Free Paper Rose by Diana Palmer Page B

happened, she told herself. It was years of hunger for Tate that had made her mind snap. Besides, he wasn’t even attracted to her. Yes, she thought, moving toward Leta like a sleepwalker, it had only been a dream. Only another hopeless waking dream.
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    Cecily had planned to stay overnight and fly out the next morning, but when she and Leta went back to the small frame house in the headquarters village where Leta lived, Tate was sprawled in the easy chair watching the color television he’d given Leta last Christmas. She had good furniture and propane gas heat, one of the few houses to boast such luxuries. Tate made sure Leta lacked for nothing. It was a different story elsewhere, with elderly people trying to keep warm in fifty-below-zero temperatures with woodstoves in houses that were never tight enough to keep in the heat. The reservation was small and poor, despite the efforts of various missionary groups and some government assistance. Education, Cecily thought, was certainly the key to prosperity, but that was another difficulty that needed to be overcome. Native American colleges were springing up these days when funding could be had, places where the people could keep their traditions and their culture alive while learning the skills that would give them good jobs. It was one of Leta’s dreams to have such a place on the Wapiti Ridge.
    â€œYou still here?” Leta asked her son with a broad grin.
    â€œI thought I’d stay until tomorrow,” he replied without looking at Cecily.
    â€œI have to get to the airport,” Cecily remarked cheerfully, her eyes cautioning Leta not to contradict her. “I’m due back at work Monday morning.”
    She and Leta knew that wasn’t true, but Cecily couldn’t imagine staying under the same roof with Tate. Not now.
    â€œHow about some coffee?” Tate asked his mother as he rose from the chair and turned off the television.
    â€œI’ll make it,” Leta volunteered and hurried to the small kitchen to hide her glee.
    Tate moved close to Cecily, an unusual thing for him to do. He never liked her closer than arm’s length. Having him so close now made her nervous.
    â€œThere’s a dance tonight,” he told her. “We’re going.”
    â€œI think Leta’s had enough dancing,” she began.
    He shook his head. “You and I are going.”
    Her eyebrows lifted. “I wasn’t asked.”
    Without counting the cost, he framed her face in his lean, warm hands and brought his mouth down gently on her shocked lips.
    She made a sound that aroused and delighted him. He gathered her in, riveting her to the length of him while the kiss suddenly became hungry, demanding, intimate.
    It was like falling. It was like having every single dream of her adult life come true. His mouth was hard and slow and exquisitely sensuous. She didn’t like knowing how he’d gotten the experience that made him such a tender lover, but the wonder of it erased the jealousy. She held to his hard arms to keep from falling down and tried to respond enthusiastically, if a little inexperienced. He tasted of heaven. She opened her lips a little more to tempt him, and her hands tightened on the hard muscles of his arms, trying to hold him where he was. Years of dreaming of this, waiting, hoping, and it was actually happening! He was kissing her as if he loved her mouth…
    His head lifted. His black eyes told her nothing as they searched her face intently. His hands on her arms were bruising. “We’ll have supper before we go to the dance,” he said, his voice a little strained.
    â€œWhat do you want to eat?” Leta called suddenly from the kitchen.
    â€œSandwiches,” he called back. “Okay?”
    â€œOkay! I’ll make some.”
    Tate’s eyes went back to Cecily. She was looking at him as if he were the very secret of life. He was in over his head already, he reasoned. He might as