“You’re not safe from me up there!” she yelled.
“Good! Come and get me, gal!”
“All right!”
She ran to the ladder and climbed hurriedly while he splashed over to the far side of the cistern, whooping with great feigned fear. When she reached the top and swung herself over the side, he yelled, “We’ve been boarded by lady Klingons, Captain! Run for your life, Spock! I’ll rassle the little thing to a standstill and take her to the brig!”
“What’s a Klingon?” she asked breathlessly, just as he dove underwater and grabbed her ankles. Thena gasped as he pulled her under with him. They wrestled playfully for a minute and popped above the surface together, laughing. She was in his arms.
“What’s a Klingon?” he echoed in amazement, gazing down at her. Then his eyes turned comically shifty. “It’s a love-starved critter that can’t keep its paws off cowboys.” Then he kissed her full on the mouth and let her go. He went back to his side of the cistern.
“Oh … oh! Sorry I asked!” Perturbed and tingling, she splashed over to her side and clung to it, desperately. Thena turned her back to him and rested her head on her arms, frowning. “I’m not a Klingon,” she told him in a firm tone.
“Well, let’s just test you out and see if you’re tellin’ the truth.”
She heard soft sloshing sounds, and the water in the cistern undulated as if he were moving about. Thena refused to look at him, determined not to encourage his antics. Seconds later, something soggy smacked the cistern wall near her. She jumped and looked quickly to her right. Her father’s shirt and pants—Jed’s shirt and pants—hung over the old wood siding.
“Turn around, lady Klingon,” Jed ordered in a low, gruff voice. “Or are you chicken?”
Thena took a deep breath and pivoted about, then plastered her back to the cistern wall. Jed waited on the other side, his magnificent torso bare, the water lapping sensuously at a level that teased her by revealing his navel, then hiding it, then showing it again, then hiding it.…
Thena quickly pulled her gaze upward. He smiled coyly, but his eyes glinted with something serious and provocative. “Watch now, Klingon,” he drawled in a throaty voice. “See if you can resist.”
He began to cup water over his naked chest, spreading his hands wide and making long, slow strokes from his collarbone all the way to that disturbing navel. Up, down, up, down, slower and slower. She was hypnotized. His thick brown chest hair followed the patterns he caressed on his pectoral muscles, and she was close enough to see the goose bumps on his nipples. He presented a glistening picture of male temptation. His arms and shoulders were corded with muscle, and his waist tapered cleanly into the water. She could imagine exactly what the submerged parts of him looked like.
“Come on over here, Klingon.” His voice was just a whisper. “You come over here and do this for me. And then I’ll do it for you. I know how you Klingons love to have your chests stroked.”
Thena fought for a semblance of calm. Her skin felt so hot that she wondered why the water didn’t steam around her. There wasn’t enough water in the world to fight the sweet fire low in her body.
“I’ve still got my drawers on,” Jed purred. “I’m decent.”
“Jedidiah, you’re not very subtle at seduction.”
“Maybe you want to be seduced and I don’t have to be subtle.” He smiled as if he were teasing, but his intense, compelling eyes were ordering her to strip naked so that his hands could roam over her body.
She lifted her chin primly. “I don’t approve of this game. I’m going back in the house.” She turned and climbed over the side of the cistern, then went down the ladder without giving him a second glance. She marched across the yard.
“Reckon I’ll come with you,” he called cheerfully. Thena swung around and watched as he hoisted himself out of the cistern and began climbing down. She took several steps backward, her eyes wide. He might as well have been naked. The cotton briefs clung to outlines that none of her biology books could do justice to, not even in a hundred color plates, she thought blankly.
He arched one brow at her, ran a thumb under his waistband, snapped it loudly against the taut, wet skin of his abdomen, and strolled—no, preened—toward her. She could think of only one way to diffuse the mixture of temptation and amusement in his eyes.
“And here’s Monsieur Jedidiah on the runway,” Thena deadpanned in a loud, dramatic voice, “showing us the newest in Paris fashions for the successful cowboy, or, as we say in the fashion business, ‘el gay caballero.’ Notice the simple but elegant cut of the design, the racing stripes, the wide elastic trim guaranteed to leave no panty line even under the tightest chaps.”
“Aw, you’re mean,” he said drolly as he passed her. “And I was gonna let you rub some of that cold goo on my poor ol’ sunburned belly.” He tsked-tsked regretfully. “But you hurt my feelin’s, so I’ll just cut you short on thrills today.”
“However will I manage?”
“Don’t know.” He continued to the porch, his hips flexing under the translucent cotton briefs, his back straight, his devastating show very effective indeed. “How did you get to the ripe age of twenty-five without ever seein’ a nearly nekkid man?”
“Ah, so you’re an amateur mind reader. What makes you mistakenly believe the sight of so much hairy and sunburned masculine skin is new to me?”
He walked up the porch steps, turned around, grinned lazily, and winked. “That baby black snake you ain’t even noticed crawlin’ across your right foot.”
Thena jumped wildly when she realized that something was definitely tickling her toes. The harmless little snake dropped off her foot and wiggled faster, trying to get out of the way of such a leaping monster. Thena bent down and scooped him into one hand, then stood and glared at Jed. But deep down, she felt the beginnings of delighted laughter.
“You’ll have a clammy, cold bed partner tonight,” she promised fiendishly.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll take the snake instead.”
Laughing heartily, he turned and went through the screen door, slapping it shut behind him with a boisterous motion of one hand. Thena looked after him in bittersweet silence. She wished openly and desperately that she were the kind of woman who could make a man like Jed happy. She’d never wanted to reach out to someone so much in her life. The results, if she did, would almost certainly be embarrassing.
Thena bent her head over the slender black snake cupped in her hand. “He was joking, but you’d be sexier than me, little friend,” she whispered sadly.
Jed cheerfully helped her explore the beaches for unusual shells. He learned to throw a fishnet, and in return, he taught her how to palm coins and play poker. Regardless of his coy remarks and blatant sensuality, he never touched her or tried to kiss her again. He didn’t have to. Just being near him, just looking at him or listening to his deep, rumbling voice tell rodeo stories was enough to keep her flushed and a little short of breath.
One night he listened restlessly as she read Call of the Wild. When the clock signaled that three A.M. had arrived, and Thena’s voice began to get hoarse, she held the book out to him. He lay on a braided rug near her bare feet, his muscular chest too bare, the outline of his legs and hips too provocative in her father’s old white beach pants. She noticed that he was drumming his fingers on the rug, the gesture impatient.
“Here, Jedidiah, you read Call of the Wild out loud for a while.”
He shoved his cocoa-brown hair back and muttered, “Tell me about your professor. What did you read to him?”
“Oh, Shakespeare, philosophy, esoteric French novels. Why?”
“Just wonderin’.” He was silent for a moment, looking disgruntled for reasons she didn’t understand.
“You’ve acted odd ever since I opened this book. Are you bored?” she asked.
“Nope.” He stretched out on his back, put his hands under his head, and stared fixedly at the ceiling. Thena admired the rise and fall of his deep chest
, until she saw that its movement was a little constricted. He was definitely tense about something. “Read some more. I like doggie books,” he said drolly. “See Spot run.”
Thena’s mouth popped open. “Do you think I’m making fun of you?” she asked in amazement. “If I wanted to make fun of you, I’d read Grimm’s Fairy Tales for Six- to Eight-Year-Olds. And explain the complicated parts.”
“Guess your professor spouted about a dozen different languages.”
“Well, yes, so what?”
“I speak some Spanish. Picked it up rodeoing in the Southwest.”
“That’s nice. Bueno.”
“I’m gonna get my high school degree some day. I’m not illiterate or anything.”
“Bueno.” He cut his eyes at her, and she smiled quizzically. “What’s this all about, Jedidiah?”
“I know plenty about animals—I could almost be a veterinarian. And I know about building houses. I could build one from the ground up, put in the wiring and the plumbing, do everything. And there’s not a truck on the road that I couldn’t fix, if it broke down. Most cars, too.” He turned on his side and braced himself on one elbow, studying her intensely. “I read a lot of magazines—good stuff, like Newsweek and Life. None of those grocery store gossip sheets about aliens and Vanna White.”
“Who’s Vanna White?”
He thumped the floor with one fist, startling her and making the dogs growl from their spots on the porch. “Never mind about Vanna White. Dammit, you know what I’m gettin’ at. I’m as smart as any man you’ve ever known, and I expect you to treat me that way.”
Thena’s mouth opened in shock as she realized that all his strange verbal meandering was meant to hide the fact that he was jealous of Nate. This tough man, who had punched his way out of innumerable brawls, made a living against tough odds, cared for an irresponsible father, and had still managed to turn out gallant, kind, and sensitive, thought she was a snob.
“Jedidiah Powers,” she declared hotly, “I happen to think you’re very intelligent. I happen to admire your determination and common sense. I happen to think that you’re fine just the way you are.”
His anger faded. He looked up at her with one eye squinted in a way that told her that he might smile eventually. “But could you love a man who never graduated from high school?”
Oh, no, she wasn’t going to be drawn into that area of discussion. Thena clasped her hands to her head in a grand show of disbelief. “How did you develop this fixation on formal education?”
“From college gals who only wanted to date me behind their daddies’ backs,” he retorted. “I was good enough for a few kicks, but I wasn’t good enough to take home to the folks. I made good grades in high school, but I had to drop out and go to work because of money problems. But that didn’t matter to those gals.”
“Mainland women are crazy, Jedidiah.” She wasn’t joking. Her face was so solemn that he looked at her askance and unexpected humor began to tickle his ribs. “They don’t know what’s important. I don’t care if you graduated from high school or not.”
“Well, what do you think’s important, Miss Witch?”
Thena sighed and rubbed her head wearily. “I think it’s important that I get a cup of hot tea and start reading this book again, so you’ll be quiet.” She looked at him sternly. “Decency, compassion, and courage are important. Having an open mind is important. Being capable of deep, unselfish love is important.”
He propped his head on one hand, and his eyes seemed to burn her skin. “I know I got that last part down,” he murmured. “I know how to love that way.” He paused. “Do you?”
Flustered, Thena opened her book again. “I hope so,” she answered finally. She cleared her throat. “New chapter. Now, as you recall—”
“Calm down. Whoa.” He got up slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. She knew he was searching her expression for answers, for promises, for hope. Thena tried to look impassive. “I’ll get to you, gal,” he said softly. She gazed at him wide-eyed. “I’ll win you.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She couldn’t honestly say she didn’t want him to try, but she couldn’t encourage him either. He just didn’t understand that she was an intellectual creature with no talent for romance. Jed stepped forward, chucked her under the chin, and winked. “I’ll make you some tea,” he said. “You look like you could use it.”
The next day he sat on the beach beside her and watched her paint. With the blunt sincerity of a man who didn’t know art but knew what he liked, he dubbed her seascape, “Good, because it’s real lookin’.” His down-home charm and innate honesty were powerful attractions, and Thena began to worry that her constant smile might alert him to the giddy devotion that had begun to wreak havoc with her.
The lovely mood between them obscured the fact that he was still on the island against his will. He lay stretched out on the porch one afternoon, fiddling with a rope he’d gotten from the barn. Thena worked at the base of the porch, planting a row of mint in a small area she intended for an herb garden.
“I suppose I should let you go back to the mainland, if you want to,” she ventured. “You’ve been living with me for five days.” She kept her head down and dug diligently with a small spade. “And I don’t think you’ve changed your mind about Sancia at all.”
He was on the verge of changing, but he wasn’t going to admit it yet. The place was getting to him. Its resident witch was getting to him. He kept thinking about marriage and babies, babies with silver eyes and dark brunet hair. “Reckon you want me to go,” he mumbled.
“I know you must have business to take care of.…”
“Bought some mares, but they’re bein’ boarded because I don’t have a ranch yet. Got no home, just a hotel room in Cheyenne. Got an expensive attorney with three names and a number—Chester Porter Thompson, the fourth—who looks after my interests. Nope. I got no business to take care of right away. Hey, I’m rich, remember. That means I can do whatever I want.”
“Then I don’t want you to go,” she said frankly.
“Then I don’t want to go,” he answered just as frankly.
“Good.”
“Fine.”
They were both silent, and both continued concentrating on their respective activities. She glanced. He glanced. They both began to chuckle. “Get up,” he ordered, and sat up himself. “I’m gonna teach you to throw a lasso.”
Thena stood, gazing uncertainly at the rope he held between his skilled, brawny hands. He slid a neat, loose loop up and down it. She nodded down at her cutoff jeans and her voluminous, faded Hawaiian shirt.
“Do I look like a cowgirl?”
Jed wore a similar outfit—more clothes of her father’s—and the fact that he and she matched had been a source of teasing this morning at breakfast. He’d accused her of wanting them to look like a pair of Miami tourists. He grinned.
“It ain’t how you look, it’s a state of mind. You got cowgirl written all over you.”
“I can only assume that’s a compliment.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he promised happily. He padded down the steps and motioned for her to follow him across the yard. “Tell that hunk of dog to go pose for practice,” he instructed, nodding toward Rasputin, who lay beside Godiva on the porch.
“Rasputin, go.” She pointed, and Rasputin, tongue lolling and eyes slitty as he scrutinized Jed and the rope, made his lazy way to a spot in the sandy yard. He flopped down. “Stay.” She turned to Jed. “This isn’t the kind of doggie that cowboys are supposed to rope.”
“Woman, you’re too much of a perfectionist.” He stepped away, the noose growing larger in his nimble fingers. “This is called buildin’ a loop.” He swung it overhead and twirled it a few times, his easy grace an impressive sight. The loop sailed out and landed around Rasputin’s thick neck. Jed pulled it snug without hurting the startled dog. “This,” he said dryly, “is called revenge for all the times that critter growled at me.” His voice rose dramatically. “
Get the brandin’ iron!”
“Oh, poor baby,” Thena crooned, running to Rasputin and lifting the noose off him. The huge dog gave her a soulful, wounded look. “You be still. We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Get the fire hotter!” Jed called to some invisible accomplice. “Make that iron sizzle!”
“Ssssh.” She stalked back to him, shaking her finger and smiling crookedly. “Let me try.”
He sidled around behind her, and she felt every inch of her skin pull tight as his hands slid down her wrists. So this was his tactic, she thought anxiously. The old touch-and-snuggle method of lasso instruction.
“Now hold it easy,” he drawled softly, as he guided her fingers into position on the rope. His breath was warm and fragrant against her neck. Warm and fragrant and a tad faster than normal. “Don’t hold too tight, or it might not do what you want.” Is he talking about the rope? She suspected not. “Don’t hold too loose, or it’ll get away from you and cause trouble. That’s it … curl those fingers around it. Shake it a little, to get it ready.”
“Now,” she said sharply, “I swing it over my head and throw it away.”
“Ooooh, ouch, no, don’t even talk like that. This is an art.”
“This is a sham.”
“Nope, it’s a lariat.” He ran his fingers up her bare arms as he stepped back. “Go ahead. Swing it.”
She was so perturbed by his teasing and the tickling warmth that had invaded her body that she swung too close to her head and let the loop get too big. Thena gasped as an immovable object stopped her twirling in mid-twirl. The loop had caught Jed, who stood about a foot behind her, around the neck.
“Mercy, ma’am!” he chortled. “I’ll come along peaceably. Just be gentle when you break me.” He stepped close to her and molded both hands to her waist, the pressure snug and squeezing. “Break me, Thena,” he whispered in her ear. “Take me apart and put me back together again. You’ve got the power to do it.”