hungry and wearing a suit and it’s the end of a long day.”
Renata gave him the sort of smile a hardworking man gives up bachelorhood to come home to. “I can find some more of Grandpa’s old clothes to fit you, Michael,” she offered, “and I can drum up something for you to eat, too. I went to the store today, so it ought to be an improvement over breakfast.”
He was so tired that he found himself laughing. “You’ve given me food and clothes and tour-guide service, Renata. Next you’ll be opening a bed-and-breakfast inn so I can spend the night.”
He regretted the words the minute they were spoken, but he could not call them back. Suddenly Renata seemed entirely too close again—too ready, too willing. Her lips seemed to beg him for a kiss, and Michael feared he didn’t have the willpower it would take to pull back.
But Renata abruptly stepped around him and headed toward an open box of clothes. “In the old days Grandpa always took in tired travelers,” she said nonchalantly. “You need to sit down and take a load off. I’ve got a spare bed.”
He knew she did. He’d been in her guest bedroom this morning, upstairs beside the small bathroom. He’d also seen Renata’s room, right across the hall.
Anticipation suddenly tightened his groin. It was a keen warning of why it would be foolish to spend the night in this house. Renata was only offering the guest room, and he had no doubt that she expected him to sleep there tonight. But a fresh kind of intimacy lurked in the darkness nonetheless, a drawing together that tomorrow or next week or next month would surely spell nothing but trouble.
“I think I’ve imposed on you enough,” Michael said tightly. “I really should go.”
“Where?” Renata asked, turning back to face him. “You’re not going to leave Tyler until you find him. The lodge is jammed to the rafters with all Eddie Wocheck’s people who came in for the ground-breaking ceremony tomorrow, and your only other choices are way back in town.”
Her logic seemed impeccable, but Michael knew he had to find a flaw in it.
“Even if you drove back,” she continued, “you know you couldn’t sleep. You’d be waiting for me to call with news, or you’d be driving by here every hour.”
He couldn’t really argue. Staying here was the reasonable choice, and she was kind to invite him. She’d be insulted if he offered to pay her, but at least she’d know that he considered it a purely practical arrangement.
“Renata, I’d feel a lot better if—”
“Michael Youngthunder, if you even suggest paying for my guest room, I swear I’ll make you sleep in the barn.”
Again he laughed. It wasn’t funny. Nothing was. But he hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours and he was punchy as hell. “I’m not looking for a roll in the hay,” he joked.
At least it seemed like a joke to him. But Renata didn’t seem to find it humorous.
“Barn, hay—you get it?”
Stonily she gathered up her grandpa’s jeans and thrust them into his arms. “Michael, you don’t need to spell it out for me. I have no intention of throwing myself at a man who’s made it clear that he hasn’t got the slightest interest in me as a woman.”
He flushed. “Renata, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. You’ve been giving me ‘no way, lady’ signals ever since you got here tonight, and now your alarm is working overtime. I know you wish you could get away from me, but until we find your grandfather we’re stuck with each other.”
He was speechless. And absolutely mortified.
“I get the message, Michael. No problem. What makes you so damn sure that I’m hot to trot with you, anyway?”
Just like that, his confidence vanished. Had he read her all wrong? Was she reminding him that compassion was one thing, attraction to an Indian quite another?
“I’m sorry,” he said lamely. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. This has been such a bizarre day. When I got here you seemed so glad to see me that I—”
“Of course I was glad to see you. I need your help on a project and your arrival saved me having to track you down. You did tell me, didn’t you, that I should give you a call if I ever needed a favor?”
Confused and embarrassed, he said, “Yes, I did. I would be happy to even the scales, Renata. It...” It’s the Winnebago way, he’d almost told her. There had been a time in his life when every thought was Winnebago. Then there’d been a time when every thought was white. Now there were surprises like this one.
He’d been disappointed when he’d thought she wanted him. Now he was upset to learn he’d been wrong. It didn’t make sense, but nothing about this crazy day did. And things were getting even worse.
Ever since he’d arrived tonight he’d been afraid of hurting Renata, but she’d just turned the tables. She’d shut him down and turned away. Surely that would be the end of it.
But as Michael watched her sashay up the basement stairs, a flush of arousal warned him that he was far too tired to lie to himself. Getting close to this woman would be stupid. Spending the night here was unwise. Sorting out in her presence the parts of him that were Winnebago would be akin to opening a Pandora’s box of trouble.
He was going to do it anyway.
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