Sunrise Canyon

by Janet Dailey

  But the hunger that rose in her body was too powerful to be denied. The need surged and burned as she stretched onto her toes to deepen the kiss. His hands released her face as his arms slid around her, molding her body to his. He was big and hard-muscled, his skin cool and firm, his body smelling of clean rain. Heaven help her, she wanted him. All of him.

  The voice was still shouting in her head. Don’t be a fool! He’s ill! You can’t let this happen!

  Kira forced herself to listen this time. She steeled her resolve to pull away, but before she could move, he released her and stepped back. They faced each other in the soft glow of lamplight, both of them quivering.

  “I should go,” she said, turning toward the door.

  “Yes, maybe you should.” His voice was flat. He made no move to stop her. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

  She paused and looked back, one hand resting on the doorknob. He stood where she’d left him, his expression unreadable. Without another word, Kira stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

  The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Holding up the hem of her robe, she started for the house. She’d gone only a half-dozen steps when the security light came on. If anybody had been looking outside at this hour, they’d have seen her leaving Jake’s cabin in her nightclothes. Never mind. She’d done nothing to be ashamed of. But she was still worried about Jake.

  Had that shattering kiss been his way of getting her to leave? But why else would he kiss her? Jake knew her all too well. Threats wouldn’t budge her, but one kiss from a half-undressed man in his bedroom would send her fleeing into the storm like the devil was chasing her.

  A clever plan. But that didn’t mean the episode was over. He could still be in danger.

  She paused in the glare of the security light, rain streaming off her hair and down her face. If anything were to happen because she’d left him alone too soon, she would never forgive herself.

  Squaring her shoulders, she turned, walked back to the cabin and opened the door without knocking.

  The lamp had been turned off, but with the security light shining through the drapes, Kira could see into the room. Jake was huddled on the edge of the bed, his head clenched in his hands, his body quivering.

  She closed the door quietly and moved to his side. If he’d seen or heard her, he gave no sign of it. But when she laid her hands on his shoulders, she felt a shudder pass through him.

  “Jake, I’m here,” she said.

  He twisted his shoulders, shaking off her touch. “I can deal with this. Just leave me alone till it’s over.”

  “No.” She reached behind him and turned down the bed. “Lie down and stretch out. You’ll feel better.” She pushed him sideways, toward the pillows. He was far stronger than she was, but he showed little will to resist as she laid him on his side and covered him with the sheet and the blankets. He straightened with a long sigh.

  “Kira . . . ,” he said. “I’m sorry for this mess. Hearing about Wendy—I was primed. I thought I could take it, but everything went a little crazy.”

  “Do you want to talk?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Can I get you some water, maybe a Coke?” There was a mini fridge stocked with sodas under the TV stand.

  “No.” He was still shaking beneath the covers.

  In her rain-soaked robe, Kira was so cold, her teeth were chattering. She took a moment to peel the soggy garment off and drape it over a chair near the heater; then she blotted her wet hair with Jake’s discarded towel. Her cotton pajamas were slightly damp, but not too wet to wear. Not having anything else, she decided to keep them on.

  What she decided to do next would take courage. But Jake needed it. Maybe she did, too.

  Jake’s eyes were closed, but it was too soon for him to be asleep. After leaving her wet sneakers by the door, she walked around the double bed to the far side. She took a breath to gather her resolve. Then, lifting the blankets but leaving the top sheet over Jake, she slipped into bed beside him.

  “Kira?” His voice was a mumble.

  “I’m cold,” she said, and spooned against his back.

  He flinched at the first contact through the sheet. “Lord almighty, you are cold.”

  “I’ll be warm soon.” She snuggled closer. “Is this all right?”

  “It’s . . . fine. It’s nice.”

  With a little murmur, she laid an arm over him and nestled closer. He tensed like a wary animal being stroked for the first time. Then, little by little, his taut muscles relaxed. His breathing became deep and regular, and she knew he was sinking into sleep.

  Kira cradled him against her through the sheet, feeling warm and surprisingly safe. This wasn’t about sex. They were both too raw, too vulnerable for that. This was about something deeper—something that might not even have a name.

  Comfort, perhaps. But no, it was more than comfort.

  Drifting, she closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jake stirred and opened his eyes. The room was still dark, but Kira was already gone. He rolled onto his back and lay still, remembering her warmth and the sound of her breathing, like a silken whisper in his ear.

  Maybe he’d only imagined her sweet body spooned against his back, her arm cradling him as he eased into sleep. But no, he could feel the slight dampness her hair had left on the spare pillow. His angel had been real.

  And he’d needed her. Lord, how he’d needed her—for reasons that had little to do with sex. Not that he would’ve complained if it had happened. But forget that—the chaste bedsheet between them had made her intent clear.

  Lifting his head, he checked the luminous clock on the nightstand: 4:33. Not quite dawn. But he’d had a decent sleep and, except for a slight headache and the vague emptiness that tended to follow a bad spell, he felt calm and alert.

  Last night he’d dreamed about Wendy—a murky sort of dream in which he’d seen her from a distance, walking away from him. He’d called to her, but she hadn’t even looked back. He’d been trying to run after her when he’d awakened to a dark room, with Kira spooned against his back. Still foggy, he’d nestled against her warmth and gone back to sleep.

  No doubt Wendy would haunt his dreams for a long time to come. In a way, he would always love her, just as he would always mourn her. But the truth was finally sinking in. He had lost her long before the accident that took her life.

  Raking a hand through his tangled hair, he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Last night had changed some things—maybe a lot of things. He needed time to himself, to get his head on straight before he faced Kira again. For that, he’d need to get away to someplace peaceful, where he could be alone.

  A glance through the window told him the rain had stopped. Hurrying now, he dressed in riding clothes and pulled on his socks and boots. Framed by jagged, broken glass, the empty hole that had been the TV screen was a mocking reminder of last night’s meltdown. Later today he would haul the set outside and pile it with the last of the junk from the shed, to be hauled to the landfill. He would do fine without TV until he could afford to buy a replacement.

  Stars were fading above the mountains as he crossed the yard to the stable and unlocked the door. With the sky already dawning and his eyes accustomed to the darkness, Jake didn’t bother to turn on the light. He didn’t want to startle the horses or alert Kira that somebody was in the stable.

  The place was fragrant with hay and the odor of fresh manure. Horses dozed or munched, a few of them raising their heads as he passed on his way to the stall at the farthest end.

  Dynamite pricked his ears and nickered at Jake’s approach, as if the two of them were already friends.

  “Good morning, old boy.” Jake reached over the stall gate and stroked the satiny neck. “How about you and me going for a ride this morning?”

  He retrieved the saddle, pad and bridle from the tack room. Getting the gear on the horse was still awkward for him, but Dynamite was patient. The old horse stood quietly, giving Jak
e time to check the cinch and the leathers before easing into the saddle.

  Jake had ridden once with Kira, but this was his first time alone. For the first few minutes, sitting on the tall, swaying animal made him nervous. But the feeling didn’t last. By the time they passed under the ranch gate, he was getting used to the easy motion.

  “Just keep moving, boy.” Somehow it felt natural, talking to a horse. “You’re the teacher here, and I’m the classroom dunce. I’ve got a lot to learn, so thanks for putting up with me.”

  Jake gave Dynamite his head, letting the horse pick his way along the familiar trail. The ground was wet, the air cool and fresh with last night’s rain. Above the mountains, the sky was brightening from deep onyx to mother-of-pearl. Soon sunrise would streak the clouds with the brief glory of rose, gold and amber, and the day would begin.

  Overnight the rain had brought the desert to bursting life. The land was fresh, green and blooming. Saguaros and chollas glistened with diamond drops of moisture. Lupines, budding yesterday, were opening into bloom. Birds swooped low to drink from rain pools that would shrink and vanish with the heat of the sun.

  Jake had not known peace since the war. What were his chances of finding it here, in this starkly beautiful place? He pondered the question as Dynamite took the right-hand trail, down the canyon.

  As the trail wound downward, he could hear the waterfall—not the gentle, flowing sound he remembered from the other night with Kira, but a powerful hiss, as the runoff from the storm funneled down the canyon. Curious, he tethered the horse in the willows, as he’d done before, and made his way up the rocky trail and over the top.

  The clearing—magical when he’d seen it by moonlight—was a different place this morning. The rushing water had scoured the canyon bottom, stripping away plants and silt. A gnarled, dead mesquite, roots and all, had been washed over the falls. Now it lay in the pond, its bare branches sticking above the brown water like groping fingers.

  Jake stood at the edge of the flooded pond. Water roared over the rim of the falls in a muddy torrent that hid the rocks beneath. From the look of the canyon, there’d been even more water at the height of the storm, enough to do some heavy damage.

  “It’s amazing how a place can change overnight, isn’t it?” Kira’s voice startled him. He hadn’t heard her come over the trail to stand beside him. Aside from some weariness about her eyes, she looked fresh and ready for the day. Jake struggled against the memory of her tender warmth in his bed. This would be the daytime Kira, he reminded himself. The driven, micromanaging woman who challenged him at every turn.

  “You followed me?” Charm had never been his strong point.

  “Guilty as charged. I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “I’m fine. You don’t need to mother me, Kira.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  He stayed silent for a long moment, watching the chocolate-brown water pour over the falls. “Thanks for last night,” he said. “You didn’t have to stay. I’d have been fine.”

  “Maybe.” She watched a wren light on a branch of the drowned mesquite and flutter away. “What now?”

  Was she asking about their relationship or his future at the ranch? Jake decided to address the safer, second choice.

  “I’m feeling pretty good this morning—even thinking I might like to stay for a while—maybe work with the horses and see if I can lick this thing. If it doesn’t take, I can always change my mind.”

  “That’s great news,” she said. “But don’t expect the moon. For most PTSD cases, there’s no guaranteed cure. There are techniques to help you manage it. But in the end, you make it through one day at a time—and if you slide back, you just pick yourself up and move forward again. You’ll need to accept that, maybe for the rest of your life.”

  She gave him that measuring look, her eyes silvery in the dawn light. The old Kira was back, taking charge as usual. But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten how she’d felt next to him in bed. He was still battling the urge to seize her in his arms and kiss her until that warm, sexy Kira he remembered surfaced and came back to him.

  “What do you really want, Jake?” she asked.

  Thinking, Jake poked at an exposed root with the toe of his boot. “Just normal things,” he said. “Holding down a decent job, having the means to take care of other people, instead of being taken care of. Most of all, I guess, I’d like to have a relationship with my daughter—one where I don’t have to worry about losing control and scaring her, or even hurting her.”

  And a relationship with a woman crazy enough to put up with me.

  Leaving that thought unspoken, Jake picked up a rock and skipped it across the swollen pond. “What the hell, I know better. Maybe the best I can hope for is to be free, with nobody to care, nobody to hurt, nobody to cry over me when I’m gone.”

  She laid a hand on his arm, her touch butterfly light through the fabric of his sleeve. “Look around you, Jake. You saw this spot before the flood came down the canyon. Now look at it.”

  Jake’s gaze took in the brown water, noticing the places where the creek’s high bank had washed away, exposing the tangled roots of trees and the layer of silty mud, which coated everything, leaving no trace of green. The place would make a good setting for a zombie film, he thought.

  “What happens to all the floodwater?” he asked, pretending not to notice her lingering touch on his arm.

  “It flows down the canyon into a wash. From there it runs through a culvert under the road and spreads out onto the plain. You can see the silt fan from that flat rock on the upper trail.”

  Her fingers tightened on his arm, the contact triggering a warm tingle. Jake resisted the urge to turn and brush back the tendril of light brown hair that had stolen across her cheek. Leave it be, he thought. It softened her finely drawn profile and made a pretty contrast with her rose petal skin.

  Looking at her now, he wondered how he could have seen her as plain for so long. Standing in the pale dawn light, her face bare of makeup, her cheeks flushed from the cool morning air, she was enchanting.

  “Would you believe this canyon gets flooded almost every year?” she said. “Right now, it looks ruined. But ride down here in a few weeks, and you’ll see clear water, grass growing, flowers blooming.... It never comes back quite the same as it was. Some things are lost. Other things are new. But the canyon always comes back.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was trying to tell him, Jake thought. If the canyon could come back and thrive after a disaster, so could he.

  She made it sound so simple. But Jake felt as if she were talking to him the way she might talk to one of her students. As a therapist, she should know that his PTSD had been etched into his brain with needles of pain, guilt and shock. It had become part of him—who he was and would be for as long as he lived.

  He could call her on it. But that would only stir up tension between them. And right now, he didn’t want to talk about his PTSD. He was here with this compassionate, spirited, maddeningly beautiful woman. All he really wanted was for her to stop lecturing and let him hold her, maybe even taste those warm, ripe lips again.

  But he was fantasizing now. And Kira had already released his arm and stepped out of reach.

  “I have to go,” she said. “My students will be waking up soon. You can take your time getting back. We won’t need you until after they’ve had breakfast and the stable’s cleaned out.”

  “Go ahead. I won’t be long.” He watched her as she disappeared up the narrow pathway. Moments later, Jake heard the sounds of her mare going back up the trail toward the ranch.

  He gave her time to get a head start before he returned to Dynamite and mounted. He wouldn’t be going back to the ranch just yet. He had too much thinking to do. For that, he needed time and solitude—and the company of a wise old horse.

  At the top of the canyon trail, he took the left-hand fork that wound along the foothills and down
to the flat below, where glistening saguaros stood like a vast army of giants. In the east, the sunrise streaked glory across the sky. Losing himself in the majesty of the morning, Jake rode on.

  * * *

  Kira rode in under the ranch gate, dismounted and, after a quick rubdown, loosed her mare into the paddock. She’d thought about Jake all the way up the trail, remembering how her desire had surged as he kissed her and how she’d held him through the night, feeling his chest rise and fall with the sound of his breathing. She’d felt so warm and safe, that it had been all she could do to ease herself away from him and go before dawn.

  Was she falling in love with the troubled soldier—or was she drawn to him simply because he needed her?

  Jake was a proud man—especially now, when pride was all he had. He would never settle for a relationship in which he was the needy one. Maybe that was why, in the long run, nothing between the two of them could possibly last.

  When it came to boyfriends, Kira had lost out to too many clingy, dependent girls not to know that her strength drove most men away. Maybe that was why she’d never had much of a social life, let alone anything close to marriage. But she was who she was. When something needed doing, or when somebody needed help, she took charge.

  A domineering woman and a proud, dysfunctional man—it was a recipe for disaster. The worst of it was, as she confessed to herself, she’d never wanted any man the way she wanted Jake.

  As she walked toward the house, she could see her students gathering for breakfast. Forcing herself to close the mental box that held thoughts of Jake, she refocused on her job—helping these young people find the peace and self-confidence they needed to live productive lives.

  Paige was waiting on the front porch with the dog. She was dressed in a mismatched shirt and Jeggings, her fiery curls scrunched up in a lopsided ponytail. Her shoelaces trailed behind her sneakers as she walked.

  Kira sighed. She needed to spend more time with this much-loved little girl. Consuelo kept an eye on her while Kira was working, but she was too busy with kitchen and housekeeping duties to do much more than make sure Paige was safe. Dusty adored his small great-granddaughter, but he couldn’t be expected to dress and feed her, or take her where she wanted to go. And Kira had a strict rule against letting her students babysit. It wasn’t the best use of their time, and, more important, given their issues, it might not be safe for Paige.