Taking the Heat

by Brenda Novak

  It’s just a male trait, he told himself, some genetic leftover from caveman times.

  He opened his eyes to see Hadley standing across from him, staring into the flames while holding the opposite end of the stick he’d used to skewer the meat. They’d hardly spoken since they’d started roasting the rabbit. The comforting crackle of the burning wood, the smell of the cooking meat, and the unparalleled brilliance of the stars overhead evoked a certain serenity. But for Tucker, Hadley was very much part of the magic of the night. Her long blond hair fell to her shoulders, thick and inviting despite the tangles. Her face, flushed from the heat of the flames, glowed with perspiration. She looked sensual, earthy. He yearned to feel her moist skin sliding against his own. Would she close her eyes and part her lips if he were to—

  Clearing his throat, he yanked his thoughts to safety and broke the silence to keep his mind from drifting. “The meat should be done soon.”

  She nodded but didn’t answer. When silence fell again, he tried to think of something to say that would actually result in a lasting conversation. Something to distract them both. The mirage-like image of her, shimmering in front of him in the heat of the flames, appealed to him far too much.

  “Have you done a lot of traveling in Arizona?” he asked.

  She shoved her hair away from her face. “Just the usual tourist stuff—the Grand Canyon, Sonora, Old Tucson. I’ve only lived here about six years, and Allie’s taken up almost two of those. She’s not really old enough to travel.”

  He thought about the cute baby he’d seen in her pictures, knew Hadley had to be missing her, and decided not to let his thoughts wander in that direction, either. “Arizona’s got a lot of variety,” he said. “Everything from snowcapped peaks to this.”

  “At this point, I’m wondering why everyone doesn’t live near those snowcapped peaks.”

  “Actually there’s more plant and animal life in the desert than in the mountains.”

  “Really?”

  Tucker knew she probably didn’t give a damn, and neither did he, but he didn’t want to talk about anything more personal. Otherwise he’d end up asking all the questions that were crowding to the forefront of his mind—what David was like, whether she’d ever go back to him, how she’d met him in the first place and why he couldn’t make her happy.

  “I haven’t seen much life here,” she said.

  “Most animals only come out at dusk and dawn or at night. Some hibernate entirely during hot weather. Others remain dormant until it rains.”

  “How does an animal remain dormant until it rains? It can go almost a whole year without raining.”

  “Desert toads stay deep underground in moist soil until the summer rains fill the ponds. Then they emerge…and mate.”

  She caught his eye and quickly looked away. “Were you a biology teacher in your former life?”

  He frowned, shaking his head. “No, I’ve just had a lot of time on my hands.”

  “So you studied the desert?”

  “Seemed like a good idea, considering I was being held in a cage in the middle of one of the largest deserts in North America.”

  She shoved a strand of hair out of her face. “You did this in case you could escape?”

  “I did it to pass the time. Inmates are allowed five books a week, remember? But I admit I hoped the knowledge would come in handy someday.”

  She fell silent. He thought he was going to have to search for another neutral topic or go back to thinking about touching her, but then she piped up on her own. Her topic was hardly neutral, though. “Do you miss your wife, Tucker?”

  “Have I told you about the kangaroo rat?” he asked, focusing on the roasting rabbit as though it required a lot of concentration to turn the spit. “They can make their own water from the digestion of dry seeds. They won’t drink even if water’s available to them.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  He met her eyes. “There’re a lot of unusual plants in the desert, too. Organ Pipe cacti grow only in one small section of the Sonoran Desert.”

  She crossed her arms. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t.”

  He noticed the stiffening of her spine and nearly smiled. “I thought I was talking to you.”

  “You’ve opened your mouth more in the past fifteen minutes than in the entire time I’ve known you, but you’ve never said less.”

  Scowling, he went back to watching the rabbit cook. “There’s nothing wrong with discussing things that are easily forgotten.”

  “What is it you’re afraid you’ll remember?” she countered.

  You. He stared at her for a moment, then cursed. “All right. I miss my wife,” he said, “but if I was being honest, I’d have to tell you that I miss my son a lot more. I loved my wife when I married her, but I’m not too sure I liked the person she became.”

  She seemed to consider this. “Okay. So where’s your son?”

  “In foster care.”

  “Don’t you have parents or other family who can take him in?”

  He studied the stars overhead. “My parents wanted to, but they’re too old, and my mother has multiple sclerosis. They were old when they had me. My brother would probably take him, but he’s single and not the most responsible guy in the world. Even though he’s two years older than me, he isn’t ready for an eight-year-old child—or any child, for that matter.”

  “What about Andrea’s family?”

  “Andrea never got along with her family. Her parents split when she was little and both of them remarried spouses with children. Now her father lives in California and her mother’s divorced her second husband and moved back east. She once offered to take Landon, but I didn’t want him so far away.” He leaned closer to make sure the rabbit was done and motioned for her to lift her end of the spit. “Let’s eat.”

  They settled beside each other so they could share the food and stay close to the fire. They didn’t need the heat, but gazing into the leaping flames with the starry night as a backdrop was soothing, almost mesmerizing. The desert no longer seemed vast or lonely; it seemed intimate. And even though the mesquite pods Gabrielle had collected tasted terrible, the rabbit was sweet and tender. Tucker watched Hadley enjoy her food, and once again struggled with the desire to possess her in some way—physically, emotionally…

  Obviously he’d had too much sun.

  “Does David live in Florence?” he asked as he piled the bones from their feast next to the fire for coyotes or other animals to scavenge. He knew they should be leaving soon. Landon was constantly in the back of his mind. But a strange calmness had fallen over him, lessening the immediacy of his mission, as though he needed to take advantage of this moment because he might never get another like it.

  “He lives in Phoenix.”

  “What brought you to Florence, then? A new boyfriend?”

  “No. I’m not married to David anymore, but…”

  “Let me guess—you’re still faithful to him.”

  Tucker saw surprise flash through her eyes. “How do you know that?” she asked.

  He groaned. “God, that man must hate what he’s lost. You’re not even married and you’re true to him.”

  “David’s not hating anything. He’s fine. He’s over me already,” she said, but the false cheer in her voice told Tucker it was a lie.

  “Are you trying to convince me? Or you?”

  “I’m not trying to convince anyone,” she said. “It’s the truth.”

  “If it was, you’d let yourself move on.”

  “I’ll move on when the time is right. I just—” she hesitated “—have some things to do first.”

  “Like?”

  She took a drink of water and offered him one, but he’d had enough. He felt good, better than he had since before the fight. His hand didn’t hurt unless he tried to use it, and his ribs seemed to be healing, too. “Did you know the saguaro cactus can live to be two-hundred years old?” she asked.

  He chuckled and decid
ed to stop probing. Thinking about David was driving him nuts. He envied him and yet they’d never met. Obviously, David couldn’t be too perfect or Gabrielle wouldn’t have divorced him. Even if he was, Tucker didn’t want to know about it. Jealousy was one thing he couldn’t afford.

  “I knew that,” he replied. “Let’s go.” Standing, he held out his hand.

  She hesitated as though she wasn’t going to take it. But then she met his gaze, smiled and grabbed on, and it was all Tucker could do to let go of her once she was on her feet.

  “WHAT ELSE do you know about the desert?” Gabrielle asked to keep her mind off the unseen animals and rodents that rustled in the bushes as they passed.

  Tucker’s profile looked pensive in the moonlight as he marched slightly ahead of her, but he allowed her to catch up with him when she spoke, and his answer was congenial enough. “I know that as inhospitable as this place seems, it’s provided food for indigenous people for centuries.”

  “Food?” she echoed. “Certainly not through farming.”

  “The Indians farmed a little, before we dammed the rivers and diverted the waterways. But they also ate what grew naturally. Something like one-fifth of the desert’s plants are edible.”

  She grimaced. “Like those tasty mesquite pods?”

  “Not a big hit, huh?” he said, grinning broadly. “Well, there are others, the agave for one.”

  “The agave?” She circled a rock and nearly reached for his hand as they started up an incline. His fingers had felt so warm and secure when he’d helped her to her feet after they’d eaten. It seemed natural to hang on to him, especially now that it was getting a little chilly and the scurrying noises all around made her nervous.

  “The Indians used the agave for a lot of things,” he said. “Food and beverages, syrup, fiber, cordage, clothing, sandals, nets, soap, medicine, you name it.”

  “Sort of an all-purpose plant, hmm? Sounds yummy. I’ve always wanted to eat something that could be made into soap or cordage.”

  With a laugh, he said, “I hate to disappoint you, but there are edible and inedible kinds, and I don’t know the difference.”

  An owl hooted in the distance, immediately followed by a coyote’s mournful howl, and Gabrielle again felt the impulse to grab onto Tucker. “With such bounty, surely there’s something else we can eat.”

  “You’d think so, considering there’s supposed to be over five-hundred edible plants in the region. Unfortunately, I can’t remember what they are and probably wouldn’t know how to recognize them even if I did.”

  “A lot of help you are.”

  “That particular book wasn’t the most entertaining I’ve ever read, and it’s been a while. Anyway, it’s different when you’re looking at a picture, compared to the actual specimens.”

  “Don’t you think you’re a little unusual?” she asked. “Most guys in prison don’t bother reading about desert plants. And the only pictures they look at are of scantily dressed women.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Still, I’m sure they’d agree a picture isn’t quite the same as the real thing.”

  “I don’t know. Some of those guys take their calendar models pretty seriously.”

  “They’re just making do.”

  “You don’t have any pictures up in your cell, except that one of the boy I’m guessing is your son.”

  “I have trouble buying into dreams anymore.”

  “You’re too disillusioned?”

  “I’m not very good at settling.” He stepped over a saguaro carcass, then turned to help her. “I take it you aren’t either.”

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “You’re talking about David again.”

  “Who else?”

  Gabrielle felt the old defensiveness rise. “Any woman who hooked up with David wouldn’t be settling. He has everything. He’s handsome, driven, successful, kind—”

  “Then why did you leave him?”

  “It was my fault, not his,” she said. “He just couldn’t reach me, couldn’t reach…” She let her words fall off because she wasn’t sure what, exactly, she was going to say. If she knew what they’d been missing, she would’ve found some way to solve the problem. “Something,” she finished lamely.

  Tucker stopped and turned to face her. His head and broad shoulders eclipsed the moon and the stars, leaving her in what seemed like total darkness except for the gleam in his eyes. “What something is that?”

  That flutter in her belly, the one she’d experienced in the church, returned, making her more aware of him than she’d ever been of any man. Fleetingly, she imagined him pressing her to the desert floor, his mouth moving over hers, his hands on her breasts. For a moment she was so overcome she couldn’t speak. This near stranger had the power to excite her in a way David never could. But Tucker wasn’t the right man. He was a convict caught in a terrible tragedy. He had too many problems, too much anger, and would only break her heart.

  She told herself to back away, but the promise of later pain seemed insignificant compared to the here and now. His face was shuttered, revealing nothing of his thoughts or feelings—except desire. But desire was enough to keep her there.

  Lifting his left hand, he trailed a finger lightly over the curve of her cheek. Gabrielle closed her eyes at the sensation his touch evoked, then felt his hand slip beneath the hair at the nape of her neck. He pulled her gently toward him, as though he wanted her to know exactly what he was about to do before he did it. It wasn’t enough for him that she submit. He wanted her to want what was happening and to let him know it.

  Part of her did want what he was offering, more than anything. The other part was too confused to be effective. So she shoved the decision away and refused to think about what she was doing. Tilting her head back in expectation, she gazed up at him, feeling as though she’d just jumped off a cliff and was now free-falling through space.

  Would he catch her? He paused, waiting, and she feared he’d pull away. But he didn’t. He settled his mouth over hers and slid his tongue along her bottom lip, tasting her in a sort of slow-moving kiss that resonated with awe and reverence. The sound he made in his throat confirmed that the kiss brought him as much pleasure as it brought her, and Gabrielle felt everything inside her melt. As the rapid beating of his heart thudded above her own, she could hardly tolerate the exquisite sensations tumbling through her.

  “What was it David couldn’t reach?” he murmured, lifting his head to stare down at her.

  She felt as though she could drown in his eyes. “That,” she wanted to say, but her loyalty to David wouldn’t allow it, and she suspected Tucker already knew the answer, anyway.

  “You’re better off with him,” he said curtly when she didn’t speak. Then, his control back in place, he stalked off. But Gabrielle knew, whether she saw Randall Tucker again or not, that no kiss would ever compare.

  THEY’D ONLY BEEN WALKING a few hours when Gabrielle’s legs began to feel as though they weighed a hundred pounds each. Unwilling to complain, she forced herself to go on, but she was no longer sure they were traveling in the right direction. If they were, they would’ve arrived somewhere by now—a gas station, a ranch, a town, somewhere—wouldn’t they? They could just as easily be moving away from help as toward it, and she was dying to see her baby.

  “Are you sure you know where we’re going?” she finally asked.

  Tucker didn’t answer immediately. He hadn’t spoken to her since their kiss, and she’d known instinctively to leave him alone. He seemed put out, as though she’d done something to him instead of the other way around, but she didn’t care. She was angry herself this time—angry that he was angry, angry that he’d suffered so much pain, angry that she felt so drawn to him even though he was obviously wrong for her, angry that she’d gotten herself into this mess.

  “I know where I’m going,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “That’s none of yo
ur business. I’m dropping you off at the earliest opportunity.”

  “As if I’d want to stay with you any longer,” she retorted, but he didn’t respond, and after another half hour or so of silence, she asked if they could stop and rest. What was the point of rushing when they could be moving further away from help instead of closer to it?

  “We have to keep going,” he said, his words clipped. “We can sleep in the morning.”

  “I didn’t ask if I could sleep. I just need fifteen minutes to rest. My feet are killing me.”

  “Then stop and rest.”

  “And what will you do?”

  No answer.

  “Will you go on without me?”

  “You can try to catch up once you’re rested. I can’t do any better than that.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to let you get in the way anymore.”

  His words stung, especially after the tenderness of his kiss. How could he snap back and forth so easily between an absolute ogre and someone she could almost fall in love with? “Fine,” she said. “If you can keep going, so can I.”

  He said nothing. He kept up the same pace, giving Gabrielle no choice but to gather her remaining strength and march on. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove,” she said at last.

  Silence.

  “Are you afraid kissing me has compromised your hard-ass image?”

  No response.

  “Well, don’t worry about that. I know you’re a jerk, okay? And that kiss meant nothing to me. It was the worst kiss I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t kiss you again if you were the last man on earth.”

  He kept walking.

  “Tucker, you bastard!” She picked up a rock and hurled it at him. He glanced back in time to dodge it and, the second she scooped up another, he caught her arm before she could throw.

  “Drop it,” he said, his grip like a vise.

  She let the rock fall, but the desire to pierce his hard exterior only grew stronger. “I should’ve let you come out here alone without water or anything else!” she said.