A powerful emotion moved through him, rocking him to the core. Could it be love? Studying Rachel as she delicately sipped her latte, her slender fingers wrapped around the cup, he smiled to himself. There was no doubt he loved her. The real question was did she love him? Could she? Or would she never be able to because she was a Donovan and he a Cunningham? Would Rachel always push him away because of all the old baggage and scars between their two families?
Jim had no answers. Only questions that ate at him, gnawed away at the burgeoning love he felt toward Rachel. He knew he had to take it a day at a time with her. He had to let her adjust to her new life here in Sedona. He had to use that Apache patience of his and slow down. Let her set the pace so she would be comfortable with him. Only then, Jim hoped, over time, she would grow to love him, and want him in her life as much as he wanted her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RACHEL tried to appear unaffected by the fact that Jim Cunningham was in the kitchen of their home on Christmas Day. Both Kate and Jessica kept grinning hugely with those Cheshire-like smiles they always gave her when they knew something she didn’t. Jim had arrived promptly at noon and set to work in the kitchen with the two men while the Donovan sisters served the sumptuous meal to thirty homeless people in their huge living room.
Christmas music played softly in the background and there was a roaring blaze in the fireplace. The tall timbers were wreathed in fresh pine boughs, and the noise of people laughing, talking and sharing filled the air. Rachel had never felt so happy as she passed from one table to another with coffeepot in hand, refilling cups. Among the people who had come were several families with children. Kate and Sam had gone to stores in Flagstaff and asked for donations of presents for the children. They’d spent part of their honeymoon collecting the gifts and then wrapping them.
Each child had a gift beside his or her plate. Each family would receive a sizable portion of Jim’s beef to take back to the shelter where they were living. Jessica and Dan had worked with the various county agencies to see that those who had nowhere to go would have a roof over their head for the winter. Yes, this was what Christmas was really all about. And it was a tradition their generous, loving mother had started. It brought tears to Rachel’s eyes to know that Odula’s spirit still flowed strongly through them. Like their mother, the three daughters felt this was the way to gift humanity during this very special season.
The delight on the children’s faces always touched Rachel deeply. For some odd reason, whenever she looked at a tiny baby in the arms of its mother, she thought of Jim. She felt a warm feeling in her lower body, and the errant, surprising thought of what it might be like to have Jim’s baby flowed deliciously through her. With that thought, Rachel almost stumbled and fell on a rug that had been rolled to one side. She felt her face suffuse with heat. When she went back to the kitchen to refill her coffee urn, she avoided the look that Jim gave her as he busily carved up one of the many turkeys. Dan was spooning up mash potatoes, gravy and stuffing onto each plate that was passed down the line. Sam added cranberries, Waldorf salad and candied yams topped with browned marshmallows.
Rachel wished for some quiet time alone with Jim. When he’d arrived, they were already in full swing with the start of the dinner. The kiss they’d shared, the intimacy of their last meal together, all came back to her. She found herself wanting to kiss him again. And again. Oh, how she wished her past would disappear! If she could somehow move it aside …?. There was no question she desired Jim. And she knew she wanted to pursue some kind of relationship with him. But fear was stopping her. And it was giving him mixed signals. Sighing, Rachel looked forward to the evening, when things would quiet down and they would at last be alone. She had her own house at the ranch, and she could invite Jim over for coffee later and they could talk.
“HECK OF A DAY,” JIM SAID, sipping coffee at Rachel’s kitchen table. Her house, which had been built many years ago by Kelly Donovan, was smaller than the other two he’d built for his daughters, but it was intimate and Jim liked that. Although Rachel had only recently moved into it, he could see her feminine touches to the pale pink kitchen. There were some pots on the windowsill above the sink where she had planted some parsley, chives and basil. The table was covered with a creamy lace cloth—from England, she’d told him.
“Wasn’t it though?” Rachel moved from the stove, bringing her coffee with her. She felt nervous and ruffled as she looked at Jim. How handsome he was in his dark brown slacks, white cowboy shirt and bolo tie made of a cougar’s head with a turquoise inset for the eye. His sleeves were rolled up from all the kitchen duty, the dark hair on his arms bringing out the deep gold color of his weathered skin.
“When you came in at noon, you looked pretty stressed out,” Rachel said, sitting down. Their elbows nearly touched at the oval table. She liked sitting close to him.
With a shrug, Jim nodded. “Family squabble just before I left,” he muttered.
“Your father didn’t want you to come over here, right?” She saw the shadowy pain in his eyes as he avoided her direct look.
“Yeah, you could say that.” Jim sipped his coffee grimly.
“And you have dark shadows under your eyes.”
He grinned a little and looked at her. “You don’t miss much, do you?”
“I’m trained to observe,” Rachel teased. Placing her hands around the fine, bone china cup, she lost her smile. “Why do you stay at your father’s house if it’s so hard on you?”
Pain serrated Jim. His brows dipped. “I don’t know anymore,” he rasped. “I thought I could help make a difference, turn the family around, but no one wants to change. They want me to change into one of them and I’m not going to do it.”
“In homeopathy, it’s known as an obstacle to cure,” Rachel said. “They don’t want to change their dysfunctional way of living because it suits their purposes to stay that way.” She gave Jim a tender look. “You wanted to be healthy, not dysfunctional, so you left as soon as you could and you stayed away until just recently. I’ve treated thousands of people over the years and I know from experience that if they don’t want to leave the job, the spouse or the family that is causing them to remain sick or unhealthy, there’s little I, a homeopathic remedy or anything else can do about it.”
“Sort of like the old saying you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make her drink?”
“Yes,” Rachel replied with a sigh, trying to give him a smile. Jim looked exhausted. She had seen that look before when a person was tired to the bones with a struggle they were losing, not winning. She opened her hands tentatively. “So, what are your options? Could you move out and maybe see your father, whom you’re worried about, from time to time?”
Rearing back on two legs of the chair, Jim gazed over at her. The lamp above the table softly lit Rachel’s features. He was hungry for her compassion, her understanding of the circumstances that had him caught like a vise. He valued her insights, which were wise and deep. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he admitted reluctantly. “Only, who will make sure my father takes his meds twice daily?”
“How long has your father had diabetes?”
“Ten years.”
“And how did he survive that long without you being there to make sure he took his meds?”
Wryly, he studied her in the ensuing silence. “Touché.”
“Could you find a house to rent in Sedona?”
“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll just have to see how it goes.”
“What was the fight about before you left to come to our ranch?”
His mouth quirked. “Chet’s all up in arms about this cat that killed the beef. He’s whipping up Bo and my father into forming a hunting party tomorrow to go track the cat, tree it and kill it. I argued not to do that, to call the Fish and Game Department and work with them to trap the cat and take it somewhere else, into a less-populated area.”
Rachel felt sudden fear grip her heart. “And what did they decide?”
; Easing the chair down on all four legs, Jim muttered, “They’re going out tomorrow morning to hunt the cat down and kill it.”
She gasped. “No!”
“I’m with you on this.” Again, he studied her. “After hearing your dream, and talking more to Jessica today, I’m convinced it’s a jaguar up there on the Rim, not a cougar, Rachel. Jessica’s sure that it’s a shape-shifter. She’s worried that it’s Moyra, her friend, coming to check on her, on the family.” Shrugging, he eased out of the chair and stood up, coffee cup in hand. “I don’t know if I believe her or not, but it really doesn’t matter. I don’t care if it’s a cougar or a jaguar—I don’t want to see it treed and killed.” Leaning his hip against the counter, he asked, “Want to come with me tomorrow to track the cat? I’ve got the day off. I called Bob Granby, my friend from the Fish and Game Department, and told him I was going to ride out early tomorrow, get a jump on my brothers’ plan, and try to find the cat first. I’ll be carrying a walkie-talkie with me. Bob promised that if I could locate the cat, he’d meet us, establish jurisdiction and make my family stop the hunt. Then we could lay out bait to lure the cat into a humane device.”
Her heartbeat soared. “Yes, I’d love to go with you.” Then she laughed a little. “I haven’t thrown a leg over a horse in a long time, but that’s okay. You know, Sam and Dan are good trackers, too. They could help.”
Jim shook his head. “No. If my brothers saw them, they’d probably open fire on them. Besides, this is on Cunningham land and they don’t want them trespassing. I can’t risk a confrontation, Rachel.”
“What about me? What if they see me with you?”
“That’s a little different. They don’t get riled with a woman. They will with a man, though. Some of the Old West ethics are still alive and well in them.” He smiled briefly.
“Just tell me your plans,” she said, “and I’ll come with you.”
“If you can pack us a lunch and dinner, I hope to be able to track the cat and locate it by no later than tomorrow afternoon. We’ll have a two-hour head start on their hunting party. If we could use Donovan horses, that would keep what I’m doing a secret.”
Rachel felt her stomach knot a little. “What will your brothers do if they find out you’ve beat them to the punch on this?”
“Scream bloody blue murder, but that’s all.” Jim chuckled. “They’ve had enough tangles with the law of late. Neither of them wants to see the inside of a county jail again for a long time. Once they know I’m working for the Fish and Game Department, they’ll slink off.”
Sighing, Rachel nodded. “Okay, I’ll let Kate know. I’m sure Sam will make sure we’ve got two excellent trail and hunting horses. I’ll pack our food.”
Jim nodded, then looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight. “I need to get going,” he said reluctantly, not wanting to leave. Setting the coffee cup on the table, he reached into his back pocket and brought out a small, wrapped gift. “It’s not much, but I wanted to give you something for Christmas.”
Touched, Rachel took the gift, thrilling as their fingers met. “Why, thank you! I didn’t expect anything … ?.” She removed the bright red ribbon and the gold foil wrapping.
Jim felt nervous. Settling his hands on his hips, he watched the joy cross Rachel’s face. Her eyes, her beautiful forest-green eyes, sparkled. It made him feel good. Better than he’d felt all day. Would Rachel like his gift? He hadn’t had much time to find something in Sedona that he thought she might want. He hoped she’d like it at least.
Rachel gasped as the paper fell away. Inside were two combs for her hair. They were made of tortoise-shell, and each one had twelve tiny, rounded beads of turquoise across the top. Sliding her fingers over them, she saw they were obviously well crafted.
“These are beautiful,” she whispered, as she gazed up at his shadowed, worried features. “I’ve never seen anything like them …?.”
Shyly, Jim murmured, “I have a Navajo silversmith friend, and I went over to his house yesterday. You have such beautiful hair,” he continued, gesturing toward her head. “And I knew he was working on a new design with hair combs.” He smiled a little as he saw that she truly did treasure his gift. “When I saw these, I knew they belonged to you.”
Without a word, Rachel got up and threw her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him. “Thank you,” she quavered near his ear. She felt Jim tense for a moment, as if surprised, and then his arms flowed around her, holding her tightly, his hand sliding up her spine. Heat flared in her and she lifted her face from his shoulder to look up at him. His eyes were hooded and burning—with desire. Breathless and scared, Rachel felt the old fear coming up. She didn’t care. She was in the arms of a man who was strong and good and caring. Although his gift was small, it was thoughtful and it touched her like little else could.
Closing her eyes, Rachel knew he was going to kiss her. Nothing had ever seemed so right! As her lips parted, she felt the powerful stamp of his mouth settle firmly upon hers and she surrendered completely to him, to his strong, caring arms and to the heat that exploded violently within her. His lips were cajoling and skimmed hers teasingly at first. She felt his moist breath against her cheek. The taste of coffee was present on his lips. His beard scraped her softer skin, sending wild tingles through her. His fingers moved upward, following the line of her torso, barely brushing the curvature of her firm breasts.
More heat built within her and she felt an ache between her thighs. How long had it been since she’d made love? Far too long. Her body screamed out for Jim’s continued touch, for his hands to cup her breasts more fully, to touch and tease them. Instead, he slid his hand across her shoulders, up the slender expanse of her neck to frame her face. He angled her jaw slightly so that he could have more contact with her mouth. His tongue trailed a languid pattern of fire across her lower lip. She quivered violently. He groaned. Their breath mingled, hot, wild and swift. Her heart pounded in her breast as his mouth settled firmly over hers. She lost herself in the power of him as a man, in the cajoling tenderness he bestowed upon her, the give and take of his mouth upon hers and the sweet, hot wetness that was created between them.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Jim eased away from her mouth. Rachel wanted to cry out that she wanted more of him, of his touch. The dark gleam in his eyes showed the primal side of him, and she shivered out of need, wondering what it would be like to go all the way with Jim. She felt his barely leashed control, felt it in the tremble of his hands along the sides of her face as he continued to hungrily press her into himself in those fragile moments strung between them.
“If I don’t go now,” he told her thickly, “I won’t leave …?.” The pain in his lower body attested to his need of Rachel. She was soft, supple and warm in his arms. He saw the drowsy look in her eyes, how much his capturing kiss had affected her. Gently, he ran his hands across her crown and down the long, thick strands of her hair. She swayed unsteadily, and he held her carefully in his arms. It was too soon, his mind shrilled at him. Rachel had to have time to get to know him. And vice versa. He’d learned patience a long time ago when it came to relationships. And more than anything, Jim wanted his relationship with Rachel to develop naturally, and not become a pressure to her. When he saw the question in her gaze, he knew he’d made the right decision. Despite the desire burning in her eyes, he also saw fear banked in their depths. She was afraid of something. Him? Her past? Maybe a man she had known in England. That thought shattered him more than any other. Yes, he had to back off and find out more about her and what she wanted out of life—and if he figured in her dream at all.
Easing away, he smiled a little. “We’re going to be getting up at the crack of dawn to leave. We need to get some sleep.” What Jim really wanted was to sleep with Rachel in his arms. But he didn’t say that.
“Yes …” Rachel whispered, her voice faint and husky. She wanted Jim to stay, and the words were almost torn from her. But it wouldn’t be fair to him—or her. If she was lucky, maybe tomorrow
, as they tracked the cat, she could share her fears, her hopes and dreams with him.
THE SNORT OF THE HORSES, the jets of white steam coming from their nostrils, were quickly absorbed by the thick pine forest that surrounded them as Rachel rode beside Jim. They had been in the saddle for nearly three hours and the temperature hovered in the low thirties up on the Rim. Bundled up, Rachel had never felt happier. And she knew why. It was because she was with Jim. They had spoken little since he’d started tracking. The spoor was still visible, thanks to the snow that hadn’t yet melted off the Rim. Down below on the desert floor, the drifts had already disappeared.
Jim rode slightly ahead on a big black Arabian gelding. There was a rifle in the leather case along the right side of his saddle, beneath his leg. Rachel knew he didn’t want to use it, but if the cat attacked, they had to defend themselves. It was a last resort. His black Stetson was drawn low across his brow as he leaned over the horse, looking for spoor. There weren’t many, and Rachel was amazed at how well he could track on seemingly nothing. Occasionally he’d point out a tiny broken twig on a bush, a place where the snow had melted, a part of an imprint left in the pine needles—rocks that she wouldn’t have seen without Jim’s expertise.
Unable to get their heated kiss out of her head, Rachel waited for the right time to talk to him. Right now, he needed silence in order to concentrate. They were two hours ahead of his family’s hunting party. Bo and Chet weren’t great at tracking, and Jim hoped his brothers would lose the trail, anyway.
Tough Enough Page 29