by Nora Roberts
They rented a boat, what Bryan termed a putt-putt. It was narrow, open and about the size of a canoe. It would, however, carry them, and what equipment they chose, out on the lake.
She liked the little marina, with its food stands and general stores with displays of suntan oil and bathing suits. The season was in full swing; people strolled by dressed in shorts and cover-ups, in hats and sunglasses. She spotted a teenage couple, brown and gleaming, on a bench, licking at dripping ice-cream cones. Because they were so involved with each other, Bryan was able to take some candid shots before the paperwork on the rental was completed.
Ice cream and suntans. It was a simple, cheerful way to look at summer. Satisfied, she secured her camera in its bag and went back to Shade.
“Do you know how to drive a boat?”
He sent her a mild look as they walked down the dock. “I’ll manage.”
A woman in a neat white shirt and shorts gave them a rundown, pointing out the life jackets and explaining the engine before she handed them a glossy map of the lake. Bryan settled herself in the bow and prepared to enjoy herself.
“The nice thing about this,” she called over the engine, “is it’s so unexpected.” She swept one arm out to indicate the wide expanse of blue.
Red-hued mesas and sheer rock walls rose up steeply to cradle the lake, settled placidly where man had put it. The combination was fascinating to her. Another time, she might’ve done a study on the harmony and power that could result in a working relationship between human imagination and nature.
It wasn’t necessary to know all the technical details of the dam, of the labor force that built it. It was enough that it was, that they were here—cutting through water that had once been desert, sending up a spray that had once been sand.
Shade spotted a tidy cabin cruiser and veered in its direction. For the moment, he’d navigate and leave the camera work to Bryan. It’d been a long time since he’d spent a hot afternoon on the water. His muscles began to relax even as his perception sharpened.
Before he was done, he’d have to take some pictures of the rocks. The texture in them was incredible, even in their reflection on the water. Their colors, slashed against the blue lake, made them look surreal. He’d make the prints sharp and crisp to accent the incongruity. He edged a bit closer to the cabin cruiser as he planned the shot for later.
Bryan took out her camera without any definite plan. She hoped there’d be a party of people, perhaps greased up against the sun. Children maybe, giddy with the wind and water. As Shade steered, she glanced toward the stern and lifted the camera quickly. It was too good to be true.
Poised at the stern of the cruiser was a hound—Bryan couldn’t think of any other description for the floppy dog. His big ears were blowing back, and his tongue was lolling as he stared down at the water. Over his chestnut fur was a bright orange life vest.
“Go around again!” she yelled to Shade.
She waited impatiently for the angle to come to her again. There were people on the boat, at least five of them, but they no longer interested her. Just the dog, she thought, as she gnawed on her lip and waited. She wanted nothing but the dog in the life jacket leaning out and staring down at the water.
There were towering mesas just behind the boat. Bryan had to decide quickly whether to work them in or frame them out. If she’d had more time to think… She opted against the drama and settled on the fun. Shade had circled the trim little cruiser three times before she was satisfied.
“Wonderful!” With a laugh, Bryan lowered her camera. “That one print’s going to be worth the whole trip.”
He veered off to the right. “Why don’t we see what else we can dig up, anyway?”
They worked for two hours, shifting positions after the first. Stripped to the waist as defense against the heat, Shade knelt at the bow and focused in on a tour boat. The rock wall rose in the background, the water shimmered cool and blue. Along the rail the people were no more than a blur of color. That’s what he wanted. The anonymity of tours, and the power of what drew the masses to them.
While Shade worked, Bryan kept the speed low and looked at everything. She’d decided after one glimpse of his lean, tanned torso that it’d be wiser for her to concentrate on the scenery. If she hadn’t, she might’ve missed the cove and the rock island that curved over it.
“Look.” Without hesitating, she steered toward it, then cut the engines until the boat drifted in its own wake. “Come on, let’s take a swim.” Before he could comment, she’d hopped out in the ankle-deep water and was securing the lines with rocks.
Wearing a snug tank top and drawstring shorts, Bryan dashed down to the cove and sank in over her head. When she surfaced, laughing, Shade was standing on the island above her. “Fabulous,” she called out. “Come on, Shade, we haven’t taken an hour to play since we started.”
She was right about that. He’d seen to it. Not that he hadn’t needed to relax, but he’d thought it best not to around her. He knew, even as he watched her smoothly treading in the rock-shadowed water, that it was a mistake. Yet he’d told himself it was logical to stop fighting what would happen between them. Following the logic, he walked down to the water.
“It’s like opening a present,” she decided, shifting onto her back to float briefly. “I had no idea I was being slowly boiled until I stepped in here.” With a sigh, she dipped under the water and rose again so that it flowed from her face. “There was a pond a few miles away from home when I was a kid. I practically lived there in the summer.”
The water was seductive, almost painfully so. As Shade lowered himself into it, he felt the heat drain, but not the tension. Sooner or later, he knew, he’d have to find an outlet for it.
“We did a lot better here than I expected to.” Lazily she let the water play through her fingers. “I can’t wait to get to Sedona and start developing.” She tossed her dripping braid behind her back. “And sleep in a real bed.”
“You don’t seem to have any trouble sleeping.” One of the first things he’d noticed was that she could fall asleep anywhere, anytime, and within seconds of shutting her eyes.
“Oh, it’s not the sleeping, it’s the waking up.” And waking up only a few feet away from him, morning after morning—seeing his face shadowed by a night’s growth of beard, dangerously attractive, seeing his muscles ripple as he stretched, dangerously strong. No, she couldn’t deny that the accommodations occasionally gave her a few twinges.
“You know,” she began casually, “the budget could handle a couple of motel rooms every week or so—nothing outrageous. A real mattress and a private shower, you know. Some of those campgrounds we’ve stopped in advertise hot water with their tongues in their cheeks.”
He had to smile. It hadn’t given him much pleasure to settle for tepid water after a long day on the road. But there was no reason to make it too easy on her. “Can’t handle roughing it, Bryan?”
She stretched out on her back again, deliberately kicking water up and over him. “Oh, I don’t mind roughing it,” she said blandly. “I just like to do it on my own time. And I’m not ashamed to say I’d rather spend the weekend at the Beverly Wilshire than rubbing two sticks together in the wilderness.” She closed her eyes and let her body drift. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah.” With the admission, he reached out, grabbed her braid and tugged her head under.
The move surprised her, but it pleased her as well, even as she came up sputtering. So he was capable of a frivolous move from time to time. It was something else she could like him for.
“I’m an expert on water games,” she warned him as she began to tread again.
“Water suits you.” When had he relaxed? He couldn’t pinpoint the moment when the tension began to ease from him. There was something about her—laziness? No, that wasn’t true. She worked every bit as hard as he, though in her own fashion. Easiness was a better word, he decided. She was an easy woman, comfortable with herself and whatever surroundings she fo
und herself in.
“It looks pretty good on you, too.” Narrowing her eyes, Bryan focused on him—something she’d avoided for several days. If she didn’t allow herself a clear look, it helped bank down on the feelings he brought out in her. Many of them weren’t comfortable, and Shade had been right. She was a woman who liked to be comfortable. But now, with the water lapping cool around her and the only sound that of boats putting in the distance, she wanted to enjoy him.
His hair was damp and tangled around his face, which was as relaxed as she’d ever seen it. There didn’t seem to be any secrets in his eyes just now. He was nearly too lean, but there were muscles in his forearms, in his back. She already knew just how strong his hands were. She smiled at him because she wasn’t sure just how many quiet moments they’d share.
“You don’t let up on yourself enough, Shade.”
“No?”
“No. You know…” She floated again, because treading took too much effort. “I think deep down, really deep down, there’s a nice person in you.”
“No, there isn’t.”
But she heard the humor in his voice. “Oh, it’s buried in there somewhere. If you let me do your portrait, I’d find it.”
He liked the way she floated in the water; there was absolutely no energy expended. She lay there, trusting buoyancy. He was nearly certain that if she lay quietly for five minutes, she’d be asleep. “Would you?” he murmured. “I think we can both do without that.”
She opened her eyes again, but had to squint against the sun to see him. It was at his back, glaring. “Maybe you can, but I’ve already decided to do it—once I know you better.”
He circled her ankle with his finger, lightly. “You have to have my cooperation to do both.”
“I’ll get it.” The contact was more potent than she could handle. She’d tensed before she could stop it. And so, she realized after a long ten seconds, had he. Casually, she let her legs drop. “The water’s getting cold.” She swam toward the boat with smooth strokes and a racing heart.
Shade waited a moment. No matter what direction he took with her, he always ended up in the same place. He wanted her, but wasn’t certain he could handle the consequences of acting on that desire. Worse now, she was perilously close to becoming his friend. That wouldn’t make things any easier on either of them.
Slowly, he swam out of the cove and toward the boat, but she wasn’t there. Puzzled, he looked around and started to call, but then he saw her perched high on the rock.
She’d unbraided her hair and was brushing it dry in the sun. Her legs were folded under her, her face tilted up. The thin summer clothes she wore were drenched and clung to every curve. She obviously didn’t care. It was the sun she sought, the heat, just as she’d sought the cool water only moments before.
Shade reached in his camera bag and attached his long lens. He wanted her to fill the viewfinder. He focused and framed her. For the second time, her careless sexuality gave him a staggering roundhouse punch. He was a professional, Shade reminded himself as he set the depth of field. He was shooting a subject, that was all.
But when she turned her head and her eyes met his through the lens, he felt the passion sizzle—from himself and from her. They held each other there a moment, separated, yet irrevocably joined. He took the picture, and as he did, Shade knew he was recording a great deal more than a subject.
A bit steadier, Bryan rose and worked her way down the curve of the rock. She had to remind herself to play it lightly—something that had always come easily to her. “You didn’t get a release form, Colby,” she reminded him as she dropped her brush into her oversize bag.
Reaching out, he touched her hair. It was damp, hanging rich and heavy to her waist. His fingers curled into it, his eyes locked on hers. “I want you.”
She felt her legs liquefy, and heat started somewhere in the pit of her stomach and spread out to her fingertips. He was a hard man, Bryan reminded herself. He wouldn’t give, but take. In the end, she’d need him to do both.
“That’s not good enough for me,” she said steadily. “People want all the time—a new car, a color TV. I have to have more than that.”
She stepped around him and into the boat. Without a word, Shade joined her and they drifted away from the cove. As the boat picked up speed, both of them wondered if Shade could give any more than what he’d offered.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bryan had romanticized Oak Creek Canyon over the years since she’d been there. When she saw it again, she wasn’t disappointed. It had all the rich strength, all the colors, she’d remembered.
Campers would be pocketed through it, she knew. They’d be worth some time and some film. Amateur and serious fishermen by the creek, she mused, with their intense expressions and colorful lures. Evening campfires with roasting marshmallows. Coffee in tin cups. Yes, it would be well worth the stop.
They planned to stay for three days, working, developing and printing. Bryan was itching to begin. But before they drove into town to handle the details, they’d agreed to stop in the canyon where Bryan could see Lee and her family.
“According to the directions, there should be a little dirt road leading off to the right just beyond a trading post.”
Shade watched for it. He, too, was anxious to begin. Some of the shots he’d taken were pulling at him to bring them to life. He needed the concentration and quiet of a darkroom, the solitude of it. He needed to let his creativity flow, and hold in his hands the results.
The picture of Bryan sitting on the island of rock. He didn’t like to dwell on that one, but he knew it would be the first roll he developed.
The important thing was that he’d have the time and the distance he’d promised himself. Once he dropped her at her friends’—and he was certain they’d want her to stay with them—he could go into Sedona, rent a darkroom and a motel room for himself. After living with her for twenty-four hours a day, he was counting on a few days apart to steady his system.
They’d each work on whatever they chose—the town, the canyon, the landscape. That gave him room. He’d work out a schedule for the darkroom. With luck, they wouldn’t so much as see each other for the next three days.
“There it is,” Bryan told him, though he’d already seen the narrow road and slowed for it. She looked at the steep, tree-lined road and shook her head. “God, I’d never have pictured Lee here. It’s so wild and rough and she’s…well, elegant.”
He’d known a few elegant women in his life. He’d lived with one. Shade glanced at the terrain. “What’s she doing here, then?”
“She fell in love,” Bryan said simply, and leaned forward. “There’s the house. Fabulous.”
Glass and style. That’s what she thought of it. It wasn’t the distinguished town house she would have imagined for Lee, but Bryan could see how it would suit her friend. There were flowers blooming, bright red-orange blossoms she couldn’t identify. The grass was thick, the trees leafy.
In the driveway were two vehicles, a dusty late-model Jeep and a shiny cream-colored sedan. As they pulled up behind the Jeep, a huge silver-gray form bounded around the side of the house. Shade swore in sheer astonishment.
“That must be Santanas.” Bryan laughed, but gave the dog a wary once-over with her door firmly closed.
Fascinated, Shade watched the muscles bunch as the dog moved. But the tail was wagging, the tongue lolling. Some pet, he decided. “It looks like a wolf.”
“Yeah.” She continued to look out the window as the dog paced up and down the side of the van. “Lee tells me he’s friendly.”
“Fine. You go first.”
Bryan shot him a look that he returned with a casual smile. Letting out a deep breath, Bryan opened the door. “Nice dog,” she told him as she stepped out, keeping one hand on the handle of the door. “Nice Santanas.”
“I read somewhere that Brown raised wolves,” Shade said carelessly as he stepped out of the opposite side.
“Cute,” Bryan mumbled, a
nd cautiously offered her hand for the dog to sniff.
He did so, and obviously liked her, because he knocked her to the ground in one bounding leap. Shade was around the van before Bryan had a chance to draw a breath. Fear and fury had carried him, but whatever he might’ve done was stopped by the sound of a high whistle.
“Santanas!” A young girl darted around the house, braids flying. “Cut it out right now. You’re not supposed to knock people down.”
Caught in the act, the huge dog plopped down on his belly and somehow managed to look innocent. “He’s sorry.” The girl looked at the tense man looming over the dog and the breathless woman sprawled beside him. “He just gets excited when company comes. Are you Bryan?”
Bryan managed a nod as the dog dropped his head on her arm and looked up at her.
“It’s a funny name. I thought you’d look funny too, but you don’t. I’m Sarah.”
“Hello, Sarah.” Catching her wind, Bryan looked up at Shade. “This is Shade Colby.”
“Is that a real name?” Sarah demanded.
“Yeah.” Shade looked down as the girl frowned up at him. He wanted to scold her for not handling her dog, but found he couldn’t. She had dark, serious eyes that made him want to crouch down and look into them from her level. A heartbreaker, he decided. Give her ten years, and she’ll break them all.
“Sounds like something from one of my dad’s books. I guess it’s okay.” She grinned down at Bryan and shuffled her sneakers in the dirt. Both she and her dog looked embarrassed. “I’m really sorry Santanas knocked you down. You’re not hurt or anything, are you?”
Since it was the first time anyone had bothered to ask, Bryan thought about it. “No.”
“Well, maybe you won’t say anything to my dad.” Sarah flashed a quick smile and showed her braces. “He gets mad when Santanas forgets his manners.”
Santanas swiped an enormous pink tongue over Bryan’s shoulder.
“No harm done,” she decided.
“Great. We’ll go tell them you’re here.” She was off in a bound. The dog clambered up and raced after her without giving Bryan a backward look.
