She smiled sexily. "I'll never forget. And I haven't lost any urges."
"That's reassuring to know," he said as he stretched out beside her on top of the sleeping bag. Propping his head on one hand, he stroked her hair with the other. "You're beautiful in the morning. You still have a little glow after last night . . ." One masculine finger drew a light line down her cheek.
Brit blushed. "I'm still breathless after last night."
"So am I," he admitted with a slight grin. "But I'm glad to know all your urges are still intact." He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, kissed the cleared spot, then her nose and lips. With slow reverence, he peppered kisses over her face until their lips made contact.
Amazingly, the power of passion clicked on again and they kissed deeply, tongues battling, senses awakening. When he finally raised his head, she realized that one of his legs was draped over hers and she was breathless again. She pushed against his chest and her finger tapped his nose. "Give me a chance to wake up and catch my breath." She meant, "I need time," and he seemed to realize it, for he shifted to give her some space.
"This is all your fault, you know. You cast a spell with those green eyes. And when I look into them, I see myself . . . falling."
She laughed at his verbal images. She couldn't imagine Jake Landry falling anywhere, much less into her spell. If anything, he was the one with the magnetism, and she was the one drawn. But she was determined to refrain, for now, until she had sorted out this sudden relationship, if that's what it was. Even if it were just a fling for both of them, that was okay, too.
"How long have you been awake?" she asked.
"Long enough ago to make the coffee."
She squirmed and tried to sit up. "Coffee sounds great."
"And oatmeal." He sounded hopeful. "I worked up a powerful appetite during the night. So did you."
"I'll settle for coffee."
"No appetite?"
"Not for oatmeal." She ran her hand under his shirt and over his chest.
He shuddered beneath her fingertips. "Shall we stay awhile?"
"No. You have work to do. And you promised to take me along. You aren't getting out of that."
He shifted and lay with one elbow propping up his head. "If you're going with me, you'll do best to dress in layers. As cool as it is now, it’ll be scorching by midday."
"Right. I'm learning about this strange country down here. And about the people, too. Do you happen to have a clean tee shirt I can wear?"
"Sure." He motioned for her to wait under the covers until he brought clean underwear for her. When he got back, he also had half a cup of coffee for her.
"Ah, warm sustenance," she said, gratefully clutching the cup.
"How about a quick cold bath before we dress?" he suggested as he gathered items he thought they might need today.
"Good idea, bad timing. Isn’t it freezing cold?" Brit scrutinized Jake while she sipped her coffee. She watched his careful hands, and remembered how her body responded to his touch when they were making love. Making love. She liked the way that sounded. Especially when she thought of lovemaking with Jake. It sounded as it felt, just right.
He was the most knowledgeable and interesting man she had met in a long time. And now that they were lovers, she knew that he was the sexiest man she had ever known. No, the most sensual; the most romantic; the most . . .
"Ready for a cold dousing?"
She nodded bravely and, wrapped in a blanket, followed him to the river's edge. The place looked different now. It was calmer and the water level was lower. And it was, as Jake promised, icy cold.
They dressed warmly, in layers, and shared a breakfast of coffee, oatmeal, and camp toast. Brit ate a little to satisfy Jake, and they headed for the cliff dwellings.
"Where are they?"
"Not far. About half a mile."
Brit eagerly took off, not even considering the distance they would walk. A week ago, she would have grumbled and complained that half a mile was a long way. She followed Jake wearing his clothes, his underwear, his handmade moccasins. And strangely, she felt absolutely content, completely at ease with the world.
For the first time in her life, she had made love with a man she had known less than a week. And yet, she felt closer to Jake than to anyone, even Michael. Closer emotionally. She was attuned to Jake, confident in him, and interested in his life and the way he worked and made decisions.
Yesterday, watching him orchestrate Yolanda's rescue, was a marvel, she realized in retrospect. He had been amazingly calm and confident. He'd known exactly what to do, what would work with the people and circumstances. She admired someone who could take a bad situation and make it better than expected. Jake had done that. She didn't care what he said about the rescue being teamwork. She knew he had been instrumental in saving Yolanda's life. And she was fascinated by him, so fascinated that she'd made love with him, an almost stranger.
Those moments in his arms would not be forgotten. Ever. She would never forget him, even when they were far, far away from each other. Her thoughts jerked to a halt. Whatever made her think of their parting? As much as she wanted to go home, the thought of leaving Jake, especially after last night, was overwhelming and depressing.
Back home ... to what? No real job. To whom? Michael? Brit shuddered at the thought and knew she could never make love to him again after last night. Michael was history.
Here, everything was simple, basic, and natural. Even she was natural. She had worn no makeup all week, and yet Jake had found her beautiful. She had not done her hair all week. No conditioners. No styling lotion. No crimping. No hair dryer. And yet, Jake had found her irresistible. With him, she actually felt beautiful.
He halted ahead of her and pointed to what looked like a sheer wall. "There it is."
"Where?"
"Way up. The cliff dwelling. See it?"
She looked again, closer. There, wedged into a large arch in the tan sandstone, was a network of crumbling brown bricks. Their colors blended with the stone walls, and she would never have noticed them if he hadn't pointed them out. The entire construction was large, perhaps two or three stories high.
"Looks like an apartment building," she said. "How do you get up there?"
"No elevator for this old-fashioned apartment building. There probably were ladders here at one time. Fortunately, those resourceful early fellows chiseled steps into the wall. We'll use them."
Brit moved closer and narrowed her eyes at the worn niches in the stone wall. "You've got to be kidding. This is a mountain goat path."
"Nope. It's for people. I use them all the time and my feet are bigger than yours."
"Why did they build way up there? Why not here, closer to the stream?"
"For protection."
"From whom? Big-footed people with a fear of heights?"
"Damn! I forgot the rope. Can you follow me and hug the wall?"
"Yeah. Right. I have a feeling that hugging will never be the same for me." Brit eyed the sheer barrier with skepticism as Jake began to scale it easily. "Jake . . ."
She had trusted him completely until this moment. Now she wasn't sure. This looked tough. The most athletic endeavor she ever accomplished was riding the stationary bike in the gym.
And yet, he encouraged her, instructed her every step. "Come on, Brit. It isn't as bad as it looks. The wall slants, so it's easy to lean into it. And, with your moccasins, you should have pretty good footing. Just don't look down."
Brit observed with apprehension as Jake placed one foot, then the other; in the tiny steps. "Looks so simple when you do it," she murmured.
He called down to her. "The Anasazi did it. You can, too."
"Who're the Anasazi?"
"The ones who lived here first, over seven hundred years ago."
Brit propped her hands on her hips and glared up at him. The gauntlet had been tossed. The challenge offered. And Brit wouldn't be bested, especially by the unknown Anasazi. She would climb that damn wall.
Or else. She placed one moccasin foot in the prehistoric step and heaved herself up.
Slowly, carefully, one foot above the other, leaning against the wall as Jake instructed from above, Brit managed to make it to the ledge where Jake waited for her. "Do I dare ask how we get down?" she muttered, taking his offered hand and stepping up beside him.
"Don't worry about that now," he advised, smiling proudly at her. "You did great, Brit."
She clutched him. "Tell me I don't have to go down that way! I'm too scared to even look down."
He pulled her close to him. "You can sit on your butt and slide down," he teased. "Now, take a look from here. It's a great view."
"Hold me." Nervously, Brit leaned against Jake and gazed tentatively over the ledge that she had just climbed.
Her view revealed the trail they'd taken along the stream. The water level had gone down considerably since yesterday, so that the incident with Yolanda now seemed almost like a nightmare fantasy. In the distance was also a low roaring sound. "Do I hear a waterfall?"
"Come over here and you can see it." Jake led her to the far end of what amounted to a small patio in front of the ancient cliff dwelling. Standing behind her, hands poised casually on her shoulders, he pointed between a pair of crimson boulders to a silver spray of water leaping into a turquoise pool.
"Magnificent!" she breathed, caressing the hand that rested on her shoulder. The tall red and buff buttes had a certain fluidity about them, as if they had been molded in mud by some giant hand and left to harden. The water that fell between them was tinted blue and made the whole scene appear to be a well-designed movie set for Shangri-la. "I wish we could get closer."
"We can take a dip, if you want to. Later. After work." He knelt down and began unloading items from his backpack.
"I would love to swim, if it's safe." She couldn't forget the risk Yolanda and Rudi took yesterday with the water so high.
"We'll check it out. Should be okay today."
Gaining some degree of confidence, she walked the length of the patio. "This place is like a fortress. I can understand how it was so secure for the Anasazi. You can see everything in every direction. Can I go on inside, or should I wait for you?"
"Sure, go on. Just don't touch anything. Leave everything as it is, so I can document it as we find it."
"Why are the doors so small? Were these people very short?"
"They were a few inches shorter than today's average American. The doors were purposely made small so that a visitor or enemy would have to stick his head in first, identifying himself, or back in. Either way, the dweller would have a chance to protect him or herself."
"Pretty clever." Brit stepped through the open doorway of the Indian ruin and into another era. Seven hundred years ago was before the Pilgrims landed, before the Jamestown settlement, even before Columbus's voyage to America. She was both awed and humbled by the nearly un-fathomable stretch of time since the Anasazi had built this little fortress castle and lived here with their families.
The rooms were eerie and quiet, occupied by leaves and litter of the present and whispers of the past. She walked carefully past a smoke blackened wall, stained by an indoor grill or fireplace. Apparently this had been the kitchen. In a corner, she spotted fragments of a basket containing a few pieces of dried corn. Could it be possible? Corn that was over seven hundred years old? He had told them of finding dried corn, but she couldn't believe it.
"Jake? What about this corn?"
When he didn't answer, she knew he was too far away to hear. She bent down and wandered through the next doorway, into the adjoining room. To one side, as if it had been recently abandoned by the owner, stood a huge clay pot, too big for her arms to encircle. It was reddish brown and undecorated, obviously a utilitarian item. She paused, thinking she heard something. "Jake? Check out this pot."
She glanced around and saw that Jake was not there. Just the wind, she decided, and continued her exploration. The next room was low-ceilinged and actually built against the back wall of the cave. The entire cave wall served as a prehistoric mural and was covered with ancient drawings. Brit was amazed as her eyes scanned images of recognizable animals, human figures, several clear handprints, and many unfamiliar symbols that probably completed the ancient story on the wall. These must be the petroglyphs he had told her about.
A flicker of blue on the heavily littered floor caught her eye. As she stooped to pick it out of the scattered potsherds and debris, she heard a faint noise again. Thinking it was Jake finally coming to join her, she called, "I'm in here."
She held the object in her palm and examined it closely. A large scalloped seashell was deco-rated with a mosaic of turquoise and coral chips. Brit was amazed. In her hand, she held a seven hundred-year-old ornament! Perhaps it was a gift between lovers; maybe a mother gave it to her daughter as a keepsake. It had a history, a story. What was it? Where did it come from?
How would a seashell get here, at least five hundred miles from the nearest ocean. And a mile deep in the Grand Canyon wasn't exactly on an ancient trade route. Brit's heart pounded. Even she knew that this was truly a remarkable find.
That noise again.
"Brit, what do you have?"
She looked up, startled to suddenly have Jake so near. In her excitement to show him what she had found, she stumbled and the ornament slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.
He lunged forward. "Hey, I told you not to touch anything."
"Oh, no!" She knelt to retrieve the ancient treasure among the litter, praying that it wasn't broken.
Jake knelt with her. "What is it? Did you break it?"
Brit hadn't seen him look so intimidating since the day they arrived and he had stopped the fight between Rudi and Frank. With a shaky hand, she picked up the mosaic shell. Miraculously, it was intact. "Sorry, so sorry," she murmured, again and again.
Jake reached for it, cradling her hands in his. "Let's see."
"I should never have touched it. I . . . don't know what happened. I was hearing strange noises. And when I saw this colorful thing on the floor, I just couldn't help picking it up. It drew me, like some kind of magic. I hope I didn't ruin it with fingerprints. Anyway, I was hearing noises and, for a minute, I thought that image on the wall was making sounds, like warning me to leave. Does that ever happen in these ruins? Do you ever feel like the spirits of those who lived here are coming back to haunt the place?"
He squeezed her hands affectionately. "Oh God, Brit! Looks like you've discovered a real treasure in here."
"I'm sorry I touched it."
"It's okay." He bent his head and looked closely at the shell. Then he looked at her and smiled. "Beautiful . . ." Before either of them knew what had happened, his lips were on hers, pressing, searching, tasting, feeling. Excited . . . happy.
Another noise, something hissing.
She squirmed. "Did you hear that, Jake?"
He raised his lips from hers just enough to mutter, "Yeah, old Kokopelli's jealous."
"Who?"
"Kokopelli. The fellow with the flute on the wall. He's the god of fertility, and I think he's jealous of me, getting your kisses." Jake bent his head for another.
Lost in time, they embraced on the floor of the cave room, letting the kiss carry them away. Abruptly, the rustling noise interrupted them and couldn't be ignored any longer. It was too close.
This time, they both looked up and around for the intruder.
Brit gasped as she stared into the beaded orange and black face of the largest, ugliest lizard she had ever seen. She closed her eyes and screamed. Time stood still and turned black as Brit huddled in the corner, hiding her face in horror.
She agreed to return to the interior of the ruins only when Jake checked the space and assured her the lizard was gone, and the room was safe.
"That was the biggest lizard I've ever seen. Like one of those things on fantasy horror movies."
"It was just a clumsy old Gila monster. He, or his kin, have been the
prototype for plenty of movie monsters. And you fell for it just now."
Brit was not amused. She continued to anxiously watch the large hole in the corner where Jake claimed the lizard had disappeared. "I don't know when I've ever been so scared."
Jake laughed aloud. "I'm sure your scream scared him out of a year's growth, too. Gilas are certainly ominous creatures, but they aren't aggressive. Unless provoked, they usually stay away from humans. We just happened to disturb his private habitat."
"Well, Gila disturbed my regular heartbeat," Brit muttered with a little groan. "They can bite, can't they? He had a huge mouth."
"Oh yes, and they emit a poison from the back teeth, but they don't attack like a snake. It's rare that someone gets bitten. Only if you decide to pick him up or get very close. Or stick your hand in his mouth."
"Well, not to worry! No way would I ever pick up that big ugly creature!"
Jake turned the mosaic shell over in his hand. "This is a major find, Brit. It's fabulous."
"I thought you were angry because I touched it." Brit looked over his shoulder at her ancient treasure.
"It's hard to keep your hands off something this beautiful. Of course I'm not angry with you."
She kissed his earlobe, then traced the broken lines on the shell with one finger. "Where and how did they get such a large shell?"
"Trading."
"But this could hardly be a trade route," Brit reasoned. "It's too far from everything."
"Well, they probably traded a couple of times with several different travelers. We don't know precisely what they did, of course. But it isn't entirely unknown to find items here in the south-west that were only produced on the west coast, or even Mexico. The ancient ones had quite a barter system going." Jake took a couple of photos of the colorful shell.
"Imagine," Brit theorized. "This may have been made by a young woman on the Mexican coast as a gift for her lover. But they had an argument, and he sold it to the first traveling salesman who came along."
Jake gave her a long look. "Quite an imagination you have there."
Brit grinned and shrugged. "Well, it isn't an everyday item."
A Rare Breed Page 10
