Warrior's Baby. Sheri WhiteFeather

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      Four

      LAX had annoyed him. Actually, it more than annoyed him. The confusion of the fast-paced airport had made him feel like a big, dumb, country boy. Colt Raintree, Montana born and bred, was out of his element.

      Rather than breathing crisp mountain air, he was choking down smog and riding shotgun in a red convertible piloted by an auburn-haired beauty who made Mario Andretti seem like a slowpoke.

      “How about some music?” Melanie turned the knob on the stereo and started punching buttons.

      She settled on a country station, for his benefit, he assumed. Willie Nelson’s nasal twang should have been a balm, but it only reminded Colt of how far from home he was. The unfamiliar roar of traffic offended the simple cowboy tune.

      Melanie glanced over her shoulder, switched lanes and questioned his pouting profile. “Colt, what’s wrong?”

      He answered as honestly as he could. “I never cared much for cities.”

      Melanie slid her right hand from the steering wheel and placed it on top of his, which rested on the center console. “You’ll like the beach,” she promised with a quick, reassuring squeeze. “We’re almost there.”

      She was right The moment they exited the freeway and the sea breeze tousled his hair, he appreciated the freedom the rag top provided. When the Pacific Ocean came into view, a sense of well-being entered his soul. It looked as big as the Montana sky and just as blue.

      Saltwater, fresh-grilled seafood, hot dogs and lemonade permeated the air. They passed a pier that looked like a street fair—a menagene of blinking lights, twirling carnival rides and trendy teenagers, their colorful T-shirts, baggy shorts and bleached blonde hair whipping in the wind.

      The sidewalks were lined with people, but they were different from the airport crowd. They moved at a pace his eyes could follow, dressed in sandals, suntan lotion and little else. Maybe it was the warrior in him, but the half-naked, bronzed bodies made him want to shed his own clothes, feel the sand between his toes, dive into the surf, let the sun beat down on his back.

      He grinned at Melanie. Her unique style fit right in. “Interesting town.”

      “I knew you’d like it.” She continued down the busy coast highway, turned onto a narrow street and then another, until she parked in the driveway of an attractive white building.

      Her condominium faced the ocean. A wood staircase led to the front door, elevating the modern structure. Just like her denim and silk wardrobe, the eclectic style reflected the woman who lived there. A marble coffee table, gilt-framed mirrors and contemporary artwork were surrounded by seashells and scented candles. White leather sofas highlighted an exquisite fireplace, meticulously carved of polished stone.

      Colt placed their luggage on the living room floor and peered out the French doors. A redwood deck lush with potted plants, rattan furnishings and a whirlpool tub graced his eyes. Seaside elegance at its finest.

      “Your house is really nice.” He had planned on booking a hotel room, but Melanie had extended her California hospitality, persuading him to stay with her. Their platonic relationship was off to an awkward start. Her condo seemed like a romantic getaway, a honeymoon suite.

      “Thanks.” She glanced down at the suitcases. “I’ll show you to your room. It has a private bath, so if you want to freshen up...”

      Freshen up? As in strip down and shower? Unconsciously he took a step back. “I think I should get a hotel room.”

      She sank into one of the leather sofas and sighed. “Why?”

      Because if I shower in your tub or sleep in one of your beds, I’ll want you there beside me. “Your СКАЧАТЬ