Touch a Wild Heart

by Vella Munn

  A part of Chela expected Magadan to come after her, but as the miles slowly slid under her feet, she gave up listening for the sound of his truck. By the time she reached the country road her house was on, she was willing to admit that she had needed this time alone but for reasons much more complex than cooling down. There were so many things about Magadan that needed to be sorted out, so many emotions that had to be brought out into the open one by one and examined.

  What she’d learned by the time she started on the last mile was that walking out on Magadan was a futile gesture. No matter what she thought of his actions while in Mexico, she couldn’t get the man out of her mind or her heart. Hadn’t he warned her that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say? He at least had been honest, although she realized now that it had cost him to admit his part in the downward spiral of Mexico’s economy.

  Chela wasn’t perfect, so what gave her the right to cast stones at others? Her denial of his humanitarian qualities was done during those first moments of anger. After all, she did have proof that he was concerned with people, with improving the lot of the Mexicans living in the United States. He’d brought treats for a soccer team and was spearheading an attempt to put Kohl out of operation. Whether he was trying to atone for what had happened in Mexico or whether he’d been born with the desire to reach beyond himself wasn’t the issue.

  If only there weren’t those dark, hidden parts of his life!

  Was she getting in too deep with Magadan? For the first time in her life, Chela was letting someone beyond her defenses. It was almost as if she could smell the danger. Exposed emotions meant risking pain. She’d never taken that risk before; she wouldn’t start now. Walking home alone, letting herself into her house, and dropping her blazer and skirt on the bed without anyone to see, was better, safer than having Magadan here. When and if he made contact with her again, she would have placed a barrier around her emotions. They would be partners, nothing more.

  And if her heart quailed at the decision she’d made? Chela’s heart had been wounded before—at her mother’s death, her father’s deception. She would survive.

  If it hadn’t been for the sheriff’s unexpected appearance at the Blue Max, Magadan would have been in his truck looking for Chela. As it was, he was now looking at tired gray eyes set in a crinkled face instead of the black eyes framed by ebony hair that he longed to see.

  “You’ve told me everything except what you think of the young lady in question,” Kenneth Duff said as he sipped on a beer, his head propped up by his free hand. “I take it she’s holding up her end of the bargain. You haven’t told her, have you?”

  Magadan shook his head. When he first met Chela, he was determined to keep his secret because he was convinced the truth would allow Kohl to slip through his fingers. He was just as determined now, but the reason had ceased to be business and had become personal. His fear now, if that was what the emotion was, was that the truth would end something good. “It’s no picnic earning her trust when there’s so much I can’t tell her,” Magadan said, hoping his voice gave away nothing of his personal involvement.

  “I don’t doubt that for a moment,” Kenneth laughed. “That’s one woman I wouldn’t want to tangle with. She looks like someone who needs a blanket wrapped around her, but she has claws and she knows how to use them. I take it you haven’t been able to tame her.”

  “Far from it,” Magadan admitted. “Her claws are just as sharp as they ever were, not that I can blame her. It comes with surviving in a world she didn’t plan. In fact, she gave me a lesson just before you showed up.”

  Kenneth shook his head but didn’t disagree with Magadan. Instead he sighed. “There’s something you better know. A certain someone is back in town.”

  Magadan sucked in a ragged breath. Hadn’t tonight been hard enough with Chela walking out on him? “You’re sure?”

  “Damn sure. One of my deputies saw him coming out of a bar the other day. I thought after what happened, well, the man’s damn lucky he isn’t in prison. I don’t know of anyone who’d give him a job. Why he wants to come back here is beyond me, considering everything that’s happened to him. Something tells me he’s hooking up with Kohl again.”

  Magadan had to agree. “Don’t you know anything more about what he’s up to?”

  “Not yet I don’t.” Again Kenneth sighed. “I wish I could tell you I was going to put one of my men on him, tail him until we were sure he was keeping his nose clean. But the truth of the matter is I don’t have the manpower. The budget doesn’t stretch that far.”

  “Maybe he’s going to turn into an honest man.” There was bitter irony in Magadan’s statement. “You’d think he’d learn something from having all the props knocked out from under him.”

  “Yeah, and maybe I’m going to discover a long-lost rich uncle. Once a snake, always a snake.” The sheriff took another swallow. “I thought you should know considering what you did. I don’t think he’s capable of violence, but you never know.”

  “Look,” Magadan said after a long silence. “You let me know if you find out anything else about our mutual friend. I don’t think he’s going to be looking me up.” He thought, momentarily, of the house in the hills but dismissed the possibility that the man would come there. “I don’t like not knowing why he’s back here. I never figured him to return.”

  “I didn’t either. But there’s no law stopping him. The slate’s wiped clean as far as the courts and banks are concerned. He hasn’t done anything—yet.”

  Was that true? Magadan wondered after he’d left the Blue Max and was getting into his truck. If Kohl and his former partner were working together again…

  Damn! There wasn’t a thing he could do about that. He’d have to keep things going the way they were with Chela, try to patch up their disagreement, and turn things back to where the focus was on Kohl, not something that had happened in Mexico years ago. He wasn’t going to say anything about his concern that Kohl might not be working alone after all until he had some proof. That was his worry, not Chela’s. He’d continue to see her, if she’d let him. Surely she wouldn’t back out of their arrangement because of something that belonged in the past.

  And if they were able to find their way back to the relationship that existed before an hour ago… Magadan’s body responded to that possibility. When he first spotted her in the orchard, he had thought Chela the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. That impression hadn’t changed. But now it was more. His response was no longer simply physical. Now his heart was involved.

  Magadan was on the road Chela lived on almost before he was aware of it. Caution told him he should wait until she had had a chance to calm down, but he’d let her walk five miles. He had to make sure she’d gotten home safely. Would she open the door to him?

  Chela was curled up in her rocking chair, staring without seeing at the TV screen, the evening’s paper folded on her lap. For the first time since she’d moved into it, her house felt empty and she was almost glad to hear the knock on the door.

  Chela was on her feet when the thought hit her. Was Kohl outside? She pulled her robe tighter around her and reknotted the belt around her slender waist. She could hurry into her bedroom and throw on some clothes, but she didn’t.

  The shadowy figure waiting on the dark porch was one she wanted to see—despite herself.

  “Can I come in?” Magadan asked.

  Chapter Seven

  “Is there something you want?” Chela asked. Although her heart was pounding in her throat, she managed to keep her voice emotionless.

  “You know there is.” Magadan’s voice was sharp, his words clipped. “I wanted to make sure you got home okay. May I come in?”

  Chela stepped back, accepting the change in the room as he entered it, and closed the door behind him. How was she going to get him to leave now that he was inside? She retreated and found her way to the rocker. She picked up the newspaper as if to read it. “I’m home.”

  “I can see that. I wou
ld have come after you but—”

  “It’s just as well,” Chela interrupted. “I had a lot of thinking to do. About what you told me.”

  “Did you come to any conclusions?”

  Chela gave up the pretense of looking at the newspaper and fastened her eyes on his. “In a way. I appreciate your honesty. You didn’t have to tell me any of that.” Her smile was bitter. “After all, you won’t tell me anything about your present life. I should be grateful that you said anything about your past.”

  Magadan held up his hand, effectively stopping her. “You didn’t stay around long enough to hear the rest of what I wanted to tell you. I did more than just regroup when I left Mexico.”

  ‘‘Oh.’’

  “How do you think I got to know Ortez?”

  “Ortez? What does he have to do with this?” she asked.

  “Plenty. Ortez was my foreman. He’s running his own business now because of the skills he learned while working for me. Ortez’s younger brother is going to college on a scholarship I provided. That’s what I did before I left Mexico.” Magadan sat down on the couch opposite Chela, but his eyes never left hers. “I went to the university and set up a scholarship program in my name. I provide for two new students a year to go to college.”

  “Oh.” It was the second time in the space of a minute that Chela had said the word, but she couldn’t think of anything else.

  “That’s right,” Magadan pressed. “Okay, so my company wasn’t the best thing to ever hit Mexico, but it wasn’t all bad. Remember, I didn’t know the bottom was going to drop out any more than anyone else did. I lost all the capital I’d put into the project. At least a few people are getting the chance to improve themselves. Ortez’s brother had been working on his family’s farm before he got the scholarship. When he’s done, the farm is going to be able to compete in today’s market.”

  “Ortez’s family must be grateful to you.”

  “I don’t want anyone’s gratitude,” Magadan said sharply. “I don’t believe in putting anyone in my debt. What do you want me to do, solve the country’s unemployment problem single-handedly?”

  “Of course not.” Chela’s intensity matched Magadan’s. “I—I’m pleased to hear what you’re doing.”

  “Are you? I wasn’t sure you would be.”

  Why shouldn’t I, Magadan? Chela asked silently. I feel it in you, your intensity, your determination. You’re the kind of man who would make amends for a mistake. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d drive out here to find out whether I’d gotten home, should I?” she said. “After all, it’s in keeping with your character.”

  “That’s me, the Boy Scout. I’m sorry. I meant to follow you, but I met someone before I could leave. There were things we had to discuss.”

  “Things you aren’t going to tell me about, that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it, Magadan?” she asked bitterly.

  Magadan groaned. “It can’t be helped, Chela. You have to trust me.”

  “Of course, I do.” Chela tucked her bare feet up under her robe and wrapped her hands around her knees. Her insteps ached from walking in heels, but the pulsing headache between her eyes was worse. “You know I do.” She started to massage her instep.

  Magadan’s eyes made their way down her body and fastened on her fingers. “Do you have blisters? I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she admitted. “But my feet ache. I’m not used to heels.”

  “I think I like you better in tennis shoes. At least that’s what I’m used to seeing you in.”

  “And old denims?”

  Magadan grinned. “It’s not the packaging that counts. It’s the woman underneath.”

  Chela didn’t blush. Maybe it was the night and her exhausted state. Maybe it was the pleasant time they’d had together before he’d told her about his oil connections. At any rate she didn’t think before saying what was on her mind. “Do you know what I said the first day I saw you? One of the workers said maybe you were looking for a woman. I told him you’d have to have me dead. I don’t feel like that anymore.”

  Magadan leaned forward. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because I now know that you hadn’t come to the orchard looking for a woman.”

  “Can you be sure?” Magadan’s eyes were burning with a challenge she could weather only by locking her eyes with his. “Maybe this is what all this is about. Maybe I’ve wanted you from that first day.”

  “Did you?”

  “I think you know the answer to that.”

  Chela didn’t speak. The truth was, the few words they’d just spoken had stripped away the layers and exposed what their eyes were already saying. Arguments, walking five miles, secrets, had nothing to do with what was happening between them. The only thing that mattered was her resolve to build a barrier around her heart was crumbling. She didn’t move when Magadan got to his feet and came to stand over her; she didn’t speak when he reached out and pulled her to him.

  Chela lifted her head, a wild animal seeking something it didn’t have a name for but needed in order to go on living. Magadan’s gentle lips on hers was the start. She’d been given the first morsel necessary for survival.

  “You don’t hate me?” he asked.

  “I tried. I don’t think I could ever hate you, Magadan,” she answered before he stopped her with his lips. He had looked almost afraid to come inside. She should be thinking about why that was, but she couldn’t. There was only one thing she could think about.

  Magadan’s hand was reaching past the barriers of her robe, pulling the belt free and helping the fabric slide off her breasts. As the evening air touched her breasts, Chela sensed them responding. She trembled slightly, knowing how untested she was in such matters. Was she supposed to pull back, not expose her body this freely?

  It was too late for such questions. Magadan had her robe all the way open so that the fabric barely clung to her shoulders and upper arms. From throat to feet, she was naked. As she stood helpless before him, she trembled anew. His hands began a slow exploration that began at her throat.

  Magadan’s fingers were on the side of her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. Slowly, so slowly that she thought she would scream with wanting it, he finally took possession of her breasts. They surged to life within the warm human prison, and Chela swayed slightly, forgetting that muscles were needed to keep her from collapsing. She wanted him to keep his hands where they were for the rest of the night, but when she thought she would sob from the emotions he was unleashing, his fingers dipped lower, tracing slowly the outline of her ribs.

  “God! I’ve wanted to do this for so long. Don’t tell me to stop,” Magadan groaned.

  Putting an end to this exquisite torture was the last thing Chela wanted. Before tonight she had thought of her body as a tool necessary to propel her through life. Now she was learning that it was capable of receiving and recording an emotion that went to the center of her being.

  Magadan’s hands returned to her shoulders and slowly, reverently, it seemed to her, pushed back the robe until it slid down her limp arms and landed in a heap at her feet. His eyes were hooded, giving her no access to his thoughts.

  “I said we’d make love when you were ready for it,” Magadan said in the same ragged tone he’d used a minute before. “I have to know how you feel.”

  Chela felt everything and nothing, emotions, sensations of a type that couldn’t be translated into words. Yes, she wanted him. She wanted to feel his flesh against hers, to lie beside him in bed and give her body to him. But she feared that would be too much of a surrender.

  “I don’t know” was all she could tell him.

  Magadan groaned but didn’t leave her. Instead he took her hands and placed them on his chest where it showed through the open buttons of his shirt. He taught her to take his chest hairs between her fingers and run her fingertips over the ridge of his collarbone. Chela’s fingertips came alive against his flesh, but it was deeper, lower in her body that the greatest re
sponse was taking place. The uncivilized little girl who’d been taken from immigrant camp was once more alive.

  Chela didn’t ask permission before she grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. If he could strip her naked, she had the right to do this. The truth was, she couldn’t stop herself.

  She wasn’t sure which of them was the first to take the step that pressed their naked flesh together. She stretched her neck upward until she could reach Magadan’s mouth. Her lips parted slightly, giving him access to the sensual cage beyond her teeth. Their kiss was another step toward surrender, another step that maybe couldn’t be taken back.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” Magadan groaned. “I promised you this wouldn’t happen until you wanted it. But I don’t know if I can stop.”

  “I won’t ask you that,” she started shyly, and then suddenly turned bold. “Don’t stop. Magadan, I want you.”

  A shuddering sigh racked Magadan’s body. He lifted Chela in his arms and held her close to his body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his chest. Her hair tumbled forward, covering both of them. Magadan stumbled slightly as they went through the entrance to her bedroom, but she felt safer than she ever had in her life. As he lowered her onto the bed, Chela felt the rough finish of her handmade Mexican coverlet against her backbone, the fabric scratching her hips.

  Chela didn’t take her eyes off Magadan as he removed the rest of his clothes. She thought about getting up and pulling back the earth-toned coverlet so they could make love on sheets, but the feel of familiar fabric on her flesh was adding to her already increased sensitivity. Magadan would have to accept that symbol of her world.

  A moment later Chela wasn’t thinking about the rough fabric or the night air. Her thoughts went no further than Magadan’s lips on hers, his hands exploring every inch of fiery flesh.

  “I knew this was going to happen sometime,” Magadan whispered as they clung together, readying themselves for fulfillment.