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“So what you’re saying is that I’m correct in suppressing my impulsive, irrational desires in favor of calm, cool, calculated objectivity.”
“No, what I’m saying is that sooner or later you’re going to have to face up to who you really are. And when you do, you’ll stop having ‘allergies.’ Sooner or later something has to give. You can’t keep trying to be this perfect person just to please your father.”
“You’re so off base it’s laughable.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Then prove it,” her mother challenged.
“Prove it?” Abby blinked. What was Cassandra talking about?
“Let yourself go. Do something wild and crazy and uninhibited.”
“Wild and crazy and uninhibited,” Abby echoed.
“Yes. Clear it up in your mind. Establish once and for all that you’re not like me,” Cassandra continued. “Go on a trip where you don’t know anyone and make a complete fool of yourself. Pick up a stranger. Have great sex. Emulate Tess.”
“There’s no need for that.”
“Really? Are you trying to tell me you’re not plagued by secret fantasies of breaking loose, breaking out, breaking away?”
Abby swallowed but did not answer.
“Give it a shot. If I’m wrong and you’re not this passionate naughty girl trapped in a good girl’s body, then nothing bad will happen. You’ll come home with some nice memories, you’ll resume your safe, stable life and you can rest peaceful in the knowledge that passion will never induce you to run out on your husband and kid.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for your input.” She sat on her hands because she didn’t want Cassandra to see they were trembling. “Your motherly advice is incredibly valuable at this stage of my life.”
“Why, Abby, are you being sarcastic?” Her mother looked amused.
“Sorry, I’ve had a bad day.”
“Don’t back off now. Stand up for yourself. Let me have it. Show some passion.”
But Abby wasn’t about to give her mother the satisfaction of losing her composure. “Have a safe trip home.”
“I’m being dismissed?” Her mother’s grin widened, and she got to her feet and retrieved her empty champagne glass.
“I love you, Mom,” Abby said. “But we’ll never see eye to eye on this issue.”
“Oh you dear, sweet, innocent girl.” Cassandra dropped a dry kiss on her cheek, then turned and sashayed away, leaving the scent of honeysuckle and cloves lingering on Abby’s skin.
Two minutes after her mother had returned to the rectory, Tess came bouncing back outside, beaming like a flood lamp and waving a piece of paper in her hand. “I found us the perfect getaway spot.”
With a sinking sensation, Abby wondered if they would be shooting craps in Vegas or getting smashed on hurricanes in the French Quarter or mamboing with Latin lovers in Miami.
Could she do this? Should she do this? Would she do this?
Abby sneezed delicately into her lace hanky, and the parting words that Ken had spoken when he’d called to tell her he wasn’t showing up for the wedding echoed in her ears.
“You’re just not fiery enough, Abby. Look at you. If you were emotionally committed to me, you’d be jealous of Racine and scratching my eyes out for treating you this way. Instead you’re telling me it’s okay. That’s what’s wrong with us. Why I can’t marry you. No fire.”
And then she heard Tess say, “The best way to exorcise the Durango demon would be to find the delectable Mr. Creed and screw his brains out.”
And lastly came her mother’s dangerous challenge. “Let yourself go. Do something wild and crazy. Prove once and for all you’re not like me.”
Part of her wanted to accept the dare. Take a risk. Vanquish her fantasies.
But part of her was terrified. What if her mother was right? What if they were alike?
“Earth to Abby.” Tess snapped her fingers in front of Abby’s face.
“Huh?”
“Don’t you want to know where we’re going?”
Abby closed her eyes and braced herself for the worst. “Lay it on me.”
“A week of total pampering at the Tranquility Spa in Sedona.”
Abby opened one eye and peeked at her friend. “Sedona? Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re not kidding me? Serene, slow-paced Sedona? With the soothing red rock mesas and inspirational vortices?”
“I figured peace and quiet was really what you were looking for.”
Love for her friend overwhelmed her. This was exactly the kind of regenerative trip she needed. She didn’t require endless thrills or excitement. She didn’t have to act wild and reckless in order to prove herself. All she needed was a calm place where she could relax and get some perspective on her life.
She jumped off the swing and enveloped Tess in a big hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Hey,” Tess said, “what are friends for?”
“But what about you? You wanted fun and excitement and to get laid.”
“Well.” Tess grinned. “My fantasy lover, Colin Cruz, happens to be making a movie in Sedona. I was hoping we could watch them film. Plus, you know what I heard?” She lowered her voice.
“What?”
“The electromagnetic energy in Sedona intensifies orgasmic pleasure.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Apparently, there’s no sex like vortex sex.”
2
“GOOD MORNING, HANDSOME,” the low, husky voice of Sunrise Jeep Tours dispatcher Connie Vargas oozed from the two-way radio on the dashboard.
“Morning, Connie.” Durango Creed grinned. Connie was sixty-five if she was a day, but she flirted like she was sixteen. He admired the woman’s spirit. She didn’t let her age slow her down. “Did you sleep well?”
“Not too well, cowboy.” Mischief sparkled in her tone. “You weren’t in my bed.”
“Connie, believe me, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, right. I’ve heard the rumors about you.”
“Lies, all lies.”
Connie snorted indelicately. “What about the flock of city girls who come here and personally request you as their guide? You tryin’ to tell me you don’t offer any additional services that aren’t part of our regular tour package?”
Durango pretended to be offended. “Are you impugning my virtue?”
“No, but I think your next customers might give your virtue a run for its money.”
“Oh?”
“You’ve got a pickup at Tranquility Spa. Name’s Baxter, party of two for the private Vortex Tour and the lady specifically asked for Durango Creed. She sounded very sexy too.”
“I’m on it.”
“I’m sure you are, cowboy. Over and out.”
With a shake of his head, Durango grinned and wheeled his bright orange Jeep up the narrow L’Auberge Lane and then headed west toward the secluded, chichi health spa. He blew past the Black Cow Café, the warm desert wind stirring both his hair and his blood, and hung a right at the split.
From his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of Cathedral Rock jutting proud and majestic in the distance. The sun, filtering in and out through the shifting clouds. made it appear as if the formation was in motion, a subtle, graceful dance of light and shadows. The sight of those mesas never failed to rouse something primal inside Durango.
A motorcycle came up on his left. He turned his head. The sound of the bike’s engine captured his attention. When he saw it was a Ducati he found himself thinking about Abby Archer, and a double twist of wistful longing and downright horniness knotted his gut like a pretzel.
Without any difficulty at all, he could still picture how she looked the last time he had seen her. Standing on the balcony of her father’s palatial house, wearing a thin white sheath that in the moonlight showed off every inch of her nubile seventeen-year-old body. Her dark hair, which was usually pulled back in a sleek ponytail, was hanging loose about her shoulders, her breasts rising high and firm, her creamy skin gleaming seductively.
God, she’d been something special. Just like Sedona herself. Beautiful, calm, tranquil on the surface but underneath ran all that raw passionate energy. Maybe that’s why he had ended up in Sedona. He’d always been a sucker for the fire-and-ice paradox.
And if he and Abby had ever fully explored the chemistry surging between them, they probably would have spontaneously combusted.
But she’d told him she didn’t trust him. That he was too wild, too untamed, too reckless for her. The tears shining in her eyes had belied her words, but he’d had no choice other than to leave her behind.
Durango exhaled. It was just as well nothing had happened between them. Even though they came from the same privileged world, she fit in and he never did. As evidenced by the very different paths they’d elected to walk. Abby had stayed with the tried and true and he had chosen the road less traveled.
It’s just that every once in a while, he couldn’t help wondering what if?
He turned down the secluded driveway to the spa and slowed long enough to flash his pass when he reached the security gate. The guard waved him inside and he motored around to the front entrance.
Two women stood under the awning. One was a skinny redhead dressed in funky, punky threads and high-heeled sandals that were totally inappropriate for hiking the mesa trails.
Mentally he rolled his eyes. Tourists.
The other woman was a breathtaking brunette who wore a pair of classy tailored white shorts, a red V-necked tee that enhanced her gorgeous breasts and a sensible pair of walking shoes that, in spite of their ordinary construction made her legs look extraordinary. Pricey designer sunglasses covered her eyes and a large straw hat held back her hair and shaded her face from the sun.
His mouth watered.
Strangely enough, the brunette looked a lot like Abby. She had the same full lips, same proud tilt of the head and the same dimpled chin. Maybe that’s why he was instantly attracted.
Something in his chest tugged.
Trick of the light and his imagination. He’d been thinking about Abby and now he was seeing her. He killed the engine and climbed from the Jeep to find out if they were Baxter, party of two.
He approached the redhead. “Hello, I’m with Sunrise Tours, did you ladies arrange for a—”
He broke off when the brunette inhaled sharply with a soft, well-bred sound. Quickly she reached up and snatched off her sunglasses.
His heart hammered and his palms went slick with sweat as he peered into those familiar hazel eyes.
It is Abby, he thought, at the same moment she whispered, “Durango Creed.”
FROM THE MOMENT she spied Durango’s long, lean muscular body swinging out of the Jeep, Abby knew she’d been set up.
“Tess Baxter, what have you done?” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“Consider this my thank-God-the-wedding-didn’t-go-off present to you.” Tess laughed.
Before Abby had time to tell her that she was sooo dead for pulling this stunt, Durango was filling her direct field of vision with his breathtaking presence. The man was more impressive than the incredible red rock formations surrounding them.
All Abby had wanted was to come to Sedona, get a massage, maybe take a mud bath or two and have an expert facial. Her goal was to relax and regroup after getting ditched at the altar by her fiancé. But one look in those unforgettable eyes and everything changed.
She felt something shake loose in her chest, like a tearing away sensation.
Omigod, here he is, here he is in the flesh.
She curled her fingers into her fists at her sides and forced herself to breathe normally.
The years had been far more than kind. In fact, time had been embarrassingly generous. He had fully matured, his teenaged shoulders and thighs broadening into manhood. Yet he still wore that cocky, defensive bad-boy stance like a mantle of pride. His face was fuller, less rangy than it had been, but his waist was just as narrow. His hair, long and bound back in a short ponytail, was just as dark and thick. His eyes just as impossibly black.
And wicked.
He was even more gorgeous than before.
Her pulse took off, galloping like a high-spirited Thoroughbred on the last furlough of the Kentucky Derby. She stifled the urge to flee from the intensity of those eyes, which seemed to possess a secret, sinister wisdom all their own.
Then an equally compelling craving had her longing to fling herself into his arms with an ease born of intimate knowledge.
But she did neither.
Five years in the public relations business and twenty-seven years as the daughter of an influential judge had taught her how to sweep her true feelings aside in favor of the politically correct response. Abby thrust out her hand, pasted an artificial smile on her face and repeated his name.
“Well, well, well,” he said, ignoring her outstretched palm and sinking his hands onto his low-slung hips. “If it isn’t Angel Archer.”
