Книга - Dream Wedding: Dream Bride / Dream Groom

Dream Wedding: Dream Bride / Dream Groom
Susan Mallery


DREAM BRIDEAccording to family legend, Chloe Wright is destined to dream of her future groom on her twenty-fifth birthday. Chloe doesn’t believe in fate, so she’s shocked to find her path crossing with a handsome stranger. Arizona Smith is everything Chloe has ever wanted in a man. But she’s not about to fall in love, especially since Arizona never settles anywhere for long. Still, his electrifying kisses and irresistible charm have Chloe suddenly wondering if there’s something to that legend after all… DREAM GROOMCassie Bradley Wright knows the fantasy of being swept off her feet by her boss is just that – a fantasy. After all, Ryan Lawford is way out of her league. And business and balance sheets are his whole world. But little does Cassie know that her sweet ways are changing his mind. The former determined bachelor just might take on the role of dream groom.







New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery brings her trademark wit and sparkle to these two classic tales of dreams come true…

Dream Bride

According to family legend, Chloe Wright is destined to dream of her future groom on her twenty-fifth birthday. Chloe doesn’t believe in fate, so she’s shocked to find her path crossing with a handsome stranger. Arizona Smith is everything Chloe has ever wanted in a man. But she’s not about to fall in love, especially since Arizona never settles anywhere for long. Still, his electrifying kisses and irresistible charm have Chloe suddenly wondering if there’s something to that legend after all….

Dream Groom

Cassie Bradley Wright knows the fantasy of being swept off her feet by her boss is just that—a fantasy. After all, Ryan Lawford is way out of her league. And business and balance sheets are his whole world. But little does Cassie know that her sweet ways are changing his mind. The former determined bachelor just might take on the role of dream groom.


Praise for New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery

“This book is a dynamite read filled with humor, compassion and sexy sizzle.”

—RT Book Reviews on Three Little Words, Top Pick!

“Mallery delivers another engaging romance

in magical Fool’s Gold.”

—Kirkus Reviews on Just One Kiss

“Mallery infuses her story with eccentricity, gentle humor, and small-town shenanigans, and readers...will enjoy the connection between Heidi and Rafe.”

—Publishers Weekly on Summer Days

“If you want a story that will both tug on your heartstrings and tickle your funny bone, Mallery is the author for you!”

—RT Book Reviews on Only His

“An adorable, outspoken heroine and an intense hero...set the sparks flying in Mallery’s latest lively, comic, and touching family-centered story.”

—Library Journal on Only Yours

“Mallery...excels at creating varied, well-developed characters and an emotion-packed story gently infused with her trademark wit and humor.”

—Booklist on Only Mine,

One of the Top 10 Romances of 2011!

“Mallery’s prose is luscious and provocative.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Susan Mallery’s gift for writing humor and tenderness make all her books true gems.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Romance novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humor and superb storytelling.”

—Booklist


Dream Wedding

Dream Bride

Dream Groom

Susan Mallery




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Table of Contents

Dream Bride (#u9dcd0015-521c-5bb3-820b-98f357227a14)

Dream Groom (#litres_trial_promo)


Dear Reader,

I’m a big fan of sisters—probably because I never had a sister and desperately wanted one growing up. I wanted someone to talk to and hang out with. When my parents were making me crazy, I wanted someone there who would understand.

This 2-in-1 is a reissue of two of my older books Dream Bride and Dream Groom. They were reader favorites when they were published over a decade ago and these stories celebrate the love sisters share. There is the family connection and, of course, the wonder of each of the sisters falling in love. But these stories have a little extra twist. Because my sisters come with some unexpected magic.

It seems there’s a family legend about a gypsy girl who was saved from certain death and how, as a reward, she passed on a very special nightgown. Rumor has it if a woman wears that nightgown on the night of her twenty-fifth birthday, she’ll dream of the man she’s going to marry. While that’s kind of exciting, it can also be inconvenient. What if you don’t believe in legends...or you’re already engaged to be married?

I hope you’ll enjoy these two books and the legend of the Bradley sisters. And if you happen to have a sister—biological or of the heart—please give her a hug from me.

Happy reading,

Susan


Dream Bride


Contents

Chapter One (#uae7d7ec3-edd5-5366-b99d-2c1bcb815b6e)

Chapter Two (#u6846e262-2c21-57bc-9fc2-a694dbc35f09)

Chapter Three (#ua92e2281-33b4-5e1d-8d8c-cdcbfb5b9eb3)

Chapter Four (#udac16e28-2f0f-5910-95e7-40dd0a97a0d4)

Chapter Five (#uc42c6e0e-683f-5a6c-8508-bad158aec557)

Chapter Six (#u7080fdd2-6dfc-5d87-9671-c5f81760a8c3)

Chapter Seven (#u659df3ab-4842-5940-9d9e-3430a5621279)

Chapter Eight (#u8b76125d-2297-579b-93b5-ecd5ed13ea6f)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

“I WISH I was going to dream about the man I was going to marry,” Cassie said and grinned. “I know how excited you are about it.”

Chloe Bradley Wright looked at her sister. “Oh, yeah. Too excited for words.” She fingered the soft lace of the nightgown she held. “Do I have to do this?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

If only that were true, Chloe thought with regret. But she did have to wear the stupid nightgown. It was her twenty-fifth birthday and time for her to participate in the family legend. Not that she believed in magic or happily-ever-after. As far as she was concerned, falling in love or caring about someone was a one-way ticket to heartache.

She opened her mouth to express her opinion, then pressed her lips tightly together. She might not be a believer, but her sister, Cassie, had more than enough faith for the both of them.

Chloe stared into the face that was nearly as familiar as her own. Cassie was adopted, but younger by only six months. The two girls had been together since Cassie was four weeks old and they were best friends. Chloe had shared her admittedly cynical opinion on more than one occasion, but Cassie’s belief in the legend had never wavered. Who was she to try and change her sister’s mind now? It was just for one night. What could it hurt?

“I’ll wear it,” she said, trying to sound gracious.

Cassie leaned forward and hugged her. “I knew you would,” she said and bounced off the bed. Her short, thick brown hair swung around her face. “I’ll go tell Aunt Charity. Won’t she be surprised?”

“Probably not,” Chloe muttered when she was alone. Aunt Charity had a sixth sense about these things. No doubt the older woman figured she already knew whom Chloe was going to dream about.

“I’m not going to dream about anyone,” she said aloud as she pulled her T-shirt over her head, then slipped out of her jeans. “It’s just a nightgown. It has no mystic powers. It’s now the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake! No one believes that kind of thing.”

She unfastened her bra and tossed the garment onto the floor, then picked up the nightgown. The cotton was cool to her touch and she shivered involuntarily.

“It’s nothing,” she insisted. But she hesitated before pulling the soft fabric over her head. What if the legend was true? What if she was really going to dream about the man she was destined to love? What if—“What if people have been abducted by aliens lurking in cornfields?” she asked aloud.

“Oh, I don’t think those stories are true,” her aunt said as she entered the bedroom. Charity raised dark eyebrows. “So how much did Cassie have to twist your arm to get you to wear it tonight?”

Chloe shrugged as she smoothed the nightgown in place. “Not too much. I figure it’s an inevitable rite of passage for Bradley women, as inescapable as birthdays and taxes. I’m just sorry she’s going to be disappointed in the morning.”

“Yes,” Charity said as she moved to the bed and pulled back the covers. “It will be sad. Cassie is one of those rare types who is a true believer. There aren’t many left.”

Chloe had turned twenty-five that very day, but suddenly she felt like a ten-year-old with a favorite relative staring at a less than perfect report card, all the while telling her the low grades were fine, as long as she’d tried her best.

“You can’t tell me you believe in the legend,” Chloe said as she plopped down on the edge of her bed.

Charity settled next to her. The older woman was of average height with the Wright family’s dark eyes and hair. She had to be in her mid-fifties, but she could have easily passed for someone a dozen years younger.

“I’ve traveled all around the world,” Charity reminded her. “I’ve seen many amazing things. As for magic and legends?” She shrugged. “Who’s to say what’s real and what isn’t?”

Chloe snorted indelicately. “Give me a break. So you’re saying that this nightgown is several hundred years old and is magical?”

“You never know.”

Chloe fingered the soft cotton. “It’s in pretty good shape for an antique.”

“So am I, dear.” Charity patted her hand.

“You’re hardly an antique.” She drew in a deep breath. “It would be nice if it were all true, but I just can’t take that step of faith.”

“That’s the reporter in you.”

“Agreed. But someone in this family has to be practical. Between you and Cassie, you’ve always got your heads in the clouds.”

“I’m back,” Cassie announced as she bounded back in the room. She held something in her hand and before Chloe could figure out what it was, she tossed it in the air. Dozens of red, pink and cream rose petals drifted over Chloe, Aunt Charity and the bed.

“My contribution,” her sister said with a smile as she settled in the small wingback chair by the closet door.

Chloe pulled rose petals from her hair. Her irritation faded in the presence of such loving support. Who was she to fight against tradition?

“You win,” she said as she stood up.

Charity rose as well. “It’s best, dear. You’ll see.” She waited until Chloe climbed into bed, then tucked in the covers. “Sleep well.”

When she’d left, Cassie moved close and crouched down. “Dream of someone wonderful,” she instructed. “Rich and handsome and very loving.” Her wide dark eyes softened at the thought. “Someone who will want to be with you forever.”

“What a romantic,” Chloe teased. “I’ll do my best.”

Cassie straightened. “In the morning, I want details. Lots of them.”

“I promise. Oh, and thanks for the party. It was great.”

Her sister smiled. “My pleasure.” She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Chloe leaned up on one elbow and clicked off the lamp, then settled onto the bed that had been hers since she’d turned thirteen. The room had been decorated several times, but except for three years in high school, she’d slept here her whole life. Everything about the room, the house and even the town was familiar to her. Yet tonight, it all felt different.

“Atmosphere,” she told herself softly. It was all the talk of magic and legends. Even a confirmed cynic like her was bound to be affected.

She pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. Memories from her twenty-fifth-birthday party drifted through her mind and made her smile. She’d wanted something small, friends and family only. Cassie and Aunt Charity had prepared dinner. The presents had been mostly gag gifts, which she preferred. Nothing sentimental for her.

She had a busy week planned at the magazine. She mentally listed all she had to do in the next few days.

As her mind relaxed and she started to get sleepy, thoughts of the legend intruded. According to family lore, several centuries ago a young woman had saved an old gypsy from certain death. In return the gypsy had given her a magic nightgown. If the women in her family—the Bradley family—wore this nightgown the night of their twenty-fifth birthday, they would dream of the man they were destined to marry. The union would be long and happy.

“Yeah, right,” Chloe muttered as she turned on her side. “He’ll probably come riding up on a white horse and sweep me away.”

She knew exactly what she was going to dream about—what she always dreamed about. Nothing. Her nights were as quiet and uneventful as an empty drawer and that was just how she liked them. The nightgown wasn’t magic. The legend wasn’t real. And she was suddenly very, very sleepy.

* * *

HE APPEARED OUT of the darkness, not on a white horse, but in a Jeep that roared up the side of the mountain.

“This isn’t happening,” Chloe told herself even as anticipation filled her. She clung to the side of the rocks as the wind whipped at her hair and made the hem of her nightgown snap like a sail.

“Nightgown?” She stared down at herself. Dear Lord, she was naked except for a thin layer of lacy cotton. What on earth?

“You’re dreaming,” she told herself. “That’s all. Just dreaming. Go with it and you’ll be fine.”

But the reassurance didn’t keep her heart from pounding as the Jeep drew closer. The man inside stopped it a scant two feet from her, then climbed out.

He was tall—substantially taller than her five feet nine inches—and lean. “At least he’s really good-looking,” Chloe said to herself. “I mean if I have to dream about some strange guy, I don’t want him to look like the king of the nerds or something.”

The man didn’t speak. Instead he walked over to her, ripped off his shirt, then pulled her hard against his gleaming chest.

“I like this,” she said, feeling the masculine length of his body pressing into hers.

“Hush, love. I am your destiny.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m a direct descendant of Queen Victoria.”

She stared into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. The dream was amazingly real. She could feel the wind, the heat of the man’s body, his breath on her cheek. She swallowed. She even felt him pressing up against her. Wow! She had to get out more. Her subconscious was obviously way too bored with her life.

“I want you,” the man said.

“Then take me, big boy. I’m yours.”

He kissed her. Chloe stifled a shriek of both shock and pleasure. Talk about going for it. His mouth claimed hers in the most perfect, masterful way. She felt small and delicate and incredibly free. This was a dream, after all. She could say or do anything she wanted and no one would ever have to know.

She clutched his face and pulled back. “I have one request,” she said.

“Make it. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Great. Just don’t disappear on me until we’re finished, okay? I hate those sex dreams where I wake up about thirty seconds from the good part. It does not make for a restful night.”

Instead of answering, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into the cave. There a fire burned low. Their bed was soft, fresh, sweet-smelling straw. How nice of her brain to supply the details.

The stranger made love to her with a tender thoroughness that left her breathless and trembling. He touched and kissed every part of her. Much to her relief, she didn’t wake up before the good part. In fact the good part happened at least twice. He even made her scream once and she’d never been a screamer.

“Who are you?” she asked when they at last stretched out together. They were both slick with sweat and breathing hard. She traced his perfect body, her fingers lingering on a scar on his left forearm.

“Your destiny.”

“So you said, but do you actually have a name, or should I just call you Mr. D.?”

He raised his head and stared at her. His gaze was so intense, she felt as if she could see down to the bottom of his soul. Whatever lurked there called to her. She wanted to respond, but didn’t know how. This was still a dream, right? It wasn’t real. But for that second, she desperately wanted it to be.

“You’ll know me,” he told her as the world around them faded to black.

She tried to grab on to him, but his hand slipped through hers. Before she could even cry out, he was gone and she was alone.

* * *

“HOW WAS it? Start at the beginning and talk very slowly.”

Chloe blinked at the bright light and realized it was morning. She glanced around in confusion, then saw she was back in her own room, in her familiar bed. Cassie bounced on the mattress next to her and grinned.

“So, who is he? Who did you dream about?”

“What?”

Chloe sat up slowly. Her head was spinning and she couldn’t quite wake up. Maybe because she didn’t feel rested. It was almost as if she’d spent the night running around. Or making love with a handsome, mysterious stranger.

She pushed the last thought away. Nothing had happened. She’d had a couple of weird dreams. They were probably the result of too much chocolate cake and ice cream. They didn’t mean anything.

Cassie was still in the oversized T-shirt she regularly wore to bed. Her thick hair was mussed, her face flushed from sleep. “Do you mean to tell me you didn’t dream about anyone? Not even one guy?”

Chloe sat up and hugged her arms to her chest. Her body ached pleasantly and there was a definite dampness between her legs. Too weird, she told herself silently. But she did not believe in family legends. The dream had been a fluke, not a prophecy. She wasn’t going to encourage Cassie’s flights of fancy.

“I didn’t dream of anyone,” she said slowly, instantly picturing the handsome man who had swept her into that cave. It was all too embarrassing. What was she supposed to say? That the sex had been great, thank you very much? She couldn’t admit anything to anyone.

Cassie’s smile faded. “But I thought it was real.” She sounded as if someone had stolen her last hope.

Chloe grimaced. She had done exactly that. But she couldn’t tell the truth. She just couldn’t!

“I’m sorry,” she said and touched her sister’s arm. “It’s just a nightgown, kid. Like any other.”

“Okay. Aunt Charity warned me the legend might just be a story, but I didn’t want to believe her. I guess I’m going to have to.” Cassie looked as if she was going to say more, then untangled herself from the covers and stood up. “I’ll go start the coffee.”

When Chloe was alone, she collapsed back on the pillow. She felt strange inside. Off center somehow. Was it the dream?

“There is no legend,” she said aloud. “The dream was just my subconscious’s way of telling me it’s time to start dating. I’ll take the hint. Today in the office, I’ll look around for a likely candidate.”

But as she walked to the bathroom, instead of trying to figure out which eligible men would interest her, she found herself picturing him. She shivered...not in fear or irritation, but at the memory of what his touch had done to her.

A hot shower went a long way to restoring her spirits. As she toweled off, she checked her arms and the tops of her breasts. Nothing. Just her regular skin. She’d half expected to see the lingering marks from his lovemaking.

“I must remember to ask Aunt Charity if insanity runs in the family,” she said as she chose her clothes for the day.

Fifteen minutes later, her hair was dry and she was dressed. She headed for the kitchen and that healing first cup of coffee. As she reached for the coffeepot, Cassie flipped on the small television. They usually watched one of the morning shows while they ate breakfast.

Chloe had the pot in one hand and a mug in the other. Then a familiar voice filled the room and she froze.

“The gem exhibit is an exciting find,” he said. “But I can’t take full credit for bringing it to the university. It takes a very large committee to pull this kind of thing together.”

Goose bumps puckered up and down her arms. She set the coffeepot back on its burner so she wouldn’t drop it, and put the mug on the counter. Then, very slowly, she turned to face the television.

The camera focused on the perky hostess of the local morning show. Then the picture on the screen panned right. A man came into view. A handsome man. A man who, until sometime last night, she’d never seen before. But she knew him. She knew every inch of his body. She’d touched and tasted him, she knew his scent so well, she could have found him in the dark.

“Why do you think you’re always the one to make the great discoveries?” the woman asked.

The man smiled. Chloe felt her heart shudder in her chest, and she began to tingle all over. She might not want to remember, but her body wouldn’t let her forget.

The man smiled. “Just lucky, I guess.”

The hostess practically sighed. “Unfortunately we’re out of time. Just to remind our viewers, Arizona Smith will be lecturing at the university on his fabulous gem find. There are still tickets available, but they’re going fast. The gems themselves will be on display throughout the month. Mr. Smith, it’s been my pleasure having you here this morning.”

Chloe’s mouth twisted. The woman was practically cooing. So much for professionalism, she thought, refusing to acknowledge the white heat inside of her that some might call jealousy.

So her mystery man had a name. Arizona Smith. Which meant he was real. She thought about the nightgown, the Bradley family legend, the dream. Oh, Lord, it couldn’t be true. He was not her destiny. He couldn’t be. She didn’t want a destiny like that. She avoided relationships.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself fiercely. The man is in town for maybe a week. It’s not as if I’ll ever run into him.

“I’ve got to get to work early,” she told Cassie.

“Don’t you want your coffee?”

Chloe was already heading out the door. “I’ll grab some on the way,” she called over her shoulder, and made her escape to freedom.

* * *

ARIZONA SMITH WAS everywhere, Chloe thought with dismay as she sipped her coffee at the small diner across the street from her office. His picture had been plastered on three buses and on four different billboards she’d spotted on her way to work. Even now he was staring at her from the bench directly in front of her building—or at least his picture was. She couldn’t escape the man.

“Deep breaths,” she told herself. The trick was to keep breathing. And moving. If he couldn’t catch her, she would be safe.

It was too weird. All of it. Maybe she’d seen his picture over the past couple of days and not really noticed. Somehow it had gotten lodged in her brain and only surfaced last night. A perfectly plausible explanation.

If only the sex hadn’t been so good.

“I don’t believe in destiny,” she reminded herself again as she left the diner and made her way to the foyer of her building. The magazine office was on the second floor. She stopped by reception long enough to pick up her messages.

“Jerry wants to see you,” Paula, the receptionist-gofer called. “Something about a special assignment.”

“Great.” That was what she needed. Something challenging to take her mind off her temporary insanity.

She dropped her things at her desk, then headed for her editor’s office.

Bradley Today was a small but prestigious magazine that came out twice a month. Chloe had gotten a job there when she’d graduated from U.C. Berkeley with a degree in journalism. Eventually she planned to make her way to New York, where the big magazines were published, but for now she was gathering experience and building her clippings.

“You wanted to see me, boss?” she asked as she stepped through the open glass door.

“Yeah, sit.” Jerry waved to the seat opposite his desk.

It was only eight-thirty in the morning, but his long-sleeved shirt was already rumpled and his tie hung crooked. If the clothes hadn’t been different from the ones he’d worn the previous day, Chloe would have sworn he’d slept in them.

“It’s like this,” he said, then stuck one hand into the pile of folders on his desk. He pulled one out, looked at the label, shoved it back and grabbed another. “Nancy’s pregnant.”

Chloe nodded. Nancy was one of their most experienced writers. “She’s been that way for about seven months.”

“Tell me about it. Babies. Who needs ’em? Anyway, she says she’s too far along to be running around for me. She wants to write stuff that lets her stay in the office. Can you believe it?”

His outrage made Chloe smile. “Wow. How insensitive of her.”

“Exactly. Does she give me any warning? No-o-o. She calls me at home last night and drops the bomb. So now I pass it along to you. Good luck, kid.” With that, he tossed her the folder.

When she touched the stiff paper, Chloe felt the same shivery chill she’d experienced the previous night when she’d slipped on the nightgown. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. She knew exactly what she was going to find inside that folder, and there was nothing she could do to change it. It was, she admitted, inevitable.

“He’s in town for about three weeks,” Jerry said. “Follow him around. Shouldn’t be hard. He wants this piece as much as we do. Decent publicity and all that garbage. Get to know the real man. Write me something brilliant and it just might be your ticket out.” Jerry looked at her. “A bigger publisher or maybe even a book deal. Do it right, kid. Breaks like this don’t come along very often. Now get out of here. I’m busy.”

With that Jerry picked up his ringing phone and probably forgot she’d ever been in the room.

Chloe gingerly took the folder and returned to her cubicle. She didn’t want to open it. Maybe if she waited long enough, it would go away. Wishful thinking, she thought, and drew in a deep breath. She flipped back the top cover and saw him. He was standing on the edge of a mountain, leaning against an outcropping of rock. She recognized the clothes, the place and the man. She knew that just around the corner was a cave and in the cave was a fire and a bed of straw.

“I don’t like this,” Chloe whispered. “It’s too strange.”

“I brought it,” Paula said as she walked into the tiny space and dumped a stack of folders onto the spare chair pressed up by Chloe’s desk.

“What is it?”

“Research. All the stuff Nancy had gathered on that Smith guy. She said to call her at home if you want any tips.” Paula’s gaze drifted to the photograph. “Wow, he’s good-looking. Just like that guy in the movies. You know—Indiana Jones. Although he doesn’t really look like Harrison Ford. He’s taller. Still, I wouldn’t shoo him away if he turned up in my bed.” She waved her fingers and left.

“Apparently I wouldn’t either,” Chloe said glumly. So much for escaping her destiny. In the space of twelve hours a strange man had invaded her subconscious and now her work. What was she supposed to do?

But Chloe already knew the answer to that. An assignment like the one Jerry had just handed her was one any junior writer would kill for. Talk about a stroke of luck.

Or destiny, a little voice whispered.

“I don’t believe in little voices either,” Chloe muttered, “So I’m going to get to work now.”

She spent the rest of the day reading through Nancy’s notes, clippings from other articles and some information she’d pulled from the Internet. By four-thirty her eyes hurt and she had a major headache. She still didn’t have a strategy for dealing with everything that had happened, but she needed to get one and fast. Her first meeting with Mr. Smith was in the morning at the university. Nancy had already set it up. He was taking her on a private tour of the gem exhibit.

She gathered up all the papers and stuffed them into her briefcase. Maybe she could work better at home.

Forty minutes later she pulled into the driveway of the Victorian mansion that had been in her family for generations. Safe at last, she thought as she climbed out. She walked up the steps and into the foyer.

“It’s me,” she called. Cassie’s car hadn’t been in the garage, but Aunt Charity’s had.

“We’re in the kitchen.”

Chloe made a face. Aunt Charity had spent much of her life traveling the world. She seemed to know someone from every possible corner of the globe, and at one time or another they all liked to visit. Who was it this time? A tribal elder from Africa or some obscure prince from the Middle East? She felt that familiar wave of resentment toward her aunt Charity for not being around when she’d needed her the most. But she filed those unpleasant thoughts away. She just wasn’t up to dwelling on that tonight. And she wasn’t in the mood to play hostess, either.

Still, she straightened her shoulders and forced herself to smile as she crossed the hallway and entered the kitchen. She already had her arm extended so she could shake hands with Charity’s mystery guest.

She came to a complete stop just inside the oversize room. Her jaw dropped. She told herself to close her mouth, but her body wasn’t paying attention.

He was as tall as she remembered. Lean, powerful and too good-looking by far. Not a tribal elder, or even a prince. No, he was much more dangerous. He was Arizona Smith—the man from her dream.


CHAPTER TWO

“ARIZONA, this is one of my nieces. Chloe. She’s the journalist. Chloe, this is Arizona Smith. I think you were watching him on the morning news show earlier today, weren’t you?”

Charity’s question hung in the air, but Chloe didn’t answer. Arizona shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the round table. He was used to fans being tongue-tied in his presence, but Chloe Bradley Wright didn’t look like the rabid fan type. Plus, she was staring at him as if he’d grown a horn in the center of his forehead. He brushed back his hair, casually letting his fingers touch the skin there, just to be sure.

“Hi, Chloe,” he said, and held out his hand. In the past he’d found that polite, social niceties often put people at ease.

Her gaze dropped from his face to his hand. She still looked panicked, but she responded automatically. “Mr. Smith. What a pleasure.” Her attention shifted to her aunt. “You didn’t mention company for dinner. I think there’s a roast, but it’s not defrosted. I could put it in the microwave and—”

“All taken care of,” Charity said, and patted the empty chair next to hers. “Get yourself something to drink and join us. Arizona and I were just catching up on old times. He has some wonderful stories. I’m sure you’ll be interested in them.”

Chloe didn’t respond right away. Her gaze settled back on his. Arizona read concern in her eyes and something that looked like apprehension. He held in a sigh. No doubt Charity had been telling tales out of school again. The older woman loved to brag about his exploits. Okay, he was willing to admit that there had been a time when everything they said about him was true, but that was long ago. These days his life was practically boring. At least when it came to his conquests with women.

Chloe moved to the refrigerator. “Would either of you like anything?”

“I’m fine, dear,” Charity said.

“Me, too.” Arizona motioned to the bottle of beer in front of him.

Chloe gave him a tight smile, then collected a diet soda for herself. She walked back to the table.

Arizona told himself it wasn’t polite to stare, but Ms. Chloe Bradley Wright was very easy on the eyes. Tall, at least five-eight or -nine, slender with big brown eyes and a cascade of reddish-brown curls that tumbled to the middle of her back. She might not have a lot of curves, but she was woman enough to get his blood pumping.

If he had a type, she would be it. Fortunately he didn’t have one, nor was he looking for anyone to keep him company during his brief visit to Bradley.

“I’m trying to convince Arizona to stay with us while he’s here,” Charity said, picking up the conversation where they’d left it when Chloe had arrived home. “I’ve explained there’s plenty of room and he won’t be any trouble at all. What do you think?”

Chloe was staring at him again. Whatever the reason for her attention, he found he liked it. She blinked twice, then looked at her aunt. “What? Oh, sorry. I was—” She took a sip of her soda. “It’s just I’ve been staring at your picture all day. I can’t believe you’re sitting here in my kitchen.”

Her words hung in the room like dust motes floating on a sunny afternoon. The silence lengthened. Chloe sucked in a breath and flushed, as if she’d just realized what she’d said.

“That came out wrong,” she said quickly.

“Not to me it didn’t.” Arizona winked. “The fan club can always use a new member. Did I mention I often take care of initiation myself?”

He was teasing...for the most part. Chloe’s flush deepened. Maybe the little town of Bradley would be more interesting than he’d first thought.

He glanced over and saw Charity’s speculative gaze. Ah, so his friend was thinking about a little matchmaking. He drank his beer, unconcerned by her efforts. He’d dealt with much tougher than her in the past. As they said in Australia—no worries.

Chloe cleared her throat. “Now you’ve seen me at my worst, or close to it. I don’t usually make a habit of putting my foot in my mouth. What I meant was I’m a reporter with Bradley Today magazine. The writer who was going to follow you around for the next couple of weeks and write the article won’t be able to do it. Our editor assigned me this morning. I’ve been busy doing research.”

A reporter. Assigned to him. He liked that. “Should be fun.”

“Yes, well, I left a message at your hotel explaining the situation.”

“I’ve been with Charity most of the day,” he said. “I’ll be sure to listen most attentively when I get back to my room.”

“You do that. There’ll be a quiz in the morning.”

She smiled then. A real smile without thought or purpose. Her face lit up, her eyes sparkled and he found himself leaning toward her, already planning what he could do to make her smile again.

Chloe reached for her briefcase and unzipped the leather, unconstructed bag. “I believe we have an appointment at the gem exhibit at nine-thirty in the morning. Does that still work for you?”

In more ways than you know, he thought, but only said, “Yes.”

“Good.” She made a notation in her date book. “It will take me a couple of days to get up to speed. I have Nancy’s research, of course, but I want to do some of my own. I’ll try not to be a pain with all my questions.”

“My life is an open book,” he said.

Charity coughed. “Really, Arizona? Oh, good. I was afraid there were some stories you wouldn’t want me telling, but with your life being so accessible and all...” She turned to her niece. “Later I’ll tell you about the time a tribal elder’s daughter paid him to teach her how to please her husband. It seems that there was a problem with—”

Arizona groaned. “Charity, have you no shame? That is private.”

“I thought you were accessible. I thought you wanted to share yourself with the people.”

“Not that much of myself. There are some things Chloe should learn on her own.”

Chloe raised her eyebrows. “How kind of you to say that, but don’t worry. I’m not interested in any lessons on pleasing the men in my life.”

“They’re all satisfied?”

“Completely.”

In her tailored slacks and linen jacket, she looked professional and confident. He wondered if Charity saw the slight tremor in her niece’s hand as she picked up her can of soda. Chloe was lying through her teeth. Which either meant she wasn’t pleasing her man, or there wasn’t a man to please. He found himself wanting it to be the latter.

Charity chuckled. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I’m giving you completely the wrong idea about Arizona. It’s true that he can be a charmer when he wants to be, but for the most part he’s a decent and kind man.”

Arizona winced. “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am.”

“You’re talking about me as if I were the family dog.”

Chloe leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “So you don’t want to be thought of as decent and kind? Secretly you long to be—” She pressed her lips together.

Indecent. His brain filled in the word and he shifted in his chair. What was going on between himself and Chloe? This didn’t make sense. The banter was fine—he enjoyed people who were fun and funny. But the sexual innuendo wasn’t his style. Too obvious. Was it the lack of female companionship in his life, or was it something else? Something about Chloe specifically?

Before he could analyze the situation, the front door opened and a female voice called out a greeting.

“That’s Cassie,” Charity said, rising to her feet. “My other niece. She’s the baby of the family.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Chloe protested. “She’s younger by all of six months. You make her sound like she’s still a teenager.”

“Or that you’re an old woman,” Charity teased.

“Thanks.”

A young woman entered the kitchen. Her gaze settled on Arizona. “I saw you on television this morning,” she said and grinned. Her short dark hair accentuated her large eyes. Where Chloe was tall and slender, Cassie was a good five or six inches shorter, with plenty of curves.

A nice enough young woman, Arizona thought as they were introduced, but not intriguing. Not like her sister.

“So you’re a famous explorer,” Cassie said as she reached for a pitcher of iced tea and poured herself a glass. Heart-shaped earrings glinted at her earlobes.

“That would be me. Larger than life.”

Cassie settled next to him and sighed. “Do women gush when they meet you?”

“Only if they’re incredibly discerning.” He glanced up and caught Chloe’s smile.

“Are you married?” Cassie asked.

“Cassie!” Chloe frowned at her sister. “Don’t be personal.”

“Why not? Well, are you?”

“You proposing?”

Cassie sipped her tea, apparently unruffled by the conversation. “No. I’m involved with someone. But Chloe is single.”

Arizona shot her a glance. So there wasn’t a man in her life. Funny how that piece of information was suddenly fascinating.

“Thanks for sharing that particular detail,” Chloe said and rose to her feet. Her aunt stood by an electric frying pan sitting on the counter. “Can I help?” she asked.

“I’m doing fine. I’m cooking Arizona’s favorite for dinner,” she said.

Chloe glanced in the pan, then over at him. “Pot roast?”

“Yup. You’d be amazed how hard that is to find in some places.”

“I’ll bet.”

“There’s chocolate cake and ice cream for dessert,” Charity added. “Both you girls will be staying for dinner.”

It wasn’t a question. The sisters exchanged knowing looks, and Arizona was pleased that he wasn’t the only one Charity bossed around.

“You don’t have to if you have other plans. Although I would very much like the company.” The latter comment he addressed to Chloe.

“Oh, we aren’t busy,” Cassie said. “I’m only seeing Joel and I can call him and cancel.”

“Joel would be your young man?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. We’re engaged to be engaged.” She held out her left hand. A thin gold band encircled her ring finger. The diamond set there was so small it looked like a grain of sand.

“It’s lovely,” he told her.

She beamed.

Cassie started asking him more questions. He answered automatically, most of his attention focused on her sister. Chloe didn’t rejoin them at the table. Instead she moved around the kitchen, doing odds and ends that to his mind looked like busywork. Almost as if she was staying as far away from him as possible. Did he make her nervous?

There was something between them, he thought. Some kind of a connection. He knew there were people who would dismiss a feeling that they’d met someone before. He didn’t. He’d traveled too much and seen too many things he couldn’t explain to overlook the obvious.

When he looked at Chloe there was heat and desire, but there was also something else. An intangible he couldn’t explain but that he wouldn’t ignore, either. He wanted to get to know her better. At least circumstances were conspiring to assist him in his quest. If she was going to be writing about him, she could hardly spend the three weeks he was in town avoiding him.

She turned and opened a drawer. As she choose forks and knives, one fell to the floor. She knelt down to pick it up. The movement prickled at the back of his mind. As if he’d seen her kneel before. But when he probed his mind, the image that appeared to him was of Chloe completely naked, kneeling on a bed of straw.

Not that he was complaining, but where on earth had that thought come from? He swore silently and forced himself to pay attention to Cassie and her list of questions. Thank God he was sitting down and no one could see the obvious and rapid physical response to his vision. Clearly he’d been without a woman for too long. He’d outgrown the appeal of a bed partner in every port, but he was still a man who had needs. At some point in time he was going to have to do something about them.

Cassie stopped her bombardment long enough to get up and fix a salad. Chloe walked over to the table and began setting it.

“Pot roast, vegetables, mashed potatoes and salad,” she said. “Not very exotic fair. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to run to the gourmet store and grab a bottle of chocolate-covered ants or something. Just so you’ll feel at home?”

Her voice was low and teasing. She stood close enough that he could inhale the scent of her. “I think I can handle this.”

He wasn’t talking about the food, but did she know that?

“If you’re sure,” she said and picked up his empty bottle of beer. “I’ll get you another one.”

Cassie sliced tomatoes into the bowl of lettuce and cut-up vegetables. She grinned at him. “So when was the last time you had three women waiting on you?”

He thought for a second. “It’s been a couple of months. I was staying—”

Small bits of radish hit him in the face.

“Hey!” He looked up and saw Chloe prepared to launch another assault.

“That was an incorrect answer,” she told him. “You should try again.”

He eyed the piece of radish. “Charity, you’re not protecting me from these bloodthirsty nieces of yours.”

“You were just bragging how you can handle things. So you’re on your own.”

“I’m seriously outnumbered.”

Chloe tossed him another piece of radish. This one he caught and popped in his mouth.

“No one here is impressed,” she informed him, her eyes bright with laughter.

The teasing continued throughout the preparation of the meal. Arizona enjoyed watching the three women work together. They moved with an easy grace that told him they did this often. Their banter reminded him that on occasion his chosen life could be very solitary. Sure he loved what he did, but his lifestyle didn’t allow for a home of his own, or many intimate connections. He had lots of acquaintances, but few friends.

He tried to distance himself from the situation, to observe instead of participate, but the trick didn’t work this time. He kept finding himself pulled into the conversation. The sense of family was strong and he was the odd person out. As the three women joined him and began dishing up food, he realized he was the only man at the table. He liked that in a group.

When everything was ready, Cassie plopped herself next to him and smiled. “I have a ton more questions.”

Chloe took the seat opposite his, while Charity was next to her. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know if I can answer anything without first getting an agreement that everything we discuss here is off the record.”

There was a stunned moment of surprise followed by a burst of laughter. Both women looked at Chloe, who raised her hands in the air. “Fine. I won’t take notes, record the conversation or make any attempt to retain it in my brain. I’m sure that important secrets will be shared here tonight, but the public will just have to stay uninformed.”

“So how long are you in town?” Cassie asked.

“Three weeks.”

“Where were you before you got here?”

“South America. I was making arrangements to ship the gems. Before that I was in India.”

Chloe passed him the bowl of mashed potatoes. As he took it from her, she shrugged. “You’ll have to forgive her. Cassie works with preschool children. She doesn’t get out much.”

Cassie gave her sister a mock glare. “Oh, and you’ve traveled the world yourself. I know you have a lot of questions, too. You’re just pretending to be sophisticated.”

Arizona leaned toward Chloe. “It’s working,” he said in a low voice.

Her dark eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite register, then she smiled and looked away.

“What do you usually look for?” Cassie asked as he finished serving himself and passed on the mashed potatoes. “Bones and stuff?”

“I’m not that disciplined,” he admitted. “I know it’s important to study the details of life in lost civilizations, but I don’t have the interest. I want to learn about the unusual. The mystical and unbelievable.”

Cassie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Magic. Objects that cast spells or connect the wearer to whatever gods that society worshiped.”

Chloe put some salad on her plate and gave him an innocent smile. “Remember the last Indiana Jones movie, Cassie? It’s the one where they were looking for the Holy Grail—the cup Christ is said to have used at the Last Supper. Arizona looks for stuff like that.”

Arizona wasn’t fooled. Chloe might have just been assigned the story, but she would have spent the day doing research. She had to know that he loathed being compared to that fictional movie character Indiana Jones. There was no way he could compete with that kind of hero and come out anything but second best. Tweaking the tiger’s tail, he thought. She obviously wasn’t a pushover. He liked that in a woman.

Cassie stared at him wide-eyed. “Really? So you’re interested in legends?”

“All kinds. Old stories, myths about the past.”

“Family legends?”

There was something about the way she asked the question. Chloe focused on her sister. “Mr. Smith doesn’t want to hear about that,” she said, her expression tight. “It wouldn’t be interesting.”

A mystery, he thought as he glanced from sister to sister.

“Just because it didn’t work for you doesn’t mean it’s not real,” Cassie said. “We have a family legend. The Bradleys do anyway. That’s the family on our mother’s side.”

“Cassie, I don’t think—” Chloe began, but her sister waved her off.

“Ignore her,” Cassie said. “She’s a cynic when it comes to stuff like this.”

“I’m intrigued,” Arizona admitted. As much with the idea of a family legend as with the mystery as to why Chloe didn’t want him to hear it.

“The story is that several hundred years ago an old gypsy woman was being chased by some drunken men. They were throwing stones and yelling at her and she feared for her life.” Cassie waved her hands as she talked, providing animation for the tale.

He spared a glance for Chloe. She stared at her plate as if it had suddenly started forming signs and symbols in the mashed potatoes.

“A young woman heard the commotion,” Cassie continued. “She lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of town. I think she was being shunned or something but no one knows for sure. Anyway, she invited the old woman in and protected her from the men. In return the woman gave her a magic nightgown.”

“Really?”

Cassie’s humor faded. “I’m not making this up.”

“I don’t doubt you. It’s just clothing isn’t commonly used to carry magic. It doesn’t age well, is easily torn or destroyed. But it’s not unheard of. What’s the magic?”

“This is the good part. Every woman in the family is supposed to wear the nightgown on the night of her twenty-fifth birthday. If she does, she’ll dream about the man she’s going to marry. He’s her destiny and as long as she marries him, they’ll live a long and happy life together.”

“I see.” Interesting story. He’d heard several like it before in different forms. It was a common theme. Related stories were the idea of sleeping with a piece of wedding cake under the pillow, or the stories about St. Agnes Eve.

“Any punishment for not sleeping in the nightgown?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Aunt Charity? You’re the one who knows the most about it.”

Charity shrugged. “There have been rumors of unhappy marriages when the woman didn’t pay attention to her dream and married the wrong man, but I don’t think there’s a penalty for not wearing the nightgown.”

“I’d like to see the nightgown,” he said.

“Is that really necessary?” Chloe asked. “It’s just a nightgown. I mean you’ve probably seen a dozen just like it.”

“Ignore her,” Cassie said, rising to her feet. “She’s crabby because the legend let her down.”

More intrigued because Chloe was obviously hiding something, Arizona leaned toward her. “What don’t you want me to know?”

“Nothing.” But her dark gaze avoided his. “It’s just a story. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means something to your sister.”

“Cassie has always been the dreamer in the family.”

“Oh, and you’re the practical one?”

This time she looked directly at him. “Absolutely. I only believe in things I can prove.”

“Not magic?”

“Magic is skillful sleight of hand at best, smoke and mirrors at worst.”

Before he could answer, Cassie returned to the kitchen. She handed him a soft cotton-and-lace nightgown. The fabric was old, but it didn’t have the look or feel of something from a couple hundred years ago. He fingered the lace. Sometimes objects spoke to him. Not in words, but in images or sensations. A prickling along the back of his neck or a—She stretched out on the straw and reached up for him. Her eyes were bright with passion, her lips wet from his kisses. Slowly, so neither of them could doubt his intent, he knelt beside her and placed one hand on the inside of her knee. Inch by inch he drew his hand up toward the most secret part of her. The nightgown offered only token resistance, tightening slightly before sliding out of the way.

As quickly as it had appeared, the image faded, leaving Arizona feeling aroused and slightly disconcerted. He hadn’t really seen much of the woman’s face. Just her mouth. But he’d formed an impression of her, one strong enough to identify her.

Chloe.

“What do you think?” Charity asked, her gaze far too knowing.

He hoped his expression didn’t give anything away. He cleared his throat before speaking. “It’s antique enough to pass muster in a vintage clothing shop, but this isn’t more than fifty or sixty years old.”

Cassie’s mouth drooped with disappointment.

“Hey, that doesn’t mean the magic won’t work,” he told her. “Who wears it next?”

“I do,” Cassie said, then raised her eyebrows. “Of course my birthday isn’t for about six months. However, if you want to talk about a recent experience, ask Chloe. She wore it last night.”

“Really?”

Chloe flushed slightly. “It was my birthday yesterday. Big deal. I wore it. Nothing happened.”

He studied her, the smooth skin, the high cheekbones and firm set of her chin. She was lying, but about what?

“No dreams at all?” he asked.

“None worth mentioning.”

“Maybe you should let us be the judge of that. After all, if you’re so interested in my story, maybe you should share yours with me. Just to be fair.” As he said the words, the image of her in the nightgown popped back into his head. No way, he told himself. It hadn’t been him. He wasn’t anyone’s idea of destiny. The fates were smart enough to know that.

A timer dinged on the stove. Chloe rose to her feet. “Saved by the bell, and I mean that literally. The cobbler is ready. Why don’t the three of you go on into the living room. I’ll serve the dessert and bring it to you.”

“Ah, Chloe, you’re no fun at all,” Cassie complained.

“I know. It’s my lot in life.”

“Don’t worry,” Charity said as she linked arms with him. “We can use the time to convince Arizona to stay here instead of at some boring hotel. What do you think?”

Cassie clapped her hands together. “That would be great! Say yes, Arizona. I swear I won’t bug you every minute with questions.”

“Just every other minute,” Chloe muttered.

Cassie grinned. “Actually, she’s telling the truth, but would that be too awful?”

“Not at all,” Arizona said.

He was tempted. He would have accepted the gracious invitation except for one thing. Chloe. Something about her called to him. He could still picture her in the nightgown and he was hard with wanting. If anything happened between them, he didn’t want to worry about upsetting Charity by taking advantage of her hospitality and therefore be unable to make love with Chloe.

Talk about an ulterior motive, he told himself. If Charity knew what he was thinking, she would want him neutered for sure.

Cassie took the nightgown from him and folded it. “We’re supposed to wash it by hand using water from the first rain after the first full moon following the wearer’s birthday. I’ve marked the full moon on my calendar. I don’t want to forget. Chloe might not believe, but I’m determined to make sure the legend happens to me.”

Arizona stood up and caught Chloe staring after her sister with an incredible look of sadness on her face. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but this wasn’t the time, and even if it was, he didn’t have the right. He was just a guest in the house. Of course there was the detail of the article Chloe wanted to write. She was going to spend the next three weeks chasing after him, and if she played her cards right, he just might let her catch him.


CHAPTER THREE

“THERE IS a perfectly logical explanation,” Chloe told herself as she exited the freeway and headed for the university. “Things like this happen all the time. It’s nothing to worry about. I’m not going insane.”

She braked at the stop sign and shifted her car into neutral. Her mouth curved up into a smile. “The fact that I’m talking to myself is not an indication of mental imbalance. I’ve always talked to myself. The trick is to not answer. At least not out loud.”

The intersection cleared. She shifted into first and accelerated. Okay, so she was still feeling very strange about the dream she’d had two nights ago. Being exhausted didn’t help. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all the previous night, what with trying to make sense of everything. Obviously she’d seen Arizona’s picture somewhere in the past, and his image had been lodged in her subconscious. It happened all the time. Cassie had been talking about the nightgown legend for weeks before Chloe’s twenty-fifth birthday. The combination of life pressures, family-legend expectations and Lord knew what else had created a very real dream. But it was only a dream.

The fact that Arizona had invaded her life the next day was merely coincidence. The world was full of them.

“I’m going to be fine,” she said aloud. “This article is a great opportunity for me. I’m going to turn in a dynamite project, impress the socks off my editor and write my way into a job with a big New York publisher.”

She drew in a deep breath. The spring air was warm, the sun bright, the sky clear. At the next stop sign Chloe glanced around at the budding trees and green lawns that marked the outskirts of the university campus. For the first time in months she had the top down on her little sports car. The wind ruffled her hair and made her want to laugh. She would get through all this. She’d always been a survivor. If nothing else, she would keep reminding herself that Arizona Smith was just a man. Okay, he was very good-looking and the sight of him made her heart race. And maybe when they’d shaken hands yesterday she had felt a slight electrical charge, not to mention the fact that she didn’t even have to close her eyes to picture him naked, next to her, on top of her, touching her everywhere as he—

“Stop it!” she commanded herself. “Don’t go there. It’s way too dangerous territory. Keep it light, keep it professional.”

With that she turned into the parking lot by the exhibition hall. She found a parking spot by the main walkway and put up the top on her convertible. She’d barely finished collecting her leather briefcase when a black four-wheel-drive Ford Explorer pulled into the spot next to her. As she stepped out of her convertible, she had the feeling her car looked like a gnat buzzing beside an elephant. Then the tiny hairs on the back of her neck all stood up and a shiver raced down her spine. She couldn’t think about cars or even breathing because she knew. He was there.

Sure enough, a tall, handsome guy climbed down from the driver’s seat and circled around the front of the Explorer. Arizona wore khakis and a long-sleeved dark green shirt. His hair needed a trim, his boots were scuffed, and none of that mattered because there was a glint in his green eyes that made her wonder if the devil was half so appealing as this man standing in front of her.

“Morning,” he said. “I thought I saw you zipping by me on the freeway. You were talking to yourself.”

Chloe tightened her grip on her briefcase, then faked a casual chuckle. “Dictating, actually. I’m a journalist. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“I see.” His gaze traveled leisurely over her body. The attention was as tangible as a blast of hot air. She found herself wanting to move close and rub up against him, just to make the moment complete. Before she could make a total fool of herself, he turned his attention to her car.

“Nice,” he said, pointing at the silver BMW Z3 convertible. “You ever pretend you’re James Bond?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. She’d heard the question before. Yes, the car had been featured in Pierce Brosnan’s first film as James Bond, but that wasn’t why she’d bought it. Some of her trust money had become available a couple of years before, she’d needed a new car and she’d always wanted a convertible. She’d bought the car on a whim and had never regretted it even once.

But she wasn’t about to explain that to Arizona. She was in a lot of danger with this man. He was the subject of a story she intended to write, so she had to get the upper hand. His respect for her professional abilities was required. But she had a feeling he wouldn’t care about her years of study or how many articles she’d written. He exuded power the way flowers exuded scent. He would respect someone who gave as good as they got. She was having enough trouble trying to forget about the dream and ignoring her unexplained attraction to him. She refused to let him best her in a game of wits.

She made a great show of glancing around the parking lot. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Dr. Smith, but Bradley is firmly located in an area referred to as the Sacramento delta. This part of California is completely flat. So unless you plan on scaling a building or two, this four-wheel-drive monstrosity you’ve rented seems a great deal like overkill to me.” She kicked the closest monster tire and smiled. “Of course, you’re the expert in archaeology. Perhaps there’s something I should know to explain this.”

Their gazes locked. Chloe didn’t dare back down. Better to have gone too far than not far enough, she told herself.

A slow smile pulled at his mouth. His eyes brightened with humor. “Yeah, yeah. You called me on that one. I couldn’t help it. I hate little cars.” He took her arm and led her toward the exhibit hall. “Let’s get one thing straight. I prefer Arizona to Dr. Smith, okay? Let’s keep things informal.”

The victory was sweet, although not enough for her to ignore the tingling in her arm or the way her heart fluttered in her chest. “Works for me. I want you to feel comfortable.”

He looked at her. “I do. I feel very comfortable.”

If they ever made love, they would be in danger of experiencing spontaneous combustion.

She didn’t know where the thought had come from, but she knew it was true. Dear Lord, the man turned her on. But she couldn’t let him know.

“Good. Then you won’t mind answering all my questions.”

They’d reached the building. Arizona held the door open for her. “Not at all. We can talk about anything you’d like.”

The hallway was dim and it took a minute for her eyes to adjust. They stood facing each other. “I have a whole list of things I want to ask you.”

“I think I’d rather talk about you.”

It took a minute for his words to sink in. Chloe’s body screamed a gratified “Yes!” when she finally absorbed the meaning of his statement. Her brain resisted. Was this teasing or testing? She didn’t allow herself to think it might be an invitation. He couldn’t possibly know about the dream. Did the attraction go both ways? The thought both excited and terrified her.

“That’s not very subtle,” she told him, pleased that her voice was calm. Shrieking would have been so unattractive.

“I can be if that’s what you would prefer.”

“What would you prefer?”

She hadn’t meant to ask that question, but it was too late to call it back. Once the words were out, she really wanted to hear the answer.

The devastating smile returned. “I’d like to take you to an island in the South Pacific. Somewhere isolated and romantic.”

“I’m sure you have just the one in mind.”

“Of course. You’d like it. The indigenous population has a society based on a female deity. The social structure is matriarchal. In their eyes, men pretty much have one use.”

Chloe was grateful for the dimness of the foyer. She could feel herself flushing. Based on what she’d read about him, he was probably telling the truth about the island. Despite herself, she laughed.

“I should be insulted,” she told him.

“But you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” How could she be, when every cell of her being responded to him. Not just because he was good-looking. In fact, that was the least of his appeal. Much of what drew her was his energy. She felt like a cat seeking out the warmth of the sun. She wanted to bask in his glow.

“Don’t you have some gems you want to show me?” she asked in an effort to change the subject.

“Absolutely.” He led the way down the hall toward the exhibit hall.

She fell into step with him. “You’re not what I expected,” she admitted.

“So you’ve been doing your homework. Did you think I’d be more scholarly?”

“No, although I’m sure you’re the expert everyone claims. I guess I didn’t think you’d be just a regular guy. I try not to form too much of an impression of someone before I meet him. I don’t want to be writing the article in my head too early. But in your case, that was more difficult than usual. There’s a mythical element to your press clippings.”

“Tell me about it.” He stopped suddenly and turned to face her. “Despite the press trying to make it seem otherwise, I’m not Harrison Ford or Indiana Jones.” His mouth twisted. “I can’t tell you how many times those comparisons have been made.”

“How often do you come out ahead?”

“Good question.” His features relaxed a little. “We’re running about fifty-fifty. You wouldn’t believe the people who have trouble understanding that he’s an actor portraying a fictional character. What happens in the movies has very little to do with real life. But people have expectations.”

“You don’t want to disappoint them,” she said guessing.

“Of course not. But I’m not a larger-than-life character. Who can compete with a movie legend? This is real life. I don’t get a second take to make sure the line is said just right.”

“I would guess that the fans who most want you to be like Indiana Jones are the ladies,” she said.

He groaned. “They bring me hats like his. And whips.”

Chloe wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I see.”

He winked. “Of course some of them have been quite satisfied with reality.”

I certainly was.

She jumped. Had she said that or just thought it? Her gaze flew to his face. He was watching her expectantly. Her heart, which had stumbled a couple of beats, resumed its steady thudding. She must have just thought it. Thank goodness. Arizona could never know about that night—or her dreams.

“Chloe, I’m sorry. I was just teasing. If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”

His statement didn’t make sense for a second. Then she realized she’d been quiet and he probably thought she’d been insulted by his comment. “It’s fine,” she told him.

He shrugged. “Seriously, there was a time when I enjoyed all the press and comparisons. I worked hard to live up to the hype.”

“A girl in every port?”

“Something like that.”

“What happened?”

“I grew up. It got old. I’ve learned that quality is the most important part of a relationship.”

That surprised her. “So you’re a romantic at heart?”

He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “Yes. But not the way you mean it. If you’re asking if I believe in love, the answer is no.”

That didn’t make sense. “You said you believe in magic.”

“Of course. One doesn’t have anything to do with the other. Magic exists. Love is the myth.”

“No way. I’ve never seen magic at work, but you only have to look around to know love is everywhere. Parents and their children, couples who have been together fifty years, kids with their pets. How can you deny all that evidence?”

He stepped toward the wide double doors that led to the exhibit. “It’s surprisingly easy,” he said, pulled a key from his pocket, turned the lock and pushed open the right door.

As she moved to step inside, she was instantly assaulted by cool air. The light was even more dim inside, with only an illuminated path to guide them. A shiver rippled up her spine, but this one was from nerves, not attraction. Chloe instinctively fingered the heart-shaped locket she wore around her neck.

“This way,” Arizona said with the confidence of someone who could see in the dark.

They’d taken about two steps when a voice stopped them. “You can’t come in here,” a man said. “The exhibit isn’t open yet.” Seconds later a bright light shone in her eyes, blinding her.

“It’s okay, Martin,” Arizona said. “This is Chloe Wright. She’s a journalist. I brought her by to show her the exhibit.”

The light clicked off and a security guard stepped out of the shadows. “Oh, sorry, Dr. Smith. I didn’t know it was you.” The fiftysomething man smiled. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, Martin, thanks.”

When they were alone again, Arizona motioned to the dark draperies on either side of the lit path. “The entrance is going to have blown-up photographs showing some of the ruins, that sort of thing. Robert Burton, a friend of mine, is composing appropriate music. Whatever the hell that means.”

Chloe chuckled with him. “Probably something with a South American flavor.”

“Probably.”

They continued down the walkway toward bright lights. Dark drapes gave way to glass cases exhibiting tools, bowls and animal hides fashioned into primitive clothing. Arizona briefly explained the significance of the items.

“I constantly offend my colleagues,” he admitted, not looking the least bit concerned by the fact. “I know I should be interested in this kind of thing.” He motioned to a row of cutting knives. “They are the basis for understanding how a people lived day by day. But I’m a true romantic. I find the living more interesting than the dead, even the long-dead, and I prefer magic to reality. I don’t care what they used to skin their kill. I want to know how they prepared for the hunt. I want to learn the rituals and hear the songs.” He shrugged. “As I’m frequently reminded, religion and magic have their place, but a good knife in the hands of a skilled hunter can keep a family alive for the winter.”

Chloe studied the honed cutting edges. “But religion feeds them as well—their souls rather than their bodies. That has to count for something.”

“Exactly.”

Arizona beamed at her as if she were a rather dull student who had finally come up with the right answer. She barely noticed, being too busy wondering where on earth that thought had come from. She was way too pragmatic to be concerned about the state of anyone’s soul.

“I’m glad you see my point,” he told her. “However, there are a few people I can’t seem to convince. They’re much more into the physical than the spiritual. We need to go through here.”

He led the way into a brightly lit alcove. There was a closed door at the far end. He knocked once. Another security guard stepped out. “Yes, Dr. Smith?”

“Jimmy, I made arrangements to show Ms. Wright the gem collection. You ready to unlock the cases for me?”

The guard, a young man of Chloe’s age, nodded seriously. “Yes, sir. Let me get the keys and disable the alarm.”

When he disappeared back into the room, Arizona winked at her. “Jimmy is in charge of the gems. He’s very proud of that. He’ll be accompanying us. With him around, we can unlock the cases and you can actually touch the stones.”

“I’d like that.” She stared at him. “How long have you been in town?”

“A couple of days. Why?”

“You seem to know everyone’s name. Or is that just a habit with security guards?”

“I told you. I’m interested in the living.”

Jimmy joined them, cutting off any further chance for conversation. He led the way to the last room. The walls were plain black. Tall glass cases formed a staggered line down the center. Spotlights illuminated their precious cargo.

Arizona nodded at the first case. “We’ll start at this end and work our way down.” As Jimmy unlocked the case, Arizona sighed heavily. “I found them, but do they trust me with them now?”

“Sorry, sir,” Jimmy said without cracking a smile. “I’m following the rules.”

Chloe moved close to the display. The door opened and Arizona reached inside to pick up a huge pink stone. It was the size of an orange, with an irregular shape. He held it with a reverence that made her nervous about taking it from him when he offered it to her.

“This will heal you,” he said. “Arthritis, stomach trouble, anything internal. I don’t think it would work on a broken bone, although I could be wrong. Some of the incantations were written down. We’ve found pieces on tablets and animal hides. The tribe is obscure. The language is tough. Not related to other Indian tribes in the area. I don’t have any of the incantations with me, so just think good thoughts while you hold it and hope for the best.”

She took the stone from him. It was heavier than it looked. The top was bumpy, but the bottom was smooth and fit perfectly into the palm of her hand. She studied the way the light glinted off the facets.

“They didn’t find the stone this way, did they?” she asked.

“No. It’s been cut. There are definite markings. That’s one of the mysteries. The tools we found aren’t strong enough or sharp enough to have done this, so how did it happen?”

She handed him back the stone. “Do you have a theory?”

“Of course. But you’re going to have to come to my lecture series to hear what it is.”

He put the stone back in the case, waited until Jimmy locked it, then moved to the next exhibit.

There were stunning gems used in religious ceremonies, more healing stones, some of undetermined purpose. Arizona talked about them all, as if they were well-loved friends. When they were at the last case, he removed a huge diamond nestled in a flower-shaped bed of gold. The object was so heavy, she had to use both hands to hold it.

“Close your eyes,” Arizona instructed. “Focus on the stone.”

Chloe did as he requested. Instantly, the diamond began to glow. She frowned. That was impossible. For one thing, she had her eyes closed. How could she know if something was glowing or not? For another, she didn’t believe in the mystical. But she could feel the heat and would have sworn she saw the light.

“This is a loving stone,” he said. “It would have been used in ancient weddings to bind a couple together.”

Instantly she could see the cave, the two of them entwined on their bed of straw. Which was crazy, right?

As the image filled her brain, the stone definitely brightened. Chloe stiffened and opened her eyes. She stared at the diamond. Nothing about it had changed. It wasn’t glowing at all, and now that she was paying attention, there really wasn’t any heat.

Arizona took the stone from her and returned it to Jimmy. After thanking the guard, he led her out of the exhibit hall. There was a small garden behind the building. Stone benches surrounded an inverted fountain.

Still confused by what had happened, she settled on one of the benches. He took a seat next to her.

“What did you think?” he asked.

“It’s very impressive. I can see why you enjoy your work and why you have such a following. You’ve brought a great find to national attention.”

He dismissed the compliment with a wave. “I haven’t done anything that special. I followed a few clues, refused to give up when other people did, but I’m no hero. There are a lot of great scholars out there. I’m just some guy interested in pretty rocks and religious icons.”

“You’re selling yourself a little short, aren’t you?”

“Not really. When I met Joseph Campbell I was so impressed, I couldn’t talk. He was my idol. I don’t say that lightly. I’ve met many impressive people, but he was the best.”

Interesting. She made a mental note. That information could add some depth and human interest to her story. “Are there any important people you haven’t met yet who intrigue you?”

His smile was slow and lazy. It should have warned her. He relaxed back in the bench. “Yesterday I would have said yes, because until yesterday I hadn’t met you.”

It was a line, she reminded herself. But it was a good one. “Not bad.”

His smile didn’t fade, but something dark and dangerous crept into his expression. “I wasn’t kidding, Chloe. I know you felt it, too. The energy when you were holding the diamond. Did the stone glow when you closed your eyes? That’s supposed to be significant.”

She tried swallowing, but her throat was too tight. When coughing didn’t clear it, she decided to ignore both the sensation and the question. She opened her briefcase and pulled out a small handheld tape recorder.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” she said.

He eyed the machine. “Obviously we’re on the record.”

“We have been all morning.”

His gaze sharpened. “Really? That surprises me.” He crossed his ankle over his opposite knee. “Ask away.”

The sun was warm, but the heat filling her body came from the inside. There was something about him, about his relaxed posture. She angled away from him, but even so, the bench was suddenly too small. She felt confined and much too close. She could inhale the masculine scent of his body. Her mind didn’t want to focus on questions or interview techniques. She wanted to move closer still; she wanted to run away.

Neither possibility was wise, she reminded herself, so she dug out a list of questions she’d prepared the previous night when she couldn’t sleep.

“You traveled with your grandfather for most of your formative years,” she said.

“That’s right. He showed up one day when I was about three or so, and took me with him. One of my first memories is riding a yak somewhere in Tibet.” He stretched out his arms along the back of the bench. His strong tanned fingers lay within inches of her shoulder and she tried not to notice.

“Grandfather traveled in style,” he continued. “At heart, he was an adventurer. Fortunately the family had money, so he was able to go where and when he wanted. He’d run guns into Africa before the Second World War. He knew heads of state, from Nixon to obscure tribal elders in kingdoms the size of a grocery store. He would decide to spend a summer somewhere or maybe a winter, but we never stayed longer than a few months. Grandfather loved to be moving on.”

Chloe knew this from her research. “He arranged for tutors?”

Arizona nodded. “Sometimes several at once. I studied for hours every day. When I was fourteen, he put me in university, Oxford, then I moved to Egypt for a year or so. India, South Africa. I have an assortment of degrees.” He grinned. “None of them practical.”

“Are you an adventurer, too?”

“In a manner of speaking. I’ve tried to be more methodical, to use what I know to discover the past. Grandfather wanted to travel for the sake of being gone. I want to accomplish something.”

She looked at him. From where she was sitting, he looked like a fairly normal guy. Perhaps he was a little too good-looking, but otherwise, he seemed to be much like the rest of the world.

“You’re staring,” he said. “Is there a reason?”

She shook her head. “You’re so different from anyone I’ve ever known. My family is one of the founding families of this town. My mother’s maiden name is Bradley. The Victorian house has been ours for generations. I’ve traveled some, but not like you. Bradleys have been in this valley for more than a hundred years.”

He shrugged. “Roots aren’t a bad thing.”

“I know. I’m not unhappy with my life. I’m just wondering what it would be like to have lived yours.” She tried to imagine always moving around, never knowing where one was going next. The thought wasn’t pleasant.

She remembered the running tape and the fact that this was supposed to be an interview. “Okay, next question. I know your mother died shortly after you were born. When did your father pass away?”

If she hadn’t been studying him so closely, she wouldn’t have noticed the subtle stiffening of his body. “My father is alive and well. At least he was the last time he called me.”

“But you grew up with your grandfather. He took you away when you were three.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you stay with your father?”

“It just worked out that way.”

The journalist in her jumped onto the detail. Questions sprang to mind. Had there been a problem? An estrangement? Some legal issues? Why had Arizona’s father let his only child be taken from him and subjected to such an odd upbringing?

“You’re going to pursue this line of questioning, aren’t you?” Arizona sounded more weary than annoyed.

“Yes. I’m figuring out which way to go.”

He didn’t answer. Instead he raised his head to the sun. “It’s warmer than I thought it would be,” he said.

“We’re about ten degrees above normal for this time of year.”

“I should have dressed for it.” He reached for his right cuff and undid the button.

All the questions and strategies about how best to handle the interview fled from her mind. The entire world disappeared as she focused her attention on those long fingers and his casual act.

He finished rolling up the right sleeve and started on the left. She knew what she was going to see there. Despite the fact that she’d only met the man yesterday and that he’d been wearing long sleeves then, too. Despite the fact that none of the photos in her research files showed him in anything but long sleeves. She knew about the scar because she’d seen the man naked in her dreams.

That wasn’t real, she reminded herself. It hadn’t really happened. So when he rolled up the sleeve, there wasn’t going to be a knife scar on the inside of his left forearm. Except she knew that was exactly what she was going to see.

She stopped breathing.

He made one fold of the fabric, then another. The tail of the scar came into view. She told herself this wasn’t really happening, except it was and she didn’t know how to make it stop.

He caught her stare. “It’s not so bad,” he said, motioning to the scar. “Want to hear how it happened?”

“I can’t,” she said, her voice tight. “I can’t. I have to—” She couldn’t think of a real excuse so she didn’t bother making one. Instead she gathered up her notes and her tape recorder and thrust both into her briefcase.

It was too much to take in. The dream and the man and the fact that she’d known what the scar looked like before she’d even seen it.

“I’ll be in touch,” she managed as she scrambled to her feet and headed for the parking lot.

“Chloe? Is something wrong?”

She held him off with a wave. As soon as she was on the far side of the garden, she began to run. It was only when she tried to fit her key in the lock that she realized she was blinded by tears she could neither explain nor understand. What on earth was happening to her?


CHAPTER FOUR

CHLOE FINISHED STACKING the folders into neat piles. She’d already dusted her computer, rearranged her pencil cup and answered all her messages. Even the boring ones. Still, the busywork wasn’t enough to keep her mind from scurrying around like a frantic chicken, scuttling from place to place, or in her case, subject to subject.

She’d tried lecturing herself on the importance of being professional. She’d scanned a couple of articles on maintaining one’s cool during interviews. She’d taken countless deep breaths, tried a bit of stretching in the ladies’ room and had even sworn off coffee.

It wasn’t helping. The truth was she was scared.

Something strange was happening to her. She didn’t want it to be true, but she could no longer ignore the obvious. Fact number one. Before yesterday, she’d never met Arizona Smith. She didn’t think she’d even seen a picture of him or known who he was. Fact number two. Night before last she’d had a long, detailed, highly erotic dream about Arizona. A dream so intense just thinking about it sent a quiver of excitement through her belly. Fact number three. In said dream, she’d pictured Arizona naked. She knew what the man looked like naked. That was fine. All men sort of looked the same without their clothes. The basic working parts had a lot in common. But it was more than that. She knew about his scars. The one on his knee and the one on his forearm. Fact number four. That very morning she’d had confirmation that her dream had some basis in reality. After all, the scar had been exactly as she remembered it.

Fact number five. Maybe she was going crazy.

Chloe folded her arms on her desk and let her head sink down to her hands. She refused to consider insanity as an explanation to her problem. It had to be something else. Something logical. Maybe along with seeing his picture and not remembering it, she’d also read an article that mentioned his scars.

Or maybe the nightgown was real.

That last thought made her shudder, but in a whole different way than when she thought about making love with Arizona. Anything mystic was just too weird for her. She didn’t want the nightgown to be real. She didn’t want to know her destiny and she sure didn’t want to have to get involved with a man like Arizona Smith. He had a woman in every port. He didn’t even believe in love.

She straightened in her chair. He was wrong about love. It did exist. Unfortunately it wasn’t worth the pain it brought along, but it was definitely real.

“I don’t want this,” she murmured to herself. “I want my life to be normal, like everyone else’s.”

She suddenly remembered she was in the office. Talking to herself in the car was one thing, but in front of others, especially coworkers, was quite another.

This has gone on too long, she told herself firmly and silently. She had to pull herself together. She reached for the pad of paper she always kept by her phone and then grabbed a pen. She would make a list. List making always helped.

First, she would pretend the dream never happened. Every time she thought about it, she would push it to the back of her mind. Eventually she would forget. Second, she was going to act like the professional she was. No more personal conversations, no more freaking out because she saw a scar. She didn’t even want to imagine what Arizona must think of her.

“Professional,” she muttered. It was time to work on her article.

She glanced at the list she’d made, figured she could remember both items on her own and tossed the paper into the trash. Next, she reviewed the background material Nancy had left her. There were a couple of points that hadn’t been clear. Chloe picked up the phone and dialed the reporter’s home number.

When Nancy answered, Chloe introduced herself and politely asked about her pregnancy. They talked about work for a few minutes, then Nancy mentioned Arizona.

“I’ve been seeing the man everywhere on the local news. Is he as impressive in person?”

Chloe thought about her own reaction to Arizona and bit back a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes.”

The two women laughed.

“Gee, Mark and I have wanted children for a long time, but now I’m feeling a little left out of it. I’m getting stretch marks and a daily afternoon backache while you’re out playing with the new guy in town. It’s not fair.”

“But in a couple of months you’re going to have a baby, and all I’ll be left with is a story.” And a broken heart.

The last thought came without warning and Chloe firmly ignored it. She was not going to get involved enough to get her heart broken. In fact she wasn’t going to get involved at all.

“Speaking of the story,” she said. “I have a few questions on a couple of your sources.”

“I figured you would. My system of taking notes is tough for people to follow. You’d think after all this time I’d be more organized, but I’m not.”

Chloe went through her questions and wrote down Nancy’s replies. When they were finished she said, “From what I can tell you were angling your story toward telling about the man and his myths.”

“Right, but I was never happy with that. Have you thought of something better?”

“I don’t know if it’s better, but I have another idea. I’d like to write about the man behind the myths. Arizona has traveled all over the world. He has a strong belief in the mystical and spiritual. From what I’ve seen he has an image the media loves. But who is the man underneath? How does he decide what he’s going to pursue? What are his influences now and what were they in the past?”

“I like that,” Nancy said. “I think the readers will like it, too. Arizona is getting tons of media attention so there’s no point in rehashing old material. Everyone will be tired of it by then. But this is new and fresh. Have you run it by Jerry?”

Chloe glanced at her watch. “I have a meeting with him in a couple of hours.”

“He’s going to think it’s great.” She laughed. “Actually what you’re going to hear is a noncommittal grunt, which means he thinks it’s great. If he hates it, he tells you to your face.”

“I know that one firsthand. Okay, Nancy. Thanks for your help.” They said their goodbyes and hung up.

Chloe turned on her computer and prepared to type up her notes. Usually she could focus on her work, but today there was a voice nagging in the back of her mind.

“This is too ridiculous,” she said softly. “I won’t get a moment’s peace until I fix this.”

With that, she picked up the phone again, consulted a pad of paper and dialed.

“Room 308,” she told the receptionist. “The guest’s name is Arizona Smith.”

She waited while the call was connected. It was possible that he hadn’t gone back to the hotel yet. He might be out all day. If that was the case, she would leave him voice mail asking him to get in touch with her. No matter how long it took, she was going to have to talk to him and apologize for her behavior that morning. There was no point in trying to explain—she wasn’t about to tell him about her dream or the fact that she’d known about his scar even before he’d rolled up his sleeve. But she at least had to atone for her rudeness in running off.

The receiver was picked up, cutting off her train of thought.

“Smith,” he said by way of a greeting.

“Hi, it’s Chloe. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No bother.”

His voice sounded normal. She took that as a good sign. “I’m calling to apologize for what happened earlier today. I don’t know why I ran off like that.” She crossed the fingers of her free hand, hoping the superstitious gesture would make up for the small lie.

“I understand. Sometimes I have that effect on women. They lose control and rather than let me see how overcome they are, they run off.”

His voice was so calm and serious it took her a minute to figure out he was teasing. She chuckled. “Yeah, right, that was it exactly. Overcome by your substantial charms, I had to retreat to the relative sanctuary of my office so that I could recover.”

“Are you better now?” he asked.

“Much, thank you.” They laughed together, then she said, “I’m serious. I don’t know what came over me. It was terrible to leave like that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“It better not. You won’t get much of a story if you keep running out on the interview.”

“Can I make it up to you? Would you please come over for dinner tonight?”

He hesitated. Chloe swallowed as her good humor disappeared like feathers sucked up into a tornado. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “You have other plans,” she said, making it a statement, not a question. Who was she, this other woman?

“Actually, I don’t. Yes, I would love to join you for dinner. However, your aunt already issued the invitation and I accepted.”

“Aunt Charity phoned?”

“First thing this morning.”

Chloe knew she shouldn’t be annoyed at her aunt. After all, Charity called the old Victorian mansion home, and she had every right to invite whomever she liked. But the tension was there all the same.

“That’s great,” Chloe told him. “I’ll see you then. This time I promise not to freak when you show off your scars.”

“If you’re very good I’ll even let you touch them.”

She thought about the one on his leg and couldn’t suppress a shudder of anticipation. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

* * *

CHLOE PULLED INTO the driveway. Mr. Withers, the seventy-year-old misogynist caretaker sat on his rider-mower, going back and forth on the front lawn.

“Evening, Mr. Withers,” Chloe called out as she stepped up to the front porch.

Mr. Withers offered a wave that was more dismissal than greeting and muttered something under his breath. Probably something mildly offensive, Chloe thought with a grin. The old man had been around since long before her mother had been born. He’d always taken care of the house. If either of the sisters dared to try to engage him in conversation they risked being called mindless ninnies. Chloe had always wanted to ask what other kind of ninnies existed—didn’t the definition of the insult imply a mindlessness? But she didn’t think Mr. Withers would appreciate her humor.

“Have a nice night,” she told him as she stepped into the house and was rewarded with another grunt.

She shut the front door behind him, effectively cutting off most of the noise from the power mower. “I’m home,” she yelled in the direction of the kitchen.

“It’s Chloe!” Cassie came racing down the hall and slipped to a stop in front of her. “I want to hear everything, but so does Aunt Charity so you have to wait until we’re all together. But plan on spilling lots and lots of details. Oh, and he’s coming to dinner. Isn’t that great?” She took a deep breath before continuing. “He is so amazingly cool and good-looking. How can you stand it? I mean, spending the day with him. Did he look into your eyes and say something wonderful? Don’t you think he’s just incredibly interesting?”

Chloe put down her briefcase and slipped out of her linen jacket. After linking her arm with her sister’s she led them both to the kitchen. “I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted. “I swear, Cassie, sometimes you act like you’re barely sixteen instead of nearly twenty-five.”

Cassie tossed her head, making her short dark hair dance around her face. “I’m blessed with an enthusiastic nature,” she said, not the least bit insulted by her sister’s comment. “I enjoy life and all that it has to offer. Arizona Smith is a very interesting man and I’m enjoying his company. We can’t all be jaded reporters. I’d rather be the romantic dreamer I am any day.”

They reached the kitchen. Cassie stepped away and got them each a soda from the refrigerator. Chloe settled at the kitchen table. “Where’s Aunt Charity?” she asked.

“Taking a shower. The spaghetti sauce has been simmering for hours.” She pointed to a pot on a back burner. She plopped down opposite her sister. “Tell me everything.”

Chloe obliged, telling her sister about the gem exhibit and recounting Arizona’s stories.

Cassie sighed. “It’s so romantic. What a great way to spend the morning. But you probably just sat there taking notes, not even noticing the man. You’re hopeless.” Cassie tucked her short hair behind her ear. “I swear, when I have my twenty-fifth birthday and I get to wear the nightgown, I’m not going to waste a perfectly good opportunity dreaming about nothing! I plan to have a wonderfully romantic dream.”

Chloe smiled as her sister talked. She was glad they were back together again. The three years they’d spent apart in high school had been difficult for them both. She fought against a familiar flash of anger. Their parents should have planned better, she thought for the thousandth time. If they had, the two sisters wouldn’t have been separated and put into different foster homes.

She shook off the old memories and concentrated on the evening ahead. She’d promised herself that she would act like a real professional, that she wouldn’t let thoughts of the dream interfere.

“What time is Arizona coming over?” she asked.

Cassie glanced at the clock above the stove. “In about an hour.”

“I’d better get changed.”

Cassie followed her up the stairs. “Are you all right? Is something bothering you? You got a funny look on your face a second ago.”

“I’m fine.” They reached her bedroom first and both women entered. They sat on the bed facing each other. “I was just thinking that I’m glad we’re back together. High school was hard.”

Cassie’s good humor faded a little. “I know. I hated that the courts forced us to live apart. But we’re together now—at least until you run off to the big city to write for one of those New York magazines.” Cassie held up her hand. “Don’t even say it. I know the drill. This is what you want and you have every right to pursue your dreams. But I’ll miss you.”

Chloe leaned toward her. “You could come with me. We could rent an apartment together.”

Cassie shook her head. “No. I don’t want to leave Bradley. I like it here. I adore my job.”

“You’re a nursery school teacher.”

“Exactly, and I love it. The kids are great. I know you don’t understand—you want more for me. But this is what I want and you have to remember to respect that.”

“I know.” Chloe sighed. It was a familiar discussion. One she’d never won. “I just think you could do so much more with your life.”

“And I think working with children is the most important thing I can do. Besides, even if I was tempted to run off to New York with you, which I’m not, I couldn’t. What about Joel?”

Chloe forced her expression to remain pleasant and her hands still, when all she wanted to do was grab her sister by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.

Joel and Cassie had been dating since high school. They had an “understanding” that they would become engaged and then marry.

It was all a quirk of fate, Chloe thought grimly. While she had been sent away to another city when their parents had died and the two girls had been put into foster care, Cassie had stayed in town. She’d gone to the local high school and had started seeing Joel.

“If you can’t say something nice,” Cassie warned.

“Joel is the most boring man on the planet.”

“That’s hardly nice.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say. It’s a real improvement.”

“Oh, Chloe, we can’t all be like you. I think it’s great that you want to leave Bradley and make something of yourself. That’s your life and you’re going to be wonderful. But it’s not my life. I want to stay here. I want to have a family. Joel wants to marry me. I love him. I’ve been dating him for nearly nine years and he makes me happy. Let it go.”

Chloe bit her tongue and nodded her agreement. There wasn’t anything else she could say. Cassie was right—they each had to live their own lives.

Her sister stood up. “I have to go make myself beautiful for our guest and I suggest you do the same.” She paused in the doorway and leaned back dramatically, the back of one hand pressed against her forehead. “Maybe he’ll tell us about the time he saved the virgin from the angry volcano by single-handedly fighting off a dozen hostile natives with his bare hands.”

“I’m sure that will be the first story to cross his lips.”

“I knew it.” Cassie waggled her fingers and left.

Chloe stared after her. The two sisters couldn’t be more different. Part of the reason, she knew, was because they weren’t related by blood. When her mother had had trouble conceiving, her parents had gone on a long waiting list for adoption. As sometimes happened, Amanda Wright had later found out she was pregnant. The doctors had warned her she was unlikely to have another baby, so they hadn’t pulled their application. Seven months after Chloe had been born the Wrights received a call telling them there was a one-month-old girl available, if they wanted her.

Growing up, Chloe couldn’t remember a time when Cassie hadn’t been around. The girls had been inseparable. That had made those three years apart even more difficult.

She stood up and walked to the closet, not sure what she was going to wear tonight. Something pretty, but professional. She was going to ask Arizona questions to make up for her lapse earlier that day. As she studied her wardrobe, she heard Cassie’s enthusiastic but off-key singing drifting down the hall. She smiled. Cassie was one of those rare people who absolutely believed the best in everyone and always told the truth. She led with her chin and sometimes she got hurt. But that never changed her feelings about herself or the world.

Chloe wondered what it would be like to have that much faith. She was too cynical to believe in people. Especially those she didn’t know well. That’s why she was a decent journalist. The thing was if she wanted anyone else to believe that, she was going to have to write a dynamite article. Arizona Smith and the secrets of his life were her ticket out of Bradley.

* * *

ARIZONA SWALLOWED A drink of beer and wondered why the sight of an attractive young woman cooing over the scar on his arm didn’t do a thing for him. Cassie bent over him and made tsking noises.

“I can see where they first stitched you up in the field,” she said. “There are still a few puncture wounds.”

Her fingers were cool and smooth as she stroked his skin. He waited, hoping to feeling a tingle or a flicker of interest. Nothing. Less than nothing. He was restless.

Cassie straightened and smiled. “Any other scars?”

She’d noticed the mark on his arm the second he’d walked into the house. As near as he could figure, the sight of it had sent Chloe screaming out of his presence. Funny, he’d never thought it was that scary looking, but then he was a guy. Maybe Chloe was squeamish.

Cassie’s gaze was filled with curiosity and good humor. She reminded him of the little sister he’d never had. He couldn’t help teasing her a little. “I do have another scar on my leg. I’d show it to you, but I’d have to take my pants off to do it.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Cassie said quickly.

Arizona watched her, but there was no guile in her expression. Had she really meant what she’d said?

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts. He looked up and all the attraction that had been missing when Cassie had touched him slammed into him with the subtlety of an aircraft carrier taking out a forty-foot yacht.

Chloe stood just inside the kitchen. She wore a sleeveless dress in pale peach. The soft-looking fabric clung to her curves in a way designed to make a man forget to breathe. Her long hair had been pulled back into a braid. His fingers itched to tug the curls free.

“You might want to rethink your comment, Cassie,” Chloe said to her sister. “I believe you just told Arizona you wanted him to take his pants off.”

“I do.” Suddenly, Cassie seemed to realize the implications of what she’d just said. She blanched, then color flooded her face. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean— That is to say, he has a scar and—” She glanced from him to Chloe and back. “I didn’t mean anything else. We were talking and—”

Chloe chuckled. “We know what you meant. Just be careful. Not every strange man is going to understand you’re not issuing an invitation.”

Cassie nodded.

Arizona leaned close to her. “I won’t take offense if you’ll explain to your sister that I’m not really strange.”

Chloe took the seat opposite him. “Yes, you are, and I’ll thank you not to corrupt my little sister.”

“Little by how much?” he asked. “Charity told me you’re about the same age.”

“Chloe is six months older,” Cassie told him. “I was adopted.”

“So I heard.” He looked from one to the other.

Charity came into the room and walked to the stove. “The sauce is nearly ready,” she said, lifting the cover and stirring. Instantly a spicy tomato aroma filled the room.

“I’ll do the garlic bread,” Chloe said.

“I’ll take care of the salad.” Cassie headed for the refrigerator.

“Should I offer to help or will I be told to just stay out of the way?”

“The latter, of course,” Charity told him, her eyes twinkling at him as she glanced over her shoulder.

He leaned back in his chair. It didn’t matter how many cultures he visited, or where he traveled in the world. Some customs remained the same. The ritual dance of women preparing a meal was one.

Whether the women were barefoot by an open fire, in a log house, a stone kitchen or a Victorian mansion, they moved with a grace and rhythm that was as old as the species. Conversation ebbed and flowed as they performed their magic. He supposed he enjoyed watching because no one did this for him very often. He was a frequent guest, but never a member of the family.

He caught Chloe’s eye and they shared a moment of connection across the kitchen. The rest of the room disappeared until she was the only one left. Then Cassie touched her arm and she turned away from him. He was again on the outside. He envied her the place she held in this special world.

* * *

THE DINNER DISHES had been pushed to the center of the table, but no one was in a hurry to pick them up. Arizona tore apart the last piece of garlic bread as Cassie raised her hands in frustration.

“How can you say it’s not true?” she asked. “The nightgown has been in the Bradley family for generations.”

“It’s just a nightgown,” Chloe insisted. “How can you say it has magic powers? As I’ve said before, there is no such thing as magic or destiny. It’s all smoke and mirrors.”

Cassie shook her head. “Aunt Charity, you talk to her.”

“She won’t listen to me,” the older woman said. “Arizona, you have a go at it. Chloe is our resident cynic.”

“I’ll try.” He leaned forward and stared at the beautiful woman sitting across from him. He would rather carry her up to bed, but that hadn’t been offered as one of the options, so he thought about the various feats of magic he’d experienced personally.

“Several years ago I was in India,” he began. “A boy had been mauled by a tiger stalking the village. The cat nearly took off his leg. Although the bone wasn’t broken, he lost a lot of blood.”

He tried not to notice the way her eyes darkened as her pupils widened with the storytelling. He tried to ignore the scent of her body, the slender curves beneath her dress or the way he knew how great it would be between them, almost as if they’d been lovers before.

“If he’d been near a hospital, he might have had a chance,” he continued. “But the village didn’t even have a nurse, let alone medical facilities. My grandfather and I knew the boy was going to die and we could only offer painkillers to ease his passing.”

He paused, remembering his own fear from that night. He’d been thirteen or fourteen, and he could relate to the screams of fear and pain from the injured child.

“That night the village performed an old ceremony of sacrifice and worship. They came together to heal one of their own. I wasn’t allowed to attend—I was considered too young. But I heard it. The singing and chanting. I smelled the incense. I don’t know what they did but it worked. When I went to visit him the next morning, I was afraid he would already be dead. Instead, I found him sitting up. His wound had nearly healed. He was talking and laughing because the pain was gone. Within a week, it was as if it had never happened. Since then, I’ve witnessed many things I can’t explain.”

“Wow,” Cassie breathed. “That is so cool.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Every supermarket tabloid has a story about people being abducted by aliens. Do you believe that, too?”

So she was a doubter. Somehow that made the challenge more interesting. “I saw the boy. When I see aliens abducting people from cornfields, I’ll believe that as well.”

“I want to know what has made you believe in all this.”

“I want to know what has made you such a cynic,” he responded. “Do you mean to tell me that in all your twenty-five years there hasn’t been one incident you can’t explain? One event or circumstance that makes no sense, but that you can’t deny?”

Their gazes locked. Something flickered in her eyes. Something that called out to him and if they’d been alone...

But they weren’t, he reminded himself. They had two very interested onlookers.

“My, look at the time,” Chloe said. “If we don’t get these dishes soaking, they’ll never come clean.”

With that she sprang to her feet and started to clear the table. The other two women moved to help her. Cassie shooed Arizona back into his seat when he tried to assist. His gaze followed Chloe. She was hiding something. He could feel it.

There was a mystery behind her pretty face and he had every intention of solving it.


CHAPTER FIVE

“I LOOK like a bridesmaid,” Cassie complained.

Chloe fluffed her sister’s hair. “You look beautiful. I love that dress.”

“It’s too young. I should change into something else. Why can’t I look sophisticated, like you?”

Chloe faced front and studied their reflections in the mirror. They stood in her bathroom, both ready to go out for the evening. Cassie wore a long-sleeved, silky dress of pale pink that fell to midcalf. Lace edged the oversize collar. Her thick hair had been smoothed away from her face, exposing the gold heart earrings she always wore—the earrings that matched Chloe’s locket—a legacy from their mother.

Chloe was willing to admit that while Cassie didn’t look like a bridesmaid, there was definitely something virginal about her dress and her expression. She was still untouched by the ways of the world. Chloe thought about her own heartache and figured her sister was lucky to still be so unaware of the emotional pain that awaited her.

Chloe turned her attention to her own reflection. In contrast to her sister’s innocence, she looked ready for sin. She’d pulled her long curls up on top of her head, securing them in a large clip. The ends fell to the back of her neck and danced against her bare skin. Her dress was simple. A scoop-neck, long-sleeved velvet dress. The soft burgundy fabric came to midthigh, exposing a lot of leg.

Overtly sexy wasn’t her usual style, but then neither was a man like Arizona. She was attending a reception in his honor. She figured she needed all the help she could get just to maintain some kind of power base in the relationship. If only she weren’t so attracted to him, she might have a fighting chance. But she was attracted. She shivered at the thought of being near him again. Of seeing him and talking to him. Lord help her if he asked her to dance. She would probably become a giant puddle right there on the dance floor.

“I hate being short,” Cassie said with a sigh.

“You’re five-five. That’s average, not short. Besides, I would love to be petite.”

“Me, too.” Cassie patted her hips. “Instead, I’m curvy. You get to be tall and slender and beautiful. If you weren’t my sister, I think I’d hate you. I might just hate you anyway.”

Chloe smiled and kissed her cheek. “You know you love me. I love you, too. So we’re even.”

The doorbell rang downstairs. Cassie glanced toward the door. “That will be Joel. You know we’re going out to dinner before we come to the reception, right?”

“Why? There will be food at the party. You can eat there.”

Cassie slipped out of the bathroom. “You know how Joel is. He’s concerned that with Arizona’s reputation and his world travel, the university will be serving something exotic. Joel doesn’t eat exotic things. We’ll go to our regular restaurant and join you later.”

Chloe resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What on earth was Cassie doing with Joel? Why couldn’t she see she was simply settling? There was a whole world out there just waiting to be seen. But instead of speaking her mind, Chloe forced herself to smile. They’d had this discussion a hundred times. Cassie knew her sister’s opinion on the subject, and she was old enough to make her own decisions.

“Don’t change your mind about coming,” Chloe said. “I really want you there.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. I promise.” She waved, then left to meet her date.

Chloe lingered in the bathroom for a few minutes, touching up her makeup and spraying on perfume. As a rule, she didn’t put much on her face during the day. A little mascara, sunscreen and powder. But for events like this, she went all out. At least she had the satisfaction of knowing she looked her best. She would need the confidence to face everyone at the reception.

“It’s really dumb to lie to myself,” she said, and she collected her tiny evening purse. Okay, she would tell the truth. She wanted to look her best to give herself the confidence to face Arizona...and because she was female enough to want to knock his socks off. It wasn’t going to happen, of course, but a girl could dream.

Thirty minutes later, she accepted the car claim ticket from the valet and stared up at the front of the hotel. The welcome reception was being held in the grand ballroom. Bradley wasn’t that big a town and most events like this were held here. She knew the approximate layout of the room, at least half the guest list and who was likely to get drunk and embarrass themselves. She was here both as a reporter and as a guest. The former role meant that she would need to spend at least part of the evening talking to Arizona.

“Talk about a hardship,” she murmured under her breath. She made a promise to herself that no matter how good he looked in his tux, she would not swoon, then she squared her shoulders and headed for the ballroom.

The huge room was much as she expected. Bright lights glittered from a dozen chandeliers. There were crowds of people in tight conversation groups. Her name was checked against the list of invitees, then she was admitted.

Chloe made her way to the bar in the east corner and ordered a glass of white wine. It was false courage at best, but she had a feeling she was going to need all the help she could get.

As she sipped the tart liquid, she glanced around. While she told herself she was just checking out who was wearing what, she knew she was actually searching for him. Damn. She couldn’t even pretend she wasn’t interested for five minutes. What hope did she have of pulling off the professional act? Well, she was going to have to figure out a way. Maybe if she walked around for a while and chatted with some other people she might figure out how to pull this off. If she—“I thought you were never going to get here.”

The voice came from behind her, but she didn’t have to turn around to identify the speaker. Even if she hadn’t recognized him from how he sounded, her body instinctively knew. Was it his scent, his heat or something more basic than that? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that there wasn’t going to be enough time to get her act together.

Fake it until you make it, she told herself as she turned so they were facing each other.

He’d had a recent haircut and shave. She filed the information away as she drank in the sight of him. Strong, handsome features, green eyes that twinkled with amusement and what she hoped was appreciation. He wore a black tux, obviously tailored, and a crisp, white shirt. He was tall, dangerous and too sexy by far. The only thing that gave her hope of surviving the evening without making a fool of herself was the fact that he seemed to be studying her as completely as she had studied him.

“Well,” he asked and did a quick turn, like a fashion model. “What do you think?”

“You clean up very nicely, Dr. Smith.”

“I could say the same, but it wouldn’t do justice. You always look lovely, but tonight you’re radiant.”

He brought her free hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. The old-fashioned gesture nearly drove her to her knees. She had to consciously remind her body to keep breathing.

“We are,” he said as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, “a fabulous-looking couple. Everyone will be jealous. It’s our duty to walk through the crowd, spreading our attractiveness among them. They will expect it. They might even throw money.” He gave her a wink.

His outrageousness made her laugh and his easy smile calmed some of her nervousness. “How noble of you,” she told him. “I’m terribly impressed by your concern for the little people.”

He leaned toward her. “Seriously, I expect you to protect me. I hate parties like this. Everyone wants to impress me with their exotic travels. Some even bring pictures. I never know what to say. I don’t do the celebrity thing very well.”

His confession both surprised and pleased her. “I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.”

They began to circulate through the room. Chloe had been prepared to introduce Arizona to the local dignitaries, but he already seemed to know them. He greeted the mayor and most of the city council by name.

“How do you do that?” she asked when they’d excused themselves to go sample the food. “How do you know who everyone is?”

Arizona collected an empty plate for each of them and led her to the buffet line. “I met the mayor and her husband at the airport. There was a city council meeting yesterday and I attended.”

Chloe glanced at the food spread out before them. There was nothing more exotic than some enchiladas, but Cassie had probably been right to let Joel take her out to dinner. He would have fussed over the fact that there wasn’t a steak in sight.

“I have a terrible time remembering people’s names,” she said as she took some salad. “I keep a detailed card file so I don’t mess up at press conferences.”

“I’m lucky,” he admitted. “It’s easy for me to remember names and faces. I only have to meet someone once and I know them. It works. People like to be remembered.”

Especially by someone like him, she thought. It wouldn’t matter if he was at a dinner at the White House, or in some small village. He would always be the center of attention. Even now, she knew people were watching him, trying to figure out an excuse to talk to him.

The adoration should have made him unbearable, but Arizona handled it with grace and humor. She suspected that was true for most of his life. Was there anything he didn’t do well?

“How’s the story coming?” he asked as they settled into two chairs to eat. “Are you going to dig up the skeletons in my closet?”

“Do you have any?”

“No, but wouldn’t it be fun if I did? Maybe I’m Elvis.” He curled his upper lip and tried to look sexy.

She laughed.

He pretended to be wounded. “I wasn’t trying to be funny. If there weren’t so many people around, I would sing for you.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Dr. Smith?” A beautifully dressed middle-aged woman stopped in front of him. Chloe recognized her as the chairperson of the cultural council. It had joined forces with the university to sponsor Arizona’s visit and lecture series. “It’s nearly eight o’clock. The university president is about to introduce you and we’d like you to say a few words.”

“No problem.” He stood up and set his plate on a tray, then winked at Chloe. “You’ll be able to tell which one is me up there,” he said, pointing to the small stage at the far end of the room. “I’ll be the one stuttering.”

She smiled. “I’ll wave.”

“Great.” He winked. “Don’t go giving all your dances away. I want one.”

“No problem,” she said lightly, while every cell in her body screamed that he could not only have all her dances, he could have her, too. Anytime, anywhere.

So much for acting professional.

As Arizona was led to the podium, the crowd moved in that direction as well. Chloe found herself swept along. She caught bits of conversation around her. Everyone was talking about him. The men wanted to be him and the women wanted to make love with him. She couldn’t blame either group. He was just that kind of man—a force of nature.

She supposed her physical reaction was something to be expected. It wasn’t a crush, exactly, but really close. Still, she could control it. At least enough to get her job done. Tonight they would dance together, and she would probably lose her head a little, but in the morning everything would be back to normal. At least that was her fantasy.

The university president greeted the crowd. Chloe tried to listen, but her gaze kept slipping to Arizona. He was tall and powerful as he stood in front of everyone. There was an ease about him. He was the kind of man you could talk to and instinctively trust.

It took her a few minutes to realize that she was the center of some attention and speculation. She heard her name mentioned and when she turned in that direction, the woman who had been speaking blushed and looked away.

Chloe sucked in a breath. People had noticed Arizona with her. Of course. How could they not? He’d been at her side since she’d arrived. They were talking about them. She could feel it.

Arizona started to speak. He thanked the crowd for attending and soon had them laughing at one of his stories. Chloe watched him with a combination of trepidation and pride. He was going to come back to her when he was done up there. He’d as much as told her and she believed him. He might have a woman in every city around the world, but for tonight, he would be with her.

He did return, and as he did, the band started playing. He swept her into his arms without asking. She didn’t mind. Where else was there to be?

They moved together easily, like an old married couple dancing to a familiar song. There were others on the floor, but she felt as if they were alone. Still, when they circled around, she caught interested stares and heard murmurs of speculation. One woman glared at her in obvious outrage. She wasn’t sure if she should be irritated by the other woman’s anger or flattered.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

She wore pumps with two-inch heels. Even so she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. “That I’ve never been out with the most popular boy in school before. Some of the cheerleaders are a little cranky.”

“I don’t believe you didn’t date the football captain.”

She liked the feel of him next to her. His body was strong and warm. It was also exactly as she remembered it from her dream, but she didn’t want to think about that.

“You should,” she told him. “I wasn’t very popular in high school. I was too tall and too skinny. These things—” she glanced down at her modest breasts “—didn’t bother making an appearance until nearly eleventh grade. I didn’t think I was ever going to get breasts. Big eyes, big lips, too much hair. I’ve sort of grown into my looks. But it’s a recent thing.”

“You’ve done a fine job.”

“Well, thank you, sir. What about you? How does it feel to be the archaeological equivalent of a rock star?”

She thought he might pretend to misunderstand the question, or give her a teasing response. Instead, he looked slightly uncomfortable and asked, “Do you really want to know?”

“Yeah, I do.” Even though she found it hard to concentrate, what with them being so close and all. If she closed her eyes, she found herself mentally drifting back to that night in the cave when they’d made love. If she kept her eyes open, she got lost in his dark gaze and never wanted to surface again. It was a tough choice.

He solved her dilemma by wrapping his arm more tightly around her waist and drawing her closer. His cheek rested against her temple.

“Women have always been available,” he said. “I don’t claim to understand what combination of genes and luck make that true. It started when I was about thirteen and it hasn’t let up yet. When I was younger, in my teens and early twenties, I took advantage of that fact.”

He pulled back enough for her to see his face. His expression was earnest. “I was smart enough to be careful, so no one got pregnant and I hope no one got hurt. But it wasn’t my finest hour. Fortunately, it got old very quickly. I learned it was more fun when I got to know the lady in question and took the time to develop a relationship to her.”

He pulled her against him again. She liked being close. For reasons she couldn’t explain, being with him made her feel safe.

“A wise old woman, and I do mean that, helped me see the light. She was a shaman and had to be close to a hundred years old. Anyway, this wise old woman once told me that every time people make love, they give away a piece of their soul. If one makes love with the same person again and again, eventually they exchange souls and that is what was intended for married couples. But if one makes love with many people, one will find oneself with nothing left to give to the one who matters. Worse, we end up with no soul of our own.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but the theory has merit,” she said.

“I agree. Now. At the time I was all of eighteen, and if I remember correctly, all I could think about was getting her great-granddaughter into bed, so I wasn’t the most appreciative audience.”

The music stopped. They broke apart and applauded. “Let’s go get some fresh air,” Arizona said.

She allowed him to lead her to the open patio at the far end of the room.

The night air was clear and balmy. She reminded herself she was working and should be trying to get a story from him. But she couldn’t think about anything but the man standing next to her. There was something about him—something that called to her. If she was the kind of woman who believed in destiny, she would be willing to admit he was the one for her. But she wasn’t and he wasn’t. Still, he was a very good time.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, leaning against the railing and drawing her against him.

She supposed she could have resisted, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to be next to him, to feel his arms around her again. It was almost like dancing, but they were alone in the shadows and the only music came from inside her head.

His face was so familiar, she thought. It was as if she’d known him forever. Had they really made love or had it just been a dream? Did he own a piece of her soul?

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “Sometimes you look at me and you get the strangest expression on your face. I always wonder if I have spinach in my teeth.”

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. There was no way she could tell him she’d been thinking about that dream. He would want to know the details. He was already intrigued by the story of the Bradley family nightgown and the legend. She didn’t dare think what he would make of her story.

“It has to be something,” he insisted. His expression turned teasing. “I have ways of making you talk.”

“Some spell or curse?”

“Nothing that drastic.”

He tilted his head toward her. Instinctively she raised hers. This was not professional, she reminded herself, then she decided she didn’t care. They’d been heading toward this moment since they met. She wanted to kiss him. She needed to kiss him. She had to know if it was the same as she remembered.

His mouth brushed against hers. They weren’t standing all that close. His hands rested on her waist, hers were on his forearms. For a second—as her body registered the sensations of his heat, the firm softness of his mouth—she couldn’t do anything more than absorb what was happening.

Then she felt it. The absolute electrical jolt that shot through her. It was hotter and brighter than lightning. It was recognition and need and passion and color, as if every part of her being responded to this man. Even more terrifying, it was familiar.

She knew what he was going to do even before he parted his lips. She knew the taste and feel of him. She knew how his hands would slide up her back, how she would step into his embrace, how their bodies would fit together. The knowledge only increased her desire. She wanted him because being with him was so incredibly perfect, she thought as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

Her breasts swelled, that secret place between her legs dampened. She felt his hardness press against her hip bone. They breathed in sync. She tilted her head one way, he moved the opposite, so they could deepen the contact. Reunited lovers kissing for the first time.

It was better than she remembered, she thought, then wondered how she could remember kissing a man she’d never kissed before. The dream didn’t count. It wasn’t real. Then she stopped thinking because her brain shut down. She could only feel him next to her, holding her, touching her. Their bodies fit perfectly together. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her fingers in his cool, soft hair. His shoulders were broad, as was his chest. Every part of him had been put together with her pleasure and enjoyment in mind...or so it seemed.

Tongues circled and danced and mated. She wanted more from him. She wanted to feel him inside of her; she wanted him to claim her and mark her in the most primitive, primal way of all.

At last, he drew back slightly, breaking the kiss. His breathing was as labored as hers. He rested his forehead against hers and exhaled.

“Pretty amazing,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Even better than I thought, and I thought it would be great.”

“Me, too.”

He tucked a loose curl behind her ear, then brushed his thumb against her cheek. His eyes were bright with passion. She could feel the need radiating from him. Faint tremors rippled through his hands.

“Chloe, I—”

He lowered his head and she knew he was going to kiss her again. She also knew that this time they might not stop at kissing.

“There you two are. We’ve been looking everywhere. Isn’t the ballroom lovely? They always do such a great job with the decorations.”

Cassie’s voice cut through the quiet of the night. Instantly, they stepped apart. Chloe touched a finger to her mouth and wondered if her lips were swollen.

“Hi,” she managed, hoping that her expression wouldn’t give her away. The last thing she needed was Cassie’s knowing glances, or getting the third degree when they were both home later.

Cassie gave her sister a quick smile and turned to Arizona. “I wanted Joel to meet you.” She looked at her boyfriend. “Joel, this is Arizona Smith.”

The two men shook hands. While Arizona looked elegant in his tailored tux, Joel was obviously ill at ease in his too-small navy suit. He had the disgruntled air of a man who would rather be home watching a movie on cable.

Chloe suppressed a sigh. Joel was perfectly decent. A pleasant enough man, with short blond hair and pale blue eyes.

“Did you catch the Giants’ score?” Arizona asked. “When I left my room, they were ahead three to two.”

Joel’s sullen expression eased. “Dodgers tied it up in the eighth, but that was when we got here and had to park the car. I don’t know what it is now.”

“I’m sure they have a television in the bar,” Arizona offered.

“Great.” Joel turned his attention to Cassie. “Would you mind if we checked?”

“Of course not.” She gave a little wave, then took Joel’s hand. “We’ll see you later.”

“Save me a dance,” Arizona called after her.

Cassie giggled.

Chloe watched her go. “It’s only the beginning of the baseball season and already he would rather watch a game than anything. What on earth does she see in him?” She leaned against the railing, then straightened abruptly. “Wait a minute. How did you know Joel was interested in sports?”

Arizona shrugged. “Many men are and he looks like the type. I wasn’t trying to get rid of him, but I figured if he watched the last inning, he wouldn’t sulk when Cassie wanted to dance.”

“Good thinking. I wish...” Her voice trailed off.

“That he were a different kind of man?”

“Exactly. She deserves better.”

“But he’s the one she wants.”

“Is he?” Chloe wasn’t so sure. “He’s the only man she’s ever dated. How is she supposed to know what she wants? She should get out there and experience life. She deserves someone who will love her and cherish her. Someone intelligent. Not Joel.” She rubbed her temple. “It’s an old argument and one I’ve never won. After all, it’s her life.”

“You and Cassie are very close.”

It wasn’t a question.

“We always have been.”

“It’s none of my business, but why are you so angry at your aunt Charity?”

She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d suddenly grown horns. Her first instinct was to ask him how he figured it out. Her second was to tell him to mind his own business. Her third was to wonder if she was that obvious.

“I don’t know,” she said at last, glad the shadows on the patio would hide her face. She didn’t want him to know what she was thinking. She did know why she was angry with her aunt, but she wasn’t ready to deal with it. She might never be ready.

“Want to talk about it?”

His perceptions suddenly annoyed her. How did he always know what she was thinking? How dare he always know the right thing to say or do! “Only if you want to talk about why, if your father is still alive, your grandfather raised you.”

“Touché,” he said. “I’m sorry. I should learn to leave tender ground alone. I’m sorry.”

She ducked her head. “No, I’m being snippy. I’m the one who should apologize.”

“Okay.”

She looked up at him.

He grinned. “I’m waiting,” he told her.

“I apologize.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re willing to say? No declaration of your unworthiness? Of how gracious I am to put up with you? Nothing about—”

She lightly slapped his arm. “Stop it.”

He stepped back in mock alarm. “Violence. I don’t know what to say. I’d been about to suggest we find a quiet room somewhere and make wild passionate love together, but now I’m not sure I can trust you not to take physical advantage of my person. I guess we’re just going to have to dance, instead.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh, agree to the lovemaking, or slap him again. “You make me crazy.”

“That was the plan all along, Chloe.”

“I figured as much.”

He held out his hand and she took it. Then she followed him back into the main room to have that dance.


CHAPTER SIX

“OH, MY GOODNESS, the man has a fan club!” Cassie said as she pointed at the computer screen.

Sure enough, an Internet search on Arizona’s name had unearthed an assortment of references, including a link to a fan club.

“We have to check this out.” Chloe clicked the arrow on that entry. She was at her home computer, continuing her research on Arizona, which she was starting to think was just a way of avoiding starting the actual writing. Once she figured out the first sentence of the article, she knew the rest of it would come fairly easily. But so far she was in the dark about her beginning.

Cassie pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “I can’t believe it. I’ve never known anyone with a fan club before.” She laughed and touched her sister’s arm. “We could write him a letter. You could talk about how great he dances. Maybe you could talk about the other stuff, too.”

Chloe glanced at her sharply. “What other stuff?”

Cassie puckered up her lips and made kissing noises. “I saw what you two were doing out there on the patio last night. I figured we had better come interrupt before things got too hot and heavy. There wasn’t a whole lot of privacy.”

“Nothing happened. It was just a kiss.” She flinched, half-waiting for lightning to strike her down. It had been a whole lot more than the kiss—which was part of the problem. It should have been pleasant or even very nice. Instead it had burned her down to her soul. She wasn’t even sure if she was relieved or disappointed that he hadn’t followed up that first kiss with a second. Once they’d gone back inside to the reception, Arizona had been swept away by interested guests and Chloe had finally left alone around midnight.

“It looked like some major passion to me,” Cassie said, and leaned her elbows on the desk. “I wish Joel would kiss me like that.”

“Doesn’t he?”

Cassie shook her head. “Joel and I have a very comfortable relationship.”

“Comfortable is okay for year thirty of marriage, but you guys are still dating.”

“I know.” Cassie shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She pointed at the computer screen. “Look.”

The computer had located the web site for Arizona’s fan club. There were photos of him, a bulletin board on which to leave messages, letters to Arizona and a map showing all the places he’d visited.

“Imagine how much money we’d make if we could get a picture of him naked,” Cassie said thoughtfully. “We could sell copies. What do you think?”

Chloe laughed. “I think he would probably want to be cut in on the profits. Are you going to be the one to ask him?”

“It might go better if you did that.”

Chloe ignored her. She clicked on various pages of the web site and made notes. “These people need to get lives.”

“It’s romantic. He’s a very exciting man. You know, you should post your article here when you finish it. I’m sure they’d really like it.” She sighed. “He’s just so great. Gracious and funny. I really like him. I think you do, too. Wouldn’t you like to travel around the world with him? He’s just—” She clapped her hands together. “He’s exactly the kind of man I want to dream about when I wear the family nightgown. Don’t you agree?”

Chloe felt a surge of irritation. She was having enough trouble controlling her raging desires without her sister throwing logs on the fire. “Number one, you’re supposed to be engaged to Joel. Number two, I actually have work to do and that would be a lot easier without your editorial comments.”

Cassie stared at her for a second, nodded, then rose to her feet. “Sorry. I leave you to your research.” She walked out of the room without looking back.

Chloe returned her attention to the web site, then groaned. She was turning into a witch.

With a couple of clicks, she logged off the Internet and returned to her word-processing program. After saving her work in progress, she rose to her feet and headed down the hall. Cassie’s bedroom door was open. Her sister was curled up on the bed reading a book.

Chloe watched her. She didn’t know exactly what to say. At this point, she wasn’t willing to risk the truth. She didn’t want to admit that part of her problem was that she had dreamed about Arizona, and it was making her insane.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I had no reason to snap at you. I have a lot on my mind and I’m just not myself.”

Cassie looked up. “I know. This article is very important to you. It’s your ticket out.”

Chloe entered the large room with pale pink walls and a lacy bedspread on the full-size mattress. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Cassie patted the bed, indicating that her sister should have a seat. “It’s true. Come on, Chloe, it’s time for you to leave. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Sometimes I think you’ve stayed because of me, but I’m practically your age and I’ve been all grown-up for a long time. Aunt Charity and I will be fine without you. Of course we’ll miss you, but it’s time for you to move on. We can take care of the house until you’re ready to come back.”

Chloe reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. “You’re way too nice a person. Why do you put up with me?”

“Beats me.”

Chloe smiled. Then her humor faded as the familiar guilt took its place. She knew that Cassie would take care of the house for her. Cassie wouldn’t think twice about it, but she, Chloe, was annoyed that it was an issue. Their parents had been wrong, she thought, as she had dozens of times in the past. They should have left everything to the girls equally. Instead Chloe had inherited the house and a small trust fund. Cassie had inherited a large trust fund—equal in value to Chloe’s inheritance—but not equal in spirit. The message had been clear. Their only blood heir had received the family home.

Chloe knew that Cassie put on a brave face; she never said anything. But Cassie was the real traditional one in the family. She was the one who believed in the legend—she was the one who loved the house. It should have been hers. She also knew that on some level Cassie had been hurt by the will. But Chloe didn’t know how to talk to her about it.

There was a knock on the open door.

“Chloe, there’s a call for you,” Charity told her. “It’s Arizona.”

Cassie made kissing noises again. Chloe rose to her feet. “I’m ignoring you,” she said as she crossed to her sister’s desk and picked up the extension. “Hello?”

“Chloe, it’s Arizona. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all.” If the nerves soft-shoeing inside her stomach were anything to go by, she was very happy to hear from him.

“Something’s come up. I’ve been doing some research about a lost tribe up in the Pacific Northwest. I just got a call from some friends of mine working up there. They’ve found something I need to take a look at. The lecture series doesn’t start for a few days and I don’t have much holding me here, so I thought I would go and see what they’ve found.”

“I see.”

He was leaving. She’d always known that he would—it was the nature of the man. But she hadn’t expected it to be so soon. The nerves in her stomach fizzled into a cold knot of disappointment.

“I’ll work on the article while you’re gone and save any questions I have until you get back,” she told him, hoping she sounded calmly professional.

“That’s one scenario,” he agreed. “However, I thought it might be interesting for you to come along. You could observe what I do firsthand.”

She wanted to jump up and down shrieking “Yes, yes, oh yes!” at the top of her lungs. Instead she drew in a deep breath. “An interesting idea.”

He was probably coming on to her, a voice in her head said. As lines went, it was a good one, but still a line.

“I hope you don’t think I’ve made this up simply to get you alone in the wilderness. Actually I’m just not that creative, otherwise I would have. But the artifact is legitimate. I can give you a number to call to check it out.”

He could read her mind. Why was she not surprised?

Of course she wanted to go. Desperately. She wanted to spend as much time with Arizona as possible and she refused to question her motives. “I’ll need to run this past my editor,” she said. “Can I call you first thing in the morning?”

“Sure. I’ll be hoping for a yes.”

Me, too, she thought. “I’ll be touch. Bye.”

When she hung up the phone, Cassie was dancing from foot to foot. “You’re going away with him. This is so cool. You’ll be in wilderness. It’ll be romantic. Maybe you’ll see him naked and we can get that picture for his fan club!”

Chloe’s heart was pounding and she wanted to jump up and down like her sister. Instead she shrugged. “It would be okay to go. I think it will add some dimension to my article.”

“Article-smarticle. I’m talking about adding some dimension to your life! Chloe and Arizona sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“I’m ignoring you,” Chloe said as she walked out of the room.

“Confess,” Cassie called after her. “You want to see the man naked.”

“I’m sure he’s not that impressive.”

“Liar!”

But Chloe didn’t know if the accusation came from her sister or her conscience. After all, she had seen Arizona without his clothes, and it had worked for her in a big way.

* * *

“I’M NOT sure what he’s going to look at,” Chloe continued nervously. “But I think seeing an archaeological dig and watching him work will add depth to the story.”

Jerry didn’t even look up from the papers he was reading. Her editor made a grunting noise low in his throat. She wasn’t sure what that meant.

“So you want me to go?” she asked.

Finally, he spared her a quick glance. “Yes, I want you to go. Keep track of expenses. The magazine will reimburse you for the reasonable stuff. Don’t go ordering any expensive wine with dinner. Don’t sit in poison ivy.”

“I think I can handle that.”

“Good.” His gaze narrowed. “How’s the guy? Is the piece gonna be decent?”

She thought about telling Jerry all she’d learned about Arizona, about the fan club on the Internet, the inherent charm, the way he actually believed in magic. But she didn’t think her boss really cared about the details. He would find all that out when he read the article.

“It’s going to be great,” she told him.

“Better be.” He grimaced. “Nancy said you were on the right track and I trust her. Not that I should. Pregnant. Do you know she actually expects time off after the kid is born? I asked her what for. She says she wants to breast-feed. Can you believe it? Like a bottle’s not good enough. What is it with women today?” He shook his head in disgust and glared at her. “Don’t you have a story to write? Packing maybe? Get out of here.”

“Yes, Jerry.” Despite herself, Chloe grinned. Jerry acted so tough all the time, but he would be the first one at the hospital after Nancy gave birth. He would be cooing like everyone else over the newborn.

She made her way back to her desk. She had her permission. She was really going away with Arizona. Out into the wilderness, where anything could happen.

* * *

CHLOE STARED AT the clothes folded neatly on top of her bed. “I don’t know what to take,” she admitted. “I’ve never been camping.”

Cassie sat in the chair by the desk and smiled. “You’ll do fine. Take jeans and underwear. Shirts and sweaters. You’ll want to layer if it gets cold, but you won’t want anything bulky.”

“Arizona says we’ll have to hike in the last part, so I have to carry everything with me.”

Cassie leaned forward, picked up the blow-dryer and waved it in the air. “In that case, I’d leave this behind. It’s big, heavy and you’re not going to have electricity.”

“I know. I just thought—” She shuddered. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It was a hideous mistake to agree to this. I’m completely out of my element.”

“You’ll be fine. Arizona will keep you safe.”

Chloe didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. What her sister didn’t understand was that Arizona was part of what she was afraid of. But she couldn’t say that to Cassie without going into detail. And how was she supposed to tell her sister that she had indeed had a dream the night of her twenty-fifth birthday and that the man in her dream had been someone she’d met the very next day? How was she supposed to confess that every time she was near him her body went up in flames, and that all the time they were apart, he was all she could think of?

Besides, not all of her fears were about Arizona. Some of them were about herself. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She felt herself changing. Nothing was as it should be. She wanted... Chloe sighed. That was the problem. She didn’t know what she wanted.

Cassie stood up and walked to the bed. She opened Chloe’s cosmetic bag and dumped the contents.

“Toothbrush and toothpaste,” she said. She rummaged through the rest of the items, then eyed her sister’s long hair. She picked up a wide-toothed comb and a cloth-covered rubber band. “Don’t worry about makeup.” She fingered a tube of sunscreen. “This has moisture in it.” She added a tiny bottle of shampoo to the small pile. “Arizona will bring soap, I’m sure. Use his.”

Chloe stared at the half-dozen items. “How do you know this stuff?”

“I work with preschoolers. If nothing else, I’ve learned to improvise.” She pointed to the piles of clothing. “Want me to do the same on that?”

“Please.”

As Chloe watched, her sister sorted through jeans, shirts and sweaters. She picked up a waterproof windbreaker, a thin, high-tech fabric pullover guaranteed to keep Chloe warm, two flannel shirts, a spare pair of jeans and underwear.

“Take extra socks,” Cassie told her. “Your feet might get wet.”

“That’s it?” Chloe asked.

“It is if you really have to carry it on your back. I know this from personal experience. I’ve baby-sat too many kids who didn’t want me to bring the stroller. I told myself it was just a quick trip to the mall and that they didn’t weigh all that much. After about five minutes I learned they got heavy very quickly, and I always regretted my decision.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Chloe said. “You’re obviously the expert.”

“I might have some shampoo samples,” Cassie said. “You know those little flat packages? Let me check, because they would be lighter than this bottle. I’ll be right back.”

After she’d left, Chloe looked at the small pile of clothing and wondered what on earth she was getting into. Would she and Arizona be alone for any part of their trip? That thought both terrified and excited her. She didn’t know what was going to happen.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach. Actually, that wasn’t true. If they were alone together for any length of time, she knew exactly what was going to happen between them. Was she ready for that?

She wasn’t sure. She thought about her sister and wished she could tell her what was really going on. She would like someone else’s opinion on her best course of action. Unfortunately, Cassie was a classic romantic and would only see the potential for love, not the probability of heartache. Chloe might firmly believe that love wasn’t for her, but that didn’t mean her emotions couldn’t be engaged under the right circumstances. So far, Arizona had everything going for him.

She thought about having a few words with Aunt Charity. No, Chloe told herself. That would never work. She couldn’t confide in the older woman. Arizona had been accurate and perceptive when he’d picked up the fact that there was trouble in the house. Chloe didn’t trust her aunt. Maybe it was childish, but she’d never forgiven her for not being there.

Chloe walked to the window and gazed out at the lawn. There had been a time in her life when she’d wondered if she would ever see this perfect view again. She reached up and fingered the locket hanging around her neck. Her thoughts drifted back to that horrible time when she and Cassie had lost their parents in a car accident. One minute everything had been fine, the next they were alone in the world. They’d clung to each other until the courts, unable to find their legal guardian, had split them up and sent them to different foster homes.

Three years, Chloe thought grimly. The family lawyer had looked for three years until he’d finally found Aunt Charity, their father’s sister. As soon as she’d been told what had happened, she’d flown back to America and had brought the girls home. Cassie had been grateful, but for Chloe the rescue had come too late. She’d been all of two months from her eighteenth birthday when she could have returned home on her own.

Chloe knew that logically it hadn’t been Aunt Charity’s fault that she’d been traveling the world. No one expected her to sit at home in case her brother died unexpectedly. But logic hadn’t helped Chloe get through those years apart from Cassie and away from the only home she’d ever known. So even though she desperately wanted someone to talk to, she wasn’t about to confess all to her aunt.

So she was going to have to be a grown-up and take care of herself. That or she was going to have to accept the consequences of her actions.

“I knew I had them,” Cassie said, walking back in the room. She held out a handful of cosmetic samples. “I found a couple that are face cleaners as well as two shampoo packs, so take them all.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate the help. I would have packed all wrong without you.”

“No problem.”

Chloe looked at her sister. Cassie had a very innocent expression on her face. She stood with her left hand tucked behind her back.

“What have you got there?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. What is it?”

Cassie grinned wickedly. “Well, it won’t take up much room in your backpack and it will certainly give you two something to talk about over roasting marshmallows.”

She pulled her hand free. A condom rested on her open palm.

Chloe felt color flare on her cheeks. “I didn’t know that you and Joel had been intimate.”

“Oh, we haven’t been,” Cassie said easily. “But I do like to be prepared in case we ever decide we’re ready. So, do you think one is enough for you and Arizona, or do you want to pack the whole box?”

Chloe stared at the protection and didn’t know what to say. It was absurd to assume she and Arizona would become lovers. They hadn’t known each other that long. But like her sister, she had been raised to be prepared.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” she told her sister firmly, even as she took the condom and stuck it in her small cosmetic bag.

Cassie grinned. “If you’re very lucky, you just might prove yourself wrong!”


CHAPTER SEVEN

“YOU READY?” Arizona asked.

Chloe glanced back at the four-wheel-drive Explorer heading down the mountain. Then she looked at him. Her expression was two parts apprehension, one part honest-to-God fear.

But she didn’t answer him right away. Instead she squared her shoulders, then adjusted her backpack, raised her chin and smiled. “Sure. This is going to be fun.”

“Liar,” he told her.

Her smile broadened. “Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. I confess, I do wish there was another way into the site or the dig, or whatever you call it, but I’ll survive. I appreciate the opportunity to see what you actually do with your day.” She paused. “Also, we’ll be able to continue our interview while we’re hiking. At least until I’m so out of breath I can’t ask questions. But your lecture series starts in three days. Will we be back in time?”

“That’s not a problem,” Arizona told her while he ignored the flicker of guilt. There was an easier way into the valley, but he wanted them to hike in. There was something going on between them—something he’d never experienced before—and he wanted time to explore that. His visit to Bradley was limited already. There were so many drains on his time.

If he were going to be completely rational, he knew there was no point in pursuing whatever attraction might flare between them. There was no way to make a relationship work. He’d sworn off casual affairs and even if he hadn’t, Chloe didn’t strike him as the type to give herself easily. Logic dictated that he should just answer her questions and ignore the rest of it. However, he’d never been one for logic. The unexplained caught his attention time after time. He wanted to know the whys. He couldn’t pass up a good mystery. In this case, there was something between him and Chloe and he was determined to find out what. These couple days alone might be his only chance.

She pulled a small tape recorder out of her jeans pocket. “I’m ready if you are,” she said.

“Then let’s go.”

He checked the placement of the sun and figured they had about six hours of daylight. Chloe wouldn’t be able to hike much more than that anyway. Not that she wasn’t in great shape. But she wasn’t conditioned for long hours on the trail.

There had been a surprisingly long stretch of relatively dry weather, so the ground was only damp underfoot. Towering trees lined the trail. The low-lying plants were bright green. Wildflowers and berry bushes were in full bloom. The air smelled clean and crisp. It was a perfect afternoon.

He started walking nearly due east.

“Where are we going?” Chloe asked as she kept pace with him. At this point the trail was wide enough for them to walk side by side.

“There’s a valley on the other side of this low range,” he said, pointing ahead. “We’ll reach the top of the rise tonight. That will be where we camp. Tomorrow we’ll head into the valley. The site is there. Just curious—was that information for you or the article?”

Her brown eyes twinkled. “Both. I have so many questions, I’m not sure where to start.”

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” One corner of her mouth turned up slightly. “So, Arizona Smith, why don’t you wear a hat?”

Involuntarily, he reached up and touched his bare head. “I don’t need one here. There’s no need to protect myself from the sun.”

“I see. I thought all bush types wore hats. They do in the movies.” Her voice was teasing.

He shook his head. “That’s part of my problem. I wore one nearly all the time. Before.” He grimaced. “That movie. It changed everything. After that my lecture series became more popular. I appreciated that, but I hated the billing. A few places advertised me as a ‘real-life Indiana Jones.’”

“Did your audiences expect you to show up with a bullwhip?”

“You’d be surprised.” He thought about the women who would come to his lectures and sit in the front row. Their adoring gazes had nothing to do with him—who he really was. They were only interested in the persona.

Not like Chloe. He glanced at her. Her stride was long, her posture straight. She was gorgeous. Today she wore her curly red hair pulled back in a braid. She was tall and lean and he wished they were lovers so that he could suggest they stop for an hour or so and make love right here...out in the open.

“Do you have anything in common with Indiana Jones?” she asked.

“Sure. We’re both men. His finds are more spectacular. How can anyone compete with the Ark of the Covenant or the Holy Grail? I think I had better luck with women. We’re both teachers, although none of my students have ever fallen for me.”

“I doubt that,” she said. “I would guess more than three-quarters of your students are female and almost none of them are there because they need the class for their major.”

He opened his mouth to protest, then realized she was right. His classes were predominantly female. “None of them have come on to me.” He held up a hand before she could protest again. “Trust me, I would have noticed that.”

“I’m sure they were working up to it.”

“I hope not. They’re a little young.”

“You’re not all that old.”

“Old enough.”

Old enough to know what he wanted, he thought. It wasn’t just that Chloe was pretty. His attraction to her was as much about the way she made him laugh and her intelligence as it was about her body.

“I assume you know you have a fan club on the Internet,” she said.

He groaned. “I might have known you would find that.”

“You’re not proud?” she teased.

“Of course not. It’s humiliating. These people—”

“Women,” she interrupted. “They’re women, Arizona. I checked the membership directory. We’re talking at least ninety-five percent women.”

“Great. Men, women, Martians, it doesn’t matter. I still don’t get it. I’m not brilliant, I’m tenacious. I’ve studied and I’ve had some luck. Yes, I’ve made a few finds, but I’m not going to change the world. I don’t know what they see in me.”

“Don’t you?” Chloe stopped and looked at him. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or if you’re fishing.”

“I’m not unaware that some people find me physically attractive,” he said formally, wondering if it was possible to sound like more of a jerk than he did.

“Good to know,” she said solemnly.

“You’re teasing me.”

“A little. This is the first time you’ve ever been pompous.”

Pompous? Was that how she saw him? Perfect. He’d sure done a great job charming her. Talk about a crash and burn.

She touched his arm. The light contact seared him all the way down to his knees. His groin ignited. The wanting was as powerful as it was instantaneous.

“I do understand what you’re saying,” she said and dropped her hand to her side. “Who do you consider a hero?”

“Easy question. Joseph Campbell. He wrote several books, but the best known is The Hero of a Thousand Faces. He explored the idea that storytelling is universal to the human condition. All races and cultures have stories about the beginning of the world, the creation of man, stories that tell how boys become men. I was very young when I first read his work. He’s the one who got me interested in the mystic.”

“I’m not discounting his place,” Chloe said. “But what about the things you’ve found? All those treasures might have stayed hidden for generations.”

“Granted, but while I’ve brought some tangible artifacts to light, he explained why we have the dreams we do. I’ve visited my fan club web site. It’s very flattering, but I’m not the hero in that. They’ve created a myth about someone who doesn’t really exist. In my mind, Joseph Campbell is someone who truly is a hero. His ideas changed lives. I know he changed mine.”

He motioned for her to continue walking, then fell into step with her. The air was cool, but the sun warmed them.

“There is a certain amount of fame that comes with some of my discoveries. It’s my least favorite part of what I do. I get through it by reminding myself it’s fleeting. In a couple of weeks no one will care who I am until the next discovery.”

“That sounds cynical, although realistic. Would you rather the world ignored your finds?”

“Good question. The answer is no. I want them to understand and appreciate. I know enough to realize I can’t have one without the other.”

She looked at him. “Why do I suddenly suspect you like it much better in the bush where no one knows who you are and you’re treated like just another visitor?”

“You’d be right. I’ve traveled all over the world. My best memories are of people I’ve connected with, not of standing behind a podium talking to a cheering crowd.”

“So do the women ever throw you their panties?”

He tugged on the end of her braid. “I’m not the kind to kiss and tell.”

She laughed. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“It’s probably best.”

“So have they shown up in your room unexpectedly?”

“Why this sudden interest in my personal life?” he asked, although he was pleased that she seemed focused on that. He would hate for the attraction to be one-sided.

“Ah, so that was a yes.”

He chuckled. “Yes, once or twice.”

“How was it?”

He thought back. “The first time was in a small village on an island in the South Pacific. I was all of eighteen and the woman was at least thirty. Her husband had died and she was about to remarry someone much older. I think I was her last fling.”

“And?”

“And what? I was a kid. I had no concept of quality, so I made it up in volume. She taught me they weren’t interchangeable.”

“I see. And the second time it happened?”

He drew in a deep breath. “I was on a lecture tour in Europe a couple of years ago. There was a particular young woman who developed a crush on me. I didn’t encourage her at all, in fact I barely knew who she was. One night I came in late and found her waiting for me in my bed.”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

“I explained that I was flattered, but not interested. When she wouldn’t leave, I got another room for the night, then in the morning, I changed hotels.”

Chloe burst out laughing. “The most trouble I’ve ever had with the opposite sex is when old man Withers, the seventy-year-old misogynist who takes care of the grounds of the house, calls me a ninny. He calls all women ninnies.”

“Are you going to put that in the article?” he asked. He hadn’t requested that any part of their conversation be off the record. Perhaps he should have. When he was around Chloe he thought of her as a woman first and someone he would like to get to know second. He rarely remembered she was a journalist.

“I’m not out to make you the bad guy,” she said. “I want to show a different side of you and connect that with your work. Neither my editor nor I is interested in a hatchet job.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I find it interesting you’re asking me this after the fact. Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not concerned?”

“You’ve just explained that I shouldn’t be.”

They were still walking side by side. Their hands brushed. Without thinking, Arizona laced his fingers with hers. Chloe stumbled a step, but didn’t pull away.

“But how do you know you can trust me?” she asked.

Was it his imagination or was her voice a little breathless? He wanted to know that she was reacting to him the same way he reacted to her. He wanted to know that she felt it, whatever the it was, too.

“Gut instinct,” he said. “I’ve met a lot of people in my life and I’ve learned how to read them.”

Her hand was small but strong. He liked the feel of her next to him like this, walking together on the trail. He found himself eager to show her the site, to explain his world to her. He wanted her to enjoy their time together, to be impressed by him, to think he was nearly as exciting as his image.

“Is there anywhere on this planet you haven’t been?” she asked.

“If you’re talking continents, I haven’t been to Antarctica. Otherwise, I would guess I’ve hit most of the major points.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She gave him a quick, sideways glance. “You can be a little intimidating,” she admitted. “I’ve interviewed fairly powerful people in the past. Government officials, celebrities. You’re the first one who has made me feel like the country mouse come to town for a visit.”

He leaned close. “You don’t look anything like a country mouse. In fact, there’s nothing rodentlike about you at all.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Gently, reluctantly, he thought, although that could just be wishful thinking on his part, she pulled her hand away from his. “Back to business,” she told him. “I have a lot more questions.”

“Ask away.”

“About your travels. From what I’ve been reading, most of them were financed privately. You don’t work with a particular foundation or for a university.”

“That’s true. There’s a rather impressive family trust fund that has paid my expenses. I’ve had opportunities to work for charitable organizations, helping them raise funds. I do that frequently. When I do guest lecture series I tend to donate my fees to the local children’s hospital and women’s shelters. I’ve done specific tours for museums, and then they keep the proceeds.”

“You don’t keep any for yourself?”

“I don’t have to.” At her look of confusion, he shrugged. “My family has a lot of money. I don’t need more so why wouldn’t I give some of it away?” He replayed his last couple of comments in his mind and frowned. “I’m not some do-gooder,” he said. “I was taught it was my place to give back. But don’t make me out to be a saint. I’m very much a man with as many flaws as the next guy.”

“I see.”

Her words didn’t give anything away, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He almost didn’t want to know. Better to imagine she was thinking about being with him, touching him, holding him close. Because that was what he wanted her thinking. He wasn’t willing to explore the realization that it was much easier to deal with Chloe wanting him than her actually liking him.

* * *

THEY STOPPED AROUND one o’clock to take a break. Chloe let her backpack fall to the ground, then rotated her shoulders.

“Cassie warned me it was going to get heavier as we walked, but I didn’t believe her. I see now I was wrong.”

“Sore?” Arizona asked.

“I’ll survive.”

She watched him release his pack as if it weighed nothing. It had to be twice the size of hers, but then he was not only male and stronger, but used to this sort of thing.

The afternoon was warm, but not too hot. She eyed the clear sky. “I thought the Pacific Northwest was known for rain.”

“It is. Looks like we’re going to get lucky.” He hesitated just long enough for her breath to catch. “With the weather.”

“Of course,” she murmured. With the weather. What else? Certainly not with each other. It wasn’t her fault that she found the man wildly attractive. The more she got to know him, the worse it got. It wasn’t enough that he was good-looking. No, he had to be smart, funny and kind as well. She was going to have to be very careful when she wrote her article, or she was going to come off like some teenager with a major crush.

“Ready for lunch?” he asked.

He sat on a fallen log and reached for his backpack. Chloe settled next to him. She had two canteens hanging from her pack. They’d stopped at a rapidly flowing stream about a half hour before and refilled their water supply.

“Here you go.” He handed her two protein bars, a small plastic bag filled with what looked like cut-up dried vegetables and fruit, and an apple.

“Goody, five-star cuisine,” she said as she eyed what was supposed to pass for a meal.

“Don’t wrinkle your nose at me, young lady. There are plenty of vitamins and minerals there, along with enough calories for energy.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Usually she was more difficult to read. Was she so open around him, or could he just see inside of her? “I wasn’t complaining. This is different from what I’m used to. I don’t have your ‘bush’ experience. What with how you grew up and all.”

“It wasn’t like this,” he said as he stretched out his long legs in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. Worn jeans hugged his powerful thighs. “My grandfather didn’t believe in living with physical discomfort. We always traveled first-class.”

“There are a lot of places you can’t get a jet or a limo.”

“True. We used carts and camels, boats, whatever was necessary to get us where he wanted to go. But he arranged for the best. Plenty of staff along to handle the luggage and the details.”

Chloe tried to imagine that kind of life. On one hand, it sounded very exciting, but on the other she would miss having a place to call home.

“Did you like living like that?” she asked.

“I suppose every kid dreams of running away to live a life of adventure. I did that and more. I have experienced things most people just read or dream about. But there were things I missed.”

He stared into the grove of trees, but she knew he was actually seeing a past she could only imagine. How had his world and his life shaped him? What would he have been like if he’d grown up as the boy next door?

“I never had my own room, so I didn’t collect things the way a lot of kids do,” he said. “I didn’t have a lot of friends. In some places there weren’t boys my age around, or if there were, they were busy with school or helping the family. We moved around so much, I would just get to know someone and then it would be time to leave.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “It sounds lonely.”

“Sometimes it was. I had tutors. They were usually with us for a couple of years at a time, so that was something I could depend on.” He shrugged. “Growing up like that is all I know. I can’t pass judgment on it without something to compare it to. I don’t think it was better or worse, just different. I experienced the world from a different point of view. If we planned to settle in one place for a few months, I usually enrolled in the local school.”

He looked at her and grinned. “When I was a teenager I used to complain about not having fast food or high school girls around.”

“So despite everything, you were very normal.”

“I like to think so.” His smile faded. “I always wanted a brother or sister. Someone around my own age to talk to and be with. Grandfather tried, but he wasn’t a peer. I envy you and Cassie for being so close.”

She couldn’t imagine anything in her rather dull life that someone like Arizona would be interested in, but the idea of a sibling made sense.

“She’s my best friend,” she said. “We’re so different, we can’t help arguing sometimes, but none of that really matters. We love each other so much.”

“It shows.” He ripped open the protective covering on one of his protein bars and took a bite. After chewing he asked, “So how are you different?”

She nibbled the dried vegetables and found they tasted better than they looked. “You have to ask? Cassie is a dreamer. She believes in fairy tales and magic.”

“That’s right. And you’re the completely practical one.”

“Exactly. She wants a very traditional life. Husband, children, a home.” She stopped talking and pressed her lips together. A home. The house. That beautiful Victorian house that their parents had left to her instead of leaving it to the two girls equally.

They’d probably been afraid the sisters wouldn’t be able to work out a way to share. No doubt they’d been trying to prevent the house being sold. But their will had reinforced Cassie’s feeling of not truly being a part of the family.

“Is there anything wrong with wanting a traditional life?” Arizona asked.

“No, and it makes sense for her. Cassie just wants to fit in. She wants to have roots.”

“Doesn’t she now?”

“I don’t know that she thinks so.” She shrugged. “It’s complicated. Cassie—” She automatically reached inside the neck of her T-shirt and pulled out the locket she always wore.

Arizona reached over and touched the heart-shaped piece of jewelry. “Connections with the past,” he said. “She has the matching earrings. And her memories. Your parents chose her. Isn’t that enough?”

His dark eyes saw too much, she thought. She felt as if he could look deep down into her soul and that made her nervous. Was she enough for him? Sometimes she didn’t think she was enough for herself, let alone someone else. But then she was used to being confused. It was becoming a constant in her life. She didn’t understand her relationship with Arizona any more than she understood why the man had appeared in her dream. She didn’t know what she wanted from him, what she felt about him, or what he expected from her.

She jerked her thoughts back to their conversation. “I have the house,” she said. “I wish they’d left it to both of us instead of just me.”

“So she would have that connection?” he asked.

She nodded.

He touched the locket again. His knuckle brushed against her throat. A warmth flowed through her, just as it had when he’d taken her hand while they’d been on the trail.

“It’s not the house,” he said. “It’s here.” He placed his fingers against her forehead, then moved them lower, to just above her left breast. “And here. No one can take that away from her. Or you.”

He wasn’t talking about the house anymore, she realized. There was something in his eyes, something dangerous and irresistible. She wanted to lean closer. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to feel his arms around her, holding her close, making her safe. With Arizona she felt safe...and that had been missing from her life since her parents had been killed.

But instead of leaning toward him, she straightened, putting distance between them. Who was this man who invaded both her dreams and her life? What did he want from her? And how on earth was she supposed to resist him and his power?


CHAPTER EIGHT

STARS FILLED THE night sky. Chloe stretched out on her sleeping bag and stared up at the vast expanse of lights above her head. Bradley wasn’t a big town, but it was close enough to Sacramento that the city lights washed out most of the stars, even when the weather didn’t interfere. Or maybe her life had gotten so busy, she didn’t take time to look at the heavens anymore. She would guess most people suffered the same fate. Now, gazing up and admiring the beauty of the stars, she wondered what other wonders filled what she considered her very ordinary life.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Arizona said as he stepped back into camp. He dropped onto his sleeping bag only a few feet from her own.

“I was just thinking that,” she said and tried to ignore the fact that she was going to have to do as he had done and venture out into the wilderness to do her business.

It was bad enough to have to do that during the day when she could see whatever was lurking around, but at night—she would be defenseless. She didn’t want to act all wimpy and girllike, but she couldn’t help picturing herself from a critter’s point of view. A pale white expanse of tempting flesh just hanging there, begging to be bitten or scratched or...

Stop thinking about it, she ordered herself silently. But it was one of the few times she envied men their “equipment” that let them pee standing up.

“So what did you think of dinner?” Arizona asked in a tone that warned her he expected a positive response.

“Great,” she lied cheerfully. “I had been worried that freeze-dried food would taste gritty and odd when it was mixed with boiling water, but I was wrong.”

Actually, it wasn’t a lie. The food at dinner had easily been worse than she’d imagined.

“I liked it, too,” he said. “Beats grubs any day.”

She dismissed him with a wave. “You didn’t eat grubs. This afternoon you said your grandfather liked to travel in style. I’m sure he brought along a chef to cook his favorite dishes.”

“You’re right.” His teeth flashed white in the light of the campfire.

“I figured. You thought dinner was pretty gross, didn’t you?”

“Wretched comes to mind. I think they forgot to cook the rice before packaging it. Tell you what. When we get back to civilization, I’ll take you out for a fancy dinner.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Their gazes locked. Despite the few feet between them, she felt his heat. She was in trouble now.

She forced her gaze away and returned her attention to the stars. “Do you know anything about the constellations?” she asked, hoping he would go along with the change in subject.

“I do now because I’ve studied them, but when I was a kid, I would make up stories. Sometimes the village elders would tell me what the different stars represented. I learned that all different cultures have their own view of what the heavens mean. I suppose some of that is because the sky looks different in different places.”

Chloe told herself she should dig out her tape recorder and turn it on. But she didn’t want to break the mood. Besides, she wasn’t having trouble remembering anything Arizona said to her. She didn’t even have to close her eyes to hear his voice in her head.

“The changing stars can tell about the coming seasons. The harvest sky is different from the planting sky.”

He continued talking. She listened to the words and wrapped herself in the stories he wove. He was so different from anyone she’d ever known. And yet the heart of him was familiar to her. Was it the dream? Was it her imagination, trying to create a connection so she could pretend her attraction had some basis in emotion and not just in physical awareness? But it was more, she reminded herself. She didn’t just want him...she actually liked him.

There hadn’t been many men in her life. Normally she didn’t make time for them. She didn’t want all the bother of trusting someone only to have him let her down.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

She inhaled deeply and smelled the wood smoke from their fire, along with the lush scent of the forest growth. “That for me, the sky is always constant. The stars might change with the time of year, but I’ve never seen a different sky. I’ve just realized that’s the perfect metaphor for the differences between us.”

“Is that bad?” he asked.

“No, it’s a fact that we can’t change, but I don’t think it’s a value judgment. We don’t have anything in common.”

“I would disagree with that.”

She turned to face him. In the darkness of the night, his body was little more than murky shadow. “I’m surprised you’d think that.”

“Why? We’re both intelligent, curious about our world. We both ask questions. We laugh at the same things. We’re very much alike.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” she admitted. “I was more focused on our life experiences. For example, the first day of school. I was a very mature five and a half, while Cassie hadn’t quite turned five. My mother bought us matching dresses, but in different colors. I’ve seen the pictures and we were too adorable for words.”

Arizona smiled. “I’ll bet.”

“Bradley Elementary,” she continued. “It’s built on the site of the original Bradley schoolhouse, founded by my family back in the late 1800s. There’s even a plaque by the auditorium. I don’t think your first day of school was anything like that.”

“You’d be right.” He closed his eyes for a minute, then opened them. “I was in Africa and I attended a tribal school. Interesting, but not educational. I didn’t speak much of the language. That afternoon my grandfather started making arrangements for me to have tutors.”

“That’s my point,” she said. “Different experiences.”

“Even if I’d been living in the States, I don’t think I would have been in a matching dress.”

She laughed. “Probably not.”

He propped his head on his hand. “Tell me about your first kiss.”

“Oh my. First kiss. I was fourteen, I think. At a girlfriend’s birthday party. Also my first boy-girl party. We were playing Spin the Bottle. His name was Adam. He was shorter than me, but very cute. All the girls had a crush on him. It was brief and not very romantic, but I hugged the memory close for months. And you?”

“Penelope. We were both twelve and in Cairo. Her father was a peer of the realm, but don’t ask me his title. I don’t remember. He was in the British embassy. Penny and I met at a very dull party where we were the only children. I remember it was hot and she smelled like roses.”

Chloe flopped onto her back. “You had your first kiss in Egypt and I had mine in Cynthia Greenway’s basement. What is wrong with this picture?”

“Nothing.”

“Easy for you to say. Next you’ll be telling me that your first lover was some fabulously beautiful courtesan arranged for you by your grandfather. That she was a Christmas present.”

Arizona was silent.

Chloe sucked in a breath, turned back toward him and stared. “You’re kidding?”

He cleared his throat. “Actually, it was a birthday present, and courtesan is a strong term. She was experienced.”

“How polite. And you were all of sixteen?”

“Seventeen.”

“I’ll bet you had a really good time.”

“I did. I was young and at the time I didn’t know there was a difference between having sex and making love. She taught me a lot about mechanics but nothing about the heart.”

Chloe was grateful for the darkness. At least Arizona wouldn’t be able to see her stunned expression. She didn’t consider herself a prude, but apparently she was. This was too far out of her realm of experience. She didn’t know what to say.

“You’re shocked,” Arizona said.

“A little. That sort of thing doesn’t happen in Bradley.”

“What does happen?”

“Are you asking about my first lover?”

“Yes.”

She sat up and pulled her knees into her chest. “I haven’t thought about Billy in a long time.” Mostly because she didn’t let herself think about him.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Actually, she didn’t, which surprised her. Maybe enough time had passed. Maybe she’d finally healed.

“When my parents died,” she began, “Cassie and I were sent into foster care. She stayed in Bradley, but I was sent to a family in a neighboring town. They had a son, Billy. He was a couple of years older than me. The first few months I stayed in my room and kept to myself. I’d lost my parents and Cassie. We wrote and saw each other when we could, but it was different. We didn’t feel like sisters anymore.”

“How was the family you were with?”

“They were very kind to me. They tried to understand what I was going through. They gave me time. Eventually I started participating in family events. One day I looked up at the dinner table and realized Billy was sitting across from me. He smiled and I smiled back. A few pieces of my broken heart mended at that moment.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“It was fairly typical. We went on dates, then started going steady.”

“Did his parents know?”

“Yes. We tried to keep it from them for a while, but we weren’t very good at sneaking around. I think the first time Billy and I made love was in the back seat of his car.” She smiled at the memory. “It wasn’t very comfortable.”

“The car or the act itself.”

“Both. We didn’t know what we were doing. It was quick. The sex itself was always much more for him than me. I liked the holding and being close. It didn’t matter if it was physically satisfying because I loved him, so it was perfect.”

“I’m sure it got better.”

She smiled. “Not much.” Her smile faded. “We weren’t together long enough for us to get really good at it.”

She didn’t want to think about that, she reminded herself. So instead she recalled what it had been like to be with Billy. He’d been so attentive and eager—both for her and to please her. He’d always touched her as if she were the most precious creature alive. Perhaps to him, she had been.

But the sex itself hadn’t moved her. Perhaps she’d been too young, or they’d been too inexperienced. She’d never felt that ultimate pleasure, either with him, or the two young men she’d been intimate with during college. It was a sad state of affairs that the best it had ever been had been in a dream...with the man just a few feet away from her.

“So Billy was your first boyfriend and your first lover,” Arizona said. “Were you in love with him?”

“Yes. Deeply. He stole my heart and I’ve never been sure I got all the pieces back from him.”

Arizona pushed himself up into a sitting position. They faced each other. “So you believe in love, but you won’t believe in anything magical or mystical.”

“They’re not the same. I’ve experienced love.” She might have experienced magic—in the form of her dream—but she wasn’t ready to admit that to him.

“I don’t,” he said flatly.

It was the second time that night that he’d stunned her into silence. He’d mentioned it before but she hadn’t really believed him. Everyone had to believe in love. Her mind raced, but she couldn’t form any words. Finally she managed to blurt out, “How is that possible? What about all the weird stuff you research? You’ll put your faith in a rock or a story, but not in the depth of human emotion?”

“Exactly.”

“Are we talking about romantic love or all of it? What about parents caring for their children. Most would die for them. Isn’t that a demonstration of love?”

“Yes. I would agree that many parents have strong feelings for their children. In most cases I would be willing to call that love.”

His careful qualification of his answer made her curious, so she filed that information away to ask about another time. She didn’t want to get away from what they were already talking about.

“So it’s just the issue of romantic love you have problems with,” she said.

He nodded.

She was still having trouble believing this conversation. Arizona believed in things she couldn’t even begin to understand, but not love. But love was a fundamental part of the human condition.

“What are you so afraid of?” she asked.

He leaned toward her. “Do you believe in love between a man and a woman?”

“Of course. I plan to avoid it, but I know it exists. I’ve experienced it.”

“With Billy?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else?”

She shook her head.

“So why do you want to avoid loving a man?”

She struggled to find the words to answer his question. “If you don’t get close, you can’t get hurt. So I avoid getting close.”





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