A Certain Kind of Hero by Kathleen Eagle Page A

that if she fell apart and the pieces of her scattered across the floor, he wouldn’t be able to put them together. He wanted to fix things for her, but he didn’t know how. Arlen Skinner saw her as an outsider, and she sure as hell looked like one.
    But this was Raina—Peter’s mother, Jared’s widow and Gideon’s…
    Gideon’s what?
    Sister-in-law. That was enough. She was family. The Indian way, he needed no more explanation, no other excuse. It didn’t matter who he was or what office he held, she was family, just like Peter, and she deserved his protection, his care, all the comfort he could give her. He took both her shoulders in his hands, effectively pinning her to the refrigerator. Ask me, he willed. Care, comfort, the strength in my body—they’re yours for the asking.
    But that was not what she asked. She lifted her chin, her eyes pleading with him to use his power on her behalf, whatever power he had to steer the course of events.
    Her silent, desperate plea clawed at his heart. The power she wanted didn’t extend to her. It was for Peter and Oscar, even Arlen. But it was not for Raina. He was the chairman of the Pine Lake Band of Chippewa. And there was nothinghe could honestly say to allay a white woman’s fear. There was no promise he could make—honestly—and there was precious little he could give her in exchange for her tears.
    He pulled her away from the refrigerator, drew her close until her shirtfront touched his, until he could feel the small, delicate impressions of her breasts through the layers of cloth. He slid his hands over her shoulders slowly, maintaining the lock his eyes had on hers, giving her fair notice, ample warning. Her eyes slid closed, and a tear escaped. One sparkling tear slipped down her cheek. He caught it on his tongue, tasted its wonderful saltiness, murmured something about her liking this better, this would be better, this would be…
    A kiss. That was all. There was power in it for him, but little promise for her. Maybe she knew that. Maybe she didn’t. When he felt her arms encircle him, he didn’t care either way. All he wanted was the taste of her sweet mouth deep inside his, the feel of her tongue against his, and the dampness—the dampness of tears and kisses and opportunities long ago denied him. But the need for more than that swelled low in him, slow in him, gathering strength from the response her lips made, moving with his. His soft, involuntary groan expressed the depth of his need. He held her tight and pressed himself against her, letting her feel what he had to give. This and more, his hungry mouth promised. Don’t be afraid. Don’t…
    Raina tore her mouth away on a desperate gasp. “Oh, no, not this.” Her quick, frantic breaths fluttered against the base of his throat. She clung to him even as she denied him. “Gideon, we can’t let this happen.”
    He drew back slowly, thinking—hoping—he hadn’t heard her right. They’d put their arms around each other and shared a kiss, for God’s sake. It tasted good. It felt good. It was what they both needed. What could be wrong with something that felt this right?
    â€œPeter,” she began as she sidled away, still gripping him at the waist for support. “Peter might…”
    A thousand retorts raced through his mind, but he allowed none to pass his tongue. He couldn’t afford to. The state his head was in right now, he couldn’t be sure which one would cut itself loose first. Something about her or himself or the two of them together. Or something about Peter. Or Jared. God help them all, he thought as he finally stepped back. With everything that had happened already, this was a tangled mess.
    But the kiss was right. That was all he knew. No matter what the source of confusion in her eyes, no matter how much fear and hurt glittered in them like glass splinters, there was a