Free Renegade Man by Parris Afton Bonds

her sex drive.
    When she was
finished securing the knot, she glanced up through her lashes and caught the
look of alarm in Jonah’s green-gold eyes. “Don’t go giving me that tender-eyed
look, Ritz,” he growled. “What happened last night was a leftover from years
ago. That’s all.”
    “You’re
mistaking curiosity for tenderness,” she snapped, stooping to sweep up her
things. He had always had a knack for divining her most private thoughts,
including the more disreputable ones. “I was comparing the man with the boy—and
the man came up short!”
    “Look, knockit
off, okay?” He tossed his towel on the ledge and dropped down to tug off a
boot. “A harpy can turn a man off quicker than a cold shower.”
    She had begun to
walk away, but that last remark did it. She spun around. “All right. Let’s have
it out, Jonah Jones. You’ve never forgiven me for choosing Chap over you.
That’s it, isn’t it?”
    He jerked off
one white sock. “You mean dumping me, don’t you?”
    “You’re the one who’s
ticked off. You tell me.”
    “Hey, it was all
in the past. Let’s just forget it.”
    It was as if
shutters clamped down over his eyes, giving his face that closed look he had
worn as a kid, and she knew it would be useless to try to break through. She
was locked out. That was how it had been all her life in Silver City: locked
out and looking in.
    “So long, sailor
boy,” she threw over her shoulder, and sauntered off. Her graceful exit was
spoiled when she stepped on a pinecone and yelped.
    She whirled
around and caught him grinning. Quickly he wiped the grin from his face. “Jonah
Jones, forget trying to look innocent. You never could do it.”
    He smiled
without pleasure. “Is that why I always ended up the town whipping boy, whether
I was guilty or not?”
    “You said it, I
didn’t.”
    She started off
again, picking her way carefully through the brambles.
    “Ritz.”
    It sounded as if
he was laughing. She stopped, then turned slowly to face him. “What?”
    “Put your tennis
shoes on.  And don’t forget your shampoo and stuff.”
    She didn’t want
to afford him any pleasure by obeying his instructions, but obviously she
wasn’t going to make it another five yards barefoot on pine needles and acorns.
She dropped her shoes and, still holding everything else, slid her feet halfway
in. This exit wasn’t graceful, either, but at least she managed to get out of
Jonah’s sight. Once she was deep in the woods she quickly donned her clothes,
which was fortunate, because by the time she arrived back at camp Soren
Gunnerson was sitting under the cottonwood, his back propped against the trunk,
his hands locked around his knees. Apparently he had been waiting for her.
    When she started
across the flats toward him, he got to his feet and dusted off his hands. Since
it was Saturday, he was dressed casually in a blue plaid shirt and white cords.
The sunlight glinted off red-gold hair peppered with gray. “Wasn’t sure I had
the right place until I saw the grid laid out,” he said when she was near
enough. “Here, let me take some of those things.”
    She smiled and passed
him the shampoo, soap and her traveling kit. “How did you know it was a grid?”
    “I took
Archaeology 123 at the Southern School of Mines. Did you know you look super
without makeup? All fresh and sunny.”
    She smiled
wryly. All those years of learning to put on her makeup in five minutes
flat—wasted.
    “Since you can’t
be reached by telephone,” he said, grinning, “I stopped by to see if you’d like
to eat lunch in a restaurant for a change.”
    He’d come a long
way just to ask, and she thought, Why not? It was Saturday, and she was tired
of eating one-course meals. Besides, she needed to put both some physical and
mental distance between herself and Jonah. “I’d love it, Soren. Let me change.”
    She had just one
dress with her—a pale pink nylon- knit sundress. A single pair of
sandals—flimsy white- heeled