Cherokee. Sheri WhiteFeather

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      Easing back as naturally as possible, she broke contact, lifting her hands to fill a basin with warm water.

      Adam opened his eyes, blinking as though awakening from a dream. He tilted his head back and looked at Sarah.

      “That was nice,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.

      She managed a shaky smile, uncertain of how to respond. Her fingertips still tingled, and the gaping robe still exposed his chest—gorgeous, golden-brown flesh. She even caught sight of a taut, muscular belly.

      Sarah adjusted the coverlet, knowing it was her professional place to do so. Adam didn’t seem to notice that his robe had slipped open, but then why would he? Most men bared their chests without modesty.

      “I’m going to remove the moisturizer, then prepare a mask,” she told him, an image of his navel imbedded in her mind.

      She continued the procedure, shielding his eyes with moist cotton pads. They didn’t talk while she applied the mask, and within an hour the treatment was complete, his skin firm and clean.

      He stood and smoothed his hair, his robe still loose, the belt barely tied. “Thank you, Sarah,” he said, coming forward to press some folded bills into her hand.

      “You’re welcome.” She accepted the tip, realizing they were only inches apart. He wasn’t wearing cologne, she thought, her heart fluttering in her breast. He smelled natural, like fresh-milled soap.

      “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

      The invitation caught her by surprise. And so did her response. Without the slightest hesitation, Sarah agreed to share a meal with him—this tall, beautiful stranger. A man she knew she should avoid.

      Adam stood in the main square of Chinatown, waiting for his date. This was insane, he thought. No matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to convince Sarah to allow him to pick her up at her apartment. She had insisted on meeting him.

      He checked his watch. 7:20 p.m. She was late. Was he about to be stood up? It would serve him right, he supposed. Plenty of women chased him, and he’d gotten used to the attention. But then, that attention was based on his looks, not on the man he was inside. And he wanted more than a superficial relationship. He wanted…

      What? A commitment?

      Someday, maybe. But he wasn’t looking for love. At least not at this time in his life. He had too many other issues, too many other goals—like finding his biological mother, bonding with his heritage. He couldn’t think about love and commitment. Not until he knew who he was and where he had come from.

      He released a heavy breath. So where did Sarah fit into this? Why was he so eager to see her again?

      Because she fascinated him, he realized. And she could lead him to his roots. Adam knew he was lost, a ship that needed to come to port. The adoption had him feeling so damn disconnected. For the past month he had been floating. Going nowhere.

      And he had the same vibe about Sarah. He suspected she was troubled, too. And that drew him to her, made him want to help. She was solid, real—so unlike the superficial women who chased him. She would make a good friend.

      A good friend? he asked himself. Or a compatible lover? He couldn’t very well deny the sexual spark between them. He hadn’t counted on it, but it was there—lurking, hiding, waiting to be released.

      Well he wasn’t about to release it. The last thing he needed was to complicate a new friendship with sex. He would just have to keep those urges under control.

      And just how was he supposed to do that? He had already booked another facial for next week. He wanted her to stroke him again, enchant him with her magic.

      Her mystery.

      Adam frowned. Already his hormones were interfering with a friendship that hadn’t even happened yet. He could find another connection to his heritage, couldn’t he? He didn’t need Sarah to show him the way.

      A beautiful, exotic woman. A dark-eyed Cherokee mystery.

      Damn. Maybe he should just forget the friendship and have an affair with her. A passionate one-night stand. That would satisfy his hormones, the unexpected lust.

      Disturbed by the thought, he shook his head. Maybe it would be better if Sarah did stand him up. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about their attraction.

      Adam checked his watch again, then glanced up and caught his breath. It was too late, he thought. Much too late.

      Beautiful, dark-eyed Sarah was already walking toward him, and all he could think about was tangling his hands in all that glorious hair and kissing her senseless.

      Two

      Sarah scanned the menu, wishing she could think of something to say. She wasn’t good at small talk and was even worse at dating. How was she supposed to concentrate on what to order with Adam sitting across from her? A man who appeared relaxed and confident? He probably had the dating ritual down pat.

      She stole a quick glance. Of course he did. Look at him. God’s gift to womankind. He wore his hair in a ponytail, his clothes casual but trendy—a printed shirt and pre-washed jeans sporting a well-known label. California ranch wear, she decided, designed for the city cowboy. His rugged style appeared natural. He didn’t try to attract attention. He just did.

      He caught her eye, and she looked down, studied her hands.

      “Did you know that they don’t serve fortune cookies in China?”

      She glanced up again, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “Why not?”

      “They were invented in the U.S. They don’t exist in China.”

      “Have you been there?”

      “No. I read that on the Internet in a travel guide. I spend a lot of time online.”

      Sarah took a deep breath, told herself she would get through this date. It helped not thinking of him as a world traveler. She had never even been on a plane. “I’m glad they serve them here. Fortune cookies are my favorite part of a Chinese meal.”

      He smiled. “Me, too.”

      When his smile faded, their eyes met. They sat in a small red booth, candlelight flickering between them. His face fascinated her, but she had already touched it, explored the ridges and angles, the masculine texture of his skin. She didn’t want to remember every detail, but looking at him made that impossible.

      He lifted the teapot and offered her a refill. She shook her head. She hadn’t finished the first cup yet.

      “Let’s choose a few extra entrées so we can share,” he said.

      “All right.” She agreed even though the suggestion sounded oddly intimate. “I would prefer chicken and vegetables, though. I don’t eat red meat.”

      He smiled at her, something he did often, she noticed.

      “Me, neither,” he said, his voice as easy as his smile. “I guess that means we’re СКАЧАТЬ