Hawk's Way: Rebels

by Joan Johnston

  “I still can,” Mac said. “I’ll take Jewel home and come back. What time and where?”

  “How about eight o’clock? My house.” She gave Mac an address in the newest condominium complex in town.

  Mac grinned. “I’ll be there.”

  “Don’t dress up,” Eve purred. “I want you to be comfortable.”

  “You got it,” Mac said.

  With Jewel standing right there, Eve went up on tiptoe and gave Mac a kiss right on the mouth. Jewel noticed Mac’s arm went around her waist quick enough to draw her close, so the kiss wasn’t unwelcome. It went on a long time, and from the way their mouths shifted, their tongues were involved.

  Jewel stood frozen, unable to move. At last the kiss broke, and Mac shot her a quick, embarrassed look. It was too little, too late. He should have thought of her feelings before he practically made love to another woman right in front of her.

  Only it shouldn’t have mattered if he kissed somebody else. They were only friends.

  “See you at eight,” Mac said as he backed away from Eve.

  “I’ll be waiting,” Eve said in a sultry voice.

  Mac went around to his side of the truck without stopping to open Jewel’s door. Not that she needed her door opened for her. She got in and sat near the edge of the seat, opening the window as soon as Mac started the truck and sticking her elbow out.

  “Sorry about that,” he said after a few minutes. “I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that.”

  “I wasn’t embarrassed,” Jewel said. “Kiss all the girls you want. It doesn’t make any difference to me.”

  “All right. If that’s the way you feel. Just so you don’t worry, I may not be back tonight.”

  “Thanks for telling me,” Jewel said. “I won’t wait up for you.”

  She really didn’t care. He was just a friend. He’d had another girl friend most of the time she had known him. This was no different. Except, the whole time she had watched Mac kissing Eve the most stunning thought had been running through her head.

  I wish it were me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MAC WENT TO EVELYN LATHAM’S HOUSE with one purpose in mind: to get laid. Eve opened the door wearing a clingy red velour jumpsuit that sent a wake-up call to his body. He was sure all it would take was one kiss to get the old machinery back into action. So he pulled her into his arms and kissed her and…nothing. Not a damned thing happened.

  He worried about the situation all through supper and all through the glass of merlot they enjoyed by the fire he started for her in the stone fire place. When they ended up entwined on the couch, he willed his body to react to the feel of her lips against his, to the feel of her body beneath his hands. He felt the sweat pop out on his forehead. But…nothing.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. Just because he hadn’t made love with a woman didn’t mean that he didn’t want to. He wanted to, all right. His damned body just wasn’t cooperating! He made up some excuse for why he couldn’t stay—his aching leg had come in handy for once—and bolted.

  He drove around for two hours wondering if he was going to spend the rest of his life a virgin. What the hell had gone wrong? He hadn’t been able to figure it out but had finally conceded that driving around all night wasn’t going to give him any answers.

  Then he remembered he had told Jewel he would probably be out all night. What was she going to think if he came back early?

  That you don’t take your time.

  Yeah. Probably she’d just think he’d gotten his fill of Eve already. He couldn’t imagine getting his fill of Jewel in bed. The thought of touching her skin, the feel of her hair against his body, the smell of her.

  His body stirred in response.

  It’s too late, buddy. You already missed the party. You have to do that when there’s a flesh-and-blood woman around.

  And when it was some other woman besides Jewel. It wasn’t going to do him any good getting aroused by thoughts of her, because she was the last person he could have sex with.

  Hell, his leg was killing him. He had some exercises he was supposed to do at night that he hadn’t done to relax the muscles. He needed to lay his leg flat in bed. He needed…he needed to know he could function as a man. The situation with Eve had been disturbing because it had never happened to him before. What if something was wrong with him? What if all those operations had done something to his libido?

  You don’t have any problem responding to Jewel.

  He recalled his feelings for Jewel, the ones that had sent him off in search of another woman. They weren’t as comforting as they should have been. He had felt the same sort of semi-arousal with Eve before he kissed her, but when it came time for action, his body had opted out.

  Mac cut the pickup engine at the back door to the cottage. No lights. At least he’d be spared the ignominy of Jewel seeing him sneaking in at two in the morning. He didn’t want to have to make some explanation about why he was home early. He wasn’t about to tell her the truth, and he hated like hell to lie.

  He eased the kitchen door open—Western doors were rarely locked, even in this day and age—and slipped inside.

  “Hi.”

  Mac nearly lost his balance and fell. “What the hell are you doing sitting here in the dark?”

  He reached for the light switch, but Jewel said, “Don’t.”

  The rough, raw sound of her voice, as though she had been crying, stayed his hand. He remained where he was, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He finally located her in the shadows. She was sitting with her elbows perched on the kitchen table, her face buried in her hands.

  He limped over, scraped a chair closer and sat beside her. He felt her stiffen as he laid an arm across her shoulder. “Are you all right?

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine. You sound like you’ve been crying.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be back tonight.”

  Which meant she had expected to have the privacy to cry without being disturbed. It didn’t explain why she had been crying. She tried to rise, but he kept his arm around her and pressed her back down. “I’m here, Jewel.”

  “Why is that, Mac? I can’t imagine any woman throwing you out. Which means you left on your own. What happened?”

  This was exactly the scene Mac had been hoping to avoid. “She…uh…we…uh…”

  “Don’t tell me Eve didn’t make a pass.”

  “She did,” Mac conceded reluctantly.

  “Then why aren’t you spending the night with her?”

  “I…uh…that sort of thing can give a woman ideas.”

  “I see.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. Spend the whole night in a woman’s bed, and she tends to think you might be serious about her. Everyone knows you’re a love’em and leave’em kind of guy.”

  “I am? I mean, I suppose I am. I haven’t found a woman I’d want to settle down with who’d have me.” That was certainly no lie.

  Eve had wanted him, all right. It should have been the easiest thing in the world to take her in his arms and make love to her. The situation had been perfect: willing woman, intelligent, not a total stranger, attractive—hell, absolutely beautiful. And it had been absolutely impossible.

  Mac bit back the sound of frustration that sought voice.

  “You should go to bed if you’re going to get up early and walk tomorrow,” Jewel said.

  “I’d rather sit here with you,” Mac replied.

  “I’d rather be alone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Mac leaned over to kiss her softly on the temple. Her hair smelled of lilacs. It reminded him of warm, lazy summer days they had spent lying on the banks of the pond that bordered the Stone creek Ranch. He resisted the urge to thread his fingers through her hair. It might comfort her, but it would drive him damn near crazy.

  “Just know I’m here if you need me,” he said. “You’d better get to bed, too,
because I’m expecting you to walk with me tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It would be better if you go alone.”

  He stared at her, wishing he could see the expression on her face. Moon light filtered in through the kitchen window but left her mostly in shadow. “What’s going on, Jewel? Why are you shutting me out?”

  “I got along fine without you for six years, Mac. What makes you think I need you now?”

  Mac was stunned as much by the virulence in her voice as by what she had said. “If you want me out of here, I’m gone.”

  She clutched his forearm as he rose, rubbing at her eyes with the knuckles of her other hand. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave.”

  He pulled her up and into his arms, and she grabbed him tight around his neck and sobbed against his shoulder. He rubbed her back with his open palms, aware suddenly that she was wearing a thin, sleeveless cotton night gown and nothing else.

  His body turned hard as a rock in two seconds flat.

  His equipment worked all right. At the wrong time. With the wrong woman.

  “Damn it all to hell,” he muttered.

  Jewel needed his comfort, not some male animal lusting after her. He kept their hips apart, not wanting his physical response to frighten or distress her. “Tell me what’s wrong, Jewel. Let me help,” he crooned in her ear.

  “It’s too embarrassing,” she said, her face pressed tight against the curve of his shoulder.

  “Nothing’s too embarrassing for us to talk about, my little carbuncle.”

  She hiccuped a laugh. “Carbuncle? Isn’t that an ugly inflammation—”

  “It’s a red precious stone. I swear.”

  She relaxed, chuck ling, and it took all the will power he had to keep from pulling her tight against him.

  “You always could make me laugh,” she said. “Oh, Mac, I wish you’d come back a long time ago. I missed you.”

  “And I missed you. Now tell me what’s so embarrassing that you don’t want to talk about it?”

  She sighed, and her breasts swelled against his chest, soft and warm. His heart beat picked up. Lord, she was dangerous. Why couldn’t this have happened with Eve? Why did it have to be Jewel?

  Her fingers began to play in the hair at his nape. He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him and decided she couldn’t possibly. She wouldn’t purposely turn him on. What she wanted was comfort from a friend. And he intended to give it to her.

  But he wasn’t any more able to stop his body from responding than he had been capable of making it respond. All he could do was try to ignore the part of him that was insisting he do something. He focused his attention on Jewel. She needed his help.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged.

  “I wish things were different, that’s all.”

  “Don’t we all?” he said, thinking of his own situation. “But frankly, that doesn’t sound embarrassing enough to keep to yourself. What is it? Got bucked off your horse? Happens to the best of us. Broke a dish? Do it all the time. If you broke a heart I might worry, but you can always buy another dish.”

  She laughed. The bubbly, effervescent sound he hadn’t heard for six years. He pulled her close and rocked her in his arms in the old, familiar, brotherly way.

  She stiffened, and he realized what he had done. His hips, with the hard bulge in front, were pressed tight against hers. There was no way she could mistake his condition.

  “Damn, Jewel,” he said, backing away from her, putting her at arm’s length and gripping her hands tightly in his.

  He smiled, but she didn’t smile back.

  When she pulled free, he let her go. “We can still talk,” he said, wanting her to stay, wanting to confess the truth to her. She was still his best friend. But somehow things had changed. He couldn’t tell her everything, not the most private things. Not anymore.

  Maybe he had been wrong to expect her to confide in him. Maybe she felt the same awkwardness he did, the distance that had never been there before. A distance he had put there, because he saw her not just as a friend, but as a woman he wanted to kiss and touch.

  “I’m going to bed, Mac.”

  “Will you walk with me tomorrow?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Please, Jewel. You’re my best friend. I’d really like the company.”

  She hesitated so long, he thought she was going to refuse. “All right, Mac. I suppose I owe you that much.” She turned and left without another word.

  He waited until her bedroom door closed before he moved, afraid that if he did, he would go after her.

  He wondered what had been troubling her. He wondered what she would have done if he had lowered his head and sucked on her breasts through the thin cotton. Blood pulsed through his rock-hard body, and he swore under his breath.

  Mac went to bed, but he didn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, troubled by vivid erotic fantasies of himself and Jewel Whitelaw. Their legs entangled, their bodies entwined, his tongue deep in her mouth, his shaft deep inside her. She was calling to him, calling his name.

  Mac awoke tangled in the sheets, his body hot, hard and ready, his heart racing. And all alone.

  He heard Jewel calling from outside the door. “Mac. Are you awake?” She knocked twice quietly. “It’s time to walk.”

  Mac groaned. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” As soon as he was decent.

  From the look of Jewel at the break fast table, she hadn’t slept any better than he had. She was wearing something even less attractive than the sweat shirt and cutoffs she had worn previously. It didn’t matter. He saw her naked.

  Mac shook his head to clear it. The vision of her breasts, large and luscious as peaches, and her long, slim legs wrapped around his waist, remained as vivid as ever.

  “Are you all right?” Jewel asked.

  “Fine. Let’s go.”

  She chattered the whole way to the canyon, but he would have been hard-pressed to remember a word of what she had said or his own responses.

  Everything was different. Some thing was missing. And something had been added.

  He wanted their old relationship back. He was deter mined to quench any desire he might feel for her, so things could get back to an even footing. He figured the best way to start was to bring the subject out into the open and deal with it. On the walk back to the house, he did.

  “About what happened last night… It shouldn’t have happened.” His comment was vague, but he knew she under stood exactly what he meant when pink roses blossomed on her cheek bones.

  She shrugged. “I was just a woman in a skimpy nightgown.”

  “Jewel, I—”

  She stopped and turned to him, looking into his eyes, her gaze earnest. “Please, Mac. Can we pretend it never happened?”

  He gave a relieved sigh. “That’s exactly what I’d like to do. It was an accident. I never intended for it to happen. I wish I could promise it won’t happen again, but—” He shot her a chagrined look. “I’ll be sure you’re never embarrassed again. Am I forgiven?”

  “There’s no need—”

  “Just say yes,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  She turned abruptly and started walking again, and he followed after her.

  “I’m glad that’s over with,” he said. “I can’t afford to lose a friend as good as you, Jewel.”

  “And I can’t afford to lose a friend like you, Mac.”

  Jewel’s eyes were as brown and sad as a motherless calf. Mac wished she had told him why she was crying last night. He wished she had let him comfort her. If she ever gave him another chance, he was going to do it right. He wasn’t going to let his hormones get in the way of their friend ship.

  When they got back to the house, she hurried up the back steps ahead of him. “I get the shower first!”

  “We could always share,” he teased. He could have bitten his tongue out. That sort of sexual innuendo had to cease.

  To his relief, Jewel gave him a wide smi
le and said, “In your dreams, Mac! I’ll try to save you a little hot water.”

  Then she was gone.

  Mac settled on the back stoop and rubbed the calf muscles of his injured leg. It was getting easier to walk. Practice was helping. And it would get easier to treat Jewel as merely a friend. All he had needed was a little more practice at that, too.

  AFTER HE HAD SHOWERED, MAC MADE a point of seeking Jewel out, determined to work on reestablishing their friend ship. He found her in the barn, cleaning stalls and shoveling in new hay for the dozen or so ponies Camp Little Hawk kept available for horse back rides. “Can I help?” he said.

  “There’s another pitch fork over by the door. Be my guest.”

  Mac noticed she didn’t even look up from her work. Not a very promising sign. He grabbed the pitch fork and went to work in the stall next to the one she was working in. “I thought your mom usually hired someone to do this kind of heavy labor.”

  “I don’t have anything better to do with my time,” Jewel said.

  “Why not?” Mac asked. “Pretty girl like you ought to be out enjoying herself.”

  Jewel stuck her pitch fork into the hay and turned to stare at him. “I enjoy my work.”

  “I’m sure you do,” he said, throwing a pitch fork of manure into the nearby wheel bar row. “But there’s a time for work and a time for play. I don’t see you doing enough playing.”

  “I’m a grown-up woman, Mac. Playing is for kids.”

  “You’re never too old to play, Jewel.” Mac filled his pitch fork with clean straw and threw it up over the stall so it landed on Jewel’s head.

  She came out of her stall sputtering and picking straw out of her mouth, mad as a peeled rattler. She con fronted him, hands on hips and said, “That wasn’t funny!”

  He set his pitch fork against the stall and laughed. “I think you look darned cute with straw sticking out of your hair every whichaway.” He headed toward her to help pull out some of the straw.

  When he got close enough, she gave him a shove that sent him onto his behind. Only the straw Mac landed in wasn’t clean. He gave a howl of outrage and struggled up out of the muck, glaring at the stain on the back of his jeans. “What’d you do that for?”