A Rare Breed (10 page)

"No clocks, therefore no time. Only the sun."

"And the moon," he added. "The natives moved by the earth's natural rhythms. Sometimes that's best. Your body adapts to it quickly and easily." He took the sheet of leather and began cutting it to the shape of her ruined shoes.

"What are you doing?" She peered curiously at his handiwork.

"This will be the flat part that fits your sole. Then I’ll add a curved piece to cover your foot. Last will be a tube for your ankle."

"How neat," she marveled as she watched his careful hands measuring and piecing. "Seems so simple."

"Except for this part." He began stitching the sections together with a thin cord. "The Indians usually bead these pieces for decoration before they start. And they use leather strips for sewing instead of cotton thread. But this is all I have, and I think they'll suffice as long as you're here."

"I really appreciate this, Jake. How many people get handmade moccasins?"

He shrugged. "How many crash-land in the Grand Canyon and live to tell? What are you reading?"

"My great-grandmother's book." She held it up so he could see the title. "This is the one they're making into a movie. I happened to have it in my purse to read on the trip, so I could be familiar with it when I got to the set. I'm supposed to be a consultant on the movie." She chuckled ruefully. "Funny thing happened on the way to L.A."

"You fell into a great hole in the ground." Jake took a stitch and pulled it through the leather.

"It's been an interesting experience," she admitted. "And, contrary to what you might believe, not altogether bad."

"Oh yeah? You like camping with no adequate clothes or equipment?"

"True. It would have been better if this had been a planned trip. But life doesn't always work that way."

"You're learning." He finished the shoe part of one moccasin and started on the ankle section. "Where did your great-grandmother's story take place?"

"Not so far from here, actually. Bonnie ran a trading post somewhere on a remote stretch somewhere between Arizona and New Mexico."

"Is it a good story?"

"Very. It's mostly a love story." Brit thumbed through a section she'd just read. "What's strange is that she writes about their monsoon rains and her descriptions are quite similar to the storm we had yesterday. Violent and cold. She even mentions the fresh way everything smelled afterwards."

"What does she say? Read it to me."

"You sure you want to hear it?"

"Yeah, I like history. I explore it every day."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Brit scanned several pages until she found the one she wanted to read aloud.

"
Knife Wing warned me about the dangerous monsoons
."

Brit paused to explain. "Knife Wing was a Zuni leader and friend who saved her life that first winter by bringing food. I don't think they're lovers yet at this point."

"They become lovers?"

Brit nodded.

Jake motioned for her to go on.

Brit cleared her throat and read.

"
But I thought I would have enough warning before a bad storm, so I took Sara, who was almost two, in the wagon to a small canyon to gather sunflower seeds. Before I knew it, the sky turned black and a cold, vicious wind blew away the summer's hea
t."

She looked up at Jake and smiled. "Sound familiar?"

"Exactly." He let the moccasin rest in his lap while he listened. "It's been that way for centuries. The weather patterns, the sight of rain or lightning in the distance, the rainbows arching from horizon to horizon, all are part of what gives us our connection with the people who lived here in the past."

"In a way, knowing gives me a connection with Bonnie, too. Now I know exactly what she's talking about. And I'm glad so that I can understand her better." Brit turned back to the book.

"
I tried to reach the wagon, but it was too late. Ice pellets beat down on us, and I couldn't see the road. Out of the cold mist Knife Wing appeared and hid us in a small cave where we were protected from the storm. Rocks crashed around us as if they were a scourge sent from the heavens."

Brit paused to smile at Jake, then went on. "
And when it was over, our world was washed clean. Even the bushes gave up their sweetest fragrances in thanksgiving for the much-needed water, and the creek swelled with happiness
."

Jake returned to his crude sewing. "That's great, Brit, a real part of history. What I wouldn't give for an account like this from the natives I'm studying who lived in this area."

"There's nothing?" Brit let the book rest in her lap.

"Nothing written. Only petroglyphs."

"Petroglyphs? What are they?"

"Etchings in stone that depict animals they encountered or killed and certain elements of their lifestyles, like tribal or religious figures, enemies, or symbols."

"I'd love to see them."

"You can. When we go to the ruins tomorrow." Jake snipped the last thread and held the finished product up for her inspection. "One down."

"Hey, that's remarkable. It actually looks like a moccasin." Brit sat up and scooted closer. "Let me try it on."

"Let me help." Jake reached for one foot and slipped the soft leather sheath over her toes. Cupping her heel gently with his hand, he worked the body of the boot snugly onto her foot. "There, how's that?" As the moccasin slid over her ankle, his hand naturally moved to her smooth calf.

"Feels wonderful." She admired the handcrafted boot. "And it fits. I'm impressed."

"So am I." When she raised her leg to inspect it closer, his hand slid further upward. He tried to concentrate on her foot, but his imagination surged to other parts of her anatomy as his fingers touched her knee.

"Are they your first?" She didn't move her leg away from his touch.

His throat constricted and normal conversation was difficult. "I made myself a pair, but these are the first for someone else."

"They're wonderful, Jake," she said softly. "I like them much b
etter than those expensive Ital
ian sandals. Thank you." Spontaneously, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

Her warm lips brushed his skin, kindling the embers of a smoldering, well-tended passion. Jake had prided himself in never letting go, never giving in to the desires that once drove him over the brink and into a mistaken relationship and marriage. But today, in the remoteness of this cave, in the sun, touching Brit's smooth feminine skin made him want to gather her to him, to hurl himself into her life without a backward glance.

Jake knew, though, that Brit was different. She was sensitive and smart and beautiful beyond question; she respected him, responded to him; she was here, warmed by the sun and willing. He turned his face so that their lips paired, and he pulled her roughly against him. He couldn't lose her, not yet, not until he'd tasted those sweet lips, touched her smooth skin, and quenched his masculine thirst with her eager and willing femininity.

Brit had waited for those lips, had dreamed of them caressing hers, yet nothing had prepared her for the jolt of desire that permeated her body, radiating to every limb and culminating in the center of her being. She curved against him, feeling the muscled ridges of his chest on hers, the firm strength of his leg bracing her side. His hand slid up her bare thigh, and she thought she would explode before he even touched her intimately. His lips traveled a sensuous path around her face, her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, back to her lips, murmuring her name with every soft pause. She leaned back against his arm and lifted her chin to give him better access to the pulsing stretch of her neck. His lips created a sweet, leisurely path, assuring her of his loving skills and silently promising more fulfillment than she had ever known.

Brit dropped the book and forgot everything except for Jake's lean, hard body capturing hers and the intensity with which she was responding to his sensuous promises. She wanted more, wanted him to touch her, wanted to know his body and if they could possibly get closer.

"Jake . . ." she murmured, arching her back and urging her aching breasts to him.

"Oh God, Brit ..." He pressed himself to her and kissed her lips again, this time probing them with the tip of his tongue and sending shock waves through her.

She opened her mouth, allowing the easy, rhythmic thrusting of his tongue, savoring the sweetness and losing herself in a remarkable overflow of passion. She was out of the crude cave, out of the Grand Canyon world, existing only with Jake, her body moving with his, her emotions surging with his. Every thrust sent shock waves through her and excited her senses to the highest point. She wanted him, badly.

They moved and shifted together, wrapping themselves in each other, kisses fiery, breathing heavy and hot. Closer. He buried his kisses against her neck, and she pressed the small of his back, relishing the masculine swell that teased her through their clothes.

His jeans were tight and uncomfortable. Only one thing would relieve that pressure; only one act would fulfill them both.

He slipped his hand between them, touching her feminine softness. "Brit, I need you."

"Oh Jake . . . yes . . ."

"Are you . . . protected?"

"Yes, are you -" She was referring to the pill.

She felt, rather than heard, his sigh. He was quiet a moment. Then, "Hell, no! I hadn't planned on this—"

"I have something for you," she admitted shyly. "In my purse—" It was a precaution she had always taken, even with Michael.

He cradled her head, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. "You are amazing."

She smiled, feeling flushed and warm, anticipating the culmination of the most intense sensuality she'd ever experienced. Ever. She could hardly wait. "Touch me, Jake." She closed her eyes.

In the moment of silence, of heavy emotion, of the highest anticipation, a sound echoed against the cave's sandstone walls. A frantic sound. A yell. The panicked yell of fear. A man's voice shouting, "Help! Help!"

Jake raised himself up and listened. All of his other senses were focused on the woman in his arms. But he heard something out of the ordinary. Something unusual. Something that rang deeply in his subconscious.

"Jake! Help us! Somebody! Quick! Oh God, help-"

With one quick breath, Jake turned away from Brit and bounded to his feet. "That's Rudi! Something's wrong!"

Brit lay there for a second, cooled by Jake's sudden departure, unsure of what was happening. Except that Jake was gone; another magic moment was destroyed. She wanted to scream, "Jake, come back!" but something logical clicked into her passion-muddled brain and she realized that there was real trouble. And Rudi needed help of some kind. Jake was alert enough to realize it and was on his way down the rocks to the camp.

In half a minute, Brit was scrambling, down the rocks and toward the distraught sounds.

Jake felt a rush of adrenaline that was precipitated by his arousal, then fueled by Rudi's frantic calling. When he reached the camp, Rudi was standing on the perimeter, waving with his whole arms for Jake to join him down by the pool.

"What is it?" Jake demanded, even as he ran toward Rudi.

"It's Yolanda!” Rudi’s arms were whirling and his breath came in excited spurts. “She's washed away - in the high water!"

Jake paused only long enough in camp to grab the looped rope he carried on the digs. If things were as bad as he suspected, or imagined, this would be their best and only tool. And even then. . .

Chapter Five

Brit was horrified at how quickly the river had turned rampant. The current was much worse now than it was earlier. It was hard to recognize this as the same calm, safe spot she had bathed in yesterday before the storm.

Water, the giver of life, had changed into a violent villain. What once was a lazy stream, am-bling through canyons, had become a spirited racehorse, thundering ahead. What once was a wading pool had turned into a runaway wagon, crashing its way over the cliff, taking its passengers along for the wild ride.

At first, Brit couldn't see Yolanda in the expanse of choppy white-capped waves. She feared Rudi was right, that the wild river had swallowed Yolanda and washed her away!

But Jake pointed out the dark-haired woman clinging to a rock, just before the rushing water turned into raging rapids and proceeded downstream at breakneck speed. Apparently Yolanda had grabbed onto a half-submerged rock at the last minute and now, she desperately clung to it.

"There! There she is!" Jake yelled and started to run around the bank to get closer to her.

"All right! I see her!" Rudi yelled, following Jake and waving frantically. "Yeah, babe, hang on! We're coming to get you outta there!"

Brit chased the men to the shore closest to where Yolanda was stranded. They stood on the side, all of them calling frantically to her. "Hang on! Don't let go! You can do it!"

Jake fiddled with the rope for a minute and, aiming carefully, threw it toward her. The looped end fell short. He tried again and again, but each attempt missed her. "Damn! I . . . can't do it!"