by Nina Bruhns
He moaned, gutting his teeth, battling back from the edge, grasping for control. "Just ask, darlin'. I'll give you anything you want," he promised, and, unbelievably, meant it. "Everything I have to give is yours. Everything."
Katarina was ready to pass out from the sheer, blinding pleasure her warrior's hands and mouth brought her. Surely it was molasses flowing sweet and thick through her veins, since all her blood had pooled between her legs, throbbing furiously with every stroke of his fingers and tongue.
He drove her wild. He drove her to be wild.
He loved her breasts and shoulders and neck and stomach until she gasped for breath, begging for mercy. When he slid his fingers between her legs, dipping into the honeyed folds, caressing her until she writhed and moaned beneath him, she knew what it was to die and go to heaven.
"Make love to me," she pleaded, unable to wait any longer. "Please."
In a single lithe movement, he moved between her legs and drove his hard length into her. Then she truly went to heaven, stars and all, flying apart in his arms, shattering in a million, pleasure-laden pieces, her cries of joy captured in his loving mouth.
When she finally stopped shuddering, she looked up at him in contrition. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't stop myself—"
He grinned down at her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Don't be sorry. Do you have any idea what it does to a man's ego to have a woman come apart for him like that? Just from slipping into her?"
Could it be true? Relief mingled with embarrassment. "You mean it's not distracting?"
"Distracting?" His brows lifted, then his eyes softened. "Honey, it's the sweetest gift a woman can give a man. Anyone who tells you different needs his head examined."
He kissed her tenderly and started to move inside her. Filling her, stretching her, coaxing her once again toward oblivion. With a restraint she'd never experienced, he played her body with his, making them both hum and purr and finally sing in a hot, rhythmic lovers' duet that made all other music pale by comparison. When she crescendoed, he followed quickly.
Afterward, they lay panting, limbs tangled, warm contentment stealing over her like a blanket of stars.
And she slept.
* * *
The next morning Katarina awoke to find herself wrapped in the arms of her lover. What on earth had gotten into David? He never— She froze, suddenly recalling the night and the man she was with. And it wasn't David! Mortification rolled through her at what she'd done. Slowly, carefully, she tried to extricate herself from the warrior's embrace.
"At last you're awake," he whispered, and before she could even respond, he slipped between her legs and thrust into her. She sucked in a breath, daring a look at his face, darkly silhouetted against the sunlit canvas of the tepee.
He smiled. A tender, male smile. "'Mornin', darlin'."
"Good morning," she managed to answer, her face aflame.
He began to move inside her. An involuntary shiver rippled through her whole body at the delicious sensation. Secretly thrilled that he should still want to make love to her, she once again gave herself up to the untold pleasures of the warrior's touch.
He was wonderful. Generous and strong and all male. As the sun rose higher in the sky and the birds chirped a joyful melody, he loved her long and slowly, bringing them both to a shuddering climax almost an hour later.
"Oh, baby." He rolled on his back and pulled her to his side, guiding her head to his shoulder. "I could definitely get used to this."
Katarina hummed in boneless assent. "But surely it's not like this every time?" It just wasn't possible!
"No? How would it be?"
"I don't know." She shrugged and lowered her eyes, thinking of how it had always been with David. "Not as good?"
He looked down at her and frowned. "Honey, whoever he was, you're well rid of him."
She couldn't resist a smile of agreement. This man, on the other hand, would treat her right. Her smile faltered. But then, who said he even wanted to see her again?
And what did she want? True, she had never felt such warmth and contentment as she had in the short time she had spent in this man's arms. But no way was she ready for another relationship so soon after David.
What if she were hurt again? What if this remarkable warrior turned out to be just as faithless and cold as her ex-fiancé? What if he was able to undermine her fragile new self-esteem and bring back the doubts and inadequacies that David had drilled into her for two long years? Could she risk losing herself again after fighting so hard to find herself?
He leaned over her and ran his thumb along her bottom lip. "Honey? You still here?"
She smiled up at him, and he kissed her, gently, lovingly.
Oh, yes. She'd risk it. For this man, she'd risk it all.
Suddenly, a hand slapped a tattoo on the door flap. "Hey, bro! You in there? Time to dance. Wake up!"
* * *
"I really hate leaving you like this." There was too much to find out Cole's hand hesitated on the door laces as he was about to leave for the dance circle.
Fire Eyes stood and slipped her arms around him. "I'll be okay. Go on, you'll be late." She licked a finger and rubbed a spot on his face. "Your paint is smudged."
He held her tight and kissed her, not wanting to let go. "You will come to the dance circle, won't you?"
"Try and keep me away."
"Promise?"
She kissed him back. "I promise."
He shook aside the uneasy feeling that had descended on him—the feeling that she would abandon him and he'd never see her again.
He was just being paranoid. When he got that feeling as he worked on a case, it was based on empirical evidence. Facts that didn't add up. Body language that was all wrong. But Fire Eyes was saying and doing all the right things, in the right way.
Paranoid.
"Lace up after I'm gone, okay?" He gave her a final kiss and stooped to unfasten the door.
"Finally woke from the dead, eh?" His half brother, Billy, punched him in the arm from outside.
Cole took a last look at Fire Eyes and put his finger to his lips. "Yeah, bro. In more ways than one."
* * *
Half an hour later, Katarina peeked around the tepee door and then slipped out. She adjusted her shoulder bag and walked dreamily through the wildflower meadow toward the dance circle.
Her sister, Alex, was not going to believe this. How could she? Katarina herself didn't believe it. After all, who would be foolish enough to believe it was possible to fall in love in the space of a single night in a tepee? With a man whose name she didn't know, whose face she couldn't see? She was so happy she practically walked on air.
She had to be out of her mind.
She approached the circle just as his hoop dance was ending. She slid between the spectators and stood, drinking in the sight of him, her warrior.
And as she watched, the world dropped out from under her feet.
* * *
Chapter 3
« ^ »
December, six months later
Heaving out a sigh, Katarina punched the elevator button for the fifth floor of the Pasadena building where the adoption attorney's office was located. The realization of what she was going to talk to him about suddenly hit her. Hard.
Turning, she looked at her swollen abdomen, reflected back at her in triplicate from the mirrored walls, and she sighed again. When she'd left her ex-fiancé nearly a year ago, she'd been so sure what she wanted out of life. To go back to school and finish her degree in nursing, work a few years here in L.A., then find a nice, small clinic or hospital somewhere in the country, buy a dog and a truck. Settle down.
Her wry smile held no trace of humor. She'd been so determined to take control of her life, make her own choices. So happy she finally could.
Katarina moved awkwardly to the back of the empty elevator. Things were not working out at all as she'd planned.
She had to accept that the warrior from the powwow wasn't going
to ride up on a paint horse, marry her and sweep her away to live in his tepee. She swallowed tightly. Not that she would want him to, of course. He was one mistake she'd just as soon forget.
Her vision clouded to a watery blur as she thought of that long-ago night. Then, stubbornly, she pressed her lips together, furious with herself for succumbing once again to pointless sentimentality. Lord, you'd think she would have learned her lesson by now.
The man was a natural born skirt-chaser, no better than David. The one right choice she'd made at that powwow was to leave him far behind.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to compose herself, then brought her thoughts back to her present predicament. She would not give her baby up for adoption. There was no way. "There are other choices," she murmured into the dull silence. "There must be."
She gazed at her own pathetic reflection, eyes smarting from lack of sleep and too much crying. She had never considered terminating her pregnancy. That wasn't ever an option. But how could she afford to keep her baby? "I can't even afford to keep myself," she lamented.
Out of sympathy for her plight, her sister, Alex, and her brother-in-law, Brad, were letting her stay temporarily in the apartment over their garage. But that couldn't last forever. They needed the income from the rental, and she couldn't afford to pay. Not without a job. And unless she finished her nursing degree, she couldn't land a job that paid well enough to cover both rent and day care. But how could she finish her degree with a newborn baby?
It was Alex who had suggested adoption. Alex and her husband had been trying to adopt for several years. They had their son, Kenny, by Brad's first marriage, but wanted a bigger family. Katarina knew her sister secretly hoped she would allow Alex to adopt her baby.
It was true they could give her baby everything she couldn't—a stable, secure home, the best education, every opportunity for a happy, carefree life. And they wanted her child with an intensity only those who have gone through the heartache of not conceiving were capable of. It just wasn't right—Alex trying in vain to get pregnant for so long, and Katarina succeeding after one solitary, foolish indiscretion. It was all so maddening. So unfair.
All she herself had to offer her baby was love. It was the ultimate act of selfishness to keep this child. But how could she ever give up her own flesh and blood? She couldn't.
Although she knew in her heart she would never give up her baby, she had agreed to talk to someone, just to gather information. Alex had helped her look through the yellow pages to find an attorney. There had been pages of them, but only one had listed Native American adoptions as a specialty. With a twisted sense of irony, Katarina had chosen that one.
Steeling herself, she made the long walk down the hall and opened the door to the attorney's office.
* * *
Colton Lonetree strode into Linder, Adams and Henderson, bypassed the receptionist and made a beeline for the administrative assistant at the back of the room. "Hi, Janey. Have a good Thanksgiving?"
Janey looked up and a flirtatious smile dashed across her face. "Cole! You bet. Stuffed myself silly. But you're early. Henderson's not done with his two o'clock yet."
Cole leaned against the mahogany desk and cocked his head at her. "I guess you'll just have to entertain me."
She giggled. "Want some coffee?"
"Sure." He rested a hip on her desk and looked around, noticing that he was being observed by the girl at the tall, semicircular reception desk in the middle of the room. "Hi, Pam."
"Hi." The girl paused, then said, "Me you going to keep your hair like that?"
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He'd gotten a lot of comments when he'd come back after his summer "retreat" with a short, businesslike haircut instead of his trademark renegade ponytail. But most people had quickly adjusted to his new no-nonsense image and forgotten he'd ever had long hair. "Yeah," he answered Pam. "For a while, at least."
"Why'd you cut it?"
He shrugged. Why indeed? "Time for a change."
He caught his reflection in the window overlooking the busy street below and grimaced. Cutting his hair was just the tip of the iceberg. He'd been a changed man ever since the episode with that woman at the powwow.
He clamped his jaw tightly, fighting the anger and frustration that gripped him whenever he thought of the woman.
Fire Eyes.
Silently, he cursed the unbidden pictures that flooded his mind. Memories of her pretty smile, her soft, white skin and those lovely eyes gazing up at him with such adoration. Her silky body tucked under his, hot and responsive. A body any man would worship.
And he had.
Oh, yeah. He'd fallen hard, all right. Been caught in the trap he'd been running fast to avoid all his life—the fatal lure of love and the hope that somewhere there must be a woman he could trust with his heart.
Cole watched the young woman at the desk recross her legs and pick up the phone that was ringing in front of her. Before she hit the flashing button, she shot him a look. "I liked your hair better long."
His mouth curled in a humorless smile. "Yeah, me, too."
"Here you are, handsome." Janey returned and handed him a steaming mug of coffee. "You here to pick up those papers on the Chisko case?"
He nodded. "Yep."
She indicated a solid wooden door on the opposite side of the room. "Looks like Henderson is done."
Bringing his coffee to his lips, Cole glanced over at the door, which was opening. He froze in midswallow.
Hair the color of corn silk cascaded over a woman's slender shoulders. Lips as full as a harvest moon were turned down in a sad smile under eyes that blazed like the wildest desert opals.
It was her.
Shock nearly sent him sliding off the desk. He couldn't believe it. Right there, shaking hands with Bob Henderson, was the woman he had tried like hell for six and a half months to forget.
"I'm sure you'll come to the right decision, Rini," he overheard Henderson say to her.
Rini. So, that was her name. Cole swallowed the mouthful of scalding coffee, barely noticing the searing pain in his tongue and throat as it went down. Rini Fire Eyes.
You'll meet me at the dance circle, won't you?
Try and keep me away.
At first when Fire Eyes had disappeared from the powwow, he'd been upset and depressed. He had really thought she was different from all the others. Weeks passed in anger, then he'd gradually come to accept that she wasn't going to turn up on his doorstep. How could she? They didn't even know each other's names!
But the woman was always there with him, haunting his subconscious. She was there on the streets, in elevators, driving by in Mustangs. Once he'd actually run up and grabbed a woman in a grocery store, only to spin her around and find a terrified girl who couldn't have been out of college yet. That was when he'd taken a month's leave and gone back to his family on Rincon Reservation to put himself back together.
It wasn't Fire Eyes herself, he'd eventually decided, as much as that she had exposed his life for the hollow, solitary existence it was. The fact was, he was now thirty-six and felt the need for something more meaningful in life than work and an endless series of shallow, short-term relationships.
Paralyzed with shock, not knowing what to do next, Cole watched Bob Henderson and Fire Eyes walk toward the reception desk. His muscles screamed to go to her, but his renewed cynicism held him back. Would she recognize him without his war paint? Would she even want to? Or would she be embarrassed to acknowledge her sweet, savage little interlude? Should he blow his reputation and risk making a scene?
Before he could decide, she sidestepped around the desk, her hand at the small of her back as if in pain. Then she turned, and what he saw hit him like a hammer in the gut.
She was pregnant!
The mug slipped from his hand and landed with a muffled slosh on the carpet Fire Eyes glanced up at him briefly, a glazed expression on her face, no sign that she even saw him, let alone recognized him
"P
am, will you make an appointment for Miss Herelius for next week sometime?"
Miss Herelius. Miss Rini Herelius. What was she doing here, alone and pregnant? Cole's mind moved like lightning.
A nasty taste suddenly came into his mouth. One of Bob Henderson's biggest money makers was arranging private adoptions. Bob specialized in Indian children, and Cole often worked with him on cases involving the tribal councils. Could Rini be thinking of giving up her child for adoption?
Suddenly, his heart was squeezed by a pain so fierce he clutched at his chest.
No!
Feverishly, he counted back the months to May. He knew how many it was, even without going through the litany in his head. He looked more closely at her stomach. It could be.
It was just possible. After they made love, he'd realized they hadn't used protection. He'd soundly reprimanded himself, but it had never occurred to him that she wasn't protected against pregnancy, since she had never indicated any concern about it.
He gritted his teeth. His baby! It was his baby she was giving away!
"Cole, are you all right? You don't look so hot." Janey appeared at his side with a towel.
He grabbed the towel and dabbed at his pants. He had to pull himself together. There was information he needed.
Swallowing the bile in his throat, he tried to look as if his world wasn't shattering in a million pieces around him.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about the carpet." He leaned over and sponged up the coffee as best he could, surreptitiously watching Fire Eyes walk slowly out the door.
When he rose, Cole put on his bravest smile to cover his burgeoning anger. For six and a half months, he'd cursed the one woman he'd allowed to turn his world upside down, who had then run away without so much as a backward glance.
And now, here she was in the living, breathing, six-and-a-half-month-pregnant flesh. Carrying his baby.
His baby! He was going to be a father! Joy surged through him before it was mowed down by anger and outrage. It looked very much like she planned to rid herself of the unwanted burden of his child by giving it up for adoption. Wiping her hands of all responsibility. Abandoning it to strangers.