Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Pineiro, Charity

  Her body tingled as a thousand tiny fireworks went off in her bloodstream. She bit her bottom lip harder to give herself a much-needed jolt back to reality.

  What was with her? Here she was, barely weeks out of the ego-numbing relationship with her ex-fiancé, David, and already she was practically swooning at another man's feet! This was totally unlike her. Riniarina Herelius did not swoon over strange men. Hell, Rini did not swoon over men at all. At least not these days.

  "Go on," her warrior urged, smiling. "Your boyfriend will be looking for you."

  Her gaze narrowed and she frowned. "No." Thoughts of swooning vanished, and she shook her head determinedly. "No boyfriend."

  A question played in his eyes. "Husband, then?"

  Inexplicably, her vision blurred. No. Not that, either. She shook her head again, turned, and fled into the crowd. She didn't stop running until she passed the booth farthest from the dance circle, then leaned against a wooden fence post. She gulped down several steadying breaths. The beat of drums kicked up over the loudspeaker, the nasal wail of the singers joining in. Exhaling slowly, she forced her heart to resume its normal cadence.

  She swiped at her eyes. Damn that warrior, anyway. She did not want to think about David and all her crushed dreams. Not today.

  Today was a celebration! She had come to the Cardinal Ranch Powwow to lose herself in the bright colors, the haunting music, and the beautiful dancing. In the wonderful tastes and smells and diversity the world had to offer. To revel in life. A life that was her own and no one else’s.

  She was free! Free of the past. Free to choose her own future.

  Running unsteady fingers along the warm wood of the split rail fence, she repeated the word firmly to herself. Free. Not betrayed. Not defeated. But truly free. Liberated, after two long years of trying to be someone she couldn't—wouldn't—ever be. Free to follow her own almost-forgotten dreams and rebuild the fragile self-esteem that had been so soundly shattered.

  Lord, how could she have stayed so long with a man who didn't love her? A man who had taken every opportunity to belittle her opinions and crush her hopes? A man who had cheated on her, and when she’d left him, had shouted after her that she wasn't woman enough for him, anyway.

  How naive she had been! To think she'd honestly believed David would change, that her love and loyalty could transform him from the thoughtless, domineering bully he’d turned into lately, back to the man he’d been in the beginning of their relationship—a person worthy of her devotion. Or so she’d thought.

  But she'd finally realized that was never going to happen.

  Thinking one person could ever change another was a huge mistake, one she had no intention of repeating in this lifetime.

  She was so grateful for the courage she had somehow scraped together to leave him. To start over. And this time, to do it right.

  Now she would do with her life what she had dreamed of for as long as she could remember—finishing the course work for her nursing degree. She would slowly put her life and her self-esteem back together. And most important, she would make her own choices. Choices neither David nor her mother would ever again be able to mock.

  Closing her eyes, she let out a long breath that ended in a smile. No, she wouldn't let David ruin today. She wouldn't allow him to ruin any day, ever again.

  No man, she promised herself, would ever ruin another single solitary day of her life.

  She lifted her gaze to the glittering heavens. It was truly a glorious morning. In more ways than one. Yesterday she had gotten a letter from UCLA confirming her reacceptance to the nursing program. And a few minutes ago, a sexy, intriguing man had actually flirted with her.

  Oh, yeah. Life was good.

  The weather matched her buoyant spirits. A sparkling bright sun shone in a brilliant blue, cloudless sky. A breeze whispered through the fragrant wildflowers on the rolling, grassy hilltop where the powwow grounds were located, stirring the canopied booths that were filled with sweet and savory foods, silver and turquoise jewelry, antique reproductions, souvenirs, and T-shirts sporting political and decorative logos.

  She pushed off the fence, fueled by the newfound happiness and determination that had arisen from the ashes of her shattered relationship.

  Finally she was in control of her own fate.

  Laughing, she swung around in a circle, the full skirt of her colorful summer dress billowing about her like a bell. She felt lightheaded and happy. For the first time in years she felt feminine and attractive.

  This was crazy! She wanted to twirl up and down the rolling hills until she fell over with giddiness! She was crazy.

  For the first time in her life she wanted to do something crazy!

  The sound of drums and bells and the thump of dancers' feet vibrated over the meadow. She felt a warm glow wash over her as she thought of one handsome dancer in particular. The warrior.

  Now there was a choice bit of craziness just waiting to happen.

  * * *

  Colton Lonetree spotted the tourist woman at the Navajo taco stand. He'd been thinking about her ever since she dashed off so quickly after he'd put his foot in his mouth at the dance circle. And he'd thought he was being so subtle, asking about a boyfriend.

  The woman was pretty as a picture in that cute little sundress, blond curls cascading over her shoulders. He didn't usually go for the tourists. In fact, he never did. Ever. He came to these things strictly for the dancing, to see his friends from the Rez, and to clap for his students. But this one… Well, this one just might be an exception. In any case, she was definitely worth a closer look.

  He pushed through the crowd in front of the taco stand. Luckily, it was run by his pal, Ricky Lee. The throng of gawking tourists parted readily for an Indian in full regalia, until Cole stood just behind the woman, who was giving her order to Ricky. The intriguing scents of gardenias and fry bread mingled in his nostrils.

  "Hey, good buddy," Ricky said, grinning over the blonde's head as he counted out her change.

  Cole smiled at her as she turned to him in surprise. He reached around her and gave Ricky a good-natured thump on the arm, brushing hers as he did so. He heard her little intake of breath, and grinned inwardly. Definitely no boyfriend.

  Ricky ducked into the depths of the booth, and Cole glanced back at the woman. He had her effectively cornered between his body, the booth, and the condiment table. This time she wouldn't get away so easily.

  "Was it something I said?" he asked.

  Her head came around. "Sorry?"

  "When you ran away."

  "Ah." Her mouth parted slightly, and the tip of her tongue peeked out, moistening her upper lip. "No." She shrugged a shoulder, then tugged up the sliver of sleeve that slipped over it at the movement.

  Hell. He really wished the damn thing would stop doing that. Her smooth, bare shoulder was driving him to distraction big time.

  "I was a bit embarrassed at being where I wasn't supposed to be, that's all," she murmured.

  "No need. We did sort of swoop down on you. The guys never could resist teasing a beautiful woman."

  She lowered her lashes, blushing, and when she raised her sky-blue eyes again, fire danced in them like sparklers on the Fourth of July. Beautiful blue fire eyes.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  Ricky returned and looked from Cole to the woman and back again. With lifted eyebrows, Ricky handed her a Navajo taco and a can of soda. "Condiments are over there," he said, pointing to the table behind her. "You eating, amigo?"

  "Better not. I'm dancing hoops in half an hour." Cole waved and followed Fire Eyes to the napkin dispenser. She juggled her plate in one hand, the plastic fork and a root beer in the other, so he obligingly peeled out a few napkins for her. He paused, searching her hands for somewhere to put them, then pursed his lips and examined her dress for a possibility. He didn't get much further than the curvy bodice with about a million tiny buttons running down the front. Ho boy.

  "Don't suppose you'v
e got a pocket anywhere?"

  She shook her head. As his gaze fastened on her scoop neckline, her eyes widened in alarm. "Don't you dare!" She tried to step back, but the table blocked her path. Her sleeve slid off her shoulder.

  He swallowed hard.

  Prying two of her fingers away from the soda can, he inserted the napkins, then gingerly moved to pull up her sleeve. His fingers lingered on the silky-looking cotton fabric, close enough to her skin to feel the warmth emanating from it.

  He looked into her fire eyes. "Watch me dance later?"

  Slowly, she nodded. “Um, sure.”

  He smiled then, and forced himself to turn and walk away before he made a complete idiot of himself—as there was no doubt in his mind he would. Those fire eyes did things to him no other woman had managed to do in more years than he cared to count.

  And made him completely forget about women and how they always, always left.

  * * *

  Checking her watch, Rini eased herself through the crowd of people lining the dance circle. She didn’t want to be late. The master of ceremonies had just announced the hoop dance demonstration. She didn't catch the dancer's name. A buzz in the public address system prevented her from hearing anything more than that he hailed from the Luiseño nation, but somehow she knew it would be her warrior.

  She'd just found an empty space up front when the singers started the drumbeat. The warrior walked into the circle, silver bells jangling from his ankles and wooden hoops clacking as he carried them in his hands. His bearing was straight and dignified; every movement conveyed pride in what he was doing. Rini caught her breath at the pure, male virility of the man.

  The breeze lifted the ends of his midnight hair, which skimmed over the lustrous bronze of his broad shoulders. When he turned to walk to the other side of the ring, her gaze feasted on the undulating muscles in his back and biceps—her gaze, and that of every other female in the audience. Until, that is, she found more interesting territory below his tapered waist.

  Leather cording held up his breechclout, along with an elaborately embroidered and fringed bustle that hung from his waist to the back of his knees. But unlike most of the other male dancers, he did not wear modern gym pants or sweats under them. The tantalizing bit of bare hip showing between the edges of the breechclout and the bustle was enough to make her mouth go completely dry.

  Lord above. She fanned herself with her hand and watched, mesmerized, as his hoops started to fly.

  It was amazing the things he could do with those hoops. And with his body. Graceful and athletic, his moves took her breath away. When the dance was over, all she could do was murmur, "Wow."

  "Not bad for an old man!" the master of ceremonies quipped over the loudspeaker. "There'll be an encore at four o'clock this afternoon, folks."

  Drums started again. Suddenly her warrior was swept up in a wave of backslapping friends and fellow dancers, and returned to the ring for an intertribal dance. She craned her neck to see him, but he was hidden from view in the throng.

  She pushed out a sigh. Just as well. There were a hundred booths to explore, weaving to watch, kettle corn to eat, and music to listen to. She didn't have time to stand here and gawk at some man just because he had called her beautiful.

  Which was why she just didn't understand how she came to be in exactly the same spot at the dance circle at four o'clock, nervously fidgeting with the ends her ribbon belt.

  Sure, she had spotted him several times during the course of the afternoon as she’d immersed herself in the rows of booths with their fascinating wares, and he'd always smiled at her. A luscious, inviting kind of smile that made her dizzy just looking at it. The same kind of smile he was giving her now as he entered the ring and pinned her with his dark, seeking eyes. Her pulse zinged in response, echoed by the resounding drumbeats that kicked up from the center of the circle.

  The warrior lifted his hoops and started to dance. His moccasined feet bounced off the dusty ground in a quick heartbeat rhythm as he swooped and twirled the wooden hoops in intricate patterns around his body, increasing the number of hoops and moving them in ever more complicated arrangements. The crowd applauded at each additional hoop he worked into the design, and cheered as the drums beat ever faster.

  He slowly traversed the circle, adding hoops as he went, until he danced right in front of her. His skin glistened with sweat, the bells tied above his calves jingled madly as the tempo surged to a fevered pitch. Muscles bulging, his face etched in concentration, he snapped up the final nine-hoop figure, and the crowd went wild. Rini stood transfixed as he executed one last deep-knee spin and collapsed the hoops in a quick motion to a single orderly bunch in his hand. He lifted the hoops high over his head, and with the last pounding beat of the drums he swooped down on her and slipped them over her head and shoulders, capturing her in a final, unexpected move.

  The audience roared and clapped, and the public address system blared, but all Rini could hear was his low declaration, barely audible above the din as he reeled her in. "I've got you now, Fire Eyes."

  Her body thrummed, tightening in places she'd nearly forgotten she had. This is crazy, she thought as her blood got lazier and lazier. How could a man she just met do this to her?

  He gave her a slow smile and raised the hoops, saluting the audience, waving the wooden rings in the air.

  Again he was swept away by the crowd of dancers, although this time she was treated to several curious glances from his friends.

  Face blazing, she turned and hurried from the dance ring.

  Despite her intense reaction to the man—or, if she were really honest, because of it—Rini was grateful for the reprieve. She was in an absurdly reckless mood, and heaven knew what she might get herself into if she weren't careful. Just look at what had happened the last time she'd let herself be charmed by a totally inappropriate man.

  Brushing a hand decisively down the skirt of her dress, she lost herself in the mass of tourists heading for the conglomeration of tables and benches where the barbecue dinner was being served. After picking at her food, she remembered a promise she'd given her nephew to help with a boy scout badge project, and made her way to a secluded pasture behind the last row of booths, looking for tepees.

  The green meadow was filled with exotic grasses and wildflowers, fragrant and glowing in the pink-and-yellow rays of the setting sun. Rippling gently in the warm breeze stood a dozen or so tepees in varying sizes, made with everything from aluminum poles and canvas to lodgepole saplings and deer hide. It was a gorgeous sight, and for a moment she just stood, taking it all in.

  Pulling out her cell phone, she shot several photos from various angles. Then, humming in delight, she exchanged the phone for a small sketch pad from her shoulder bag. She loved to draw and paint, and it had been far too long since she’d taken the time to indulge her artistic side. She threaded her way slowly among the tepees, sketching her impressions, stopping to admire the unique designs painted on the outside of each one.

  There was one in particular she liked, and she spent a long time capturing it in a detailed drawing, thinking of her nephew’s scout project. It was lovely, in natural-colored canvas that glowed red in the crimson sunset, with a buckskin door and accents. When she was finished drawing the outside, she wondered what the inside might look like. She fingered the flap, then let it fall. She didn't feel right lifting it without permission.

  Suddenly, she heard footsteps, and the accompanying loud jangle of bells stopped right behind her. She whirled, and looked up in surprise.

  The warrior!

  She jumped back and guiltily hugged her pad of paper. "I'm sorry. I was just drawing your tepee. I hope you don't mind."

  He was watching her carefully, taking in her pad and thick charcoal pencil.

  "Lodge," he said.

  She blinked. "What? Oh, right. Lodge." One of the ladies at a booth had told her Native Americans preferred that term to tepee, but somehow “lodge” always made her think of moose and men
in funny hats. She cleared her throat. "Well, I didn't mean to intrude. I'll be going—

  "No," he said, and took a step closer. "Why don’t you come in?"

  Chapter Two

  "No, really, I…" Rini retreated, emotions warring.

  "Don't you want to draw the inside?" he casually asked, shifting the flap to one side.

  "I, um…" Crazy. "Okay. That would be great."

  She felt just a little uneasy when he lifted the flap fully and she stepped inside. What was she thinking? The tepee was empty except for a folding lawn chair, a rolled-up Indian rug, and a small radio. Letting the buckskin flap fall behind them, the warrior walked to the rear of the tepee, tossing the gym bag he was carrying onto the floor.

  He gave her a reassuring smile, gesturing to her pad. "Go ahead. Draw. Just pretend I'm not here."

  Yeah, right.

  There was barely enough light filtering in through the smoke hole at the apex of the ceiling to allow her to see. Nevertheless, she put pencil to the paper...and tried desperately to remember what she was doing there in a dimly lit tepee with a complete stranger.

  A sexy stranger who was making her body yearn to feel things she'd never felt before.

  Distraction. She needed a distraction.

  "I didn't think the Luiseño tribe used tepees," she said as she drew the details of the canvas floor where it met the walls.

  He chuckled. "Not historically. But a field full of modern multicolored nylon camping tents and Airstream trailers wouldn't exactly impress the tourists."

  She smiled. "No, I s'pose not."

  She glanced up, catching him standing with his arms folded over his broad chest, studying her. Her face heated at his intense scrutiny. Draw. She had to remember to draw. Dragging her gaze away, she turned to a fresh page and started outlining the door opening.

  While she worked, the warrior removed his headdress and placed it carefully on the lawn chair, followed by his embroidered bustle. Her fingers itched to draw him instead, but she forced her attention back to the tepee and started filling in the details of the bone fasteners used to secure the door. Behind her she heard him untie the bells around his legs, unzip his bag and toss them in. A click sounded, and the radio started playing soft country music. There was a loud snap as he shook out his rug, and a quiet rustle as it drifted to the floor. Making his bed?