Cathleen Galitz – Warrior In Her Bed (страница 3)

“You didn’t,” Annie responded, keeping her eyes trained upon his.

It was only partly a lie. As big as this man was, Annie wasn’t in the least afraid of him in any physical sense—other than the way he made her skin itch and her stomach clench in feminine awareness. After being numb for so long, what really scared her was that he made her feel anything at all.

“Would you mind telling me what I’ve done to upset you?” she asked him, ready to put an end to all of his play-acting and get to the bottom of his grievance without further ado.

What she wasn’t ready for was the lyrical, lilting quality of his voice. The rhythm and cadence were specific to the man’s unique culture. To her ears, it sounded foreign. Exotic.

And erotic.

“Crimson’s mother thinks you’re to blame for putting wild ideas into her head about leaving the reservation to pursue an art degree in some fancy college in St. Louis.”

Troubled clouds passed over the clear skies of Annie’s eyes. “I didn’t advance any ideas that weren’t already there,” she told him frankly. “I’m sure you’re well aware that your niece has remarkable talent. I would assume you’d want to encourage it.”

Johnny rubbed his chin. The faint fragrance of tuberose and subtle musk from where Annie’s hair had touched his hand lingered upon his fingers and imprinted itself upon his subconscious. Like the woman herself, the scent was intriguing. Obviously strong enough to make her way in the world on her own, there was nonetheless an aura of vulnerability about Annie Wainwright to make a man want to challenge that sense of independence.

“When Crimson asked for my opinion, I simply told her that I thought she has what it takes to make it out in the ‘bigger world,’ if that’s what she really wants to do. I hardly see how that could be misconstrued as meddling.”

“Lady, in case you don’t know it, just being an outsider working on the reservation makes your motives suspect to a lot of people around here.”

The very idea confounded Annie. Her forehead wrinkled in consternation. “I’m just here to teach a class. A noncredit, community interest, elective class, at that,” she added defensively.

“Are you sure you aren’t really here to save the Indian nation?”

The sarcasm dripping from Johnny’s words voice underscored his disdain.

Caught completely by surprise, Annie replied honestly. “God, no!” I’m having a hard enough time saving myself, she almost blurted out.

What exactly was it was about her that gave others the impression she was a huge bleeding heart willing to single-handedly rescue the world and ready to accept the blame when it became apparent that she wasn’t up to the task? Annie rubbed her eyes, vainly trying to massage away the headache that was staking out a permanent residence inside her thick skull. Superwoman she was not.

“It appears that you don’t understand how desperately we need talented young men and women like my niece to remain on the reservation to provide leadership to our people,” Johnny told her, speaking slowly as if he were addressing someone who was mentally challenged. “What we don’t need is foreigners pushing the idea of assimilation at the expense of our native culture. As someone who spent years in the white man’s world, I’m back on the reservation of my own volition to tell you and anybody who’ll listen that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Annie threw up her hands in surrender. When she spoke again, it was with a detached professional tone clearly designed to bring this impromptu conference to an end. “I’ll be sure to take that under advisement.”

“See that you do,” Johnny snapped, angry with himself for putting that wounded look upon her face. If he didn’t get out of here within the next minute or two, he was afraid she would be blowing her nose on a piece of his world-weary heart.

“Before you leave, let me give you a little free advice,” Annie offered in a gentle tone she hoped belied the harshness of the message she was about to deliver. “If you think you can control any adolescent by controlling what I might happen to say, you are sadly mistaken. The dreams of the young belong solely to them, Mr. Lonebear. Personally I won’t be a party to killing anyone’s dreams—however large or small or ill conceived anybody else might consider them to be. While I have no desire to meddle in anyone’s business, especially yours, I would like to remind you that as an educator, my business is helping children attain their dreams. If you really care for your niece, as I suspect you do, you’ll respect her enough to let her make her own way in the world. After all, there is a distinct possibility that she might return home as you did with a whole lot more to offer than when she left.”

Johnny stared at this audacious woman for a long time before responding. To be put in his place in such a calm, forthright manner deeply disturbed him. As the one who plucked the name Dream Catchers from native folklore and personally attached it to this school, he resented the accusation that he was into squelching anyone’s hopes and aspirations. Especially considering the fact that he had dedicated his life to helping others turn those dreams into reality. It was as insulting as this woman’s belief that young people would have to leave the reservation in order to be truly successful.

When he spoke at last it was with stony self-control.

“I’d advise you to be more careful in the future, Ms. Wainwright,” he said, purposely ignoring her earlier invitation to call her by her first name, “of how you address your supervisors. I might not have been the person who hired you, but let me assure you, I most certainly have the power to fire you if I see fit.”

With that he turned his back on her, leaving the lady with yet another crucial bit of information to solder into the stained-glass mosaic that was destined to interlock his complicated life with hers.

Two

Having recently given up a much better paying position in St. Louis with the understanding that she could come back anytime she wanted, Annie was sorely tempted to gather up her things and do one Mr. John Lonebear a gigantic favor by quitting right then and there. It certainly wasn’t the money that kept her from walking. The pittance she was making as an adjunct faculty member at Dream Catchers High was hardly enough to buy groceries and pay the phone bill. Luckily, her friend Jewell, whose house she was sitting while she was away at summer school working on her master’s degree, insisted on taking care of the utilities. Although Jewell maintained that Annie was really doing her a good turn, she was the one who felt truly indebted.

No, the necessity of a steady income was not the reason Annie stubbornly refused to cut her losses on this particularly lovely day the first week in June and call it quits. A practical sort, she had almost a whole year’s salary in reserve while she figured out what it was she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Her decision to stick it out at Dream Catchers had more to do with wanting to finish the ambitious mural that she had designed, was in the process of constructing, and ultimately planned to dedicate to the school that John Lonebear so presumptuously claimed as his own. Unless there was no other option available to her, Annie Wainwright liked to finish what she started. There was also the matter of a pleading look in Crimson Dawn’s eyes when she had tentatively approached Annie seeking approval and advice. And last but not least, she suspected that there was a certain amount of spite involved in her decision not to let anyone goad her into making a decision that she wasn’t good and ready to make on her own.

No matter how self-important he thought he might be.

No matter how undeniably sexy he was.

Having professionally advised any number of clients that geographic changes did little to address the pain that one carried deep inside, Annie knew it was futile to try to outrun one’s problems. Still, as she bumped along the washboard road leading to her friend’s cozy log cabin, she couldn’t help but feel this was the perfect place for mending broken hearts and healing wounded spirits. Nestled at the base of the Wind River Mountains, Jewell’s isolated home boasted a view of the river that carried the same name as the mountain range that cast its shadow over the surrounding countryside. Though not nearly as famous as its sister, the Tetons, the Winds were just as magnificent in their own right. The fact that they were relatively undiscovered by tourists made them all the more attractive to someone looking for respite from big-city woes.

Watching the sun slowly slide into place like a diamond being positioned into its proper setting in a crown of sheer granite was enough to make Annie forget her troubles for a moment and melt into a landscape that, with the exception of the dust rising from behind her car, seemed virtually unchanged since the dawn of time. The fact that the sun rose and set predictably every day behind this mountain did not make the spectacle any less miraculous. Taking time to enjoy such pleasures was yet another reason Annie wanted to hang around a while longer—at least until the end of summer when monetary matters would dictate the choices that would likely have to be made out of necessity.