Seeking Kokopelli

by Shelley Munro

  Dedication

  For Paul.

  Prologue

  Legend says Kokopelli was a Native American fertility god, a prankster, a healer and a storyteller. He wandered from village to village in the Southwest of America, playing his flute and spreading his magic, bringing fruitful harvests and many new babies. He blessed the land and its people.

  What most don’t know is that the legend is true. Kokopelli lives on, the magic passed from son to son in the James family so the people and the land will thrive.

  Chapter One

  The plaintive notes of a sax throbbed through the gloomy pub. Nate McKenzie watched Adam James’s strong fingers as he played, enthralled by both the performance and the man—a sexy, dark-haired figure illuminated in a golden spotlight. Adam caressed the music from his instrument, his eyes closed while he focused on playing the song.

  Despite the other men and women in the crowded room, Nate felt as if Adam played for him. Only for him. Blood pounded through his veins, his cock drawing tight beneath the unforgiving denim of the faded jeans he wore. It was the same every time Adam played his saxophone or sang in that smoky voice of his. Intense arousal surged through Nate’s mind along with confusion.

  How could one man make him feel this way?

  So lost. So incredibly aroused.

  So damn needy.

  Nate clenched his fingers around a bottle of beer and forced himself to take a sip. The warm taste of hops made him pull a face. Rosa. Thoughts of his wife should fill his mind, bring the sting of arousal to his cock and pull his body taut with desire, not his employer Adam James.

  Sweet Jesus, Rosa hadn’t been gone for that long. It was far too soon to try to fill the empty gap her death had left. His lips pressed tight. Both men and women might have interested him before he’d met his wife, but one look at her dark hair, flashing brown eyes, her curvy body, and he’d been smitten. He hadn’t looked at another man since meeting Rosa.

  Until Adam.

  A pair of red lace panties sailed through the air and struck Adam’s thigh before plopping to the stage. Adam continued playing smoothly as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, filling the pub with his sultry, seductive music.

  A woman screamed, “I love you, Adam.”

  The crowd roared. A few hooted with laughter. A second woman hollered an obscene suggestion of what she’d like to do if she cornered him alone.

  Another pair of panties hit the stage. Nate turned away in disgust, telling himself it wasn’t jealousy. He tipped back his head, swallowed the dregs of his beer and ordered another. His last one for the night, because he needed to make sure Adam and the other three members of Stampede made it back to their motel rooms safely. He and Keith helped the band when they were on the road with security and anything else they required. Sometimes the women refused to let the band leave or, worse, tried to sneak into their vehicle or rooms.

  Nate didn’t expect problems tonight. This crowd appeared well behaved. They’d get the band back to the motel. What the guys did after they reached the motel was up to them. Nate’s responsibilities for the night usually ended there.

  Nate shot a quick look at Adam, took in the way the damp T-shirt clung to his chest and gulped. He saw a cold shower in his near future. And if that didn’t work, he’d go for a run and take another icy shower when he returned. He would not think about Adam. He would not jerk off while thinking about the man again.

  And no more spending time with Adam. If he followed these rules, maybe he’d manage to stuff the man into the “friends box” instead of letting him drift into bloody uncharted territory. He was still faithful to Rosa, dammit. It was way too soon to replace the memories he clutched close to his heart. And Adam—Adam had more women than he could possibly want. Why would Adam show interest in him?

  The last haunting note of the sax drifted away, and the rest of the band joined in with the melody. Adam started to sing. His gaze drifted across the rapt audience and, although Nate knew Adam wouldn’t be able to make him out in the gloom, the man seemed to stop looking when he glanced in his direction. Nate’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at Adam’s face, the intense eyes, the high cheekbones, the dark golden complexion. And that mouth…

  A groan built deep in his throat. The man had him tied in knots and didn’t even know it. Despite his growing fame, Adam was a private man. He handled his fans and the reporters with aplomb, hiding behind easy charm. They thought they knew him, but Nate looked deeper than most.

  Adam James had secrets.

  Nate didn’t know what they were, didn’t want to. A man deserved some privacy.

  The song slid to an end, and the crowd burst into applause and cheers. Somewhere a woman hollered about her underwear, making Nate wince at her crudeness.

  “Thanks,” Adam said in a husky voice. “We’re about to play our last song for the night. It’s a new one for us. It’s called ‘Alone’.”

  The band started playing, with Adam singing the poignant lyrics about a man being alone, looking for love, a mate. The words tore at Nate’s gut, ripping him open and laying his heart bare. He noticed a woman sitting not far from him with tears pouring unchecked down her cheeks.

  Rosa. Damn, he missed her so much. She’d filled the empty loneliness inside him. It was almost one full year since she’d passed, and he missed her every single day, despite the weird yearning that struck him whenever he spent time near Adam.

  Adam held the last note of the song, and the music trailed away. There was a long pause of pulsing silence before the cheering started. Nate couldn’t help his pleased grin. Stampede had a new hit on their hands.

  He stood, grabbed his Stetson off the bar and slapped it on his head before pushing his way through the crowd, holding his breath when a strong, heavy perfume hit him. He much preferred the honest scent of clean sweat. Soap. Some of these women needed to learn about subtlety.

  Nate reached the stage at the same time as Keith, the other roadie. They were a small unit and worked well together. The two of them stood between the band and the crowd. Watching. Waiting while the band packed their equipment, ready to leave the stage and head for the rear entrance. Adam, Morgan, Cade and J.T., the men who made up Stampede, were pros and they all worked efficiently together.

  A couple of pub staff helped them and, fifteen minutes later, they were ready to depart for the motel. A few women rushed outside, hoping to get autographs before the band left. The rest of the crowd stayed put to order more drinks and enjoy the evening. Someone put some coins in the jukebox, and the notes of a country tune commenced with Shania informing the girls to get ready.

  Nate breathed out a sigh of relief. It didn’t always go easy like this. At the last place, the women had mobbed the band before they left the stage. He still bore a bruise on his ribs where a woman had jabbed him, using her elbows like weapons.

  “Coming, Nate?” a voice called.

  His heart skipped a beat when he realized it was Adam. “Yeah.”

  Adam stepped closer, his sensual lips stretched into a lopsided grin. “You bringing those with you?”

  Nate followed Adam’s gaze and a flush of heat flooded his cheeks. Shoot. He kicked the offending red panties off his boot. “Don’t you get tired of being pelted with panties?” He’d bet half of them weren’t even clean. Nothing surprised him anymore.

  Adam shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

  The reply did nothing to tamp down the weird jealousy streaking through Nate. Damn, what the hell was wrong with him lately? He glanced at Adam and away again, almost as quick. It seemed as if his mind had settled on one track, and that way led to Adam.

  They slipped into silence, an edgy one on Nate’s part, and exited the pub via the rear. As he’d expect
ed, several women clamored for attention from the band.

  “Do you want to sign autographs?” Nate wondered if Adam would accept one of the inevitable propositions that came with the territory. Hell! He forced the thought away. None of his business.

  Adam smiled politely in the direction of the group of waiting women. “I’m tired, but I’ll sign a few before we leave.”

  “Adam! Adam!” A petite woman with impossibly large boobs forced her way past Nate and thrust a marker pen at Adam. She glanced up at him coyly, fluttering her long mascara-laden lashes. “Sign my breasts for me.”

  “This is a permanent marker.” A faint smile twitched at Adam’s lips.

  Although Adam wasn’t talking to him, a shiver of awareness pulsed across Nate’s skin. Then the words sank in. The woman wanted Adam to touch her breasts. A growl escaped before he bit back his instinctive order for her to back off.

  Not his place.

  Adam chuckled. Nate wasn’t sure if it was because of his reaction or the woman’s request.

  “I know,” she cooed. “I don’t want it to wash off too soon.”

  “Just as long as I don’t get in trouble with the men in your life,” Adam said as he uncapped the pen.

  Nate turned away from them, glad of the hat and the dim light hiding his reaction to the situation. It was none of his business if Adam wanted to touch a woman. Hell, Adam could fuck her and it would still be none of his business.

  He worked for Adam and Stampede. That was all.

  There was something about a long, slow seduction. Adam scrawled his signature across the top of the woman’s breasts and handed back the pen with a wink.

  “How about a kiss?”

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” Adam restrained a satisfied grin at the second low growl behind him. “I don’t want to get in trouble.” He blew her a kiss and turned to the next woman waiting impatiently for an autograph.

  While a slow seduction didn’t have physical advantages, the furtive courtship he engaged in with Nate was the most fun he’d had in ages. Nate had started looking back. So far he hadn’t registered Adam’s pursuit, but he was interested. Confused too. Satisfaction pulsed through him at the secret knowledge.

  After signing three more autographs, Adam waved to his fans and strode to the van. Nate walked directly behind him, and the devil in Adam made him halt abruptly. Nate crashed into his back. Seconds before he hit the ground, Nate grasped his hips, steadying him. Their bodies brushed before Nate stepped away, his hands falling from Adam’s hips.

  “Sorry. Thought I saw someone I knew.” Adam caught his breath at the frisson of heat and climbed into the van before stupidity reared its head any further and he did something really obvious. Nate followed and closed the door behind them. J.T. drove and, twenty minutes later, they pulled up outside their motel.

  Morgan climbed out of the van, raising both tattooed arms into the air in a huge stretch. A groan vibrated in his throat before he spoke. “Man, I’m beat.”

  Cade smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with devilment. “Old man. I’ve got a date. I’ll be late, so don’t wait up.”

  “Me too.” J.T. winked as he tugged the leather band from his dark brown hair. He ran a quick hand through his curls. “See you guys tomorrow at rehearsal.”

  Cade and Morgan both played guitar and did vocals while J.T. rocked big time with the drums. They’d started after Adam met Cade in a pub. Cade had introduced him to Morgan and J.T. and things had taken off from there with the band rapidly growing in popularity. They spent most of their time together. The band was his family now.

  Morgan yawned. “What are you doing, Adam?”

  “Gonna chill.” Adam grabbed his saxophone. And plan his next move with Nate.

  Nate and Keith drifted away with murmured good nights. Adam headed for his room, the one he shared with Cade. He’d intended to shower, grab a beer and blob in front of the box. Didn’t happen. Restless energy filled him, and he couldn’t sit still. Nate intruded again. Moodily, he kicked off his footwear. He’d never felt this way about a man before. There had been men over the years, clandestine sex that didn’t mean a thing. This thing with Nate—it felt different.

  Important.

  He knew about Nate’s marriage and his wife’s subsequent slow death from cancer. Hell, he knew it was too soon for Nate. The man still grieved. Despite the knowledge, he couldn’t stop. Something inside him, something mystical, propelled him toward Nate, his gut telling Adam they’d be good together even though the man obviously preferred women. A sudden scowl formed. Heck, he was probably putting himself in the way of a shitload of hurt. His mind told him he should walk away, but he couldn’t. His heart ached to try to ferret out the possibilities.

  Cursing softly, he grabbed a towel and his room key and strode past the row of rooms to the hot tub, wincing at the bite of gravel beneath his bare feet. Someone was already there when he arrived. About to retreat, he spied a familiar black Stetson sitting by the side of the tub. Nate.

  “Great minds,” Adam drawled, pitching his voice so it was audible above the bubble of the water. “Am I interrupting?”

  Nate jackknifed to a sitting position. His mouth opened and closed before he sank under the surface again until only his head showed. The water plastered his dark hair to his head. A faint dark moustache and light beard framed his mouth and chin. The rest of his face was cleanly shaven. Dark brown eyes glanced at him, then Nate averted his gaze. “Nah,” he muttered finally. “Too wired to go to sleep yet.”

  “Me too.” Adam yanked his black Stampede T-shirt over his head and shoved down his jeans. For propriety’s sake, he left on his boxer-briefs before sliding into the warm water. They were both tall men and, for a brief second, their legs touched. Nate drew back like a startled cat.

  “I won’t bite.” Adam kept his voice low and even. He’d like to do more than bite. He felt the surge in his body, the slight filling of his cock. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “And I don’t have any nasty diseases.”

  Nate still refused to meet his gaze. “I’m not good company tonight.”

  “Problem?”

  “Nothing I want to talk about.”

  Adam nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Why aren’t you with one of the women who throw themselves at you?”

  Adam leaned back, letting the warm water work its magic. “Maybe I’m not interested.”

  “I guess it gets old fast.” Nate frowned thoughtfully. “A man likes a challenge.”

  Yeah, the challenge thing worked for him. Time to kick up the pace in his seduction plan. “No.” Adam watched Nate’s face closely, needing to read him and his reaction clearly, if that were possible. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Nate’s brow furrowed. He sat up so his broad shoulders and upper chest were visible. A light furring of dark hair covered his chest, arrowing downward beneath the water. “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe I’m not interested in women.”

  The water stopped churning and stillness descended, interrupted only by the faint hum of traffic and the drone of a TV from the nearest motel room.

  “You’re gay?” Nate whispered, confusion and dismay on his face, a trace of panic.

  Adam shrugged and leaned over to turn the timer on again. The water jets bubbled into motion, enveloping them in their own private world. He turned back to Nate. “I don’t do labels.”

  “Why the hell are you telling me?” Nate sounded pissed now, and Adam wasn’t sure why. “What the hell are you telling me?”

  “I think of you as a friend.”

  “Man, I’m not that kind of a friend,” Nate barked, his back straightening to military alertness, indignation snapping in his eyes.

  Beneath the indignation, Adam thought he caught a flash of heat. He wasn’t sure what to make of it and sought to reassure. “Chill. We’ve known each other for almost a year. I haven’t jumped you and I’m not about to.” Yet. If Nate gave him some encouragement, that could change fast. Adam had to
work to control his impassive expression. No, he hadn’t been wrong. That flash of heat again. There was something there; otherwise, why would Nate sound so panicked?

  Nate checked their surroundings before turning back to him. “Do the others know you’re gay?”

  “We’ve never discussed it.”

  “So why are you telling me? Women throw panties at you. They get you to sign their tits!”

  “What’s your point?”

  Nate shook his head, his throat moving as he swallowed. “I don’t understand.”

  Adam wasn’t sure he understood, either. Hopefully his instincts were right and he hadn’t fucked up things between them, because he valued Nate’s friendship. With Nate, he could be plain Adam James. He didn’t have to perform. Play a part. He didn’t have to live up to fans’ expectations. Or conform to family pressure. “I think of you as my friend. Apart from the band, I don’t have many friends. I wanted honesty between us.”

  “You’re taking a risk, man. What happens if I tell the papers? Stampede is starting to take off. You’re playing bigger venues now. Women and the whole panty thing is part of it all. If word gets out you’re gay, you’ll get a backlash. It’ll hurt you, hurt the band.”

  All true, but Adam was sick of hiding. Besides, he had good intuition about people. Nate wasn’t like that. They had a future together. Every instinct told him that, although he wasn’t about to expose Nate to the family woo-woo shit. His gut feeling had served him well in the past, and he wasn’t about to ignore it now.

  “Tell me about your wife.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can see you’re hurtin’. It’s been almost a year.”

  “No.” The word was harsh, carried pain.

  “You going to the rodeo tomorrow?” Adam smoothly changed the subject. One day Nate would talk. He could wait.

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “I used to ride bulls when I was in high school.”

  “Yeah?” Interest flickered across Nate’s face, replacing the previous panic. “You any good?”

  “Nope.” He grinned as he admitted the sad truth. “More enthusiasm than skill. I didn’t make eight seconds more than twice the entire summer. Man, it was a rush, though. Like a drug. The cheers from the crowd. The music. The other guys egging you on. You do your prep, climb on top and when the chute opens, time seems to slow. Then the bull explodes out, solid muscle clasped between your thighs. The animal jumps, spins. It bucks and tries everything to toss you off. Yeah, I loved the rush.” He grinned again in remembrance. “Although hittin’ the hard ground wasn’t so shit hot.”