Wild Man Creek (11 page)

He thought about her all morning. After breakfast he took his painting of the buck to a meadow that got a lot of sun and set up the easel. All the while he asked himself if he’d been off the antidepressants just long enough to get good and horny, or if this woman was just about the finest, rarest woman he’d come across in a very long time.

A small herd of deer—doe and fawns and one buck—wandered along the bottom of the foothills and he snapped a few shots with his zoom. Beautiful extended family out there, does nudging the fawns along, buck tall and standing guard. He wondered if he could paint something as detailed and expansive as a herd.

But then his thoughts returned again to Jillian—so pretty, so fresh, so sexy, so smart. He tried to think about other women—he’d run into a couple when visiting art galleries over in the coastal towns, good-looking women who had been happy to give him business cards. There were a couple of women back in Georgia who had kept in touch after his accident. There were even a couple of old girlfriends he could resurrect without much effort. He was far from rich but could easily afford a plane ticket so he could do some visiting if it was a simple matter of getting with a woman. Anything to somehow scratch this itch and put the confusion to rest.

But his brain and his body were completely tuned in to Jillian. She was a kooky little dish, that one, with her recliner and no furniture, her seed cups, getting excited over her golf cart. Then there was something about the way she could read him.
I was forced out of my job, too.
And now they shared confidences—his plane ticket and her job loss. He couldn’t remember ever doing that before. It was strangely alluring.

Colin wasn’t a religious man at all, but he had a powerful core faith that had strengthened since being pulled out of a Black Hawk wreck he shouldn’t have survived by fellow pilots who risked their own lives by landing and coming to his rescue. So he lectured God that it was a bad idea to put this quality female in his path because he was a little vulnerable and she seemed like a first-class woman who shouldn’t be hurt by an irresponsible wild man like him.

Wild man? That persona was now mostly in the past. He might still have the soul of a wild man, but at the moment he was just a man in need of a woman.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of horse hooves and turned to see a man riding toward him. His Jeep was still on the road outside the fence, the hatch up in back, so he rested the palette and brush on the ground and waited.

As he got closer, Colin could see the man was Native American with a feather in his cowboy hat and a long braid down his back. Colin didn’t know much about horses but he knew a pretty one when he saw it. This one was incredible; chestnut in color, young and muscular. The man rode right up to him and stopped, not dismounting but stretching out his hand from his position in the saddle. “How you doing?” he said. “I’m Clay Tahoma.”

“Colin Riordan,” he said, shaking the hand. “Am I trespassing? I didn’t see any signs.”

“There should be signs posted on the fence, but it’s no problem for you to paint here—it’s things like target practice, off-season hunting and poaching we dislike. This is a back pasture—it belongs to Dr. Nate Jensen, the vet
who owns Jensen Large Animal Clinic. It’s private property, but you’re welcome here as long as it’s unoccupied. It isn’t likely we’d ever leave a difficult horse this far away from the clinic. Just be careful, that’s all. Look around first. Mind the fence. A broken-down fence can be catastrophic for us.” Clay leaned down from his horse to peer at the painting—it was the four-point buck. “Awesome,” he said. “That’s probably not paint by number.”

Colin laughed. “I got a great shot of them with the zoom,” he said, pointing at the small herd of deer in the distance.

“They’re headed for the river,” Clay said, “taking the youngsters out for a stroll. I’m a friend of Luke’s and Shelby’s—they mentioned you’d be here for a while.”

“Seems like everyone’s a friend of Luke’s and Shelby’s….”

“I think everyone is a friend of everyone else around here. I’ve only been here since last August myself.” He nodded toward the painting. “That’s beautiful work. I have a cousin who paints—Native American art. He’s now some high mucky-muck artist in Sedona, but he grew up next door to me on the reservation, Navajo Nation. Where are you showing your work?”

“I haven’t had a showing or a sale. Right now I’m just painting.”

“Lots of Native and wildlife work around Albuquerque, Sedona, Phoenix… Might be time for a road trip.”

Colin laughed. “Maybe. When I’m ready.”

“Looks like you’re ready, but what do I know.” Clay tipped his hat. “I want to check the back pastures and roads. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around again. Nice meeting you.”

“And you,” Colin said.

Colin watched as Clay rode away from him. Lots of
people seemed interested in the idea that he start selling his work. They didn’t know that putting a price tag on his art wouldn’t change anything. He still wanted to get up in the air.

And he still wanted to get with Jillian Matlock.

Colin worked away for the rest of the day and managed to last until 8:00 p.m. before he headed back over to her place. He drove up alongside the house and parked. Before he even got out of the Jeep he saw her sitting on the back porch step in the dark, leaning against the post, a throw wrapped around her. She had lit a large candle and had a glass of wine in a real wineglass; Jillian was living so sparsely he was surprised she wasn’t drinking her wine out of a coffee cup. He got out and just leaned against the Jeep, looking at her.

The second their eyes connected, before either of them said anything, he sensed it. There was mutual attraction.

“I knew you’d be back, but I didn’t know it would be this soon,” she said.

“What made you think so?”

“I saw it in your eyes,” she said with a shrug. “Lust.”

“Listen, there are a couple of things on my mind,” he said, walking over to her. He sat on the same step but leaned against the opposite post, facing her. “That last boyfriend of yours—what did he do to you?”

“Not telling,” she said, shaking her head. “Maybe someday, but not now. Besides, it shouldn’t concern you.”

“It does. Is there any chance that if I’m just an idiot, I could do the same thing to you? Really mess you up bad?”

She laughed at him. “Colin, I’m surprised! You didn’t
strike me as the kind of guy who really worried about that kind of thing!”

“You’re probably right about that. In my world… In the world I come from, I’d see a pretty girl and talk to her for a few minutes, get her phone number, take her someplace, get a read on her expectations and usually end up in bed. It sometimes lasted a few times or maybe a few weeks or maybe a few months. That Army post was like a small town and a guy had to be careful not to get things all stirred up. But I had no idea what a small town was until I came here.”

“Ah,” she acknowledged. “You’re worried about your reputation?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I could give a shit about what people think of me. But if you’ve got some baggage from that last boyfriend—”

“No baggage,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, that’s not entirely honest—I must have some because if he walked up the drive right now, and if I had a gun, it would be so hard not to shoot at him.”

“Now, see, getting shot is not on my list of things I’d like to do. That’s why I’m asking what he’s wanted for.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re completely safe. His behavior and insult cannot be duplicated and besides, I don’t want another boyfriend. Period.”

He leaned toward her. “But do you ever want to settle down or something? Get serious, get married, all that? Someday? Because I have other plans and I don’t want everyone in this town pissed at me, and feeling sorry for you and upset with Luke and Shelby for letting me come here.”

“I know, Colin,” she said. Jill took a sip of her wine. “The Serengeti. For the big game, for a possible extension of your flying career, for a life that’s not so tame.”

“Is it possible you really do understand?” he asked her.

“I believe I do. Besides, I’m not looking for a relationship. Don’t want one,” she said, shaking her head. “And I don’t think you do, either.”

He just shook his head.

“It would be a shame if you gave up painting, however. I don’t know much about art, but I suspect you’re exceptional.”

He scooted a little closer to her; he could feel his eyes growing hot as he looked at her. Hot and bright. “Well, that’s just it, Jilly—you know how your mentor told you to always know what you were going to do next? Painting is what I want to do
next.
I can’t fly forever—but I can paint for as long as I can stand up and hold a brush. But ‘next’ isn’t here yet. I can fly another twenty years. And while I fly, I should also paint and get better so that when I’m done flying, there’s more painting to do. See what I mean?”

She gave her head a nod. “Sounds perfectly reasonable, Colin. Why are you being so high-strung about it?”

“I don’t want a girlfriend,” he said flatly.

“Understandable,” she said. “I can see how that would really complicate your plans. But I get the distinct impression you want
something.
”

He reached out one of those long arms and toyed with her hair. “I’ve thought about you all day long. I started thinking about you before today. You and your strange little vegetables, your corporate strategy and your freckles. And other things.”

“Yes, I caught you treating yourself to a stare. Tit for tat, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

He laughed. He hadn’t realized until this very moment how sexy humor was. “Thing is, Jilly, not only am I attracted to you, I actually
like
you.”

“Be very careful, Colin. I wouldn’t want
you
to get hurt.” Then she smiled at him.

He grabbed both sides of her throw and pulled. “Come closer,” he said, edging her toward him. He slipped a hand around to the back of her neck under her hair and leaned toward her, and gave her the briefest of kisses. A test.

“I’ve never kissed a man with a beard,” she said.

“You’ll have to let me know how you like it.” And he went after her mouth more seriously, moving over her lips until they opened and then sweeping the soft inside of her mouth with his tongue. She moaned and her arms came around his neck. He moved from her lips to her neck and whispered, “God, Jilly, you smell good.”

“Soap,” she whispered. “And you showered, too.”

“Were we planning this?” he asked her.

“I was planning to keep you from doing anything like this,” she said. But she’d been thinking about him all day, too. “The problem is, I thought about you, too. And if I’m honest, I wasn’t opposed to the idea,” she said, wiggling still closer.
Because this isn’t a relationship,
she thought.
This is a kind of fling. This is different from anything I’ve ever experienced.
And it was strangely unscary.

He pulled her even closer, onto his lap, kissing her hungrily, pulling her chest against his, eating her mouth, feeding her kisses that were deep, hot and consuming. Groaning. Sighing. When he slipped his hand beneath her T-shirt and fondled a naked breast, she let her head fall back in a lovely moan. He repositioned her legs so that she straddled his lap. Her instincts took over; she pressed against him. She might think having a man in her life was impractical, especially this man, but he felt good way down where feeling good really mattered.

He lunged against her suddenly, his big hands on her
waist, pulling her down against his erection. “Aw, God,” he said, pushing against her. “Damn, that’s good…”

Jillian loved the taste of his mouth; she plunged her fingers into his long hair, freeing it from the ponytail. God, all that thick, curly hair—what she’d give to have hair like that. What she’d give to feel it brushing against her belly. She couldn’t remember ever wanting like this, so hard, so fast. She had absolutely no intention of thinking it over. She was spiraling, falling, diving into him. And all she really wanted at the moment was him diving into her.

He lifted her shirt to look at her breasts and she directed his mouth to her nipple. With a groan, he went there, licking, pulling it into his mouth where it immediately turned to a hard pebble, exactly the right size, and he sucked on her greedily, making little noises.

Colin felt the heat racing through him, and then she was grinding against him, moving her pelvis against him. He was really close to going completely out of his mind. He held both her breasts in his hands and whispered against her open mouth, “Oh man, do I want you
bad…
”

“Hmm…”

“We can’t.”

“Can’t what?” she whispered back, gyrating deliciously.

“I don’t have anything. Protection.”

“Why
not!
” she pleaded in a desperate whisper.

“Because the last time I had sex was shortly before I was pulled out of a burning helicopter…. I’ll take care of it, though…. I wanted this to happen, but I didn’t know it would.”

She put her hands against his cheeks, looked into his eyes and said, “Take care of it now!”

“Easy, Jilly. Another day won’t kill us.”

“It
might!
”

He chuckled. “I didn’t know I’d make this kind of progress with you or I would have been better prepared. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just… You know…” She sighed deeply. “Let’s just do something that doesn’t require protection.”

“Can’t,” he said. He pressed his lips against her throat. “If I get any closer to your skin, if I taste you, I’m going to lose my mind and get up inside you and blow my brains out. Whether I want to or not. I’m too hot. No control on this end.”

“Colin, you can’t really be doing this to me! You started this!”

“I know. I know. I wasn’t thinking, which happens a lot when I’m close to you. But I’ll be back, Jilly, and it’ll be worth the wait.”

“But I should be pushing you away!” she said.

He chuckled against her lips. “I love you this way. You’re just like you should be. But we have to stop…. In just a second…”