Window on Today

by Joan Hohl

  The minimal amount of activity her mind did engage in was centered on Jared’s unexpected and amazing avowal of love and his promise of more of the same that evening. In consequence, Karla said very little. Jared, on the other hand, kept up a running commentary, all of it impersonal and pertaining to the sights and terrain.

  It was somewhere between the national park and their next stop at Hubbell’s trading post that a suspicious idea wormed its slithery way into Karla’s swamp-like consciousness. Jared himself sparked the idea with a wry remark.

  “I’m relieved you’re no longer afraid of me the way you were the other night.”

  “I was never afraid of you!” Karla denied indignantly.

  Jared blessed her with his tender smile. “Yes, sweetheart, you most assuredly were.”

  Not feeling equal to a heated argument, Karla contented herself with glaring at his complacent profile before turning to stare out the side window at the looming rock mountains dotting the desert landscape and, after they were inside the Navajo reservation, frowning in confusion and wonder at the mound-shaped structures set a short distance from practically every dwelling. It was while she was staring, frowning, and fuming that the idea wriggled into her mind.

  At their second meeting, Jared had stated unequivocally that they would have an affair. Two nights ago, he had reached the conclusion—with reason—that she was somewhat emotionally afraid of him. A few hours ago, Jared had suddenly proclaimed his love for her. Could there be a connection between his prediction and her fear? Karla asked herself. What do you think? her self answered.

  I think I’d better think about this.

  And think Karla did. She pondered deep and long, all through her outward display of interest in Hubbell’s, a national historic site and the oldest continually active trading post on the Navajo reservation.

  While she smiled and talked with the attractive Navajo park ranger, reacting enthusiastically to the post’s separate small rooms, which contained groceries and dry goods as well as traditional hand-wrought jewelry and intricately patterned rugs, Karla speculated on the motives of the tall, ruggedly handsome man ambling along beside her, looking as Indian as the young woman, but in a different, more chiseled way.

  Impatiently ignoring the quivering excitement merely walking by his side generated within her, Karla examined the possibility of Jared ruthlessly using the words of love to disarm her, leaving her too weak to resist his desire to use her in the physical act of love. Though her reflections caused considerable pain in her mind and body, Karla was forced to conclude that, in light of what Anne had told her, her supposition was more probable than possible.

  Hurting with a depth she had never before experienced, and was afraid to examine too closely, Karla avoided looking at Jared. Instead, she concentrated on the tour of the outbuildings off to one side of the post and assured herself that the hot sting in her eyes was caused by the glare of the afternoon sunlight.

  Gratitude washed through her when the ranger led them into the house behind the post, which had been the residence of the post’s founder, John Lorenzo Hubbell. The interior was dim and shadowy, giving her a reasonable excuse for blinking. Confined within expanding waves of misery, Karla gave up all pretense of alert interest, shifting her gaze dully from the array of furniture to the paintings on the walls as the ranger described them.

  “Are you all right?”

  The low, concerned sound of Jared’s voice close to her ear nearly caused Karla to stumble over the threshold as they exited the building. Averting her eyes, she nodded her head and silently cursed the renewed need to blink.

  “I’m fine. Just getting a little tired, I guess.” Karla winced inside at the reedy sound of her own voice. “I... ah,” she flashed an unconvincing smile his way without actually looking at him. “It’s ... umm, rather hot for November, isn’t it?” she asked raggedly, too brightly.

  “Not for Arizona,” Jared replied. “It’s pleasantly warm, but if you think the sun’s hot today, wait until you’re exposed to its relentless heat in mid-August.”

  “If I survive that long.” Karla didn’t realize she’d muttered the thought aloud until Jared responded to it.

  “You are tired. Let’s go,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I think you’ve had enough sight-seeing for one day.”

  A sensation not unlike panic gripped Karla with the feel of his palm gliding over hers, and she was forced to impose every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from snatching her hand away from his. It was crazy, incredible, but it was fact nonetheless: Karla was electrified and completely undone by the devastating effects of Jared’s touch.

  Suffering agonies of pleasure from the feel of his skin imprinting itself on hers, and feeling herself as firmly captured as her fingers entwined with his, Karla moved with him when Jared began walking toward the car. Then, when necessity dictated that he release her, she felt abandoned and bereft.

  Emotional exhaustion slammed into Karla as Jared drove away from the trading post. Suddenly tired of thinking, speculating, and attempting to figure Jared out, she rested her head against the back of the seat and shut her eyes. A soft sigh whispered through her lips. Later she’d think about her suspicions, her emotions, her odd feeling of anguish, she promised herself, pushing the questions and doubts to the edges of her consciousness. For the moment, all she wanted, longed for, was forgetfulness and rest.

  Karla was asleep before they reached the main highway.

  The cessation of motion woke her. Starting, she sat upright and glanced around in confusion. There wasn’t much for her to see. Dusk had surrendered to night. Lights illuminated the entrance doors of the building before which the car was parked, and dimmer lights flickered along the narrow streets of a small community. Beyond their glow, darkness cloaked the landscape. She was alone in the car-Even as she began to frown, wondering where Jared had gone, she saw him push his way out through the lighted entrance doors. A warm smile curved his mouth when he saw that she was awake.

  “Feel better?” he asked, after sliding behind the wheel. “Rested and ready for dinner?”

  “Yes to both questions,” Karla answered, her vague smile revealing her feelings of confusion and disorientation. “Where are we?”

  Jared fired the engine before replying. “This is the Thunderbird Lodge at Canyon de Chelly.” He gestured to indicate the area, then drove down one of the streets that led to rows of motel units. He brought the car to a stop in the last parking space in the row. “This is it,” he said, inclining his head toward the units. “We have the two end rooms.”

  Jared allotted the inside room to Karla, carried her luggage inside for her, then stood beside her as she took stock of her surroundings.

  “What do you think?” he prompted.

  The room was an adequate size, not luxurious but pleasant, comfortable-looking, and clean. “It’s very nice,” Karla said, crossing the floor to peek into the bathroom. She arched her eyebrows as she turned away from the doorway. “Is there a restaurant?”

  “A cafeteria.” Jared smiled—somewhat apologetically, she thought—and shrugged. “It’s not fancy, but it’s clean, and the food is good.”

  Karla regarded him solemnly. “I don’t need fancy, Jared ...” She hesitated before continuing, “I can be perfectly content with good.” Fully aware that her claim could be taken in several different ways, she waited, praying he wouldn’t give an obvious response. She was still trying to cope with the tensions of the day and too emotionally jangled to field sexual innuendoes.

  Staring at her thoughtfully, Jared answered her prayers. “I’m glad you’re not disappointed.” He shot a glance at his watch. “It’s six-ten now and the cafeteria closes at eight-thirty. Can you be ready in an hour?”

  Karla gave him an arch, superior look. “If necessary, I can be ready in fifteen minutes flat... but I’m longing for a long, hot shower, so I’ll take the full hour, thank you.”

  The echo of Jared’s appreciative laughter haunted her long
after he strode from the room.

  The cafeteria was everything Jared had said it was—and wasn’t. The large room was clean, bright, and functional; it was not in any way elegant. The food was hot, solid fare, filling and delicious; it was not gourmet cuisine.

  Karla was satisfied with the place and the meal... for several reasons, the principal one being that it was definitely not conducive to seduction. Though the shower and a fresh, if suitcase-crumpled, change of clothing had helped boost her flagging spirit, she was still undecided about how she was going to react to whatever form of seduction Jared was planning to use.

  The restaurant’s ambience or, more accurately, the lack of it, greatly eased the remaining threads of apprehensive strain knotting her nerves. While showering and dressing, she had looked forward to a soothing glass of wine to accomplish the easing process, but Jared dashed her hope of that notion when she mentioned it to him as they’d strolled from their rooms to the cafeteria.

  “You’re going to have to make do with coffee or a soft drink, at least through dinner,” he’d said enigmatically. “We’re on the reservation, and liquor is not allowed.”

  Though she silently questioned the fairness of the stricture, Karla made do with coffee. But throughout the meal she pondered the meaning of his phrasing. It became clear after they returned to their rooms.

  All the tension, apprehension, and strain Karla had temporarily released during dinner slammed back into her as they walked to their rooms through the brisk fall air. Beyond the lights in the large compound, the night was as dark as her thoughts. Within the minutes required to return to their rooms, she was flooded by all the questions and conflicting emotions she’d been mentally sidestepping ever since she had escaped into sleep in the car.

  Karla fully expected Jared to make his move on her once they were alone, and she had no idea how she was going to respond to his advance. She wanted to run and hide, but acknowledged that it was much too late in the game to retreat. She was fearfully uncertain of her ability to carry through on the decision she had made with arrogance in the safety and privacy of her apartment. She was running scared ... but she had run out of time.

  Jared had been unusually quiet and reticent during dinner, leaving Karla to wonder what he was thinking ... planning. He was silent as they walked back to their rooms. Karla had no idea what to expect from him, but it certainly wasn’t the rejection she received when he turned and walked away from her an instant after unlocking and opening her door.

  Numb with surprise, Karla watched him disappear into his own quarters. Then she took a few steps into her room, tossed her jacket on a chair, and came to a dead stop, the door wide open behind her. A frown tugged her eyebrows together. She had been preparing herself to jump in any one of several directions. Having the need to do so pulled out from under her like a scatter rug left her immobilized and stunned. A devastating sense of rejection seared through her, blazing a path for the anger that followed. Of all the emotions Karla had geared herself to contend with, the pain of rejection had never even entered into the picture. The anger expanded—anger at herself for her unrealistic expectations, anger with Jared for deliberately instilling them then ruthlessly snatching them away.

  Hell, he hadn’t even wished her a good night! The indignant thought had no sooner formed in her mind than Karla heard the quiet click of the door being shut, immediately followed by the low, attractive sound of Jared’s voice.

  “Ready for that glass of wine?”

  Whirling around, Karla stared at him, her expression changing from consternation to astonishment. In one hand he held an uncorked bottle of what she recognized as a fine, expensive white wine, in the other he held two ordinary motel-room glasses. Assimilating the realization that she hadn’t been rejected, she shifted her confused gaze from the bottle to the glasses.

  “I thought you said that stuff”—she inclined her heard at the bottle—”wasn’t allowed on the reservation.”

  Jared smiled in a way that did strange and exciting things to her senses, things more potent and intoxicating than the contents of the bottle he tipped over the glasses.

  “There’s no law that I know of against bringing your own,” he said dryly, holding one of the glasses out to her.

  Karla automatically reached for the glass, but she didn’t immediately sip from it to test the quality of the golden liquid. She was too busy testing the quality of the dawning comprehension shimmering through her.

  Of all the expectations Karla had nurtured, the absolute last one she had considered was the possibility of falling in love. Yet, in that instant, there it was, staring her in the face, in the form of the tall man standing less than four feet away from her.

  Staring at him with heightened awareness, Karla suddenly felt cold and hot, frightened and exhilarated. Conflict dissolving, she absorbed him with her activated senses.

  He had removed his jacket and was dressed casually in a fine-knit pullover, faded jeans, and soft leather moccasins, without socks. His loose-limbed stance was as casual as his attire. But there was nothing casual about his eyes. His eyes were dark and watchful, and held a hint of uncertainty. That flicker of uncertainty robbed her of her last hope of defense. Sighing softly in surrender, she accepted the inevitable. The admission came hard, but it would not be denied.

  Karla was hopelessly in love with Jared Cradowg.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  “Karla, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” The sharp concern in Jared’s voice brought Karla out of her trancelike introspection. “You’re trembling and pale. Are you feeling sick?” He walked to her to take the glass from her unsteady hand. “Honey, tell me!” he insisted, “What is the matter with you?”

  “Nothing!” Karla blurted out between gasps of senses-restoring breath. Since the threat of physical torture wouldn’t have made her admit to him her mentally torturing revelation, she was reduced to gazing at him, with pleading eyes; and even she wasn’t sure of exactly what she was pleading for.

  In any other circumstances, Jared’s uncharacteristic reaction might have been both enlightening and amusing. His expression could only be described as near panic-stricken; his eyes were very dark, shadowed by concern. He seemed suddenly unsure of what to do—not at all like the confident, arrogant man Karla knew him to be. The edge of authority always present in his voice had given way to a tone of tender care, underlined by desperate vigilance.

  “Dammit, something’s wrong.” Balancing both glasses in one broad hand, Jared slid his arm around her waist and gently drew her quivering body to his, as if to protect and support her with his strength. “Come sit down,” he said in a soft tone of inducement. He led her to the bed, and after they were seated side by side on the edge of the mattress, he murmured coaxingly, “Talk to me, my love. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  His demeanor was at once baffling and endearing. Already weak with the acknowledgment of the love she felt for him, Karla’s last shred of resistance and doubt dissolved in the hot decision to indulge herself in a purely physical short-term relationship with him, replaced by a yearning to be all and everything to him.

  His love. He had called her his love, and Karla was in an agony of need to be the object of his love, not merely another partner in passion. But the passion was there as well, heating her senses, firing her imagination, creating an emptiness deep within her.

  “Karla! Will you talk to me?” Jared’s tone was now teetered on the fine line between impatience and gathering panic. “Tell me what is—” He broke off, eyes narrowing. “You’re afraid again, aren’t you?” he demanded on a harshly exhaled breath.

  Karla smiled and took her glass from his no longer rock-steady hand. “No, Jared, I’m not afraid.” She sipped the wine and stared directly at him over the rim of her glass. She was calm now, resigned to the realization that she would accept whatever of himself he wished to give.

  “Well, what is it, then?” He took a deep swallow from his own glass. “Are you feeling sick or excessively t
ired?”

  “No.” Karla hid a wry smile behind her glass as the thought whispered through her mind that she could hardly tell him she felt excessively aroused.

  Why couldn’t she? Her smile faded at the follow-up thought. What, other than her own reticence, was there to prevent her from telling him precisely what she was feeling?

  “Well, then, what—” Jared began.

  Consigning reticence to hell, Karla quietly interrupted him. “I need to be with you, Jared.”

  “What?” He whispered the single word, then went deathly still, his eyes revealing the conflict of hope and uncertainty he was experiencing.

  Though fascinated by it, Karla didn’t have the heart to let him dangle over the pit of sensual suspense. Plucking up her courage, she repeated boldly, “I need to be with you.” She set her glass aside, then brought her hand to his face. “Make love with me, Jared.”

  “Oh, Karla,” he breathed, lifting his hand to hers. “I need you, too.” Leaning around her, he set his glass on the nightstand next to hers. As he straightened, he simultaneously slid one hand from hers in a tantalizing line to her shoulder, while gently clasping her other shoulder with his free hand. “You can’t imagine how very much I need you.”

  Her senses quivering with anticipation, Karla watched and waited breathlessly as he slowly, slowly, lowered his mouth to hers.

  Jared’s kiss was well worth the wait, and utterly different from the others they had shared. With the touch of his mouth to hers, Karla felt a piercing sweetness unlike anything she had ever before experienced. Tender, warm, tentative, his lips caressed hers, igniting within her a hunger that swiftly expanded into a raging desire for more.

  Reacting without a qualm to the immediacy of her response, Karla parted her lips in invitation, curled her arms around his neck, and moaning low in her throat, drew him with her as she fell back onto the bed. Her mouth trembled with anticipation as she felt his lips move against hers.

  “Slowly, love, slowly,” Jared murmured. “Though the need is great, I don’t want to rush.” He paused to glide the tip of his tongue along her lower lip. “I want to savor our first time together.”