But Luke was temporary, fleeting. He’d be leaving as soon as his motorcycle was repaired, and her life would once again go back to the routine she was used to.
She needed to find her composure that had scattered like the wind with that kiss. She needed to find her sanity, too. She could not afford to lose herself around a man like Luke, a man who was headed out as soon as he could, a man with a painful past she shouldn’t be curious about. A man who didn’t belong here, didn’t understand this way of life.
Her life.
She leaned her shoulder against the door frame, willing the calm back into her body, forcing her mind to return to reality.
She didn’t know how long she’d stood there, how many minutes had passed, how many waves of temptation washed over her before she finally pushed away and embraced the reality of her world again.
A noisy raven had awakened Luke with its annoying call. It had been 3:35 the last time he’d pressed the lighted dial of his watch to note the time, and now it was 5:30—which meant he’d had only a couple hours of sleep.
And a fitful sleep at that.
Thoughts of Mariah had kept him tossing and turning, hoping for even the briefest respite from his troubled thoughts and perfect recall of her body.
Just holding her, touching her, had been madness, awakening every hormone he had, and weakening his defenses. He’d tasted those lips and was certain heaven couldn’t be any sweeter.
His hands had traced the column of her spine, feeling its curve, its strength and power. Mariah was a woman tough enough to take on whatever came her way, yet malleable to the needs of others, to bend down and help a child.
Or to meld against him.
He’d wanted to go on holding her, kissing her, but he knew the danger in that. He couldn’t take from her goodness, no matter how badly he wanted to.
He stared at the rough-planked ceiling over his bed, knowing sleep was hopeless now. The beginning shadows of daylight were already seeping into the cabin, through the tiny windows, through the chinks between the half logs that made up the cabin’s walls.
And then there was the raven.
The damn pesky bird had to be sitting on the pitch of the roof directly over his head, caterwauling like mad. He thought he remembered that the feathered creatures were considered sacred or something in this part of the country—and that it was bad luck to harm one of them.
But Luke had had enough.
If the bird didn’t stop with the crowing shrieks, reverberating through his brain like a fire bell on steroids, he might just forget about that sacredness and bad luck.
Especially if it gave him a few more minutes of shuteye.
Silence. There were three whole minutes of blessed silence. Luke hollowed out a spot for his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, hoping the noisy raven had developed a bad case of laryngitis.
Sleep. He needed sleep. He closed his eyes and attempted to shut down his mind, as well, shut out the crazy bird, shut out his haunting thoughts of Mariah and the glory of her kiss, her slender body pressed so innocently against his.
He rolled onto his stomach, hoping for even ten minutes of rest. The cot, though small, was amazingly comfortable, and the sheets Mariah had brought him carried her mesmerizing scent.
Luke had barely been able to make up the bed last night with the soft scent teasing at him, reminding him of her freshness, of the sunshine that seemed to surround her and her little corner of the world.
Sleep, Luke thought. Then he’d get up and start in on his cycle. Once it was repaired he’d be on his way again.
And Mariah’s kiss would be only a fond memory.
Chapter Four
Mariah awoke with a start. And not to the sound of the annoying raven’s call that usually dragged her from sleep. This was different. This was the clang of metal against metal.
She hopped out of bed, and the covers she wasn’t quite ready to abandon, and drew aside the lace curtain. The pink, early morning light of day danced through the window and into the room, catching on everything. Mariah ignored it in favor of finding out what the noise was all about. She didn’t want it to wake Callie.
The sunlight glinted off Luke’s bike and the man who stood staring at the pieces he’d dismantled. Her heart bumped at the sight of him—and she instantly remembered his kiss last night, the forbidden way it had tasted.
Luke had dragged dangerous needs to the surface, stirring longings in her she thought she’d buried long ago. He had the power to make her vulnerable, make her lose all good sense—and that was something she’d promised herself no man would do to her again.
She had responsibilities, a daughter to look after. She couldn’t afford to let any man foolishly turn her head—or hurt her, the way Will had done.
She focused her thoughts and her gaze on the cycle part Luke was inspecting. The thing didn’t look salvageable to her, but he must believe he could force it into some kind of workable shape.
She dropped the curtain back into place, then hurriedly dressed in fresh-washed jeans and a loose denim shirt. She gave her hair a slight consideration in the bedroom mirror and declared it passable after some finger-combing to straighten out the tangles. She didn’t have time right now for her usual braid.
She went to Callie’s room and peeked in at her daughter. She was asleep, her dark hair spilled across the pillow. Fortunately the noise hadn’t awakened her.
She made her way to the kitchen and stepped into the moccasins she’d abandoned there the night before, then pushed open the back door. Mariah wished it didn’t creak so loudly. She’d have to give it another lubrication.
It was an oft-repeated repair, made necessary by the blowing desert grit and red dust that made its way into every crack and crevice around here. But Mariah didn’t mind. She loved the old place.
She started toward the driveway where Luke had unloaded the cycle from the bed of her truck, and had a half dozen parts spread over the sparse grass.
He didn’t hear her approach, and for a moment she let her gaze linger on his tall, muscled frame. He worked in his newly fashioned cutoffs of last night, a denim shirt and well-broken-in sneakers, the white of the shoes and the laces already coated with the perennial, high-desert red dust.
For a brief moment she could see him belonging here in this untamed country—with the rugged red rocks, its scruffy trees and the surrounding mountains. She could see him belonging here—with Callie and her.
But she quickly eradicated that thought from her mind.
Luke didn’t belong here; he was only passing through.
Maybe it was the way he looked in his denim shirt, his deep tan and windblown hair that had fooled her senses. She ordered herself to think rationally.
“Hi,” she called out as she neared. “What has you up so early? Didn’t you sleep well?”
He turned to face her, looking a little surprised to see her, then his gaze trailed over her slowly, lazily, and his mouth crooked into a pleased half smile.
Mariah felt every inch of his smile.
And his gaze.
“I slept all right, until one insufferable raven decided to become my personal alarm clock.”
Mariah felt a laugh bubble up. The bird was a nuisance, but he seemed to have found a home here. Probably because Callie fed him—which destroyed any chance of him flying off to torment some other family, Mariah was sure.
“You mean Bandit? I should have warned you about him.”
“Bandit?”
She