolt of electricity shivered through him at her touch, but he held on.

He pulled her into his arms, thinking that dancing with her would give her time to catch her breath. He realized it only made him lose his.

“Do you always take charge?”

“When I see someone who I'm supposed to be hosting around town getting bombarded with questions and looking exhausted, I can't help but butt in.”

She was staring at him and again her eyes were riveted to his mouth. “Is that true,” he asked, “you travel most of the time?”

She drew her eyes away from his mouth and he felt a sense of relief. “Yes. I travel a good part of the year and practice the rest. It suits me.”

“When do you have any fun?”

“Fun?”

“You know, things that make you relax and laugh. You do remember how to do that?”

She rewarded him with a smile. A very nice smile.

“I have vague memories of it.”

“Well, while you're here, why don't we see if we can make some more memories?”

She blinked a couple of times and looked away as a faint rosiness deepened her skin. Well, he'd be damned. The city slicker blushed.

“You dance the waltz beautifully,” she said, still not looking at him.

Immediately, memories of Tiffany badgering him into learning how to waltz stiffened his muscles. His walls came up and his barriers slammed into place. What the hell was he doing? Jenna's traveling reminded him too much of his own ex-wife's interest in getting away from the boredom of the ranch. He wasn't looking for another absentee woman. Their kiss was a lapse in judgment, a mistake that he could put down to libido and hormones. The woman was too fine for her own good, but that didn't mean he'd have to do anything about it. It would be better for everyone if he kept his distance.

“How about something to eat,” he suggested as she let go of him, her face showing that she recognized the change in him. Hell, he couldn't help it. His ex-wife had shredded his heart, leaving him with an empty bed and an empty house.

He wanted to fill both with a woman who would stick around. It was the one thing that Jenna was not.

For hours she made her way through the room, deftly avoiding the spot where he was standing. She conversed with almost everyone. He watched her and still he wanted her. His own behavior unnerved him. His eyes followed her every move, and he felt this pull he couldn't identify, wasn't sure he wanted to identify. He wasn't accustomed to being irresistibly
drawn to what he knew wasn't good for him and he didn't like it.

The orchestra was playing a heartrending tune that made him shift uncomfortably. The soft sounds seemed to intensify the foreboding that had been plaguing him all evening.

He'd screwed up royally by kissing her, he confessed. He was uncomfortable with the acknowledgment, and even more uncomfortable with the panic that welled up inside him at the thought. He'd never been this crazy about a woman before.

In the past twenty minutes of watching her, he was convinced she looked fatigued, something she was trying to hide. Maybe it was because he knew her a little bit better, albeit a couple days more, than these people. He wouldn't ever admit that he wanted to get to know her on a deeper level, a more intimate level. After she stumbled slightly, that was it. He moved from his spot and approached her. Taking her elbow, he said, “Say good-night.”

She turned to look up at him. “I'm fine. It's still early.”

“It's past midnight, Jenna.”

“It is?”

“Yes, so say good-night. You're exhausted.”

A group of students was moving in her direction. The same group that had managed to monopolize most of her time that night.

“Tell them you're leaving.”

“I don't want to disappoint them. I can stay another half an hour.”

He sighed, something stabbing at his heart. He
looked at the eager faces of the students and saw what she saw. Their awe, their hopes and dreams. It was all there on their faces. That she recognized it surprised him. That she cared shocked him for a moment. He hadn't expected that Jenna would care about anyone but herself, just as he'd expected her to sleep until noon and demand attendance by servants. How much else could he be wrong about?

He touched her arm. “You have that workshop and another concert. You'll have a chance to answer all their questions. Besides, I'm beat, too.”

She stared at him. “You are? Of course, you are. What was I thinking? Just let me thank the Savannah College president and I'll be ready to leave.”

Back in his truck the night streamed by as he drove them home. When he glanced over at Jenna, she had her eyes closed and her head lolled. She was tired, but it'd taken her another fifteen minutes to get out of the ballroom. Then she'd been stopped in the lobby by some of the townspeople to sign autographs, which took another fifteen minutes. Now it was past one and he was beginning to feel the fatigue across the back of his shoulders and deep in his muscles.

The problem was he'd have to be up at the crack of dawn to attend to the ranch chores. If he didn't clear some of the paperwork off his desk, he was going to be swimming in it up to his knees.

 

J
ENNA CAME TO
with a start and realized it was because Sam had opened her door. She peered at him in the dim light.

“Come on, sleepyhead.”

She rose and got as far as the running board before the blood rushing to her brain made her unsteady. With a soft cry, she wobbled forward only to be caught by two warm, strong hands at her waist. Still fighting for balance, she put out her hands and connected with his broad shoulders. She could feel the hard strength in him coiled and held in check in case she fell, but she didn't. He was a rock.

His hands tightened at her waist and the muscles bunched in his shoulders, making her stomach flutter at the power-packed flesh beneath her hands.

“One would think you weren't able to get into and out of a vehicle without help,” he said with amusement.

“This truck is way too tall,” she groused.

“Right, much taller than limos, I'm sure.”

Her fuzzy brain couldn't get around that. Limos? She took taxis mostly to get where she wanted to go. Sure, sometimes she rode in a limo, but that wasn't the norm. She lost her train of thought as she looked down into his eyes, reflecting a thousand stars overhead. The inky, glittering beauty took her breath away.

Then she looked up into the heavens and gasped. The stars were so many and so bright. Living in the city, she hadn't realized how brilliant they shone. The movement of her head caused her to wobble again and he lifted her off the running board as gently and as easily as a dust mote.