Native Affairs (6 page)

“Would you like to go outside for a while? There’s a deck along the back, and a nice breeze.”

“That would be lovely,” Cindy said, standing up. Fox pulled out her chair and spoke to their waitress as they passed. He led the way to the rear door, which opened onto a wooden platform above the water. The wind whipped her hair around her face and flattened her thin skirt against her legs.

“Too cold?” he asked, as she pulled her jacket closer around her.

“Not at all, it’s delightful,” she replied, lifting her chin and drinking in the sea air.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” he asked, and she shook her head. He extracted a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lit one, dragging on it until the tip glowed. He leaned back against a mooring post and held out his arm to her. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to step into its circle, and when he pulled her against him, she couldn’t resist. She relaxed into the curve of his shoulder, inhaling the clean, sharp scent of his skin.

The wind dropped off as if to accommodate them, and became a whisper, touching them gently as it passed.

“I love it when it’s like this,” he murmured, his voice rumbling in his chest beneath her ear. “It reminds me of a poem I heard when I was in school, by some woman, I forget her name. In the last line she describes something that ‘blows by like music’. That’s the way this breeze is, like music heard from a distance, or the faint scent of flowers when you pass a stall.”

“Sara Teasdale,” Cindy sighed, slipping her arms around his lean waist.

“What?”

“That’s the name of the lady who wrote the line you just quoted.”

He laughed softly. “You
would
know that.”

“You’re not at all what I thought you would be,” Cindy said suddenly, surprising herself.

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” he said. “What were you expecting?”

Cindy lifted her head to look up at him. He was smoking slowly, looking out across the water. One big hand was splayed in the small of her back and his eyes were narrowed against the sting of the smoke.

“Well, from Paula’s description, I was expecting...”

“A bone-crushing Neanderthal?” he suggested sarcastically, glancing down at her.

Cindy didn’t answer, snuggling against his chest again and closing her eyes.

“You must disregard much of what Paula says about me,” Fox went on, as if she had agreed with what he’d said. “I’m not at my best around her. She has some preconceived ideas about me and at times I can’t resist fulfilling her expectations.”

“Why?”

She felt him shrug. “Just to be perverse, I guess. I don’t like being considered an uncivilized boor, some savage who just discarded his loincloth yesterday.” He held her off and turned her chin up to look into her eyes. “You don’t see me that way, do you?” he asked.

“No,” she answered simply. He tucked her back into his arms and rocked her gently.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “Are you warm enough?”

“I’m warm and wonderful and perfect,” she answered, sighing.

“Then I’m glad I asked,” he said, the tug of laughter in his tone.

I must be drunk, Cindy decided. She was saying things she knew she shouldn’t, but couldn’t seem to make herself stop, or care.

He finished his cigarette, tossing the butt into a wire receptacle on the dock. The wind freshened again and Cindy shivered.

“We’d better go in,” he said, and she straightened reluctantly, not eager to lose the enchantment of his embrace. He kept one arm across her shoulders as they went back inside and he didn’t release her completely until she sat in her chair.

“Coffee?” he said.

“Um, yes.”

“How about some dessert?”

‘‘I don’t think so. I’m stuffed.”

He smiled. “Okay.” He gave the order to the waitress and then leaned across the table, touching her face.

“That wind put roses in your cheeks,” he said.

“Then I’m glad we went outside. I’m usually too pale.”

“Paleface,” he said, and their eyes met.

“Does it matter?” she asked softly.

“Does it matter to you?” he countered, watching her closely.

“The only thing that matters to me is how I feel,” she replied, her voice trembling.

“And how do you feel?” he asked quietly.

“Now?”

He nodded.

“Happy.”

The coffee came, and they parted, sitting back to drink it. But the moment hung between them. When he asked her to dance she stood without replying, anxious to feel his arms around her again.

They came together the instant their feet hit the dance floor. Cindy clung to him silently. They were barely moving as they drifted to the music in a world of their own. They danced until the band packed up for the night. As Fox released her and stepped back, her lips brushed his throat accidentally, and she felt his whole body tense. He drew a shaky breath, exhaling slowly.

“Time to go,” he said ruefully. “They’re going to be handing us brooms pretty soon.”

They walked slowly back to their table, holding hands. Fox paid the bill and left a tip, then helped Cindy into her jacket.

Darkness enclosed them as they left the restaurant and headed back to his car. There were only a few vehicles left in the lot, and the starting motor sounded loud in the late night stillness.

“Looks like we shut the place down,” Fox observed, pulling out of the parking space.

“I wish we could have stayed longer,” Cindy said wistfully.

“Not unless you wanted to wash the dishes,” he replied, laughing softly.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Cindy answered. “It was a wonderful night and I didn’t want it to end.”

“I’m not making fun of you, princess,” he said, his tone changing. “You’re just more honest than I am, I guess. I joke about my feelings to hide them.”

“You don’t have to do that with me, Drew,” she said.

“I’ll remember that,” he murmured.

The trip back was a quiet one. They shared the companionable silence that falls between two people who know they don’t have to fill it. The drive across the causeway was as spectacular as promised, but too short. They were back at Paula’s complex in what seemed like record time.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Fox said, as he helped Cindy out of the car.

“You’re going away this week?” Cindy asked him during the climb to Paula’s apartment.

“Yes, out of town on a job.”

“Is it dangerous?” Cindy inquired.

He looked down at her. “No, of course not.”

She smiled sadly. “You’d say that whether it was or not.”

He didn’t comment and she knew she was right.

“I’ll be back Saturday. I’ll call you then, to arrange the visit to my grandfather. He doesn’t get a lot of company these days.”

“Will he see me?” Cindy asked anxiously.

“He’ll see you, don’t worry,” Fox replied. “When I tell him there’s a beautiful
shankree
girl dying to meet him, I don’t think he’ll require much persuasion.”

“Shankree?”

“Not Seminole. Non Indian.”

“Oh.” They stopped outside Paula’s door, and Cindy unlocked it with the extra key Paula had given her. She turned to face Fox, her heart pounding.

“I want to kiss you,” he said tightly. “Very much.”

“Yes, oh yes,” she whispered.

“But after the other night...” he began.

Cindy put a finger to his lips, and he kissed it. “I know you better now,” she said.

“I think you know me too well already,” he whispered, bending his head to hers.

The touch of his mouth was light, exploratory, then quickly became insistent as Cindy slipped her arms around his neck. Her hand crept into his hair, which flowed over her fingers like thick black silk. His lips took hers hungrily, moving, caressing, never still, until she was kissing him back just as avidly. Never before had she been filled with such a desire to cling and submit. His mouth traveled to her neck, her ears, as he reached behind her and pushed in the door.

“What are you doing?” she asked against his lips.

“I’m too old to make love in hallways,” he replied huskily, almost carrying her with him so that her feet barely touched the floor.

Once inside, he lifted her against the wall, pinning her between it and his body. She felt engulfed by him: his mouth that devoured hers, his hands that molded her waist and hips, his thighs that held her in a viselike grip. She couldn’t move and didn’t want to move.

“How do you feel now, princess?” he murmured, pulling her against him, running his hands down her back.

Her soft moan was his answer. When he lowered his head to kiss her throat, she threw her head back, exposing the tender flesh to his caress. His lips parted, and she felt the moist heat of his tongue trace her collarbone. His hands came up to grasp her shoulders, and he held her steady as he explored lower, laving the valley between her breasts made available by the scoop neckline of her dress. His readiness was all too apparent through the thin barrier of her clothes, and she felt her control going , chasing after his, which was already fleeing and almost gone. He groaned deeply, pushing her skirt up, and sought her mouth again wildly, promising and asking for more.

Cindy knew she couldn’t handle this; he was too primed, too close to carrying them both away. Summoning her last shred of willpower she tore her mouth from Fox’s. He tried to kiss her still, his eyes closed, but she evaded him deftly. His eyes opened, the lush lashes lifting. Silence hung between them, punctuated by their harsh, ragged breathing.

Cindy swallowed. “You have to go,” she gasped.

He leaned in to her, his gaze smoky with passion. “Do you want me to go?” he asked lazily, knowing the answer.

“No,” she whispered.

He bent his head. She pushed back on his shoulders, not hard, but firmly enough to show that she meant it.

“Please. These feelings are too new,” she said, “and this is moving too fast, Drew. I have to think.”

‘‘One more kiss,” he said, ‘‘and I’ll go.”

“One more kiss and you’ll never go,” Cindy answered.

He relented, straightening and moving away from her. She arranged her disordered clothes, her glance averted.

“Hey,” he said, turning to tip her chin up with a long dusky forefinger, “you’re not sorry?”

She shook her head, unable to look at him. “No, I’m...overwhelmed; I just need some time, that’s all.”

“How about a week? I’ll see you Saturday?”

She clutched the lapels of his jacket, suddenly frightened. “You will be careful?” she said anxiously.

“I always am,” he replied lightly, smiling.

“I mean it, Drew. If anything were to happen to you...” She let the sentence trail off, unable to complete it.

He pulled her into his arms, seeking only to comfort now. “Nothing is going to happen to me, princess.” He released her, prodding her chin gently with his fist. “Buck up. A week isn’t very long.”

“Okay,” she replied, her tone subdued.

“You won’t run off with some passing stranger while I’m gone?” he asked, only half kidding.

“Oh, Drew, don’t be ridiculous,” Cindy answered, inexplicably near tears.

“All right. See you Saturday, then.”

“Saturday,” she echoed, and watched as, with a final wink, he slipped quietly through the door and was gone. Cindy sagged against it, feeling almost too weak to stand.

In the course of one evening, her whole life had changed.

Chapter 4

Cindy was in the bathtub when she heard Paula return about half an hour after Fox left. She belted her terry robe around her, padding out to the kitchen, where Paula was preparing a midnight snack.

“Want one?” Paula asked, looking up and brandishing a cracker in Cindy’s direction. “Low salt, low sugar, low taste.”

Cindy smiled slightly, shaking her head. Paula had been on a diet since the day Cindy had met her and was convinced that if she could just lose eight pounds she would lead armies and rule the world. Her conspicuous lack of success in this enterprise never daunted her; she was certain that her failure was due to a mere technical glitch in finding the right plan. The fact that nobody else thought she was overweight never affected her determination either. Eight pounds thinner, and she would be perfection.

“What are they?” Cindy asked, nodding to the box of biscuits on the table. “A new diet?”

“Yup. You eat nothing but these for the first five days. What do you think?”

“I think a nurse should know better.”

Paula shot her a disgusted glance. “Just what I need, moral support.” She eyed her friend critically. “So how was the big date?”

Cindy smiled mysteriously.

“Hmm,” Paula commented. “Just remember that Drew isn’t the noble hero in one of those legends you love to read. He’s a modern guy with modern problems, no matter how mythic he looks.”