She straightened the pillow. "Don't say things like that."
"Why not?" Sky shifted his weight, stirring the mattress. "I haven't lived a particularly clean life, you know. My soul is full of sin."
Was he looking for atonement? Or was he warning the good girl to stay away from the bad boy? This good girl wants to help you, she thought. "You don't seem all that wicked to me."
"Ah, but remember, I'm part snake."
She sighed. Trust him to change the subject. "Did you have to bring up snakes again? Knowing Tequila is still out there hoping to get my attention isn't a comforting thought."
"She won't hurt you, honey, I swear. But if it makes you feel any better I'll have a talk with her in the morning."
Windy pulled the sheet up to her neck. "Tell her to leave me alone," she said, realizing how ridiculous her request sounded. Regardless of what Sky believed, that snake couldn't possibly communicate on an intelligent level.
He bent his body to see the clock. "It's late. We better get some sleep."
"Sleep," Windy echoed, closing her eyes.
* * *
An hour later Windy woke Sky with a start. She screamed frantically, thrashing and kicking.
"Windy!" Disoriented in the dark, he pushed through the scattered pillows to reach her. Hold her. Restrain her. "Shhh." He found her waist and pulled her to his chest. "You're dreaming."
Her body rocked his. "The snake," she whimpered. "She was here."
"No," Sky protested softly, stroking her hair. "It was just a dream."
"Don't leave me," she whispered, moonlight trapping her tortured eyes. "Please … I don't want to be alone."
"I won't leave you." Instinctively he drew her closer. Her heart pumped furiously, pushing against her rib cage. Against his. "Do you want me to turn on the light?"
Panic rose in her voice. "You said you wouldn't leave."
"I won't, honey." He leaned over, taking her with him as he flipped on the bedside lamp.
As Windy nuzzled his chest, her hands slid bonelessly down his back, caressing without intent. "So scared," she muttered.
Sky knew what it was like to have nightmares. He had the same one often enough. Hell, almost nightly. Somehow, though, he knew it wouldn't happen tonight, not with her beside him. Maybe that's why he had invited her into his bed so readily.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.
"Not yet," she whispered.
Sky eased her to the bed and stroked her cheek, offering comfort. They felt good together, her curves, his muscles.
Windy stirred in his arms as though familiarizing herself with the consolation he provided. He kissed her forehead. "You all right now?"
She nodded, but made no attempt to move away. Maybe she thought they felt good together, too.
"I dreamed about Tequila."
"Tell me about it."
"I don't remember much. I think she was trying to talk to me, but I wouldn't listen. I was afraid she was going to strangle me. And there was a scarlet flame burning around me, too. A ring of fire. Tequila went right through it."
Sky bent his head to gaze at her. Her eyes were closed, thick lashes pressed against her cheekbones. Maybe she had no idea what her dream meant, but he did. "Tequila wasn't trying to hurt you, honey. She was offering you part of her medicine. Snakes are the keeper of fire. Fire energy brings passion and desire."
She opened her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sky, but I don't believe in animal medicine the way you do. My dream was about fear. I dreamed about Tequila because I'm afraid of snakes."
By denouncing Tequila's medicine, Windy was denying the fire, he thought. The heat between them. The hunger. He knew he should let it go, but he couldn't. "Don't psychologists believe in analyzing dreams?"
"Freud had his theories."
"And did Freud have a theory about what snakes represent?"
When Windy's cheeks colored, Sky smiled. He knew Freud's theory involved a specific part of the male anatomy. "You know as well as I do, Pretty Windy, your dream was not about fear."
Although she didn't respond, streaks of gold sparked her eyes. Her fire, he thought. His was in his loins now, growing rigid with desire.
Unable to stop himself, he skimmed his knuckles over her cheek. Her skin was soft and smooth. Luxuriously feminine.
As their gazes locked, she returned the touch, a tentative stroke that turned his mind blank and made his body grow harder. Suddenly the need to taste her clouded his vision. She looked so touchable beside him, all woman and as warm as the sun.
He lowered his head, felt her fingers move from his face to his hair, tangling gently. Was she urging him closer?
Sky swallowed. Seconds passed—torturous seconds of listening to the catch in her breath, the struggle of his own.
He shifted his weight, sliding his hands down the curve of her spine. Their mouths, inches apart, came together. She made a mewling sound, and his senses staggered. The kiss was neither chaste nor ravenous. It was, he decided, a smooth, slow dance. A mating. A shared exploration. An incredible sensation that slid from his body to hers then back again.
Sky groaned and deepened the kiss. She tasted like seduction, a blend of shyness and woman, sensuality and innocence.
As his blood pumped faster, he slid his hands into her hair, into those wild, tumbling locks. She licked his bottom lip, and his mind drifted to lovemaking—slick bodies, naked and aroused, joined in a warm, wet sinuous rhythm.
God, he wanted her.
No!
The unwelcome word sounded like an alarm in his head. He had to stop himself before he went too far, took her where she might regret going.
Struggling to break the spell, Sky opened his eyes and ended the kiss, painfully removing his lips from hers.
Their gazes met in awkward silence, breaths unsteady, bodies much too close.
"I'm sorry," he managed in a hoarse whisper. "I shouldn't have done that. I promised to behave and…"
She pulled her hands away as though unsure of where to put them. "It's okay. I … we both…"
Her lips were still parted, he noticed, and goose bumps covered her arms.
"Are you cold?" he asked, knowing it wasn't a chill that caused her shiver but the erotic fever flowing through her veins. Her nipples pressed against the silk of her gown, blooming with feminine passion.
Instead of waiting for a response, he drew the quilt over her, shielding her from his hungry gaze. "I'll put the pillows back," he said, moving away from her. The blankets and pillows were in disarray, the bed resembling a lover's den. Instantly he began righting the bed, smoothing the blankets, stacking the pillows neatly between them.
She watched him, her gaze gliding over his body. "Are you sore?" she asked, looking beautifully dazed.
"A little." He avoided her eyes, the amber flames beckoning him. It was his need to be touched that pained him, not the bruises coloring his flesh. "All done," he said, dragging a sheet across his middle, over the swollen body part tenting his shorts.
"I'll get the light," she whispered, reaching for the lamp, darkening the room.
He nodded and closed his eyes as moonlight slipped into the room once again. God, how he wished he could hold her, bury his face in her hair and lull them both into a sweet, sensual slumber. At least then they could dream, he thought, of what could never be.
* * *
The next morning Windy found Sky on the patio, toying with the spoon in his cereal bowl. Steam rose from his coffee, twirling until it dissipated into the air. Dressed in threadbare jeans, black boots and a Stetson to match, he looked like a young rancher having breakfast in suburban California. The yard smelled of yesterday's mowed grass, Valencia oranges and an ancient avocado tree.
Seeing a man at the glass-topped table made her think of long summer weekends, barbecues, children and a happy marriage.
She stood silent for a moment, picturing herself in the setting. Her unruly hair was fastened with a blue ribbon that matched the flowers on her no-frills cotton dress. She w
ore minimal makeup: taupe eye shadow, one coat of dark-brown mascara, a hint of blush. The shine on her lips was honey-flavored gloss and the fragrance on her skin, vanilla perfume. She probably looked like what she was: a preschool teacher ready to begin her wonderful, harried day.
Sky had yet to notice her. He sat staring at his cereal as though the sugar-coated shapes could predict the future. The brim of his hat dipped low, shielding his eyes.
"Mind some company?" Windy asked, raising a container of lime yogurt. "I brought my own breakfast."
He lifted his head, taking in her appearance with a smile. "Sure. Have a seat."
She placed the yogurt, a paper napkin and a spoon on the tabletop, wondering what to say now. They had spent the night together, kissed each other passionately, but barely mumbled an audible hello when they rose from bed this morning. Virtually ignoring each other, Sky had searched for the snake while she showered and dressed. Of course, before she had even entered the bathroom, Sky had checked it thoroughly for Tequila's presence. Soon after that he'd found Tequila behind the sofa and banished the errant reptile to its cage, slipping a bolt into the lock to keep the snake inside.
Windy dipped into the yogurt and tried not to think about being in Sky's arms last night. Their kiss had made her feel the way she imagined a long, languorous night of lovemaking might feel—warm and secure. Sensual.
He glanced up from his soggy cereal and sent her heart askew. "Green yogurt?"
She swallowed a mouthful. "It tastes like key-lime pie."
"Really?" His eyes lit up.
"Do you want a bite?"
He cocked his head, checked the label, winced. "I don't know. Says it's fat free."
Windy laughed. "Everything good for you doesn't taste bad." How he maintained that lean, muscular physique was beyond her.
He scooted his chair closer. "Maybe just a little bite. But I'm warning you, if it's awful, I'm spitting it out."
She rolled her eyes at his childish comment, then dunked the spoon. Without thinking, she put it to his lips. When he opened his mouth, the intimacy of the moment seized her. The fire that had burned low in her belly last night returned—with a vengeance.
Their gazes met and held. His eyes, even the swollen one, sparkled in the morning light. "More, Pretty Windy. I like it."
Windy drew the spoon back. What he liked, she thought, was being fed, pampered by a woman. She prayed her hands wouldn't reveal her sudden anxiety by trembling. "There's another one in the fridge. I'll get—"
"No." He gripped her shoulder to keep her in place. "I only want a few bites. We can share."
They had already shared too much. A steam-filled bathroom, a romantic kiss, warm embraces. A bed. "Here." She handed him the spoon-ladled container. "Eat as much as you want. I'm not all that hungry."
He ate one small helping, then another. Windy sat like a voyeur and watched him open his mouth, place the spoon inside and swallow. As his neck muscles moved, she envisioned the yogurt sliding down his throat.
This was no way to deal with their attraction. And neither was sleeping in the same bed with him. No matter what, she should never do that again.
"Are you sure you don't mind if I finish this?" he asked. "Hate to steal your breakfast."
"Go ahead." She checked her ponytail, grateful for something to do. A small breeze had kicked up, loosening several strands. "I usually snack with my kids. This morning we're having peanut butter crackers and bananas. It won't hurt me to skip breakfast."
His easy expression faltered. "They're not your kids, Windy, they're your students. Big difference."
"I didn't mean it literally. And for eight hours out of the day they are mine." Struggling to control her temper, she squared her shoulders. How dare he discredit the affection she felt for her students. "Why are children such a sore subject with you?"
His gaze shot up, as defensive as his tone. "I got nothing against kids. Fact is, Melissa is anxious to come over."
Curious, she leaned forward. "Really? Who's that?"
"Charlie's daughter." Clearly agitated, he shooed away a fly that buzzed near. "And for your information, she happens to like me."
"I'm sorry, I never meant to imply…" She studied his scowl, thinking how hard it made him look. There were times his face held none of its boyish appeal. "I'm looking forward to meeting Charlie's family."
"Yeah, they wanna meet you, too." He sipped his coffee then gazed into the cup. "You're the first woman I've ever lived with. They act like it's some big damn deal. I told 'em we're just roommates."
"Yes, we're just roommates," Windy agreed, wondering why that admission suddenly hurt.
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Nearly a week later Windy sat at the kitchen table, watching Sky devour Edith's apple pie while the three discussed his plan to locate a young woman named Lucy. Lucy, Windy learned, was the abused wife of one of the men with whom Sky had picked a fight.
"At first I thought it would be simple. You know, just head up to that little town and ask around," Sky said. "Check out the local supermarket, places like that. But then, I realized that would never do." He finished the dessert on his plate and reached for a frothy glass of milk. "If Lucy's husband got wind that another man was asking about her…" He let his statement hang in the cinnamon-spiced air, inviting shivers from his companions.
Women, Windy thought, always cringed at the mention of spousal abuse. Even Edith, who volunteered at a Christian shelter that housed victim after victim, had reacted strongly to his words. Clearly, abuse wasn't something a person got used to seeing.
Without commenting, Edith served Sky another slice of pie, her bifocals perched on the end of her nose. As usual, the elderly woman didn't have a hair or a thread out of place. Her navy skirt and white blouse looked freshly laundered and pressed to perfection. Windy assumed plying Sky with sweets made Edith feel better about what was sounding like a hopeless plan.
Windy had to admit Sky's gallant determination to rescue Lucy pleased and surprised her. It wouldn't be easy, though. Even if he found Lucy, the young woman might look upon his interest in her well-being as interference. She breathed a soft sigh. Windy knew firsthand how it felt to have someone reject the help you offered. Sky did it to her whenever she broached the subject of his troublesome memories.
"I shouldn't have provoked that fight," he said, "but all I could think about was how tiny and scared Lucy looked. Hank kept shoving her around, and then he refused to give her his car keys. And believe me, he was too drunk to drive."
"And the other man was Hank's brother?" Windy asked.
"Yeah. Both of 'em were big, ugly sons of a bi—"
"Skyler," Edith reprimanded. "Please watch your language. You're in the presence of ladies."
His gaze dropped, his chastised expression reminding Windy of an old-fashioned schoolboy who'd just had his knuckles rapped. "Sorry, ma'am. You, too, Windy."
She bit back a smile and picked up the conversation where it left off. "Sky, have you considered going back to that bar and offering to buy Hank a drink? Maybe apologize for the trouble you caused?"
"Wouldn't work. He'd throw a punch and ask questions later."
"Maybe not if you were standing there with a woman by your side. I have the feeling someone like Hank would enjoy watching you cower in front of a woman." Flashing her best smile, Windy fluffed her hair. "And I know just the woman. A future psychologist, no less."
His baby blues narrowed. "No way. You're not getting involved in this."
She protested. "Think about it. If Lucy's there, I could talk to her while you're humbling yourself to Hank."
Windy wanted the opportunity to put her healing skills to good use, and she needed a way to win Sky's trust, as well, to prove her competency. At times she thought he viewed her as nothing more than a little blond nuisance.
"No way," he said again, more firmly this time.
Edith came quickly to Windy's aid. "It's a good idea, Sky, and pr
obably the only way for you to locate these people without calling attention to yourself. You said Hank was a regular at this bar." The older woman placed her hands on the table. "Even if Lucy isn't there, it would give you the opportunity to establish yourself in Hank's environment, and you'd be less threatening if you had a woman with you."
A scowl slashed across Sky's face, tightening his mouth and hooding his eyes. "I don't like it, but I catch your drift. Sooner or later we'd come across Lucy, and if I kept supplying Hank with beer, he'd get over his beef with me. Maybe even consider me one of his drinking buddies." He glanced at Windy. "And it's possible Lucy might need a woman to talk to."
"That's right." Edith found his hand and squeezed it. "But remember, this might not work out the way you want it to. Lucy may have a million excuses as to why she can't leave her husband."
"Yeah, but she's scared of him. I saw it in her eyes."
"Fear is often the reason women stay. If they leave they know the abuser will come after them. Being stalked is a frightening possibility."
"I understand." He turned to Windy, his expression grim. "Whadda ya say, pretty lady, wanna go barhopping tonight?"
Because a wave of excitement flooded her chest, she made an effort to appear calm. She had never been on a cloak-and-dagger mission before. "Why, cowboy, I thought you'd never ask."
* * *
Hank hadn't shown up at the first bar, so Sky and Windy headed to another one in the area, hoping to catch him there. Sky thought Windy had been a good sport at the last dive, trying her damnedest to fit in. She had sat at a corner table with him for two long hours, sipping ginger ale and avoiding direct eye contact with the bar's surly inhabitants.
"This place isn't as bad," she said, as they entered the Country Moose Bar and Grill.
Immediately, Sky scanned the room looking for Hank and Jimmy's ugly mugs, but didn't see either. "Yeah, it's all right," he said, thinking he'd been in a thousand joints just like this one.
A pool table sat in the left-hand corner, a jukebox in the right. The building was fairly large with scarred wood tables and cement floors sprinkled with sawdust. Experienced waitresses in skin-tight denim and Country Moose T-shirts served foaming beers and plates of greasy food. One tall redhead had tried to catch his eye on her way to the kitchen. Brassy and flirtatious, she used her abundant curves to her best advantage, thriving on the masculine attention she received. Sky knew the type well. He'd rolled in the proverbial hay with enough of them. Cocktail waitresses seemed to like him, but this one wouldn't be like the brunette in that trendy Burbank bar. This one wouldn't think twice about moving in on someone else's man.
SKYLER HAWK: LONE BRAVE Page 7