“I checked the studio this morning. I was surprised you didn’t throw everything out. Or burn it down.” Naomi slammed the water bottle back to the table. “I couldn’t risk that some half-finished sculpture might be worth a frigging fortune, and that wouldn’t be fair to your family. It’s not their fault you went walkabout. They say you do this all the time. I can’t believe how sick I got of people asking me if you were off working on a new sculpture.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Jamison said. “I really am.”
“So, what, after two years without hearing anything from you I should just say, ‘Golly gee, glad you’re back, let’s kiss and make up’? Forget it.”
She swung away but felt Jamison move behind her, his warmth on her back.
“I’m not leaving again, Naomi,” he said softly. “That’s what I came to explain. I’m here to stay. For always.”
Naomi tried to make herself pull away, maybe put the table between them again. Instead she turned and let herself look into his dark eyes, to see again the man she’d fallen in love with.
She’d met Jamison through one of her cousins in the vast Hansen clan, Heather, who owned Magellan’s New Age store called Paradox. Heather had invited Jamison, a noted Navajo storyteller, to come down from Chinle to talk to her study group about Native American myth. Naomi had gone and taken Julie, thinking it would be good to teach her about Navajo culture, since they lived so close to the Navajo Nation.
She’d expected an old man with a lined face and white hair. Instead, Heather had brought out a broad-shouldered, muscular man of about thirty-five, easy in his own skin, with sin-dark eyes and a mesmerizing voice.
Jamison had asked to be introduced to Naomi after his talk, because he’d watched Naomi sign his entire lecture to Julie. He’d smiled at Naomi, the sensuality of him making her breath catch. Jamison had invited Naomi and Julie to grab coffee with him, so Julie could ask him questions, he said, before he made his long drive back to Chinle.
Then next thing Naomi knew, Jamison was spending the night in her bed and making pancakes for breakfast the next morning. He never did go back to Chinle.
Jamison had made Naomi fall in love again, had taught her to feel again against her better judgment.
He’d made love like an angel, his body sealed to hers, his mouth taking away all pain. Deep in the night he whispered that he loved her, that they were soul mates, together forever.
Soul mates, my ass.
Damn all magic-seeking, shamanistic men with gorgeous bodies and long cocks. Jamison had laughed at Naomi for being an Unbeliever—a person who lived in Magellan and didn’t buy the crap about it being at a confluence of vortexes or a center of mystical energy—then went on drawing circles and chanting and whatever it was he did in the art studio he’d built himself in her back yard. And she’d loved him like crazy.
Their first wild night together flashed through Naomi’s mind as Jamison slid his fingers behind her neck. She remembered every touch, every kiss, the feel of him invading her body, and her ready surrender.
He smelled of sweat and denim, winter sunshine and wind. As always, she sensed something wild in him, like an animal or lightning, she was never sure which.
Her skin prickled where his fingertips brushed her. He leaned closer, lips nearly touching hers.
He was waiting for her to kiss him, to make the first move. Once she did, once she acknowledged his touch, his kiss would turn hard, possessive. Jamison always did that, making her feel like she was in control, then taking that control away in an instant.
As Naomi willed herself not to respond, Jamison began brushing soft kisses to the corners of her mouth. His lips were smooth, his breath warm.
Warmth tingled through her body and pooled between her legs. She burned for him. She wanted him to lay her back on the pile of potting soil next to them and screw her right there, anything to ease the ache.
Naomi slid her hands down his back, over the hard leather of his belt to his slim butt cupped by tight jeans. She loved his backside, remembering it taut and bronze-colored against her white sheets.
“Let’s go inside,” he said against her mouth.
Naomi dragged in a sharp breath, and cold poured over her. “No.”
“Naomi . . .”
“No.” She almost cried as she pushed Jamison away. “You always do this to me. You kiss me until I want you so much, I’ll do anything you say. I won’t do it this time. I’m busy. I have a business to run and plants to get to the depot.”
“Let me help you.”
“No, thanks.”
“It’s a big job. You need me.”
She slammed her arms over her chest. “I needed you so many times in the last two years. Where were you then? Oh, I forgot, somewhere in Mexico.”
“Do you think this is easy for me? To love you so much it rips me to pieces to know I hurt you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I did fine without you.”
“Why? Did you start seeing someone else?”
She wanted to laugh. “In Magellan? Who? I’m related to half the town, and I’ve known the other half far too long. Besides, I don’t need a man in my life.”
Jamison relaxed. “Good. That makes things easier.”
“Easier for who?”
“Easier for me. I don’t have to worry about anyone else getting hurt.” He finally stepped away from her, his big body tense and tight. “I told you, I’m staying, Naomi. In Magellan, in the house. With you.”
“Oh, really? Well, what if I don’t want you to?”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ll sleep on the sofa if you don’t want me in your bed. I’m not leaving you and Julie alone, because they’ll be coming.”
His eyes held a darkness she’d never seen. “Who will?”
“People I pissed off in Mexico.”
“What kind of people? Shit, Jamison, don’t tell me you got involved with drug runners.” A hard smile flitted across his face. “There are more dangers out there than drug runners, believe me.
I’m one of those dangers. I’m staying here to protect you. For now. For always.” From the look in his eyes, he wasn’t joking, he wasn’t exaggerating. She felt a qualm of fear. Julie.
“Give me your keys,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’ll bring the truck around.”