window, lost in her own world. A strand of blond hair blew across her face, lingering on her lips before she brushed it away.
Luke forced his gaze back to the road. As lovely as the sight of her near-naked form had been at the pond yesterday, it was her armpit, of all things, that had driven him over the edge. He’d been doing a passable job of controlling himself. The ice cold water had helped. But when she’d rubbed that herbal stuff under her arm, he’d been struck by the ridiculous urge to lick her there like a snow cone, and his entire body had gone rigid.
It was crazy! He’d never ogled a woman’s armpit before, let alone fantasized about making out with it. After thirty years in Vegas, he should have been anesthetized to sex, but one day with Shay Phillips had him panting like a teenager.
This morning he’d been no more successful at curbing his wayward thoughts. Watching a woman shave her legs was kind of a turn-on, he supposed, when the woman had legs like hers. Pale and silky-looking, miles long, a symphony of skin. He’d seen one soapy rivulet run down the inside of her thigh and wanted to follow its path with his tongue. From there, his mind had taken the natural progression, and he’d been down on his knees before her, mentally, when her little brother walked in.
He’d had to start a conversation about basketball to give himself time to recover.
Of course, she’d known exactly what she was doing. A woman didn’t frolic about half-naked or caress her slippery-smooth, soap-slick legs in front of a man unless she wanted to work him up into a lather.
The last thing he needed was to get involved with someone like her right now. She wasn’t his type. She wasn’t even his
Besides, he’d come here to lay low, not to get laid.
Tenaja Falls was supposed to be a kind of sabbatical for him, an opportunity to pick up the pieces of his career and reshape his outlook on life. Things had gone south in Vegas, personally and professionally. The casino kingpins he’d been investigating had won the battle. They’d almost taken him out for good.
A near-death experience tended to change a man, encourage him to reevaluate his priorities and consider what had almost slipped from his grasp.
Instead of discovering what was most important to him, Luke had come up empty-handed. He loved his family, but they all had their own lives, peripheral to his. His stepsister, Lauren, had a child of her own and another on the way. His intense focus on work had left him with few friends outside of law enforcement, and even fewer relationships with women.
He wasn’t sure what he was searching for, but he didn’t think he’d find it in a struggling town, a temporary job, or a meaningless fling.
“So where should we set this trap?” he asked, trying to refocus. They were on their way to preserve headquarters to pick up supplies. She’d run the plan by Mike Shepherd, her boss, with one caveat: no lethal force. Today, they’d take tranquilizer guns instead of rifles. If the mission was successful, Mike would send air support, and Shay would run tests on the sedated animal at HQ herself.
“The best place might be near the tenajas on Los Coyotes.”
“Tenajas?” he said, glancing at her.
“You don’t know what it means?”
“Should I?”
“It’s an Indian word.”
He felt his lips curve into a humorless smile. “And we Indians all speak the same language, right?”
“I know you don’t,” she insisted, frowning at his sarcasm. “But you said you’re Luiseno. The people of Los Coyotes are Cahuilla. Both are descendants of Shoshoni, and the languages have a Uto-Aztecan base. Lots of the words are similar.”
He arched a brow at her and she blushed. Was she embarrassed about being educated? “Well, I’ve never heard it,” he admitted. “What does it mean?”
“Tenajas are seasonal pools. Natural rock basins that fill with water after a period of rain. They usually form along streambeds that are dry in summer.”
Hadn’t Garrett said something about seasonal pools? “Are they protected?”
“They’re supposed to be, because so many animals use them as a water supply, but state and federal laws vary. The Cahuilla have been better about preserving the habitat than most Californians, until recently.”
“What happened?”
“The casino craze.” She cast him an uncertain look. “Not that I have anything against gambling. Or self- reliance. But with new roads, land development, increased traffic…” She sighed. “The impact on local wildlife will be significant.”
“You would prefer the people languish in poverty?”
“No.” She threaded her fingers though her ponytail, a contemplative expression on her pretty face. Before leaving her house, she’d changed into a brown tank top and tan pants. The sedate colors didn’t suit her, but a full night’s rest did, because she looked even better than she had yesterday. And so achingly young, with her fresh- scrubbed skin, unpainted lips, and freckled cheeks, that he felt like a lecher for wanting her. “There is no easy solution.”
“So where are these tenajas? Five miles uphill?”
“Not quite that far,” she said with a laugh, dropping a glance at his thighs. “Why? Are you sore?”
Experiencing an ache that had nothing to do with hiking, he grunted a noncommittal response. “I’ll have to talk with tribal police before we head out.”
“That goes without saying,” she murmured, looking out the window. “You can’t set foot on Los Coyotes without their permission.”
They made a brief stop at Dark Canyon, loading up the tranquilizer guns, camouflage mesh, drinking water, and energy bars. To her pack, Shay added something that looked like a bullhorn. It made a sound like a dying deer, she explained. Like the blood lure they’d used before, the horn was sure to attract carnivores, even those from miles away.
As he drove along the dirt road toward the reservation, Luke began to sweat. It was only midmorning, getting hotter by the minute, and he wasn’t looking forward to the remainder of the day. This job as interim sheriff wasn’t much better than paid leave. It was supposed to be a cakewalk, not a lion hunt.
To top it off, he didn’t expect a warm reception at Los Coyotes. The Cahuilla and Luiseno may have had a common heritage, and a similar language, but like many neighboring tribes, they also had a history of strife. It wasn’t easy to ingratiate yourself with men whose grandfathers had warred with your grandfathers.
And reservation politics had never been his forte.
The guard at the gated entrance waved them on, and as Luke made his way down the gravel road that served as Los Coyotes’ main drag, he was struck by a wave of nostalgia. So much about it was familiar, but it didn’t feel like home. He’d been born on a reservation just like this, and sent back to visit every summer until he turned eighteen.
That place had never felt like home, either.
The houses here were modest, adobe-style, one-story, tile-roofed. Some had busted windows, covered with tar paper. Others had piles of rubble on the lawn. Chunks of concrete, broken-down appliances, and twisted lengths of rebar waited to be hauled away.
Like in Tenaja Falls, and Pala, his hometown, children and dogs roamed free.
There were signs of hardship, of disorganization and disillusionment, but there were also hints of prosperity. New trucks sat alongside rusted jalopies. On Sunday, men were working on household projects, evidence that they were not only gainfully employed, but spending part of their paychecks to better their living conditions. The casino wasn’t even open for business yet, and people were already benefiting.
Not all of the townsmen were involved in industrious pursuits, of course. It was shy of noon, early for drinking, but if Los Coyotes was anything like Pala, more than a couple of cold ones had already been cracked.
Refusing to let himself drift into the past, Luke swallowed back the taste of bitterness as he pulled into the parking lot of a small stucco building that passed for the tribal police station. As soon as the truck rolled to a stop, Shay made a little sound of feminine surprise and jumped out, right into another man’s arms.
He was about Jesse’s age, ten years younger than Luke, and although he had sun-streaked brown hair and blue eyes, the darkness of his skin and the tribal police uniform he was wearing gave away his heritage.
“You get prettier every year,” the guy said when he released her.
