Song of the West Read Online Free PDF Page A

enough and old enough for my profession.”
    â€œWhat made you become a gym teacher?” His sudden question caught her off balance, and she stared at him.
    â€œWell, I . . .” Her shoulders moved restlessly. “Our mother was a fanatic on lessons when Bree and I were growing up.” She smiled in spite of herself. “We took lessons in everything, Mom’s theory on being well-rounded. Anyway, Bree found her talent in music, and I developed a knack for the physical. For a while, I focused on gymnastics, then, when the time came to work, it seemed natural. Bree taught little people to play the classics, and I teach bigger people to tumble.”
    â€œDo you like your work? Are you happy with it?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, I do,” she retorted. “I like the activity, I like being involved in a physical type of work. It can be frustrating at times, of course. Some of the girls I teach would rather be flirting with their boyfriends than learning gymnastics, I suspect.”
    â€œAnd you yourself are more interested in calisthenics than men?” The question was delivered with a broad masculine smile.
    â€œThat’s hardly relevant,” she snapped, annoyed that she had lowered her guard.
    â€œYou don’t think so?”
    Samantha scraped back her chair and moved to the stove. “Coffee?”
    â€œYes, ma’am, black.” It was unnecessary to turn around; she felt the slow grin crease his face as clearly as if she had witnessed it with her eyes. She set the cup down on the table with a bang. Before she could spin back to pour her own, her hand was captured in a firm grip. There was nothing soft about the hand. It was hard and masculine.
    Completely outmatched in the short battle that ensued, Samantha discovered that under the lean, lanky exterior lay an amazing strength. Deciding that it was undignified to grapple in her sister’s kitchen, she allowed her hand to rest quietly in his, meeting his laughing eyes with a resentful glare. Her heart began to pound uncomfortably against her ribs.
    â€œWhat do you want?” Her voice came out in a husky whisper. His eyes left hers to travel slowly down to the generous curve of her mouth, lingering until she could taste the heat on her lips, as real as a kiss. Taking his time, he moved his gaze back to her eyes.
    â€œYou’re jumpy.” His observation was laconic, as if none of the heat had touched him, though she herself was beginning to suffocate. “Powerful strong for such a little bit of a thing.”
    â€œI’m not little,” she retorted. “You’re just so big.” She began to tug at her hand again, feeling a near desperate urgency to shake off the contact that was infusing her with an unexplained weakness around the knees.
    â€œYour eyes are fabulous when you’re angry, Sam.” His tone was conversational. “Temper agrees with you. You grow beautiful with it.” He laughed and pulled her closer.
    â€œYou’re insufferable,” she said, still struggling to escape his grasp.
    â€œFor telling you you’re beautiful? I was just stating the obvious. I’m sure it’s been mentioned to you once or twice before.”
    â€œYou men are all the same.” She ceased her struggles long enough to aim a lethal glare. “Always grabbing and groping.”
    â€œI don’t grope, Samantha.” His drawl was feather-soft. For an instant, the cocky cowboy vanished, and she glimpsed the man, shrewd and ruthless, beneath. Here was a man who not only expected to have his own way, but would. “And the next time I grab you, it won’t only be to hold your hand.” Releasing her, he leaned back in his chair. “You have been warned.”
    ***
    Later, as Sabrina napped and the house grew still around her, Samantha found herself staring blankly at the pages of a novel. Scowling, she tossed it aside and rose from the sofa to pace to