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Authors: Deborah Smith

BOOK: Follow the Sun
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T
HE TALL WOLFS
came from a proud people who’d always fought to protect what was theirs. If he let Erica Gallatin walk away without a battle, he ought to have his name changed to Worthless Wolf.

James got out of a taxi on the back street of a suburban office park and strode quickly into a two-story office building. He found the correct suite number on a list in the lobby, took the fire stairs in his hurry to reach the second floor, and went straight to a door with a neat little brass sign on it.

Gallatin Construction Company.

Let the war party begin.

A sturdy dark-haired woman rose from a desk in a small, plainly furnished reception area. She was plainly furnished in a beige suit, and she eyeballed him like a drill sergeant with a troublesome recruit.

“You must be Mr. Tall Wolf.”

“You must be Marie.” He smiled jauntily at her and sat down. “Is Erica busy?”

“She just got back from a meeting.”

“With Mr. Gibson. I know. I arranged it.”

The office manager glared at him. “I’ll tell her that you’re here. She may need a minute to call for the cavalry.”

“Urn. White woman speak with forked tongue.”

Marie’s eyebrows shot up and her lips clamped shut. She picked up the phone. “Erica? Mr. Tall Wolf is here to see you. Have you got a minute?”

Marie put the phone down and said primly, “She has just a minute.”

James blew Marie a kiss and headed for a door across the room. Erica opened the door and stood there gazing at him, looking calm except for the bright blush her fair skin could never hide.

Wait. It wasn’t a natural blush. She had on makeup, and her hair was pulled up in a soft but classic style, and she was wearing a beautifully tailored white suit with onyx jewelry and a black handkerchief peeking from the breast pocket. She was even taller than usual, in high-heeled black pumps that made her legs look about two miles long and worth every inch of the journey.

“I took your advice,” she said simply, and waved a hand at her outfit. “I went shopping.”

“Good Lord.”

“No. Lord and Taylor. Come in.”

He stepped inside and glanced around at functional colors and spartan furnishings that would have done justice to any finely decorated government office.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m having it redone,” she said crisply. She settled behind her desk as James shut the door. His fingers moved so carefully that he knew she didn’t hear him lock it.

“No more frumpy,” she announced, gesturing at the room. “I’ll change it all. Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

James took a seat on the corner of her desk, the corner nearest her chair. He drew one leg up, let the other dangle near her knees, and in general made himself
provocatively comfortable while he watched a real blush creep slowly up her cheeks.

He loosened his blue tie a little, unbuttoned his blue-gray jacket, and flecked a piece of lint off the knee of dusky blue trousers.

“Blue,” he said cheerfully, pulling his jacket open so she’d get a good, close look at everything he had to offer. “In honor of your clan.”

She blinked rapidly and made a great show of clasping her hands just so on her desk. Very impressive and businesslike, he thought with pride, except that she bumped a file folder and it slid to one side, revealing a very unbusinesslike paperback book.

James flicked a hand out and stole it just as her mouth popped open and her fingers reached anxiously for it. She pursed her lips and rapped newly manicured nails on the desk. “Do you mind?”


Savage Endearments,
” James read solemnly. “He was a fierce Sioux chief, determined to take revenge on the settlers who had killed his people. She was a strong-willed schoolteacher from back east, determined to civilize a brutal land. But when he kidnapped her, she fell under the spell of his”—James paused dramatically—“
Savage Endearments.

“There’s a lot of history in that book,” she said between clenched teeth.

James looked at her silently, sorting out his feelings. She was caught up in the Indian fantasy, then, like other women he’d known, and that was one reason she was attracted to him.

But it wasn’t the only reason she liked him; he was certain of that, and so he could still hope. The best offense was a teasing defense.

James pointed to the book cover, where the chief embraced a schoolteacher so voluptuous that she was bursting from her low-cut gown. “What I want to know is, how come you never wore a dress like that to provoke my savage endearments?”

She took the book away and put it in a desk drawer. When she faced him again he saw a sheen of humiliation
in her eyes, and it made his stomach twist with regret. The last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt her feelings.

“I brought you something,” he said gruffly. James reached into his jacket and handed her a sheaf of folded papers. “I checked on your great-grandfather. Here are some copies of what I found.”

Her eyes brightened until she looked through the material. “It’s true, then. Ross Gallatin was shot for being a spy.”

“Erica, he must have been a very brave man. It was no dishonor to die that way.”

“I know. I just wish my family had stayed closer to our Indian heritage. I mean, my great-grandfather Ross was a soldier, my grandfather was an actor, and my father flew fighter planes for the navy. I guess I don’t have a very ethnic Cherokee background.”

“Look what I got from the records in Oklahoma,” James told her patiently. “Ross grew up on the reservation—no, I’m forgetting. It wasn’t a damned reservation at that time, it was still the Cherokee Nation. A separate nation.”

James pointed to a list. “See there? By the mid-1850s the whole Gallatin family was living in the Cherokee Nation in the Oklahoma territory. Justis, Katherine—Katlanicha must have been her Cherokee name—Silas, Holt, and Ross. He was raised Cherokee.”

James added gently, “And when he died, at least he was killed by my great-grandfather and other Cherokee soldiers who knew he was a brave man and didn’t look down on him for being an Indian or even a Union soldier.” He touched her cheek. “You’ve got a lot to be feel proud of,
kamama egwa.

Tears rose in her eyes as she gazed at him. James had to struggle not to reach for her. Patience, he told himself. In a good game plan, timing was everything.

“How did you get this material from Oklahoma?” she asked.

“Oh, I had somebody do a little research and send it to me.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Did you go to Oklahoma last week?”

“Well I’ve always wanted to visit my mother’s relatives out there—”

“Oh, James.” She got up and started to touch him, then wavered, smiled wistfully, and sat back down. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears.

James tried not to look disappointed. After the intimacies they’d shared, after all the long, lazy conversations and all the laughter, couldn’t she even bring herself to hug him in gratitude?

“I wish you could have stayed in North Carolina a few more weeks,” he said as casually as he could. “You really ought to consider coming back after this Gibson project gets under way.”

She chuckled and swiped at the tears on her bottom lashes. “I have an aversion to lime-green motel furniture when it’s in a—what?”

James had taken a handkerchief from one pocket and now dabbed mascara off her bottom lids. “You forgot that you have on makeup.”

“Oh, hell.” Looking embarrassed, she sat rigidly still and stared at his hand.

“That could make you cross-eyed. Why not look at me?” He arched a teasing brow. “Or do you still act wimpy when men admire you?”

Her gaze snapped up. “Is that what you’re doing?” she asked softly, but with anger. “I don’t understand why you came here today.”

He put his handkerchief away slowly, as if thinking very hard. “I still don’t understand why you lost interest in North Carolina so quickly.”

“I didn’t. You set up a deal for me. I have work to do.”

“Once the project gets going you won’t be needed on the site. Why don’t you come back to the reservation for a few more weeks?”

She held up her hands in exasperation. “If you
wanted me to stay longer, why did you go to so much trouble to get the Gibson contract reinstated?”

“I owed it to you. I was responsible.”

“Responsibility!” Her tone was sardonic. “All you had to say was, ‘I’m through being your teacher,’ and I would have moved out of Dove’s house.”

“I’m not through.”

She shook her head wearily. “Look, you’re moving into Dove’s house permanently, with all your personal possessions. You’ll be making it a real home. So I can’t stay there—”

“Why not?”

“Do you plan to stay somewhere else?”

James grimaced. What had happened? Why in the hell didn’t she need him anymore, even for sex?

Frustration and distress boiled over suddenly. He stood up, planted a hand on each arm of her chair, and stared grimly into her eyes. “You wanted to learn everything,” he said in a low, seductive voice. “Do you think I’ve already taught you everything I know?”

“I don’t want to play your games anymore,” she whispered.

“You don’t like this anymore?” He lifted one hand and trailed a fingertip down the silky off-white blouse showing between the lapels of her suit. When the breath soughed out of her, James slipped his hand under the jacket and stroked her breast.

The subtle forward movement of her body, needy for his touch, the immediate reaction under his fingertips, the shivering way her breath touched his face, made James sigh with relief.

“You’ll always need me, at least in this way,” he told her grimly, pulling her out of the chair and into a possessive embrace.

“James,” she protested, then searched his eyes and whimpered, “
James
,” in a yearning tone. “When you said you were coming up here and you didn’t want me to come with you I thought you were tired of being involved with me.”

“No, Red, Lord, no. I was only trying to do what
was best for you. You’ve got me for whatever you need, for as long as you need it.”

She made a tearful sound of surprise and raised her mouth to his, covering it with quick, tugging kisses as she stroked her fingertips over his jaw.

James bent her backward and licked her lips with the tip of his tongue, then savored them with a long, deep kiss that made her knees buckle. She sat down on the edge of her desk and he stepped closer, pushing her knees apart.

He’d known all along how he wanted this meeting to go; he was going to seduce her, court her, turn her inside out, until she wanted to be with him no matter what.

“I’m going to show you a new way to use your desk,” he warned her.

“James!”

He pressed her down atop stacks of paperwork and blueprints, his body covering hers. Her long legs dangled off the end of the desk, hugging his thighs as she struggled awkwardly for someplace to put her feet.

James parted her jacket and began unfastening the little pearl buttons down the center of her blouse, stopping every second or so to squeeze the incredibly soft hills on either side. She turned her head away and covered her mouth with both hands to muffle a soft moan.

The heat inside his body made caution difficult. James arched against her and asked wickedly, “How soundproof are your office walls, doll?”

Her chest moved swiftly. She was vibrating under him, her legs moving back and forth against his thighs, and it made him crazy with the need to satisfy his own wants, and hers too.

“I don’t know,” she finally managed to say, sounding breathless and distracted. “I’ve never had a business meeting … like this … before.” She gripped his shoulders and looked at him with gleaming, startled eyes. “The door—”

“Is already locked,” he said in a lecherous tone, and smiled.

Her lips parted in astonishment but quickly edged up at the corners. She yipped as he cupped both hands around her wriggling thighs and pulled them up to his hips.

James jerked open his trousers.

Erica yipped again. “You’re not wearing any briefs!”

“I
knew
I forgot something this morning. We wolves are like that.”

She laughed helplessly. The sound broke off in a soft squeal of delight when he shoved her skirt up. His hands touched garters and, a little higher, sheer, lacy panties. She’d always favored plain cotton before. “More shopping,” he murmured, with a hoarse chuckle.

“They’re pretty flimsy,” she whispered, and gave him a meaningful look. James sank his teeth into the shoulder of her jacket and hid his laughter there. With one quick motion of his hand he tore the silk barrier from her body.

“I’ll replace them,” he promised, and groaned softly when he saw the glow his impatience had brought to her eyes.

She gasped and moved underneath him, biting her lower lip to keep from making more sounds as he touched her.

“Just wrap those gorgeous legs around me and don’t let go,” James whispered, moving against her, then moving inside her, while her hands feathered over him and she lifted her mouth to take his in a long, sweet kiss.

He clasped her face between his hands and looked into her eyes.
Love me
, he ordered silently.


Da-nitaka,
” she whispered in a voice torn by bittersweet passion. “Oh, Wolfman, I’m so glad to be standing in your soul again.”

E
RICA NOW UNDERSTOOD
exactly where she stood in James’s soul, and it brought her a stoical sense of
hope. Her lack of possessiveness had reassured him. He thought that he didn’t have to worry about hurting her when he moved to North Carolina, where he’d turn his attention to building a cozy, quiet life with some lucky Cherokee woman.

In the meantime, he gave her the kind of wholehearted masculine attention that she’d only dreamed about. Washington was just a big playground to him, a playground filled with toys she’d always ignored in the past because she’d been too busy at work, and too self-conscious about going places alone.

But now she had James, who cheerfully sat through the touring production of
Cats
even though he said he’d listened to more interesting
wis-sah
music outside his bedroom window when the moon was full; James, who introduced her to the joys of Sunday brunch, striptease checkers.
Sports Illustrated
, and the subtleties of the four-man defense as compared to the three-man defense with a designated nose-guard.

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