down by a miserable armadillo.”
His answer didn’t dissuade her from her concern, though it did prompt a smile, a smile that could pump a little daylight into the dark reaches of his heart—if he allowed it to.
He tried to forget the brightness in her smile, but it wasn’t as easy to ignore her touch when her fingers brushed his shoulder softly, gently, probingly.
She knelt in front of him and examined the wound in his leg, loosening the makeshift dressing to make her own assessment of the damage. Her touch was as confident as any surgeon’s—and damningly sensual. That last thought had him sucking in a breath.
She glanced up. “Sorry—does that hurt?”
There was innocence pooled in her green eyes, the kind that could make a man believe in the world again. But that would be a tall order for Luke.
“Would a macho guy like me admit it if it did?” he returned.
That brought another smile to her pretty lips, and for one dangerous moment he wanted to crush those lips with his own, feel them part for him, taste their sweetness and that all-fired innocence of hers. There was something so natural about her, nurturing, and a serenity he envied.
“Look—we’ve got to get you cleaned up,” she said as she retied the dressing on his leg. “My truck is parked nearby. Sit still, and I’ll go get it. We can load the cycle in the back.”
He glanced at her slender body and decided the woman wouldn’t be of much use in the loading department.
“Don’t go anywhere,” she said.
As if Luke had anyplace to go in this wilderness.
As if he had anyplace to go at all.
He leaned back against the tree and watched as she disappeared on down the road. He should have asked her how far she had to go to retrieve that truck of hers. A mile? Ten miles? Luke had the feeling distance didn’t mean all that much to her, that she was well-accustomed to getting where she wanted to go—and under her own power.
He frowned at his now-useless bike and ran a hand over his jaw. How the hell had he gotten himself into this mess? But that wasn’t something he wanted to think about.
It was more than one nuisance armadillo in the road.
It was why he was on this road in the first place, what had happened in the trauma unit that one tragic night—and his inability to live with himself because of it.
He wasn’t sure how long he could keep on running from his pain—or if he could ever escape it. All he knew was that it had traveled with him every mile of his journey.
An unwanted companion on his ride to nowhere.
It didn’t take Mariah long to retrieve the truck from where she’d parked it. But there was no time for that cooling splash in the stream she’d planned on—not today.
Luke needed her attention.
Already she was thinking ahead to what herbs she had on hand to treat his cuts and bruises. That was, if he held still for her simple remedies.
He probably preferred modern medicine. But it was a long drive to the nearest clinic. She hadn’t wanted to tell him that. Or that it was an even longer drive to the nearest repair shop for his motorcycle.
The old truck started on the first try, which was something of a minor miracle. Usually she had to coax it to life, promising the metal heap she wouldn’t sell it to the first passerby.
Mariah patted the dashboard and smiled, then released the gear and turned the truck around, bouncing over the sagebrush toward the road—and Luke.
Visions of the man, minus his shirt, shimmered before her eyes. She hadn’t been able to draw her gaze away from him, from the smattering of dark, golden hair that arrowed enticingly down to his waist and disappeared beneath his low-slung jeans.
He was easily the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Not that she had seen that many handsome men—but growing up in the Hopi world, Mariah had learned to appreciate the beauty and form of nature.
And the man she’d left sitting under that spindly cottonwood tree was nature at its most perfect.
Her hands felt damp on the steering wheel, and her heart pounded way too fast. What was the matter with her? Luke was a patient, one who needed her attention. She should be concentrating on the man’s injuries, not his tempting body.
The truck coughed and sputtered over the next rise, then Luke came into view. He stood as she neared, shielding his eyes against the sun to watch her approach.
She stopped and executed a turn, backing the truck up in front of the cycle so it would be easier for them to load.
“That thing’s quite a relic,” he said, standing back to take in the truck with a slow, sweeping glance.
“At least it runs,” Mariah returned.
She lowered the tailgate with a rasp of metal, then dragged out a weather-beaten old board from the back end to use as a makeshift ramp.
“Look, you’re not exactly the weighty help I need to load this baby into the back end,” he said, running a critical eye over her smallish shape.
Mariah drew herself up taller. “That may be, but I don’t see anyone else lining up to offer his services, do you?”
Luke cursed inventively and ran a hand through his hair. He hated being at anyone’s mercy—especially a woman who heated his blood the way Mariah did.
He caught her soft scent, sweet and sun-drenched—like the flowers she collected in her basket. Her red blouse dipped just low enough at the neck to reveal the slightest hint of her delectable breasts beneath.
Her arms were bronzed by the sun, slender, capable; just not capable of raising his bike to the bed of her truck, though he had no doubt that she would try.
He had the feeling that she was accomplished at many things, that she had to be. Perhaps she was alone in the world, with no one to share the emotional and physical load she carried—or did she prefer to carry it all herself?
She made him curious, though he had no right to be anything of the sort. This was only a chance meeting of two people in time, one moment of accident that had brought them together.
He longed to feed his soul with her warmth, something he denied himself because of his failure that night in the trauma unit.
The night he couldn’t work his medical magic.
The night he failed to save his son.
Chapter Two
“This is Sunrise,” Mariah said as they passed through the tiny town of only a few businesses.
A small grocery store, an old tavern, a pizza place and a post office surrounded the small center plaza. Several square-shaped houses were scattered around the town’s outskirts. And up on the hill beyond sat the church with its old bell tower, the bell long-since
