looked different in a pair of old jeans than he had in a suit. Renata’s father had been heavier than Michael, so the jeans were loose on him. So was the T-shirt. The casual look did nothing to diminish Michael’s attractiveness; if anything, it made him seem more accessible. Renata noticed that his hair was just as appealing wet as it was dry—thick, shiny, the fullness lifting it off his face before it curved under slightly on his shoulders.
But what really drew her to him was the expression on his face. She’d never seen a man look quite like this—proud, grateful and embarrassed all at the same time. When Michael had arrived and found his grandfather, Renata had guessed he was caught up in fear and relief. But since then, a measure of shame had crept into his regal bearing.
“I know Brick introduced us,” he greeted her quietly, “but I’m sorry to say I didn’t get a grip on your name.”
“Renata Meyer.”
“Michael Youngthunder.” He held out one strong brown hand, and Renata slipped hers into it. His was still cold, but the chilliness of his skin didn’t linger in his eyes. “I want you to know how much I appreciate your kindness to my grandfather. Most people would have called the cops and had him towed away.” He glanced toward the front lawn. “I put the slicker on the porch to dry.”
“Thanks.” Renata tried to give him a reassuring smile, but somehow a smile didn’t work at the moment. When he gently disengaged his hand from hers, she realized belatedly that she’d gripped it in greeting and forgotten to let go.
“We’re indebted to you,” Michael said sincerely. “If there’s anything my family can ever do for you, don’t hesitate to let us know.”
Renata was touched by the offer—and by the sincerity in Michael’s beautiful dark eyes. Lots of people, if they’d made the offer at all, would have said “I,” not “my family.” Obviously his family obligations were important to him.
“I wish I could have gotten him inside sooner, Michael,” she apologized. “I only arrived an hour or so ago. For all I know, he could have been out there all night.”
“I suspect he was,” Michael agreed sadly. He looked absolutely exhausted, but he made no move to sit down.
Abruptly Renata realized he was probably waiting for an invitation. “Please have a seat,” she was quick to offer. “I’ll have pancakes for you in just a second. Did you have anything to eat this morning?”
Slowly he took a chair, his gaze gratefully brushing her face in a way that made her skin tingle. It occurred to Renata that she must look as bedraggled as Michael and his father. Before, she hadn’t minded, but for some reason she didn’t want to look her worst now that she was talking to Michael face-to-face.
“I haven’t had an appetite since I first found out he was gone,” he admitted. “Now that he’s in there steaming himself, I’m absolutely ravenous.”
This time Renata grinned, and to her surprise, Michael grinned back. His smile took her totally off guard. It was brilliant, almost boyish, utterly charming. What a change from that fierce, anguished scowl!
“Good. I was hoping you’d be too hungry to notice that I’m piecing together a meal from odds and ends,” she confessed. “I keep staples here but I always need to get milk and fresh produce when I come to town. But if you’re hungry—”
“Ready to eat cardboard. Whatever you’ve got will be fine.”
He gave her another dazzling grin as she handed him a plate full of pancakes, dug in the cupboard for some syrup and rinsed off a clean but dusty fork. It occurred to Renata that coming back to her house in Tyler was sort of like arriving at a neglected backwoods cabin. It was cozy and quaint, but it wasn’t set up to entertain strangers. At least she had a phone and running water—the thumps and bangs in the pipes triggered by the old man’s shower were proof of that—but that was about the extent of the amenities.
Michael’s eyes met hers with an expression that reminded Renata of a little boy in a candy shop in a Norman Rockwell painting. “Are you going to join me?” he asked.
This time Renata laughed out loud. “For goodness’ sake, Michael, eat! I can hardly bear to look at you. In another second you’ll start drooling.”
The smile quickly vanished. “No worry about that. I drooled a lot when I ate raw buffalo in the wigwam, but at Georgetown they frowned on that.”
Renata was surprised that she’d offended him and even more surprised that he’d felt compelled to trot out his academic credentials. Honestly, she said, “I was only teasing, Michael, because you sounded so hungry. I wasn’t thinking at all about your...heritage.”
A dark flush reddened his angular cheeks. “After what’s happened outside this morning, I wouldn’t think you’d be able to think about anything else.”
He was so blunt that Renata decided she should be straight with him, also. “I’ll admit that your grandfather took me by surprise. I’m worried about him and I’m damned curious. You took me by surprise, too, but that’s because I’m having a devil of a time figuring out how a man who looks so comfy in a suit and acts so white can speak Winnebago and think like a traditional Indian.”
She drew a quick breath, but didn’t give him time to reply. “Now I’m wondering if I’ve done anything to cause you to believe that I’ve got some Neanderthal prejudice against people who aren’t just like me. Since I’ve spent my whole life as a square peg in a round hole, I’d have to dislike just about everybody if that were true. As it happens, I like people. I like diversity. Until you started making insinuations,” she finished a bit sarcastically, “I rather liked you.”
Michael was silent, but his eyes grew dark as he listened to her speech. For a long, tense moment his inscrutable gaze impaled her. Then he rose, abandoning the fork poised to snag a pancake, and slowly prowled across the room.
Renata wasn’t sure what to expect of this tightly coiled stranger. She knew he was angry, but she wasn’t sure if she was scared. She tried to remember just what Brick had said to her about Michael Youngthunder before he’d galloped off in his police car. He had acted as though Michael were a friend. He’d given Renata no overt or even subtle warnings. Surely he wouldn’t have left her alone with these two Indians if he had any reason to distrust them!
Still, Renata shivered as Michael approached her, his lips drawn down in a fearsome scowl. She wanted to duck away from him, to hide or bolt from the room, but she didn’t seem to be able to move.
And then he spoke, and she knew by the fresh shame in his voice that his anger was directed inward. And she also knew that the chill that feathered up and down her spine as he touched her wrist had nothing to do with fear.
“Renata,” he said softly, his voice taking on a low and tortured tone, “please forgive my rudeness. I am always overly touchy about my...bloodlines. And this morning, I am—” he shook his head “—a great deal more embarrassed by my family than usual.” His gaze met hers, then slipped away, reluctantly swinging back to hers again. “I’ve never been in a situation quite like this before, but that’s no reason for me to behave badly.” As the bathroom pipes upstairs stopped banging, he finished tensely, “You don’t have to feed me. As soon as my grandfather gets dressed, we’ll go.”
As he turned to leave the room, Renata caught his arm. She seemed to be doing a lot of that this morning—holding on to Michael—but she couldn’t seem
