Sacred Ground Read Online Free PDF

clenched teeth. "I'll prove the signature isn't his."
    "I can't," Brett admitted.
    "Can't or won't?" she asked, pushing straw around with the tip of her moccasin.
    "Someone tore my office apart. Several things were missing, the receipt was among them."
    "How convenient for you," she drawled in a heavy sarcastic tone. "Now I'm supposed to believe my husband barged into your study and stole it? Sorry, I'm not convinced. Come up with the truth, I might."
    "You always such a hard ass or is it just me? I think you could be soft and sexy, but I have the feeling you never let anyone get close enough to find out. From what I hear, Gordon hadn't reached your heart either."
    "What Gordon touched or didn't touch is my business. I heard when Lorraine divorced you and ran back to New York ; you didn't exactly shed any tears. Did you?"
    The way he tucked his shirt in, she felt certain he planned on heading for the door.
    Willow didn't look him straight in the eyes. She couldn't; what if he read the truth beneath her attempted stern exterior? Her mind told her to have nothing to do with Brett. Then why did her body betrayed her when he came near? Determined to stay distant, she would ignore the tingle from his touch, the breathlessness from his nearness, the moistness from watching his muscles move across his naked torso.
    He checked Thunder, Little Thunder, and Shadow. Willow pulled the dry towel around her shoulders, and then wearily nestled down in the straw . . . content to watch him. She didn't miss the tenderness of his touch while rubbing the newborn's neck. Listening to his deep, soothing voice, not really hearing the words, soothed her tensed body.
    Her lids grew heavy and she succumbed to the exhaustion that overwhelmed her.
     
    * * *
     
    Brett leaned, cushioned his elbow on the straw and watched Willow sleep. He knew it invaded her privacy, and that she'd be madder than a bee in a jar if she knew, but he couldn't help himself.
    He especially liked the pout of her full, soft lips. He longed to feel them touching his own, willingly, exploring, demanding. He yearned to feel the weight of her round, full breasts in the palm of his hands. He wanted to feel her long silky legs wrapped around his waist, encouraging, pulling him closer, deeper . . .
    God! Why did she taunt him this way? Women were clamoring to be the next Mrs. Turner, and he daydreamed about making wild, passionate love with Willow Howling Moon. What possessed him to want an Indian?
    And whatever possessed him to tell her the truth about his mother being raped? Damn! He'd never told anyone. After stewing a moment, he decided to be honest. Brett knew damn well he told her so he could point out what bastards her People were. She needed to know he wanted nothing to do with being a stinking Indian. But instead of evoking anger and hostility, she'd showed him compassion and understanding. That he hadn't expected from her.
    He couldn't help liking her. He never thought he'd ever say that about Willow . Strange as it seemed, he even looked forward to their discussions. He loved how her dark brown eyes flashed sparks of amber when she got angry. He liked how her dimples deepened when she smiled. Her laugh sounded like the singing of a joyous meadowlark.
    He wanted to go skinny-dipping with her in the mountain pond. He wanted to take her floating on his rubber raft down the Missouri Breaks. He wanted to share his find of an underground sod house. Why he had a need to do all these things, he didn't know.
    Once he got past her invisible shield, he felt certain he'd find the most passionate, heart-warming woman he'd ever met.
    He rested his head back on the straw, alongside Willow . The warmth of her body touched his. He thought about her willingness, no eagerness, to help deliver the calves. She'd been great.
    Merely hours ago he'd have killed every buffalo in sight. Now, he'd just saved a buffalo cow and her two calves. Why did he feel so good about it? It'd been years since he