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Authors: Mary Tate Engels

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BOOK: Speak to the Wind
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He stretched one arm to
inspect the tear, exposing nut-
brown skin. "Doesn't matter. It's an old one."

"
I’ll
...
l
et me pay for a replacement."

"Wouldn't hear of it."


I
don't know what I would have done if this place had burned. I'm so glad you came to help."

"When I heard yours was one of those in danger, I was especially concerned."

“I love this place.”
She gave him a little grateful smile and filled mugs with steaming black coffee. "Cream or sugar?" She poured some cream into hers and waited for his response with hand poised.

"Neither. Thanks." He took his cup and followed her into the living room. "You have a lot wrapped up in this house, don't you, Maria?"

She nodded mutely, then murmured softly, "I didn't mean to let down like that and cry on your shoulder."

"Don't apologize. It was an emotional release. Perfectly natural."

"I—" She looked up at the mantel where she'd
put
the
tiny
basket he'd sent. "I
forgot to thank you for the bur
den basket. It's beautiful, but you didn't have to do that, Joe."


It's just a small token of a
ppreciation. I wanted you to re
member the Indian guy you met late one night at High Meadow."


I’ll
remember." She set her cup down on the coffee table and paced around the living room, occasionally swiping a line of soot from a piece of furniture. She paused by the huge fireplace, imagining it s
tanding alone amid smoking char
coal posts.

Joe's gaze followed hers. "Looks like it could last forever.
But a fire would destroy it all.
"

"My father built it of native rocks. My brother, Rob, and I helped him gather them
when we were just kids
. It took us the better part of one
whole summer. I
dropped a rock on my foot and broke a bone
." She paused and chuckled. "This is silly. You don't want to hear—"

"Yes, I do. You need to talk about it, Maria."

"But you don't need to listen."

Joe walked over to her and touched the back of her hand with his fingertips. "I want to."

She looked up and saw the sincerity in his dark eyes. And she was spurred to recall the happy memories. "That autumn Dad hired a stonemason from Show Low to help him build it. I remember when we lit our first fire that winter. We had a party and roasted hot dogs on sticks." She chuckled. "Then we made those gooey things with marshmallows and chocolate mashed between graham crackers."

"S'mores?"

"Yes, that's it."

Joe loved to see her laugh. "Sounds as though there's a world of memories here."

"Good ones." She walked around the room, touching things.

"You have some fine Indian art, too."

"My father's collections."

"When did he pass away, Maria?"

Maria looked up at Joe, surprised. "How did you know?"

"I asked someone about you."

She accepted his
curiosity about her with a little
smile. It was nice to know that their interest had been mutual. "What
do
you
want to know? A
sk me
.
"

"I
wanted to know i
f you were married.
You have that band on the right hand.
"

She looked down at the band, then back up, waiting for him to finish.

"
Y
ou never know. It wouldn't do for me to be interested in a married woman." Certainly not now, he thought. An Anglo woman might present enough problems. But a married one? No way.

"You're interested?"

He nodded. "I was curious about why you wore
that
gold band on your right hand."

"I
’m
a widow."
She shrugged. "
And I’m not ready to pack the ring
in a
box in back of a
drawer. It meant too much at one time."

"Sounds like it still does."

She didn't answer for a moment.

Time has eased
the intense
pain."

"But not the memories." He set his cup on the mantel, walked to the window and stared out. "Do you, uh, have a man in your life right now?"

She sat on the edge of a chair and sipped her coffee. "Look, Joe, I stay pretty busy traveling."

He mulled over her comment and gazed quietly out the window. So was she saying for him not to bother?

"What about you
?"

He looked up, startled that she would ask. "Uh, no. There's no one special."

"Well, now that we've established availability, I should warn you—"

"I know," he interrupted. "You aren't interested, right?"

“No, I’m not very available.
I have a business that takes most of my time.
It isn't you, Joe. I just don't have much time for a social life."

"Meaning you don't allow much time for it."

"Something like that." She traced a line along the wooden chair arm, then realized she was drawing in soot, not dust. "Oh
my God
! This place is filthy! Don't sit down. You
’ll
ruin your clothes." She hurried into the kitchen. Returning with a wet sponge, Maria began to wipe furiously at the chair.

He moved closer, bending down to her level. "You know, Maria, it would be easier
for us
if
you lived her
e."

Her gaze met his steadily. "I, uh, my business is in Phoenix. But I come up here several times a year." She smiled gently. "Look me up if you're ever in town when I am."

"I can tell you this. Meeting you has already complicated my life.
When I go back to California, I’ll
dream about the beautiful blonde I met in the White Mountains." The serious lines in his face had eased, and his ebony eyes twinkled.

She grinned. "And I’ll
be dreaming about the dashing Apache brave who saved my cabin from disaster."

"I'm afraid you'll have to include half the High Meadow tribe plus the forest service fire fighters, the Show Low Fire Department and a number of volunteers in your dream. I wouldn't be the lone hero here."


To me you are."

He struggled to keep from taking her in his arms. She could claim she wasn't interested in him all day, but he read the signs differently. And he knew how he felt right now. Fighting a tender desire for her, he rose and moved to the mantel.

Maria rubb
ed
the chair
vigorously
as if they hadn't come within a hair's breadth of kissing.

Then Joe spotted a small photo of Maria arm in arm with a handsome young man. Instantly his ardor cooled. "How long, uh..." He gestured toward the picture.

She glanced up, then continued to wipe the chair. "Wayne died five years ago." There was a time when she couldn't talk about her former husband without falling apart.

Joe shuffled his feet. "Yo
u probably find this hard to be
lieve after my admitting an attraction to you, but I'm sorry, Maria. You obviously loved the guy very much."

She nodded. "Fate doesn
't discriminate, does it? My fa
ther had a fatal heart attack the next year."

"And after that you threw yourself into your business."

"I discovered how working long hours can leave you so exhausted that it soothes
heartaches and obliterates memo
ries."

"Or masks them."

She shrugged and sat where she'd been wiping. "Maybe. But it enabled me to go on. For a while I thought I couldn't."

"You're a strong woman, Maria Eden." He took a seat in the chair opposite hers.

"Don't sit there. I haven't cleaned it yet."

"It doesn't matter. I'm a mess, anyway."

She touched her coffee cup, fumbled with it, then pushed it aside. "I asked someone about you, too, Joe."

"Oh?" He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his widespread knees. His hands almost touched her knees, and he wanted to reach out to her. But he didn't. "And what did you find out about me besides my folks' accident?"

"That you and your brother were sent to Indian school in Phoenix. In high school you excelled in sports, then went to ASU on an athletic scholarship and became a successful businessman in California."

"Did you also learn that I never came back to my heritage? To my people?"

"No. Is that important to you, Joe?"

His dark eyes narrowed. "Sometimes I think about it. Think what they need. What
I have to offer. And it's impor
tant, yeah."

"So what are you going to do about it? Are you coming back?"

"Probably."

"Are you saying you want to contribute, to do something for your people?"

"Sounds sappy, doesn't it?"

"No, not really. But what would you do up here? Where would you work
?
"

He shook his head as if he had no idea. Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet. "I wish I could stay longer, but there's too much to do before I leave. I'd like it if we had a little more time together
,
before we have to
both have to go
, Maria."

She looked up at him and surprised herself. "Me too."

"I can't tonight. Plans..."

"That's okay. Another time, Joe." She figured his last night
in the mountains
was committed to a woman
, even though he’d said, ‘no one special
.

After all, it was only natural. Maria smiled wryly at her momentary jealousy and stood up beside him. He towered over her. Dammit, this was it. Quick to attract, quick to part.

"I have commitments I can't break."


It's okay. You don't have to explain anything to me, Joe."

"But I want to, Maria." He touched her hand.

She tingled with warm signals that seemed to radiate from that spot of contact. Her breath caught in her throat, and she fought to hide her reactions. It was absolute craziness, this damned palpitating heart business every time she was near him. But she couldn't he
lp herself. Then Maria did some
thing very uncharacteristic for her. She reached up and kissed him briefly on the cheek. "Thanks for everything," she said softly.
“Nice to meet you, Joe Quintero.”

Joe responded by leaning down and kissing her, too. But his kiss was planted solidly on her lips. "My pleasure,
Maria Eden.
" he murmured after a moment. Then, with a power beyond his control, he pulled her close and his lips claimed hers again.

This time there was no mistaking the embrace was sparked by the passion of a man for a woman. Maria could smell the smoke that had permeated their clothes and skin as she was drawn against him. She knew his masculine power, and the sensation
excited her. Sparks of long
hidden passion began
to explode deep inside as she responded to their closeness. His lips felt warm and supple as they covered hers, his tongue tantalized the curved lines of her mouth. And she open
ed
for more of him.

Suddenly Joe raised his head,
abruptly
breaking their contact. His voice was low and ragged.

Till next time, Maria."

She could think of no quick comeback and merely smiled faintly and tried to ca
tch her breath. She'd been over
whelmed by this man and her own response to him. Silently she followed him to the porch and waved as he drove away. Maria was suddenly overcome with the most desperate
urge
to race after him.

Yet an inner voice told her realistically that they'd never see each other again. She knew it was entirely likely since her business kept her in Phoenix and traveling frequently. And his work kept him in Calif
ornia or
occasionally
here in the White Moun
tains.

Hell, given the odds, it was probable that they'd never have this chance again. After all, they were both busy and moved in different circles. No chance of their paths crossing.

Goodbye, Joe Quintero.

She turned away from the sight of his borrowed pickup disappearing down the ro
ad and faced the extreme loneli
ness of her own life. In the distance was the soun
d of thun
der. It would be raining soon. But it didn't matter now. The fire was out.

BOOK: Speak to the Wind
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