Never Been Kissed

“Well, then, maybe some other time.”

“No, there won’t be another time,” Reilly said flatly. “You might as well know that now. If you’ve set your sights on me, you’re wasting your time. I’m not interested.”

Stunned, Janey couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly. He actually thought that she…that she was the kind of woman who would…

Unable to finish the thoughts whirling in her head, Janey almost laughed at the ridiculousness of his accusations. He couldn’t be serious! She’d never come on to a man in her life—she wouldn’t even know where to begin! But she drew herself up proudly. So he wasn’t interested, was he?

Well, neither was she!

Dear Reader,

It’s the beginning of a new year, and Intimate Moments is ready to kick things off with six more fabulously exciting novels. Readers have been clamoring for Linda Turner to create each new installment of her wonderful miniseries THOSE MARRYING MCBRIDES! In Never Been Kissed she honors those wishes with the deeply satisfying tale of virginal nurse Janey McBride and Dr. Reilly Jones, who’s just the man to teach her how wonderful love can be when you share it with the right man.

A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY continues to keep readers on the edge of their seats with The Spy Who Loved Him, bestselling author Merline Lovelace’s foray into the dangerous jungles of Central America, where the loving is as steamy as the air. And you won’t want to miss My Secret Valentine, the enthralling conclusion to our in-line 36 HOURS spin-off. As always, Marilyn Pappano delivers a page-turner you won’t be able to resist. Ruth Langan begins a new trilogy, THE SULLIVAN SISTERS, with Awakening Alex, sure to be another bestseller. Lyn Stone’s second book for the line, Live-In Lover, is sure to make you her fan. Finally, welcome brand-new New Zealand sensation Frances Housden. In The Man for Maggie she makes a memorable debut, one that will have you crossing your fingers that her next book will be out soon.

Enjoy! And come back next month, when the excitement continues here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

Never Been Kissed

Linda Turner

LINDA TURNER

began reading romances in high school and began writing them one night when she had nothing else to read. She’s been writing ever since. Single and living in Texas, she travels every chance she gets, scouting locales for her books.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Prologue

Every Labor Day the Jones family gathered for their annual picnic, and this year’s get-together was wilder than ever. By 10:30 a.m., the beer and sodas were flowing, the barbecue was sizzling on the grill and a spirited game of volleyball was in progress on the beach. The object was to win, at all cost, and cheating was not only allowed, but heartily encouraged. Laughter echoed up and down the beach, along with the ribald comments from the cheering section on the sidelines.

In the past Reilly Jones would have been right in the big middle of the game, leading his team to victory and enjoying every second of it. But not this year. He didn’t feel like playing—or mingling with the family. He wouldn’t, in fact, have even showed up if it hadn’t been for his older brother, Tony, who’d nagged and bitched and hounded him to put in an appearance until he’d finally given in just to shut him up.

Standing alone, well apart from the rest of the family, Reilly stared broodingly out to sea and knew he shouldn’t have come. He didn’t belong here. The trouble was he didn’t belong anywhere and he hadn’t for a long time now. Ever since Victoria had died.

Pain lanced his heart just at the thought of her. God, he missed her! Every second of every day. He’d been told that with time, the hurt would lessen and eventually fade, but it had been eight months since a teenager in a stolen car had slammed into her and killed her, and the pain was as fierce today as it had been that fateful day. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t work. There was a gaping hole in his heart, in his life, where she had once been, and all he wanted to do was die so he could be with her again.

Behind him he heard a footstep and didn’t have to turn around to know his brother had joined him. Tony had appointed himself his personal guardian angel, and lately he seemed to always know when his thoughts were at their lowest. Not taking his eyes from the shadowy blurred images of Catalina in the distance, Reilly said gruffly, “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid like drown myself or anything. I was just thinking.”

Tony, to his credit, knew better than to ask him about what. The answer, as usual, was written in the sad, grim lines of his somber expression. Victoria. There’d been a time when Tony had envied his brother the rare love he shared with Victoria, but not anymore. Her death had nearly destroyed Reilly, and Tony didn’t know if he would ever recover from it. He hadn’t laughed since the day she died, and eight months later the grief that tore at him was stronger than ever. He’d turned his medical practice over to his partners and had lost all interest in life. When he wasn’t sitting at home in his study staring at her picture, he was either at the cemetery or in his car, driving the endless freeways of L.A., looking in vain for a peace that was nowhere to be found.

And Tony didn’t mind admitting he was worried about him. He was slowly destroying himself, and if something wasn’t done soon to pull him out of the depression he had slipped into, he was going to be in serious trouble.

“I’ve been thinking, too,” he replied, “and I think you should get out of here.”

Surprised, Reilly dragged his eyes away from the ocean to arch a dark brow at him. “What’s gotten into you? For the last two weeks, you’ve done nothing but preach about how important it was for me to come to this thing, and now you’re telling me to leave?”

“Not the picnic,” Tony corrected him quietly. “L.A.”

That was the last thing Reilly expected him to say. “Are you serious?”

“You’re slowly killing yourself here, grieving yourself to death,” he said bluntly. “With Victoria gone there’s nothing here for you anymore. So sell everything—the house, your practice—and get the hell out of here while you still can.”

It was a logical suggestion—and everything inside Reilly rebelled at the thought. He couldn’t leave L.A. His last memories of Victoria were here. Everywhere he turned he could see her, hear her, smell her. How could he turn his back on their home and the life they had built together and start over as if she had never existed? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t!

But even as he opened his mouth to tell Tony he would never even consider such a suggestion, he knew deep down in his soul that his brother was right. The grief that already consumed his every waking and sleeping moment was on the verge of swallowing him whole. If he didn’t do something soon to save himself, he was going to be lost.

“Where would I go?”

Encouraged, Tony said, “Do you remember Steven Michaels? He was my chemistry lab partner in college.”

The name conjured up images of a tall, gangly kid who had been all arms and legs and six foot five if he was an inch. Frowning, Reilly nodded. “Yeah. He should have played basketball. What about him?”

“I ran into him last month at a convention and he was telling me about an uncle of his who’s looking for someone to join his family medical practice and eventually take it over so he can retire. His name’s Dan Michaels. I think you should consider calling him.”

“I’m a heart surgeon, Tony.”

“You’re a doctor,” he reminded him. “You take care of sick people. Just because you normally spend your days operating on people’s hearts doesn’t mean you can’t treat colds and allergies and high blood pressure instead. Think about it. It might be a really nice change for you.”

Reilly had to admit he had a point. There’d been a time when he’d thrived on the stress and challenge of surgery. But that was before he’d lost Victoria. Now the operating room—like everything else—held little appeal. But a family practitioner? Could he be content with that?

“So where is this uncle’s practice?”

“Colorado,” he replied. “A little town called Liberty Hill. From what I understand, it’s southwest of Colorado Springs. It’s right in the middle of ranching country, but Aspen’s not that far away.”

It sounded like a wide spot in the road, as different from L.A. as day was from night, and Reilly knew that if he had any sense, he’d laugh in his brother’s face and tell him to think again. If he was going to start his life over, it was going to be someplace where he could at least get Brie without people asking him what it was.

But even as he tried to convince himself that he needed to live someplace more sophisticated, he knew it didn’t matter. L.A., New York, Liberty Hill, Colorado. What difference did it make where he lived? Without Victoria, he wouldn’t care if he was in the middle of the Sahara.

“All right, I’ll give this Dr. Michaels a call if it’ll make you happy,” he said with a grimace. “Give me the number.”

Chapter 1

The rain was a cold mist that stretched as far as the horizon in every direction. Surrounded by rolling ranchland on all sides, Reilly noted the highway sign that informed him he was ten miles from Liberty Hill and knew just how Dorothy must have felt when she found herself in Oz. He wasn’t in Kansas—or L.A.—anymore, and he couldn’t help wondering if he’d made a mistake by accepting Dr. Michaels’s offer to join his practice. It was, however, too late to back out now. He’d already sold his practice and everything else in L.A. Even if he decided he wanted to go back to California, there was nothing to go back to.

Which meant that, like it or not, he was stuck with a new life in Colorado. A life without Victoria. If it looked less than appealing at the moment, he couldn’t find the strength to care. His blue eyes bleak with despair, he continued toward Liberty Hill with little enthusiasm, the steady beat of the windshield wipers echoing the lonely beat of his heart.

Lost in his misery, he didn’t notice there was a problem with his car until the motor suddenly began to make an odd sound. Surprised, he glanced down at the dash and swore at the sight of the Check Engine light flashing at him angrily. Immediately lifting his foot from the accelerator, he slowed down and carefully eased over to the shoulder.

It wasn’t until he reached for his cell phone and came up empty-handed that he remembered he’d thrown the damn thing away the day before he left L.A. He hadn’t been able to do anything but grieve for Victoria, and he’d taken a long, solitary drive around L.A. He’d been gone for hours. Later he couldn’t have said where he’d gone—he hadn’t cared. He’d just wanted to be left alone. No one, however, had respected that. First his partners had called him one by one to check on him, then his brother. They’d all just wanted to make sure he was okay, which he’d assured each of them he was, then he’d hung up and tossed the phone out the window. In the never-ending stream of cars that raced the city freeways, the phone had been instantly smashed. Relieved, he hadn’t bought another because he hadn’t thought he would need one where he was going.

Which meant he was now stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no way to call for a tow truck. Glancing ahead, then in his rearview mirror, he swore roundly. The road curved among the rolling hills before it disappeared over the hill in the distance, and there wasn’t another car in sight in either direction. Liberty Hill was ten miles away. It was going to be a long, cold walk.

Another man might have lifted the hood and at least given the motor a quick look before facing a ten-mile hike under such miserable conditions, but Reilly knew his strengths and weaknesses. He could perform the most intricate heart surgery with his eyes practically closed, but a mechanic he was not. Muttering curses, he turned on his emergency flashers, grabbed his jacket and keys and pushed open his door.

His thoughts already focused on the long walk ahead of him, he didn’t see the red Jeep that came around the curve behind him until it pulled up beside him. The electric window on the passenger’s side silently lowered, and from across the width of the vehicle, the woman driver shot him a sympathetic smile. “I saw your flashers. Anything I can do to help?”

If Reilly needed further proof that he was a long way from home, she just gave it to him. No one in L.A., especially a woman alone, stopped to help someone who appeared to be in trouble—not if she valued her life. For all she knew, he could be an ax murderer.

But if she was the least bit leery, she certainly didn’t show it. The passenger window was all the way down, and he wouldn’t have doubted that the doors were unlocked. With one quick move, he could have been inside and had her in his clutches before she even knew what he was about. Granted, she could have driven off at the least sign of danger from him, but danger wasn’t always recognizable at first.

Marveling at her bravery—and stupidity—he frowned at her in puzzlement. “I appreciate the offer, but you don’t know me from Adam and this is a lonely stretch of road. Didn’t your mother ever tell you to be wary of strangers?”

Her lips curling into a half smile, she said, “Actually, it was my father who drilled that particular lesson into my head—which is why he bought me a shotgun when I was twelve and taught me how to use it. If you’d like, I can demonstrate.”

“You mean you have it with you?”

“Of course. It wouldn’t do me any good if it was locked away in a gun cabinet at home, would it?”

She appeared to be dead serious, but Reilly would have sworn he caught a glimpse of mischief in her brown eyes before that was quickly blinked away. Intrigued, he arched a brow at her. “Does the sheriff know you drive around with a loaded gun in your car? That’s illegal, you know, if you don’t have a permit.”

Far from worried, Janey McBride only grinned. Nick Kincaid, the local sheriff, was not only a friend, but her brother-in-law. As protective as her brothers, he’d chew her out for not carrying a gun if she even suggested driving the road to town and back without any means of protecting herself.

“I’m not worried about the sheriff,” she said dryly. She had, in fact, called Nick the second she spied the unfamiliar BMW with its California license, sitting on the side of the road with its flashers on. It didn’t hurt to be too careful. “In fact, I think that’s him coming our way now,” she added, and nodded down the road to the patrol car that just came around the curve half a mile away. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to leave you in his hands and be on my way. I hope nothing’s seriously wrong with your car.”

With a wave and a smile she drove off, leaving Reilly staring after her with a frown. She hadn’t even given him time to thank her for stopping—or given him a chance to ask her her name.

The sheriff arrived then, circling around to park on the shoulder behind his car, the whirling lights on his lightbar warning anyone who approached from either direction to do so cautiously. A tall, lean man with an angular face that could have been carved from stone, he didn’t look nearly as friendly as the shotgun-toting, unidentified Good Samaritan who’d just driven off, but Reilly supposed the hard look he gave him was one of the requirements of the job.

“Having trouble?” he asked coolly as he approached and asked for his driver’s license.

Reilly nodded and handed over his identification. “The Check Engine light came on and I didn’t want to chance driving all the way into town.”

Noting his name and address on the license, some of the sheriff’s stiffness melted. “That’s probably a wise move on your part, Doctor. You’re a long ways from Los Angeles. Where’re you headed?”

“Liberty Hill.”

Surprised, Nick lifted a dark brow at him. “No kidding? Would you mind telling me why? Don’t get me wrong—I grew up here, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else, but it’s not the kind of place that normally draws tourists from California. We’re too far from the ski slopes to draw that bunch. And we wouldn’t know a convention if we tripped over it, so I doubt you drove all the way from L.A. for that. I could understand if you took a wrong turn and got lost, but you didn’t. You’re here on purpose. Why?”

There’d been a time when it wouldn’t have taken much more than the other man’s totally bewildered expression to make Reilly smile. But that was before—before Victoria died, before all the joy went out of his life. Appreciation glinted in his eyes, but his lips didn’t so much as twitch with humor. “Trust me, you’re not asking anything I haven’t asked myself,” he said dryly. “Actually, I’m moving here. I’m joining Dan Michaels’s practice.”

Nick couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d told him he planned to grow marijuana once he was settled into his new home. “Dr. Michaels? You’re going to work with Dan?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You know him?”

“He delivered just about every baby in town for the past forty years,” Nick said with a smile. “He’s a good man.”

And if Dan was taking on a partner, it went without saying that he wouldn’t trust his practice to just anyone. He would have made sure Reilly Jones was a good man himself. Relaxing, he held out his hand with a grin. “It looks like I’m the welcoming committee. Welcome to town, Doctor. I’m Nick Kincaid. If I can do anything to help you get settled in, just let me know.”

Just that easily the introductions were made and Reilly was accepted. “Thanks,” he said, returning his handshake. “And the name’s Reilly. I don’t stand much on ceremony.”

“Then you should fit in just fine around here,” Nick replied, his brown eyes twinkling. “We’re a pretty casual group. C’mon, let’s take a look at your car and see what’s wrong with it.”

Standing in the cold mist, Reilly watched the tow truck driver hook up his BMW for the tow into town and wondered what the hell he was going to do now. When Nick had lifted the hood, he’d spotted the problem immediately—a broken fan belt—which Reilly had assumed could be easily fixed. All he had to do was get a new fan belt.

In L.A. that wouldn’t have been a problem. But he wasn’t in L.A., and the tow truck driver—and owner of the only garage in town—had quickly informed him that he didn’t keep spare parts for BMWs in stock since no one in town owned one. The fan belt would have to come from Colorado Springs—on the bus. If he was lucky, Reilly would have his car back in a couple of days!

“Damn!”

Sympathizing with him, Nick made no attempt to hold back a grin. “Don’t look so glum. Things aren’t as bad as they seem. This isn’t L.A.—you don’t really need a car. The town’s so small, you can walk just about anywhere you want to go in ten minutes. C’mon, I’ll show you. Where are you staying?”

Reilly grimaced. “Good question. I don’t know yet.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“Just what I said. I didn’t want to make arrangements long-distance without getting the lay of the land first. That’ll be hard to do without a car, so if you wouldn’t mind taking me to the nearest hotel, I’ll stay there until I get the car back.”

This time it was Nick’s turn to grimace. “I’ll take you if you want, but you might want to reconsider.”

“Why? Is it a dump or what?”

“No, actually it’s a very nice place,” he replied. “In Gunnison—thirty miles away.”

Reilly swore. “There’s no hotel in Liberty Hill? What the hell kind of town is it?”

“A small one,” Nick said wryly. “Myrtle Henderson rents out spare rooms, but she’s booked the rest of the week with a writers’ group, so you’re out of luck there.” Studying him through narrowed eyes, he said, “What kind of place were you looking for?”

With no conscious effort on his part, Reilly found himself thinking of the Tudor house he’d shared with Victoria in West Hollywood and still thought of as home. Built in the twenties, he and Victoria had fallen in love with it the second they stepped through the front door for the first time. They’d never even considered looking at anything else.

He’d thought he would live the rest of his life there, but he’d sold it and everything else when he’d left L.A. His heart flinching at the thought, he reminded himself the whole purpose of moving to Colorado was to let go of the past and get on with his life. He just hadn’t expected it to be so painful.

“I don’t want anything fancy,” he said gruffly. “There’s just me to consider, and I don’t plan on doing any entertaining, so something small would be nice. And secluded, if I can find it. After living in the city for so long, I really just want to be left alone.”

A man was entitled to his privacy, Nick thought. And his pain. And Reilly Jones’s went soul deep. Oh, his tone was casual enough, and his expression gave away little of what he was feeling. But his eyes spoke volumes. Dark with misery, they were the windows of a tortured soul. Whatever his story was, it was eating him alive.

Feeling for him, Nick knew he should talk to Merry before he offered him his cabin, but the poor guy was obviously hurting and needed a place to hole up and lick his wounds. And it wasn’t as if he and Merry were using the cabin. Since they’d gotten married last year, he’d moved into her place on the ranch, and the cabin had been sitting empty. He’d actually been thinking about renting it, and here was the ideal renter, complete with excellent references. If Dr. Dan was willing to trust him with his patients, Nick thought he could certainly trust him with the cabin.

Making a snap decision, he said, “I’ve got a log cabin north of town you might be interested in renting. You said you didn’t want fancy. Trust me—it’s not. Some friends helped me build it seven years ago, so I’ll warn you up front that it’s not perfect. Some of the doors stick on humid days, and the upstairs floor has a tendency to creak. But it’s airtight, warm in the winter and surrounded by trees. If you want privacy, you ought to take a look at it. The nearest neighbor’s a half a mile away.”

“How far out of town is it?”

Nick winced. That was the kicker. “A mile and a half. But your car’s only going to be out of commission for three days,” he reminded him. “When do you start working with Dr. Dan?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied, “but the distance isn’t a problem. I can walk if I have to. When can I see it?”

“Right now,” Nick said, grinning, and led the way to his patrol car.

There was a time in his life when Reilly wouldn’t have looked twice at a log cabin. He wasn’t an outdoorsman, and the rustic look had never appealed to him. But when Nick drove down the winding drive that led to the cabin, Reilly had to admit there was something about the place that immediately caught his eye.

Just as Nick had promised, the cabin offered all the privacy anyone could possibly want. Nestled among a thick stand of pines and set well back on a two-acre lot, it blended in with the trees and was virtually impossible to see from the road. The nearest neighbor may have been a half mile away, but it might as well have been a hundred. You couldn’t see another living soul for what looked like miles in any direction.