Cathleen Galitz - Warrior In Her Bed

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Annie Wainright hoped teaching on an isolated Native American reservation would bring peace to her troubled soul.But that was before she came face-to-face with the most compelling man she'd ever known – a man who made it clear he didn't want her there…. John Lonebear, an ex-marine who had returned to make his home a better place, was as harsh and unyielding as the land he loved. And yet even he could not deny the wildfire heat that blazed between him and this unwelcome stranger….She wanted to believe love could build a bridge between their worlds. But what would happen when he learned about the new life their love had created…?

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“I was given the definite impression that your fellow teachers at Dream Catchers are in the habit of addressing one another by their last names,” she said stiffly and added softly under her breath, “And saluting their superior officers.”

“Only in front of students,” Jewell told her, choosing to ignore her friend’s mumbled jab. “Coming from the unruly environment you just left, I’d think you’d prefer a more structured environment. Our teachers sure do. The truth of the matter is that most of the kids do, too. So many of them have no rules at home to speak of, and school provides them a safe haven.”

Even though Annie could believe it, she wasn’t inclined to agree at the moment. Not when doing so would cast the villainous Mr. Lonebear in an angelic light. Cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek, she opened the refrigerator door, took out a pitcher of lemonade and grudgingly encouraged her friend to enlighten her further.

“Go on,” she muttered, wrestling with a tray of ice cubes that had shrunk to strange powdery shapes. “I’m listening.”

“Maybe you just caught him on an off day, Annie. Or maybe his reaction had something to do with him not hiring you personally, although he’s never struck me as the type to care about protocol when it comes to filling positions with qualified people. I do know that he was in Washington lobbying during the week you were interviewed. There’s always the possibility that he didn’t get the backing he was seeking, and that’s what put him in such an ill humor, though I seriously doubt it. The man is a genius at procuring funding—and in being instrumental in making Dream Catchers High one of the most successful magnet schools in the country.”

The pride in Jewell’s voice was unmistakable.

“Gosh,” Annie muttered, unable to keep the skepticism from her voice. “He sounds like a veritable saint.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Jewell said, laughing. “Just ask some of the elders to reminisce if you get the opportunity, and they’ll be happy to wax on and on about their favorite son’s misspent youth. Affectionately, of course, and with obvious admiration for what he’s overcome.”

“Misspent youth?” Annie prodded, curious despite herself.

“It seems Johnny Lonebear was every girl’s bad-boy heartthrob back in high school. They say he packed an attitude as big as the Great Plains, rode a Harley to school instead of the bus and was a gifted athlete. Rumor has it that his enthusiasm for academics was limited to maintaining his eligibility for extracurricular activities, and he was indifferent to all the girls who threw themselves at him. There’s still some speculation as to whether he actually fathered any of those children running around on the reservation that some people claim he did.”

Crunching down hard on what once might have passed for an ice cube, Annie took pleasure in feeling it splinter beneath her molars. She fought the urge to spit it out, along with the bad taste left in her mouth. That was more than enough for her to relegate her new boss to the status of a world-class jerk. Annie told herself it was none of her concern that her dear friend could be deceived by such a nasty piece of work.

Parts of her past were private, and she didn’t want to share them with anyone. Not even Jewell, who, had she known of Annie’s own troubled high school years, surely would not have joked so offhandedly about such things. Deliberately Annie changed the topic of conversation to something less serious in nature, promising her friend that she would water her straggly bed of marigolds.

And silently promising herself not to give the enigmatic Mr. Lonebear another thought beyond how to best avoid him in the future.

Someone as sweet and naive as Jewell might easily be taken in by a man’s dark good looks and colorful past, but Annie knew better than to trust the word of any male, particularly the promises he might utter in the throes of passion. As an expert in the field, Annie wondered whether she should volunteer to teach a class in it as a way of supplementing her meager income. She would label it a self-defense class for the heart and make a case that it was as critical as any other course in the martial arts.

The thought of presenting Mr. Lonebear with such a proposal gave Annie grim satisfaction. The memory of him ordering her to stick to the prescribed curriculum and leave her personal beliefs out of the classroom made Annie far more uncomfortable than he could ever imagine. Used to doing things on her own terms, she wasn’t sure whether she was capable of separating one from the other. Such a task was akin to holding the myriad pieces of a stained-glass mural together with nothing more than wishful thinking.

Recalling to mind that it was also what had prompted her to resign from her old position and had sent her searching for a career less hazardous to her emotional well-being, she vowed to do her best to follow John Lonebear’s directive. If other people were able to do their jobs, collect their paychecks and go home at the end of the day without investing their hearts along with their time, Annie told herself, there was no reason she couldn’t do the same.

Despite her renewed resolve not to become emotionally attached to her students, Annie was genuinely happy to see Crimson Dawn back in class the following day—and relieved that her exasperating uncle was absent. Since time to work with her students on their respective projects was limited, she didn’t dally when it came to taking roll and getting class under way. She spent only a few minutes looking over her shoulder to see if a certain unwanted visitor was going to make a follow-up appearance. Once Annie centered her attention upon her pupils, time flew as it always did whenever she was actively involved in the creative process. Something about helping others discover their own natural talents was utterly gratifying in a way that oddly superseded her professional training in more analytic areas.

Brushing off Crimson Dawn’s stiff apology on the part of her uncle as being completely unnecessary, she squeezed the girl’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Your work is coming along wonderfully. At this rate you’ll be able to start another project well before this term is up.”

Despite the possible repercussions, Annie’s stubborn heart bade her continue. She considered her words carefully, however.

“In case you don’t know it, Crimson, I’ve been expressly forbidden to direct your talents outside of this classroom. Nonetheless, I want you to know that you have been given an incredible gift. However you choose to use it is up to you.”

The knowledge that her teacher was referring not only to the unique stained-glass sculpture that she was in the process of finishing, but also the other artwork she had so shyly shown her earlier caused the girl to smile tremulously.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, not nearly as capable of expressing her feelings with words as with her hands. That Ms. Wainwright’s praise didn’t waver in light of the family feud it was causing at home made her heart swell with appreciation. Shyly she ventured words of advice to the teacher who had such faith in her abilities.

“Don’t let Uncle Johnny buffalo you. He’s really just a big old teddy bear.”

Annie tried not to choke on the image. If the man were any kind of bear, a grizzly was what came to mind. Nevertheless, she offered Crimson an appreciative smile for her concern, all the while offering up a little prayer that this girl’s beloved uncle had gone into early hibernation and that he would stay there until her own limited tenure was over.

A few hours later, after all her students had vacated the art room, Annie became so completely absorbed in her own work that she had no idea she was not alone. It would take something far louder than a man’s studious gaze to disrupt her concentration when she was thus engaged in her work. Even a man whose presence was as disquieting as the one focused so intently upon her at the moment.

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