NIGHT WIND'S WOMAN

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  Apparently too tired to argue, she moved the cloth to her forehead and accepted his offer. "Grandpa said your dad was a nice man. I think Grandpa would have approved of me staying at your place. And truthfully, all these cobwebs are making me jumpy."

  The cobwebs were making Shane jumpy, too, but he wasn't about to admit it. "Yeah, Butch and my dad were pretty good friends," he responded, wondering what her granddaddy had said about him. What had Butch Baxter told Kelly about the veterinarian's Comanche son? "I hope you don't mind eating breakfast for dinner. I think Dad plans on frying up some eggs and potatoes. It's his turn to cook."

  "That sounds fine. Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you."

  "Just being neighborly." He resisted the urge to place his hand against her tummy, take comfort in the warmth. Even though the chemical smell of a household cleanser lingered on her hands, he still detected another scent. Watermelon. A gently milled soap or body lotion.

  What would she do if he actually touched her?

  Nothing, he decided. Most pregnant women became accustomed to forms of affection from strangers. Affection? The last thing he needed was to feel something for her. She was carrying another man's child. Just like Tami had been.

  Shane cursed his memories. Tami hadn't liked her body then, but he had enjoyed the fullness, knowing a child grew there. He shifted his gaze. A child he had been denied.

  "Come on, Miz Baxter, let's get going."

  She rose, her skin still pale. "If we're going to be friends, then call me Kelly, please."

  He nodded, wondering what the hell he was doing. The last woman who had claimed to be his friend had gashed his heart. And now this delicate-looking urchin with the flyaway hair and spray of golden freckles managed to show up at his door and reopen that wound.

  Five years of living like a cougar had only reinforced one thing. The man in Shane still remembered what it felt like to hurt.

  * * *

  Kelly walked into Shane's home, deciding fatigue was her enemy. She had just agreed to spend two days with two men she barely knew. Barely knew? She hadn't even met Dr. McKinley yet.

  "Come on, I'll introduce you to my dad," Shane said as though reading her mind.

  Kelly followed her neighbor to a brightly lit kitchen. The stove was old but clean, the counters butcher-block style. The house boasted masculine charm, simple and stark with polished wood floors and heavy rattan furniture.

  "Dad, I've got somebody with me."

  Tom McKinley turned. He was as tall as Shane and possibly as muscular, but his features weren't as sharp as his son's, and his eyes weren't flecked with gold. They were pale blue, a complement to his sunburned skin and thick red hair. Tom had a nonthreatening appearance, whereas Shane had the kind of dark, dangerous looks that probably made women stop and stare. Kelly glanced away. Even she had stared a little.

  "This is Kelly Baxter, Butch's granddaughter."

  Upon hearing her name, she steadied her gaze and extended her hand to Dr. McKinley, realizing an introduction was being made.

  The veterinarian shook her hand, then gave it a paternal pat. "You're as pretty as your granddaddy said."

  "Thank you."

  Shane explained her dilemma, and Dr. McKinley welcomed her to their home with a genuine smile. How warm their relationship was, she thought, how calm. Nothing like the recent disagreements that existed between herself and her mother. Those disagreements had brought her to Texas, that and the pain of a man's rejection.

  The doctor went back to preparing supper, and Shane led her down the hallway, her luggage in tow. He offered Kelly a friendly smile – the polite, gallant host. An enigma, she thought, his renegade looks deceiving.

  "You can sleep in here," he said as they entered a tidy little guest room.

  The first thing Kelly noticed was the tall, metal cage. Inside of it was a spotted cat, surrounded by toys and snug in a padded box, its huge ears perked with curiosity.

  Shane set her bags on the floor and moved toward the cage. "That's Zuni. I hope you don't mind sharing your space with her. She's more or less a houseguest, too." He knelt to slip a finger through the bars. The cat poked her paw back at him. "You know, come to think of it, I better move Zuni into my room. We're still bottle-feeding her. I doubt you'd appreciate being awakened every four hours."

  "She's still a baby?" Zuni was already half the size of a full-grown domestic, fine-boned and adorable. "How old is she?"

  "Five weeks."

  Shane opened the cage and the kitten scampered out, rubbing and purring between his legs. "She's a serval. A medium-size cat from Africa." He reached for a toy and shook it in front of Zuni. The kitten batted it immediately. "But this little girl was born in captivity. She's never been to Africa."

  "Is she a rescue?" Kelly wanted to snag Zuni and cuddle, but wasn't sure if it would be the proper thing to do.

  He shook his head. "Kittens and cubs rarely need rescuing. Everyone adores baby animals. It's when they get big that they become a problem. Zuni belongs to a friend of mine, and he's prepared for the handful she's going to become. I'm only baby-sitting while he's on vacation."

  Shane looked up from the kitten and smiled. Kelly assumed she had a sappy look on her face, the expression of an expectant mother eager to nuzzle someone else's toddler. Shane appeared amused. "Do you want to hold her?"

  He didn't need to ask twice. Kelly extended her arms and waited for the transfer. The kitten had soft, fluffy fur and long, spindly legs. Her little nose was pointed, her eyes round and dark. It was thrilling, Kelly thought, to stroke an exotic creature, listen to the low rumble of its purr.

  "Do you think you could teach me to feed her? I'm willing to get up every four hours. It's something I'm going to have to get used to anyway."

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  She brought the kitten closer. "Positive."

  Ten minutes later Kelly had been instructed on how to mix the formula and warm the bottle. She stood beside Shane in the kitchen while his father peeled a batch of potatoes.

  Shane handed Kelly the bottle. "We're a little off schedule, but I'm sure Zuni won't mind."

  She glanced at Tom McKinley. He sent her a smile, then looked over at his son. He was proud of Shane, she thought. Father and son treated each other with respect. Did they ever argue? she wondered. Kelly and her mother used to get along well, too. But the paternity suit issue had caused a rift between them.

  Shane and Kelly returned to the guest room where the kitten had been left to roam. The moment Zuni spotted the bottle, she sat at Kelly's feet and made a noise that sounded as if it had come from a bird, an odd little chirping.

  "That's the most common way servals communicate," Shane explained. "Not all cats roar or meow."

  They settled on the edge of the bed, Zuni climbing onto Kelly's lap, anxious and jittery for her meal. Shane leaned in close, and Kelly swallowed. Suddenly his presence seemed too intimate. The bedroom door was closed, the lamp turned low.

  "Feed her as though she's nursing from her mother," he said quietly. "Keep her on her tummy and guide her head. Cats aren't like human babies. You shouldn't cradle them while they're eating. They can get milk in their lungs."

  Kelly listened to his instruction and watched Zuni latch onto the nipple. The kitten's ears drew back as she suckled, her round eyes slitting languorously.

  Shane slipped his arm around Kelly and readjusted the bottle. "You need to give her something to knead. See how she's trying to find a place for her paws? Let her use your hand."

  Kelly nodded. Did Shane realize how close he was? That his breath stirred against her cheek?

  The sound of Zuni' s suckling intensified the quiet. Shane kept his arm draped across her shoulder, his gaze focused on the kitten. She had the sudden urge to lean into him, absorb his kindness. She had dreamed of moments like this. The players were wrong, but the feeling was right. The tender stillness. The human warmth.

  Zuni released the nipple, gazed up at Kelly, then
latched onto the rubber again and began to chew.

  Shane wiggled the bottle. "No, no, little one. This isn't playtime."

  He lifted his arm from Kelly's shoulder. She felt an immediate loss. The spell had been broken, reality creeping back in. Shane wasn't Jason. He wasn't the father of her child, the man who should be treating her with kindness.

  After turning the light up, Shane took the bottle and charted the amount the kitten had consumed. He appeared to be a nice person, but then Jason had fooled her into believing he was nice, too. Unlike Shane, her baby's father wasn't long and lean, nor did he wear frayed denims and scuffed leather boots. Jason Collier had neatly styled hair, his features classically handsome, his medium build well-suited to collegiate-type sportswear. He had been her romantic fixation since high school, the popular boy most folks in her hometown seemed to like.

  "Zuni needs to be burped."

  "What?" She blinked away her thoughts, then glanced down at the squirming kitten. "How—"

  "Just lift her onto your shoulder and pat."

  "Like a baby?"

  Shane nodded and returned to Kelly's side. She raised the kitten. "I can't believe I'm burping a cat."

  "I can't believe she hasn't tried to nip you." He placed his fingers over Kelly's and urged her to continue the gentle tapping. "Servals tend to be nippy. Mostly it's just play-biting but, regardless, it can hurt." He stroked the kitten's head. "Disciplining this little girl isn't going to be easy."

  When Zuni erupted in a loud burp Kelly looked at Shane, and they both laughed.

  "I guess she told you."

  "Yeah. I guess she did." He grinned, then smoothed a strand of Kelly's hair, removing it from Zuni's curious reach.

  That tender sensation came back, the unspoken compatibility. Kelly released a slow steadying breath and pushed away the feeling. In two weeks she would return to Ohio to face an important decision in her life. A decision that didn't include Shane Night Wind.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  «^»

  Shane hadn't slept well. He had tossed and turned, wondering about Kelly Baxter. The same thought still plagued him: Why had she come to Texas to spend two weeks in her granddaddy's cabin a month before her baby was due? That made no sense.

  They had shared dinner last night with his father, but the conversation hadn't led to any clues. Her personal life hadn't been broached.

  Strange how Shane wanted to be near her, yet her presence stirred such raw emotion within him – painful reminders of the past. The turbulent years between Shane and his father. The bitterness in Shane's childhood. The wife and baby he had been forced to leave behind. The wife and son Tom had lost.

  Kelly Baxter had brought a battered suitcase of ghosts with her – haunting memories Shane had struggled to overcome.

  He poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee. It wasn't Kelly's fault, the emotions swirling around inside him. She hadn't come to Texas to torment him. She had come out of her own torment.

  Maybe, just maybe, he thought, he was meant to help her. Maybe the Creator had placed her in his path for a reason. It was possible his own pain had resurfaced as a reminder of what it felt like to be needy and alone – the way Kelly appeared to be.

  Shane sipped his coffee, suddenly sensing Kelly's impending presence. He could feel another person approaching and knew it wasn't his dad. Tom had left for work already.

  She appeared in the kitchen entryway, sleepy-eyed, her fly-away locks spilling over her shoulders. She wore a modest nightgown that flowed to her ankles. Pretty and pregnant, he thought, wrapped in pink.

  "Oh, hi." She smiled a little shyly. "I didn't know anyone would be up at this hour."

  "We start our day early around here." Watermelon still lingered on her skin, the same scent he had noticed the day before. Shane moved a little closer. Watermelon was significant in his life, the treat his favorite cougar salivated for. He moistened his lips as a masculine urge took hold. Suddenly he imagined nuzzling her neck, burying his face in her hair.

  "I came to get Zuni a bottle," she said.

  "Huh? Oh, yeah. There's one in the fridge." Guiltily, he rejected his coffee, thinking caffeine was probably the last thing he needed, especially since his heartbeat had quickened.

  So he had romantic urges. So what? He wasn't having full-on sexual fantasies about a pregnant woman, just odd little flutters, feelings that leaned more toward tenderness. The kind of touches that led to cuddling. Kissing.

  Kelly turned to warm the bottle, and Shane gave himself a mental lashing. Romantic urges. She was carrying another man's child. Hadn't he learned his lesson from Tami? Been down that painful road before?

  Damn. Was it Kelly's pregnancy that drew him in – the overwhelming reminder of a child he still missed? Or was it actually her? The feminine defiance and girlish vulnerability? A combination he found difficult to resist.

  It didn't matter, Shane decided. He wasn't about to lose the peace he'd made with himself, not now, not after all he'd been through. If the problem in Kelly's life centered around her baby's father, then he'd find out why. And if it was too serious of a problem to fix, he'd encourage Kelly to move forward, find a new direction to take, focus on her baby, maybe even consider a new career. Start over the way he had.

  "Do you want to take a tour of the rescue later?" he asked. "You don't have to entertain me, Shane. I've taken enough of your time already."

  "I'd really like you to see it." And he wanted to get to the bottom of her pain, the reason she'd left home. "It's really incredible. We've spent a lot of time and money building natural habitats, and we even have a picnic area for the tourists."

  "Would I be going through the tour with other people?"

  "No, just me. We only give scheduled tours on the first Saturday of every month. We just don't have the staff available to offer them more frequently. Besides, the cats deserve their privacy." He tilted his head. "I would never put you in any danger, Kelly. The rescue is safe." And free of the toxoplasmosis that could harm an unborn child. Having a veterinarian in the family kept the strong cats healthy and the ones who required constant medical care well tended. Tom was available day or night, a dedicated doctor who had been treating exotics for years. "Please say yes."

  "Okay." She tested the temperature of the formula. "I'd like to see the animals Grandpa found so fascinating."

  "Good. We can pack a lunch. Spend some time in the shade." And talk, he hoped. Once he helped Kelly sort out her problems, he could go back to his own life. The solitude he had come to rely on.

  * * *

  Hours later Kelly walked beside Shane, thoroughly enjoying the outdoors. Jungle Hill Rescue was a sight to behold. Spring greenery flourished beneath a vast Texas sky, and wide dirt paths led to large caged compounds.

  "Most of our residents are cougars," he said. "But we have other cats, too." He guided her toward a grassy compound where a tiger peered down at the world from a tree house, its sleek body stretched across the bark. "We don't pick and choose our animals. We take them in with the intention to keep them, regardless of their health or disposition. We're not a temporary shelter." He turned to gaze up at the tiger. "Once they arrive, this is their permanent home. Their last stop."

  Kelly studied Shane's profile. The inflection in his voice spoke of sadness, as if he understood the feeling of being homeless, of needing a caring place to live. "So they've been abused?" she asked.

  "Not all of them." He shifted the backpack that contained their lunch. "Some are more or less orphaned. Think about it, if a primary caregiver dies, who is going to take in their three-hundred-pound cat? It's a misconception that all of the animals in rescues have been abused or purposely abandoned. There are some responsible private owners out there. We've acquired our exotics from all sorts of situations. Unfortunately, though, some of those situations were deplorable."

  "I can't imagine having a big cat for a pet."

  He turned to look at her, his brown eyes glinting gold. "That's becaus
e they're not pets. It's not the same as owning a dog or a domestic cat."

  Kelly understood what he meant. The people who purchased exotics and expected them to behave like domestics were the ones who ultimately ended up abusing or abandoning their animals, realizing the nature of the beast much too late.

  "You really love them."

  He smiled. "Yeah, I do. I feel like I belong to them somehow."

  Because he was one of them, Kelly thought, as his hair blew around his shoulders. Long, lean, golden-eyed Shane. Part Comanche, part Irish, part wildcat.

  "Tell me about the tiger," she said, deciding she liked her host. Kelly didn't have many male friends, especially men who wore their hair longer than her own. It was difficult not to find him fascinating.

  "That's Sammy." Shane observed the big cat as though pleased by its royal disposition, its ability to accept their presence without swishing its tail or batting an eye. Although they stood a good distance from the spacious habitat, the tiger watched them through a regal gaze – a prince looking down on the peasants. "He came from a tiger mill. Tigers breed easily in captivity, and the demand for white tigers has created a problem. The only known white tiger gene came from a male in India that was bred to his daughter, so the lines aren't pure.

  Shane sighed, the sound rough and masculine. "Sammy's an orange tiger who carries the white gene, the product of a breeder trying to capitalize on producing white tigers. When a white tiger is bred to an orange one, the litter is often mixed. So you see, Sammy's immune system isn't what it should be. Besides the gene he carries, we think he was a result from even more inbreeding. An irresponsible mill who mated relatives."

  "That's sad."

  "Yes, it is. And Sammy's not the only discarded tiger out there. I know of rescues that are filled with them." Shane moved his gaze over Kelly's body. "Are you doing all right? Do you want to sit down for a while?"

  Startled by his quick change of subject, she smoothed her windblown hair, feeling suddenly fat and unattractive. It bothered her that his gaze always managed to stray to her protruding belly. She had the sensation that her pregnancy made him uncomfortable, that he found her added weight an unwelcome distraction. "Why? Do I look tired?"