Two days, later, though, Dell couldn’t fault Jovi for his attention to his job. He’d picked up the only two horses they’d agreed were worthwhile and talked the farm owner into throwing in a trailer he no longer needed. Dell smiled at the girls’ excitement as Jovi pulled to a gentle stop by the barn, the horse trailer rocking a little as its occupants shifted and moved inside, unseen. Michelle and Amy were giggling and hopping around, and even Maribel had come down to watch as the two new mares were unloaded.
“Horses,” Becky crowed, as Jovi lowered the ramp, and Dell kissed her cheek.
“Yes, Becky, new horses.”
“Are they tame? Can we pet them?” Amy demanded, clearly the most excited of the girls.
“Jovi said they’re very gentle. But we need to let them get settled in. They’ve never been moved before,” Dell warned gently. “Let’s let Jovi and Pete bring them out.”
Actually, she would have loved to go up the ramp and help unload her new purchases personally, but someone had to supervise the teenagers and keep Becky at a safe distance. She smiled again as she heard Pete complaining to Jovi about Arabians. He just couldn’t help himself, she knew; to him, quarter horses were a south Texas tradition that should be honored above all others.
The first mare down was gray, her coat fading in patches with age. She pricked her ears and looked around with interest but without alarm. Thinking of the nervy, overly excitable bay mare in the barn, Dell was relieved this old girl seemed perfectly docile. Jovi was stroking her neck, and when she showed no signs of nervousness, he led her over to the girls.
“Meet Desert Snow. It never snows in Laredo, but I get stuck with all these gray horses named Snow,” he said, then grinned wryly at Dell. “She loves men.”
“She has beautiful lines,” Dell approved, reaching out to stroke her forehead gently. “Of course, I’m not sure about her intelligence … ” Becky squealed in delight and stuck out a chubby hand. The mare lifted her nose and sniffed the toddler’s cheek, ruffling wisps of her hair, and Becky laughed happily and patted the mare. Amy and Michelle came up quietly, the way they had been taught, extending their hands and talking to the horse. Although they were careful with their movements and voices, their faces glowed with excitement; it was almost as if the horse had been bought just for them.
Maribel leaned back against the fence and sniffed in disdain, her mouth a dark red frown as she watched.
Pete unloaded the second, a taller, younger mare, but she danced skittishly and seemed more upset than her stable mate, so he took her into the barn right away, and Jovi excused himself and led the gray mare in, too.
“They’re nice,” Michelle said.
“Nice?” Amy sounded outraged. “They’re beautiful! Bien bonitas! They’re incredible. They’re — ” She stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” Dell asked, seeing the stricken expression on Amy’s face.
“Nothing!” Amy colored a little. “It’s just … I suddenly realized. What I want to do.”
“Oh?”
Amy nodded, her young face full of sudden conviction. “A vet. I want to be a veterinarian.” She stopped for a minute, unsure again. “I think.”
Dell smiled. “You’ve got time to be sure. But you’d be very good at it.”
Maribel snorted. “Good at it! Like she’s smart enough — hey, Amy — you dropped out, no? You gonna pass medical school and stuff? Even vets have to go to school, I bet.” She chortled. “I can just see you, stickin’ your skinny arm up some horse’s ass — ”
Amy ignored her and Dell frowned at Maribel.
“There aren’t any dropouts here, Maribel,” she reminded the girl. “And Amy will do well. I’m counting on it.”
Maribel shrugged insolently. “Whatever,” she muttered and stalked back toward the house.
Dell put Becky down, careful not to let the toddler pull her hand free and rush toward the barn.
“Well, girls, don’t be afraid to go help the guys,” she urged. “I know mucking stalls isn’t anyone’s favorite job, but the effort’s always appreciated.”
Michelle and Amy exchanged amused glances.
“That sounded like a suggestion,” Michelle groaned, and Amy nodded.
“I thought so, too,” she agreed. “Or an order. Do we get to ride if we help?”
“Sure. But in the arena, and don’t choose those two new girls. Give them a day or two,” Dell warned, and they nodded happily and ran toward the barn.
Becky tugged, wanting to follow, and Dell reluctantly picked her up again. “Not this afternoon, sweetheart,” she said reluctantly. “We need to go get some work done at the house.”
Becky’s face puckered, and she squirmed, pointing at the barn. Then she reached up and pulled Dell’s face close, kissing her on the check.
“’Kay,” she gurgled. “Me work.”
Dell laughed and hugged the little girl, wondering yet again how anyone could give up a child. Holding Becky close, Dell headed back to the house.
• • •
Light from the moon flooded the yard. Dell stood outside by the pool, staring up at the golden sphere, transfixed. She could understand where the ideas about moon madness came from. Walking out into the hot summer air and seeing a full moon could literally freeze her in place with amazement. And contentment, she thought, stretching. She shook her head slightly. Some of her acquaintances claimed to be unimpressed with the moon, the summer heat, even the scent of the honeysuckle and gardenias, which were almost overpowering at the moment.
She didn’t believe them. How could anyone not relish this sense of perfection? Shrugging, she slipped off her beach robe and padded over to the edge of the pool. She rarely swam, and since she had started picking up odd jobs with the forwarding companies, she hadn’t been in the water at all. The problem was that when she made time to dive in, she couldn’t drag herself out again. So she avoided the pool and saved the hours of time she’d lose if she gave in.
She didn’t dive in, just walked over to the shallow end and stepped in, testing the water experimentally. Not surprisingly, the pool was as warm as the night, and it rose around her, liquid and soothing. Sighing contentedly, she flipped over on her back and floated, moving her fingers occasionally just to steady her position on the unmoving surface. Any idea of exerting herself was gone. Floating mindlessly and timelessly under the clear, south Texas sky was just too appealing.
Far off, a coyote howled, and she thought once, briefly, of Jovi, but pushed him determinedly from her mind. After floating lazily for a blissful eternity, she reluctantly put her feet down, standing up and looking across the length of the pool. She had come here to swim, she reminded herself sternly. She could use the exercise, and maybe a little physical activity would make it easier to sleep when she went back in. If she went back in. She really couldn’t imagine leaving the pool. A good breaststroke would burn off a lot of calories and wear her out in a hurry. She sighed. Then she took a deep breath and dove instead, gliding effortlessly across the pool under water.
A long time ago, her father had teased her about being half dolphin, she remembered suddenly, because she had preferred those short, rolling surface dives to the rigor of the “real” swimming her mother practiced to maintain her own figure. Frowning at the memory, she dove again and again, almost with anger, until she was gasping for breath. She came up for air in the middle of the pool and stood motionless until the beauty of the night slowly reclaimed her consciousness and attention. When her eyes kept looking up to check the moon’s position again instead of squeezing shut against the pain of some new memory, she hoisted herself to the tiled edge of the pool to take a breather, idly circling her feet in the warm water.
“Sneaking a swim’s going to be awfully hard now,” a husky masculine voice drawled behind her, and she started so violently that she slipped off the edge and back into the pool.
“Sorry.” Jovi reached out a lean, muscled arm. “Shall I help you out?”
Dell felt her chest tighten, cutting off her ability to breathe normally. At South Padre, Jovi’s trunks had been passably decorous. The trunks he wore now seemed sprayed on with a half-empty can of spray paint. The low, low cut showed too much torso. And too much hair. Not to mention way too much of everything else. She made herself refocus her gaze on the extended hand, and when she thought she could meet his eyes without blushing, she looked up at him.
“What are you doing here? It must be … ” Her voice trailed off. The question was lame, and she herself had already decided that on nights like this, time was of no importance at all.
He smiled cheerfully. “It must be two in the morning. Early, not late. And, as I already explained, I’m sneaking into the pool. At least I was trying to.”
He shrugged his massive shoulders and crossed his arms when she still didn’t take his hand. “What can I say? You caught me.”
“Do you do this often?” She asked, and watched as he had to make his own effort to refocus on her face.
“No, not often,” he said, seriously. “Actually, this would be the first time. That I’ve ever seen you in a bikini like that.”
She grimaced. “Funny. I meant, do you sneak into the pool very often?”
“Oh, that. Yes.” He sat down on the edge of the pool and slid his legs into the water. “Almost every night, as a matter of fact.” He struck a bodybuilder’s pose, fists clenched and arms tautened to show off his muscled torso. “I have to maintain this perfection somehow.” Then he laughed. “God, I sound arrogant, don’t I? But I love to swim, and I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Of course not. But every night?” She couldn’t mask her surprise. “I’ve never seen you.”
“How often are you here?”
“Never,” she admitted. “But now and then I do look out my window. Maybe not at two.” She cocked her head to see him from a better angle. “You don’t sleep nights, or what?”
“I sleep. When I have to.” He waved an expansive hand at the lush greenery and sparkling water around them. “But why squander time sleeping when you could enjoy scenery like this? And a night just made to perfection.”
She smiled. “Spoken with the soul of a poet.”
“All men in love are poets,” he announced grandly, then laughed at himself again. “Not that I’m in love, but that’s a good line. I’ll have to write it down before I forget it.” He kicked, spraying her with crystal rain. “So … do you want me to leave?”
Dell turned away for a moment, considering. Whether or not she wanted him to leave, it obviously would be far safer if he did. Or she did. He worked hard with the horses, even given that some of his chores confined him to the air-conditioned office. But she’d often gone down to the barn to see him cleaning stalls with Pete and Danny, or moving equipment around outside. He wasn’t a shirker, and it seemed unfair to keep him from enjoying what was apparently a ritual for him after a hard day. And the water was divine, so soothing and tantalizing, that she didn’t want to leave, either.
She ruthlessly silenced the tiny voice whispering to her that the man posed at pool’s edge, waiting for her answer, was both divine and tantalizing himself. Soothing, no. The man definitely was more upsetting than soothing. She managed a sedate shrug.
“Suit yourself,” she said loftily. “But stay out of my way.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed laconically, and slid into the water. She turned and dove away, swimming toward the deep end of the pool. He waited until she had almost reached the other end, then thrust himself away from the wall and raced across the pool, arms and feet churning the surface as if he were chasing an Olympic record. When she surfaced, he was already there, arms hooked nonchalantly over the pool’s tiled lip.
“Hi,” he said, and laughed when she just frowned and turned away. This time she used a lazy sidestroke, and he swam alongside, not talking, just smiling across at her. She was a little surprised the water didn’t bubble and boil, since the heat in the pool had climbed steadily, and he was swimming so close to her their legs brushed occasionally.
If she rolled, changing sides, she thought idly, she would roll right into his arms. The temptation to do so was strong, but she also knew it was stupid. She had the girls and Becky to think about, and in spite of his occasional, reluctant flirting, he seemed to be unwilling to initiate a physical relation himself, now, even if she didn’t know why. Provoking him would be inexcusable.
He reached the edge of the pool and reached out a hand lazily, pushing himself upright and watching her as she did the same. She, too, leaned against the wall, feeling the heat of his body across the few inches of space between them, wishing he would give some indication of feeling it, of feeling her. Of wanting her.
She couldn’t imagine how he could stand there, so silent and motionless, when she felt shaky and breathless. Unable to deal with the treacherous fire igniting deep inside, she braced her arms on the pool and swung out.
Her abrupt departure apparently startled him; he glanced at her, then swung out after her, following her to the lounger where her towel was.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
She reached for the towel and blotted the water from her face. “Yes. It’s late.”
He didn’t dispute the time, but cast a thoughtful glance at the sky above them, then looked at her.
“I didn’t mean to chase you away,” he apologized.
She tried an indignant snort, but it came out soft and unconvincing. “Don’t give yourself too much credit. I’ve been out here for a long time, and I’m ready to go. That’s all.”
“You weren’t thinking about leaving when I first got here,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. “You don’t allow yourself enough little luxuries like this.” He cast a glance at the loungers. “Stay,” he insisted. “We’ll talk.”
Dell sighed and ran her fingers through her wet hair. Then she shrugged. “Okay. I’ll dry out for a few minutes. After that, I’m calling it a night.”
He nodded. “Me, too,” he agreed, and sank into the lounger closest to him, stretching out with apparent indifference and waving at the other. “Make yourself comfortable.”
She shook her head at him but sat down carefully on the flowered cushions, too aware of him to lie down. To cover her uneasiness, she began toweling her hair dry, rubbing the dark strands of her hair in the fluffy towel over and over again.
Behind her, she heard Jovi breathe out a deep, heavy breath. “Quit torturing your poor hair,” he ordered. She heard the faint noise of the cushions on the lounger behind her as he stood and came over to drop to his knees behind her. His hands, strong and warm, pulled the towel from her unprotesting fingers and tossed it on the ground beside the lounger.
“Quit torturing me,” he whispered, and she jerked upright as she felt the prickle of his mustache on her bare back, followed by the soft warmth of his lips trailing a line of fire up toward her neck. He didn’t hold her, though, kept his hands planted on the lounger, although she could feel them on either side of her hips. She could get up and walk away, and she knew he wouldn’t stop her.
Instead, she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, then twisted her head around just as his lips brushed the side of her neck. Slowly, slowly his hand came up, brushing up her arm to catch and hold her chin. Gently, he touched his lips to hers.
She whispered his name and twisted, kissing him back, sliding her fingers over his shoulders and holding him close. With a muffled groan, he pressed her back against the cushions, reaching out to lift her legs, then stroking them with teasing fingers as she stretched out. His kisses grew deeper, more demanding, and his body pressed into hers, bare flesh heated and electric. She kneaded his shoulders, gasped his name.
The lounger tipped under them, and he muttered a curse and rolled Dell into his arms, easing her down on the smooth, hard tile. She barely felt the ungiving texture under her arms and hips — she was too aware he had drawn away from her. She tugged gently, and he obligingly leaned over her again, touching her mouth with his, then bending closer to kiss her throat, taste the salt with the tip of his tongue.
Then his head moved lower still, and he felt her body tauten with surprise and go still as he pressed his lips to the soft swell of her breasts, kissing each one softly, then nudging the brightly flowered fabric of her bra until it gave way. She gasped, arching toward him, her fingers knotting in his hair as he teased each hardened peak in turn, crying his name, pressing up into him, seeking contact with his hard, masculine body along her entire feminine length.
Shaking with need, Jovi tugged and teased her nipples, a hand sliding gently down her flat stomach, caressing, sliding beneath the band of her bikini. He heard her cries, soft and pleading, as his fingers found her. He dragged his mouth back up toward her mouth, intent on silencing her, and from a faint, far-off distance, he heard the tiny click.
Not the click of a gun, he thought foggily, his body still hard, still trembling as he fought to control his need for completion. It had been the small click of some kind of camera. He hadn’t seen a flash, but he wasn’t sure there hadn’t been. And the moonlight and yard lights would have made it easy to shoot pictures with any good, low-light camera even without a flash.
He shifted and moved away, propping himself to screen her from whomever had been watching from somewhere in the plants behind them. He heard a slight rustle and glanced over his shoulder to see the shrubs that surrounded the side gate move even though there was no wind. The opportunity was lost; he knew he would find no one now. But he knew that someone had been there.
“Jovi,” Dell murmured, her eyes refocusing, and her lips swollen and parted. “What?”
Reluctantly he leaned over, touching his lips to hers again, then pushing himself to his feet.
“Someone was here, on the patio,” he said, not wanting to frighten or embarrass her, but unable to lie. “Somebody was watching us. I heard a camera click.”
He saw the shock in her face, followed quickly by disbelief, then anger. Turning away, she refastened the bikini top and started to stand up. He held out his hand, and she didn’t take it, so he caught her wrist, pulling her up gently.
“No,” she said with a decided shake of her head, looking around the serene patio. “There’s no one here. There couldn’t have been.” She looked genuinely puzzled, but only slightly concerned. “How could there have been? Why would there have been?” She shook her head again, more slowly and more hesitantly in spite of her denial. “You’re imagining things, Jovi.”
He didn’t point out he’d been a cop. She knew from his resume, and given his real reason for being here, he didn’t want her to dwell on his past. But even though he had decided he didn’t want to spend his life in law enforcement, he’d been good. He still had the skills and the instinct. Someone had been watching. Anger flared through him, but he kept it carefully hidden. It had been inexcusable for him to forget why he was here, and he had endangered both his investigation and Dell by giving in to temptation.
Breathing deeply, he turned again, squinting into the shadows along the tall, wooden fence that enclosed them. The carefully tended plants were still again. Sighing, he shoved a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure who would watch, or why anyone would want pictures. Maribel? He dismissed her as soon as he thought of her. She might stumble on them and stay to gather ammunition to hurl at Dell, but he couldn’t imagine either that she’d walk in on them a second time or that she’d be armed with a camera in the middle of the night. No one else on the ranch had reason or access. His frown deepened. So why was someone shooting pictures, and was Dell the target — or was he?
Reluctantly, he turned back to Dell, aware of her disbelief, of her withdrawal. Again. He fought the urge to sigh loudly and heavily. Their relationship tottered precariously on a high wire, and each time they took a step forward, the wire threatened to snap, sending them hurtling to destruction. He’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Dell. He knew she was physically attracted to him. How strong the attraction might be, he didn’t know. She was so damn distant sometimes, so remote. But the worst thing he could do was take her to bed. She’d regret it in the end because of the girls. And because he’d lied to her from the get go.
And he’d regret it too, if it were just a matter of a few hours or nights, if it were just sex. Because he wanted so much more from her. He straightened imperceptibly, tensing, as that thought slammed home. He wanted more. He didn’t know whether it was the emptiness and lack of connection in his own life, or the untouchable distance she projected that made him want to reach out and draw her close. Whatever it was, though, had worked its way deep inside, and he doubted he’d ever look at her and not want her.
She was still watching him, her expression somber and a little hurt. Her breathing had returned to normal, and she had draped herself in a towel.
“There was someone here,” he told her again, knowing she still didn’t quite believe him. He forced a thin smile. “You can’t think I just wanted to stop. I invent headaches, for that, not cameras.”
He could see her try to fight back a faint smile. “Somehow I don’t believe that,” she retorted, then shook her head. Her hair, just beginning to dry, slapped wetly against her towel-covered shoulders. “You have to admit it doesn’t make sense, though. Why would anyone bother? Why would they care?”
The shrug was one of disavowal this time. “Who knows? Perversion? Unrequited love? But it happened.”
Dell snorted. “If it’s unrequited love, don’t look at me, buster. There isn’t anyone that interested, trust me.”
He slanted an eyebrow. “And what? Am I beating women off with a wet towel or something?”
Dell thought of Karla Gonzalez and frowned. If the man didn’t have women fighting over him somewhere, she’d be surprised. But she bit back the thought and tried to focus on his worries instead.
Her face tightened as she thought of something. “You don’t suppose Maribel — ”
“No.” He shook his head and ran his hand over his face again with irritation before swatting at his bare arm. “I thought of her,” he admitted. “But she couldn’t just happen onto us twice. She’d have to be a pro to luck onto us twice, and she’s not.” He shrugged, and then swatted at his shoulder. “Damn mosquitoes.”
Dell cast a speculative glance at the house. All the windows upstairs were dark, except she could make out the faintest glow of light coming from what she knew was Becky’s room. The angel nightlight — she’d turned it on herself. Thinking of Becky made her realize she’d been within seconds of making love to Jovi in the middle of the patio, with bright lights shining all around them. And without protection of any sort. She flushed, appalled at the thought, and her lips thinned as she silently cursed her stupidity.
“Regrets already?” Jovi’s voice was low and gentle, the mocking tone he’d used minutes ago gone. “Nothing happened.”
“I wouldn’t say nothing,” she returned shortly, not able to meet his gaze. She glared at him. “Did you come here expecting — ready — to make love?”
He looked at her blankly for a moment, then shook his head. “Don’t carry condoms in my trunks,” he admitted, his tone light but his expression abashed.
She snorted. “Couldn’t fit even a foil package in those,” she muttered, glaring at the too-tight trunks. She shouldn’t be thinking about what could or couldn’t fit there. She should be upstairs in her room. Asleep.
She looked again toward the second-story windows. “Hopefully no one was awake.”
He glanced at the house, too. “I’m sure no one was,” he said soothingly. “We’d probably better get to bed.” She looked back at him. “Our own beds,” he amended quickly.
She didn’t seem particularly appeased, and the steadiness of her regard was discomfiting. But after long, silent seconds she merely nodded. “Good night,” she said, and walked toward the house, leaving him standing alone by the pool. When he was sure she was gone, he allowed himself a long, loud sigh. Then he cursed for good measure, and headed back to the dark, lonely foreman’s house.
• • •
Dell leaned her chair back and stared listlessly at the wall. She had come to the study to busy her mind and her fingers, because rehashing what happened — or almost happened — on the patio with Jovani was driving her stark raving mad, and she’d been doing it for two days straight. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable or threatened. Her lips twitched. She also didn’t like feeling unwanted or discarded, she admitted. Jovi’s apparent ability to forget how close they had come to making love was irritating, in spite of her grim determination to regain control of her senses. And her body.
She shifted in the chair, aware the incessant ache of wanting him was back, throbbing through her, painful in its intensity. She thought of her other fleeting relationships. Even her fiancé had not made her tremble with need from the inside out. No, Jeremy’s appeal, overwhelming at the onset, had faded into a morass of lies, broken promises, and disregard for any future they might have together. She’d do well to remember he’d merely used her — and she let him. Pretended not to see the drug use. Believed he’d give it up for her if she waited. Excused the deception, because he’d soothed her doubts with loving words and the promise of forever. Forever had been just a few short months, and he’d taken his life in her apartment, shattering her belief in herself and in love.
Sighing, she looked down at the paper, covered with neat notes. She had promised Judge Ovalle-Martinez to allow Michelle’s mother to visit the ranch. The judge had arranged for a mediator to drive the woman out the first time. The teenager was unhappy and nervous about the visit, but Selina and Amy rallied around her, assuring her time would pass quickly. The visit specifically required private time for the two, and although Michelle looked apprehensive, Dell offered them the study or the patio for their time together. After the two had had a chance to talk, Michelle’s mother stayed to dinner. She was timid and unsure of herself and kept casting furtive glances around what had become her daughter’s temporary home. While they ate, she told them about the classes she was taking, and her face glowed with her newfound success and independence. Dell could see the woman was seriously trying to make amends to her only child, and she suspected it was only a matter of time before the court decided to send Michelle home.
Logically, Dell knew it was for the best. She believed children should be with their mothers, or fathers, even if they were young adults. Most parents loved their own, even when they lacked the tools to convey that feeling. She closed her eyes, breathing a troubled little prayer as her thoughts turned from Michelle to Becky. Did Becky’s mother ever miss her? Did she want her home again? Would it matter to her that Becky was learning colors and could count to five in English and in Spanish? Losing Becky now would be more than she could bear, no matter how deeply she believed families should be kept together.
Dell drummed her fingers on the desktop. She could do any number of things. Her contacts were widening. A number in Houston now graced the top of her “to do” list. A woman had called earlier, asking her if she could provide advice on which locations in Monterrey would provide suitable housing for employees who were being moved there to staff a branch office. Asking about security arrangements. Dell agreed to work on recommendations, but for the first time since she decided to start offering her services again, she resented the intrusion on her time and thoughts.
She knew herself well enough to know why, too. She was still upset and frustrated over the whole situation with Jovi. For two days, they’d tiptoed around each other and their frustrations, losing themselves in their separate tasks. She’d bumped into Jovi on several occasions, taking the girls out on rides or walking through the barn to visit the horses, and he’d been civil and distant.
A sharp pain lanced through her head, and she stopped drumming to massage her temples. His behavior was exactly what it should be, she thought with a trace of bitterness. Deferential. Accommodating. She didn’t understand his withdrawal. She had always been distant. La inalcanzable. He’d been warm and provocative. Well within reach. He wasn’t role playing or engaging in payback. He’d physically distanced himself, and for reasons she didn’t want to analyze, it angered her. And hurt her.
Frowning, she got up and walked over to the window. The drapes were open in spite of the strong slant of the sun. The heat outside would be oppressive — it always was. She glanced at the clock. In spite of the brightness and the scorching temperatures, it was already almost seven. The horses would have been fed, the stalls cleaned. Danny and Pete would be in their rooms for the night. The girls were watching television, oblivious to the world. Becky was asleep, and Rosa sat in her corner in the living room, embroidering with her slow, careful fingers. Day was done, and everyone was at home.
She thought of Jovi, dressed in his skimpy shorts, coming down the stairs at the foreman’s house. Completely at home. She looked around the elegant, empty study, suddenly unwilling to live with the loneliness any longer. She wasn’t a teenager, and she could make responsible choices. She could be discreet. What she couldn’t be anymore was alone. Unloved.
She checked her watch, verifying the time. Giving herself a few extra seconds to change her mind. Then she slipped silently out of the study and out through the front door. She could call Rosa later if she needed to, and present some reason for her abrupt absence. But she wouldn’t waste precious time now, trying to explain the emotion or the desire that drove her.
By the time she reached Jovi’s door, her chest was slamming painfully in her chest, and she was breathless. She made herself breathe deeply once or twice and brushed at her damp forehead with the back of her hand. She knew it wasn’t exertion that had caused her pulse to accelerate and her legs to buckle momentarily; it was the enormity of her decision. She raised her hand to knock, knowing her decision to spend most of the night with Jovi was irreversible. Karla’s friendly jab had been right after all — nothing mattered except the need to make love to Jovani Treviño. With one final, deep drag of air into her constricted lungs, she rapped the door sharply.
The porch light was on, but the front room was dark. She supposed Jovi was either in the kitchen, eating, or upstairs. Couldn’t be watching TV in the living room — there was no telltale glow or flicker of changing scenes. She listened, trying to hear him make his way to the door, but could hear nothing. Her heart slowed and each beat was a separate, painful blow against her chest.
Then the door swung open silently, and he looked at her with undisguised surprise. But, she noticed, without real invitation. He didn’t seem pleased to see her, really, just surprised.
“Hi,” he said finally, and moved out of the door. “Come on in.” He closed the door after her and then walked over to pick up some scattered magazines from one of the chairs. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, noticing with some disappointment that he wasn’t in shorts. Actually, he was in jeans, a clean shirt, and polished boots, as if he were on his way out. The burning sensation low, low in her stomach that had been desire was slowly cooling, hardening. Into a premonition of disaster. Still, she had walked into this. She wouldn’t go without letting him know why she had come. Not this time.
Biting her lip a little, she gave her head another brief shake. “Nothing’s wrong,” she replied, her tone cool and level. She looked him over again. “But am I keeping you from doing something? You look like you’re ready to leave.”
He didn’t deny it, just returned her appraisal. Then he motioned toward the chair he had just cleared. “Well, I have some time to kill, so make yourself at home,” he invited. Courtesy. She hadn’t wanted or expected that from him. Not tonight. Still, she wasn’t sure how to tell him what she did want, so she walked over to the chair and sat down obediently.
“Well, if nothing’s the matter, let me get us something to drink,” he suggested. He tilted his head. “Tea?”
She thought for a moment, trying to think of a subtle way to announce her intentions. “I don’t suppose you’d have any wine,” she said, after a moment, slowly, feeling the slightest trace of warmth push up her throat into her cheeks.
He obviously read between the lines, because, just for a minute, both his eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened. His mouth, full and sensual under the mustache, twitched. But just as quickly, he managed a slight, regretful smile.
“No wine. That’s fancy lady stuff.” He gave her a wink. “I could get us a couple of cold brews.”
Dell’s nose wrinkled in distaste. She didn’t even like the smell of the stuff. He laughed at her.
“My bar stock obviously isn’t up to snuff,” he admitted. “But you’re in Texas, honey. Texans drink beer.”
“Not this one,” she said primly, and then smiled back at him, taking the arrogance out of her retort. “How strong is the tea this time?”
He shrugged expansively. “A babe could drink it,” he assured her with another quick wink.
She sat uncomfortably in the chair, listening as he clanked ice into a glass. He was back in no time, carrying a beer and an impossibly tall glass of tea. Freshly cut lemon and artificial sweetener graced the small round tray he handed her, and she put it down on the table beside her before he could notice the slight tremor in her hands. She’d always credited herself with being thoroughly modern, honest, and efficient. But her insides were shaking at the thought of asking Jovi to take her to bed. How did women proposition men, anyway? She was abruptly convinced that this equality of roles, sexually speaking, was for the birds. She would much rather he do something, say something. She couldn’t. But he just perched himself on the couch, opened the beer bottle, and chugged most of it down in one swallow.
Then he set the bottle on the coffee table, propped up his feet, and gave her an affable grin. “Good. I’d wipe my mustache with my sleeve, but I’m being polite.”
She nodded. “I noticed.” There really wasn’t anything else she could think of to say. Why was he so far across the room? And why did he watch her so intently from the unfathomable depths of those dark eyes?
She’d seen movies where a woman simply stripped off her clothes to announce she wanted someone. She lifted her hand to brush absently at her hair. His eyes followed the slight movement, but his expression never changed. Somehow, fighting her way out of the buttoned cotton blouse and tight jeans didn’t strike her as seductive, but embarrassing, if the moment wasn’t just right.
Although he said nothing, she had the impression he was in a hurry; she saw him sneak a quick peek at his watch. Was he going out with someone? Did he have plans to spend the night in some other woman’s bed? She wouldn’t let him do that.
She stood up abruptly, without speaking, and he started. She walked over to the couch, sitting at the end farthest away from him. He put his feet down and turned obligingly, but again she sensed his surprise. And his discomfort.
“Jovi,” she said, “you know … why I went to your room, when we were in South Padre.” It was a statement, not a question, but he nodded slowly anyway.
“Yes.”
He knew where this was going, too, why she was here, but he wished he didn’t. Not tonight. Because when he turned her away tonight, he knew she wouldn’t be back. He considered not turning her away. He didn’t work for DEA, not really. His convictions were strong: drugs were destroying the country. He’d seen things in Florida he hadn’t seen in the military, in countries at war and suffering through genocide against one or another group. Drugs were killing his countries — killing Mexico, destroying the States. He believed that absolutely. He also didn’t believe that he, or any one person, could do a damn thing about it. Hampton and Ortega wanted him to look at some new surveillance photos. There had been another small boat landing in the same, isolated corner of the ranch. Dell hadn’t even been on the premises at the time; she’d been in Laredo. But they clearly wanted him away from here — away from her — before they shared the specifics.
He could tell them to go to hell. He could stay here with Dell tonight, spend the night making love to her, breaching the distance she kept between herself and the world. Reaching her, touching her. Hearing her cry out his name. His jaw tightened, and he forced the muscles to relax. He couldn’t, and he couldn’t tell her why.
She had left him an opening, had tried to draw him into what she was about to say, but when he said nothing, she fidgeted on the couch, twisting her graduation ring around on her too-thin fingers. The paleness of her hands had never really held his attention the way it did now. But he didn’t want to look at her lips … or the softness of her breasts under the crisp cotton shirt …
When he continued to sit silently, waiting, she looked up at him again, and groped for words. “I’m not sure why or how, but things have changed since then,” she said. “We’re not … as comfortable as we were.”
“No.” Jovi didn’t deny it, didn’t rationalize it. She bit her lip, but her eyes didn’t waver.
“I want what we had again.” The words were almost a whisper. The honesty in her eyes was painful. He reached out a hand, curving it around her cheek, stroking her lips with a gentle thumb, sealing her words away, unspoken.
“We can’t have that,” he said quietly. “We’ve reached that decision … I don’t know how often. And it’s the right one.”
Her chin lifted defiantly. “Why?” she demanded, her voice soft but insistent. “Because you’re on your way out and it’s not convenient? Because I said no the first time?”
“No.” His tone was curt, and he stood up, putting distance between them, not wanting to face the accusation and hurt in her eyes. He paced around the room once before turning and walking back over to her and catching her gently by the shoulders, then shaking her lightly.
“Because, believe it or not, someone was watching us. Someone was taking pictures when we were in the patio. Someone wants to know if we’re screwing around!” He used the vulgarity cuttingly, deliberately, wanting her to back off, but she didn’t.
“Even if that were true — and I don’t believe it — what’s the worst that can happen? We’re adults, we’re free — ” She froze suddenly, and her eyes narrowed. “I’m free. As far as I know, you are?” This time she was asking, and he scowled at her and gave her another, less gentle shake.
“Yes, damn it, Dell, I’m ‘free!’ There’s no wife hidden away somewhere. Get this straight — if I ever marry, there’ll be one woman in my life! I’m not my father’s son, Dell — running off or hooking up with any woman that walks by.”
He released her shoulders and spun away, frustrated and angry. “This isn’t about whether or not we’re free, or even whether or not we want each other. Don’t you understand no one could want to watch us together except for really twisted reasons?”
“Of course I realize that. I’m not stupid, Jovi. I just refuse to believe you heard what you thought.” She took a step toward him, gesturing emphatically. “And I won’t believe it without proof, or a reasonable motive and a reasonable suspect!”
“The motive? I’m sure you could come up with one or two, if you sat down and looked at things logically,” he returned coolly. “And suspects? Only one makes sense. Your grandfather.”
Dell gaped at him.
“Maybe Lionel is a little more involved in your life than you want to believe,” he suggested grimly. “Quite frankly, from what I’ve heard of him, he sounds like the type who’d spy on his own family for his own sick reasons.” He didn’t add that Hampton and Ortega had questioned whether or not the two were really estranged. Hampton had intercepts of a few calls from Monterrey to the ranch. They were to a cell number, not the main phone, nor Dell’s cell. But Dell paid the account along with all the other bills.
She considered what he said, then shrugged. “I’m not my mother,” she said, her voice thin. “No one would drive me away from … ” She stopped. From a man I love, she’d almost said. “From a relationship,” she finished slowly. “Certainly not the man who destroyed my father’s life. Not Lionel De Cordova.”
She sounded very sure of herself. Jovi thought of his own mother, clinging tenaciously to the man she had loved. His mom had given up so much for such brief happiness. Could he and Dell have more than that? He swallowed hard, thinking of having her and then losing her. Worse, of having her and betraying her.
“You might be burning bridges that will cost you later,” he warned. “Years have a way of changing how we see things, especially when family’s involved.”
She shrugged. “Family? My family’s dead, Jovi. I mean that. Family isn’t about blood and genes. It’s about love and caring. The De Cordovas aren’t family. There’s only been one person in my life who ever loved me, and he’s dead.”
“Still.” He couldn’t let go of it. Partly because of the past, and partly because it was the only excuse he could think of to explain why he didn’t sweep her up in his arms and carry her to the bedroom. Or just pull her down to the floor. Faint color was seeping into her cheeks, and he knew she was beginning to suffer. He hadn’t been turned down very often, but he remembered all too well how humiliating rejection could be.
“Let’s leave it alone,” he suggested. “For a few days. Then if it seems safe … ”
She took a deep breath, then nodded. The movement was robotic, a slight mechanical motion. “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe not.”
Jovi rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re not going to fire me, are you?” he asked.
Dell looked at him. “Why?”
He grinned. “My second career choice was as a stand-up comedian. Glad I went into horses. I was trying to be funny.”
“Funny … Oh.” She managed a faint smile. “You’re job is safe, yes. Somehow I don’t think I’d care to defend myself against sexual harassment charges.” The faint smile slipped. “After tonight, I probably wouldn’t have much of a defense.” She walked back over to the table, picked up her tea, and downed most of it in a single gulp.
“Not nearly strong enough.” The distance was back, he noted with relief. He had been sorely tempted to try to comfort her, to hug her, and touching her wouldn’t have been smart. Not when he was already late for his meeting with Ortega and Hampton.
“I’ll do better next time,” he offered glibly as she crossed the room toward the door.
“Next time won’t help tonight, though, will it? Tonight I think I’ll drive into town and get falling-down drunk.”
He stiffened slightly, but she noticed anyway and arched an eyebrow at him. “Am I shocking you again?”
“No, uh … ” He floundered, apparently trying to avoid coming across as judgmental and chauvinistic. But obviously at a loss for words.
“Relax,” she said after a minute. “I didn’t mean it. Good night, Jovi.” She didn’t look back as she walked out the door and stepped carefully off the low porch. He sighed heavily and cast another glance at the wall clock as he, too, headed out the door.