Gotta Have It

Abby sneezed delicately into her lace hanky, and the parting words that Ken had spoken when he’d called to tell her he wasn’t showing up for the wedding echoed in her ears.

“You’re just not fiery enough, Abby. Look at you. If you were emotionally committed to me, you’d be jealous of Racine and scratching my eyes out for treating you this way. Instead you’re telling me it’s okay. That’s what’s wrong with us. Why I can’t marry you. No fire.”

And then she heard Tess say, “The best way to exorcise the Durango demon would be to find the delectable Mr. Creed and screw his brains out.”

And lastly came her mother’s dangerous challenge. “Let yourself go. Do something wild and crazy. Prove once and for all you’re not like me.”

Part of her wanted to accept the dare. Take a risk. Vanquish her fantasies.

But part of her was terrified. What if her mother was right? What if they were alike?

“Earth to Abby.” Tess snapped her fingers in front of Abby’s face.

“Huh?”

“Don’t you want to know where we’re going?”

Abby closed her eyes and braced herself for the worst. “Lay it on me.”

“A week of total pampering at the Tranquility Spa in Sedona.”

Abby opened one eye and peeked at her friend. “Sedona? Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not kidding me? Serene, slow-paced Sedona? With the soothing red rock mesas and inspirational vortices?”

“I figured peace and quiet was really what you were looking for.”

Love for her friend overwhelmed her. This was exactly the kind of regenerative trip she needed. She didn’t require endless thrills or excitement. She didn’t have to act wild and reckless in order to prove herself. All she needed was a calm place where she could relax and get some perspective on her life.

She jumped off the swing and enveloped Tess in a big hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Hey,” Tess said, “what are friends for?”

“But what about you? You wanted fun and excitement and to get laid.”

“Well.” Tess grinned. “My fantasy lover, Colin Cruz, happens to be making a movie in Sedona. I was hoping we could watch them film. Plus, you know what I heard?” She lowered her voice.

“What?”

“The electromagnetic energy in Sedona intensifies orgasmic pleasure.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Apparently, there’s no sex like vortex sex.”

2

“GOOD MORNING, HANDSOME,” the low, husky voice of Sunrise Jeep Tours dispatcher Connie Vargas oozed from the two-way radio on the dashboard.

“Morning, Connie.” Durango Creed grinned. Connie was sixty-five if she was a day, but she flirted like she was sixteen. He admired the woman’s spirit. She didn’t let her age slow her down. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not too well, cowboy.” Mischief sparkled in her tone. “You weren’t in my bed.”

“Connie, believe me, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, right. I’ve heard the rumors about you.”

“Lies, all lies.”

Connie snorted indelicately. “What about the flock of city girls who come here and personally request you as their guide? You tryin’ to tell me you don’t offer any additional services that aren’t part of our regular tour package?”

Durango pretended to be offended. “Are you impugning my virtue?”

“No, but I think your next customers might give your virtue a run for its money.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve got a pickup at Tranquility Spa. Name’s Baxter, party of two for the private Vortex Tour and the lady specifically asked for Durango Creed. She sounded very sexy too.”

“I’m on it.”

“I’m sure you are, cowboy. Over and out.”

With a shake of his head, Durango grinned and wheeled his bright orange Jeep up the narrow L’Auberge Lane and then headed west toward the secluded, chichi health spa. He blew past the Black Cow Café, the warm desert wind stirring both his hair and his blood, and hung a right at the split.

From his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of Cathedral Rock jutting proud and majestic in the distance. The sun, filtering in and out through the shifting clouds. made it appear as if the formation was in motion, a subtle, graceful dance of light and shadows. The sight of those mesas never failed to rouse something primal inside Durango.

A motorcycle came up on his left. He turned his head. The sound of the bike’s engine captured his attention. When he saw it was a Ducati he found himself thinking about Abby Archer, and a double twist of wistful longing and downright horniness knotted his gut like a pretzel.

Without any difficulty at all, he could still picture how she looked the last time he had seen her. Standing on the balcony of her father’s palatial house, wearing a thin white sheath that in the moonlight showed off every inch of her nubile seventeen-year-old body. Her dark hair, which was usually pulled back in a sleek ponytail, was hanging loose about her shoulders, her breasts rising high and firm, her creamy skin gleaming seductively.

God, she’d been something special. Just like Sedona herself. Beautiful, calm, tranquil on the surface but underneath ran all that raw passionate energy. Maybe that’s why he had ended up in Sedona. He’d always been a sucker for the fire-and-ice paradox.

And if he and Abby had ever fully explored the chemistry surging between them, they probably would have spontaneously combusted.

But she’d told him she didn’t trust him. That he was too wild, too untamed, too reckless for her. The tears shining in her eyes had belied her words, but he’d had no choice other than to leave her behind.

Durango exhaled. It was just as well nothing had happened between them. Even though they came from the same privileged world, she fit in and he never did. As evidenced by the very different paths they’d elected to walk. Abby had stayed with the tried and true and he had chosen the road less traveled.

It’s just that every once in a while, he couldn’t help wondering what if?

He turned down the secluded driveway to the spa and slowed long enough to flash his pass when he reached the security gate. The guard waved him inside and he motored around to the front entrance.

Two women stood under the awning. One was a skinny redhead dressed in funky, punky threads and high-heeled sandals that were totally inappropriate for hiking the mesa trails.

Mentally he rolled his eyes. Tourists.

The other woman was a breathtaking brunette who wore a pair of classy tailored white shorts, a red V-necked tee that enhanced her gorgeous breasts and a sensible pair of walking shoes that, in spite of their ordinary construction made her legs look extraordinary. Pricey designer sunglasses covered her eyes and a large straw hat held back her hair and shaded her face from the sun.

His mouth watered.

Strangely enough, the brunette looked a lot like Abby. She had the same full lips, same proud tilt of the head and the same dimpled chin. Maybe that’s why he was instantly attracted.

Something in his chest tugged.

Trick of the light and his imagination. He’d been thinking about Abby and now he was seeing her. He killed the engine and climbed from the Jeep to find out if they were Baxter, party of two.

He approached the redhead. “Hello, I’m with Sunrise Tours, did you ladies arrange for a—”

He broke off when the brunette inhaled sharply with a soft, well-bred sound. Quickly she reached up and snatched off her sunglasses.

His heart hammered and his palms went slick with sweat as he peered into those familiar hazel eyes.

It is Abby, he thought, at the same moment she whispered, “Durango Creed.”

FROM THE MOMENT she spied Durango’s long, lean muscular body swinging out of the Jeep, Abby knew she’d been set up.

“Tess Baxter, what have you done?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“Consider this my thank-God-the-wedding-didn’t-go-off present to you.” Tess laughed.

Before Abby had time to tell her that she was sooo dead for pulling this stunt, Durango was filling her direct field of vision with his breathtaking presence. The man was more impressive than the incredible red rock formations surrounding them.

All Abby had wanted was to come to Sedona, get a massage, maybe take a mud bath or two and have an expert facial. Her goal was to relax and regroup after getting ditched at the altar by her fiancé. But one look in those unforgettable eyes and everything changed.

She felt something shake loose in her chest, like a tearing away sensation.

Omigod, here he is, here he is in the flesh.

She curled her fingers into her fists at her sides and forced herself to breathe normally.

The years had been far more than kind. In fact, time had been embarrassingly generous. He had fully matured, his teenaged shoulders and thighs broadening into manhood. Yet he still wore that cocky, defensive bad-boy stance like a mantle of pride. His face was fuller, less rangy than it had been, but his waist was just as narrow. His hair, long and bound back in a short ponytail, was just as dark and thick. His eyes just as impossibly black.

And wicked.

He was even more gorgeous than before.

Her pulse took off, galloping like a high-spirited Thoroughbred on the last furlough of the Kentucky Derby. She stifled the urge to flee from the intensity of those eyes, which seemed to possess a secret, sinister wisdom all their own.

Then an equally compelling craving had her longing to fling herself into his arms with an ease born of intimate knowledge.

But she did neither.

Five years in the public relations business and twenty-seven years as the daughter of an influential judge had taught her how to sweep her true feelings aside in favor of the politically correct response. Abby thrust out her hand, pasted an artificial smile on her face and repeated his name.

“Well, well, well,” he said, ignoring her outstretched palm and sinking his hands onto his low-slung hips. “If it isn’t Angel Archer.”

Angel.

The sound of his old nickname for her stirred Abby inexplicably. She’d forgotten he used to call her that because she was such a Goody Two-shoes.

She stood there with her hand thrust out, feeling like a fool and not knowing how to gracefully retract it. She had the oddest sensation that if she just stretched her hand out far enough she could caress that night ten years ago, touch the girl she had once been and pull her back from making the terrible mistake of sending him away.

Fanciful, decried the critic in her head. You can’t recapture the past.

Grab him, whispered her long-buried desire. Make a new future.

And there lay the crux of her predicament. Safety on one side, passion on the other and Abby trapped firmly in the middle, immobilized.

Durango sized her up with one long, lingering glance that made her feel completely naked. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable. She didn’t like feeling out of control. And he made her feel both of these things.

Her nose itched.

Thank heavens, she’d taken an antihistamine on the drive up, even if it did make her mouth all cottony. It was better than sneezing her head off.

“After all these years, you still remember me,” he said.

“Of course she remembers you,” Tess babbled. “She still has sex dreams about you and—”

Abby trod on Tess’s instep. Shh.

“Ow!” Tess glared and hopped around on one foot, grossly exaggerating the slight injury.

Abby sent her a look that said, serves you right for interfering in my love life.

Durango’s grin widened. “And you were going to be satisfied with just shaking my hand? You haven’t changed a bit, Angel. Still holding back. Still keeping your emotions under wraps.”

“I don’t think that’s…” Abby began, but got no further.

“Come ’ere.” He strode forward, encircled her in a bear hug and lifted her off her feet.

Oh, my.

Contact with his hard, masculine body threw her into a tailspin. Her breasts were smashed flat against his broad, honed chest. He smelled delightfully of wind and sun and leather.

His muscles rippled as he squeezed her tight. His hair tickled her ear. His chin made contact with her cheek and the slight scrape of beard stubble shoved her long-dormant libido into overdrive.

She wanted him.

Badly.

Abby froze. She remembered now, with distinct clarity, why she hadn’t taken his side all those years ago when everyone in Silverton Heights had turned against him.

She’d been too afraid.

The strength of his life force was just too overwhelming, his passion too raw, his intensity too intimidating for her to handle. She had been the good girl with the stark dread of ending up bad, just like her incorrigible mother.

Durango kept holding her. His big laugh rumbled intoxicatingly in her ears, his ebony eyes sparkling with devilment, his exhilarating scent blinding her to any other smell.

No.

She would not allow herself to get swept away by the force of his energy. She would just wait him out. Eventually he would have to put her feet back on the ground.

It was like waiting out a hurricane.

He just kept standing there. Holding her.

Abby didn’t move. She most certainly did not hug him in return, but his embrace transported her back in time.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the sexually repressed young girl she had once been longing to explore the red-hot passion surging through her veins but was too scared to act. That’s why she’d kept fantasizing about Durango all these years. Because he was the flame she hadn’t been brave enough to extinguish.

At last, Durango set her down and stepped away to eye her once more.

“You look amazing,” he said huskily.

She dropped her gaze. So do you, she yearned to say but prudently murmured, “Thank you.”

“You still living in Phoenix?” His face was lively with interest, his body language compelling.

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s still living in her father’s house.” Tess rolled her eyes. “Of course, she was getting married, but that deal sort of fell through. The groom ditched her for a stripper on their wedding day. Thank heavens. Ken was all wrong for her.”

“Ken Rockford?” Durango cleared his throat.

At the private high school in Silverton Heights that they’d all three attended, Durango and Ken had been archenemies, with Ken the class president and football quarterback to Durango’s rebel without a cause, smoking in the boys’ room.

Abby nodded but didn’t look at him. Gee thanks, Tess, for making things so much more awkward.

Durango snorted but said nothing. An uncomfortable silence fell.

“I’m Tess, by the way.” Tess stepped forward to shake his hand. “Remember me? I was away at boarding school when you and Abby were dating, but we met at your father’s annual Christmas party that year.”

“Didn’t you used to be a blonde?” he asked.

“Yep, and a brunette before that and once I did the tricolor blond-brunette-red-hair thing. So I guess you could say I was a calico.” She shrugged. “I’m not like Abby who’s had the same tame hairstyle all her life. I get bored easily.”

Durango laughed. “I like you, Tess.”

“I like you too, Durango.”

Dammit, was Tess flirting with him? And criticizing her hairdo to boot? Abby experienced a flick of jealousy so hot and quick it startled her.

“Are we going to do this vortex thing or not?” she snapped, irritated with herself because she sounded jealous.

“Sure, sure.” Durango nodded. “Who’s calling shotgun?”

“Abby is!” Tess said.

“Or we could both just sit in the back.”

“No, no, you two need to catch up on old times,” Tess announced, and shoved Abby toward the passenger side of the Jeep.

“No, really, there’s no need. I’m happy with the back,” Abby argued.

But Durango was getting behind the wheel and Tess was sprawled out across the back seat.

Move over, Abby mouthed silently.

Tess shook her head.

Abby waggled her finger at her. I’m going to get even with you for this.

Saucily, Tess stuck out her tongue.

Durango started the engine, leaving Abby no choice except to climb into the passenger seat beside him.

She stopped short when she spied a credo medallion dangling from the rearview mirror. The silver lettering against the red background caught the sun and glinted enticingly.

Freefall, it read.

Freefall. Didn’t that just about sum up Durango? And her fantasies concerning him.

Her dreams always involved an element of danger and risk. In her reveries, he was usually a virile pirate or a black-hearted bandit or a lawless mercenary.

She remembered his hot kisses, how they’d both frightened and thrilled her. She recalled the way his fevered hand had felt sliding up underneath her shirt, expertly unhooking her bra. She recollected how he’d shocked her young sensibilities by pressing the length of his male hardness against her yearning thigh. She could not forget the way her heart had pounded and how much it had scared her. This desperate wanting.

And it appeared nothing had changed!

I am not giving in to desire. I’m not like my mother. I’m a controlled person. I am. I am. I am. This had been her solemn mantra in high school and it was still her mantra now.

So why did she suddenly feel like she was in an irrevocable tailspin?

Abby sneezed into a tissue and then fastened her seat belt. She dropped her hands into her lap and struggled to get her heart rate under control. She had had no concept that seeing Durango again would affect her so profoundly.

Of course if she hadn’t been ambushed by Tess’s subterfuge, she would have been more prepared for their meeting, more in control of her emotions, more patient with her distressing reaction. She shot a glance back at her wily friend, who had her face tilted up to the morning sun and was grinning one of those sneaky Cheshire-cat grins of hers.

And damn if she wasn’t softly humming, Sheryl Crow’s “All I Wanna Do.”

Abby knew the message Tess was sending. Just relax and have some fun. But how could she relax when her entire world had just tilted off its axis?

Durango put the Jeep in gear, shot around the paved circular driveway and out of the gate. Abby clutched at her hat to keep it from flying off. She could literally feel his sexual energy.

The man was potent. She had to give him that. Testosterone shimmered off him in waves.

But did she really want to explore his…um…potency?

The chemistry was still there. No denying. Bubbling, sizzling, churning. Scarier than ever.

You know that’s why you want him. Because he’s not safe. Because he is taboo.

Good grief. Why was Cassandra’s voice tap-dancing around in her head?

She could feel the current of sexuality swirling around them, a compelling nexus of desire. But was a wild fling really the answer to ending the sexual fantasies she could not shake? Or would seducing this man open up a whole new can of hurt?

She slipped her sunglasses back on and coolly said, “So what exactly is a vortex?”

He turned his head to smile at her, and her heart, which had just begun to settle down, kicked back into high gear. If the man could bottle that grin the world’s fuel problems would be solved.

“Essentially it’s the energy of the earth.”

“Oookay.”

“The energy can be magnetic, electric or electromagnetic. The magnetic vortices are considered masculine, the feminine are electric and the electromagnetic are neutral.”

“Which one of those are we going to?” Abby asked, and caught herself studying his large, masculine hands as he clutched the steering wheel.

He had such nice, long, broad fingers. She recollected how those same fingers had once tickled the underside of her throat while his hot, wet tongue had eagerly explored her ear.

Magnetic, indeed.

“We’re going to Cathedral Rock first. It’s a feminine vortex.”

“What’s supposed to happen there?”

“Maybe nothing.” Durango shrugged. “It all depends on what you’re looking for. Some people come to Sedona for spiritual growth. Others arrive searching for health and emotional well-being. Still others find themselves at a crossroad in their lives and they’re seeking guidance. Sedona is a good place to turn inward and find out what you really want.”

That’s me. I’m at a crossroad.

And she had no idea what it was she really wanted out of life.

“What kind of guidance can these earth energies give you?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“If you let yourself feel the power, they can guide you anywhere you want to go.”

“Sounds cryptic,” Tess piped up.

“It’s an individual experience. If you’re attuned, the vortex can lead you to balance and harmony in your life. Or it can point the way to an important career change. It can help you in your relationships or it can set you on the path to heightened awareness.”

“What about sex?” Tess asked.

“I’m for it,” Durango said.

Tess giggled. “Me too. But what I’ve heard is that vortex energy can enhance your sex life.”

Durango chuckled. His laugh was low and sensuous and snaked a fissure of that very heightened awareness right up Abby’s spinal column. “If that’s what you need. Sure, why not?”

“I’m betting the electromagnetic vortices are the sexiest, right?” Tess sat up and leaned over the front seat.

“I never really thought of it that way,” Durango said. “But, yeah, I suppose those would be considered the sexiest vortices. Concurrent flow and all that.”

“Do you really believe the vortices have such influential power?” Abby asked.

“Not at all,” he said. “The power is within you. The vortex is just a channel, funneling energy into whatever you bring to it. Positive or negative. Light or dark. Passionate or dispassionate.”

Abby swallowed. “All this sounds pretty out there. New Agey. Weird.”

And not at all like the old Durango she used to know. That young rebel had been full of torment and anger. He was different now. More relaxed, more philosophical, more sure of his place in the world. Plus, he didn’t seem to hold the slightest grudge against her for turning against him all those years ago. That was really nice. She approved of the changes in him.

Durango leaned over and placed the flat of his broad thumb in the center of her forehead. “Open your mind, Abby. The world is a much bigger place than your father’s circle of influence.”

She stared at him, her forehead tingling from his touch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You figure it out.” Durango’s enigmatic black eyes challenged her to go beyond the tried-and-true. He was so busy watching her that he missed his turn-off and had to corner quickly.

The tires squealed. Abby sucked in her breath and clutched the hand rest.

The credo medallion flew off the rearview mirror and dropped into her lap.

Freefall.

With shaky fingers, Abby slipped the medallion back over the mirror.

“Yee-ha!” Tess said from the back seat. “That was fun.”

“Just checking to see if you were awake,” Durango joked.

They turned down Back O’ Beyond Road. It seemed an appropriate name encircled as they were by miles and miles of the majestic red rocks. Abby had to admit there was something incredibly special about those rock mesas. No matter what you were doing, you invariably felt your eyes drawn to them.

There were other Jeeps on the road. Other tours. They drove for a while longer and then Durango found a place to park.

“We walk from here,” he said, strapping on his backpack.

The weather was temperate. A good fifteen degrees cooler than in Phoenix. The sun was bright but not overpowering. The air was peaceful. Quiet.

Abby couldn’t believe that she had lived out her entire life in Phoenix and had never once made the short two-hour trek to Sedona. She didn’t have much time for vacations. She stayed too busy with her job and running her father’s household and helping out with his political campaigns. And whenever she did take time off, she usually preferred cruising the Caribbean to checking out local hot spots.