Cherokee. Sheri WhiteFeather

rose from the bench, his gaze searching hers for the answer she refused to give. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

      “Honestly, Adam. I’ll be fine. Thank you for dinner. For the dress.” Something she should have never accepted. Gathering the bag of her old clothes, she left him standing at the bench, Chinatown dazzling around him.

      Three

      A week passed, and Adam still battled his emotions. His work day had ended, but he sat in the conference room at the clinic, checking his watch. Then rechecking it. In twenty minutes, he had an appointment with Sarah. He hadn’t spoken to her since their date, and he’d expected her to reschedule his facial, refer him to another esthetician. But she hadn’t done that.

      Of course not. She was too professional to turn away a client, to let personal feelings interfere with her job.

      And what exactly were her feelings? he wondered. To him, their kiss had seemed so right, so naturally erotic, especially when she’d made those sexy little sounds. Like a stray kitten, he thought, mewling in satisfaction. Now that damn fantasy wouldn’t go away.

      Maybe she didn’t want to be the object of his desire, the woman he lusted after. Adam frowned. Had he really put his hands all over her? Yeah, he had. And even though he longed to do it again, he still owed her an apology. That kiss had been a little too wild, too hungry for public display.

      An apology would set things right. They could be friends, couldn’t they? They didn’t have to get romantically involved. He could lay his urges to rest, but he couldn’t let Sarah go. Not completely.

      He was too caught in the mystery surrounding her. Why was she hiding from her heritage? What could have possibly happened to turn her away from her roots? Adam needed to know. Being Cherokee was their link, a bond he hoped to strengthen.

      He left the clinic and entered the salon. The blond receptionist grinned when she saw him. He returned her smile, but just as he approached the desk, he spotted Sarah coming around the corner.

      The blonde spoke up first. “Sarah, your five o’clock is here.”

      “Thank you, Tina,” she responded, shifting her gaze to Adam.

      He walked toward her, and she slipped her hands in her pockets. She wore a white lab coat over her clothes, but it didn’t make her look clinical. Instead she looked pure—a dark-haired, dark-eyed angel.

      “Hi,” he said.

      “Hi,” she repeated, her voice fighting a strained note. “Go ahead and change, and I’ll meet you in the treatment room.”

      “Okay.” He knew the receptionist was watching, and he knew it made Sarah even more uncomfortable than she already was. He should cancel the facial, let her off the hook, but he needed some quiet time with her, to apologize without an audience.

      Five minutes later, he entered the treatment room, shirt in hand. He hung it on a nearby hook and waited for Sarah to acknowledge him. She was still setting up, filling disposable containers with creams and lotions.

      She turned, and their eyes met. Silence, still and awkward, engulfed the room. Neither spoke. Adam became aware of everything—the pounding of his heart beneath the robe, the hitch in Sarah’s breath, the way her hands shook.

      He had no right to put her through this. He had to ease the tension. Walking toward her, he managed a smile, even though his heart picked up speed. Being near her did that to him, he realized. And it wasn’t a comforting thought, trying to calm a woman when he wasn’t particularly stable himself.

      Sensuality sizzled between them. Nervous and edgy, maybe. But it was there, a thickness in the air he couldn’t deny. Couldn’t control.

      “Let me help,” he said, reaching for one of the disposable containers.

      “No, it’s okay, I can…”

      Their fingers brushed, an innocent touch that sent shock waves through his unstable heart, his yearning body.

      Sarah must have felt it, too. She pulled back, knocking over a nearby jar. It rolled onto the floor, spilling a citrus-scented lotion.

      “Damn it.” Her voice shook as badly as her hands. She dashed over to the paper-towel dispenser and tore one in her haste. “I can’t seem to do anything right today.”

      Because of me, Adam thought. Because their attraction was so intense.

      She knelt on the floor and began soaking up the mess. He lowered himself beside her. “It was my fault,” he said, taking the paper towels away from her. “I startled you.”

      “It was an accident.” Avoiding eye contact, she released an audible breath. “I’ll get something to clean up the residue.” She went to a cabinet and returned with a spray cleanser and another wad of paper towels.

      They worked side by side, concentrating on the task at hand. They didn’t look at each other, didn’t speak. Instead they gazed at the vinyl floor as if the pattern held great importance.

      “I think we should cancel the facial,” he said, when the overwhelming silence became too much to bear.

      “I think so, too.” She sat back on her heels. “I’m just not myself today. I almost called in sick.”

      Which said it all, he thought. She had been anxiety-ridden about seeing him, enough to make herself ill. His apology was long overdue.

      “Sarah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get carried away last week. I shouldn’t have kissed you the way I did. And certainly not in public.”

      She twisted a dry paper towel. “I…um…we both got carried away. It wasn’t all your fault.”

      “Then why don’t we start over?” He stood and offered her a hand, trying to keep his voice casual, his heartbeat steady.

      She accepted his hand, but let go the moment she was on her feet. Leaning over, she picked up the soiled paper towels, then tossed them into the wastebasket. “I don’t think we should go out again. I don’t think it would work.”

      “I meant as friends.” He tried not to frown. The rejection stung, even if he had been prepared for it. “I know you’re not comfortable dating me. But I think we have a lot in common, and I’d like to be friends.”

      She sent him a small smile. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

      “Then you’re willing to start over?”

      Sarah nodded, although a part of her could still taste his kiss, feel the heat of his body next to hers. Struggling with the image, she sanitized her hands, wringing them together. In spite of their attraction, friendship was best. Dating Adam was out of the question.

      Why? she asked herself. Why was she going to deprive herself of his kiss, his touch?

      Because it might lead to sex, a step she wasn’t ready to take. How could she become intimate with a man obsessed with finding his Cherokee family when she had left her own behind? And then, of course, there was her virginity. She couldn’t pretend that her moral upbringing didn’t matter. She had made a promise to her mother. And she couldn’t forget that youthful vow.

      Don’t give yourself to a man unless he’s special to you, unless you love him.

      But how will I know the difference?

      You’ll know, sweet Sarah. You’ll know.

      She could see herself sitting on the edge of a lace-draped bed, gazing at her mother, her head filled with wonder. It could have been yesterday. Or it could have been a lifetime ago. A dreamy twelve-year-old girl who had just experienced her first menstrual cycle.

      I’ll wait for the right man, Mom. I promise.

      She blinked, looked at Adam and noticed how stunning he was—the planes and angles of his face, the broad shoulders, slim hips. And his smile, that warm, genuine smile.