From Mission To Marriage

“I see. Is McLean where you live?”

“Yes.”

“It’s expensive there, isn’t it?” she asked.

“More so than here.” He looked off toward the mountains, her beloved Smokies. “You’d jump a couple of pay grades, get a cost-of-living increase and a hefty clothing allowance.” He sighed and shrugged as if he didn’t expect her to care about all that, as if he didn’t himself. “Same basic benefits as you have with the Bureau. Hazardous-duty pay for certain assignments.”

“Would I be the token redbird?” she asked without any bitterness. She knew all about equal-opportunity employment by the government. Had to have those minorities and women.

He smiled. “That plays into it, sure, but your qualifications weigh much more heavily in this instance. Not just any old Indian will do to meet the quota, if that’s what you’re asking. Nor would any female who could shoot straight and speak three languages. The requirements on paper are quite specific and you meet them. Interested?”

She paused for a full minute before she spoke. “You know some people aren’t crazy about being called Indian anymore. Think it’s not politically correct.”

“Does it offend you?” he asked, really curious.

“The majority of people called Indian are satisfied with it. Know why?” Her dark eyes shone with mischief.

“Why’s that?”

“Because the majority really are from India,” she said, laughing. “Gotcha!”

“Cute. Seriously, what do you prefer? Native American? Indigenous person?”

“Cherokee works for me. I guess you have a problem there, don’t you, since you don’t know which tribe to claim.”

“Yes, but I don’t obsess over it. You know we’re digressing here, and I think you’re doing it on purpose. You want time to consider what the job entails, right? But you’re not saying no.”

She frowned as she nodded reluctantly. “I’d be a fool to say no.”

“Would you?” Again he looked around them, taking in the wildness of the landscape, the beauty she usually took for granted, and drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. She saw this place through his eyes now. Could she leave for good?

“You’re worried about living so far away from your people?” he asked.

She nodded. “A little. I feel I have a responsibility to the tribe. If I stay in Asheville, at least I can act as a liaison when something like this pops up.”

His steel-gray eyes both challenged and warmed her with that piercing gaze of his. “Have you ever thought that maybe the world could be your hunting ground, the people of it, your tribe? They need you, too, Vanessa. Be a Cherokee, but be a world citizen, too. Could you handle that?”

“Interesting thought. How long do I have to consider it?” she asked. What he said intrigued her. Maybe he was right and she did need to broaden her horizons, give more than she was giving here.

“Until we finish this,” he replied.

“Then I guess you’d better take some notes on me just in case,” she advised. “Could be that I’m not what you’re looking for after all.”

“I think you’re exactly what I’m looking for,” he replied. For some reason, Vanessa thought that sounded personal. Or maybe she was just reading her own fantasies into it. This guy really was every woman’s dream. Unfortunately, all she could afford to do was dream that fantasy, not act on it.

His eyes met hers, their unusual steely color warming. “You could try bribing me with another piece of that peach pie. Maybe a cup of coffee to go with it? I’d probably support you for president.”

She grinned. “Whoa now! Don’t tell me you’re still hungry.”

He nodded, smiling, though his expression faltered a bit, leaning toward sadness. His cynicism and professional distance seemed to desert him all of a sudden. He looked vulnerable to her, almost lost, before he turned away, pretending to focus on the empty birdhouses.

Vanessa could sense his hunger, but it wasn’t for food. It appeared to be a soul-deep need she wasn’t sure she knew how to feed, but she wished she could try. Her grandmother had warned her time and again that she took things too much to heart, that she shouldn’t think she had to try to fix everything and everybody.

Maybe, like old Billy, this man just needed someone to show him they cared and that he had a place in the world. She could do that much, surely. It had worked wonders for the bear.

Chapter 3

C lay felt the change in Vanessa’s attitude since telling her about his real reason for being here. It wasn’t anything abrupt, just an obvious softening. He would have thought it might intensify that eagerness to please she had exhibited earlier, but somehow it had the reverse effect.

Now she seemed more at ease with him, and as if she were trying to take him under her wing or something. The odd thing was, he didn’t mind.

They sat in her grandparents’ den where earlier he had used the fax to send the information to McLean. The child had been in bed for hours and the older folks had retired at ten, leaving Clay and Vanessa alone.

“We’ll go into town in the morning,” she was saying, verifying the thought he’d just had. “You’ll need to meet the chief, the council and our local force. Jurisdiction’s not much of a problem, because we keep the lines of communication open.”

“Cooperation, that’s the new byword, isn’t it? That’s what my team is all about. We have agents from six different diciplines and so far, it has worked out to our advantage.”

“Things are improving at the top levels, but also on the local scene,” she said.

He leaned back in his chair and watched her dark eyes shine as she continued in earnest, obviously proud of her role in law enforcement.

She had beautiful eyes, large and black fringed, beneath perfect eyebrows. Her voice had a quality about it that fascinated him for some reason he couldn’t quite explain. He could listen to her forever. Why had he ever thought she talked too much?

“Generally speaking, we go by North Carolina laws here on the boundary, but we have our own court system, our own police and everything. As I’ve told you, I spoke with the chief already and touched base with the sheriff. But even though you and I are already on it and will handle it anyway, protocol dictates that we be invited to run this investigation. It’s a formality I think we should observe.”

Clay nodded, attempting again to focus his attention more closely on her words instead of her mouth. It was bow-shaped, naturally rosier than her skin, not too full or bee-stung, but refined, sort of ethereal. Malleable. Kissable. With a sharp shake of his head, he yanked his thoughts back to the business at hand. “It will be your op, Vanessa, but I agree. You should go by the rules, even the unwritten ones, whenever possible.”

And so should he. Especially that one about not coming on to fellow agents, Clay decided.

He had a great deal of respect for her already. She was determined to share all she knew in order to help him understand how things were done here. Listening to her and getting her personal perspective sure beat having to research all of that.

She should be the one to set things up, show him how she interacted with local law enforcement, which she would certainly get plenty of if she took the job with COMPASS. Cooperation was the cornerstone of success in a multilevel investigation.

Along with the politics, she continued to salt in local customs and unwritten rules the Eastern Band lived by. She bragged about the tribe’s success in establishing the current constitution, their thriving new compost business and the added revenues from Harrah’s casino. A woman so proud of her community, she glowed with it.

“And that,” she said, clapping her hands once as she leaned forward, facing him over the ottoman, “is enough of local history for now.”

Clay leaned forward, too. And he kissed her.

Surprised at first, she stilled, then slowly began to participate. Her lips tasted exactly the way he’d expected, soft and generous, flavored with peaches, which he now loved, and hot, sweet coffee.

For all of two blissful seconds, she responded, opening to him like a flower to rain. Suddenly she backed off, breaking the kiss, her dark eyes wide.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she rushed to say, touching her fingertips to her bottom lip. “Really!”

“You didn’t do anything,” Clay said with a gusty sigh of regret. “I did.” He sat back, hands carefully clasped in his lap. He wished he’d grabbed a sofa cushion to better hide the evidence of his feelings. “And I didn’t mean to, either. I apologize, Vanessa. It was…just an impulse. A mistake.”

“Yeah, huge error,” she breathed. “We’d better not do it again, huh?”