A DATE WITH DESTINY

by

Ramona Crawford

(c) copyright September 2003 Louise Crawford & Ramona Butler
Cover art by Jenny Dixon
New Concepts Publishing
5202 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

Dedication:
A huge THANKS to all our writing pals everywhere. Your decade of friendship and support is appreciated more than you can imagine. Plus, we want everyone to know that two heads truly can be better than one, and that--for us--writing together makes the process great fun.

Chapter One

Dr. Colorado Jackson leaned back in his soft leather recliner and sighed. His eyes gritty from fatigue, his body a lead weight. He was too tired to enjoy the lights of Carson City or the nearby ridge of moonlit mountains.

Three surgeries--two planned, one emergency. Afterwards, he'd picked up his daughter, Kayla, at his parents' before stopping at the Wednesday night farmers' market for vegetables, fixed dinner, then ate. His next job, to cajole Kayla into brushing her teeth, putting on her jammies, and picking out a story for night-night. The To-Do list seemed endless.

God, he was tired. And lonely, his inner voice whispered. He shoved it away. Lately, the darn voice sang out whenever any available woman popped into view. He was too busy to date, too busy to even watch TV, much less put time into a relationship. Between Labor Day accidents and his and Kayla's adjustment to her return to school, he couldn’t remember a worse September. First grade was a "big deal," her exact words.

"Daddy! Look!" His six-year-old daughter's voice blasted through the doorway ahead of her long gangly legs. Kayla definitely took after him in her height and hair, but not in her other features. Even with a mop of taffy-colored curls, her dark eyes and coppery skin broadcast the Paiute heritage of her mother.

Kayla jolted to a halt before his chair, blocking his view of the television news. Not that he cared, he wasn't paying it any attention. She held a torn piece of paper.

"Guess what?" she said, her dark eyes crinkling with excitement.

The ache of loneliness resurfaced as Kayla held up the scrap. Tenderly, he brushed back stray wisps of hair from her face. "Hmm?" His thoughts swirled like dry leaves on the wind. Her mother had been dead for two years now, and he still missed their good-natured debates over cultural differences, their camping trips along the Truckee River, their companionable silences. And their love-making.

Warmth surged through him. He hadn't thought about that in awhile.

"Good god, Cole, you're thirty-five, not dead," his mother had reminded him at their Sunday dinner. His frown had stopped her from pursuing the subject--but not for long.

Kayla crawled into his lap, waiting patiently, as patiently as a precocious six-year-old could manage. She was used to his long, thoughtful lapses. "What?" he asked, ruffling her hair. “I thought you were all fired up to use that Ouija board we bought at the flea market. Tell my fortune."

Her eyes beamed. "I did! Look!" She handed him the paper.

He read seven digits and the word YES. “Okay. I give up. What does it mean?”

“The Ouija board said YES!”

Her excitement made him smile. “YES to what?"

“A new mommy!"

"What?" he squawked, almost dropping the darned piece of junk. "You had a great mommy. And you have Grandma!"

She frowned at him, her serious expression so like Lanni's he stifled a grin. Kayla got furious when he didn’t take her seriously. Looking much too stern, she said, "Grandma says you should have a wife that's not in heaven. And for gosh sakes, I need a mother!"

That sounded like Mom. Outspoken and trying to marry him off every other month. "Are you unhappy with just a daddy?"

She hesitated. "There's a mother-daughter dinner at school. Cindy's going."

He sat forward, shifting Kayla to his knee. "Maybe Cindy's mom would take you, too." Sylvia, Cindy's mom, was a willowy redhead. Nice to look at but somewhat cannibalistic, at least where he was concerned. She’d made it clear she wouldn't mind playing footsie. When he'd shown no interest, she'd introduced him to every other woman in the neighborhood.

"I don't want to go with somebody else's mommy, I want my own!"

Why was work so much easier than parenting? He rubbed the stiffness in the back of his neck. At least in the operating room he knew what he was up against and had a game plan. With Kayla the game plan shifted every month. He felt like a football player who'd missed practice and forgotten all the plays.

He lifted Kayla from his lap. "Someday, I'll meet someone special enough to marry, but until then, Grandma or Sylvia will have to fill in. Sorry."

"Cindy's mom says you're a 'gorgeous muscle hunk', even if you're a klutz on the dance floor. What did she mean?"

He almost choked on his smothered laughter. "I think it's hunk of muscle. And she was giving me a compliment." Sort of. He'd have a talk with Cindy's mom. Six-year-olds were like tape recorders, one never knew what they might pick up and then spit back at the worst possible moment. He imagined Sylvia's embarrassment when he repeated her words to her. No, she'd probably just laugh and say, "Well, it's the truth!"

Sylvia was a good friend, but he wanted more than fun and games. His friend Web would suit Sylvia, those fly-by-nights would hit it off.

As Kayla disappeared into the kitchen with her precious piece of paper, he rubbed his eyelids and tried to dispel images of Kayla’s mother, Lanni. Could he ever have with someone else what he'd had with her? Twice in one lifetime seemed too much to hope for. Lightning never struck twice.

He heard Kayla in the kitchen punching the phone buttons. Calling Cindy no doubt.

Thinking about the mess left from dinner, he trudged into the kitchen, dreading the clean-up. Yep, it was still there, no good fairies had found their way into his life. Grabbing a sponge, he swiped it across the flour-covered table where he and Kayla had made pizza--low-fat, at Kayla’s insistence. Another swipe of the sponge sent flour flying, and he sneezed. Once. Twice. "Ah-h-h…."

"Daddy, it's for you!" Kayla sat at the counter, her legs dangling over a barstool, phone extended toward him.

His sneeze dissolved. What did Sylvia want now? With an impatient stride, he crossed the white expanse of kitchen tile, rinsed his hands, and took the phone. "Hey, Sylvia, you need to be careful what you say around the kids."

"Excuse me? Who is this?" A soft, feminine voice delighted his ear, sending ripples of unexpected pleasure through his belly, choking off his sputtered reply.

"Hello?" The voice rippled through him again. Soft and sultry.

Curiosity swept through him, followed by a rare rush of interest. Unprepared for either, his elbow slammed into Kayla's half-finished glass of milk, which crashed to the tile along with the phone. "Darn it!" He stepped toward the mess and felt a sharp stabbing pain in the ball of his foot. "Ow!" Cringing, he examined his sole, searching for the sadistic sliver.

"Hello?!"

The receiver lay in the milk puddle, but he could still hear the woman's voice. By now, she sounded irritated. He hopped over to the counter as he wrestled the telephone back to his ear. "Hello?"

Click. She'd hung up.

Darn it! He glared at the shards of glass peppered across the floor. Kayla climbed from the stool, circumvented the broken glass, and retrieved the broom and dustpan for him. "Who is she, Daddy?"

"Who is who?" he grumbled as he swept up the wet mess and hobbled over to the trash basket. The broken glass tinkled as it slid from the dustpan. Like bells, he thought, remembering the woman's voice, dusky bells.

"The lady who belongs to the phone number."

"What?"

"I called my new mommy."

He dropped the dustpan and crouched down beside Kayla, ignoring the sting beneath his big toe. "Darling, you can't just call somebody up and tell them they're supposed to marry your dad and be your new mom." More frustrated than angry, he hugged her. She was growing up so fast and more headstrong every day.

"But I made the wish--and the Ouija board said yes, and the phone number came…."

He shook his head. "I know you want to believe it's a magic board, Pumpkin, but it's just a game." He wished he could make everything okay. "I know it must be hard to see other kids with their moms, but this isn't the way." Maybe he'd ask out that nurse in the emergency room again. If the wine he'd spilled didn't leave a stain on her dress, she might say yes. She had a five-year-old daughter. Kayla would have a sister….

Dear God, here he was ready to get married just to give Kayla a mother and sister. But what about love? What about the kind of electrical storm he'd experienced the first time he'd met Kayla's mother?

He bandaged his foot with quick economical movements. Why couldn't he be as deft at a dinner party? He grimaced, recalling just a few of the fiascoes. His dating disasters simply didn't make sense. He had a reputation for miracles in surgery, but outside the O.R….

Oh well, his gift was in the operating room with his patients--that was enough.

The buzz of his pager tickled his side. "I'm on my way," he muttered, mentally making arrangements for Kayla. His parents were out of town, so he'd call Sylvia, drop Kayla off there.

Dialing Sylvia's number, he picked up the scrap of paper Kayla had written the numbers on and was half tempted to punch the digits in again. No. Ridiculous. He’d never be able to explain the call.

"Hello?" Sylvia’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Sylvia.”

“Yes, it’s Sylvia, and, if I didn't know better, I'd say this is the celebrated Dr. Jackson." She sounded wide-awake. "What's up, Doc?"

Cole dropped the paper into the trash, tried to get his mind focused. "An emergency at the hospital. Can you watch Kayla?"

"No problem."

"Thanks. I'll drop her off."

He sighed. Now all he had to do was pack Kayla into the car, then drop her at Cindy's, and get himself to the hospital. No problem.

* * * *

Destiny Moon stared at the phone as she hung up. Strange. That voice had sounded familiar. A patient? Or just the spirits playing tricks. Maybe Old Man Coyote, that mischievous trickster, was up to something.

A quick glance at the alarm clock told her it was on the blink again. Still fuzzy with sleep, she slid from bed, switched on lights, and pulled on her white pants and top. With a longing glance toward the tea kettle, she grabbed her motorcycle helmet and leather jacket, then dashed out the door. No time for tea tonight. But at least she'd gotten eight hours sleep, that was something.

She cranked the engine and raced to work, the clean smell of the nighttime desert filling her nostrils. After an internship in New York and a year of residency in Reno, the chance to complete her residency at Carson-Tahoe Hospital, where they were adding a new pediatrics wing and had openings for more Family Practice physicians, was heaven-sent. Two more months and she'd be through with her residency, ready for a vacation. After that, she'd be job-hunting. Would Carson-Tahoe make her an offer?

As if in answer, she saw Dr. Web Baker waiting for her near the entrance--ten feet from his Mercedes. The Chief of Pediatrics, Web was handsome in a manicured fashion. Thirty-five, one ex-wife, no children. She perceived him as a kid who saw women as lollipops. And she was simply the untried flavor.

"Hello, Boss," she said casually, helmet under her arm.

"Ah, Destiny, the light of my life." He gave her a soulful look. "Heard you handled the Adams kid like a charm. Settled him right down."

Bucky Adams, a wild eight-year-old who had his mother under his thumb, reminded Destiny of her own kid brother when he was small. So she'd made it a game to see how long he could sit with his legs straight out, given him a tiny mirror to count his teeth, keeping him busy while she gave him a routine physical and a clean bill of health.

She shrugged off Web's words, figuring it was just a prelude to whatever he was really after. Half his job was overseeing Family Practice and Pediatrics, his specialty, but that didn't require meeting hospital residents at the door.

"How about breakfast when your shift's over?" he asked, his smile orthodontic perfect.

She shook her head. "I'll be dead on my feet in twelve hours. I'll need sleep, not food." She could catch a bite in the cafeteria between patients.

He hiked one blond eyebrow. "Well, how about sleep then?"

She laughed. "Right." Not likely.

"You could come to my place, rest for a bit, then take a swim in the pool ...."

They turned the corner, and she pushed through the door marked Staff. "You passed your office," she reminded him as he continued to follow her to the women's locker room. She left him outside.

After tucking her helmet and jacket into her locker, she slipped on her doctor's smock, experiencing the same thrill she got every time she put it on. Now if only Web would give up….

But he was still waiting in the hallway. "It's going to be hotter than Hades this afternoon. Think about it. Desert sun, wonderful water…." Me, his eyes added.

"Try one of the nurses, Web. I--I met someone." Only in her dreams, but he didn’t have to know that.

Web stared at her. "Who?" he demanded.

She said the first thing that came to mind. "A doctor, who else?" With a dismissive wave, she pushed past him to the restroom. Was her Paiute skin broadcasting her blush? She peered in the mirror. Why had she lied? Tired of putting him off? Yes. Why did he have to be so persistent? And likable?

“He has to give up sometime,” she told her reflection. No doubt he would, when some other female caught his fancy. Soon, she hoped. It would make the last two months of her residency easier. Maybe the hospital would hire her. She hoped so. Her birthplace near Pyramid Lake wasn't far away, and she’d like to spend her free time there gazing up at crystal clear skies.

Not with these eyes, she thought ruefully, they were bloodshot. Too many months of too little sleep. She splashed them with cold water, patted a wet paper towel against her cheekbones, and sighed. Maybe she should take Web up on his suggestion, take time for some fun, rest. No illusions. No expectations. If she wasn't sleeping or eating, she was working. But that was a resident's life. Still….

She headed back down the hallway and knocked on the door to Web’s office, turned the knob, and stepped inside. He wasn't there. It was an idiotic impulse anyway, she thought. Relieved, she backed out of the empty office and stumbled over a size twelve shoe into the clutches of two strong arms--captured by the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Like a crystalline morning sky, a blue-violet heaven fringed with chestnut desert. Piercing eyes. Arresting. Most definitely male.

Her breath caught. Size-wise, he reminded her of her brother, six-four and all muscle. She felt ridiculously adolescent in his grip, enjoying the fact that he made her feel downright tiny. "Excuse me," she managed as she pulled free.

He eyed her as though she might disappear in a flash of smoke. "My fault."

His voice was deep, rich, and strangely familiar. Figuring he was on the staff, she looked for a name tag on his white coat but didn’t see one.

“You’re not wearing a name tag,” she said, wondering where her breath had gone. Wondering who he was.

His hand drifted toward his breast pocket as he glanced down, a puzzled expression on his face. “It must have fallen off again.” He retrieved something from the floor, "Yours?"

She hadn't noticed the pen slip from her pocket. “Yes.” Their fingers brushed. Her skin tingled. Fresh heat stung her cheeks. Could he see the flames? Warmth spread up her arm.

"Hope I didn't smash your toes," he said before flashing her a smile. The earth moved. His voice, a deep rumble, washed over her. His aftershave hinted at the outdoors and the masculine scent of new leather. He wore a bemused expression, opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly as his pager beeped. Backing up a step, he collided with an empty gurney, mumbled an apology to the orderly pushing it, and rushed off, his long-legged strides taking him quickly to the end of the white-tiled hallway and around the corner.

Destiny hurried after him, scurrying past nurses, patients, and orderlies, intent on finding out the intriguing doctor's name. Was he headed to the operating room? Or the cafeteria?

She felt like a teenager with a crush on the captain of the basketball team. She glanced at her watch. Darn, she didn't have time for a cup of coffee, much less romantic intrigue. Reluctantly, she turned on her heel and headed to the emergency room. She'd ask around. Someone had to know the delicious-looking hunk with the hormone-melting voice.

Chapter Two

Taking several deep breaths to slow his racing pulse, Cole strode toward the O.R. Destiny Moon, her name tag had read. For no reason at all, he felt spooked, then shrugged. Couldn’t be the same voice as the woman on the phone. It was just his imagination.

“Destiny.” Her name flowed over his tongue like sweet home-churned butter across bread. The way she’d looked at him had churned his butter all right. It was a Sylvia kind of expression, only nothing about Destiny--he liked that name--reminded him of Sylvia. Recalling his run-in with the gurney, he felt like an idiot. It was as awkward as when he’d had a crush on his eighth grade teacher, Miss Simons.

As he scrubbed, the memory of dark liquid eyes lingered. They'd made him feel twenty-five again, reminding him of the first time he'd looked into Lanni's eyes.

"Here are the X-rays." The technician’s voice yanked Cole’s attention back to the present and the image of the small chest area where the bullet had lodged. His stomach tightened. It was always this way when he worked on children. This time a five-year-old had found Daddy's gun and played “shoot-out” with his younger brother. He shuddered at the thought of anything like this happening to Kayla.

Cole pushed through the door, and the anesthesiologist gave him a quick go-ahead nod. The rest of the team stood ready beside the operating table. The child's inert body was in his hands. As he picked up the scalpel, the Paiute prayer for guidance flooded into his thoughts. Surprised by the memory, he hesitated a moment. He'd banished the prayer the day Lanni died. Now it filled his mind, but, instead of the usual bitterness, it gave him a sense of anticipation he couldn’t explain.

* * * *

Three hours later, Cole stripped off his hospital garb and sagged into the nearest chair, grateful the employee lounge area was almost empty. He didn't feel like talking. His eyelids dragged like lead weights. He was too tired to make sense of the image which danced in the back of his mind--Lanni, as she'd looked before she became ill. The image shifted and changed into the startling face he’d seen earlier that night, Destiny Moon.

Abruptly, a shadow blocked the light. He lifted one eyelid a crack, saw Web's blond head, and grunted an acknowledgment of his friend’s presence. "Hi pal, what are you doing here?" It was well past midnight, and Cole felt woozy. But he felt good, too. The child had survived the surgery, and every hour meant better odds for recovery. He’d check on his patient in a few minutes, then again in the morning.

Web's gaze explored the room. "Came to see the Miracle Man at work."

Cole chuckled. "Tell me another. What are you doing out at this hour? Somebody stand you up?"

"Looking for a certain resident." A flicker of impatience eased into Web's familiar grin.

"Your next ex-girlfriend?" The man's conquests were legendary.

"Me?" A practiced, wounded look. "I'm looking for true love."

"In all the wrong places. I know." Cole shoved to his feet. Six inches taller than Web's five-ten, he looked down at his friend. "I think I'll grab a cup of coffee before I check on my patient, then call it a night." Although he didn't approve of Web's attitude toward women, Cole did enjoy the scoundrel's humor. "Join me?"

"No. Think I'll mosey upstairs. See if I can find Destiny." He gave a lecherous wink, grinning outrageously.

Cole paused. "Destiny?" Disappointment stung him as he remembered the luscious lady doctor coming out of Web's office. He should have known. “Unusual name," he remarked, forcing himself to relax, feeling conspicuous as he walked away beneath the weight of Web's shrewd gaze. Forget her, he told himself. If she had eyes for Web, she wasn't for him.

He straggled downstairs to the cafeteria, filled a cup with coffee, then sipped the steaming brew as he scanned the room, searching for an empty seat. He made his way toward a free table in the back and sat down, grateful for the homey atmosphere. It could have been his parents' dining room, which meant it was nicer than most.

No, what seemed nicer than most was Resident Destiny Moon. She reminded him of Lanni, he told himself. That was the attraction.

Sleep pulled at his eyelids. The memory of Destiny's glowing face tugged at his thoughts. High cheekbones, a strong straight nose, velvety eyes that had seemed too open and honest to go for someone with Web's reputation. And her voice, smooth as brandy on Christmas Eve. He swallowed scalding coffee and sputtered, his throat on fire.

"You okay?" The dusky feminine voice slid over him like silk.

Destiny! "Yes," he gasped, his gaze traveling the length of her from feet to face, savoring the view. Had she been looking for him? The idea pleased him.

She was holding a tray loaded with a sandwich, soda, gelatin, and a banana. Pretty good lunch for the middle of the night. Images of Lanni seemed to merge with the woman in front of him. His mouth went desert dry. His pulse throbbed.

She set her tray on the table, tossed her lab coat over the back of a chair, and dropped into the seat across from him, her knee accidentally brushing against his. He gulped more hot coffee.

“Have a cold?" she asked, her tone sympathetic when he coughed.

"Coffee burn," he managed in a nearly normal voice.

"Here, have some Jell-O, it'll cool your throat." She held out a spoonful of shivering green. Their fingers touched, and the spoon catapulted into the air, then hit the floor with a thunk. A lime-green blob landed on the table's edge and slowly slid off like the ooze with which Kayla played.

"At least it matches the tile," Destiny murmured with no sign of embarrassment. The faint scent of jasmine wafted from her skin, as tantalizing as the lush mouth and dusky voice.

Cole bent to retrieve the spoon.

Whack. Their heads collided.

"Sorry," he murmured, feeling like one of the three stooges as he stood. "Thanks anyway, but I've got a patient to see." The words were stilted and not at all what he wanted to say. He wanted to ask her out for breakfast, for dinner, for the rest of his life. Ridiculous!

One thing was certain, Destiny Moon lit up the night and made him remember when romance was in bloom. He glanced back, caught her frown of puzzlement at his hasty departure. Web had already staked a claim. And Colorado Jackson didn't need the headache of pursuing the same woman. No matter how attractive.

Even as he told himself that, he knew he'd ignore his own advice. Destiny aroused feelings he'd begun to doubt could ever exist again. He wasn't about to let her slip away--not for Web or anyone else.

* * * *

Destiny watched as Dr. Jackson rushed off. Why the mad dash? Did she have terminal coffee breath?

He'd avoided an introduction, then escaped her attempt to talk to him. Figuring fate, like her name, had brought them together, she'd given in to the urge to join him in the cafeteria. She got the feeling he was nervous around her, which made no sense at all. He was a hot-shot surgeon, one whom everyone liked--she'd asked around all evening--gleaning a few pertinent facts, like age and marital status. She'd even managed a quick run by the operating room to see him work. Wizardry in motion.

You'd never believe it the way he flipped Jell-O, she thought, a smile pulling at her lips. Something a sixteen-year-old might do, not this virile-looking man of thirty-five. Yet she found the quality endearing. It made him approachable, less like the arrogant God-like facades of other doctors. She hoped she'd never let her position go to her head.

Her grandmother, Sau-tau-nee, Willow Blossom, had been a medicine woman. From her, Destiny had heard wonderful tales of walking in her spirit form, soaring like the eagle, and gaining power--or what whites would call wisdom. But, her grandmother had said, there was always more to learn. And she'd warned Destiny about the mischievous Coyote. What was that trickster with his eternal grin up to this time?

The unexpectedness of the thought made her pause mid-bite into her turkey sandwich. She plopped it down on her plate. Too much mayonnaise anyway. Atherosclerosis. Inflamed gall bladder. Both waiting to happen. And Coyote would probably find something amusing about it all.

Thoughts drifting, she peeled her banana, then was yanked back to attention by the sight of Web in the doorway. Looking for her? She hoped not. After the electricity she'd felt around Dr. Jackson, Web and his games held no appeal.

He threaded his way around the tables and chairs to the seat Cole had just vacated. "So, how's my favorite resident?"

"Tired." She concentrated on her banana.

"Breakfast at Harrah's would be nicer," he chided. "Belgian waffles, fresh melon, all you can eat."

"If you're trying to make me sorry I bought this, you're doing a good job."

His perfect smile bloomed. "So how does this sound? Olympic-sized pool, frosty margaritas, a nap in the sun?"

She couldn't hold back a smile, the man was incorrigible. "I don't think I'd get much of a nap."

"Scout's honor." He gave a three-fingered salute. "I'll stay on my lounge pad, you stay on yours."

She hesitated. Her apartment was a disaster, and the air conditioning on the blink--again.

As though sensing victory, Web added, "If you want to sleep, you can sleep. I promise to let you have as boring an afternoon as you want."

She raised a warning eyebrow. "Hey, I'm into boring. Especially when I have to work again tonight."

"You really involved with a doctor?" Web asked, his eyes suddenly curious, his question taking her by surprise.

Her thoughts jumped to Cole. "Let's just say that I'm interested and so is he, but we haven't had much time together."

"How exciting." He winked, obviously not the least bit put off. "Oh, yes…," he pulled an envelope from his jacket and handed it to her. "This is for you. A reward for your dedication."

A job offer? She resisted the urge to tear it open. Not in front of Web.

"Go ahead. It's a good offer. I think you'll be pleased."

She raised an eyebrow, but her heart thumped happily. If he really was offering her a position, she'd be close to her people, the reservation, the desert, everything she loved. Including a certain, very appealing surgeon, Cole Jackson.

Destiny shook herself. Where had that notion come from? She didn't even know the man. "So how do you know what's inside a sealed envelope?" she asked.

An arrogant smile. "Board of Directors’ meeting. We discussed personnel, hiring, salaries, all that jazz."

The man was both a politician and a charmer. "Another title, Dr. Baker? I thought the Board of Directors was the Good Old Boys’ Club, everyone a generation older than you."

"Honorary member." He winked. "Staff was invited to attend, in case there were any questions about the recommendations."

Destiny checked her watch, 4:00 a.m. Time to get back to work. "So I owe you a thank you?"

He leaned forward. "I'll swing by and pick you up outside the lobby at nine, when you get off. Then bring you back to get your monster this evening." He always referred to her Yamaha as the monster. "Think of it as a mini-vacation." The man was a born flirt. But Cole Jackson was his best friend. Perhaps she could get Web to fill in a few of the blanks on the intriguing doctor.

"I just want to sleep," she warned as she almost skipped across the room. A job offer! And she'd learn more about a certain delectable hunk.

It wasn't until later, when she was climbing into Web's Mercedes, that she realized she didn't have a swimsuit or sunscreen or a change of clothes, and she'd really rather go home. He dismissed her excuses with a casual air. "My ex-wife had a zillion swimsuits, left every one of them when she bailed. You can take your pick."

She shrugged and leaned back as the Mercedes eased out of the parking lot. On the periphery of her vision she saw the long-legged stride and rugged veneer of Cole Jackson. Her pulse raced. She jerked upright, and the abrupt movement caught his attention. He stared, disappointment etched around his eyes.

With a curt nod, he turned away.

Her heart heard Coyote laugh and a sinking sensation hit the pit of her stomach. "Web, stop!"

Knowing she was about to make a fool of herself, she threw open the door and jumped out as he hit the brakes. "What the…?"

"I can't go. I'm sorry." She slammed the door and slung her backpack over her shoulder.

"Wait a minute!" Astonishment colored his voice.

She shook her head. "You're a nice guy, a friend. That's how I want our relationship to stay. I'm sorry."

Shock faded to resignation, and he teased, "You don't know what you're missing unless you try it out."

She shook her head again, smiling at her own foolishness. She'd had all the lessons she needed in casual affairs. "Thanks anyway, Web. See you tomorrow."

Walking away, she heard him rev the engine, heard the tires squeal as he ripped out of the parking lot. He'd be upset for a few days, then replace her with someone else, a new flavor of the month.

She glanced down the first row of cars, searching for Cole Jackson. Where'd he vanish to? Was Coyote still laughing?

Wandering around the parking lot made her feel conspicuous. She was about to give up when she spotted Cole behind the wheel of a sky blue Lexus, pulling out of a corner parking space.

"Wait!" she shouted, telling herself she was three times a fool as she sprinted forward, dodging Cole’s bumper as the Lexus screeched to a stop.

Eyes wide, he bolted from the car, radiating concern. "I could have run you over!"

She tried to slow the erratic beating of her heart. From a brush with his fender? Or from his proximity? "Sorry." The word came out a breathless croak. "I was afraid I wouldn't catch you."

Her words stalled whatever he'd been about to say. He stared at her. "Catch me? I saw you with Web." Questions lay in his deliciously blue eyes, sparkling like sapphires under the morning sun. Dressed in slacks and a short-sleeve knit shirt, he looked good enough for a GQ cover.

"He was--uh, just delivering a letter." She felt awkward. Cole hadn't introduced himself or asked her name--nothing to indicate any interest. If she waited for him to make the first move, she might be here until her next shift. "Actually, I was wondering what you’re doing here?” she blurted, readjusting her pack on her shoulder.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Just came by to check on a patient.”

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

The smile widened. "No. I was going to take a swing by the Lake, stop at one of the casinos, hit a buffet, come back, and go to the gym. I have the day off."

She held out her hand. "I'm Destiny Moon. And no jokes about the name, please."

"Destiny," his voice softened as he murmured her name. It did funny things to her insides, sending shivers of delight down her spine. His grip was warm, strong, magnetic, like the pull of his eyes.

"Cole ... Colorado Jackson." A brief grin flashed across his face like a shooting star promising only good things. "And no jokes, please."

She could get lost in that radiant smile, those wonderful eyes.

"Would you like to join me for breakfast?" he asked, the invitation sounding almost like an afterthought.

"You sure?" The idea that her attraction to the good doctor was only one-sided proved disconcerting. She withdrew her hand reluctantly and used it to shade her eyes.

Another broad smile cut across his face. She felt like a sponge, absorbing the warmth of his look.

"Yes," he stated emphatically.

* * * *

The short drive to Lake Tahoe passed in companionable silence. As he drove, Cole flicked another sidelong glance at Destiny. God, the chemistry! Like nothing he’d ever experienced, not even with Lanni. Mentally, he acknowledged the two women’s similarities--their coloring, their heritage--but he instinctively recognized the differences. Destiny exhibited more assertiveness. Did she feel the electricity sizzling between them? She must feel something, he reasoned, or she would still be with Web. The fact that she wasn’t cheered him. "Do you want breakfast or lunch?"

"Breakfast."

Dusky bells. He wanted to hear more of them. "How far into your residency are you?" He already knew the answer, he'd talked to a friend in personnel.

"Only two months left." Suppressed excitement in her tone.

"What area?"

"Family Practice."

Lanni had been interested in medicine, in becoming a doctor, but she'd lacked confidence. Yet she'd taught him many valuable lessons, given him a sense of connection to the earth, to a way of life that called to his very soul. His parents had never understood his easy embrace of the tribe and their ways, and he could never explain, but they'd finally accepted it. In recent months, they'd even urged him to go back out to the reservation, but something tightened in his gut every time he considered doing so. Not yet.

"Where did you go to school?" he asked.

"New York." A heavy sigh.

"You didn't like it?"

"Couldn't wait to get out of there, leave the dirt and crime behind." A pause. "What about you?"

Cole shrugged, then caught her brief frown when he didn't say anything. Silence was something he'd gotten good at in the last two years. "You can ask me all the questions you want over breakfast," he offered as he pulled into a parking space beneath Harvey's. "But I may not answer every one."

Her laugh ran deliciously through him like hot cider. A whole carillon of bells. As he walked around the car to meet her on the other side, he realized he hadn't dented a fender, run over her foot, or done anything the least bit klutzy since he'd asked her out. Surprise, surprise.

He gestured toward the elevator, then took her hand. Her warm, strong grip sent another delectable surge of heat through his veins. Cole found himself wanting to forget breakfast, forget everything but the woman beside him. Was her skin as soft as it looked? If he pulled the clasp from her hair, would it fall to her waist, a cascade of silk he could slide his fingers through? He stifled a groan as he fought reawakened desire. He hardly knew her! Yet he ached to touch her, kiss her, lose himself in her.

No, not her. Lanni.

He pushed the thought away. She was not Lanni. She was quite different, in fact, at least four inches taller. Her stride matched his, and she bore herself with an air that was almost intimidating. Except maybe to another doctor, he thought with a smile. An arrogant bunch, us medicine men--and women.

The elevator doors slid quietly open, and they were ushered to a cushy booth. All around them the clatter of one-armed bandits rang like a million unceasing doorbells, the setting far from intimate. "Why the smile?" Destiny inquired when seated across from him.

He offered a self-deprecatory grin. "I was just thinking how arrogant doctors can be ... hope we haven't rubbed off on you too much."

"Well, if you haven't by now, you still may." She dug into her backpack and pulled out an envelope with the hospital logo.

Cole said a silent prayer. She would make an excellent addition to the hospital's slate of doctors. Web had to know that.

"It's a job offer," she said, beaming.

Not surprised, Cole watched as she read the letter, happiness building in her smile.

"Your turn," she said, handing it to him. "I'd like your opinion."

He read it. A standard letter, fair salary, but not great. "You could ask for another ten grand a year. They'd pay it."

The joy in her eyes dimmed, making him immediately sorry he'd said anything. But Web was so darn tight-fisted, and this time the resident had asked Cole's opinion. He wasn't going to lie.

She shoved the letter back into the envelope and crammed it into her backpack. "Web said it was a great offer."

"Medicine's a tough business these days. Web is concerned with keeping costs down and building the new pediatric wing. A lot of residents would be lucky to get that offer. But you're a good doctor from what I hear…." His face heated as he realized he'd given away the fact that he'd being asking around about her.

She leaned forward, a pleased smile tugging at her lips, the warmth back in her eyes.

"I, uh, asked a friend about you," he stammered. Everything had been going so well, and now his words were choking him. His gaze slid to the window and beyond, searching the distant pines and glimmering blue water of Lake Tahoe for something clever to say. Nothing.

He focused on her again. "Would you like to go out to dinner? A movie? No, how about going to see the hot air balloons in Reno tomorrow? They're spectacular." Like you, he almost added.

Her full lips flattened into a reluctant line. "Can't. I work the next seven nights.”

He wanted to throttle the person who made up the work schedule.

“I have next Sunday off though," she offered, her tone hopeful.

"I'm taking Kayla to the National Air Races that day.” Frustration sliced through him, leaving pieces of him wondering how he'd make it through the week without seeing her, other pieces trying to figure a way to see her before then. “Why don't you come with us?"

"With you and...Kayla?"

"My daughter. She's six going on sixteen and terrific."

"Are you sure I won't be intruding?"

He thought of Kayla and her Ouija board. A smile pulled at his lips. "I think she'll be thrilled to meet you."

Destiny raised a doubtful eyebrow, and his heart twisted with anxiety. He almost missed her next question.

"What time should I be ready?"

Chapter Three

Destiny frowned into the mirror. She'd tried on everything twice, nothing appealed, and she wanted to look just right for Cole and this first meeting with his daughter.

Finally, she settled on her favorite blue jeans, a beaded belt that had belonged to her mother, and a sleeveless purple top. Made of raw silk, with a fringed V-yoke front and back, it had been an unexpected birthday present from her wildman brother, Quinn. He'd hand-delivered it a month late, caught her up on his nomadic life, and then driven off in his old beat-up truck for parts unknown. She was glad he seemed so content, yet saddened by his leaving.

A tap on the door snapped her out of her reverie. "Coming!" She grabbed an armful of clothes and stuffed them in the closet, then ran a hand across the twin bed, smoothing the cover. "Ms. Neatnik, I'm not," she muttered without apology as she dashed to the door and pulled it open.

Her gaze flew from Cole to his daughter. They have the same hair, she thought. The color of sun-lit brass.

"Just need to grab my jacket," she said, then realizing with dismay she'd shoved it in the closet along with that armload of clothes. Darn you, Old Man Coyote! Laughing again, no doubt.

"Actually," she gave an embarrassed smile, "I probably won't need a coat. Let's go."

She picked up her fanny pack, clipped it around her waist, and ushered them out the door, stifling the urge to chatter about anything and everything. She hadn't been this nervous since her first high school dance--where she'd been a head taller than every boy there. She'd kicked off her shoes, revved up her courage, asked the nearest boy to dance, and had a great time.

"Daddy says you're a doctor, too." Kayla's bubbling voice made Destiny grin.

"Sure am," she answered easily, not missing the deep glimmer of love in Cole's eyes as he watched his daughter, the pride in his smile. At that moment, if it were possible to admire him more, she did.

Such a beautiful little girl. Although tall for six, she looked surprisingly small next to Cole as they trooped down the stairs. Her skin, the color of sun-kissed walnut, contrasted to Cole's light golden tan. Curiosity about the child's mother flared. Was Cole divorced? Not a question to be casually asked. Maybe she'd question her friend, Fran, a gynecologist at the hospital who knew everyone and everything.

Cole opened her door for her, his fingers brushing lightly over her arm, gentle, warm, chasing away any speculations about an ex-wife, and making Destiny wonder what it would feel like to have him touch her more intimately. Just the thought played havoc with her pulse rate.

Kayla's excited chatter claimed her attention. "This is going to be so much fun!" The child climbed into the back seat and then bounced up and down as they headed up Highway 395 toward Reno.

Letting her gaze wander over the sagebrush covered terrain, Destiny willed herself to calm down. Clumps of cottonwoods speckled Washoe Valley, leading to mountains and more mountains. No snow up there yet, but in a few months they'd don their winter coats. Her hand drifted to a soft, supple leather jacket on the seat beside her as she entertained a sudden fantasy of renting a cabin and snuggling with the good doctor on a bearskin rug next to a roaring fire. Cut the word snuggle, she thought, how about attack?

Very much aware of the little girl in the back seat, her cheeks warmed at her wayward thoughts. She turned to talk to Kayla and caught Cole watching her.

His gaze shifted to the road. "You look great," he said quietly.

She chuckled.

He threw her an inquisitive look. “That amuses you?”

Her gaze drank in the deep set eyes, the flaring nostrils, the rugged line of his jaw, all set off by a blue-green western shirt. "No, it’s just that you took the words out of my mouth." Without thinking, she traced the smooth silver and turquoise bolo at his collar. "It's lovely."

He caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, flicking another appreciative glance in her direction. "Ditto."

Her heart fluttered. She dropped her gaze to his silver belt buckle, but the firm line of muscular thighs encased in blue denim drew her admiration. More dangerous ground.

Time to rein in her rampaging heart rate. Concentrating on breathing, she studied the cows in the pastures, counting horses, noting like a tourist the billboards touting local attractions: the casinos, of course, Harrah's, El Dorado, Silver Legacy; the annual camel races in Virginia City; the Great Reno Balloon Race, which Cole had invited her to the previous weekend. Her disappointment over having to decline still lingered.

She sighed. She loved medicine, but a resident's grueling schedule did cramp one's social life, and now she felt it keenly.

It was still early, not yet 8:00 a.m., when the changing Reno skyline came into view. Tower cranes hovered like predatory birds atop several structures both downtown and further out as Cole drove through the city, continuing north to Stead. Once a player of some importance in the senseless game of war, the semi-abandoned air field normally presented a ghostly appearance. Today though, it vibrated with colorful activity. Wherever Destiny looked there were planes, everything from biplanes to the latest military jets.

"Look, Daddy, a P-38," squealed Kayla as they pulled into one of the few remaining parking spots.

"Wow, I'm impressed," murmured Destiny. She smiled at the precocious child. "You must be a real airplane expert, Kayla."

Given the twin-tail design of that particular aircraft, it was pretty recognizable to a World War II veteran or to someone like Destiny who had a flight-happy brother, but not to a child born a half-century after the P-38's heyday.

Kayla was beaming as they climbed out of the car.

Destiny cast a flirtatious glance at Cole. "You sure your daughter isn't Jimmy Doolittle or Chuck Yeager in disguise?"

His answering laugh, a heart-stopping rumble, was cut short by Kayla's unexpected announcement, "I'm gonna be a fighter pilot and go to Top Gun school at Fallon!"

Destiny crouched down, putting herself at eye-level with the child. "I'm sure you’ll be a fine pilot."

"What in the heck are you talking about, Kayla?" Cole swung the child into his arms. "You're not made to be a pilot."

The disapproval in his tone surprised Destiny. She knew she should stay out of it, let them work things out on their own, but she couldn't stop herself. "Why not, Cole?" she asked, as Kayla pushed away, wiggling so that he had to set her down. Her bottom lip was sticking out about a mile and a half.

He cocked a sun-lightened eyebrow. "Because…."

An awkward silence ensued, but his look of chagrin redeemed him. He bent down. "Is this something else the Ouija board told you? Am I looking at the best future fighter pilot in America?"

The glimmer of tears vanished from Kayla's dark eyes, and she flung her arms around her father. "Daddy."

"Hey, Sugar Plum." He hugged her close, and Destiny wondered how it would feel to have a child love you like that, no reservations, total trust. The responsibility would be staggering--especially in a one-parent household.

Her thoughts jumped to Cole's first wife. Had Kayla's mother been a traditional stay-at-home spouse? Is that what Cole wanted in a wife? If so, he was dancing in front of the wrong wickiup.

Whoa girl, slow them prairie dogs down! It was a long jump from a casual date to marriage, her head must be lost in clouds.

Moments later they were threading through the crowd, the excitement too thick for them to remain still. A gust of cool morning air whipped her hair back from her face and pierced her thin silk top. Darn, she should have swallowed her pride and dug her jacket out of that disaster of a closet.

Kayla shrieked with delight as a tight formation of nine sleek jets suddenly screamed out of the heavens, streaking through the air, and taking Destiny's breath away with the sheer beauty of speed and flight. "It's the Snowbirds!" Kayla screamed, spouting additional data as a second fly-by left spectators gasping.

Another gust of crisp morning air struck. In an instant, Cole had his jacket around her shoulders. His unique scent rose from the leather, filling her nostrils as she slipped her hands into the sleeves and pulled the jacket closed. Still warm from his body, it prompted wayward yearnings to be in his arms, nothing between them, skin to skin. Her heart rate zoomed to Mach four.

She slipped her hand into Cole’s, and a thrill of electricity raced up her arm. He let go only to put his arm around her shoulder and draw her closer. Looking up, expecting his gaze to be on the air show, she met instead a dark blue sea of stormy emotion.

He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers. A feathery touch, nothing more. With his gaze still held by hers as he pulled away, he nearly tripped over Kayla. "Whoa there, Pumpkin, I didn't see you."

Kayla giggled, the sound refreshingly light, easing the hunger that ripped through Destiny. Another roar overhead vied with the roar of her blood. She tried to focus on the planes' finely choreographed maneuvers, but her heart was doing some fancy dancesteps of its own.

* * * *

Cole blinked against the wind, listening with only one part of his mind to Kayla's chatter about the various events. They'd arrived just in time to watch the opening spectacle, biplanes circling, trailing tinted smoke while a skydiver carrying the American flag floated toward the desert floor. All while the Star Spangled Banner blared over umpteen loudspeakers.

Next came an aerobatics performance. To both Destiny’s and Kayla's delight, it turned out to be a woman pilot guiding the tiny plane through precise patterns of loops and rolls. Next came a wing-walker. And later, when the races themselves got underway, Rare Bear, a local plane racing in the Unlimiteds, brought a pout from Kayla by beating out a sleek red, white, and blue beauty named Miss America.

Throughout the morning's exhibition, Cole fantasized about Destiny. She'd trembled when he'd kissed her--if you could call it a kiss. He called it torture. The look in her eyes signaled wanton passion. No embarrassment or shyness there. At least she wore his jacket now, covering the sheer silk top the wind kept plastering to her body. Provocative as hell, the sight tempted him to thoughts that had no place on a first date.

He kept reminding himself of that fact, but it didn't dispel his growing need. Every roar from the planes or gasp of the crowd snapped him back to reality like a cold slap. Why hadn't he taken her out to dinner or a movie, some place where they could be alone? Images taunted him. Destiny in his arms, in his bed. Oh boy, was he jumping the gun. But it didn’t stop his brain from tempting him with more blood-heating thoughts.

As though sensing something, she squeezed his hand and smiled at him. Holy Magnolias, he hadn’t been looked at like that in a long, long time.

“Daddy?” Kayla pulled on his shirtsleeve, drawing his attention to her elfin face. Even in his most tired, ragged moments, he never regretted Kayla. Even now, when his thoughts were throwing him into critical meltdown.

She gave another tug. "Daddy?"

Reluctantly, he released his hold on Destiny and stooped so he could hear Kayla over the whine of engines. "Yes?"

"She's terrific!"

"Who, the lady pilot or Destiny?" he teased.

"Destiny!" A flash of a smile, then a frown. He knew a serious question was coming when she leaned close to his ear. "Are you going to ask her to marry you?"

Cole blinked in surprise, although why he should be surprised was a mystery. After all, the Ouija board had spoken, and when he'd told Kayla about this date, she'd insisted Destiny was the one. How did one fight a magic Ouija board and the wishes of a six-year-old?

"I don't know, Pumpkin." He ruffled her hair, glad for the overwhelming noise that masked their conversation. "Why don't we wait and see?"

She smiled, accepting his non-answer. Relieved, he stood up, slipping an arm around Destiny's shoulder. He caught Kayla's hand at his other side, marveling at how right the three of them felt together. He didn't want the feeling to end.

By noon the wind had died down, and the sun blazed like a furnace. "Have you had enough noise and airplane thrills for one day?" he murmured, leaning close to absorb more of Destiny's intoxicating aura.

Her quick nod and saucy glance said she was ready for a more intimate kind of excitement. Had she experienced the same sweet torture he'd felt this entire morning? They'd been so close, yet kept apart by the presence of the crowd--plus his own beloved daughter-- who was way too bright and too observant for her own good.

Unswayed by Kayla's insistence that she wanted to see the whole thing, including closing ceremonies, they left the hot, dusty airfield and sought shelter in a shady park along the Truckee River. Cole retrieved an insulated cooler and well-worn blanket from the car. On his return, he smiled at the animated conversation between Destiny and Kayla. Destiny's dark eyes mirrored Kayla's, her expression thoughtful, her mouth curved upward as Kayla's words flowed in an unstoppable stream.

"...and Cindy's my best, best friend. Her mom, Sylvia, takes me to school a lot when Daddy's at work."

Destiny's mouth tightened the tiniest bit, making Cole wonder why as he spread the blanket. He'd ask later. "Okay, gang, let's eat!" A shimmer of pleasure filled Destiny’s eyes as he dropped down beside her.

He told himself to slow down. The scent of her perfume, or maybe it was just her, was downright dizzying. He began pulling things out of the cooler while thinking of that one tantalizing brush of his lips across hers.

Kayla sat across from him, organizing the pile of food he'd extracted. She looked at Destiny, adoration in her expression. "You want a banana or an apple?"

Destiny giggled. "A banana, thank you."

Cole caught her eye as she took the banana and began to peel it. "What's so funny?"

Her cheeks flamed, yet she laughed. "You figure it out!"

Eyeing the banana, Cole laughed too. Good God, they were acting like adolescents. Had he and Lanni ever acted this way? If they had, he couldn’t remember. It felt great to be foolish again, to laugh like this with Destiny. He hungered for that next kiss.

"Here's an apple, Daddy," Kayla said, tossing him a big golden delicious. Not quite what he wanted at the moment.

Destiny was smiling at him, a satisfied cat kind of smile. The apple slipped from his grasp and rolled to an interesting location beneath her denim-clad knee. Dry-mouthed, he silently acknowledged his taste for more than an apple, more than a simple kiss.

She cocked an eyebrow as she picked up the gleaming temptation, blew off the dirt, and handed it back. "Another health nut, I see."

"Don't sound so surprised. I…."

Lost in her eyes, Cole forgot what he was going to say next. Only a short distance away, her full, sensual lips looked all-too-kissable. She swayed slightly forward.

"Daddy,” Kayla's voice iced the fever, “do you want a turkey sandwich or tuna?"

He shook himself. "Why don't we ask our guest first?"

Destiny hesitated. "Uh, turkey, thanks." She unwrapped the sandwich, took a bite, and raised her eyebrows in approval. "You make a mean sandwich, Dr. Jackson."

A smile pulling at his lips, Cole gestured toward Kayla. "She's the master chef." Pride in his offspring and remembrance of the fun they'd had making the sandwiches warmed him with parental love. Sometimes he just wanted to hug Kayla and hold on, keep everything the way it was at that instant, just the two of them. But then when he looked at Destiny….

As though sensing his mood shift from playful to serious, Destiny finished her lunch in silence, then lay back, gazing up at the clear blue sky, inhaling deeply, her chest rising and falling, peacefulness and relaxation reflected in her posture.

"Hey, Kayla, toss me another sandwich," he said, wishing it were a camera so he could take pictures, capture the drowsy, sultry look in Destiny's eyes so he could keep it forever. He wanted pictures of Kayla, too, smug and well-fed and gleeful. And of the three of them together.

Mid-afternoon, they headed back to Destiny's apartment. As Cole parked the car, he asked as casually as he could, "Are you working nine-to-nines?"

She nodded. "You got it."

He couldn't help it if his face fell.

Destiny's eyes sparkled. "Thanks for today, Cole. I had a great time." She twisted toward Kayla in the back. "Thanks to you, too, Chuck Yeager. It was a pleasure to meet you."

The child giggled. “Me, too. I mean….”

Cole winked at Kayla as he got out. "Stay here, Pumpkin. I'm going to walk Destiny upstairs."

For a moment, he couldn't tell if the lady was pleased or annoyed at his announcement, then she smiled. "Thought this kind of thing was out of date," she said as he raced around the car to open her door. He managed it without a stumble, then surprised himself by navigating the stairs, sure-footed as a mountain goat. He had planned to top off their date with a light kiss. But when she looked at him, he saw the teasing invitation in her eyes and suddenly found himself pulling her close, crushing her to him.

Her smell, like wildflowers, filled him with a heady sense of her femininity. And the feel of her lush lips parting beneath his made him feel as mighty as a wild stallion. He wanted more than this moment on her doorstep, more than just this brief taste of her mouth. He wanted tonight, all night, every night.

Then he remembered she had to work. And remembered Kayla waiting in the car.

A groan tore from his throat as he pulled away. He dropped his hands, clenching them to keep from touching Destiny again, aching to stroke the satin skin of her throat, loosen her hair from the barrette, feel it slide across his chest.

Holy Magnolias, he was driving himself nuts.

"Are you off next Friday?" he rasped. "Saturday?" Just as long as it wasn't Sunday. He'd promised to take Kayla caving that day, her first time. But if Destiny had both Friday and Saturday off, he'd darn well spend it with her alone at his Lake Tahoe cabin.

Too fast, his mind warned. But he shoved the traitorous thought down. They were two consenting adults. She was obviously as attracted to him as he was to her.

"Neither. I’m not off again until next Monday." Her voice sounded nearly as raspy as his own.

His body gave a silent lament. The thought of anything longer than a week passing before he spent time with her again was more than he could stand. "Why don’t I call you and see what we can work out between our schedules?"

She smiled. “You’ll have me dashing for the phone whenever it rings."

He liked the sound of that. Aware that Kayla would be getting antsy by now, and that he couldn’t stand on Destiny's doorstep all evening--much as he’d like to--he caressed her cheek. So soft. So touchable. He resisted the urge to taste her again.

She kissed the tip of her finger and touched it to his bottom lip. "Today was a lot of fun, Cole."

"See you soon," he choked out, stepping back. "I'll call you."

He vaulted down the stairs, feeling as though he could leap tall buildings in a single bound. And loving it. No, he corrected, loving the way the name "Destiny" sounded on his lips and the way she said his name. As though it was the most special name in the world.

Chapter Four

Destiny stood before Web's desk feeling like a young girl about to be reprimanded by a tribal elder. She’d said YES to his job offer--for a higher salary.

"I'll need to talk to the Board," he said easily, his tone allaying her fears somewhat. "Why don't we meet again Wednesday ...over breakfast."

A smile teased her lips. Darn, the man never quit.

He moved around the desk with a practiced swagger, advancing on her. The business portion of the meeting was obviously over. "Just promise me, no more jumping out of my car."

The memory of his astonished expression made her smile impossible to hide.

"Hey, you do know how to smile," he quipped.

"Of course." She started toward the door, relieved that the hard part, asking for more money, was behind her.

"I was beginning to think you reserved your dimples for a certain heart surgeon."

"I don't have…." The significance of his words made her pause. The hospital grapevine was fast. "You mean Dr. Jackson?" Web wore his women notched on his name tag for everyone to see. Gossip abounded about him--but not Cole. The two men were friends though. Birds of a feather? She didn't like the thought. It didn't fit the man she'd spent such a wonderful time with the day before. "How long have you and he been friends?" she asked, faking a casual tone.

"Since med school.” Web leaned back against the edge of his chair, his expression turning thoughtful. “I was best man at his wedding."

Destiny read some kind of warning there, but darned if she could figure out what it meant.

Abruptly, Web tapped his watch. “I’ve got another appointment,” he said, giving her a reluctant smile.

She forced a snappy salute and backed out of his office, still wondering at the uneasy feeling which had settled around her heart. "See you Wednesday then. Breakfast. Bye." One way or another, soon she'd be either employed or unemployed, and on Wednesday she'd find out whatever it was Web had been hinting at. Maybe Cole did have an Achilles’ heel, and Web wanted her to know.

Their conversation haunted her throughout a busy day of sore throats, school physicals, and playground accidents. Nothing took time out while she worried about her request for more money and about Web’s innuendo about Cole.

On her break, she scanned the crowded cafeteria and wondered if she’d have to drink her caffeine standing up. Taking another quick glance around, she spotted Fran waving to her. Fran was a treasure, round faced, amply endowed, down-to-earth, ear-to-the-ground. And she'd saved Destiny a chair. Bless her.

Destiny grabbed a high-octane soda and a bowl of soup, then bee-lined for her friend. If anyone knew the scoop on the delicious Dr. Jackson, it would be Fran.

"What do you know about the wonder-doctor, Colorado Jackson?" Destiny asked after a few minutes of chit-chat. Then, at Fran’s instantly curious expression, she added, "I ran into him outside Web's office the other day."

"I'm surprised he didn't trample you. Did you get a look at the size of his hands and feet." Fran's blue eyes twinkled, and a giggle erupted, belying her maturity but in perfect harmony with her irreverent wit. "Well, you know what that's supposed to indicate."

Recalling Cole's kiss and the feel of him pressed against her, Destiny blushed but found herself laughing. She hadn’t worried about the good doctor's size, she just wanted to get him alone somewhere to see where that kiss might lead.

She took a long, cool swallow of soda.

Fran managed to stop her guffawing long enough to admit, "He darn near ruined my power suit."

A stab of jealousy. "You went out with him?"

Fran nodded, a smile still pulling at her lips. She stirred her coffee, dumped in more cream. "Ruined my best outfit. That flirtatious little green number I wore last year to the Christmas party."

Although Destiny only vaguely remembered it--she'd left the party early--she nodded. "So, what happened?"

Fran rested her chin on her knuckles. “You know that old joke, don’t you?” She continued without waiting for a response. "Men are like ceramic floor tiles. Lay 'em right and you can walk on them forever."

Destiny’s smile collapsed. “You didn’t!” An image of Fran and Cole together spun through her brain.

“No! Just wishful thinking. The talented doctor spilled red wine all over the table and me." Fran frowned, but it was good-natured. "Hard to believe someone so skilled with a scalpel can be such a klutz at the dinner table."

"He ask you out again?"

"No, I think he realized we weren't compatible. I’m not his type, not...."

“What type is that?”

“Oh, you know.” Fran played with a packet of sugar, then pinned her with a quizzical look. "Why all the questions about Doc Holliday?"

Destiny smiled at the nickname. Only a few people used it, those familiar with his quickness in OR. Magical hands, she thought, remembering the little boy he'd worked on the other day, a boy that should have died but didn't.

Fran leaned forward and sent out another probe, "I thought Dr. Baker was spinning his web around you."

“Web has a different line for every available woman within ten miles. I admit I've toyed with the idea of a fling, but it's never come together, and now I think I know why."

Fran leaned closer. "You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“By going out with Cole?” Destiny shrugged, wondering what Fran was getting at. First, Web, now her. From their veiled innuendoes anyone would think the jazzy Dr. Jackson was an axe-murderer.

“Yes, by going out with Cole.” Fran said it as though Destiny must know what she was alluding to. “I’m not one to tell you how to live your life, but….”

Abruptly, she stopped and looked up. "Oh, hello, Cole."

Destiny twisted around in her chair, surprised and pleased. "Cole!" She forgot Fran’s last remark as a thrill ran down her spine, then wondered if he’d heard any of their conversation? Instantly, her face felt like she'd swallowed a flame-thrower.

"Hi, Fran, Destiny."

Fran pushed back her chair. "Have to run, Des. Let's have lunch together next week. Call me." With a quick wave, she left before Destiny could do more than nod in agreement.

Cole sat down beside her. "I'm on my way home, but the floor nurse said you were here." His blue eyes reminded her of robin eggs. He reached over and covered her hand with his. "I just wanted you to know I had a great time yesterday."

Her senses went into pleasure overload. Her hand tingled, along with the rest of her body. All too aware of where they were, she drew a deep, calming breath, exhaled, and admonished her jump-started hormones to slow down.

He was smiling at her. The blue in his eyes bathed her in warmth. “When’s your next day off?”

“Not until next weekend.” She stifled a groan, wanting to see him before then. "I could meet you and Kayla for ice cream down the street before my shift tomorrow night. Eight-thirty?"

A smile blazed across his face, taking her breath with the brilliance of it. Criminy, the things the man did to her with just a glance. He could have anything she possessed if only he’d ask. And if he didn’t? Well, in the old days, she'd tap him on the shoulder, invite him to round dance, and he'd spend the next five days at her side. Plenty of time to get better acquainted.

Her wandering thoughts brought another rush of lava to her cheeks. She smiled, still thinking of the old tradition. He'd leave a dozen quail, dressed out and hung at her door, she mused, and then he'd come to live with her and her family….

She had a feeling the good doctor might balk at that. But maybe not. Quinn was her only family, and he was never around.

She smiled. He smelled totally masculine, a tantalizing, clean fresh scent of man and soap. On impulse, she brushed a hurried kiss across his cheek.

With that dazed expression still in place, he said goodbye. She watched him stride from the room and turn the corner, then heard the crash of china and Cole's muffled, "Excuse me."

She grinned. Klutz or not, she couldn't wait to see him again.

* * * *

For Cole, the next day and a half passed with agonizing slowness. On the second evening, Kayla fell asleep early. At 7:30, he called his mother and asked if she'd baby-sit for an hour while he met Destiny for an ice cream cone. He had his jacket on and was waiting when she breezed through the front door.

"I'll bring you one back," he promised, instantly regretting his impulsive tongue. His mother needed to watch her diet--big time. A cholesterol reading of 312 was nothing to joke about. Ice cream was a forbidden treat.

She brushed aside his lapse. "I'd be wearing it on my hips tomorrow. No thanks! You go and have fun!"

He gave her a hug. He was darned lucky to have the support of his parents and Sylvia, people he could trust with Kayla. "I'll be back by nine-thirty."

"You know, Cole, you should consider getting some household help, perhaps a nanny for Kayla, someone who would also fix meals and keep the place tidy. You can certainly afford it. And then you'd have a lot more time for this sort of thing."

That stopped him. "What sort of thing?"

"Oh-h-h, you know. Man-woman things."

Was this his mother talking? A woman who, except for his own existence, Cole would swear was still a virgin. Dear as she was, her Victorian point of view had driven him crazy throughout his teen years.

He couldn't resist teasing her a bit about this new facet of her personality. "Man-woman things, Mom? You mean like s-e-x?" He spelled it out. Sex had always been a taboo subject in his family. Wasn't it rather late for his mother to be changing?

She blushed like a young girl. He could certainly see why his father had fallen head over heels.

"Well, I was thinking romance, love." Her eyes twinkled. "But yes, I guess I mean s-e-x, too. Or has my workaholic son given up that sort of thing?"

Cole chuckled. If his mother only knew. Right at this moment he was as randy as a cowpoke at the end of a long cattle drive. But it was time to let her off the hook, get back to her original suggestion. "What you were saying about a housekeeper--it isn't the money, Mom."

Didn't she realize how much he hated the idea of weakening, even slightly, his bond with Kayla? Since Lanni's death, Kayla relied on him for everything. If he were to hire live-in help, that person might become something of a barrier between them. Now, Kayla and he were truly connected. He didn't want anything to change that.

His mother urged him toward the door. "Oh, don't mind me, Cole, I know it isn't the expense. I just think you need a social life. I don’t know when I’ve seen you so excited."

Cole gave her flushed cheek a peck. "Her shift starts at nine, so it'll be a short date.

"Don't rush on my account." She closed the door behind him.

"Don't rush," he murmured, chuckling as he drove the ten minutes into Carson City. "Try telling that to my hormones."

The ice cream shop was a mom-and-pop place, its interior speckled with small round tables and cane-back chairs. He waited in the doorway, every second dragging as he worried he’d missed her, or that she’d been called in early to work and wouldn’t show. Or worse, that she had forgotten.

Then she was there. He drank in her long-legged stride as she came into view, hurrying down the sidewalk toward him.

"Sorry I'm late," she gasped, catching her breath, her dark eyes sparkling under the brightly lit awning. "I got someone to cover for me for an hour so we don't have to rush."

"Great!" He eyed her trim leather jacket, silky blouse, and tailored slacks. The black jacket proclaimed "wild," but the rest of her attire bespoke "professional." An intriguing combination. "I only got here a few minutes ago myself. With Kayla, I tend to run ten minutes behind schedule."

Destiny's gaze flicked around the small air conditioned shop. "Where is she?"

She looked disappointed, which pleased him. She’d obviously wanted Kayla to come, too. "She fell asleep in the middle of her favorite movie. I asked my mom to stay with her. Tomorrow's a school day." He glanced at the chalkboard list of goodies. "What would you like?"

"That's a loaded question, doc."

A shaft of heat shot through him. He wasn't sure how to respond. Would banging on his chest and warbling Tarzan's jungle call be too primitive?

Grinning, she shifted her gaze to the large frosty cylinders sunk into the counter. "How about Mint Chocolate Chip?"

Wishing they had all night instead of an hour, Cole ordered two double-scooped cones, then presented them with a flourish.

Destiny chuckled. "Mt. Rose on a cone. You trying to fatten me up?"

"There's no improving what I see." He’d intended a suggestive tone but felt ridiculous instead. Grateful for the distraction, he twirled the overloaded cone against his tongue and waited for the icy cold to work its way down.

Laughter spilled from her cream-kissed lips. "Ditto."

He couldn't remain still another moment. "How about a walk over to the park and back?" When she nodded, he nearly knocked the table over trying to open the door for her.

She caught the toppling table but dropped her ice cream in the process.

"I'll get you another one."

"No." She touched his arm, held his gaze. "I'm not hungry." For ice cream, her heated look implied. "Let's walk."

Bottle rockets went off in his libido. It was like the Fourth of July all over again.

Outside, Cole took a last bite of chocolate mint, tossed it away, and slipped his arm around her waist. Resting at the delicious curve above her hip, his palm burned. Their thighs grazed, and he suddenly wished he'd bought a soda to douse the steam.

The park was deserted, the night cool and friendly as they strolled through the shadows. She asked about Kayla, and he shared anecdotes from their day. But always his awareness of Destiny--every touch, every look, every gesture--was uppermost in his mind. The woman captivated him.

Ten years ago, Lanni's shyness had captured his heart. Now, it was Destiny's bold stride, the unabashed way her gaze flirted with his, measure for measure, as though she'd meet him every step of the way, in bed and out, that mesmerized him.

Fireworks jetted through him again as he fantasized about sliding the zipper down that chic leather jacket, unbuttoning that silky blouse….

He exhaled slowly, glancing up at the diamond-studded sky, fighting for control. "It's a gorgeous night."

Beside him, she shivered, her hip brushing innocently against his.

It stopped him mid-stride. “Destiny….” He drew her into his arms and stared down into eyes darker than the night but just as mysterious and enticing. Her lips parted, questioning or silently pleading, he wasn't sure. He only knew he had to taste them again.

Their soft, pliant warmth ignited an inferno from stem to stern, vaporizing all thought of keeping the kiss light. Their tongues danced the dance of passion that legends spoke of, lighting an unquenchable fire, making him ache for more than the exotic sweetness of her mouth.

He pulled her into the darker shadows of the tree-lined park and crushed her to him. She tasted so good….

It seemed a lifetime since he’d held a woman like this, felt like this, wanted a woman the way he wanted her. He claimed her mouth over and over, hungry for more, dizzied by her tongue colliding with his, her heat joining his.

Abruptly, she pulled back, a tiny moan escaping her lips.

He stepped away, took a deep breath of night air, and shuddered, need searing his veins. Not one who favored public displays of mating rituals, this sudden urgent need both shocked and exhilarated him. Still, he was letting his glands run the show--not a good idea. He shoved both hands in his pockets, took a step back.

She lifted her arms to brush her hair back in place and refasten her loose barrette. As she moved, the silk of her blouse caressed her lush form.

He couldn't tear away his gaze. When had he unzipped her jacket? Swallowing hard, he reached forward, pulled the leather together, and zipped it up to her chin.

A delightfully wicked smile teased her lips. "You're going to give me a heart attack, Doctor."

"Tell me about it. I've already got a major discomfort.”

"Heart attack?"

"No." His voice held the same raspy quality as hers. “It isn't in my heart.”

She gave a soft “Tsk, tsk” as she checked her watch. "Time for me to get to work, Dr. Jackson." The fire in her eyes said she wanted more time with him, but it wasn't to be. She reached up to touch his cheek, then tenderly brushed his hair back from his face. "You're a wonderful man, Cole."

A compliment? Or a prelude to a "But?" He felt a sudden ominous foreshadowing but told himself he was being a pessimist. They had medicine in common, probably a love of nature as well. She liked Kayla. And, hopefully, she more than "liked" him. There was nothing to worry about. Still, his doubt lingered.

Outside the hospital entrance, he squeezed her hand affectionately. "I'll call you," he promised, then waved as she hurried inside. He didn’t dare kiss her again. Two doctors making out at the entrance of the imposing medical facility was hardly a professional image.

He was just sliding into his car when he spotted Web, feet braced apart like a gunslinger ready for a showdown. Cole rolled down the window. "Web?"

"What are you doing here, Cole?" He flexed his fingers as he spoke, his tone challenging. What the hell?

"I'm on my way home. What are you doing here so late?"

"Going over the budget. And trying to figure out how we're going to pay for the third floor of the wing-ding when it gets built." A hard laugh erupted. "Jeez, I hate finances."

There was an edge to Web's voice Cole didn't like. "I’ve got to go. I'll see you in the morning."

Web leaned against the car. "You told Destiny to ask for more money, didn't you?"

"She asked for my opinion, I gave it. She's worth more than you offered, and you know it." This wasn't about the money, Cole thought. It was about Destiny. And Web's ego.

"Dammit man, that ten grand could have bought a big, fat cornerstone for the third flood!"

Third flood? What…?

Web swayed, and Cole smelled alcohol. How much had his friend had to drink? There was a bar just down the street from the ice cream shop. Had Web seen him with Destiny?

"Look Web, I'm tired, and I don't want to argue. If you want to talk, I'll come by your office in the morning. We'll talk then." He turned the key in the ignition.

"You..." Web jabbed a finger at him, his voice harsh. “Talk to Destiny, man. Tell her about Lanni...how she’s stepping into Lanni’s moccasins.”

“What? That’s not… I’m not…” He stopped. Arguing with alcohol was stupid. Web would be apologizing in the morning. “I'll talk to you tomorrow,” Cole mumbled, rolling up the window.

Web started to walk away, hesitated, then turned back and said something else, but Cole couldn't hear him. He cracked his window. "What?"

Web offered a quirky grin, shook his head, weaving ever so slightly as he strode off. The thought that Web and Destiny were intimately involved spurted through Cole's mind.

He started the car, telling himself that was a ridiculous notion. But she'd been in Web's car the other day.

Cole clenched his jaw against a flood of swear words. Web was handsome. The guy didn't have children, alimony, or child support payments to worry about. He owned a big chunk of real estate and could charm any woman on the planet--or so he led people to believe. Women seemed attracted to the challenge of making the hospital bad boy issue a long-term proposal. Maybe Destiny had issued her own challenge and that was the problem.

The idea of her in Web's arms made Cole almost plow into a street sign. He told himself his imagination was working overtime and tried to turn it off. No matter what had been between Web and Destiny in the past, she was interested in Cole Jackson now. There was no mistaking the hunger he’d seen in her eyes. She'd matched his kisses, amp for kilowatt amp. And if he didn't stop thinking about that luscious mouth of hers…. God, she was terrific!

By the time he'd parked in his garage, he'd regained his cool and felt confident. He and Destiny had something special. No one would come between them.

But when he rushed in to work early the next morning, hoping to see her before her shift ended and she left for home, she wore a tense expression. "Bad night?" he queried cautiously, all too aware of her proximity. The employee lounge was hardly the place for mad passion, even if they were alone at the moment.

"I just ran into Web. He told me you talked to him about my salary. He says my increase is okay, I'm hired if I want the job." She didn't sound the least bit pleased about it.

Cole frowned. He hadn't talked to Web about the specifics of her contract, had he? He'd simply stated she was worth the money. Web was the one who’d brought up the ten grand.

Hands clenched at her side, she suddenly erupted, "I don't need you to step in and fight my battles or negotiate my contract, Dr. Jackson. I asked for your opinion, that’s all."

Surprised at her flash of anger, Cole felt his own tightly controlled emotions slip their leash. The lady had a temper, and he'd just gotten his first taste of it. So unexpected and so unlike Lanni's docile nature. Plus, this outburst was completely unjustified. "I don't know what Web told you, but you’re way off base."

The air crackled with tension, and fury blazed in her eyes. Well? Was this the end to what had promised to be...what?

Something in the vicinity of his heart twisted.

Destiny looked away to stare at a blank wall, her back rigid. The proud lift to her chin said how much damage Web had done. What in hell had the man told her?

Suddenly remembering Web’s accusation the night before, Cole felt sick. Lanni. Web must have told her about Lanni, made it sound as though he was looking for a substitute.

His gut clenched. The silence between them lengthened. A trio of nurses pushed into the room, laughing, oblivious to Cole's anguish. He wanted to wrap Destiny in his arms, love her until she melted against him, bury himself in her fiery warmth. She was beautiful, magnificent in her independent, haughty conviction. Not at all like Lanni. Yet, he wasn't about to let this woman get away, at least not without putting up a fight. "Well?" he demanded, stung by her anger. "Do you want to go out again, or are you going to hang up the next time I call?"

The tone of his voice silenced the chatter of the nurses. Cole felt their stares and shot them a look that sent them bolting for the door. Double darn. Now they'd peg him as another hospital Casanova.

Destiny turned to follow them out. Desperate, Cole flung a question at her back, "Are you and Web involved?"

That stopped her. She looked back at him over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. "Yes and no."

Cole's heart sank.

"Yes, I’d like you to call." Her eyes still held fire.

He swallowed hard, heard his pager beep, and automatically reached for the wallphone.

"And, NO...?" he asked, turning back to her as he dialed. Triple darn! She was gone!

Frustration ripped through him. She'd said yes and no, yes about him calling, but what was her no about? No, she wasn’t involved with Web? Or had he hit the nail right on its infuriating head? Had he injected himself smack-dab between two lovers in the midst of a heated affair?

One way or the other he needed to hear it loud and clear. Dr. Cole Jackson had been out of the dating game for a helluva long time. Maybe he had misread the lovely lady's responses. Maybe she was just like Web. Or using him to get back at the man. Was that what Web had wanted to tell him last night?

Cole didn't want to believe it. He stifled the urge to go after Destiny, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her off into nearby Kings Canyon so they could get this thing settled. He wanted to tie her to a tree and torture the truth out of her with kisses, run his hands through that waterfall of silky black hair, brand her with his touch.

A fellow surgeon entered the quiet room, his stride confident, in sharp contrast to the confusion chewing up Cole's insides. Dear God, when had he ever felt like this? He'd had two dates with Destiny. And now a mere glance from her dark eyes was enough to massacre his mental health.

Chapter Five

All week Cole played telephone tag with Destiny. Not only had she apologized for her blow-up, but she’d said yes to a weekend together at his cabin in Tahoe. Now, with their trip only twenty-four hours away, excitement and jitters vied for control. He'd driven up to the lake cabin Tuesday night to make sure everything was picture-perfect. Logs stacked beside the massive stone fireplace, wine in the refrigerator, candles on the old oak table. Scented bubbles for the hot tub. Just thinking about having some time alone with Destiny was playing havoc with his hormones, testing his patience, driving him to distraction.

Finally, Friday morning arrived. He took Kayla to school, dropped her clothes and sleeping bag off at Sylvia's, dodging her curiosity, then raced home to throw his own clothes in a duffel. By noon he was chomping at the bit.

Take a long walk, he told himself. Go down to the water, jump in. The lake beckoned, only a half mile away, cool and relaxing. He had his keys in hand, the front door open, when the phone rang. Oh God, not an emergency. Not today. Not now.

"Cole, it's Destiny." Her words were tight, clipped by fatigue. "I have to cancel. I– there’s a family emergency. My brother– I don't know…." She sounded distraught.

"Are you at home?" She needed him to remain calm.

"Yes, but I've got to go back to the hospital." Her voice choked. "I'm sorry."

"Destiny?" She'd hung up. He dialed her apartment. No one answered. He called the hospital and left a message for her to call him back, then paced, waiting for her call. Disappointment washed over him. But behind the disappointment lay concern. He grabbed his car keys. Some romantic weekend. If she was at the hospital, that was where he wanted to be, too.

It was lunchtime when he pulled into the hospital parking lot. The sun glared overhead, sending a trickle of sweat down his neck as he hurried through the back exit into the air conditioned lobby. The receptionist looked surprised to see him. "Dr. Jackson…."

"Is Dr. Moon here?"

"She was…."

"Page her, please."

"Yes, sir."

Destiny's name sounded over the speakers. No response.

Had her brother been in a serious accident? Cole realized he had almost no information to go on, didn't know if her brother had been hurt, didn't even know the man's full name. Nothing.

He dashed outside to see if Destiny's motorcycle was in the parking lot. Yes. So she must have missed his page.

Headed back inside, he stopped short as he caught a glimpse of Web's Mercedes. Web was pulling onto the street– with Destiny at his side! What the hell?

"Destiny!" He saw her head turn. The car braked, then sped away.

Astonishment crystallized into anger. What the devil was going on? She’d told him she and Web weren’t involved. So what was this? A little something on the side? What about her "family" emergency?

Like a knife, the image of her sitting beside Web stabbed him.

"She probably doesn't even have a brother," Cole growled, sliding into his own car, his brain filled with frustration. Neither of them had talked much about their families. He'd been too wrapped up in her eyes, the feel of her in his arms….

He stomped on the gas, and the Lexus shot out of the parking lot and onto Mountain Street. A red light flashed in his rearview mirror.

Great. Just great. Just what he needed--a speeding ticket. Frosting on the blasted cake!

Well, he'd go to the cabin without the luscious Destiny Moon. And he'd enjoy himself there if it killed him.

“Kayla, your magic Ouija board was way off base," he grumbled, mouthing an epithet, wondering how he could have misread Destiny so completely. So much for lightning striking twice.

Disillusionment cut deep.

* * * *

Seated in Web’s Mercedes, Destiny heard her name, caught a glimpse of Cole just as Web maneuvered out of the parking lot onto the street. Without thinking, she reached for the door. Web braked hard and grabbed her arm. "Wait a minute! You promised, no more jumping out of my car! Think of my reputation!" he croaked, half teasing, half serious as he stomped on the gas again, throwing her back against the seat.

"What about mine?" Destiny exclaimed, craning her neck to see Cole gaping at their departure. "I need to talk to Cole."

"Look, you'll be home in five minutes, ten tops, you can call him on his cellular." Web's voice was persuasive.

Too tired to argue, Destiny closed her eyes. Her fourteen-hour shift had been murder. Then, that new nurse in E.R. had screwed up, writing Destiny's last name on the admittance form instead of the patient's. The shift nurse had seen the name and, knowing Destiny had a brother, had called her, said he was critically injured. But it wasn't him at all.

Then, to top everything off, her motorcycle had conked out. When Web offered her a ride home, she'd been grateful. She hadn’t expected Cole to show up. She had intended to call him as soon as she got home, tell him she could still go to the cabin with him. She'd be ready by 5:00 p.m.

It’ll be okay, she told herself, sleep dragging her eyelids down as she leaned back against the headrest. She’d call Cole and explain.

As Web pulled into her apartment complex, she shook herself awake. Despite her protests, he walked her up the stairs to the door. "Thanks for the lift," she murmured, so tired her lips felt numb.

He shrugged off her thanks, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Just what she needed, she thought, another romantic overture. Didn't the man ever give up?

"Look,” he said, his expression serious, “I know what everyone says. And it's true--most of it, anyway. But you're a special woman, Destiny. And if things don't work out with Cole, I'd like to see you."

Sincerity from Web Baker? Nothing could have surprised her more. She stared at him, fatigue making it difficult to concentrate.

"Don't appear so shocked." He grinned, his manicured, blond good-looks taking on a more carefree appearance. "It's been five years since my divorce. I could settle down...." With the right woman, his gaze implied.

The words sounded earnest. Was it just a line?

Did it matter?

He kissed her cheek, then disappeared back down the steps. Destiny blinked. Web Baker wanted a serious relationship? From all the stories floating around the hospital about him and his feminine conquests, the words "settle down" sounded off key.

Still reeling from Web’s surprising statements, she trudged inside and collapsed onto the bed, too tired to move. Sleep swirled behind her eyes like a dark, enticing waterfall. Oh no. She hadn’t called Cole.

Rolling over, she reached for the phone and punched in his number. Got his answering machine. Darn.

"This is Destiny,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Web gave me a ride home. The new nurse in E.R. made a mistake. My brother's fine. I can still make it. Call me."

Time crawled. Cole didn't call.

She tried his cellular. No answer.

Exhaustion won out over desire. She set the phone next to the bed, turned the ringer to loud, and closed her eyes. At five, she awoke with a start. He hadn't called.

She dialed Web. "I can't reach Cole. He has a cabin on the lake. You have the address and phone number?"

"Yes, uh, I think so. Just a minute."

She heard a woman's giggle in the background. Well, Doctor I-Could-Settle-Down-Baker certainly hadn't wasted any time moving on to a brand new pasture.

He came back on the line. "It's a straight shot up Highway 50 to Zephyr Cove." He spit out a bunch of numbers, then said a hurried goodbye.

"Have fun," Destiny mumbled as the phone clicked in her ear. Staring at her scribbled numbers, she dialed again. No answer. Maybe Cole wasn't there yet. Maybe he was home. Or visiting a friend. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

She dialed his home. Still no answer. That did it. She was not going to miss out on this weekend. Grabbing her overnight bag and her jacket, she headed out the door, then stopped short. Her motorcycle wasn't working. Blast.

Old Man Coyote was having a field day. But luck hadn't completely deserted her. Quinn was at home--if one could call her brother's rough-hewn cabin with its austere furnishings, home.

Fifteen minutes after her call, he pulled up in front of her apartment, his footsteps light on the stairs. She opened the door before he could knock. He grinned affectionately at her. "Hey, Doctor Sis, what's the emergency? You need somebody scalped?"

He never changed, she thought. Irreverent. Irresponsible. And as nomadic as their wandering ancestors had ever thought of being. But he held a special place in her heart. She gave him a fierce hug. "I think Wolf and Coyote both have it in for me, wannga’a."

He sprawled into the nearest chair and cocked a wicked brow. "Where’s your motorcycle?”

She grabbed his hands and pulled him out of the chair. “My bike's broken down at the hospital. And your 'Doctor Sis' has a hot date with a medicine man, so the sooner I get out of here the better."

His lips tightened briefly, but he said nothing about her date until he'd fixed her bike and tossed his tools back in his truck. Only then did he nail her with a searching look, the cocky young brave completely gone. "You seeing another taivos?" he asked quietly, wiping grease from his calloused hands with a grimy rag.

She noted the corded muscles in his neck. His chiseled features, long black hair braided at the sides and held in place with a red bandana headband, all shouted Indian. His stance made her feel defensive and annoyed at the same time. "The doctor I'm dating happens to be white, yes."

Quinn's mouth turn down at the corners. "Wasn’t that last dude a doctor, too?” Pure disapproval.

She didn’t want to think about that fiasco. “Yes.”

His dark eyes flashed as he met her stare. “To whites, we all look alike, Des. Why can’t you see that?”

Same Quinn, same argument. “Because you’re wrong.”

He crossed his arms and studied her. “He means a lot to you." Not a question, but a statement.

She nodded, disliking the friction between them, wishing that just once he would realize they didn't have to see everything the same.

A reluctant smile broke across his face, surprising her. He shook his head. "Creepin’ cannibals. Anyone else from Pyramid, and I'd say 'you're making a mistake.' But not my sister." His tone softened. "The reservation's never been quite enough for you, has it?"

Her heart swelled with love. "Or you either, Quinn."

He chuckled ruefully. “You just might be surprised, Des.” He gave her a quick hug. "Take care, Doctor Sis. You need me, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, wannga'a." Watching him amble back to his battered pickup, her heart lurched, and she repeated the sentiment, "Thanks, little brother."

Minutes later, she had her overnight bag on the rear of her Yamaha, her jacket and helmet on, and was roaring down the highway. It was only 6:00. She'd be there within the hour.

Her stomach rumbled. “I’ll get to you later,” she promised. Much later. Her hungry hormones needed satisfaction first.

Chapter Seven

Driving along the edge of Lake Tahoe with her helmet visor up, the wind cool against her face, Destiny marveled as she always did at the scenic beauty. The sun, now a great red ball slowly settling toward earth, lit the sparkling azure water. In some spots, the lake appeared midnight blue, in others, deep green, a reflection of the firs that dominated the perimeter. The fresh scent of pine teased her nose as she slowed for a turn. According to Web's directions, she was almost there.

She pulled to a stop before an A-frame nestled in a large wooded lot, the cabin's picture windows mirroring the sunset. Stairs led from a wrap-around deck to the drive and carport. When she spotted Cole's Lexus, her heart kicked into high gear.

After parking her bike, she grabbed her bag and ran up the steps. Nervous perspiration trickled down her back. She dropped her bag, helmet, and leather jacket, tucking the tail of her tank top back into her jeans. Then she knocked.

No answer. The only sound was a whisper of wind in the treetops.

She knocked again. Golly ghost dance, the man was elusive. This was turning into a regular spirit-tracking expedition. She banged on the door one last time. Where was he?

She tried the door knob. Locked.

Walking around the deck to the back of the cabin, she tried a sliding glass door. Also locked. She noted a covered hot tub, patio table, and chairs. She glanced at the book face-down on the table top. The blurb on the back cover jumped out at her, He's waiting for you....

"Don’t I wish," she muttered under her breath, checking her watch. Maybe he'd decided to eat out instead of grilling those halibut steaks he’d mentioned--after she'd apologized for tearing into him like that about her contract.

Continuing her exploration, she noted the barbecue was all set to fire up. Darn, everything was here but the good doctor!

"What the hey?" Cole's voice split the silence, and she jumped a half mile, her heart in her throat as she whirled.

He wore nothing but skimpy, bright green swim trunks. All that bare skin glistened with moisture. Six foot two, eyes of blue, and a towel draped over one shoulder. Gorgeous.

Her gaze slid down his muscular chest to his flat stomach. Adrenaline hit, making her hyper-aware of his proximity, his virility. He was First Man, she was First Woman, and together they would create the world anew.

"Cole…." Did he hear the longing in her soul?

He mopped his face with his towel. "I went for a swim. It's pretty cold though."

She wondered if it was as cold as her reception.

His gaze wandered up her legs to her face, his expression demanding an explanation. For her presence? Or merely her tardiness?

"I tried to call you at home and then here. When I couldn't reach you...well, here I am."

"Where's Web?" A decided chill in that voice.

"At home, I suppose."

His eyebrows drew together.

Did he really think she could be interested in Web after she'd moved several planets just to get here?

"Come on inside," he said, turning away and leading her to the front door where he picked up her helmet.

No welcoming hug or glad-you-could-make-it?

She grabbed her other things and followed, letting her gaze skid from the high ceilings and massive stone fireplace to the blue and white country kitchen, looking anywhere but at Cole.

He ambled over to the bar which separated this floor into two rooms. She couldn’t resist studying his bare back and tight buns--a view that took her breath away. Simply setting her helmet aside, the ripple of his arm muscles mesmerized her as though he were Svengali.

She swallowed hard, heat flooding her face. "I feel sweaty from the ride up. And...uh, seem to be a bit woozy. Can we talk after I freshen up?"

He gestured toward the stairs leading below. "There's a bedroom and bath down there. Another one on this floor.” No trace of emotion. “The master bedroom suite is upstairs. Take your pick."

"Downstairs will be fine."

Now why had she said that? He would naturally be using the master bedroom. Hadn't she come here to be with him?

Later, she told herself, after we talk, then I'll move.

Hurrying down the stairs, she missed the last one and landed in an inglorious heap on her backside.

"Destiny!" Cole yelped.

Feeling shell-shocked, she sat there a moment.

He was beside her in two seconds with something more than professional concern in his eyes. "Are you all right?"

She rubbed her rear. "Pride's a bit tarnished," she murmured, getting to her feet, all too aware of his nearness. Everything she wanted in a man. Forthright. Sincere. Tender. And a bit clumsy, but she didn't have any room to talk.

The slight twinge of pain at the end of her spine vanished as she lost herself in the sea of his blue, blue eyes. Her heart pounded like the drumbeat at a powwow.

He slipped his arm around her waist, his heat blistering through her thin cotton top. "Destiny?" He whispered her name, still questioning, but hunger had replaced his earlier tone.

She lifted her lips to meet his. Their tentative kiss turned wild and famished as she opened to him. His tongue danced, teasing. Tingling excitement and delicious shivers of need spread down through her middle. She could feel every inch of him as she melted against him.

Without a word, Cole swung her into his arms and carried her into the downstairs bedroom. His blue eyes were dark, fathomless pools in the gray shadows as he gently placed her on the bed and stretched out at her side. But he didn't touch her.

She silently cursed the space between them.

"What do you want, Destiny?" Rusty barbed-wire etched his tone.

"You," she gasped, sliding her hand across his chest, relishing the rough feel of his hair. "I want to make love with you."

He raised himself on one arm, lifted his other hand, and traced her lips. "And I want this to be special."

A jolt of unadulterated desire shot through her as his tongue followed the invisible trail forged by his fingertip.

"Oh, Cole, I've longed for this…." She looked into his face, noted the furrow between his brows, caught a glint of wariness in his eyes. "Cole?"

With a low-pitched groan, he wrapped both hands around hers, brought them chest-high, and pushed himself away. "Before this gets completely out of control, I think we better have that talk."

"Now?" she sputtered, still tingling from his kisses.

"Now." He managed a tight smile.

She sat up, straightening her clothes as she tucked her legs beneath her, embarrassed and suddenly very, very weary. "You want to know why I said I couldn't make it--then show up?"

He nodded.

She felt the distance widen between them, broad as the state of Texas. "I hadn't been off work more than an hour when the shift nurse called. There'd been a bad accident on the Kingsbury Grade. They had a man, critically injured--not expected to make it. His name was listed as Moon."

A shudder ran through her. "Thanks to everything sacred, it wasn't my brother."

She closed her eyes, blinked them open, still feeling the effects of her long shift, little sleep, and the emotional drain. Darn it, when had she ever felt so ready to drop? "The nurse who'd called felt terrible about alarming me. But I was just so grateful…."

"So you decided to celebrate with Web." A flat, accusing tone.

"No! Why do you keep insisting there's something going on between Web and I?"

"He can do a lot for you."

"Yeah. Like give me a ride home when my bike breaks down!"

Relief filled Cole's eyes, and his face slowly relaxed. He reached out, sketching the contours of her arms with strong hands. "Is that what happened?"

"The whole truth and nothing but, I swear." She smiled as the last hint of doubt faded from his expression. But she didn't want him getting too smug. "Wait. I take that back. The whole and complete truth is…. "

His hands stilled.

"...that my backside hurts like I've been kicked by a wild burro." She twisted to relieve another twinge.

Fighting a grin, he gave her an amused look. "And?"

"It's probably jealous of all the T.L.C. the rest of me's getting."

The temperature of his gaze went up a notch. "So?"

"So, Doc Holliday," she gave him a sleepy smile, "just how talented are those hands of yours?"

His chuckle sounded husky, full of desire, sending ripples of anticipation through her. He wiggled his fingers in the air. "I guess we'll just have to find out…." But he slid from the bed, then turned for a moment to study her. "Later."

It was a whispered vow that lingered as his footsteps thumped on the stairs.

She melted against the bed, her eyelids heavy, desire mixing with the need for sleep. Cole's voice drifted to her, fanning the wings of dreams. "Get some sleep, Sweetheart."

She sighed, missing his arms, his touch, but in her dreams she had both.

* * * *

Reluctantly, Cole climbed the stairs. Whether Destiny realized it or not, she was exhausted and needed sleep. No matter what his own body demanded, he could wait. This wasn't a race. He wanted them both to enjoy every second.

He returned to the room a few minutes later with a folded comforter. From the doorway, she looked like a copper-skinned Sleeping Beauty, her long black hair fanned out across the white bedspread making him itch to bury his fingers in its silken strands.

A stronger urge, to kiss her awake, surged through him, and he found himself moving to the edge of the bed, his gaze following the long line of her slender legs from her slender ankles to her trim waist. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, unfolding the comforter and gently covering her. Oh Lord, he ached to join her, caress her delectable body, steal into her dreams. He wanted to wake up to this vision every morning, go to bed with her every night. Every time they were together, the need to keep this woman with him--for always--grew stronger.

She stirred, murmuring a Paiute endearment. He recognized the word. Hiddse, sweetheart.

And still he forced himself to move away from her, to climb the stairs back to the kitchen where he chugged down a tall glass of ice water before stepping outside to start the barbecue.

An hour later, dinner was on the table, candles lit, frosty glasses filled with wine. Fresh from the shower, he pulled on chinos and a loose-fitting Hawaiian-print shirt, then padded downstairs to wake Destiny.

The bed was empty. His gaze flew to the closed bathroom door and the sliver of light beneath. The sound of running water stopped even as he became aware of it. "Destiny?"

"Be right out."

Within seconds, the door opened. He felt his jaw drop. She wore a short, splashy blue sundress with spaghetti straps, fitted waist--and no bra. The flared skirt showed off her long legs. "Dinner's ready," he croaked.

She flashed him a bright smile. "Thanks for the nap. I feel great." She crossed the room in four quick strides, slipped her arms around his neck, kissed him lightly, then pulled back. "And I'm hungry."

Lightheaded from her nearness, yet resisting the urge to forget dinner and go straight to dessert, Cole drew her up the stairs to the main part of the cabin.

"Oh-h-h, that looks wonderful!" she gasped, her gaze directed at the table. He pulled out her chair, then scooted it in as she sat, wishing he was the chair.

She lifted her goblet of ice water to her lips. A delicate sip left her mouth dotted with moisture. He ached to lick it off, taste the sweet softness outside, the wet heat within. God, dinner was going to be pure torture.

He got up abruptly, crossed to the sliding glass door, and pulled it open, absorbing the chilly breeze from the lake.

Forget dinner, his mind shouted.

No, he argued, keeping his silence as he resumed his seat. He was not going to act like a randy college jock.

He saw Destiny's hand tremble as she set down her glass. "Mind if I say a prayer?" she asked.

"I'd like that."

"The wind stirs the willows, and the gentle breeze stirs the grasses. For the sun. For the rivers. For all living creatures. For these things, we are grateful."

Cole echoed her words, then dug in, amazed to discover he could eat. Everything tasted great. Plus, he hadn't barbecued the cabin. No lumpy rice, no brittle broccoli or crisp carrots. The perfect amount of butter, garlic, and basil on the fish. Surprise, surprise.

"Mmmm," Destiny murmured, licking her lips, her innocent gesture sexy as hell. "Maybe you should forget being a surgeon."

"Then I wouldn't get to see you everyday."

He could hardly believe she was here, sitting next to him, her dark brown eyes alive with enjoyment, passion banked in their depths, waiting to be lit.

The occasion called for a toast. He lifted his wine glass. Oops. Too fast. White zin over the side. Darn. Things had been going so well!

She grabbed for extra napkins, hit her own glass, and sent ice water spilling across the table. "Oh, no!" She leaped to her feet.

"It's all right," he said, dashing into the kitchen to snag a couple of hand towels, then back to mop up the mess. This he was an expert at.

Destiny’s eyes twinkled. "Why are you smiling, Dr. Jackson? Your fish is swimming in a lake of ice water."

Sudden shyness washed over him. "Just thinking--we have a lot in common. Didn't you know I've been called the Klutz King of Carson City."

"Sounds awfully unlikely."

"Ask Fran, she'll tell you."

"Truth?"

He nodded. "Truth."

"She already did."

"And you were still willing to risk your life by spending the weekend in the Klutz King's company?"

She laughed, a throaty sound that raced through him like a pinball on fire. His heart rate zoomed, and he forgot the fish. Other needs signaled him now.

Destiny's eyes darkened as if reacting to the same siren call. "Cole."

The way she said his name sent pleasure pulsing through him. He wanted to hear his name on her lips as he took her, filled her, wanted to hear it again and again and again.

Under his hands, the spaghetti straps slid easily from her petal-smooth shoulders. He bent and kissed the hollow of her neck, eliciting a small moan from her. He found her lips and captured them. She tasted like sweet wine, heady, fruity, cool, then hot. The scent of her hair, like wildflowers, filled his nostrils.

Her hands left a trail of fire as they slid across his back. He'd dreamed of this, and now it was so much more. The primal feminine scent of her skin intoxicated him.

She nibbled his earlobe. Electricity shot down his spine as though his ear was connected to some very unexpected parts of his lower body.

Blood roared in his ears, drowning out everything but the need to taste her, pleasure her. "Destiny," he groaned her name, lost to reality, volcanoes exploding throughout his entire being. It took every ounce of willpower he had to pull back. He slipped his hands under her and lifted her with him. Her lips protested the wait. Covering them with his own, he could barely see to navigate. The room was an obstacle course. He could see little past her raven hair.

His foot connected with a chair, and he tore his lips from hers. "Ow! Holy Darn!"

"What happened?"

"Just my big toe getting in the way," he managed between clenched teeth, finally making it up the stairs to the bedroom.

She chuckled. "I can walk, Cole."

But he didn't want to put her down--ever.

Like a man traversing the last few feet of a tightrope, he lunged across the room. His other foot slammed against the nightstand.

Yelping a curse, he dropped Destiny on the bed, his smashed toes screaming for attention. "Destiny, I...." Silhouetted against the light of the setting sun, a golden halo enveloped her skin. "Lord, but you're beautiful," he rasped, afraid to move, afraid if he did he would awaken from this dream.

She reached up and brushed her lips against his.

“Oh Lord, woman.” He slid his fingers through the silken mass of her hair. "You keep that up, and this is all going to be over in a very few minutes."

I must be crazy, he thought. This was torture, and he was begging to prolong it!

Destiny gazed into his eyes, a delightfully wicked grin on her face. Holding back took every ounce of willpower he possessed. When he claimed her mouth, the world spun into an indescribable bliss where time and space had no meaning.

* * * *

Destiny lay snuggled against Cole's shoulder, listening to the steady beat of his heart, loving the feel of his arm draped across her. She watched in silent reverence as the morning sun crept slowly through the sheer window coverings. When it kissed his face, she studied his rugged handsomeness, softened in the early light.

Such a face. Good, kind, strong. She saw a lovable little boy quality there, too, and remembered how it sparked to life when he laughed, eyes crinkling with delight. Now it whispered to her as he slept, calling to the little girl inside of her. She sighed, replete.

His eyes fluttered open, his dark lashes tipped in gold by the morning light. The boy vanished back into the man, taking her little girl with him.

His chest rose and fell more quickly as he fixed his smiling gaze on her. "What are you doing awake so early?" he asked, his voice a sleepy rumble.

"Guess I don't need any more sleep." She ran her hand over his chest. This busy, wonderful man obviously worked out--he'd scooped her into his arms as though she were light as a feather.

He caught her wrist and brought it to his lips. "Mmmm. You taste so good."

His lips nibbled against her pulse. Did he feel it race?

“Your smashed toes okay this morning?” she inquired.

He looked at his bare feet. "Hey, toes, the lady asked you a question."

Toes wiggled in response.

She laughed. "Is that a yes?"

"Yep." He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Do you realize we have the entire day to ourselves?"

She ran a light finger across his lips. "Let's not waste a moment of it." He was the rock, she the stream. He was the match, she the candle, forever burning with his touch.

* * * *

Later, outside on the deck, Destiny dipped one foot into the bubbling hot tub, delighted with the bubbles, the scent of sun-ripened berries, and all the careful thought Cole had obviously given to this weekend. The warm water felt heavenly in the cool morning air. "Smells great," she murmured.

"So do you." He lifted himself from the water, stretching upward to nuzzle her neck.

She laughed, exhilarated, excited by his teasing kiss.

"You intoxicate me, Destiny." Cole pulled her down into the steamy froth, her back against his chest, his warm lips trailing kisses from one shoulder to the other.

"Wipe that smug expression off your face, Dr. Jackson," she teased, turning to face him. His eyes twinkled with pleasure. Unable to resist, she kissed him.

"Destiny…."

She kissed him again, putting all her heart into it.

"This hot tub's too darn hot," he rasped, surging up out of the water, pulling her to her feet and into his arms.

They didn't make it to the lake until after lunch, and then only because Cole swore the icy water would cool them both down enough to enjoy an early dinner before returning to Carson.

"Do you realize we've only known each other a few weeks?" she asked as they strolled along the small strip of beach hand in hand.

"Mmmm." A distracted response, his gaze far out on the water.

She squeezed his hand to get his attention. "You catching up on your sleep now?"

He looked at her, his blue eyes serious. "I was just thinking about how I feel about you."

"Oh?"

"I'm head over heels. And I wish we had another week…no, make that two, just us."

She reached up and brushed his cheek with her fingers. "So do I." With her schedule she'd be lucky to get another weekend off next month. Still, maybe a time out was needed, forcing them to slow down when, after the last twenty-four hours, she wanted to stay in his arms forever.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he checked his watch. "Time to go back. The lasagna's probably heated through by now."

"So that's what you were slipping into the oven." She smiled at him. "I hope you know I can't cook worth a darn."

His arm circled her waist. "I'd say you sizzle in all the right places."

"Mmmm.”

Her purr of satisfaction made him grin.

She slid her arms around his neck. “I love being a doctor. Or maybe I should say, I love doctors. Especially one who cooks."

He means a lot to you. Her brother's words came back to her, an immeasurable understatement.

Sometime during the last few hours they'd found time to talk--truly talk about the things that were important to each of them. There was more to this man than very talented hands. He was real. Their ideals dovetailed. He loved the land as much as she did. He believed in living in harmony with all of nature, wanted the same things for Kayla as she wanted for her own future family. He had depth and honor.

The growing awareness that she loved this man held her in awe. Still, she felt a bit of trepidation. When she’d broached the subject of his first wife, he’d withdrawn, become quiet, and changed the subject. She wondered about his reticence. Next time they were together, she’d ask, but not now, when their time together was drawing to a close.

She melted against him, and he brushed her lips with his, sending a crashing tide of sensation down to her toes and back up again. An instant later, he broke away. "Whew! You are lethal to my health, woman."

"Cole." His name felt so delicious on her tongue she wanted to shout it to the blue sky, hear it echo through the treetops.

She did, and it did, and they laughed at the startled expression of a surprised fisherman.

* * * *

The end of a perfect weekend. Watching Destiny settle astride her motorcycle, Cole longed for their time together to start over.

She waved, black leather jacket and helmet on. Back to Carson, back to the hospital, back to their everyday lives. But his would never be the same without her with him. As they'd strolled along the lake, he'd almost asked her to marry him. Something had stopped him. Her curiosity about Lanni?

She’d posed a hesitant question, asking what Lanni was like. It had taken him off guard, and he hadn’t known what to say. He’d felt a twinge of guilt when he realized he hadn’t thought of Lanni all weekend, until then. Had Destiny sensed his remorse, mistaken its meaning?

Destiny. He wished he had asked her to marry him, wished he had her answer, because watching her disappear beyond the rise in the road was shredding his heart.

She loved him, of that he felt confident.

Web, old buddy, eat your heart out, because this woman is mine.

Chapter Eight

Within three days, an early snow at higher elevations caught motorists unprepared, causing several serious pile-ups and an increased workload for Cole. He only had time to miss Destiny in his dreams.

Kayla whined because of his long hours, and he thought he'd go nuts between his work, his own wanting, and the inescapable demands of a one-parent household. Maybe he should get a housekeeper. His mother and father weren't getting any younger. And one of these days, when Sylvia found someone she wanted to settle down with, she'd no longer be available to watch when those inevitable emergencies hit the hospital. He needed another back-up.

Destiny, his mind whispered as he crawled into bed at the end of the exhausting week. His hungry hormones agreed.

No, he argued back. Lanni, yes, she had enjoyed being a stay-at-home wife and mother.

But Destiny? No. She'd be bored to tears.

Ouch! Danged if he wasn't doing it again--picturing Destiny as his wife. Maybe she wasn't even interested in marriage. They hadn't discussed that. During their last phone conversation he'd finally told her Lanni died of cancer. Then they’d talked of other things. Talking about the dead wasn't something one did within her Native American culture, and he respected that.

The phone rang as he was drifting off to sleep. “Let it be Destiny,” he mumbled, wanting the sound of her voice.

It was the hospital. A crane accident at a construction site in nearby Dayton, a tiny town with a long history but no hospital. He groaned a protest, said he'd be there stat, and went to rouse Kayla.

Darn! Maybe he should just move into that blasted third floor when it was finished. He'd have to remember to tell Web to add an apartment near the OR. These back and forth jaunts to the hospital at all hours were making him old before his time.

His mother's words came back to him. Get a housekeeper.

Was that the answer? Kayla needed attention from an alert, caring individual, not an overworked, sleep-deprived dad. There was plenty of room on his five acres to build a small cottage without it intruding on his privacy, a separate place for a housekeeper to live, have her own space, yet be available when he needed someone to watch Kayla--his mother's exact words yesterday on the phone, the second time that month she'd mentioned it. "Your dad and I can't keep up with this kind of schedule, Cole."

Maybe she was right. Maybe he needed to let things move on. Kayla's needs were changing and would continue to do so. And his own needs were sure as hell making themselves known.

The following Monday, after preparing dinner with Kayla, he helped her with her addition and spelling words. Good Lord, when had they started giving first graders so much homework?

Afterwards, she sat on his lap, swinging her legs, as he read aloud the ad he'd placed in the newspaper. “Housekeeper wanted….”

He'd called an architect, asked about plans for a small cottage: two bedrooms, kitchen, living room-dining room combination, lots of light. The man said he'd have the plans ready in a few days.

Now, staring at the advertisement, Cole began to have doubts. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But the four-year-old Kayla who'd clung to him after her mother's death was now going on seven and growing more independent every day.

As if to demonstrate that fact, Kayla slid from his lap and climbed on a stool. "Can I call Destiny?" she asked, picking up the phone without waiting for his reply.

"She may still be sleeping or, more likely, getting ready for work. Can you keep it short?" An image of Destiny slipping from bed nude to answer the phone, pulling on her clothes as she talked, set his heart speeding. He wanted it to be his bed, tonight and every night.

Vaguely, he wondered what his daughter was all fired up to talk to the bewitching Destiny about.

With her eyes shining like bright shiny buttons, Kayla dialed, her foot tapping the stool. She looked both expectant and anxious. "Destiny?" She paused, then her precious face brightened. "No, I'm at home with Daddy." She paused again. "No, I wanted to talk to you."

"Me, too!" Cole protested, pitching his voice loud enough for Destiny to hear.

Kayla gave him a much put-upon look. "Shhh," she hissed, fingers to her lips as she turned her attention back to the call. "Would you take me to the mother-daughter dinner Friday night, Destiny?"

He jumped out of his chair. "Wait a minute. That's not something you ask without discussing it with me first, young lady."

Her face scrunched up with concentration as she continued her conversation with Destiny. "I went with Cindy and her mom last year. But this year I'd rather have you take me. It starts at six and ends at nine."

Despite his displeasure, Cole felt a smile stretch his lips. So grown up. When she hit her teens he was going to be in real trouble. Faking a frown, arms crossed, he waited. His daughter said a quick "'Bye" and held out the phone. "Destiny wants to talk to you."

He eased Kayla down from the stool before taking the receiver. "Destiny. I'm a bit embarrassed."

She laughed, that wondrous dusky bell laugh. "Don't be. I'd love to take her. If it's all right with you, that is?"

"Well, yes," he stammered, surprised. Most women weren't into other people's children and certainly not into playing mommy to them.

"I could ride my bike over, drive your car to the dinner." She paused, then added a hesitant, "Maybe stay awhile after Kayla's in bed?"

Thoughts of how they might spend their time set off familiar fireworks. "You have that night off?"

"Half-shift. I don't have to be at work until three the next morning."

Excitement ripped through him. He gave her directions to his house, then winked at Kayla. She gave a victorious whoop.

"I can't wait." He wanted to say more but caught himself, all too conscious of the ecstatic six-year-old at his side.

"I'll look forward to it." Destiny's soft, seductive tone had the same effect as throwing gasoline on a flame. He hung up, reluctantly, in need of a cold shower.

Kayla threw her arms around him. "Thank you, Daddy!"

"Next time, ask me first," he growled in weak protest, wrestling his thoughts away from Destiny. Shifting gears from would-be lover to daddy required effort. It took a minute, but he managed.

He tickled Kayla, hauling her up to her room over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She wiggled into Bugs Bunny PJs and then brushed her teeth. Afterwards, he read her favorite story of the week, "The Snow Child," and tucked her into bed. Three kisses and a hug later, he turned out her light. "Goodnight, Pumpkin."

"'Night, Daddy. I love you."

His heart constricted. "I love you too, Sweet Stuff." He felt lucky. Very lucky. With a daughter like Kayla who loved him unequivocally, and Destiny to inspire his passion, he felt like King of the Universe.

* * * *

Throughout her work week, Destiny found herself cataloguing all that she loved about Cole. His smile, his deep laugh, his gentle hands. The list was endless. And now she was taking his daughter to a mother-daughter dinner. But a part of her wondered if she should have accepted.

Cole had implied "commitment" in his words and actions. So had she. But neither of them had actually spoken about what lay beyond the next date. What if their relationship fizzled?

Not that it showed signs of that happening, she thought, blushing at the sudden images which swept through her mind. She pushed them away, thinking about his beautiful daughter. The child was a wonder. Destiny marveled that the little girl seemed to have put her mother’s death behind her completely, never speaking of her except once to say she was in heaven. Kayla had moved forward, eager to embrace tomorrow. Destiny approved but had to ask herself if accepting this invitation to her mother-daughter dinner would send the wrong signals to Kayla? Would the child then feel betrayed if Destiny's relationship with Cole turned sour?

I'm being a pessimist, she told herself. Then, confidence reasserting itself, she hurried through her day.

Time hurtled by, and suddenly she was astride her Yamaha, racing out the highway to Deer Run Road. Turning right, she followed the two lane across the Carson River. A short distance more, and the road turned rough, the area rural, but with countless houses scattered along the ridges above the valley.

As she swept around the next turn, a sprawling two-story drew her admiring gaze. The number matched Cole's address, the fenced front yard covering at least an acre. River rock and salt grass followed a perimeter of cottonwoods, their leaves changing in the crisp fall air, the swaying grass like a rippling stream beneath their golden canopies. A lovely, high desert image.

She drove slowly up the long asphalt drive and stopped her bike before a brick walkway, took off her helmet, and studied the house. It was beautiful, all wood and rock with a dark tiled roof. Big, but with graceful lines that suited the terrain perfectly.

Leaving her helmet and jacket with the Yamaha, she grabbed the duffel bag containing her change of clothes. The walkway skirted a half-moon landscape arrangement of cactus and roses and led up two steps to an elegantly carved double door. Her boots were silent on the cement.

Cole's house. She liked what she saw.

About to knock, she smiled when she heard Kayla yell, "She's here!"

The door flew open to Kayla's unbridled exuberance, her flowered leggings and matching top bright enough to glow in the dark.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs to her right, drawing Destiny's attention. Cole crossed toward her, his rumpled shirt and tie proclaiming he'd not been home long. He grinned as he reached for her. "Welcome to my wickiup."

She returned his tantalizingly swift kiss, then pressed her nose into his neck. "Mmmm, you smell so-o-o-o good!"

When Kayla giggled, Destiny stepped back. "Where should I change?" she asked, holding up her bag.

Cole adopted a silly grin. "You mean you're not going to the dinner as a Motorcycle Mama?"

Kayla rolled her eyes. “Oh, Daddy.” She bounded past them. "Back here, Destiny!"

Destiny felt Cole's gaze follow her as she trailed Kayla past the staircase down the hall to a bedroom doorway. She glanced back, caught a flicker of hunger in his gaze, and smiled. When she turned back, Kayla was bouncing on the double bed. The little girl's smile had a way of roping her heart, tugging when she least expected it.

“Grandma and Grandpa sleep here sometimes when Daddy's away," Kayla said, as though explaining the room's importance. Or was she serving notice it had already been claimed by two very important people in her life, not available to Destiny on a permanent basis? So many questions. Trying to figure out how kids' minds worked was a full time job. The more experience she gained in Family Practice, the better she'd be with her own children--when that day came.

"It's a beautiful room." She winked at the little girl as she unzipped her bag and shook out her cotton gauze dress. Bright yellow. She and Kayla together ought to give the downtown casinos neon competition. Good. She wanted everyone to see that Kayla belonged with her tonight. "Thanks for asking me to take you. It'll be a real treat."

Kayla slid from the bed. Destiny saw the hug coming and crouched down to receive it. It nearly bowled her over. Arms tight around Destiny's neck, Kayla gushed, "I love you."

The little girl's words honored her. With a lump in her throat, Destiny fell back across the bed, pretending to be knocked flat, taking Kayla with her. She hugged the child, so filled with emotion she could barely speak. "Thank you, Kayla. I think you're pretty special, too."

Kayla gave her one more fierce hug then wiggled out of her arms. Beaming, she rushed from the room, closing the door noisily behind her. Destiny pulled off her boots and the rest of her clothes, then slipped into the full-skirted, peasant-styled dress, her emotions mixed. Since Kayla's mother had died, it was natural for the child to see Destiny in that role, but if things didn't work out with Cole, Kayla would lose this relationship too. She didn’t want the little girl to be hurt.

Enough gloom-and-doom, she chided. What was she expecting to go wrong anyway? Cole and she were good together--whenever their schedules permitted. And tonight she'd get the chance to know his adorable daughter, one-on-one.

Only a tiny bit nervous, Destiny uncoiled a rainbow-colored belt and cinched it around her waist, clipped on gold bangle earrings, then stepped into her gold-tinted flats before checking the mirror. Festive. Cheerful. Casual. Did she look like a mommy?

When she stepped into the hall, she immediately heard Cole call out, "We're in the kitchen! To your right."

His instructions took her to a gleaming cavernous room, all white and green and stainless steel. Lots of windows with healthy plants in every one. Plants on the counters, too, some wearing pink buds, some purple. It was a house made for memories. A home. More questions about Kayla's mother niggled at Destiny's thoughts. Had Cole and Lanni laughed together in this kitchen? Had he swept her into his arms and carried her up the curved staircase, à la Rhett Butler?

Destiny couldn't squelch the jealous hope that he had stumbled and dropped his Scarlett on her tush, which had probably been as perfect as this house.

She let her gaze skim across the expanse of tile floor to oak table and chairs. An unfinished puzzle took up three-quarters of the tabletop. A large Tupperware bowl filled the remaining space, its contents held both father and daughter's attention. But as Destiny entered, they glanced up. Cole's eyes widened.

Kayla's dark eyes radiated adoration. "You look beautiful! Doesn't she, Daddy?"

A belated whistle made it past his lips. "Maybe I should drive you, drop you off, pick you up," he croaked, then cleared his throat, his neck turning red. "Two such beautiful ladies should have an escort."

Amused and pleased at his reaction, Destiny smiled. "Sorry, from what I understand, this is ladies-night-out. Don't they have a father-daughter dinner during the year, too?"

Kayla nodded, looking worried. "It's just us girls this time, Daddy."

“You’re absolutely, positively sure about that, Pumpkin?” he asked as he dug out his car keys. Destiny plucked them from his fingers. He laughed and drew her into his arms. "I hate to let you out of my sight--either of you--but I know when to surrender."

"Do you?" she teased.

"Oh, Lordy, yes." His gaze was smoldering. Seeing the fire in the depths of his blue eyes, Destiny shivered with delight, warmth spreading everywhere they touched.

Kayla tugged impatiently on her skirt. "Time to go," she whispered, pulling away from Cole's heat and slinging the strap of her gold wallet-on-a-string over her shoulder. She took Kayla's hand and let the little girl lead her through the door into the garage.

Cole followed like a lonesome cowboy. "The garage door opener is clipped to the sun visor," he said as though reluctant to let her go. Destiny slid behind the wheel of the Lexus. She waved at him in acknowledgment and started the car. Kayla blew kisses as they drove away. Destiny glanced back once and saw Cole standing halfway down the drive.

Ten minutes later, they were at the school. Destiny felt like a butterfly about to land for the first time. Kayla's gaze clouded as they crossed the busy parking lot. "You really don't mind taking me, do you?"

Swallowing her jitters, she squeezed Kayla's hand. "I've been looking forward to this all week, Kayla. So let's go have some fun."

They were barely inside the cafeteria when Kayla squealed, "Cindy! Cindy!" and broke away, dashing off in the direction of a petite tow-head in a frilly lace dress. Destiny raced to catch up, aware that the tall, slender redhead at Cindy's side stared openly.

The redhead extended her hand, her green eyes brimming with curiosity. "Hi, I'm Sylvia Abel."

"Destiny Moon." Breathless with a sudden attack of self-consciousness like she hadn't experienced since her first year away from the reservation, she gave the woman's hand a quick shake.

Sylvia smiled towards the two six-year-olds who were chatting merrily. "They act like they haven’t seen each other in six months, instead of...,” she checked her watch, “about sixty-six minutes. But it looks like they're content, so why don't we claim table space together?"

Before Destiny could respond, an energetic, middle-aged woman announced the buffet was ready. "Everyone, get in line, please. And eat up. Right after the meal we'll be showing off the students' art work and announcing the top three ribbon winners from each grade."

"That's Mrs. Wilson, the principal," Sylvia said, then introduced Destiny to some of the mothers as they joined the line. Destiny couldn't decide about the attractive redhead. Was she just what she seemed--friendly and out-going? Or a devious, deposed sweetheart, plotting poison for Cole’s new interest?

She felt herself bristle, unable to believe that for a second time in the same night such uncharacteristic emotions held her in their claws. First, over a fictitious Scarlett and, now, over a very real redhead. The woman was gorgeous. Maybe Cole needed his eyes checked if he’d overlooked this alabaster beauty.

"So, you're a doctor, too, Cole tells me," Sylvia prodded as she filled half her plate with salad and French bread.

Before Destiny had a chance to answer, Sylvia turned to help Cindy with the gelatin, which kept sliding off the serving spoon.

Destiny addressed Kayla instead. "Want me to serve your plate, or you want to do it yourself?"

"I can do it," Kayla said in a grown-up tone.

She smiled at the beaming child, moving in tandem down the food counter. Fried chicken and green salad, orange gelatin, milk or punch. "Quite a feast, Kayla," Destiny murmured as they searched for seats at the long, low table.

She banged her knee. "These tables were definitely designed for midgets," she joked, feeling like an awkward colt. Perhaps Cole's clumsiness was contagious. They'd soon be referring to her as the Klutz Queen.

Sylvia slid gracefully into the chair across the table. "Better not tell Cole what we're eating," she said, eyeing her own heaped plate.

Was there a proprietary note in the way she said Cole? Or was Destiny misreading the woman?

"This stuff's bad for hearts," complained Kayla, peeling the crisp, delicate brown coating from her chicken leg before taking a bite. "But the rest," she took another bite, "is yummy."

Destiny followed Kayla's lead, once again impressed at the little girl’s knowledge. "Did your daddy tell you that?"

"No, I learned about it in science camp this summer. We made models of hearts, filled them with whipped cream until they got all clogged up." Cindy scrunched her face into a mirror of Kayla's comical display. "I didn't tell Daddy about eating the cream."

Destiny's heart lurched. Cole's little girl was so precious. "I don't think he'd mind, do you?" Destiny gave her an affectionate squeeze.

"Pro'bly not, but it’s a good idea to start healthy habits young."

Sylvia’s eyebrows rose with amusement. "Let's just enjoy the meal, okay? No more dietary declarations? I’m all too aware of the two pounds I gained last Christmas. At the rate I'm going, I can sub for jolly old St. Nick this year.”

Destiny gave a silent groan. If this woman was overweight, Destiny Moon was the USS Nevada. She pushed away her plate. The two children were talking Power Rangers. She had absolutely no idea what a Power Ranger was.

She looked to Cindy's mom for assistance and gave a bewildered shrug, but the redhead had other things on her mind. "I've never seen Cole so excited as he was a few weeks ago when Kayla spent the night at my house," Sylvia said, lifting a perfectly arched, speculative eyebrow. "He said he was going to his cabin, taking someone special."

Destiny felt her face flame. "Have you known him a long time?"

"A long time?" Pink polished nails clicked on the tabletop. "Going on three years. But I never met his wife. She died before…."

Destiny fought to keep her face blank as Sylvia’s conversation veered. "I met him in a pre-Kindergarten class for parents of first-time students." She laughed. "He was the only man there, couldn't escape fast enough! You should have seen the ravenous looks all those women were giving him!"

"But not you?" The words were out of Destiny's mouth before she could pull them back.

Sylvia paused. Pain flickered in her eyes then vanished so fast Destiny wondered if she'd imagined it.

"I was married then. That unholy union limped along for about eighteen more months."

Stuck my foot into that, Destiny thought. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He was a ...." She glanced toward Cindy. "Let's just say divorce has its good points."

Destiny ducked her head, brushed imaginary crumbs from her lap, and prayed she wasn’t being too transparent, her curiosity about Sylvia and Cole’s relationship too obvious.

Sylvia lowered her voice. "I'm looking for a low-key love affair, no strings. Cole's looking for Ms. Right. Does that answer your question?"

Destiny found herself mentally pairing the woman with Web. The two struck her as archetypes who would either love each other on sight or commit mayhem on their first date.

She felt a wicked grin tease her lips. Kayla pulled on her arm. "They're opening the curtains. Everyone's supposed to go up on stage and look at our pictures before they announce the winners."

Obediently, Destiny took Kayla's hand and followed her into the crowd of mother-daughter duos gathering on the stage. As they viewed each classes' artistic achievements, Destiny couldn't help reveling in the feel of the little girl's small hand in her own. She bent down, giving Kayla's fingers a squeeze. "Which one is yours?"

The childish artwork was colorful and energetic, ranging from pointy mountains and lop-sided trees to stick people. Kayla dragged her toward a drawing of a man, a woman, and a little girl. The little girl's ponytail hung down to her feet, a self-portrait, no doubt, although somewhat exaggerated. The man would be Cole, a brown crayon squiggle depicting his hair. And the woman with the long black braid….

"That's you!" Kayla enthused.

"Me?"

"Uh-huh." Kayla rolled up on her toes. "Do you like it? I made it after the air races!"

"Oh, Kayla!" Destiny blinked rapidly, more touched than she would have believed possible. What was the little charmer doing to her? Any more surprises like this one, and I'll be weeping, Destiny thought. Kayla will never be able to get rid of me--no matter what Cole's ideas might be on the matter. "It's great, honey! Are you going to be a fighter pilot and an artist?"

"Sure. And a scientist, too."

"Well, if you find time to do all three, be sure to tell me your secret."

"It's easy. I'll fly during the day, do painting at night, and science exploring on the weekends. Daddy and I go exploring a lot. We find lots of great stuff."

"That sounds exciting. Like what?"

The principal's voice suddenly filled the room. "Please take your seats, ladies and, ah, ladies. The judges are ready to announce the winners."

The awards started with the sixth grade winners and progressed down to the lower grades in a blur of clapping and congratulations. At last, it was time to announce the ribbons for first graders. Mrs. Wilson's gaze flicked across the crowd, found Kayla, then lifted to Destiny and narrowed, confusion replacing her smile.

What is this? Destiny wondered, beginning to feel like a sideshow freak. She’d caught the look on Sylvia’s face and gave the same peculiar expression again. Anyone would think they’d never seen a real, live, flesh and blood Paiute before. Living in Nevada, you’d have to be blind for that to happen. Maybe she had tumbleweeds stuck in her ears.

She shrugged away her uneasiness as the first grade winners were announced. Third Place winner-- Kayla Jackson.

Kayla's face lit. She jumped up, then tugged Destiny to her feet and onto the stage.

"Congratulations, Kayla." The words had to make it past a huge lump in Destiny's throat, her heart pounding. She couldn't have been more thrilled. Forget the strange stares. Forget the ravishing redhead who was Cole’s gorgeous friend. The warmth of the moment claimed her, reminding her of when her brother had graduated from college, herself from med school. This event was just as important to Kayla. And it was a moment only she and Kayla shared.

* **

By nine, Cole was pacing the kitchen, restless, waiting for Destiny and Kayla to return. He stopped at the table and peered down into the big plastic bowl, studying his and Kayla's latest trophies, two minnows and a small crawdad. Kayla had built the little guy a shelter of rocks. On Sunday, when they went exploring again, they would return the critters to the river.

The crawdad was shy, looked asleep. About to pick it up, Cole heard the garage door open. Hurriedly, he moved to the living room, dove into his recliner, and opened a massive historical novel about historic Virginia City and the Comstock Lode silver mines.

Earlier, he'd re-read the first Chapter ten times before giving in to nervous pacing. Had Kayla given Destiny a hard time? Sometimes when she and Cindy got together they got wild. Was Destiny going to bolt as soon as she washed her hands of Little Miss Too-Smart-For-Her-Own-Good? Kids threw tantrums at the worst times. In front of half the school would certainly be one. Kayla was a great kid, didn't act up often, but she wasn't perfect.

"Daddy!" Her happy shriek brought him to his feet in time to catch her flying leap.

He swung her around until the walls spun. "Whoa!" he pleaded, setting her down. "Did you have a good time, Pumpkin?"

"Yes, yes! Look! My picture won!" She held out a big blue satin ribbon printed with gold letters--THIRD PLACE.

"Wow!" He knelt and hugged her again, so proud. "Congratulations!" Looking up, he caught Destiny's smile. The dinner must have gone well.

Kayla skipped about his legs. "Don’t I deserve a sandwich hug?"

At Destiny's perplexed look, Cole explained, "We're the bread, she's the peanut butter."

"Peanut butter?" She grinned. "Well, peanut butter better watch out!" She wrapped her arms around Kayla and grabbed Cole's shoulders, squeezing the giggling girl in between.

With a squeal, that silly peanut butter wriggled down and to one side, leaving just the bread, two heated slices stuck to one another. Cole could only stare at Destiny, unable to voice the emotion which welled up inside. Could she see the love in his eyes?

Destiny's off-the-shoulder yellow dress showed an enticing amount of smooth, copper skin. Memories of what lay beneath the gauzy fabric sent lightning zigzagging through him. He peeled himself away from her and stepped back, afraid he'd shock his young daughter with an early exhibition of the mating habits of frustrated widowers. "It’s time for night-night," he forced out.

Destiny grinned. “Who, me?”

He choked.

"First, I want Destiny to see Mr. Claw," Kayla insisted.

"Mr. Claw?" he mumbled, too distracted to think straight. Lord, the woman looked good enough to eat. Hmmm.

Kayla threw him an exasperated look.

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Claw...your crawdad." As a dad, he wasn’t functioning too well at the moment. He hurried through the introductions. But it wasn’t going to be that easy--Kayla wanted Destiny in on night-night, too.

"Not tonight," he said, his voice firm. It would take twice as long to get Kayla to bed, and, darn it, he was ready for some quality ADULT time with Destiny. "Enjoy the fire," he called over his shoulder as he hustled Kayla upstairs. "I'll be finished in fifteen minutes."

It was closer to twenty, but still one of the shortest night-nights on record.

From the top of the stairs, he could see Destiny seated on the floor next to the fireplace, her legs stretched out in front of her, her hair loose, flowing down her back like an ebony waterfall. "And now for dessert," he murmured as need zapped him again.

"What did you say?" She gave him a drowsy, dreamy look.

He almost fell down the stairs. "Wine! I asked if you wanted any wine?" Her lips looked more intoxicating than any bubbly.

She shook her head. "It'll put me to sleep faster than knock-out drops. This has been one crazy work week."

Dropping to the floor beside her, Cole nodded in agreement. "I've missed you," he whispered, nuzzling her neck. "The past few nights have been hell." He brushed her lips, his brain foggy with passion. "Destiny…."

She eased away, her gaze unreadable, her voice soft, "Cole, about Kayla." Her eyebrows drew together.

He stiffened. "What about Kayla?" he said, suddenly defensive, his desire fading.

Destiny turned away to stare into the flames. She sighed. Was that an unhappy sigh or just thoughtful? "She's….”

He braced himself. Too much to handle? More than I bargained for? Maybe she didn't want kids or hadn't realized how much work they could be.

The silence writhed in his gut like a snake in the throes of death. "What about Kayla?" he forced out.

She seemed to choke on some emotion he couldn't tag. What had happened at that darn dinner? Had Sylvia said something? That woman never thought before she opened her mouth. He'd wring her neck!

“Well ... it’s just ...." Destiny rose to her feet. "I’m not so sure I should stay the night. What if she wakes up? Won’t it be awkward?”

“Awkward?” He heard his own strangled voice. “No. She’s a sound sleeper. And didn’t you say you had to leave at three am?" He moved close and wrapped her in his arms. “Please stay.”

Slowly, her lips curled in a soft smile. “The things you do to my pulse rate, doctor.” She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “And I thought Kayla was the one who had me wrapped around her finger.” Her own fingers traced her brow. "I'm falling in love with your daughter, Cole."

Her gaze asked questions which she didn’t give voice to.

Cole had his own unspoken questions. Was she falling in love with him, too? Was that what he read in her eyes?

"I...we’re a package deal."

“I know that, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He wanted to tell her he loved her, but those words had never come easy--not with Lanni, not now.

Her lips brushed his. Light. Sweet. "Your bedroom?" she whispered.

He forgot everything except her. Their journey up the stairs had a surreal quality, as though time had rolled backwards, the love of his life beside him, his daughter safely tucked into bed--his family. A strong sense of protectiveness surged through him.

Inside his darkened bedroom, he touched a match to the candle on the nightstand and followed Destiny's gaze as it skidded around the shadowed room. "It's rather stark," he said, seeing it through her eyes. He'd taken down the wallpaper border, repainted, bought a different bedspread--beige, all so he wouldn't be reminded of Lanni. The room was almost completely colorless, like his life had been for the past two years. But he was ready now for the rainbow, ready to dip into the palette of passion that was this woman. His destiny.

She fixed her eyes on him, ebony pools in the flickering candlelight, beckoning him to enter their depths and drink of her ruby wine. "I've missed you," she whispered.

He ran his fingers through the long silky strands of her hair, awed by her, the fact she was there. "Like an old shoe?" he teased and released a sigh when she smiled.

"Like a favorite moccasin." She lifted her mouth to his.

She tasted like plum, peach, burgundy. Luscious. Unforgettable. Unique. Candlelight played across her dusky skin, gilding every curve. "Destiny."

* * * *

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

Cole fought wakefulness, fought the noise dragging him away from his dream. He burrowed under his pillow, but a feather-light touch grazed his back.

"Not yet, Lanni,” he groaned, his body begging for five more minutes of slumber.

The name ricocheted around the dark room and smacked him right between his eyes. Lanni? He pulled his head from beneath the pillow to see if Destiny had heard his blunder. Even in the shadowed moonlight he could read the answer in her expression.

Double darn!

She rolled away from him, and he was immediately aware of the high desert’s early morning chill.

“I’m sorry.” Words torn from his heart. “It was a stupid mistake, Destiny. I….” He needed to touch her, needed her to understand. “I haven’t slept with anyone since…." Hell, he was going about this all wrong. "When the alarm went off….” He dared a touch, a solitary fingertip to trail along her shoulder. When she didn’t pull away, he scooted closer, fitting to her like a spoon.

She was soft, warm, yielding.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

She turned toward him at last. “It’s okay, Cole. She must have been pretty special.”

He slipped his fingers through her hair, then stroked her cheek. “You’re special.”

A hesitant smile. She snuggled close, her softness pressed against him. One part of his anatomy was now very definitely awake. But he wrapped her in his arms and simply held her, the knowledge she would be leaving for work in a few minutes making him tighten his hold as though he could stop time. The minutes ticked by too quickly.

"I have to get ready," she whispered, gently pulling away and swinging her legs over the edge of the rumpled bed.

With a groan, he let her go.

He switched on the bedside lamp. The soft glow bathed her in gold as she padded into the bathroom, leaving him to hunger for her against him once more.

He rolled over and sat up. He wasn't going back to sleep, that was for darn sure. He heard the shower door, listened to the sound of the spray. Maybe he should just slip in there with her, get down on one knee, and ask her to marry him.

Ha! After calling her Lanni, she’d throw him out on his ear.

No, he told himself, she understood.

He considered the shower again, chuckling at the imagined scene. He'd probably drown! A sopping wet “Will you marry me?” would never do.

The water stopped. He heard the shower door click open, then closed. Muffled sounds filtered out to him. His gaze lingered on her clothes strewn across his floor. Was he sure about this feeling in his heart? About her?

Yes and yes. But he had to choose an especially romantic time to propose, not when she was about to rush off to work. He would ask her in some wild, crazy, adventurous way she'd never forget. Her residency would be complete in three weeks. That gave him time to think up some unique way to pop the question. Then she would have two months off for their honeymoon.

Suddenly lighthearted, like a kid anticipating Christmas, he stretched, relishing the cool sheets against his skin. Maybe he'd just camp outside her apartment for five days, move in a little bit closer every night like the Paiute wedding ritual of old. The fourth day, he'd scare up a rabbit or two, present his kill for his intended bride to clean and ....

Uh-oh, problem number one. When the hell was hunting season? He couldn't imagine waiting six months for it to open up--maybe even longer. And poaching? Well, he didn't want to spend his honeymoon in jail.

And what would he do if Destiny handed Mr. Cottontail back and said, "You clean it"?

Heck, those Paiute Romeos of old had it easy--without all the government bureaucracy and irate game wardens to contend with. Not to mention Women's Lib.

His whole body felt like it was smiling. Was he glowing with happiness the same way Kayla had been when she'd held up her third place ribbon?

Probably.

He had three weeks. Then he'd give Destiny about a day and a half to plan the wedding. They'd take a month-long honeymoon. He had plenty of overtime accumulated. He'd talk to personnel tomorrow. It sounded so right!

What if she says no? his traitorous mind whispered.

He refused to entertain the thought. There was no reason in the world for her to say no.

Chapter Nine

Destiny arrived at the hospital home filled with a glow she was sure could light the whole world. She was very much in love with the good doctor. When Cole held her in his arms she could do anything. Throughout her shift and the following day she thought of him constantly, his adorable daughter, too.

She interrupted her lunch break with Fran to call him between shifts. At the sound of his sleepy "hello" her pulse raced happily.

"Wake up, Dr. Jackson. I want to invite you and Kayla to the Inter-tribal Powwow this weekend."

A long pause. "Where?"

The reluctance in his voice puzzled her.

"Pyramid Lake. On the reservation there."

Silence.

"Are you awake, Doctor?"

Cole chuckled, sounding more like himself.

She hurried on. "My brother will be there. I want you to meet him."

"When?"

"Saturday afternoon." She told herself the caution she heard in his voice was mere sleepiness. "We'll probably stay late, so bring warm clothes for the evening. There'll be lots of food, but I'll pack some sandwiches and fruit, just in case nothing appeals to you."

"You have the night off?"

Her heart pounded. Was he asking her to stay the night with him? "Yes," she answered quickly--too quickly. Darn, she'd never win any awards for playing hard to get.

"Why don't I pick you up Saturday around two, if that's early enough, then take you home Sunday morning."

She smiled so broadly that a nurse standing nearby stared. "As long as you don't look at my disaster of an apartment."

"I've hired a housekeeper. She starts next week." He sounded pleased. "Maybe you can borrow her."

"A housekeeper?"

"Don't sound so shocked. I'm building a small cottage at the back of the property for her. It'll be finished in a month or so. She can commute until then."

"Won't she charge double for two houses?"

"It'll be worth it if I can see more of you."

"Is that why you're hiring one?" Actually, she was surprised he didn't have one already.

"Let's just say it's a combination of things. Kayla. Work. You. My mountain of dirty laundry is beginning to obscure the view. Not to mention cobwebs and the dust that keeps sifting in--can't keep the desert out."

"Do you always move this fast when you make a decision?"

"Sometimes." She could almost see the smile in his voice, the promise in his blue eyes. "But there are some things which shouldn't be rushed." His suggestive tone evoked a sigh, his voice making her long for his touch and more.

"See you Saturday, Cole." She hung up quickly, before her "I love you" spilled out. She had a feeling the powwow would be a turning point in their relationship. But would Old Man Coyote be laughing or would she?

* * * *

Right on time, Cole knocked on Destiny's door. He gave her a brief kiss, then he stepped back. "Kayla's waiting in the car."

"Nervous about visiting the rez?" she asked. He was tense about something, she could feel it.

“A little...maybe."

"Don't worry. We don't take scalps or dance the Ghost Dance anymore."

He smiled, but it was halfhearted. She slid into the Lexus. Kayla, bubbling with enthusiasm in the backseat, held a model airplane up for inspection. "It's an F16 fighter jet. I bought it with my allowance. Daddy helped me put it together, we painted it last night!" The car pulled onto Highway 395.

"It's just beautiful, Kayla, such a bright array of colors under each wing." Destiny glanced at Cole, confused by his remoteness as he slipped on a pair of sunglasses. They made her feel even more cut-off from him. He was trying to act like everything was fine, pretending he wasn't nervous, but he was. Was he having second thoughts about meeting her brother and the implied commitment?

Her throat tightened. Had his brief kiss at the door been a goodbye kiss? Surely he wouldn't have brought Kayla if he'd decided to break it off.

"What's wrong?" she murmured, hoping Kayla's airplane would keep her occupied while she and Cole talked.

He shrugged. The quiet was uncomfortable. "You mentioned the Ghost Dance?"

She wanted to pursue her own questions, but Kayla's ears perked up. “What about a ghost dance?”

"Well," Destiny put her worry on hold, "the Ghost Dance was started by Wovoka, an ancient medicine man who promised our people a Messiah. The dance was supposed to protect the people from bullets. But neither prophecy came to pass, so it died out."

A muscle jerked in Cole's jaw. "I've heard stories about medicine men who claimed bullets couldn't harm them."

“According to legend, such a thing was possible. Not easily achieved, perhaps, but possible.”

“Doesn’t anyone do the Ghost Dance now?” Kayla asked.

“From time to time it resurges.” She glanced at Cole, hoping to coax a smile as she added, “but you’ll be safe enough today.”

His face remained set, his gaze fixed on the road. As they drove through Reno, exited the freeway, and headed out of town, she searched for conversation. "It's said that the Lakota warrior, Crazy Horse, couldn't be killed by bullets. They bounced off him."

"And you believe that?" Cole's expression gave no hint about his thoughts. Was it simple curiosity in his voice, or did it hint at condescension?

"Yes," she said simply. "I do."

He glanced back at Kayla whose interest was once again on her airplane. His mirrored gaze swung back to the road. They'd reached a split on Pyramid Highway, one fork continuing north, the other heading toward the east. He turned right, the cords of his neck tight as the Lexus skirted the lake. If it weren't for Kayla, she'd ask again what was wrong.

Dusted with a light snow--early this year--the surrounding hills stood silent watch over a monochrome landscape. Already touched by winter, the reservation glistened silver and gunmetal gray, chrome and pewter, gentled by shades of lavender and shadowed with deep purple undergrowth. All except the lake itself, with its constantly changing shades of blue. No bright sun this trip, but when it caressed the lake, Destiny knew the waters were a brilliant turquoise. Considered by many to be the most beautiful desert lake in the nation, today it was stark, almost eerie-looking. But still breathtaking. Home.

"Look, Kayla, there's the pyramid." Destiny pointed to a distant peaked rock. "In historic times, when John Fremont explored this area, it was surrounded by the lake."

Kayla's eyebrows drew together in distress. "Not anymore. Everyone's using too much water."

Destiny laughed, once again impressed by the child's astuteness. "Well, I think there will still be enough for your bath when you get home tonight."

She sighed as a sense of belonging washed over her. She was already home. Dwellings of every category dotted the countryside. Shabby trailers. Small, neat houses. Even a few fairly new, expensive-looking homes. Nixon wasn't much of a town by most people's standards. But these were her people, and she felt a deep connection to this land and the enormous body of water nearby.

She glanced at Cole to see if he might be similarly affected. He’d removed his sunglasses and now wore an almost savage expression, jaws locked, eyes fixed straight ahead, looking neither right nor left. Like he’d taken a wrong turn.

His scowl sucked the air from her lungs. Where did he think she'd grown up? In a wickiup mansion? She stifled the hurt, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt--maybe she was reading too much into his silence.

She motioned him to a dirt parking area. By the end of the day, the Lexus would need to be washed.

She forgot the minor worry as they climbed from the car. Home. She lengthened her stride, pulling ahead of Cole and Kayla, anxious to join the distant crowd. This was a sacred place, shrouded in mystery, believed by her people to be the home of both good and evil spirits. When she danced, she and the spirits were one, and she felt a connection to her heritage she’d never found any other way.

Home. She lived in two worlds, concrete and feathers. But here in this place, she felt much more Paiute than she'd ever felt elsewhere, even more than she had just an hour before.

The drums grew louder, the rhythmic chants of the singers spurring her forward. She squinted at the crowd, trying to locate Quinn’s tall frame. She spotted him as he broke from the group and came toward her, all decked out in formal regalia, porcupine quills, horn beads, and fringe swinging with each proud stride of his moccasined feet. An impressive figure. Nothing like the long-haired wildman in the red bandanna headband who'd fixed her bike. "Quinn!" She hugged him, careful of his costume and the garment bag which held her own.

What looked like two brothers, both about Quinn’s age, broke away from the other dancers and ran toward her. She didn't recognize either, at first, then gasped her cousin’s name, "Jake!" He’d grown a foot since she’d seen him last, but he had the same intense gaze.

With a boyish smile that she imagined had broken quite a few hearts, he introduced his friend Little Joseph, then gestured toward a vivacious redhead who was helping a group of children with their headdresses. She waved to him. “That’s my wife, Sam, Samantha.” He said it with pride and love. “You missed a great wedding.”

Before she could do more than cast a smile in the redhead’s direction, Jake nodded to Cole. "Hey, Doc, how are you?"

Shock washed over her. "You two know each other?"

"Who? Broken Hoof?” Jake was laughing, but he sobered quickly, glancing back and forth between them--several times. He looked confused. “Sure I know him. He used to…." His gaze clouded. “He's with you?"

Cole's face flamed. Quinn muttered an oath, grabbed Jake’s arm, and suggested--in Paiute--that he and Little Joseph get lost. They disappeared faster than coins in a slot machine.

What was going on?

She looked to Cole, who stood silent, radiating unease. Kayla was clutching his hand, all eyes and ears. Destiny felt like the brunt of a bad joke. “I don’t understand.”

Cole glanced at Kayla, then back at her. “We’ll talk later.”

After a quick nod to Quinn, Cole pulled his daughter hurriedly across the grounds to the dance arena, leaving Destiny alone with her brother. She searched his suddenly closed expression. "Will you please tell me what is going on here?"

He ignored her question. "You going to join the women in the Traditional and the Fancy Dance? They're coming up--two more dances before the Traditional. The Fancy isn’t ‘til after the gawkers leave."

"Quinn." She forced her exasperation down. It wasn’t his fault she felt so confused. "Of course, I'm going to dance."

He gestured toward Cole’s departing figure. “He used to come out here, several years ago. I saw him around, never really talked to him.” Quinn’s dark eyes, so like her own, skidded away from her.

“And?” she prompted, irritated that he obviously knew something she didn’t about Cole.

His gaze narrowed. “Don’t you know?”

“Know what? You’re acting like this is the Little Big Horn and he’s General Custer. Are you planning a massacre because you think Cole’s stolen my virtue?”

“Virtue is a white concept.”

“Don’t sidestep, Quinn.” She felt like wringing his neck, wanted to wipe that I warned you expression from his face.

“You don’t know about his wife?”

“I know she died a few years ago.” She frowned, then almost laughed as a ridiculous notion popped into her head. “You’re not thinking he had something to do with her death, are you? His wife had cancer, Quinn. Cole’s no Dr. Kervokian.”

“White men,” Quinn snarled before his mouth slammed shut like the door to Fort Knox. "You can change here." He pointed her toward one of the scattered trailers.

When he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "Quinn, what is it?"

There was angry fire in his eyes. "Haven't you looked at his daughter?"

"Kayla? Of course I have!" The child's impish little face danced through Destiny’s mind, a beautiful little girl with exotic coloring.

Quinn mouthed a very non-Paiute epithet. "Talk to Jake," he mumbled, then started to move away,

Again, she pulled him back. "Wait a minute! Are you telling me Cole's first wife was ...?" She had assumed Kayla’s mother had been Hispanic or maybe Basque, early settlers to this part of Nevada.

"She was Paiute. Like you.”

But that was wonderful. Wasn't it?

“Dr. Jackson was very much in love with her." He spit out the words, pity in his eyes as he shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t good to speak of the dead. "He swore he’d never forget her, never stop loving her.”

The pieces fell into place, cutting her like a knife. Cole was still in love with his dead wife. Everyone knew it--except Destiny Moon.

"But his wife died two years ago," she protested, her heart begging Quinn to agree. The look on his face only reminded her of Web’s expression as he'd said, I was best man at Cole's wedding, a subtle warning in his voice.

Just as suddenly, she remembered Sylvia’s strange look when they’d met.

And worst, she couldn’t blot from her mind what had happened the last time she and Cole had been together--he’d called her Lanni.

"Oh, Quinn." A moan escaped her lips. “He’s never let her go. Every time he looks at me, he’s really seeing her, is that what you’re saying?”

“You tell me, Doctor Sis. He’s your man.” Quinn touched her shoulder with sympathy. "But then again, maybe he isn’t."

Pain shot through her heart. Was Cole still too much in love with Lanni to even see Destiny Moon? Whenever he touched her, kissed her, was he touching and kissing Lanni?

“No,” she whispered. But the obvious haunted her. Cole belonged to the Whirlwind– the unburied ghost. He was still in love with his dead wife. Oh god, why hadn’t she figured that out before now?

Destiny stumbled into the trailer and was instantly surrounded by friends, people she hadn't seen since high school. Amidst their greetings, she pushed her pain away, trying to ignore the hurt. But as she stripped off her western clothes, hot tears stung her eyes. She could barely see to pull on her long, buckskin dress. Criminy Coyote, she was dense!

She yanked on her moccasins. She wanted to shake Cole and make him admit the truth, then jump up and down on his broad chest and scream, I'm Destiny, D-E-S-T-I-N-Y. Not Lanni!

With a defeated sigh, she smoothed her knee-length fringe. The buckskin felt soft against her bare skin. It smelled good--like home. A sense of belonging comforted her, filled her heart as she glanced around. This place. These people. Her heritage. She would always be a part of this, and it a part of her.

But as she took the barrette out of her hair, letting it fall to her waist, she remembered the way Cole had run his fingers through it, a look of love on his face.

Oh God, had he been seeing Lanni?

She wanted to weep.

With an enormous effort, she focused on the upcoming dance, swallowed hard, and draped her ceremonial blanket over her left arm. No matter what happened between her and Cole, it was time to dance.

One of the elders announced the beginning of the Traditional. The crowd clapped as she and ten other women, proud representatives of her people, took their places in the clearing. The drummers began their rhythmic beat. She spotted Cole and Kayla but was unable to offer even a tight-lipped smile. He had a wife still holding his heart captive.

Tonight, after the dances, she would say goodbye to Cole and Kayla. The spirits would give her the power to pick up the pieces of her heart and go on with her life.

* * * *

Cole sat beside Kayla, hugging her to him, remembering other Big Times. Jake was married now, to a spit-fire redhead, but the two of them seemed happy as newlyweds. Too bad his innocent greeting, “Broken Hoof” the name Cole had been given in loving jest because of his clumsiness, had come when it did. Now Broken Hoof had bigger problems than a stress fracture doing the Fancy Dance.

His emotions roiled. Memories haunted him, both sorrow and gladness. He needed to explain to Destiny. But she was dancing now, her feet moving to the drum beat, fringe swaying from her shoulders and arms. Not once had she looked his way.

He should have told her that he was no stranger to the reservation and the ways of her people. He should have told her before today that Lanni was Paiute. But he hadn't thought coming back here, seeing this place, facing the memories would hit him so hard.

He would talk to her later, after the powwow, when Kayla was in bed. When he and Destiny were alone.

Sitting here now, he found it strange that he should fall in love with two women of the same heritage but with such very different personalities. His relationship with Destiny--assertive, passionate Destiny, the epitome of modern womanhood--would demand more from him than Lanni's quiet passive acceptance ever had. As much as he'd loved Lanni, his love for Destiny ran deeper and stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. That almost frightened him.

When Lanni died, he'd had Kayla, born of the love they’d shared. Because of Kayla, he'd pulled himself together and gone on. But if he lost Destiny….

Twice in one lifetime would be too much to ask of any man. He'd never thought he could fill the void Lanni left. Now, miraculously, he had. He wasn't about to let go.

Kayla nudged his elbow. "Look, Daddy. Doesn't Destiny look beautiful?"

His mouth felt dry. "Yes, honey, she does. Besa tabuadu. Beautiful."

The announcer’s voice carried on the wind. "Now is the time for everyone to dance. Come, join us."

Cole was relieved to see Destiny approach. With barely a glance to him, however, she held out her hand to Kayla, who jumped to her feet and, without hesitation, bounded off with Destiny to the circle. He watched, mesmerized by the woman's dark beauty--statuesque, curvaceous. Her hair flowed like a silk river. It gleamed under the late afternoon sun which had finally broken through the slate of the fall sky.

Jake interrupted his thoughts. "Break any more toes, Doc?" he asked, grinning, his earlier hasty departure apparently forgotten.

Appreciative of the distraction, Cole smiled. "I've given up wearing moccasins. They're hazardous to my feet."

"Bet you still know this dance though." Jake gestured toward the circle.

"And a few others," Cole murmured, thinking of the Crow Hop and the Sneak Up, dances he'd learned a long time back. Ten years, but the drumbeat still filled him, controlling his heart beat. Memories crowded out of their locked box and echoed through his soul. His body throbbed to the rhythm, to the singers' voices. The last time he’d danced, he’d danced for Lanni.

Quinn appeared behind Jake, his dark eyes intense, taking Cole's measure, his tone caustic. "You planning to dance?” he demanded.

Cole knew he had a long way to go to win the younger man's favor. He hadn't said much to Quinn the last time they'd met. They'd pretty much ignored one another, but Cole recalled thinking him arrogant and wild. Did Quinn remember?

This time, he saw watchfulness in the man's gaze, not cockiness. "No," Cole murmured, giving him an indulgent smile, the decision final. "I'm not dancing." Did Quinn think that after two years Cole had forgotten how? Maybe he was hoping Cole would stumble, perhaps break something more critical than a toe--like his neck. He was not going to get up just to satisfy this pup. He had enough trouble tonight without making a fool of himself in the powwow dance circle.

Ten years before he'd been cocky enough not to care--even after he'd broken his darn toe. Ten years. A long time ago, but that's when he'd developed such an affection for the culture and the people, learning to admire them and their beliefs even as he fell in love with one of their own.

Something stirred within him, urging him to stand and take his place among them once again. He did want to dance--but not with fifty pairs of eyes watching him--and not with Quinn hoping he'd break his darned neck.

The younger man finally shrugged and rejoined the dancers, his movements graceful, like a jungle cat. Brother and sister glanced at each other, smiled, and moved on, Quinn taller and broader. But the two had the same eyes, and they moved with the same confidence.

Kayla, too, moved with carefree assurance, her adoring eyes fixed on Destiny, a wide smile making her face glow with happiness. Although Destiny returned the smile, there was a tightness around her mouth that said all was not harmonious.

When the dance ended, she returned Kayla to Cole's side, murmuring something about having to change for the Jingle Dance, then headed off before he could say a word.

Three more dances passed before she returned, this time dressed in purple and black. Silver bells covered her shoulders, dangled from her sleeves, and rippled around the skirt, row upon row, emphasizing every graceful move of her body, the sound of them like wind chimes dancing in the breeze.

Kayla fingered first one and then another of the silver jingles as Destiny explained, “The jingles represent waves and thunder and scare off bad spirits.” She told of making the dress--taking pride in her heritage.

Kayla soaked up the information with the same intensity she applied to everything. Her keen interest made him feel guilty he’d not brought her out here before this.

Finally Destiny looked at him. "After this dance there will be a break for dinner. Most guests and observers will be leaving. Little Joseph has invited us to his mother's trailer." Her words were more rushed than usual. She was upset.

About his history among her people--a history he'd failed to mention? Or about Lanni? He needed to be alone with her so they could talk, but obviously she had other ideas.

"I should have told you this would be like coming home to me," he said softly, forcing out each word.

Her lush mouth tightened. He remembered her angry outburst at the hospital when she'd told him in no uncertain terms that she could fight her own battles. Was another outburst forthcoming?

Instead, she sighed, a frustrated sound tinged with confusion. He ached to hold her in his arms and tell her he loved her.

Had he said those all important words? No--they didn't come easy. Never had. He suspected they never would. But he needed to say them to her now.

"Quinn told me Kayla's mother was related to Jake."

Cole nodded, wondering where this was leading, disliking the trickle of fear in his gut. His insides twisted at the hurt in her eyes. "It's not something you bring up on a date, Destiny. Your own people taught me not to speak of the dead, that to do so would call them back from their Happy Place. And no matter how lonely I felt, I would never have wanted that. She had too much pain. I was going to tell you on the way here but somehow…."

The announcer's voice cut in. "Time for the Jingle Dance."

The drum beat began, accompanied by the many-voiced chant. “Destiny….” He reached for her, wanting to finish, but she stepped away, her rigid posture and remote expression shutting him out.

With a sinking heart, he watched her join the other dancers. It may have been some vague resemblance to Lanni that had originally attracted him. But it was Destiny he loved.

The dancers moved in a circle that took her some distance away, then brought her close again. The late afternoon sun cast her in a golden glow. Kayla shouted to him over the drum beats and the singers. "She looks like Mommy, doesn't she, Daddy?"

Rather than point out all the ways Destiny was unique, he nodded. "Yes, she does."

At his words, Destiny froze mid-step, missed a beat then caught the rhythm again.

Had she heard?

Dear God, was that what she thought--that she was just a substitute? He’d called her Lanni the last time they were together. At the time, she seemed to accept his explanation. But now--she hardly looked at him.

He spent the rest of the dance convincing himself he was wrong. But afterwards, as he and Kayla followed Destiny to Jake's trailer site, certainty grew with each silent step. Destiny believed exactly that.

Frustrated by her silence, he said nothing, afraid he'd say something he'd regret. Kayla bubbled endlessly about the dances until Cole had to bite his lip not to snap at her. Everyone at the small trailer, Little Joseph, his mother, father, and grandmother were extremely polite. They sat outside in bent-willow chairs positioned around a campfire. The family seemed to sense his tension--and remained aloof. Sitting beside Kayla, Cole felt stiffer than iron.

Jake and his wife, Sam, arrived with Quinn, and the tension broke somewhat with their excited chatter. The food was served before Cole could pull Destiny aside to talk. He ate mechanically, watching Destiny as she and Quinn talked. They were only a few feet away, but she might as well have been at the other end of the state. Not once did she look at him, acknowledge him. It hurt.

"Daddy." Kayla squirmed with restlessness. "I want to go see the big rock."

"The pyramid?"

"No, the other one."

Jake's grandmother nodded benevolently. "The Stone Mother, Our Mother of the Lake."

Wondering if Destiny would even realize that he'd gone, Cole took Kayla's hand and started in the direction of the lake.

"Why do they call her that, Daddy? Our Mother of the Lake?" Kayla's voice came out an awed whisper. She'd been so young when he and Lanni had come here before, Cole thought, she wouldn't remember.

"Well, as I recall, the legend says that the Mother had four children, a boy and a girl who were white and another boy and girl who were black." As he spoke, the honeyed light of late afternoon seemed to swallow his words. "But the kids were always fighting. The boys used bows and arrows. And the girls would hit each other with their grinding rocks."

"Podanoos," Kayla corrected.

He smiled, surprised and pleased she remembered the Paiute word. She needed to know her mother's culture--he'd been wrong to stay away for two years. Now her childish eagerness to learn about it filled him with a sense of inadequacy. Destiny lived in the white world but cherished her heritage. He wasn't sure how to model that. If only Destiny and he….

Kayla tugged on his arm, impatient for more of the story.

"Yes, they hit each other with their podanoos. So their mother got really angry. She sent one pair off to the north and the other two off to the south saying 'Now we'll have some peace and quiet around here.'"

"Did she send them off to stay forever?" Kayla asked, as though wondering if such a fate might befall her.

"Yep." Cole gave her hand a tight squeeze. "But after they were gone, she was very, very lonely."

"Like you, Daddy?"

Was he lonely? God, yes. "Sort of,” he said, looking toward the water. “The Stone Mother cried enough tears to create this big lake."

He was thinking of the emptiness he'd felt throughout the long months since Lanni's death. He'd shed his share of tears. But now…. He thought of the bright light which had so recently entered his life--Destiny, beautiful, loving, yet fiercely independent. A true warrior woman.

He dropped down on one knee, eye-level with Kayla. "Like I'd be if you weren't here, Pumpkin." He gave her a hug, rejoicing in the little arms around his neck. They remained that way for a long moment. "We'd better go back now,” he said, his heart full. “The dances will be starting again soon."

After walking in silence a few minutes, Kayla asked, "Do you believe the Stone Mother really did that?"

"What? Cried enough tears to make this lake?"

"No, that she had two black babies and two white ones."

"Well, I'm not sure. What do you think?"

Exuding the confidence of childhood, she skipped ahead of him. "Well, that would explain why we're not all the same color."

He grinned at her reasoning. How simple the world seemed at six.

"But we're all the same even though we're not the same color, aren't we, Daddy?"

His heart swelled, and he smiled at her beautiful golden face. "Yes, Kayla, we're all the same."

The bright red sun dipped beyond the blue waters, bringing the bleakness of night. He turned back toward the distant shadow that was the trailer, disappointed Destiny hadn't joined him.

"Are you going to dance tonight, Daddy?" Kayla sounded wistful.

He ruffled her hair. "Not tonight, Pumpkin. Daddy's tired. It's been a hard week." He scooped her into his arms. "When we get home, we're going to have a short night-night, a quick story, then hugs and kisses."

She didn't protest, for which he was grateful. Now if only he could talk to Destiny--make her understand. He'd looked forward to holding her in his arms tonight. Now he wondered if he would ever hold her again.

Back at the trailer site, only Little Joseph and his grandmother remained. As the two children dashed away to join a game of tag, she motioned Cole to the chair beside her. The small fire now flickered feebly, and the grandmother’s voice sounded old and dry and wise as the old owl. "Quinn has asked me to speak to you. He says you do not know your own heart. That you do not see with true wisdom. That you have been away too long."

Quinn was an interfering son-of-a-coyote, Cole thought, annoyed. He forced his irritation down, focused on the old woman, and spoke with quiet respect. "Even when the bear hibernates for the winter, it knows it will awaken in the spring. I, too, needed to hibernate, but the snow has thawed, the pain healed, and my heart says spring is here.”

She nodded appreciatively.

“Everything in life changes, like the seasons,” he continued. “I, too, have changed. Destiny's spirit calls to mine with a new song--a song which the other could never have sung--for they are not the same."

The last brought a smile from the old woman. She understood that he referred to Lanni, that he respected their beliefs enough not to speak her name. Her face crinkled like dry leather around her kind eyes. "What you say is true."

From a distance, the drums called to them. "The seasons change, and the dance begins again." He was eager for that mating dance. He wanted Destiny to belong to him--forever.

The grandmother stood, waving for her grandson and Kayla to follow them. As they headed toward the circle of bonfires, she accepted Cole's arm. It was a good sign.

"Do you still have your headdress?" she asked, "the one you wore when you were here before?"

Cole thought of the formal regalia in its plastic cover at the back of his closet. Copied from a headdress favored by one of the old chiefs, Chief Winnemuca, it sported otter tails at the ears, and twenty-five eagle feathers. It had taken him weeks to make. “Yes.”

"But you did not bring it?"

"No."

"So,” she said, her leathered face thoughtful, “perhaps the last of the winter's snow has only just melted from the bear's heart? Perhaps the Whirlwind keeps its prisoner."

As she left him, striding away with youthful vigor, Cole dug deep to recall the meaning of her reference to the whirlwind--the spirits of the dead, the ones not properly buried.

No, you’re wrong. He wanted to shout it, wanted them all to hear and to know. The bear had awakened.

Just then, Quinn stepped out of the shadows in front of him, bringing Cole to a quick halt. It was either that or run over the man--which wouldn't win him any points with Destiny.

The disgruntled brave looked as though he'd like nothing better than for Cole to try something. He’d removed his ceremonial buckskins, was now bare to the waist, and looked fully capable of taking a scalp. "Destiny isn't for you," Quinn spit out, his voice low, only for Cole's ears.

Cole bristled. "I think she's the one who should tell me that."

Eyes narrowing, Quinn's fingers curled into fists. Cole could feel the anger rolling off the younger man. Darn, this wasn't the place to reenact the Battle of Wounded Knee.

He sidestepped, unintentionally brushing against Quinn who reacted by grabbing Cole's arm. "She will tell you that."

They were almost the same height, the same weight. But he didn't want a fight, not here, not now. He jerked his arm free. "Can't stand to see her happy with a paleface, is that it, Quinn?"

Quinn glared. "She's too good for the likes of you, Doc." A smug look stole into his expression. "And if she's happy, I'm an English Earl."

With that, he whirled and strode off before Cole could respond.

Furious, Cole stalked to the parking area, then back again--then made the trip two more times. Finally, his emotions reined in, he located Kayla, and led her back to their seats at the powwow.

Whenever Destiny passed their spot outside the dancers’ circle, her gaze remained steadfast on the ground. She’d erected an invisible barrier between them, and he felt the evening hours limp along, minute by tortuous minute. Half of him wanted to drag her from the circle and break down the wall with his hands, his kiss. The other half said to wait, after he put Kayla to bed they would talk. God, what a mess!

He rubbed the gritty feeling from his eyes, and when he looked up was surprised to see Destiny. “This dance is for the men. Little Joseph’s grandmother has reminded me that the dancer’s heart is often seen by all. That perhaps I will know your heart if you dance.”

And what if he stumbled? Destiny would surely see that as a bad sign. Cole Jackson, the Klutz King of Carson City, didn’t have a great track record. “I’m not dancing tonight, Destiny. I don’t have anything to prove.” Frustration made his words sound stilted and harsh.

She whirled away.

“Destin….” He started after her, but she disappeared into the women’s trailer.

Cursing his clumsy feet and tongue, he returned to the powwow fire only to see Quinn’s triumphant glare.

Jaw tight enough to crack a tooth, Cole resumed his seat, Kayla beside him. The magic of the drums and chants failed to soothe him as they once had.

Destiny danced the next two dances, avoiding his gaze.

Near midnight when the campfires glowed with dying eyes, he waited outside the trailer where she'd gone to change. In the growing chill, he held Kayla as she slept, her head on his shoulder, her breathing deep and even. Anxiousness skewed his thoughts. Would Destiny listen to him now? What would he say?

Now that the drumming had stopped, the desert silence engulfed him. He searched the distance, wishing for answers. The moon was hidden, but off to the south an enormous glow reflected against the clouds like a misplaced aurora borealis--illumination from the neon that was Reno.

"Is she asleep?" Destiny whispered, stepping from the trailer, her eyes soft on Kayla.

"Yes."

He stood for a moment to drink in the vision that was Destiny. Dim light from the trailer filtered through the gloom and touched her face. He ached to take her in his arms.

"How do you make Doctor Moon disappear when you step into your ceremonial gown?" he asked, a bit in awe of the quiet way she held herself. He shifted Kayla's weight. "One minute you're an Indian princess, the next, a doctor again."

She gave a deep sigh. "It isn't always easy. But I do what I must. I had to leave the reservation to study your medicine."

His medicine? It was the first time she'd referred to his Anglo culture. And the way she said it shook him.

He forced his legs to function, to move toward the car. They would talk when Kayla was in bed, he promised himself. He’d make things right.

Destiny walked beside him, near but far away. "My heart is here," she said, a world of feeling in her voice and words. "One of these days I intend that my people have access to a full range of medical services right here at Pyramid, without having to go into Reno where most doctors treat them like second-class citizens. The frail, the ill, the old--they need to be among people who love them."

Cole fastened a seat belt around the sleeping child. She hadn't wakened, not even when he'd put her down in the back seat. He closed the door as quietly as possible, then opened Destiny's. But she stepped back. "I'm not going with you," she murmured, looking out into the ebony distance. "My brother's giving me a ride home."

"What?"

She looked sad but determined as she met his gaze. "I need some time, Cole. To...think about us. About why you didn’t tell me about her, about the reservation."

He felt like he'd swallowed an anchor. No! It felt more like a knife was slicing his belly from the inside out. It may have been a long time since he'd done this sort of thing--played the dating game--but he remembered what goodbye sounded like. And he knew who was behind it--Quinn. He'd punch out the sonofagun’s lights!

Destiny retreated another step.

"Wait a minute!" He grabbed her arm then let go quickly when he saw her grimace. But darn it, he was just as determined as she. "Destiny, what we have is special. So right…."

“You would not dance--would not show your heart.” Pain etched her words. "Who do you see when we make love, Cole?"

He hesitated, but only because he wanted to choose the right words--words that would convince her of his earnestness, his love. She had become a part of his soul, he couldn't bear to lose her now.

She spoke before he did, her words quiet, accusing, final. "Then there's nothing more to say, is there?" And without another word she disappeared into the night.

"Destiny, wait!"

He wanted to run after her, but he couldn't leave Kayla. Dammit it all, this was not supposed to happen!

Angry, frustrated, wishing he knew what to do next, he climbed into the car, cranked the engine and slammed the gear shift into reverse, his thoughts already racing. He hadn’t seen her as Lanni, hadn't tried to change her. Destiny, shy and quiet? Ha!

This whole mess harked back to his stupid slip--calling her Lanni as the darned alarm jolted him awake. An accident, that’s all it was. A darn-fool mistake, nothing more. Not a statement of who he wanted her to be.

Gravel spun from beneath his tires as he bounced across ruts and onto the paved road. "Back to civilization," he growled. The irony of that term applied to a raucous world of casinos and strippers failed to amuse him.

All right, Destiny, if that’s the way you want it!

But deep down he knew it was his anger talking, not his heart. Still, she’d made a good point, the rez was her world. Maybe Broken Hoof no longer belonged.

His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, his jumbled thoughts tumbling like laundry in a dryer. She was sending him back to his big empty bed, in a room where the stark walls reflected only bleak images.

Well, hell, what if he refused to go? Five years ago he'd been made an honorary member of the Pyramid Paiutes. He, too, moved from culture to culture.

But how was that going to solve the problem between Destiny and him? He was heart deep in love with that warrior woman. And he was not going to let her go without a fight, not when she loved him every bit as much as he loved her! But how to convince her of that? Especially with that wolf of a brother working to convince her otherwise.

Chapter Ten

Destiny wept on Quinn's shoulder, gulped, and tried to stop the flood of tears, but when he patted her on the back, more flowed. Old Man Coyote was definitely laughing now. No doubt about it.

Cole’s hesitation had spoken volumes. Her brother's soothing tone and strong arms offered comfort, but they weren't the arms she wanted. And now that she'd practically torn the blanket with Cole, her heart would never be the same.

Tired, dispirited, she left Quinn's recalling all the strange warning looks she’d received but hadn’t understood. First Web’s innuendo, then Fran’s murmured question. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?

Obviously not, she lamented silently as she trudged up the stairs of her own apartment. There was a note taped to the front door. Call me, please!!! Cole.

She took it inside, staring at it as she went. Over and over, she reached for the phone only to pull back. The red light on her answering machine winked at her. Just as she feared, Cole's voice. He sounded frantic on the tape. "Destiny, call me, please. Let's talk, work this out."

Several beeps later, his voice again. "Destiny, it's Cole. If you're there, please pick up." Another beep. Cole again. "Where are you, darn it? Don't just shut me out!"

Is that what she was doing? Or was she merely protecting herself from being used as a substitute--in his heart and in his bed? Curling up in a chair, she hugged her hurt to herself. It was almost dawn. She had yet to get any sleep, and she had to work tonight. What if he was there?

A worse thought hit her. She'd accepted Web's job offer--a staff position. My God, how could she face Cole after this? How would she be able to see him on a daily basis and yet not beg him to love her? She drew small comfort from the fact that he was in surgery most days. She'd be in Family Practice, working nights--different shifts, two separate floors. With luck she could avoid him.

During her next three nights at the hospital, Destiny was schizophrenic through most of her shift, half of her focused on her patients, the other half worried about running into Cole.

On the fourth night, it was Web who found her in the cafeteria, buried in the corner behind a newspaper. He plucked it out of her hands as he sat down. "So, what's up?" he asked, chipper as a lark.

She tried to grab the paper back, but he held it at arm's length. She wanted to dissolve into the woodwork. "Go away, Web, just leave me alone!”

"Zowie! You and Cole must of had one hell of a fight."

"How would you know?"

"He just snarled at me when I stopped by his office to talk about the Bachelor Auction. Threatened to feed me to a mountain lion when I asked about you."

Her heart thumped wildly. “He’s here?” She lowered her voice. "What time is it anyway?" She wanted to dash upstairs, run to Cole's office and into his arms. She grabbed her coffee mug and took a sip of cold, sobering coffee, put it back down.

"It's time for you to listen," Web said with a grin, which faded as she crossed her arms. "Look," he said, "I'm not exactly cut out to play Fairy Godfather, but you two seem awfully unhappy apart--and hell to work with." His handsome face reflected real concern.

She examined a smudge on the tabletop, checked a hairline crack in her cup.

He tapped the paper against the table. "Look, it's none of my business, but for the last month, Cole's looked happier than he has in two years. I haven't seen him so darned cheerful since--since he and Lanni…."

Destiny stood up. "You were best man, you ought to know. He's still in love with her. You tried to warn me."

"It was just a silly idea that occurred to me--I mean--because both you and she…." Again, Web's voice trailed off in discomfort.

"Yeah, both redskins," Destiny muttered, finishing for him through clenched teeth. "Thanks, Web, I needed that."

“I was ticked you wouldn’t go out with me, that’s all,” he said.

She didn’t believe him and turned away.

And darn if she didn't turn directly into Cole's arms.

She sidestepped, but he didn't let go.

He looked tired, hurt, confused. "We need to talk."

"My break’s over," she said, amazed at the cool voice that came out of her throat when she felt scorched by his touch. She looked past him, afraid for him to look in her eyes, afraid he'd see her vulnerability. "I won't be off work until nine a.m."

"I have to take Kayla to school."

As though suddenly aware of the interest he was gleaning from the room's other occupants, he released her.

Large hands, tender hands, gentle, wonderful, warm. She could feel her face flush. "Come by the apartment around six. I'll be awake by then."

She walked away, regretting her offer. She didn't know if she could resist Cole's touch one more time.

As soon as she got home, she called Quinn, needing a shoulder. But his words weren’t comforting. “If he’d told you about her--if he’d danced--maybe I’d believe it was just coincidence. But…,” his voice trailed off.

She hated to admit it, but what Quinn said made sense. If Cole had truly grieved and let go, he wouldn’t have hesitated when she’d asked him who he saw when they made love.

“I think I've said enough, Doctor Sis. But if you need me….”

Tears stung her eyes as she mumbled goodbye. She loved her brother dearly, but he wasn’t the one for whom her heart longed.

* * * *

Cole's hopes were soaring. She'd trembled when he touched her--he knew he could break down her resistance if they had a few minutes alone. He'd make her understand that it was Destiny Moon he loved.

"Hey, Cole," Web's voice drew him back to the present. "Sit down, buddy."

"I'm on my way home."

Web stretched as he got up. "Me, too. I just wanted confirmation about the Auction. I promised the fund-raising committee I'd come up with twenty eligible bachelors. You're second on my list."

Cole fell into the trap. "Who's first?" He shook his head in mock dismay. "Don't answer. I must be tired."

"You'll arrange a weekend for two as part of the deal?"

Cole cleared his throat, memories of Destiny and their time at the cabin filtering through his brain. "Okay, Web. I give in. You can count on me to participate. But just this once."

Web slapped him on the back. "Thanks. I know you hate these things, but it's only one weekend a year, and its the biggest moneymaker we have."

They stepped out onto the frosty parking lot, and Cole headed for his car. "Just remember, you owe me one."

Web laughed.

Cole drove home, grabbed five hours of sleep before taking Kayla to school. He barely heard her as she described the astronaut costume she and Grandma had put together for Halloween the next day.

Later, he lifted weights at the gym. Sylvia had agreed to pick up Kayla from school and keep her until bedtime. That gave him three hours to work things out with Destiny. Three hours that might decide his whole future. He dressed with care, bought a dozen roses, and headed for her apartment.

Palms sweaty, he knocked on her door. It swung open immediately. Destiny’s eyes were shadowed with fatigue, her hair loose, no shoes. She wore a faded oversized chambray shirt.

The deep vee of the shirt tantalized him, as did her bare legs. He tore his gaze away, focused on her face. When he held out the flowers, she bit her lip. Stepping back, she allowed him entry, then closed the door behind.

With a calm expression that did nothing except fan his anxiety, she located a vase, filled it with water, and set it on the postage-stamp-sized table in the corner. He glanced around, the first time he'd entered her domain.

He could probably walk around the whole apartment in eight strides. Compared to his own king-size bed, the twin opposite the table looked minuscule, yet it left little room for anything else. The place was neat as a pin.

"I thought you said you needed a housekeeper," he said, struggling to break the tension. He stepped toward a card table and two folding chairs, bypassing the more comfortable looking upholstered chair near the door to get closer to her.

She glanced around as though she'd never seen the room before. "Couldn't sleep. Went on a cleaning binge." She crossed her arms as though to protect herself. Only a few feet apart, the distance between them felt like the Grand Canyon. Where once he'd seen hungry desire in her eyes, now he saw only wariness and pain.

He hadn't meant to cause either. Couldn't she understand that? Okay, he’d blown it by calling her Lanni, but he hadn’t slept with anyone but Lanni for over a decade, so it should have been understandable. Why did she find it so hard to believe he could be in love with her--for herself?

His gaze followed the dark waterfall of her hair, black as midnight. He clenched his hands, knowing if she gave the slightest signal, he'd take her in his arms and forget talking--or any other communication except the one his body screamed for.

Maybe that was exactly what he should do. Surely, if he made love to her, she'd know. What they had together was unique.

Although the tiny apartment was warm, she rubbed her arms. "What did you want to say?"

The stiff words, her uncompromising posture, her downcast eyes, all made him angry. He didn't like her this way--as though she were hiding herself from him.

He shrugged out of his jacket without being invited and tried to look relaxed in one of the folding chairs. "Okay, Destiny, I'm pretty sure I know what this is all about. But why don't you lay it all out for me, anyway, just to make sure this dumb paleface isn't missing any of the subtler points."

"It's about you, me, and…," she hesitated.

Was the deeply ingrained taboo too strong in her to break?

Cole did it for her. "And Lanni!"

She nodded but didn't add any more 'ands'.

"That's what I thought." Frustration rocketed through him, and he cursed. "But you're wrong!"

"I don't walk in anyone else's moccasins, Cole."

He sprang from the chair. "I won't let you do this! You're trying to tell me what I think, how I feel. But you don't know, Destiny. I know. I'm the only person who can know."

In his fury, he had advanced on her, trapping her between him and the wall, his anger swept away by the sudden tingling awareness of her body inches from his. Her scent tantalized and teased. "Oh God, Destiny, don’t do this to me--to us."

He wrapped her in his arms before he could stop himself, smothering her protest with hungry lips, teasing hers apart. His pulse quickened as she melted against him.

"Oh, Cole." Her voice mirrored his own anguish at their time apart.

“God, I’ve missed you!" he murmured and captured her mouth again.

But she pushed out of his arms, her expression dazed, unhappy. “No, Cole. You miss Lanni. I—I can't be her.”

"Destiny…."

"I can only be me, Cole. But that's not who you want. Please, just go."

“You don’t understand. I….”

“I understand perfectly. Please, go.”

Her resolute expression told him she wasn’t going to change her mind anytime soon. He grabbed his jacket. "I'll go. But you're dead wrong." He stalked to the door, wishing he hadn't put it quite that way. "When you realize that, I'll still be around. But if you want me, you'll have to do the asking." Loud and clear.

Chapter Eleven

"Trick or treat!"

More kids. Destiny yanked open the door and thrust out the bowl of candy, too miserable to fake a smile for the munchkins. Especially the ones who made her think of Kayla. Was Cole making the rounds with Kayla? Or did the school have a Halloween party--where he'd naturally see Sylvia? Would he seek solace with that gorgeous redhead?

Frowning, Destiny shoved the thought aside. Cole was not Web Baker, and if he did go looking for love in Sylvia's slender arms, it was Destiny's own fault.

As she closed the door on the last tricker-or-treater and readied for work, she tried once again to convince herself she'd made the right decision. But all she knew for sure was that her head and her heart were at war, neither winning.

The next week was the worst she could ever remember. She snapped at everyone or said nothing. The day before the big Bachelor Auction, Web told her point blank to adjust her attitude. He also told her that all hospital staff not working were expected to attend the fund raiser. Darn it!

* * * *

"Believe me, sitting around your apartment moping is not the answer!" Fran said firmly as she held up a long red strapless gown for Destiny's disinterested inspection. "Web's offered to play escort. No funny business, he promised. Now, you have to do your part to support the hospital and help drive those prices up. This is Grade-A prime beef we're talking here, honey. You don't want to miss it."

After feeling numb for seven days, Fran's humor was just what she needed to put Cole from her thoughts. Maybe this so-called shindig would help. "Long as Cole's not going to be there," she reiterated.

Fran lifted her eyebrows. "You kidding? He never attended before he was married. And he hasn't since his wife--well, you know. Believe me, with some of the disastrous dates he's had…." She chuckled.

Destiny promised herself she'd forget him--at least for tonight.

Squirming into the dress was a workout. Fran zipped it up. It fit like a surgeon's glove.

Surgeon?

Heart surgeon?

Criminy coyote, her brain wouldn't let up. "I don't feel like a party," she muttered.

Fran swept Destiny's hair up into a French roll. "You will. Just give yourself a chance." She dabbed perfume on Destiny's shoulders, then stood back, a smug smile on her face.

Destiny fidgeted. She favored casual clothes. This dress was movie-star glamorous and so tight she felt like she was wrapped in an ace bandage. "I thought you said this would be easy to move around in. I can hardly breathe. What in the world do you call this material?"

Fran was standing between Destiny and the mirror. Every time Destiny moved, trying to see around her, Fran moved, too, blocking her view. Fran’s eyes twinkled merrily. "I don't know about the fabric, but I call it my 'coming out' dress."

"You were a debutante?" Destiny immediately regretted the surprise in her voice, but Fran howled with laughter as she stepped aside, allowing Destiny's first look in the mirror. "Criminy coyote!"

"Behold, my dear sweet Destiny. That's why I call it my 'coming out' dress."

Without amusement, Destiny watched the flush wash across her own cheeks in the reflection. It spread down her neck, coloring her collarbone, and continuing down. It had a long way to go. The dress barely covered her breasts, dipping even lower in the valley between. If she took a deep breath….

"I wouldn't bend over too far," Fran advised in mock seriousness.

Destiny was fascinated by the image in the mirror, the bright crimson of her own skin.

And there was so much of it!

The dress looked painted on. Light bounced off in such a way that it spotlighted her every curve. "I can't wear this," she stammered, secretly pleased by what the mirror told her, giving silent thanks for good genes.

"No one can wear it better," quipped Fran. "So don't be a spoilsport. Every man in the place will be dying for your bid, my dear."

There was only one man Destiny wanted to bid on. And she’d been told he wouldn't be there. She studied the mirror again. Quinn would definitely disapprove. Paiute women had always been known for their modesty. But tonight she was dressed for a world of concrete and mirrors.

She felt herself yielding. Perhaps a little masculine admiration was just what she needed to put Cole out of her mind.

Fran slipped a flashy gemstone necklace around Destiny's neck and fastened it. "Now for the shoes." She pulled out a pair of red satin slippers with rhinestones on the toes. "Size seven and a half. Only worn once--along with the dress."

Destiny accepted one shoe and slipped it on. It also fit like a glove. She'd kick them off as soon as she sat down.

If she could sit.

She eyed Fran's billowing caftan of iridescent blue silk that floated from her neck to her ankles. "Why aren't you wearing this get-up?" she demanded.

"You kidding? My figure spread out last year with my fortieth birthday--can't even blame it on childbearing. You don't know how lucky you are!"

The mention of children made Destiny think of Kayla. Should she call her, try to explain? No, that would only make things worse. Besides, Cole was bound to answer the phone.

"Yoo-hoo." Fran snapped her fingers, dragging Destiny back to the event at hand. "Time to go, Scarlet Woman. I saw Web's Mercedes pull up out front."

Destiny slipped on the other satin shoe. Right on cue, a knock sounded on the door. Taking the tiniest steps she'd ever taken in her life, she minced across the room to the door and pulled it open.

“Zowie!” Web yelped, eyes wide.

“Zowie, yourself,” Destiny quipped. "Boy, Web, you sure know how to dress for a party." He was decked out in a burgundy tux which looked custom made. His blond hair gleamed, his brilliant smile flashing with charm.

"Black tie only," he said, eyes twinkling with pleasure. "Besides, there's a bet going round on who will pull the top bid."

"And what kind of weekend rendezvous do you have planned for your date?" Fran asked as she led the way down the stairs.

"Don't answer that!" Destiny ordered before he could scorch their ears with some outlandish retort.

His answering chuckle prompted Fran to arch an inquisitive eyebrow. "Must be a doozie."

He unlocked the car. "I'm borrowing a friend's plane, flying the lucky lady to Aspen. Booked a nice little condo. Great view. Fireplace."

Destiny ignored the flash of disappointment in his eyes when she chose to sit in the back seat, giving Fran the front.

The red dress clung--everywhere--hampering her entry. It was like a second skin. Maybe she wouldn't sit down at the auction, she thought, trying to tug it into showing less leg. "Where is this scandalous auction being held,” Destiny asked. “The Community Center?"

They turned north on Highway 395. "The Atlantis."

"You mean in Reno?!" Thirty-five miles away! Her last hope that Cole might decide to show up withered. She silently admonished herself for her hope--she'd called a halt to the relationship, not him.

"We have to go where the high-rollers are throwing their money around. Besides, Carson doesn't have a facility fancy enough for this many-splendored evening."

He gave her a wink by way of the rearview mirror, broke into a loud, nasal, auctioneer's spiel, immediately shattering any impression that he was serious, "And what am I offered for this next hunk, ladies? Hey, you in the beaded loincloth, get back in line. Stop with the free samples already. That young lady will have to ante up her money like everyone else."

Fran doubled over with laughter, and Destiny felt her mood lift. Web was too much. Perhaps the night would turn out to be fun after all.

Thirty minutes later, they pulled up in front of the Atlantis' towering eighteen-story glass facade. Web had kept them in stitches for the entire drive.

With Destiny on one arm, Fran on the other, they swept across polished black marble into the lobby toward the atrium and a trio of glass elevators, capsule-shaped pods girded with gaudy red and purple neon, visible through the hotel’s multi-storied windows. "Every guy in the place will eat his heart out," Web said, mischief in his eyes.

"Pretty classy," chirped Fran, admiring their surroundings.

"From the high desert to the South Seas in the blink of an eye," he replied, calling attention to the thatched roof above the registration desk and to a colorful waterfall which splashed alongside. Throughout the hotel any floor space not occupied by slot machines or needed for aisles was crowded with lush greenery and tropical flowers. "Nothing like this on the reservation, I bet."

Web was clearly in his element, but Destiny cast a critical eye at the crush of gamblers perched on tall white rattan stools. The flashy gaming equipment completely overpowered the muted green-and-burgundy decor.

Lights of the entire city spread out at her feet as the elevator whisked them silently upward. As they stepped out of the elevator, Destiny's heels sank in plush carpet. "Pretty ritzy," she murmured.

Fran frowned at their reflection in the mirrored corridor. "Got to make a pit-stop," she mumbled, disengaging from Web to disappear behind a decorated door.

Further down the hall, through an entrance to the ballroom, Destiny saw the richly festooned auction block, decorated in crimson velvet and glitter. Beside it, a group of musicians lounged beside their chairs.

"Would you like a drink?" Web asked, guiding her into the crowded room, his gaze dipping to her décolletage then returning to her face. "I could sure use one."

She felt ill at ease, aware of the whispers sparked by their entrance, uncomfortable with the attention--as well as with what she saw in Web's eyes. "Soda with a twist of lime, thanks."

She sighed with relief as he crossed the room to the bar. How long did she have to stay? She'd brought money to take a taxi.

Darn, what if it wasn't enough to cover the thirty-five mile fare from Reno to Carson City, then what?

Fran had said she'd be going home with her "bachelor." Destiny didn't want Web to drive her home. She'd be a third wheel to his date, or worse, be alone with him. He wasn't one to give up the chase. But what else could she do? Walk from wherever forty dollars took her?

“Cole!” Fran's voice carried from the doorway. "Well this is a surprise!"

In disbelief, Destiny whirled. It was Cole all right, decked out in a black tux. He paused and spoke to Fran, his voice low, polite, and--and that redhead, Sylvia, hung on his arm! Dressed in pink chiffon, she looked soft and innocent. And absolutely gorgeous.

Cole had yet to give a glance to the gathering. Maybe she could still get away before he spotted her. She edged toward the wall, cursing the restrictive dress, the high heels--and the curious absence of a potted plant behind which to disappear.

In the corner, the band ran through a few quick notes. Cole's gaze drifted to them, sliding past her, then cut back, his surprise apparent in the way he gaped. Beneath her ridiculous red dress, Destiny’s heart lurched. She’d bet her forty dollars that Lanni had never worn such a scandalously revealing outfit.

Cole said something to Sylvia, took a step in Destiny’s direction--and collided with a waitress.

A near disaster, but somehow her tray full of drinks stayed upright. After that miracle, he stood perfectly still, eyeing Destiny hungrily, as though she were the only one present. When he started toward her again, her breath caught in her throat.

She knew she should run--or make the attempt--but her feet wouldn't move. Her heart thumped erratically, her face hot.

Then, unexpectedly, she felt a hand on her arm. "Here you go.” Web’s voice. “Club soda and lime."

Now, halfway across the room, headed in her direction, Cole's face darkened. He stopped mid-stride, then abruptly turned away and joined a group of colleagues from the hospital.

Destiny scowled. "Darn it, Web. Your timing is lousy. And you told me Cole wouldn't be here!"

"Well, I guess you just never know where Doc Holliday will make an appearance," Web answered easily. "But since you two aren't an item any more, what do you care?"

An item. Is that what the hospital gossip called it?

That made it sound so trivial. What she felt for Cole could hardly be considered trivial.

She took a sip of her soda, reminding herself to hold her tongue. After all, Web was her boss.

He leaned closer. "If you bid on me, I'll make sure you have fun. No strings. No post-mortem heartache."

"What happened to your sudden need to settle down, Dr. Baker?" she chided, not the least bit tempted.

Nonplussed, he shrugged. "With the right woman….”

"Oh, you're incorrigible." She couldn't resist a small smile.

He grinned. "There, that wasn't so hard. If nothing else, you found your happy face tonight."

She glanced toward the group Cole had joined and was surprised to catch him watching her. Her miniature smile disappeared altogether.

"Oops, guess I spoke too soon," Web muttered, drawing her attention back to him.

Her gaze drifted back across the room to Cole. This was torture. She couldn't stand it another minute. "Will you excuse me for a moment, Web?"

She fled to the ladies’ room, feeling Cole's eyes burning holes in her back. She should never have come! Now he probably thought the worst--that she and Web…well, he had Sylvia clinging to him like a barnacle. No, that wasn't fair, and Destiny knew it. But it was a cinch he’d never mistake that redhead for Lanni.

Instead of returning to the ballroom, she wandered the mezzanine, gazing down onto the gaming floor. In any other state, the hotels would have comfy sofas scattered about the hallways but not Nevada. Nothing but one-arm bandits lined the walls.

She sat down at a stool beside a vacant machine and tried to relax her shoulders. Her head ached, and the noisy, money-gulping monsters didn't help.

Nothing seemed right to her anymore. She'd told Cole she didn't want to see him. He'd honored her wishes. The one time she'd run into him at the hospital cafeteria, he'd quickly dumped his coffee into a Styrofoam cup and disappeared.

Why had she come to this ridiculous event?

Her neck muscles twinged, her jaw felt tight enough to crack. The auction didn't start for another hour. She'd planned to stay long enough to make a low bid on the first bachelor, no matter who it might be, then leave. And tomorrow she'd give Web a piece of her mind. He'd led her to believe it would be easy to sneak off and return home whenever she wanted. She'd naturally assumed the event was in Carson.

She saw Fran threading her way through rapt-faced gamblers, "Web was worried you'd run out on him," Fran chided.

"I should, the devil.” Destiny rolled her eyes. “And you, too. Cole's not only here--he's here with a date! I gave serious thought to spending the evening in the ladies’ room, but there was only one kind of seat available."

Fran smiled sympathetically. "You still want him, you have to fight for him, honey."

"I don't want him!"

"Oh yeah?" Fran challenged, not the least put off by Destiny's acerbic tone. "That's not what Web says. He says you two looked like Cinderella and the Prince when Cole walked in." Fran gave a motherly smile. "From what I could see, Prince Jackson’s beautiful blue eyes were doing a slow waltz all over you."

And seeing Lanni? "I'm not going back in there until the auction begins," Destiny vowed.

"But the music is starting. Come on, Des. All those wonderful hunks need dance partners."

Destiny was unswayed. "From what I saw, there were plenty of eligible partners."

"Well, it's a darn waste, but if you want to stay out here, hidden away, go ahead." She fluffed her hair, adjusted the bangles at her wrists. "I'm going back in there to have some fun!"

As Fran departed, music wafted through the doorway, soft and romantic. Destiny silently discussed her options with a plaster lion which peered at her through the artificial jungle. She loved parties, fun, dancing--tribal or otherwise. This was the first time in her life she'd shied away from one, and she felt darn crummy about it.

Lonely.

Sad.

To heck with it, she was not going to just hide away. She'd been right to break off her relationship with Cole. If he couldn't accept that, then tough. She was not going to sit out here for the whole evening.

She stood, taking a deep breath before remembering her low-cut bodice. She yanked the dress back up where it belonged and minced back into the ballroom. Almost everyone was on the dance floor. Her gaze immediately found Sylvia's red hair among the swaying throng. But she was dancing with Web! The two were laughing like old friends as he led her around the floor to a soft rendition of Blue Moon.

Before Destiny could establish Cole’s location, an elegant looking gent with silver hair asked her to dance--then talked about his legal practice the whole time, drowning out the music. Only half-listening as he talked, she nodded when it seemed appropriate--and longed for Cole.

As if conjured up by a shaman's magic, he suddenly cut in. He pulled her close and led her deftly around the floor, no false steps, no mashed toes, his blue eyes intense, burning into hers. His hand at her waist felt as though it was melting Fran’s “coming out” dress. Destiny's legs wobbled.

Cole’s grip tightened, but he said nothing. Neither did she. And just when she thought her heart might explode, the music ended.

He held her a moment longer, then dropped his hands. With a curt nod, he walked away. But the feel of his heated palms lingered.

* * * *

Cole felt like kicking himself as he made his way from the dance floor to stand at the bar. He'd vowed he wouldn't approach her, wouldn’t talk to her. But the moment he saw her dancing with someone else, he'd cut in.

His fingers clenched at the thought of another man touching her. Did the woman have any idea how provocative her darn gown was! Sylvia, certainly no innocent, looked like an angel compared to Destiny in that body-hugging, tantalizing red sheath. He'd never miss her in a crowd, his traitorous mind retorted. As if his hormones hadn't already noted that fact! She was turning every head in the place, including his.

His blood heated just watching her glide slowly from the dance floor--every curve, every muscle showcased in crimson. Web swaggered over to her and took her arm. Cole's blood turned volcanic. When she smiled at something the rascal said, Cole thought he might just have to punch his best friend in the nose.

Some friend, moving in on his woman.

But that was the problem. She wasn't his woman. And she'd let him know it.

"You've been staring at Destiny for the last five minutes," Sylvia whined.

He forced himself to look at his pink-bedecked friend, to smile at her. "I didn't expect her to be here. Web said residents don't usually attend."

Destiny would be staff in two months, how was the Klutz King going to handle that? He shifted uncomfortably, accepted his only drink of the evening, and watched as dancers flooded the floor for a slow waltz. Sylvia squeezed his hand. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

He wanted to say no, wanted to leave, but he set down his drink, forced a smile, and whisked Sylvia into the throng. Three steps later, Web swept by with Destiny in his arms. Just as Cole thought he’d strangle his friend, the man released Destiny, grabbed Sylvia, and whirled her away with a laugh.

Destiny froze, a look of panic on her face.

Feet rooted to the floor, pulse racing like a madman’s, Cole drank in her beauty. A long moment passed. Well, she hadn’t run yet. Without a word, he drew her into his arms and led her in the waltz, all too aware of closeness. By the time the music faded, he was struggling to breathe.

She stepped back, and he knew he had to say something. “She never looked like you do tonight.”

They both knew he referred to Lanni.

Then, because he’d promised himself he wouldn’t beg, he turned away and took the hardest walk he’d ever taken--away from her. He hoped she’d come after him. When she didn’t, he wondered if he should look for a position at another hospital. Lord knew, he was bound to keep running into Destiny if he stayed. If she started dating someone else, he just might rip the man’s head off and end up in jail.

Dispirited, he looked for Sylvia to remind her, "You up to bidding for my hide?"

"Of course." She patted her satin purse. "You didn't have to, but thanks for giving me the wad to back up my bidding. I was secretly planning to hock hearth and home and my first-grade child for a weekend in your capable care."

He cocked an eyebrow, uncertain whether she was serious.

She laughed. “Oh, don’t look so worried. I’m only joshing.”

Something like relief flooded through him.

“Fair warning, though, if I can persuade you to take me on your planned weekend soiree, I will.”

Her admiring glance flattered him.

The sound system crackled to life. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the auction will begin in fifteen minutes! Credit cards, checks, or fresh green cash are all acceptable.

From across the room, he heard Web’s raucous, “Let the games begin!”

“My sentiments exactly!” Sylvia shouted, matching his enthusiasm.

Web and Sylvia? Darned unnerving idea.

“Ladies,” the announcer began, “if you are the lucky winner of one of our fine bachelors, please be sure you pay for your date before you leave. Remember, this is for the hospital! Every cent goes to the new pediatric wing. Be generous!"

Cole's stomach did a barrel roll. He'd never done this before, and he wished to hell he'd bypassed the event this year as well. He turned to Sylvia. "Remember,” he said, trying to impress upon her the importance of what he was saying, “bid whatever it takes, up to a thousand. If somebody wants my company for more than that, they can have it. But I’m counting on you to keep that from happening, so sound unstoppable when you bid."

“I’ll do my best, believe me.”

She sounded determined, so why did he have the feeling this was going to be another one of those disasters?

"Well, time for me to go backstage," he grumbled and trudged across the room, feeling as though his head were about to be put on the chopping block. His head or something equally indispensable!

A tap on the shoulder. "Hey, buddy, you ready?" Wily Web.

"I thought you said Destiny wouldn't be here," Cole snarled.

Web shrugged. "Most times residents have to work when everyone else is at the auction. But she had tonight off--and she's going to be staff in two months."

"I'm well aware of that fact," he ground out, stalking away in the direction of an official looking matron handing out auction numbers. He glared back at his friend. "And don't think I don't know who puts the work schedule together."

Web, looking unperturbed, winked at the number person.

Cole gave the number woman his name and waited while she checked her list. If the gods were smiling on him, his name wasn’t on it.

“Number five,” she said, smiling appreciatively as she handed Cole a twelve-inch number and a pin. "It goes on your left lapel."

"I thought I was number two."

"On my list," Web said. "Not this lovely lady's."

She had the gall to smile at that jackal.

Web winked at her before leading Cole to where the bachelors were gathering behind the stage.

Within minutes the auctioneer began. "All right, Ladies! Here's our first eager bachelor."

Cole saw Morillo, one of the youngest men on staff, leap up on the ramp. A real stud, if one could believe hospital gossip. The dude strutted and postured like he was having the time of his life.

Cole nailed Web with a murderous look. "Oh, swell! You didn't tell me I'd have to act like a darn donkey."

The scoundrel just grinned.

It'll be over soon, Cole told himself. He'd given Sylvia enough cash to make a decent bid--considered it a donation toward the new wing. As soon as she'd "bought" him, he could leave. Neat, easy, no problem.

Bachelor number two stepped onto the stage, did a quick dance step that had him shaking his behind like a wet dog, giving the crowd a good show. Cole groaned. The auctioneer picked up his gavel. "All right now, remember it's for a good cause, so don't hold back. Arthur Murray here says he won't hold anything back either...whatever that means."

The crowd roared.

Cole cursed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to pretend he wasn't part of this high-priced meat market. He managed to avoid seeing what kind of exhibition the next two bachelors put on. But he could tell the crowd was getting into the spirit of the event, could almost hear their purse strings surrendering.

When the first four bachelors had been disposed of, the man with the gavel banged it for silence. "Our next bachelor is new to this arena. He's never participated in our little funfest here. So the high bidder has the opportunity to break him in right, so to speak. Teach him the ropes."

Cole felt like crawling under the nearest spittoon. Hell, the man was selling him like a virgin on the slave block.

"Here he is, heart surgeon extraordinaire. Known as Doc Holliday for his quick hands, so watch out. I give you Dr. Colorado Jackson."

His face burned as he walked onstage, found the x-mark with his feet. He'd cut off his arm before he'd do anything more than stand there.

The crowd went wild, women whistled, and the bids rocketed from one hundred to five hundred in sixty seconds.

By God, he should have given Sylvia two thousand.

He began to sweat. He cast a worried gaze toward Sylvia as she waved her hand, signaling six hundred.

"Do I hear seven?" the auctioneer trilled. "Going once ...."

Another hand shot up. Cole's heart slammed against his ribs. Destiny!

He cursed. He'd told Sylvia to go all the way to a thousand.

When co-conspirator Sylvia signaled again, Cole wanted to break her arm.

"Eight hundred to the lovely redhead!" the gavel man shouted.

Cole stared in disbelief as Destiny raised her hand--again.

The auctioneer nodded acknowledgment. "Nine hundred to the woman in red."

The crowd let out a roar, loving every minute of the bidding duel. Sylvia waved her hand furiously. "One thousand dollars," she shouted.

Cole swore under his breath.

"Fifteen hundred!" Destiny yelled, and Cole almost passed out.

Grinning, the auctioneer, one of the hospital's lab technicians who moonlighted working small auctions throughout the area, took out a bandanna and mopped his brow, a gambit to heighten the suspense.

He looked at Sylvia.

She made a face, then shook her head.

The gavel banged. "Sold! Dr. Jackson goes to the lovely lady in scarlet!"

Applause erupted. Cole leaped from the stage. Like the Red Sea, the crowd parted to let him through. Moments later they’d forgotten him and turned their attention to the next bachelor onstage.

In the middle of the ballroom, Destiny stood stock still, frozen in place, looking as though she couldn't believe what she'd done. Maybe she couldn't. But if that wasn't a loud and clear "I want you!" then nothing was.

The air snapped with electricity as, without a word, he took her arm and guided her to a deserted corner. His gaze slid over her. By heaven, he wanted her more than he wanted any woman in his entire life. "Fifteen hundred," he murmured, astonished.

She shook her head as though waking from a dream. "I can't believe I did that."

"I can."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh, you can?"

"You couldn't stand the thought of me with another woman any more than I could stand seeing you waltz out of here with some other guy."

Her mouth tightened, but she didn't deny it.

He brushed his lips against hers. With a supreme effort, he pulled back, swallowing hard. The auctioneer's voice filtered into his brain, "Our next bachelor is Dr. Web Baker!"

The bidding exploded, an excited screaming match between several women.

Cole focused on Destiny. "I'll take you home. We'll talk. I swear that's all." It would kill him to keep that vow. But he would--if that's what she wanted.

She opened her mouth to speak, but, suddenly, the auctioneer's words penetrated his brain. "Unless I hear more, Dr. Baker goes to the ravishing redhead in pink! Going once…."

Cole snapped his head up. Sylvia was spending his money on Web Baker! He'd be darned if he'd let her use it on that blasted busybody.

He waved furiously to catch her attention.

"Well, this is a surprise!" the auctioneer squawked. "One thousand twenty-five to...uh, Dr. Jackson!"

Cole's face flamed, and the crowd thundered with laughter.

"One-fifty!" shouted Sylvia.

The gavel pounded.

"Those two scalawags deserve one another,” Cole muttered and immediately dismissed them both from his thoughts as he turned back to….

Destiny was gone!

Darn, double darn, and triple darn!

He raced for the door and down the stairs three at a time, oblivious to hoots of laughter that at any other time would have mortified him. Outside the hotel, he scanned the late night throng, the busy parking lot, the street, the crowded sidewalk. She was nowhere to be seen.

In that dress, how the hell had she managed to disappear?

And what in blazes was he going to do now?

Behind him, Fran called from the hotel entrance, her tone teasing, "You sure know how to stick your foot in your mouth, Cole!"

That was for darned sure. Distressed by Destiny’s vanishing act, he turned back toward the caftan-garbed GYN, wondering how he was going to live this debacle down. Sylvia and Web were with Fran, all laughing. His expense, of course.

"Did you see Destiny come outside?" he blurted.

They shook their heads no. "She'll turn up,” Fran said. “She's probably hiding in the ladies’ room again."

Web nudged him, his face flushed with amusement. "Man, you had me worried there, good buddy. I thought I was in for the worst date of my life!" He slipped his arm through Sylvia's. "Lucky for me this beautiful creature wouldn't be outbid."

Sylvia chuckled, a rich throaty sound. Cindy's mom was obviously smitten by Web's good looks and dastardly charm. The strange thing was, Wily Web looked just as dazzled. The old scalawag couldn't keep his eyes off her.

"I'm escorting this little lady home, if you don't mind, Cole?"

Cole shrugged, befuddled by the strange twists the evening had taken. "No, have fun.”

Could he have missed Destiny on his way out? Was she, as Fran had suggested, hiding in the ladies’ room? He had a good mind to storm the stalls.

"I'm going back in there to get me a hunk before they're all gone,” Fran announced, making a show of turning back to the hotel entrance. “See ya."

Cole watched her depart. Everyone was having a good time except him. As the adrenaline drained away, he admitted to Web, "You know, for a while there, I thought you and Destiny…."

Web's eyebrows rose. "She's only got eyes for you, bud. And I play second fiddle to no man." He winked. "Although I did give it a try. But I'm glad Destiny resisted." His gaze shifted to Sylvia. "Or I wouldn't have met this gracious lady."

Cole smirked. His old pal was going to have his hands full. That pink dress probably had the man fooled into thinking Sylvia a pussy cat.

Web gave him a measuring look. "You going to let the prettiest Paiute maiden this side of the movies get away or what?"

Cole shook his head.

"Good. I don't think hospital morale can take much more of crabby doctors. Everyone wants a happy ending for you two, and I promised to deliver."

"Yeah, and how much is the bet?"

"Two hundred for the happy ending, two hundred against. An even bet. Everyone knows how stubborn and determined Destiny can be. And your history of disastrous dates hasn't earned you any points. Still, all the nurses say you're a romantic at heart."

Sylvia smiled like a well-creamed cat. "Believe me, he is."

"Speaking of romance." Grinning, Web gestured toward his Mercedes. "My chariot awaits."

As Web and Sylvia drove away, Cole couldn't help thinking they made the perfect pair. He stood there smiling after them in spite of his own heartache.

After going inside and searching everywhere for Destiny, he finally admitted defeat and drove home wondering how the hell he was going to win Destiny's heart. Words had failed him the last time, and so had everything else. Whatever she needed to convince her he loved her--her, not Lanni--he hadn't figured out yet.

Perhaps he should look up brother Quinn, throw himself on that wildman’s mercy--if he had any--persuade him to help.

"Fat chance," Cole said aloud, remembering the young man’s hostility.

Still, he could try.

Chapter Twelve

It was well after midnight when Destiny at last entered her apartment, kicked off the red satin heels, and sank down on the bed. "Oh, Cole ...."

Like a plea, his name escaped her lips. At the auction, his blue eyes had entranced her. If he hadn't turned away, distracted by Sylvia's bid for Web, Destiny knew she would have lost her head completely and let him kiss her, let him talk her into...anything. Everything.

She swallowed a sob. If they were wrong for each other, why did her heart ache so? Why did she hunger for his touch like she'd never hungered before for any man?

She tried to take a deep breath but couldn't--the darn dress wouldn't allow it. She stripped it off, remembering the admiration in Cole's eyes as he'd watched her, as he'd danced with her. The feel of his lips.

Criminy coyote, she was driving herself crazy!

She threw the dress across a chair, switched off the light, and crawled into bed, then remembered the fifteen hundred dollar charge that was going to show up on her credit card statement.

Oh great. Well, she'd just have to make monthly payments until her new salary kicked in. Like Paiutes before her, she was adaptable. Hadn't her ancestors blended with the Shoshone, even married them? Hadn't they adopted the dress of the Great Plains tribes, the dances of others? Adapted and survived. And that's what she would do.

Now if only she had something to show for her extravagant error besides misery.

Small consolation that she'd kept Cole from going on a date with Sylvia. Though the surprise and pleasure in his eyes had been worth it. For that one brief moment, she’d felt certain he loved her, then doubt had crept back in.

She closed her eyes, wishing she'd stayed beside him, let him drive her home, let herself believe that he truly loved her--Destiny Moon.

Frustrated, she rolled over and tried to count backwards from a thousand. It didn’t work. She still couldn’t sleep. She tried to visualize stars in a night sky, but the stars she imagined were in Cole's eyes, radiating warmth as he held her, kissed her.

Near dawn, fatigue drew her into sleep. But Cole followed her into her dream world, his blue eyes becoming the eyes of a white wolf, watching her, calling her to him.

She awoke with a start, the apartment dark and quiet. Lonely. Empty. What was the dream's message? Was she supposed to go to Cole? Or was she reading into the dream only what she wanted?

* * * *

Cole slept late, not wanting to get up and face a lonely Sunday, nor think about his confrontation with Quinn. The man was so insufferably biased. How could he have ever thought Quinn might help him in any way, shape, or form?

"Whites are all right as long as they stay away from my sister," Quinn had warned at the end of what Cole had thought was a fairly civil conversation. The man had looked as though he might help, all right--help Cole right into a coffin. Cole had itched to deck him, wipe the arrogant smirk from his face. One minute they'd been talking, the next?

All hell had broken loose.

Cole couldn’t remember who'd gotten in the first blow. But there he'd been, rolling around in the dirt with a wild man. Then, suddenly, he'd been flat on his back, nose to nose with Quinn. They'd taken a good look at one another--and both of them had burst out laughing.

Cole chuckled. Quinn was okay just quick on the trigger. Cole hadn't been any patient preacher either. Laughter had smoothed their parting to almost amicable.

"Darn the man, anyway," Cole muttered, sliding from bed. Wildman Quinn was just going to have to accept Cole in the family because he, Dr. Colorado Jackson, was determined to marry Destiny. If her brother wouldn't help convince her, he'd figure a way himself.

He yanked on his robe, stomped across the hall to Kayla's room, and plopped down on her empty bed. She was spending the night at his parent’s house, and he missed her. He picked up one of her stuffed bears, but the framed photograph on the dresser drew his attention. Lanni. Kayla. Him. Such easy smiles back then. Broken Hoof had fallen head over heels in love with Lanni and her tribal family. Then with his infant daughter.

And now with Destiny.

He started across the room. It seemed only fitting that his foot connected with a hard object. “Dr. Klutz,” he muttered as Kayla’s magic ouija board went sliding under the bed.

Grateful it hadn't been something like a bowling ball, he dropped to his knees and fumbled through the dust bunnies for the board and the plastic toy pointer. Feeling foolish, he glowered at it. "Okay, you plastic blob, what do you have to say for yourself? Lay it on me. I can use all the magic I can get. Will Destiny and I get back together?"

As though making wishes on birthday candles, he closed his eyes a moment then let the piece move under his hand wherever it seemed to want to go.

No thunder and lightning, no booming voice from the netherworld. But the piece stopped over the YES.

If only he believed it.

Disgusted, he tossed the toy onto the bed. It had to be defective.

Still wrestling with ideas of how to convince Destiny of his love, his gaze fell on the feathers Kayla kept clipped to her mirror.

His mind skipped to the ones Destiny had held aloft as she danced at the powwow. How lovely she had looked. The image was etched in his heart forever. He could still see her fringe swaying, still hear the drum beat ....

And suddenly he knew. The answer was risky, yet so simple he almost laughed.

* * * *

When Kayla came home, he enlisted her help. Her eyes lit up as he explained the plan. Then he called Web to find out Destiny's work schedule.

Web sounded downright giddy. "Tomorrow's her last day. I'm taking her out to lunch, sort of a graduation gesture."

"Then what?" he demanded, recalling that Web's lunch dates were usually preludes to some heavy breathing and wanton bedroom antics.

"Then nothing. I've found a certain redheaded woman who would take my hide off if I even thought of turning lunch with Destiny into a romantic rendezvous."

Cole found himself grinning from ear to ear. Romeo Baker was beginning to sound like a fellow who'd been roped and tied. No doubt about it though, Sylvia would make one helluva jailer. And Web displayed signs of being downright eager to throw away his own key.

The sudden picture of his old pal as a docile husband was enough to make Cole laugh. "I guess then, Dr. Baker, for everyone's sake, you better make sure you have Destiny back to the hospital by three."

He would swear on a stack of Web’s little black books that he heard the man giggle.

“Not to worry, Cole, I will. I have a hot date with Sylvia and Cindy. We're going to McDonald's, and then we're going to take in a Disney movie."

Web Baker, Esquire, devotee of caviar and French champagne, was dining at the Golden Arches? Cole shook head in disbelief. "Oh, Lordy, Web, it couldn't happen to a nicer guy."

Cole said a hasty goodbye, then immediately hit redial. "One more thing, Web, old buddy. Name the first one after me, okay?"

The man was still sputtering denials as Cole hung up the second time.

He dashed to the closet, shoved suits, shirts, jackets out of the way, found what he was looking for in the back. Eagle feathers and buckskin, ancient Paiute apparel. What there was of it.

He held it up, puffing out his chest, sucking in his already flat belly. He wasn't in quite the same shape as he’d been ten years ago. Still, he worked out three days a week, was careful what he ate.

He pulled the leather off the hanger. Camping outside Destiny's apartment for five days in little more than a loin cloth? He was certifiably crazy to do it, but she’d asked him to dance. The ancient Paiute courting ritual was the one way he knew to convince her he loved her. He would have to trust that the Spirits would make her see the truth. Heck, why else would he run the risk of double pneumonia, another broken toe, or frostbite?

He held up the small scrap of buckskin. Sheesh, he just might get arrested.

Well, maybe not in Nevada where almost anything was legal. But arrested or not, he intended to dance outside her door. And maybe--hopefully--she'd open that door, along with her heart.

Before her neighbors complained about the noise.

Chapter Thirteen

Destiny drove by Cole's on her way home from work, but no one was there.

Uncertain of what else to do, she continued to her apartment and fell into bed, exhausted. She dreamed of the blue-eyed white wolf again. This time he had a dark-eyed wolf huntress as a companion. But then something strange happened, the forest grew dark, mist thickened to a dense fog she couldn't penetrate.

She awoke feeling cold. Was the mist her own confusion? Were she and Cole meant to be together?

Darn it, she could hear Coyote laughing at her.

She kicked off the sheet and climbed from bed, still tired, but relieved that this would be her last shift as a resident. “After tonight,” she promised herself, “I'm going to sleep for a week.” All she had to do was get through this shift. And after lunch with Web, she'd be free for two months!

"Hurray!" she yipped, tossing her pillow in the air, trying to manufacture some enthusiasm.

It didn't work.

Her enthusiasm landed with a dull thud. Two months without seeing Cole didn't sound like much of a vacation when all she hungered for was him.

Actions did speak louder than words. She believed that. Doubts about how Cole still felt about Lanni notwithstanding, she loved him. Quinn didn't know what he was talking about when it came to heart-stopping, soul-searching love. The dreams meant exactly what she wanted them to. She was not going to second-guess the spirits any longer. This was her last day as a resident. As soon as her shift ended, she would call Cole. And if he said, “I love you,” she would believe him.

But would he even talk to her?

She suddenly felt a twinge of anxiousness. Had she pushed him away one time too many?

* * * *

Cole's heart skipped into double time at the shrill ring of the kitchen phone. Under Kayla’s excited gaze, he picked it up. It had to be Web.

The connection reverberated with excitement. "Okay, good buddy, the ball's in your court. I just dropped Destiny off at the hospital. She said she was going straight to your place, but I tried a delaying tactic, suggested she change first."

"Thanks, pal. I'm on my way."

"Good luck. And if you need a best man, I'm available--as long as I can wear my tux. It brings out all my good points."

“Thanks, old buddy.”

With a chuckle, Web clicked off.

Cole glanced at Kayla. He’d fasted and prayed--Paiute fashion. He was as ready as he'd ever be. “Your turn at bat, little lady. Call Destiny. If she doesn’t answer, keep hitting redial until she does. Then keep her on the phone until you hear me banging on her door."

Dark eyes glimmering with childish happiness, Kayla kissed his cheek, careful of his body paint. The fancy paint job was her work, with the help of the new housekeeper who had laughed like another six-year-old as she and Kayla brushed on the ancient symbols and designs.

Cole slipped on sweats over his other apparel, climbed in the Lexus, and called Jake from his cellular. The young brave and his family were stashed at Taco Bell. Dressed in full ceremonial garb, it was safe to say they were probably attracting a fair share of attention. The group would be providing accompaniment for Cole’s performance--and for the engagement celebration to follow.

At least he hoped there'd be an engagement to celebrate!

If I don't faint from embarrassment or break another toe--or end up in the county jail.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He'd never been so nervous in his life. Nor so determined to do whatever it took to convince Destiny that he loved her.

And he didn't care if the whole state of Nevada watched, just as long as she got the message--he loved Destiny Moon, and they belonged together.

* * * *

Destiny wiggled into her dress then French-braided her hair. Now, where were her sandals?

Down on her knees, she was fumbling under the bed when the phone rang. She found one slip-on and scrambled to her feet. "Let it be Cole," she whispered to the emptiness, racing to answer.

"Destiny?" It was Kayla.

Destiny dropped into one of the folding chairs. "Kayla. What a wonderful surprise!" Cole had to be home! “Have you convinced your father about Top Gun yet?”

Kayla giggled. “Yes.”

Pleased to hear the child’s voice, she realized how much she’d missed her--almost as much as she'd missed Cole.

"He said I could call."

Her heart leapt. "Is he there?"

"Well...not right now. But he'll be home later, maybe tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Where'd he go? Who's with you?"

"Our new housekeeper, Mrs. Campbell." Her voice lowered. "She reminds me of Grandma."

"You like her, then?"

"Oh, yes!"

Destiny spotted her other shoe under the table. She stretched her leg out and snagged it with her toe. "Do you have a number where I can reach your dad? I need to talk to him."

"Well, let me ask Mrs. Campbell."

A long wait ensued. Destiny tapped the table impatiently, willing the child to hurry, eager to know where Cole could be reached. She had to talk to him.

There were giggles coming from the receiver. Who else was there?

Kayla came back on the line, her voice sounding off-key. "He isn't near a phone right now, but he will be in a little while."

"Is he at the cabin?" She dropped the one shoe and began flipping through her address book.

A loud banging on the front door made her jump. She ignored it. "Is he at the cabin?" she asked again.

"No."

The distinct sound of a deep drum captured her attention. Tribal music? It was coming from outside.

"Hold on, Kayla. Something is going on out front. I’ll be right back."

One shoe on, the other foot bare, she opened the door and stepped out on the landing. At the bottom of the stairs, seated around a large drum were Jake, Little Joseph, his mother and father, and his grandmother. All of them dressed in ceremonial regalia.

"What the...?" She started down the steps. The concrete was cold beneath her one bare foot. She halted abruptly when she saw the tall figure with the feathered headdress.

A painted warrior in moccasins--and little else.

"Cole?"

Knees bent, body crouched, feathers held high, feet tapping in perfect time to the drum beat, he looked like a true warrior. Bright yellow, red, and black paint slashed across his face, his broad chest bare. He dipped low to the ground then whirled, matching the drums as their tempo increased. He whirled again. Lunged. Whirling, stomping, whirling. All grace and fierce elegance. Powerful leg muscles under magnificent control. His near-naked body steamy in the chill. Cloudy puffs of air escaped his lips as his chest rose and fell.

No blunders. No missteps. His interpretation dynamic, potent. Oblivious to his surroundings, he danced as though connected to the earth, praising the spirits with every step.

Destiny could only stare, transfixed. Her heart twisted. He was so beautiful!

She moved down the last few steps, then paused, suddenly aware that an audience was gathering. Quinn, of all people, was in charge of crowd control. What kind of miracle had Cole performed to get her brother involved?!

Destiny focused on Cole--the white wolf in her dream. He was calling for her.

The music stopped abruptly, and Cole froze for a brief moment, then slowly straightened, pinning her with his gaze, his sapphire eyes filled with longing.

Her breath caught.

"You never stumbled once," she murmured.

His lips curved, his eyes crinkling in that warm, delicious way she loved. She threw her arms around his neck and rolled up on tiptoe to meet his lips. "Oh, Cole."

A loud roar of approval erupted from the crowd of onlookers as a siren sounded in the distance.

Cole broke the kiss and scooped her into his arms. "I know that traditionally I'm supposed to camp out here for five days."

"Out here? For five days? In that?! You'll freeze your feathers off. Snow is forecast for tomorrow night."

Blood rushed in her ears. Five days? No way she'd survive the wait.

* * * *

Cole eyed Destiny's ripe berry lips. His heart soared. Her eyes said Kiss me. Holy Magnolias, if he tasted those luscious lips, they'd never make it back up to her apartment.

He swallowed a groan. More stairs! The ones at his Tahoe cabin had almost been the death of him. But that darn siren was getting closer.

He managed the first step. "I love you, Destiny.” Her satin skin made him tingle. “I’ll dance for you every night. Just say you’ll marry me."

Like star-filled Nevada nights, her dark eyes shimmered.

He brushed his lips across her brow. "Say yes."

When she hesitated, he thought his heart would explode right through his ribs.

"Yes," she whispered.

He faltered mid-stride. "Yes?"

"Yes!" This time she shouted it.

The spectators clapped and stomped their feet. Cole took the last few steps in two quick leaps, got the door open in one try, and kicked it shut behind them as a sheriff's vehicle pulled up out front.

"I like the paint job," she said, smiling. “It’s perfect with your headdress.”

He’d almost forgotten the headdress. He set it on the table, then grinned. "I believe this is where the warrior stakes his claim."

"I believe you're right," she murmured, giving him a saucy look. A strong woman with more facets than the diamond ring he'd bought.

He caressed her lips lightly with his thumb. In her eyes he saw forever. "I love you, Destiny Moon."

With goddess-like grace, she leaned over and brushed her lips against his, scuttling any plans he had to answer the loud knock at the apartment door.

"I love you, Dr. Colorado Jackson," she murmured.

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her tight against him. For a moment, he heard the Coyote howl above the chants and drums, telling everyone present this wasn't luck--it was Cole's way.

And Destiny's.

Forever.

END