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ETHAN WAS CLEARLY TAKEN by surprise at her answer. His head reared back and, for a minute, he was speechless. Jessica caught a hint of that same guarded expression she’d briefly glimpsed the night before. It was almost as if he were afraid of something. Of her? Impossible! That crazy notion was dismissed almost as soon as it crossed her mind. She doubted that this man was afraid of anything. Still, it’d been a peculiar look, all too quickly replaced with exasperation. “You have five minutes to change into something practical,” he ordered with stony resignation. “Or I leave without you.”
She looked down at her sleeveless mint green silk sundress. “Isn’t this appropriate for a picnic?”
Zelda stood up, shooing Jessica out of the kitchen. “Upstairs, pronto. We’ll look through Annie’s things. I’m sure she’ll have a pair of jeans that will fit you. You’re just about the same size.” She pointed a finger at her grandson. “And you’ll wait, young man.”
Studying herself in the bedroom mirror a few minutes later, Jessica could tell that Annie was slightly taller than she, and narrower at the hip and waist. The jeans fit snugly, emphasizing her curves a little more than she liked. She tugged at the pink cotton blouse, wondering if she should leave it tucked in. An irritated horn blast wrenched her gaze away from the mirror. Let him wait, she told herself, even as she scrambled to find her least expensive pair of sandals and a scarf she could use as a belt. She was pulling her hair back into a ponytail and tying it with a pink ribbon as she hurried down the stairs.
“Well, don’t you look just like a country girl,” Zelda exclaimed, meeting her in the hall and handing her a covered salad bowl. “Now make sure to remind Rita that I’ll be over on Wednesday for lunch.”
The horn sounded again.
Zelda huffed. “That man. I guess you’d better scoot. Have fun!”
Once out the front door, Jessica took her time, slowly meandering down the front steps. A stone path led to a white picket gate. A dented blue pickup truck waited on the other side of the garden fence, twitching like a racehorse at the starting post. Grinning impudently, Jessica paused in the middle of the path to glance back at the house she’d scarcely noticed the day before.
Her expression froze. The similarities to her childhood home were everywhere. Same white siding, green shutters, and dormered upstairs windows. A wide wrap around porch. A porch swing. She half expected to see her father come strolling around the corner of the house, a whistle on his lips, her mother waiting on the top step, poised to jump playfully into his arms...
“You’ve got two seconds to get in this truck, brat.”
Jessica couldn’t help flinching at the barked order that shattered her reverie. Taking a steadying breath, she turned and continued towards the truck, her step quickening just enough to satisfy the vehicle’s occupant. Ethan scowled blackly as she fiddled with the door handle, an awkward one-handed attempt, given that her other hand held the salad bowl. “Oh, no, don’t budge,” she said sweetly. “I can open the door myself.” When the door creaked open on rusted hinges, she looked aghast at the cluttered cab. “Are you going to clear a spot for me, or were you expecting me to sit on your lap?”
His stony expression didn’t alter as he shoved some loose papers and odds and ends onto the floor and slapped the torn vinyl seat. A cloud of dust flew upwards.
Even as she was having second thoughts, she hauled herself into the cab and gingerly sat down. She scarcely had the door closed when Ethan tromped on the gas pedal and sent the truck tearing down the drive, loose gravel and bark kicking up in its wake. The unpaved, well-traveled road twisted and turned through oak and eucalyptus trees for what seemed like a mile, and Ethan was obviously bound and determined to hit every pothole and bump along the way. Her teeth were rattling in her head as she clutched the salad bowl with one hand and clung to the door handle with the other. When they finally reached the relatively smoother surface of the main road, she took several long, deep breaths to soothe her scattered nerves. She gave him a sideways, irritated look.
“Who taught you how to drive? Mr. Toad?”
Ethan looked straight ahead as if he had blinders on. His shrug was cavalier. “Hey, you’re the one who insisted on tagging along.”
She mutely counted to ten before responding in an even tone. “Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you have to make everyone else feel miserable too.”
“Who says I’m miserable?”
“Ha!”
He continued to stare stoically ahead. Silence invaded the cab for several prolonged minutes. Pursing her lips, Jessica smoothed her hair back, retying the ribbon that had come loose during the wild ride. From the corner of her eye she saw him sneak a glance at her. She was startled when he finally spoke, saying calmly, “Considering the fact that you think I’m—what were those choice words? Oh, right, a brute and a bully, I’m confounded as to why you’d want to be anywhere near me.”
She sniffed haughtily. “Your grandmother has been extremely gracious and hospitable. I’m happy to return a favor, even if it means putting up with you.”
He seemed to measure her answer before eventually stating, “I think you came along for a different reason.”
“Oh, really?” Her voice was drenched with sarcasm. “Why? To continue my role in the sinister trick your ex-girlfriend supposedly plotted against you?”
“I read the papers this morning. While I’m still convinced that you’re up to no good, I’ll concede that your story about leaving your fiancé at the altar is true.”
“Well, thank you very much. I’ll sleep better at night knowing that you now believe me.” She stared huffily out the window for a stretch of time before asking with grudging curiosity, “What did the papers say?”
“Jessica Jilts Preston was the banner headline. Right above a photo of your backside scrambling into a limousine, and one of Preston standing dumbstruck at the altar.”
“Good.”
She felt the heat of his condemnation. “Your stepfather spent a hell of a lot of money on that wedding. According to one article, the cost of your wedding gown alone was comparative to forty year’s wages for one garment industry worker. But I guess it’s just pennies to you. You’ll find some other sucker, and the charade will play all over again.”
She turned on him, rising to the bait in spite of her firm resolve not to let him get under her skin. “It wasn’t a charade! I would’ve been content with a small intimate wedding. Lorna’s the one who wanted to put on a show.”
He pulled his gaze away from the road to look at her. “Who’s Lorna?”
“My mother.”
“Is that the current trend among your upper-class friends? Calling your parents by their first name?”
Jessica folded her arms across her chest, averting her eyes from his penetrating look. “None of us can choose the family we’re born into. I’ve never considered myself to be part of the so-called ‘upper’ class.”
“But you are,” he observed with succinct distaste, returning his attention to the road.
“Well, I don’t let it define me, although you obviously do,” she jibed. “If anyone is being a snob, it’s you. You scarcely know me, yet you already have me neatly packaged and labeled as a spoiled rich girl who doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”
If she’d been looking at him just then, she might have seen the swift gleam of admiration in his expression. “You never back down, do you,” he surmised. “You must have an older brother or someone who taught you how to fight.”
Pain knifed through her, familiar in its sharp, mind-numbing intensity. She clenched her jaw. “No...there wasn’t...no.” Oh, Robby. The sorrow still lingers, even seventeen years after I lost you and Daddy. She slanted her head out the open window, inhaling the fragrant, calming scent of eucalyptus, blaming the breeze for the sting of tears in her eyes.
They journeyed the last mile in strained silence. Somehow, Jessica managed to pull herself together by the time Ethan turned the truck onto a narrow dirt lane lined on both sides by oleander bushes. A pigtailed girl, appearing to be eight or nine years old, peddled towards them on a bicycle, waving one hand excitedly. Ethan waved back, slowing the truck down as the girl turned the bike around to race ahead of them towards a single level wood and brick house.
“Maybe it was a good idea for you to come along after all,” he commented as he parked the truck in the shade of an elm tree. “You can see how the other half lives.”
She thought it wise not to reply to his cutting remark. As she reached for the door handle, however, his next comment made her pause. “You never asked me why I think you really decided to come with me today.”
She gave him a sidelong glance, feigning polite interest. “Okay, I give. Why?”
His eyes skimmed across her features while one corner of his handsome mouth curled in a confident male smirk. “You’re attracted to me.”
She almost dropped the salad bowl. “What?”
“I’m not made of stone,” he replied coolly. “I felt the way you reacted to my touch last night. I’ll admit you’re a pretty package, but,” and his eyes turned to steel, “don’t even think of testing your feminine wiles on me. A woman like you fooled me once. It won’t happen again.”
Hot color mottled her neck, spreading over her face as she vividly recalled the way she’d felt when he’d pulled her against him last night. All of those mysterious, tingling sensations. How could he have known? “Of all the egotistical—”
Her blustering defense fell on deaf ears. He was already out of the truck, striding with his confident, long-legged gait towards a woman with mahogany hair pulled back in a graceful bun. “Hello Rita,” he said. “¿Cómo estás?”
Jessica stayed in the truck for a few seconds, barely maintaining a tenuous grip on her composure. Through the windshield she watched Ethan converse in friendly tones with the woman, then heard him laugh when the little girl who’d been on the bicycle cannoned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his stomach. He tugged on her pigtails, and she tilted her head back, gazing up at him with worshiping dark eyes. He said something that made her giggle. Then he glanced back at the truck, beckoning Jessica with a curt nod.
“If you think I find you the slightest bit attractive, you have another think coming, you miserable, arrogant man,” she said under her breath, ignoring the staccato in her pulse that had begun as soon as she’d heard his gentle laugh. She slammed the truck door with just enough force to earn a warning look from him. The woman stepped forward to greet her.
“Jessica,” Ethan said, speaking her name in a pleasant tone. “This is Rita Gonzales. And her daughter, Juanita.”
Jessica smiled and nodded politely. “Hello. I hope I’m not intruding. Zelda invited me to take her place.”
Rita shook her head. “No, please. I am happy you are here. Welcome.” Her merry brown eyes surveyed Jessica up and down. She turned to Ethan and said something in Spanish that seemed to take him aback. He laughed gruffly, casting a bemused look at Jessica before responding to Rita in the same language. Then he strode away, Juanita following him like a puppy on a string.
She had no time to wonder what that was all about as Rita took the salad bowl from her and motioned her towards the house. “Come inside, please. We’re making lunch.”
Jessica followed her into the small house. The interior was sparsely furnished but impeccably clean. A narrow hallway led into a bright kitchen. Another woman, slightly younger than Rita, sat at a pine table, a baby on her lap. A toddler sat on a blanket on the linoleum floor, toy blocks scattered around her. Introductions were made as Rita carried the potato salad to the counter and then proceeded to pour Jessica some iced tea. The other woman was her sister, Anna. The toddler was Maria. The baby boy was little Pablo, named after Anna’s husband who was helping Rita’s husband, Manuel, with the fence.
Jessica sat down at the table. “How old is he?” she asked Anna, indicating the baby.
“Eight weeks.”
“He’s adorable.”
Anna beamed. “Gracias. Yes, he will be as handsome as his father. Do you have children?”
“No. I’m not married.” Jessica took a sip of iced tea.
“You have known Señor Ethan for a long time?” Rita inquired with more than polite interest. “You are his friend from San Francisco?”
“Um, no. Actually, I only met him, uh, Ethan, yesterday. My car broke down, you see, and Mrs. McAllister was kind enough to ask me to stay.”
Rita dissolved in mirth. She clapped her hands over her mouth, chortling through her fingers. “Oh, I said the wrong thing.” She said something in rapid Spanish to her sister who let out a hoot of laughter. Jessica looked at them both with increasing confusion until Rita at last was able to explain her amusement. “I thought you were his girlfriend, the one he was to marry. I never met her. I said to him—” She chortled again. “I said the two of you would make beautiful babies together!”
Jessica blushed profusely, much to the women’s further amusement. “No wonder he looked at me so oddly,” she mumbled. She wanted to know what he’d said to Rita in reply but felt it foolish to ask. The thought of bearing Ethan’s children, the idea of being married to him... The images were so vivid she felt her face growing even redder. Good Lord, why should such crazy ideas seem even remotely appealing? Considering Preston’s cruel betrayal, she shouldn’t be feeling anything along those lines for any man right now, least of all the insufferable Ethan McAllister!
“I’m sorry,” Rita entreated. “Many times, I, how do you say it? Put my foot in my mouth.”
“It’s all right,” Jessica reassured her, forcing a smile. Eager to change the subject, she asked Rita how long she’d lived in King’s Valley.
“Nine years,” was the reply. “My Manuel has lived here in America for twenty years. He ran away from our village in Mexico when he was sixteen to find his mother who had gone to California to find work when he was a very little boy.” She shook her head sadly. “He never found her. He worked the fields in central California for many years before coming here. He heard that Señor Andrew, Señor Ethan’s grandfather, needed workers for his orchards. Manuel is a hard worker, and soon Señor Andrew made him boss of the other workers.” She smiled proudly. “He helped my husband to become a legal citizen. I came here with my sister because we had heard there was work in the vineyards. I met my Manuel at a fiesta celebrating the harvest.”
Juanita bounded into the room, looking upset. “Mama, Victor won’t let me help with the fence posts. Ethan said I could.”
“’Nita, you know that it is a man’s work,” her mother gently scolded. “Let Victor feel important today and not as your little brother.”
The girl scuffed her sneakers against the floor, her lower lip protruding. “But he only gets in the way. He’s bothering Ethan.”
“Did Señor Ethan say so?” Rita asked.
“No,” Juanita answered petulantly. “But I can help, I know I can! Why can’t I ever do the fun things?”
Jessica heard her younger self in the girl’s frustrated words. She saw herself at that same age, wearing similar ragtag jeans, her long hair in pigtails, trailing after her father and Robby, her chin set in fierce determination to do everything that her big brother could.
“Enough, Juanita,” Rita said firmly. “You can take Maria outside to play. It is getting too warm inside. We will come outside soon and set the tables for lunch.”
“Yes, Mama.” Juanita took her cousin’s hand and led her outside.
“That child,” her mother said with a mother’s sigh. “She loves Señor Ethan. When he is here she is attached to his side. But I would have done the same at her age. He is a good man.” She looked at Jessica, begging confirmation of her lofty opinion.
Jessica hedged. “I’m afraid I haven’t known him long enough...” Good? That wasn’t the first adjective that came to her mind when she thought of him.
Rita chattered on. “We are glad he is back at the farm. His grandmother is happy when he is there. He is like his grandfather, God bless him. Always giving. Always taking care of the farm workers. Manuel did not ask Señor Ethan to help build the fence today, but when Señor Ethan heard, he said he would help. With Anna’s husband and Manuel and Señor Ethan, it will be finished much sooner.”
Anna gave Jessica a coy look. “He is a good man and handsome, sí?”
Jessica pressed her glass of iced tea to her burning cheek. “Hmm, I suppose he is handsome...in a rough sort of way.” Her breath quickened as she recalled the feel of his hand against her bare skin the night before.
Rita clasped her hands together in glee. “Ah, look at you. Soon you will follow him just like my Juanita.”
“Está loca. She is crazy,” Anna soothed Jessica, rolling her eyes towards her sister. “She likes to play matchmaker. It was she who introduced me to my Pablo.” She arched an eyebrow at her sister. “Rita, we should make the salad.”
“I can help,” Jessica offered, starting to rise.
“If you can hold little Pablo?” Anna asked.
“Of course.”
Jessica held the sleeping baby on her lap while she watched the two women work. They conversed in a mixture of English and Spanish as they prepared the midday meal. Once everything was ready and placed in the refrigerator to keep, they invited Jessica to follow them outside to help with the tables. There was a small vegetable garden, swing set and sandbox behind the house. Beyond that lay a green parcel of land that the men were fencing off to create a sheep pasture. A beautiful willow tree with lacy branches sweeping the ground stood in the center of the pasture, two wooden picnic tables beneath it. Jessica continued to hold the baby while the two sisters spread tablecloths and utensils. When little Pablo stirred and began to whimper, Anna came to fetch him.
“Time for his lunch,” she said, sitting down at one of the tables. She loosened her cotton blouse and held the baby to her breast.
Juanita and Maria soon joined the women under the willow tree, the swing set having lost its appeal. Jessica could tell that the older girl was still unhappy about not being allowed to help the men. Juanita leaned against the tree trunk, hands tucked in her back pockets as she watched them work. Jessica’s own gaze swerved uncontrollably towards the far end of the field.
Ethan seemed to tower over the other two men as he worked alongside them. It was his task to dig the holes for the round fence posts. Once the hole was deep enough, one of the men set the pole in place and held it steady while the other two shoveled the dirt back into the hole. A boy, no more than five years old, hovered at the ready, plastic toy shovel in hand. The last scoop of dirt was left for him to pat down as the men moved on to the next position. It was hard work, more so under the warm sun.
As Jessica watched, she saw Ethan pause to wipe the tail of his shirt over his face, exposing a chiseled bronze chest that held the sheen of sweat. Sinewy stomach muscles moved like liquid in motion beneath glistening male skin. She released a quivery sigh, realizing only then that she’d been holding her breath. As if he’d heard her, he suddenly turned his head towards the willow tree. Although certain that she was well concealed in the shade, she felt as though his piercing gaze sought and found her with intense accuracy, holding her still and cautious like a deer in the sights of a hunter’s rifle. The air seemed to turn sultry around her, encompassing her, stifling her. It was all she could do to drag her eyes away from him and settle them on Juanita.
“Why don’t you play in the sandbox?” Rita was suggesting to her daughter.
“That’s a baby thing,” Juanita sulked.
“I’ll play with you,” Jessica offered with a coaxing smile.
The girl perked up. “All right.”
And so, she found herself a short while later sitting cross-legged in the middle of the sandbox, helping Juanita build the ‘biggest castle ever.’ The girl had dragged the garden hose over to moisten the sand, and it didn’t take long before both of them were dirty and damp. But Jessica didn’t care; she hadn’t had such mindless fun in years. Even when Maria decided that making puddles was more fascinating than molding turrets from paper cups and proceeded to splash her toes in the moat water, showering Jessica’s face and blouse with sandy water. She sent the toddler on a mission to find some twigs and rocks to use for decoration while Jessica added another tower to the structure and Juanita made a bridge for the moat.
When a shadow covered the castle she looked up, bewildered as a child who’d suddenly lost her favorite toy, to find Ethan standing in front of her, his back to the sun, blocking the light. She blinked, shielding a hand above her eyes as she stared up at him. His features were almost indistinguishable against the brightness of the sun; she could only make out his eyes, startled to see the soft expression shining from their depths. It was almost tender the way he was looking at her. She lowered her hand as he squatted down in front of her.
“And I thought you’d be bored,” he said in a low murmur.
“Look what we made, Ethan!” Juanita crowed. “Me and Jessica. It’s the biggest castle ever.”
“It sure is,” he agreed with the appropriate amount of awe in his voice. His chest shook with silent laughter.
“We built it for a prince and princess,” the girl continued. “We’re pretending that I’m the prince and Jessica is the princess.”
Ethan gazed at Jessica with unwavering intensity, his eyes gliding over her sand-spotted face, the tendrils of damp hair clinging to her cheeks, the carefree young girl he’d first glimpsed when he’d approached the sandbox still lurking in the blue sky of her eyes. Something almost painful tugged at his heart. “That doesn’t take too much pretending,” he observed quietly.
Feeling yet another blush spreading over her face, Jessica cast her eyes down. “Oh, look at my blouse,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “I’m filthy.”
Juanita giggled. Ethan rose briskly to his feet, frowning slightly. “It’s time for lunch. Juanita, why don’t you show Jessica where she can wash up.”
Jessica spent more time than necessary in the small bathroom, splashing her burning face repeatedly with cool water, combing her tousled hair, spot cleaning as best she could the dirt stains on her blouse. She observed herself in the mirror for a long time, staring at eyes that were too bright and cheeks that were still too red. Even her mouth seemed fuller and redder. He had looked at her mouth when he’d said that it didn’t take too much pretending to imagine that she was a princess, looked at her mouth as if he wanted to kiss it.
Oh, what in the world ailed her? She couldn’t possibly be attracted to the same man who’d turned his back on her distress the day before. Why, just moments ago, he’d stiffened up again, turned distant when she’d remarked about how dirty she was. Had he been annoyed by her small display of feminine vanity?
Oh, why did she care what he thought? Her perplexing emotions were simply a result of too much sun. That explained this peculiar dizzy sensation that had her feeling as if she’d just taken a fast spin on a carousel. Convinced that she’d found a logical explanation, she straightened her back, lifted her chin, and left the room.