Rainsinger

by Barbara Samuel

  Winona strode onto the court. “Are you ready?”

  He paused, holding the ball in his hands. His dark gaze traveled over her body, lazing over her breasts, the slice of tummy, her legs. A shiver moved through her, as if it were his hands, not his eyes, that caressed her. To her embarrassment, she felt the tips of her breasts tighten.

  Thank heaven for armored bras.

  “Ready,” he said, his voice faintly rough, and passed the ball to her.

  Chapter Nine

  Daniel had played some hard games of basketball in his life. He’d limped off more courts than he could count, gasping for breath, sweating as though he’d jumped in a river, with bruised ribs and skinned joints and even a broken finger once. He’d played in civilized games on high-school courts across the region, and in the streets with hoodlums of every description.

  No one had ever made him fight as hard as Winona. She played hard and mean, with a powerful shot and fierce blocks. A lot of women played with an eye toward protecting their upper bodies, but Winona seemed to feel no such need. She was tall enough that he had to work hard to get around her blocks, and aggressive enough that he had to be careful not to lose the ball, and serious enough that he ached all over in five minutes. Her shoulders were like cast iron.

  And damned if he wasn’t aroused by all of it. He’d hoped the reverse might be true—that good old physical exercise might relieve some of the tension that lay between them like a wounded lion, ready to roar and lash out at the slightest provocation.

  Winona slammed into him, and he felt the giving flesh of a breast against his arm, smelled the heat of woman and her faint talcum powder. Her bare arm slid along his, and her hand brushed his thigh. She stole the ball with a chortle and ran toward her end of the court, and Daniel yelped, running after her. With a small part of his mind, he admired the lean play of muscle in her legs as she jumped and shot, even as he rushed in to wrest the ball from her fingertips.

  With a war cry, he shot from midcourt, just as she slammed into him from behind. “Foul!” he cried, turning, but she was gone, the ball in hand, her ponytail bouncing.

  She laughed—and he darted out in front of her, up close, jumping to block her shot. Her arms were raised and their torsos touched, slid. The underside of her left arm brushed his shoulder. As she jumped to shoot again, he grabbed her and lifted her off her feet, moving her back three paces. “Foul!” she yelled.

  “Turnabout is fair play.”

  She won. Again. Daniel groaned expressively and bent over, his hands on his knees, to catch his breath. The exhilaration of exercise moved in his blood and he smiled with the pleasure of it. It hadn’t eased his arousal—he couldn’t think of any other time he’d played a game while so obsessed with sex—but he felt better anyway.

  Winona leaned on the post. “Whew,” she said with a sigh. “Good game.”

  He straightened. That damned white tank, dampened by the humidity of her body, clung to every curve like a second skin, and he wanted to put his tongue against the slice of belly below the hem. Her face was flushed, her hair tousled, and she had an ecstatically satisfied expression on her face.

  As though she’d had sex.

  She was such a physical person. How would that carry over? Daniel wondered.

  As if she felt his perusal, she looked over at him, a soft smile turning up her lips, the pale eyes extraordinarily blue against the flush on her cheekbones.

  “I’m hot,” she said. “I wonder if it’s ever going to rain.”

  “I’m hot, too,” he said with a faint smile.

  With a roll of her eyes, she gave him a wry smile. “Don’t start.”

  “Start what?” he asked with false innocence. He moved toward her. “I’m just agreeing with you.”

  A blush added heat to the color in her face. “Sorry. My mistake.”

  He punched her playfully on the arm. “Give a guy a break, huh? I have to assert my manhood somehow after you trounced me.”

  She laughed, her lips parting to show good teeth, her throat moving with the sound. “Poor guy.”

  He moved a step closer, not quite sure what he intended to do. She looked up, expectantly and without fear, and he wondered if there was a way to make this okay between them, just for a little while. He put a single finger on her neck, tracing a line of dust there. “You’re making me crazy, Winona.”

  She lifted her brows, but didn’t move away. “You’re making yourself crazy.”

  Since there was no protest, he let his finger go lower, along the edge of her collarbone. “No, it’s definitely you.” When would she stop him? Very, very slowly, he drew a circle just below her throat. She didn’t move, but he saw her eyelids lower ever so slightly, and the smallest flare moved her nostrils.

  He smiled and took one more step. His thigh and hers touched. Through her shirt, he saw the faintest outline of an aroused nipple, carefully camouflaged by the layers of clothing, but not quite enough. The sight sent a jolt of electric need through him.

  Slowly he traced the edge of her shirt, following the swells of flesh up, then down into the secret valley, then up again. Up higher to her shoulder, over her collarbone and down, his eyes on her face. Her pupils grew with each small brush of that single, exploratory finger, until the irises were nearly obscured. The flush on her cheekbones deepened. Her lips parted slightly.

  “You can’t tell me,” he said, spreading his open palm flat on the flesh above her neckline, “that you don’t want me, Winona.”

  She swallowed. “I don’t think I ever tried to tell you that.”

  “Does that mean you do?” He moved his hand slightly, enjoying the furious leap in his nether regions that each encounter with those soft swells gave him. He didn’t think he’d been so hard since adolescence. There was trust in her posture—her hands behind her back, bracing her against the pole, her face upturned. It would be so easy to slide his hand down and clasp the full weight of her breast in his palm. His eyes strayed, and he knew he might do just that if—“Yes,” she said in a husky tone. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow anything to happen. Not everyone follows every sexual impulse they get, you know.”

  “Oh, no?” He let his hand go still, all but his little finger. He let it stray, let it ease under the edge of fabric at her neckline at the same time as he bent his head, putting his lips not quite upon hers. “I think this is different. I think you might be glad.”

  Up close her eyes were a dazzling color, as clear as a stream. Her breath moved on his lips, warm and smelling of her. He let his hips touch the outside of hers. “I know I would.” He slid his hand up to circle her throat, lightly, using his thumb to tip up her chin. “I’d love it.”

  So deeply engrossed was he that he didn’t hear the truck until a horn bleated loudly into the still air.

  As if he’d been doused with cold water, Daniel jerked away, standing up straight, yanking his hand and body from her. With one tiny part of his mind, he saw her shock and the rejection that telling gesture had wrought. For a second he paused, regretful, but she was already moving past him on her strong, long legs.

  Helplessly he said, “Winona, wait.”

  She turned, her chin at a mutinous angle. He saw the fury and hurt in her eyes, and in his imagination saw himself jerking away from her, as if he were ashamed.

  “What?” she asked.

  His tongue felt like a sun-dried boulder in his mouth. Unwieldy and dead. He pressed his lips together, trying to think of something that might ease that terrible moment of rejection, but it had already fled into the past where he couldn’t change it.

  Before he could speak, she said, “Let’s go meet your friends. Isn’t that your lost love?”

  He grabbed her arm angrily. “How did you know that?”

  Pointedly she looked at his hand. He dropped it. “I didn’t,” she said quietly. “It was only a guess.”

  Ashamed, Daniel turned away from that bright, honest gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said, but didn’t even know wh
at he was apologizing for. For playing false with her, maybe?

  She didn’t answer, only moved toward the truck and its occupants as if she owned the place. Which, he guessed, she sort of did. Why hadn’t he told them about Winona? What would they make of her? Of the situation?

  Luke was the first out of the truck, and he called out a greeting to Daniel in Navajo.

  Daniel waved.

  Suddenly, from the back end of the truck came three moving shapes, hurtling toward him at a dead run. Two were dogs, Tasha and a new one he didn’t recognize. The other was a girl. Giselle. She whooped and flung herself into Daniel’s arms, her slim arms making a steely grip around his neck.

  “Uncle!” she cried.

  He bear-hugged her back, a rush of sweet, uncomplicated joy rising in his chest. With Giselle, he had no conflicts. He loved her as a daughter, with a plain, sharp, simpleness he’d not known for another person in his life. “I missed you a lot, Gazelle.”

  She giggled at his use of her pet name. “I’m going to stay for two whole weeks!”

  “I know. I’m glad.”

  Luke, amused, spoke in Navajo. “Daniel, you dog—you didn’t tell me a goddess fell on your land.”

  Daniel gingerly set Giselle on her feet and glanced at Winona, who stood to one side with what appeared to be a genuine smile on her face. He looked at Luke.

  “I forgot,” Daniel said in the same language.

  “Forgot?” Luke returned with a laugh.

  “Winona,” Daniel said in English, “these are my friends, Luke and Giselle here.” Finally he allowed himself to look at Jessie, who came around the truck with a toddler in her arms. It was the first time he’d seen her in almost a year.

  To his great amazement and relief, there was no frisson of his nerves, no sharp ache that Jessie had married Luke, not him. There was only a genuine, deep pleasure in him, to see that she was so well, that a baby was making a small mound of her belly and a toddler with Luke’s face hung on her hip. Happiness, bright as morning, lay in her complexion, in the glow of her eyes.

  Daniel hugged her. “Hey, Irish. You look terrific!” Even at the once-yearned-for touch of her body against his, he felt only the same simple love he had for Giselle.

  “So do you.”

  He took the baby and turned toward Winona, who watched with a guarded expression in her eyes. “That’s Jessie,” he said, “and this—” he lifted the hand of the big-eyed boy “—is Daniel.”

  Winona stared at Daniel for a moment, consideration in her eyes. He saw her mind working, saw the conclusions she drew, and hated that the whole situation was so easily read.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “My little sister is around here somewhere.”

  “Here I am.”

  Joleen shyly moved to stand beside Winona, who easily looped an arm around the girl.

  “That’s Little Owl, Gazelle,” Daniel said, chucking the younger girl’s arm. “You two can share the room downstairs.”

  Giselle and Joleen measured each other frankly. To his surprise, Daniel saw Giselle’s face go utterly blank, a sure sign she was hiding what she thought were negative emotions.

  “Okay,” she said.

  Jessie, likely recognizing a kindred spirit, smiled at Joleen. “I love your hat,” she said.

  Joleen touched the soft emerald beret, obviously pleased. “Thanks.”

  Winona said, “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got supper waiting, but I need to take a quick shower.” She grinned mischievously. “I just killed Mr. Basketball in a game of one on one.”

  “Killed me?” Daniel protested good-naturedly. To the others he said, “Two points is not a killing.”

  “Call it what you like,” Winona returned. “I won.” “She beat you?” Giselle said with wonder. Luke laughed. “I wish I’d seen that.”

  “Winona can beat anyone,” Joleen bragged. With a wink at Joleen, Winona went inside. “Did she really beat you?” Giselle asked. Daniel nodded. “‘Fraid so. And it wasn’t the first time.”

  * * *

  The shower washed away the lingering traces of arousal Daniel’s tantalizing touch had left upon Winona, and she donned her mirrored skirt with a simple blue shirt before she went into the kitchen to put supper on the table. Jessie was already there, making a pot of coffee.

  As Winona came into the room, Jessie said with a smile, “Hope you don’t mind. I’m dying for a good cup of coffee.”

  “Not at all.” Winona inclined her head, admiring the woman. A very long tumble of hair, golden brown and wavy, was caught back in a barrette, and her eyes were enormous, an extraordinary pale brown that was almost topaz. “Your pictures don’t do you justice,” she said.

  Jessie smiled. “Thank you.” Pushing up her sleeves, she asked, “What can I do to help?”

  “Most of it is done. I just have to heat up these rolls and everything is ready.” She shook out the red batik tablecloth she so loved. “We can set the table.”

  As Jessie arranged plates, she asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, are you living here?”

  “Daniel didn’t tell you.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No. It’s none of our business, and he’s a very private man, as I’m sure you’ve seen.”

  Winona considered that. Private? Yes, she supposed he was—unless he was in one of his moods. Belatedly she realized that Jessie would think they were lovers—it was the usual explanation for a man and a woman sharing a house.

  Feeling heat crawl in her cheeks, she carefully placed a fork next to a plate. “We aren’t—that is, I’m not—” She clamped her mouth shut to halt the stuttering explanation and took a deep breath.

  “The land belonged to my uncle, who left it to me. I was out of the country and wasn’t aware he’d died. Daniel paid the back taxes, but I paid the current ones before I knew he was here. We’re co-owners at the moment.”

  Jessie picked a celery stock from the plate of fresh veggies. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m glad to see you here, actually. He was turning into a hermit. We haven’t seen him in almost a year.”

  Luke and Daniel walked in, Luke carrying the toddler, who had tear streaks on his face. With them came Percival, who made a whining rush for Winona and collapsed on her feet. His body shivered on her toes, and Winona squatted to rub him. “Poor baby,” she cooed, and laughed. “What scared you?”

  “Sorry about that,” Luke said. “Tasha, my big dog, was overjoyed to see a little one to play with and scared him half to death.”

  Winona chuckled, lifting the pup into her arms. “Poor Percy. It’s a big old dangerous world out there, isn’t it?” She nuzzled him and his shivering slowed. He made a soft, terrified noise in his throat, then licked her neck. “I think you’ll live.”

  She laughed again and glanced up. Daniel stood at the edge of the room, looking at her. Nothing showed in his face, but there was softness in his eyes. Mouth hard, she turned away. He’d embarrassed her twice now. What was that old expression? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Daniel Lynch had no idea what he wanted, except to have sex with her. And she wasn’t going to give in to that. She’d hate herself later.

  Better they should be friends, work the orchard and figure out how to split things at the end of the summer. Then, when they went their separate ways, there would be no pain. No regrets.

  She put down the dog. “Everything is ready,” she said briskly, turning toward the stove and the big pot of soup. “Call the girls and we can eat.”

  Chapter Ten

  After supper, Daniel stood up and started to clear the table. It was only fair—Winona had cooked for the whole crew, and they were his friends.

  She took the plates out of his hands. “I’ll take care of it,” she said without looking at him.

  He caught a waft of fragrance from her hair as she turned away, and the scent tied a tight little knot in the center of his chest. For a moment, he didn’t do anything—just stood there, waiting for Winona
to look around, to somehow acknowledge his presence. She put the dishes in the sink, the tiny mirrors on her skirt flashing with her sure movements. Her feet were bare.

  She ignored him.

  Luke put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Come outside with me so I can smoke,” he said. “Show me this old tree you found.”

  Daniel nodded. “If you need anything, you know where the orchard is,” he said to Winona. The remark was inane as hell, but he hoped she might at least look around.

  She didn’t. “That’s fine.”

  Giselle followed them outside. “Can I go, too?”

  “Not this time, midget,” Luke said. “Why don’t you and Joleen play some ball?”

  Giselle sighed. “I hate basketball,” she said. “You do?” Joleen asked, breaking into a broad grin. “Me, too! Do you want to see my rabbits, instead?”

  “You have rabbits? What kind?”

  Joleen gave Daniel an uncertain frown. “Lops?” He nodded, and Giselle squealed. “I love lops. They have such pretty ears!”

  Daniel smiled at Luke, and they headed for the copse of trees in the thickening dusk. “Sure you won’t stay the night?” Daniel asked.

  “I’d rather be in Colorado Springs in the morning.” Luke paused below the first trees to roll a cigarette. “My sister is dying to see Danny.”

  Watching the flare of a kitchen match, Daniel said, “Be careful, man. It’s as dry as a bone out here.”

  Luke frowned, exhaled and bent to stub the cigarette out in a safe patch of dirt. “I forgot about that. Maybe not the best thing to do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s been bad on the reservation. No rain for more than two months. Is it any better here?”

  Daniel shook his head. “A trace last month. Enough to set the blossoms, I guess.”

  “You have water rights?” Luke pointed to the narrow irrigation ditches.

  “No. They’re caught in probate court at the moment.” He touched a leaf, and it felt smooth enough against his thumb, but if the drought continued, they’d start to wither. Already some of the trees had a parched look about them, a green less vital in the leaves, a droop.