Tender Taming by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

made a trek to her car and procured her things.
    Smiling with gratitude, Whitney leaped from the bed to burrow through her clothing. She was thankful that she was well supplied with jeans. Grabbing a pair, she delved through her more feminine blouses and chose a plain, tailored western-style shirt in a light blue denim. Serviceable certainly! She only had one pair of boots with her, and they were fashionable, soft kid leather. They would be better than nothing, she decided. They would be ruined, but they were replaceable and her feet were not!
    By the time she had finished dressing and had returned the bed to its original couch state, the pleasant aroma of something cooking began to drift through the window. Giving the room a once-over glance and satisfying herself that she had left it impeccably neat, Whitney brushed her hair into a tie at the back of her neck and hurried out the cabin door.
    On the top step Whitney paused and allowed her eyes to roam over the landscape. Things had changed overnight. The cabin, she realized, was built on a spit of high ground, and it was surrounded by a semblance of lawn. In the distance the sawgrass rippled in the breeze, shimmering like foam-flecked waves on an ocean. To the far left she could see an oasis of cypress trees, dripping prettily with moss. The scene, she had to admit, was beautiful.
    “Whitney! Come on down.”
    Her attention drawn back to the present, Whitney snapped her gaze to the right edge of the “lawn.” White Eagle, similarly appareled as herself in a dark blue work shirt and black jeans, was leaning over one knee as he poked at a small cooking fire. Whitney caught his brilliant blue gaze, and little butterflies began to flutter in her stomach. How could anyone be so damned, rawly attractive?
    And he wasn’t alone. A sandy-haired young man in a Coors beer T-shirt and sneakers sat on the other side of the fire with a woman as stunningly attractive as White Eagle. Her eyes were the same brilliant blue, her hair the same slick raven black. It hung down to her waist in shining waves, framing a good-natured, beautifully sculpted face. For a moment Whitney felt her heart pull with the strings of jealousy. Then a silly smile of relief twitched her lips. With the remarkable resemblance, the woman could only be White Eagle’s sister.
    Her hands stuffed shyly into her pockets, Whitney started across the grass toward them, realizing happily that Eagle had used her first name. In fact, after having addressed her as Miss Latham during their early conversations, he had also called her Whitney when he had come to comfort her after her nightmare …
    “Miss Whitney Latham,” he was saying now as he stood with the sandy-haired man and the woman, “I’d like you to meet my sister, Katie Eagle, and her husband, Randy Harris.”
    As Whitney accepted their friendly handshakes and returned their welcoming smiles, she wondered uneasily why it seemed that her host had stressed the surname Eagle and glanced warningly at his sister. It must have been her imagination, she decided; no one else had appeared to notice.
    “Randy is with the Bureau of Indian Affairs,” White Eagle added as they all sat back down around the fire. “He’s in charge of some of the cattle projects at the Big Cypress Reservation. He and Katie have volunteered to show you around up there next week.”
    “Thank you,” Whitney acknowledged, studying the woman again as she accepted a cup of coffee from Eagle. Katie wore jeans as did her brother, but her blouse was of colorful Indian design. The handiwork was intrinsic, with row after row of bright trim.
    “We’re thrilled that you’re really interested,” Katie told her with an endearing eagerness. “When we first heard that T and C Development was willing to negotiate, we didn’t believe it, in all honesty,” she said apologetically. “My brother tells me that you’re even willing to try life in the Glades for a week.” Was Whitney imagining it, or