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  “But of course he did.” Her mother gave a dry laugh and took a drag of her cigarette. “Wayne is nothing if not sensible.”

  She said “sensible” as if it was a dirty word.

  They sat in silence. Her mother smoking, Abby kicking more dirt onto her slippers.

  “You wanna go shoe shopping or something?” Cassandra asked. Bonding over a sale on Manolo Blahniks was her mother’s answer to everything.

  “I’m doing okay.” Abby forced a smile. “Honest. You can go back to Tahoe with Tad, guilt free.”

  “It’s Tab, darling.”

  “Whatever.”

  Her mother reached over and brushed a lock of hair away from Abby’s forehead. “Ken wasn’t right for you. You do know that.”

  “I think I sort of got the clue when he didn’t show up at the altar.”

  “You are much too passionate for a dullard like him, my dear.”

  “Apparently Ken isn’t all that dull. He caught Racy Racine’s attention.”

  Cassandra waved a hand. “That won’t last. The stripper is just out for his money. Soon as she discovers he’s as exciting as watching paint dry she’ll abscond with his wallet and he’ll come crawling back to you. But don’t you dare take him back. Like I said, you’re much too lusty for the likes of him.”

  Abby laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, right. I’m so lusty even dull Ken deserted me.”

  “You just hide your passion because you’re scared that if you let yourself go you’ll turn out like me.”

  “I’m not like you. Not in the least,” Abby protested, and then she sneezed.

  “Deny it all you want, sugar babe. That sneeze says it all.”

  “I have allergies!”

  “Then how come you only sneeze when the topic of conversation turns to passionate feelings?”

  “I sneeze at other times.”

  “Do you really?”

  “Yes.” No.

  Cassandra just smiled knowingly. “Like it or not, my hot Gypsy blood courses through your veins and those sneeze attacks are nature’s way of trying to get you to realize it.”

  Abby thought of Durango and a flame of fear leaped into her heart. Could it be true? Was she sitting on a volcano of passion that was just waiting to erupt and spew disaster on everyone in her path?

  She swallowed. “It’s nothing a good antihistamine won’t cure.”

  “You wish. Truth is, you’re just aching to express your secret inner desires. Deep down inside, you know that’s the case.”

  “You’re wrong. I have no secret inner desires,” Abby fibbed, and crinkled her nose to keep from sneezing.

  “Then why do you have Tess for a friend.”

  “Because I like her.”

  “And why do you like her?”

  “Because she’s fun.”

  “Exactly. You made her your best friend so you can live through her vicariously. She does all the things you’re afraid to do and you tag along. But sooner or later, no matter how hard you try to sublimate it, that passion of yours is going to come bursting out. Just like it did with me.”

  “Not if I refuse to give in to it.”

  “It’s bigger than your will, darling. God knows I tried to be a good wife to Wayne and a good mother to you. I tried to live the suburban lifestyle, but it just wasn’t possible. I felt suffocated, smothered, invisible. I had to be me and I won’t apologize for that.”

  “You don’t have to justify yourself.”

  “I’m not justifying myself. Don’t you get it? I’m trying to warn you.”

  “Warn me?”

  “Once you open that Pandora’s box, Abby, once your true passion is released, watch out. There’s no going back.”

  “So what you’re saying is that I’m correct in suppressing my impulsive, irrational desires in favor of calm, cool, calculated objectivity.”

  “No, what I’m saying is that sooner or later you’re going to have to face up to who you really are. And when you do, you’ll stop having ‘allergies.’ Sooner or later something has to give. You can’t keep trying to be this perfect person just to please your father.”

  “You’re so off base it’s laughable.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then prove it,” her mother challenged.

  “Prove it?” Abby blinked. What was Cassandra talking about?

  “Let yourself go. Do something wild and crazy and uninhibited.”

  “Wild and crazy and uninhibited,” Abby echoed.

  “Yes. Clear it up in your mind. Establish once and for all that you’re not like me,” Cassandra continued. “Go on a trip where you don’t know anyone and make a complete fool of yourself. Pick up a stranger. Have great sex. Emulate Tess.”

  “There’s no need for that.”

  “Really? Are you trying to tell me you’re not plagued by secret fantasies of breaking loose, breaking out, breaking away?”

  Abby swallowed but did not answer.

  “Give it a shot. If I’m wrong and you’re not this passionate naughty girl trapped in a good girl’s body, then nothing bad will happen. You’ll come home with some nice memories, you’ll resume your safe, stable life and you can rest peaceful in the knowledge that passion will never induce you to run out on your husband and kid.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for your input.” She sat on her hands because she didn’t want Cassandra to see they were trembling. “Your motherly advice is incredibly valuable at this stage of my life.”

  “Why, Abby, are you being sarcastic?” Her mother looked amused.

  “Sorry, I’ve had a bad day.”

  “Don’t back off now. Stand up for yourself. Let me have it. Show some passion.”

  But Abby wasn’t about to give her mother the satisfaction of losing her composure. “Have a safe trip home.”

  “I’m being dismissed?” Her mother’s grin widened, and she got to her feet and retrieved her empty champagne glass.

  “I love you, Mom,” Abby said. “But we’ll never see eye to eye on this issue.”

  “Oh you dear, sweet, innocent girl.” Cassandra dropped a dry kiss on her cheek, then turned and sashayed away, leaving the scent of honeysuckle and cloves lingering on Abby’s skin.

  Two minutes after her mother had returned to the rectory, Tess came bouncing back outside, beaming like a flood lamp and waving a piece of paper in her hand. “I found us the perfect getaway spot.”

  With a sinking sensation, Abby wondered if they would be shooting craps in Vegas or getting smashed on hurricanes in the French Quarter or mamboing with Latin lovers in Miami.

  Could she do this? Should she do this? Would she do this?

  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 hi
gh-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.