Medicine Man's Affair Read online

  “Ojibwa?”

  He grinned. “Are you writing a book?”

  Jennifer flushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I’m asking too many questions.”

  He put the sports car in gear and drove out of the lot “Don’t be silly. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I just couldn’t resist teasing you a little. You get so rattled, like a fourth-grade genius who missed the last word in the spelling bee.”

  Jennifer giggled. He was right.

  “Now, in answer to your last question, Ojibwa is the mother language of the Algonquian tribes; it’s more often called Ottawa or Chippewa.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard those terms.”

  “It’s rather like Castilian Spanish, with Pikuni the equivalent of an Andalusian variant They’re about as similar as modern Polish and Czech. I grew up speaking Pikuni, but I can follow a conversation in Ojibwa.”

  “I see.”

  “And ‘Ojibwa’ itself means ‘to roast until puckered up,’ which is a reference to the puckered seams on Blackfoot moccasins.”

  “No kidding? What an odd way to get a name.”

  He cast her a sidelong glance. “I hope you’re paying attention, because there’s going to be a test.”

  Jennifer laughed, thinking that she had already had one test that day, when he had held her in his arms. She had passed it. This time.

  He asked whether she would like to go home, or back to the office, and regretfully she told him to take her to the office. She still had to try to get in touch with the last player who hadn’t signed his papers.

  Lee asked her why she had come to practice that day, and she explained the situation.

  “Give that stuff to me,” he said. “I’ll see that Roger signs it and returns it to your office on Monday.”

  “Would you do that? It would be a big help. Otherwise I’ll be trying to track him down for the rest of the weekend.”

  “No problem. Still want to go back to the office?”

  “I’m afraid so. That wasn’t the only thing I have left to do.”

  He nodded and took the turnoff for Philadelphia.

  They were back to the Freedom’s offices too soon. Jennifer could remember every word of their conversation in vivid detail—she felt as if it had been burned into her brain. It wasn’t particularly stimulating or witty, but she had shared it with Lee, and for that reason it was important to her.

  Lee pulled to a stop outside the building. “Here you are,” he said. “Back the same day.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for your help. And I owe you the money you gave that boy from Tony’s Garage.”

  “Forget it. It was my pleasure. I’ll have the mechanic at my garage get in touch with you about the repairs.”

  “Fine. And thanks again.”

  He tossed his fingers in a tiny salute and drove off. Jennifer went into the lobby in a daze, filled with thoughts of Lee.

  * * * *

  The Sunday of the benefit game for the Heart Fund was clear and cooler than it had been, a precursor of fall. Jennifer arrived just as it was beginning, wearing Marilyn’s jogging suit and an apprehensive smile. She didn’t expect this to be her finest hour.

  Dolores was waiting for her on the sidelines. “The first team is already in,” she said. “They’re going to start in a moment.”

  “Good. I hope they never get around to me.”

  “They will,” Dolores said cheerfully. “Tom said everybody will see some action, if only for a few minutes.”

  “Great” Tom was an accountant in payroll, and he was managing the roster.

  Jennifer shielded her eyes as she watched the action on the field. Lee and Joe Thornridge and a few others were out there, along with the cream of the Freedom’s amateur athletes. The crowd was large and vocal, screaming every time anybody made a move.

  She and Dolores watched the game for a while, sipping soft drinks and surveying the onlookers wandering around Westminster’s campus.

  It wasn’t long before Tom was waving at Jennifer, signaling her to join the players on the field.

  “Every year I tell him I don’t know how to play this game,” she muttered.

  “And every year he ignores you,” Dolores responded. “I know, I know. Go on, it can’t be any worse than last time.”

  The “last time” Jennifer had crashed into the team bench while trying to catch the ball and gave Esther Lopinsky, one of the secretaries, a black eye.

  Jennifer ran onto the field and watched nervously as Leo Smithers, the quarterback of the staff team, signaled her to come and talk to him.

  “On the next play,” he said, “I’m going to pass the ball to you.”

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Leo,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t know what to do with it once I get it, that’s why not.”

  He rubbed his eyes wearily with his thumb and forefinger. “Look, Jen, all you have to do is try to catch the ball, and then run as hard as you can in that direction,” he instructed, pointing toward the goalpost at the end of the field. “Everybody else knows what they have to do. So don’t worry about it, okay? Just grab it and try to cross the line at the end.”

  Leo called for a huddle, in which various team members said things Jennifer didn’t understand. But she kept Leo’s words in mind and stood where he placed her at the lineup.

  She saw Lee, dressed in faded jeans and a white knit skivvy, watching her across the line of scrimmage. That didn’t make her feel any better.

  Leo called out a series of numbers, and then faded back for the pass. Jennifer started to run, looking over her shoulder for the ball, hoping that Leo’s confidence in himself was justified and that he would be able to “hit her” no matter what she did.

  When it became obvious that he was throwing to her, players from the pro club materialized from nowhere, heading in her direction. Terrified, she looked up to see the ball hurtling through the air toward her.

  How did anybody ever catch these things? They were an impossible shape. She grabbed for it, got her fingers on the edge, and then it squirted out of her hands. She leaped after it and managed to catch it. At that moment Lee caught her about the knees and tumbled her gently to the ground.

  Jennifer landed on her dignity, and then was up in a flash, yelling at the top of her lungs.

  “Wait a minute! This is supposed to be touch football. That’s illegal, you can’t tackle anybody in this game!”

  The onlookers were delighted. They stamped their feet and clapped, roaring their approval. Lee stood by, looking mysteriously smug, and hung his head when the referee came over to give him a tongue lashing. Jennifer told Tom to replace her and walked off the field.

  The nerve of him, pouncing on her like that. She retied her sneakers, sitting on the staff bench, yanking at the laces viciously. When she raised her head again, Lee was standing in front of her.

  “They threw me out of the game,” he said happily.

  Jennifer stared at him, the light beginning to dawn. “You did that deliberately,” she said.

  “Pure reflex. Couldn’t help myself.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “However, since we both seem to be at liberty, why don’t we take a stroll around the grounds?”

  “Stroll alone. After that little stunt I wouldn’t go around this bench with you.”

  His face changed. “What’s the matter? You’re not hurt, are you?”

  “Only my pride.”

  He smiled engagingly, and she could feel her resistance melting away under the force of his charm. “Come on. This thing is going to be breaking up in another half an hour or so, and then they’re having a picnic. We’ll come back and get something to eat later.”

  The desire to be with him overrode her previous annoyance. “I’m doing this against my better judgment,” she warned him. “The minute I lower my guard you’ll probably blindside me again.”

  “Sounds tempting,” he said, motioning with his
head toward the grassy copse beyond the playing field. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you about my great-grandfather, the shaman. That should interest a student of Indian folklore like yourself.”

  It did. “What’s a shaman?”

  “A medicine man, a caster of spells and a weaver of charms. Combination faith healer, herbalist, and grass-roots psychologist.”

  They were walking away from the crowd, and the game noises faded in the distance. The sun was warm, and Lee pulled his shirt over his head to reveal a sleeveless tank top underneath. He spread the skivvy on the ground and gestured for her to sit on it She did, and he sprawled full-length beside her. A screen of trees blocked them from view.

  “What kind of charms did your great-grandfather weave?”

  “All kinds. Love charms, hate charms, charms to make you sick, charms to make you well. His specialty was healing, though. He would put on his saamis, the medicine hat, with feathers and magical bones, and cure anything that ailed you. He died when I was twelve.”

  Too bad he’s not around today, Jennifer thought I could use a little help in curing myself of my growing infatuation with you. She stretched out on the grass and sighed.

  Lee rolled over on his stomach and the sun glinted off his shining, coal-black hair, making it glow with highlights.

  “That old man, he knew something, something that’s been lost forever now,” Lee said softly. “And I don’t think it’s possible to get it back.”

  “I understand what you mean,” Jennifer replied. “That knowledge the old people had, I think we traded it for jet planes and microwave ovens and potato chips in a tennis ball can. And I’m not sure we’re better off now. The problems aren’t solved; they’re only different.”

  Lee pushed himself up on his forearms and gazed down into her face. “I think you’re a very smart lady,” he said.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she answered, smiling. Her smile faded slowly as she met his gaze and awareness grew between them. Jennifer was very conscious of his almost naked torso above her, the proximity of that powerful, agile body. She tried to sit up, and he pinned her, holding her arms and leaning into her. Prone, submissive, she could feel the warmth of his skin against hers, his breath fanning her cheek. The black eyes seared hers. Then his lashes obscured them as his face came closer and he lowered his mouth to hers.

  The kiss began tentatively, as all first kisses do, but it was only seconds before Jennifer was kissing him back passionately. She had known all along that she desired him, but the abstract idea was nothing compared with burning reality. His mouth was wonderful, drugging, sensitive and mobile, and a treasure of delights to explore. His tongue probed hers, and she yearned against him, eager for more.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you,” he murmured, moving his mouth to her ear, and then back to her lips. He adjusted his position to lie more fully against her, and she gasped as she felt him, ready, against her thigh. His hands slid underneath her to press her to him, and she clasped her arms around his neck.

  He raised his head and looked around, and Jennifer realized with alarm that he was checking to see if anyone was watching them, if it was safe to make love to her there, hidden in the small, enclosed wood.

  Jennifer began to struggle. The man was mad. If he thought she would be a partner to an outdoor romp in the middle of a park, he was in for a rude awakening.

  “Let me go,” she demanded, and he released her instantly, rolling off her. She struggled to her feet, brushing bits of leaves and grass and other debris from her clothes. She felt ridiculous, ashamed.

  He stood also, with his hands jammed in his pockets, his hair falling forward over one eye.

  “What are you so upset about?” he asked. “I kissed you. You kissed me back.”

  Of course, Jennifer thought. He did this sort of tiling all the time.

  “Why did you push me away?” he wanted to know.

  “You may be in the habit of casual rolls in the hay during coffee breaks, but I certainly am not,” Jennifer said.

  His eyes narrowed. “Is that what you think?” he asked. “That I was promoting a pleasant interlude until it’s time to dish up the potato salad? Grab you, and then grab a hamburger?”

  Jennifer’s silence was his answer.

  He was starting to look very upset. His eyes were flashing sparks, and she could see that the hands in his pockets were balled into fists.

  “I seem to have misjudged the situation here,” he said softly.

  “That makes two of us,” Jennifer replied nastily.

  “Always the smart comeback,” he said. “You’d better watch out, counselor; if you’re that sharp, you’ll cut yourself.”

  Jennifer stared at him, then opened her mouth to speak, but nothing happened.

  He held up a hand. “Let me say it for you,” he intoned. “You think I’m a lowlife and a user, and the sight of me makes you sick. That about cover it?”

  She dropped her eyes. The sight of him could never make her sick.

  “I’ll see you later, Jennifer. I think I’d better exit before I say something I’ll regret.”

  Jennifer didn’t look up until he was gone.

  * * * *

  She spent the weeks following the picnic in a state of suspended animation, hoping for a glimpse of Lee and dreading it at the same time. Her fears were groundless. She never saw him and finally concluded that he was avoiding the Freedom’s offices. She knew she was right when she learned that he had had several things delivered there by messenger. He was taking no chances of running into her.

  It was amazing how dull everything seemed now, without him. Events that once would have delighted her provoked little reaction. She had lunch with Harold Salamone, the owner of the Freedom, to discuss some business, which was unprecedented, and it did nothing to lift her spirits. At any other time such recognition would have left her elated.

  But the time came when she had to contact Lee about the Labor Day parade and the visit to the children’s hospital which was scheduled for the same day. She worked herself into a nervous state over calling him, but when she finally did, she was surprised at her reception. He was pleasant and professional, acting as if nothing had happened between them. She felt as if she were in a time warp, and had somehow been transported back to the days of their initial acquaintance. She was relieved, and yet perversely disappointed, that he’d apparently forgotten the incident.

  However, when Lee’s schedule arrived in her office and Mr. Salamone called her and asked her to deliver it personally to Lee that day, her newly restored calm disappeared.

  Chapter 4

  The ride to Lee’s house was a stressful one for Jennifer. She did not like the idea of going to his home. It was somehow too intimate for the distance she was trying to maintain between them. But he had to have the material that day. There was no help for it. The guard at the security station recognized her and waved her on.

  She pulled into the lot behind his condominium and got out of the car, scanning the numbers as she walked. Each had a fenced yard, and she found Lee outside his house, in the middle of a workout.

  He was so absorbed that he did not see her. She stopped, fascinated. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of him, naked to the waist, clad only in brief cut-off denims and sneakers, going through his exercises. The sun gleamed on his bronze skin, giving it a soft luster, and his jet hair, mussed from exertion, clung to his head with dampness.

  He paused for a moment, hands on hips, to catch his breath, still unaware of her presence. Jennifer stood behind the fence, knowing that she should speak and let him see that she was there, but spellbound by this glimpse of his dedication to his craft. He always acted as if his lightning speed and miraculous coordination were gifts of nature, which to a great extent they were, but this punishing daily routine was part of the package, too. He had to work hard to stay in the peak of physical condition, and she felt foolish for not realizing it before this. Perhaps it was because of her experience wi
th Bob, who should have had Lee’s dedication but never did and, consequently, was plagued by injuries and illness.

  Lee bent to wipe his face with a towel draped over the handlebars of an exercise bike standing nearby. Perspiration ran in rivulets on his arms and streamed down his chest and heavily muscled abdomen. The waistband of his shorts was soaked.

  Jennifer took the opportunity to knock. She rapped on the gate, calling, “Lee. It’s Jennifer. I have the itinerary for the parade.”

  He looked up, pushing back his hair, and took a gray T-shirt from the seat of the bike, pulling it over his head as he came toward her. She felt a little better with him covered up, but not much. His physical presence was still overwhelming.

  “Hi,” he said, unlatching the gate and stepping aside to let her pass. “Come on inside. It’s broiling out here.”

  Jennifer followed him gratefully through the sliding glass doors by the patio into air-conditioned coolness. The interior was furnished as a bachelor pad, with lots of deep, leather furniture and rustic wood. A sleek ultramodern galley kitchen of copper and stainless steel opened into a large dining area fronting the patio. Beyond, there was a sunken living room with a huge fieldstone fireplace, twin loveseats in taupe suede flanking it, and a floor to ceiling, well-stocked bar. Above she could see an overhanging balcony and loft, which obviously led to the bedrooms. The floor in the kitchen and hall was of brick-red quarry tiles. The rest of the rooms were carpeted in eggshell wool, thick, luxurious. The total effect was chic, tasteful, and expensive.

  “This is very nice,” she said coolly, trying not to show how impressed she was.

  He looked around. “Thanks,” he said vaguely. “I bought it for when I’m in town, but I won’t be using it much. I’m on the road with the team most of the season.”

  Quite an elaborate arrangement for a place he would hardly use. Well, he had the money to throw around if he wanted to buy a home in every major city.

  “I was working out when you arrived,” he said, “and I’m afraid I’m not fit company for a lady right now. Would you mind if I took a quick shower?”