Native Affairs Page 7

  “No thanks, Eli. Cindy and I have plans.” He winked at Cindy as he walked past her into the house. “Be right back,” he added, and vanished.

  Cindy’s eyes followed him, wondering what the plans were.

  “When he leaves the room the light goes with him, doesn’t it?” the old man said, studying her expression.

  Cindy nodded, unable to say it any better.

  “Come back,” Eli invited her. “Come back whenever you like—if you need more information for your paper, or if you just want to visit.”

  “Thank you,” Cindy said. “I’d like to make the trip again, with Drew.”

  “Oh, who needs him?” Eli said, sniffing. “I hope I don’t need my good looking grandson to attract the attention of a pretty girl.” He leaned in closer to her and whispered conspiratorially, “Come without him and I’ll show you all his embarrassing baby pictures.”

  Cindy grinned.

  “You like that idea, do you?” Eli said, grinning back. Fox returned to find them smiling at each other.

  “I think I’d better get this young lady out of here before you marry her, Eli,” he announced dryly and reached for Cindy’s hand. She allowed him to pull her to her feet and felt her pulse quicken as he slipped his arm casually around her waist.

  “I’ll be back on Tuesday,” Fox said to his grandfather. “Try not to let the grass grow between now and then.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Eli said, raising his hand in farewell. “And remember what I said,” he called to Cindy as she smiled goodbye.

  “I’ll remember,” she answered.

  “What did he say?” Fox asked, as they waved to Walter, who was riding the mower back into the storage shed.

  “That’s between your grandfather and me,” Cindy answered airily.

  “Secrets already,” Fox sighed, opening the door of the cab for her.

  “By the way, what are our ‘plans’ for lunch?” Cindy asked.

  “Our plans are not to subject ourselves to Walter’s horrendous cooking,” Fox replied, leaning on the open door and looking in at her. “He specializes in rubber omelets and incinerated hamburgers.”

  “I see,” Cindy said, laughing. “But there’s one problem. I’m starving.”

  Fox spread his hands. “Hey, you’re looking at a man who’s always prepared.” He pointed to the flatbed in back, where she saw a styrofoam hamper through the window. “There’s our lunch. Sandwiches, salad, dessert, the works.”

  “You didn’t make all that?” Cindy asked.

  “Hell, no. I ordered it from the deli in town and picked it up before I came for you.”

  “But what about poor Walter and Eli, passing out from hunger back there at the house?” Cindy reproached him, drawing down the corners of her mouth.

  Fox favored her with a superior smile. “I got one for them, too, and left it in the kitchen with a note.”

  Cindy shook her head in feigned amazement. “I give up; you think of everything. But I’d guess that your relatives are going to find it mighty suspicious that we didn’t stay to share the picnic with them.”

  “Who cares what they think?” he answered, slamming the door. “By now they’re too deep into the coleslaw to wonder about anything.” He went around the back of the truck and got in next to her. “Besides, I want to show you something.”

  Cindy settled back against the seat as he drove away, content to go where he would lead her.

  Chapter 5

  Fox guided the truck further down the dirt road that had brought them to Eli’s house. The lake spread away from them to the right, and Cindy caught glimpses of its blue sparkle through the passing rush of the trees. After another mile Fox pulled off the road into a clearing and stopped the truck.

  “What’s this?” she asked, as he helped her to the ground and then took the styrofoam hamper from the back. He grabbed up a checkered tablecloth that had been folded under it and handed it to Cindy.

  “This is my uncle’s place,” he answered. “It’s just a short walk through the cypresses. Stay to the path and follow behind me.”

  ‘‘Are there snakes?” Cindy asked nervously, picking her way gingerly after him and clutching the tablecloth to her chest.

  “Water moccasins, I think,” he replied casually. “Rattlers too, maybe a few boa constrictors.”

  Cindy stopped walking until she thought about the last thing he’d said. “Wait a minute,” she said suspiciously. “I’m not sure about the first two, but even I know there are no boa constrictors in Florida.”

  He turned and faced her, his eyebrows raised. “See? All those years in college have not been in vain.”

  “You’re not funny, Fox,” she said, and stepped on something which moved. She yelped and jumped backward, dropping both the cloth and her purse.

  Wearing an expression of extreme forbearance, Fox set the hamper down and picked her up in the same smooth motion. “That does it, I’m carrying you,” he said, and proceeded to do so, threading through the trees expertly.

  “What about our stuff?” Cindy asked contentedly, not really caring, her arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder. He smelled of his hours in the sun, as if his skin had been baked to its perfect golden color.

  “I’ll go back for it, once I’m sure you won’t be taking on the wildlife and losing,” he answered, turning to sidestep the stump of a gnarled oak. He took the opportunity to spin her in dizzying circles until, laughing, she begged him to stop.

  “Had enough?” he asked, lowering her weight suddenly, pretending he was about to drop her. “Say uncle.”

  “Uncle, uncle,” she gasped, clutching his shirt, breathless.

  “I don’t know,” he said, debating. “You don’t sound very sincere.” He shifted her suddenly, tossing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “That’s much better,” he announced, as she kicked in protest. “Puts more distance between you and the piranhas.”

  “Piranhas are fish,” she squealed, laughing so hard she could hardly get the words out. “Don’t you think I know anything? Now put me down and let me walk.”

  He ignored her, proceeding on course until they broke through the screen of trees and reached the shore.

  “What do you think?” he asked, setting her down gently, keeping his arms around her so that she was standing with her back to him, his hands folded across her waist.

  “Oh, Drew, it’s lovely,” she breathed, taking in the placid, sun spattered surface of the water, the dense circle of encroaching cypresses all along the shore, the cloudless vault of the sky. “Where are we?”

  “This is my uncle’s place,” he answered, his voice in her ear. “I built the chiksee just around that bend to the left. He always meant to build a house here but he never did it.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s in jail,” Fox answered calmly. “For twenty years.”

  Cindy turned within the circle of his embrace to look at him. “Why? What did he do?”

  “He killed the man who had raped his wife,” Fox replied, watching her reaction to his statement.

  “Oh, Drew, how awful,” she whispered, trying to comprehend the enormity of it.

  “If you were my wife, I’d do the same to anybody who touched you,” he said flatly, in a tone that left no doubt that he meant it. Cindy felt a chill which had nothing to do with the weather.

  “Don’t you think you’d better go back for the basket?” she asked, wanting to change the subject. “Stay right here,” he directed. “Don’t wander off.” She nodded. She barely heard his footsteps through the trees; he was very quiet in his movements for a big man. When he returned she was rooted to the same spot, waiting.

  “Here’s the grub,” he said, spreading the cloth on the ground and setting out the wrapped packages and plastic containers. When it was all displayed they both looked at it.

  “I guess I’ve lost my appetite,” Cindy said, and turned away.

  He was beside her in a second. “Did I scare you, princess?” he a
sked, taking hold of her shoulders and forcing her to look at him.

  “A little,” she admitted. “I don’t like to hear you talk that way.”

  He enfolded her slowly, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry. It’s just that, since I met you, I can understand how my uncle must have felt. When I think of somebody putting his hands on you, treating you roughly, forcing you…” The sentence trailed off as his hands tightened on her arms.

  “Shhh,” Cindy said, silencing him. “We shouldn’t have come here; I didn’t know about your uncle. It must be terrible for you to be reminded of all that.”

  “Not as terrible as it is for him to live it. I visit him with Walter. You should see my uncle now. He used to be so strong, so capable. Now he’s a beaten man.”

  “What became of his wife?” Cindy asked.

  “She died a few years after he went to jail,” Fox replied. “I was about twenty-five, I guess. Some disease, they said it was, but I think the whole tragedy just slowly killed her.” He held her off and looked at her. “Come on, princess, eat something. You don’t want to leave this feast for the squirrels.”

  They sat together on the ground, and once Cindy tasted some of the food her appetite returned. Everything was very good, and Fox produced tumblers of ice cold water from a well on the property that still worked. When they had packed away the leftovers he reclined on the tablecloth, using it as a blanket, and gestured for her to join him. When Cindy sat at his side, he pulled her down with him, molding her to his body. She relaxed against his shoulder, resting her cheek on his chest.

  “So what do you think of my kingdom?” Fox asked, gesturing with his free hand.

  “Is that what this is?” Cindy asked, looking around at the blue expanse of lake and sky.

  “Certainly. And you’re the captive princess from a foreign northern land who has been whisked away to dwell with me in the underworld.”

  Cindy smiled, closing her eyes and inhaling the clean fragrance of his skin, his soap. “I think you’ve got a few stories all mixed up there, Mr. Fox.”

  He changed their positions so that she was lying flat on her back and he was looking down at her. “But I’m perfectly clear on one thing,” he said.

  “What’s that?” Cindy asked, gazing up into the green eyes which seemed to fill the world.

  “The way I feel about you,” he answered, and kissed her.

  His mouth was so warm and soft, its pressure on hers so leisurely, that Cindy’s lips opened almost without volition. He kissed her for a long time, barely touching her except with his mouth, until she reached behind his head and pulled him closer, unconsciously inviting more. He reacted instantly, enfolding her, pressing her into the curve of his body. His mouth slipped from hers to the hollow of her throat.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured. “I’ve been trying to hold back with you, but I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

  Cindy moved, and he groaned, burying his flushed face in her neck. He lowered his weight onto her, holding himself up on his hands until their bodies were fused and then relaxing gradually. Cindy instinctively shifted to accommodate him, and then gasped as she felt the hardness of his desire, the muscular tension in his strong arms and lean, racehorse legs. His mouth sought hers again, and this time he abandoned all attempts to go slow. His tongue caressed hers as his hands came up to the buttons at the front of her sweater. Lost in his kisses, Cindy couldn’t object as he unbuttoned it and slipped his fingers inside the opening. His hand was hot, and yet gentle, cupping her breast through the lace brassiere and teasing the taut nipple with his thumb. Cindy moaned, turning her face away from his, lost in the sensation. He lowered his head, running his parted lips over the smooth skin he had exposed to view. His hands moved down to her hips, grasping them and forcing them upward into his. With one hand he lifted her skirt and sought the silken smoothness of her thighs, pressing her legs outward to allow him to lie more fully between them. The barrier of their clothing seemed to evaporate as Cindy knew, for the first time, what it must be like to receive a man.

  “Do you want me?” he rasped, reaching for the zipper on her skirt. “Do you want me to take you now?”

  Hearing him say it caused the flood tide of passion to recede long enough for reason to reassert itself. Cindy stiffened, and he felt it immediately. He sat up and gazed at her silently, his eyes glittering like gemstones.

  “I can’t do this, Drew,” she said, putting the back of her hand to her mouth. “I want you, surely you can tell that, but this just isn’t right.”

  “Why?” he said angrily. “Is it beneath your highness to grovel in the grass with a savage like me?”

  “Cheap shot, Drew,” she said sharply, her mouth tightening. “That isn’t true and you know it.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a low tone, looking away. “You don’t deserve a remark like that.”

  Cindy rose to her feet, straightening her clothes. “I’m going for a walk,” she said shakily, seizing on the first idea that came into her head.

  His fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t run away from me,” he said, agonized. “Please.”

  “I’m not running away from you,” she replied, and it was the truth. She was running away from herself.

  “You’ll get lost,” he said, moving to get up also.

  “Don’t,” Cindy said quickly. “Don’t follow me, Drew; I need some time alone. I’ll keep to the shoreline and I won’t go far, all right?”

  Fox subsided reluctantly, sitting back on his haunches, his expression grave as he watched her walk away.

  Cindy wandered along the edge of the water, her sandals sinking into the marshy grass. She took them off and carried them, walking barefoot, her mind a jumble of confusing images and thoughts.

  She didn’t know what to do. If she continued to see Fox, sooner or later their mutual passion would burst out of control, but the thought of not seeing him any more was unbearable. She’d never felt like this before, and her experience with men was so limited that she was unable to determine how to handle the situation. She couldn’t become just another one of Fox’s lovers, but she couldn’t give him up either. With him, she was alive in a way that was new to her. Up until the time she met him, her books and studies and quiet life had been sufficient. She hadn’t known what she was missing, like a person born blind who can’t appreciate the glory of a sun he has never seen. But now—she couldn’t go back to that former existence. It would never again be enough.

  Cindy pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to think. At the same time she caught sight of a structure in the distance, partially hidden by the trees. Curious, she moved forward, rounding a bend in the shoreline and confronting a little house made of logs and leaves. The chiksee, she thought. This was Fox’s construction, abandoned but still sturdy, silent and waiting, like a summer cottage restless for the return of its warm weather occupants.

  Cindy studied the chiksee, thinking about the care that had gone into the placement of every strip of bark, every leaf, and her throat tightened. What sort of man would build this from scratch, taking the time to put it together as his ancestors once had, just to see if he could do it? Others saw the tough exterior, the bounty hunter who chased human quarry for a living. But he had wanted Cindy to see another side of him, the man who loved his family and this isolated spot on a lonely lake.

  Taking a deep, quavering breath, Cindy came to a decision. She was going to stick with this, take it one step at a time, and hope she could deal with it. Fox was too special for her to do anything else. If she turned away from him, she would be sorry for the rest of her life.

  Walking slowly, she retraced her steps to the clearing where Fox awaited her. As she came closer she saw that he was lying on the tablecloth, and then she realized from his loose, boneless posture that he was asleep.

  Tiptoeing, she approached stealthily until she was standing over him, gazing down at his slumbering form.

  I’ll bet he got almost no sleep last night, she thought, r
emembering his remark about napping in the truck. There were blue shadows of fatigue under his eyes, and his body was sprawled in the careless, abandoned manner of pure exhaustion.

  Cindy glanced at her watch. She hated to wake him, but she had promised Paula that she would be back by five to monitor the phone. The woman who shared management duties with Paula was sick, and Paula had to work a double shift at the hospital in order to get a three day weekend she’d requested.

  Cindy sat next to him, tucking her legs under her and touching his shoulder. He stirred slightly, turning toward her, and his shirt, loosened by her eager hands earlier, rode up on his midriff.

  Cindy sucked in her breath. His ribs were taped all along his left side, and a deep, angry scratch below them was painted vivid carmine with iodine.

  She bit her lower lip, her eyes moving to his placid face. He must have been in pain all day with this, and yet he had given no sign, even doing the lawn work at his grandfather’s house. She and Eli had seen him only from the back, and nothing in his movements had indicated the presence of such an injury.

  Cindy tugged at his arm, harder, until the thick lashes lifted and he looked into her eyes. He was alert immediately, sitting up and looking around him.

  “It’s all right,” Cindy assured him. “You were only sleeping about half an hour.”

  He nodded and stretched, showing the white markings of the tape once again.

  “Drew, how did you get that?” Cindy asked quietly, pointing.

  He glanced down at himself, and then at her. “I’ll have to be a little neater in the future,” he said dryly, tucking in his shirt.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Fox shrugged. “The guy I went after last week didn’t agree that it was time for him to return to jail. He gave me some trouble, that’s all.”

  “That’s all!” she echoed, incredulous. “Drew, you should have told me that you were hurt. You shouldn’t be out with me today; you should be in bed, resting.”

  “Cindy, if I went to bed every time something like this happened on the job, I’d spend most of my time flat on my back.” He got to his feet, looking around for their scattered things.