CHEROKEE STRANGER

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  A man he didn't particularly like.

  The WITSEC inspector waited in his car. James opened the passenger door and climbed in. For a moment, neither spoke. Ryder sipped coffee from a plastic cup. He wore casual clothes, a tan shirt and jeans. He didn't look like a cop. But he was, James thought. Ryder was a lawman, through and through.

  "Do you want some coffee, Dalton? Or a burger or something?"

  "No, thanks."

  Ryder turned to face him. "So, what gives? Are you having woman trouble? Feeling guilty about that little blonde?"

  James glared at him. It already chapped his hide that he had to spill his guts to a cop, and Ryder's annoying ability to probe his mind only made matters worse. "How do you know about Emily? I never told you I was seeing her. I never even told you she lived in Silver Wolf."

  "Strange coincidence, isn't it? You and her ending up in the same town."

  "Yeah. And apparently Big Brother is watching every damn thing I do."

  "Don't get defensive." Ryder took an unaffected sip of his coffee. "It's my job to keep you alive. And I can't do that if I don't nose into your activities now and then."

  James studied the other man's hard, chiseled features. "Are you a traditional Indian?"

  The inspector shook his head. "No."

  "Me, neither."

  "I know."

  Of course, he knew. The son of a bitch knew everything. "Is that the only thing we have in common?"

  "Probably. Deputy marshals and former mobsters make strange bedfellows." Ryder gave him a blasé look, and suddenly, they both laughed.

  Their relationship was absurd. And more important than James had realized.

  In the silence that followed, he gazed out the windshield. He could see the highway, the road leading back to Silver Wolf. "She's in love with me." He paused to spike a hand through his hair. "And I'm in love with her."

  "And?"

  "And I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do. How can I make a commitment to a woman who doesn't even know who I am?"

  "She knows who you are. She knows you're James Dalton."

  "That feels like a sham. I feel like a sham." He turned away from the windshield, away from that fateful road. "I told Emily about my wife. Not her name and who her family is, but I told her that I had a wife who died from cancer."

  Ryder blew out a windy breath. "And now you want to tell her the rest. You want to tell her about Reed."

  His heart banged against his chest. The idea of telling the woman he loved that he was a former mobster made him ill, but not telling her made him hate himself more than he already did. "She has a right to know what kind of man I am."

  The inspector didn't agree. "So you're in love? So you're getting emotionally attached to a beautiful woman? You have to consider the future. What if it doesn't work out? What if you marry her and somewhere down the line she wants a divorce? What if you do something to piss her off? A disgruntled spouse can run to the mob for revenge."

  "She would never do that."

  "How the hell would you know? You've been involved with her for what? A month?"

  James bit back his temper. Emily would never hurt him; she would never turn him over to the mob. "I can't keep lying to her. I can't stand it."

  "You knew the rules when you entered this program."

  "So if I tell her, you're going to kick me out?"

  The inspector gave him a level stare. "No."

  James found the strength to smile. "No?"

  Ryder didn't return the smile. "You wouldn't be the first witness to tell his or her lover the truth. And you won't be the last, I suppose. But why you're so damned determined to come clean is beyond me."

  "I'll make sure she understands the risk."

  "You damn well better."

  "I will," James said. "And I'll keep you informed. I'll call you afterward."

  Ryder reached for the cigarette pack on the dashboard, slipped one out and struck a match. A second later, he watched James through a haze of smoke. "So when are you going to do it?"

  "When?" His nerves began to tangle. "Soon. The sooner the better."

  "Today, then?" The inspector dragged on his cigarette. "I wonder what she'll say. It's going to be a hell of a shock."

  James shifted in his seat. Was Ryder trying to psych him out? Make him change his mind? When the vehicle started closing in, he grabbed the door handle and bolted, desperate for some air.

  Ryder gave him a minute, then exited the car. James leaned against the trunk, his limbs not quite steady. He could feel the other man analyzing him, wondering if he would actually go through with it.

  "I have to," he said.

  "Then I hope it works out, Dalton. I hope you find what you're looking for. Peace. Redemption. Whatever it is, I hope you find it."

  So do I, James thought, as he cursed Reed Blackwood. So do I.

  *

  James entered Emily's house through the back door. After his meeting with Ryder, he'd gone to Tandy Stables to catch up on some paperwork and fill in for a ranch hand who'd taken ill. And now his day was over.

  Or almost over, he amended, his nerves tangling again.

  "James!" The instant he passed the utility room and walked into the kitchen, Corey ran to greet him.

  "Hey, partner." He scooped the boy up. Wispy blond bangs framed his eyes, and streaks of dirt stained his cheeks. "Been playing in the yard?"

  "Uh-huh." Corey wrinkled his nose. "I had to wear that girly goop again."

  "Corbin Taylor Chapman." Emily entered the kitchen and caused James's heart to stop. "Don't you dare complain."

  The child made a dramatic face, and James gazed at Emily. She sent him a sweet smile, and he clung to Corey, shifting the child in his arms. Did she love him enough to accept Reed Blackwood? To let a man like Reed remain in her life? To help raise her brother?

  Emily came forward to brush James's mouth with a tender kiss. He returned the kiss, and Corey made a silly smooching sound. James wanted to latch on to Emily and never let go, but she was already stepping back, already pinching her brother for teasing them.

  James set Corey on his feet and plunked his hat on the boy's head. The Stetson teetered, and the kid looked up at him and grinned.

  "Know what?" Corey said.

  "No? What?"

  "Diane is having a birthday party for Emmy. With balloons and a cake and everything."

  "A party?" He searched Emily's gaze. "When's your birthday?"

  "June twentieth. I'm having my stitches removed on Friday, so I'll be fine by then. Almost ready to go back to work."

  "And I'll be out of school," Corey piped in, watching the adults beneath the brim of the flip-flopping hat. "So I'll get to help, making decorations and stuff. Right, Emmy?"

  "That's right." She returned her attention to James. "I like the idea of having a party this year. I have a lot to celebrate. More than just my birthday."

  "Of course you do. We all do." He did his damnedest to conceal his emotions, to hide his anxiety. How could he tell her about Reed now? How could he spoil her party?

  He would wait to tell her, he thought. Wait until her special celebration was over. He released a ragged breath and decided he better call Ryder later and explain that his plan had been delayed. "What do you want for your birthday?"

  "You," she said, making him warm all over.

  "That's dumb." Corey interrupted. He'd been told about their romance, but he didn't quite understand the specifics. "You can't have a person for your birthday. It's supposed to be something you can wrap."

  James couldn't help but laugh. "I would look pretty goofy with a bow on top of my head."

  Emily and Corey laughed, too. James prayed moments like these were his to keep, that he wasn't setting himself up for a fall.

  "Can I go back outside?" Corey asked his sister.

  "That's fine," she told him. "But try to stay in the shade."

  "Okay. Cam I keep your hat, James? I'm gonna play cowboy."

  "Be my guest,
partner. All cowboys need hats."

  "Thanks." The boy steadied the Stetson and tore off, leaving James and Emily alone.

  "I can take you to the doctor on Friday," he said. "I'm supposed to work, but Lily Mae has been flexible with my schedule."

  "That would be great." Emily studied her lover's expression, his taunt mouth, the tiny lines near his eyes. "You're still scared, aren't you?"

  He jammed his hands into his pockets, a nervous habit she'd seen him do many times before.

  "I'm fine," he said.

  "You haven't been sleeping well."

  "I've always been a bit of an insomniac."

  "I didn't know that." But there was a lot she didn't know about him. They were still learning about each other, she supposed. "When's your birthday, James?"

  He didn't answer right away. He glanced at the floor, then shifted his stance. "November fifth."

  She stepped a little closer. "I'm sorry this is so difficult for you." That being in love made him so uncomfortable. "It's like a dream for me. I woke up this morning and realized this is the happiest I've ever been in my life."

  "Really?" He removed his hands from his pockets. She reached for him and he wrapped her in a heart-pounding embrace. Were his feelings as deep as hers? When he touched her, she was convinced they were. But whenever she looked into those haunted eyes, she feared she would lose him.

  "Tell me what you want for your birthday," he said.

  She inhaled his earthy scent, the horse-and-hay redolence that clung to his clothes. "I already told you."

  He smoothed a hand down her hair. "Funny girl. Now tell me something I can buy."

  "It doesn't matter." Just knowing that he was part of her life was enough.

  "Is the party going to be here or at Diane's house?"

  "At Diane's." She burrowed against his chest. "You can invite Lily Mae. And I'll invite Harvey. Wouldn't it be cute to see them together?"

  "Cute?" He stepped back. "To watch them bicker all night?"

  "To set them up. To play matchmaker." She couldn't stand the thought of Lily Mae and Harvey pining for each other. "You said they were lovers once."

  "Probably fifty years ago."

  "That's a long time to miss someone." She took his hands and held them. "It's the least we could do."

  "The least we could do is mind our own business."

  "Spoilsport." She released his hands, but he pulled her back into his arms.

  "Fine. I'll invite Lily Mae. But I'm not taking part in any matchmaking scheme."

  "Yes, you are."

  "No, I'm not."

  "It's going to be my birthday. My party." She softened her voice. "You'll have to listen to me then."

  He sighed, and she knew she'd won. But only for the moment. With James, nothing was certain. He was truly a shape-shifter – her dark-winged, rebellious protector. The man she loved, but hadn't begun to understand.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  «^»

  "Tell me again why we're here?" James asked as he opened the motel room door on Friday afternoon.

  "We're here because I want to see where you slept that night." The night they'd met, Emily thought.

  "Women." He shook his head and tossed the key card onto the dresser. "I drive you to Lewiston for a doctor appointment and we end up on a trip down memory lane." He turned around and smiled, the back of his head reflected in the mirror. "You're going to seduce me, aren't you? That's what this is all about."

  She scanned the bed and noticed the simple blue quilt. "Maybe."

  "Maybe? We just paid sixty-nine bucks for a few hours in a motel room and she says 'Maybe'?"

  Emily knew he was teasing her, but she knew he was anxious to make love, too. To touch and kiss and climax in her arms, to purge his emotions in a hot, desperate release. James was still troubled. In spite of his smile, she could see the ever-present pain in his eyes. "Tell me what you did when you left my room that night."

  "What could I do? I came back here." He frowned at the bed, his voice turning rough. "I paced for a while. I—"

  "What?" she asked.

  "Thought about you."

  Her pulse jumped to her throat. "You did?"

  "Of course I did." He leaned against the dresser, his shoulders tense. "I was lonely. I wanted to be with you, but I knew it wasn't right."

  Emily pictured him, stalking the perimeters of his confinement, his scuffed and battered boots treading the carpet. "I thought about you, too. I couldn't get you off my mind."

  He dragged a hand through his hair, tousling the thick, dark strands. "We were strangers. It wasn't meant to happen. Not that night."

  In some ways, they were still strangers, she thought. "I want to make new memories. For both of us."

  "Are those memories part of my seduction?" he asked, watching her with a hopeful expression.

  "Yes." She moved forward. He was still leaning against the dresser. She reached for him, and he held her. Gently, so gently, her heart ached for more. Being this close to him intensified her need to be with him, to take shelter in his arms. They hadn't made love since her surgery, and she missed him terribly.

  She reached for the buttons on his shirt, working them free. Then she bared his chest and pressed her lips to his skin. He was strong and solid and warm. She could almost feel his blood rushing through his veins. Her lover, she thought. Her angel. He'd helped her through the most difficult time of her life, insisting the scar on her leg was a badge of courage.

  "I'll always be safe with you," she said.

  James stroked her hair and felt his hand tremble. "Safe?" With an ex-con? An accessory to murder? A witness hiding from the mob?

  "You're my protector," she told him. "My guardian."

  When she nuzzled his neck, he absorbed her words, clinging to the illusion that he was worthy of her. He didn't want to think about his past, about the sins he'd committed. Not while she touched him, not while she made his heart yearn for hers.

  He opened her blouse, treasuring the warmth of her body, the feel of her skin next to his. Her bra was a wisp of cotton and lace. He could see her nipples through the pale pink fabric.

  "I love you," he said. Whatever else happened, he wanted her to know that, to feel it.

  "I love you, too." She nearly melted in his arms, and he realized how deeply his words had affected her, how much she needed to hear them.

  He scooped her up and carried her to bed. For now, he would be the man she believed him to be, her white knight, her protector.

  "It's perfect, isn't it?" she said. "This room. Us. The new memories."

  "Yes." He knelt beside her on the bed, slipping off her shoes, removing her pants, fisting the condom she'd tucked into her pocket, sliding it under a pillow. His clothes came next – his jeans, his boots, the shirt she'd unbuttoned.

  When they were naked, they touched each other, exploring curves and planes and quivering muscles. She traced his tattoo; he skimmed a hand over her scar. She roamed his chest, and he rubbed between her legs, arousing her, making her arch and sigh.

  Her climax was soft and sweet, a flutter of feminine shivers, a breathy pant, an intoxicated smile. He watched it happen, pleased that his touch could make her dreamy.

  "You look so pretty." Her hair fanned across the pillow, and her cheeks were flushed. Almost as pink as her nipples.

  She rolled over. And suddenly, she straddled his lap, pressing against the hardness. "How do I look now?"

  "Gorgeous," he rasped, before he thrust his tongue into her mouth.

  The kiss was rough, laden with hunger, with the need to possess. She reached under his pillow and palmed the foil packet. Then she tore it open and fitted him with the condom. Anxious, he waited.

  She lifted her hips and impaled herself. Slow, shallow, erotic, maddening. James wasn't sure he would survive. Desperate, he grabbed her waist, pushed her down, felt that warm, wet friction.

  "More," he whispered. "All the way."

  Sleek and smooth,
she rode him, setting the rhythm, the heart-stopping pace. He had to remind himself to breathe, to suck air into his lungs.

  She tipped her head back, and her body arched and flowed. Mesmerized, he watched her. She could have been a witch. She could have been a fairy. He didn't know where her magic had come from, but it was there, swirling like mist, falling like rain.

  His lady. His love. He reared up to kiss her, to hold her, to plunge deep. To look into her eyes and lose his soul.

  *

  "It's good for the soul."

  "I'm sorry. What?" Caught off guard, James turned. He hadn't heard Diane's husband approach, which meant he was zoning out. Ned Kerr wasn't a quiet man. He walked with a heavy foot and spoke in a strong, friendly voice.

  "Nature is good for the soul." Ned indicated the view of the river from his front yard.

  "Yes, it is." Moonlight baptized the water with silver-crested currents, and stars reflected the night sky.

  "Are you enjoying the party?" Ned asked.

  James nodded. Festive sounds drifted from the house, where Emily's birthday celebration was in full swing. "It's a great party. It was nice of you and Diane to do this."

  "Emily is going to be our son's godmother." Ned flashed a proud smile. "Diane told you we're having a boy, didn't she?"

  "Yes, she did." James thought about his own son, about the little boy he'd left behind. "When the early Cherokee inquired about the sex of a new arrival, they used to ask, 'Is it a bow or a sifter?' A meal sifter," he clarified. "Boys made bows for their arrows and girls beat corn into meal."

  Ned chuckled. "Then it's a bow. But don't tell Diane about the meal-sifter thing. She'll probably think it's sexist. You know, women's lib and all that."

  Just then, Diane's voice sounded from behind them. "Did I hear my name?"

  "That woman has ears like radar," her husband mumbled.

  "I heard that." She tried to slip her arms around the back of Ned's waist, but her protruding tummy got in the way. "I heard all of it."

  "So did I," another feminine voice said.

  James looked over and saw Emily. She smiled at him, and his heart bumped his chest. "I was just getting some air," he said.

  "And discussing gender differences with Ned." She laughed and came forward. "Does this mean I'm a sifter?"