He searched her face, reaching into her mind. “You can’t possibly know what that’s like. Your father personified honesty, ambition, and integrity. My old man was a lazy liar.”
“Who was never there for you. They were more alike than you think.”
David sat back, torn by conflicting emotions. Every time his gaze met hers, his heart turned over in response. And while a part of him wanted to jump ship and get away from this thorny conversation, the other wanted to stop the flow of words with his lips. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. The smoldering flame in her eyes invited him to do much more.
He pulled her close and heard her catch her breath as their bodies collided. His mouth grazed her lips, teasing, inviting. A shudder passed through her. His tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips and explored the recesses of her mouth. She returned his kiss and moaned softly, her breath a drug lulling him to euphoria. David turned the boat into the wind and let go of the main sheet. The air fell out of it and it flapped noisily as Ocean Breeze drifted, rocked by the waves.
He unbuttoned Leigh’s blouse and gently outlined the circle of her breasts with his hands. They surged at the intimacy of his touch. He brought his lips to her nipples and tantalized the buds until their pink tips were marble hard. His arousal strained against the heavy denim of his jeans and brought his thoughts careening back to his burning desire. The craft was equipped with a cozy sleeping berth littered with plush pillows. But to seduce Ben’s daughter on his boat and in his berth? Bad idea. The man would turn over in his grave. Besides, he was already beginning to care about her, and that was bad news. She deserved better than a meaningless roll in the hay. He raised his mouth from hers and gazed into her eyes.
She blinked, then focused her glance. “Show me how to please you.”
His insides jangled, and his penis lurched with excitement. “I can’t think straight when I’m with you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.
“Then don’t.” She took his hands and placed them on her breast. Her nipples hardened at his touch, and her eyes smoldered with fire.
His gaze met hers, and his heart turned over in response. Reclaiming her lips, he crushed her to him. His body ached for her touch. He reached for his belt and found her hands fumbling with the clasp.
“Inside.” He pulled her up into his arms and nudged her in the direction of the cabin, his mouth never leaving hers. She walked backwards blindly, her body molded to his. He caressed the planes of her back and caressed the soft lines of her waist and hips.
Their bodies stopped touching long enough to negotiate the stairs before colliding together even harder. Leigh tore at his shirt and jeans, her own lusty, unsated needs taking over.
He took her into his arms and crossed the small living quarters to the sleeping berth in a few long strides. Gently, he eased her onto the bed and stepped back. She lay naked beneath his gaze, her copper locks spread out around her like a halo. He caught his breath at the sight of the shapely beauty of her naked body. She turned to her side, pulling a nearby throw over her body.
“No, don’t. You’re exquisite.” He gently pulled the blanket away. “Let me look at you.”
She gazed at him through thick lashes, the blues of her eyes little more than half moons filled with desire. Blood pounded in his brain and leapt to his groin, and his hands began a new exploration of her soft flesh. They outlined the circle of her breast, and he tantalized the pink buds with his tongue until they swelled to their fullest.
Shivers of delight followed his touch. “David,” she breathed between parted lips.
His emotions whirred and skidded at the sound of his whispered name. His hands explored her thighs while his mouth discovered her silken belly. Leigh arched her back and pulled him onto her.
His body covered hers with its web of growing arousal, and he placed his hard and swollen member between her legs. He moved back and forth, teasing her with the tip until he thought the passion pounding blood through his groin, chest and head would drive him mad.
She writhed beneath him, rubbing her wet core against his hard shaft. “Yes. Please, yes. Don’t stop. Give it to me.” Her tormented groan was the last thing he heard as she welcomed him into her body. The pleasure was pure and explosive. Heat rippled under his skin, half ice and half flame as their bodies melted together. Moans of ecstasy escaped from his lips as they moved together in rhythm, and his passion grew like the hottest fire until there was nothing else but the turbulence of their lovemaking.
Their bodies moved together in harmony, and she met each one of his thrusts as though they were long-time lovers. He reveled in their synchronicity and time seemed to stand still. They were one and it was incredible. Her arms tightened around him, and her gasps of ecstasy spurred on his release. His body stiffened and fire shot through his legs and through his chest. He yielded to the hot tide of passion, and they came together in sweet agony. It was incredible and quite possibly the most intense lovemaking of his life.
As his breathing slowly returned to normal, David tried in vain to rationalize his feelings for her. Once the passion wore off, everything would go back to normal. He’d realize she was just another girl and go back to doing what he did best — being single.
Leigh sighed with pleasant exhaustion and nuzzled into his chest. He brushed loose curls from her face and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The dim light of the sunset reflected off her damp skin lending her face and body a magical glow. His mind went blank and he was struck by one thought — the certainty that Leigh Cameron was much more than just another girl and that his life would forever be changed because of her. His chest filled with a terrifying mix of excitement and of anxiety, and he held her close in a raw act of possession.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, after a quick trip home for a change of clothes, Leigh pulled up to the Kingston Penitentiary’s visitor parking. She immediately spotted Geoffrey leaning against the Watford Sun van about thirty feet away. If he hadn’t been steps from one of the most imposing prisons in the state, he might have been posing for a cigarette ad. Blue-gray smoke curled up from his mouth as he grinned at her in the early morning light.
She parked next to the van and hung her media pass from the rearview mirror.
“You sure you want to park that thing, here?” He walked up to the Mustang, waving his cigarette around.
“The bad guys are inside, remember? Look around you. This is probably the safest parking lot in the whole city.” A guard and German shepherd mix walked by, patrolling the clear-zone perimeter — that no man’s land between the two rows of razor-tipped concertina wire fences — dividing prisoners from the general population.
Geoff leaned closer, curiosity lighting up his pale blue eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I got a tip that there’s going to be a Native Circle today.”
“How’d you find that out?”
“John Blackbear told me.”
“The medicine man?”
Leigh smiled. “Yes, the medicine man. If we can get in there and show the world there’s nothing weird or wrong with Native American inmates’ spiritual practices, prison administrators might be forced to reexamine the issue.”
“Shouldn’t James be covering this?”
She glared at him. “No. Any more questions?”
He flicked his cigarette away and waved a military salute at her. “No, Ma’am.”
She ignored the playful sarcasm. “Good.”
A small crowd of family and visitors had already gathered in the lobby. Most averted their glance, whether from shame or discretion, she couldn’t tell. One by one they waited to be called by guards to pass through the “trap” into the prison interior. She and Geoff pulled out their ID locking everything else up in an old sheet steel locker.
“Here.” She handed him a form. “I got you per
mission to bring your camera in. Keep it close to you, and only pull it out when you’re told you can. And Geoff — try to look scary, will you?”
He grinned and winked at her. “You got it.”
Leigh avoided talking or making eye contact with him again while they were processed through, searched, and walked through the metal detector. God forbid they might smile and put someone on edge. A guard took Geoffrey’s camera and asked him to take it apart. He obliged without a sign of his usual flippant attitude. Once the search was complete, the far door opened, and they were escorted across the yard to another building, where the Circle was meeting.
Leigh wondered what they would find missing. Since her arrival, she’d spent a lot of her spare time researching Native American spiritual practices. Their struggle to practice went on each and every day inside the prisons. Most prison administrators refused to recognize that sacred pipes, eagle feathers, various herbs, and the wearing of long hair were necessary for their spiritual expression. But just like Christians believe in the sacrament of communion and in the wearing of the cross, they believed the sacred pipe took their prayers to the Creator while their long hair expressed their thoughts and prayers. Indians, as they’d been dubbed, existed in universal serenity when they were in harmony and unity with all living things through their connection to the Creator with their hair.
Would there be sage to purify the Circle? Tobacco to smoke in the prayer pipe? And more importantly, would they allow her, a white woman, to participate in the prayer circle or would she be relegated to the hallway while Geoffrey went in and took pictures? She doubted the shaman’s posse would accept a woman, no matter how much universal balance her gender brought to the meeting.
They were greeted by John Blackbear and his cell mate Fred Red Cloud Wallace, with a hand-to-forearm grip just outside the meeting space. Red Cloud’s gaze slithered over Leigh’s body, and she suppressed the urge to pull her hand away. Where John Blackbear’s eyes radiated wisdom and acceptance, Red Cloud’s exuded bravado and lust. The young Native American, who appeared to be John’s apprentice of sorts, smirked and winked at her, as though they shared some personal joke. Turning away, she hurried to Geoffrey’s side, muttering under her breath, “Stay close to me.”
They stepped inside a square room devoid of windows. One wall was covered with two rectangular blackboards, the other with a large map of the US. John walked them around the room, so each man could, in turn, introduce himself. A few were reticent, preferring to share a handshake rather than the traditional hand-to-forearm grip, while others made no bones of displaying their hostility or refused to acknowledge their presence altogether.
Once seated, Leigh swallowed hard and off John’s glance, asked permission to speak. He nodded to her and to the others, his serene features daring them to disagree. They didn’t.
“My name is Leigh Cameron, and I work at The Watford Sun.”
A man wearing a beaded headband spoke up. “John Blackbear said you own the paper.”
“Actually, it belonged to my father, who recently passed away.” She immediately resumed her introduction to discourage any more questions. “My partner Geoffrey and I would like to show the town’s people and the state of Massachusetts what happens in a prayer circle. People often mistrust what they don’t understand. And I think that if they can get a sense of what goes on here, they’ll help in your efforts to push back the bureaucracy that threatens this circle and others like it. Will you let us stay?”
A long silence ensued.
John Blackbear spoke first. “She will speak of our daily struggles with the prison system to the outside world.”
The man who’d introduced himself as Red Cloud stood. “The law says prison administrators should accommodate Native American spirituality within reason. But white men don’t reason like the Indian. Our spiritual teachings and practices are a part of daily life, not just a weekly or monthly thing. What makes you think you can make them listen?”
Another jumped in, addressing her directly. “He’s right. I read your bio in the newspaper. Your people have money. You went to private schools in New York and London. How can you possibly think you can understand us?”
Leigh lifted her gaze.
The inmates, Red Cloud and John Blackbear and the other half dozen men sat in a semi circle, eyes riveted on her, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t claim I can understand what you are going through, but I can promise you that I will report what you tell me, fairly and accurately.”
She ran her gaze around the circle, in an effort to make eye contact with each member of the circle. If they saw the honesty of her words in her eyes, they might be more inclined to listen. Her glance settled on Red Cloud, who stared back intently.
John’s protégé leaned back in his chair, arms folded and legs apart, his crotch on display. He smiled, the self-satisfied grin of a man who knows he’s attractive, and cast an appreciative glance that traveled from her feet to her eyes, pausing an extra beat on her breasts. Uncomfortable, she blinked and focused her eyes on John Blackbear, instead. “When I began investing the suicides, I did so from a purely journalistic standpoint. But now, it’s become personal. Our managing editor, friend, and colleague, David Stone,” she said, “is Abenaki.” She ignored Geoffrey’s pointed gaze. “His father was an inmate here, and he died here a few years ago. He was shanked by another prisoner.” She paused, conscious of the importance of choosing the right words. “I want to understand how a man could be murdered here. Why no one did anything about it, and why, in this day and age, my friend is still concerned about people’s prejudices when they find out he’s Native American.”
She looked over at Geoffrey. He’d been trying to pair her and David up since she’d arrived. He’d be thrilled to know she and David had gotten close enough to talk about his heritage.
John Blackbear stood. “Please exit the room while we vote on the question.” He escorted them to the door and closed it behind them.
Once in the hallway, Geoffrey looked at her, his mouth twitching with amusement.
“All right. Say it.”
“I didn’t know you and David had become such good friends.”
“How do you know I didn’t find this out with my acute investigative powers?”
He grinned. “I’m not touching that one. You’ve got to admit that your recent crusade for prisoners’ rights has come as a bit of a surprise. Most of us expected you to come in and Feng Shui the newsroom.”
She clasped his arm and forced him to look her straight in the eye. “You’re lucky I like you.” She bit back a grin as she realized the thought had crossed her mind. Geoffrey was right. The old Leigh would have hired a design team to revamp her new space and its furnishings.
Angry, muffled voices took her attention away from their conversation. “I don’t think the vote’s going in our favor in there.” She turned back to Geoffrey. “Do you think I’m crazy to be doing this?”
“You’re definitely a little off.” Off her glare, he added, “What? You’ve got to be. You’re one of us, now.”
The door opened and Red Cloud invited them to rejoin the circle. Each man remained silent while they took their places. John Blackbear spoke first. “We have decided to allow you to stay. This was not, however, a unanimous decision.” He paused, his cadence slow, measured. “The men sitting to my right will not speak and do not wish to be photographed. These men,” he said, gesturing to the rest of the group, “will allow it. Understand, Miss Cameron, that by speaking to you, we are risking our own safety. The Superintendent and guards will not take lightly to our complaints.”
Chapter Eight
David glanced at the Bull Pen’s black-and-white industrial clock. The seconds hand inched along, taunting him. It graced the front of one of those round-faced clocks like the ones on which he’d watched time crawl by in middle school. Still two long h
ours before quitting time. He stretched and checked the time on his computer and wristwatch to be sure. Five P.M. The night shift reporters were beginning to trickle in and they’d have to overlap for a good two hours with the day crew before he could leave, secure in the knowledge that all the stories had been assigned and that everyone was on top of their game.
He’d made dinner reservations for two at Le Papillon, Watford’s finest French restaurant. The inn’s décor, best described as sexy and dimly lit, was reputed to have cemented many a relationship. David smiled to himself. He was no stranger to the getaway’s warm atmosphere and romantic appeal, having taken a few dates there in the past, for a glass or two of red wine. But magical or not, no woman’s charms nor the mood had ever taken hold of his heart.
This time was different.
He’d flirted with the word love before but had never really felt it. Every time he thought of Leigh, he experienced a tightening in his chest that left him feeling at once elated and restless. He reasoned it was mere infatuation. They’d shared a couple of nights of passion, no more, no less. But deep down, he knew their union had been much more than physical. He’d felt a fusion, a connection that was deeper than anything he’d ever experienced and he feared he might be lost forever.
David checked his watch again. Five-oh-two. He could cancel the reservation and take her somewhere safe, like the marina pub. He glanced at the article he’d been toiling on since the morning. The page’s blank column stared back. If being in love meant being completely incapable of functioning like a normal adult, he wanted no part of it. He had a paper to manage and, more pressing, an editorial to write for tomorrow’s run. Besides, there was no point in getting all wound up over her. As soon as she could, she’d ditch him and The Sun to go back to New York City, and he’d be left behind to pick up the pieces.
Unless, he convinced her to stay.
From the corner of his eye he saw Leigh breeze into the newsroom, back from her trip to the Kingston Penitentiary. His stomach filled with excitement at the sight of her, and he marveled at how she could make anything look classy, even a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. As soon as their gazes crossed, he grinned and wriggled his index, motioning for her to come over.
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