BREAKING THE RULES

by Ruth Wind

  Othello.

  Mattie glanced at the man in the corral. He caught her eye and grinned. "Enough to break your heart, ain't it?"

  Mattie nodded, her throat tight. No one should have to be parted from an animal they loved as much as Zeke loved this one. No one. Even if, she thought darkly, that man could be a jerk at times.

  "He's been restless all morning," said the man. "Must have sensed you were on your way."

  "Maybe," Zeke said. "I've been thinking about him all week." He gestured toward Mattie, his scooping arm meant to urge her forward. "Mattie, this is my friend George Romero. George, this is Mattie O'Neal."

  Mattie glanced at Zeke, surprised he'd given her real name. If he trusted the man, so did she. "Hi, George," she said.

  George nodded. There was speculation in his dark eyes. "Are you visiting?"

  "Um, more or less," Mattie replied. "Is it so obvious I don't belong here?"

  He chuckled. "Most natives aren't too dazzled by a horse."

  She smiled.

  Zeke turned. "Reach into the pack and get a couple of apples, Miss Mary. Bring them here."

  "Please?"

  A flash of something crossed his eyes, too fast to be read. "Please."

  She did as he asked. He took one from her. "Let me introduce you to Othello. He's not as bad-tempered as old George would have you believe, are you Othello? – just temperamental. But he'd stand on his head for an apple."

  Making his hand a shelf, he put the apple in his palm and held it out. Othello almost delicately accepted the offering, and Mattie laughed. "He looks like he's at a society ball," she said.

  "Try it," Zeke urged, pulling her closer. "He won't hurt you as long as you keep your hand flat and open. He doesn't know the difference between fingers and food."

  "He might bite me?"

  "Not if you keep your hand flat."

  The horse looked at her with a big dark eye. There were eyelashes over the liquid irises, which startled her. The feathery black fringe gave the horse a curiously human aspect that gave her courage. Following Zeke's lead, she made her hand flat, put the apple in her palm and held it out.

  She felt caught in suspended animation as Othello's great head descended. So close, she saw there were tiny threads of white in the hairs on his nose, and the big nostrils quivered. Once again, he opened his mouth and delicately plucked the apple from her palm with his teeth. Mattie had an impression of a soft whisk as the nose brushed her skin, then the apple was gone.

  "Will he let me touch his nose, like you did?" Mattie asked.

  "If he thinks you have another apple, he'll let you do anything you want." Zeke grabbed her by the waist and swung her onto the fence. "Go ahead."

  Mattie clung with one hand and reached out with the other. The horse didn't shy away when her hand came close, and she gingerly touched that broad, strong nose. "Oh," she said softly. "It's so soft."

  Zeke chuckled, and the sound was rich and warm. He slapped her bottom playfully. "I've got some business to take care of with George. You visit with Othello all you want to."

  George pointed to the others, separated by a fence from the big black stallion. "Those are the good horses, over there," he said.

  Mattie smiled. "Thanks."

  The two men wandered off, talking quietly, and Mattie hung on the fence, stroking Othello's nose, absorbing the details of his body. In the early-afternoon sunshine, his coat gleamed with a shiny gloss, but it wasn't the coat of a dog or cat. Tentatively, she touched his shoulder blade. Warm skin with sleek hair over it. She traced the slim line of a vein and touched the jutting bone of his shoulder.

  Othello hung by the fence, and it seemed to Mattie that he was watching Zeke. "You miss him, huh?" she said, brushing her fingers through the coarse black mane. It made her think of the pictures of horses in old Ireland, their manes braided and dressed with ribbons. "He misses you, too."

  Othello whickered as if in answer. Mattie glanced over her shoulder to where Zeke stood with George. He wore his usual white shirt and jeans, and Mattie thought it to his credit he could make such ordinary clothes look so good. The jeans clung lightly to the long, hard stretch of his thighs, wrinkling at the knee. His rear end was just about perfect, Mattie thought, admiring it. He stood with one hand on his waist, his head down to listen to George, who was much shorter. His hair gleamed in the sun, dark-streaked with sun-coaxed blond.

  As if he felt her gaze, he glanced over, and for a long moment, simply looked at her, his pale green eyes startling in the tanned face, his mobile mouth so promising.

  Ducking her head to the horse, she said, "I wish I knew how to reach him," she confided. "Don't suppose you have the secret?"

  A warning whispered through her mind. Roxanne's voice, the first day Zeke had come into the restaurant. The woman that can tame him probably hasn't been born.

  Mattie would do well to remember that. More than once she'd caught herself thinking she might be the one that could do it. Not tame him, exactly. Gentle him, lead him home.

  She needed to remember it very likely wasn't possible. If she chose to make love with him, that was all it would be. No roses and lace, as Zeke put it. No happy ending at the end of the road. Only memories of a time snatched like moonshine from the rest of her bland and ordinary life.

  She wished she could decide if it would be worth it.

  * * *

  Brian and Vince made good time to Pagosa Springs. They settled in a motel and had a meal, then went through the phone book. Amanda Reeves had told them Zeke Shephard had some land nearby, but his name wasn't listed in the small telephone directory.

  Discreet inquiries and descriptions yielded nothing. No one remembered a big man on a motorcycle, no one saw the woman. In frustration, his control near to snapping, Brian left Vince in the motel to try the telephone information services in the little towns all through the surrounding mountains, and went to a real estate office. A pretty young clerk sat behind the reception desk. Her dress was neat and pressed, but several years out of fashion, and she wore her hair in a decade's-old style. There were no rings on her fingers. "Hello," she said. "Can I help you?"

  He gave her his best Sunday smile. "I hope so. I'm looking for someone – my natural brother. Adopted outside the family when he was three."

  It was the right choice. The woman's face softened. "Sit down. What makes you think I can help you?"

  Brian told his story.

  * * *

  George was a widower with three boys, ranging in age from thirteen to six. His grandmother, a woman who spoke in a mingling of Spanish and English, fixed them a huge lunch. Mattie and Zeke sat with the family and two hands from the barns.

  And this, too, was an adventure, something she'd only read about: a ranch-house meal served at a huge kitchen table covered with a blue gingham cloth. From what she'd read, she expected fluffy biscuits or pot roast; instead, tortillas, chili, beans and shredded beef were served in the same staggering portions and downed with the same gusto. Mattie ate as much as any of them, her appetite heightened by the good mountain wind and the mouth-watering smell of the meat.

  The thirteen-year-old flirted with her and the six-year-old bragged to her about his horse, which was bigger and better and smarter than all the other horses in the world. Mattie smiled in appreciation, winking at the older boy over his younger brother's head.

  Zeke and George talked horses. Endlessly. The visit lasted three hours, and they were still talking horseflesh when a thin line of clouds appeared on the western horizon. "We have to get back up the mountain," Zeke said with some regret. "It was sure good to talk, though."

  Mrs. Romero halted by the stove. "Stay over a night, why don't you? Plenty of room."

  "Well, I appreciate the offer, Miz Romero," Zeke said, standing, "but I've got to get my supplies in."

  The woman's black eyes sparkled. "Ah. Okay, Zeke, but next time, you stay awhile. Give George some company."

  "I'll do that."

  She packed food into plas
tic containers and pressed the paper bag into Mattie's arms. "Good to see a young woman eat so well," she said with a wink. "Got to keep up your strength, eh?"

  Mattie blushed, but thanked her.

  And then they were back on their way up the mountain. "I think we're going to have a race on our hands," Zeke said. "Sorry about that. You might get wet again."

  "It's no big deal. I'm not sugar. I won't melt." But the air temperature dropped fast as they climbed and the clouds moved in. Mattie pressed close to Zeke's back, putting her arms around his waist and leaning against him. He touched her hands on his stomach once, as if to assure her he didn't mind. The wind started to whip through the forest, buffeting them. Mattie felt Zeke's struggle to keep the bike under control in the face of that wind, felt the muscles in his whole body going into the fight. Once again, she was impressed by his physical strength. Lightning cracked through the sky, bright and terrifying, companion thunder tearing across the clouds, and rain exploded from the sky in a torrent. "I'm gonna pull over," Zeke shouted.

  Blinded by the driving rain when she lifted her head, Mattie ducked behind the shield of Zeke's shoulder. He pulled off the road and parked the bike under some trees, the grabbed Mattie's hand. "Run!"

  He led, down a path on the mountainside, through the trees. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed and the rain pounded down upon them as they tumbled down the hill.

  Mattie found it exhilarating. She felt as if she were flying, dancing over tree branches and rocks, skirting shrubs. She was soaked, but it didn't matter; she shook her head and tossed rain from her eyes and kept running. Her blood sizzled with the wild flashes of light and sound.

  Near the foot of the hill by a stream, an outcropping of rock formed an open-sided cave. A single shelf of sandstone jutted out over the ground, creating a natural shelter. She and Zeke ducked under it.

  Mattie laughed, wiping water from her face. There was such a wild exhilaration in her chest, she wanted to whoop. Beyond the sheltering rock, rain poured down in a misty gray curtain, furious and blinding. "Wow!" she cried. "That was great!"

  Zeke made no response, and Mattie glanced over at him, wondering if he'd turned an ankle or something on the way down.

  He stood there under the shelf of rock, his head nearly touching the ceiling. Water streamed over his hard-carved face, and his shirt clung to his beautiful flesh, outlining every rise of muscle, every curve of bone … everything.

  His fists were clenched at his sides and Mattie saw the boiling was back in his eyes. This time, he didn't have to say it. Mattie knew.

  A low, frustrated growl came from his throat. Mattie faced him squarely. "It wouldn't be so hard if you didn't fight it so much," she said.

  His gaze skimmed over her body and Mattie realized her clothes were probably as invisible as his; her shirt was pale pink cotton, thin and worn. She could feel the way it clung to her breasts and waist. Nervously, she plucked at it. His eyes were unreadable when they flickered back to her face. "It doesn't help."

  Uncertainty filled her. Earlier, she'd felt very clear about wanting him, but his words at the ranch had shattered a little of her optimism. She didn't know how she'd feel if she let go with this man, didn't know if she could just walk away without regrets when it was all done.

  "Having second thoughts, now, aren't you?"

  Mattie looked away, shifted, feeling exposed and uncomfortable and unsure.

  With one swift move, he grabbed her arm. "I think it's too late for second thoughts," he said, and Mattie looked up. She saw the blaze of wildness in his eyes, the dark hunger in his face, and she swayed toward him as he hauled her close – so close and hard against him.

  His mouth was wet and hot and intensely demanding, so sharp and piercing with need that it broke through Mattie's defenses the way nothing else could have. A burst of excruciating hunger made her almost frantic with wanting him. She shifted in his arms and met his kiss wide open, giving as furiously as she took.

  "Oh, Mattie," he said against her mouth. "I've never wanted a woman in my life like I want you. You're driving me crazy."

  He kissed her chin, her throat, the half circle of flesh visible above her shirt. With one hand, he tugged her shirt from the top of her jeans and skimmed a hand beneath the fabric, roving upward.

  Abruptly, he dropped to the ground, and dragged Mattie into his lap, kissing her as he tugged her shirt over her head. Mattie willingly lifted her arms, shivering when the wind touched her bare skin. Zeke groaned, and nestled them closer together, Mattie straddling him, her heat against his.

  There was sureness in her movements, a sense of utter rightness. Without shame, she let him unclasp her bra and skim it down her arms, his hands coming back to circle and lift her breasts. A sound, dark and wordless, came from his throat as he touched her, no longer rushing. She watched his face as his fingers curled around her, as his thumbs traced a circle around her nipples. His beautiful face, so ravaged … her fingers curled against his cheeks, and he lifted his gaze to her, showing her the sultriness in the green irises as his hands teased and stroked her into a quivering she couldn't control. Over and over his thumbs skimmed her nipples, until they felt so rigid and engorged she was embarrassed.

  Mattie thought she was the one in control, the one who was letting this happen, but Zeke didn't tremble now, and there was a sense of masterful orchestration in his movements, in the way he turned, still holding her gaze, and sucked her finger into his mouth, then let her go and bent his head to her breast.

  She cried out as his mouth closed over one nipple, hot in contrast to the cold rain around them. Slow, slow, slow his mouth moved, suckling, then not, scraping and laying, his head only lifting to give the same attention to the other side.

  Mattie's trembling increased until she could not control it. She clutched his shoulders. "Zeke," she cried softly, not knowing what she needed, how to stop the quaking in her limbs.

  It was only then that she realized how remote he seemed. There was nothing specific, no change in his movements, but all at once, she felt as if she were being serviced rather than loved.

  He reached between them to unsnap her jeans, and Mattie froze, suddenly aware that she didn't want this, not here, not like this. Not with him so cool and unemotional. She remembered the kiss he'd blown her back in Kismet – that aloof and cynical kiss – She grabbed his hands. "Stop."

  He yanked her closer to him, pressing the rigid weight of his arousal against that aching place between her thighs. She bit back a moan, struggling to control the shaking in her body.

  "You don't want to stop, Mattie," he said, but she didn't like his tone of voice. Too sure, too cocky. He moved himself against her and Mattie felt the answering rise of her body, a pulsing that began deep, deep inside.

  "Damn you!" She shoved him away and stood up, crossing her arms over her naked breasts. She nearly stumbled in her haste, and scraped her upper arm on the wall. Furious and frustrated and trembling, she blindly looked for her shirt.

  Zeke's lay in a heap near her foot and she grabbed it, instead, shaking the wet, tangled fabric and yanking it on as well as she could. "You're such a jerk!"

  He didn't move, just knelt where he was, hands on his knees, looking savage and beautiful and as angry as she. His eyes blazed. "That's what I keep trying to tell you."

  "I didn't ask for that." She clasped the shirt around her closely, folded her arms defensively.

  "No, you're asking for a whole lot more, aren't you, Miss Mary?" He stood up and advanced toward her. "You want to lead me to the light. Or you want the bad boy you thought you saw out there in Kismet on motorcycle. You can't see me for me at all."

  "You won't let me."

  He loomed over her in the small space, tanned and untamed and bare-chested, all his scars showing plainly. "All you have to do is look, Mattie. I'm right here in front of you."

  She stared at him, not quite understanding.

  He touched her lips with his fingers, trailed his hand over her chin. "I've wante
d you since the first time I saw you. Wanted that mouth—" he traced the curve of her lip "—and it's just what I thought it would be."

  Miniscule trembling began anew as his hands dropped lower. "You think you're all covered up, don't you," he said and touched her breasts. "I can see straight through this shirt." Her nipple leaped to his touch and she backed away, right into the wall.

  He leaned over her, putting his hands on either side of her head, bending over so his mouth hovered over hers. "I want you, Miss Mary," he said, his voice so low it almost didn't register. "I kept trying to tell myself to leave you alone, but things don't always work out the way we plan, do they?" He did that excruciating thing he'd done at the pool, rubbed his tongue over her bottom lip. She couldn't breathe. "I want you," he repeated, and nipped a little where his tongue had been, sending a sharp, delicious pain into her abdomen. "Slow and fine, wild and hot, and right-side up and upside down. Do you want me?"

  Mattie reached for him, but he caught her hands. "Tell me."

  The rain poured and thunder crashed. Mattie whispered, "I want you, Zeke."

  He kissed her then, and it was honest and deep, with no holding back. "Then you can have me, Miss Mary. And I'm gonna have you." He lifted his head. "But it isn't going to be here or now."

  She stared at him, acutely disappointed.

  He tugged the shirt closed over her breasts. "I want you right, Mattie," he said. "If we do it here, we'll be freezing and have to climb into wet clothes and the ground will be too rough." He kissed her. "I want you right."

  Mattie caught his hands. "Zeke—" she protested, but didn't know how to go on. She didn't know what to say or do. Her whole body felt as if it had been half plugged into an outlet, and she was neither on nor off.

  "Say it, Mattie," he said. He lifted his hands from her body, but she could feel his heat so close. "What do you want?"

  He kissed her, his tongue teasing the edges of her mouth. "Tell me and I'll tell you."

  "Touch me," she whispered.

  He brushed her shoulder. "Like that?"