A Rainbow in Paradise (5 page)

Logan's grin was slow and lazy. "Don't you
think I've noticed?''

The women caught up with them and Chris
suggested they all drive back to the farm, letting Logan take Eden
home. Logan watched Eden's face, assessing her response. She met
his eyes when she said, "I'd like that."

That was something else he liked about
her—her directness. It had often offended him in other
belagaana
, especially
belagaana
women. From
childhood, Navajos were taught to defer to those who were older,
and women were taught to defer to men. Navajo women seldom looked
anyone but each other or young children directly in the eye. That
was how he'd been taught it should be. Yet it thrilled him when
Eden met his gaze. There was nothing challenging or superior in her
look when she did it, only honesty. She was what she seemed to be,
and Logan liked that. He liked it very much.

He held the door for Eden while she entered
the back seat of Sarah's car, sliding nearer the middle than the
positioning of the seat belts encouraged. He got in on the other
side and did the same so that they sat side by side as they drove
along the road toward the farmhouse.

While Chris and Sarah kept up the light
patter they had enjoyed through the evening meal, he and Eden sat
quietly listening. He noticed her scent, warm and familiar, like
the desert at night. He noticed her hands, lying loosely in her lap
and, watching her face for permission, he lifted the closer one,
cradling it in both of his. She smiled and leaned nearer, resting
her head against his shoulder. It felt good there, as if it
belonged. Maybe this whole thing was crazy—crazy and pointless—but
it all felt good. Sometime early this evening, he'd decided to go
with that, and deal with the consequences later.

He made quick work of saying good night to
Chris and his lady and ushered Eden into his pickup. She scooted
into the middle seat belt and sat close beside him for the two- or
three-mile ride back to her place. They chatted quietly, talking
about the meal and the evening, Chris and Sarah, and goats. It
still impressed him that she didn't mind talking about goats. In
fact, she seemed genuinely interested in the project. Earlier that
evening, when she had asked to see the goats, he had known there
was something special about this
belagaana
, something worth
discovering—if only for a while.

They reached her porch and he found himself
hoping she'd ask him in. When she didn't, he reined in his
disappointment. "Good night, Eden. I enjoyed the evening."

"So did I." She looked up at him in the glow
of the front porch light, her sky-blue eyes warm and direct and
smiling at him, and he felt again that rush of power that always
threatened to knock his breath away. Without pausing to examine it,
he let it draw him, pulling his mouth down to meet hers.

She met him halfway, her mouth warm and sweet
and giving. Logan felt the heat sweep through him. He felt her arms
around his neck, her scent drifting about him, her softness crushed
tightly against his chest, her sweet mouth yielding to his own. He
was awash in sensation, drowning in it, and he didn't care whether
he ever came up again.

When Eden broke the contact, he let her go
reluctantly, and then saw the heat in her face and knew she had
been as profoundly moved by their kiss as he had. Her eyes
glittered with an almost surreal light, and her cheeks flamed. She
had never looked lovelier.

She gasped, catching her breath, and lifted a
hand to smooth her hair, but did not quite meet his eyes as she
said, "G-good night, Logan."

His own voice was equally husky when he
answered, "I'll call you."

"Y-es," she stammered, "Yes, call," and
stepped inside.

Chapter Three

Eden leaned into the kitchen
floor's gray linoleum, attacking it with a vengeance. For three
days now, she'd been mopping and cleaning and scrubbing with
fiendish zeal, driving herself to exhaustion—and listening for the
phone to ring. It had rung exactly five times. Once it was the
plumber, telling her he couldn't get around to fixing her bathroom
drain until the end of the week. Once was the glass company, making
an appointment to measure for new window screens. The other three
were all from Sarah, wondering if she'd had a good time the other
evening and what she thought of Logan. What she thought was
something she couldn't express even to herself, let alone to Sarah.
What she answered was that he'd said he'd call.

I shouldn't let this happen
, she
cautioned herself
.
I'm acting like a kid with her first
crush. It isn't as if I've never dated a man before.
But just
then the phone rang, and she ran to answer it, hoping it was Logan
in spite of herself.

* * * * *

I never should have told her I'd call
,
Logan chided himself as he watched the goats clamber down from the
truck.
I
never should have taken her out last
weekend
. He sighed and turned his attention back to the
goats.

This was the second delivery of pregnant Boer
does to the experimental station near Many Farms. The first group,
representing two of the five North American bloodlines, had
delivered their first young six months ago. They would soon be bred
back, along with their female kids, to the two good bucks the
Navajo nation had purchased at significant expense, each of which
represented a different bloodline. The fifth line was arriving
today in these eight does, all heavy with young, and in the one
young buck that was now being led down the exit ramp. Five
bloodlines weren't enough to ensure the genetic health of the
species, but that was the best he could do until either the nation
or its Canadian suppliers could import more lines from South
Africa.

"Put them in there," he directed as his
mentors had instructed him. The Canadian couple had warned him
always to be careful to separate the new arrivals until he was
certain of their good health. There was little point in letting a
potentially ill animal contaminate the rest of their little flock,
especially when these founders of their species came at such a dear
price.

There they are
, he thought as he
watched them settle into the tight paddocks,
the First Man and
First Woman of goats, the Adams and Eves of their kind.
Adam,
Eve. Eden? He sighed. He hadn't had a thought in the last three
days that hadn't come back to her somehow.

It had been foolhardy to spend the evening
with her—wonderful and exciting, but definitely foolhardy. And it
would be equally foolish to call her now when he knew nothing could
come of the time they spent together. He was like a man on a
self-imposed but unwanted fast who couldn't resist leaning through
the door of the bakery, tempting himself with the sights and smells
of all the delicacies he had sworn to avoid.

But don't you owe her something
? his
conscience niggled at him.
You said you 'd call. What if she's
waiting to hear from you
? He shook the thought away,
recognizing it for what it was, merely another temptation, another
way of rationalizing what he wanted—wanted so badly he could almost
taste her on his lips—even though he knew it would be unwise.

But you said you'd call. That amounts to a
promise, and you've always been a man of your word.
He raised
an eyebrow. That much was true. He had always been a truthful
person; he'd even prided himself on his truthfulness. Well, that
settled that. He had to call her. But what could he say? That he
was just calling to explain why he hadn't called? That he was
calling to tell her why he couldn't call her anymore? That didn't
make a lot of sense. Still, he knew now that he had to call. His
own honor demanded it. Didn't it? Logan shook his head as if the
action might clear his fuzzy thinking.

"Do you get good cell reception here?" he
asked Philbert, the young man who threw such energy and enthusiasm
into managing the Boer herd, conscious of the role he might have in
improving the future of his people.

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no," Phil answered.
“You might want to check to see if you’ve got any bars on your
phone.”

“I don’t, but if you have a phone here, I can
use my calling card so it goes on my bill.”

"Guess that's okay then." Philbert nodded and
Logan hid a smile. The kid's assertion of the small authority Logan
himself had given was almost enough to distract him from his
purpose—just not for long.

I still don't know what I'm going to tell
her
, Logan thought as he walked toward the building.
Oh,
well. Guess I'll decide that when I get her on the line.
The
important thing, he told himself firmly, was that he'd
decided to call. He knew when he thought of it that it had to be a
right decision. It must be; experience told him only right choices
felt this good. He walked toward the barn whistling softly.

* * * * *

It's probably the glass man again
,
Eden thought as she answered the phone, expecting
disappointment.

"Eden?"

"Logan." Warmth and relief flooded through
her. She felt melted to the floor. There was a long pause on the
other end, and for a moment she wondered if she was mistaken.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Fine. Just fine." She tried to remember
whether she'd ever had such a stilted but highly charged phone
conversation. The subtext was as rich as any she'd ever imagined,
but their surface chat was as difficult as their first attempt in
her living room. "How are the goats?"

Logan chuckled. She could almost hear his
relief. "They're doing fine. We just got eight more does and a new
buck in. I'm at the farm now."

That explains it,
she thought.
He's
just been busy
. At the same time, she was thanking the muses
for giving her something to say. "You must have been very busy,"
she said aloud, creating an opening.

"Yes," he said, "but that's not why I didn't
call."

"Oh?" Though Eden tried to keep her voice
steady, she felt the strength ebbing from her knees and leaned
against the wall.

"I don't want to hurt you, Eden," Logan said,
and she could hear him struggling with the words. "I think maybe
it's better if we don't see each other anymore."

She swallowed, fighting the sting of
rejection. "All right, if that's what you prefer. Logan, have I
done something?"

"No! Not at all. You're... that is, you've
been... It isn't you, Eden. It's just that I have other..."
How
can I say this?
"...other commitments...." He let the sentence
trail off.

Eden closed her eyes and tried to choke down
the lump that had instantly formed in her throat. "Chris didn't
tell me you had someone," she said, hoping he wasn't about to
confess to a secret engagement, or worse.

"I don't," he said quickly. "It isn't like
that. It's just...
T'aa 'aanu 'adishm,
but I'm making a mess
of this." She heard him take a deep breath, and then the next words
poured out in a rush. "It's just that there's such a powerful
attraction between us, and I didn't want to give you any false
ideas, or..." He stopped. When he spoke again, his voice was filled
with self-disgust. "I sound like a pompous jerk, don't I?" He
snickered.

She laughed—brittle, nervous laughter. "Not
at all. But I still don't understand. I mean, I understand that you
don't want to see me anymore, and I guess that's really the only
part I have to understand, but..." She paused. He could hear her
dejection.

He felt wicked, vicious, and helpless to do
anything about it. "Eden..."

She spoke hesitantly. "May I ask you
something?"

"Sure." He gritted his teeth, bracing.

"If you'd decided not to see me, why did you
take me out the other evening?''

She heard him sigh. "Because I wanted to.
Because you are beautiful and I enjoy your company."

"Oh." The pause lengthened. "Logan?"

"Um."

“Why did you call me today?''

"Because I couldn't help myself." He waited a
good three beats before more words tumbled out. "I'm sorry, Eden. I
didn't mean to say that. Even though it's true, I didn't mean to
say it."

She smiled, hearing the truth in his words,
hearing something else, too. She let the silence linger for a
moment before whispering. "I know what you're feeling." Suddenly
the air was alive with the same buzzing energy she felt whenever he
was near her.

Logan felt it, too; she knew he did. It
hummed in his voice when he said, "Eden, do you think we can talk
about this?"

"I thought we just had."

He heard her light tone, and he heard the way
she was forcing it. He wanted to kick himself for the way he was
making her feel. "I mean face-to-face. I'm driving into Holbrook
tomorrow to pick up some things at the feed store. Is it all right
if I drop by for a few minutes?"

"Tomorrow? You can get away on a Friday?"

"When the day is as open as tomorrow's
schedule is, I can. So is it okay if I come by?"

She drew a long, slow breath. "Do you think
that's a good idea?"

"Just to talk," he clarified.

She nodded but realized he couldn't hear
that. "All right, but tell me when you're coming, or you'll likely
find me grimy and spotted in paint."

"I can't be sure when I'll get there," he
said, "but it doesn't matter to me if you're grimy and spotted.
That is, if you can indulge me for a few minutes, just for a
talk."

“Okay.'' She answered him quickly, and he had
the feeling she had blurted it out before she thought better of it
and changed her mind. "Drop in whenever you're ready."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, and hung up
the phone.

Eden sat looking at the receiver in her hand
and finally set it in its cradle.
What just happened here?
After their kiss on the porch, she'd have sworn that Logan had been
at least as profoundly affected by her as she had by him. Then
today he had called her to tell her he couldn't see her anymore,
and had ended by making a date for tomorrow? She walked away from
the phone, as bewildered as she'd ever been and not even wanting to
think about what tomorrow might bring.