Gotta Have It

Deny this, Angel.

Lowering his head, Durango captured her luscious lips again. He felt the zap of wildness flowing from the rocks, through his feet, up his body and into hers.

The feminine vortex.

They were fused into a single power source, their passion one with the cosmos. They melded with the environment. Merging, mixing, marrying the earth.

It seemed to Durango as if they were spinning from a dizzying aerial viewpoint. Their kiss captured in the Technicolor red of the soaring pinnacle cliffs and rugged desert landscape.

Overhead, a red-tailed hawk cried “keer, keer.” A spiny lizard skittered nearby. The air smelled of piñon pine, juniper and Abby.

In the nine years he had been guiding Jeep tours through Sedona, Durango had experienced the enigmatic power of the vortices hundreds of times. Sometimes he felt a mild tugging. At other moments it was a strong pull. Sometimes the sensation made him emotional. Sometimes he felt centered and grounded. On occasion he found himself simply overwhelmed by the vastness of the cosmos.

But never had he experienced what he was feeling now.

It was magical. Surreal. Otherworldly.

Native American lore spoke of it. This rush of incredible sensitivity. It was as if a fire hose had been turned on in his heart and he was a channel, a catalyst, a crucible.

The phenomenon was scary as hell because it felt so damned wonderful.

His body burned like a furnace. His skin tingled. Joy bubbled inside him, fizzy as mineral water.

Wow.

He let Abby go and stepped back. He could tell from the bewildered expression in her eyes that she was feeling it too.

Stunned, they simply stared at each other.

“Was that it?” she whispered. “Is that what the vortex feels like?”

He gulped. “Yep. That was the vortex.”

“Oh thank heavens, for a minute there I thought that maybe…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she raised a quivering hand to tuck a lock of hair behind one ear.

He knew what she thought, because he was thinking the same thing. If simply kissing her in a vortex could cause such a euphoric sensation, what in the hell would happen if they were to make love in one?

SHE HAD TO REGAIN CONTROL of the chaotic emotions jumbling inside her. Simultaneously, Abby felt ecstasy and fear, bliss and dread. But she refused to show Durango her confusion. Her father had trained her well. Never reveal your weakness to your enemies.

And Durango was indeed her enemy, because with just one kiss he threatened to smash to smithereens her carefully ordered world.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, whispered her high-spirited Gypsy blood. Maybe your uptight, insular world needs destroying. And hey, maybe you would quit sneezing.

Abby shook her head. She didn’t know if it was the vortex or Durango or a deadly combination of both, but she would not allow herself to disintegrate over one little kiss.

One little kiss? Ha! More like the kiss of the millennium.

Knock it off. Get it together. You’re Judge Archer’s daughter, so act like it.

You’re Cassandra’s daughter, too.

Abby ignored that thought, smoothed the wrinkles from her linen shorts, squared her shoulders and glanced over at Durango.

“I think we should go check on Tess,” she said evenly, and started past him for the trailhead.

Durango reached out and snagged her elbow, stopping Abby in her tracks. “I think we should talk about what just happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Dammit, don’t shut me out. Not again.”

“Please remove your hand.” She glowered at him.

He let go and stepped back. “Are you going to be like this for the rest of your life?”

“Be like what?”

Even though his hand was gone, she could still feel the imprint of it on her skin. Already she was feeling that swoopy, looping out-of-kilter sensation in the region of her heart—she used to feel it whenever she was around him and she didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

“Dead to life,” he said.

“I’m not dead to life.” Did he really believe that? “I just don’t choose to put my feelings on parade like some people.”

He reached up to stroke a strand of her hair. “Admit it, Angel. You’re afraid of your passion. Even your nose knows it.”

“Stop calling me Angel.”

“Why? Because it makes you feel something?”

Yes. Precisely.

“Because I’m not that silly little seventeen-year-old who was once so infatuated with you.”

“You weren’t infatuated with me. If you’d really cared about me, you wouldn’t have sided with your father and mine against me when you knew in your heart I shouldn’t have gone to jail.” His tone hardened.

Lovely. Now he was getting angry. She didn’t want to fight with him. There was no point rehashing the past. They’d both made their choices.

“Don’t try to put this all on me. You gave me an ultimatum, Durango, and hey, news flash, you did vandalize your stepmother’s business.”

“And you know why I did it.”

“It was still wrong.”

“That’s the reason I started calling you Angel,” he growled. “Because you’re so damned perfect. You never get mad or hurt or do stupid things like the rest of us.”

“I get hurt plenty. I hurt when you left town and never came back. Just because I couldn’t go with you, it didn’t mean I didn’t want to.”