Книга - Temptation Ridge

Temptation Ridge
Robyn Carr


The Virgin River seriesTemptation Ridge - Book 6At twenty-five, after five years as her mother's caregiver, it's time for Shelby to experience freedom and adventure. Time for travel, college and romance.But when she visits Virgin River, she runs into Luke Riordan, decidedly "not" whom she has in mind. A handsome Blackhawk pilot, Luke exited the army after twenty years, four wars and having been shot out of the sky three times. At thirty-eight he's tough and jaded. His major was in one-night stands, with a minor in commitment avoidance.Technically, these two are all wrong for one another. But sometimes what you want and what you need are two different things…two very "good" things.Praise for Robyn Carr‘A touch of danger and suspense make the latest in Carr's Thunder Point series a powerful read.’ –RT Book Reviews on The Hero‘With her trademark mixture of humor, realistic conflict, and razor-sharp insights, Carr brings Thunder Point to vivid life.’ –Library Journal on The Newcomer‘No one can do small-town life like Carr.' –RT Book Reviews on The Wanderer‘Strong conflict, humor and well-written characters are Carr's calling cards, and they're all present here… You won't want to put this one down.’ –RT Book Reviews on Angel's Peak‘This story has everything: a courageous, outspoken heroine, a to-die-for hero and a plot that will touch readers' hearts on several different levels. Truly excellent.’ –RT Book Reviews on Forbidden Falls‘An intensely satisfying read. By turns humorous and gut-wrenchingly emotional, it won't soon be forgotten.’ –RT Book Reviews on Paradise Valley‘Carr has hit her stride with this captivating series.’ –Library Journal on the Virgin River series‘The Virgin River books are so compelling - I connected instantly with the characters and just wanted more and more and more.’ –#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber









Praise for RITA


Award-winning author Robyn Carr


“The Virgin River books are so compelling—I connected instantly with the characters and just wanted more and more and more.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

“Robyn Carr creates strong men, fascinating women and a community you’ll want to visit again and again. Who could ask for more?”

—New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods

“Virgin River is sexy, tense, emotional and satisfying. I can’t wait for more!”

—New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers

“A series that promises much to come.”

—New York Times bestselling author Clive Cussler

“This is one author who proves a Carr can fly.”

—Book Reviewer on Blue Skies

“Robyn Carr provides readers [with] a powerful, thought-provoking work of contemporary fiction.”

—Midwest Book Review on Deep in the Valley

“A remarkable storyteller.”

—Library Journal

“A warm, wonderful book about women’s friendships, love and family. I adored it!”

—New York Times bestselling author Susan Elizabeth Phillips on The House on Olive Street

“A delightfully funny novel.”

—Midwest Book Review on The Wedding Party




Temptation Ridge

Robyn Carr


A Virgin River Novel










www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)




Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Virgin River!

Many of you have written to ask if Virgin River is based on an actual town, because, if it is, you’d like to move there! I hate to break it to you, but you’d better unpack those boxes—the town lives only in my mind.

Second Chance Pass, Temptation Ridge and Paradise Valley are the next three books in the VIRGIN RIVER series. You’ll be reacquainted with some old friends, as well as making some new ones. As in life itself, the series continues with stories of romantic fulfillment, of lessons learned and of some hard goodbyes. In your letters you’ve told me how much you’ve enjoyed the strong, handsome, virile men of Virgin River. You’ve admired the beauty, inner strength and intelligence of the women. But what I hear about most is your love for a place where commitment is law—and not just romantic commitment, but the bonding of brotherhood, the fealty of neighbors, the loyalty of an abiding friendship.

I know many of you have ties to the military, and the fact that the Virgin River men have served their country in times of war has added greatly to their charisma. Apart from their obvious sex appeal, it is their solid, emotional core that so many of you have responded to. These characters embody values we all regard as admirable. Honorable.

So, although Virgin River is a fictional town, it can be created in any heart. It’s a place where a glass is half-full, where people gain strength from shouldering their burdens and challenges, where people do the right thing simply because it’s the right thing to do.

Want to live in Virgin River? Just close your eyes and open your heart.









ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


Special thanks to my very own midwife consultant, Pam Glenn, and to Sharon Lampert, women’s health nurse practitioner, with deep appreciation for all the long talks, advice, reading, editing and most of all, for being extraordinary friends.

Chief Kris Kitna of Fortuna, California, Police Department has been a wealth of information on local detail, law enforcement, firearms, hunting and so many other things. Special thanks for never tiring of my constant questions.

Debbie Gustavson, physical therapist extraordinaire, my gratitude for taking so much time to help me understand the physical, emotional and psychological stages in rehabilitation and recovery. Your patients are very, very lucky to have you. And I am blessed to have you as a friend.

Without Kate Bandy’s input on every fresh manuscript, I would be so lost. Thank you for all your time, your valuable comments, your undying support and a friendship that has sustained me for decades.

Michelle Mazzanti, thank you for reading early drafts and propping me up. Every comment offered was always spot-on and crucial to helping me craft a better book.

Special thanks to Rebecca (Beki) Keene and Sokreatrey (Ing) Cruz, my two dear Internet friends. Beki gets applause for helping to solve plot problems and Ing is a genius at coming up with character names. Your support through a million e-mails discussing characters and stories has been priceless.

Thanks again to Denise and Jeff Nicholl for reading and commenting on manuscripts, and for wonderful encouragement and friendship.

To Colleen Gleason, talented author and special friend, thank you for hand selling so many copies of the Virgin River series. You are like a one-man band!

And a very special and heartfelt thanks to my editor, Valerie Gray, and to my agent, Liza Dawson. What a fabulous team. Your diligence and assistance at every turn made this little town and its people possible. I’m so grateful.


This novel is dedicated to Liza Dawson, my right

arm, my clear head, my arch and my spine. Your

insight is like a beacon, your encouragement like

a warm blanket. Thank you from my heart for the

incredible affection and energy you give to me.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen




One


Shelby was within ten miles of her Uncle Walt’s ranch when she had to pull over to the side of highway 36, the busiest stretch between Virgin River and Fortuna, behind an old pickup truck that looked vaguely familiar. Although 36 was the highway that ran across the mountains from Red Bluff to Fortuna, it was mostly two lane. She put her cherry-red Jeep SUV in Park and stepped out of the vehicle. The rain had finally stopped, giving way to a bright summer sun, but the road was wet and splattered with muddy puddles. She peered way up the road to see a man wearing a bright orange vest holding a stop sign toward a long string of cars, closing both lanes. The turnoff to her Uncle Walt’s would be on the other side of the next hill.

She picked her way around puddles to the truck parked in front of her, intending to ask the driver if he knew what was going on. When she got to the driver’s window she smiled. “Well, hey, Doc.”

Doc Mullins looked out the open window. “Hey, yourself, little girl. Up here for a weekend of riding?” he asked with his usual grumpy tone.

“Not this time, Doc. I sold my mother’s house in Bodega Bay,” she said. “Packed up the bare essentials and am moving in with Uncle Walt for a while.”

“Permanently?”

“Nah. For a few months, though. I’m still in transition.”

Doc’s grimace melted slightly, but only slightly. “Once again, condolences on your loss, Shelby,” he said. “I hope you’re doing all right with that.”

“Better all the time, thanks. My mom was ready to go.” She tilted her head up the road. “Have any idea what’s holding us up here?”

“Soft shoulder gave out,” he said. “I passed it on my way to Valley Hospital. Dumped half this lane down the hill. They’re repairing.”

“Guardrails would be nice,” she observed.

“Only around the tight curves,” he said. “On a straightaway like this, we’re on our own. Damn lucky a car or truck didn’t go with that soft shoulder. It’s going to be like this the next few days.”

“Once I get to Walt’s, I’m not planning to be on this road again, for a while anyway,” she said with a shrug.

“What are you planning, if I might ask?” Doc said, lifting one of his bushy eyebrows.

“Well, while I’m visiting the family, I’ll be making applications to schools. Nursing,” she said with a smile. “A fairly obvious choice for me after taking care of my mother for years.”

“Ach, just what I need,” he said with his usual scowl. “Another nurse. Drive me to drink.”

She laughed at him. “At least we won’t have to drive you far.”

“There’s just what I mean. Another impertinent one, at that,” he clarified.

She laughed again, loving this ornery old guy. Shelby turned, Doc leaned out of his window and both of them watched a man approach from the truck that had stopped behind Shelby’s Jeep. He walked toward them. His hair was shaved down in that military fashion she’d been accustomed to all her life; her uncle was a retired army general. A black T-shirt was stretched tight over broad, hard shoulders, his waist narrow, his hips slim and legs long. But what fascinated her was the way he came toward them, with an economy of movement. Deliberate. Confident. Cocky. His thumbs were hooked into front pockets and he sauntered. When he got closer, she could see his very slight smile as he looked at her, or looked her over, to be more precise. Sizing her up with glowing eyes. In your dreams, she thought, which caused her to smile back.

As he passed her Jeep, he glanced inside at all the packed-up boxes, then continued to where she was standing beside Doc’s open window. “That yours?” he asked, jutting his chin toward the Jeep.

“Yup.”

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“Virgin River. You?”

“The same.” He grinned. “Any idea what’s going on up there?”

“Collapsed shoulder,” Doc said with a grunt. “They have us down to one lane for repairs. What’s your business in Virgin River?”

“I have some old cabins along the river there.” He glanced between them. “You two live in the town?” he asked.

“I have family there,” Shelby said. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Shelby.”

He took her small hand. “Luke. Luke Riordan.” He turned toward Doc, putting out his hand again. “Sir?”

Doc didn’t extend a hand, but rather gave a nod. His hands were so twisted with arthritis, he never risked a handshake. “Mullins,” he said.

“Doc Mullins has lived in Virgin River all his life. He’s the town doctor,” Shelby explained to Luke.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Luke said.

“Another jarhead?” Doc asked, lifting one white, spiking eyebrow.

Luke straightened. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “Army. Sir.” Then he looked at Shelby. “Another marine?”

“A few of our friends who work in town are marines. Retired or discharged. Their friends come around sometimes—some of them are still active or in the reserves,” she explained. “But my uncle, who I’ll be living with for a while, was Army. Retired.” She grinned. “You won’t stand out that much with your hairdo. I don’t know what it is with you guys and the buzz cuts.”

He smiled patiently. “We’ve never been checked out on those dryer things.”

“Ah. Blow-dryers. Right.”

As they waited in their stalled lane, the second lane was opened up to let a big yellow school bus pass. Judging by the number of vehicles waiting in their lane, they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, so there was no great rush to get back to their cars. They remained standing on the road, which ended up being a big mistake for Luke. As he saw the bus barreling down the other lane, Luke also noted a sizable puddle in front of it. He quickly put himself between Shelby and the bus, pressing her up against Doc’s open window. With a hand on each side of her, he covered her with his body, barely in time to feel the splat from the puddle against his back.

Shelby stifled a chuckle. Macho man, she thought with some humor.

Luke heard downshifting, then the squeal of brakes. “Jesus,” he muttered as he backed off the girl and glared after the bus.

As Luke turned and scowled at the bus, the driver leaned out the window. A round-faced woman in her fifties, rosy cheeked with a cap of short dark hair, grinned at him. She grinned! “Sorry, buddy,” she said. “Couldn’t hardly help that.”

“You could if you went a lot slower,” he yelled back at her.

To his astonishment, she laughed. “Aw, I wasn’t going too fast. I got a schedule, y’know,” she yelled. “My advice? Stay out of the way.”

His scalp felt hot under his short hair and he really wanted to swear. When he turned back to Shelby and Doc, he found her smiling behind her hand and Doc’s eyes twinkling. “You got a little splatter on your back there, Luke,” she said, trying to keep control of her lips.

Doc’s face was the same—cranky and impatient, but for the glittering eyes. “Molly’s been slinging that big yellow tube around these mountains for thirty years now, and ain’t nobody knows these roads better. Guess she didn’t see a pothole this once.”

“It’s not even September yet!” Luke protested.

“She drives year-round,” Doc said. “Summer school, special programs, athletics. Always something going on. She’s a saint—you couldn’t pay me enough to do that job. What’s a mud puddle here and there?” Then the old doctor put his truck noisily in gear. “Our turn coming up.”

Shelby jogged back toward her Jeep. Luke started to walk back toward his truck, which pulled a camper. Then he heard Doc, shouting at his back, “Welcome to Virgin River, son. Enjoy yourself.” And it was followed by a cackle.



Shelby McIntyre had been fixing up her deceased mother’s house for months, but she’d been able to drive up to Virgin River from Bodega Bay nearly every weekend through the summer to ride. And her Uncle Walt had paid many a visit to her to oversee renovation work that he’d personally contracted. By the end of summer Shelby had roses on her cheeks. She had rolled up her shorts and her legs were tanned. Her thighs and butt had developed firm riding muscles and her eyes sparkled with health. It had been years since she’d benefited from that type of regular exercise.

But when she pulled up in front of Walt’s house now, in mid-August, it was a completely different feeling. The house was sold, her belongings were in the back of her Jeep, and at the age of twenty-five, she was embarking on a brand-new life. She gave the horn a toot, got out of her Jeep and stretched. In just moments, Uncle Walt came out the front door, stood there with his hands on his hips, a big grin on his face. “Welcome back,” he said. “Or should I say, welcome home?”

“Hey there,” she said, walking into his arms. Walt was six feet with thick, silver hair, dark bushy brows and shoulders and arms like a wrestler’s. He was a powerfully built man for just over sixty.

He hugged her tight. “I was just about to go to the stable and saddle up. You too tired? You hungry or anything?”

“I’m dying to get on a horse, but I think I’ll pass after riding in a Jeep for over four hours,” she said.

He laughed. “Backside pretty well broken in?”

“Ohhh,” she said, rubbing her butt.

“I’m just riding down along the river for an hour or so. Vanni’s down at the new construction, getting in Paul’s business, but she’s going to be back in time to cook you a nice welcome-home dinner.”

Shelby looked at her watch. It was only three-thirty. “Tell you what—I’m going to run into town while you go for your ride and Vanni inspects her new house. I’ll say hi to Mel Sheridan and see if I can talk her into a beer to celebrate my change of residence. I’ll be back in time to help with the horses before dinner. Should I get this stuff out of the Jeep first? Take it inside?” she asked.

“Honey, leave it be, no one’s gonna bother it. Paul and I will unload you before supper.”

She grinned at him. “Let’s make a date for tomorrow morning. We’ll have that ride together.”

“Good deal. No trouble closing on the house?”

“It was a little more emotional than I expected. I thought I was ready.”

“Regrets?”

She turned her large hazel eyes up to his face. “I cried for the first fifty miles,” she said. “And then I started to get excited. I’m sure about this.”

“Good,” he said, giving her a squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Just for a few months. Then I’m going to travel a little and get a head start on school. It’s been so long since I’ve been a student.”

“Life here is usually pretty laid-back. Take advantage of it.”

“Yeah—” she laughed “—when you’re not having shoot-outs or forest fires.”

“Well, hell, girl, we want to keep things interesting!” He walked her to her Jeep.

“Wait for me to get back to muck the stalls and feed the horses.”

“Enjoy a little girlfriend time,” he said. “It’s something you haven’t had enough of the past few years. You’ll have plenty of horseshit to muck while you’re here.”

“Thanks, Uncle Walt,” she said and laughed. “I won’t be too long.”

He kissed her forehead. “I said, take your time. You took good care of my sister. You’ve earned piles of it.”

“See you in a couple of hours,” Shelby said, heading for town.



Luke Riordan pulled into Virgin River, his Harley strapped into the back of his extended-cab truck, pulling his small camper. It had been seven years since he’d seen this town and there had been a few changes. The church was now boarded up, but what he remembered as an old, abandoned cabin in the center of town was renovated, had cars and trucks parked around the front porch, and an Open sign in the window. It looked like some construction was under way behind the cabin; it was framed for an add-on. Since he was considering a renovation project of his own, he wouldn’t mind having a look at what had been done to this place. He parked off to the side, out of the way, and got out of the truck. He went into the camper and changed out of his muddy shirt before going inside.

The August afternoon was warm, with a cool, refreshing breeze; the night would be chilly in the mountains. He hadn’t been out to the house he planned to live in, which had been vacant for a year. If it was uninhabitable, he had his camper. He took a deep breath. The air was so damn clean, it stung the lungs. Such a huge change from the deserts of Iraq and El Paso. Just what he’d been needing.

He walked into the renovated cabin and found himself in a good-looking little country bar. He stood just inside the door and looked around appreciatively. The hardwood floors gleamed, hot embers glowed in the hearth, hunting and fishing trophies hung mounted on the walls. There were about a dozen tables and a long, shiny bar behind which there were shelves full of liquor and glasses surrounding a stuffed king salmon that must have weighed about forty pounds at the catch. A television, mounted high in a corner, was tuned to national news, the volume turned down. A couple of fishermen, identifiable by their khaki vests and hats, sat at one end of the bar playing cribbage. A few men in work shirts and jeans were having drinks at a nearby table. Luke looked at his watch: 4:00 p.m. He walked up to the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“A cold draft, thanks. This place wasn’t here the last time I was through town.”

“You’ve been away a while then. I’ve been open more than four years now. I bought it and turned it into this.”

“Well, you did a helluva job,” he said, accepting the beer. “I’m going to be doing some remodeling myself.” He stuck out his hand. “Luke Riordan,” he said.

“Jack Sheridan. Pleasure.”

“I bought some old cabins along the Virgin that have been sitting empty and going downhill for years now.”

“Those old Chapman cabins?” Jack asked. “The old man died just last year.”

“Yeah, I know,” Luke said. “I was back here hunting with one of my brothers and a couple of friends when we first saw them. My brother and I thought the location, right on the river, might be worth some money. We noticed the cabins weren’t in use and wanted to buy ’em and fix ’em up for a quick resale, turn ’em fast and make a couple of bucks. But old Chapman wouldn’t even listen to an offer….”

“It would have left him homeless,” Jack said, giving the bar a wipe with a cloth. “He wouldn’t have had too many options, and he was all alone.”

Luke took a drink of his icy beer. “Exactly. So we bought the whole property, including his house, and told him he could stay there, rent free, for life. It turned out to be seven years.”

Jack grinned. “Sweet deal for him. Smart deal for you. Property doesn’t come available around here that often.”

“We could see right off the land under those cabins was worth more than the buildings, right on the river like that. I haven’t been able to get back here since, and my brother has only been up here once, just to have a look—he said nothing had changed.”

“What held you up?”

“Well,” he said, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Afghanistan. Iraq. Fort Bliss and a few other places.”

“Army?”

“Yeah. Twenty.”

“I did twenty in the Marine Corps,” Jack said. “I thought I’d come up here and serve up a few drinks, fish and hunt for the next twenty.”

“Yeah? Sounds like a good plan.”

“My plan got derailed by a cute little nurse midwife by the name of Melinda.” He grinned. “I would’ve been fine, but that woman does something to a pair of jeans that ought to be against the law.”

“That so?” Luke asked.

“Anyone can go fishing,” Jack said with a satisfied smile.

Luke didn’t mind seeing a man happy with his life. He smiled back. Then he asked, “Did you do most of this work yourself?”

“Most. I got some help, but I like taking credit where I can. This bar is a custom job, delivered to me finished. I installed the shelves and laid the hardwood floors. I didn’t trust myself with the plumbing and I screwed up the wiring enough to have to hire someone, but I’m good with wood—I managed to add a large one-room apartment onto the back to live in. My cook, Preacher, has it now and is adding on again—his family’s growing, but he likes living at the bar. You going to work on those cabins?”

“I’m going to look at the house first. Chapman was already pretty old when we bought the whole business—that house probably needs work. And I have no idea what shape the cabins are in, but I don’t have anything better to do right now. Worst case, I can fix up the house and live in it for a while. Best case, I can renovate the house and the cabins and put ’em on the market.”

“Where’s your brother?” Jack asked.

“Still active. Sean is stationed at Beale Air Force Base in the U-2. It’s just me for now.”

“What did you do for the army?” Jack asked him.

“Black Hawks.”

“Shew,” Jack said, shaking his head. “They go in some real hot spots.”

“Tell me about it. I came out the hard way.”

“You drive one in?” Jack asked.

“Hell, no,” he said indignantly. “I had to be shot down.”

Jack laughed. “Man. At least you got your twenty.”

“It wasn’t even the first time,” Luke said. “But in a moment of sheer genius, I decided it should be the last.”

“Something tells me we’ve been in some of the same places,” Jack said. “Maybe even at around the same time.”

“Saw some combat, did you?”

“Afghanistan, Somalia, Bosnia, Iraq. Twice.”

“Mogadishu,” Luke confirmed, shaking his head.

“Yeah, we left you boys in a mess. I hated that,” Jack said. “You lost a lot of brothers. I’m sorry, man.”

“It was bad,” Luke agreed. What started out as a relief mission sanctioned by the UN ended in a horrible uprising after the Marine Corps was pulled out and the army was left behind. Somalian warlord Aidid launched an attack that left eighteen U.S. Army soldiers dead and over ninety wounded in a bloody conflict. “One of these days, Jack, we’ll get drunk and talk about the battles.”

Jack reached out, grabbed Luke’s upper arm and said, “You bet. Welcome to the neighborhood, brother.”

“Now, tell me where to go for a night out that might include women, who to call if I need help with the house or cabins and what hours I can get a beer here,” Luke said.

“Been a long time since I’ve been looking for women, buddy. The coastal towns have some nice spots—try Fortuna or Eureka. There’s the Brookstone Inn in Ferndale—nice restaurant and bar. Old-town Eureka is always good. Then for something a little closer, there’s a little bar in Garberville with a jukebox.” He shrugged. “I remember seeing one or two pretty girls there. And I have just the guy for you if you need help with the remodel. A buddy of mine just moved a part of his family’s construction company down here from Oregon and he’s doing Preacher’s add-on. He helped me finish my house. He’s a helluva builder. Let me go get one of his cards.”

Jack went into the back and hadn’t been gone a minute when two women came into the bar and almost gave Luke a heart attack. A couple of pretty blondes, one in her thirties with curly golden hair and the other, much younger, with an unforgettable thick, honey-colored braid that hung down her back to her waist. The girl from the roadside; the one he saved from a muddy bath—Shelby. Both of them were wearing tight jeans and boots. The golden girl had on a loose-knit sweater, while Shelby wore the same crisp white shirt from earlier, sleeves rolled, collar open and tied at the waist. He tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help looking at them, though they hadn’t noticed him at all. His immediate thought was that he wouldn’t have to go as far as Garberville. They jumped up on bar stools just as Jack came from the back.

“Hey, baby,” he said, leaning across the bar to the older of the two women, kissing her. Ah, Luke thought, those would be the illegal jeans that keep him from fishing. What man wouldn’t give up fishing to spend more of his time with a woman like that? “Meet a new neighbor. Luke Riordan, this is Mel, my wife, and Shelby McIntyre—she has family here.”

“Pleasure,” he said to the women.

“Luke here owns those old Chapman cabins on the river and he’s thinking of renovating. He’s ex-army, so we’re gonna let him stay.”

“Welcome,” Mel said.

Shelby said nothing. She smiled at him, letting her eyelids drop a bit. He judged her to be about eighteen, just a girl. In fact, if she’d been any older, he might’ve gotten a phone number out there on the muddy road. Eureka or the Brookstone couldn’t beat this, though both these women were obviously completely off-limits—Mel was Jack’s woman and Shelby appeared to be a teenager. A very sexy teenager, he thought with a slight flush of warmth. But their appearance held promise. If two such beautiful women could be found in a little bar in Virgin River, there had to be a few more scattered around these mountains.

“Here you go,” Jack said, sliding a business card across the bar. “My buddy Paul. Right now he’s also building a house for my younger sister, Brie, and her husband next door to us. Plus one for himself and his wife.”

“My cousin,” Shelby said.

Luke lifted his eyebrows in question.

“Well, Paul’s married to my cousin Vanessa. They’re staying at my Uncle Walt’s and I’m staying with them.”

“You want a beer, Mel?” Jack asked his wife. “Shelby?”

“I’ll have a quick soda with Shelby, then I’m going home to relieve Brie of the kids so she can have dinner with Mike,” Mel said. “I just wanted to swing through and tell you where I’ll be. I’ll feed the kids and put them to bed. Will you bring us some of Preacher’s dinner when you come home later?”

“Be happy to.”

“And I’m going home to help with the horses,” Shelby said. “But I’ll have a beer first.”

Well, at least she was twenty-one, Luke found himself thinking. Unless Jack had some very relaxed age standards in this little neighborhood bar, which was entirely possible.

“I’d probably better get going—” Luke said.

“Hang around,” Jack said. “If you don’t have to go, five o’clock usually brings out the regulars. Perfect opportunity to meet your neighbors.”

Luke looked at his watch. “I guess I can hang out a while.”

Jack laughed. “Buddy, the first thing that’s gonna go is that watch.” Jack put a beer in front of Shelby, a cola in front of his wife.

Luke talked with Jack a while about the renovation of the bar while the women were occupied with their own conversation. Not ten minutes had passed when Jack said, “Excuse me, I’m going to walk my wife out,” and Luke was left at the bar with Shelby.

“I see you changed clothes,” Shelby said to him.

“Um, that was pretty necessary. The schoolmarm got me good.”

She laughed softly. “I never thanked you. For saving my blouse.”

“No thanks necessary,” he said, sipping his beer.

“I’ve seen those cabins,” Shelby said. “I like to ride along the river. They look pretty awful.”

He chuckled. “I’m not surprised to hear that. With any luck, they’re not beyond hope.”

“They were built a long time ago when people used quality materials,” she said. “I learn these things from my cousin—some of these old houses are built like brick shit—Um. Well. So, do you expect your family to join you here?” she asked him.

He grinned into his beer. And the question, so quick and to the point, surprised him. He lifted his eyes from his beer and looked at her. “No,” he said. “I have a mother and brothers scattered around.”

“No wife?” she asked, one corner of her mouth tilting upward along with the slight lift of one pretty brow.

“No wife,” he said.

“Aw. Too bad,” she said.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, Shelby. I happen to like it this way.”

“Solitary kind of guy, are you?”

“No. Just an unmarried kind of guy.” He knew this was his cue to ask her if she was attached to someone special, but it was irrelevant. He wasn’t going there. And while he knew getting to know her better probably wasn’t wise, he put an elbow on the bar, leaned his head on his hand, met her eyes and said, “Just visiting, huh?”

She took a drink of her beer, nodding.

“How long are you in town for?”

“That’s still kind of up in the air,” she said. Jack was back behind the bar and Shelby put down her glass, still half-full, and a couple of dollars on the bar. “I’d better go take care of those horses. Thanks, Jack.”

Jack turned toward her. “Shelby, why don’t you just ask for half a beer?” he said.

She shrugged, smiling. She put out her hand to Luke. “Nice seeing you again, Luke. Later.”

“Sure,” he said, taking her hand. As she left, he watched her walk out. He didn’t want to do that, but the view was impossible to resist. When he looked back at Jack, Jack grinned, then got busy behind the bar.

Before seven o’clock Luke had met Preacher—or John to his wife and young stepson. He met Paige, Preacher’s wife, and Jack’s younger sister Brie and her husband, Mike. He saw old Doc Mullins again and passed the time with some of his new neighbors. He feasted on some of the best salmon he’d ever eaten, heard some local lore and was already feeling like one of the gang. While he was there others passed through for dinner and drinks, greeting Jack and Preacher like old pals.

Another couple entered and Luke was introduced to Paul Haggerty, the builder, and his wife, Vanessa. “Jack gave me a call,” Paul said. “He tells me we have you as a new neighbor.”

“That’s optimistic,” Luke said. “I haven’t been out to the property yet.”

“Is that your camper out there?” Paul asked.

“As a precaution,” Luke said with a laugh. “If the house isn’t habitable, I won’t have to sleep in the truck.”

“Be sure and let me know if you need me to look at any of it.”

“I appreciate that. More than you realize.”

Luke found himself staying at the bar far later than he had intended. In fact, when Jack’s friends were saying good-night, he was still there, having a cup of coffee with Jack. These seemed like nice people, though he was a little shell-shocked by the women. He could accept the idea that Jack had found himself a young beauty right in Virgin River, but it seemed they were everywhere. Shelby, Paige, Brie and Vanessa were all damn sweet-looking. He held out great hope of landing himself at least a little diversion in the next town over.

“You’re going to want to meet Paul’s father-in-law, Walt,” Jack said. “He’s retired army.”

“Yeah?” Luke asked. “I think Shelby mentioned that.”

“Three-star. Nice guy.”

Luke groaned in spite of himself. He actually dropped his head. And apparently Jack was reading him.

“Yep. Shelby’s Uncle Walt,” Jack said.

“Shelby. The eighteen-year-old?”

Jack chuckled. “She’s a little older than that. But I admit, young. Looker, though, isn’t she?”

That was impossible to miss, Luke thought. “I took one look at her and felt like I was going to get arrested,” he said, making Jack laugh. “How much more dangerous could she be, huh? Young, sweet and living with a three-star.”

“Yeah,” Jack laughed. “But hell, she’s all grown up now. Grew up fine, I’d say.”

“Hey, I’m not getting near that,” Luke said.

“Whatever you say,” Jack said.

Luke stood up, put money on the bar, put out his hand and said, “Thanks, Jack. I really didn’t expect this kind of welcome. I’m glad I shot through town before going out to the house.”

“Let us know if we can do anything to help. Nice having you with us, soldier. You’re going to like it here.”




Two


It was typical of the Sheridans to have their dinner together at the bar, often with friends and family, and then Jack would load up his little family and send them home so Mel could put the children to bed while he stayed on, serving until closing. On this particular night, Mel had hurried home to relieve Brie of babysitting. Jack snuck out of the bar a little early and brought their dinner home.

It could still amaze him, the satisfaction he felt when he went home to his family. Three years ago he was a single man, living in a room built onto his bar, completely disinterested in a domestic tether like this. Now he couldn’t imagine any other kind of life. He kept thinking that the strength of his feelings for his wife should settle into a kind of complacency by now, and yet his passion for her, the depth of his love, only grew by the day. She had wound her sweet love around his heart and owned him, body and soul. He didn’t know how he’d lived so long without it; didn’t know why other men evaded it, and he finally understood his friends who’d lived this life for years.

It was nothing fancy: a meal at the kitchen table, some conversation about the building at the bar, the new guy in town, Shelby’s return for a nice long visit while she applied to colleges. But for Jack it was the most important part of his day, that time he had Mel all to himself, the kids tucked in for the night.

When the dishes were cleaned up, Mel headed for the shower first. Jack brought in logs and laid a fresh fire in the master-bedroom hearth—the nights were already getting brisk. Fall came early in the mountains. When that was done, he went around the house collecting trash to take to the town Dumpster in the morning. He pulled off his boots by the back door and as he passed the laundry room, he tugged off his shirt and socks and left them on the washer. By the time he got back to his bedroom, the shower had stopped running. He hung his belt in the closet and went to the master bath.

As he stood in the doorway, he caught Mel in front of the mirror, quickly pulling her towel closed over herself. She had a guilty look on her face as she met his eyes in the mirror. “Melinda, what are you doing?” he asked, unzipping his jeans to take them off and take a shower of his own.

“Nothing,” she said, averting her eyes.

He frowned and stepped toward her. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Were you covering up? In front of me?” he asked, astonished.

“Jack, I’m going to pot,” she said, cinching the towel tighter.

“What?” he asked, laughter in his voice. “What are you talking about?”

She took a deep breath. “My boobs are drooping, my butt fell into my thighs, I have a potbelly, and if that’s not bad enough, I’m so covered with stretch marks, I look like a deflated balloon.” She put a hand against his rock-hard chest. “You’re eight years older than I am and you’re in perfect shape.”

He started to laugh. “I thought you were trying to cover a tattoo or something. Mel, I didn’t have two children, a year apart. Emma’s only a few months old. Give yourself a little time, huh?”

“I can’t help it. I miss my old body.”

“Oh-oh,” he said, putting his arms around her. “If you’re thinking like that, I’m not doing my job.”

“But it’s true,” she said, laying her head against the soft mat of hair on his chest.

“Mel, you are more beautiful every day. I love your body.”

“It’s not what it was…”

“Hmm. But it’s better,” he said. He tugged at the towel and she hung on. “Come on,” he said. She let go and he pulled it away. “Ah,” he said, smiling down at her. “This body is amazing to me—incredible. More lush and irresistible every day.”

“You can’t mean that,” she said.

“But I do.” He leaned down and touched her lips with his, one hand on her breast, the other moving smoothly down her back and over her bottom. “This body has given me so much—I worship this body.” He lifted her breast slightly. “Look,” he said.

“I can’t bear it,” she complained.

“Look, Mel. Look in the mirror. Sometimes when I see you like this, uncovered, I can’t breathe. Every small change just makes you better, more delicious to me. You can’t think I’d have anything but complete admiration for the body that gave me my children. You give me so much pleasure, sometimes I think I might be losing my mind. Baby, you’re perfect.”

“I’m twenty pounds heavier than when you met me,” she said.

He laughed at her. “What are you now? A size four?”

“You don’t know anything. It’s much more than a four. We’re headed for double digits…”

“God above,” he said. “Twenty more pounds for me to gobble up.”

“What if I just keep getting fatter and fatter?”

“Will you still be in there? Because it’s you I love. I love your body, Mel, because it’s you. You understand that, right?”

“But…”

“If I had an accident that blew my legs off, would you stop loving me, wanting me?”

“Of course not! That’s not the same thing!”

“We’re not our bodies. We’ve been lucky with our bodies, but we’re more than that.”

“It was my butt in a pair of jeans that got your attention….”

“My love for you is a lot deeper than that, and you know it. However—” he grinned “—you still knock me out in those jeans. If you’ve gained twenty pounds, it went to all the right places.”

“I’m thinking—tummy tuck,” she said.

“What nonsense,” he said, leaning down to cover her mouth in a bold and serious kiss. His hands were moving up and down her bare back and before seconds had passed, she was losing herself in his touch. “The first time we made love, I thought it was the best love I’d ever had. Ever. The best experience of my life. I really didn’t think it could get better—but it does. Every time, richer and deeper than the time before.”

“I’m going to stop eating Preacher’s fattening food,” she said, but she said it a little breathlessly. “I’m going to insist he start making salads.”

He took her hand in his and put her palm against his belly, sliding it down. “I’m not going to have time for that shower,” he said, his voice husky. His lips went to her neck. “Unless you want to get back in, with me.”

“Jack…”

“You know how much I wanted you that first night?” he whispered against her cheek. “I’ve wanted you more every night since. Come on,” he said, bending and lifting her into his arms. “I’m going to show you how beautiful you are.” He carried her to the bed, laid her softly on the sheets and knelt over her, an arm braced on each side. “Want me to light the fire?” he asked with a chuckle.

She ran her hands down over his narrow hips, sliding his jeans lower. “Jack, if you start to find me unattractive, will you tell me? Please? While there’s still time for me to do something about it?”

He covered her mouth, kissing her deeply. “If that ever happens, Melinda, I’ll be sure to tell you.” He kissed her again. “God, you taste good.”

“You don’t taste bad,” she whispered, letting her eyes fall closed.

“Any special requests?” he asked her.

“Everything you do is special,” she whispered.

“Fair enough,” he said. “We’ll just do everything….”



When Luke pulled up to the house and cabins in the dark of night, he used a big flashlight to illuminate them. The electricity had been shut off last year when old Mr. Chapman passed. All he could really make out was a house black as pitch and a few cabins with peeling shingles and some boarded-up windows. A closer inspection had to wait until morning.

But the sound of the rushing river was awesome. What a great locale this was for the time being. He remembered how much he’d liked this place the first time he’d seen it—the sound of the river, the owls, the wind through the pines making that whistling sound, the occasional bark of a goose or quack of a duck. Although it was cold, he pulled out extra blankets and planned to sleep with one of the camper’s windows open so he could hear the river and the wildlife.

At the first light of morning, he pulled on his jeans and boots and went outside to a morning that was just turning pink, the air crisp and damp. Just down the bank he could see the river rushing over natural waterfalls where, in fall, the salmon would be jumping upstream to spawn. On the opposite side of the river were four deer having a drink. And—unsurprisingly—the house and cabins looked like hell. What a pimple on the face of this beautiful landscape.

Exactly what he expected. A lot of work ahead, but great potential. They could sell it right now for the value of the land, or he could improve the structures and get a much better price. And he needed something constructive to do while he plotted his next move. He could scout around for a helicopter flying job. There were news choppers, medical transport, private industry. He took a deep breath. But for right now, this little piece of river land was perfect.

He went first to inspect the house. The porch out front was nice and big, but would have to be reinforced, sanded and stained or painted. The door was stuck and he had to force it, splintering some of the rotting wood around the jamb. Of course the place was filthy—not only had it not seen a good cleaning in a long while before Mr. Chapman’s death, in the year since, a couple of animals had burrowed in and taken roost. He heard the sound of scurrying, saw footprints on the dusty floor, and the countertops suggested a menagerie. The place would be full of mice, raccoons, maybe opossums. Hopefully the bear didn’t have a den in here. He’d be sleeping in the camper for a while.

It didn’t have a good smell, either. Everything was left as it was the day Mr. Chapman passed—the bed was even mussed as though he’d just gotten out of it. Dirty clothes littered the floor, there was rotten and petrified food in the kitchen, all the furniture was still in place. Nasty, musty, stained furniture that was on its very last legs. The appliances also seemed to be about a million years old and the refrigerator had never been cleaned out before the electricity was shut off. It was completely destroyed by odors that would have to be blasted out.

Right inside the front door was a decent-size living room with a good-looking stone hearth. To the immediate left was a large, empty dining room separated from the kitchen by a breakfast bar that was sagging. The kitchen was big enough for a table and four chairs or, better still, a butcher-block island.

Straight ahead was a short hall—on one side a big bathroom with a clawfoot tub, on the other, a utility room. Straight ahead was a bedroom. No walk-in closet here—this was an old-fashioned house. The old man had left large, man-size bureaus and wardrobes. The bed was a big, wooden four-poster. Luke didn’t much like the furniture, but he thought since it was solid, heavy, durable ash, it was probably valuable.

He made a U-turn and went back to the living room. There he found a staircase to the second floor. He went up cautiously, not sure of the reliability of the steps. Plus, it was dark up there. If he remembered, there were two good-size bedrooms and no bath. More scurrying. He ran back down the steps. He could look up there after the exterminator had paid a visit.

Standing in the living room, he did a mental inventory. The good news was, it didn’t appear the place had to be gutted and completely remodeled to make it livable. The bad news was, what had to be done was going to be expensive and time consuming. Everything but the ash bedroom furniture needed to go away. Far away. It wasn’t even up to secondhand standards. The floors would have to be sanded, the cupboards torn out and replaced, new countertops would have to be installed, the old wallpaper stripped, windowsills, doors, frames, baseboards sanded and stained, or maybe just replaced.

But first, the amount of trash hauling and pest removal was going to be a giant pain in the butt. At least this was work he could do, with the help of an exterminator. He’d inspect the roof later.

He walked out of the house and pried open the door to the first cabin. More of the same. The furniture was rotting, the floor was covered with debris. The cabins were all one-room efficiencies that hadn’t been used in years, so the small stoves and bar-size refrigerators were outdated and probably didn’t work. He was good with wood and paint, but he didn’t trust himself with gas and electricity. He was looking at six empty cabins, all in need of new hot-water heaters, stoves, refrigerators and furniture. He’d have to get up on the roofs and see how they had held up through the years, but from where he stood, it looked as though the shingles were mostly missing or rotting. And the wood on the outside of the cabins, all in need of scraping, sanding and painting. Every window would have to be replaced.

He did a mental calculation. It was nearly September. From January to June, before the summer people came for camping and hiking, things were slow and wet around this part of the world. If he could get the house and cabins in shape by spring, he could put them on the market or open them up for rent to vacationers. If it turned out he was bored with the mountains by then, he’d lock the whole business up and make tracks to either San Diego, where his brother Aiden was stationed and there was plenty of beach and swimsuits, or to Phoenix, where his widowed mother lived and would be forever grateful for his presence. He could always chase a flying job if he wanted to.

He unhooked the camper from the truck, unloaded his Harley from the truck bed and parked it up on its stand in front of the house. He grabbed a pair of work gloves, broom and shovel from the bed of the truck, got his toolbox out of the trailer and began scooping out the house. He could at least fill the back of the trunk with trash and, on his way to Eureka to have the utilities turned on, hire an exterminator and rent a big Dumpster; he could also dispose of a big load at the dump.

By noon he had a huge pile of trash in front of the porch. He got to work on loading the trash into the back of the pickup. The bright afternoon sun had warmed up the air and he was sweating like a farmhand, so he took off his shirt. He was just hefting a big three-legged overstuffed chair into the back of the truck when he spotted her. Holding it over his head, he froze.

She was sitting in the clearing astride a big American paint. She smiled at him. Pure, innocent honey. Luke couldn’t move. The horse was beautiful, at least fifteen hands. She was wearing khaki shorts, rolled up high on her tanned thighs, a pair of what appeared to be laced hiking boots with white socks rolled over the tops, a white short-sleeved T-shirt and a khaki fishing vest. With that long, pale blond braid down her back and a Stetson on her head, she could be fifteen, tiny and built solid. The thought that she looked like a statutory offense came instantly to mind and he felt every day of his thirty-eight years.

The horse danced and pawed at the ground, snorted and reared his head, but this little girl in the saddle didn’t even notice. She handled him with ease and finesse.

“I just had to see this for myself,” she said. “You’re doing it. You’re at work on this mess. Wow,” she laughed. “Looks like you’re going to be busy.”

He tossed the chair in the back of the truck and took a rag out of his pocket to mop his sweating face. “Maybe you can’t see the potential here,” he said. “I’m going to impress you, in that case.”

“I’m already impressed,” she said. “It looks like a monumental job. Where I grew up, there were a bunch of old cabins just like this, out on the beach. I was a teenager. They were almost never in use and the local kids used to sneak in. To smoke pot and…other stuff. Then one day they were gone. Razed.”

“When you were a teenager,” he said, shoving the rag back into his pocket. “Last week?”

“Hey,” she laughed. “I’m talking ten years ago.”

“In which case, you don’t age.”

“Why don’t you just ask?” she challenged him.

“Okay. How old are you? Exactly?”

“Twenty-five. And you?”

“One hundred and ten.”

She laughed again. When she did, she threw her head back and that braid rippled down her back. “Yeah, I thought you were probably really old. How old?”

“Thirty-eight. Pretty well out of your range.”

“That depends,” she said with a shrug.

“On?”

“On whether I have a range.”

Oh God, he thought weakly. She liked him. Not a little teasing, but private flirting, just between the two of them. Luke was a man with few scruples and even less control. It wasn’t a good idea for her to do this. She was too alluring for her own good. “You’re pretty good with that horse. He’s a beautiful paint.”

“Chico,” she told him. “All little boy. Uncle Walt adopted him as colt—you’d think he’d be better behaved. You know your horses.”

“I’ve flown over a lot of horses running wild in the desert. Incredible creatures.”

“You ride?” she asked.

“Haven’t been on a horse in years.”

“You fish?” she asked.

“When I get a chance. You hunt?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d never shoot anything. But I shoot skeet, and I’m good, too. Lately I garden and babysit. And I read a lot.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping toward her.

“In Virgin River? I came to spend some time with my family for a while before going back to school. Uncle Walt, Vanessa and Paul, my cousin Tom—he’s at basic training, soon to have leave—they’re my family.”

“No,” he said, smiling. “Here. Checking me out.”

“Get over yourself, I’m checking out the cabins,” she said, returning the smile. “I rode here a few times last summer. I really thought these cabins would disappear someday. Wouldn’t it be easier to build new ones?”

“It might be easier, but it wouldn’t be cheaper. And I was looking for something to do.”

“Why? You get fired from your job or something?”

“I retired from the army.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Like my uncle!”

“No, not like your uncle. Like a warrant officer, helicopter pilot. Jack said your uncle is a retired three-star. A whole different thing, kid.”

She grinned at him, but her cheeks took on a little flush. “Just remember, he’s retired. He really isn’t in charge anymore.”

He took note of the pinkened cheeks. She wanted to do this, obviously, this flirting. But it wasn’t natural for her, he could see that. He could make it easier for her. He knew how to calm a woman down, put her at ease. In fact, he enjoyed it.

He was having an attack of pure lust and he told himself to nip it in the bud. She said twenty-five, but he thought there was a good chance in any bar other than Jack’s, she’d be carded. He grabbed his shirt off the porch railing to shrug into it.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “Not for me—I’m not staying. Just dropping by to see your project, that’s all. I was in the neighborhood.”

He chuckled and pulled on the shirt, but he left it unbuttoned. “Yeah. We’re neighbors,” he said, smiling up at her. “I should be getting back to work, unless there’s something you need.”

“Nah,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you at Jack’s.”

“Only place in town to get a beer, so I’m sure you will.”

“Well then. Good luck here,” she said, lifting the reins. Chico reared, ready to be set free. “Later,” she yelled, leading her gelding away and out of the clearing to the river’s edge. Luke watched the sight of her departure. Once she was through the trees, she kicked her horse into a run. She got low in the saddle and made that braid ride out behind her, she went so hard and fast. I’m in for it now, Luke thought.

He watched her tiny, young butt move with the horse, confident in the saddle. Sweet heaven, what am I thinking? he asked himself. What am I feeling? She couldn’t possibly know what a trim little beauty on a big horse did to him! This was almost the hugest mistake he’d ever considered. But he couldn’t escape the fact that he’d like to get his hands all over her. He began to pray that he’d have both intelligence and restraint where this one was concerned. But it would be a first.



Shelby rode back to her Uncle Walt’s and all the way she was thinking how Luke might think she’d been flirting, but he was absolutely not her type.

Shelby was totally focused on her plans. While waiting for acceptance to a school, she’d travel some. Alone. She remembered the exhilaration of flying off to the East Coast or Europe to spend a couple of months with her cousins during summer. But she’d never seen the Caribbean islands, Mexico, Italy, France or Japan. She’d like to take a cruise, then a vacation—maybe in Italy, the south of France or Cabo San Lucas. After she’d had a nice little break to recharge, she would get herself set up at school, find a part-time job and take a few classes before her degree program officially began in the fall. Just to get herself back in the study groove.

But maybe she’d have herself a little adventure in there somewhere. Maybe on her cruise, on one of her trips.

Not with this kind of man, of course. He was too mature, for one thing. One look convinced her—he knew everything about men and women, while she knew very little. He looked a little dangerous and very, very physical. Scary. He had that warrior appearance, complete with tattoos.

The sight of him bare-chested had rattled her, but the big horse beneath her had given her plenty of confidence. His shoulders were so large, strong and muscular, and he had a barbed-wire armband tattooed on his rippling left biceps. His belly was flat and hard with a trail of chest hair that disappeared into his jeans. The stubble along his jaw made his grin a little taunting and definitely naughty; it had made her shiver. And he had an aura of carelessness. He would take a bite of her, then pitch her out, forgetting her before morning.

But while Shelby had looked him over, everything inside her had grown warm. Something about him, a forbidden quality, was absolutely delicious. Even the damn dirt looked good on him. Despite her common sense, she wondered, wouldn’t that be interesting? And her very next thought was, no, no, no, not him! My adventure will come in a polo shirt, cheeks as smooth as a baby’s butt, styled hair, no tattoos and hopefully an advanced degree. Not some scary Black Hawk pilot who has a Ph.D. in one-night stands!



Mel stormed right into the bar’s kitchen. Preacher had his hands in the sink, his back to her. “Hey, Preach,” she said. But he didn’t turn around. “Preach?” she asked again. Nothing. “John!” she yelled.

He jumped in surprise, turned toward her and pulled earplugs out of his ears. “Whoa, Mel,” he said. “You snuck up on me.”

“Well, not exactly,” she said. “I yelled.”

“Yeah, well, after a while all that noise makes my head pound. I’d just go fishin’, but I have things to do here.”

“Listen,” she said, sitting on the stool at his work island. “We have to talk, you and me.”

“Sure.”

She took a breath. “I’ve gained twenty pounds since I came here. Almost ten pounds a year. By the time I’m forty, I’ll weigh two hundred pounds.”

He frowned. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Finally he smiled a small smile and said, “Well, good for you.”

“This is not good!”

He almost jumped at the angry tone in her voice. Then he frowned.

“Listen,” she said, “you have to start doing some cooking that isn’t so fattening. Understand?”

“No one’s ever complained about the cooking before, Mel. It tastes good…”

“I know, I know—but you’re cooking for men with real physical lives. Except you—you stand in the kitchen all day and I know you sample everything. I don’t know how you keep from getting fat.”

“I clean a lot,” he said. “I lift weights—but not as much with two kids.”

“Yeah, well, you have a lot of muscle, and that eats up calories. Women don’t have that kind of muscle, John. You have to stop using so much cream and butter, that sort of thing. It’s unhealthy anyway—not good for weight, cholesterol and blood pressure, not good for the heart. Make some salads, more vegetables not swimming in butter. I can’t be the only person in this town who’s getting fat on your food.”

“Salads?” he said. “I don’t usually make a lot of salads.”

“I know this,” she said wearily. “But we need to make a couple of changes. Just minor changes. Buy some low-fat, whole-wheat bread for sandwiches. Don’t do pastas, breads and potatoes at every meal. Make salads, stock fresh fruit.”

“There’s plenty of fruit around here,” he said.

“Yeah, and it’s all in the pies.”

“You have pie almost every day,” he pointed out. “You love my pies. You more than anyone, I think.”

She scowled, then grimaced. “I’m going to stop doing that. Listen, can you make some lighter meals available, please? Or else I’m not going to be able to eat here all the time. I’ll have to pack a lunch, make my own dinner at home. This madness has to stop. I can’t keep gaining weight like this. I am not going to be fat!”

Preacher tilted his head. “Jack complaining about the way you look?” he asked cautiously.

“Of course not,” she said in frustration. “He thinks I’m perfect.”

“Well, there you go.”

“John, I don’t think you’re paying attention here. I have to go on a diet. You want me to write down what I need?”

“No,” he said unhappily. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Thanks. That’s all I wanted. I need a little help here, that’s all.”

“We want you happy,” he said, caution in every word.

“It would make me happy.” She slipped off the stool. “Thanks, that’s all I wanted to talk to you about.”

After she left, Preacher stood in his kitchen for a long time, thinking. Then he went out back where the men were at work. He spotted Jack standing in what used to be his bedroom, talking with Paul. They both wore hard hats while Preacher’s head was bare. He waited. Finally Paul and Jack turned to look at him and Paul sighed and shook his head dismally; he took two giant steps away, grabbing a hard hat and handing it to Preacher.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” Paul said. “You don’t come out here without protection for your head.”

“Yeah, right,” Preacher said, putting it on. Too small, it sat high on his head.

“You have the biggest head out here,” Paul said. “We’re framing the second story. You’re an accident waiting to happen.”

“Yeah, I get it. Listen,” Preacher said, turning his attention on Jack, “Mel was just here. She’s complaining about the food.”

“Huh?” Jack answered. “Mel?”

“Yeah. She says my food is making her fat.”

Jack chuckled. “Oh, that. Yeah, she’s making noises about that. Don’t worry about it.”

“She didn’t make it sound like I shouldn’t worry about it. She was pretty much loaded for bear.”

“She had two babies in fourteen months, plus a hysterectomy. And—she doesn’t like to be reminded about this—she’s getting older in spite of herself. Women get a little thicker. You know.”

“How do you know that?”

“Four sisters,” Jack said. “It’s all women ever worry about—the size of their butts and boobs. And thighs—thighs come up a lot.”

“She yelled at me,” he said, still kind of startled. Paul laughed and Jack just shook his head. “Did you tell her that?” Preacher asked. “About women getting thicker with age?”

“Do I look like I have a death wish? Besides, I don’t think she’s getting fat—but my opinion about that doesn’t count for much.”

“She wants salads. And fresh fruit.”

“How hard is that?” Jack asked.

“Not hard,” Preacher said with a shrug. “But I don’t stuff that pie down her neck every day.”

A sputter of laughter escaped Paul, and Jack said, “You’re gonna want to watch that, Preach.”

“She wants me to use less butter and cream, take a few calories out of my food. Jack, it isn’t going to taste as good that way. You can’t make sauces and gravies without cream, butter, fat, flour. People love that stuff, salmon in dill sauce, fettuccine Alfredo, stuffed trout, brisket and garlic mash. Stews with thick gravy. People come a long way for my food.”

“Yeah, I know, Preach. You don’t have to change everything—but make Mel a little something, huh? A salad, a broiled chicken breast, fish without the cream sauce, that kind of thing. You know what to do. Right?”

“Of course. You don’t think she wants everyone in this town on a diet? Because she says it’s not healthy, the way I cook.”

“Nah. This is a phase, I think. But if you don’t want to hear any more about it, just give her lettuce.” He grinned. “And an apple instead of the pie.”

Preacher shook his head. “See, I think no matter what she says, that’s going to make her pissy.”

“She said it’s what she wants, right?”

“Right.”

“May the force be with you,” Jack said with a grin.




Three


The first couple of weeks in Virgin River, Shelby had to make some adjustments she hadn’t expected. At the Booth household she was part of a family—an active, busy, very present family in which she was the fifth member. It was a new experience.

When Tom came home from boot camp shortly after her arrival, for ten days of leave before going to West Point, the family grew again. Vanni and Paul brought the baby into their room and Shelby took the combination guest room/nursery so Tom could have his room back. And, if Tom wasn’t missing from the household, his girlfriend, Brenda, was present with him—they were inseparable. The Booth house was spacious, but Shelby felt they were packed in like sardines. She was used to having a lot of space in her tiny Bodega Bay house with just her mother. Periods of solitude. Quiet. There was no solitude now unless she went for a ride. And invariably, someone wanted to go with her.

There was a new development that took Shelby by complete surprise; she never even smelled it in the wind. Vanni whispered it to Shelby one night when Tommy was with Brenda and Walt was heading out the door. He said he was going for a beer, but Vanni said, “Beer, my eye. I’ll bet he’s going over to see Muriel and that beer takes a long time to drink. We won’t see him for dinner.” Then she winked. “Daddy’s got a woman.”

“No way!” Shelby said.

“Believe me,” Vanni grinned. “I suspected they were getting to be more than just neighbors, but then you arrived and Tom came home on leave, and he’s been sticking around a lot.”

“Do you know her?”

Vanni smiled. “Ever see that movie Never Too Late?”

“Yeah,” Shelby said, perplexed. “I loved that movie.”

“Muriel St. Claire. She played the new divorcée.”

Shelby gasped. “She’s here?”

“She bought the ranch downriver a little over a mile. She retired to Virgin River, is done making movies and is restoring the house herself. I’ve only seen Muriel and Dad in the same room three times—they’re playing it real cool. But let me tell you—their eyes twinkle when they’re together. I’ve asked Dad if we can have her to dinner soon and he says he doesn’t mind an evening away from the house now and then. He also says there’s plenty of time for that. I think he’s trying to keep her to himself. I’d bet my life something hot’s going on there, but neither of them will fess up. The second I ask questions, he clams right up.”

“Uncle Walt has a woman?” Shelby asked in shock. “A famous actress?”

“Well, it took him a long enough. I don’t think it even crossed his mind after my mother died, five years ago. It’s high time. Everyone needs someone. Age certainly has nothing to do with it. But I wish they’d loosen up. I’d like to hear about all the famous people she knows.”

Now they all had a special someone, her young cousin, even her Uncle Walt.

As a teenager, Shelby had been in most ways a typical girl, if a little on the shy side. She got good grades, had girlfriends, was active in school activities. She’d had a nice little part-time job at the library after school and had even gone through a few boyfriends. She went to games, slumber parties, dances. Her friends tended to run in a pack more often than as dating couples; some had high-school boyfriends who were serious, but most of them, including Shelby, were damn happy if they had dates to the homecoming dance or the prom.

She might’ve been a little more cautious than the average teenage girl—her mom had been very honest about her accidental pregnancy at the age of eighteen, her short marriage that had become a nonevent as she was divorced when Shelby was just a baby. No way Shelby was letting something like that happen to her. She knew she’d be a late bloomer.

She hadn’t thought it would be quite this late….

Shelby was only nineteen when the life typical of a girl her age halted and a whole new set of responsibilities took over. Uncle Walt had been more than willing to cover the cost of nursing-home care for his sister, but Shelby had said, “This isn’t going to be an issue for long. In fact, much sooner than I like to think about, she’ll be gone. She gave me her whole adult life, always putting me first. If I don’t give her a few years of mine, the rest of my life won’t matter a damn.”

Then it was over and time to think about what was ahead for her. Before Vanni had even uttered those words about Uncle Walt, Shelby had been thinking, I want to join the ranks of women my age, women who are my friends, both old and new, and have what they have—the relationship building, romantic and physical love, idealism and passion and even the struggles. She wanted all of it. She was due. She wanted to be whole.

She wanted a man.



Walt gave a couple of taps on Muriel’s guesthouse door, then pushed it open. Muriel had fixed up the old bunkhouse to live in while she worked on the larger house. Unlike most of the times he called on her, finding her in her work clothes and waiting for him to arrive before cleaning up, she was not only showered and changed, but had set a small table with plates and utensils and a candle in the middle. He smiled and handed her a sack of takeout from Jack’s bar, then bent to scratch behind the ears of two excited Labs, Luce and Buff. “Looks like a celebration,” he said, indicating the table.

“It is. I finished the floors upstairs. One coat of paint in the bedroom and hall and I could live there if I wanted to. And yesterday I bought a pie safe for the dining room. I found it up near Arcata at this little antique shop. It’s big—I can’t get it out of the truck bed, so I parked it in the barn. Maybe you’ll help me tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

She looked in the sack. “What is it?”

“Brisket, steamed red potatoes, green and wax beans.”

She inhaled. “Pie?”

“Of course pie.”

“Where did you tell your daughter and your niece you were going?” she asked, tilting her head and smiling at him.

“I told them I was going out for a beer,” he answered. And grinned.

“Walt,” she admonished. “Don’t you think you’re having a little too much fun with this? I bet you’re not fooling anyone. Besides, I’m not sure how I feel about being hidden like this.”

He got a startled expression on his face. “Muriel, I’m not hiding you. Not at all! And I did have a beer, while I waited for the food.”

“Then why haven’t you invited me to dinner with the family?”

“You want to come over for dinner?”

“Walt, I’m not going to let you get away with this. Remember, I know what I’m doing, I know about men. You’re not moving forward, you’re not backing off. I’m more than happy to be your good friend, as long as nothing’s wrong.”

He looked down briefly. “All right,” he said uneasily. “You caught me. I’m enjoying the hell out of this, Muriel. The riding, the dinners here with you, even when I’m helping you paint or sand or move furniture. But…I’m waiting for you to say something very Hollywood to me, like, I find romantic relationships pedestrian and beneath me. And I’m dreading it.”

She laughed at him. “What’s this? Isn’t this a relationship? And I’m enjoying it, too. Besides, that’s not what they say in Hollywood.”

“What do they say?”

“Well, it’s almost always in newsprint, right near the grocery checkout stand, and it usually sounds something like, St. Claire Caught In Sordid Affair. Or, St. Claire’s Husband Seen With Swimsuit Model. Or hooker.” She shrugged. “Or something equally gauche.” But he had such a soft expression on his hard, handsome face, it startled her eyes open wide. She put the take-out sack on the table and her hands on her hips. “Oh Jesus, you think I’m letting you come over and pester me all the time because you’re the only available man in my age group!”

He lifted one black bushy brow. “But am I?”

“That’s so irrelevant! Chasing a good-looking thirty-year-old was never beneath me!”

She made him laugh. That was the linchpin—she always made him laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me. Not that there are many of those, either.”

“Walt, for God’s sake, I have my own transportation if Virgin River isn’t amusing enough for me.” She stalked over to him, put her arms on his shoulders, got up on her toes and laid a lip-lock on him that shocked his eyebrows up high and his eyes round. But she kept at him until he finally put his big arms around her slim body, pulled her hard against him, let his lips open, opened hers and experienced, for the first time since they met almost three months ago, a wholly passionate, wet, deep kiss. It was fantastic. Delicious. And long. When he finally relaxed his arms a bit, she pulled back and gave him a whack in the chest. “Now stop being a fool or you’re going to mess this up. I’ll come to dinner Friday night. You cook. I’ll bring wine.”

“Okay, fine,” he said a little breathlessly. “Dinner. With the family.”

“Not because I’m getting ready to propose, but because I’d like to know your family. And more to the point, they’d like to know me, to be sure you’re in no danger.” She went to the sack and began removing cartons, placing them on the table.

“Do you suppose we’ll be doing that again?” he asked. “That kind of kissing?”

“Beats the hell out of those little pecks and pats, don’t you think?” she asked.

“I have to agree with that, yes,” he answered. Leave it to some aging starlet to bring a tough old general to his knees. In fact, he thought he felt his knees wobbling and a slight vibration under his skin. Given a little more time, he was going to feel something else; something he didn’t feel all that often, but often enough to know it still worked.

“Maybe after brisket. I’m a little annoyed with you at the moment.”

“Shame,” he said. “I’m completely happy with you.”

“I shouldn’t have to make the first move,” she complained. “Jesus. Men. They’re either too ambitious or not ambitious enough.” Her phone rang and she said, “Excuse me one second.”

He listened to her side of the conversation. “Hmm…Well, much as I appreciate you keeping me in mind, it would take something monumental to pull me back into films…. A year from now? We’ll see what you have a year from now, Mason. But really, I’m not going back to Los Angeles for some shitty little supporting role in a B movie—I’m having too much fun. And I have horses and dogs—they don’t transport all that easily. No, it’s not about the horses and dogs, it’s about being retired from acting, and not convinced you have a worthwhile project where I’m concerned. Fine, fine—send the script and I’ll look at it, but I highly doubt it’s going to change my mind, so be prepared for that. Yes, Mason—you, too.” She hung up.

Walt had an unpleasant look on his face. “You mind if I ask…”

“Mason. My agent.”

“And ex-husband? Fifteen years older than you? Isn’t he getting close to retirement himself…at seventy-one?”

“You’d never know it. The man’s going to be dancing on my grave.”

“Trying to get you to come back?” Walt asked.

“Trying to get me to work. And I’m not inclined to do that….” She looked at Walt and for just a second frowned at his frown. Then she laughed. “Oh, Walt, are you worried? Relax. He calls almost every day. He sends scripts sometimes—nothing but junk. But Mason has always been one to throw everything he has at the wall to see what sticks.” She walked up against him and rubbed her hands over his chest. “Really, he’d have to come at me with something as good as Cat on a Hot Tin Roof or Gone with the Wind to even get my attention.” She smiled at him. “Now, can we please have some of Preacher’s brisket? You’ve been a little high maintenance tonight. Not like you. And I’m starving!”

He ran his big rough hands through her soft blond hair. “You’re starving? When we met, you didn’t eat anything but celery and hummus.”

“Yeah, I know. And hanging out with you is starting to show on my rump.”

“Looks damn fine to me, Muriel. Light the candle and load up your plate.” And he smiled.



A few days later, Vanessa and Shelby were in a fever of excitement as they tidied the house for their famous dinner guest. They would have her captive, to ask all the movie-star questions they were kicking around, trying them out on each other. They wanted the scoop, but didn’t want to be a tabloidlike invasive. Of course, they wanted to know things like, who was the sexiest man you ever slept with?

“You can’t ask that!” Shelby said with a gasp.

“Of course not,” Vanessa agreed. “Try to think if there’s a way to ask her which big Hollywood hunk turned out to be the biggest dud?”

Giggles erupted from both of them.

Walt listened to a lot of this from the kitchen. He had insisted he was cooking—it was what he had promised Muriel. And he found himself wondering about the answer to those questions, himself. Vanessa and Shelby shouldn’t ask, but given time, he might.

Tom, who had only a couple more days of leave before West Point, brought Brenda. They arrived just minutes before Muriel, and once Brenda got with Vanni and Shelby, the level of excitement rose again.

When Muriel stepped into his house, she handed over two bottles of wine. Then she turned to find herself being stared down by three very expectant, excited, flushed female faces. She laughed. “Well, now, before you get started, I don’t kiss and tell.”

Three pair of cheeks flamed, but they also melted into laughter.

Things went easy after that. They sat together at the big dining-room table and had wine and hors d’oeuvres and Hollywood questions. Vanni, Brenda and Shelby could give as good as they got—they shared all the Virgin River gossip from as far back as they could remember or had heard. The thing was, if these young women had been true stargazers, they would know that Muriel only told stories that had already been reported and were common knowledge. She was crafty—she’d been down this road before. Her lifestyle was fantasy for the civilians. But she was being completely honest, she didn’t kiss and tell. She knew things the Enquirer would pay good money for. It was in the vault of her memory.

As far as she could tell, all the Virgin River stories, from hot romances to fights, deaths, despair and victories, were real. “And one of the most talked-about romances in town at the moment is between a certain very popular, accomplished high-school senior and a West Point cadet,” Vanni said, lifting an eyebrow.

“No!” Brenda said in shock. “People talk about us?”

Everyone laughed that she could be so naive.

“Do they say anything bad?” she wanted to know, and they laughed harder.

Finally it was Muriel who said, “Of course not, Brenda. You’re the darling couple. Everyone roots for you to make it through West Point and college, staying together. You seem perfect for each other.”

“Really?” she asked, lifting her head, straightening her neck proudly. It was quite something at seventeen to be complimented by someone like Muriel St. Claire.

Although they were at it till quite late, through coffee and cheesecake, eventually the evening had to come to a close. Walt and Muriel insisted on doing the dishes together. “It’s what Muriel promised, since she’d donate a kidney before she’d actually consider cooking,” Walt said.

And once they were alone in the kitchen, he came up behind her at the sink and kissed her neck. “You handled that whole interrogation beautifully. Classic recon—evasion, resistance, escape. We could have used you in the army.”

She turned in his arms. “What I did for a living was much more dangerous. But I agree with you, I am good.”

“Then let’s get this kitchen cleaned up so I can follow you home, spend a little time away from the kids.”

“I can get into that idea,” she said, grinning.

At the other end of the house, Tom led Brenda out the front door, pulled her into his arms, making her giggle. He covered her lips in a passionate kiss and against them asked, “How does it feel to be the pretty half of the darling couple?”

“I can’t think about it,” she said. “It reminds me, we only have two more days together before you go.”

“Then we better get alone. How about that?”

“Hmm, please. The sooner the better.”

And in the family room, in front of the fireplace, Paul sat in a large leather chair with Vanessa on his lap. She ran her fingers around his ear and put little kisses on his temple. They could hear the general and Muriel laughing in the kitchen, the sound of Tom’s little truck firing up in the driveway as he took his girlfriend away. “How’s the countdown on the house?” she whispered.

“I’m working as fast as I can. I can’t wait until we have our own place.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “As soon as I get a little caught up on the building, let’s sneak up to Grants Pass and not tell anyone we’re there.”

She giggled. “Paul, all we have to do is park the baby with your mother. No one will bother us if she has her hands full of little Matt. We can do whatever we want.”

He growled and nuzzled her neck. “Is there any question in your mind about what I want?”

She sighed, snuggling closer.

Outside the great room on the deck, hearing the laughter in the kitchen, the engine of the little truck, the smooching in front of the fire, Shelby looked up at the cool, early-fall sky. She tried to imagine her mother’s face amidst the stars, the way she looked before she got sick—so energetic, so pretty and full of good humor and sass. As she so often did, she transported her thoughts to her mom.

I wish you could have been at the table with us tonight; it was so fun. Everyone was laughing, poking fun, telling jokes, gossiping. They were all so loud. And seeing Walt with a woman—it’s so different than the way he was with Aunt Peg. More playful. He’s happy, Mom, having fun like I never thought he could. And Muriel, for a famous person, she’s so silly, so funny. And you should see Vanni and Paul together. There were times I worried so much about Vanni, after losing first her mom and then her young husband—I was afraid she’d never be truly happy again. Paul is such a blessing to her, to the whole family. And I know that Tom and Brenda think only about how difficult it’s going to be for them to be apart, but just the way they look at each other…Ahhhh, it reminds me a little of all those chick flicks we watched together. Man oh man, there’s so much love in the air around here. Really, I didn’t think this little town could hold so much life, so much romance. I’m so lucky to have this place, to be here with my family….

Sometimes, even with all these people around, I still miss you so much….

Sometimes I’m still so lonely….

Do you think my turn will ever come? I wonder that all the time.



Mel Sheridan had worked with Doc Mullins for over two years and in that time had married Jack and produced two children. The job hadn’t been easy, Doc being a cantankerous sort, but they had developed a close working relationship and a very special friendship. They didn’t agree on all that much, but they understood each other quite well. She was all about following the legal statutes to the letter while he was more concerned with being sure his people, his town, got by as well as they could, regardless of little things like laws. Getting down to it—Doc Mullins would risk anything to see his job was done, and done well.

Mel came to realize he’d probably delivered most of the town; at least everyone under forty. He’d been so much more than just a doctor here. He was the backbone of this town; their confessor, friend and healer. He didn’t have any other family. Virgin River was his family.

And Mel and Doc, while neither of them was the least sentimental, had come to love each other. There was a grudging mutual respect—he maintained he didn’t need some uppity nurse to get the job done, while she chided that he was so stubborn and difficult he could make those asshole surgical residents she’d worked with in Los Angeles look like a bunch of candy asses. It was true love.

He didn’t see her as a daughter nor did she see him as a father figure, but he did regard her children as one might grandchildren. He never said as much, but the twinkle in his eyes when he picked one of them up was enough. And it filled her heart with pride and affection.

Mel was at the clinic first thing in the morning, leaning up against the kitchen sink sipping a cup of coffee, when he limped into the room. “Morning,” he growled.

“Morning, sunshine,” she said with a grin. “How’s the arthritis today?”

“Worst day of my goddamn life.” He reached into the cupboard over the sink and grabbed a bottle of anti-inflammatory capsules, shaking a couple out.

“Worse than yesterday, which was the worst day of your goddamn life?” she asked.

He turned to look at her and lifted one white, bushy brow. “Yes,” he said, swallowing the pills without water.

“Hmm, sorry then,” she said. “Must be awful. Say, listen—I’ve worked out a couple of things with Shelby. She’s going to do some babysitting. She’s a godsend, really. Brie’s getting pretty pregnant and though she loves keeping the kids for me on Wednesdays, I think it’s a good idea to spell her, let her contemplate her uterus and her own bundle of joy. Plus, Shelby loves hanging around here. So we’ll let her help out here, watching kids, assisting in exams, learning the workings of a country clinic. She’d get to see a side of medicine that’s not limited to caring for someone who’s terminal. She’s so anxious to pitch in. How’s that sound to you?”

“The babysitting will help you,” he said. “I don’t know if we’ll ever have enough work here to ask her to pitch in.”

“I know. But she has time on her hands. And nursing is different than caregiving. I realize it’s not the experience she’ll get when she’s finally in school, but it’s something. You can always loosen up and tell her stories of country doctoring—she’d love that. And when I have patients, I’ll have her with me. Plus, I enjoy her company. She’s sweet and sharp. I think of her as kind of a protégée. I’ve never had one of those before. I’ve always been one.” She grinned at him.

“Melinda, we’re going to bore her to death,” he said.

“You can always teach her to play gin. Maybe you can find a girl you can actually beat.”

“When I think about one more woman around here, it gives me heartburn,” he said.

“You shouldn’t be having so much heartburn, especially with your gallbladder gone. Maybe it’s acid reflux. Are you having pain?”

“Ach,” he said. “I’m seventy-two with arthritis. What do you think?”

She shrugged. “I think we should check it out.”

“Bah,” he scoffed. “I’m fine. I’m old, that’s all. I’ve been ridden hard and put up wet.”

She laughed at him. He hadn’t changed much in her two years there. He was using his cane a great deal more these days—the arthritis was wearing him down. He was an old seventy-two—his life had not been an easy one. He’d worked his way through college and medical school with no help from family and spent the next forty-five years caring for the needs of a town single-handedly, with only the most rudimentary equipment, and with no liability insurance. When she had lifted her eyebrows at that, shocked, he merely shrugged and said, “We don’t sue each other here. At least not over medical aid.”

Doc had never married, had no children, and had told Mel there was no extended family. Mel had a great deal of affection for him, even if he did ruffle her feathers from time to time. He had, indeed, been ridden hard.

“If it’s acid reflux, they have some really good stuff for that now,” she said.

“I know this, Melinda. I’m a doctor.”

“And not just any doctor,” she said with a smile. “The biggest pain-in-the-ass doctor in three counties. Suit yourself.” And then she thought of something. “You know, you could ask Preacher to come up with some meals that don’t stir up that heartburn so much….”

“Why would I do that? He’s a dream in the kitchen.”

“Well, I’ve asked him for some low-fat meals. He was very agreeable, for Preacher. I’ve put on some weight since I got here.”

He lifted his glasses to his forehead and peered at her lower half. “Hmm,” he said.

“You did not just do that!”

“Did I say a word?” he asked, letting his glasses drop into place. She hmmphed and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “Quit complaining about your weight,” he said, rubbing a hand over his big belly. “At least you have the advantage of giving birth to most of yours.”

She lifted a mean little eyebrow. “You could give up that whiskey you have at the end of every day. That might help with the heartburn.”

“Melinda,” he said gravely, “I’d rather have needles in my eyes.”




Four


It didn’t take Luke long to make enough adjustments so he could sleep in a real bed, in a real house, make use of a real shower. First, the exterminator plugged holes and placed traps. Luke did some serious clearing of trash and cleaning. Then there was a new mattress-and-box-spring set and a working refrigerator, both of which he could transport in his truck and move with a dolly. A couple of weeks made all the difference. But every day was long and dirty. His muscles ached. There was an endless amount of work to be done.

It wasn’t yet five when he was showered and headed for a beer and some of that excellent food at Jack’s. He’d only been there a minute, waiting for someone to come from the back to serve him, when Mel struggled into the bar, baby against her chest, toddler in hand, diaper bag slung over her shoulder. Right inside the door, the toddler took a tumble down onto his knees and sent up a wail. “Oh, punkin,” she said. She spied Luke and said, “Oh, Luke, here.” She thrust the baby into his hands so she could stoop to lift up the boy. “Oh, you’re okay,” she said, brushing off his knees. “Don’t cry now, you didn’t even break the floor. It’s okay.” She was just about to stand, when she heard her husband’s voice.

“Mel,” he said.

She looked up from the floor. Jack was behind the bar. He inclined his head toward Luke with a smile on his face. Luke was holding the baby out in front of him at arm’s length, a startled expression on his face while Emma kicked her little legs and squirmed.

Mel burst out laughing, then covered her mouth. She rose and went to him, taking the baby. “I’m sorry, Luke,” she said. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve been around a man who didn’t know exactly what to do with a baby.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t have much experience with this.”

“It’s okay—my mistake.” She couldn’t help but laugh again. “The first day I met Jack, there was a newborn at the clinic and he scooped her up like an old pro.”

“Because I was an old pro, Mel,” Jack said, coming around to the front of the bar. “Four sisters, eight nieces and one on the way,” he told Luke.

“Prolific family,” Luke observed. “I don’t know much about babies.”

“If you’re looking to learn babies, this is the place,” Mel said. “I don’t think there are any virgins left in Virgin River. The birth rate around here is on the rise.”

“Me and babies—incompatible. And I like it that way.”

Jack crouched in front of the bar. “Come on, cowboy,” he said, holding out his big hands to David. “Come to Dad.”

“Da!” David cried, waving his chubby arms and toddling at high speed toward Jack.

Jack hoisted the boy up onto his hip and went back around the bar. “What’s your pleasure?” he asked Luke.

“Cold draft?”

“Gotcha,” he said, expertly drawing a beer one-handed. He put it on the bar. “How’s the house look?”

Luke picked up the beer, much happier holding that than a baby. “Like a train wreck. A complete disaster. I should probably have just put a match to it.” He took a long pull. “But, I have the trash out of the house and I’ve cleaned it up enough to sleep and shower in there. I’ve started clearing out the cabins. I’m going to have to ask Paul for some advice.”

“You may have already gathered Paul is a great guy to work with if you want to do a lot of it yourself. He can step in and get the things done that are outside your expertise. Wish I’d had him around when I was working on the bar.”

With precision timing, Paul came in for a beer, still dusty in his work clothes. Right behind him, old Doc Mullins limped in and joined the men at the bar, raising one finger to Jack to set him up a whiskey, and Jack immediately knew exactly what he wanted. A few neighbors arrived, taking tables. The bar had settled into a nice little family watering hole with everyone knowing their places, relaxing into an end-of-day libation before dinner.

Paul inquired about the house and cabins and Luke said, “I’m going to ask you to take a look, but first I have to finish clearing the trash out of the cabins. I got a Dumpster from Eureka and hired an exterminator. If you saw them now, you’d run for your life.”

“I don’t scare easy,” Paul said. “But you go for it. I’m ready when you are.”

Luke tried not to watch the door. He had told himself for two weeks he wasn’t coming here to see her. He came to Jack’s because the people and the atmosphere were just what he was looking for in a small, friendly country bar. The men were good-natured and helpful, the women impossibly beautiful. The fact that he kept imagining her in his mind atop that big horse, the braid standing out as she rode, well…that was just that guy thing. He couldn’t help it.

Jack leaned on the bar and said in a low voice, “Some of my boys are coming in a few weeks to catch a piece of hunting season.”

“Jack,” Mel said from across the room. “Not again!”

He ignored her while Paul chuckled. “She thinks we torture the deer,” Jack explained, his voice normal again. “She loves to see the boys, but hates that we hunt. Why don’t you buy yourself a deer tag and license. Join us.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Luke said.

“Luke, I had high hopes for you,” Mel shot across the room.

“Run by the bank and make a withdrawal,” Paul advised. “There will be poker.”

Luke grinned. “Deal me in.”

An old woman with muddy rubber boots, wiry white hair and big black-framed glasses came into the bar and jumped onto a stool beside Doc. Jack said, “Luke, meet Hope McCrea, town busybody.”

“Mrs. McCrea,” he said politely.

“Another jarhead?” she asked Jack.

“No, Hope. We’re letting some army in here, as long as there aren’t too many of them.”

“You do anything special?” she asked him point-blank.

“Special?” Luke returned, tilting his head.

“I’m looking for a teacher and a preacher for the town,” she answered. “Bad hours, low pay.” She lifted her finger to Jack, who set up her drink. “Dream jobs.”

He laughed at her. “I sure can’t fill either of those slots.”

Then she came in. The girl. Luke gulped. He felt a shimmer all the way to his knees. She wore her hair unbound and he saw that it was full and springy, something a man could get his hands all tangled up in. He had a mental image of his large hands on her slim hips. She had a fresh face. Except for something shiny on her lips, she appeared to wear no makeup, but she didn’t need any. When she saw him, she lowered her lashes briefly, but smiled. Demure. Vulnerable and in need of a strong man. Oh, crap.

Then stepping into the bar right behind Shelby was a tall, broad-shouldered, silver-haired man of about sixty. Not exactly Daddy, but close enough. It hit Luke in the pit of his stomach. He came instantly to his feet—force of habit. He knew a general when he saw one—in or out of uniform.

With one hand on Shelby’s shoulder, Walt extended the other toward Luke. “This must be the new guy. Walt Booth. How you doing, son?”

“Sir,” Luke said, taking the hand. “Luke Riordan. Pleasure to meet you.”

“At ease,” he said with a quick smile. “Welcome. Jack, how about a beer?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, fixing one right up.

Shelby gently tugged Paul out of the way so she could have the stool next to Luke, causing Paul to lift his eyebrows curiously. But Luke wasn’t sitting. At least not until the general did. He hadn’t been out of the army quite long enough to relax about things like rank. He did glance at her, however, and she smiled at him, her eyes glittering slightly, maybe enjoying his obvious tension around her uncle. What he noticed was how rich and sultry her hazel eyes were. And he thought, oh God, I have to get beyond this. There were fifty things about the stirring he felt every time he saw her that were all wrong. He didn’t get into things like protective, high-ranking uncles and innocent young women who were clearly looking for true love.

Luke didn’t fall in love. He’d been in love once, when he was much, much younger, and it had left a hole in his heart big enough to drive a tank through. The experience left him a man who couldn’t form attachments; he was a dabbler, a player, not the kind of man who settled down. He never stayed in one place, nor with one woman for long.

This young Shelby was so transparent, she left little doubt as to what she wanted. Needed. She’d like to wrap her emotions around a man and tether him right up against her heart, breaking him in half. Then, in making his getaway, he’d hurt her bad. Annihilate her. Leave her young, tender heart in shreds and spoil everything for the guy who might come along later to do right by her.

The general finally sat and made army small talk. They went over their various commands and combat tours, and all the while he spoke with the general, he could smell Shelby’s sweet fragrance. It was swirling around his head, confusing him, addling his mind.

When Walt finally turned his attention to Doc and Hope, Luke felt Shelby’s breath soft on his cheek as she leaned toward him and asked, “Have you made much progress on the house and cabins?”

He wanted to be hardened toward her, oblivious to her, even cruel and indifferent would work, but when he turned to look at her, his eyes warmed because she melted him into soup. “As much as possible. I have a place to live that’s not on wheels. It’s going to be a bigger job than I thought. What have you been doing?”

“I’ve been helping Mel with the kids while she works, sometimes helping her with patients. I ride, babysit Vanni and Paul’s little one, keep an eye on Uncle Walt…Hardly anything, really. I should come over and help you haul trash.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said. “It’s miserable work. Way too dirty for you.”

“I could just watch,” she said, and smiled so prettily that his heart almost fell out of his chest.

“If you do that, Shelby, I won’t get anything done. You’re a distraction.”

She looked completely surprised. “How nice of you to say that,” she said. She briefly covered his hand atop the bar with hers, and a sizzle shot through him at her merest touch. Damn, he thought, I’m in serious trouble. He wasn’t sure what he feared most: never having more of her or repercussions from the general if he ever did. “Isn’t this the greatest place?” she asked him.

“Virgin River?”

“Sure, that. But Jack’s. This little piece of town. I love dropping in here and always seeing a friendly face.”

“I’ve been here a few times over the past couple of weeks and haven’t seen your friendly face,” he said, then silently cursed himself. Don’t push this, he warned himself.

“Oh,” she said, laughing. “My cousin Tom was home on leave. We came in a couple of times, but mostly it was all about family. Quite a crowd at my uncle’s, with all of us and then Tom and his girlfriend. He’s gone to West Point now, so I imagine I’ll be around more often.”

“And you like Jack’s,” he observed.

“I grew up in a small town on the coast—way bigger than this, but still cozy. There was this old dive called the Sea Shack—nets and shells on the walls, lots of locals, but also bikers and tourists. You could always count on some of the same people being there. You never had to worry that you’d be alone.”

“Where?” he asked her.

“Bodega Bay, south of here. While this is all redwoods, deer and bear, Bodega Bay is ocean, fishing boats, some rocky cliffs above the sea, whales and dolphins.”

He leaned his head on his hand, being hypnotized slowly. Thoroughly. He imagined her on the beach; the bathing suit would be very, very small. “It sounds great,” he said. “Is that home for you?”

“Not anymore,” she said. “My mother passed away last spring, left me the house and I sold it.”

He was momentarily surprised. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Thank you. So, I won’t be staying in Virgin River—I’m going to college, finally. This is just a vacation. While I’m hanging out here, I’m also applying to schools.”

“How long is this vacation?” he asked in spite of himself.

“A few months, probably. After the first of the year, I plan to take a couple trips—I’m surfing the Net, looking at package deals. Then decide on the college and go find an apartment, get a part-time job, take some classes to get back into the rhythm. But I’m hanging around to see Tom again. He’ll have leave over the holidays.”

Walt interrupted them by getting Luke’s attention. “What’s this Jack says? You have a brother in Black Hawks, too? Is the whole family crazy?”

Luke turned toward the general and hoped it didn’t show in his eyes that he was over the edge in lust. “Lighten up, sir,” he said. “At least it’s not tanks.”

“Boy, I happen to like tanks.”



When Luke left the bar, he drove straight to Garberville, when what he really wanted was sleep. His body was bone tired, but his brain was working overtime. And there was one part of his anatomy that was a little too alert for its own good. He hadn’t had a reaction like this in a long, long time and coincidentally, the last time had also been from a general’s daughter. It was years ago, and he’d been unusually smart—he walked away and never looked back. She had been a prison sentence waiting to happen.

He was trying to drive the thoughts of that sweet young thing from his mind; he’d like to stop the hot little darts from shooting through his body.

He had no trouble finding the local bar—a little hole in the wall that actually made him feel overdressed and totally military with his close-cropped hair and pressed shirt. There were a lot of men in plaid or chambray shirts, long hair, ponytails, mustaches and beards. It looked packed; plenty of cars and big trucks parked around outside.

The place was full at nine o’clock. He made his way inside, finding a stool at a very crowded bar in a noisy room. He ordered a shot of whiskey and a beer. Time to settle everything down and stop thinking about the girl. By the time he’d left Jack’s he had started having visions of putting his hands on her and being shot by her uncle.

He threw back the shot and nursed the beer. Good move, Riordan, he lectured himself. Move to a new little town where the same dozen or so people meet at the same little watering hole a couple of nights a week and within twenty-four hours get the instant hots for the one woman to be avoided at all costs. But lust was a beast in him and he was impossibly attracted to her.

He understood very well that touching her wasn’t the problem. They were all grown-ups, not teenagers. He could seduce Shelby, get her in his bed, enjoy her and be enjoyed by her, and there wouldn’t be too much trouble. He got the impression the general and Paul actually liked him. What would come after would create trouble—he would fail to get serious, move on, make her cry. He’d get into her without falling in love when she was a young woman clearly designed for true love, for permanence. And that would have a bad ending—with him it wasn’t just a premonition, it was destiny. He hadn’t been able to feel anything like what Walt Booth would want for his niece in over a dozen years.

After about twenty minutes passed, another beer was put in front of him and he looked up at the bartender. “The ladies across the bar,” he said.

Luke hadn’t even noticed anyone else. His mind had been on exactly one sweet thing. He glanced up and felt his lips lift in a slight smile. “Thank them,” he said.

“They’d like to know if you want to join them for a drink.”

“Ah, I’m going to have to leave pretty soon,” he said. But he was thinking, that’s more my speed. Some good old-fashioned, all-American, slutty girls, hanging out in the bar and buying drinks for strange men.

“I’d think that over,” the bartender said, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” He grinned. “Why not,” he said. He put some money on the bar to pay for his drinks and, lifting the beer, walked to the other side.

There were three of them. One in each flavor—a redhead, blonde and brunette. They seemed to be in their late twenties and headed for sloshed. “Ladies,” he said. “Thanks for the beer. Having girls’ night out?”

Giggles all around. “Well, not anymore,” one of them said. They parted seats so he could have the middle stool.

“You ladies from town?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’re from Garberville,” one of them said. “How about you?”

“I’m just passing through,” he lied. “I have some property on the river. I thought about some hunting. Fishing.”

They were named Luanne, Tiffany and Susie. They were secretaries and had been in the bar since happy hour, and there didn’t seem to be a designated driver among them. Two were divorced and one, Luanne, claimed to have never married. They were wearing their out-to-be-seen bar clothes: short denim skirts to show off their long legs, heels, fitted tops that accentuated cleavages. They had high, perky boobs and fluffy hair. In spite of himself, he briefly considered how much sexier Shelby was in her jeans and boots, her white shirts with rolled-up sleeves and fresh face, leaving everything to the imagination.

He learned they’d all grown up in the area, so he asked about their favorite nightspots. He admitted to being recently discharged from the army after flying helicopters for a long time, but avoided the topic of any kind of combat. These girls weren’t that interested in international events and after he said he’d been last stationed in Texas, they didn’t push him for details. They wanted to know more expedient things: Was he married? Would he be here long?

Within ten minutes Luanne had her hand on his knee under the bar. He almost jumped in surprise. Then she slid it along the inside of his thigh and he grabbed her wrist. “I’d like to be able to stand up from the bar, Luanne,” he said. And she thought that was very funny.

That’s when he knew—if he wanted to unload some tension, it wouldn’t be hard to negotiate. Embarrassingly, it wasn’t exactly a rare move for him. He briefly considered this alternative, but very briefly. He just couldn’t get into the idea.

As if a pact had been arranged, the girlfriends, Tiffany and Susie, wandered off, ostensibly headed for the ladies’ room, except Luke noticed they were sidetracked at other tables in the bar and didn’t return. They were leaving Luke and Luanne alone to proceed. He tried carrying on a conversation with Luanne, who seemed only able to talk about her secretarial job, clothes and girlfriends. She had a very annoying hair-tossing habit. Every few seconds she flapped that fluffy mane over her shoulder.

He had to remove her hand from his thigh another time. He leaned toward her and whispered, “Listen, you don’t want to get me stirred up. All right?”

And, leaning far too close and brushing her cheek against his, she said, “What if I do?”

“It would be a mistake. I’m not exactly available.” Then he wondered why the hell he said that. He was worse than available, he was verging on desperate.

“I don’t exactly care,” she whispered.

He was not in the best shape for this kind of horseplay. He excused himself and said he’d be right back, leaving her at the bar. Whew, he thought, headed for the men’s room. There was no safe place, he realized. He wasn’t safe with Shelby, wasn’t safe away from her. This Luanne was more his type—she looked like lots of mindless sex with no attachments. One small problem—she just didn’t do it for him. And the more she came on to him, the less she appealed to him. The guilelessness of the general’s niece had already spoiled him for a nice, uncomplicated one-night stand. He decided that rather than go back to the bar, he’d slip out the back way.

He came out of the bathroom and found himself in an instant body slam against the wall in the narrow, dim hallway. Luanne had him pinned. “Whoa,” he said, hands up as though he was being arrested to keep from touching her.

She lifted her sultry, half-drunk eyes up to his face, smiled a lopsided smile and cleverly tucked something into the front pocket of his jeans. From his vantage point he was looking down at an impressive cleavage and two very healthy breasts pressed against him. It distracted him for a minute—he loved breasts. He often thought that if God had given him breasts, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off himself. He’d be seen walking around town with his palms pressed over his own chest.

She had her arms around him in the dark hallway that led to the restrooms, pressing him against the wall. A man walked past them, glanced at them, smiled slightly and moved on. Luanne stood on her toes and pressed her lips against his. Holy shit, he thought, his groin beginning to tighten. With her arms around him, she pulled him around and into the ladies’ room. He found himself pushed up against the sink while she flipped the lock on the door. She accomplished this with such deft skill, it was clear she’d done it before.

Again, embarrassingly, it wasn’t his first time for this, either. He couldn’t remember ever being appalled, though. Last he could remember, this was about the time he’d pull a condom out of his pocket and just go for it. It had been quite a while since he’d been with a woman; it wouldn’t take long. She was willing. She was past willing—she was obnoxious. He slipped his hand down to his pocket to see what she’d put in there. He pulled out something soft and lacy. A very tiny pair of panties. Red and black. And off. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he muttered, stuffing it back in his pocket.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” she said sloppily.

He put a hand against her black hair. “Luanne, this isn’t going to happen. I’m not doing this here.”

“You want to go somewhere?”

“No, baby. We’re not going anywhere. I’m not tapping this tonight,” he said, giving her hip a little pat.

“I bet I can change your mind.”

He shook his head. “Nah. Not gonna happen. Want to let me out of the ladies’ room, please?”

“Why not? I don’t usually get turned down.”

Fantastic résumé, he thought. He felt a slight chuckle escape. “Twenty reasons, kid. You’re drunk, you’re out of control, you don’t know me and I don’t know where you’ve been. But I suspect—lots of places.” He put his hands on her upper arms and firmly but gently pushed her back. “You shouldn’t do this. You could get hurt.”

He moved past her and unlocked the door. When he opened it there was a matronly woman waiting to get inside. He nodded. “Ma’am,” he said. He brushed past.

Luke moved, not slowly, to his truck, hoping to clear the parking lot before he found himself assaulted by a pantyless Luanne in the dark of night. Despite his better judgment, if she followed him, he was afraid he’d have a momentary lapse and get under that short skirt. Hmm. He’d never been afraid of something like that before. When he was on the road, he opened his window and let a little piece of red-and-black lace fly.

Then he stopped at a store on his way home to buy a six-pack of beer. He was going to have to avoid Jack’s for a while. Until his brain disengaged from his nether parts.



Dinner with the Booths had gone so well while Walt’s son, Tom, was on leave, Muriel was invited back the next week. She had secret hopes it would be a regular event. It was lovely. Muriel pulled her truck up to her little bunkhouse after the next such dinner. She’d left a light on for the dogs and could hear them barking before she even had her truck door closed. This is the family I come home to, she thought. Buff, only a few months old, had to be kept in the kennel when she was away from the house; he was still full of all that destructive puppy stuff and for Labs it was almost an art form. Luce was safe on her own now at almost two, but she spent most of that time right up against the kennel, watching over Buff.

She released the puppy from his kennel in the corner and got down on the floor to scratch and cuddle and play.

She had the most wonderful time with Walt and the kids. They were energizing. So full of life and laughter, despite the fact that each one of them had been through some incredibly tough times. Obviously Walt treasured his family, that was without question. They were fantastic fun. But did he know how remarkable they were? she wondered.

They wanted to know how she got into movies. “It was a ridiculous accident,” she had told them. “I was about fourteen when I was chosen from my freshman class to appear in a public-service commercial. This agent appeared and talked my parents into letting me try out for a part in a movie. For a fourteen-year-old with virtually no experience or training, I lucked out and did well. Then there was a slightly larger part, then slightly larger, and I grew. By seventeen I was rushing through my senior year to finish all my classes ahead of time so I could be in another movie.”

“Didn’t your parents freak out?” Vanessa asked.

“I didn’t have those kind of parents. They were amazed it was happening for me. I was making money and making film-industry waves—Hollywood focus has always been on the new entrant, the incredibly young wannabe. But—at twenty-one I married my agent, who was thirty-six. That almost sent my father to the moon. But he was a tough country rancher; he came around. Life was different back in these hills in my younger years. With common country folk, when a fifteen-year-old girl was keeping company with a guy over thirty, the girl’s father got them married. Today—he’d have the guy arrested.”

“Were you married to him long?”

“Five years,” Muriel said. “He’s still my agent of record. And friend.”

“But why didn’t you stay married?” Shelby asked.

Muriel shrugged. “He didn’t really love me like I wanted to be loved. I wanted a home, a family, a life. Roots. He wanted an Oscar.”

“Forgive me for being completely uninformed,” Vanessa said, “but did you get the Oscar?”

“I was nominated three times,” she said. “I was robbed.”

And never got the family. Or the marriage that would have the kind of commitment and devotion that, even in the absence of children and Oscars, could have sustained her. After getting to know Walt’s family, she thought that even if she’d had the chance for a family, there was no way she could have produced such strong, independent, well-adjusted adults. Not in her line of work.

So she ruffled the ears and necks of her two Labs, cooing to them, kissing them, telling them she loved them.

And then she heard an engine. A truck engine. The vehicle stopped, the door slammed and booted feet landed on the porch. All these sounds were familiar. There was a knock. Wasn’t this unexpected…. “Come on in, Walt.”

He stood in the door frame in his suede jacket, jeans, hat. He looked at her on the floor with her pups and smiled. The dogs abandoned her to rush to him, weaving in and out of his long legs, Buff jumping on him. She’d have to break him of that before it got out of control, she thought.

“Any chance you brought more of that delicious dessert with you?” she asked, getting up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t,” he said.

“Are you looking for coffee?” she asked.

“It would keep me up,” he said, tossing his hat in the chair and reaching out a hand to pull her to her feet. “Come here.” He pulled her against him. He ran a hand down her cheek and along her jaw. “Where do the dogs sleep?”

“On the bed with me.” She laughed, tilting her head up to him. She wondered if he knew how good-looking he was. And how solid; a man you could hold on to confidently. He didn’t waver, not literally, not figuratively. She liked that in a man.

“Think they’d be okay on the floor one night?”

“You making that move, Walt?” He kissed her in a way that should have sufficiently answered the question.

“Muriel, I’m sixty-two years old. I didn’t see this coming.”

“Aren’t you afraid of us becoming an item?”

“Girl, I’ve been dressed down by a president. You can’t scare me with a little gossip. What worries me is that you’ll find me old.”

She laughed at him. “You’re just a few years older than I am. And you’re almost irresistibly handsome.”

One black brow shot up. “You find me handsome?”

She nodded. “And sexy.”

“Well, now. That so? Muriel, I want to touch every part of you. And then I want us to watch the sunrise together.” The dogs were whirling around their legs, wagging, butting, trying to get someone to play. “You might have to do something about these animals.”

“They’ll settle down in a minute,” she promised. “But don’t you.”




Five


On what had lately become a fairly typical afternoon, Shelby, Mel and Doc were having a game of gin at the kitchen table in the clinic while the babies napped. Doc wasn’t doing much better against Shelby than he had over the last couple years playing Mel. These women were wiping him out. “I think I’ve gone through my retirement. You’re ruthless females.”

“I think I remember you winning a couple of hands last week,” Mel said.

“Bah,” he said, struggling to his feet. He grabbed his cane and hobbled out of the kitchen.

“Is there anything I can do around here that would help you two more than being a third hand in a card game?” Shelby asked. “Need someone to organize charts? Clean up a drug cabinet or treatment room? Inventory? Lab or supply run?”

“Tomorrow is appointment day and I have three prenatals and four Pap smears. Since you’re working here, you can assist. How does that sound?” Mel asked.

“Like a very slow day.”

“The thing about country medicine is that it runs hot and cold,” Mel said. “This town is so small that days, sometimes weeks, go by without anything exciting. Then everyone will pass around a virus and they’re all hacking up a lung, and while they’re doing that, everyone else is having an accident or going into labor. You have to be ready for everything, and nothing.”

Shelby never tired of Mel’s stories drawn from her nursing career, from the wild days of big-city emergency medicine, to the transition to small-town doctoring. For Shelby, working in a hectic urban E.R. sounded exciting, though she wondered if she’d really enjoy living in a big city. But being a nurse in a town as little as this didn’t seem to have enough jazz for her. More and more she thought she might end up in an emergency or operating room in a place like Santa Rosa—something between big and small. Or perhaps Eureka or Redding.

“Having come from a big-city hospital, there was one thing about small-town medicine that took me by surprise,” Mel said. “In no time at all, your patients are your friends. If there’s some intervention you can’t get to them in time, you feel not only that you’ve failed a patient, but let down a friend. For example, hardly any of the women in this town had been having regular mammograms, and when I finally got a nonprofit foundation to bring a portable X-ray unit to Virgin River to examine the women over forty, one of my best friends was diagnosed with aggressive, advanced breast cancer. She died—and I keep kicking myself for not getting the thing done sooner.”

“You must feel you can never do it all.”

“To the contrary,” Mel said. “I feel I have to think of everything, and I must do it all. To many of these uninsured rural women, Doc and I are all they have. These Pap smears—I’ve cajoled almost every one of them. I call them, I push them, I get them in here and charge only lab costs.”

“It’s an easy thing to let slide, I guess,” Shelby said.

“But you wouldn’t let it slide,” Mel said.

“Well, that hasn’t exactly been a priority the last few years,” Shelby said with a laugh. “But I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that….”

Mel’s back stiffened instantly. “How long might you have let that go?”

“I haven’t had one,” Shelby said.

“What?”

“I’m an extremely low risk,” she said. Then she lowered her eyes. “I haven’t had sex.”

Mel sat forward. “That’s kind of unusual. At your age.”

“I haven’t had a boyfriend. Oh, I dated a little in high school, but not seriously. I’m the product of an accidental pregnancy and my mom raised me alone. If we hadn’t been lucky enough to have Uncle Walt, life would have been a terrible struggle for us. My mom always felt so guilty about that, about taking all his help. I was scared to death of something like that happening to me. Mostly, I was afraid of disappointing my mom and my Uncle Walt.”

“You were very cautious….”

“Well, yes. And I was shy. And then I became nearly a recluse, taking care of my mom. The only men I came into contact with were married doctors, male nurses or hospice volunteers. And here I am, probably your first twenty-five-year-old virgin.” She made a face. “Please, I really don’t want the whole town to know I’m a helpless, recovering introvert who lived with her mother for twenty-five years.”

“Shelby, you know everything in this clinic is confidential—you took the oath when you decided to help out here. Besides, what you did for your mom gets nothing but admiration around here,” Mel said. “It was very selfless. And if you don’t mind me saying so, you seem quite sure of yourself.”

“Oh, I got over a lot of that shyness while I was taking care of her. I had to be assertive to be sure she was getting what she needed medically. Once you learn to stand up to a highfalutin neurologist, you can handle the bag boy at the grocery store just fine. I’m not crippled by shyness anymore, just a newcomer into the big, free world,” she said. “And I don’t want to be unprepared….”

“Honestly, I don’t want the first thing inside you to be a speculum, but you should be examined. There are other concerns—not just cervical cancer. There’s uterine cancer, ovarian cancer. And then you should be protected. Ready. When that time comes, you shouldn’t have too much to be worried about—I can’t imagine you still have a hymen with all that riding….”

Shelby sighed. “I wonder if it will ever happen.”

“It’ll happen.” Mel smiled. “Let me ask you something—how important is it to you that the first time be noticeably the first time?”

“That’s not a big issue with me.”

“I think I can get you through an exam without changing the whole landscape too much.” Mel took a breath. “Let’s do it.”

“Now?” she asked squeamishly.

Mel nodded. “Get naked. I’ll meet you in the exam room. You know where the gowns are.”

A few minutes later Mel let herself into the exam room to find Shelby seated on the table. “Take a deep breath,” Mel said, smiling. “It’s going to be fine.” She helped to ease Shelby into the position, keeping a hand on each thigh so she wouldn’t slide too far. “The good news is, I have really small hands.”

“Thank God for that, huh?”

Mel chuckled and took her stool, snapping on the gloves. She selected a speculum, then selected a smaller one. “Easy does it,” she said, slipping it in. “Well, here’s a surprise. Hymen is still partially intact. After all that riding, I’m amazed.” She collected the Pap smear and removed the speculum. “I was able to slip past it with the swab, but what’s left of the hymen might be sacrificed when I palpate the uterus and check your ovaries.”

“It has to go sometime,” Shelby said. “I was sort of hoping to lose it the way the other girls do.”

Mel chuckled. “This is going to work out better for you. We’ll get everything checked out and find you a dependable pill. No shocking surprises for you, Shelby.”

“A twenty-five-year-old virgin. How often do you see that outside a convent?”

“You’re not the first,” Mel said, standing. She gently palpated the uterus. “Since you don’t have any symptoms or problems, I’m not going to stretch my hand in there any farther today. Your periods are regular?”

“Extremely.”

“No pain between periods?”

“None.”

“It’s all good, Shelby.” She pulled off her gloves. “I usually do the breast exam first, but under the circumstances I wanted to get the pelvic out of the way. Let’s have a look,” she said, pulling the gown to one side, then the other to gently examine her breasts for lumps.

“I’ll take you up on the birth control pills, even though I don’t have any use for them at the moment,” Shelby said.

It would be unethical for Mel to ask Shelby if she had someone in mind for that position. Another handicap of being a small-town practitioner—seeing the hot little glances exchanged in a neighborhood bar. “Well, I think it’s healthy to have a sex life with a responsible partner,” she finally said. “I think it’s unhealthy to have an unplanned pregnancy. Choose very carefully. Be prepared. Play it smart,” she said. “There’s one more thing. I probably don’t have to lecture on this, but—”

“Condoms,” Shelby said. She smiled and a flush reached her cheeks. “I should probably have some of my own, in case…”

Mel patted her hand. “I love having beautiful, intelligent women for patients. Get dressed and I’ll round you up some supplies.”



Shelby was leaving the clinic for the day when something caught her eye. She made a U-turn and went right back inside. “Mel?”

“Hmm?” Mel said, looking up from the computer. “What’s up?”

“Is there some old guy living in the boarded-up church?”

“What?”

“Come and look,” Shelby said.

Mel walked out on the porch and looked across the street. Slumped in the doorway wearing a ragged coat, baggy men’s pants and boots, Cheryl Chreighton. “My God…”

“What?” Shelby asked.

“She’s back.”

“Who?”

“When I first got to town, I met Cheryl. She’s an alcoholic and young, only about thirty years old. I was determined to find a way to get her into some kind of treatment, but she disappeared. We haven’t seen her in about a year. I could have asked around more, but…Well, I didn’t pursue her because she wasn’t my patient. And I was pregnant, then pregnant, then…” She sighed. Then had two babies and a hysterectomy, she thought. It was hard enough to keep up with the patients in her actual care. Cheryl might not be a patient, but still, a resident of the town. And Mel couldn’t stand the idea of a thirty-year-old woman being the town drunk. It ate at her. She should get a second chance.

And she was back.



Luke stayed away from Jack’s for a while; stayed away from Shelby. He hoped he’d forget about her, but lust has a life of its own. He thought about her, then damned himself for being an idiot. But, nonetheless, she preoccupied his thoughts. And while she rested in a sweet place in his mind, he made progress on his house and cabins and drank his own beer.

The army delivered his household goods, things that had spent almost as much time in storage while he was in barracks or out of the country as in a home.

Luke had owned a duplex in El Paso, renting the other half to another G.I., which he sold upon discharge from the army. He didn’t have a lot of furniture, which turned out to be a good thing, but what he had was quality stuff. He had decided to put his big, old-ash bedroom furniture in one of the upstairs rooms. He had a plush velour L-shaped sectional, an extra-large chair and an upholstered piece that doubled as a coffee table or bench—a little something to put your feet up on. He kept a tray on the ottoman to rest a glass or cup on. He put everything in the living room and covered the furniture with sheets until the sanding, painting and staining could be completed.

There was a nice Pottery Barn dining set that was perfect in the dining area; a dark, square table and eight chairs—a real good poker table. He could get matching bar stools, but he planned to rebuild the breakfast bar first. The kitchen looked a lot better with new appliances, but it would really shape up when the countertops and cupboards were replaced. He made a trip to Home Depot in Redding to place his order—he could install everything himself. While he was there, he bought the stain, varnish and large area rugs for the hardwood floors.

Among his household goods were kitchenware, linens, stereo, large-screen TV for which he had a satellite dish on order, tons of tapes, DVDs, books, CDs. Not many clothes; he’d been in uniform a long time. His closet had always been pretty lean and functional, which suited him fine.

He was ready to venture back to Jack’s. There was a part of him that hoped she wouldn’t be there so he could be at peace with his decision to stay away from her. Another part wanted her there, within reach, because the decision just didn’t seem final.

She did something to him. At first he figured the attraction stemmed from being in this little town with so few options, but then he remembered Luanne and that bar in another town and realized it wasn’t quite that. Even if Luanne hadn’t appealed, it was very likely a more alluring woman would come along. Usually if he got the hots for a woman he shouldn’t be around, it didn’t exactly take an act of Congress for him to move on to someone who didn’t jam him up so bad. Whatever it was about Shelby, he was having a damn hard time letting go of it.

But he just wasn’t done with her. Not hardly.

Luke was just coming out of the shower at the end of a long workday when he happened to see a figure pass too closely to the house. The river was far enough away so that people walking, fishing or jogging there should not come so close. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he looked out the bedroom window. Nothing. He went through the living room to the kitchen and looked out the dining-room window. There was a large boy or man digging through his Dumpster. He was heavy and slightly humped. He’d heard there were transients living in the forest. He could have yelled at him to get out of there, but what did it hurt, him digging through the trash? He wasn’t making a mess or anything. Besides, with the threat of bears, he didn’t leave food scraps out there.

The man turned and Luke nearly jumped back in surprise. He couldn’t be sure of his age, but two things were glaringly obvious. He had Down syndrome. And a big, nasty black eye.

Luke stayed out of sight. He didn’t want to frighten him.

An hour later he was leaving the house for an early-evening beer at Jack’s and as he went down the driveway to the road, he saw the door to cabin six slowly swing closed. The farthest cabin from the house.

So. He had a tenant.



Luke had been putting in some real long, solitary days. Nothing was going to fix him up better than a cold beer and a little company. When he walked in, Jack welcomed him like an old friend. “Hey, man. Haven’t seen much of you lately. How’s it going?”

“Dirty and ugly.” Luke grinned. “But I’m making incredible progress.”

“Beer?”

“Oh yeah. What’s Preacher got cooking tonight?” Luke asked.

“He’s got some venison stew going back there,” Jack said. “It’s about the best I’ve ever tasted. You staying for dinner?”

“I’m going to have to now,” Luke said.

By the time Luke was halfway through his beer, Paul walked in, still dirty in his work clothes. He looked down at one upturned boot and walked back outside. The banging that could be heard in the bar was Paul kicking the porch steps, knocking the dried mud off his boots. Then he was back, up on a stool beside Luke.

“How you doing, Luke?” Paul asked.

“Pretty good. I was planning to give you a call. Can I get you to send someone out to look at a couple of things? I need to have a professional examine the roofing on the house and cabins and check wiring for me.”

“Be glad to. In fact, I’ll do it myself. Jack,” he said, lifting a finger. A cold beer instantly appeared in front of him. “How’s tomorrow afternoon? Say, around five, when I’m wrapping it up out at the houses and we still have light?”

“Perfect.” Luke glanced over his shoulder a couple of times. He hadn’t seen her in too long. He hoped she’d stay away, prayed she’d be there soon. “You staying for dinner?” he asked Paul.

“Nah,” he said, taking a deep drink. “A beautiful redhead’s cooking for me tonight. And if there’s a God, the general has other plans.”

The bar filled up, some neighbors, a few fishermen and a small gang of young hunters wandered in. Luke had a second beer, opting to wait on the stew a while, and then it happened. She finally came in. He had just about convinced himself he was going to escape temptation tonight. But no, it was going to be worse than usual. Tight jeans, silky blouse under a denim vest, all that hair unbound and flowing free, begging to be crumpled up in his hands.

She came right up to the bar. Paul dropped an arm around her shoulders immediately. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Not so much,” she said. “Hey, Luke.”

“Hey, yourself,” Luke said.

“Getting any better out at your cabins?” Shelby asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “A lot better.”

“I’m heading home,” Paul said, draining his beer. “Coming home for dinner?” he asked Shelby.

“Uncle Walt’s out for the evening,” she said. “Why don’t I have dinner right here. Luke looks lonely,” she said with an impish smile. “I’ll be home later.”

Paul kissed her forehead and said, “God bless you. And God bless Muriel.” And he was gone so fast it made Shelby laugh.

“Do you think he could be any more obvious?” she asked Luke.

“Muriel?” Luke asked.

“A beautiful neighbor lady moved in, right across the pasture. Uncle Walt’s been tied up a lot of evenings ever since.”

“Really?” Luke asked, eyes widening slightly. The general was into a woman?

She leaned her elbow on the bar, her head against her hand. “You don’t mind a little company, do you?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to have to shove off…”

Then Jack was standing in front of them, obviously hearing that last comment. “I thought you were staying for dinner? Beer, Shelby?”

“Thanks,” she said. When the beer was delivered and Jack gone again, she said, “You were going to stay till I got here? That’s not very flattering.”

A little embarrassed, he said, “I guess I could manage dinner.”

“Don’t put yourself out,” she said. “I can find someone to have dinner with.”

“No, this’ll work.”

“I don’t come here every night, so I thought maybe we just missed each other. But I asked Jack—you haven’t been around for a beer at all. A couple of weeks, I think….”

Eleven days, he thought miserably.

“And you were going to make a break for it once I showed up. I hadn’t even considered you were avoiding me. Do I make you nervous or something?” she asked.

“Whew,” he answered, shaking his head. “I haven’t been out of the army long enough to get over that rank thing. Your uncle—”

“Isn’t anywhere in sight,” she said, cutting him off. “Is it just my uncle?”

“You’re a pretty girl, Shelby,” he said. “And you’re just a girl. Puts me on edge, yeah.”

“Well then, we’re even,” she said. He gave her a perplexed look and she said, “You’re a good-looking guy, obviously been around a lot more than I have, and you’re older. Scary.”

He laughed at her candidness. “There you go—like water on a grease fire. Let’s play it safe, huh? Now tell me about your day.”

“Nothing to tell. Besides, this is interesting. I’d like to know what’s going on here. So, it’s pretty much that I’m a lot younger than you are. Or you just don’t like me.” And then she blushed, which made him squirm. It obviously took guts for her to push on this issue. But she wanted to know. So he decided to tell her.

“You know what it is, Shelby,” he said. “You’re young and tender. A sweet young thing. I’m hell on sweet young things.”

She laughed at him. “I bet anything you usually find a way to get past all that.”

Well, she didn’t scare easy, Luke realized with some admiration. And here was what had him screwed up—it wasn’t just that he had taken one look at her and felt that familiar tug of lust. Sounded like maybe the same thing had happened to her. Except that she had feelings deep enough to fall into and drown, and his feelings were all superficial, physical. Once his lust had been satisfied, he wouldn’t have much left for her. She’d end up sorry. He had always been able to avoid things like this, but this one, she was real tough on the nerves. It was going to be torture, just holding back. And it could be suicide, giving up the fight.

“I just wish your Uncle Walt was a retired master sergeant,” he said.

Luke usually confined his prowling to a town or two over so when the affair had run its course, he didn’t keep bumping into the woman again and again. Or her uncle. Before crawling between the sheets, he’d always give them “the talk”: he didn’t fall in love; wasn’t interested in long-term deals or commitment. He had his reasons, serious and personal reasons, for believing that a serious relationship wasn’t possible for him.

He wondered how Shelby would take to “the talk.” Given her age, she would probably cry.

He had been attempting to give not touching her a try, but just sitting next to her, having a beer, smelling her sweet scent and looking into those large hazel eyes, it was increasingly apparent he was destined to fail. It was just a matter of time; maybe a matter of hours.

“Well, I admit, you’re not exactly what I have in mind, either. I was thinking around twenty-six, more hair, polo shirt, or maybe a sharp, crisp, white button-down,” she said, and then she grinned at him.

He was totally shocked. He’d spent all this time fighting the attraction and she had something else in mind anyway? “I’m too old for you, plain and simple,” he pointed out.

“Probably, but there don’t seem to be many single men around. You kind of stand out.”

“You should throw your net wider,” he suggested.

“Until I do, let’s not get ridiculous. It’s a beer and some dinner. It doesn’t really matter how old we are or who my uncle is.”

He smiled. Sometimes she seemed a little older than twenty-five. She was awfully bright. Quick. Usually the problem with girls her age was they were dimwits. Not this one. She was honest and direct. Luke respected that. “You’ve been riding,” he said. “Your cheeks are sunburned.”

“Every day. Sometimes twice a day.”

“How long have you been riding?”

“Since I was real young. I’m Uncle Walt’s only sister’s only child, and my parents were divorced when I was just a baby, so my uncle kind of took me under his wing. He taught me—he thought it would build my confidence to learn to handle big animals. It turned out I only got more confident around big animals.” She shrugged and looked down. “I used to be real timid.”

The memory of seeing her on that big American paint came to mind. “You’re sure not timid on that horse,” he said. “And you’re not so timid with me.”

“I know. I’ve worked through a lot of that. I don’t know very much about you besides that you flew helicopters in the army. What about your family? All I know is you have a brother in Black Hawks in the Middle East.”

Luke’s dad had been a hardworking teamster, an electrician, and while he was a good provider, there hadn’t been a great deal left over for things like college educations. There were five boys to raise and educate. “I was the oldest and first one in. It wasn’t a hard decision for me—I always liked the idea of the army. It was a place for me to show my stuff—and I did fine. Loved the challenge. Colin followed me—into the army out of high school, into Warrant Officer School and the Black Hawks. Aiden upped it a notch—went into college ROTC and got a navy scholarship for med school. Don’t ask me how—but Sean scored an Air Force Academy slot and got into the U-2. Sean is the brother who went in on the cabins with me. Paddy—Patrick—got into the Naval Academy and F-18.” He smiled because her mouth had dropped open.

“Holy crap, there are five of you!”

“Yeah,” he said. He thought he was going to have to sit on his hand to keep from touching her hair. “Prolific Irish family. Sean and Patrick and their jets—they think faster is cooler. But they think that because they’ve never been in the Black Hawks.”

“Faster, higher and maybe safer,” she said.

“Possibly.” He laughed.

“How many times have you crashed?”

“I’ve never crashed,” he said, straightening proudly. “But I’ve been a damn good target three times. Mogadishu, Afghanistan and Iraq. I’m all done getting shot out of the sky. Right now, I want my most dangerous experience to be hammer versus thumb.”

They talked about building for a while, about the plans he had for the cabins. He would concentrate on the exteriors while the weather was still nice and when it cooled off and the Pacific winds brought the wet and cold, he could work inside. “Chapman left the house a wreck, but the structure seems sound. It’s going to take some doing to get it right. It’s small, but big enough for me. And if a brother or two shows up, there’s room. But this is temporary for me. By the time the work is done, I’ll be looking for a flying job—rescue or news chopper, or maybe even private industry. But chopper jobs are pretty tight, so it’s good I have something to keep me busy while I check out the job market.”

“Where will you go?” she asked.

“I’m flexible,” he said with a shrug.

She learned the brothers were close—when they were in the same part of the world, they got together. His father was deceased, but his mother was in Phoenix and they met there regularly. And each of them was willing to travel if there was a chance to meet. When she asked if he had a lot of nieces and nephews, he said, “All single. No kids anywhere.”

She didn’t tell him a whole lot about herself, just that she was finally ready to get on with her education, that she would be applying for degree programs. “I have my tuition money set aside from the house sale. I’d like to take a couple of trips first, maybe a cruise, since I can’t get back to full-time school till next fall anyway. I’m pretty nervous about that, it’s been a long time since I’ve been a student.”

“You’ll kick ass,” he said, taking curious pride in her ambition.

“For now, I’m just hanging out.”

“For how long?” he asked.

She answered with a shrug. “Till the first of the year, anyway, that’s the plan. There’s not too much for me to do except help everyone out, and I’m already getting a little bored.”

He made her laugh, put her at ease. She had a second beer and he had another. “You about ready for some dinner?” he finally asked her.

“I’m starving,” she said.

By the time Jack put stew in front of them, many of the locals were leaving, but there were still a few fishermen, so there was no hurry for Luke and Shelby to clear out.

They asked Jack for coffee and talked for another hour before Shelby looked at her watch and said, “Do you think I’ve given the lovebirds enough time alone?”

“By the look on Paul’s face, there isn’t enough time.”

“Tell me about it.” She stood up and slipped a hand into her jeans’ pocket.

“Nah, Shelby. Let me,” Luke said. He pulled out his wallet and put some bills on the bar.

“Careful, Luke,” she teased. “If you buy my dinner, I’ll think you like me.”

He put a hand on the small of her back. “That’s the problem,” he said. “I do.” He was past the jitters about her age, her uncle. He was moving on this. And when it was over, he was going to be shot, he was pretty sure. But he was into her; she had him. He hoped his death would be quick and painless.

An excited shiver ran through her as she preceded him out the door. When she got outside, she stopped on the porch and looked up at the clear, cool sky, peppered with a million stars. The wind through the pines made a whirring sound; an owl occasionally hooted.

Luke moved behind her and, with his arms around her waist, drew her back against him. She let her eyes softly close, enjoying the feeling of his sturdy body so close to hers. He nuzzled her hair and despite the noise of the wind through the pines, she heard his breath as he inhaled. Then she felt him move her hair aside; his lips and tongue were on her neck. “Hmm,” he said. “That’s nice. Real nice.” Then she felt him sucking and she tilted her head to one side to give him more of her neck.

That tilt of the head, that was more invitation than Luke usually required. He pulled her away from the bar’s front door to the edge of the porch, to a dark corner. He’d begun feeling light-headed just from the sensation of her neck against his lips. Her soft, sweet fragrance swirled around him and he wanted to take her somewhere, undress her, taste the rest of her body.

He faced her and looked down into her eyes. “I’m sure this is a huge mistake,” he said in a throaty whisper.

She rubbed her hands up and down his upper arms and just smiled that soft, sweet, beguiling smile.

“You’re pretty irresistible, Shelby. And I never did have much willpower.”

“I’m kind of new at this flirting with dangerous older men,” she said. “Is this where I apologize?”

“New at it?” he asked. “I think you might be a natural. It’s working.”

“Well, maybe I have more social skills than I thought,” she said with a laugh. There was no maybe about it—she had made a sudden and crazy decision. She wasn’t going to wait for the younger, more stylish man. The very thing he was warning her to be careful about, she decided, would work to her advantage. He was experienced. He knew what he was doing. She needed that. His arms around her and his lips on her neck felt wonderful. He would do nicely.

“Do you know what it means to get mixed up with someone like me?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Danger? Heartbreak?” She took a breath. “Adventure? You don’t scare me as much as I scare you, Luke.”

He slowly lowered his lips to hover over hers. “You sure about this?” he asked. “Because I think you know where all this flirting is headed. I’m no kid. This is headed someplace real naked.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said with a weak whisper. “I’m not taking my clothes off.”

“Not yet?” he asked, his lips so close to hers she could feel his breath in her mouth, warm and sexy.

“Maybe never,” she whispered.

“Maybe,” he whispered back. “I like that word, maybe.” Then he lowered his lips to hers and pressed against them softly. He ran his hands up her sides, catching her under the arms and stretching them out, bringing them around his neck, showing her how to hold him. His arms went around her waist and he pulled her against him, kissing her more deeply. He could feel her firm breasts against his chest and he’d like nothing so much as to lower his lips to one, but this was not a woman to ravage. This was a woman to lead. Besides, Jack’s front porch was not the place. For the things he wanted to do, they needed to be assured of more privacy. He opened his lips, sucking at hers. And she opened hers, letting her tongue make a gentle, silken swipe of his mouth, bringing a deep and passionate groan from him. He ran a hand down over her bum and pulled her hard against him. He was already aroused; she just knocked him out.

Something like a whimper came from her as she pressed herself against him, opening her lips more to admit his tongue. His kiss was hot, wet, deep and long. He had been right about one thing—she could mold her small body against him in a way that made him think he might go completely crazy. The one thing that helped him keep his sanity was the belief that when this was finally consummated, it was going to be sweet. And good. For both of them.

“I have a feeling I’m not what you were expecting,” she whispered against his lips. “I’m not very experienced.”

“I already know that,” he said. “I am.” He kissed her again, holding her tight, and he felt a slight trembling in his arms. He pulled away from her lips, still holding her small bottom and pushing her hips against him, and whispered, “You’re right, Shelby. You’re pretty much all surprises.”

She expelled a small huff of air, smiled and said, “You have no idea.”

He ran a hand along the hair at her temple. “Shelby, how does a young woman as beautiful and sweet as you not have a man in her life?”

She glanced down briefly. “There was no time for that. My mom…She was completely dependent on me.” She looked up into his eyes. “I took care of her. That was my full-time job. Until she died.”

He was stunned speechless for a moment. “For how long?” he asked softly.

“Five years or so.”

“Aw, Shelby…”

“It was my choice. It’s what I wanted.”

He leaned toward her and pressed his lips tenderly against her head. “Not many people would do that.”

“Oh, probably more than you think.”

He was surprised at how much that moved him, touched him. He lifted her chin with a finger and brushed his lips across hers again. He threaded his hand under her thick mane of hair at the back of her neck and put soft kisses on her mouth and temples and eyes. Then her lips again. And he said, “No. Only a certain kind of person takes on something like that. Your kind of person.” This young woman was every beautiful thing he’d ever imagined, from her body to her spirit. He gave her lips another light kiss. “I’m going to put you in your car now.”

“Seems like maybe you changed your mind about this…this flirting….”

He shook his head. He wished he could. He knew he should. But he hadn’t. When the time was right for her and the tension gave way to need, when there was no more maybe about it, she was going to come to him, soft and willing, and he was going to make long, slow, fabulous love to her—damn the consequences. And he would be sure she’d have no regrets about the experience. It wouldn’t be too fast and it wouldn’t be too soon—and it would be exquisite. It wasn’t a good idea, but it was the only idea he had.

“Nah,” he said. “I have a one-track mind.”

She laughed at him. “Big surprise.”

“Before this goes any further, we’re going to talk about some things,” he said.

“What things?”

“Expectations. Needs. You have to know what you could be getting yourself into. While there’s still time for you to come to your senses.”

She put her hand against his cheek. “I look forward to that.”

He gave her a brief kiss and said, “Come on. Time for you to go home.”




Six


Shelby wasn’t quite ready to leave Luke; she was in the mood for more of that kissing and touching. But, sensing he was right to put a little space between them if she wasn’t ready to go further, she let him put her in her Jeep and went home. She let herself into Walt’s house and found it dimmed and quiet. A light was left on for her in the great room and Uncle Walt’s big Tahoe was missing from the driveway. It was only ten, but there was no doubt in her mind that Vanni and Paul had turned in the minute the baby was asleep.

She was too stirred up for sleep. She pulled off her boots, built a fire, pulled the throw from the couch around her shoulders and curled up in the big leather chair near the hearth. She hugged herself dreamily.

Only about fifteen minutes had passed when Vanni came out of her bedroom wearing her robe and furry slippers. She smiled at Shelby, then went to the other chair facing the hearth, kicked off her slippers and pulled up her bare feet, tucking the robe around her legs.

“Did I wake you?” Shelby asked quietly.

“I wasn’t asleep.”

Shelby laughed conspiratorially. “Did I disturb you?”

“Not at all. In fact, I was thinking about you, wondering when you’d get home.”

“Are you staying awake for me? To be sure I get in safely?”

“No,” Vanni said. Then she laughed and said, “Yes. Paul said you stayed at the bar to have dinner with Luke.”

“Yes. And not only did Paul come home and report on me, every person there glanced at us as they left Jack’s. Good thing I’m not trying to get away with anything, huh? Good thing I’m not fifteen, right?”

“I think maybe Luke’s a little too old for you.”

“He is. And he’s made it real clear that I’m too young for him.” Then she laughed softly. “Oh brother, he doesn’t know the half of it.”

“You know, I grew up around soldiers. Honey, they have some real rough edges. It’s the nature of the beast. The life they lead, the things they’re required to do, it puts them on the tough side of life. They harden up, you know? They can become insensitive, brash and…Well, they learn how to live in the moment, without looking back, if you know what I mean.”

“Would you say that about Uncle Walt? Jack or Paul?”

She shook her head. “They’re pretty special men.” She was quiet for a moment and then said, “You’ve been locked in with your mom for so long, you practically missed the real beginning of young womanhood. And now when you could really use a mom to talk to, she’s gone. Maybe you and I should go over a few things. About men. About relationships.”

“Aw, Vanni—you’re worried about me.”

“I can’t help it. I know how old you are. But I also know how inexperienced you are.”

But he’s experienced enough for both of us, she almost said. “You know, you can’t have the kind of talk with me as you would with a thirteen-or sixteen-year-old girl. True, I haven’t been around, but I’m not ignorant. While I was housebound, postponing my life, I still had books and television. I might not have experienced much firsthand, but I’ve been watching from the sidelines. I’ve witnessed women’s romantic problems from Scarlett O’Hara to Anna Karenina. And that’s not even taking into account prime-time TV. But you go ahead, Vanni,” she said with a smile. “Anything you think I should know—lay it on me.”

“You like him,” Vanni said.

“I do. I didn’t expect to, but I just can’t help it.”

“And you know exactly what you’re doing.”

She laughed. “No. I know what I’d like to do, but I’m such a clumsy novice, it’s amazing he’s not bored to death by me. I’m a twenty-five-year-old going through puberty. When I was supposed to be learning these things in high school, I was too shy. I was afraid to flirt, afraid the boys would laugh at me. I could have learned a little later, when I was older and braver, but I was busy.” She shrugged. “So here I am. Trying this out for the first time. With a guy whose first time probably came before I was born.”

“I don’t want you to be hurt,” Vanni whispered. “You’re the sweetest, kindest person I know.”

“Vanni, I barely know Luke Riordan, but it’s real clear he’s not my knight in shining armor. He’s done everything he can think of to discourage me, but let’s be honest—this was no frontal attack from him. He admitted he’s avoided me because of my age. The coward.”

Vanni laughed at her.

“When you get down to it, my first choice was a completely different kind of man. Closer to my age, less seasoned, someone who doesn’t come right out and promise to ravage you—”

Vanni sat up straight, eyes very large. “He said that?”

“Not in so many words, but I got the message.” A wonderful shiver passed through her. “Besides, even if I found myself attracted to a younger man, he’d still be more experienced than me, he might even be divorced with kids. There are a couple of things I know about Luke, though. He might be a little on the rugged side, but he’s actually very tender. Gentle. Patient.” Her eyes glistened when she looked at her cousin. “He kissed me,” she whispered secretively. “I’ve never been kissed like that. It was unbelievable.”

“Whew. Really?”

Shelby nodded. “You just can’t imagine how good he is at it. Shew. But don’t worry—I told him I wasn’t taking my clothes off. I wanted to, though. Boy, did I.”

“Shelby!” Vanni said, stunned.

“Well, I did, but the porch at Jack’s bar didn’t seem the place. Plus, it’s pretty cold. I mean, I wasn’t cold—Luke was wrapped around me like a straitjacket.”

Vanni giggled in spite of herself.

“And he likes me. He hates that he likes me—Uncle Walt has him scared to death. And you know what? I love that in spite of that he can’t resist. Do you have any idea what that means to someone like me?”

Vanni was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she said, “What can I do?”

“Let’s have that talk. It would be nice to have someone to talk to about this. About where it’s going, which I think I’m pretty clear about. Can you do that without telling Paul all my personal business?”

“Sure,” Vanni said with a smile. “Men don’t care about these things anyway. Where should we start?”





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