Cherokee Dad. Sheri WhiteFeather

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СКАЧАТЬ out. I’m cold and tired.”

      And afraid.

      Fearful of how to tell Michael her story without revealing the secret that would keep him from ever forgiving her.

      Already she could see pain and anger in his eyes. She’d never meant to hurt him. He was, and always would be, the man she loved. But she couldn’t turn her back on her brother, not even for Michael. So she’d gone to California.

      Then her entire world had turned inside out.

      Heather drew a shaky breath. What if Michael uncovered her secret on his own? Was that possible?

      No, she told herself. That wouldn’t happen. The only person who could spill her secret was Dr. Mills and the kindly old physician wouldn’t betray Heather’s medical files.

      Would he?

      Michael spiked a hand through his shoulder-length hair, and Heather couldn’t help but study him. He wore a black T-shirt, threadbare jeans and scuffed boots. He’d always been tough. Dashing yet dangerous.

      A renegade.

      Just like Reed. At one time, her half-Cherokee brother and her half-Cherokee lover had been boyhood friends, running wild and cheating the law.

      Two years their junior, she used to follow them around, worried about Reed and smitten by Michael. He’d always smiled at her, even when she was a bony, flat-chested little girl.

      She lifted her gaze and slammed into his.

      He wasn’t smiling now.

      “Michael?”

      “What?” he snapped.

      “Don’t use the phone or tell anyone I’m here. No one, not even your uncle.”

      “For how long?”

      “Until I secure your house.”

      “If your brother dragged me into something illegal, I’m going to kill him.”

      Would he think protecting a child’s life was criminal?

      He squinted through a gust of rain. “I should make you tell me. I should demand the whole damn story out of you. Right here. Right now. But I won’t. And do you know why?”

      Nervous, she shook her head. He sounded so cold, so hard.

      “Because another day won’t matter. What’s done is done. You made your choice when you lied to me. When you didn’t call. Didn’t come back.”

      “I’m sorry,” she said, willing herself not to cry, not to break down in front of him.

      Would he understand once she told him why she didn’t call? Why she didn’t come back before now?

      Tough and terse, Michael shrugged away her apology, and she banked the tears flooding her eyes.

      They went back inside and Heather removed her coat, fearful of what tomorrow would bring. Would Michael agree to help her and Justin? Or was her fate doomed?

      As close as she and Michael had been, he’d never actually told her that he loved her, not even when he’d asked her to live with him.

      But, then, no one except Heather’s wayward brother had ever said those words. Reed’s “Thanks for caring,” and “I love you, kiddo,” had been her lifeline, the hope that she was truly worthy of being loved.

      Heather hadn’t been able to count on her parents, not her stern, critical father or her nervous, flighty mother.

      She’d promised Reed that she would give his son more than what they’d had. More kindness. More affection. More love.

      And Reed understood that well. Her father, who’d been her brother’s disapproving stepfather, had punished Reed at every turn, raising his fists until Reed grew tall enough to fight back.

      She knelt to smooth the baby’s thick brown hair, then looked up at Michael.

      He shifted his feet. He seemed so dark, so menacing. Yet she recalled how gentle he could be, how tender, how boyish and playful.

      He used to tickle her, attack her ribs until she nearly died laughing. Then he’d kiss her until she sighed his name and melted onto the bed, his naked body covering hers.

      “You can sleep in the guest room,” he offered, although his tone lacked hospitality.

      “Thank you, but the couch is fine. Justin’s bed is already made up out here, and I’d like to be near him.”

      Without speaking, he went to the linen closet, returned with a burgundy quilt and a mismatched pillow, stacking them hastily on the sofa.

      His house was cluttered, but he’d never kept things tidy. Heather had picked up after him, but it was her nature to keep order, to organize everything but her love-starved heart.

      “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.

      He glanced at the baby, then brought his gaze back to her. “There’s milk in the fridge if you need it.”

      “Thank you.” She watched him snap off the TV and walk down the hall.

      Copper-skinned, raven-haired Michael Elk. The man she loved. The man she wished she hadn’t betrayed.

      Michael dragged himself into the shower. He’d tossed and turned most of the night. Eventually he’d succumbed to exhaustion, only to discover he’d over-slept.

      After the water pummeled his body and he reached for a towel, he told himself to relax, to confront the day with as much patience as he could muster.

      As he brushed his teeth, he noticed another toothbrush on the counter.

      Heather’s.

      The past had come back to taunt him, the bittersweet memories of living with her, of sharing the same space. Michael’s old farmhouse had three bedrooms and one cozy bath.

      He rinsed his mouth and stole a second glance at her toothbrush, struggling with the unwelcome intimacy it stirred.

      Finally he threw on some jeans and a work shirt, then headed to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

      But she’d beat him to it. An aromatic brew was already perking. He poured himself a cup and stood quietly for a moment, trying to stabilize his heart. Then he entered the living room and stumbled straight into a network of electronic equipment.

      The countersurveillance system on the coffee table appeared to be running in an automatic mode as Heather utilized another detector Reed had probably built.

      Her brother was a young, cocky genius, as skilled as someone with a Ph.D. in electrical engineering, and he must have taught her what she needed to know.

      The device seemed fairly simple to operate, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t effective. Reed Blackwood didn’t build spy shop gadgets. СКАЧАТЬ