Song of the West by Nora Roberts Page A

woman.”
    â€œOf course, I don’t want her to be a doormat. Let’s say I like a woman who knows how to think, one who doesn’t pretend to be anything but who she is. Of course,” he added, finishing off his wine, “I’m also partial to good looks.”
    â€œWell, so far it doesn’t sound as though you’re asking for much,” Samantha giggled. “Just perfection.”
    â€œThe woman I have in mind can handle it.” He smiled broadly as he rose to pour coffee. Samantha stared at his back, feeling as though her heart had been dropped into a deep hole.
Lesley Marshall.
Her mind flashed the name like a neon sign in bright red letters.
    Jake squelched her offer to do the dishes and swooped her from her chair and deposited her on the living room sofa.
    â€œI feel useless,” she muttered, helplessly cocooned by blankets and pillows. “I’m not made for lying around. I’m never sick.” She gave Jake a sulky glare as if the entire matter was his fault. “I don’t know how Bree coped with this sort of thing for a month.”
    â€œCould be you got her share of strength, and she got your share of patience,” he considered, then shrugged. “Of course, I could be wrong.” She heard his chuckle and the quiet click of his lighter as he lit a cigar.
    Well, Samantha, she chided herself, you’ve really done it this time. Not only are you isolated with a man who constantly confuses you, but you can’t even stand on your own feet. They say people learn about each other quickly when they live together, but I think it’s going to take much more than one day to learn what this man is all about.
Living together
, she repeated, finding herself more amused than embarrassed. If Momma could see me now, we’d need a gallon of smelling salts.

Chapter Seven
    Dawn was breaking. Pink and gold streaks split the hazy blue of the sky, and light tumbled through to rest on Samantha’s closed lids.
    Morning? Sitting up with a start, she shook her head vigorously to dispel the last remnants of sleep. Pulling on the borrowed robe, she set her feet on the floor, took three deep breaths and stood. When both the room and her head remained stable, she let out a long sigh of relief. Her legs were weak, but they no longer felt as if they would melt from under her, and the stiffness in her ankle had disappeared.
    Mobility, she thought with arrogant glee. I’ve never truly appreciated it until now. Coffee. One thought followed swiftly on the trail of the other, and she deserted the room with the intention of making fantasy fact. A door opened as she passed it, and with a cry of surprise, she fell against the opposite wall.
    Jake stood in the doorway, rubbing a towel briskly through his damp hair, a terry-cloth robe tied loosely around his waist. “Morning, ma’am.”
    â€œYou startled me.” She swallowed, overpowered by the lean, bronzed maleness that the terry cloth did little to hide. He took a step toward her, and her breath caught instinctively. “I—I’m much better.” She began to babble, unconsciously cowering against the smooth paneling. “I can actually walk a straight line.”
    Her voice died to a whisper as he stood directly in front of her. Her eyes were on a line with the tanned column of throat revealed by the open neck of the robe. His hand lifted her chin, and she trembled.
    â€œRelax, Sam.” His laughter sounded deep in his throat. “I just want to look you over. You must have the constitution of an elephant,” he concluded with unflattering candor. “You look as though you’ve been on vacation instead of battling blizzards. One day’s rest after nearly freezing to death. Most women would have been stretched out for a week.”
    â€œI’m not most women.” She pushed his hand away from her face. “I’m not fragile and delicate, and I’m not going back