Beverly Barton - Guarding Jeannie

"For several years. They've known each other since they were children. Julian and Miriam were close friends with Marta and her husband, who died a year after Miriam."

"Julian told me before we left the house that he wouldn't be coming home until morning." Sam watched her face for a reaction. "He said that you'd know where to reach him."

"He and Marta have been lovers for about a year now." Jeannie's smile widened. A sigh of humming laughter vibrated from her throat. "You aren't surprised, are you?"

"No. Besides, it's none of my business." He wished she'd take her hand away; the temptation to accept her invitation overpowered his common sense.

He laid his hand in hers. She grasped it gently. He repeated the gesture. Sam stared directly into her compelling brown eyes and knew he'd have a hell of a time denying this woman anything. Just as a tingle of awareness passed between Jeannie and Sam, Hawk tapped him on the shoulder.

Sam released Jeannie's hand, scooted back his chair and stood. He stepped away from the table, making sure Jeannie couldn't overhear his conversation. "What's wrong?"

"Maynard Reeves just arrived with a lady named Danette Suddath." Hawk inclined his head to the left.

Sam scanned the area to their left, catching a glimpse of Reeves's sandy hair, gleaming in the muted lounge light. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed Hawk by the arm. "Why the hell did the guards let him in here?"

"The lady has an invitation, and he's her guest," Hawk said. "Kane is making a phone call to check on this Suddath woman, but she acts like she belongs here. She's spoken to several people, calling them by their first names."

"Reeves is a strong antigambling advocate." Sam repeatedly clenched and unclenched his hands. "I wonder how he'll justify socializing in this den of iniquity."

"I'll keep tabs on Reeves," Hawk assured Sam. "And as soon as Kane gets any information on the woman, I'll let you know."

"I don't want Reeves here, but there seems to be nothing we can do at the moment."

Turning around in her seat, Jeannie called out to Sam. "Is something wrong? Is there some problem I should know about?"

"Make sure he doesn't come anywhere near her," Sam told Hawk. "Stop him before I have to."

Hawk nodded, then made his way across the room, heading directly to the lounge area. Sam held out his hand to Jeannie. Staring up at him, she gave him a quizzical look.

"No problems," he lied, and wondered how long it would take her to realize the truth. "Hawk was just checking in with me." Sam wiggled his fingers. "Come on, Jeannie, dance with me."

He saw the warm, glowing light in her eyes die. Dammit! Had she already seen through his lie? Was she aware of Reeves's presence?

"I—I don't dance," she said.

"What?"

"I don't dance, because of my legs." She bowed her head deliberately, to avoid looking at Sam. "You know I can't walk without my cane. I can't dance. I'd only make a spectacle of myself if I tried."

"Have you ever tried?"

"Once, when I was a teenager. Miriam tried to teach me, but we soon realized it was hopeless. I'm not able to move without bracing myself with my cane."

Sam lifted her walking stick and handed it to her. "How about a stroll around the deck instead?"

Raising her head, she nodded agreement, a flicker of a smile forming on her lips. She stood, supporting herself with her cane, and took Sam's hand. He slipped his arm around her waist and led her away from the lounge area and out onto the open deck of the riverboat.

It was not quite eight-thirty, and the sun had just set. The summer twilight spread gold across the sky, gilding the clouds, as the aureate Gulf waters rhythmically bathed the tawny shore. The evening breeze, pleasant and soothing, caressed Jeannie's hair; several loose tendrils blew across her cheeks.

They walked the length of the deck, reaching a secluded corner. The music from the live band echoed on the wind and water. Sam slowed their walk, then halted. Jeannie glanced up at him.

"Are you going to tell me why you rushed me outside so quickly?" she asked, sensing the tension in Sam's big body, knowing from merely touching him that he was concerned about something.

Tightening his hold around her waist, he turned her to face him. He lifted her left hand, placing it on his shoulder. "Hold on tight," he said, then took her cane out of her hand. Gasping loudly, she grabbed his other shoulder with her right hand. He hung her cane on the deck rail.

"What are you doing?"

"We're going to dance. I'll support you securely in my arms. Trust me. You can dance. You can dance with me."

"Sam, no, I—"

"No one can see us. We're all alone out here."

"I can't. I—"

"Kick off your shoes, then lift your left foot and put it on top of mine," he told her.

"What?"

"Don't ask questions. Just do as I say."

She obeyed his command, stepping out of her shoes and placing her left foot on top of his. "I don't see how my stepping on your feet is going to—"

"Haven't you ever seen little girls dancing with their fathers?"

"You can't mean…"

"Put your right foot on mine. We're going to dance."

"I'm not a little girl. I'm a grown woman. And I'm not light as a feather."

"I'm a big man, with big feet," he said. "And you're a small woman, with small feet. You'll feel as light as a feather to me."

Slowly, reluctantly, she lifted her right foot and placed it atop his. The moment the deed was completed, Sam moved, cautiously, without any sense of rhythm at first, allowing Jeannie a few moments to adjust to the new and unusual sensation of someone else actually walking for her. And that was all Sam did for a while, simply walked her backward and forward. With her arms draped around his neck, her body pressed intimately against his, she gradually relinquished all control to Sam. Her trust in him was that great.

"See how easy it is when you do what I tell you to do?"

She jerked her head up, glaring at him, but when he smiled, she smiled, too, unable to resist the magnetism of his smile. No wonder he didn't do it often, or so completely. His smile was devastating.

"You like being right, don't you?" Laying her head on his chest, she cuddled closer, and was pleased when she heard his indrawn breath.

"Yeah, I like being right." With one hand still bracing her back, he eased his other hand downward, from her waist to the curve of her buttocks.

The romantic strains of "I Love How You Love Me" floated on the night air, strings and brass blending into a sweet harmony. Sam moved his big body to the soft, slow melody, encompassing Jeannie in his embrace as he carried her across the deck, her small feet welded atop his much larger ones. Their bodies swayed in perfect unison, in tune with each other and the flow of the music.

She closed her eyes, absorbing the beauty of the moment, allowing herself to enjoy the pleasure of dancing and the joy of being in Sam Dundee's strong arms. She had never known anything like this incredible sensation. Dancing. Dancing in Sam's arms. Gliding across the floor as if she had wings on her feet.

Opening her eyes, she glanced over Sam's shoulder and saw the pale form of the moon, the darkening sky and the first glimmer of a twinkling star. She tilted her head.

Sam looked down at her. She smiled at him. Lowering his head, he rubbed his cheek against hers.

"Thank you," she said, then closed her eyes again, sighing, wishing this moment could last forever. Sam had given her this gift. Dancing in the moonlight.

She could not imagine any woman not wanting to be in Sam Dundee's arms. He was so incredibly handsome, so big and powerful. So absolutely debonair in his black tux and unadorned white shirt. In the pale moonlight, his blond hair had turned to burnished flaxen silk, and his eyes had warned to a smoldering slate blue.