Speak to the Wind (11 page)

"Good night, Joe."

Joe hunched
, elbows on
the ba
r in the restaurant that was at
tached to the
ir little resort
. He drank Bohemia beer from the bottle and toyed with the idea of as
king Maria to dinner. But he de
cided against it. Too much, too soon. He had to think. And she needed time
to decide
.

Spontaneously, he ordered a bottle of wine sent to her room.

He tried to keep his emotions from ruling his head. What he wanted from Maria was all of her, selfishly to himself, her complete attention and affection.
And he knew that w
hat he wanted was the impossible.

She had her career and her
life, both of which were so dif
ferent from his. He wanted his new career challenge and her, too. Impossible.

If he'd had any reservations about her, he'd received his answer today. The bolt had hit the minute he saw her in the airport. And after spending just a little time with her and even kissing her briefly, he knew the flames kindled inside him were definitely greater than a spark.

And yet, even as he thought of Maria, his mind shifted to his campaign and the difficulties associated with his possible election. There were also tribal problems and what to do about the economic struggle o
f his people. Give in to the de
velopers' ready answers? Or... what?

Joe paid for his beer and walked out into the misty night. If he became involved in a relationship with Maria now, she would have to share him. As much as he'd like, he couldn't
be completely, totally hers. He was already committed to another goal.

And was that fair to her
?

When she emerged
from her refresh
ing bath, Maria was de
lighted to discover that Joe h
ad sent her a bottle of Califor
nia Chardonnay.
Curled up on the sofa where he ha
d sat, she sipped a small glass of wine and let her thoughts wander.

She noticed the yellow rose he'd presented to her in the airport and realized the
gesture had been somewhat roman
tic. Perhaps he even had seduction in mind. He had been honest enough to admit his
interest in her. And she had re
ciprocated.

Being with him this evening had been so easy, so natural. And she hadn't been able to resist kissing his cheek before he left. But
he wasn’t satisfied. W
hen his lips had touched hers, the feelings that had spun through her couldn't be denied. She hadn't felt this way with anyone since Wayne's d
eath, mostly, she suspected, be
cause she'd been successful in avoiding any intimacy with a man. Until now.

But Joe was different.

Though she was reluctant to admit it, Joe made her feel desire again... the rich, strong desire of a woman for a man. She wanted to hold him close, to feel his heartbeat and to feel him inside her. And she
wondered if she could spend an
other day—or evening—w
ith Joe and keep their relation
ship strictly business.

Chapter
F
ive

“I know
I'm too early."

"What makes you think so?" Maria blinked sleepily and drew the front panels of her yellow robe tighter across her breasts. "I'm usually at work by now. The leisure of Mexico must be getting to me already." She couldn't avoid staring at Joe, not fully prepared for her reaction to the sight of him this morning.

Dressed in a
blue
sweatshirt and black running shorts, Joe exuded a mild musk as he panted on her doorstep. His hair fell in dark disarray around a
black
headband. His tanned, muscular arms were magnificently displayed by his cutoff shirtsleeves, and his powerful legs glimmered with a thin moisture sheen. The aura of a healthy heat radiated from his body, bringing a warm flush to hers.

He swiped a drop of sweat from the tip of his nose with the back of his hand and reached up to brace himself on the side of the doorframe. The man emitted unbridled masculinity that almost took her breath away.

Joe's smile was more o
f an openmouthed admiration. Fi
nally he spoke. "You look like—"

"Don't say it. A canary, right?" Maria's laughter was still husky with sleep. "My sister-in-law gave me this outfit last Christmas. It's a bit much, don't you think?
The fact
is, it's comfortable and warm." She stuffed her hands deep into the pockets and wriggled her shoulders beneath the thick material. "And I just love the way it feels."

Joe watched her movements and rubbed his jaw with his thumb. "I don't think you look like a bird. You look terrific to me." He thought the bright yellow enhanced her blond hair, but a canary wasn't his comparison. His thoughts ran more to a glass of bubbling, intoxicating champagne. "I was going to say that you look like you just crawled out of bed. I woke you, didn't I? Sorry about that."

"It's okay. I should be up by now. This is the first time in ages I've slept this late." She squinted in the bright sunlight. "You probably want to get started early."

"I already did, running along the beach."

"You've been out already
?
I'm really late."

"No, you aren't. It's just a little past eight. This stretch of the beach is a great place to run. You don't have to get up at dawn to avoid the crowds. It's practically empty most of the time."

"How appropriate that yo
u're a jogger." Her lashes flut
tered as she took in all of him. "I read that ancient Apache runners used to run four miles with a mouthful of water to test their endurance."

Joe's mood changed immediately. His relaxed attitude and smiles were gone, and the brooding expression returned to his dark eyes. "Reading up on how to handle this Apache
?
"

Maria's heart sank, and instinctively she put
her fingers to her lips. Stupid!
She'd offe
nded him with her unthinking re
mark. It was presumptuous of her to relate Joe's jogging to his Apache ancestry, of which he was obviously sensitive. On the other hand, his reaction pointed out his hypersensitivity, something the media could manipulate or give unwarranted attention to
, so he’d better learn to handle it
.

She stuck to her guns. "No, Joe, I wasn't reading up on you. I think I read that fact in Arizona history when I was a kid,
and it stuck with me. I was
impressed with that kind of en
durance."

"I'm not an Apache runner. I'm just a man who jogs to keep in shape."

"Joe, I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't intend to. Please believe that. I didn't think before I spoke. Will you accept my apology?"

“It’s fine. Not to worry.”
He nodded, but his fac
e remained tight and expression
less.

She gazed up at him, trying to read his impassive facade, finding it impossible. Spontaneously Maria reached out and squeezed his hand. He responded with a little flinch, but he didn't move away from her touch.

Maria let her hand remain on his for a momen
t. "Aside from the Apache long
distance runners, I'm also impressed with anyone who jogs. I'm more of a walker. It's less jarring to my body than running
." She paused and he had no com
ment, so she cleared her throat and continued. "I suppose you stopped by this morning to see when we should get started working."

"Actually, I s
topped by to remind you that I’ll
help unpack all those bags. And to see if
you wanted to have breakfast to
gether. As soon as I grab a quick shower."

"Well,
maybe
breakfast
is a good idea.
" Maria moved her hand from his and pushed her disheveled hair back. Of course, he probably wanted a business breakfast.
H
er gaze traveled beyond his broad shoulders to the sunlit stretch of sand and water. Soft waves rippled against the shore, and the salt air smelled fresh and clean. Suddenly everything else w
as forgotten, and she moved out
side into th
e glorious sunlight
and onto the sand
. "The beach! 
It's right here!"

"I told you the Marisol is located between the mountains and the beach." He gestured behind them where the white
stuccoed villa with its red curved roof tiles was nestled against a rugged mountain range that followed the shoreline.

She whirled in a circle to take in the scenery,
smiling and hugging her arms. “
It's wonderful, Joe! Really beautiful!"

His mood softened as he watched Maria's response to the place he'd chosen specifically for her. "Didn't the election committee give you a brochure?"

She looked chagrined. "Honestly, I glanced at it but didn't pay much attention. I travel so much, I figured it was just another hotel."

"Just another job, huh?"

"I have a feeling that when I leave here, none of this will be just another anything, Joe."

“I’ll
do my part to help you remember."

"Oh, I’ll
remember."

He shifted and rested his hips on the low porch railing in a half-sitting position. Behind
him stretched an endless exten
sion of blue from th
e softly swelling Sea of Cortez
. This was a sight she'd long remember.

"Did you sleep well?
”
He leaned forward as if it were the most important question of the day. “How’s your room
?
"

Maria pretended not to notice his muscled body so boldly revealed in his jogging outfi
t. She was trying to think busi
ness whi
le he was looking like a copper
skinned Adonis. And she couldn't keep her mind off the man.

"I slept like a baby," she said with a grin. "
Thanks to the wine. Gracias.
The casita is great. It reminds me of my c
abin in the mountains, so peace
ful and quiet."

"You like it, then?"

"Love it
.
Now
I can hardly wait to walk on the beach!"

"
Then let’s go.
Get your
short
s
and shoes
, and we'll go
beach
walking."

She smiled happily up at
him. "You
, too
?"

"It'll be a good cool
down for me."

"Okay. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Mind if I come in and get a drink
?
I don't run with water in my mouth."

"Not at all.
Come on in.
" She ducked her
head at his reference to her re
mark about the Apache runners.

By the time she emerged dressed in white shorts and a blue pullover, he'd called room service for orange juice. They gulped the fresh
squeezed juice and were off to romp along the seashore. Sometimes running, sometimes walking, they laughingly soaked up the sun's energy. For over an hour they frolicked in the sand, enjoying the simple pleasures of searching for unusual shells and dodging the incoming ripples.

"This is the real reason people come to the seashore," Maria declared as she stooped to pick up a faded orange whelk.

“
To walk along the beaches? To smell the ocean
?
To get lost in time? To find their own perspective in the scheme of things?"

"You're certainly philosophical this morning. I'm talking about something much si
mpler. To find the perfect chan
neled whelk." She turned the shell over in her palm to reveal
the corroded underside. "Obviously not this one." She tossed it back into the sea. "But the search goes on for the perfect shell, one that time and the sea hasn't battered."

"Why the whelk?"

"Because it's so difficult to find a perfect one. The whelk isn't like a clam, all flat and plain. It has spikes on the outside and intricate spirals on the inside that make it unique. I'm sure they're harder for the sea creature to make than a simple clamshell. That's why, when you find a perfect one, it's very special."

Like you, Joe thought as he let her lead the conversation as well as their walk. Perfect and special in many ways. And unexpected, as he was discovering.

By the time they turned around and headed back, Joe had grabbed her hand and was racing with her in and out of the water. Breathless, laughing
, shoes wet and bare legs splat
tered with sand, they reached the casitas.