Rider on Fire & When You Call My Name. Sharon Sala
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matter if anyone caught fish because they were together.
The sun was hot. Sonora’s eyelids were drooping. The bobber was riding high in the still water like an empty ship, and she couldn’t bring herself to care that she wasn’t getting any nibbles.
Something tickled her arm. She brushed at it without looking. Then something tickled the back of her neck. She brushed at it as absently as she had her arm.
“If I was a bad guy, you’d be in trouble.”
Sonora choked on a squeak and fell backward. For a second, the sun was in her eyes, and then a tall shadow fell across her face and she could see.
It was Adam.
“Darn you,” she muttered as she sat up, then yanked the pole from the water and flung it on the ground. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he said, but he was smiling as he sat down beside her.
“No, you’re not,” she said, and then pointed a finger in his face. “I didn’t even hear you coming. How did you do that?”
“I’m Indian.”
She rolled her eyes and then punched him lightly on the arm.
“You’re full of it, that’s what you are.”
His smile widened. “Well, there is that, too.”
She wanted to stay indignant, but it didn’t work.
Adam brushed his hand against the curve of her cheek. “Forgive me?”
His dark eyes were glittering with laughter and his mouth was curved up in a smile. There was a small bead of sweat at the edge of his hairline as well as a sheen from the heat on his face. He smelled good—like the outdoors with a hint of musk, and the look in his eyes was on the broad side of dangerous.
At that moment, Sonora knew if she let it happen, they would be lovers. Part of her wanted to know him in that way. He was kind and generous. She could only imagine what kind of a lover he would be. But she had to remember there was danger in giving too much of herself away, and danger to whomever she let get too close. Buddy’s death was evidence of that.
Adam watched the playfulness come and go on her face and wondered what she was thinking, although he doubted she was the kind of woman who gave away her secrets.
“Hey,” he said, and playfully bumped his shoulder against hers.
She managed a halfhearted smile and then looked away.
“You’re forgiven,” she said.
She was slipping away from him and he couldn’t let that happen.
“Hey,” he said again, and cupped her face with the palm of his hand, pulling gently until she was looking at him. “What just happened here?”
Sonora met his gaze straight on. “I’m not who you need to be hanging out with.”
He inhaled sharply. She was thinking of Buddy Allen.
“I don’t run from anything,” he said. “Not even you.”
Sonora frowned. “I don’t know what you think you want, but I’m not it.”
“I don’t think. I know what I want,” Adam said. “I’m just not sure you’re ready to hear it.”
Sonora’s heart skipped a beat.
“I don’t run from anything…or anyone…either,” she said. “I left Phoenix only because I was ordered to do so.”
Adam turned until he was facing her. His legs were crossed, his gaze steady upon her face.
“I know,” he said gently. “You are fierce and you are strong. You wouldn’t be your father’s daughter if you were not. But it’s not your job to protect me or Franklin. We’ve faced our own troubles and dealt with them just fine.”
“You’ve never had troubles like the kind Miguel Garcia can bring.”
Adam shook his head, then ran the tip of his finger down her nose, tapping the end like punctuating a sentence.
“Again you forget I was an army ranger. I’ve been in the middle of things the American public never knew happened. I am not afraid of a drug dealer, and you should trust me when I tell you this.”
He was no longer smiling, and the tone of his voice was as dark as his eyes. Sonora took a deep breath and then nodded.
“Okay.”
Adam hated the expression in her eyes. It was a combination of distrust and fear. When he reached for her, she looked away.
“Don’t do that,” Adam said.
There was a frown on her forehead as she cast him a sideways glance.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said.
“Are you afraid of what you’re feeling?”
Her nostrils flared as she raised her chin. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It was a defensive motion Adam knew only too well. He shook his head, leaned forward, slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her into a kiss.
She sighed, then she moaned. She’d known this man would be different. This man could hurt her in a way like no other. She knew it and still clung to the urgency in his kiss.
Adam had no sense of self. He’d lost it the moment he’d covered her mouth with his. He’d known it would be like this. She was sweet as wild honey, but the kiss was no longer enough. He rose up on his knees without breaking their kiss, then pulled her up to meet him. Now they were body to body, clinging to each other in quiet desperation.
The kiss lengthened—deepened.
Sonora lost focus when he took down her hair and ran his fingers through the length. She swayed weakly, then grabbed his shoulders to steady herself, but it was too little, too late.
Adam took her in his arms and laid her down, cradling the back of her head with his hand as he leaned over her, and as he did, saw a moment of panic on her face. Regretfully, he leaned down and rubbed his cheek against her face. Her skin was warm against his lips, and he could feel the rocket of her pulse against his fingers.
“I will never hurt you,” he whispered.
A tear rolled out of Sonora’s eye.
“You will break my heart.”
The poignancy in her words was a red light to what had been about to happen. Adam didn’t know what to say to make her believe it wasn’t true. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—make love to her without her complete faith and trust.
“Never,” he said softly, then wrapped his arms around her and rolled them both until she was the one on top. They lay without moving or talking while the passion cooled.
Sonora didn’t know what to think. She’d thought they were going to make love and she’d wanted it. God knew how badly she’d wanted it. She still ached for the weight of him—for that promise in his eyes of things to come. And she still couldn’t believe what she’d said—that he would break her heart. It was as good as admitting that she already cared for him, which seemed ridiculous. They’d spent less than twenty-four hours together, but she felt as if she’d known him forever. He was a healer. Maybe he was a wizard, as well.
“Adam?”
He shifted to allow the weight of her head against his shoulder.
“Hmm?”
“Did you really make magic to get me here?”
He sighed. How did you explain the Native American way to someone who had not been raised in the culture?
“It’s not magic…exactly.”
“Did you put