SAVANNAH SECRETS
by Sheri WhiteFeather

Chapter One

Kade Crawford hadn’t expected to see Tamara Evans. Not here. Not tonight. But there she was, across the crowded room, looking like a mirage with the long, golden hair he remembered so vividly, the waves he used to twine around his fingers.

She didn’t notice him; she didn’t even glance his way. Of course, he’d taken up residence in a dimly lit corner of the mahogany bar, fading into the shadows.

Steam, the trendy blues club, was filled with people ringing in the New Year, waiting for the countdown, waiting to kiss lovers, friends and family members at the stroke of midnight.

He wondered what Tamara would do if he kissed her. He checked his watch, squinting at the timepiece. 11:36. That gave him twenty-four minutes to cozy up to his old girlfriend, to steal a kiss that would probably make him ache with boyhood humiliation.

He took a swig of his beer. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but he’d never stopped blaming himself for that disastrous night of lovemaking ten years ago, for the way Tamara had hugged the starched white sheet to her body and gazed at him with vacant eyes, with disappointment buzzing in the cheap-motel air.

“I didn’t know she was going to show up.”

Kade turned at the sound of his cousin’s voice. At thirty, Clay Crawford was a year older than Kade, and he supposed they looked like relatives. Both were tall and dark, with demanding features and deliberate smiles.

Not that Kade felt like smiling. “The hell you didn’t. This is your place. You probably invited her and her friends.”

The club owner sighed. “Maybe I did. But there’s something I think you should know. Tamara has an eight-year-old son. From what I understand, he’s a mixed-blood. But she refuses to admit who the father is.”

Kade gripped the bar. His former girlfriend had given birth to an Indian child? “Are you sure he’s only eight?”

“Positive.”

Relief…disappointment….a jack hammering burst of betrayal. Suddenly Kade couldn’t separate one emotion from another. “Her son is too young to be mine.”

“I know. And since you never came back to Savannah, I didn’t think it mattered. But you’re here now, so…”

Yes, he was here now, a decade later. To live. To work. To make Georgia his home. Kade had been born and raised on the Choctaw reservation in Mississippi, but he’d spent his teenage summers in Savannah with Clay and his ethnically diverse family.

“Maybe I should say hello to her,” he said.

“For old time’s sake?” Clay asked.

“Sure. Why not?” Kade guzzled the rest of his beer. Courage in a bottle, he thought, as he made his way across the jam-packed club. He’d tried to forget about Tamara, but their lousy lovemaking was still locked in the recesses of his mind, bruising his ego, making him wish he’d never taken her virginity all those years ago.

He approached her table, and she looked up at him. Time seemed to stop, making him numb, causing the color to drain from her face. Old memories died hard.

Her friends stared at him, but he ignored their blatant curiosity. “Would you like to dance?” he asked Tamara, wondering who’d fathered her child, wondering why her son’s Native blood bothered him so much.

“Yes, thank you,” she said, coming to her feet. Eager, it seemed, to dodge her companions and the questions in their eyes.

They squeezed onto the dance floor, bumping shoulders with other couples, crowding into the limited space. He had no choice but to move closer, to put his arm around her waist, to fall into the soul-stirring rhythm of the song.

He remembered when they used to laugh and talk, when flirting seemed natural. But their romance had ended on the night he’d convinced her to sleep with him. He’d returned to the reservation the next day, and they’d never contacted each other again. Sometimes it still seemed like a misplaced dream. A beautiful girl, a lost girl, a stranger.

“Clay didn’t tell me you were in town,” she said.

“I just got here this morning.”

“It’s been a long time, Kade.”

“Yes, it has.” He leaned forward to continue their conversation, to be heard above the blues. “I wasn’t aware that you and Clay kept in touch.” That she’d remained friends with his mixed-blood cousin.

“We see each other around the square once in a while. I work close by.”

How convenient, he thought, a fist of masculine rivalry clenching his gut. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he fathered your child.”

She jerked away from him, but he caught her wrist, stopping her from darting off. She struggled, but no one seemed to notice. The music was faster now, the beat pounding like a fast-driving rain. “It wasn’t Clay. I’d never do that to you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. Her eyes blazed with anger, with pain, with emotion so deep, he wanted to comfort her. “You didn’t deserve that.” He paused, feeling like a traitor. “And neither did Clay.”

“I think he wanted us to see each other again.”

“I think so, too.” He slid his hand down her back, skimming the ends of her hair. “I wish we could start over.”

She blinked, her lashes sweeping her cheeks. “What do you mean?”

He moved his hand lower, to the curve of her spine, along the zipper of her dress. “I could make it up to you.”

“I still don’t know what you mean.” Her voice was barely audible, a cracked whisper above the music. But even so, she swayed with him, her body mimicking his.

“The sex. It’ll be better this time.” Wolf-like, he breathed in her scent. She smelled like sandalwood and sage, not sweet and powdery like before. She’d changed, and so had he. “Much better.”

She froze in his arms. “You’re proposing an affair?”

“Yes.” He wanted a chance to make her come, to mewl, to melt, to claw his skin and make him bleed. He wanted everything they’d lost the first time, the anticipation of a hot, hip-grinding orgasm. The incredible moment of looking into her eyes, of knowing he’d satisfied her.

Suddenly the music stopped, and Kade realized why. Midnight was creeping in.

The singer pumped up the partygoers, reminding them that the countdown was only a minute away. Hundreds of people clutched noisemakers and raised champagne glasses high in the air, waiting to scream and cheer and toast the New Year.

And then it happened. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…

The club exploded with gleeful shouts, confetti bursting from the ceiling, balloons falling from nets. Kade and Tamara gazed at each other, flecks of paper settling in their hair, his proposition sizzling between them, burning his heart like fire.

Without another thought, he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her, open-mouthed and carnal, tongue to tongue, warm and wet and drenched with lust.

But the heat didn’t last. She shoved him away with breathless force, and he staggered and bumped into someone on the dance floor. When he regained his footing, Tamara was gone.

He cursed and pushed his way through the crowd, but when he saw her heading for the door, he let her go. Her friends rushed after her, darting wary glances back at him, making him feel like the worst kind of bastard.

Much too alone, Kade ordered another drink and tried to forget that he’d kissed her, even though the taste of her still lingered in his mind.

Chapter Two

On Friday afternoon, Tamara struggled to stay focused, to keep her mind on her job. Finally her day ended, so she grabbed her purse and dragged her exhausted butt out the door, hating herself for feeling this way, for letting her emotions interfere with her work.

Weary, she attempted to walk to her car, then bumped straight into Kade.

Her heart nearly stopped. He looked tall and dark and dangerous, with his frayed jeans and bomber jacket, his hair blowing across his forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

She buttoned her coat. The weatherman had predicted rain, and she expected the sky to open up at any minute and shower them with confetti, making her relive that kiss all over again. “This isn’t a good idea.”

He stepped forward. They stood on the sidewalk, surrounded by brick buildings. “I just want to talk.”

“About what? My life? My child? What I’ve been doing for the past ten years?”

She glanced back at the bistro, which was located downtown, just blocks from Steam. “I’m a chef, and my son’s name is Nicholas, but I call him Nicky.”

He followed her gaze to the restaurant. “I already know where you work. Clay told me.”

Did he already know her son’s name, too? “I heard you were a pilot.” A man who flew private jets, who glided above the earth.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” He managed a small smile. “I was a kid from the rez, and you were a kitchen assistant at Crofthaven. ”

Tamara nodded, memories clouding her mind. Crofthaven was a seaside mansion owned by the Danforths, a prestigious family that dominated Savannah society. She’d gotten a job there because her parents had been friends with a higher-up on the household staff. “Abraham Danforth is running for State Senator.”

“I know. I read about his campaign in the paper.” Kade paused, pondering the Danforth patriarch. “I used to feel threatened by his sons. I used to worry that one of them would notice you.”

“Really?” Her pulse reacted to his admission, fluttering girlishly at her neck, making her feel young and foolish. “You never told me that.”

“I didn’t want to lose you to some fancy rich guy. But I lost you anyway. Just like the other night.” He pushed his hair away from his eyes. The ebony strands were still blowing in disarray, framing the contours of his face. “Why did you leave me alone on New Year’s Eve? Why did you take off like that?”

Cautious, she studied his features, the proud cut of his jaw, the razor-edged slash of his cheekbones, the slightly prominent nose. “Why do you think?”

“Because I kissed you. Because I asked you to have an affair.” He moved closer, so close a note of his cologne got caught in the breeze, swirling around her like an ill-fated dream.

“You can’t just come back ten years later and expect me to sleep with you.”

“Why not?”

“You hurt me, Kade.”

His gaze locked onto hers. “We hurt each other.”

She struggled to break eye contact, to stop him from bending her to his will . “I don’t remember hurting you.” She remembered waiting by the phone, praying it would ring. “You never called.”

His expression turned dark, as gloomy as the clouds hovering in the sky, making him look like a rebel, a warrior fighting for his pride. He jammed his hands in his pockets, shrugging deeper into the leather. “You didn’t call me, either.”

“I thought about it, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to make things right.” And her attempt to see him later had failed. But how could she tell Kade about that? How could she admit how lost she’d been? How much she’d missed him?

“Don’t you want to erase those old memories?” he asked. “Don’t you want to make it better this time?”

Yes, she did. But it was the destruction she wanted to erase, the scar of rejection, of loving someone who’d walked away. “I’ve had good sex since then.”

His jaw tensed. “With who? The father of your child? The other Indian guy?”

He held her gaze. “Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“His heritage shouldn’t matter,” she said, even though she knew it did. She’d slept with Nicky’s father because he reminded her of Kade. It was the reason she’d brought him to her hotel room. A one-night stand, a reckless decision, a stranger who’d become far too important.

Kade didn’t respond, so she assessed his brown skin and almond-shaped eyes, wishing he’d stop casting stones, wishing he understood. “How many white women have you been with?”

“A lot, but that isn’t the same as you--”

“Yes, it is,” she shot back. “Double standards don’t apply.”

“Fine.” He dropped the subject, but he still seemed tense.

She opened her purse and dug around for her keys. She was already living with a painful secret, protecting the man who’d given her a child, harboring his guilt, fighting her own. She couldn’t bear for Kade to condemn her, too. “I have to go.”

“No. wait.” His voice softened. “Not like this.”

She closed her overstuffed bag, forcing the zipper, making the task more difficult than it should have been. “Why? So you can talk me into an affair?”

“Because the past still haunts me.” Rain started drizzling from the sky, sprinkling his jacket, dusting her coat, leaving them staring at each other through the mist. “What went wrong? Why couldn’t we make it work?”

Tamara took a ragged breath, wondering how it would feel to be with him, to put her head on his shoulder and take comfort in his touch. A piece of damp hair was plastered to his face, cutting across his cheekbone, creating another shadow, another hollow depth. “All I wanted was for you to hold me afterward.”

“You pulled away from me,” he countered. “You grabbed the sheet and hugged your knees to your chest.”

Because she’d felt dirty, used, inadequate. “I was young, idealistic. I expected too much.”

“And I was quick and clumsy. I didn’t know how to be a good lover then.” When the rain increased, he took her arm and guided her to an awning, providing shelter, offering promises. “I’ll hold you this time. I’ll give you what you need.”

“For how long?” she asked.

“For as long as you want. I’m moving here.”

Her heart picked up speed, vibrating her voice, making her knees weak. “I thought you were visiting.”

“No, I plan to stay. I accepted a job in Savannah.”

“Why?” was all she could think to ask.

“I’m not sure. Maybe I wanted to hang out with my cousin again. Or maybe I missed being near you.” He reached out to skim her cheek, grazing her skin, leaving her breathless. “Maybe you were the only girl who ever really mattered.”

And maybe he was feeding her romantic lies. Maybe she was a fool to consider his proposal. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself from wanting him, from taking a chance. “I can’t believe I’m letting this happen.

“Letting what happen?” he asked, running his thumb across her mouth, warming her even more.

“Us. The affair.”

He searched her gaze, his eyes filled with hope, with hunger. “Does that mean you’re willing to be with me?”

“Yes,” she said. Because deep down, she needed what he was offering. The grown-up sex, the intimacy, the freedom of letting him go when she decided it was over. “But this time it’s going to be different.”

Because this time, Tamara Evans refused to fall in love.

Chapter Three

On Saturday night Kade felt like a moonstruck kid. Nervous, he stood on Tamara’s porch, adjusting the flower in his hand. She lived in a quaint little cottage in the Isle of Hope, where old neighborhoods and new homes created picturesque communities.

He knocked on the door, and Tamara answered the summons wearing a short black dress and heels. Half of her hair was pinned up, and the other half fell in silky waves. He assumed the untamed look was deliberate. He liked it. A lot. Too much, he supposed. He wanted to drag her against his body and kiss her senseless.

“Hi,” she said. “Come in.”

He stepped inside and handed her the rose. They’d agreed to start their affair with a date, so he’d made reservations at a waterfront restaurant. It seemed strange to be taking a chef out to dinner, but he didn’t know what else to do.

She thanked him for the flower, and he glanced around. Her cottage was decorated in shades of tan and blue, with pinstriped couches and shabby-chic woods. He noticed a handful of video games scattered on the floor in front of the TV, an ever-present reminder that she had an eight-year-old son.

“Is Nicky with your parents?” he asked.

“Yes. He’s spending the night at their house.”

“And you’re spending the night with me.” He blew out the breath he’d been holding. “I have a room at the Twin Oaks for later. So you should probably pack a few things, if you haven’t already.”

She fussed with the leaves on the rose. She seemed nervous, too. “I don’t want to go to a hotel.”

“But I don’t have my own place yet. I’m staying with Clay, and I can’t take you there.”

She made a face. “A hotel will make me feel cheap.”

A bit lost, he shifted his feet. He’d never been good at figuring women out. He got laid often enough, but that didn’t make him an expert. It just made him lucky. Or sort of lucky, he thought. He’d never had a lasting relationship, and he knew there was more to life than unattached sex. “So what do you want to do?”

“We can sleep here.” She gestured to the hallway, where hardwood floors led to a sea-shelled bathroom and several closed doors. “In my room.”

He wasn’t about to argue, even if he didn’t understand her logic. He’d assumed that her bedroom would be off limits. That it would be too homey, too personal. Too emotional for a scheduled affair.

“Why don’t we stay in for the whole evening?” She clutched the flower to her chest, almost tangling the petals in the loose strands of her hair. “I can fix a nice meal. My fridge is always stocked.”

“If that’s what you’d prefer, it’s fine with me.” Maybe she needed the comfort of home, of having more control over the situation. Maybe her cozy little cottage made her feel safe.

She moved toward the kitchen, a bright yet functional room with stainless steel appliances, a bay window and granite countertops. “I’m going to put this in a vase, then change into something more comfortable. I’m not in a pantyhose sort of mood. I don’t know why I wore this dress to begin with.”

“No problem.” Once again, he decided not to disagree with her preferences. “While you’re doing that, I’ll bring my overnight bag in. Just in case I forget later.” And get caught without protection, he thought.

Feeling anxious, Kade went out to his car. He’d packed a variety of condoms. He wanted everything to be perfect and he didn’t know if ribbed or lubricated or ultra thin would matter to Tamara. Hell, he’d even tossed in the flavored kind.

He stuffed the protection into his pockets and remained outside for a while, wondering what she would think if she knew how obsessed he was.

By the time he returned to the house and placed his overnight bag in an inconspicuous spot, she’d changed into a pair of silky pants and a matching top. He wasn’t an authority on women’s fashions, but he thought her outfit looked like pajamas. But either way, he liked what he saw. The bright blue fabric matched the color of her eyes, and her hair was still flowing like a waterfall, half up and half down.

“How about pasta?” she asked. “And maybe some pan-fried scallops and crusty bread?” She tilted her head. “Do you like artichoke hearts? I can fry them with the scallops.”

“All of it sounds great.” He hung out in the kitchen while she started the meal, and the domestic setting made him feel like he belonged in her house. “This was a good idea.”

“I think so, too.” She prepared a cream sauce for the pasta. “Did you cancel our dinner reservations?”

“No, but I’ll do that now.” After she directed him to a phone in the living room, he made the call, then glanced up and spotted a picture of her son on the fireplace mantel. It was a happy photograph of a dark-eyed, dark-haired boy grinning at the camera. Nicky’s mixed-blood roots weren’t hard to miss. Much too affected by the child’s image, Kade stepped back, wondering what tribe he was from, wondering if Tamara had tried to teach him about his heritage.

Troubled, he told himself not to think about the mysterious circumstances associated with her son. He knew he should stop stressing about who’d fathered the boy. But even so, he wanted to ask Tamara who the other man was. He wanted a name, a description, something he could compete with. Yet he knew those questions would destroy the anticipation of being in each other’s arms, of making long-lost love.

Silent, Kade went back to the kitchen. The air smelled heavenly, and the woman at the stove hummed quietly to herself. He came up behind her and nuzzled her neck, taking possession of the girl from his past. She made a pleasured sound and turned to face him.

“Here.” She dipped into the saucepan and fed him from a wooden spoon.

As the creamy flavor melted on his tongue, he gazed into her eyes and saw a reflection of his own desire, a need to touch and be touched.

She finished cooking, and they sat across from each other, enjoying the homemade cuisine in her dining room. The table was dressed with linen napkins, a blue candle and the rose he’d given her.

She looked delicate in the pale light, as fragile as the night he’d taken her virginity. Only this time, he was determined to do right by her. To make the romance real.

Chapter Four

Tamara sat across from Kade, sipping the last of her wine, feeling self-conscious. They’d finished their meal, but they remained at the table, with Kade watching every move she made, his gaze absorbing her like a sponge.

“Do you still believe in fairy tales?” he asked.

Confused by his question, she fidgeted with her glass, wishing she’d prepared dessert, another course to serve, another reason to keep busy, to stop her heart from latching onto his. “What do you mean?”

“Sleeping Beauty, Prince Charming. You know, the stuff girls dream about.”

“I’m not a girl anymore.” She was a grown woman, a single mother raising a beautiful little boy who missed having a father. “I grew out of that phase.”

“Why? Because of me?” When he leaned forward, candlelight flickered in his eyes. “Because I hurt you?”

“Maybe, but it was a lesson I needed to learn.” She rose to clear the table, to break away from the candle, from his eyes, from the concern in his voice.

“You fantasized about romance. You dreamed about happily-ever-after, about losing your virginity on your wedding night.” He carried his plate to the sink. “But I spoiled that for you.”

“A lot of girls get sidetracked by that dream.” She turned to face him, trying to absolve him of his guilt. “And I’m still single, so what difference does a wedding night make?”

He slipped his arms around her waist, bringing her closer, holding her. “That doesn’t mean you should stop believing in fairy tales. You’ll get married someday. You’ll find the right guy, and he’ll be lucky to have you.”

She could feel his heart pounding, beating next to hers. Temptation. Tenderness. A man comforting a woman. She put her head on his shoulder, then took his hand and led him down the hall, needing more than solace.

His boots sounded on the hardware floor, dark and heavy, strong and masculine. Once they were inside her room, he stood beside the bed for a moment, gazing at the mosquito netting draped from the ceiling.

“It’s pretty,” he said, moving forward to touch the filmy fabric.

She couldn’t think of anything to say. A golden light glinted off his clothes, spilling from a nearby lamp. When he turned to look at her, he smiled. The same smile that used to make her weak. Boyish charm. And too much testosterone. Her head swam with it.

He stuck his hands into his front pockets and removed a colorful array of foil packets, tossing them onto the bed. They sparkled like glitter, like jewels from a sex-induced sea.

“Your choice,” he said.

She wondered how he’d managed to make condoms so appealing. Curious, she studied each packet, then grinned when she spotted the chocolate-flavored prophylactic. “This one.”

He raised his eyebrows, and they both laughed. “Maybe I should have brought some toys, too.”

“Toys?” She watched him unbutton his shirt. His chest was strong and smooth, sculptured with well-toned muscle. She glanced at his navel. A place to tease, she thought. An indentation to kiss.

“Foreplay dice, furry handcuffs, body oil.” He undid his trousers, opening the zipper a little.

Tamara gulped air into her lungs. He wasn’t wearing underwear. She could see a beguiling shadow of hair. “Foreplay dice?”

“It’s a game.” Instead of taking off his pants, he started undressing her, going after the buttons on her blouse, letting the silk slide against her skin. “You roll the dice and follow the commands.”

Sensual commands, she thought. Naughty words. Grown-up lust. She wondered how it would feel to obey the dice. “Do you really have all those toys?” she asked, glancing at his fly, wanting to look at him again.

“No, but I’ve seen them at sex shops. Or adult book stores or whatever they’re called.”

She noticed he was hard, straining against the partially open zipper. “I’ve never been in those kinds of places.”

He unhooked her bra. “Maybe we could go shopping together sometime.”

“Maybe,” she parroted, reaching into his pants and making him moan.

They tumbled onto the bed, pushing the rejected condoms out of the way, peeling off the rest of their clothes, discarding them onto the floor. When she was naked, he pinned her arms above her head, holding her there, keeping her prisoner. She thought about the furry handcuffs he’d mentioned, and he smiled.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

Her skin turned warm. He was looking at her with affection in his eyes, yet he was leaning over her, lowering his head to kiss her, to suck her tongue into his mouth. Kinky sex, romance…she wanted it all. And she wanted it with him.

He tasted warm and wet and intoxicating, as exotic as the wine they’d drunk. He whispered something in her ear. Choctaw words, a language she couldn’t understand. But even so, the sentiment remained clear. He longed to please her, to sweep her into the fairy tale she’d lost.

He touched her. Everywhere. Caressing with his hands, molding her like wax, like the blue candle that had illuminated his eyes. But before Tamara could melt onto the bed, he pushed her legs apart and licked between her thighs, making her gasp, shocking her into bad-girl submission.

Did Prince Charming do this to Sleeping Beauty when no one was watching? Did he put his mouth all over her? Was he wild and wicked and overflowing with charm?

Much too aroused, Tamara threaded her hands through Kade’s hair, taking what he gave her. She liked the fantasy that spun in her mind, the excitement of lifting her hips, of showing him how good it felt. While she drifted on a dream, he deepened each kiss, showering her with intimacy, with heat, with a climax so deep, her body convulsed.

When it ended, she gave him a liquid smile, and he touched her face, telling her how beautiful she was. She put her arms around him, and they held each other, steeped in new memories.

He reached for the protection she’d chosen, fitting it onto his body. She assumed the flavored condom had been designed for fellatio, so she teased him with her tongue, then took him into her mouth. He tasted sweet, as though he’d been dipped in chocolate, an erotic treat for a woman to enjoy.

His stomach muscles jumped, and she knew the oral stimulation pleased him, even through the latex. Within no time, he was dragging her up, straddling her.

They rolled over the bed, bunching the sheets, nearly pulling the mosquito netting from the ceiling. She wrapped her legs around him, gripping his waist. His penetration was like a drug, a craving she couldn’t control. She wanted him so badly, she almost wept.

And then it happened. She lost herself in the moment, in the man, in the fantasy he’d created. Mesmerized, he watched her, drinking her in, letting the pressure build. She could feel his gaze, feel him pushing toward his own climax, staking his claim. Possessing her, she thought. Tempting her to break her vow.

To fall in love all over again.

Chapter Five

As a muted gray light filtered through the blinds, Tamara awakened next to Kade. Curious to watch her lover sleep, she raised herself up on an elbow to look at him. His hair fell across his forehead in slumber-tossed strands and a faint shadow of beard stubble gave him a rebellious edge. Sometime during the night, he’d pushed away the blanket, but managed to keep the top sheet, which was bunched around his hips.

She reached out to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her fingers, but she pulled back, laden with fear. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him again.

She glanced around the room. Her room. Her domain. She’d worked hard to make a life for herself, to build her career, to give her son a healthy, happy home. And she’d worked just as hard to forget Kade, to shake him from her blood, to push him out of her heart.

Maybe she should wake him up and tell him this was a mistake, insist that he leave and never come back. That they weren’t meant to--

Suddenly, he opened his eyes, blinking and squinting, stretching his arms, nearly grazing the side of her body. Then he focused on her and smiled.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” She pulled the blanket up, covering her nakedness, pressing the fabric against her nipples, much too aware of the sexuality humming between them, the morning-after memories.

His expression turned deep. Emotional. Much too consuming. And when he touched a strand of her hair, she couldn’t tell him to leave. She couldn’t let him go.

“You’re so pretty,” he said.

She let the blanket slip. The way he was looking at her made her feel pretty. Sweetly tumbled from last night, her hair falling in disarray, the long wavy pieces cascading over her shoulders, skimming the tops of her breasts.

He dropped his gaze, then leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers. She put her arms around him and slid her fingers down his spine. They rubbed against each other, memorizing this moment, letting it seep into their pores.

Desire. Mind-numbing lust.

Without words, without pretence, they took what they wanted, what they needed, what they couldn’t seem to control. He used a lubricated condom, making her wetter than she already was. She could feel him moving inside her, stroking her, stealing her heart.

This wasn’t her fault, she thought, as he bewitched her, as his tongue claimed hers. She hadn’t actually fallen in love with him again. It was more complicated than that. Somewhere deep down, she’d never stopped loving him. He’d always been there, drifting outside the realm of her world, making her ache.

He roamed her body, caressing her, kissing her, leaving her breathless. Dizzy, she clung to him, her nails piercing his skin, marking him with pain and passion, with conflict and confusion. He increased the tempo, thrusting deeper, filling her completely.

Was she trapped? Locked in an affair that would only end up hurting her?

They rolled over the bed, switching positions. Whirlwind lovers. Another forbidden fairy tale, another fantasy. He tangled his hands in her hair and mounted her like a stallion, biting the back of her neck--a nibble, a nudge, a feral taste.

She looked up and caught sight of their reflections in the closet-door mirror. She could see every detail, every erotic motion, every desperate stroke. Was he fighting his feelings, too? Or was this just sex to him? Animal heat?

Before Tamara could close her eyes and block out the mirror, he tugged on her hair again, turning her face so he could kiss her, so he could push her over the edge.

She tried to stop it from happening, but she couldn’t. He was behind her, pummeling her with power, with white-hot flames, with the kind of lovemaking that ravaged her common sense, reminding her of the night she’d cried for him, longing for his touch.

The lost and lonely night she’d conceived her son.

# # #

Kade stood in the kitchen, watching Tamara make a pot of coffee. They’d showered together and now she was dressed in a pink sweater and jeans, her damp hair drying in soft, golden waves. She looked beautiful. And much too distant.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked.

She glanced up, nearly spilling the coffee grounds. “What?”

“Angry,” he repeated. “Are you upset with me?” He wanted to move closer, but he was worried about invading her space. He’d felt the same way in the shower. Even though she’d let him wash her hair, she’d seemed withdrawn. A woman hiding her discomfort, claiming the shampoo suds had made her teary-eyed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” She poured water into the machine, resuming her task, hiding again.

“Are you sure?” He released a choppy breath. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

She blinked at him. “With my hair?”

“In bed.” He couldn’t bear to think that he’d hurt her in some way, that he’d left her feeling bruised or battered.

“It wasn’t that.” She reached into the cabinet and set two cups on the counter. When she paused, the window illuminated her, casting a wintry glow. “I’m just getting attached to you again.”

“And you think I’m not?” Did she think he was that cold? That shallow? He’d always needed her, even the first time they’d made love. He’d pressured her all summer about it. But he’d assumed that sleeping together would be a commitment, the next phase in their relationship. Something a teenage boy with raging hormones couldn’t quit thinking about. “This is more than sex.”

“How much more?” she asked, putting him on the spot.

“I don’t know.” He answered as honestly as he could, wishing her eyes weren’t so blue, so watery, so wounded. “You confuse me, Tamara. You have an eight-year-old son with a man you won’t even talk about.”

“It wouldn’t do any good to tell you who Nicky’s father is.” She turned away, watching the coffee drip into the glass carafe. The fresh-perked aroma filled the room, swirling in the tension-laced air. “It wouldn’t solve a thing.”

Her loyalty to a nameless, faceless man made Kade’s blood boil. He wanted to punch the nearest wall, to jam his fist through the plaster and shatter it. “Does he help you? Does he pay child support? Is he there when your kid needs a new pair of shoes?”

“He doesn’t know about Nicky.” She poured the coffee, her hand shaking with the effort. “I didn’t tell him.”

“Why the hell not?” He nearly grabbed her hand, stilling her jittery movements. But he couldn’t bring himself to touch her, to hold her, to give her the comfort she needed.

“Because I’m afraid it would hurt Nicky. That my son wouldn’t fit into his father’s life. That too many problems would occur.” She released an audible breath. “The man I slept with begged me to keep our affair a secret, to never mention his name to anyone. And for now, I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“For now?” He squinted at her. “Is this subject to change?”

“I promised Nicky that we’d talk about it when he’s old enough to understand.”

He moved closer, wondering about her mysterious liaison, wondering what the other man was hiding. “Does Nicky know anything about his dad?”

She added cream to Kade’s cup, fixing it the way he liked it, the way a wife would do for her husband. “I gave him an edited version, something a boy his age can comprehend.”

He took the hot drink from her, their fingers brushing lightly in the exchange. Did she know how nurturing she was? How domestic? “Maybe you’re wrong about this guy. Maybe he’d want to get to know his son.”

Her voice broke a little. “Even if he did, it’s a complicated situation. There’s someone else involved, someone close to Nicky’s father.” She met his gaze, her eyes filled with hope, with anticipation. “But I’d like you to get to know Nicky. I’d like you to meet him.”

Caught off guard, he took a step back. “Me?”

“Yes,” she said, practically pleading with him to accept her mixed-blood child. “You.”

Chapter Six

Kade remained at Tamara’s house to meet her son, wishing he had more experience with kids. But he’d lived a bachelor’s life, rarely interacting with childrearing families. He glanced at his watch, knowing the boy was supposed to arrive at eleven.

“He’ll be here soon,” Tamara said.

Kade studied his lover. As usual, she bustled around the stove. “Is that his favorite treat?” he asked, indicating the peanut butter cookie batter.

She nodded, then added eggs to the mixture. She seemed calmer now, cozy and warm in her kitchen, preparing something sweet for her child. “It won’t spoil his lunch. He has a good appetite.”

Just then, the back door flew open and the child in question breezed into the room, removing his jacket and dumping his backpack on the counter. “Grandma can’t stay. She’s just dropping me off.”

“That’s fine.” Tamara stopped what she was doing to give him a motherly hug. “Did you notice we had company?”

Apparently the boy hadn’t. He caught sight of Kade, and his eyes grew wide. Kade wasn’t sure what to say, so he did what he would do in any social situation. He initiated a handshake and introduced himself.

Nicky was more than receptive to the masculine greeting, even if he appeared shy. He was a good-looking kid, with a long, lean body and straight dark hair. He didn’t resemble his fair-skinned mother, which meant he favored his father, but Kade had already seen a picture of Nicky, so he wasn’t surprised.

They both fell silent after that, reminding Kade that this was the first time he’d tried to communicate with an eight-year-old. Nicky wasn’t faring much better. He shuffled his feet, as though he wasn’t used to his mom having male visitors. But even so, he seemed enraptured by Kade, awed by his presence.

Instant idol worship?

“Guess what, Nicky?” Tamara said, finally breaking the tension. “Kade’s a pilot.”

The boy didn’t respond, but he seemed genuinely interested. Big dark eyes. Rapt attention.

A bit nervous, Kade went ahead and expounded on his job. He’d never fancied himself anyone’s hero. “I don’t start until next week, but I’ll be flying a corporate jet for a company called NCD. They develop commercial properties all over the United States. Shopping centers and things like that.” He paused, hoping he wasn’t talking over the youngster’s head. “Do you like planes?”

“Yeah. A lot.” Nicky inched closer. “I build models. Do you want to see them?”

“I’d love to. If it’s all right with your mom.” Kade glanced at Tamara and noticed she’d been watching the exchange.

“It’s fine with me.” She offered a tender smile, thanking him for getting to know her son, even in a simple way. “But be sure to come back when the cookies are ready.”

“We will, ” Nicky promised before he led Kade down the hall.

They turned into a room bursting with color: red-and-white bunk beds, a functional blue desk, a braided area rug with green and yellow trim. A few toys were scattered on the floor, and model planes were displayed on every shelf.

“This is a nice setup.” Kade reached for a F-4U Corsair. “Do you put these together all by yourself?”

“Sometimes my grandpa helps. He taught me all about World War II planes.” Nicky picked up another model. “This one is a P38 Lightening. It’s my favorite.”

“I can see why.” Kade turned his attention to the P38. “Did you know the Germans used to call it the Fork-tailed Devil?”

They talked about combat aircraft for a while, examining each model, discussing details. But before long, Nicky sat on the edge of the bottom bunk, his expression somber. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to get mad?”

A bit confused, Kade sat on the bed, too, bringing himself closer to Nicky’s level.

He couldn’t imagine what had caused the boy such distress. “Of course not. You can tell me whatever you want.”

“I used to pretend you were my dad.”

Anxiety gripped him hard and quick. That was the last thing he had expected to hear, a confession he hadn’t been prepared for. He took a deep breath, tempted to put his hand on the child’s shoulder, to administer some sort of affection. “Why did you pretend that?”

“Cause I’ve known about you for a long time. My mom has lots of pictures of you in a photo album, and when I was little I asked her who you were and she said you were her old boyfriend. She told me your name and stuff.” He picked a plastic army man off the floor. “You kind of look like you could be my dad.”

“Did you tell your mom that?”

“Yeah, but she said you weren’t.” He wiggled the soldier’s arms. “So I guess that means you’re not, huh?”

“No, Nicky, I’m not.” And it made him sad that he wasn’t. That he couldn’t offer Tamara’s child something other than disappointment. “But I know how you feel. I didn’t have a dad, either. He died when I was a baby. There aren’t very many men in my family.”

“Mine, neither. Except my grandpa. Do you know my grandpa?”

Kade nodded. “I met him and your grandma when I was dating your mom. I’m from Mississippi, but I used to visit my cousin here.” And he’d spent two teenaged summers with Tamara, getting to know her, developing their relationship. “It was tough when I went home because I missed your mom. Of course, we used to call each other and write letters, but that isn’t the same.”

“How come you broke up?”

Because everything had fallen apart that last summer, he thought. Because he’d convinced her to have sex before she was ready, shattering their romance, leaving them both feeling empty. “We just stopped being friends, I guess. It happens sometimes.”

“I already knew you were from Mississippi. From the Choctaw reservation.” Nicky discarded the toy. “My mom says it’s nice. That it’s not poor or anything.”

“That’s right. The Mississippi band is a successful nation. Some Indians are struggling, but my tribe owns businesses, enterprises that employ a lot of people.”

“It’s my tribe, too.”

Another shock, another unexpected confession. “It is?”

Nicky nodded. “My dad is from the reservation. That’s another reason why I used to pretend you were him.” He tilted his head, then pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “My mom said they hardly knew each other, but God decided to give them a baby anyway.”

Kade frowned, trying to grasp his emotions. There were over five hundred federally recognized tribes in the United States, so how in the hell did Tamara end up with someone from his nation?

“I wish God would’ve decided to make me your baby.”

Sick at heart, he put his arm around Tamara’s son, holding him close. “Me, too,” he said, fighting his lover’s secret, anxious to know the truth.

To discover who had fathered the child that should have belonged to him.

Chapter Seven

The following day, Tamara arrived at Forsyth Park. Kade had called her that morning asking her to meet him there. So here she was, surrounded by trees and shrubs, looking for her lover amid a scatter of benches. She spotted him in the distance, wearing a windbreaker and jeans, his hair blowing in the brisk air. He was just where he said he’d be, near the fountain, the focal point of the historic park.

As she approached, he glanced up, and her heart stuck in her throat. Handsome Kade. Troubled Kade. He wore his emotions on his sleeve.

“I brought coffee.” She reached into a white paper bag and removed a disposable cup with a plastic lid. “Cappuccino.”

“Thanks.” His eyes seemed catlike, mesmerizing.

She waited for him to blink, to break the spell. But he didn’t. So she sat next to him, realizing he would have that effect on her for the rest of her life. “I can stay as long as you’d like. I have the day off.”

“Did Nicky tell you what we talked about yesterday?”

She nodded, took a sip of her drink, wished her pulse wasn’t playing ping-pong with her heart. “I didn’t know he used to pretend that you were his father. He was so young when he asked me about your pictures, when I told him about you.” She paused, searched his gaze. “Are you upset about it?”

“No.” Kade’s voice turned rough, ardent, affectionate. “He’s an amazing kid. And I’m honored by the way he feels. I wish--”

“That he was yours?”

“Yes.”

She blinked back tears. Nicky had told her that, too. But she needed to hear it from Kade. She needed confirmation from the man who’d charmed her son, the man who was looking at her with wariness in his eyes. “But that’s not why you asked me to come here, is it?”

“I want to know who his father is.”

“He’s from your reservation.”

“Nicky already told me that.”

“Yes, of course.” She fidgeted with her cup, knowing she owed him an explanation. “I went to the reservation to see you. The summer after we broke up.”

“A year later? Why?”

“Because it was our season, the time we used to spend together. And I was lonely for you.” She glanced away, caught sight of the fountain, the water spilling into the pool. “I tried to get over you. I tried so hard to forget. But I couldn’t. You were always there, clamoring at my heart.”

The wariness turned to discomposure, to an uneasy admission. “It was like that for me, too.”

“Then you should understand.”

“That you slept with another guy on my rez?” He shook his head. “How the hell did that happen?”

Memories assaulted her, whipping through her like the wind. “I went to your house, but no one was there. I spoke to a neighbor, a middle-aged woman. She said your mom had just left, to go shopping or something. And you--” Her voice cracked. “You’d enlisted in the air force. But she said that was a good thing, because you’d been running wild before that. Drinking, carousing, messing around with too many girls. I guess she thought I was one of your groupies. She wasn’t very kind.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “She shouldn’t have disrespected you.”

“But she did. And all I could think about were those other girls.”

“I was trying to get you out of my system.”

“And I was trying to win you back. To tell you how much I missed you. But you were gone.” She set her coffee on the ground. It was burning her stomach, intensifying her pain. “I returned to the hotel. The Silver Star. It was new then. A big, imposing place that made me feel even more alone.” He didn’t say anything, so she continued. “I went up to my room and cried. And when I couldn’t cry anymore, I fixed my face and took the elevator to the casino.”

“And what did you do there?” he asked, studying her, waiting for her to mention Nicky’s father.

“I was too young to gamble, so I wandered around, pretending I was old enough to be there. And then I literally bumped into someone. A young man. My heart nearly stopped. Because when I looked up at him, he reminded me of you.”

He shifted on the bench, blew out a deep, hard breath. “And?”

“And he steadied my shoulders. He asked if I was all right.” She clutched the hem of her jacket. “I couldn’t function. I started crying again.” She looked at Kade, saw that he was still watching her. “He put his arms around me. He held me while I cried, but he didn’t press me for information. He seemed out of sorts, too. Like he was struggling with a personal issue, as well. He offered to buy me dinner in the hotel, but we didn’t confide in each other. Not until the next morning.”

“You slept with him that night?”

“Yes. I invited him to my room. And when we made love, I imagined he was you. He didn’t have any protection with him, but I said I didn’t care. He didn’t care, either. We were both feeling lost, desperate, reckless.”

“Tell me the rest.” Kade gripped the cup in his hand. “Tell me about him.”

“He was engaged to be married. But I didn’t know that until the next morning. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have invited him to my room.” Remorse tightened her chest. “I wouldn’t have taken solace in his arms. Not with a man who belonged to someone else.”

He frowned at her. “Why did he cheat?”

“Because he was confused. He’d gone to the casino to gamble, to forget about his life for one night. His fiancée was his high school sweetheart. She was the only girl he’d ever been with. He was twenty-one years old, feeling trapped. Afraid. Uncertain about his future.” Tamara closed her eyes for a moment. “But the next morning, he knew he’d made a mistake. He was sick inside, guilty, hating himself. He loved his girlfriend, and he begged me to keep our affair a secret.”

“Did you tell him about me?”

“Yes, but I didn’t mention your name. Only that I was in love with a Choctaw boy who’d left town. But as we talked, we realized that you probably knew each other. That you went to the same high school as him and his girlfriend.”

Kade flinched, and she could see how hurt he was, how angry, how frustrated. She wanted to touch him, but she knew she couldn’t.

“How could you keep the affair a secret?” he asked, his tone hard, his features tense. “How could you protect a man who cheated on his fiancée?”

“He promised he’d never do it again. That he was going to marry her and be a loyal husband. And I believed him. I knew he loved her. I could feel it.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself, fighting for shallow comfort. “And at that point, I didn’t even consider that I might get pregnant. I was too emotional to think clearly. ”

“What about me? How am I supposed to accept this no-named man? Do you know what’s going to happen every time I go back to Mississippi to visit my family? I’ll be looking for him, wondering about every guy I went to high school with.”

“Why can’t you let it go? He’s gone from my life, and I’m gone from his. It was one night. One weak moment.”

“Damn it, Tamara. I need the truth. I need to know his name.”

“Why? So you can see him on the rez and hate him for sleeping with me? For taking your place when you weren’t there?”

Silent, Kade tore his gaze away, shutting her out, retreating to his despair, to the unanswered questions in his mind.

Equally silent, she rose from the bench, knowing they were drifting apart, that history was repeating itself. That she was losing the man she loved all over again.

Chapter Eight

Tamara glanced at the clock in the living room and adjusted a crocheted afghan around her legs. Drinking herbal tea hadn’t helped her relax, so she’d finally accepted her fate: the sofa at midnight, the TV on mute and the wind howling through the trees.

She tried to think of something besides Kade, but her mind refused to cooperate. Was he in bed? Or was he socializing with his club-owner cousin? Listening to live music? Having a second shot of bourbon?

If she dialed his cell phone, would he hear it ring?

She turned up the TV, but the chipper voices in the madcap comedy only made her lonelier, so she pushed the mute button again, wishing she could fall asleep, wishing slumber would sweep her into oblivion.

When a knock sounded at the door, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Leaving the afghan on the sofa, she rose to look through the peephole.

Kade.

With a deep, anxious breath, she opened the door. He waited on the other side, looking tired and tousled, his hair dark and messy, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Tamara could only imagine how she looked, with her pale nightgown and colorless skin, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

She invited him in, and they stood in the middle of the room, trapped in an awkward moment, the television screen flickering with soundless images.

“I know I shouldn’t be here at this hour,” he said. “But I had to see you.”

“It’s okay.” He seemed like a figment of her imagination, with his black sweater and fraying jeans, his expression as intense as the weather, as the branches scratching the window. “Were you at the club?”

He nodded, jamming his hands in his pockets. “Is Nicky asleep?”

“Yes. He’s been down for hours.” Should she tell him that she’d been thinking about him? That she’d considered calling? “I decided to stay up for a while.”

He took a step toward her, his boots hard and heavy on the wood floor. “And I decided it doesn’t matter.”

Chilled, she crossed her arms, unsure of what he meant. The emotion between them drifted like a ghost, floating softly, haunting the night. He reached out to touch her, but he wasn’t close enough to connect with her skin. He grasped the air, emptiness flooding through his fingers.

“What doesn’t matter?” she asked.

“His name.” He closed the gap. Another step, another thud from his boots. “I don’t need to know who he is. Not if it means living without you. I love you, Tamara. You’re all I care about.”

Spellbound, she latched onto his words, praying this moment was real, that she hadn’t created it in her mind. She’d been waiting a lifetime for him to admit that he needed her the way she needed him. “I love you, too. I always have.”

“I know.” He skimmed her cheek, making contact, making her breath catch. “And that’s why it doesn’t matter. You slept with him because you were hurting over me. I can’t fault him for that. I can’t hate him, no matter who he is.”

When Kade reached for her, Tamara literally fell into his embrace, melting against the strength of his body. And his heart pounded, the rhythm as erratic as her own, she realized she couldn’t accept his acquiescence. “I think I should tell you his name.”

He held her a little tighter. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She breathed in her lover’s scent, a nighttime blend of the earth and the wind, of softly faded cologne, of tobacco from the club, of the outside world clinging to his clothes. “If I don’t, then they’ll always be a secret between us. A barrier.”

He stepped back, and they looked at each other. She could see the trust in his eyes. But even so, she stalled for a minute, knowing this was a turning point in both of their lives. Once it was done, they couldn’t go back, they couldn’t lock the information away and pretend it didn’t exist. “His name is Ben Choate.” She paused, waited a beat. “Do you know him?”

“Yes.” Kade’s voice vibrated. “He graduated the year before me.” Another vibration, another emotion. “I always thought he was a decent guy.”

Tamara took a deep breath. The veil had been lifted, the mystery disclosed. Kade and Ben had been friendly acquaintances. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“A few years ago. At the Choctaw Indian Fair. He was with his wife and kids.”

She searched his gaze. “The same girl he dated in high school?”

“Yes. Her name is Robin and they have two little girls.”

“I’m glad Ben married the woman he loved.” She closed her eyes for a second, trying to picture Nicky’s half sisters, hoping they were happy. “But--”

“But what?” he pressed. “What’s wrong?”

Her chest turned tight, flooding her system with memories, with the morning Ben had told her about his fiancée. “I still feel guilty.”

“Why? Because he was unfaithful?” Kade took her in his arms, holding her again, diminishing the ache. “That wasn’t your fault. It was Ben’s place to tell his fiancée, to admit what he did.”

“I know, but I doubt she would have married him.”

“Which is exactly why he asked you to keep quiet. And you did. You kept his secret. And you protected Nicky from getting caught in the middle of Ben’s marriage.” He rocked her, swaying to a silent melody. “And now we have a chance, too. You, me and Nicky.”

She put her head on his shoulder. “What if we see Ben on the reservation? What if we’re visiting your mom and we run into him?”

“Then we’ll say hello and go back to our lives. It doesn’t have to change anything.”

“How realistic is that, Kade? I promised Nicky that I’d explain the situation to him when he’s older. And when the time comes, he might insist on meeting Ben, especially when he discovers his dad has other children. I might not be able to keep this secret going forever.” And the rejection her son could face made her fearful of the road that lay ahead. “What if Ben’s family won’t accept Nicky? What if they treat him like an outcast?”

“You won’t have to tackle this alone. And neither will your son. I want to be Nicky’s father, to help you raise him. But if he wants to meet Ben and his family someday, I’ll support him. I’ll be there, no matter what happens.”

She looked up at the man she loved. He was her friend, her lover, her fantasy. And now he was offering to fulfill her little boy’s dream, to help him grow, to give her child the opportunity to come to terms with his identity. Overwhelmed, tears misted her eyes. “You’re going to make a wonderful daddy.”

He brushed his lips against her forehead, grazing her skin, warming her heart. “And you’re everything I want, everything I need.” A moment later, he scooped her up and carried her to the couch, setting her on his lap. “Will you marry me, Tamara?”

She cuddled against him. “You know I will.” When he covered her with the afghan, she closed her eyes. The wind was calm now, like her soul, like the promise of a deep and loving future.

The fairy tale that had just come true.

The End