A Rare Breed

by Mary Tate Engels

  Brit scrambled blindly behind him, climbing, taking his strong hand for assistance, not looking where they were going, just climbing upward with him. Midway up the wall of rocks, he pulled her onto a ledge and pointed toward a shallow cave. "In here. It's cold, but dry."

  They sat on the ground and looked down on the camp, which was being pelted by rain and whipped by a gale-force wind. Brit flattened herself against the sandstone wall and felt sheltered from the storm. She wondered about their pilot, who couldn't be very far away yet. "Do you think Frank found shelter?"

  "I hope so. Yeah. I gave him the locations of several caves like this. They're usually safe enough."

  “Usually?”

  “Unless another animal used it to out of the storm.”

  She shivered at the thought. "Now I see why you tried to discourage him from leaving. You knew."

  "This is just the beginning. It doesn't take much of a downpour in this country to create flash floods. They're more dangerous than anything because there is no control. You're completely helpless, a cork in a vicious sea."

  Brit's thoughts shifted to what had happened between her and Yolanda. "I can't believe I yelled at her like that," she muttered.

  Jake chuckled. "I thought you two were going to start throwing punches any minute."

  "Heavens, I would never do anything like that. It isn’t like me."

  "But I didn't know. When people get out of their elements, they do bizarre things. And you're definitely out of yours."

  Suddenly a feeling of remorse, of actual sadness, ripped through Brit. "What's happening to me? I'm becoming just like her, and I hate it. I don't know what made me act like that. I never argue like this. And yet, that's all we've done since we landed."

  "Yep, sure is."

  "It's the money. Ever since the money. First Michael. Now Yolanda and . . . everyone."

  "What money? And who's Michael?"

  "The money for the movie rights to my great-grandmother's book. And Michael is my—" Her lips hesitated at the words.

  "Fiancé?" Jake finished for her.

  "Yes," she murmured in a bare whisper.

  "How could it be the money?"

  "Because it changes you. It changed me. I quit my job; Michael and I argued over what to do with the money. I started indulging every whim that entered my head, including renting a helicopter for this trip when I couldn't get a regular flight. I even paid for Vegas. The gambling. The losses. Everything. I wonder if it changed Yolanda, too."

  "Well, I wouldn't know about that. But the way I figure it, there's only one thing to do."

  "What's that?"

  "Apologize."

  "To Yolanda?" Brit groaned. "I don't apologize well."

  "You and Yolanda have a week to spend together. You'll both be better off, and so will everyone else, if you air it. And clear it up."

  Brit stared into space. The red rock walls were curtained with misty sheets of rain. Barriers. A giant prison keeping them all inside, together, to bicker and pick at each other like animals. Like wildcats, Jake had said.

  Silently she admitted that Jake had a point. She had to settle this problem that had developed between her and Yolanda. He was right, and, dammit, she despised him for it.

  She leaned forward to watch anxiously as the strong wind tugged at the big tent. "Are Rudi and Yolanda safe down there?"

  "I think so. That tent is on higher ground, protected by the rock wall." A piece of the little tent began flapping and Jake yelled, "Hey! The pup tent’s going!"

  In the next moment, he was dashing through the rain and lightning, scrambling down the precipice they had climbed, splattering through puddles, and slipping through the mud. Just as he reached the flapping pup tent, it gave one last whiplash and, like an angry kite, fluttered away.

  "Dammit, come back here!" he yelled, and his words spiraled through the small stand of cottonwoods, down to the stream and disappeared like the tent. In frustration, Jake pivoted in the slippery mud and climbed back up to their dry little cave, heaving down beside her again. He was drenched.

  He breathed heavily after the run, his large frame moving with each gasp. He brushed his hair back and yelled out in frustration. "Dammit! We're a tent short now!" The wind slammed his words against the cave walls.

  Brit didn't move away from him, even when his shoulder rubbed hers, even though he was wet and getting her wet. His cotton shirt was dark where the rain had soaked through, and it clung to his muscular angles. His hair hung like a silk fringe, and dripped water onto his shirt.

  Spontaneously Brit grabbed a corner of the blanket and applied it to his head, drying the moisture. Roughly she scrubbed the excess water from his hair, then dabbed at his ear and cheek.

  He turned to her, sitting perfectly still, letting her dry his face. She touched his forehead, and he closed his eyes while she stroked his nose, cheeks, and chin. At that moment, Brit was overwhelmed with the desire to kiss those sensuous lips, so inviting and unguarded as she hovered near.

  "You have nice lines," she murmured, barely aware she was speaking. Softly she ran the blanket edge down his cheek to the angle of his jaw.

  He opened one eye, then the other. "I could say the same about you, and you'd be offended. Probably scream something about harassment."

  "I meant that your face has nice lines." Brit cleared her throat and sat a little straighter.

  "So's yours," he said softly. "Lovely face." With one finger he traced down her cheek and under her chin, lifting it slightly.

  Their bodies were touching; their faces only inches apart. She looked into his dark, mysterious eyes. They promised more than she'd ever experienced. More adventure. More emotion. More desire.

  She shivered and smiled faintly. His touch sent ripples of excitement through her, a feeling she'd never had with Michael. She wanted to experience the touch; the promised kiss, the heat of Jake's mouth on hers. Her lips parted ever so slightly. "Jake . .

  "Brit . . . you're beautiful. How do you expect me to . . ."

  She could feel his warm breath on her cheeks, her lips. "I don't know. . . ”

  His finger left her chin, and he turned his face. "No, we shouldn't . . . can't.”

  "Jake . . ." she mumbled and felt the cold air of rejection when he moved. Brit dabbed feverishly at his arms and shoulders with the blanket and started talking rapidly in an attempt to grasp some reality. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you enjoyed that run in the rain."

  "What makes you know better?"

  "Well, I assume you didn't want to lose that tent."

  "Yeah, we need it. But these storms are part of what makes this place so exciting to me. Being here is . . . it's hard to explain why I like it. But I always return to Flagstaff refreshed." He took a deep breath. "It's great down here."

  She caressed his shoulder. "Aren't you cold?"

  Before he could answer, thunder crashed overhead and rumbled all around them, like a hundred metal garbage cans. Brit ducked her head and cringed against Jake. "Ohmigod! What is that? Is this thing falling apart?"

  His arm went around her naturally and he pulled her close to his chest until the rumbling stopped. "Rock slides. We'll be okay. Don't worry."

  At that moment, another rumbling preceded a series of rocks tumbling down the cliff, bouncing and rolling right through the spot where the small tent had been.

  Brit sat up and peered over the side. "Did you see that? If we'd been in the little tent, we'd be dead right now."

  "Nature, especially in this place, can be violent."

  "What about Yolanda and Rudi in that big tent? Are you sure they're safe?"

  "I think their tent's okay because it's located close to the rock wall. When rain softens the mud and loosens the rocks, they start to tumble. They tend to bounce outward, though, rather than dropping straight down. You cold? Come on in." Jake pulled the blanket around his broad shoulders and opened the other side, inviting her inside the rocky cavern.

  Brit slid under his arm and fe
lt an immediate inner glow with their closeness. Something about this man had attracted her from the beginning. His masculinity, his authority, his sensuality, even his arrogance appealed to her. Being close to him was thrilling and satisfying; she felt as though she were right where she belonged. While the storm raged outside, she was warm and safe with Jake.

  After a long time, he spoke softly. "From the looks of things, we're going to be stuck here all night."

  Brit stiffened. "What?"

  "Even if the storm lets up, it's too wet to do anything. Anyway, there's a danger of flash floods. We're safest right here where it's high and dry."

  "Won't it be cold up here?" she choked, trying to imagine sleeping in a cave with Jake.

  "Don't worry. We'll get the extra sleeping bag. I'll make sure you stay warm enough."

  "Oh. Good." She swallowed hard, thinking of spending the night with the man next to her. It was a dream come true.

  Chapter Four

  Brit woke the next morning feeling rested and alert. She had slept amazingly well, considering her bedroom was in a cave and her bed, an insulated sleeping bag. Last night, she hadn't even minded the inevitable pebbles beneath her. Maybe she was so tired that she could have slept anywhere.

  She blinked in the daylight and snuggled deeper under the covers, smiling to herself. The girls back home would not believe that she had spent the night with a hunk of a man who never touched her. Brit wasn't even sure she believed it herself. But she knew she had definitely remained alone. And she was still dressed in jeans and Jake's soft shirt. Besides, she would certainly have remembered if anything remotely affectionate had happened between her and Jake. The closest they had gotten was when he had curled toward her, wrapped in his blanket, and rested his head near hers. Even though he had been sound asleep, she had been conscious of the sounds of his soft breathing and the warmth he exuded.

  Brit had been tempted to turn over and pull him to her so they could share that warmth. Oh Lord, she had wanted to touch him and to feel his sensuous lips on hers. But she kept her back turned toward him and could only imagine how those lips felt . . . and it was frustrating, especially this morning.

  Suddenly, in the light of day, Brit realized why he left her alone as she stared wide-eyed at the sandstone ceiling of her cave bedroom. Jake was keeping her at arm's length because of Michael. She had mentioned arguing with him, so Jake assumed she and Michael were a couple. Brit knew in her heart how she felt about Michael, and she would just have to figure a way to convey that to Jake.

  She sat up, savoring the unusual fragrances—both familiar and unfamiliar—in the air. Apparently Jake was already up and making coffee. It didn't take her long to climb down from the cave to camp and join him. This time, there was no campfire, only the single-unit gas stove. Jake wore a rainbow-colored Mexican poncho over his shirt and jeans as he worked on his breakfast in the morning chill. The turquoise, green, and yellow stripes of the poncho contrasted his dark shaggy hair and gave him the look of a bold ancient explorer who might be pictured in a history book.

  "Morning." She gave him a chipper smile even as she shivered in the chill.

  Jake glanced at her, surprise in his expression. "You up so early?" He handed her a blanket, the one he'd used last night, and indicated that she should wrap it around herself. "This'll help until you get some hot coffee in you."

  Brit gratefully pulled the blanket over her shoulders, relishing its warmth and the erotic idea that it had encircled Jake all night. "Mornings are so beautiful down here, I hate to miss them." She wondered if he could guess that her true reason for crawling out of the warm sleeping bag was to be with him, not necessarily the morning's special beauty.

  He let her comment pass and continued stirring a pan on the tiny stove.

  Undeterred in her effort to converse with him, Brit inhaled deeply. "What is that interesting scent? It's wonderful. So unusual . . . not mint, not exactly pine."

  Jake poured her a steaming cup and handed it to her. This time he did not let their hands brush. "That's the creosote bush, peculiar to the desert. Rain brings out its unique fragrance."

  She accepted the cup with a smile, which he didn't see because he had already turned back to his cooking. He was trying to avoid her, she realized while sipping her coffee. What had happened after they had snuggled together under the blanket during the rain last night? She only knew what had not happened, and that she regretted it. Determined not to be ignored, Brit moved closer and appeared interested in what he was doing. "What are you fixing?"

  "Oatmeal. Want some?"

  She shook her head. "No, thanks."

  "I didn't bother with a fire because I didn't expect any of you up so early. But you can use some of the dry wood I have stored in the rock crevices behind the tent if you want a fire for warmth."

  As she watched Jake's graceful movements, Brit was certain that without him here, she would be entirely miserable. As it was, she was already dreading their rescue when she'd have to leave him.

  "Sure you don't want some?" He lifted the pan toward her.

  "No, no thanks. Coffee's enough for me."

  He dumped a couple of packets of sugar into the oatmeal and started to eat directly from the pan. "Coffee isn't enough breakfast for me when I'm climbing around these rocks."

  Brit's eyes widened with interest. "Are you going to the cliff dwellings today?"

  "Yep. That's where I work. It's the real reason I'm down here, remember." He walked away and sat on a stump.

  Brit poured herself more coffee and followed him. As she walked across camp, she could feel her thick, warm socks getting wet from the damp earth. "Jake, I know you aren't here to entertain or to rescue us, and we've taken up a lot of your time already. But I would really love to go with you to the ruins."

  "You would?" He gave her a glance, then continued eating.

  "Oh yes! You even said I could go sometime."

  "I did?"

  "Yes, I think you did. Or you were about to when we were interrupted. I would hate to miss something like that while I'm down here."

  He looked steadily at her for a moment, his dark eyes reflecting his distant heritage. She thought that, perhaps, some Native American relative of his had lived in a camp like this, minus the tent and modern equipment, of course.

  "Well, okay," he relented finally. "But you can't go without shoes. There's no way you could hike out there."

  She looked down at her muddy socks. They were impossible. "Maybe I could borrow some boots."

  "Whose? Mine?"

  She nodded, then shrugged.

  He looked directly at her, made eye contact and laughed. Jake actually threw his head back and laughed. Brit smiled uneasily. "What's so funny?"

  "My boots are size eleven." He shook his head, still chuckling. "You really want to go, don't you?"

  "Yes." Brit knew she was appearing overanxious, but there was no other way to let him know how she felt.

  "Okay, tell you what. Soon as I have a chance, I’ll fix those moccasins for you. They'll fit and be better for climbing." He finished eating and headed back to the supplies.

  Once again, Brit followed. "Okay. Great. That'll be wonderful."

  He washed the pan he'd used for the oatmeal and turned it upside down on the box of utensils, leaving it to dry in the sun. "Fix whatever you want to eat today," he offered as he finished loading a backpack with tools and a camera and small note pad. "Have a good day, Brit. See you later." He seemed too busy to look at her and started away as he spoke.

  Brit felt desperate for his attention. "Jake?"

  He paused, finally, and looked back over his shoulder at her.

  "I'm . . . uh," she halted and stared down at the empty coffee mug in her hands. "Michael and I aren't ... we argued a lot because we aren't making it."

  "Michael?"

  "My ex, uh boyfriend," she explained quickly.

  Jake turned to face her. He hooked his thumbs into his jeans' pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Why ar
e you telling me this, Brit?"

  She raised her chin and gazed directly into his dark eyes. "I want you to know, that's all."

  "To know what?" he challenged.

  "To know that there's no one in the way, if you're interested." Brit couldn't believe she was saying this, but now was not the time to stop. "I mean, no one on my side. Maybe on yours."

  He took a step toward her and the rope looped to his belt rustled against his thigh. "No, no one in the way on my side, if you're interested."

  "Not even the one who gave you the bear fetish? A Zuni girl, perhaps?"

  "An old Zuni grandmother and very good friend."

  "Oh." She flashed him a smile. "That clears up some things."

  "I suppose."

  "Well ... are you? Are you interested?" When he didn't answer right away, she thought she'd made the biggest mistake of her life. She felt exposed and stupid. And she wanted to turn and run away as fast as she could.

  Slowly Jake nodded and a sly grin spread across his lean face. "Sure. Could be, now that the Michael issue is cleared up. Are you interested?"

  She stomped one foot and nearly slid in the mud. "Dammit, Jake! That's why I told you, if you can't figure it out."

  He pressed his lips together to hide a smile. "I think I would have, in time. But it's nice to know."

  "It is?"

  He nodded, and a small grin broke his usual stern expression. "Sure. I’ll be in before dark and well work on those moccasins together. See you."

  "Okay." She smiled happily and watched him turn to go. The backpack seemed small on his broad back and the loop of rope flopped against his thigh with every step. She admired the self-assured way he strode across the rocks and the masculine amble of his gait. Caught in his spell, she was unable to turn away from the sight of him until he disappeared down the path and be-hind a sandstone boulder.

  Brit replayed their crazy cryptic conversation in her mind periodically during the next hours, and it gave her strength to face another day with the Romeros. Things would be better when Jake returned, she repeatedly told herself.