sedona files - books one to three Page 34

  Based on his actions so far, that was exactly what he’d expected. And look where it had gotten him.

  The thought surfaced, I was only trying to keep her safe, and he couldn’t quite ignore it. Yes, he’d been an asshole, but there’d been a reason for it…a reason he’d never wanted to discuss with her, or anyone, for that matter. Digging up the past usually made things worse, not better.

  But maybe if he had…maybe if he’d trusted in the universe the way Michael had always admonished him to…

  Maybe then she wouldn’t be riding around somewhere on a motorycycle with her arms around Mr. Muy Caliente’s waist.

  That was a mental image he did not need. Well, it was way too early to start drinking, but he’d go do the next best thing. Thank God he always kept a packed gym bag stowed in the back of the Jeep.

  If he were lucky, he could wash away thoughts of Kara in another man’s arms by sweating them out instead of drowning them.

  * * *

  The road up into Jerome twisted and turned, but Grayson maneuvered the bike with casual confidence around every switchback, every loop. Now a tourist town and burgeoning artists’ colony, the one-time mining mecca clung to the side of the mountain with gravity-defying tenacity. Well, mostly gravity-defying. Some of the buildings were still sliding despite preservationists’ best efforts, and every once in a while a structure had to be torn down in the name of public safety.

  Kara didn’t know exactly why she’d thought of Jerome as a getaway. Once, a long time ago, she’d come up here with Alan. He hadn’t cared for it, found it claustrophobic and vertigo-inducing at the same time. Or possibly he just didn’t like the way the place got crowded with bikers on the weekends. They were mostly well-behaved, but they did give the place a sort of rough-and-ready atmosphere.

  Riding behind Grayson, she understood for the first time the appeal of a motorcycle — at least for all those women she’d seen over the years riding pillion behind their significant others. It was strangely intimate, the sensation of being pressed up against his back, of feeling the hard muscles of his stomach under her arms, of having to move with him as he shifted his weight to accommodate the ever-changing rise and fall of the highway. All the same, she was almost relieved when they finally pulled into town and began hunting for a place to park. Being so close to Grayson had made her start to think about being with him in even more physical ways, and she wasn’t sure she really wanted to go there yet.

  Since it was a Saturday toward the tail end of summer, the place was packed. However, because they had ridden in on a motorcycle instead of a car, they found a spot at the long end of a row of Harleys in front of the Spirit Room, a popular hangout. Even though it was barely noon, the sound of live blues-tinged rock pounded out of the place.

  The crowds milling around looked more than a little rough, and Kara began to question the wisdom of coming up here. Still, there didn’t seem to be much she could do except climb off the bike, since Grayson had already throttled it down and begun to unfasten his helmet.

  An enormous individual in a black leather vest and faded jeans paused on the curb, looking down at the motorcycle. He probably could have put her, Grayson, and the Indian through a wall without breaking a sweat. Kara swallowed.

  Then the guy gave them an approving nod and said, “’46 Chief, right?”

  “Right,” she managed.

  “Good job.” And he gave them a thumbs-up before disappearing back inside the bar.

  “What was that?” Grayson asked, as he looped his helmet’s straps around the handlebars and reached back to take her helmet from her.

  “I think we just got the stamp of approval. Which means I guess it’s okay to park here.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s a public place, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, well, there’s public and then there’s public. But I guess this old bike has a certain cachet. Just go with it.”

  A look of confusion passed over his face, but he only nodded and fastened her helmet around the other handlebar. Normally she would have worried about leaving the helmets there like that where anyone could take them, but she guessed that really wasn’t going to be an issue here.

  They headed off down the sidewalk. Kara didn’t really have a destination in mind, although she figured they’d grab some lunch fairly soon. In the meantime, though, Grayson didn’t appear to have any problem with wandering in and out of stores, looking at mineral specimens and antiques and all sorts of Arizona- and mining-themed tchotkes. She’d never had the luxury of doing so with Alan, because any kind of shopping that didn’t involve buying food or electronics bored him silly. Grayson, on the other hand, appeared to be fascinated by everything, whether it was a hunk of glittering amethyst crystals or an old copper coffee pot. They spent an inordinate amount of time in a shop that specialized in kaleidoscopes, examining everything from small plastic models obviously intended for kids all the way up to an enormous brass-bound specimen that used real pieces of crystal and other minerals to create the kaleidoscopic effect.

  “You should have gotten it,” Grayson protested after they finally emerged from the store. “It was beautiful.”

  “It was also three thousand dollars. A bit above my pay grade. Besides, it would have been too big to bring back on the motorcycle.”

  “You should have beautiful things.”

  She didn’t quite know how to respond to that. He looked so earnest, with the sunlight glinting in his jade-colored eyes as he gazed down at her. Obviously the constraints of living within a budget were not something he recalled very clearly.

  Keeping her tone light, she replied, “Right now what really sounds beautiful to me is some lunch. You hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  That was an understatement. She’d never seen him not ready to pack away a serious amount of calories. She had no idea where he put it, either. Maybe in his shoe. “Okay, well, that place a few doors down looks good. Let’s see what we can rustle up.”

  “Sure.”

  It turned out the restaurant had marvelous food. They started with portobello mushrooms and moved on from there to sandwiches — a burger for him, a chicken salad sandwich for her. Feeling a little daring, Kara ordered a glass of pinot grigio for herself and asked Grayson if he’d like something to go with his burger.

  “Maybe a glass of zinfandel?” she suggested.

  “I don’t know what that is, but sure.” He smiled across the table at her.

  Something in that smile made her feel just a little melty. It wasn’t the heat of the day outside; the restaurant had great air conditioning. And it was probably reckless to order wine, what with the impure thoughts she’d had about him on the drive up here, but at the moment she really didn’t care.

  “Zinfandel, check,” the waitress said, with a smile that seemed more than a little knowing.

  If Grayson noticed anything, he didn’t give any indication. He picked up his water and took a few healthy swallows. It had been a hot and dusty ride up into Jerome. Then he looked around the restaurant with an air of lively curiosity, as if the odd assortment of tourists and bikers was one of the most fascinating things he’d ever seen.

  “So, this is what people do?” he asked.

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Go out to public places and eat. Look at things.”

  That must have been a hell of a knock on the head he’d gotten. How he had retained enough knowledge to resurrect the Indian from the grave and yet still seemed puzzled by some pretty basic human behavior was beyond Kara.

  “Among other things, yes,” she replied. The waitress appeared with their wine, and Kara took her glass of pinot grigio gratefully before allowing herself a good swallow. “I mean, do you really not remember doing anything like this?”

  Grayson reached out and picked up his own glass of wine. “No. I don’t remember…anything.”

  “But there must be something. You fixed the bike. You rode it up here like someone who’s done that a thousand times b
efore. I don’t understand how you can have retained those sorts of skills and yet can’t recall anything of who you are or where you came from.”

  A silence then as he took a cautious sip of zinfandel. An expression of something close to joy spread over his features and lit up his green eyes, and he followed the sip with a much healthier swallow.

  “Easy there, big boy,” Kara cautioned him. “We still have to get down the mountain.”

  “It’s supposed to have some sort of effect?”

  “Um…yeah. Okay, maybe not after just a couple of sips, but still…” She drank some pinot grigio and nodded. “You really didn’t feel anything at all?”

  He drank again, two more big swallows, then shook his head.

  Nice party trick. “Well, I’d still be careful. Sometimes it sneaks up on you.” On the other hand, she thought, I might have found the world’s best-looking designated driver. “Anyway,” she continued, “I really do think we should get you in to see someone. I have a friend, Janelle Russo, who’s a licensed hypnotherapist. Does past-life regressions, that sort of thing. Not that we need to send you back to a past life — we just want to find out what happened to the one you were living up until three days ago.”

  A shrug. “If it’s important to you.”

  “Isn’t it important to you?”

  “I’m not sure.” He drained the rest of his zinfandel and started looking around for the waitress. “Maybe there’s a good reason why I can’t remember anything.”

  Those words sent a little shiver through her. Maybe he was right and they should just let well enough alone. But she knew it wouldn’t do him any good to keep blundering on without knowing who he was and where he had come from. Even unwelcome knowledge was better than ignorance.

  She’d have to keep telling herself that.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Even though temperatures had pushed into the mid-nineties, Jerome was rocking and rolling that afternoon. The crowds spilled out of the Spirit Room and flowed into the side street that ran along the bar’s western side, turning the narrow lane into an impromptu block party. Local law enforcement didn’t seem too worried, but just let the people go where they wanted.

  The pounding bass line got into Kara’s blood, and she grasped Grayson by the hand and pulled him toward the music. Already people were dancing in the street, keeping themselves hydrated by passing around bottles of water and sometimes dumping the water right on their heads or down their necks. Looking bemused but game, he followed along after her as she pushed her way into the throng.

  “Don’t suppose you remember dancing, either,” she said, raising her voice so he could hear her over the music.

  “No.”

  “It’s easy.”

  Her daring probably had its origins in that second glass of pinot grigio she’d drunk, but she wasn’t going to worry about it right now. The music settled down into a slower piece, and she put her hands on Grayson’s shoulders and drew him to her. He gave a quick glance around as if to see what other people were doing and then wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her even closer.

  This close, he was far more intoxicating than the wine. She could sense the heat of his body through the T-shirt — which was getting damper by the second in the brutal heat — feel his muscles moving under her fingers as he swayed with her to the music. When was the last time she’d danced with somebody like this? Years, definitely.

  Scratch that. She’d never danced like this, out in the sun, energy seeming to swirl and shimmer in the very air. And she’d certainly never been with anyone like Grayson. Truth be told, she didn’t think there could be anyone else like Grayson.

  He seemed to feel it, too, his smile flashing white as he gazed down into her face, watching her closely. God knows what she must have looked like, with sweat plastering her hair to her brow and lips bare of gloss, since she’d forgotten to put some back on after lunch…but he didn’t seem to mind too much. If anything, he moved closer, their bodies now locked from shoulder to hip. Once upon a time she might have cared, but everyone around them was doing pretty much the same thing.

  The force of the desire that passed over her was so strong she would have staggered if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly. It reminded her of the one and only time her mother had taken her to California and brought her to the beach. No real altruism there — Marybeth Swenson had been pursuing some man or the other at the time — but still, Kara had gotten to stand in the water, feel it rushing around her legs and feet. And then she’d gone out a little farther and almost been knocked down when a wave came out of seemingly nowhere and engulfed her up to her waist.

  The sensation was similar now, of being surrounded by a force she couldn’t control or even resist. And that wasn’t like her. Not Careful Kara, who always looked before she leaped.

  Grayson’s hands slipped from her waist, and she realized the song had ended. She put her hand up to her forehead and felt how overheated she’d really become.

  “I think we’d better go inside for a cool drink.”

  He smiled at her.

  “Not that kind of a cool drink. Just some ice water.”

  “All right.” His tone was casual, and if he’d had the same kind of physical response to her that she’d had to him, he sure wasn’t showing it.

  They went in the bar and overpaid for a couple of glasses of ice water, but Kara didn’t really care. It was only fair to give the place some custom, considering they’d been dancing to the lounge’s musical offerings for free. And after they’d cooled down sufficiently, they headed back out to the street. Not to dance; she thought she’d skirted the edge of danger there, and since Grayson hadn’t shown any particular interest in going another round, better to head on to something a little more innocuous.

  “Wine tasting?” he asked, staring at a sandwich board propped up on the sidewalk in front of one of the shops. “Isn’t that what we did at lunch?”

  “Not really. We ordered wine with lunch. When you do a wine tasting, you generally get a sampling of the different wines from one particular winery. We’ve got quite a few around here, believe it or not. Mostly down in Page Springs, that area.”

  “Let’s try some. I want to see what a wine tasting is like.”

  “I’m not sure I’m cooled down enough for that — ”

  “You like wine, don’t you?”

  Since Kara knew he wouldn’t believe her if she answered in the negative, she just lifted her shoulders. “Sure I do. But we can only buy one bottle if we find something we like. I couldn’t fit anything more than that in my bag.” She’d transferred everything to her one purse that was backpack-style so she could wear it over her shoulders while they rode, but since it wasn’t a true backpack, it had a limited carrying capacity.

  “No problem.”

  He held the door open for her as she went in, and she had to smile inwardly at his contradictions. He didn’t seem to notice or care that she was dropping a good chunk of change during this little outing of theirs, and yet he always made sure to open doors or do the sorts of things her grandmother used to refer to as “gentlemanly.” Oh, well, she could afford to splurge every once in a while…although if he suggested dinner at l’Auberge or Rene’s once they were back in Sedona, she’d have to put her foot down. Enough was enough.

  Any irritation she might have felt evaporated once she crossed into the wine-tasting shop. The space was light and airy, with high-beamed ceilings, but what immediately drew the eye was the amazing full-wall window on the southeast side of the building. It looked out over the Verde Valley, offering an incredible vista of desert canyons and golden-brown hills. The day was clear enough you could see all the way to Lookout Mountain in Flagstaff, although a mass of bruise-colored clouds had begun to build up above the Mogollon Plateau, bringing with it the threat of the monsoon rains. She’d have to keep an eye on that — riding back in the rain didn’t sound too appealing.

  They crossed to the bar and made their selections, a mix of whit
es and reds. She liked both, and obviously Grayson didn’t recall enough of his previous existence to have a preference one way or the other. For all she knew, he’d been a beer-drinking guy back in the day.

  He didn’t show much evidence of that as he sampled the offerings with her, though. All seemed to meet his approval.

  “Just one, remember?” she said.

  A flash of those green eyes as he grinned. “All right, if I have to choose, I like the red blend. The one with the moo — ”

  “Mouvedre,” she supplied.

  “That one.”

  The shop’s proprietor — Kara got the feeling he was the owner, too — packaged up the wine for them. If he was a little disappointed that they were walking away with only one bottle, he didn’t show it.

  “You two have a nice rest of your afternoon,” he said.

  They thanked him and headed out. Kara was surprised to see that the sun had already begun to dip behind the mountain. Sunset was still a few hours off, but she hadn’t thought they’d spent so much time here. She glanced down at her watch and saw it was pushing on toward six o’clock.

  “That was a great view,” Grayson commented. “Anyplace else we could find something like that?”

  “Almost anything in town, probably, but I think I remember there being a lookout spot a few levels up. Ready for a climb?”

  Another one of those quick, flashing grins. “Are you?”

  “It’ll give me a chance to work off lunch. Come on — I think we need to take those stairs over there.”

  The narrow little concrete staircase did in fact lead up to the next terrace, but the overlook in that spot was still crowded with tourists, so they gamely pressed on to the next one, which was deserted. It figured. People in general were only willing to go so far to get a great view.

  Up here the wind was stronger, pulling at Kara’s loose hair. It whipped around her face, and she had to reach up to push it back. Good thing her sunglasses protected her eyes from the wayward strands.