The taste of him was ripe on her tongue

Abby glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror and literally did not recognize the face reflected there. Large hazel eyes were made more prominent by too much mascara, short tousled hair, cheeks blushing scarlet, mouth swollen and reddened from the heated pressure of Durango’s kiss.

A sex goddess.

A passionate überbabe.

So this was what it felt like…a bold vixen, a passion hound, a wicked femme fatale. She was now the kind of woman men bought naughty outfits and sinful chocolates for. Tonight she wouldn’t worry about what the neighbors might think. Tonight she was a rowdy sex nymph ready, willing and eager to take a big juicy bite out of life.

Emboldened, Abby stepped out into the hallway and headed for the club’s dance floor. But Durango captured her from behind and began to pull her into a long, slow, moist, deep kiss.

Hadn’t she read somewhere about a connection between how a man kissed and the way he performed in the bedroom?

Abby’s heart fluttered. If that was true, she was in for one hell of a fine treat.

Dear Reader,

Last spring my husband and I visited Sedona, Arizona. I was awed by the red rock formations and struck by the incredible energy field surrounding the place. The Native Americans there consider it sacred ground.

There are numerous energy vortexes in those compelling mesas, and if you’re attuned you can actually “feel” the vibrations coursing up from the earth. My mind started swirling. Just imagine making love where the energy field emanates not just from you and your man but also from the strumming force of the earth.

All your senses are intensified and stronger, and they resonate. You’re a tuning fork at perfect pitch vibrating with your soul mate. You two become one with all that there is. It’s incredible. When I felt it, I knew I had to put it into a book to share the experience with my readers.

I would love to hear what you think. You can visit my Web site, www.loriwilde.com, or write to me at Lori Wilde, P.O. Box 31, Weatherford, TX 76086.

Lori Wilde

Gotta Have It
Lori Wilde

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Heather Rae

A very special person who’ll one day soon

see her own book in print.

You’ve come a long way, baby.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

1

“YOU KNOW WHAT you need?”

“What?”

“To get plastered and pick up the first sexy stud who crosses your path. It’s the best cure for those pesky just-got-stood-up-at-the-altar blues.”

Abby Archer arrowed a glance at her best friend, Tess Baxter. They were seated side by side on wooden playground swings behind the church rectory. Abby was still wearing her eight-thousand-dollar ecru Vera Wang wedding gown and matching ballet style slippers, while Tess was dressed in a peach-colored spaghetti strap maid-of-honor dress and opened-toed sandals.

It was only then that Abby realized Tess’s toenails were painted electric-neon-green. She couldn’t help smiling at her quirky gal pal’s choice of polish.

Tess wagged a bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold in one hand, a baggie of sliced limes in the other. “I’ve got the hooch, now let’s go find us some stallions.”

“Thanks for trying to cheer me up, but honestly I don’t need to get drunk or have a one-night stand in order to salve my ego. Jilting me is the best thing Ken could have done for either one of us.”

“Will you just stop it?” Tess twisted the top off the tequila and tossed it over her shoulder. The lid landed with a quiet plop onto ground still soft with the rare treat of an early-morning May rain in Phoenix.

“Stop what?”

“Making lemonade from lemons. You got ditched on your wedding day. You’re entitled to be p.o’d.”

“Seriously, I’m cool with it. In fact…”

“In fact what?”

Abby lowered her voice, fidgeted with the powder-blue chantilly lace on the hanky she was supposed to have tucked into her pocket for something blue and admitted, “I feel relieved.”

Tess made a derisive noise. “Be that as it may, Ken humiliated you. If I’d gotten stood up, I’d hunt the guy down with a pickax and dispatch his manly parts. Chop, chop.”

“My best friend the drama queen,” Abby said affectionately.

“Hey,” Tess snapped her fingers. “Do you want me to emasculate him for you? I volunteer to be your personal hit woman.”

“I appreciate the loyalty, but I think I’ll let Ken keep his manly parts. He might need them for his future with Racy Racine.”

“I still can’t believe he ran off with an exotic dancer.” Tess took a swig of the tequila, grimaced and bit down on a lime wedge. She extended the bottle to Abby and arched an eyebrow invitingly.

Abby shook her head and waved away the tequila. The swing’s rusted metal chains creaked. “I just never expected Ken to do something so out of character. I mean the reason I was marrying him was because he was stable and predictable and reliable.”

“And because your dad approved of him.”

“That too.”

“You know what? I think we oughta cash in your honeymoon tickets and go on a trip. You already have two weeks off and I’m in between jobs. Let’s do something completely wild and crazy. Like drive to New Orleans and get our tongues pierced.”

“Ouch! No!”

“Come on, I heard it enhances the sexual response,” Tess cajoled.

Abby rolled her eyes. “You think everything enhances the sexual response.”

“Well, if it doesn’t it should.”

“Sex is overrated.”

Tess grinned impishly. “You’re just saying that because you’ve never had great sex.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Tess sighed and ran a hand through her short, spiky red hair. “Jeez Abby, don’t you ever just allow yourself to get carried away by the moment?”

“You know how I feel about letting my emotions spill out of control. It’s undignified and destructive.”

“Come on, tell the truth. Somewhere deep down inside, when you were sleeping with Mr. Boring Buttoned-Down, didn’t you fantasize about an explosive, passionate man who would sweep you off your feet, spirit you away to some mountain top and savagely ravage you?”

“Tess!”

“Just answer the question.”

“Sometimes,” Abby mumbled.

All the time, she thought to herself, and that was why she fought so hard to keep her sexual desires under wraps. She knew from experience the havoc unbridled passion wrought. Dark obsession scared the pants off her.

Tess’s eyes lit up. “Do tell! Is he somebody famous? Or is your dream lover someone you know?”

“I don’t really want to discuss this,” Abby said, but a mental picture of Durango Creed immediately jumped into her head.

In her mind’s eye he looked exactly as he had at eighteen when he had ridden out of her life forever. Black jeans, black leather jacket, black White Snake T-shirt, straddling his Ducati and begging her to run away with him. His ruggedly handsome face had glistened in the moonlight. His shoulder-length ebony hair was windblown, his black eyes deep and penetrating.

And his wicked, wicked smile had promised nothing but trouble.

He’d been the dead opposite of a knight in shining armor on a white charger.

In her daydreams, she longed for him to fulfill the promise inherent in his smile, but in reality, she’d sent him away without crossing that dangerous line. She had not acted on her impulses.

Thank God.

It was the smartest thing she’d ever done.

Or at least that was what she kept telling herself.

“This is the first time you’ve even hinted that you have secret sex dreams,” Tess said. “You’ve been holding out. Fill me in, woman.”

“It’s silly. Illogical. And I should know better.” Abby toed the dirt, staining her pristine white slipper with rich red Arizona soil. She knew she was ruining the shoes, but at this point, who cared?

“Abby, everyone has sex fantasies. It’s normal. Honestly, I was beginning to think you were some kind of freak. It heartens me to hear you have a dream lover.”

“Normal? For ten years? Even when you have a fiancé? It doesn’t seem normal to me. I shouldn’t have been fantasizing about anyone but Ken.”

“If you had been fantasizing about Ken, you would be sitting here bawling your eyes out, brokenhearted over getting dumped.”

“Maybe if I had been fantasizing about my nice safe Ken, instead of some dangerous, long-ago hell-raiser, I wouldn’t have gotten dumped.”

“Omigod.” Tess clapped her hands with sudden glee. “Your midnight man is Durango Creed!”

“No, he’s not,” Abby lied quickly, and immediately had to raise her hanky to her nose to stay a sneeze.

“If your fantasy lover isn’t Durango, then how come you’re sneezing?”

“Because I have allergies.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Whenever you deny your passion, you start sneezing.”

“No, I do not,” Abby refuted her claim and promptly sneezed again.

“See what I mean? If you don’t stop lying about your desires, you’re gonna go into anaphylactic shock. Besides, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, half the women in Phoenix had a jones for Durango.”

“Precisely why I didn’t…I don’t have a thing for him.” Abby sneezed a third time.

“Me thinks thou doth sneeze too much.”

“Okay, all right. I did have a crush on him,” Abby grumbled.

“Now was that so hard to confess?”

Yes. But at least she didn’t sneeze again.

“Well, it really doesn’t matter. I’m sure Durango Creed hates my guts. I was such a bitch to him.”

“Oh please, you’ve never been a bitch to anyone.”

“I refused to trust in him. I told him I couldn’t have a future with a common criminal.” Even now the memory of the harsh words she’d been forced to say made her cringe with regret.

“You did it to protect yourself. What else could you do? And I’m sure he’s gotten over you rejecting him by now. What was he thinking anyway? Giving you an ultimatum, expecting you to choose between him and your life in Silverton Heights?”

“He was hurt and confused. It was a real blow when his father remarried a woman half his age only four months after Durango’s mother died. And then for his dad to take his new wife’s side against his own son…” Abby let her sentence trail off.

“And it probably didn’t help matters any when your dad had Durango thrown in the slammer for a week for vandalizing his stepmother’s warehouse.”

Abby shook her head. It had been a rough time in her life.

Yeah, and it was even rougher for Durango.

“Can we just drop this conversation, please?” she asked.

“Aw, just when I finally got your number? No wonder you’re glad Ken ran off with Racy Racine. You’re still in love with Durango.”

“I was never in love with him,” Abby denied, but her heart skipped a beat at her denunciation. “It was all teenage angst and hormones.”

“Okay, then you’re hot for him because he’s the one you let get away.”

“I’m not hot for him, dammit. It’s just a stupid fantasy.”

“Ooh, watch out,” Tess teased. “Or you’ll start sneezing again. Sure you don’t want a shot of tequila?”

“Liquor is not the answer.”

“Then what is?”

Abby doubled her arms across her chest. “I don’t know.”

“I do.”

She shot Tess a sideways glance. “Well?”

“You gotta get it out of your system.”

“Get what out of my system?”

“Durango.”

Abby snorted. “Please.”

“I’m serious. When he left town, you were left wondering what it would have been like if you two had hooked up. And you’re probably still feeling guilty for hurting him the way you did, even though we both know you had no real choice.”

“I couldn’t have gone with him, Tess. I was only seventeen and my father was livid.”

“I agree completely, but you’ve apparently spent the last ten years spinning this mental fantasy about him that no guy would be able to live up to, especially someone as dull as Ken. Ideally, the best way to exorcise the Durango demon would be to find the delectable Mr. Creed and screw his brains out.”

“He’s probably happily married with a backyard full of cute kids who possess those same mesmerizing dark eyes.”

“No he’s not.”

Abby frowned and her pulse quickened. “How do you know that?”

“I saw an article on him in Arizona magazine a couple of months back. He’s doing some kind of Outward Bound charity work for disaffected youths, and the reporter made a point of saying he was a very eligible bachelor.”

Abby covered her ears with her hands. She didn’t want to hear any more. “Let’s not talk about him.”

“Okay, forget Durango. Then go find a surrogate and screw his brains out instead. Any wild, black-sheep bad boy should do the trick.”

Abby’s heart hitched.

Tess’s wacky solution actually made some sense. She was concerned about these incessant midnight fantasies she couldn’t seem to shake. Obsessive fantasies that bothered her far more than she cared to admit.

She didn’t want to feel this way. She wanted to free her mind of Durango so that the next time she found a stable, calm, sensible man she could give herself to him heart, mind and soul, the way she hadn’t been able to give herself to Ken.

“I’m just not gutsy enough for a rowdy fling. You know me, Tess. I have to do a thorough consumer investigation before I change toothpastes. Can you actually see me hopping into bed with the first good-looking guy who nods my way?”

“Uh-oh,” Tess warned. “Speaking of bed hopping, here comes Cassandra.”

Abby sighed and watched her mother, who was wearing a skintight miniskirt and three-inch heels, take mincing steps across the playground toward them, a glass of champagne clutched in one hand, a skinny dark brown clove cigarette in the other.

“Well, at least she’s minus the boy toy,” Tess observed.

“Thank God for small favors.”

“You know what?” Tess said, springing up off the swing as Abby’s mother drew closer. “I think I’m going to call your travel agent about cashing in your honeymoon tickets to Aruba. We could take off tonight on an exciting adventure. Vegas, New Orleans, Miami. Let’s cut loose. Whaddaya say?”

“I’d say you’re just running off so you won’t have to talk to Cassandra,” Abby accused.

“Well, there is that.” Tess grinned. “Want me to leave the tequila? You might need it.”

“She’d probably just drink the entire thing.”

“Good point.” Tess tucked the bottle under her arm. “The tequila stays with me.”

Tess and Cassandra gave each other fake smiles as they passed. For some reason her best friend and her mother rubbed each other the wrong way. Abby had never said anything to either one of them, but she’d always figured their animosity toward each other stemmed from the fact that they were two peas in a pod, both of them flamboyant, impulsive and audacious.

“Hi, sweetie.” Her mother, smelling of her signature honeysuckle cologne and the clove cigarette, plunked down on the swing Tess had just vacated.

“Hello, Cassandra.”

She reached over and gently touched Abby’s shoulder. “You can call me Mom today, if you want.”

Abby shook her head. After her mother had left her father, she’d insisted Abby call her Cassandra so the guys she dated wouldn’t know she was old enough to have an eight-year-old daughter. As Abby grew older, Cassandra raided her closet for hip clothes and flirted with Abby’s boyfriends.

All except for Durango. Abby had never introduced him to her mother.

“How you holdin’ up?” Cassandra polished off her champagne and then set the flute on top of the adjoining slide.

“I’m doing okay.”

“Your father seems to be having a rough time of it. He’s apologizing to the guests like he’s the one who did something wrong.”

“Ken was his campaign manager and now he’s going to have to fire him. That’s causing him grief. Plus, Daddy feels responsible because he was the one who got us together and he really likes Ken.”

“Yeah well, birds of a feather,” her mother muttered.

“Please, don’t even go there.”

“You’re right. No need to get petty, but I’m betting your father lost the sticker price of a showroom BMW on this failed shindig. And I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and pretend he’s more worried about you than how this is going to reflect on him with the voting public.”

Abby poked her tongue against the inside of her cheek. She’d had years of practice mediating truces and cease-fires between her parents. That skill had actually been excellent training for her job as a public relations specialist for a large nonprofit organization and she’d learned her lessons well. She refused to rise to Cassandra’s dangling bait.

“Nobody cares that I got stood up. Daddy’s running for governor, not me. And you needn’t worry about the cost of the wedding.” As if her mother would. “Daddy took out wedding insurance.”

“But of course he did.” Her mother gave a dry laugh and took a drag of her cigarette. “Wayne is nothing if not sensible.”

She said “sensible” as if it was a dirty word.

They sat in silence. Her mother smoking, Abby kicking more dirt onto her slippers.

“You wanna go shoe shopping or something?” Cassandra asked. Bonding over a sale on Manolo Blahniks was her mother’s answer to everything.

“I’m doing okay.” Abby forced a smile. “Honest. You can go back to Tahoe with Tad, guilt free.”

“It’s Tab, darling.”

“Whatever.”

Her mother reached over and brushed a lock of hair away from Abby’s forehead. “Ken wasn’t right for you. You do know that.”

“I think I sort of got the clue when he didn’t show up at the altar.”

“You are much too passionate for a dullard like him, my dear.”

“Apparently Ken isn’t all that dull. He caught Racy Racine’s attention.”

Cassandra waved a hand. “That won’t last. The stripper is just out for his money. Soon as she discovers he’s as exciting as watching paint dry she’ll abscond with his wallet and he’ll come crawling back to you. But don’t you dare take him back. Like I said, you’re much too lusty for the likes of him.”

Abby laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, right. I’m so lusty even dull Ken deserted me.”

“You just hide your passion because you’re scared that if you let yourself go you’ll turn out like me.”

“I’m not like you. Not in the least,” Abby protested, and then she sneezed.

“Deny it all you want, sugar babe. That sneeze says it all.”

“I have allergies!”

“Then how come you only sneeze when the topic of conversation turns to passionate feelings?”

“I sneeze at other times.”

“Do you really?”

“Yes.” No.

Cassandra just smiled knowingly. “Like it or not, my hot Gypsy blood courses through your veins and those sneeze attacks are nature’s way of trying to get you to realize it.”

Abby thought of Durango and a flame of fear leaped into her heart. Could it be true? Was she sitting on a volcano of passion that was just waiting to erupt and spew disaster on everyone in her path?

She swallowed. “It’s nothing a good antihistamine won’t cure.”

“You wish. Truth is, you’re just aching to express your secret inner desires. Deep down inside, you know that’s the case.”

“You’re wrong. I have no secret inner desires,” Abby fibbed, and crinkled her nose to keep from sneezing.

“Then why do you have Tess for a friend.”

“Because I like her.”

“And why do you like her?”

“Because she’s fun.”

“Exactly. You made her your best friend so you can live through her vicariously. She does all the things you’re afraid to do and you tag along. But sooner or later, no matter how hard you try to sublimate it, that passion of yours is going to come bursting out. Just like it did with me.”

“Not if I refuse to give in to it.”

“It’s bigger than your will, darling. God knows I tried to be a good wife to Wayne and a good mother to you. I tried to live the suburban lifestyle, but it just wasn’t possible. I felt suffocated, smothered, invisible. I had to be me and I won’t apologize for that.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself.”

“I’m not justifying myself. Don’t you get it? I’m trying to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“Once you open that Pandora’s box, Abby, once your true passion is released, watch out. There’s no going back.”

“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.”

Angel.

The sound of his old nickname for her stirred Abby inexplicably. She’d forgotten he used to call her that because she was such a Goody Two-shoes.

She stood there with her hand thrust out, feeling like a fool and not knowing how to gracefully retract it. She had the oddest sensation that if she just stretched her hand out far enough she could caress that night ten years ago, touch the girl she had once been and pull her back from making the terrible mistake of sending him away.

Fanciful, decried the critic in her head. You can’t recapture the past.

Grab him, whispered her long-buried desire. Make a new future.

And there lay the crux of her predicament. Safety on one side, passion on the other and Abby trapped firmly in the middle, immobilized.

Durango sized her up with one long, lingering glance that made her feel completely naked. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable. She didn’t like feeling out of control. And he made her feel both of these things.

Her nose itched.

Thank heavens, she’d taken an antihistamine on the drive up, even if it did make her mouth all cottony. It was better than sneezing her head off.

“After all these years, you still remember me,” he said.

“Of course she remembers you,” Tess babbled. “She still has sex dreams about you and—”

Abby trod on Tess’s instep. Shh.

“Ow!” Tess glared and hopped around on one foot, grossly exaggerating the slight injury.

Abby sent her a look that said, serves you right for interfering in my love life.

Durango’s grin widened. “And you were going to be satisfied with just shaking my hand? You haven’t changed a bit, Angel. Still holding back. Still keeping your emotions under wraps.”

“I don’t think that’s…” Abby began, but got no further.

“Come ’ere.” He strode forward, encircled her in a bear hug and lifted her off her feet.

Oh, my.

Contact with his hard, masculine body threw her into a tailspin. Her breasts were smashed flat against his broad, honed chest. He smelled delightfully of wind and sun and leather.

His muscles rippled as he squeezed her tight. His hair tickled her ear. His chin made contact with her cheek and the slight scrape of beard stubble shoved her long-dormant libido into overdrive.

She wanted him.

Badly.

Abby froze. She remembered now, with distinct clarity, why she hadn’t taken his side all those years ago when everyone in Silverton Heights had turned against him.

She’d been too afraid.

The strength of his life force was just too overwhelming, his passion too raw, his intensity too intimidating for her to handle. She had been the good girl with the stark dread of ending up bad, just like her incorrigible mother.

Durango kept holding her. His big laugh rumbled intoxicatingly in her ears, his ebony eyes sparkling with devilment, his exhilarating scent blinding her to any other smell.

No.

She would not allow herself to get swept away by the force of his energy. She would just wait him out. Eventually he would have to put her feet back on the ground.

It was like waiting out a hurricane.

He just kept standing there. Holding her.

Abby didn’t move. She most certainly did not hug him in return, but his embrace transported her back in time.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the sexually repressed young girl she had once been longing to explore the red-hot passion surging through her veins but was too scared to act. That’s why she’d kept fantasizing about Durango all these years. Because he was the flame she hadn’t been brave enough to extinguish.

At last, Durango set her down and stepped away to eye her once more.

“You look amazing,” he said huskily.

She dropped her gaze. So do you, she yearned to say but prudently murmured, “Thank you.”

“You still living in Phoenix?” His face was lively with interest, his body language compelling.

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s still living in her father’s house.” Tess rolled her eyes. “Of course, she was getting married, but that deal sort of fell through. The groom ditched her for a stripper on their wedding day. Thank heavens. Ken was all wrong for her.”

“Ken Rockford?” Durango cleared his throat.

At the private high school in Silverton Heights that they’d all three attended, Durango and Ken had been archenemies, with Ken the class president and football quarterback to Durango’s rebel without a cause, smoking in the boys’ room.

Abby nodded but didn’t look at him. Gee thanks, Tess, for making things so much more awkward.

Durango snorted but said nothing. An uncomfortable silence fell.

“I’m Tess, by the way.” Tess stepped forward to shake his hand. “Remember me? I was away at boarding school when you and Abby were dating, but we met at your father’s annual Christmas party that year.”

“Didn’t you used to be a blonde?” he asked.

“Yep, and a brunette before that and once I did the tricolor blond-brunette-red-hair thing. So I guess you could say I was a calico.” She shrugged. “I’m not like Abby who’s had the same tame hairstyle all her life. I get bored easily.”

Durango laughed. “I like you, Tess.”

“I like you too, Durango.”

Dammit, was Tess flirting with him? And criticizing her hairdo to boot? Abby experienced a flick of jealousy so hot and quick it startled her.

“Are we going to do this vortex thing or not?” she snapped, irritated with herself because she sounded jealous.

“Sure, sure.” Durango nodded. “Who’s calling shotgun?”

“Abby is!” Tess said.

“Or we could both just sit in the back.”

“No, no, you two need to catch up on old times,” Tess announced, and shoved Abby toward the passenger side of the Jeep.

“No, really, there’s no need. I’m happy with the back,” Abby argued.

But Durango was getting behind the wheel and Tess was sprawled out across the back seat.

Move over, Abby mouthed silently.

Tess shook her head.

Abby waggled her finger at her. I’m going to get even with you for this.

Saucily, Tess stuck out her tongue.

Durango started the engine, leaving Abby no choice except to climb into the passenger seat beside him.

She stopped short when she spied a credo medallion dangling from the rearview mirror. The silver lettering against the red background caught the sun and glinted enticingly.

Freefall, it read.

Freefall. Didn’t that just about sum up Durango? And her fantasies concerning him.

Her dreams always involved an element of danger and risk. In her reveries, he was usually a virile pirate or a black-hearted bandit or a lawless mercenary.

She remembered his hot kisses, how they’d both frightened and thrilled her. She recalled the way his fevered hand had felt sliding up underneath her shirt, expertly unhooking her bra. She recollected how he’d shocked her young sensibilities by pressing the length of his male hardness against her yearning thigh. She could not forget the way her heart had pounded and how much it had scared her. This desperate wanting.

And it appeared nothing had changed!

I am not giving in to desire. I’m not like my mother. I’m a controlled person. I am. I am. I am. This had been her solemn mantra in high school and it was still her mantra now.

So why did she suddenly feel like she was in an irrevocable tailspin?

Abby sneezed into a tissue and then fastened her seat belt. She dropped her hands into her lap and struggled to get her heart rate under control. She had had no concept that seeing Durango again would affect her so profoundly.

Of course if she hadn’t been ambushed by Tess’s subterfuge, she would have been more prepared for their meeting, more in control of her emotions, more patient with her distressing reaction. She shot a glance back at her wily friend, who had her face tilted up to the morning sun and was grinning one of those sneaky Cheshire-cat grins of hers.

And damn if she wasn’t softly humming, Sheryl Crow’s “All I Wanna Do.”

Abby knew the message Tess was sending. Just relax and have some fun. But how could she relax when her entire world had just tilted off its axis?

Durango put the Jeep in gear, shot around the paved circular driveway and out of the gate. Abby clutched at her hat to keep it from flying off. She could literally feel his sexual energy.

The man was potent. She had to give him that. Testosterone shimmered off him in waves.

But did she really want to explore his…um…potency?

The chemistry was still there. No denying. Bubbling, sizzling, churning. Scarier than ever.

You know that’s why you want him. Because he’s not safe. Because he is taboo.

Good grief. Why was Cassandra’s voice tap-dancing around in her head?

She could feel the current of sexuality swirling around them, a compelling nexus of desire. But was a wild fling really the answer to ending the sexual fantasies she could not shake? Or would seducing this man open up a whole new can of hurt?

She slipped her sunglasses back on and coolly said, “So what exactly is a vortex?”

He turned his head to smile at her, and her heart, which had just begun to settle down, kicked back into high gear. If the man could bottle that grin the world’s fuel problems would be solved.

“Essentially it’s the energy of the earth.”

“Oookay.”

“The energy can be magnetic, electric or electromagnetic. The magnetic vortices are considered masculine, the feminine are electric and the electromagnetic are neutral.”

“Which one of those are we going to?” Abby asked, and caught herself studying his large, masculine hands as he clutched the steering wheel.

He had such nice, long, broad fingers. She recollected how those same fingers had once tickled the underside of her throat while his hot, wet tongue had eagerly explored her ear.

Magnetic, indeed.

“We’re going to Cathedral Rock first. It’s a feminine vortex.”

“What’s supposed to happen there?”

“Maybe nothing.” Durango shrugged. “It all depends on what you’re looking for. Some people come to Sedona for spiritual growth. Others arrive searching for health and emotional well-being. Still others find themselves at a crossroad in their lives and they’re seeking guidance. Sedona is a good place to turn inward and find out what you really want.”

That’s me. I’m at a crossroad.

And she had no idea what it was she really wanted out of life.

“What kind of guidance can these earth energies give you?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“If you let yourself feel the power, they can guide you anywhere you want to go.”

“Sounds cryptic,” Tess piped up.

“It’s an individual experience. If you’re attuned, the vortex can lead you to balance and harmony in your life. Or it can point the way to an important career change. It can help you in your relationships or it can set you on the path to heightened awareness.”

“What about sex?” Tess asked.

“I’m for it,” Durango said.

Tess giggled. “Me too. But what I’ve heard is that vortex energy can enhance your sex life.”

Durango chuckled. His laugh was low and sensuous and snaked a fissure of that very heightened awareness right up Abby’s spinal column. “If that’s what you need. Sure, why not?”

“I’m betting the electromagnetic vortices are the sexiest, right?” Tess sat up and leaned over the front seat.

“I never really thought of it that way,” Durango said. “But, yeah, I suppose those would be considered the sexiest vortices. Concurrent flow and all that.”

“Do you really believe the vortices have such influential power?” Abby asked.

“Not at all,” he said. “The power is within you. The vortex is just a channel, funneling energy into whatever you bring to it. Positive or negative. Light or dark. Passionate or dispassionate.”

Abby swallowed. “All this sounds pretty out there. New Agey. Weird.”

And not at all like the old Durango she used to know. That young rebel had been full of torment and anger. He was different now. More relaxed, more philosophical, more sure of his place in the world. Plus, he didn’t seem to hold the slightest grudge against her for turning against him all those years ago. That was really nice. She approved of the changes in him.

Durango leaned over and placed the flat of his broad thumb in the center of her forehead. “Open your mind, Abby. The world is a much bigger place than your father’s circle of influence.”

She stared at him, her forehead tingling from his touch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You figure it out.” Durango’s enigmatic black eyes challenged her to go beyond the tried-and-true. He was so busy watching her that he missed his turn-off and had to corner quickly.

The tires squealed. Abby sucked in her breath and clutched the hand rest.

The credo medallion flew off the rearview mirror and dropped into her lap.

Freefall.

With shaky fingers, Abby slipped the medallion back over the mirror.

“Yee-ha!” Tess said from the back seat. “That was fun.”

“Just checking to see if you were awake,” Durango joked.

They turned down Back O’ Beyond Road. It seemed an appropriate name encircled as they were by miles and miles of the majestic red rocks. Abby had to admit there was something incredibly special about those rock mesas. No matter what you were doing, you invariably felt your eyes drawn to them.

There were other Jeeps on the road. Other tours. They drove for a while longer and then Durango found a place to park.

“We walk from here,” he said, strapping on his backpack.

The weather was temperate. A good fifteen degrees cooler than in Phoenix. The sun was bright but not overpowering. The air was peaceful. Quiet.

Abby couldn’t believe that she had lived out her entire life in Phoenix and had never once made the short two-hour trek to Sedona. She didn’t have much time for vacations. She stayed too busy with her job and running her father’s household and helping out with his political campaigns. And whenever she did take time off, she usually preferred cruising the Caribbean to checking out local hot spots.

Just think, all this time, Durango was only two hours away and you never knew.

Her heart lurched oddly. Why did that realization make her feel so sad?

The world is a much bigger place than your father’s circle of influence. Durango’s words echoed in her head.

He led the way up the trail. They’d only gone half a mile before Tess started bitching. “How come nobody told me there’d be so much walking.”

“I did suggest you might not want to wear high-heeled sandals.” Abby shook her head.

“But hiking shoes blow my sexy image.” Tess pouted.

“It’s not too much farther,” Durango said.

“Why don’t they build roads right up to the vortex?” Tess whined. “For us couch potatoes.”

“That would kinda ruin the whole point of nature,” Abby pointed out.

They passed a few other hikers on their trek up the rock. Tess finally ended up pulling off her shoes and padding after them barefoot. The sound of her feet slapping against the red sandstone echoed softly throughout the canyon.

When they came to a large flat rock in the middle of the path, Tess plunked herself down on it.

“You guys go ahead.” She waved a hand. “I just wanna sit here and rest a minute.”

“We’ll wait with you,” Abby said and perched beside her. The last thing she wanted to do was be alone with Durango.

“I really want to be by myself. To meditate.”

Abby stared at her. “Since when do you meditate?”

“Since I found out Colin Cruz is deep into Eastern philosophy. Now, do you mind?” Tess made shooing motions at them. “Scram.”

She knew what her friend was up to and, while Tess thought she had her best interest at heart, Abby wasn’t the least bit grateful.

“Abby?” Durango raised a questioning eyebrow and cocked his head in the direction of the summit. “How ’bout we give Tess some space.”

Okay, fine. Blowing out her breath, Abby slid off the rock and reluctantly followed Durango up the trail. So much for the quiet, tranquil buttes of Sedona.

“You and Tess are total opposites,” Durango said to Abby when they were out of earshot. “How have you stayed friends for so long?”

“Tess is something of a character,” Abby conceded. “She’s a lot of fun to be around.”

“And you’re the ground wire.”

“I guess you could say that.”

They reached the top and, just as they were going up, a camera-wielding, balding, paunchy, middle-aged man wearing Bermuda shorts, a Van Halen T-shirt and black sandals with plaid socks was coming down.

“I looked all over this damned rock and couldn’t find hide nor hair of that stupid vortex,” he was muttering under his breath.

“A vortex isn’t something you see,” Durango told him. “It’s an energy field. You have to feel it.”

The guy snorted, mumbled something about New Age fruitcakes and took off down the trail.

“Well, he was friendly,” Abby said. “Not.”

“People like him show up all the time. They’re usually from a big city. Rushed, in a hurry, looking for a short cut to inner peace. They hear about the restorative power of the vortex and they think it’s a ticket to instant enlightenment. But there’s no such thing.”

Abby cocked her head and studied him. He looked at peace and she was happy for him. “You seem to have come a long way in the enlightenment department.”

“Hey, it was either get peaceful or drive myself nuts holding on to grudges.”

“Did you have a grudge against me?” she dared to ask him.

“What do you think?”

“I’m thinking yes.”

He nodded. “I was pretty hurt at the time. I thought we were working on something special, but it turned out I was wrong. Just goes to show you how foolish teenagers can be.”

“Not totally foolish,” she said huskily.

“No?”

“I thought we were working on something special, too.”

He eyed her speculatively. “But when the going got tough and you got going…”

“What can I say?” She shrugged and tried not to let him see how much her lack of faith in him still bothered her. “I was a scared kid.”

“You’re not a kid anymore.”

“No.”

“But you’re still scared.” There was that grin of his again, more wicked than ever.

The sun beat down. The air was alive with electricity. Abby felt something then. She didn’t know if it was the famous vortex energy or if it was energy of a much more tangible kind, but her skin prickled and her nerve endings tingled.

Durango’s chest was rising and falling in a rapid rhythm that matched her own edgy breathing.

A tangle of complicated emotions skirled inside her, spiraling outward in an expanding circle, drawing her to him.

Their eyes met and the moment was straight out of some romantic movie. His gaze locked with hers and Abby couldn’t catch her breath. Her chest literally hurt with the intensity of wanting him.

The vortex was sucking her in. Pulling her down into a place she wasn’t so sure she wanted to go.

Run! Run! cried the cautious side she’d inherited from her father.

Stay, stay, inveigled her mother’s Gypsy blood.

“Durango,” she whispered.

“Angel.”

He reached for her.

She walked toward him.

He wet his lips.

She pursed hers.

He took off her hat.

She looked into his face.

Oh wow, oh boy, oh no.

And Abby just knew he would have kissed her if she hadn’t picked that moment to start sneezing.

3

WHAT IN THE HADES do you think you’re pulling, Creed?

Oh, he knew what he was doing and it wasn’t good. In fact, he had very, very bad intentions.

When Durango had first realized that the sleek-haired brunette on the steps of the Tranquility Spa was none other than Abby Archer, the teenage crush who had busted his heart by siding with their snobby, high-society community against him, his first despicable thought had been—I’ve gotta get even.

His second, more mature thought had been—I’ve gotta let it go.

Ten years had passed. He rarely thought about her anymore and he’d made a great life for himself here in Sedona. And yet a touch of that young rebel remained. A bit of his heart was still hardened against her and the collective of Silverton Heights.

He wasn’t proud of his feelings but neither could he dismiss them. He felt what he felt. Good or bad.

Yet how could he blame her for what had happened? Abby had done what she had to do in order to live with herself. She’d been a suppressed seventeen-year-old girl with a powerful father. She’d had little choice but to accept his edict. Rationally, Durango understood that.

But deep down inside he was still the vulnerable kid who didn’t quite comprehend why he hadn’t been enough for her.

Besides, his real beef had been with her old man.

And his own.

Durango grit his teeth at the memory. Although he had long since gotten over being disowned in favor of his father’s calculating trophy wife, he still couldn’t fathom why Phillip Creed had chosen to believe his stepmother Meredith’s outrageous lie that Durango had attempted to force her to have sex with him, when it had been the other way around.

Meredith had come on to him.

Durango tried telling his father the accusation was a ruse on Meredith’s part because he’d discovered she was hiding illicit business dealings at her company where his father had just bought part interest.

But his father had sunk even lower, allowing Meredith to intimidate him into involving his buddy, Judge Archer, in the private family matter. His father persuaded Abby’s dad to jail him for a week, when in a desperate bid to be heard, Durango had lashed out and vandalized one of Meredith’s warehouses.

The memory of those seven days behind bars would stay with him forever.

Let it go. Water under the bridge. He was happy now and that’s all that mattered.

Then Durango’s third and most compelling thought had been—Damn, but Abby’s hot. I’ve gotta find a way to get her into my bed.

Now, standing here atop Cathedral Rock, gazing into her soulful hazel eyes and lusting after those full cherry-colored lips, he was thinking—You still haven’t found your passion, have you sweetheart?

He could see she was lost and she didn’t even know it. His heart literally ached and his weakness for her bothered the hell out of him.

Why did he still care?

Abby was the same person she’d been a decade ago. As evidenced by the fact she had almost married that candy-assed Ken Rockford. Still kowtowing to her father, still denying her fire, still hiding from her true self.

He’d seen the depth in her from the beginning, even though she’d never seen it in herself.

The first time he laid eyes on Abby, he’d been serving out detention in the library, when she’d ambled through the door wearing a matching sweater set and clutching her books to her chest. Every hair was in place, her skirt ironed, understated makeup, tasteful jewelry. She’d looked like some kind of throwback to the nineteen fifties.

Prim, proper, perfect. All except for those full, sensuous lips and the provocative way her hips rolled when she walked.

Those lips and that walk gave away the inner woman. On the surface she might be calm, controlled and composed but underneath, oh underneath, she was just waiting to spring free.

Fire and ice.

But nothing had changed for her. Abby’s body was ripe with unexplored sexuality, begging for release. He could see it in the way she moistened her lips when he looked at her mouth. He could smell it in the estrogen rising up off her skin. He could hear it in her soft sneeze whenever he stared at her with open desire.

He longed to show her that a life without passion wasn’t worth living. He yearned to teach her how to listen to her own desires and ignore the opinions of others. He hungered to ruffle her cool aplomb and show her exactly what she’d been missing.

“What are you seeking, Abby?” he asked, searching her face.

A part of him truly wanted to help her find herself, but another part of him couldn’t keep from thinking how tasty it would be to pull her down on top of the red sandstone, whisk those fancy white shorts over her womanly hips and show her right then and there what she’d been missing.

His pulse thundered and his abdominal muscles tugged. What was the matter with him? If he’d wanted revenge, he should have taken it ten years ago. Too much time had passed to dredge up ancient history.

“Passion got you scared?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” She blinked.

“You sneezed.”

“So what?”

“You used to start sneezing whenever things got too hot to handle.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”

“Maybe because it’s true.”

“It’s not true! I have allergies.”

“Yeah, you’re allergic to digging too deep and finding out what’s really going on inside your heart.”

She stared at him. He’d caught her off guard. Good. She needed to be unsettled more often. Just as he was unsettled.

“What are you searching for?” he repeated.

“Um…” She hesitated. “Who says I’m searching for anything?”

“Most people come to Sedona on a quest.”

“I’m simply on vacation.”

“Is that true? Or are you here to lick your wounds after getting dumped at the altar by Ken Rockford?” He really hadn’t meant to get that dig in, it had just slipped out.

Okay, I’m jealous. So sue me.

“I’m not heartbroken over losing Ken, if that’s what you’re asking. In fact, that’s the problem. I can’t seem to feel anything monumental.”

He wanted to ask if Ken had ever made her sneeze. Instead, he said, “I know how to cure your problem.”

“Oh, you do?” She raised one of her cool, perfectly arched eyebrows. How well he remembered that haughty high-society-princess look. It goaded him to take action. “And how is that?”

He meant to tell her she needed to let go and do something reckless for once in her life, but the way she held herself aloof and regal made him itch to bring her down a peg or two.

“Like this.”

Then before he even knew what he was intending to do, Durango yanked her into his arms and captured her lips with a kiss.

He experienced the kiss not just with his mouth and tongue but all the way through to the very center of his body. His gut whirled and his groin tightened and even his frickin’ knees bobbled.

Abby resisted at first, pushing against his chest with the flats of her palms. But then her jaw loosened and her tongue rushed out to meet his. Her hand fluttered upward and she skimmed her cool fingertips over the heated skin of his neck.

She wanted this as much as he did. Even if she couldn’t admit it.

The realization inflamed him.

Durango deepened the kiss, splaying a hand at the small of her back, holding her steady while he poured every drop of concentration into kissing her.

God, he’d forgotten how good she tasted. How he’d once dreamed of planting himself between her supple thighs. His old dreams came roaring back to life. Twice as big, twice as potent, twice as hungry.

He was in dangerous territory and he thrilled to it, reveling in the daintiness of her slender arms, the press of her soft breasts against his hard chest.

She pulled back to catch her breath. Her eyes were wide and nervous. Quickly she glanced around.

“Durango,” she gasped, and then held a palm across her mouth and nose to stifle a sneeze.

“There you go, clogging up that passion. Let yourself experience it, Abby, and you’ll stop sneezing.”

“I can’t do that. We shouldn’t do this. What if someone sees us?”

He groaned. How many times had she said that to him? How many times had he held back, respecting her wishes even though he had wanted her so badly he had thought he was going to explode from the pressure.

But they weren’t kids anymore and she was on his turf now.

“To hell with what we shouldn’t do,” he growled, and dragged her back into his arms.

She stiffened and he could feel the conflict waging in her body. Physically she wanted him, but emotionally she was scared of letting herself go, terrified of embracing her sexuality.

He had honored her wishes when they were teenagers, but not now. Not this time. He was going to make her face the situation.

Deny this, Angel.

Lowering his head, Durango captured her luscious lips again. He felt the zap of wildness flowing from the rocks, through his feet, up his body and into hers.

The feminine vortex.

They were fused into a single power source, their passion one with the cosmos. They melded with the environment. Merging, mixing, marrying the earth.

It seemed to Durango as if they were spinning from a dizzying aerial viewpoint. Their kiss captured in the Technicolor red of the soaring pinnacle cliffs and rugged desert landscape.

Overhead, a red-tailed hawk cried “keer, keer.” A spiny lizard skittered nearby. The air smelled of piñon pine, juniper and Abby.

In the nine years he had been guiding Jeep tours through Sedona, Durango had experienced the enigmatic power of the vortices hundreds of times. Sometimes he felt a mild tugging. At other moments it was a strong pull. Sometimes the sensation made him emotional. Sometimes he felt centered and grounded. On occasion he found himself simply overwhelmed by the vastness of the cosmos.

But never had he experienced what he was feeling now.

It was magical. Surreal. Otherworldly.

Native American lore spoke of it. This rush of incredible sensitivity. It was as if a fire hose had been turned on in his heart and he was a channel, a catalyst, a crucible.

The phenomenon was scary as hell because it felt so damned wonderful.

His body burned like a furnace. His skin tingled. Joy bubbled inside him, fizzy as mineral water.

Wow.

He let Abby go and stepped back. He could tell from the bewildered expression in her eyes that she was feeling it too.

Stunned, they simply stared at each other.

“Was that it?” she whispered. “Is that what the vortex feels like?”

He gulped. “Yep. That was the vortex.”

“Oh thank heavens, for a minute there I thought that maybe…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she raised a quivering hand to tuck a lock of hair behind one ear.

He knew what she thought, because he was thinking the same thing. If simply kissing her in a vortex could cause such a euphoric sensation, what in the hell would happen if they were to make love in one?

SHE HAD TO REGAIN CONTROL of the chaotic emotions jumbling inside her. Simultaneously, Abby felt ecstasy and fear, bliss and dread. But she refused to show Durango her confusion. Her father had trained her well. Never reveal your weakness to your enemies.

And Durango was indeed her enemy, because with just one kiss he threatened to smash to smithereens her carefully ordered world.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, whispered her high-spirited Gypsy blood. Maybe your uptight, insular world needs destroying. And hey, maybe you would quit sneezing.

Abby shook her head. She didn’t know if it was the vortex or Durango or a deadly combination of both, but she would not allow herself to disintegrate over one little kiss.

One little kiss? Ha! More like the kiss of the millennium.

Knock it off. Get it together. You’re Judge Archer’s daughter, so act like it.

You’re Cassandra’s daughter, too.

Abby ignored that thought, smoothed the wrinkles from her linen shorts, squared her shoulders and glanced over at Durango.

“I think we should go check on Tess,” she said evenly, and started past him for the trailhead.

Durango reached out and snagged her elbow, stopping Abby in her tracks. “I think we should talk about what just happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Dammit, don’t shut me out. Not again.”

“Please remove your hand.” She glowered at him.

He let go and stepped back. “Are you going to be like this for the rest of your life?”

“Be like what?”

Even though his hand was gone, she could still feel the imprint of it on her skin. Already she was feeling that swoopy, looping out-of-kilter sensation in the region of her heart—she used to feel it whenever she was around him and she didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

“Dead to life,” he said.

“I’m not dead to life.” Did he really believe that? “I just don’t choose to put my feelings on parade like some people.”

He reached up to stroke a strand of her hair. “Admit it, Angel. You’re afraid of your passion. Even your nose knows it.”

“Stop calling me Angel.”

“Why? Because it makes you feel something?”

Yes. Precisely.

“Because I’m not that silly little seventeen-year-old who was once so infatuated with you.”

“You weren’t infatuated with me. If you’d really cared about me, you wouldn’t have sided with your father and mine against me when you knew in your heart I shouldn’t have gone to jail.” His tone hardened.

Lovely. Now he was getting angry. She didn’t want to fight with him. There was no point rehashing the past. They’d both made their choices.

“Don’t try to put this all on me. You gave me an ultimatum, Durango, and hey, news flash, you did vandalize your stepmother’s business.”

“And you know why I did it.”

“It was still wrong.”

“That’s the reason I started calling you Angel,” he growled. “Because you’re so damned perfect. You never get mad or hurt or do stupid things like the rest of us.”

“I get hurt plenty. I hurt when you left town and never came back. Just because I couldn’t go with you, it didn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

They stared at each other, the past a shimmery ghost between them. Abby realized what was wrong. They’d had no closure. No true ending to the relationship that had budded hot but never bloomed.

Well then, have a fling with the man. She could just hear Cassandra egging her on. That should give you plenty of closure. And whew! Can he kiss. Do it, Abby, do it. Mend fences.

No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Why not? Too chicken? Too afraid you can’t handle the likes of Durango Creed?

Argh! Why couldn’t she get her mother’s irreverent voice out of her head?

“We have unfinished business, you and I. That kiss said it all.” Holding her gaze, he leaned in close.

“It was the vortex, remember?” She stiffened and tried to the ignore the distinct tickling sensation between her legs.

“And like I told you, the vortex gives back what you bring to it.”

“What are you insinuating, Durango?” Her heart skipped a beat.

What if? What if? What if?

He reached out and cupped her cheek with his palm. His fingers were warm and strong. How easy it would be to get swept up in the past. “What I’m saying, Angel, if you’re interested, is that I can show you how to unearth your passion.”

Go ahead, say yes. Just have a fling and get Durango out of your system once and for all so you can get on with your life.

She gulped. She was in over her head and drowning in ebony eyes that could send a girl straight to hell.

“What precisely are you suggesting?” she whispered.

“An adventure.” Durango’s smile was wicked to the core. “To broaden your horizons.”

She shifted her weight. She was already getting antsy, wanting to kiss him again.

Could the affair start now, please?

She wanted him so badly she was practically panting. But was this the right thing to do? What if she really was like her mother? What if, once released, there was no putting the genie back in the bottle?

“You’re worried,” Durango said, “that this adventure will change you in some elemental way.”

“Yes.”

“There’s no getting around it. Once you taste the thrill of passion, you can’t go back to being the way you were before.”

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