Fortune’s Heirs: Reunion

Marie Ferrarella

Crystal Green

Stella Bagwell

MILLS & BOON®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Her Good Fortune

By

Marie Ferrarella

Marie Ferrarella is a RITA® Award-winning author who has written over one hundred and thirty books, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide.

To Patience Smith, my Guardian Angel, with sincerest thanks

Prologue

“All right, what’s wrong?”

Maria Mendoza looked up from the items she was straightening on the counter. On it was displayed a multitude of skeins, her latest shipment of angora yarn. The veritable rainbow of colors appeared as cheerful as she was sad. Maria had hoped that keeping busy in the shop would dispel the darkness that insisted on dwelling inside of her. After all, this was her shop and it had become successful beyond her wildest expectations.

But none of that did anything to lift her mother’s mood.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” With effort, she put on the best face she could for the dark-haired woman who had entered the shop.

Rosita Perez, her cousin and dearest friend in the whole world, frowned. “You and I have known one another for more years than I will willingly admit to anyone except for Reuben,” she said, referring to her husband. “I know when there’s something wrong with you. You look as if you’ve lost your best friend.” Rosita, older by four years but shorter by several inches, picked up a skein, as if debating whether she needed or wanted more wool, then replaced it. “And as far as I know I’m still breathing.”

Maria shook her head. “No, not my best friend, my daughters.” Then, because Sierra still lived within Red Rock’s city limits, she clarified, “Christina and Gloria,” although there was no need. Rosita was as aware of the girls’ location as she was.

Rosita placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Maria, this isn’t exactly anything new. The girls have been gone five years—”

“Exactly.” Maria sighed, struggling against the overwhelming sadness. “Five years. With no end in sight. This is not why I became a mother, Rosita, to hope for an occasional word from my daughters.” She splayed her hand over her chest. “There’s a hole in my heart.”

“You’ve still got Sierra and Jorge close by,” Rosita pointed out. She tactfully omitted mentioning Roberto, who’d moved to Denver, the same city that Gloria had chosen to disappear to.

“And a hole in my heart,” Maria repeated. Even if she’d had a dozen children, she’d still feel the lack of the two who had left. Roberto returned frequently, Gloria and Christina did not.

Rosita shrugged, spreading her hands wide. “So, plug it.”

Maria blew out a breath. Her cousin made the situation sound so simple. “How?”

Rosita wandered from display to display within Stocking Stitch, which was what Maria had chosen to call her store. “Get the girls to come home.”

Maria’s impatience continued to grow. She stepped in front of her cousin before Rosita could move to yet another display. “Again, how?”

Rosita shook her head. “I have never known you to be slow with ideas, ’Ria. You could throw a party.”

Of course, how could she not have thought of that? Jose would cook, as he always insisted on doing, and she could be the hostess. Nothing made her happier than to have everyone home, under one roof. Maria smiled. “A big party.”

“A big family party,” Rosita agreed.

The smile faded from Maria’s lips. She was deluding herself. “But the girls will pass when I ask them to fly out. This thing between them…” She had never gotten all the details, but it wasn’t a stretch for her to guess at what was going on. Christina, her oldest, and Gloria, her wild one, had had a falling out. Most likely over a man. “There’re bad feelings.”

Rosita remained unfazed. The two had spent many hours talking about their children. “So? Come up with something to block out these bad feelings.”

A smile took hold of Maria’s lips, melting away the years. By everyone’s standards, she was still a very handsome woman. “I could tell them that their father’s had a heart attack. They’ll come rushing back for that.”

“They’ll come rushing to the hospital,” Rosita pointed out. “That’s where they’ll expect to see him if he’s had a heart attack.”

Maria nodded. Rosita had a point. “Chest pains, then,” Maria amended. “We’ll hold a family reunion and I’ll tell the girls that if they miss this one, I don’t know if their father will be here for the next one.” She looked at her cousin, a sunny smile on her lips. “What do you think?” she asked as she picked up a pad and pen from the counter.

“I think that I’m happy we’re friends and not competitors.”

But Maria didn’t hear her. She was busy making notes to herself for the party she and her husband were about to throw.

Chapter One

Like an outsider staring through a one-way mirror, Gloria Mendoza Johansen looked slowly around at the people milling about and talking in her parents’ spacious living room. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Just like the old days, she thought.

There were people in every room of the house, confined inside rather than spilling out onto the patio and the grounds beyond because of the cold weather. February in Red Rock, Texas, left its mark. At times raw, it could leech into your very bones.

But inside the house, everything was warm, cozy. The way she had once thought the world was. But she’d learned differently.

As she floated from place to place, observing, hesitating to join in, she twirled the stem of her glass. A wineglass to hide the fact that she was drinking seltzer instead of something alcoholic.

Because she was one.

A recovering alcoholic, to be exact. Except that alcoholics never really recovered, she thought wryly. They were doomed to an eternal dance, always careful to avoid the very thing that they would always, on some level, crave. A drink. But she had been sober two years now and she was determined to remain that way.

Nodding and smiling, she didn’t pause to talk to people who looked inclined to engage her in conversation. She was still picking her time, taking it all in. It felt strange coming home. In part, it was as if she’d stepped into a time warp and five years had just melted away, never having passed.

But they had passed.

They’d left their mark on her in so many ways. Too many for her to think about now. Besides, there really was no point.

Go forward, don’t look back.

It was something she told herself almost daily, a mantra she all but silently chanted within the boundaries of her mind. And now, finally, she was beginning to adhere to it.

“They’re your family. They won’t bite, Gloria. Mingle.”

Her mother. She’d caught the scent of her mother’s perfume a beat before the older woman had said anything.

Gloria glanced over her shoulder at the diminutive woman. At sixty-two, Maria Mendoza still had the same figure that had first caught Jose Mendoza’s eye, no mean feat after five children. She was wearing her shoulder-length black hair up tonight. The silver streaks added to the impression of royalty, which was in keeping with the way she and the others had viewed her when they’d been children. It was her mother who had summoned her like the queen mother to return home.

Gloria smiled to herself now. Her mother had no idea that she’d been toying with that very notion herself, not for any so-called family reunion or to come rushing back to an ailing father who in her opinion looked remarkably healthy for a man supposedly battling chest pains, but to relocate. Permanently. To set up her business and her life where it had all once began.

Home.

She’d fled Red Rock five years ago when she’d felt her life spinning out of control, when the effects of alcohol and drugs had all but undone her. She’d thought that if she got away from everything, from her mother’s strong hand and everything that had contributed to her feeling of instability, the temptation to drink herself into oblivion and to drug her senses would disappear.

As if.

Because everywhere she went, she always had to take herself with her. It had taken a great deal of soul-searching and one near-fatal catastrophe—her nearly falling off a balcony while intoxicated—for her to finally face the fact that the problem was not external but internal. If she wanted her life to change, then she and not her surroundings needed to change.

So she’d shed the poor excuse for a husband she’d acquired in her initial vain attempt to turn her life around and then scrubbed away every bad habit she’d accumulated since she was a teenager. To that end, she’d checked herself into rehab, probably the hardest thing she’d ever done, and prepared to begin from scratch. And to learn to like herself again.

She knew the process was going to be slow. And it had been. Like molasses rolling downhill in January. But every tiny headway she made was also fulfilling. And as she grew stronger, more stable, more certain, she realized that she wanted to return to a place where people—most people, at any rate—liked her.

She’d wanted to return home.

And home was her parents. It was also her sisters, but that hurdle she hadn’t managed to take yet. When she’d left, she’d left her relationships with them, especially her older sister, Christina, in shambles.

She still had to do something about that.

One step at a time, Gloria cautioned herself.

She’d gotten everywhere else so far and she’d get there, too. Just maybe not tonight. She’d already seen her sisters, both of them, but from a distance. And that was what she intended on keeping tonight: her distance.

The same height as her mother, except that she was wearing heels that made her almost two inches taller, Gloria inclined her head toward the older woman. “Papa looks terrific for a man who’s had a heart attack,” she commented, not bothering to keep the smile from her lips.

“Chest pains,” Maria corrected, as if the reason she’d given both her older girls had not been a creative fabrication. “I said he’d had chest pains.”

Gloria could feel her brown eyes fill with humor as she looked at her mother—and saw right through her. “More like indigestion maybe?”

Maria shrugged her shoulders, dismissing the topic. It was obvious that her mother was not about to insist on the lie. It had done its work. It had brought her home. “He wanted you here as much as I did.” Maria fixed her with a look that spoke to her heart. “As I do.”

There was no point in keeping her decision to herself any longer. Gloria slipped her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Then I have something to tell you.”

But her mother cut her off, as if she was afraid she would hear something that would spoil the moment and the party for her. “Whatever it is, I am sure it is fascinating, but you can tell me all about it after you get my shawl.”

Gloria looked at her uncertainly. If anything, the press of bodies made the air warm, not cool. “Your shawl?”

“Yes, I left it in the den.” Already turning in that direction, she placed her hands on her daughter’s back and gave her a little initial push to start her on her way. “Get it for me, please.”

Gloria paused, then shrugged in compliance. Going to get her mother’s shawl gave her an excuse to withdraw for a moment. Just because she’d made up her mind to uproot her life for the second time in five years and come back home didn’t mean that the idea didn’t make her just the slightest bit uneasy. She supposed it was because she kept thinking about that old line she remembered from her high school English class. Some author, Wolfe? Maybe Hardy? Whoever it was had said you couldn’t go home again.

She prayed it was just a handy title for a book and not a prophecy.

The immediate reason she’d left Red Rock was that she’d blacked out after a drinking binge only to wake up to find herself beside a man she’d had no recollection of meeting. But in part she’d fled to San Antonio because relations had also deteriorated between her and her sisters. They’d been so close once, but that had been as children and children had a tendency to overlook things adults couldn’t.

Such as cutting words and deceptions that should never have taken place. She and Christina had worked for the same financial firm, Macrizon, naive in their enthusiasm. And were easy prey for a woman named Rebecca Waters who took perverse pleasure in pitting one of them against the other.

Maria, looking impatient, ran her hands along her arms. “Please, Glory, I’m getting cold.”

She looked at her mother suspiciously. Was she getting sick? But Maria’s face appeared as rosy as ever. Again, Gloria shrugged. “Fine, Mama. One shawl, coming up.”

She made her way to the den, wondering if her father knew how oddly his wife was behaving tonight.

The second she walked into the den, she knew she had been set up.

Maria Mendoza, you’re still a crafty little woman, she thought.

Her younger sister, Sierra, was standing inside the bookcase-lined room, looking around as if she was searching for something. She’d watched as Christina, her older sister, had preceded her into the room by less than a minute.

Gloria shook her head. She should have seen this coming a mile away.

Despite her unease, she couldn’t help commenting, “All we need now is a little Belgium detective with a waxed mustache and a cup of hot chocolate saying, ‘I know that you are wondering why I asked you all to be here tonight.’”

At the sound of Gloria’s voice, Christina whirled around to look at her, her mouth open in surprise. Sierra’s head jerked up. She looked as if she could be knocked over with a feather plucked from a duck’s back.

Awkwardness warred with that old, fond feeling she’d once had when she was in the company of her sisters. “Mom sent me,” Gloria finally explained.

Lights dawned on her sisters’ faces. “Papa sent me,” Christina told them.

“Rosita,” was Sierra’s contribution for the reason behind the exodus that had brought the three of them to this room.

Suddenly, Gloria felt herself being pushed into the room. Catching her balance, she whirled around, only to have the door shut in her face. Her sisters were immediately on either side of her as she tried the doorknob. It wouldn’t give.

Big surprise.

“It’s locked.” Maria’s voice came through the door. “And it’s going to stay that way until the three of you resolve your differences and come out of there acting like sisters instead of angry strangers.”

“You’re really going to be needing that shawl, Mama.” There was nothing Gloria hated more than being manipulated. She knew her sisters felt the same way about being played. “Considering that hell’s going to be freezing over when that happens.”

She tried the door again, but it still didn’t give. Her mother was obviously in for the duration. Angry, Gloria turned to look at the two other women. Now what? She jerked her head in the direction of the door. “She sounds serious.”

Christina snorted, her arms akimbo. “Mama can get pretty stubborn when she wants something.”

And that, Gloria thought, was a prime example of the pot calling the kettle black. Gloria eyed her older sister. “You’re not exactly a shrinking violet yourself in that department.”

It was impossible to read Christina’s expression. “And you are?”

Sierra placed herself between the two older women she still loved dearly. Peacemaking came naturally to her, it always had. Becoming a social worker had only intensified that tendency.

Shorter than both her sisters, Sierra nonetheless refused to give ground as she looked from one to the other. “Tina, Glory, let’s not pick up where you two left off five years ago.”

Edgy, nervous, Gloria felt like the odd girl out. When she’d left, it had been Christina and Sierra against her.

She raised her chin now, defensive, wary. Wondering if the other two were willing to begin again the way she was or wanted to draw the lines in the sand again. “And why not?”

Sierra looked exasperated. She also looked older, Gloria thought. More in control. “Because it’s obvious that Mama and Papa want us to pick up where we left off ten, fifteen years ago, not five.”

Gloria searched Sierra’s face. Her younger sister wasn’t just paying lip service to something. It was obvious she was speaking what was in her heart, as well.

A smile slowly emerged on her lips. She continued to test the waters. “We were pretty close then, weren’t we? Be nice to just step on a magic carpet and go back in time.”

Sierra had a better solution. “Or just forget what went down.”

Gloria looked at Christina. The acrimony, because that was what it had become, had been mainly between her and her older sister. It had spilled out onto Sierra only when she’d thought that Sierra had joined forces with Christina against her.

Maybe things wouldn’t have seemed so intense, so distorted and so overly dramatic if she hadn’t been trapped inside a bottle at the time, Gloria thought. A lot of the fault, if she were being honest, had lain with her.

She offered Sierra a rueful smile, covertly watching Christina’s expression. “That’s a whole lot of forgetting.”

Christina took a deep breath, her natural composure slipping into place. Of the three of them, she was the most unflappable, at least outwardly. The one who seemed to be able to take everything in stride. Not too many people guessed at the chaos going on inside. Or at the pain.

She seemed to reach a conclusion. “I can if you can,” Christina finally said, looking at her.

Which put the ball squarely in her court, Gloria thought.

She didn’t want to be thought of as the lesser sister, the one who clung to old arguments and hurt feelings. The one who refused to allow bygones to be bygones.

More than anything, she wanted to bury the recent past and return to the years when they had viewed life with a rosier hue—without the benefit of any artificial crutches or additives.

To Gloria’s surprise, Christina put out her hand. “Fresh start?”

Tension drained out of her and for the first time since she’d entered the room, Gloria really smiled as she took the hand that was offered. “Fresh start.”

Sierra placed her own hand on top of her sisters’ clasped ones. She beamed as she looked from one to the other.

“Fresh start,” she echoed.

And suddenly, just like that, it felt like old times. Gloria embraced the feeling just as she embraced the sisters she had been without for much too long. A huge sense of relief hovered like a cleansing cloud within the room.

The sisters all sank down onto the thickly padded brown leather sofa that dominated the room, shy, but eager to catch up and make up for lost time.

On the coffee table sat a bottle of wine and three glasses. Gloria ignored the alcohol and instead took a sip from the glass of seltzer she had brought with her. She thought about what had just been pledged. A fresh start. Something she intended to make a reality. “You know, for this to be a true fresh start, we have to give it all our attention.”

“I’m for that.” Christina poured Sierra a glass of wine, then one for herself. She hesitated over the third glass, then raised her eyes to Gloria.

Gloria smiled, then shook her head. Unlike their mother, her sisters were aware of her demons. At least, some of them.

“Don’t worry about me.” She indicated the glass of seltzer. “I’m fine with this.”

“You’ve already made your fresh start,” Christina observed, setting the bottle back on the tray.

“One day at a time.” They raised their glasses and toasted a new beginning. Gloria caught her lower lip between her teeth as she regarded the other two thoughtfully. “You know what the single most disastrous obstacle in our path to recovery is?”

Sierra gamely placed her glass on the tray. “I’ll bite, what?”

Gloria thought of her ill-fated marriage and the men who had come before. Christina had fared little better. As for Sierra, she had never found anyone to make her happy, either.

“Men,” she told the others.

Christina laughed. “They are a problem, bless their black hearts.”

“No,” Gloria contradicted, “we’re the problem.” The other two women looked at her. “We can’t seem to choose the right ones.”

Sierra and Christina readily agreed with the assessment.

“That’s because the rotten ones are always so damn attractive,” Sierra observed.

Christina nodded. “Sure can’t tell a book by its cover.”

And the handsome ones knew they could get by on their looks and not take any responsibility for their actions. Well, she was swearing them off, the lot of them. And for the time being, so should her sisters. “So we’re going to close the bookstore.” But that sounded too final, so she added, “Temporarily.”

Christina frowned. Leaning over, she pretended to look into the glass that Gloria was holding. “Sure that isn’t vodka?” Rather than answer, Gloria held the glass out to her. Christina took it and sniffed. Bubbles were still dancing on top of the liquid. She wrinkled her nose as she pushed the glass back toward Gloria. “Seltzer,” she confirmed.

Satisfied that she had her sisters’ attention and compliance, Gloria continued. “We’re not going to have anything to do with them.”

Sierra shook her head. That seemed like rather an impossible resolution. “Pretty hard, considering they’re almost half the population.”

“On a private, social level,” Gloria clarified. Her eyes shifted from Christina to Sierra to see if they were still with her. “Meaning, no dates.”

“No dates,” Sierra echoed. A beat later, she smiled, as if the words and their import were sinking in. “No dates,” she repeated.

Christina held up her hand, taking a solemn oath. “No dates.”

She couldn’t tell if they were humoring her or if she’d really gotten through. “No, I’m serious,” Gloria insisted. Warming up to her subject, she moved to the edge of the sofa, like a bird about to dive-bomb. “We shouldn’t go out with any of them—no matter how tempted we are—” She stopped, deep in thought. “For a year,” she concluded, then repeated, “A year. That should be long enough to at least begin to get the rest of our lives in order.”

There was no one in her life, significant or otherwise. Sierra shrugged. There was nothing to lose. “Okay.”

Christina laughed. It was obvious by her expression that the idea amused her. And maybe it had merit. “Fine by me.”

They still weren’t taking this seriously. She could tell.

Adamant, Gloria shook her head. “You say that now, but the first minute some cute, rotten guy crosses your path—”

“I’ll ignore him,” Christina concluded.

She had to up the ante, Gloria thought. Otherwise her sisters weren’t going to give this the attention it needed. She firmly believed that men were the distracting force. Worse, they were the destructive force. If she and her sisters were going to accomplish anything with their lives, they had to remain focused.

“Right,” Gloria said firmly. “And do you know why you’ll ignore him?”

“Because I’ve finally gotten some sense in my head?” Christina guessed.

“No, because if you don’t ignore him, you’re going to have to do something drastic in reparation, something you don’t want to do.”

“What wouldn’t you want to do?” Sierra asked.

Thoughts flew through her brain in rapid-fire succession. “Put on a French maid’s costume and clean up your apartments.”

Christina’s mouth fell open. “So if you fail, you’d be willing to fly in from Denver to—”

“Not from Denver,” Gloria corrected. “From here.”

Christina’s look of surprise only intensified. “You’ve moved here?”

Gloria grinned. Since her mother had cut her off when she’d tried to share her news, her sisters were going to be the first to know. “In the process.”

Christina’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding. Me, too.” When the other two looked at her in stunned shock, she shrugged. “I got homesick for Papa’s cooking.” It was a handy enough excuse. Their father owned and operated Red, a restaurant whose patronage came from miles around just to sample the food.

“Okay, so it’s agreed.” Eager to get this on track and settled before the conversation could veer off again, Gloria held up her hand as if to take a solemn oath. “I promise to become a servant to each of you for the length of—” Again she paused before continuing. “One day each if I go back on our bargain.” She looked at Sierra. “Your turn.”

“Um…okay, I’ll cook each of you a fantastic meal.”

“You mean, you’ll order take-out.” Christina laughed.

“No, really, a great meal. From scratch,” Sierra promised. “And you all know how I hate to cook.”

“Sounds fair,” Gloria commented. “Tina?”

Christina sighed, obviously trying to think. “Okay, I’ve got it. I’ll wash cars for a whole day at the car wash. You can put up signs if you want. And I’ll donate the money to charity. Satisfied?” she asked Gloria.

“Satisfied,” Gloria announced, grinning. Then she looked from one sister to the other. “We all agreed?”

Christina shrugged her shoulders good-naturedly. “Sure, why not? Agreed.” She took a sip of her wine to seal the bargain.

Sierra echoed the word, “Agreed,” then took a sip herself. She grinned at Gloria. “Moving here, huh?”

The second the announcement had come out of her mouth, she’d known it had felt right. “Just as soon as I can find an apartment.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Sierra told her. The other two looked at her. “I know this really nice place. A friend of mine is relocating to the east coast. She’s looking for someone to sublet the place. Interested?”

“You bet,” Gloria enthused. And then she looked at her sisters again, a warm feeling spreading through her limbs. This was what she’d missed. What she needed.

Christina put it into words for her. “Wow, the Mendoza girls, back together again. Who would have thunk it?”

Gloria laughed, then turned and glanced toward the door. Crossing to it, she knocked loudly. “Hey, Mama, you can open the door now. We’re friends again.”

Christina came up to join her with Sierra bringing up the rear. “Think she can hear us?”

“She’s a mother, of course she can hear us.” As if to give credence to her words, the door flew open and Maria walked in, beaming at her daughters. “Especially when she’s only two inches away,” Gloria concluded.

They laughed and hugged, a human knot of arms and warmth, just like when they were small.

And at that moment, Gloria had never felt happier. She was home.

Chapter Two

Jack Fortune walked out of the third-floor office and headed back toward the elevator. He punched the up button, which was already lit, impatience tap-dancing through him like the feet of a troop of dancers doing an Irish jig. He was not a happy man and his displeasure had nothing to do with his fighting off the lingering effects of jet lag that had attached themselves to him less than two hours ago when he’d made the flight in from New York’s JFK.

It was what lay waiting for him in the immediate future that bothered Jack.

He seldom resented doing practically anything his father asked of him. He had more than a healthy respect for Patrick Fortune, both as a businessman and as a human being. If children were allowed to preselect their father, he knew that he sure as hell couldn’t have asked for better than the one he had. He would have done anything in the world for his father without hesitation.

But this wasn’t for his father—not really. No. He had been pulled away from his enormously busy schedule at the New York office of Fortune-Rockwell Bank to help out some friend of his father’s daughter set up shop in San Antonio. The whole thing had sounded rather slapdash when Patrick had called him about it the day before yesterday, asking him to fly out to lend his business acumen to this so-called enterprise.

Jack punched the button again, frowning. This was undoubtedly some bubbleheaded female who thought just because she had a whim, she could make a go of a business. Probably didn’t even know the first thing that was involved in such an undertaking.

Jewelry-making, for God’s sake. What was his father thinking? The woman had probably gotten some kit from a craft store for Christmas and thought she was going to take the market by storm because she could string together ten beads or whatever.

He’d dearly wanted to say as much when his father had called to drop this little bomb in his lap, but he’d held his tongue out of respect and out of love.

Jack shifted his six-foot-two-inch frame. Where the hell was the elevator, anyway?

Damn, his father should know better, he thought. Hadn’t he told him more than once that he was a vital member of the Fortune-Rockwell team? If he was so vital, then he should remain in the New York office, not have to come gallivanting out to San Antonio to hold some novice’s well-manicured hand.

Once upon a time, his father would have known that. But lately, Jack thought, concern nibbling away at him, his father was showing signs of slowing down. Whenever they spoke, Patrick Fortune would talk about “smelling the roses” and all that stuff people who’ve had a near-death experience say. Except that, at seventy, his father seemed as strong as ever. And when he’d asked him if there was something wrong, if he was perhaps not feeling well, his father had heartily said no, laughing at the very notion. Patrick Fortune had said that for the first time in his life, there was nothing wrong. That he’d finally had the good fortune—no pun intended—of seeing life the right way.

It seemed to Jack a case of too much denial. The more he thought about it now, the more convinced he became that there was something wrong with his father. The dynamo who had helped build up and was now in charge of Fortune-Rockwell Bank didn’t stop to smell roses he could have delivered to him, nor did he take key personnel and ship them off to San Antonio because some chicklet’s mother asked him to.

From what he’d gathered, not only had his father agreed to help get this Gloria Mendoza Something-or-Other’s business up and running, but he’d taken on her sister, Christina, as well. He’d put her to work in the San Antonio branch as a business analyst for his best friend, Derek Rockwell, the Rockwell behind the second half of the bank’s name.

Something was definitely up.

Maybe his father was going through his second childhood. After all, the man was living in his seventh decade and, despite power, prestige and a loving family, maybe Patrick Fortune thought that he had missed out on something the first time around.

It was time Jack had a long talk with his father. Later. Right now, he’d promised to meet with his father and this Gloria person.

He punched the up button a third time. If his father’s office wasn’t on the thirtieth floor, he would have given up and walked up. Served him right for stopping off to see if one of his old acquaintances was still with the company. Business before pleasure. He could have always caught up with his friend after he’d put in an appearance at his dad’s office.

Maybe if he could get his father to see just how ridiculous it was to ask him to get involved in this, the senior Fortune would let him go back to New York where he belonged instead of making him cool his heels in San Antonio. God knew he had better things to do than act as a guardian angel for an empty-headed female.

After all, his father had already brought Derek out here. Why have both his right-hand and left-hand man in the same place?

The elevator doors opened in front of him. Finally!

Immersed in his own thoughts, searching for a way out of his dilemma, Jack stepped into the car.

There were several other people in the car, including one woman who blocked the keypad. To press his floor button, he would have to move her out of the way.

He had no time for games and was in no mood for them. “Thirty,” he snapped when the woman made no effort to step back.

Gloria was busy struggling with a bout of claustrophobia, a battle she was forced to engage in every time she stepped onto an elevator. The fact that there were several people in the car only made things worse. Dazed, she looked at the man who’d gotten on. Until he’d opened his mouth, she’d thought he was quite an attention-getter. She sincerely doubted that she’d ever seen a man as good-looking as this one off a movie screen.

But the second he opened his mouth, attitude came pouring out. Attitude she was in no mood for. Besides the claustrophobia, she was nervous. It wasn’t every day of the year that Patrick Fortune offered to back you and help you get on your feet financially.

Not that she needed it as much as her mother seemed to think. She’d packed up her business in Denver and left with everything in good standing. She was more than comfortably in the black, with a number of back orders left to fill. Even at this early date, it looked as if the year was shaping up nicely for her.

She had every confidence in the world that she was going to succeed here, as well. But it never hurt to be given an added boost—and by Patrick Fortune, no less. He’d seemed like such a nice man when she’d talked to him at the party. He’d even admired the necklace she’d been wearing, an original piece she’d made for herself.

But that had been pleasure and this was business. So there were butterflies roaming around in her stomach.

She slanted a look at the rude man. He hadn’t even said please.

“I’m not the elevator operator,” she informed him crisply.

She saw his dark eyes narrow and he looked like Zeus about to hurl thunderbolts from Mount Olympus. “If you don’t want the job, then don’t stand in front of the keypad.”

She was not about to be bullied. She’d paid her dues in that department and no man was ever going to order her around again. Arms spread out on either side of her, she took a step back, leaving the way clear for him to press the keypad himself.

“You know, nice people get a lot further in this world than people with bad attitudes.”

“You tell ’im, honey,” someone in the back of the elevator encouraged.

“And people who mind their own business get further,” the rude man retorted.

Annoyed, Jack glanced to see which floor they’d just passed, then pressed the very next number. The last thing he needed was to ride up to his destination sharing the experience with a harpy.

This was shaping up to be a bad morning all around, Jack silently conceded. They’d lost his luggage at the airport, the limousine that was to have met him never showed up and the taxi he’d wound up taking had gotten stuck in traffic. Even if he had been in the best of moods, his patience would have been severely challenged.

His natural inclination to be polite was strained and had completely fallen by the wayside the second the woman hovering over the elevator keypad had given him a flippant answer to his request.

The elevator stopped on his floor and opened its doors. Jack was out like a shot.

Gloria heard herself breathe a sigh of relief.

Now there was a serial killer in the making, she thought, glad he’d gotten off. At the very least, it was one less body to deal with.

The doors closed again. She pressed damp hands together, afraid of leaving a mark on the wintergreen suit she was wearing. She felt a hitch in her throat and told herself she was just nervous.

Nothing to be nervous about. Patrick Fortune’s a nice man.

After all, she and Patrick Fortune had gotten along famously at the party. Within a few minutes of speaking with him, Gloria felt as if she’d known him all of her life.

He’d been attentive and interested in everything she’d had to say about her business, giving her the same kind of courtesy he would a captain of industry. Her mother had told her later that he was seventy, but he certainly hadn’t acted it or looked it. Athletic, five-ten, with mostly red hair, he’d been charming and infinitely reassuring. After talking to him, she’d known that bringing her business to San Antonio was going to be a lot easier than she’d thought. He’d even proposed backing a loan for whatever she’d needed.

Their encounter had been reassuring. There was no reason in the world to be nervous. And yet, she was.

It had been a good thing, coming home, she decided, shifting to the side as she allowed three people to get off, grateful for their departure.

Now that she had returned, she didn’t know why she’d hesitated for so long. Instead of everything falling apart, the way she’d once thought, things were finally coming together. Maybe it had taken her leaving home to make her appreciate everything she actually did have, she mused as the climb to the thirtieth floor continued.

Whatever it was, she was glad she’d heeded her mother’s call to come home when she had instead of deliberating a few more days. Otherwise she wouldn’t have gotten to meet Patrick Fortune.

But then again, she mused, a smile curving her mouth, knowing her mother, she probably would have run into the man sooner or later. Maria Mendoza didn’t leave much to chance if she could help it.

She’d do well to take a page out of her mother’s book, Gloria decided.

The elevator finally came to a stop on the thirtieth floor. Gloria was alone in the car. She stepped through the steel doors, taking a deep breath as she did so, relieved to be out of the box.

And then she took in her surroundings.

She felt a little like a mortal reaching Mount Olympus, seeking an audience with Zeus.

As she walked to the receptionist’s desk, she again thought about the man she’d met the other night. She’d found Patrick Fortune extremely easy to talk to. Like a kindly uncle. She would have expected him to be driven, anal, like that man who’d just scowled at her in the elevator.

Her thoughts going there, she pitied anyone having to deal with that one. The next moment, she put him out of her mind.

The walls that led to the receptionist’s desk were lined with paintings—bright, colorful landscapes and seascapes that were extremely uplifting. Just looking at them made her feel empowered.

She wondered if Patrick Fortune had selected them himself. Probably. He didn’t strike her as a man who delegated very much.

Reaching the long, ivory-colored desk, Gloria smiled and nodded at the receptionist. “I’m Gloria Mendoza Johansen. I have an appointment to see Mr. Fortune.”

The woman behind the desk flashed her a studied smile that disappeared a moment after making its appearance. Her small, stubby fingers flew over her keyboard with the flair of a piano virtuoso playing a well-beloved concerto.

“Yes,” the woman whose nameplate proclaimed her to be Doris Wells verified in a thick Texas accent, “it looks like you do.”

Before she could reach for her telephone to notify her boss about this newest arrival, the door behind her opened. Patrick Fortune, wearing an iron-gray suit and light salmon shirt with a gray tie stepped out. He smiled warmly at her as he stepped forward.

“Gloria, right on time.” He glanced at his watch. “A few minutes early, as a matter of fact. I like that in a person. Always get there one jump ahead.” He took both of her hands in his. “You look lovely.”

And then, as if aware that he was suddenly a source of interest, he glanced toward the receptionist. The woman had raised her brow at the friendly display.

“Stop frowning like that, Doris. I’m not putting the moves on Ms. Johansen, I’m just making a very obvious observation. Besides, I’m old enough to be her gr—” He cleared his throat and amended, “Father.” A twinkle came into his eye as he tucked Gloria’s arm through his and led her toward his office. “Come in, come in.”

His office took her breath away. She was vaguely aware that he’d left the door open, as if to leave a connection with reality.

Patrick Fortune inclined his head, conceding, “It’s a little large.”

A little large? Obviously the man had a gift for understatement. Her observation came out in an awed whisper. “I’ve seen smaller golf courses.”

Her words were rewarded with a deep, booming laugh.

“Your mother warned me that you always say what you think.”

She flushed, wondering if she’d offended him somehow, or shown him the small, frightened girl who lived behind the larger-than-life dream and words.

“My mother always told me to think of what I say before I say it.”

That had been the source of more than one lecture she’d been forced to endure. Always her own person even when she didn’t know who or what that person might be, Gloria had always felt driven to do her own thing, not to try to conform to anyone else’s image of her. Now, she realized that her image of herself was what her mother had had in mind all along.

Another sign that her homecoming was a good thing. She took heart in that.

“Your mother is a lovely woman. I’ve known her and your father for almost as long as I’ve known Rosita and Rueben Perez.” Her parents’ best friends, Gloria thought, not to mention that Rosita and her mother were cousins, as well. Rosita had worked for the Fortunes, taking care of their children, since what felt like the beginning of time. She supposed, in part, she had the other woman to thank for this opportunity, as well.

Maybe, Gloria mused, she was finally due for some honest-to-goodness good luck.

Rather than resist the way she would have even five years ago, insisting that her mother was meddling, she now gladly left herself open to “be meddled with.” Heaven knew that no one could do a worse job than she had with her life up to two years ago.

Maybe, if she’d left herself open to suggestions earlier instead of resisting them, her life would have laid itself out differently. Better.

This wasn’t the time for reflections, much less regrets, she admonished herself. The past was just that, something to remain in the background. She was here to take advantage of the present and to hopefully, finally, build a very solid future.

This was the new, improved Gloria whose roots were firmly entrenched in the Gloria who had once been, before the drugs and alcohol had interfered with the direction her life was taking.

She offered the older man her best smile, the one her mother claimed lit up her whole face. “She speaks very highly of you, Mr. Fortune. Both my parents do.”

He gestured her toward the chair that was in front of his desk and waited until she sat before he took his own seat. “And they speak highly of you.”

She knew how much heartache she’d caused both her parents. Their loyalty took her breath away. And made her ashamed all over again for what she had done to them. “They do?”

Patrick had five children himself, just like the Mendozas, and he could well guess what she was thinking. Maria hadn’t gone into detail, but he knew there was a black period in Gloria’s past.

She was about Violet’s age, he judged. “Just because our children temporarily ‘mess up,’ doesn’t mean that we suddenly are blind to their good points. Sometimes, that’s all we parents have to hold on to while we ride out the turbulence.”

She smiled ruefully and shook her head, rising to her feet. “I can’t imagine any of your children giving you a problem.”

He laughed, the sound echoing within the large room. “Then I fear that you have far less imagination than I have been given to believe you possess.” He winked at her.

Which was exactly when his son walked in.

Jack stopped just half a step past the threshold, stunned. His father had just winked at what appeared, at least from the back, to be an attractive woman.

She was wearing a trim-fitting jacket and short skirt, the latter of which hugged hips the way, he judged, most men of her acquaintance probably would have wanted to. Her head came up to his father’s shoulder. Since the man was about five-ten, that placed her in the neighborhood of petite. She had deep-black hair that was pinned up. Even so, she didn’t appear to be here on business, not if that wink he’d just witnessed was any indication of what was transpiring.

He’d obviously interrupted something, but his father had told him to be here at this time, so here he was.

Jack couldn’t help wondering if this was the reason for his father’s change in attitude over the past few months. Was he advocating smelling roses because there was now a mistress to receive those roses?

For a second Jack debated stepping out again. But his father looked in his direction.

“So, you’ve finally gotten here.” The greeting was accompanied by a wide smile.

His father didn’t look like a man who’d just been caught in a transgression. But then, Patrick Fortune was the most self-assured man he had ever met. To his recollection, his father had never made any apologies for himself or his actions.

Aware that he was actually a few minutes late, something he abhorred, Jack found himself on the defensive. “I, um, had to catch another elevator car. There was this obnoxious woman—”

The rest of his statement faded into the light blue walls. The woman his father had just winked at turned around and looked at him.

A feeling of déjà vu shot through him with the velocity of an iron-tipped arrow.

He hadn’t recognized the woman’s clothes, or even the color of her hair, but then she turned to look at him and, well, that wasn’t the kind of face a man easily forgot.

Not even if he tried.

Gloria stared at the man framed in the doorway, recognizing him instantly. It was the man who’d been so rude he’d managed to bring out the worst in her at an incredibly fast speed. Mr. Fortune obviously knew him. More than that, he seemed to have been waiting for him.

Why? What did this mean?

Suddenly there was a distinct sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her fingertips felt moist again, the way they always did when she felt the walls closing in around her.

Was it a premonition?

Holding her breath, Gloria turned away from the younger man in the doorway and looked at Patrick Fortune, a silent, formless prayer echoing in her brain.

Patrick’s eyes shifted from his son to the woman in front of him and back again. He had gotten to his present station in life through hard work coupled with very keen instinct. Instinct that was at times sharper than others’, but even at its worst was never dull.

Right now his instincts told him that there was something going on here between Maria’s daughter and his son that he wasn’t quite aware of. Something he might be able to capitalize on.

He adopted an innocent expression as he looked from one to the other again. “You two know each other?”

“No.” Gloria shot the word out like a bullet.

Jack, Patrick noted, hadn’t taken his eyes off Gloria since he walked in. “We rode up together in the elevator.” The words were ground out.

A slightly puzzled note entered into his expression. “If you rode up together, then why—”

Anticipation had Gloria interrupting. “He got off early,” she supplied.

Jack set his jaw hard. Not adding, as he wanted to, that he’d gotten off because he hadn’t felt like riding up all those floors with an obvious shrew.

This couldn’t be the woman his father wanted him to work with, Jack thought. His luck didn’t run that bad.

Chapter Three

His father was looking at him, obviously still waiting for some kind of good, believable explanation as to why he’d gotten off on another floor rather than arrive here with this annoying woman.

Jack was sharp when it came to matters in the boardroom. But personal things, such as his reaction to this woman, were another matter. The only excuse he could come up with was, “I forgot something.”

Patrick nodded, wise enough to let the matter drop. Jack doubted that his father really believed him, but was clearly willing to let it go. For now.

“Nothing important, I trust,” Patrick said, eyeing his firstborn.

“Excuse me?”

“That ‘thing’ you forgot, it was nothing important, I trust,” Patrick repeated. Just the slightest hint of humor curved his mouth as he continued to look at Jack.

“No, nothing important,” Jack murmured. Just my sanity.

Patrick’s eyes never left his son’s face. Jack was so much a chip off the old block that at times it was positively scary. He saw himself in Jack’s eyes, in Jack’s actions. Which was why, when Maria Mendoza had approached him for help regarding her daughters, the first thing he’d thought of was to get Jack involved in Gloria’s business transfer. He knew that, given Jack’s business acumen, it was a little like offering a building contractor a set of rubber blocks. But he wasn’t necessarily looking to challenge Jack. Not professionally, at any rate. The challenge he offered was to the inner man, the one whose development had been arrested all these years. Ever since Jack’s college days.

It was high time that Jack stop playing the one note he was so exceptionally skilled at playing and fill out the other corners of his life.

Patrick was aware, although Jack never spoke about it, that his son had had his heart set on marrying Ann Garrison, a girl he’d known in college. When she was killed while driving under the influence one night, nearly taking Jack with her, his oldest had withdrawn from the world. But then slowly, with the support of his family, Jack had crawled back out and thrown himself into the family business.

In the beginning he’d been very grateful that Jack had found a way to help himself heal. But after a while, it had become apparent that this was the only path his son would take.

Nothing mattered but the banking business and that was wrong. He’d learned that the hard way himself. It was a lesson he meant to pass on to Jack even if Jack resisted. He didn’t want his son looking back at the end of his years and seeing nothing but cold accomplishments to have marked his passage through this earth.

A man needed a family. His own family. And children. Gloria might not be the one Jack ultimately wound up with, but considering the fact that his son wasn’t out looking at all, Gloria seemed more than capable of getting him interested in pursuits other than business.

Patrick had a knack for reading people and Gloria didn’t look the type to be intimidated. At the very least, he doubted if his slightly larger-than-life son would plow the woman under. She could probably go ten rounds with Jack and still hold her own.

And if he read between the lines of what Maria had told him about her daughter, Gloria could use the stimulation, as well.

Right now, though, silence was hanging extremely heavily in the room. Patrick felt as if he was the impromptu referee at an unofficial bout.

Mentally he rubbed his hands together. Let the games begin, he thought.

“Well, then, let’s get on with it. I suppose formal introductions are in order. Jack, I’d like you to meet your, um, new ‘project.’” Patrick flashed a smile at the young woman. “Gloria Mendoza Johansen. Gloria, this is my oldest son, Jack.” He didn’t bother hiding the pride in his voice. Life was too short to scrimp on praise when it was due. “Next to me, I’d say that Jack is the most savvy businessman I know. He’ll be handling your affairs.” His smile widened. “So to speak.”

She’d never seen eyes that twinkled before. But there was definitely a twinkle in Patrick Fortune’s eyes. Why?

And his words caused alarms to go off in her head. “You mean that you’re not going to be overseeing the shop?” She’d thought that was why he’d asked her here. But he was palming her off on his son, Mr. Charm-and-Personality.

It was the last thing she wanted. Recovering from the jolt, her first instinct was to say, “Thanks, but no thanks.” After all, she’d originally started the business in Denver all by herself and it had been doing very nicely, thank you very much. Over the two years that it had been in existence, the store had gained a small but loyal and solid following. And she had contractual work in Hollywood, as well. An actress on a popular sitcom had fallen in love with one of her necklace designs and suddenly she was getting calls from the west coast, asking her to create the jewelry for the whole show.

All of this had come about on the strength of her skill and by word of mouth. There was even a man in New York City who’d flown out to buy his wife a Christmas present. His wife had seen her work while vacationing in Denver and had fallen in love with it. And he knew some people who knew some people…Whatever it took to build up a clientele, she mused.

There was absolutely no reason why she couldn’t do that right here in San Antonio. After all, this was only a stone’s throw from where she’d originally started out, Red Rock. She already knew people here.

But there was no denying that the Fortunes were a power to be reckoned with and when one of them offered to show up in your corner, you didn’t suddenly throw up a brick wall to keep them out. Especially not the head of the clan.

But this is the son, not the father. A scowling son at that, she reminded herself.

There were times when Gloria was certain that fate had it in for her. One moment it looked as if things were only going to get better, the next, the rug beneath her feet was being frantically tugged on. As of yet, it hadn’t been pulled out, but it did provide just enough turbulence to throw her off balance.

She didn’t like being off balance. She’d spent enough of her life that way already.

Patrick’s expression was disarming. It left no room for argument.

“I’m afraid I’m going to be too busy to offer you the personal attention that you deserve.” He let his words sink in properly, then looked at Jack.

Oh, and I won’t be? Jack thought. His father had never minimized his contribution to the business or his importance in the company before. Just what was going on here?

“Would you excuse us for a second?” Jack said, addressing Gloria.

“Sure,” Gloria replied, and left the room.

Moving over toward the full-length bar that had been the last piece of decor installed in his more-than-spacious, state-of-the-art office, Patrick Fortune waited for Jack to begin.

Jack turned his back to the door to further ensure their privacy. “Dad, have I done something to displease you?”

“On the contrary, I couldn’t have asked for a better right hand—or a better son,” Patrick answered.

Okay, so he hadn’t unconsciously incurred his father’s annoyance, Jack thought. His mind did a U-turn. Did Derek have something to do with this? Derek Rockwell had been his best friend for years now. Jack had been the one to initially bring Derek to his father’s attention, feeling sorry for Derek because he had never experienced the kind of warm family interactions that existed within his own home. Derek’s scholastic path had shadowed Jack’s and when the time came, his father had taken him into the company with open arms. More than that, his father had all but adopted Derek, treating him more like a son than Derek’s own father ever had.

Had Derek managed to somehow usurp him?

No, that was a low, petty thought. Derek would never turn on him, never do things behind his back. The man was selfless. Besides, his father had asked Derek to come to the San Antonio office weeks before he’d sent for him, Jack thought.

Jack stopped speculating. “Then why am I playing nursemaid to this woman?”

Patrick shook his head, his expression a portrait of patience. “Not nursemaid, I assure you. And it’s only temporary. Look, this is a favor for a friend,” he repeated, “and I would appreciate it if you would give this venture your very best effort.”

Jack blew out a breath. “I can do what’s required in my sleep,” he protested.

The indulgent smile returned to his father’s lips. “I’d prefer you awake.”

There just had to be more to this than met the eye. “Dad—”

Patrick placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder, the simple action calling a halt to any and all further protest. “How many times have I asked you to do me a favor?”

For a moment the wind left Jack’s sails. His father never presumed to manipulate him. The man had trusted his judgment and, except for a few initial guidelines, had given him free rein when it came to running the New York office.

Jack measured out his words. “This would be the first.”

“Right, it would be. So you know that this is important to me.” And Jack could tell that it was.

Jack glanced at the woman standing just outside the door. Why was this so important to his father? And then an answer occurred to him. One he didn’t particularly like. He looked at his father for a long moment. “Dad, is there more going on here than you’re telling me?”

Patrick’s reddish eyebrows huddled together over the bridge of his nose. “More?”

Suddenly his giant reservoir of words was mostly empty. “You know, is she…are the two of you—”

Because he thought so highly of his father—and always had—Jack couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Did Gloria represent his father’s lost youth?

Patrick was staring at him with a look of incredulity. When he spoke, his voice was hardly louder than a whisper. “Are you actually asking me if I’m having an affair with her?”

He’d seen his father become angry once or twice, although never with him or anyone in the family. He wasn’t sure what he was about to witness now. Jack held his ground. Because if his father was having an affair, he was damn well going to talk him out of it. And get rid of the girl as quickly as was humanly possible without involving something with a firing pin.

His eyes never left his father’s. “Yes.”

For a second Patrick stood stock-still. Then he scrubbed his hand over his face, his expression still stunned. “My God, I don’t know whether to be flattered or angry.” He laughed and Jack knew that the danger had passed. “My boy, your mother, God bless her, is more than enough woman for me.”

“Well, if you’re not having an affair with her and you’re not annoyed with me, why are you asking me to do this?”

The answer was simple. “Because she needs help.” And because you do, too, Patrick added silently. “She’s had a rough time of it.”

“Rough time?”

“You know, personally.” Patrick’s words came out at a faster clip, as if he was running short on time. “It’s too complicated to talk about now, but I thought that you of all people might be sympathetic.” He then issued the only instructions he was about to give on the matter. “Help her get on her feet. Not be taken advantage of, that sort of thing.” And then, apparently because he didn’t want Jack to think that he was dealing with someone lacking in business sense, he added, “Don’t get me wrong—Gloria’s savvy. But two heads are always better than one.”

“Unless they belong to the same person,” Jack muttered under his breath, hating this corner he was being painted into.

About to walk back to Gloria, Patrick stopped and turned around to look at Jack. “What?”

Jack waved away his words. He might as well make the best of this. The sooner he got down to it, the sooner he’d be finished. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Knew you would,” Patrick said, moving toward the door.

Reaching Gloria, Patrick beamed and led her back into the office. Then he glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid I’m running a little behind.”

“Meeting?” Jack asked, instantly alert.

“In a matter of speaking.” Patrick’s expression softened slightly. “Telephone conferencing.”

Apparently hoping for a last-minute reprieve or, at the very least, a stay of execution while he was included in this conference, Jack was quick to ask, “Is it anyone that I know?”

“Intimately.” The word hung in the air between them for a second before Patrick added, “I promised to call your mother.” His eyes shifted to Gloria. “I have to run, Gloria, but I’m leaving you in very capable hands.”

From the look in Jack Fortune’s eyes as he turned toward her, Gloria had more than a passing suspicion that he wanted to use those very capable hands to wring her neck.

Unconsciously she squared her shoulders, standing almost at attention by the time he reached her. The closer he got, the more tension telegraphed itself through her body.

And the closer he got, the handsomer he looked.

There was no doubt about it, she thought, attempting to remain impartial in her judgment, Jack Fortune was one of those men that the term “drop-dead gorgeous” had been invented to describe.

The kind of man she might have once fallen for before introductions were even completed.

Lucky for her she’d done a great deal of growing and changing since those days. Lucky, too, that he’d managed to put her off so completely with the very first words that had come out of his mouth. If anything, it had been a matter of annoyance at first glance.

And if there was one thing she was utterly sure of, it was that Mr. Jack Fortune posed no threat to her state of mind or the pact she had made with her sisters. If for some reason her hormones decided to go berserk and she was tempted to renege on that pact, it wasn’t about to be with a man who used his tongue as a carving knife at Thanksgiving.

For one thing, she’d seen warmer eyes on a mackerel lying on display at the fish market than the ones that were turned on her now.

She was acutely aware that they were being left alone in this cavern of an office suite. Patrick Fortune waved to her as he took out his cell phone and slipped away into a private alcove where he could rendezvous with his wife of more than forty years.

Must be nice, she thought, to love someone that much, to want to remain married to them for so many years. Like her parents. Too bad it was never going to happen to her.

But she had her business to keep her busy, she reminded herself. And so it was time to get back to that business.

She looked at Jack. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”

“Whether I’m happy has nothing to do with this,” he told her coldly, eyeing the purse she had tucked under her arm. It was one of those flimsy clutch things big enough for a change purse, a driver’s license and a set of keys. She obviously hadn’t brought any papers with her that he could look over. It figured.

“Since you don’t seem to have anything with you, why don’t we make an appointment for another time?”

She looked at him blankly. Maybe he should be speaking in monosyllabic words.

“Sometime when you have something with you for me to look over.”

“‘Something’?”

He took a breath, then spelled it out for her. Slowly. “Blueprints for the space you’ll need. Inventory of the items you’ll need on hand. Everything from shipping boxes to Bunsen burners. Cash-flow projections,” he added for good measure, wondering if she was following him at all.

“I don’t use a Bunsen burner,” she informed him tersely.

Jack looked down at her, then found himself caught in the fire in her eyes. He was about to say something else when he suddenly became aware that her very trim figure was just inches away from him and that something quite apart from a business meeting was going on here. It was as if all the pores in his body had suddenly opened up and were inhaling her very feminine, very unsettling perfume.

The woman was female with a capital “F.”

The very last thing he wanted in his life.

With effort, he steered himself back to his indignation. “Do you even have any idea what it takes to set up a business?”

She bit her lower lip. “I—”

He made himself look at her eyes instead of her mouth. Like a man sitting in the middle of a boat that had suddenly broken apart, he felt compelled to clutch at something for survival. In this case, he needed to drive her away. “Did anyone tell you that most businesses fail in their first year?”

She hated his high-handed tone and it took effort for her not to turn on her heel and just walk out.

She could feel her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to rein in the temper she had inherited from her mother. This pompous ass was actually talking down to her, treating her as if she was some kind of a kindergarten dropout. Just because his last name was Fortune didn’t give him the right to act as if she was some kind of mental incompetent.

Because she owed it to Patrick not to kill his son, she forced a smile to her lips. “Then I guess we have nothing to worry about.”

“Meaning?” Jack demanded, the word scratching his throat as it climbed out. Jack felt like a man who was losing his mind. Part of him wanted to walk out and slam the door on this woman. And another part of him wanted to find out what full lips with a slash of pink lipstick tasted like.

“Meaning this isn’t my first year.”

Flipping open her purse, she took out a folded magazine article. Very precisely she unfolded it, then handed it to him.

“I’ve been in business for two years now. My store was located in Denver.” She took the article—clipped from a local Denver Sunday supplement; a story featuring her unique designs—out of his hand, noting that he hadn’t even glanced at it. He kept his eyes on her. “I’m not a virgin, Mr. Fortune.”

Chapter Four

It took Jack longer than he would have liked to pull himself together. “Bragging, Ms. Johansen?”

Gloria raised her chin, a bantam rooster unafraid of the fox.

“It’s Mrs. Johansen—or it was.” She was seriously thinking of changing her name back to simply Mendoza but for now she kept that to herself. “But since we’re going to be working together, I think you should call me Gloria, Jack.” She looked him in the eye as she deliberately emphasized his name. “And what I’m saying—” God, it was hard to talk to this man without clenching her teeth and pushing the words out “—is that I had a good business going in Denver.”

“Then why move?”

If there was one thing that got the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up straight, it was having to explain herself. She’d resisted the truth when the questions had come from her parents and she liked them a whole lot better than she did this intrusive man.

But she needed this boost. The Fortune backing meant a great deal in these parts and she was not about to turn her back on that just because Patrick Fortune had had the distinct misfortune of siring one very mean-spirited son of a gun.

Telling herself that pride went before the fall, Gloria forced her lips into a wide, beatific smile. “Because this is home and I decided it was time to come home.” And then, because she hated being on the hot seat, she turned the tables and asked him a question.

“Where’s home for you?”

He’d been unprepared for her prying. And there was no way he was about to discuss anything private with a complete stranger. “That doesn’t matter.”

To which she responded by widening her smile. He could feel it slipping in under his skin. Warming him. But whether that was due to annoyance or just a man-woman thing, he couldn’t tell.

“Home always matters,” she told him in a voice that was far too sultry for the message it delivered.

Jack fought the effects the only way he knew how: with a sarcastic remark he knew would put her off. “That sounds like something you’d find embroidered on a kitchen towel.”

Undaunted, her smile never waned. “The kitchen’s usually the heart of a home, especially in my house when I was growing up.”

She kept throwing him curves. Did the woman suffer from Attention Deficit Disorder? “Just what does any of this have to do with business?”

This time he noticed that her smile did frost over just a little. “I’d thought you might want to know a little about the person whose business you’re dipping your fingers into.”

Jack frowned. She made it sound as if he was deliberately invading her. As if he even had any interest in such a small venture. She could just take herself to one of their branch offices and arrange for a loan if that was what this was all going to boil down to.

“There’s no ‘dipping,’” he informed her tersely, “there’ll just be straightening.”

Temper. Remember to keep your temper, Gloria cautioned herself. There wasn’t anything to be gained by giving this man a piece of her mind. If she did, she knew her mother would get wind of it and probably think she’d gone back to her old ways. She wasn’t about to add to the woman’s concerns. No, she was going to be a lady about this if it killed her.

“There won’t be much of that, either.” Her voice was soft, melodious. “My business isn’t in chaos, Jack, it just needs a loving hand to oversee it being unwrapped in San Antonio.”

Her words produced startling images in his brain. Suddenly he saw himself sitting by a warm fireplace in some secluded little hideaway, removing the layers of her clothing one by one.

Was that just an acquired tan or was that the true hue of her skin?

Stunned, Jack pulled back.

What the hell was going on here? He didn’t care if her tan was painted on, it made no difference to him. What was he doing, thinking like that?

He jumped on the words she’d used. “This isn’t a love affair, it’s a business—”

“It’s both,” she corrected before he could continue.

She obviously couldn’t have lost him more if she’d thrown him headlong into the center of a cattle stampede and then ridden off, leaving him to be trampled.

“That’s actually the name, you know.”

“The name of what?”

“My jewelry store.” What did he think she was talking about? Obviously the man wasn’t as sharp as his father thought he was. “It’s called ‘Love Affair.’” She enunciated slowly for his benefit. His face looked like a road map to confusion. “Because that’s what all my designs center around.”

“A love affair,” he repeated incredulously.

“With the skin.” Even as she emphasized the concept, she could see that he wasn’t following her. Not a dreamer, this one. What a surprise. She tried again, repeating her philosophy for him and speaking very slowly.

“The jewelry I design is supposed to be a love affair with the skin it touches, with the woman who owns the piece.”

She could see that she wasn’t getting through to him. Definitely not a sensitive man. She blew out a breath, unconsciously propping a fisted hand on her waist. “Work with me here.”

He laughed dryly. The sound left her cold. “I don’t seem to have a choice.”

She cocked her head, doing an instant analysis. From where she was standing, it wasn’t hard to read between the lines. His father was making him do this. “You don’t strike me as someone who resigns himself to not having choices.”

Was she trying to flatter him? Or pretending to be intuitive? He couldn’t tell and it annoyed him not to be able to read her.

He decided to put her off for the time being, until he regrouped. “Look, as I said earlier, this would be much more productive if we rescheduled. Frankly, I just got off the plane and I’m not at my best.”

“You have a gift for understatement I see.” She couldn’t help it. The words had broken free of their own accord. He’d handed her just too perfect a straight line. She flushed. “I mean—”

“Yes.” He cut her off, trying not to notice that the soft-pink hue of lipstick gave her an alluring look. “I know exactly what you mean.” Since she was his only assignment while he was here in San Antonio, his schedule was pretty much open. Still, he did want to catch up with Derek while he was here and to see a few people who’d been out in the New York office until recently. “How does the day after tomorrow sound? Say around nine?”

She was happy to learn that he liked getting an early start. So did she. At least they had one thing in common. “That sounds fine to me.” Since he hadn’t mentioned location, she asked, “Where would you like to meet?”

At her new shop would be the perfect place, but it occurred to him that he didn’t know if she had even selected a location yet or if she was still scouting them out. “Have you given any thought to where the shop is going to be?”

There he went again, treating her as if she had a brain the size of a pea. “As a matter of fact, I have. And it’s perfect.”

He’d be the judge of that, Jack thought. “All right, I’ll come by and pick you up at your place and then we can take a look at this so-called perfect place.”

She was in purgatory, Gloria thought, and doing penance for all the past sins of her life. But that was all right, she could get through this, she told herself. That which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, she recalled. And at this rate, she was going to be one hell of a strong woman.

“Fine.” Taking a small pad out of her purse, she wrote down the necessary information for him. She tore off the page and handed it to Jack, tucking the pad back into her purse. “Here’s the address.”

“Fine,” Jack murmured as he pocketed the slip of paper.

“Fine,” she echoed. But it was definitely not fine in her book and wouldn’t be fine until she had this man and the stick he had swallowed removed from her life. “Until then,” she said prophetically, then walked out of the office.

Gloria lengthened her stride considerably once she was out of the office. Hurrying past Doris at the receptionist’s desk she had the presence of mind to offer the woman a quick, perfunctory smile. Gloria didn’t slow down until she reached the elevator. She couldn’t wait to get away.

Entering the elevator, she felt the air immediately hitch in her throat.

What a jerk, she thought angrily. What a damn pompous jerk.

Trying to rein in the anger that was spiking through her, she punched the button for Christina’s floor. She did not want to deal with Jack Fortune. She stared at the numbers as she descended.

Gloria caught her lower lip between her teeth, thinking. Maybe she’d ask her mother to speak to Patrick. There was no question that she’d rather deal with the senior Fortune than his stuck-up sarcastic snob of a son. The two men were as different as night and day.

And then she frowned.

She wasn’t nine and involved in some scrap in the schoolyard. She was thirty years old, for God’s sake, and had been around the proverbial block a few times. More than a few. Even at nine, she hadn’t gone running to her mother for help. She’d always settled her own fights.

Nothing should have changed. She could handle the holier-than-thou Mr. Jack Fortune and she could do it with aplomb.

She calmed down as the idea of putting him in his place began to take hold. The man would never know what hit him, she promised herself. She’d gotten through rehab, a rotten marriage and dealt with an entire boatload of guilt and remorse along the way. Compared to that, dealing with Jack Fortune should be an absolute snap.

To underscore the thought, she snapped her fingers just as the elevator door opened. Right on time.

She grinned as she stepped out.

Christina held her questions in check until they were seated at the restaurant she’d selected; a fashionable one located on the tenth floor of the Fortune-Rockwell Bank building. Far from an employee cafeteria, it had earned a reputation for both its food and its affordable prices. Ever the practical one, her older sister had judged that although they both seemed to be on their way to bigger things, they could do with watching their money for a while.

She leaned forward across the small table for two and asked in a hushed whisper, “So? How did it go?”

Gloria took her lead from her older sister and leaned in toward her. “Awful.”

Disappointment registered across Christina’s face. “What? Why? Mr. Fortune seemed so nice at the party.”

Gloria shook her head. “He is, but it’s not Patrick Fortune I’ll be working with,” she said. “I’m talking about Jack Fortune.”

“His son?” Confusion marred her perfect looks. “What’s his son got to do with it?”

“Apparently everything.” Gloria sighed as she broke a bread stick, more interested in the physical exercise than in eating it right now. “Mr. Fortune handed me over to him and I get the feeling that ‘Sonny boy’ is not too happy about the turn of events.”

“I didn’t know that Mr. Fortune had any mentally challenged children,” Christina responded, clearly disturbed that someone didn’t like Gloria.

Gloria laughed. Before their falling out, Christina had always been able to buoy her spirits with just a few choice words. God, she’d missed her, she thought now, lamenting the years that had been lost. “He doesn’t. But he’s certainly got at least one offspring who’s definitely manners-challenged. Jack Fortune thinks he walks on water.” She broke another bread stick into several pieces until it was almost reduced to crumbs. She kept envisioning the younger Fortune’s neck with each snap. “And I’m not sure if I can hold my tongue until everything’s ready to go.”

As Gloria picked up a third bread stick, Christina tactfully took it out of her hands and bit off a piece.

“Well, you’d better. Mama said that Mr. Fortune was going to lend you any seed money you might need to get started. At three-percent interest,” she emphasized. “You can’t get a deal better than that.”

Gloria concentrated to keep her mouth from falling open. Patrick had said nothing about a loan. She wondered if Jack knew and if that was why he was so cold toward her. “Three percent? Are you sure?”

Christina made short work of the bread stick and picked up another before Gloria could kill it. “I’m sure. Mama was very happy about it.”

A former CPA with a company that had gone under, Gloria had done her homework and knew she had enough to cover everything for the move with some money to spare—as long as there were no unusual surprises. To discover that she now had a safety net was a tremendous relief. Armed this way, she knew she was capable of cutting the man’s son a little slack. After all, it wasn’t his fault he’d been born with a permanent scowl tattooed on his brow.

Gloria took a sip of water. “Patrick Fortune is a hell of a nice guy.”

“Don’t make ’em nicer,” Christina agreed.

Gloria set her glass down, matching the bottom to the slight ring that had formed beneath it. “Too bad he couldn’t have passed his ‘nice’ gene on to his son.” And then she smiled as she looked at her sister. There was mischief in her look the way there had been when they were young, when they’d whispered their innermost secrets to one another in the dead of night while shrouded by sheets and darkness. “But I guess for three-percent interest I can dance with the devil for a while.”

“Just as long as it’s not slow dancing,” Christina said, obviously thinking of their pact.

“No danger of that.”

The waiter arrived with a bottle of wine. “This is the house special.” Holding it as if he was cradling a baby in his hands, he presented it to both of them.

Gloria read the label. A small nibble of temptation waltzed through her, but she ignored it. Raising her eyes to the waiter, she shook her head. “None for me, thank you.”

“None for me, either,” Christina was quick to chime in.

Gloria knew Christina didn’t want to seem insensitive.

“She’ll have a glass,” she told the waiter.

“Glory—” Christina protested as the waiter began to pour.

“Don’t turn it down on my account, Tina. I’m not that weak,” she assured her. “Besides, if being with Jack Fortune didn’t drive me to drink, I guarantee you watching you have a glass or two isn’t going to do it. I’m on safe ground.”

But Christina was taking no chances. She waved the waiter away. “Two ginger ales, please,” she instructed. Once he was gone, taking the half-filled glass of wine and bottle with him, Christina leaned in toward her sister. “I’m not too sure how safe that ground you’re standing on is.”

Gloria didn’t follow her. “Come again?”

Christina nodded toward something behind her. “Incoming. Twelve o’clock high,” she added.

Gloria turned in her chair.

Patrick Fortune was walking into the restaurant—with his son.

She closed her eyes, seeking strength. There seemed to be no getting away from the man today. Resigned, she shifted back in her chair. “Of all the restaurants in all the world, he had to walk into mine,” she murmured under her breath.

Christina grinned. “You don’t look a thing like Humphrey Bogart.” And then, because she sensed that something was going on here that she didn’t quite understand but that was obviously troubling her sister, she added, “This is what we get for coming into a restaurant that’s located in the Fortune-Rockwell building.” Wanting to spare her sister, she pointed out the obvious. “We haven’t ordered yet, Glory.” She leaned down to pick up her purse. “We could go somewhere else.”

“And have you late getting back from lunch? I don’t think so. You haven’t been working here long enough to risk that. No, put your purse back down, Tina, we’re staying here. I’ll deal with my threatening bout of indigestion like a trooper.”

Christina watched as the two men were shown to a table and then seated.

“You know, for a walking case of indigestion looking to happen, Jack Fortune is one hell of a good-looking specimen,” Christina pointed out.

Gloria opened her menu and pretended to be interested in the various offerings that met the eye. “According to the Bible, so was Lucifer.”

Christina laughed. “Same old Gloria, scissor-tongued to the end.”

Gloria pretended to sniff at the description. “I’ll have you know that I was the picture of sweetness and light at our meeting—even when he was treating me like an airhead.”

About to open her own menu, Christina stared at her incredulously. “Did he talk to you?”

“At me,” Gloria corrected. “He talked ‘at’ me. Like I said, the man thinks he walks on water and I am the pond scum beneath his feet.”

Christina shook her head, clearly amused at the choice of words. “As I remember, you were also given to exaggeration.”

“Not this time,” Gloria said defensively. “Mr. Jack Fortune doesn’t think I’m a worthy recipient of his expertise. I can see it in his eyes. I’m not really sure why he’s doing it.”

“Maybe because his father asked him to and he can’t find a way to say no,” Christina suggested.

“Maybe.”

The waiter had returned with their ginger ales. Setting them down, he took their orders, punching appropriate buttons on something that resembled a Palm Pilot.

Her stomach in knots, Gloria ordered the chef’s salad. She was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to keep anything more substantial down.

“Well,” she theorized once the waiter had left again, “the only really good thing about Jack’s attitude is that at least I know I won’t be in jeopardy.”

“Jeopardy?” Christina echoed.

“Of breaking our pact. Working closely with a gorgeous male might have strained my resolve. But since the gorgeous male is also a holier-than-thou type, I figure I’m safe.”

She glanced toward him—and discovered that he was looking straight at her. As her stomach tightened a notch, she was glad all she was having was the salad.

What was going on here? The man was clear across the room, but it was as if space and the people who inhabited it had somehow magically melted away.

As if there was no one else in the dining area but the two of them. Not her sister, not his father. No one. Just them.

How had she thought that his eyes were lifeless? They seemed to look right into her.

Electricity shimmied up and down her spine, sending out shock waves to mark its path.

She knew she would have shivered if the rest of her body hadn’t felt as if it had suddenly been frozen in place. What had happened? A moment ago she’d felt so confident that this was the one handsome man she was completely immune to.

Pride goeth before a fall.

Chapter Five

“Earth to Gloria.”

Gloria blinked as her sister’s voice penetrated the fog that had descended over her brain. She realized that Christina was waving a hand in front of her eyes, obviously waiting for a reaction.

She cleared her throat, if not her head. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

Christina shook her head. “I could have quoted the entire Gettysburg Address and I don’t think you would have heard a single word just now. Where were you?” She glanced in the direction that Christina had been staring but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just the Fortunes at their table. “You look flushed, Glory. Are you coming down with something?”

“God, I hope not,” Gloria responded with feeling. Reaching for her ginger ale, she drank the contents until her glass was empty.

Christina took a second look over her shoulder, this time seeing that her sister’s line of vision directly took in Jack Fortune. But she doubted if Gloria’s sudden trancelike state had anything to do with the man, not after the way she’d just talked about him.

Still…

Maybe she should be scouting out maid’s outfits for Gloria, Christina mused, suppressing a grin. It would be nice to have her apartment given a thorough cleaning and if there was one thing she’d learned, whatever Gloria did, she did thoroughly.

“You sure you’re all right?” she pressed.

Gloria nodded a tad too vigorously. “I’m just preoccupied about the move back home.”

That, she could accept. “You’re entitled. I was a little up in the air when I moved back, too.” The waiter returned with their orders and she paused until he retreated again. “It’s not exactly a tiny step, rerouting your entire life.”

Gloria’s lips curved slightly. No, it wasn’t, but she wasn’t exactly a novice at it, either. “I should be used to that by now. I’ve done it—what? Four times if you count that disaster of a marriage I had.”

“Let’s not.” Christina was more than happy to pretend it had never happened. From what she’d heard, Gary wasn’t worthy of Gloria. “Did you check out that sublet I told you about?”

Shifting so that she couldn’t see Jack without an effort, she focused her attention on her sister. And on her new apartment.

“Yes, and I can’t thank you enough for that tip. We came to an agreement almost immediately. The place is mine as of yesterday.” She’d already spent her first night there and, unlike other first nights in new places she’d lived in, she’d had no trouble sleeping.

Christina looked delighted at the news. “It’ll feel more like home once your furniture gets here.”

Gloria laughed shortly. “Not all that much furniture to make the trip.” She’d packed up what few things she could still lay claim to and given a storage unit in Red Rock as a receiving address. She’d spent part of yesterday getting in touch with the moving company that had then had to get in touch with the movers who were en route to Texas to tell them to change their final destination.

Christina tried to make light of it. “You always did insist on not having much baggage.”

“At least physically,” Gloria specified. Mentally was another story, but she was working on it. She was working on it, she repeated silently as if thinking it twice would somehow reinforce the effort and the final result.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I certainly have room for dessert.”

“I second that motion.” Gloria deliberately forced a happy note into her voice, vainly trying to block out the fact that Jack Fortune was still looking at her and for some reason, that was creating goose bumps along her flesh. She could almost feel his eyes skimming along her body.

Up to this point, she’d thought her imagination was exclusively reserved for the jewelry she designed. She didn’t particularly like this turn of events.

Padding around in bare feet, her soles meeting the highly polished wooden floor, Gloria patrolled the large loft as she got ready the next morning. Jack would be by in a few minutes to pick her up to take her to where her jewelry store was going to be. She couldn’t help wondering if the contrary man would take exception to the location. Well, he could take exception all he wanted, she’d already signed the one-year lease.

Nerves had taken an eggbeater to her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it had to do with the fact that she was fully immersed in her venture or that she was attracted to Jack Fortune.

“I’m not attracted to him, I’m not,” she protested to the window in absence of anything live to talk to. “It’s just a matter of deprivation, that’s all.”

It wasn’t just alcohol that hadn’t touched her lips in two years. She hadn’t been with a man for that length of time, either.

She glanced at her reflection in the shell-framed mirror that hung just shy of the front door. She was wearing her hair down today. Was that a mistake? Did it detract from her professionalism?

“You avoid things that are bad for you, right?” she asked her reflection. The woman in the mirror nodded in agreement.

She’d decided long before making that pact with her sisters that men were definitely bad for her. At least, the kind of men she seemed doomed to keep selecting. Handsome men with gorgeous eyes and no substance, and ultimately, no heart.

When she’d first met Gary, she’d thought that he was going to be different. He’d given off such a solid, protective air those first few weeks. Granted she’d never been head over heels in love with him, but then, she’d told herself that kind of feeling belonged to the very young and the very delusional. She’d figured that Gary would be good for her and that for the rest of her life she’d be content if not wildly happy.

She’d been neither.

It wasn’t long before she’d discovered that Gary’s solid exterior and protective veneer were only that, a veneer. Beneath it the man she’d thought would be loving had turned out to be controlling instead. And, since she’d been easier to handle while under the influence, her wolf in prince’s clothing had done everything he could to encourage all her self-destructive habits.

She combed her fingers through her hair, adding a little height. The reflection in the mirror was frowning at her. Her marriage and subsequent divorce made umpteen strikes against her. That was when she’d decided that if her judgment was so bad, she just wasn’t going to exercise it any longer. At least not where men were concerned. So she’d put a cork in the wine bottle and a lid on her feelings.

So far, it had proved to be a good decision. Once sober, she got a great deal more accomplished. And with her mind uncluttered by the baggage that being involved with someone created, she’d managed to turn an interest and a skill into a satisfying, successful career.

So here she was, back on what was practically her home turf, facing another challenge. She thought of Jack. As much as she hated to admit it, her longing for a relationship far outweighed her desire for a drink two to one.

She supposed that was only human, longing for something you couldn’t have.

“Focus on how much of an ass he is, Glory,” she ordered herself. Hunting for her shoes, she found them by the kitchen bar. She put one on. “Besides, he’s cold as ice. The woman who tries to make it with him had better be wearing thermal underwear.”

The idea made her laugh.

Just then the doorbell rang. Startled, she grabbed hold of the counter to keep from falling over as she tried to put on the other shoe.

“Coming,” she called, half walking, half hopping to the door.

It took several steps to get the four-inch black mules to fit snugly on her feet. Stopping to adjust her shirt, which had hiked up during her little impromptu dance-of-the-shoes, Gloria took a deep breath and braced herself as she placed her hand on the doorknob.

“Right on time,” she announced brightly as she opened the door.

Jack sailed across the threshold, an emperor taking possession of all he surveyed. “I usually am.” Was that a snide remark about his being five minutes late for their first meeting?

Warm as ever, she thought. “Nice to know,” she commented. “Let me get my purse.” She hurried back to the bar in the kitchen. For the time being, it was the only flat surface available.

Jack took a good long look around the apartment. It was actually a large loft with what appeared to be a couple of cubbyholes off to the side. He imagined that one of them was probably her bedroom. He was standing in what was the combined living room, kitchen, dining room area. The only piece of furniture in the space was a stool against the bar in the kitchen. Otherwise, there wasn’t even a spot to sit.

Was her bedroom as barren?

The thought came out of nowhere and he banished it back to the same place. “Furniture not arrive yet?”

“What?” And then his words played back in her head and she realized what he was referring to. “No, it hasn’t.” Wearing a winter-white pullover sweater and skirt that, together, gave the impression of forming a dress, she shrugged carelessly. “Not that there’s that much to arrive.”

“Minimalist?”

“Something like that.”

She saw him scrutinizing her face. The man should have been an interrogator for the CIA. “I thought you said your business was doing well.”

She resisted the urge to tell him that none of this was his business. Ordinarily, that wasn’t her style. She liked talking, liked learning about other people and didn’t mind them learning about her. But there was something about this man that just seemed to bring out her worst side. She forced herself to be more than civil. She didn’t want Jack to have anything to use against her when he reported back to his father as she assumed he was going to do.

“It is,” she retorted proudly. A defensive note entered her voice. “It was my marriage that didn’t go well.”

He looked at her hand. There wasn’t even a hint of a tan line where her ring would have once been. Which meant that her divorce was not a recent thing.

She saw where he was looking and wondered what was going through his head. Gloria made a calculated guess and decided to set the record straight. “I bought him off with furniture. He was more attached to it than I was, anyway. I do miss the TV, though.”

“You don’t have a TV?” He didn’t watch much himself, other than CNN on occasion and then only to stay abreast of what was going on in the world, but he thought that all women were hooked on talk shows and daytime drama, taping it if they couldn’t be there to watch the episode being aired.

“I do.” Right now, it was on a crate in the bedroom. Right at the foot of the bedroll she’d borrowed from her brother. “But not like the one I gave up. Cost more than the first car I ever owned. Plasma,” she told him since Jack had temporarily ceased to ask questions. Watching anything on the set was like actually being there. Even commercials were fun.

Gloria paused by the small closet just at the front door and took out her coat. Holding her sleeve with the same hand, she began to slip her arm into a coat sleeve. She felt Jack come up behind her and hold her coat so that she could get her other arm in more easily.

The close proximity brought another by-now-familiar wave of warmth up along her spine. She pulled back, stepping to the side and nearly bumping into the wall. Her heart skipped a beat. She raised her eyes to his, feeling amazingly clumsy.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He followed her out the door, waiting as she locked up. Her three-quarter-length coat called his attention to her legs.

As if she needed help in having someone notice them, Jack thought, annoyed that his eyes had lingered there longer than should have been warranted.

“Let’s get going,” he snapped, taking the stairs down. There was, he’d discovered, no elevator to the fourthfloor apartment.

Gloria followed him down. “I thought that was what we were doing.”

He said nothing. Reaching the first floor, he held the door for her only long enough for her to reach it, then strode outside. Jack led the way to his car.

Stopping by the passenger side, he opened the door and held it. This time he didn’t abandon his post; he waited until she got in before closing the door and rounding the hood.

“Why are you doing this?” Gloria asked him as he got in behind the steering wheel.

Putting the key into the ignition, he turned it. The Jaguar purred to life. Right now, it was giving him a lot less grief than she was. “Because it’s too far and too cold to walk to the address you gave me.”

She’d given him the location of the store, which was in the midst of renovations, when he’d called early this morning to confirm their meeting. She’d had the same impression then as when she’d first met him.

As she had now.

“No, I’m not talking about driving to the jewelry store, I’m talking about becoming my business adviser in the first place.”

Like a man comfortable with who and what he was, he answered simply and with no apology. “Because my father asked me to.”

That wasn’t good enough as far as she was concerned. She was accustomed to doing things alone and while she welcomed the Fortune stamp of approval and any leverage that association gave her in this highly competitive business, it wasn’t going to be at the sake of her pride. She didn’t need this man talking down to her, looking at her critically.

It was her shaky self-esteem that had been the culprit for her sliding down the slippery slope that had ultimately led to rehab in the first place.

“Look, it’s very evident that you’d rather be running barefoot over hot coals, on your way to get a root canal, than helping me, so why don’t we just call it a day? You can tell your father everything’s all right and I’ll just go about my business the way I did when I first got started in Denver.”

Most people vied for the Fortune’s backing. What was her angle? “Just like that?”

She faced forward and stared straight ahead, aware that he was looking at her. “Pretty much.”

It made no sense. “I thought you asked for my father’s help.”

She wanted the record set straight. “No, my mother asked for your father’s help.” She knew that her mother had had only good intentions. She also knew it was futile to tell her mother to back off and stop worrying. Worrying, Maria Mendoza had told her time and again, was part of a mother’s job description. “I guess she still worries about me. According to my mother, I am going to be her ‘little girl’ even when I blow out eighty-nine candles on my birthday cake.”

He laughed dryly, doing his damnedest not to pay attention to the way her mouth curved fondly as she spoke of her mother. “I know how that is. Although my father does pretty much stay out of my business.”

Was he talking about private or professional? “I thought it was his business—”

“It is, but lately I’ve been running the New York office according to my guidelines. In a way, that makes it mine.” He stopped himself, realizing that he’d just admitted something to a woman he knew next to nothing about. A veritable stranger. That wasn’t a habit with him.

“And you’re dying to get back.” It wasn’t a guess, she could tell by the look in his eyes despite the restraint he was attempting to exercise. The New York office was his baby.

“‘Dying’ might be a tad dramatic,” he informed her. “But I don’t mind saying that I’m a city kid, born and bred.”

He said that as if San Antonio wasn’t worth his time. Texas pride prompted her next words. “San Antonio isn’t exactly the sticks.”

Maybe not, he allowed, but it certainly wasn’t like New York City. “No, but New York has this energy, this verve—”

She found herself resenting his attitude. “Probably because everyone’s so tense, waiting for someone to make a move on them.”

Chauvinism made him take her words as a personal affront. If there was anything he hated, it was the way people insisted on running down New Yorkers. “You’re stereotyping—”

“Aren’t you?” she countered. “You make us sound like hicks.”

“‘Us’?” Hadn’t she told him that she’d just moved here from Denver?

“I was born and raised in Red Rock.”

He knew that. He also knew something else. “But you left.”

The reasons for that were complex and plentiful. She wasn’t about to go into it with a pompous know-it-all no matter who his father was.

“That’s a story for another day. Besides—” her tone underscored the word “—I’m back.” They were coming up to a busy intersection. She knew a shortcut that would circumvent what looked like a jam in the making. “Take a left here.” And then she changed her mind. Not about the direction they were going, but about the direction of the day. “No, wait.”

“Wait?” he echoed in disbelief. Did she think he could stop moving in the middle of all this? If he did, in two seconds they’d be surrounded with a cacophony of horns, all blasting at them.

“You can let me out on the corner.” She pointed toward it. “I can walk the rest of the way.”

He made no attempt to pull over. “Are you kicking me off this assignment?”

“No, I’m opening the door and letting you run away from this assignment, no disrespect intended,” she added when he raised one dark eyebrow at the word “run.”

Much as the idea tempted him, he had no intentions of backing out. He’d given his father his word and he was going to see this through. The woman was exhibiting about as much sense as an opossum in the middle of a busy five-lane road.

“Since we’re almost there, I might as well take a look at the location you’ve picked.”

Nope, she definitely didn’t like his attitude. The sooner she was rid of this man, the better she was going to feel. On several levels.

“You make it sound like I’m a kid with a whim. I did a lot of scouting around before I decided on this mall. I also took overhead into account,” she added. “The ideal location for my shop is at the San Antonio Mall, but the leases there are a little pricey. I thought I’d get a foothold here first, then work my way over in about a year or three.”

She had actually thought it out, he realized. “I’m impressed.”

Did he really think that mattered to her? “Oh, good. I can die happy.”

The sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife. And his patience was wearing thin. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a smart mouth?”

Was that his best comeback? The man might as well hang up his gloves now, she’d won the match. “Not lately. It goes with the rest of me.”

Making a right at the corner, Jack snorted. “Well, your ego’s alive and well.”

“No thanks to you.” The words had come out before she could stop herself.

He looked at her, surprised. “What do I have to do with it?”

“You’ve done nothing but talk down to me since the elevator encounter.”

“I asked you to press the thirtieth floor.” How could she possibly see that as talking down to her? Was she paranoid?

“No,” she pointed out, her voice steely, “you snapped out the number.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake—” He got hold of his temper. Even so, he snapped the next words out. “I was fighting jet lag.”

It had obviously not been much of a fight from what she’d seen. “Sounds like the jet lag won.” Turning her face forward again, her eyes widened as she saw a maroon Chevy coming from the right, running the light. She braced her feet hard against the floor. “Watch out!”

But it was already too late.

A half second after the warning was out of her mouth, the front of Jack’s silver Jaguar made contact with the side of the car that had flown out of nowhere. The Chevy, at least fifteen years old, dented and its paint peeling in half a dozen places, was the heavier of the two vehicles. The impact sent the silver Jaguar spinning in a full circle, winding up exactly at the original point of contact.

The next moment, a sound like rushing water filled the interior of the car. Jack’s vision was completely blocked by a wall of white fabric.

The air bags had deployed.

Along with what remained of his already frayed patience.

Chapter Six

There was white everywhere.

Panic clawed sharply at Gloria’s throat. She felt as if she had been plunged into the center of a marshmallow.

Claustrophobia, a failing she hadn’t managed to conquer that accompanied her into every elevator, every small space she found herself in since she’d been six years old, rose up on its hoary hind legs to grab her by the throat and threaten to block out the very air into her lungs.

The fact that the air bag had her pressed back against her seat with no room for movement and the seat belt was biting into her shoulder and lap, holding her fast, only added to the tidal wave of panic that was building up inside her.

She couldn’t help her next reaction. It came without thinking, without warning. Gloria started to scream. Not a small gasp or a yelp, but a full-bodied, blood-curdling scream that could have shattered water glasses within a one-mile radius.

Jolted, Jack’s senses alert and at their peak, the scream ripped right through him. Heart pounding, he could only imagine what could have prompted that sort of a reaction from the woman who was completely blocked from his sight. Memories of the car accident with Ann came bursting back into his brain.

Ann screaming.

Just before she died.

Terror seized his heart. Struggling, pushing against the deployed air bag, Jack managed to unbuckle his seat belt and get the harness off his shoulder. Adrenaline running high, convinced that Gloria had to be severely hurt, possibly even dying, he groped for the door handle on his side. Locating it seemed to take forever. Finally successful, Jack yanked on it and applied his shoulder to the door, shoving his way out.

“Hang on!” he yelled to Gloria as he rounded the trunk.

Operating on two very distinct planes, he saw the offending driver and glared at him. Jack could just barely make out the man’s face. The other car engine was still running and the driver looked ready to make a break for it. Now.

“Don’t even think it!” Jack barked. Making his way to the passenger side of the Jaguar, he glanced quickly at the other car’s license plate, committing it to memory. A photographic memory allowed him to absorb and retain everything he had ever seen. “I’ve got your plate number and I swear I’ll hunt you down.”

The man behind the wheel of the dented Chevy froze and raised his hands in surrender. He began to babble an apology. His words were just so much noise in the background. Jack barely heard him.

All of his attention was focused on Gloria.

If she could scream like that, at least she was alive, he thought, taking comfort in that. The very hair on the back of his neck was standing on end as the sound skewered its way through his system.

Jack yanked open her door. He groped around the air bag, trying to find Gloria’s hand. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s okay,” he told her over and over again.

The panic wouldn’t leave even as she heard his voice. Her terror was too huge to overcome. In saner times, it bothered her no end, reacting this way, but right now, all she could do was shriek.

“Pull me out,” she pleaded. “Pull me out!”

And then she felt a hand reaching across her waist, brushing against her lap. The next moment, the belt that was holding her prisoner was released and she was being pulled out of her living tomb.

The second she was clear of the car, she began gasping for air, sucking it in as if there wasn’t even an ounce of it within her lungs. Her legs weak, her body a heavy liquid, she clung to the man who had pulled her free.

Shaking, she was still aware of the soft feel of suede against her cheek and the infinite comfort of the arms that had locked around her. She fought to regulate her breathing.

“Where are you hurt?” Jack demanded. Had she hit her head? Broken something in the split second before the air bag had cocooned her?

When Gloria didn’t answer, Jack tried to move her back and hold her at arm’s length to see her injuries for himself. At first she wouldn’t let go of him, her arms locked around his neck in a death grip. Finally he managed to gently but firmly push her from him.

“Where are you hurt?” he asked again. Scanning her face, he saw nothing. There were no scratches, no cuts, no marks at all except for what appeared to be the beginning of a slight bruise along her forehead. That could have come from the air bag itself, he judged. But one thing was abundantly clear. The dark-haired woman he’d been verbally sparring with not a few minutes earlier was clearly shaken.

That made two of them, he thought.

And then, suddenly, there were people crowding all around them in the intersection.

“I saw the whole thing,” one man behind him volunteered.

A woman in a flaming-red scarf that was wrapped around her neck pointed to the other driver. “It was his fault.” The accusation was made in a high-pitched voice.

A businessman craned his neck as he leaned out of his car window. His vehicle was directly behind the bruised Jaguar. “Need a witness?”

Voices were coming from all sides, swelling in volume. Gloria tried to block them all out as she struggled to regain her composure. She was only vaguely aware of Jack leading her to the sidewalk. She followed him like some docile child, hating this role she’d been forced to play. Hating the way she’d reacted. Still unable to do anything else.

She’d completely lost it back there and she was ashamed of that. But it had felt as if she was being buried alive.

Jack was taking her face in his hands, examining it closely. Was he trying to figure out what kind of a lunatic his father was lending money and support to?

Gloria felt like an idiot but her heart refused to stop racing.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly.

The gruff voice helped to center her, pulling her out of crisis mode. But still, she didn’t trust her voice to answer so she merely nodded in response.

“Okay, stay right here,” he instructed her before glancing over his shoulder at the other driver, “while I get some insurance information out of Mario Andretti over there.”

A ring of Good Samaritans and people looking for some excitement had surrounded the offending driver. No one seemed inclined to allow the man to leave. Jack quickly got the necessary information from the driver, who kept babbling his apology, claiming the sun had gotten into his eyes and could they please keep this off the record so his insurance wouldn’t go through the roof?

From the way the other man was talking, Jack got the impression that this wasn’t the man’s first offense.

It made his blood boil. Someone so careless should be kept off the road.

Maybe if you’d kept Ann off the road, she’d still be here today.

Jack blocked out the thought even as it echoed in his brain. He couldn’t go there yet. He suspected that he probably never fully could.

Jack looked at the other man coldly, feeling not even an ounce of pity. He hated recklessness and the man had clearly run the light. “My insurance agent will be in touch.”

Flipping open his phone, he called for roadside assistance. He wasn’t about to go anywhere with the air bags deployed, even if they were now in the process of deflating. Besides, who knew the kind of damage his car had sustained? There was no way he was about to take the road with an unsafe vehicle.

Pocketing the cell phone, he took a few names from the bystanders in case the insurance adjuster would require the testimony of witnesses. He’d learned a long time ago to cover as many bases as was humanly possible. The other driver was sitting moodily in his vehicle, muttering something about hard-nosed businessmen who thought they owned the road. Jack could feel his temper flaring, but he ignored him. There was nothing to be gained by stooping to the driver’s level.

What counted was that no one was hurt.

Gloria had given him one hell of a scare, he thought, looking over at her. Finished taking information, he tucked his Palm Pilot into his pocket and crossed back to the woman standing on the curb.

She looked calmer now. That wild look he’d seen in her eyes was gone. Still, he wasn’t completely at ease about her. The sound of a siren began to cut through the din. Someone had either called the paramedics or the police. Probably both.

“You want to go to the hospital?” he asked Gloria. Funny, he hadn’t thought of her as fragile until now. Like fine china about to crack.

She shook her head, trying to regain her self-esteem. It was at times like this, when everything felt so out of control, that she reverted back to who and what she’d been just two years ago. A woman too weak-willed to make it from one end of the day to the other without help.

You’re a whole new person since then. Remember that.

She shook her head as she squared her shoulders. “No, I’m all right.”

He appeared not to believe her as his eyes seemed to bore holes right through her. “Are you sure? You were screaming back there as if you were being filleted.”

That was a pretty apt description of it, she thought. Not that she had any control over her reaction. Lord knew, she wished she had.

Gloria took a deep breath and looked away, avoiding his probing eyes. She supposed she owed him some kind of an explanation. She kept it at a minimum. Her voice was hardly above a whisper as she said, “I have claustrophobia.”

Jack cocked his head as if he hadn’t heard her. “What?”

Frustrated, Gloria pressed her lips together. She’d managed to put everything else in her life in order, but this was a failing, a shortcoming from her childhood, and she hated it because there was no way she had ever managed to exercise any control over it. For the most part, she tried to think of other things when she couldn’t avoid a situation such as riding up in elevators to floors that were too high up to walk to.

But with this accident there had been no time to prepare. It had stripped her of all her little mind-diverting tricks and left her naked and vulnerable.

“I have claustrophobia,” she repeated more clearly. Her teeth were clenched as she strained the admission through them.

He passed his hands lightly along her arms and shoulders, as if her word was not enough. “So nothing’s damaged or broken,” he pressed.

“Nothing’s damaged or broken,” Gloria confirmed. And then she added in a less audible voice, “Except maybe my self-esteem.”

He surprised her by shrugging away her admission. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said he was being kind.

“Hey, everyone’s got something.” The crowd around them was dispersing. The siren grew louder. This was going to take a while. “If you won’t go to the hospital, want me to call a cab to take you home?”

She was getting her wind back. And with it, her determination. “No, I still have to show you the store location.”

He looked at her, surprised that she could think of that after what had just happened. She could have been killed. She needed time to process that. And he needed time to put it out of his mind. “We can postpone the trip.”

She squared her shoulders again, reminding him of a soldier on the battlefield determined to face his fears. And his enemy. He wondered if he fell under that category and why that seemed to bother him.

“I don’t want to,” she informed him crisply.

There were several strands of hair hanging in her face. Jack had no idea what possessed him to gently brush them back. Or why the simple gesture brought a wave of heat surging through him, beginning with his loins and radiating out. The day was inordinately cold.

Maybe he was suffering from shock and didn’t realize it. The scenario that had just transpired was chillingly similar to the one that had taken place nearly twenty years ago.

Except that then it had been Ann who was driving. Ann who had insisted on taking a joyride while still feeling the effects of an afternoon’s worth of partying. He’d gone with her when he hadn’t been able to get her to surrender her car keys. Maybe it had been the brashness of youth, the brashness that convinced every one of them that they were immortal, that nothing could happen to them because they were young and full of promise. Whatever it was, he felt she’d be safe if he went with her.

A lot he knew.

Running a light, just as this man had, she’d hit a driver. He remembered the horror that had spiked through him, the awful noise of metal crashing against metal. And most of all, he remembered Ann’s scream. The last sound she’d ever made. She and the driver were both dead at the scene. And him? He’d gotten a cluster of minor injuries that had landed him in the hospital for a couple of weeks.

Physically, the injuries had been minor. Emotionally was another story. He’d wanted to die, to be with Ann for all eternity. But all he’d sustained were things that could heal.

Other than his heart.

He had absolutely no patience with people who drank to the point that the alcohol controlled them instead of the other way around. And although there’d been no alcohol on the breath of the other driver, the man had still been reckless and run the light.

Gloria was looking at him almost defiantly. He made up his mind. “All right. Once the guy from roadside assistance gets here and we’re finished giving our statements to the police, I’ll call a cab and we can go see about the location. If you’re sure you’re all right,” he added again.

Exasperation filled her voice as a policeman got out of his patrol vehicle. “You don’t have to keep asking that. I’m not going to change my story.”

Stubborn. He supposed that was a good sign. Jack cupped his ear as he tilted his head toward hers. “’Fraid you’re going to have to speak up. You blew out my ears in the car.”

Gloria looked at him sharply. She could make out a hint of a smile on his lips.

He was making a joke.

That stunned her almost as much as his gentleness had. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”

He leaned in even closer to her, his hand still cupped around his ear. “What?”

She laughed, the tension finally beginning to leave her. Just in time to give her statement to the policeman approaching them.

Forty minutes later, after renting a car, they were finally standing inside a shop on the second floor of the Big T Mall. Until a month ago, the space had been occupied by a trendy baby clothing store. Doing well, the owner had decided to move on to a better location. The pink and blue lettering on the glass door had been scraped off just that morning. There was scaffolding on either side of the entrance and the modest interior was in a complete state of chaos.

In the three days since she had begun leasing the space, thanks to Patrick Fortune backing her bank loan, she’d had to forward ten different bewildered customers on to the store’s new location. Each had said something about thinking the store would remain at that location forever. One woman had obviously made good use of the place. She’d had four children with her. Two in stroller, two hanging off the stroller. And if that bulge Gloria had noted was any indication, a fifth on the way.

She hoped that someday her customers would come looking for her store like that, loyally searching for her only to be told of a more high-end address.

She wondered if any of her clients in Denver would make the trip out, or try to get in touch with her via the store’s Web site.

Right now, what seemed to matter most—and she really didn’t understand why it meant anything to her one way or another—was the stamp of approval from the man roaming the unfinished store.

She held her breath as she watched Jack look around. All signs of the previous store were gone, except for one two-dimensional cardboard rendition of a crawling baby the owner had decided to leave behind. It was leaning off to the side. She thought of it as her goodluck charm, a leftover from a successful business.

Nerves danced through her, a parent watching her child being judged, as she watched Jack survey the area. So far, there was no indication of what the store was planning to evolve into. But it was still early days.

Finally, his feet firmly planted on a drop cloth, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “This the best location you could find?”

All traces of the man who had rescued her from her marshmallow grave seemed to have vanished in smoke. They were back in their individual sparring corners, she thought.

Maybe it was better this way. For a few minutes back there, she’d actually liked him. Coupling that with the physical attraction that seemed to insist on existing, refusing to disappear, made for a dangerous combination. This overly critical version of Jack Fortune, JF Version 1.0 she thought with a smile, was one she could more easily resist.

What she might have trouble resisting right now, she thought, was wrapping her hands around his throat and choking him every time he opened his condescending mouth. Each time he did, she winced inwardly, bracing herself for yet another derogatory comment. It was getting damn hard to smile at him.

“Is it the best location I could find?” she echoed his question, knowing it annoyed him. “In my price range, yes, it is.” And then she felt compelled to defend her decision. “Besides, the last business that was here did very well.”

He looked around slowly and she had no way of guessing what he was thinking. Only something bad. “Another jewelry store?” he finally asked.

She pointed to the cardboard figure leaning against the back wall. “A baby clothing store.” And then she saw him frown. Great, now what?

He crossed back to her, his hands shoved deep into the pants’ pockets of his custom-made suit. “You’re comparing apples and oranges.”

She shook her head. “No fruit involved,” she answered tartly. “I was thinking of foot traffic.” She wished she could remember the numbers. Annoyance had temporarily wiped the stats from her brain. “This mall sees a lot of people. Most of the stores here do well.” And then, suddenly remembering the numbers, she rattled them off to him.

He looked at her for a long moment and she could feel her blood pressure rising.

“You’ve done your homework,” he finally conceded.

There it was again, that sarcastic edge in his voice. Damn it, no matter how attractive and sexy this man looked, his attitude ruffled her feathers. Any vague temptation she might have been entertaining went up in smoke the second Jack Fortune opened his mouth.

“Thank you,” she replied coldly to his homework comment. “But it is my dime.”

“And my father’s,” he reminded her. “He is lending you any extra money you might need.”

Her eyes narrowed. Was he going to bring that up at every opportunity? Of course he was. “All the more reason to do my homework.”

“Yes, it is.”

Jack inclined his head, signaling an end to the round. He was sparring with her and he knew why. It all stemmed from the car accident. He’d felt the need to protect her. And he’d felt responsible for her. It went deeper than just being responsible for someone fate threw him together with. He felt something for her.

Undoubtedly the feelings he’d experienced had all been brought on by memories of Ann, but he still didn’t like the wave of panic that had assaulted him when he’d first heard Gloria screaming. Moreover, he definitely didn’t like the odd sensation that had waltzed through him, filling every cavity, when she’d clung to him after he’d extracted her from the vehicle.

Things had stirred inside him. Things with cobwebs and dust on them.

Feelings.

The last thing he wanted awakened within him were feelings. The sooner this woman was out of his hair, the better.

Chapter Seven

“So, how’s it going?”

There was no need for any sort of a preamble. Jack knew exactly what the “it” was that his father was referring to. He was talking about Gloria and her jewelry store.

His father had called him at his Plaza Hotel suite earlier and asked him to swing by the office this morning. Though he wasn’t an optimist by nature, a small part of Jack had hoped that there would be something in the offing beyond the assignment that had brought him to San Antonio in the first place.

One look at his father’s expression had permanently sunk that hope.

Again he couldn’t help but wonder why his father was so intense about the success or failure of this woman’s business. Granted his father was a very charitable man—Jack doubted if anyone gave as much to charity as his parents did—but this somehow went beyond the call.

Jack shrugged, sinking his hands deep into his pockets as he wandered around the office, studying the paintings his father had chosen to keep him company while he was in San Antonio.

He’d heard somewhere that his father was considering having Derek take over this office when his father went back to New York. Even though he meant to return there himself—and as fast as possible—he couldn’t help feeling just the slightest bit piqued that his father would even be considering Derek for the top position instead of him.

Although he and Derek were as close as two friends could be, there was more than a healthy sort of rivalry between them. It was what kept his brain honed, he told himself.

“All things considered,” Jack replied, moving on to another painting, this one a more dramatic Turner seascape, “I’d rather be back in New York.”

Patrick’s fingers ceased flying over the keyboard as he looked up at his son and shook his head. “You move too fast, Jack. Stop a minute, catch your breath.”

Jack looked at his father over his shoulder. He was irritable because he was standing still, not moving fast. “I’m not out of breath.”

His words had absolutely no effect on his father. “Denial’s a sure sign that you’re even worse off than you thought you were.”

Abandoning the next painting, Jack crossed to his father’s desk and leaned over it, digging his knuckles in on the blotter. “Dad, I like work.”

Patrick’s expression softened, lessening the lines around his eyes. “I know you do, and I appreciate that. There’s nothing more satisfying than earning a living at what you like and what you’re good at.”

“But?” The word literally seemed to be throbbing in the space between them.

Jack was a workaholic of the first water, but that just meant Patrick had to work harder to get through to him. Now that his own soul had been saved, thanks to his wife, he refused to abandon Jack. “But you can’t take it home with you at night.”

Jack laughed shortly. There, he had his father, he thought. “Sure you can. Between laptops, PDAs and the Internet—”

Patrick raised a warning brow. “You know what I mean. You need a family.”

Jack threw up his hands. This was getting annoying. He thought only women had to listen to this kind of thing from their mothers. He would have bet anything that his father was above this kind of nonsense. Obviously he would have lost that bet.

“I have a family, Dad. I’ve got you and Mom and those annoying people you keep telling me are my siblings.” He allowed himself a grin. He cared a great deal for his brothers and baby sister, he just wasn’t about to try to duplicate them by creating children. “I’d say that’s family enough for anyone.”

Patrick’s eyes locked with his son’s. “A family of your own, Jack.”

Jack gave his father an innocent look. “Were you and Mom on loan?”

“A wife, Jack. A wife,” his father emphasized. Before Jack could say anything, Patrick added, “And kids. Lots of kids.”

Restless, Jack moved to the window. The rain that had been threatening since yesterday had finally arrived. Sheets of water were lashing against the window. The world outside looked dreary. The world inside wasn’t much better, he thought.

“I don’t know if I’d be any good at that,” he said, addressing his words to his father’s reflection in the window.

“Well, you certainly won’t find out by hiding behind corporate reports.”

Jack whirled around. No one had ever even hinted that he was a coward. He felt a sharp flare of temper and managed to bank it down. “Not hiding, Dad, analyzing. It’s what I do. What you pay me to do, remember?”

Patrick used the opportunity to swing the conversation back onto its original track. “Speaking of which, how’s that venture with Gloria Mendoza going?”

He noticed that his father had conveniently dropped the woman’s married name. Had Gloria gone through legal channels to do that, or was his father just trying to set something in motion here, make him think of her as a single woman?

No, that couldn’t be right. He and his father had an open, honest relationship. His mother might attempt a little manipulation with romance as the goal, but not his father. They were too alike, he and his father, even though the man seemed to have temporarily taken leave of his senses.

He told his father what was foremost in his mind. “I still think you should have handed this little assignment off to someone else.” He didn’t even have to think about who he’d get in place of himself. “Like Derek. He’s got more patience than I do.”

For a moment Patrick said nothing. Instead he thought of how he’d arranged to have his one-time protégé hire Gloria’s sister to act as his business analyst. It would have been a lie to say that he didn’t feel quite proud of himself. With a little bit of luck, things should be percolating there, as well.

His answer to Jack was vague. “Derek’s got his hands full with other projects.”

Did his father view him as a spoiled, pampered, rich offspring? Hadn’t he proven himself over and over again to be invaluable? “And I don’t?”

“I told you before, Jack, this needs your touch.” And, if I don’t miss my guess, so does Gloria. Almost as much as you need hers.

Jack scrutinized his father’s face. He could almost see the words marching through his brain. See them, but not quite make them out.

Or maybe he didn’t want to, because that would be giving credence to something he felt shouldn’t be going on. “What are you thinking?”

Patrick leaned back in his chair, studying his firstborn. Jack had never given him one moment’s trouble. Maybe there was such a thing as being too perfect, Patrick decided.

“That you’re a chip off the old block. That at your age, I was determined not to slow down, either. But I discovered that I was competing against myself. You can’t win if you have yourself as your opponent.”

Jack laughed shortly. That was true enough. But so was something else. “You also can’t lose.”

Doing nothing but work extracted a toll on a person’s life. And work, Patrick had come to realize, was a cold mistress. “Depends on your definition of losing.”

“I don’t have a definition of losing,” Jack told his father glibly. “Because I never intend to lose.”

Patrick looked at his son for a long moment. Anyone else would have said the man was too cocky, that he needed to be taken down a peg. But Patrick knew that Jack was as good as his word. And failure was not an option with Jack.

Maybe not, but a little humility was in order.

“I hope not, Jack,” he said softly. “I sincerely hope not.”

There was something going on, Jack thought, but he wasn’t exactly sure just what. The old man was acting funny these days. It was more than just his laid-back attitude about the company. Granted, if there was a crisis, the way there had been many times in the past, his father would be right there in the thick of it, leading the charge, rallying his subordinates. Jack smiled to himself. No one did it better than the old man.

But when everything was going relatively smoothly, his father tended to, for lack of a better term, slack off. Maybe age was finally catching up with him. Jack couldn’t help wondering if it was time for his father to step down.

The very thought saddened him. No matter what his father said, Fortune-Rockwell represented the sum total of his life’s work. The senior Fortune would go out of his mind if he retired. No, better to have him where he was and, if necessary, he could pick up the slack for his father. After all, it wasn’t as if there was anything more important to Patrick than the company.

Unexpectedly, a strange, hollow feeling made itself evident for just a split second.

Is that all there is? At the end of the day, is that all there is?

He’d been paying too much attention to his father, Jack thought. Not everyone was cut out for a wife and kids, no matter what his father thought. The one love of his life was dead, and he damn well had no intentions of looking for a substitute.

Glancing at his father, he saw that the latter looked as if he was gearing up again. Jack moved to leave. “I guess I’ll go see how your project is doing.”

Jack saw his father’s mouth pull into a satisfied smile. He doubted if it had to do with the speech he was supposed to be writing. But he isn’t about to ask.

“Good idea,” was all he said to Jack’s departing back.

The sooner he was done, Jack told himself as he parked on the far side of the mall, the sooner he could get out of Dodge, or San Antonio as it were, and back to the fast-paced life he thrived on in New York.

Maybe that was what his father needed, as well, he mused. To get out of here and get back into the mainstream, back to New York where business was business and everything else came in second.

He walked in through one of the four department stores that made up the quadrangle that defined the mall. His mind elsewhere, he made his way to the inner core of the mall without noticing any of the displays.

But as he hurried along the second floor of the mall, his surroundings sank in despite his preoccupation. He realized that Gloria had been right. There were a lot of people frequenting the mall. It was a weekday. The stores had only been open for about an hour and yet there were a great many people milling around, shopping, socializing, on their way to one place or another. Since it was neither lunchtime nor a holiday, he figured this had to represent an average day.

Blind luck?

No, that was a bit harsh, he thought. He had to give the woman her due. Talking to her, he’d come away with the feeling that although she seemed bullheaded, she also seemed to have something on the ball.

He’d done a little poking around into her background, looking into her past business dealings. From all appearances, she had done well in Denver. And there was every indication that she would have continued to do well had she remained there.

But she’d chosen to move back to Texas and start over again. Why?

Was it just to get away from an ex-husband and come home, or something else? Were there memories that haunted her, causing her to leave?

He could understand that. When Ann had died so suddenly, leaving him in an emotional abyss, he’d almost dropped out. He’d found himself unable to deal with seeing her face everywhere he went, remembering the times they’d spent together. It had been hell. If he hadn’t had only one semester to go and his father hadn’t been so persuasive, he might very well have just given in to his desire to become a beach bum.

Who was he kidding? He was far too much of a type A personality to be content sipping drinks out of a hollowed-out coconut shell and make that his life’s preoccupation.

So why had Gloria decided to suddenly uproot everything and start all over again? That was something he hadn’t been able to find out. He didn’t believe she’d just wanted to come home again. You went where the money was.

Reaching her shop, he saw that the glass doors no longer afforded a view of the interior. There was paper taped to the inside to keep passersby from looking in. Given her personality, he found that somewhat unusual. She struck him as someone who enjoyed an audience.

Jack tried the door and it gave.

Leaving the door unlocked was more like her, he mused. The next moment the realization that he thought himself familiar enough with the woman to be able to second-guess her stopped him in his tracks. He had no idea what she was capable of, he silently insisted.

Slipping inside, he saw that rather than a team of people, there was only one worker around, a slender youth bending over a can of paint, preparing to pour the contents into a paint tray. He had on a cap, pulled down low, and there was periwinkle-blue paint drizzled all over his coveralls.

The other workers were probably on a break, taking advantage of the woman, he decided. Good thing he’d decided to show up. Apparently she only knew how to order around one person at a time.

Coming up behind the youth, he addressed the painter’s back. “Excuse me, do you know where I can find Gloria Johansen?”

Startled, the painter swung around. The radio was turned on and although the music was soft, it had obviously masked any noise he might have made entering the store.

A grin flashed and he recognized it instantly. “What’s it worth to you?”

He scowled. Up close, he noticed the figure, even in coveralls, was pretty curvy. “Gloria.”

She set down the roller and laughed as she picked up a towel to dry her hands. “And here I thought you didn’t recognize me.”

He wished she’d stop smiling. It was infinitely more difficult hanging on to his annoyance with her smiling at him like that. “What are you doing?”

She pretended to consider the question. “Well, let’s see. Coveralls, paint, roller—I’ll take a wild stab at it and say I’m painting.”

“I know you’re painting.” He bit the words off. “Why are you painting?”

“Because I’m good at it,” she answered glibly, her eyes twinkling as she added in a hushed, amused tone, “And—and you’ll like this part,” she assured him, placing a hand on his wrist to keep him in place, a move that was far too familiar for his liking. “Because I can save money doing it myself.”

His frown only deepened, as did his annoyance. And yet part of him admired her enthusiasm. Not that he’d ever admit that, of course. “Don’t you have other things to do?”

“Lots,” she said. “And this was supposed to be going faster, but my brother dropped out on me.” She looked at him and obviously decided that he needed more information. “Jorge was supposed to come by to help but he was distracted at the last minute.”

He swore that every third sentence out of her mouth was an enigma. He needed a codebook to understand what she was saying. “Distracted?”

Her tone was resigned, forgiving. “I’m afraid that my brother’s libido is larger than his sense of responsibility when it come to promises he makes to his little sister.” Gloria moved her shoulders in a careless shrug beneath the coarse coveralls. “Maybe it’s for the best. He can be rather sloppy.” And then her eyes lit up again and she looked at him as though suddenly seeing him for the first time. He felt as if he was watching the birth of an idea. “You, on the other hand, would probably do an excellent job.”

He caught on before the sentence was out of her mouth. “If you’re trying to go all Tom Sawyer on me, I’m afraid it’s not going to work.” There were a hundred things he would do before agreeing to pick up a paintbrush or a roller.

Undaunted, she pressed on. He had a feeling that other than tight spaces, very little daunted this woman.

“As I recall, Tom Sawyer pretended he was having so much fun that the other boys begged him to let them try their hand at it and even offered to trade things for the privilege of whitewashing his aunt Polly’s fence.” She opened her eyes wide, the very picture of innocence. A picture he wasn’t buying. “I wouldn’t presume to try to suck you into doing something with a lie.”

She was a clever woman. Was she being transparent on purpose? “No, you’d use flattery.”

The innocent expression remained intact. “No way. Just observation. You’re a type A personality. You believe in being hands-on and you need to oversee everything yourself. People like that are too intense not to be good. Am I right?”

He watched in fascination as the smile on her lips blossomed and subsequently moved into her eyes. He supposed it wasn’t only Irish eyes, as the old song went, that smiled, but dark, mesmerizing Mexican ones, as well.

He found he had to force words to his lips. “I’ve never painted anything in my life.”

She nodded, as though expecting him to say as much. He felt as if he was involved in some kind of cosmic chess game.

“It’s not hard, really. You just put paint on the roller.” She picked one up to demonstrate, moving the roller up and down in the paint tray. “These rollers don’t allow you to drip and they absorb just the right amount to cover a given space.” She raised her eyes to his face. “You almost can’t fail.”

The look in her eyes dared him.

He found part of himself actually entertaining the idea and wondered if the paint fumes were getting to him. In the background he heard Blondie singing “‘I’m gonna getcha, getcha, getcha…’”

“I’ll get my suit dirty,” Jack continued.

She spread her hands to her sides. “Not a problem. I’ve an extra set of coveralls.” She nodded over to the side.

He didn’t bother looking to verify. For the moment, she had captivated his attention. He told himself he could walk away anytime he chose. So, for the time being, he chose to remain.

“You come prepared.”

“They were for Jorge.” Her eyes slid slowly from his head to his toes. Her smile widened as a tinge of triumph highlighted it. “I’d say that you were about his height, give or take an inch.”

“How convenient.” Maybe this woman could have shown old Tom Sawyer a trick or two, he thought, amused despite himself.

Her smile warmed him as it washed over him. “Yes, isn’t it? They’re in the back room if you feel like trying them on.”

He didn’t move an inch. “And why would I want to do that?”

Her answer came without hesitation. The space between them, he noted, seemed to have been whittled down to nothing without either of them taking another step.

“So that you can conquer something else,” she told him.

He wasn’t altogether sure if she was talking about painting or if “something else” referred to a whole different subject entirely. All he knew was that the chemistry that seemed to act up every time he got within ten feet of her was present as always.

She stood waiting for his answer. Her expression indicated that she was rather certain of the outcome. He knew he should just turn on his heel and walk out. That would have been the smart thing to do. After all, he didn’t like the smell of paint and he was far too busy a man to waste his time dipping a roller into a tray of periwinkle-blue liquid.

Finally, with a shrug, he turned away from her. But instead of heading for the papered doors, he walked in the opposite direction, toward the back.

So he’d try something new, he told himself.

He supposed Gloria was to be commended for trying to cut corners and save money. That made her a decent businesswoman. It was in keeping with what he’d already found out about her.

And he’d lied to her. He had painted before. He’d helped one of his roommates paint their dorm room while he was in college. They’d painted one wall stark black, the other three walls a virgin white. It had been very dramatic at the time. Now he had a feeling it would have driven him crazy.

He found the coveralls hanging on the inside of the back room door. Shedding his jacket and tie, he pulled the garment over his slacks and shirt.

“You’re right.” He snapped shut the row of snaps that ran along his chest. The coveralls felt a little tight, but not as bad as they could have. He could still move his arm. “Your brother and I are just about the same size…”

His voice trailed off as he came out of the back room and saw her balancing herself on the next-to-the-topmost rung on the ladder. Was she crazy? “What the hell are you doing up there?”

She turned around slowly to look down at him from the top of the ladder. Humor curved the corners of her mouth. “Am I going to have to explain this all over to you again? I’m painting.”

“No, you’re not,” he corrected, really angry. “You’re risking breaking your neck.”

He wasn’t just a type A personality, she thought, he was a worrier. She bristled against his implication that she was too clumsy to be careful.

“I’m standing on a ladder—A does not exactly equal B here.”

He wasn’t going to debate this with her. “Get down,” he ordered.

Humor vanished. Her eyes narrowed into slits. He should have picked up on the warning, but he could almost see her flying off the ladder. “You’re not in charge of me, Fortune.”

He had a different opinion. “I am when you don’t make an effort to use your brains and right now, they appear to be taking a break.”

“For your information, I’ve climbed ladders before, Fortune.” Open space had never been a problem for her. She had absolutely no fear of heights.

“Only means your luck is that much closer to running out.” Crossing the floor, he came up to the ladder and stood right beneath her. “Now get down.”

Anger surged through her. She stubbornly refused to budge. “Damn it, Jack, why do you insist on always seeing the glass as half empty?”

“Because it usually is. Now get down,” he ordered again.

Gloria was sorely tempted to give him a piece of her mind, but she didn’t want to alienate his father and most fathers didn’t relish hearing that their sons compared to jackasses.

She blew out a breath. “All right, I’m coming down, but only because I need to refill my roller.”

“Whatever.” He held the ladder braced as she made her way down. In his opinion, she was moving awfully fast.

She was moving faster than that when she hit the next-to-the-last rung. Missing it, she slipped and went sailing off.

Right into his arms.

Chapter Eight

Sheer instinct had guided his movements. Jack caught her without thinking. One second he was standing below Gloria, the next she’d somehow twisted around and was airborne.

The ladder she’d involuntarily vacated wobbled dangerously for a second, but mercifully remained standing upright. Jack hardly noticed. He was too busy assessing the immediate situation. That he was holding a stunningly gorgeous woman in his arms.

And that he was reacting to her.

Gloria’s eyes widened and for a second he thought she’d suddenly become aware that she had hurt something. But when she blurted a heartfelt, “I’m so sorry,” followed by possibly the sexiest giggle he could ever recall hearing, Jack knew that there was nothing broken, bruised or injured.

At least where she was concerned. The jury was still out in regard to him.

Her eyes weren’t on his face. Looking somewhat chagrined, she was staring at his chest. Jack looked down to see what she was looking at. The roller she’d been wielding was still clutched in her hand. He realized that Gloria must have accidentally hit him with it when she’d come sailing off the ladder. He was now sporting the same color across his chest that was on the freshly painted wall. Periwinkle blue.

He frowned. It didn’t take much imagination to realize how narrowly she’d missed hitting his face. “I thought the idea was to paint the wall, not me.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

Looking closer, he could see that Gloria was obviously battling facial muscles, trying to keep them in line so that she could at least look somewhat contrite. But the grin was winning. Why he found that endearing rather than annoying he had no idea.

She blew out a breath, still tugging the corners of her mouth down. “Lucky thing I had you put on those coveralls.”

“I think it was luckier that I was here to catch you.”

“It was only one rung,” she pointed out. “And I wouldn’t have slipped if you hadn’t made me so nervous.”

Other than the incident with the air bag, Gloria Mendoza struck him as someone who possessed nerves of steel. And, he had to admit, he also found it a little intriguing.

His face still inches away from hers, Jack searched her expression for the telltale signs of humor. But this time, there was none. She was serious. His interest heightened.

“I make you nervous?”

Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have said that, Gloria upbraided herself. But it wasn’t as if she were giving away some kind of deep, dark state secret. The man had to know that his looking over her shoulder was making her second-guess herself. That kind of thing would make anyone nervous.

Gloria looked at him pointedly. She decided not to backtrack. Honesty was usually the best policy, anyway. Lies were far harder to keep straight. “Yes, you do. By the way—” amusement played across her lips “—when do you think you’ll be putting me down?”

He’d gotten so caught up in his reaction to her, he’d completely forgotten that he was still holding her. Feeling a little like an idiot, Jack set her on the floor. As he did so, it felt as if he was doing it in slow motion. He was utterly aware of every movement, every part of her body that came in contact with his as he released her.

Moreover, he could feel a reluctance humming in his body, an annoying reluctance he was entirely unfamiliar with.

Well, perhaps not entirely, he amended silently, but it had been a long, long time since he’d felt the stirrings of genuine desire awakening his body.

It was just a male reaction to a beautiful woman, he insisted, nothing more.

Except that he generally wasn’t laid siege to by those kinds of feelings. He kept himself so busy that physical reactions were things that, for the most part, did not enter into his life. Even on those rare occasions when he had to take someone to a business function, he was more interested in working the room, in securing professional alliances for the bank, than he was with being attentive to his date of the evening.

He might be a brilliant strategist in the corporate world, but in the social realm, he knew that he was woefully out of step.

And he intended to remain that way no matter what the hell was going on here.

“How…” His throat felt strangely tight and he cleared it to not sacrifice his normal deep pitch. “How exactly do I make you nervous?”

When she raised her eyes to his, he felt something turn over in his belly then tighten into a knot. “Just knowing you’re watching does it.”

Jack fell back on sarcasm, his weapon of choice around someone like Gloria. “Can’t very well walk around with a blindfold when I’m around you, can I?”

“No.” Her mouth curved and he had the oddest desire to taste her lips. To see if they were as velvety smooth as they appeared.

The thought sent a jolt through his system.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was Jack Fortune, he could have any woman he wanted and he didn’t want any.

He didn’t want any, he underscored fiercely, knowing in his gut that he was doing one damn poor job of convincing himself.

For self-preservation, he took a step away from her. It made him angry that he suddenly seemed to have no control over himself. “Okay, where do you want me?” he snapped at her.

An answer flew to her lips. She counted herself fortunate that her mouth was closed at the time because what she would have said in response to his question would have gotten them both in trouble.

Next to me. In bed.

She was just as startled to think it as he would have been to hear it. What in heaven’s name had come over her? After realizing just how bad Gary was for her, she had managed to wean herself off the idea of men altogether. They were in part responsible for the uneven, disastrous path she’d followed for more than ten years.

But her bet with her sisters had been more for their sakes than for her own. When she’d made it, she’d been more than confident that she wouldn’t succumb to any kind of temptation because after what she’d been through with Gary and the men who had come before, she was utterly certain that she could swear them off as easily as a nonsmoker could swear off cigarettes.

So why did smoking suddenly seem so alluring?

The man didn’t even like her, for heaven’s sake. And he was the son of the man who was backing her business. This had “complications” stamped all over it. Was she utterly out of her mind?

Yes, she had to be. Because she didn’t need or want to be involved with any men except for those within her own family. End of story.

Except that it wasn’t. Damn him, Jack was holding her in place with that dark look in his eyes, the one that should be putting her back up because it generally appeared to be so superior-looking.

But her back wasn’t up and she felt as if her body had been placed on alert. Waiting for something to happen. Dreading it and wanting it at the same time.

Her mouth felt dry. Gloria was uncomfortably aware that other more sensitive parts of her body had obviously absorbed all the moisture. She shifted her weight. It didn’t help.

“Where do I want you?” she repeated, as if giving the matter genuine thought rather than lip service. She looked around the shop. There were only so many places for him to work. “Over there would be nice,” she finally replied, pointing vaguely toward the opposite wall.

It was as far from her as was physically possible within the store. In distance there was safety. Or so she could hope.

“Okay,” he agreed mechanically. He wasn’t even looking where she was pointing.

Instead of picking up the paint can that Gloria had pushed up against the counter, Jack took the paint roller out of her hand and placed it on top of the closed container.

“You’re not moving.” The words, uttered in slow motion, tasted like cotton.

His eyes were intent on hers as he made up his mind. The second he did, excitement telegraphed itself through him. “I think that we need to get something out of our system first.”

Her mind whirled as she desperately searched for something to say. Something flippant to put him off because, God help her, she had a feeling she knew what was coming. And that it would be her undoing.

She took a deep breath. “I was never one for purging.”

“Sometimes—” his voice caressed her “—it has to be done in order to move forward.”

Think, Glory, think. “I heard leeches are coming back into vogue.”

Damn it. It felt as if his eyes were nailing her in place. This wasn’t even sporting. Why couldn’t Patrick Fortune have had ugly children? Or, barring that, why did he have to have a son who set her pulse racing the moment said son was anywhere within fifteen feet of her?

It just wasn’t fair, she’d done her time, Gloria thought in mounting desperation, still not moving from where she stood. She didn’t want to sink back into the velvet confines of desire. She wanted to be a nun—no, better than that, she wanted to be like one of those poor souls in Arabian fairy tales whose duty it was to guard the sultan’s wives. Eunuchs had their desire made null and void.

There was nothing null and void about her reaction to him.

Damn, she was supposed to be through with desire.

Jack pretended to dig through his pockets, searching for imaginary leeches. “Fresh out.”

“That’s a shame.” Gloria could feel the air getting caught in her throat. It had to be forced out. “I’ll take a rain check.”

“Gloria?”

Jack’s breath whispered along her skin. She would have swallowed if only there was something to swallow. “Yes?”

“Shut up.”

He saw a flash of temper in her eyes before it faded away. It only served to excite him further. Jack feathered his fingers through her hair, framing her face as he tilted it up to his.

If her heart hammered any harder, it was going to break into a million pieces. In self-defense, she began to talk again. “I heard a moving target is more of a challenge.”

“All right then, consider me challenged.”

He ran his thumb along her lower lip. He felt a pulsing in his loins as desire took a larger bite out of him. Unable to breathe, Jack brought his mouth down on hers.

Her mind went blank.

Her body went on automatic pilot.

Gloria threaded her arms around his neck, leaning her body into his as something that sounded vaguely like Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” suddenly exploded inside her body and head.

Sunshine shot beams right and left, all but setting her on fire.

No, scratch that, she thought, he was setting her on fire.

Desperation scrambled through her, screaming, “Mayday.” Damn it, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But oh dear Lord, it was glorious.

She clung harder, kissed harder. Determined that if she was going to be plowed under, she was going to leave her mark on him before she disintegrated.

It wasn’t working.

He’d made himself beard the lion in his den. Her den as the case was, he amended. More than anything, he wanted to get this, whatever it was that was bedeviling him, out of his system, put it behind him so that he would stop being ravaged by the claws of temptation and get on with his life.

In his experience, nothing ever lived up to hype, never came close to meeting expectations. Immeasurable disappointment always followed swiftly in the wake of anticipation, even minor anticipation. Forget about anything major. Major expectations always brought major disappointment crashing down about his ears.

And yet, he wasn’t disappointed.

At least, not in his expectations. What he was disappointed in was himself. Because instead of backing away, instead of feeling nothing more stirring than a smattering of indifference when he kissed her, he wanted more.

Hell, he wanted her.

Here, now, with paint being transferred from his coveralls to hers, he wanted to make love with her on the floor, on the counter, against the ladder. Everywhere and anywhere.

A rush was traveling through him the likes of which he couldn’t begin to fathom.

He wanted no part of it, it would only serve to confuse and complicate everything.

And yet he wanted more.

Wanted to embrace this sweet, agonizing sensation and fall into it until it completely cocooned him.

His very lungs ached.

It was not unlike the way they had felt when he had run his one and only New York marathon at the age of thirty. Any second now his lungs were going to explode. They’d already put him on notice.

With effort, he pulled himself back, abruptly ending what he’d abruptly started.

Gloria looked up at him, her expression as dazed as he felt.

It was a full minute before there was enough air in her lungs for her to form even a single word. “So,” she finally whispered.

“So,” he echoed, his mind nothing more than a vast wasteland.

Gloria pressed her lips together, wanting to kiss him again. Wanting to make love with him. Grateful that he hadn’t pressed the advantage that was so obviously his. Eventually she gathered together enough breath to say, “It’s behind us.”

Not by a long shot, Jack thought, unless he exerted superhuman control. Still, for the sake of sanity he went along with the pretense.

“Guess so.”

Any second now she was going to do something very stupid and throw herself back into his arms. Desperation began to vibrate through her. Her eyes never leaving his face, she took a step backward. “Maybe we should get back to work.”

“Maybe.”

All he could do was utter a solitary word, perhaps two. The way his thoughts were all scrambling into each other, he didn’t think that he was capable of constructing a coherent compound sentence. Right now, every word in his vocabulary was on a fantastic ride inside the blender that was his brain, whirling around and making no sense whatsoever.

Her legs felt shaky, just the way they had when he’d pulled her out of the car earlier this week right after the air bag had threatened to separate her from her claim to being a rational being. Maybe she should lump him right up there with claustrophobia. Heaven knew he had the same kind of impact on her that she felt when she was confined to small spaces. Panic had been at the center of her reaction just now. The kind of panic that occurred when she found circumstances utterly out of control and beyond her reach.

He had done that to her.

So why did she want to kiss him again?

And why in heaven’s name did she want to take what was going on here to the next level?

The second she’d thought of making love with him, something snapped to attention inside of her, an iron resolve set in place to keep her sane.

No, damn it, she wasn’t going to go that route again, she wasn’t going to follow her hormones down that same hazardous, slippery slope. She was older, wiser—well, at least older. Wasn’t wisdom supposed to kick in at some point by now?

Willing herself back to some semblance of composure, she looked down at her overalls. The vivid splotch of paint she’d smeared across his chest when he had caught her had transferred itself onto her. Despite the seriousness of the situation she found herself in, Gloria could feel her mouth curving.

“Looks like we’re part of some club.” And then she cleared her throat, determined to give the performance of a lifetime. She fixed a bright, cheerful smile to her lips, the kind she summoned when dealing with a particularly trying customer whose account she wanted to acquire.

“Well, I’m glad that we got that out of our systems. Now maybe we can get down to work.” She pointed toward the far wall. “If you take that wall over there, I’ll finish up over here.”

She sounded glib, as if she was accustomed to being kissed by men all the time.

Given the way she looked, maybe she was, Jack decided. Women like Gloria were the object of a great many men’s fantasies and desires.

Something else stirred inside of him. Jealousy.

Jack banked it down, swiftly, firmly. There was no way he could be jealous. He hardly knew her. And it was going to stay that way.

He gratefully took his cue from the woman, relieved that she wasn’t asking to have some kind of a heart-to-heart about what he had just foolishly done. A lot of other women would have demanded to have it out, asking him where he thought “this” was going to go.

As if he knew.

He hadn’t a clue. He didn’t even know what “this” was. And right now, he wasn’t up to discussing anything except how many coats of paint she wanted to spread on her walls. Anything else would have required a more complex thinking process than he was capable of mustering at this point in time.

Nodding, he picked up the container of paint and took the roller she handed him. “Thanks.”

Her throat felt bone-dry as she replied, “Don’t mention it.”

“I won’t.”

It was a promise he was making her, she suddenly realized.

She stood and watched him for a second as he pried off the container’s lid, then poured some of the contents into a tray. Did that mean he had felt something, too? It would be nice to know that she hadn’t been alone during the blitzkrieg she’d just experienced.

“Fine,” she responded.

Then, to keep him from saying anything else, Gloria turned up the radio. A love song filled the air. She was quick to switch stations. But the next one belonged to a call-in talk show. The host was venting about a proposed tax bill. Muttering under her breath, she switched around until she found a country-and-western station.

With a smile, she left it on.

Roller raised to begin, Jack groaned as he looked at her over his shoulder. “Oh, God, you actually listen to country music?”

Good, they were back in their corners again, she thought. On opposite sides of an issue. She waited for the safe feeling to return, the one that told her she had nothing to fear.

This time, the feeling didn’t come.

Maybe later, she thought hopefully. “Every chance I get.”

Jack frowned, turning back to the wall. Trying to block out the music. “I didn’t think you were the type for crying-in-your-beer songs.”

“I’m not.” She loved music and country and western was her favorite kind. “And they don’t cry in their beer. There’re a lot of good words, a lot of good sentiments to be garnered from country-and-western music.”

“If you say so.”

“Yes,” she said cheerfully, dipping her roller in the tray, “I do.”

She began to hum to the tune on the radio, doing her best to silence the tune her body was humming as she remembered that kiss.

Chapter Nine

There was a pizza between them on the back room desk. Because they’d badly needed a break after three hours of painting, Gloria had ordered a pepperoni pie from the pizzeria at the other end of the mall. Large, half-finished containers of soda stood like frosty sentries on either side of the opened box, standing guard over the more than half-consumed pie.

There was a great deal more than dough, cheese, sauce and pepperoni shimmering in the air between them, though.

Tasting a bit of sauce along her mouth, Gloria wiped her lips before continuing to work on her slice. She still didn’t know what to make of Jack, or even if she should try.

But Jack Fortune wasn’t the kind of man you could just write off or walk away from.

Especially after he’d kissed her in a manner that would have burned off a woman’s socks.

Better just to go on eating and not say anything, Gloria told herself, even though the aftereffects of his kiss were lingering a lot longer than she’d thought they would.

That was only because she’d been celibate so long. Even plain tap water tasted like sparkling wine if your thirst had gone unquenched for two years.

Trouble was, she thought, watching Jack beneath hooded eyes, she hadn’t realized she even was thirsty until she’d taken a sip.

Annoyed that she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering down a path she didn’t want it to go, she took a healthy swig of her diet soda and then leaned forward to take another slice of pizza.

At the same time that he did.

Both reaching into the box, their hands brushed against one another. It took effort not to pull back her hand. When he raised his eyes to hers, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “You lasted longer than I thought you would.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was she talking about his staying here after he’d kissed her? “Come again?”

“Painting,” she explained, picking up her slice. “I half expected you to make a U-turn at the door when I suggested you put on the coveralls and pitch in.” And I would have stayed feeling a whole lot safer if you had, she thought. “Thanks to you, we’re almost done.” She flashed a grin, pausing to take a bite of what amounted to her fourth slice. “At this rate, I’ll be ready to open in another week. The man who does the lettering is coming tomorrow.” She watched as he took another slice himself.

Jack raised a brow in mock surprise. “You mean, you’re not going to do that yourself, too?” Where was she putting all this food? he wondered. So far, the woman had consumed more than his last three dates put together and she looked fantastic doing it.

Careful, buddy, he warned himself. You’re on dangerous ground here. You start admiring the way a woman eats, you’re lost.

Gloria shook her head and laughed. “No way. I’ve got terrible handwriting. No one would know what the name of the store was.”

He was vaguely aware of nodding in response, hardly hearing what she was saying. His attention was riveted to the way her mouth moved as she spoke. To the way she breathed. Because it was warm inside, she’d unzipped her coveralls down to her waist when she’d sat at the desk. Beneath the bland garment with its paint splatters she was wearing a tank top that adhered to her like a hot-pink skin. It molded itself to her breasts, softly hinting at cleavage while it brought out the deep black of her hair.

She’d loosened her hair, as well. It was skimming along her back now like a black velvet cape.

One hand holding his slice, the other wrapped around the soda container, Jack could still feel an itch working itself across his palms.

He wanted to touch her. To run his palms along her body. He wanted to see for himself if it was as soft, as firm, as it appeared.

In a desperate attempt to mentally backpedal before he found himself in too deep, he searched for something to use as a barricade between them. Something official. “What kind of insurance are you going to be carrying?”

It took her a moment to absorb the question. He’d been looking at her with a gaze hot enough to burn away her coveralls and everything else, as well. She was grateful to talk about something as bland as insurance. Even so, she took a sip of the cold soda to quench a thirst that only partially resulted from the spicy slice of pizza she was consuming.

“Same as before,” she told him. Then, in case he hadn’t come across that when he was conducting his intrusive research into her life, she added, “I went with Gibraltar Insurance when I opened up my store in Denver.” Before he could ask, she gave him the reasons behind her choice, enumerating them on her fingers. “Reasonable rates, accessible agents. They were right there for me after the robbery.”

“Robbery?” The slice halfway to his lips, Jack stopped and looked at her incredulously. “You were robbed?”

Gloria bit her tongue, but it was too late. She should have done that before she’d said anything.

Big mistake, her mind taunted.

She shrugged as carelessly as she could, dismissing the incident, and then smiled at him prettily as she held up her thumb and forefinger barely three inches apart. “It was just a small robber.”

“Bullets are the same size no matter how tall or short the shooter,” he pointed out.

Damn, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “Yes,” she said patiently, “I suppose they are. But no one was hurt,” she was quick to add. “The guy who robbed us looked more scared than anything.”

“You saw his face?”

“His eyes,” Gloria corrected. “And he was terrified.” She just knew he’d had to have been driven to do what he had by awful circumstances. “If my customer hadn’t started hyperventilating just then, I think I might have had a shot at talking the robber out of what he was doing.”

Just what kind of a nutcase was his father backing? The woman was certifiably insane. “Or a chance at getting shot—”

She finished off her piece and picked up a fresh napkin, wiping her fingers. “You know, Jack, you really have to do something about that upbeat outlook of yours.”

There was nothing funny about the situation she was telling him. “I’m a realist.”

Collecting a handful of used napkins from the desk, she dumped them into the garbage can, then cocked her head, studying him. “Maybe that’s your problem.”

He resented what she was implying. “I don’t have a problem.” Other than dealing with you and these weird feelings.

Gloria looked him in the eye, sensing that he was a soul in turmoil. More or less just the way she was right now.

“Are you happy?” she suddenly challenged.

Where the hell had that come from? “Ecstatic,” he told her through clenched teeth.

Gloria laughed, the sound rippling through him like rings in a lake marking a disturbance. Which was exactly what the sound of her laughter created inside of him. One hell of a disturbance.

“All right, then maybe you don’t have a problem,” she allowed glibly.

“Thank you,” he replied icily before getting back to the topic they were both pretending to discuss with interest. “What are you paying for insurance?”

One corner of her mouth rose in a teasing, provocative smile. “That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

“A kiss is personal.” Now why the hell had he said that? He’d promised himself not to think about or make reference to what had transpired earlier. The less time spent on that, the better. It was almost as if he was doomed to repeat it.

Jack quickly tried to distract her from his error. “This is business.”

She gazed at him, all wide-eyed innocence. “Then you didn’t mean business before?”

His eyes narrowed. “When?”

“When you kissed me?”

He stood by his original reason, no matter how flimsy and paper-thin it seemed. “I was just trying to get it out of the way.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right,” she murmured, the words emerging one at a time in slow motion. “Okay, then.”

She quoted him the price she was paying. He looked at her in surprise.

“And that covers it?”

“Two million dollars’ worth of coverage. I don’t expect to have more than that on hand at any one time. Less, most likely. I provide a service,” she explained. “Creating something to match the customer’s personality rather than selling them something out of my inventory because I over-ordered sapphires last month.”

It was an interesting philosophy, but he doubted its validity. “How can jewelry reflect a person’s personality?” he scoffed.

She studied him for a long moment, then said, “Yours would be reflected in a gold ring. With a panther carved out of black onyx embossed on it. And maybe one small eye that seemed to watch you no matter where you moved. An emerald.”

“Is that how you see me?” He wanted to know. “Flashy gold with embossed onyx?”

He was trying to throw her off. “Nothing flashy about gold,” she informed him. “All the kings wanted it. And the ring would be in the image of a panther,” she said pointedly. “That’s how I see you. A panther. Sleek, deadly. Showing your opponents no mercy.” That was the way she saw him, she insisted silently. Cold, removed.

Nothing cold about the way he kisses.

She banked down the stray thought. It had no place here.

Gloria forced a smile to her lips. “I’ve done a little homework on you, too.” He looked surprised. And not pleased. “In the age of the Internet, no one’s safe.”

He dropped the last slice he’d been nursing back into the box. It was there alone. Between them they’d polished off almost an entire large pizza. “Apparently.”

For some reason the space around her felt as if it was getting smaller, she realized. She could feel her claustrophobia kicking in. But for once, she almost embraced it. It allowed her to block out the other sensations that were swirling through her, the ones that worried her a great deal more than an attack of claustrophobia did. She knew how to deal with that: get out in the open again as fast as possible. Dealing with this attraction to Jack Fortune was another matter. And she wasn’t going to be free of it until he went back to New York.

Rising, she brushed off her hands. “I’m going to go finish up,” she announced.

Jack nodded, then looked back at the slice he’d just dropped. He picked it up again, using it as an excuse. He needed to regroup. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

She gave him a meaningful look. “Don’t hurry.”

Jack sat back in the straight-backed chair she’d rustled up, watching her walk out of the small office. Watching the way her hips moved from side to side like a lyrical song.

More like a prophecy of doom, he told himself. And he would do well to heed it.

Gloria knew she needed help.

If she hadn’t been aware of it before, that kiss she’d allowed to happen—that kiss she’d more than welcomed—had shown her just how vulnerable she was.

The man exuded sexuality with every breath he took. As they finished painting the showroom, she caught herself staring at Jack’s coveralls a half a dozen times, wanting to take them off him using just her teeth.

Instead of getting better, this attraction was getting worse.

If she wasn’t careful, she was going to wind up exactly where she had that time she’d come off a three-day bender after she’d had that awful falling out with Christina. When the fog had left from her brain, leaving behind one killer of a hangover, she’d discovered herself in bed with a man she hadn’t recognized no matter how hard she’d tried to activate her brain.

She’d made a promise to herself then, a promise never to wind up beside a man she had no intention of being with again.

Gloria had an uneasy feeling that promise was going to ring hollow if she didn’t do something to reinforce it, and fast.

She needed backup. She needed to touch base with someone sensible, someone who was grounded, who’d keep her grounded.

Until Jack had kissed her, she would have said that person was her. But after feeling lightning flashing wildly through her veins, she knew that she had just been kidding herself.

Just like alcoholics never really fully recover but remain one for the rest of their lives, the same could be said for a woman who made bad choices. She was doomed to remain in that mode, to continue making bad choices because she was constantly being drawn to men who were bad for her.

And in his own way, Jack Fortune was bad for her. He certainly didn’t come with the promise of a happily-ever-after attached to him. Jack was clearly a man who wanted no attachments. Any sort of physical relationship she shared with him would be just that, physical, nothing more. It wouldn’t lead anywhere. Besides, she’d had her share of hurt feelings and wasn’t eager to go through that again.

To give the man his due, he hadn’t pushed his advantage—and he’d definitely had one—when he’d kissed her. God knew she wasn’t a pushover any longer, but with the right man—or the wrong one, depending on which side of the situation you were on—she had absolutely no willpower to speak of. Until he’d blown her resolve to pieces, she’d thought she had, but now she knew she didn’t.

Which meant that she was going to have to be more vigilant, she told herself as she dipped her roller into an all but empty paint tray.

She could swear she felt him watching her.

That made her reinforce her promise to herself: no more being caught alone with him, even with paint buckets between them. If she was going to have any further dealings with Mr. Jack Fortune, there was going to have to be someone, anyone, present at the time.

But for now she needed to talk to someone rational, someone more cold-blooded and tougher than herself. Her sister Christina was the perfect choice.

Gloria put on the last finishing strokes, then retired her roller. Jack, she noticed, was still busy. She moved to the far end of the showroom—as far from Jack as she could get.

She knew she could turn to Sierra just as easily, but secretly she’d always admired her cool, calm, collected older sister. Even during the height of her rebellion and her awful period of acting out, a part of her had longed to be exactly like Christina.

The second she came home, Gloria shed her coat, purse and shoes and made a beeline for the telephone. Her body was still humming from this afternoon, from an onslaught of desire that almost had her kissing Jack as he took his leave. That had to stop.

Gloria reached for the phone and just as her fingers came in contact with the receiver, it rang beneath her hand. She hesitated, looking at her Caller ID. The number identified the call as coming from Fortune-Rockwell Bank. Jack?

The second she thought of him, her pulse rate escalated. God, this had to stop, she thought again.

She couldn’t talk to him, she told herself. She’d let her answering machine pick up, then call Christina.

Gloria made her way to the kitchen, trying to ignore the phone, listening for the sound of a male voice anyway. What she needed, she decided, was a cup of coffee. Strong, black coffee. And maybe a lobotomy.

The machine beeped. She held her breath even as she told herself not to.

“Glory? It’s just me, Tina, calling to see how you were doing. I’ll try you again la—”

Pivoting on her stockinged heel, Gloria made a dive for the phone on the coffee table. She managed to lift the receiver just as her sister was about to hang up. “Tina? Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.” Relieved, Gloria sank onto the sofa. Her legs felt as if they had all the structural integrity of thin rubber bands. “You sound breathless. What’s up?”

If she was going to have a serious conversation with Christina, she wanted it to be face-to-face, not over the phone. So for now, she just went with the obvious excuse. “Just dashing across the room to get to the phone before you hung up.”

“Didn’t realize you were that eager to talk to me,” Christina teased, then her voice grew tight with emotion. “I’ve missed you, Glory. Why did we waste so much time getting back together?”

“My fault.” She was willing to take all the blame for the schism. She’d been the stubborn one, the one whose brain had been pickled more than half the time. “But it’s over now. We’re back in the same area and we’re friends again. That’s all that counts.” She made herself comfortable, just as she had in the old days when she’d spend hours on the phone with nothing serious pressing on her conscience. “So, what’s up?”

“That was what I was going to ask you,” Christina responded, her voice warm, interested. “How’s the place coming along?”

“Fantastic.” She thought of the work she’d done last night. She’d stayed up until the wee hours, worked with a desktop publishing program. And then, for relaxation, she’d gotten in a little designing. “I’ve printed up all the fliers with the new address and posted them to all my old customers.” Including one of the major studios that had commissioned her to design jewelry for one of its most popular situation comedies and the number one drama program on television. “I’ve even updated my Web site to let everyone know about the move and I’ve got a shipment of raw materials coming in at the end of the week.”

“Raw materials,” Christina echoed, then laughed. “First time I’ve ever heard diamond and emeralds called that. Sounds like you’re getting ready to open sooner than you originally thought?”

“I am,” Gloria confirmed. She tucked her feet under her and stared at the rain as it came down outside her window. It made the interior gloomy. “The weekend after this one.”

“That soon?” She heard the soft sound of keys being struck on a keyboard. Christina was multitasking again. They got that from their parents, she thought. “I thought you said you hadn’t decided on a painter yet?”

“I did. Me.” And then she decided to be completely honest. “Along with some help.”

“Help?” Her sister’s voice sounded on alert.

Gloria took a deep breath, bracing herself before she continued. “Jack Fortune came by to harass me about insurance. He obviously didn’t think I was bright enough to have any. I told him who my carrier was and I put him to work.”

“Good girl.” Delight resonated in Christina’s voice as she applauded her.

Not exactly quite so good, Gloria thought, knowing she hadn’t quite been truthful about the sequence of events. She glanced at her watch. It was too late today to meet Christina, plus she was pretty tired. The idea of a hot shower was too alluring to pass up. “Um, Tina, are you free for lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure, why?”

She paused for a second, then forged ahead. “I need to talk to someone.”

“About Jack?”

At the last minute Gloria chickened out. She and Christina had just gotten back on firm ground and she didn’t want someone she admired, someone who had never made all the missteps that she had, to think of her as a weakling. At least, not before she could present her side of the picture.

“No,” she denied vehemently. “I want to design a necklace for Mama and I thought I’d bounce a few ideas off you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Gloria’s back stiffened. “Don’t give me that big-sister, I-can-see-right-through-you stuff. I really want your opinion.”

“Okay. Why don’t you come by the office tomorrow and we’ll grab a bite to eat while you impress me with your designs.”

She grinned, pleased. She felt better already. “Sounds good. What time?”

“Make it eleven-thirty. I’ll get off early so we can beat the crowd.”

“You’re on,” Gloria said. “I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven-thirty.”

She was smiling as she hung up the receiver, all thoughts of Jack pushed aside. At least for the time being.

Chapter Ten

Preoccupied, Gloria didn’t see Jack until she physically got on the elevator the next day.

She thought her radar would have warned her that the one person she desperately wanted to avoid was in the area. But just as she’d rounded the side that led to the bank she’d heard the bell sound for an arriving elevator car and, in a hurry to get the ride to the thirtieth floor in a cylindrical tube over with, she made a dash for it.

And narrowly avoided colliding with the tall, well-built man coming in from the other side.

Face to cloth, Gloria recognized the cut of the suit first. Custom. Hand-sewn. The cologne was a close second. There was no one else in the elevator to share the ride with them.

Her heart froze just as the doors closed behind her. She took a step back and looked up at him. Her verbal skills lagged behind by a full beat.

“Jack.”

“Gloria.” He acknowledged her presence a bit curtly. But she was the last person he wanted to run into, literally or otherwise. He was on his way to a private meeting with his father about the Gloria situation. After that little incident in the shop, for which he wholeheartedly accepted the blame, he definitely wanted out. According to her own words, her shop would be ready for business within the week. Her insurance was in order, as was her inventory. And she had a security firm coming out to safeguard the store against break-ins. There was no reason for him to stick around. He wasn’t aware of the bank holding anyone else’s hand so tightly.

His eyes washed over her. She was bundled up in a three-quarter-length suede coat. Suede had never been a turn-on for him.

Until now.

Maybe he should have arranged to meet his father for dinner instead, he thought darkly. There was precious little chance of her turning up at his father’s house.

Damn it, why did she feel like a cross between a James Bond martini and a malt every time she ran into him? Stirred and shaken.

Gloria forced a smile to her lips. “Looks like we can’t seem to avoid running into one another.”

He decided that his best bet was to stare straight ahead at the steel doors. “Looks like.”

As talkative as ever, she thought. Maybe she should have been grateful for that, but she wasn’t. She hated silence when she was uncomfortable and right now after yesterday she was very uncomfortable.

What was he thinking? Had he relived that kiss over and over again the way she had? Or did he regret the impulse that had prompted him to turn her knees into churned butter?

Or had the whole thing been so insignificant he wasn’t wasting any time at all thinking about it?

Gloria cleared her throat, summoning words to fill the silence. “I’m on my way to meet my sister for lunch. Christina,” she added for good measure in case he had forgotten which sister worked here. When he made no effort to respond, she pressed, “You?”

A trace of confusion marred his perfect forehead. “Me, what?”

Was he tuning her out completely? “Who are you going to see?”

Jack turned his face forward again. “My father.” To get me off this damn assignment from hell once and for all.

“Oh.” Extracting words out of the man was like trying to pick hot coals out of a fireplace. They came swiftly, but sparingly. “Tell him I said hi.”

Jack made no reply, merely nodding that he’d heard her. According to the flashing numbers at the front of the car, the floors were flying by.

Not fast enough to suit him, he thought. The space within the smooth, steel-gray walls was filling up with her perfume and it was getting to him. Arousing him. Making him remember what her lips had felt like pressed against his.

Ten more flights to go.

And then the elevator jerked to a stop. The light went out, leaving them in complete darkness.

The next moment he felt his arm being clutched. “Clawed at” was more like it.

“What just happened?”

Her voice was breathless, panicky. Just like when the truck had struck his car flying through the intersection. “It’s just a malfunction. Don’t start screaming,” he warned.

He thought he heard her swallow. “I won’t.” She sounded utterly unsure of her promise.

“It’ll only be a few seconds,” he assured her. This was a relatively new building. Fortune-Rockwell had moved out of its old home office into this one less than five years ago. Everything was supposed to be state-of-the-art.

Which meant that these kinds of things weren’t supposed to happen.

“The lights are bound to come back on.”

Extricating his arm, he put his hands out to feel for the wall in an attempt to find the phone. Somehow he got turned around and he found her instead.

Instantly he pulled back his hands. Whatever he had touched—and he had a real suspicion what that had been—was incredibly soft, even if it was packaged in suede.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay.”

Her reply was barely above a whisper. He could hear the fear mounting in her voice. “We’re going to be all right,” he told her firmly.

“I know we are.”

Although she didn’t sound quite so sure she believed him.

Just as he wondered if she was going to faint, an auxiliary light came on. The illumination it cast was dim, but at least they were no longer in the dark.

Her skin looked almost translucent, he thought, glancing at her face. “There.” Jack indicated the emergency light source. “See?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I can.” She could see just how small, how confining, the space was. For some reason the dim light only made it feel that much smaller. A tightness was taking hold within her chest.

“And so can I,” he told her. And what he saw was unadulterated fear. The same fear that had been in her eyes when he’d pulled her out of the car when the air bag had deployed. “It’s going to be all right,” he repeated. The words felt empty, hollow, highlighting the frustration he felt.

She turned desperate eyes on him. “When? When is it going to be all right?”

“As soon as the lights come back on.”

He knew his answer wasn’t very reassuring. Nothing frustrated him more than not having control over a situation. Annoyance strumming through him, he opened the panel just above the keypad of floor buttons and extracted the closed-circuit telephone receiver. “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?”

There was no answer. For a minute he felt like hitting the receiver against the wall, but losing his temper wasn’t going to solve their dilemma. He tried his cell phone. There was no signal. When it rained, it poured.

“The power must be out.” Gloria’s voice was hardly above a whisper. She could feel her throat closing up again.

He shook his head. “The phone lines are on a separate circuit.” Swallowing a curse, he hung up the receiver. “Maybe some of the other elevators are out, too, and whoever is supposed to be answering the phone is out checking on another car.”

“Yeah, right.”

His attention shifted toward her. Poor lighting or not, she really didn’t look too good. “Sit down before you fall down.”

But Gloria remained standing where she was, her whole body as rigid as if it had been chiseled out of rock. She turned her eyes to his face.

This was what they meant by a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, he thought.

“Do something.” It was half a command, half an appeal.

Just what did she expect him to do? There were precious few options available. “Well, I’d get out and push the car up to the next landing, but my cape’s at the cleaners.”

“Do something,” she repeated, more insistently this time.

Okay, he’d bite. “And just exactly what is it that you’d have me do?”

She shrugged helplessly. If she knew, she’d have done it herself. “I don’t know—a guy thing.” Looking around, she saw what appeared to be a removable panel directly above their heads. “Like climbing up and pushing that off.”

He looked up at the same panel. “What good will that do?”

“We could climb out.” With a dismissive snort, he looked down at her high heels. “I’m very nimble,” she insisted.

He decided to humor her for the space of a moment. “Okay, supposing we could climb out, then what?”

She didn’t know about him, but it would do her a world of good. “At least we wouldn’t be trapped in here, suffocating.”

“We’re not suffocating. There’s plenty of air in here.”

She had her hand on his arm again. For a relatively small woman, she had really strong fingers. “Please.”

Jack knew she wouldn’t give up until he gave in. He supposed that since there was no one answering him on the phone, it wouldn’t hurt to try to see what was going on, although he wasn’t about to attempt shimmying up the cables to the next floor. There was no way he could possibly pry open the doors on the next landing. Even if he were a weight lifter, it wouldn’t be possible.

He moved to the wall and tested the integrity of the railing that ran along three sides of the car. Recessed from the wall, it seemed sturdy enough to hold him.

Jack glanced back at her. She’d shed her coat in a heap on the floor. “Come here, give me your shoulder.”

He watched her tongue lightly run along the outline of her mouth and tried not to let it affect him. “Why?”

Exasperated by the situation and by the fact that there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to negate the mounting anxiety in her eyes, he snapped, “Because I didn’t have any breakfast this morning and I’m hungry.” Taking her arm, he pulled her over to the wall. “I need it for leverage, that’s why.”

Removing his shoes, Jack clamped his hand on her shoulder. She wobbled a little, then braced herself. The phrase “iron butterfly” teased his brain. “You’re sturdier than you look.”

“So they tell me.”

He raised his foot as far up as he could, getting it onto the railing. Gloria spread her legs apart, taking a stance as he pushed off her shoulder and rose up parallel to the wall. There was a space between the ceiling and where the sides ended. He secured his fingers along that ridge. Moving in half inches, he managed to make it to the trapped door.

Holding on with one hand, he pushed the panel with the other. It took a little doing, but the panel finally gave way. Jack moved it to the side. Clearing an opening large enough to accommodate him, he pulled himself up with his arms.

Watching his every move, Gloria held her breath. She saw him disappear through the opening. For a moment she was alone. Alone in a small space. Just as she had been all those years ago. Perspiration was forming all up and down her spine. She could feel her blouse adhering to her back.

Damn it, stop panicking. It’s not going to do you any good, she insisted silently.

Gloria forced her feet to move until she was standing directly under the opening that the panel had covered. She craned her neck. There was nothing but darkness outside the car.

“What do you see?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Disappointment resonated through her like a death knell.

“Nothing,” he repeated. “No lights, not even slivers of light between the floors. No nothing.” Which, as far as he could see, could mean only one thing. “It looks like there’s some kind of power failure going on in the building.”

Her breath felt almost jagged as it caught in her throat. “Do you think it’s affected the whole city?”

“Probably just us,” he told her in the calmest voice he could muster.

And then he looked down into the car. She’d been right. He had to do something. “Look, I’m going to try to see if I can get to the next floor.”

“No!” Her sudden cry surprised him. Her next words surprised him even more. “Don’t leave me.”

She wasn’t being rational. “Gloria, I—”

“Don’t leave me,” she repeated, the urgency in her voice growing.

He supposed there was no way of knowing just how far up he was going to have to climb before he could get out. And if he left her, there was no telling what condition she’d been in by the time he could get back to her. He made his decision.

“Okay, stand back,” he ordered. “I’m coming down.”

She moved to the opposite wall, pressing her back up against it, her eyes never leaving his face. Gloria held her breath as she watched him jump down. He winced as he landed.

“Are you all right?”

He’d landed wrong on his ankle. Testing it now, he shrugged. “I’ll live.” And then he looked at his clothes. “But I don’t know about my suit.”

She tried to smile and succeeded only marginally. The space around her was growing smaller. “Can’t stay clean around me, can you?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” They both jumped when the elevator phone rang. Jack grabbed it. “Hello?”

“Hello? This car number seven?” a deep male voice rumbled against his ear, carrying beyond the receiver.

Jack glanced up at the certificate housed behind glass. It okayed the car for service. He squinted to make out the number.

“Yeah. We’re stuck.”

“So are all the other elevator cars.” The technician sounded harried and resigned at the same time. “Power’s out throughout the building. You’re going to have to hang tight.”

Gloria was directly behind him. Desperate, she grabbed the phone from his hand and yelled, “How long?”

“Dunno. We’re working as fast as we can.” There was a pause, as if the technician was calculating time. “Couple of hours, maybe more.”

“A couple of hours?” Her eyes widened as her claustrophobia threatened to take over every square inch of her. She could feel it cutting off her air, making her want to gasp.

“Can’t be helped,” the technician informed her.

Jack looked at her as she handed him the phone. “Is the blackout confined just to this building?”

“Looks more like a few blocks. As close as I can tell, a grid went out.” Then, because nothing could be solved on the phone like this, the technician said, “I’ll get back to you.”

And suddenly the line went dead.

A fresh assault of panic struck Gloria. She felt as if they’d been abandoned.

“No, wait, wait,” Gloria cried as she grabbed the receiver from Jack. But there was no one on the other end to hear her.

They were alone, she thought, anxiety coarsely rubbing against her. Alone for who knew how long?

Very gently, Jack pried the receiver out of her hand. The woman had a death grip, he thought as he removed her fingers from the phone and hung up.

The annoyance he’d initially felt had turned to protectiveness. “He’ll call back when he has something to say.”

Lips pressed together, she nodded. But when she spoke, there was despair in Gloria’s voice. “We might be dead by then.”

Maybe he could kid her out of it, he thought. “You always exaggerate like that?”

Instead of answering him, she turned desperate eyes up to his face. “Talk to me.”

“I thought I was.”

But she shook her head. “No, talk to me. Get my mind off this.”

Maybe if he could get her to talk about her fears, it would help her to deal with the situation. “What is it with you and tight places?”

Ordinarily she might have said something flippant, or even denied that there was a problem the way he was implying. But the man had eyes. He could see there was a problem. Could hear it, too. There was no disguising her reaction, no matter how hard she tried. “I don’t like them.”

He laughed shortly. “That’s rather obvious. Any particular reason?”

Instead of answering him immediately, Gloria took off her jacket, tossing it on top of her coat. She opened the top two buttons of her blouse. Even in this light, he could see the perspiration along her forehead and on her cheeks. It wasn’t that hot in here, he thought.

Jack watched in fascination as she pulled her blouse out from the waistband of her skirt, fanning her middle with the shirttails.

When she paused and raised her eyes to his, he said, “Don’t stop on my account.”

She hated the feeling of desperation that was eating her alive. She should have outgrown it by now, risen above it. “It’s hot in here.”

It wasn’t the heat she was feeling and they both knew it, but he let her have her lie.

“And panicking is going to make it seem hotter.” He waited for a second, certain she would continue. But she didn’t. That alone told him that the situation was dire. The woman never missed a chance to talk. “You didn’t answer my question. Any particular reason confined spaces make you break out in a sweat?”

“Yes.”

They weren’t making any progress. “And that would be?”

Gloria’s eyes shifted from his face. This wasn’t something she talked about, at least not to anyone outside of her own family and even that was rare.

She glanced toward Jack. He was still waiting. Okay, maybe he deserved to know why she’d clawed his arm. At the very least, it would pass the time.

She took as deep a breath of the increasingly hotter air as she could and began.

“When I was a little girl, my family lived in Red Rock. My parents still live there.” A slight smile faintly crossed her lips. “It was as developed then as it sounds.” For just an infinitesimal second, she was that little girl again, free of the demons she had acquired. “Wonderful place to grow up,” she testified. “My brothers and sisters and I had no end of places to play.”

And then her expression sobered. “There was this one field that ran behind an abandoned old house. We used to call the house the Spooky place—”

“Very original,” Jack commented, never taking his eyes off her. Watching emotions cross her face in the dim light.

“We were kids,” she reminded him. And then, as he continued to watch her, she seemed to brace herself before she went on. “One day, we were playing hide-and-seek.” Her breath began to grown audibly shorter. “The way we had a hundred times before.”

She was going to stop. He saw it in her eyes. “And?” Jack prodded.

Gloria raised her chin, a shaky defiance trying to take hold. And failing.

“And I fell into this abandoned shaft. I found out later that it was an old well that had gone dry.”

Suddenly she was there again, in that hole. The dirt walls threatening to close in on her with every grain of dust that fell. Tears rose to her eyes as she remembered the terror that had gripped her.

“Christina ran for help while my brothers and Sierra talked to me, trying to keep me calm. Christina came back with my mother who’d called the fire department. More and more people kept coming, blocking out the light. It took what felt like forever for them to get me out. I was six at the time,” she whispered, more to herself than to him, “and convinced that I was going to die.”

Gloria caught her lower lip between her teeth as she looked up at him again. “I stopped being fearless that day.”

Chapter Eleven

Jack remained quiet as she talked, studying her. He could see that she was reliving the incident with every word she uttered.

He couldn’t imagine experiencing that kind of overwhelming fear. He strode through places—small, large, beneath buildings and on the top-floor balcony of a New York skyscraper—without any thought of harm coming his way, knowing nothing would spring out to trigger an attack.

Are you really that different? a small voice whispered, coming out of nowhere to mock him.

Granted, places didn’t scare him. But the thought of risking his heart, of somehow winding up again in that dark, empty abyss without the one he loved, scared the hell out of him.

Imprisoned him just as her fears imprisoned her.

Maybe they weren’t that different, after all. Compassion washed over him.

“They’ll be here soon,” he promised again, this time more softly.

She looked up at him with eyes that belonged to the child she had been.

“No, they won’t.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper. She was struggling again to keep the hysteria at bay. To keep a tight lock on the panic that was scraping jagged nails inside of her, trying to break free. “If the whole building is out, it’s going to take them a long time to get here in order to help us.”

Breathe, Glory. Damn it, breathe. Nice and slow and steady. In, out. You know how to breathe, don’t you?

Eyes wide, Gloria looked at the four walls surrounding her. She felt as though they were closing in.

She forced air into her lungs, praying she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of Jack.

Too late.

“I know I’m an adult,” she began slowly, as if trying to lay down a foundation for herself, something steady for her to build on. Even as she did so, a feeling of futility began to take hold. “That this is all in my head. But I just can’t…I can’t…”

He took her hand in his, catching her before she could verbally and mentally take off to places neither of them wanted her to go. “Tell me about yourself.”

The abrupt order caught her off guard. She blinked. “What?”

“Tell me about yourself,” he insisted. Male-female communication had somehow slipped beyond his realm. He tried to remember conversations he’d had with Ann when they were just getting to know one another. “Did you go to the prom in high school? Try out for the cheerleading squad?”

Stunned, Gloria stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. And then he heard a gratifying sound. Despite the pinched look between her brow, she began to laugh.

Jack couldn’t remember when he’d heard a lovelier sound.

“Do I look like the cheerleader type to you?” she asked incredulously.

“I’m not sure.” As he spoke, he found himself running his fingers through her hair. It felt incredibly silky to the touch, which was probably how the rest of her felt, too. “All I know is that you look like the kind of girl everyone in school would have noticed.”

“They did.” Gloria sighed, suddenly weary beyond words. She closed her eyes for a moment. But the next second, they flew open again, as though afraid that if she didn’t keep vigil, the walls would rush up around her and flatten her. “But for the wrong reasons.”

When he looked at her quizzically, she realized that she was going to have to elaborate. You opened the door, now you have to step through. “I was desperate to block out my fears. Claustrophobia, among other things.” She let the phrase hang for a moment, more than a little reluctant to go into any detail.

He thought that Gloria had finished when she suddenly said with a careless shrug, “Some people are nasty drunks. I was a happy one.”

The word “drunk” made something tighten within his chest. He remembered Ann. Remembered the way she’d giggle when tipsy. Looking back, it seemed to him that she was almost always giggling at the end.

“You drank?” He looked at her with new eyes as alarms went off in his head.

Too busy looking inward, Gloria missed the edgy look in his eyes. She nodded.

“I drank an ocean of alcohol, trying to drown my insecurities. But all that drinking did for me was give me another problem,” she confessed. “Took me a long time to come to terms with that.”

“You don’t drink anymore?” There was skepticism in his voice. Ann had pretended to be “cured,” too. More than once. And each time, he’d believed the lie. Hoping it was the truth.

“Nothing that’ll give me a buzz. These days, my drink of choice is diet soda or sparkling nonalcoholic cider, nothing strong.” She wasn’t going to allow herself to fall into that trap again. “Hitting bottom made me want to surface again, to breathe fresh air.” She looked around the dim interior. The walls had grown closer together. Her blouse was sticking to her body. She opened another button, but that didn’t do anything to help. Just reminded her of how powerless she was at trying to control the situation. “Kind of what I want to do now.”

Taking her chin in his hand, he moved her head until her eyes were level with his. She was sinking, he could see it. Jack banished the feelings that threatened to take over. Her drinking wasn’t the issue here. Keeping her from succumbing to terror was.

“Keep talking,” he ordered.

Heat and fear combined to make her irrational. “Why, so you can gather ammunition against me to take to your father?”

For a moment a scowl returned to his face. He reined in his temper. Maybe arguing with her could make her forget how she felt about being confined in the elevator. “Is that what you actually think of me? That I’m some kind of a snitch who goes behind people’s backs?”

She wiped the back of her sleeve against her forehead. There was no air. No air. Frantic thoughts assailed her from all sides. She was going to melt. The cable was going to snap and they were going to fall twenty stories. She desperately tried to keep her mind on the conversation. “Going behind my back would imply secrecy. You’ve made no secret of how you feel about me.”

He wanted to keep her talking at all costs. If she focused her anger on him, she might not think about being trapped. “And what’s that?”

She blew out an annoyed breath, as if she was tired of playing games. “That you feel you’ve been saddled with something, someone beneath you.”

His eyes held hers for a moment. No, not beneath him, he thought. The woman was clearly his match in every way. Maybe that was what he had against her. “Your intuitive skills aren’t as sharp as you think they are.”

“Oh?” Just then, she heard what she took to be the cables, creaking. They were going to fall down the shaft. Her throat closed so tightly she was afraid she was going to asphyxiate.

She clutched at his arm, staring up at the ceiling. “What was that?”

“Maybe the power trying to come back on,” he lied. He was beginning to feel a little uneasy himself, but not because of the small space. His unease came from having her so close to him. From the fact that she seemed to fill up every space with her essence.

Her breathing was audible now. “Or the cables about to snap.”

“Not going to happen,” he assured her. “There’s emergency equipment that comes on as an auxiliary fail-safe measure.” He searched for a way to explain what he was saying so that it would penetrate the fog of fear crowding her brain. “Each floor has what amounts to brakes that come out and stop the car from plunging down to the ground floor.”

She didn’t look as if she believed him. Maybe she had already gone into shock, he thought. What the hell were you supposed to do with a person in shock? Keep them moving? Have them lie down?

He decided to compromise. Jack slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Sit down,” he instructed quietly. “Take a deep breath and hold it.”

But she shook her head, her hair flying from side to side. “I can’t. My lungs feel like they’re going to explode.”

If she kept on breathing like that, she was going to hyperventilate. He couldn’t let that happen. Desperate for a solution, he let his instincts take over. Instincts born of inspiration, of need and, perhaps, of more than a touch of desire.

Jack brought his mouth down to hers.

At first she struggled against him, not because she didn’t want to kiss Jack but because she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.

But then her breathing began to regulate itself as the center of her attention slowly shifted from the very real fear that, despite his assurances about the emergency fail-safes that had been put in when the elevators were installed, they were going to fall to their deaths, crushed inside a silvery coffin.

Instead, her focus turned to the kiss that was swiftly setting fire to the very blood in her veins.

Panic abated in increments.

Gloria felt herself being pressed against him, felt the length of his body imprint itself onto hers. Felt her response as desire, hidden behind thin bamboo walls, broke through, seizing her. Making her tighten her arms around him.

Her heart was pounding, but for an entirely different reason than before.

He’d meant only to divert her. To keep her from hyperventilating. He hadn’t meant to get caught up in what amounted to an unorthodox first-aid application. Not like this. To make matters worse, she’d just shared something with him that had brought back memories he didn’t want to deal with, that made him relive Ann’s last days.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that had made him vulnerable.

And maybe it was none of the above. Maybe it just had to do with the woman in his arms. The woman he’d had an underlying yearning for since the first moment she had looked up at him with those incredible soft-brown eyes, turning his stomach to jelly and nearly turning his mind to mincemeat.

Kissing her only made him want her with a fierceness that was every bit as overwhelming as the claustrophobia he knew she was wrestling with.

Suddenly he realized that he had to step back, had to get air himself. Logic demanded that he try to clear his head.

But he didn’t want to.

Didn’t want to give up this wild surge that was pulsating through him, forging a path through his body. Making him aware of himself as a man.

He hadn’t wanted, truly wanted, a woman since Ann had died, leaving him to wander emotionally isolated in this world. Oh, there had been biological needs since then, but he could always separate himself from them, step outside his body and watch as he went through the physical motions of having sex, his mind absent from the process.

Right now his mind was in full attendance and there was no separating anything. The logic that always presided over his life had somehow gotten lost.

Nothing mattered except that he wanted to make love with Gloria. Wanted to get lost within her as they kept the world at arm’s length.

This wasn’t like her, not anymore, Gloria kept telling herself. She didn’t do things like this anymore: give up who and what she was with an abandonment that was so swift it all but jarred her very teeth. But all those encounters that had taken place in her past had been governed by inebriation. Her brain had always been liberally soused, the ability to think lost inside of a bottle.

But not this time.

She was stone-cold sober, drunk only on this sensation that was vibrating through her like the strings of a harp that had been plucked. She was drunk, but only on the idea of making love.

When his hands caressed her, Gloria moaned audibly, wanting him to touch her everywhere. To both soothe and stoke the fire that his nearness had created.

Gloria sucked in her breath. She felt his wide, capable hands delving beneath the blouse she’d pulled free earlier.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck.

He was going to pull away. She could feel it. She couldn’t let that happen. Without admitting it, she knew where this was going. Needed this to go there. Needed him to make love with her.

“This isn’t the time to withdraw,” she breathed, pressing harder against him.

Jack felt completely, hopelessly, lost. The willpower he thought was second nature had somehow turned into so much sawdust. If she’d backed away, cried, asked him to stop, then maybe the willpower he’d treasured could have been resurrected. But every indication she gave him was that she wanted this as badly as he did.

He hadn’t the strength to back away, to leave her of his own accord.

Still, he watched her eyes in the dim light for signs of fear, or mounting panic that had to do not with the enclosed space, but with what was happening.

Instead of fear, he saw desire.

Desire that mirrored exactly what was going on inside of him. He knew this was wrong. Clear-thinking adults didn’t make love suspended above the twentieth floor of a skyscraper that had been pitched into darkness. He didn’t make love like this. Mindlessly, and with complete abandonment.

Hell, he hadn’t made love since Ann died. He’d had sex. And each time had left him completely unsatisfied. Not wanting more, just wanting something. Something that wasn’t there.

Something that whispered to him now. Making every fiber within his body yearn.

With swift, sure movements, Jack pulled her blouse away from her shoulders, pressed his lips to every inch of her soft flesh as it was exposed. His own breathing became as labored as hers.

His fingers worked the clasp that held her bra in place.

When she shivered against him as the lacy material fell away, he felt a volley of passion being fired through him that all but turned his body rigid with desire. He slid the button holding her skirt together out of its hole, then pulled it from her.

The dimness caressed her like a familiar lover. His gaze passed over her. Gloria was wearing nothing but heels and underwear. His stomach pressed itself against his spine.

Gloria could feel anticipation vibrating throughout her whole body, priming her for the final moment that she both craved and wanted to hold at bay so that she could savor the approach of the final moment. It felt as if her whole body was humming.

She forced her breathing to grow steadier, as if that would somehow keep her hands from shaking as she swiftly yanked his custom-made jacket and pants off of him.

It didn’t.

Anticipation vibrated through her.

Like a person caught in a dream, Gloria could hardly remember unbuttoning his shirt. All she knew was that she wanted to press her fingertips along the hard ridges of his chest, wanted to leave imprints of his firm flesh on hers.

Wanted to be with him in the most intimate of covenants between a man and a woman.

Her mouth sealed to his, her fingers questing, smoothing, she felt him reacting to her. Heard his breathing grow more shallow. A thrill shivered through her as the extent of her power registered. He was hers. For a single shining moment in time, he was hers.

His hands were hot on her body. They sank to the floor of the elevator, cushioned by the clothes they had discarded.

One movement inviting, flowering into another.

She could feel every pulse point in her body responding to him. His mouth roamed over her chin, her throat, along the planes above her breasts. The hollow of her belly.

Everywhere he touched, he conquered.

She’d never wanted to make love with anyone the way she wanted to make love with Jack. All the nights she had spent with her husband combined hadn’t equaled this single instance with Jack.

Maybe this was what had been missing from her marriage all along, mind-bending lovemaking. She’d married Gary because he’d been the first half-decent man she’d come across. She’d thought marriage to him would keep her safe. It hadn’t.

This wasn’t safe, either, but the risk was enticing, thrilling.

She felt a wild explosion rapidly moving forward through her system as, time and again, Jack brought her so very close to the edge, then withdrew so that she slid back.

Hot, moist kisses burned along her torso. Gloria twisted into them, wanting more. Wanting that final moment.

“Hurry,” she whispered urgently against his ear, biting down on her tongue before she could add, “please.” She wasn’t going to beg, wasn’t going to be pathetic, but oh, how he made her want.

Needs slamming through him, Jack stretched his body over hers, needing the contact. He refrained from entering, wanting to prolong this even though somewhere in the back of his mind, where reality still dwelled beneath a dark curtain, he knew they ran the risk of being discovered.

Was that adding to the thrill?

He didn’t know. Didn’t know anything at all anymore. Except that he had utterly lost himself.

When she raised her hips urgently against his, that was the last straw, the last enticement. Unable to hold back any longer, Jack entered her.

The rhythm was instantaneous, as if guided by something that was completely outside of him, something he had no control over.

The dance began sweetly, moving, growing in ever-increasing tempo. They tumbled around on the floor, moving from side to side, first with him on top, then her, then him again. With each movement, the urgency increased, growing more erratic, more demanding.

He was vaguely aware that he heard something breaking. Glass? But that wasn’t possible.

The very air from his lungs began departing. He felt his mind swirling somewhere just out of reach as he pulled her closer to him, his arms tightening around her as if she was the most precious thing he had ever encountered.

Perhaps she was.

The climax was so powerful, it stole the last drop of his breath away.

He could feel his heart pounding so hard, it threatened to break out of his chest. Or was that her heart, pounding so hard against his?

He had no idea where he stopped and she began. They were like one. If he could, he would have remained like this, feeling himself inside of her. Feeling himself whole for the first time since his world had abruptly ended with the screech of tires and metal groaning against metal.

Listening, he could have sworn he heard that sound now. Metal, creaking, groaning. Somehow, in his brain, the past had merged with the present.

Then, abruptly, he felt Gloria’s soft body turn rigid beneath him. A moment later her hands were pulling at him urgently. With effort, he pivoted himself up on his elbows to look down into her face.

Was she afraid again?

“The elevator,” she cried.

“It’s all right,” he told her. “We’re not going to fall.” Except, maybe he was. The thought bounced at him out of nowhere.

But she was pushing him from her. “No,” she cried, desperate to make him understand what she was trying to say. “We’re not falling, we’re going up!”

Just then, the lights went on.

Chapter Twelve

The realization penetrated. In a few seconds they were not going to be alone anymore.

The next moment they were quickly scrambling into their clothes, desperate to get dressed before the elevator was brought up to the next working level, which was only five floors up.

Gloria didn’t even take time to breathe. Her heart was racing almost as madly as it had been when they’d been making love. But this time her fingers felt not only clumsy but fat, as if they didn’t even belong to her. It made closing her buttons annoyingly difficult. She didn’t even bother to tuck in her blouse. There wasn’t time.

Wasn’t time to even notice how magnificent his body was as he slid his trousers back on. But somehow, she managed.

Gloria felt her body start to tingle all over again.

It wasn’t until she had on her skirt and blouse that she realized she’d forgotten to put on her underwear. The lacy panties were next to Jack’s foot. But as she reached for them, the doors began to open. Her heart slammed hard against her chest.

There wasn’t going to be time to put her underwear on. Worse, whoever had come to rescue them would see them right there out in plain view.

Seeing her dilemma, Jack quickly scooped up the errant underwear and shoved them into his pants’ pocket. He ran his hand through his hair just as a technician peered in. He was half a floor above them. The elevator wasn’t level with the landing.

“Sorry,” the man apologized, raising his wide shoulders in a depreciating shrug. “’Fraid this is the best we can do right now.”

Gloria didn’t care that the top of her head was level with the barrel-chested man’s kneecap. The psychological rush of new air was wonderful and she savored it as she dragged it into her lungs.

At the same time she felt the oddest sting of disappointment. The interlude between them was over.

A swirl of emotions danced through her, each jockeying for lead position. Sorrow, need, happiness, relief and a dozen more. She shut them all away. She just wasn’t up to sorting through her half-formed feelings right now.

Maybe you never will, a small voice whispered. She’d found that avoiding things was better than letting them eat away at her.

She focused on their rescuer; a short, squat man wearing navy-blue coveralls. It was safer that way.

“Don’t be sorry,” she told him breathlessly. “At least you got the elevators running again.”

He beamed at her even as he shook his partially bald head. “Wasn’t me. The power company gets all the credit. They got the juice flowing again. Rumor says it was some squirrel biting through a line that did it.”

Jack moved her jacket and purse aside and stood behind her. He saw her shoulders suddenly grow rigid. What was she afraid of? They were getting out. “I’ll give you a boost,” he volunteered, then glanced up at the other man. “I’ll hand her off to you.”

Gloria watched the technician brace himself as he got down on one knee. His arms were stretched out, readying to take hold of hers and pull her out. A feeling of déjà vu washed over her and she shivered. This was just like when she’d been stuck in the well. With one very notable exception.

Suddenly she felt Jack’s hands taking hold of her waist. The next second he was raising her toward the technician as if she were nothing more than a life-size doll.

The pressure and warmth of his palms surged all through her. Stirring her. She was almost sorry that the power had come back on again.

Almost.

Before she could dwell on the sensation, the technician took hold of her hands and began pulling her up. She sucked in her breath as she felt Jack’s hands move lower, slipping down to her hips, then to her thighs, as he continued to boost her up, wreaking havoc on her emotions despite her every effort to block everything out except for the rescue. She could feel her face burning as she realized that Jack had a very clear view beneath her skirt. Not a good time to find herself unintentionally going commando.

With a mighty tug, Gloria found herself beside the technician on the floor, whose name was inscribed in white right over his breast pocket. Raul. Offering him a smile of gratitude, she tried to get her bearings as best she could. Regaining her composure was a lost cause.

Jack threw both his jacket and hers over the top, followed by her purse. And in the next moment he was there on the floor beside her, looking a hell of a lot better than she did, she thought ruefully.

“You two all right?” Furrows of concern went all the way up to Raul’s pronounced receding hairline as he looked uncertainly from one to the other. “Want me to call the paramedics?”

Jack shook his head. “I’m fine.” Sitting up, he looked at Gloria. “How about you?”

Her eyes held his for a long moment. Was he just asking about her condition, or did the question actually go deeper? On the surface, she could answer him with a terse, “Fine.” No bones were broken, no health-threatening conditions had to be addressed. Beyond that, she wasn’t sure.

All she knew was that everything had been upended and she had no idea if there was a penalty attached to that. A penalty for flying without ever leaving the floor.

Still, if there was, that was her problem, not his.

Taking in another deep, sweet breath of nonrestricted air, she finally nodded. “I’m okay.”

The technician was on his feet again, surprisingly agile for a man who appeared at least fifty pounds overweight and beyond his prime by most standards.

“Okay, then.” Raul touched each of them on the arm as though discharging them from his care. “I’ve got other elevators to see to.”

As Raul turned to walk away, Jack called after him, “Is all the power back?”

Raul had a one-hundred-watt smile. “Like nothing ever happened, except that the elevators seem to be a little out of sync. But I’ll fix that soon enough.” He hurried to a stairwell, calling, “Have a nice day” just before he disappeared.

Jack refrained from saying something about the inane statement. Once on his feet, he extended his hand to Gloria and waited. After a beat she locked her fingers around his and rose to stand beside him.

He frowned, concerned about her well-being. “You sure you’re all right?”

Aware of how she’d behaved, Gloria tried to laugh the incident off. “Well, I’m dumping all my stock in this elevator company, but other than being a little bit shaky, yes, I’m all right.”

She bit her lip as she looked at him again. Just where did they go from here? Did they talk about what happened in the elevator? Ignore it? Treat it as the first step in a truce or just an aberration they were better off not acknowledging?

She didn’t know and she longed for something that she could understand, something familiar she could grasp and hang on to.

Belatedly, she realized that she was still holding his hand. Releasing it, she glanced at his wrist. Where the watch crystal had been were now just a couple of jagged pieces of glass.

“Your watch.”

He glanced at it reflexively. “What about it?”

“It’s broken.” Well, that would explain the sound of breaking glass she’d heard. She’d thought she was just imagining it, along with the swirls of color, heat and music that had gone through her mind just before the elevator had come back to life.

Holding up his wrist, Jack examined it. He shook his head. “So it is.”

“I can fix it for you,” she volunteered, reaching for it.

Jack pulled back his hand. Right now, the less contact they had, the faster his mind would clear. “No, I—”

A puzzled expression creased her brow before fading away. “It’s the least I can do, seeing as how you took my mind off being trapped in the elevator.” A sultry smile filtered along her lips.

The comment was enough to temporarily break the tension he was feeling. Jack laughed and took the watch off his wrist, handing it to her. Gloria slipped it into her purse.

“When can I have it back?”

“I’ll have it ready for you on your next visit.” She raised her eyes to his. “If you’ll just tell me when that’ll be.” Did that sound too much as if she was asking for a date? God, she hoped not.

He hesitated, thinking of his schedule. Thinking, too, that he wanted some time to himself. Because all he could think about right now was making love with her again, which made him feel as uneasy as being faced with a sudden takeover.

“I’ve got to fly out of town tomorrow.” He was due in New York for a quick meeting. Until just now, he’d planned on making a conference call. Now, taking a plane and going back to his home turf sounded like just what the doctor ordered. “How does next Tuesday at ten sound?”

He’d be back before then, but he needed time to get things in perspective.

Gloria pressed her lips together and nodded. Inside, she was banking down a volley of disappointment. She’d hoped that he’d say he would be by tomorrow.

What a difference half an hour made, she thought. This morning she would have been relieved that he wasn’t going to be breathing down her neck. From that vantage point, next Tuesday would have seemed too soon. Now it felt like an eternity.

Get hold of yourself before you fall off the deep end. This isn’t the first guy you’ve ever made love with.

No, but it was the first one who’d caused fireworks to go off in her body and in her head.

Gloria cleared her throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “What are you going to do for a watch until then?”

Back home, he had several different watches, including a Rolex he rarely wore. Most of the time, he favored the one that was now in her possession, but he’d thought to pack another one. He believed in making plans for every contingency.

He just needed to form one for what he was feeling now. “It’s not my only watch,” he told her.

“Of course not. What was I thinking?”

He couldn’t fathom the look on her face. Amused? Rueful? And why did understanding it make such a difference to him?

Damn, but he needed to clear his head.

“It is, however, my favorite. My father gave it to me when I graduated college. It belonged to my grandfather.” He couldn’t help the grin that curved his mouth. “I bet Grandpa never gave it a workout like that one.” Jack nodded toward the elevator.

He liked the way her smile took command of her features, shyly slipping out as if to test the waters, then swiftly blooming over her face. It was like watching the sun rise and take possession of the land.

It certainly took possession of him.

The realization had him backpedaling so quickly, he found himself in danger of getting his foot caught in the spokes. This was happening too fast, throwing him off balance.

It was time to retreat.

Now.

He cleared his throat, looking toward the stairwell the technician had taken. “Well, I was on my way to see my father before all this started,” he muttered.

“So you said.” She didn’t relish taking the stairs with their stale air and their dim lighting. She relished the idea of getting on the elevator far less, no matter what the technician said about the restoration of power. She chose the lesser of two evils and headed toward the stairs.

He was right behind her. She felt safe and threatened at the same time.

She should have remained in the store, she told herself. But she couldn’t help the smile that was firmly entrenched on her lips.

Just as he opened the stairwell door and motioned for her to go first, she stopped abruptly. “I, um, think you have something of mine.”

He looked at her, a confused expression on his face. She wondered if he knew how adorable he looked. Probably not the word he would have liked applied to himself, she reasoned, and let the moment go.

“What?” He wanted to know. Was she going to say something lofty, about her heart or something along those lines?

He felt a defensiveness setting in, the kind that was meant to protect men from ever making any kind of commitment beyond which wine they favored with dinner.

Instead of saying anything, she merely looked toward his pocket. It took him a second, then he remembered. Slipping his hand inside, his fingers came into contact with soft lace. As much as he tried to remove himself from the man he’d turned into just a few minutes ago, it wasn’t possible. Not when her lacy underwear was rubbing against his skin. Not when he remembered what she’d looked like, her body silhouetted in the auxiliary light, wearing the scrap of material.

“Oh, right.” He took them out and looked them over for a second. There was next to nothing to them. Jack grinned. “Wouldn’t want you to catch cold, now,” he murmured.

She took them from him and stuffed them into her purse. She planned to put them on the moment she could find a ladies’ room.

They parted company on the twenty-ninth floor. She went to see Christina, he continued to the next floor to talk to his father.

He could still feel the soft imprint of lace against his palm as he made his way to the thirtieth floor.

The second she appeared in Christina’s office, Gloria found herself enveloped in her sister’s embrace.

“Oh, thank God, thank God,” Christina cried. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” Gloria’s answer was muffled by her sister’s shoulder. “Or at least I will be if you let me up for air.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Christina immediately released her. “It’s just that I—” She stopped abruptly, taking another look at her sister.

Gloria was holding her coat over her arm. She’d stopped at the ladies’ room to reapply her makeup and slip her suit jacket back on, as well as her underwear. She’d felt pretty confident that she’d gotten herself back in order so that there was no evidence of how she and Jack had passed the time while waiting to be rescued.

But beneath Christina’s scrutiny, she wasn’t nearly as confident as she had been walking out of the ladies’ room. She cleared her throat and tried to sound as innocent as possible as she asked, “What?”

“You’re glowing,” Christina declared. She narrowed her eyes as if to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on her. “My God, you’re glowing.” She shut the door to her office so that no one else could overhear. There was more than a little disbelief as well as curiosity on her face.

“I was half out of my mind when I realized that the power failure hit just as you were probably on your way up. That you were most likely stuck in the elevator. I tried to reach you on your cell and when mine said the signal wasn’t getting through, I just knew you were in one of the elevators. I felt so guilty and so bad for you.”

“Guilty?”

“Because you were coming to see me. But you’re glowing,” she repeated in awe.

“Well, it was pretty awful,” Gloria said. At least in the beginning.

Christina circled her slowly, taking in every angle. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest. “Then why aren’t you ghostly pale?” she challenged, sounding every bit like an interrogator.

Gloria could feel her cheeks burning. But there was no way she was going to tell Christina what had happened. Not after the way she’d carried on about how they all had to swear off men for their lives to get back on track.

She raised her chin slightly. “I just walked up five fights of stairs. That usually gets people flushed.”

Christina read the body language. Despite the years they’d spent apart, she was still familiar with Gloria’s moves.

“Flushed, yes,” she emphasized pointedly, “but not glowing.” She fixed her younger sister with a penetrating look that had edged out the relieved expression she’d been wearing only seconds ago. “Okay, give. What’s going on?”

Gloria shifted slightly. Along with gaining sobriety, leaving the shadowy world of alcohol had caused her to lose her ability to lie successfully. She gave it a shot anyway. “Maybe I’m outgrowing my claustrophobia.”

Christina eyed her closely. “And maybe there’s another explanation.”

“Like what?” she asked innocently.

“Like a man. Were you alone in the elevator?”

She was about to say no, but what if Jack told his father that he’d ridden up with her? She knew he wouldn’t give Patrick Fortune any explicit details, but still, that would place her in the middle of a lie. She decided to go with the truth, at least partially.

“No, I wasn’t.”

Like Sherlock Holmes discovering the all-important clue, Christina’s face lit up. “Aha.”

“No ‘aha,’ Tina. I was in the elevator with Jack Fortune. You know what I think of him.”

Christina was silent for a moment. “Do you remember reading Macbeth in college?”

Gloria shook her head. She didn’t like the tone of Christina’s voice. Or where this conversation was heading. “Nope, sorry, except for my major, college was pretty much a blur.”

“There’s a line in it about Lady Macbeth. Something about the lady protesting too much.”

Gloria pretended that the line—and the insinuation—meant nothing to her. “I guess I’ll have to read it sometime.”

“Yes,” Christina agreed. “You will.”

“Let’s go to lunch,” Gloria urged, wanting to get her sister onto a different topic. “I’m starved.”

Christina retrieved her purse out of a drawer. “Okay, let’s go catch an elevator.”

Just that word brought back all the intimate details of her ride with Jack, and she felt herself blush.

Gloria stared at her watch. It felt as if the minute hand was glued in place, only moving when she looked away. But it was moving. Moving beyond the time that Jack had told her he would be by.

For their meeting. For his watch.

It was Tuesday. Where was he? He was far too controlled to be late, and yet, here he was, late.

Or not coming at all.

She walked around the showroom, annoyance and confusion marking her every step. If he wasn’t coming, why hadn’t he called?

Turning, she reached for the phone behind the counter, then dropped her hand. It wasn’t her place to call him. He’d been the one to arrange the time and the day. He was the one who wasn’t here. That meant it was up to him to call, not her.

Frustration nibbled away at her as she continued to roam restlessly.

Gone were the drop cloths, the telltale signs of a shop in transition. The glass displays were all in place, sparkling and ready, their virgin shelves waiting to make first contact with the unique pieces of jewelry she was going to display.

The store was only a few days away from opening. Trying desperately not to dwell on the feelings that had been awakened in that dim elevator car, she’d pushed herself hard to get the shop ready. It had involved calling in favors from previous connections she’d made, pleading with carpet layers, glass cutters, a whole host of people she’d needed to get the place in order. All of her design equipment had been delivered late last night. The safe she’d had put in the day after her elevator encounter now housed the precious gems she had at her disposal.

The security system had cost extra because she’d asked for it to be installed immediately. But the gems were safe. Everything here was state-of-the-art.

She was exhausted, hardly getting five hours of sleep a night, but it was all worth it, every hour, every inconvenience. She was ready.

Gloria looked at her watch again, muttering under her breath. Where was he?

She’d wanted to show Jack everything, to prove to him that she was every bit as savvy a business person as he was. She wanted to impress him, she thought ruefully. Like some young teenage girl showing off for the guy who’d caught her attention. Who’d made her heart race.

Gloria clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms as she paced, her eyes never far from the glass doors. Waiting for a knock.

Damn it, she was a grown woman, thoughts about impressing men didn’t belong in her head.

They weren’t in her head, she thought, fighting off mounting despair, they were in her heart and that was the problem.

She’d allowed him to get to her.

What the hell was wrong with her? Didn’t she realize where things like that led? Nowhere. Not for her, at least. What did she expect, anyway? Violins? Undying love because they’d made love in an elevator? Even if they had connected, he was only here temporarily. Everything about him told her he was itching to get back home, back to New York.

Home for her was here. She knew that now. They were from two different worlds. Just because she still believed in happy endings didn’t mean they were destined to come true. It just meant that she was still harboring illusions.

No, delusions.

She curbed the urge to throw Jack’s watch across the showroom, smashing it against the opposite wall. That would be childish and it wouldn’t change anything. Even though it probably would make her feel better for a couple of minutes.

Squaring her shoulders, she returned the repaired watch to the box she’d kept it in.

At that very moment Jack was sitting in an office clear across town, frowning at his reflection in the window.

He knew he was supposed to be at the mall, with Gloria, but somehow he couldn’t make himself get up out of the chair. Hadn’t been able to get up for over an hour now.

Okay, so he was a coward, Jack thought. But even Navy SEALs didn’t risk their lives until they knew the lay of the land and what they were getting into. And he had no idea what he was getting into, except that what he had felt in that elevator last week had really scared the hell out of him.

What he’d felt for Gloria Mendoza was too much like the emotion he’d buried along with Ann all those years ago. He didn’t want to have those feelings again, didn’t want to get involved again.

Besides, the woman was clearly a handful. He liked being in control and he hadn’t been, not that day. Not of the situation, not even of himself. It had felt as if all systems were go and he had no idea where it was that they were going. Only that he was hanging on for dear life.

He stared at the phone on the desk. He should at least call, he told himself.

His hand remained still.

He didn’t like this side of him. He’d never fled from a fight in his life, but hell, fights he could handle with aplomb, it was the non-fighting part of this that had him stymied.

There was no future in any of this, he insisted silently. The woman drank, just like Ann had. And, just like Ann, she might wind up killing herself. He couldn’t live through something like that. Not again.

Besides, he was going back to New York in a couple of weeks. Sooner if he could convince his father that he wasn’t needed here any longer.

Why the man had had him come out in the first place was still a mystery. After all, his father had seemed pretty certain of the woman’s business acumen. Had sung her praises whenever the opportunity arose.

What the hell did his father need him for?

There were a myriad of questions assaulting him and absolutely no answers.

Chapter Thirteen

Gloria was across the room when the phone in the showroom finally rang.

For the past hour she’d been attempting to convince herself that she didn’t care one way or another if Jack called. She’d pretended to be distracted with setting up several pieces of new equipment in the back office. But the second the phone rang, she’d raced to answer it, all the while wondering why he hadn’t tried to contact her on her cell. Was the battery running low?

“Hello?” She covered the mouthpiece so Jack couldn’t hear her breathing hard.

His deep voice resonated in her ear. “I’m not going to make the appointment.”

There wasn’t a single note of apology in the statement, nothing. Gloria’s back went up. She felt like an idiot, watching the clock and waiting for him. Once an idiot, always an idiot, a small voice taunted her.

“I kind of figured that out on my own, seeing as how you said ten and it’s after twelve now.”

“There’s a lot of traffic on the road.”

Didn’t she even merit something a little more inventive than that excuse?

“I suppose there would have to be, considering that there are several ways to get here.” She reined in her temper, but it wasn’t easy. Did he think she was a fool? “How long do you think the traffic is going to continue?” she asked sarcastically.

There was a pause on the other end, as if he was thinking over her question. Or fabricating an answer. “Can’t really say. Why don’t we just cancel?”

She felt something freeze in her heart. “Today or forever?”

“What?”

She couldn’t tell whether he hadn’t heard her or was annoyed with her question. Either way, she didn’t feel like repeating herself. “Never mind.” She stared at the box in front of her on the counter. “I’ve fixed your watch,” she reminded him.

“Fine.” He sounded distracted, as if this was difficult for him. Did he have trouble lying to her because he cared or because he lacked creativity? “I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Fine,” she echoed.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t fine at all. It was incredibly painful.

He’d hung up and she found herself listening to a dial tone.

Wanting to strangle him.

The man was running, she thought. Running for his life.

She dropped the receiver into the cradle. Boy, she could sure pick ’em, couldn’t she? Gloria shoved the watch away from her before she was tempted to drop it on the floor.

When was she going to learn? She’d allowed herself to climb out on that limb again, the one that left her vulnerable and exposed, and for what? For a man who was obviously scared out of his mind by the idea of commitment. She wouldn’t have thought that of him, but there it was, he was trying to pull off a vanishing act.

“Okay,” she murmured to the telephone. “I’m going to make this really easy for you, Jack.”

Picking up the receiver, she began to dial another number.

Patrick Fortune thoughtfully regarded the young woman walking into his office that Tuesday afternoon. She looked pale, but other than that, even more exceptional than the last time he had seen her. There was a fire in her eyes that had been missing then. He wondered if it had to do with his son. He certainly hoped so.

“I’ll call you back, dear,” he told his wife. “Yes, I love you, too.”

Hearing him, Gloria found herself wishing that Jack had taken after his father in the most important things.

Patrick gestured to the antique chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat,” he invited, then peered more closely at her. “You look a little pale, Gloria, would you like some water?”

“No, thank you. It was just the ride up in the elevator,” she explained.

Although, if she were being honest, she’d have to admit that she’d been feeling out of sync before she’d even set foot in it. She blamed it on Jack. He’d thrown her entire system off ever since the elevator incident.

With the carelessness of a man who was accustomed to being the center of female attention, he’d wantonly yanked her into a space where she was utterly vulnerable, dreaming dreams that would never come true.

Patrick filled in what he felt she’d left unsaid. “Afraid of another blackout? I assure you that it’s not going to happen again. I’ve seen to it that we have a new, state-of-the-art generator as backup, the kind they use in hospitals.” He studied her expression for a moment. “But you don’t really care about that, do you, Gloria?”

“No, sir.” She took the box that contained Jack’s watch out of her purse and placed it on the desk. She saw Patrick eyeing it, though he made no attempt to reach for the box. “I was wondering if you could do me two favors. First, would you please give this to Jack?” She pushed the box farther toward him.

Patrick raised a brow and Gloria nodded, silently permitting him to open the box. A quizzical expression came over his face. “This is his grandfather’s watch.” He knew how much the watch meant to his son. Had Jack given it to her as some kind of token of his affection? Was she breaking it off between them now for some reason?

“I know,” she acknowledged. “He told me. I replaced the crystal for him. It broke,” she tagged on, hoping Jack’s father wouldn’t think to ask how his son had come to break it.

It was obvious that he still didn’t understand why she was asking him to act as a go-between. “Why don’t you give it to him yourself?”

Okay, here we go. “That’s the second favor. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather go it alone from here on in. Meaning, without Jack,” she added in case he thought she was turning down his generous loan, as well. “I have enough business experience—”

“No one’s doubting that, Gloria. I just wanted to take some of the burden off your shoulders.”

She sat up a little straighter. “My shoulders are fine, sir. They’re stronger than they look.”

A smile curved his thin lips. “Yes, I know.” When she looked at him, a confused expression on her beautiful face, he explained, “Your mother’s been filling me in a little about what you’ve gone through. And how you fought your way back. It couldn’t have been easy.” He looked genuinely impressed. “You’re to be commended.”

Gloria looked down at her hands. “Thank you,” she murmured, embarrassed. And then she realized that Patrick had given her the perfect way out. “So you understand, I want to do this my way.”

He understood more than she thought. Patrick shook his head. “Been giving you trouble, has he?”

She began to protest, then thought there was no sense in it. The man could probably see right through her. “Yes.”

Patrick laughed softly to himself. “He’s very stubborn. I’m afraid he gets that from me.”

The difference was, when Jack’s father was being stubborn, he made you think it was your idea and not his that he was sponsoring. A rueful smile slid across her lips. “Someone forgot to give him your charm.”

The compliment brought a smile to his eyes.

Patrick could already envision the young jeweler as his daughter-in-law. The more he saw her, the more he learned about her, the more convinced he was that Gloria was just the kind of woman Jack needed in his life. His equal, an independent woman who could stand on her own two feet and yet could complete a union by her very presence. In a way, she reminded him a little of his own wife, Lacey. Jack could do a lot worse.

His smile was warm as he regarded her. He’d been flattered by the best. But in this case, she sounded sincere. “Exercising a little of your own charm right now, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t know about that, I just—” She stopped abruptly as she saw Patrick Fortune raise his eyes to look at someone behind her. Shifting in her seat, for a split second she felt just the slightest bit dizzy. What she saw didn’t help any. Her eyes narrowed. “Traffic clear up for you?”

“‘Traffic’?” Patrick echoed, looking from one to the other for an explanation. The expressway beyond his window was moving rapidly without a mishap in sight.

“Yes.” She never took her eyes off Jack. “He missed our appointment this morning because he said there was too much traffic.”

Now things were starting to make sense, Patrick thought. Right now, he was standing hip-deep in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel and if he didn’t leave quickly, he might be hit in the crossfire.

Rising, he addressed his son although he was nodding at Gloria. “Gloria came to me, asking that you be removed as adviser.” He wasn’t about to cite her reasons. “I’ll let the two of you sort this out.”

Removed as adviser. It was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he’d come by to propose—again—to his father. But the fact that she had asked for it stung, wounding his male pride.

He felt as if he’d just been pushed away. Rejected. It wasn’t a pretty feeling.

“There’s no need for you to leave—” Jack began to protest, only to have his father wave a hand at him. He didn’t notice the uneasiness on Gloria’s face.

Patrick gave his son a meaningful look. “Oh, but I think there is. I think there’s plenty of need.” And then he smiled again. “Until later, Gloria.” With that, Patrick began to take his leave. As he walked past his son, he paused to say, “Oh, by the way, she wanted me to give you this.” He thrust the dark-blue box into his son’s hand and walked out of the office.

Gloria couldn’t take her eyes off Jack. Pinpricks of anticipation ran along her body, jabbing at her. Jack was staring down at the box in his hand. And then, as he flipped it open to examine the contents, she saw anger crease his brow.

He looked up at her. “You didn’t have to come here to leave this.”

She was still feeling as though someone had borrowed her personality and left ashes in its wake. Hurt warred with anger and she let go of the temper she normally kept curbed.

“Why shouldn’t I come here to drop it off? You certainly weren’t going to stop by to pick it up anytime soon. You were stuck in ‘traffic.’ Just where was this mythical traffic, Jack? I got here without encountering any. I guess they must all have been following you around because they certainly weren’t out on the road when I got on it.”

Annoyed over being caught in the halfhearted lie he’d given her, Jack made an attempt at an explanation. “Gloria—”

But Gloria was on her feet, her hands raised in front of her, ready to bat away anything he said.

“No. I get it. I do,” she insisted. “You’re uncomfortable over what happened in the elevator.” Once she started, the words she’d been harboring in her heart just poured out. “I don’t know if you’re just ashamed of letting your guard down, or ashamed because you’d let it down with me—”

“Gloria—”

“But it doesn’t matter. The end result is that you’re ashamed, or unnerved, or whatever you want to call it. Bottom line, being around me makes you uncomfortable. Well, you don’t have to be around me any longer. I just took care of that for you.”

“I am not ashamed,” he finally managed to snap at her.

That gave her absolutely no solace. “But you are uncomfortable.”

He thought of lying, but she would probably know he was. “Yes.”

That hurt more than she’d expected, even though she’d been the one to say it first. “Fine, so we understand each other—” Turning on her heel, her stomach churning and her head pounding, she headed for the door.

Jack knew he should just let her go. In the long run, that would be easier and they’d both get a little peace. But something inside him wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t want her going, not like this. Not without some kind of an explanation. It was important that she understand why he was uncomfortable.

The thought almost made him laugh. Hell, how could she understand any of this when he was having trouble understanding it all himself?

But even so, he moved swiftly, catching up to her at the door. His arm went out across the opening, barring her way. “No, we don’t. We don’t understand each other—”

She gritted her teeth together. It occurred to him that he had never seen a woman look as magnificent as she did at this moment.

“Get out of my way.” When he made no move to lower his arm, she told him, “I warn you, my brother taught me a lot of self-defense moves.”

“Good for him.” Jack took a deep breath. If he didn’t say it now, he never would. “I was engaged once.”

“What?” The idea was utterly foreign to her. She just couldn’t picture him making any kind of an emotional commitment.

Couldn’t she?

When she’d made love with him, she’d made love with the man she’d discovered beneath the gruff exterior, the man who didn’t ridicule her fears, but held her and tried to make her feel safe. And she had. For a short time, she had felt safe.

Something told her she wasn’t going to want to hear what he had to tell her. Still, she couldn’t make herself push her way out. She had to hear what he was going to say. “Go on.”

Each word felt as if he was pulling it out of some deep abyss. “It was while I was in college. Her name was Ann Garrison and I loved her.”

Jealousy flashed through her like a pan fire. She clamped down a lid on it. “A lot?”

Why was she torturing herself like this?

Maybe it was because she needed him to say this to help her walk away, to make herself realize once and for all that there was no future with him.

“A lot,” he echoed. She watched his eyes soften as he spoke of the woman he’d wanted to share his name. “She had this zest for life, this way of plunging into things.” He looked at her. “A lot like you.”

The comparison both warmed her and chilled her heart. He’d loved someone. And it wasn’t her. Wouldn’t be her. “What happened?”

“Along with her zest, she liked to party.” He paused, looking for the right words. He didn’t find them. The words that emerged from his mouth were blunt. And so was the pain. “And drink. She said that drinking just made her feel even happier.” The shrug that accompanied the words was helpless. “I was young, I figured she could handle it. I did.” Although, looking back, he’d consumed a great deal less than Ann had. “She, um, wanted to go for a ride one evening after having more than her share of margaritas at a local restaurant.”

Each word was painful, filled with thorns that ripped at his throat as he uttered them. “At first, I told her no. I even tried to take the keys away from her, but she insisted she was fine and that I was worrying too much. I did worry when it came to her,” he admitted. He should have stuck to his guns instead of indulging her. That was always his mistake, indulging her. “So I went with her, thinking that my being there would somehow protect her.”

How stupid could he have been? Jack upbraided himself. But when you were twenty-two, you thought you were immortal. He learned differently.

He took a deep breath, then released it. “It didn’t. It didn’t protect her, or the driver in the truck she hit.” His voice quavered. “I doubt if she even saw it coming.” He remembered shouting a warning, but it had been too late. “She slammed into the truck head-on. I was knocked out.” As he spoke he relived the moment. Jack felt as if someone was sitting on his chest.

“When I came to, the paramedics were putting her in a body bag. They put me in an ambulance. I was too hurt to stand up. I couldn’t get to her, couldn’t hold her one last time.” His voice threatened to crack and he paused, trying to gather himself together. He looked at Gloria. Were those tears in her eyes? He couldn’t tell. “Something died inside of me with Ann that night.” This was what he wanted her to understand. What couldn’t happen between them wasn’t her fault, it was his. “I can’t feel anything.”

He was lying to her, she thought. She heard what he wasn’t saying. That the woman he loved had had a drinking problem. Just like her. Having her tell him that she’d had one, too, had brought back all his fears. In his own way, he probably hated her for stirring them all up again. For making him think of Ann.

“I see.”

Her words were almost inaudible. And strained. “I’m not sure you do,” Jack countered. He tried again. “I want to care about you, but—”

“You’re afraid I’m going to get drunk and plow my car into someone.” She forced herself to freeze the anger she felt, afraid that it might spill out, red-hot, burning them both.

“No,” he protested.

She shook her head, stopping him from continuing. “I could always spot a liar, Jack. Maybe because I told so many lies myself while I was bingeing. Lies to spare other people. Lies to spare myself. In the end, they all come back to haunt you.”

She looked at Jack, wishing he could see inside of her. Wishing she could make him believe what she was saying.

“I’ve been sober for two years now and I have it under control. Cured? No. Tempted? Yes. When I’m stressed, upset, the craving comes back, whispering that if I just have this one drink, everything’s going to be all right, going to be rosy. But I know it’s not. And if I have that one drink, I know that I’m going to have to start all over again. I’m going to have to start counting again from day one. That’s too hard, too demeaning.” A small, sad smile curved her lips. “I’m a very competitive person, Jack. Ask anyone in my family. I don’t like starting all over again.”

He caught her in a lie. It didn’t make him happy. “But you relocated your shop—”

Gloria shook her head. Was he trying to trip her up? The thought stung.

“Not the same thing. Relocating doesn’t mean starting from scratch. I’ve got my clientele via the Internet and all those customers out in Hollywood. They’d do business with me if I relocated to the moon.”

She knew they had no future, but she wanted him to understand this much about her. About the woman his father was backing.

“I’m not going to drink again because I didn’t like myself then. I was weak, unable to handle things. Unable to stand up without a crutch. That wasn’t really standing, it was leaning.” Her eyes held his. “I like myself sober a lot better.”

She believed what she was saying, he thought. He wanted to believe her, as well. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk being burned again. “Still, you could slip—”

“And tomorrow might never come,” she countered. “We live in dangerous times, Jack. Everything we see around us might be gone in a matter of hours, you never know. It’s up to us to take our happiness where we find it.” She wasn’t getting through, she realized. The armor plating around his heart was too thick. She had to stop beating her head against it.

“I’m sorry you lost Ann, really sorry you went through all that, but I’m not about to spend each day trying to convince you that I’m not Ann. That’s not a battle I’m ready to take on.”

His face hardened. “I’m not asking you to.”

“Good, then we understand each other—finally,” she added. She looked at the arm that was still barring her way. “Now, are you going to lower your arm or do I have to crouch to get under it?”

He said nothing for a moment that stretched out so long she thought it was going to snap like a thin thread. In her heart, she kept hoping that Jack would pick a third alternative to the ones she’d given him. That he’d tell her she was right, that he was wrong and that he wanted to try again. That she meant enough to him for him to want to try again.

When he dropped his arm, allowing her to leave, she thought her heart was going to drop into her stomach. She could feel it tying itself up into a huge, unmanageable knot.

With her head held high, she walked out. Biting her lip to keep the tears back.

Chapter Fourteen

Gloria had been carrying around the small, innocuous-looking box in her purse for almost a week now, unable to open it and put it to use. Unable to face what might be the possible results.

But it was time to face things now.

Yesterday had marked the grand opening of her store and Jack hadn’t come by. Not at all. He hadn’t even bothered to call. Oh, he’d sent her flowers, big, beautiful pink roses, two dozen in an overwhelming arrangement. They’d been accompanied by a generic note that read “Good luck” and could have been sent to his shoemaker with the same amount of warmth it generated.

A single flower with a handwritten note would have meant infinitely more.

Everyone else she knew had stopped by. Her parents, her sisters and brother, old friends, even Patrick Fortune—and she knew his schedule was packed to the limit.

So when Jack didn’t even bother to pick up the phone to call her with some lame excuse as to why he couldn’t make it, she knew she had to face the fact that whatever was between them was over before it had ever had a chance to really take root.

Except, perhaps, for one thing.

She’d had unsettled stomachs before, for a whole myriad of reasons, but this…this felt different. This didn’t feel like nerves the way she was desperately trying to convince herself it was. This felt strange. And mornings were the worst.

And none worse than this morning.

Her parents had insisted on having the five of them, her brother, sisters and her, over to dinner to celebrate the store’s grand opening. At first she’d begged off, wanting to be alone with her hurt. But her mother had insisted and, eventually, Gloria had decided that maybe it was better to have people she loved around her. She’d hoped that they would take her mind off the pain of being ignored by the one man she’d thought would make a difference in her life.

The man she realized she was in love with, no good rotten so-and-so that he was.

Maria Mendoza had seemed so thrilled to have almost all of her children under one roof again that when she suggested they all remain for the night, no one had the heart to turn her down. After all, it was only for the one night.

But alone in her old room, Gloria found that her thoughts wouldn’t leave her alone. Her thoughts and her unhappy stomach.

Morning found her throwing up.

She had to face the music. So she dug out the box that had all but become a permanent companion and set it on the bathroom counter. She stared at it for close to ten minutes before she finally opened the box and followed the directions she had already committed to memory.

Waiting was agony.

Discovery was worse.

The stick was blue. She was pregnant.

Pregnant with the baby of a man who was going to be flying out of her life any day now. She strained her eyes, hoping to see the color fade into pink. But it didn’t.

Her knees buckled beneath her and she sank down onto the closed commode, feeling numb all over, a numbness that was climbing up into her throat, threatening to gag her.

Damn it, what had she been thinking to allow this to happen?

She hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. Instead of being logical, she’d been feeling. For the first time in a long, long time, she’d let her feelings loose and it had been wonderful.

Looking back, she had to admit that the wild rush of being in love had been nothing short of exhilarating. But she had to squelch it now. That part of the wild ride was over. She had to think about what was ahead. And the baby she was going to have.

She covered her face with one hand. Oh, God, she couldn’t deal with this. Her hormones in flux, she felt absolutely lost and alone. The sensation threatened to swallow her up whole.

Still holding the stick as disbelief ricocheted through her, Gloria began to sob. Huge, racking sobs that shook her whole body.

She wasn’t exactly sure when she realized she wasn’t alone. Looking up, she saw that Sierra was standing in the doorway. Her younger sister looked confused.

Gloria realized that Sierra was looking at the stick she was still clutching in her hand as if it was a wand that had malfunctioned. Belatedly, she tossed it into the wastepaper basket. It fell into the box that had previously housed it.

Coming to life, Sierra quickly closed the door behind her, locked it and knelt beside her sister. “Gloria, what’s wrong?”

Gloria pressed her lips together. A sprinkling of the loneliness ebbed away for a second. She tried to smile, but couldn’t. “It’s just like me to forget to lock the door.”

Sierra clearly wasn’t about to be diverted by any flip remarks. She honed in on the source of her sister’s distress. “The stick was blue.”

“Yes,” Gloria acknowledged quietly, “the stick was blue.” The words, as she said them, felt like a death sentence.

Sierra’s shapely brows pulled together in abject confusion. “How can the stick be blue if you’re not dating anyone?” And then her eyes opened wide. “You broke the pact.”

“No, I didn’t. Not exactly. Technically, I’m not dating anyone.” She was clutching at straws, trying to save face. Looking for excuses she knew were less than flimsy.

Sierra looked down at the light-blue wastebasket, nodding at the box. “Then this is what, the Angel Gabriel making another middle-of-the-night visit, this time to your old room?”

Gloria dragged a hand through her hair, at a loss as to how to explain. “It happened in the elevator.”

Sierra stared at her, struggling to find a plausible explanation. This wasn’t it. “The Angel Gabriel appeared to you in an elevator?”

“No,” Gloria snapped, then looked at Sierra contritely. Emotions storm-trooped through her, making her want to laugh and cry at the same time. “It was Jack Fortune.”

This made almost as little sense. “He appeared in the elevator?”

She shook her head. She’d told her sister about the blackout, leaving out a few salient details. “No, he was in the elevator with me when the power went out.”

Sierra frowned. “Obviously not all the power.” Her sister paused and then her jaw dropped open. “Did he force himself on you?”

If anything, the man had tried to restrain himself, she thought. “It was more like mutual spontaneous combustion.” She tried to compose herself.

Sierra asked the million-dollar question. “Does he know?”

Gloria rolled her eyes. “I didn’t even know until this morning.”

“So what are you going to do?” This was her big sister, the one she’d always admired even when she’d sided with Christina. Gloria always had all the answers, even if some of them had been wrong. But this was an entirely new ball field they found themselves playing on.

“I don’t know.” Gloria stifled another sob, not wanting to cry in front of her sister. Her shoulders shook from the effort and she pretended to shrug them. “Have the baby.” That much she was sure of. It was the steps afterward that were so uncertain.

“And?” Sierra prodded.

Gloria tried to think, to channel the new person she had become, that of a confident businesswoman. It wasn’t easy. Right now she felt like a lost child who just wanted someone to take care of her.

Finally she said, “And try to pick up the pieces of my life again.” She forced a halfhearted smile to her lips. “I’m getting really good at picking up the pieces.”

Rising, Sierra placed her hand on Gloria’s shoulder. “Aren’t you going to tell Jack?”

She wanted to. But she knew she couldn’t. At least, not yet. “I don’t think Jack really wants to have anything to do with me.”

Shock, followed by anger, leaped into her sister’s eyes. “What? The rotten bastard gets you pregnant and then bows out?”

“He’s not a rotten bastard,” Gloria cried defensively, her emotions escalating again. She could call him that, but no one else could. It took her a second to get herself under control again. “It’s a long story, Sierra. And I already told you, he doesn’t know I’m pregnant.” She saw the look in her sister’s eyes. “And he’s not going to know, understand?” Gloria warned. “Not until I’m ready to say something to him. Right now, I couldn’t deal with an offer of marriage out of pity and I really couldn’t deal with him not making the offer.” She knew that didn’t make any sense to anyone but her. She was between a rock and a hard place.

Gloria rose and grabbed her sister by the shoulders. “Please, Sierra, promise me you won’t say anything.”

Sierra set her jaw stubbornly. “He has a right to know so he can do the right thing.”

“Oh, God, no,” Gloria groaned. The last thing she wanted was for him to “do the right thing.” She wanted him to do it because he loved her, not because it was right. She felt weary, anxious and angry at the same time. “The way I feel right now, he has no rights. Besides, he’s going back to New York.”

“Gloria…”

She shut her eyes to the pleading look on her sister’s face. She was not going to tell Jack anything, not until she was calmer. “I will handle this in my own way.”

No you won’t, Maria Mendoza thought as she stood on the other side of the door, listening. She’d been drawn by the sobs she’d heard, her mother’s heart alerting her that one of her children was hurting.

Gloria had been subdued all last evening. The most gregarious of her brood, her daughter had attempted to put on a happy face, but Maria could see that there was something wrong. It was right there, in her daughter’s eyes. She’d slipped out of bed this morning to talk to her privately.

But Gloria’s room had been empty. Except for the sobs. She was just about to walk into the bathroom from the opposite entrance when she’d heard Sierra enter from the hall. Something had made her stay where she was. Maria had been rewarded for her restraint with Gloria’s story.

It was obvious that her daughter was in love with Jack. The only one who probably didn’t realize it was Gloria. And possibly Jack.

She was going to fix that.

“You are going to throw another party,” Maria announced to her husband as she walked back into their bedroom.

Jose was still in bed, trying to steal a few extra minutes before he had to get up to go to the restaurant. They opened at noon, but there was a great deal to do every morning before then.

Accustomed to his wife’s ways after all these years, Jose smiled indulgently. “And just when did I decide this?”

Maria glanced over her shoulder. The bathroom door remained closed. Sierra was still in there with Gloria. She shut her own bedroom door. “A few minutes ago.”

“I see. Any particular reason I’m throwing this party?”

Maria came around to Jose’s side and sat on the edge of the bed. “To celebrate your daughter’s grand opening, of course.”

“Of course.” He pretended to look befuddled. “Wasn’t that what last night was about?”

Maria waved her hand, her mind already racing with plans and ideas. The first of which involved calling Patrick Fortune and asking for his help. “That was just for the family. This will be bigger.”

“I never doubted it for a moment.”

Jose looked at his wife. His feelings hadn’t changed about her since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world. Hooking his arm around her waist, he pulled her to him. Maria squealed in protest, but not too loudly.

He paused only long enough to nuzzle her neck. “I will leave it all up to you, as always. Just tell me what you need.”

Maria kissed him with all the love that she felt. “You are a good man, Jose.”

“Yes, I know. And now the good man must get up and go to work. Call me at the restaurant.” Throwing back the covers, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “By the way, when is this party going to be?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Call me quickly,” he advised as he went off to take a shower.

Patrick had trouble containing his smile. He felt as if it would come bursting out at any moment. But for now, he needed to keep it all under wraps. Otherwise his firstborn would know something was up.

He looked at Jack now. The latter looked restless, as if he wanted to be somewhere else. Back in New York, perhaps? Away from the source of his delightful dilemma? Patrick bit back that question, as well.

Finally, Jack was the one who broke the silence. “You said you had something to ask me?” he prodded.

“Yes. I’d like you to postpone leaving for a couple of days, Jack.”

Jack had been afraid of that. But all things being equal, he wanted to get back to his home ground. And as fast as possible. Maybe then he’d get a decent night’s sleep. A night in which he wouldn’t have visions of a black-haired she-devil who made him want to throw caution to the wind.

He was too old for that, he insisted silently. Too old to buy into never-ending happiness. “My reservation’s already made.”

The answer didn’t appear to faze his father. “Reservations can be changed.”

A flash of temper came and went, taking him by surprise. He’d never been truly annoyed with his father, not even during his teen years when those kinds of reactions were supposed to be commonplace.

“You still need me here?”

“In a matter of speaking.” He kept the thought that he wanted Jack to oversee the San Antonio office to himself for the time being. He could spring that on him later. For now, he needed to get Jack to agree to tonight. “I didn’t really bring you here to oversee Gloria’s new business.” He saw Jack eyeing him warily. “I asked you to fly out because I’m worried about you.”

“Worried?” Jack mouthed the word as though it were foreign.

“Yes, worried.” Patrick came around from behind his desk and placed a paternal arm around his son’s shoulders. “You don’t seem to ever have any fun, Jack.”

His father’s words immediately brought an image of Gloria to mind. Gloria, her shapely body sleek with perspiration as they made love in the elevator. He quickly banked down the thought before it took over his body. “I don’t need any fun.”

“Trust me, you do.”

Pausing, Patrick looked at his firstborn intently. Jack had never given him one moment’s concern. Until now. He knew how much his son had suffered when Ann had been killed. But that was years ago. It was time to resurrect his heart.

“We live in the moment, Jack. The past is gone, we plan for the future, but we live in the moment,” he insisted. Then he looked at his son pointedly. “We can’t relive the past, and we can’t change it no matter how much we want to.” He searched Jack’s face to see if he was getting through, but his son’s expression was a mask. Patrick pressed on. “All we have is the moment, to form our futures as well as our pasts. Don’t let your moments slip away, Jack. Don’t become married to the bank. It’s a very cold, demanding mistress. It can’t give you a family.”

“It can give me little branch offices.” And then he laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t think I’d still be getting advice from my father at forty.”

Patrick smiled. “You’re never too old to be smart, Jack.” He tabled the lecture, knowing if he pushed too hard, he’d just succeed in pushing Jack away from doing what was best for him. “Now then, Maria and Jose Mendoza are throwing a party tonight to celebrate the opening of Gloria’s store.”

That was what he was afraid of. It had taken a great deal of effort on his part to avoid going to the shop Friday. He’d won that battle, he wasn’t about to race onto another battlefield. “I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” Jack raised an eyebrow. His father’s tone brooked no argument. The last time he’d used that tone with him, Jack was eight years old and had decided to march off to Central Park before his father had had a chance to curtail his journey. “You handled the details of setting her up.”

Now there his father was wrong. “She handled her own details and I just rubber-stamped everything. In case you hadn’t noticed, she’s a very headstrong, independent woman.”

Patrick didn’t bother to hide his smile. “Yes, I noticed.” And their children would be just as maddeningly stubborn. He couldn’t wait to meet them. “Like the rest of her family. These are very proud people, Jack. You can’t insult them by not showing up. At least for a little while.”

There was suspicion in his son’s eyes. “How little a while?”

Patrick’s answer was innocence personified. “An hour. Two at the most. Do it for me.”

Jack sighed. He couldn’t turn his father down without arousing the older man’s suspicions and the last thing he wanted to do was to talk about the feelings that Gloria had aroused within him. Or that he was desperately trying to resist sweeping the woman into his arms and telling her that he loved her.

He couldn’t love her. Because he just didn’t want to leave himself open to heartache again.

Jack sighed. “All right. I’ll go. But only for an hour.”

Triumph underscored Patrick’s smile. “That’s all I ask.”

An hour, Patrick thought, should be enough time to turn this situation around. Maria had called him yesterday morning. He’d discovered over his first cup of coffee that he was about to be a grandfather. The rest of the details had quickly followed, including the one about his grandchild’s mother not telling his son that they were about to become parents.

The thought brought a flutter to his heart every time he thought about it. When he’d called his wife to tell her, Lacey had been over the moon about the latest addition to the Fortune family.

And so would Jack, once he knew. Because, damn it, the man was in love with that woman, even if he refused to admit it to himself. For the past week he’d watched Jack restlessly push his way from one day to the next, a man wrestling with some personal demon he wasn’t about to share.

Each time he’d asked him, Jack had said he hadn’t been to see Gloria. And each time he’d responded, his son had seemed more restless.

Young people, he’d thought with a shake of his head. They wasted so much time being stubborn.

When Maria had told him about the baby, he’d tried to envision a perfect combination of his son and Gloria. Jack was driven, intelligent and darkly good-looking. Gloria was smart as a whip, gregarious and one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Their babies were going to be awe-inspiring.

He wasn’t about to let his son make the biggest mistake of his life by walking away from this woman without at least trying to resolve things. And, bless Maria, she even had a plan how to get the two of them together. Simple, but perfect.

“The party is at seven-thirty tonight,” he told Jack. “We can go together in the limo.”

Jack was already thinking of how to make his escape. He wasn’t about to have his father talk him into staying longer. With any luck, he could avoid Gloria altogether. There would probably be a crowd around her, vying for her attention.

“If you don’t mind, Dad, I’ll drive myself over. That way you can stay as long as you like and I can leave after that hour I promised you.” He looked at his father pointedly.

Patrick’s smile was indulgent, but he was not about to be put off. “That’s all right. Simon can come back and get me after he takes you home.” As Jack opened his mouth to protest, his father overrode him. “I pay him an obscenely high salary to do things like that.”

Having no choice, Jack was forced to agree.

Patrick sensed his son’s displeasure as the younger man left the office. He smiled to himself as he reached for the telephone.

The woman picked up on the first ring.

“He’s coming,” was all he said. Warm laughter filled his ear.

“You are an angel, Patrick,” Maria declared.

“No, just a hopeful grandfather,” Patrick contradicted. And then he hung up, wanting to call Lacey again to tease her about being a grandmother.

Chapter Fifteen

“I want you to think about relocating here. Permanently.”

His father’s words echoed within the limousine, taking Jack completely by surprise. A moment ago he’d been looking out at the darkened landscape as they drove to the Mendoza home just outside of Red Rock, thinking how much he missed the never-ending activity of New York. He definitely hadn’t seen this coming.

Jack shifted in his seat, looking at his father. For the first time it occurred to him that perhaps the man he had looked up to and respected all of his life really didn’t know him. How could he, if he’d just made him this offer?

“Dad, I really appreciate the offer but—”

Patrick raised his hand, forestalling the words that were coming. “Just think about it,” his father requested. “You don’t have to give me an answer right away.”

Jack saw no point in delaying the inevitable. “You know what my answer’s going to be whether I give it to you now or later.”

The smile on Patrick’s lips was enigmatic. “Nothing is ever a sure thing, son.”

He didn’t want to seem ungrateful or to buck some master plan his father had conceived, but the sooner he got out of San Antonio, the better. He missed New York, but far more important, he needed to put some space between himself and Gloria. She was what he missed most of all and being so close was playing havoc on his willpower.

“You don’t need me, Dad. You just transferred Derek here.”

But Patrick wouldn’t retract the offer. In his quiet, forceful way, he was adamant. “And he’s your best friend. You’re the one who brought him to me in the first place, remember? You two work well together.”

His few encounters with Derek out here had left him feeling very competitive with his friend. It had made him take a step back to reassess the situation.

He decided that honesty was the best way to go, at least about work. “Yes, we do, but I thought you were grooming him to take over operations.”

Patrick was silent for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. Jack wondered if it was because his father was trying not to hurt him. “The bank’s gotten too big to hand off to just one man, Jack. And if it weren’t too big, I would have handed it over to you. You’re the one I’ve been grooming all these years.” A smile quirked his lips before it ruefully faded. “Maybe over-grooming. You need some fun in your life.”

Jack sighed and shook his head. “So you keep telling me.”

Patrick straightened in his seat as the limousine pulled into the Mendoza driveway. Jack noticed that his father looked oddly alert, the way he always did when he was on the verge of an important merger.

“All right, we’re here,” Patrick said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “No more talk about work for the duration of the evening, all right?”

Jack thought it pointless to remind his father that he was only staying for an hour. Less, if he could arrange it. “Whatever you say.”

The passenger door opened. The chauffeur stepped back, allowing them to get out. Patrick flashed a smile over his shoulder at his son as he disembarked. “That’s what I like to hear.”

She didn’t want to be at a party, much less a party being thrown in her honor. But there just didn’t seem to be any way to say no to her mother. For some reason, the woman seemed very excited about the idea of this party. Besides, Gloria thought, she’d said no to the woman far too often while she’d been a teenager and then in her early twenties. If having her here, rubbing her elbows with well-wishers, made her mother happy, Gloria supposed it was the least she could do.

And if she had to constantly force a smile to her face as one person and then another tried to get her attention, well, at least it kept her mind off her problems.

Off the baby that was growing inside of her.

Clutching a glass of ginger ale, she took a sip and nodded at something that a friend of her brother’s was saying to her. Her mind was miles away.

How in heaven’s name was she going to tell her parents that she was going to have a baby?

She knew they were hugely supportive and that she could rely on them for absolutely anything, but she also knew that this was going to hurt them. Times might have changed, but pride hadn’t. Bringing a child into the family without having a husband in tow was still going to be an embarrassment for them, no matter what they said to the contrary.

But they would deal with it, because they loved her. She was secure in that love, but she still didn’t look forward to that initial moment when she saw them trying to hide their surprise and disappointment.

As if materializing out of her thoughts, her mother came up behind her. The slender fingers that had knitted and sewn countless things for her over the years took hold of her shoulders.

Her mother’s hands felt unusually icy. Gloria shivered.

“Oh, you feel so warm,” Maria declared with a touch of envy in her voice and then she sighed. “My blood doesn’t seem to want to move through this tired old body very much.”

Gloria turned around to face her mother. Maria Mendoza was not anyone’s idea of “old.” Just what was she up to? Gloria wondered.

“That’s because the rest of you is flying around. Maybe your blood is just sitting back, preparing for the next explosion.” Then, because she did look somewhat chilled despite the warmth in the room, Gloria handed her glass to her mother and began to strip her shawl from her shoulders. “Here, you want my shawl?”

Maria stayed her hand immediately, shaking her dark head. “No, it looks so pretty on you, querida. Leave it on.”

“I don’t mind,” Gloria insisted. “If you’re cold—”

Maria gave her what Gloria always thought of as her “mothering” look. “You can be a dear and go get mine for me.” Her mother slipped her arm through hers, gently tugging her toward the stairs. “It’s in my bedroom. In the bureau. Bottom drawer. On the left.” Each additional instruction was given as she pushed her daughter off in the right direction.

At the bottom of the stairs, Gloria nodded. At least it would give her a little respite from the crowd, she thought. She grasped the spiral, light-maple wood banister. “Sure, be right back.”

Maria smiled to herself as she watched Gloria go up the stairs.

Jack roamed around the master bedroom, feeling restless. The king-size four-poster that dominated the room was laden with coats and jackets. The scent of old wood and fresh polish subtly wafted through the air, mingling lightly with the cologne that Maria Mendoza favored.

It seemed like a strange place for a meeting.

A strange place for a man who had been acting strangely.

Jack shoved his hands into his pockets. There were no two ways about it, his father had been acting very strangely of late. They’d had all that time to talk in the limousine as they were coming up here and instead the man had asked him to meet with him in the Mendoza’s master bedroom.

Rolling it over in his mind now, it sounded a little clandestine to Jack, especially since his father had said earlier that they were tabling all talk about business while they were at the party.

But the fact that he did want to talk about work heartened Jack. Maybe his father was coming back to his senses. Maybe there was something about work that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

A fond smile lifted the corners of his mouth. There was a time when his father worked every party, every event they went into, staking out potential future clients for the bank.

But why here?

Jack heard the bedroom door opening behind him. He turned, questions sprouting on his lips.

“Why all the secrecy?” The next question died before it saw the artificial light of the evening as he watched Gloria walk into the room.

She stopped dead just a few steps past the doorway, looking as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

He’d spent the better part of his allotted time at the party avoiding her. When he’d seen her coming in his direction, he’d turned away, taking a deep interest in the huge variety of hors d’oeuvres that Jose Mendoza had put out for his guests. He’d noted that she had done two U-turns on the two occasions when she’d seen him. Clearly, they were avoiding each other.

Gloria stared at him. What was Jack doing up here?

“Excuse me?” she said coldly.

“Sorry.” He lifted and dropped his shoulders carelessly. “I thought you were my father.”

Her eyes narrowed. That was an odd thing to say. “Why? Do I look like your father?”

Why did she have to look so damn desirable? He could feel everything inside him responding, just as it always did around her. He needed to get out.

He remained where he was. “He said he’d meet me here.”

She heard the words, but they made no sense to her. “Here, in my parents’ bedroom.”

A humorless smile filtered over his lips for a brief second. “Yeah, does sound rather fishy, doesn’t it?” Jack started for the door, but to do that, he had to get past her. He stopped short of his goal. And her. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting a shawl for my mother.”

But even as she moved toward the bureau, she realized that she’d been had. If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she would have seen this coming a mile away. Especially since her mother had already done this to her once before to get her to resolve things with her sisters.

She laughed shortly and shook her head. “I smell a conspiracy.” Unable to help herself, she smiled. “Your father.”

Jack could get lost in that smile. “Your mother.”

Could get lost in her eyes, he added.

“What the hell are they thinking?” Gloria asked, the tolerance beginning to ebb from her voice.

She jumped as the door behind her suddenly slammed shut.

The next moment her mother’s voice came through the closed door. “They’re thinking that maybe you should talk about the baby.”

Gloria spun around, staring at the door, visualizing her mother behind it. Had Sierra talked? “You know about the baby?”

The next moment all thoughts of her mother vanished as she heard Jack demand, “What baby?”

Angry at being set up this way and cornered by her own flesh and blood, angry that this had even happened to her, Gloria turned to face him and retorted, “Your baby. Our baby.” And, ultimately, her baby, she thought. Because it would be. Hers alone.

Jack’s eyes shifted to her stomach. She was wearing a clingy turquoise dress that breathed with her. Her stomach was flat. “We have a baby?” he asked incredulously.

Did he think she was making this up? “In about eight months we will.”

His eyes were open so wide as he stared at her, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights, she thought disdainfully.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His voice was dangerously low. Any second, he was going to explode, she just knew it. She tried the door, but it was locked. There was no escaping this confrontation.

Damn it, Mama, why are you humiliating me like this?

“Because I just found out. And besides, it doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it doesn’t!”

His voice almost rattled the overhead light fixture. Taking a deep breath, Jack tried to compose himself. But there were at least a dozen emotions whirling through him, each trying to take their turn at him. And all the while, a strange sort of joy was weaving itself in and out, lighting up the darkness inside.

He looked at her stomach again. It hardly looked large enough to harbor a grape, much less the beginnings of a human being. “Are you sure?”

Because becoming defensive was a lot easier for her, she took shelter in that emotion. “What? That I’m pregnant or that it’s yours?”

He saw the anger in her eyes, saw the hurt that lay beneath it. Saw echoes of himself in her defensiveness. He’d been like that, he realized. Ever since Ann had died, he’d barred every hand that reached out to him. All these years, he’d gone out of his way to keep everyone at bay.

Maybe it was time for a change.

“That you’re pregnant,” he answered her question tersely. “Because I know that if you are, it has to be mine.”

No, she wasn’t going to lower her guard, wasn’t going to take solace in his words. She was going to throw them back at him. Her chin shot up as though daring him to hit her.

“And why is that?”

His eyes met hers. He wanted to hug her, to hold her in his arms and to just revel in the news she had thrown at him. A baby. They were going to have a baby. That feeling of ultimately being alone had disappeared, just like that. “Because you’re not the kind of woman who fools around with a lot of guys.”

The fact that he said it, that he even thought it, warmed her heart.

She struggled not to let it.

In her opinion she was way too vulnerable here and she couldn’t afford to be. “And how would you know that?”

He spelled it out for her. “Logically, if you were the kind of woman who slept around, you would have been prepared. You would have offered me a condom, or been on the pill.”

Jack paused, knowing if he said the next thing out loud, he would be taking a huge step. A step that, once taken, might not allow him to go back.

Making up his mind, he took it anyway. “And emotionally, I just know.”

He was telling her that he felt things when it came to her. Gloria pressed her lips together, telling herself not to cry. What he said didn’t change anything. In the long run, he was going to back away. Maybe offer her some financial help, but that was it. And even if he was half responsible for the condition she found herself in, she wasn’t about to ask for anything. Or take anything.

“You don’t have to worry,” she told him quietly. “I don’t expect anything.”

He caught her arm before she could turn away. He didn’t want to talk to her back. She needed to look him in the eye, to see that he was serious. “But I do. I expect to see my son or daughter every day.”

The man was just full of surprises. “You want custody?”

“Yes.” He looked at her pointedly. “Of the baby and of you.”

“I’m too old for someone to have custody of me.”

He looked annoyed that she was playing with semantics. “You know what I mean.”

Happiness leaped inside her. He wanted her. But the next moment, logic came along to snuff out the joy. “No.”

He stared at her, shaking his head slightly as if to clear his ears. “What?”

She could feel herself turning to jelly inside, not knowing how much longer she could stand firm. Gloria struggled to sound distant. “It’s not a big word, Jack. I said no.”

He wasn’t about to let it go at that. Having made up his mind about the matter, about her, he was digging in for the duration. He had no other choice. He loved her and the baby whose existence he hadn’t known about fifteen minutes ago.

“Why not?”

She fisted her hands on her hips. Was he dense? “What do you mean, why not? I’m not going to have you marry me out of pity or some misguided sense of obligation. Until you found out about the baby, you weren’t even talking to me. You were going to go back to New York without so much as a goodbye. And now you want to marry me?” She was no one’s charity case. “No way. Now I’m sorry if that offends your sense of pride, or honor or whatever, but—”

“Enough!” he yelled. Then, as she stared at him, stunned, he demanded, “Can you stop talking for just one damn minute?” As if to underline his request, he pointed to his watch.

He was wearing the watch she’d repaired.

Did that mean something?

God, she had to stop searching for hidden meanings in everything. If he was wearing the watch, it just meant that he liked it, not that he was wearing it because she’d fixed it for him.

“Why?” Gloria demanded hotly. “Why should I stop talking?”

“So I can tell you I love you,” he shouted back at her.

She wanted to believe him. Rising up on her toes, her hands still on her hips, she jeered, “Oh, just like that.”

“Yes.” He was still shouting. “Just like that. From the first moment I saw you, damn it.”

She felt as if she’d just taken a torpedo to her hull. His words sank in. Was he serious? One look at his face told her that he was. Her heart turned over in her chest. “You’re going to need a little schooling in being romantic.”

“I don’t want schooling, I want you.” It was time to make a clean confession. She wasn’t going to believe him otherwise and he needed her to believe him. And to understand. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

She heard him, but she couldn’t believe him. How could that possibly be true? “You were afraid of me?”

Nodding, he took her hands from her waist, one at a time, and then took her into his arms. “Afraid to admit what I was feeling. Afraid that if I did, fate would pull the rug out from under me the way it did with Ann.”

And just like that, her heart went out to him. “Jack, there’re no guarantees in life.”

“Yes, and I’m logical enough to know that.” His eyes caressed her face as they washed over her. “I’m also human enough to be afraid of losing you.”

She tilted her head, as if trying to find a way to fit the thought in. “So if you never get me, you can’t lose me?”

It did sound pretty stupid when she said it out loud. “Something like that. But now there’s a third person to consider.” He pulled her closer, the baby a tiny seed between them. “I can’t be selfish. I’m going to be a father.” Feeling more love than he could ever put into words, he looked at her for a long moment. “I’d like to be a husband, as well.”

She bit her lip, as afraid as he was to expose herself to more disappointment. “I don’t know—”

Less than an hour ago that would have been enough to make him back away. But he was a different man now than he was half an hour ago. He dug in, then took one hell of a dive off the cliff he’d been standing on. This was for all the marbles.

“All I have to know is if you love me.” He searched her face, hoping to see his answer.

She had to keep reminding herself to breathe. Air kept standing still in her lungs. “And that’s all?”

“That’s all.” And then, because fearing that she would say no, he swung the back of his wrist against the closest bedpost. The crystal cracked. A tiny bit of glass fell on what was almost the only piece of comforter that was still exposed. “I need you to fix my watch, Gloria.” And then he told her what was in his heart. “I need you to fix me.”

She could feel the tears gathering inside her. Happy tears this time. “Oh, God, you make it hard to say no.”

He ran his finger along her lips, already tasting them. “Then don’t. Don’t say no. Say yes, Gloria. Say yes. You smile when you say yes. Try it and see,” he urged.

“Yes,” Gloria murmured, then said it more loudly. “Yes.” She laughed. “You’re right.” She threaded her arms around his neck, then looked over her shoulder toward the door, remembering that they hadn’t been alone. Was her mother still standing out there? “Did you get all that, Mama?”

“Every word.” There was pure joy in her mother’s voice. “About time you were sensible.”

Sense, Gloria thought as she turned back to the man who had her heart, had nothing to do with it. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she whispered.

He secured his arms around her, pulling her closer. “For the rest of my life.”

Laughter filled her. “Might make eating difficult,” she teased.

“I’ll find a way,” he promised as he lowered his mouth to hers.

She knew that if anyone could do it, Jack could.

It was the last thought she had just before she sank into the kiss. And the four-poster. It proved to be a great deal more comfortable for lovemaking than the elevator floor had been.

Epilogue

“I don’t do windows.”

Christina grinned as she opened the door to her apartment wider, letting her sister in. It was the following weekend and a great deal had happened. More than some people packed into a year. In seven days, Gloria had opened her store, announced she was pregnant and then, with Jack at her side, announced she was getting married.

Which meant that she now had to pay up.

Closing the door, Christina surveyed the costume Gloria was wearing. It was the Hollywood version of what a French maid’s costume should be. Christina imagined that Jack had approved of the super-high hemline.

“Nice outfit. And, yes, you will do windows.” A frown appeared on Gloria’s face. Christina laughed. “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time. Lucky for you I don’t have a house. Now, I have a whole list of stuff for you to do.” She unfurled what looked like a scroll, purely for dramatic effect.

Gloria stared at it. Every line of the two-foot roll of paper was written on. She raised her eyes to Christina’s face. “You’re kidding, right?”

Christina handed her the scroll. “You think this is bad, you should see Sierra’s list.”

Gloria looked around the modern apartment. Their tastes were similar, she thought. Clean, homey lines, not too cluttered, not too austere. “But you just moved in here, how dirty can it be?”

Christina fixed her with a look. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t maids not supposed to talk back?”

“Obviously you never watched the Brady Bunch.” She looked at the list that Christina had handed her. “This thing is incredible.”

Christina shrugged nonchalantly. Half the things on there weren’t going to be attended to, especially not in Gloria’s condition, but she’d enjoyed coming up with the insurmountable list. “Hey, us executive types don’t have time to clean.”

Gloria stuffed the list into her shallow pocket. “You know, there are cleaning services you could avail yourself of.”

“I didn’t say rich executive types, now did I? Besides, I’d feel too guilty paying someone to clean my place. Mama does her own work.”

Gloria thought of the way her mother had plotted to get her together with Jack. If not for her, who knew how things would have wound up? “Mama is a piece of work.” She smiled broadly. “The very best.”

“Yeah.” There was no arguing with that.

Tugging at her short skirt, Gloria braced herself. “Okay, where do you want me to start.”

“With this.” Christina surprised her by throwing her arms around her and hugging hard. “God, I hope you’re happy, little sister.”

Gloria grinned, her eyes dancing. “If I were any happier, I’d have to be two people.”

“Well, you deserve it,” Christina told her, feeling a little wistful because she knew she’d never be there to join Gloria in that new place she’d found. “Now, I thought you could start in here…”

Gloria groaned as she followed her sister into the kitchen.

There, next to the counter, was a bucket and every cleaning product known to man. Unopened. Christina gestured toward them, then added, “And I’d like you to whistle while you work.”

Gloria gave her a look. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Today I am the boss of you and I say it is.”

With a sigh, Gloria began to whistle. Actually, she thought as she picked up a sponge and counter cleanser, she had a great deal to whistle about.

A Tycoon in Texas

By

Crystal Green

Crystal Green lives in San Diego, California, where she writes for Special Moments™ and Blaze®. When she isn’t penning romances, she loves to read, overanalyse movies, pet her parents’ Maltese dog, fence, do yoga and fantasise about being a really good cook.

Whenever possible, Crystal loves to travel. Her favourite souvenirs include journals – the pages reflecting everything from taking tea in London’s Leicester Square to wandering the neon-lit streets of Tokyo.

She’d love to hear from her readers at: 8895 Towne Centre Drive, Suite 105-178, San Diego, CA 92122-5542, USA. And don’t forget to visit her website at www. crystal-green.com!

To Nancy: Here’s to the true love you deserve.

Chapter One

No more man temptation.

Christina Mendoza repeated her mantra yet again as she poised a pen over her ink-scrawled legal pad and fixed a cool, all-business gaze on Derek Rockwell.

Her boss. A man she had met only in passing before he had invited her into his office today.

Silence hummed while he perused her report—an analysis based on her observations of Fortune-Rockwell, his company. As sunlight glinted off his dark brown hair, she noticed that his cut—longer on top, shorter on the bottom—was a touch military.

Conservative, demanding.

Hmph. Mr. Rockwell’s hair shouldn’t be so fascinating to her, Christina thought, waiting for him to finish torturing her with the whole report-card-reading power play. And she shouldn’t be thinking about the way his crisp suit accentuated those broad shoulders, either. And, really, while she was at it, the same should go for the slant of those high cheekbones, which were balanced by a strong nose and chin. And as for those brown eyes…

All right. She might as well admit it. No man temptation notwithstanding, she was checking the guy out, just as thoroughly as she had upon briefly meeting him on her first day of work.

Especially his mouth.

While he was still occupied, she took a moment to appreciate his lower lip in particular. It hinted at a possible soft spot his gaze didn’t reveal.

Fascinating.

Could he be more handsome? Because if there was one thing Christina didn’t need, it was a boss who was muy guapo. She’d already learned that hormones and office relationships didn’t mix.

Learned that quite well.

Besides, she and her sisters had a pact: none of the Mendoza girls—Christina, Gloria nor Sierra—would get involved with men for a year. After Mama had called them back to Red Rock a month ago in order to reconcile the family, the siblings had mended their misunderstandings.

In the flush of reunion, they’d promised each other to put family first, since males had been at the root of all their problems anyway.

And if any of them fell to man temptation before the year was up…oh-oh. It would mean humiliation. Heinous work.

Already, Christina’s younger sister, Gloria, had blown her promise to stay away from men. She’d fallen in love with Jack Fortune, the son of the Big Boss—Patrick Fortune.

In fact, Gloria was carrying Jack’s child.

Something tugged on Christina’s barely used heart. At the age of thirty-two, she was finally going to be an aunt.

Tia Christina. A soft little baby to hold and cuddle. A sign of great love. Of joining with someone who had touched your soul.

She found herself smiling like a romantic dope, but vanquished it just before Derek Rockwell glanced up from the analysis. Never releasing her from eye contact, he sent the papers wafting to his desk.

Christina didn’t spare him a blink. In fact, without even looking at the notepad, she scribbled: Man temptation = bad.

“Very astute, Ms. Mendoza.”

His voice was a low, lazy drawl that couldn’t have been cultivated in New York, where he’d been heading up the East Coast branch of Fortune-Rockwell Investments before his former business partner had summoned him here.

That’s right. Patrick Fortune was counting on Rockwell to whip the struggling San Antonio offices back into shape, and that’s why she’d been hired, too.

If she could manage to stop drooling over her notes long enough to concentrate.

“Thank you, Mr. Rockwell.” Her own tone was removed, detached, striking a professional line between her and the boss. Just because he had requested this touch-base meeting didn’t mean they had to be office pals. Soon, he’d no doubt go back to working behind a closed door, shutting the rest of the company out. Then she could be relieved of all this hormonal discomfort, all this…distraction.

Christina cleared her throat and shifted in her chair as Rockwell ran a slow gaze over her crossed legs, her skirt-covered knees, her Ann Taylor jacket and her upswept hair. Her pulse quickened and followed the trail of his deliberate inspection.

She thought of Gloria again. How she seemed so happy after working things out with Jack. How she’d fulfilled her end of losing the bet by cleaning Christina’s and Sierra’s houses while dressed in a French maid uniform.

Oh, the price to pay for love.

Christina must have been clenching her teeth—a bad habit—and making a goofy face, because Derek Rockwell was grinning at her. Relaxing back in his chair while a bluebonnet March sky framed him through the window.

His vast walnut desk lent distance, intimidation. Even the sparse decorations—a few exotic musical instruments, such as an Asian-flavored lute and an African-inspired drum—were more statements of taste than personal revelations.

Except for the one picture on his desk. A colorfaded photo of a short-haired woman who was hugging two little Maltese dogs.

His mother?

“Now that you’ve gotten your bearings here, we’ll be working closely together,” he said, smoothly turning the picture so that it faced away from her. “Since Patrick brought you on as our business analyst, I haven’t had the chance to talk with you, Christina. To take your measure.”

He’d emphasized Patrick. A clear sign that just because she’d been hired by the older man, it meant nada.

“Mr. Rockwell—” the use of his last name was a statement all in itself “—if you’re not pleased with what I’ve done so far, I’d be happy to discuss it.”

“Oh, I like what I see. A degree in business from Texas A&M. Solid references. A good feel for what Fortune-Rockwell needs to get out of the red. I’m just wary. Especially after what the last analyst did to this place.”

“So you’ve got no qualms about Patrick bringing me on?” Might as well get the truth out in the open.

That sidelong grin curved Rockwell’s lips, and Christina’s heartbeat wavered.

When he leaned forward, his movement fluid and rough all at the same time, she could see why Patrick had told her yesterday that she’d now be working with “my predatory pride and joy.”

“I could be slightly put out because Patrick didn’t consult me before he hired you. I usually like to have a say in who I work with, Christina.” As he raised an eyebrow, there was a mildly wicked spark in his gaze. “Or my notable lack of amusement could just be me testing your mettle. It’s hard to keep up with me—to be a part of my vision for this company.”

Christina bristled at what Derek was no doubt thinking: Patrick was doing the Mendoza family a favor by giving her a job.

“Just in case you’re wondering,” she said, “I’m not here because of charity. I’ve earned this opportunity.”

Rockwell narrowed his eyes, but settled in to listen.

Encouraged, Christina continued. “While Patrick was getting to know my sisters and me at a reunion, he sensed opportunity. Being a great businessman, he funded Gloria’s jewelry business, Love Affair. He had a good feeling about its potential—just like he did about mine.”

“So I’ve heard. Patrick’s told me a few things about you and your family, and I listened to him. I trust the man implicitly. He’s a great judge of character.”

Rockwell stared at her intently, but there was something about the way he did it. Something that made Christina’s breath catch. Something that made her want to soften and bat her eyelashes at him.

Oh, brother.

“Then why don’t you trust Patrick’s judgment in bringing me on?” she asked. “He made a good choice, Mr. Rockwell.”

There went that grin again—half carefree flirt, half wolf in designer clothing. “I have to admit that if you impress me half as much as you did him, I’ll be appeased.”

Blushing, Christina glanced down at her notes. There it went. Shyness mode. It’d never been easy for her to take a compliment.

“However, keep this in mind,” Rockwell added. “I’m not real easy to impress.”

“Then let’s get to work on that now.” Christina cleared her throat, sat up straight, chasing the modesty away with her expertise. As usual. “Patrick mentioned that you want to rubber-stamp my new ideas.”

“Wait.” He made a nonchalant show of loosening his tie. “We’ll get to your spiel in a second. I kind of like to be comfortable with my co-workers before talking numbers.”

Unable to control her inner fantasy machine, Christina thought, Comfortable, you say? Well, then let me undo my own figurative tie and we’ll go from there.

Oooo. Bad. Very, very bad. Office relationships meant big trouble, whether you asked for them or not.

Awful, naughty thoughts.

He continued, clearly unaware of her chica-in-heat struggles.

“You grew up around San Antonio?” he asked.

Could she relax a little? Giving him a tiny bit of information wouldn’t be an impropriety. And besides, Patrick, a family friend, could give Rockwell all the gossip he wanted. What would be the harm in some chatting?

Still, she fidgeted in her seat. “Yes, I did. My family’s home is in Red Rock. My parents live just down the road from the Double Crown Ranch, which belongs to Patrick’s brother, Ryan.”

“I’d like to see it someday. Patrick tells me you had to quit your job in California to come back home. That must’ve been tough.”

Okay, this she didn’t want to talk about. How, years ago, she and Gloria had experienced a falling-out because of a former co-worker. How sister had betrayed sister. How Sierra, the baby of their family, had been torn between Gloria and Christina. Their petty arguments. Their bickering.

Things had gotten so uncomfortable that Christina had eventually moved to Los Angeles, fleeing her family in a flurry of shame and distrust. Gloria had moved to Denver.

Sierra had stayed home, too preoccupied with everyone else’s lives to really have one of her own.

Even now, guilt consumed Christina. It’d taken a panicked—yet false—phone call from Mama to bring her back to Red Rock.

Papa has chest pains, she’d said. Please come to see him.

Gloria had gotten the same call, but it was only after Mama had locked all three of the sisters into a room to hash out their problems that they’d learned their orchestrating matriarch had been exaggerating about Papa’s sickness.

An anxiety attack. That’s what it was.

But, in all honesty, Christina’s own heart had always been in Red Rock. She’d just needed a good excuse to return to it.

She doodled the loving shape on her note pad. “It wasn’t so hard to come back here at all.”

A beat of silence separated the conversation into two halves: the subject of Red Rock and the expectation that Christina would ask about his personal life, in return.

When she didn’t pursue the opening, Derek took the hint.

Damn, she was a cold one. He’d even gotten that feeling during their first how-do-you-do last month, before he’d buried himself in work and the soothing pattern of forgetfulness.

But, when all was said and done, he wouldn’t have told her squat even if she’d asked.

Sure, he would’ve given her the usual platitudes: deceased mother and father, de facto son of the heart to Patrick Fortune, who’d plucked Derek from college and mentored him straight into an ultrasuccessful business career.

Hell, with a bit of small talk, Christina Mendoza might even be an easier conquest than she appeared to be. He’d seen it happen before.

But…nah. She was emanating those stay-away vibes, and he could respect that. Business was more important than his enjoyment of a good time anyway. It was hard to get good employees, yet not so hard to snag one-night stands.

He held back a smile. Women. He loved the silhouettes of their bodies, the purr of their voices, the softness of their curves.

And Ms. Christina Mendoza was hiding it all, with her stoic, brown linen suit. The gold of her studded earrings and simple necklace. The ivory, sun-shaped clip that captured her cocoa-brown hair.

But her demure chignon revealed something that must’ve been an oversight. A sexy whisper of what was surely underneath all that quiet wrapping…

A graceful, slender neck.

In a flash of pure lust, Derek could imagine the taste of her pulse, her rosy skin, as he dragged his mouth up her throat. He would kiss his way up to her jaw, over her delicate cheekbones, to the tilt of her hazel eyes.

In response, those long, toned legs of hers would wrap around his body, allowing her to lean back—maybe even over the expanse of his office desk—then to press into the ever-awakening beat of his arousal.

Derek’s pants had gotten pretty tight, just thinking about what wouldn’t happen with his employee. He changed position in his stuffed leather chair, hoping to tuck away his hunger and get on with business.

His movement attracted her attention away from that notepad of hers.

You’d think she’d written out the solution to world peace from the way she stared at those scribblings, he thought.

Derek opened his mouth to make more conversation, to relax her—or was it to relax him? To let her know that she could count on him to keep to his “boss” role—or was he only convincing himself?

But that’s when he spied Jack Fortune through the office window, strolling past the assistant’s desk and toward the door. Great.

With his black hair and tall frame, Jack didn’t exactly cry out, “Patrick’s son!” Oddly enough, his dad was a redhead, and no one in the family could explain where the coloring had come from.

“Hope I’m in time to hear Ms. Mendoza reveal her big new plans for Fortune-Rockwell,” Jack said, standing by Christina’s chair and extending his hand in greeting.

Not surprisingly, Christina perked up. Jack was almost a part of her family, what with him getting one of the Mendoza sisters pregnant.

Careless.

She shook Jack’s hand. “Congratulations on taking over Patrick’s holdings,” she said. “And on my little niece or nephew.”

“Thank you. I guess you deserve kudos yourself.”

Christina smiled. “Why is that?”

“You managed to get Gloria to clean your house. A masterstroke of genius.”

“Well, it wasn’t as incredible as your successes with Fortune, TX, Limited, Jack. I’m eager to hear what you have in store for Fortune-Rockwell Investments, too.”

Derek arranged his features into a neutral mask. It wasn’t smart to let Jack see how much it rankled that Patrick had recently transferred all his business holdings to his son. Derek and Patrick had been a great team, so why had his mentor gone into semiretirement and given Jack control?

True, Derek and Jack worked well together, too, even with the tension between them. But, still, Derek already missed strategizing with his surrogate father on a daily basis.

Jack folded his lean body onto the leather couch, still talking to Christina. “We’re hoping to see better results with you, Christina. You know about the damage this branch sustained from the last business analyst.”

“I know he recommended massive layoffs,” Christina said, reciting her knowledge as if she were briefing the Pentagon. “And even though his ideas increased bottom-line profits for the short term, they resulted in poor employee morale. You fired the analyst after the layoffs backfired.”

“Someone’s up on current events,” Jack said.

Hey, Fortune-Rockwell was Derek’s baby. So why the hell was Jack doing all the talking?

Standing, Derek moved to the front of his desk, right in front of Christina. He leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’ve got the layoffs and two new bosses breathing down the employees’ necks,” he said, “and that makes matters even worse.”

Efficiently, Christina dug into a briefcase resting near her fashionable, yet practical white-and-brown pumps, then produced two bound reports. She rose to her feet, presenting Derek with one and Jack with the other.

“Don’t worry. You hired me to come up with ways to increase employee productivity, and that’s what I’ll do.” She stood in the center of the room, a hand braced on one hip, cocky as you please. “These are some statistics and research for you to look over before we go any further.”

Damn, she had such great legs. Long, trim…

The sound of Jack flipping open his report redirected Derek’s wandering focus.

But that didn’t keep him from casting one last glance at her gorgeous figure before devoting himself to the numbers.

The cover read, “How to Tell the Employees They’re Important: Providing Personal Growth Opportunities to Improve Morale.”

Perfect. Touchy-feely, la-di-da solutions to a serious problem.

She was already launching into her pitch. “As you can see from the graphs, tables and charts, many studies show that when employees have the perception that the corporation cares, they want to do well for the company. Their sense of loyalty increases. Many even look forward to coming to work. I’d like to explore ways to get our employees into the company spirit again, whether it’s through personal growth classes, recreation options or even day care for families.”

Derek was just about to ask how much money this would cost when Jack spoke up.

“Classes. I like that. The employees would see right off the bat that we’re here to make some positive changes. Best of all, their new skills might even transfer over to their jobs in some way. Christina, if you concentrate on that aspect first, how soon can you have a presentation ready?”

What? Derek shot a curious glance over to his new partner. No questions? No reservations?

“Give me a week,” she said, all guns blazing.

Suddenly, the woman who seemed covered by brown linen and a reserved shield was absolutely glowing. Derek’s belly went silly with the aphrodisiac of her spirit.

Work. Concentrate on work, you dog.

“Classes,” he said, really needing to hear how this was going to help turn their investment firm around.

“Yes, classes,” said a booming voice from the office entrance. “Good idea.”

They all looked at Patrick Fortune, who was leaning against the door frame, dressed to the nines in spit-polished Italian loafers and a pin-striped suit. The older man, whose red hair was just beginning to show shimmers of white, didn’t look—or act—his seventy years. The only sign of advancing age, besides a few wrinkles, were the glasses he wore over those sparkling blue eyes.

Derek couldn’t help smiling. “About time you reported to work.”

“Can’t keep him away,” muttered Jack with a touch of fondness.

Christina had already retrieved another report from her briefcase and was bringing it to the elder man. “This is old hat for you, Patrick. I recited most of these statistics to you at the party.”

Oh, so, it was Patrick?

“Thank you, my dear,” the magnate said, accepting the material.

With a doting smile, Christina nodded. Derek couldn’t help thinking that her switch from business warrior to beaming woman was sort of cute. Well, real cute, actually.

But cute wasn’t a very good description for Christina Mendoza. Cute was for cheerleaders who never grew up. No, this woman was what you’d call willowy. Sexy. Hot.

A knockout just waiting to rip off her schoolteacher costume at the right moment.

Yeah, thought Derek. And if she needed any help taking down her hair…

Patrick was staring at him, picking up on Derek’s playboy instincts, no doubt.

Without thinking, Derek straightened his tie. “Ms. Mendoza plans to show us some definitive plans next week.”

“Next week?”

Patrick steepled his fingers together, going into deep-thinking mode. Brilliant things came out of this posture. Clever ideas for new mergers, diabolical budget adjustments, genius proposals.

“Dad,” Jack said, “this sure doesn’t look like retirement to me.”

“Retirement?” Derek laughed. “The word isn’t in the man’s vocabulary, Jack.”

“I know.” The other man shrugged. “You’d like him to be your business partner forever, but—”

“But I’m lucky enough to have you as Tweedledum to my Tweedledee now.”

Derek caught Christina’s curious gaze as she took in the tension.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jack bristle, caught with his emotional pants down, too.

“Gentlemen.” Patrick was used to these mild flare-ups between them. “You must have realized something already.”

See? Incoming brilliant idea.

“A week is a short time to expect Christina to put together a strong presentation,” Patrick said.

She lifted a finger. “No problem. I can do it.”

“Why make yourself work night and day when it could be so much easier?” Patrick sauntered away from the door, toward Derek. “It’d be wise, I believe, to give you a crack team who knows every nuance of Fortune-Rockwell philosophy. I’ve got some employees in mind to lend you support.”

When Christina started to protest, Derek interrupted. “Don’t be a Lone Ranger. Having someone who knows Fortune-Rockwell inside and out would be a great asset to you.”

Maybe he could even handpick that person so they could report back to him about what their new analyst was preparing. He was hands-on, all right, but still a delegator.

Patrick came to stand by Derek, lifting a hand up to rest it on his protégé’s shoulder. “I’m glad you agree, Derek. How about working with Christina on this? You could handle the financial side of our campaign to promote morale, and she could be the creative force.”

Damn. He should’ve seen that one coming.

But, naturally, he’d been a little distracted by long legs and shining hair.

Good God, he didn’t have time to do her job, too. How could he get out of this?

As Jack rose from the couch, he chuckled. “I look forward to seeing your presentation next week, Christina.”

Then he jerked his chin at Derek, highly entertained. “And Derek.”

Right, Derek thought as he merely nodded his head, tracking Jack as he left the room. Thanks for dumping this on me.

Jack had obviously sensed that his new partner wouldn’t have an easy time accepting Christina’s ideas. It happened all the time, with them on opposite sides. Then again, that’s why they balanced each other, made for a decent team.

It was hard to admit, but there was some idiot part of Derek that wanted to impress Jack, wanted to still make Patrick proud, as well.

Ridiculous. A thirty-five-year-old shouldn’t need to win over big brother and father figures.

Patrick’s loud voice brought Derek back to the moment.

“You two have a lot of work to be done,” he said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I suppose you should get started. Christina, is there anything I can do to help you?”

“No, I’ve got everything I need in my office.”

As Christina moved to her briefcase, Patrick winked at Derek. Then, with a spring in his step, he took off.

“Thanks,” muttered Derek so only Patrick could hear.

Without looking back, his associate lifted a hand and left Christina and Derek alone, silence hanging in the office like limp streamers after the party had ended.

Classes. Recreation. Day care.

The softer side of Cutthroat Rockwell was about to be tested.

He found Christina staring at him, a wary look in her intelligent eyes as she lifted the briefcase to her side.

Something in his chest clenched, though he couldn’t say what it was.

Didn’t matter anyway.

Shrugging out of his jacket, Derek smiled at his new project team member.

“So what do you say we get down to running some numbers?” he asked, already wondering if he could trick Jack into taking his place.

Without waiting for her response, he retreated to the most comfortable place in the world.

Behind his desk.

Chapter Two

Bright and early the next morning, after having laid the groundwork for Christina’s changes yesterday, Derek greeted his assistant, Dora. She’d seemed more downbeat than usual, her extralank black hair only emphasizing the perception.

“What’s ailing you?” he asked after entering his lobby. Her frown made him want to make her smile again. “You have a cold? Were you out of orange juice this a.m.? Or maybe Tom Cruise is getting married again?”

He gestured to the toothy movie-star pictures that decorated her desk like minibillboards for proper hygienic care. Somehow, she managed to keep her workstation professional without having it resemble a shrine, so in the short time he’d been in San Antonio, he hadn’t asked her to clear the area.

Besides, the morale around the offices really did stink, and he wasn’t about to nitpick when things were at their lowest. He knew how to choose his battles.

Long ago, with the man he’d called Sir, Derek had learned how to keep his peace or sacrifice it each night over dinner. Every confrontation with Sir had been Armageddon, a father-son apocalypse.

Dora huffed out a sigh. “Everyone’s a little bummed, actually. It’s the analyst.”

“Christina Mendoza?” Good God, she was already on everyone’s nerves?

“Yeah. We’re all wondering what she has up her sleeve. More layoffs?”

Tilting her head, Dora widened her eyes, trying to wheedle information out of him since it was no secret that he was now working closely with the analyst.

Not as closely as his libido would like, but that was another issue.

“No more layoffs,” he said, noting that he’d need to send out a memo pronto, assuring the staff that they weren’t going to be terminated. “We’re functioning at bare bones already. Don’t worry about that, Dora.”

She exhaled. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought all those papers she dumped on your desk this morning were bad news.”

Papers, huh?

It wasn’t until he walked into his office that he realized what Dora had meant by papers.

As in a mound of them.

Catalogs about sewing classes, personal investment courses, literature circles.

“Dora,” he said into his intercom, “could you please ask the human dump truck to come into my office?”

As he waited for Christina, he removed the junk from his desktop and settled in for a long day.

Not that he had anywhere to go other than Fortune-Rockwell. In New York, he would’ve been in a limo at six o’clock, off to an event by seven, then in some gorgeous woman’s bed by ten. However, lately, he’d been too busy for a social life, but he’d get right to work on that.

Just as soon as he put these offices back where they belonged.

Ten minutes later, Christina appeared, holding another bound report and dressed in a nondescript sand-colored ensemble, her hair pulled back by a turquoise clip. It was the only stylish thing about her wardrobe.

Even so, he could catch a stunning glimpse of hidden beauty.

“Sit down, Christina,” he said, his gut fisting in a repeat of fruitless lust.

It was something he’d just have to get used to until he had time for wining and dining again.

“Thank you.” She moved to occupy the chair in front of his desk, but found that it was buried under the Mount Everest of her catalogs.

She glanced up at him. “A subtle hint?”

“I like you. You catch on quickly.”

“Yes, I do. In any case, Mr. Rockwell, I wanted you to see some of the classes that are available. I highlighted the ones that might appeal the most.”

“I don’t have time for leisurely afternoons spent thumbing through catalogs.”

She waited a beat, gauging him, then shook her head. “I could tell you weren’t into this from the getgo. You aren’t entirely convinced that my ideas are the best way to bring about change. You’re a numbers guy, and that’s how you’re used to operating. It’s how you cultivated your wealth.”

“Again, you’ve done your homework.”

“The annual reports told me a lot.” A flush had suffused her cheeks, bringing out the colors of her desert-at-sunrise eyes. “But, with this branch of Fortune-Rockwell, you’re dealing with people problems. And they directly affect your beloved numbers.”

Yeah, yeah. He knew. And, as Patrick had told him time and again, Derek was just too stubborn to admit it.

Still…basket-weaving classes?

She’d stepped forward, offering the covered report she’d been holding. “Here. I’ve summarized the possibilities. Today, I’d like to put together a survey so I can see what the employees would like to learn. Foreign languages, relaxing crafts, life skills?”

He tapped the report against his desk. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I…” She swallowed, paused. “I wanted to be up to speed.”

It was almost as if she didn’t want to lead him anywhere near her bedroom, her mattress, her off-hours even in conversation.

Damn, why was it that the one woman who had no interest in him tickled his fancy?

The attraction didn’t make sense at all, not when she was the opposite of his usual type. Normally, Derek enjoyed the company of what Patrick called Women Lite.

“Just like watered-down beer,” the old man had always said. “Less filling, with half the intelligence.”

Derek usually blew off his partner’s observations, knowing how uncomfortably true they were. But, still, he didn’t want relationships any other way.

No commitment, no worry. That was his philosophy.

Derek stood, went to the opposite chair, removed the catalogs and ushered her into the seat with an opened palm. As she sat down, a sweet, erotic scent wafted past him.

Exotic leaves, crushed to a mist of herbal smoke.

He imagined tasting the tang of it on her skin, allowing it to be absorbed into him.

But Derek didn’t do romance that way. He kept women from getting under his skin. At all costs.

“Mr. Rockwell?”

He glanced at Christina, finding her watching him with the same probing questions she’d no doubt been mulling over yesterday, after he’d exchanged words with Jack.

Don’t ask me if everything’s okay, he thought. You already have the right idea by keeping it all business.

A cheery voice piped over his thoughts.

“Are we starting yet?”

Derek turned to find a petite blonde garbed in a tiny red skirt with a white sleeveless blouse. Her curly hair gave her the air of a Shirley Temple doll, dimples and all.

Christina laid eyes on her, too, and the microskirt set her eyebrows to winging.

“Hi,” the girl chirped, extending a hand to him. “I’m Twyla, one of your team members.”

“You are?” asked Christina.

Derek made short work of shaking the young woman’s hand. Already, his Lite tracking system had alerted the male radar.

Concentrating hard on Christina’s comparatively grandmother-like clothing, he hoped the blah colors would be enough to get him back on track.

And…yes. Success. But maybe it wasn’t the clothing that had done the trick.

Maybe it was Christina herself, with those all-knowing eyes, the genteel lines of her posture.

Her class.

Suddenly, staying on this project sounded pretty good to him.

As Twyla attacked Christina’s hand in greeting, Derek cleared his head and motioned to the couch. “How long have you been working for Fortune-Rockwell?”

“Oh, a few years, right out of college. Jack Fortune assigned me to your project this morning.”

“That was decent of him.” Derek’s fist clenched, just itching to do some throttling. So Jack had sent his own spy, had he? “I’ve asked two other employees to join our team, too, so we’ll wait for them before we start.”

“Oops.” Twyla had dropped her pen on the floor as she made her way to the couch.

Bending over to pick it up, she flashed a load of cleavage in Derek’s direction, then lifted her head to see if he was looking.

God, he was a guy—one who’d been stuck in the office for too damned long. Of course he was looking.

But Derek didn’t date his employees. It was a good way to get into big trouble.

When he glanced back at Christina, he realized how uninterested he was in this particular brand of Lite anyway.

He only wished she wasn’t looking at him as if he were a scum-guzzling slug of humanity.

As nightfall darkened Christina’s office, she heard Twyla yawn from a love seat that had decorated every office she’d had since graduating from business school.

All her furnishings were old and sentimental, as a matter of fact: Mexican artwork featuring different moods of the sun, ironwork sculptures, baskets filled with sage. She’d spent so much time in her offices that she’d decorated them to be homes away from home.

“I’ll be here for a while yet,” she said. “Why don’t you call it a day, Twyla?”

Instantly, the girl was on her feet. “Are you sure? Because I can stay.”

“No, really. You’ve been very helpful.” And, surprisingly, Christina meant it. She’d had her doubts at first, with that dental floss miniskirt and all, but Twyla was a devoted worker. “Really. Go.”

“Okay. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, she was gone, leaving Christina with an endless To-Do list.

But she didn’t mind so much. Work was her life.

It saved her from thinking about the silence of the condo she’d recently purchased here in town. The echoing drip of a faucet that someday needed fixing. The sound of the radio playing salsa music to keep her company.

As long as she watched her step here at Fortune-Rockwell, she’d have work to keep her content. In all honesty, she couldn’t afford another repeat of what had happened years ago at Macrizon: the heartbreak of having a boss turn on her. The shock of finding out that her fellow employees were no better.

Christina’s fingers slackened over her keyboard.

Bosses.

She was trying so hard to stay in line where Derek Rockwell was concerned. Sure, she’d caught him giving her the once-over a time or two, but that was normal behavior for men in power. Back at Macrizon, her superior, William Dugan, had given her plenty of attention.

And look what that had gotten her.

A tail-between-the-legs trip to California, where she’d deserted her family—her true, constant friends.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen this time. Not with Rockwell.

Even if she wanted to jump his bones every time she was alone with him.

“How do you function without any shut-eye?”

She glanced up to find him filling her doorway.

With his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal muscled forearms, and with his tie and collar loosened, he still seemed perfectly put together. Structured and in control.

But oddly enough, as he rested his hands on the door’s steel frame, he reminded Christina of a man calmly trying to keep the building from falling down around him.

The image connected him to her, made him seem a little more human and a little less dangerous.

Rolling her head, she worked a few cricks out of her neck. Then she stretched, trying to disguise how much he effected her.

“I’m one of those lucky people, I suppose,” she said. “I can live on three hours of sleep.”

“I don’t know.” He let go of the frame and wandered farther into her office. “Beds are one of the joys of life.”

An attempted response stuck in her throat.

“Sorry.” He laughed, ran a hand over his short, neat hair. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She wanted to tell him that, years ago, he wouldn’t have. That it had taken one bad experience to put her on edge forever.

He continued, having stopped in his tracks at her silence.

“How long will you be here?” he asked.

“Let’s see.” Exhaling, she checked the amethyst-crystal clock on her desk. “Eternity?”

Grinning—and how lethal it was—he jerked a thumb toward the door. “Let’s grab something to eat at that café on the corner. Nothing untoward in my intentions, okay? I’m hungry, and I’m sure you are, too.”

She thought about all her problems at Macrizon. The worst of them had started when she’d had an innocent drink with William Dugan, then a business dinner. By the time he’d invited her on a trip to service a client, she’d trusted him. And that’s when he’d pounced, revealing that he’d booked only one hotel room.

With only one bed.

Derek’s voice cut in. “The café’s got great pasta dishes. You like Italian?”

Oh, did she ever. In fact, she liked food, period. And her stomach had grumbled about twenty-two times over the last half hour…

“A quick bite to eat?” she said. “And can I run a few ideas past you?”

“Yes and yes. We’ll be back in a flash, because I know how attached you are to your office chair.”

“Ha-ha.” She cut herself off from making a smart remark, but she was smiling all the same.

Minutes later, they were riding the elevator down in almost palpable tension, then strolling to the corner café.

It was a brightly lit place, with yellow awnings and a fern-strewn courtyard. The cooling night breeze was still nice enough for outdoor dining so, after ordering, they settled themselves at a white metal table where they could enjoy the spring weather.

See, she thought, sitting across from him and perking up her good old healthy salad with a splash of vinegar, then oil. This wasn’t so compromising.

No fodder for the corporate rumor mill.

As she contemplated her greens, dying for something more fattening, Rockwell dug into his lasagna. She couldn’t help watching.

Ummm. Layers of mozzarella with a white, creamy sauce. If she’d ordered it, she’d be jogging for hours at the crack of dawn just to work off the calories.

Mouth swimming with flavor-desperate drool, she realized that Rockwell had caught her staring.

His brown eyes gleamed. “Want some?”

“No, no,” she said, recovering, then depositing a leaf of romaine lettuce into her mouth.

“Lasagna hits the spot.” He continued demolishing his food. “Since I arrived in town, I’ve made a habit of eating here every day. Usually, though, I order up to the office.”

Was he another version of her? A workaholic?

“I try to stay healthy,” she said. “But I…”

Okay, time to shut up. He didn’t want to know how she secretly lusted after potato chips, buttered popcorn, raw chocolate-chip cookie dough straight from the fridge.

“Not a trace of junk food junkie in you?” he asked, taking a swig from a glass of bottled water. He set the beverage down. “With your physique, you can afford to splurge now and then.”

There it went again—the blushing. “I like salads. Really. And jogging. And I’m addicted to yoga.”

As well as anything covered in chocolate.

“I can tell.” He held up his hands. “Not that I mean to compliment you or anything. I know you don’t like that.”

She stopped, the fork halfway to her mouth. Sure she enjoyed the praise. Especially from Rockwell.

Not that she liked liking it.

Her blush intensified. Dang it. “I just…I don’t know. I just don’t know you very well, I suppose. And I’m used to keeping business as business.” She shoved more lettuce into her old talking hole.

“That’s a good philosophy.”

“Mmm.” Yup, that was her witty rejoinder. She was too busy eating and trying to pretend her salad was lasagna to offer anything more.

“But it can get kind of lonely thinking that way.”

Suddenly, she really couldn’t taste the food.

Neither of them moved for a second, and then they both went back to eating. Dean Martin, bless his heart, made up for the stilted conversation with his winking rendition of “That’s Amore.”

Saved by the good-natured lyrics, they ate and ate, pausing every once in a while to chat about Fortune-Rockwell, finding their footing in business once again.

By the time they’d cleared their plates, Christina was relaxed.

Discovering your groove with a new co-worker always took some time, she thought. They’d just needed to get over the initial testing of personal boundaries.

As they strolled onto the sidewalk, she breathed in the night air—crisp and laced with garlic from the café’s food.

She stopped walking. Then he did, too.

“I really needed that, Mr. Rockwell,” she said, grinning. “Thanks for dragging me outside.”

With cautious steps, he backtracked to where she was standing, coming to tower over her. A shadow blanketing her body, warming it.

“Glad to help.”

God, she couldn’t swallow.

Could he actually be stealing the strength from her? Drawing it out just by standing so close? Her body felt weaker with each shortened breath. Sapped by his nearness.

She focused on the first thing that caught her attention—the tiny, upturned wrinkle of his collar.

Funny, she thought, half in a daze. He’s not so impossibly structured after all.

“You’re…” Gathering all her energy back from him, she pointed at his collar. “…falling apart.”

He cocked an eyebrow, then glanced down. With care, he smoothed out the material.

She could imagine his closets, his drawers, filled with starched, regimented clothing.

Then, as if she’d never even pointed out an imperfection in him, he started walking away.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do, Ms. Mendoza. You coming?”

Of course, she thought, knowing business was the only way to forget all the wrinkles between them.

Especially the one in her judgment.

Patrick Fortune had tried to seem casual as he sauntered by the café for the third time. With every pass, he’d whispered into the cell phone that was poised next to his ear.

“They’re still talking,” he said, trying to stifle his voice level.

Lacey, his lovely wife, always told him that he could bring down all of his Fortune high-rise buildings with merely his voice. But it was hard to keep quiet when one had so much to say.

On the other end of the line, Maria Mendoza spoke up. “Now what are they doing?”

Patrick had made it around the corner without Christina or Derek spying him. “Still talking. But there’s a lot of eating going on, also. I was hoping they’d be so enthralled with each other that the food would go cold.”

The sound of clicking knitting needles told Patrick that Christina’s mother and her good friend and cousin, Rosita Perez, were drinking tea and making scarves in the kitchen. They had him on speakerphone—the better to plot by, my dear.

Rosita offered her opinion. “It was a rough start with Jack and Gloria, also. Let’s remember how hard those two were to manage.”

“Who can forget?” asked Maria. “It is not easy being a schemer.”

Patrick had crept toward the café again, adjusting his glasses and peeking around the brick wall into the courtyard. He was rewarded with a view of the couple—or not-a-couple—still stuffing food into their mouths.

Matchmaking Project, The Sequel: Derek and Christina.

A man who wasn’t sure how to love and, in Patrick’s opinion, needed to be taught how to truly enjoy life.

An extremely smart woman who had a strong will and an innocent heart.

The two were made for each other and, soon, they’d know it.

Patrick had walked to safety yet another time. “I thought for certain Derek would move a little quicker here. You should’ve seen the way he was looking at Christina yesterday.”

Rosita spoke up. “It’s probably all Christina’s fault. If it were not for that silly bet the girls have going, this would be much easier. Oh, the poor brainy child. She just does not have such good luck with men.”

“Qué lastima.” Maria sighed. “What a shame she cannot find the joy Gloria has. And I feel for my Sierra, too! I only wish all my daughters could be happy.”

“They will be,” Patrick said, one hundred and ten percent certain of it. “I’ve engineered so many successful mergers in my time, that I can close a deal in my sleep. I’m banking on sealing this one, as well.”

“Hallelujah!” both women said together.

In the background, Patrick heard Maria’s husband, Jose, mutter, “Loco. All of you.”

“Don’t you have a restaurant to run?” Maria said to him. Then, to Patrick, “He thinks I dwell too much on the girls’ problems.”

Rosita made an argumentative sound. “Oh, no. A mother can never think about her children too much. True, you have many to concern yourself with…”

Yes, Patrick thought, spurred by the prospect of giving a guiding hand to each Mendoza child in turn. Gloria, Christina, then Sierra, and Jorge, and Roberto. What good was being rich unless you could spread around the wealth and happiness?

“Don’t worry about it, Maria,” he said. “I’m finding that semiretirement has given me some extra time to fill. I’ll be around for each of your little darlings in turn.”

“Bless you, Patrick.”

The sound of two women blowing him kisses traveled over the airwaves, and he shrugged modestly.

It was nice to be appreciated.

“Now,” he said, “we have to admit that their going out to eat together is a very positive sign. And since I’ve forced proximity by requesting that Derek work with Christina, I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“Optimist.” That was Maria.

“Don’t lose heart, here.” At that point, he’d heard the sound of people exiting the café, so he ducked behind a building’s corner. “We just have to take this—their first meeting—to the next logical step.”

“A barbecue!” Maria said.

It was the Mendoza solution for everything.

“When?” he asked.

“This weekend.”

“I’ll invite Derek.”

“I’ll take care of getting the girls here.”

Patrick bit his lip as the people walked by him. Derek and Christina.

He squinted shut his eyes, hoping to high heaven they wouldn’t see him.

They didn’t. But they did stop about fifteen yards down the way.

“I’ll report back later,” Patrick whispered into his phone, then folded it into the off position.

As he peeked around the corner, he saw his protégé hovering over Christina.

There you go, kid. If there’s one woman who’s worth all your playboy charm, Christina is it.

As long as Derek treated her well, Patrick amended. And he’d damn well be around to make sure it happened.

With that, the old pot stirrer merged back into the night, already applauding the progress of The Sequel.

Chapter Three

While Christina sipped merlot from a wineglass, the Saturday sunshine bathed her body. She was reclining in a wooden chair on the Mendozas’ back patio, enjoying one of the many family barbecues she’d missed during her absence.

A few neighborhood children ran around the spacious lawn, their yelps of “Tag, you’re it!” mingling with the spicy aroma of carne asada, Jose Mendoza’s signature beef specialty. It’s what his restaurant, Red, was best known for—that, and the flavorful margaritas.

One of the children, five-year-old Sancho from down the road, took a dive in the grass, and before Christina could rise from her seat to go to him, another guest beat her to it.

The indomitable Ryan Fortune, muscular and tanned from years of ranch work, sprang from his chair at an umbrella-shrouded table. He’d been sitting with his striking wife Lily, Patrick’s elegant mate Lacey and Jack Fortune, as well as Rosita and Ruben Perez. All of them had been laughing over some sort of shared joke.

Three other tables of neighbors applauded Ryan’s safety efforts as he winged Sancho up from the ground and persuaded the dust-bitten child not to cry.

Why wasn’t she laughing and clapping with everyone else instead of sitting here alone?

Staring into the deep red of her wine, Christina knew the exact reason. She was too immersed in work, even though she’d earned rest after a harried week blurred by late nights and brainstorming sessions.

Although she and Derek had gone to the café that one night, they’d been too busy to do it again, with her concentrating on this project and him returning to all his other responsibilities. Besides, they were always surrounded by the other three people on their team, affording no chances for breaks or personal chats. All of them had been working like maniacs these past few days to prep for the presentation.

Which was due Monday.

Yet they were ready. Christina had told this to Rockwell an hour ago, when he’d called to summon her to the office today.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked. “I thought we covered all the bases.”

“Not all. I came up with something new. I need to discuss it with you, then enlist your help in adjusting the presentation materials to reflect my idea.”

Even though, as a perfectionist, she was too willing to believe something was missing in her finished products, there was no way she would ditch a family gathering for something that could be taken care of tonight.

“You’re suddenly into the notion of these classes now,” she’d said. “Aren’t you?”

He’d paused, the silence long and intimidating. Not that she cared.

“Christina…” His voice held a warning.

She’d smiled then.

“I can come in after my family barbecue.”

He’d started to protest, but she’d shut off her cell phone, unwilling to be persuaded. At the same time, she’d felt somewhat victorious, knowing she’d won him to her side, even a little.

Unfortunately, he’d gone on to call the Mendoza residence and Jack’s cell, but Christina had refused to talk to him anymore. He could take her help later tonight or leave it.

Family needed to be more important than anything else: work, herself…men.

Rockwell.

Darn this attraction she felt growing every day.

She couldn’t help noticing the details: How their office chairs would subtly wheel closer to each other. How the wrinkle in his collar never seemed to go away with each change of shirt. How Twyla would covertly stare at him just as much as Christina probably did.

Not that she should be worrying about such a thing. Let Twyla have him. It’d be a load off Christina’s mind.

Even if she did go home at night to lie between the cool sheets of her bed, fantasizing about his hands covering her skin, warming places that had gone untouched for too long.

Ay. Fantasies about the boss.

No wonder she was such a wreck. She hadn’t been this chemically attracted to, this shaken up over, a man for…

Well, for ages.

As a friendly cheer sounded from Ryan’s table, Christina glanced up, finding that the darkly handsome older man had brought little Sancho back with him to rest on his lap. The child was grinning from ear to ear, even though there was a patch of grass hanging from his chin.

When a gentle, soft hand settled on Christina’s shoulder, she looked up to find her mama.

“Once again, you are thinking too much,” Maria Mendoza said.

“Mama, I’m going cold turkey, so have mercy. I actually refused to go into work to be here.” Christina rose from her seat, unable to sit still. The irony. “You need help serving?”

“Gloria and Sierra are taking care of the kitchen. Sit back down.”

A slight breeze tweaked Mama’s dark, gray-glinted hair. She was wearing a sundress, which outlined her curvy figure to full advantage. Like her daughters, she had the same rosy, tanned skin.

With a rush of appreciation, Christina smiled, grateful that she’d been summoned back here so she could absorb the beauty of her mama again.

“There’s no rest for the wicked,” Christina said, patting her mother’s cheek.

As she started walking toward the kitchen to help her sisters anyway, Mama’s voice rang out.

“Christina Maria Mendoza, you come back here.”

Ooo, the middle-name game. Trouble.

Like a good daughter, Christina returned, holding back a laugh.

Maria took Christina’s hand in hers, made eye contact with Rosita Perez, and motioned her distant cousin over. “You haven’t told me or Rosita about your life lately. Your job.”

“Oh, you know, same old grind.”

Rosita, a short, pleasantly plump woman who had the coolest hair—dark with a white streak darting down one side—reminded Christina of a fairy godmother. A Disney Sleeping Beauty sort, with her hair in a bun and a magic-wand sparkle about her.

Mama took her friend’s hand, as well. “Tell Rosita all about Fortune-Rockwell since she hasn’t heard the details yet.”

“Yes,” said the tiny woman, “I want to know everything. What is your office like? What sort of people do you work with?”

Rockwell. Heat shot through Christina like a blaze from a flare gun.

Someone help me, she thought.

“They’re normal working people,” she said, shrugging. “Just a bunch of type A’s who shuffle papers and stare at computer screens until their eyes cross.”

“Is Jack treating you well?” Mama asked.

“Very.”

“How about your other boss,” Rosita added. “I cannot remember his name…”

“Rockhard.” Mama nodded with finality, because if Mama said it, that’s how it was.

Christina couldn’t help laughing. “This is an investment firm, Mama. A man with a name like Rockhard needs to make his way to a soap opera.”

“Oh.” Her mother lightly slapped her forehead with an opened palm. “Then what is his name?”

Was it Christina’s imagination, or were Rosita and Mama just a little too interested in Mr. Rockhard?

“Rockwell,” she answered. “Derek Rockwell.”

Rosita was nodding. “Yes, he is the one. We invited him to our fiesta, but he turned us down.”

For her part, Mama was waving hello toward the adobe-style house, where Patrick Fortune was emerging.

“Isn’t that right, Patrick?” she yelled. “Your partner was too good for our company.”

With hugs and kisses, Patrick joined their circle, adjusting his glasses. He was as casually dressed as the rest of them, garbed in a blue polo shirt and lightweight slacks.

“Quite the contrary,” he said, looking none too pleased that his protégé wasn’t taking some time off today. “Derek’s buried at the office, he tells me.”

While Patrick took Christina in his paternal embrace, she felt guilty for being here while Rockwell was working. But she took comfort from Patrick’s smell: black licorice and aftershave.

Holding her away from him, Patrick inspected her. “You look tired. Derek tells me you don’t sleep enough.”

Mama and Rosita both clucked their tongues.

“But he did say you two had dinner the other night,” Patrick added, exchanging a meaningful glance with Mama and Rosita.

Just as Christina was starting to get an odd feeling about all these Rockhard comments and questions, her brother Jorge emerged out of the back door and onto the patio.

All the neighbor women, married or not, stopped talking and gave him the once-over.

Her brother. The guy with a daredevil swagger and dark hair tied back into a low ponytail. God’s gift to females.

“Here I am to rescue you, Christina.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and maneuvered her toward the kitchen entrance. “Sierra assigned me this daunting task.”

Christina steadied her wineglass, which had sloshed a bit of beverage onto the cement with the urgency of Jorge’s brotherly embrace.

“Sorry,” she said, sending a sweet, totally insincere smile toward the trio of tomfoolery. “Look at me. Carted off before you can dig into the rest of my personal life.”

Rosita waved a chipper bye-bye to them, but Mama and Patrick only seemed to get more thoughtful.

“They had you surrounded,” Jorge whispered to her as they entered the house.

While they made their way toward the heady smells of rice, refried beans and chile-spiced vegetables, Christina said, “Gracias, Jorge. Something’s up their sleeves. Maybe they were getting a feel for my schedule so they can set me up on some disastrous blind dates. Who knows?”

“Hey, I have the feeling I’ll be in the same situation as soon as they’re done with you. Mama and Rosita can’t help themselves from meddling, bless those two bored women.”

The sizzle of food, the clanging of pots and the buzz of lively conversation welcomed them to the kitchen. Like the rest of the dwelling, this room was accented with reminders of old Mexico: ranch antiques, such as an old lasso and cowboy hat, hung on the walls; hand-painted tiles decorated the floor; copper implements hung from racks. Steam from the stove added the final touch, lending the area a homey feel.

“Here she is,” Jorge said, letting go of Christina. “Safe and sound.”

“Oh, good.” Sierra, their youngest sister, flashed her compassionate brown eyes at Christina. Her long, curly brown hair was in a ponytail, giving the petite girl a waifish appeal. “We guessed you were being subjected to the third degree.”

Gloria, the family beauty queen, with her long, flawless honey-brown hair and perfectly coiffed self, took Christina’s wineglass and set it on the counter. As she folded a knife into her sister’s hand and set her quickly to work on slicing bell peppers, Gloria’s self-designed silver jewelry sang like wind chimes.

“Your effort is appreciated, Jorge,” she said.

“Am I being dismissed?” He leaned on the counter, as if playfully rooting himself.

“Yes,” said all three sisters.

They knew he didn’t enjoy woman-talk anyway, so why not give him an excuse to leave?

“That’s ungrateful.” He grabbed a fattening hunk of unshredded cheese and bit into it, dashing off to wherever men like him went when there was a family function.

The stables? The TV room? The nearest cliff to hang glide off of?

As he left, Christina swatted at his retreating form with a nearby towel, missing his hip by inches. On purpose, of course, since she was well-known as the crack-shot toweler of the family.

“So were we right?” Gloria asked, going back to her chore of stirring a simmering pot of beans. “Is Mama up to no good?”

“Just like when she masterminded our reunion by locking us into that room until we all made up?” Sierra added, chopping strawberries.

“Something fishy is going on,” said Christina. “But I can’t figure out what.”

Both sisters nodded, wrinkling their foreheads and turning back to their cooking tasks. While they weren’t looking, Christina couldn’t help but sneak a piece of that delicious cheddar cheese, too, just like Jorge had done.

So she’d just do a few more sit-ups tonight.

As it happened, she’d barely popped it into her mouth before Sierra glanced back at her.

“Mama’s been giving me the marriage eye also, ever since Chad and I split.”

“I told you,” Gloria said, “stop thinking about that bag of dirt. He only makes you melancholy.”

“I know.” Sierra’s delicate shoulders slumped under the pink cotton of her spring blouse. “But I can’t help it. Maybe Chad was my last chance and I’m never going to find a man like him again.”

Christina knew exactly how her sis was feeling. Even though she’d had only two notable boyfriends in her life, each breakup had built a monument of sadness for her. An inner mark of memory, keeping her guarded, yet vulnerable.

She’d never been the type to give out hugs, but now, after realizing how much family meant, Christina didn’t hesitate to comfort Sierra with an embrace. The younger woman rested her head on Christina’s shoulder, driving home that she was a big sister and had so many responsibilities to make up for.

“After our year is over and done with,” she said, referring to the bet while petting Sierra’s crazy-curled head, “you’ll find someone who appreciates everything about you. I’ll bet Mr. Right’s even closer than you think.”

“I wish.” Sierra sniffled, then immediately straightened up. “Actually, no. I don’t wish. I won’t crumble. Not like Gloria did with Jack.”

In a show of unity, Christina hugged Sierra closer. You said it, sister.

Gloria joined them, stroking her younger sibling’s shoulder. “Okay, you two, enough. I had my day of French maid punishment, but Christina’s right about one thing. The second you stop looking for love, that’s when you’ll find it.”

Rockwell’s charming smile danced over Christina’s vision.

Oh, please.

Sierra dried her eyes against Christina’s olive T-shirt, but that was okay. A little smudge of tears added some character to her wardrobe anyway, and she could use all she could get.

“Had you stopped looking, Gloria?” Sierra asked. “When you found Jack, I mean?”

“You bet.” The loveliest of the Mendoza women became even more so as she laid a hand upon her belly, where a child was growing. “I’d lost all hope. But now, I can’t ever believe I felt that way.”

“There’s a man out there for you, Sierra,” Christina added. “Just wait a year and you’ll see.”

“Same for you.” Sierra’s innocent eyes shone in the aftermath of her tears. “You’re due, Christina.”

“No kidding,” said Gloria. “Five years is a long time between boyfriends.”

There was a pause, and Christina knew just what her sisters were thinking. Macrizon. Rebecca Waters.

When both Gloria and Christina had worked in the same office—Gloria as a CPA, Christina as an analyst—their co-worker had befriended them. Rebecca had been a party girl extraordinaire, taking them clubbing every night, staying out late, encouraging them to show up to work the next morning spent and hungover. Even though Christina had been the eternal designated driver, the friend who’d done more observing than carousing, she’d noticed a fall in her efficiency. And she’d pulled back from Rebecca.

That’s when the other woman had taken some mild revenge.

“Don’t worry. Nobody like Rebecca will ever come between us again,” Gloria said softly.

“I know.” Overwhelmed, Christina turned away, resumed slicing the peppers.

But Gloria stopped her by resting a hand on top of Christina’s.

“Sis?” she said.

Christina was so used to living her life in a self-imposed shell that it was hard to look up again. But she did.

Gloria was still holding her hand. “You know Rebecca was lying about Carson.”

Carson Fuller. A man Christina had started to date after she’d retreated from Rebecca. A good man, who appreciated her brains and told her she was gorgeous and desirable. And even though Christina had a hard time believing the part about her so-called beauty, she’d fallen for Carson.

At the time, Gloria was still partying with Rebecca, caught in a swirling descent of debauchery. There’d been nothing Christina could do to convince her sister to pull away from their co-worker. And when Rebecca had found out that Christina was trying to “steal” Gloria, she’d pitted the sisters against each other.

“Deep down,” Christina said, “I knew Rebecca was lying when she kept insinuating that you and Carson were interested in each other. But there was always a small part of me that couldn’t help believing it.”

“I wish you’d known otherwise.”

Same here, thought Christina. Because if she had, they all wouldn’t have wasted so much time apart.

“You and I were far beyond having rational conversations at that point,” Christina said, remembering how things had gone from bad to worse.

Gloria glanced at her sandals, then back up, regret sheening in her eyes. “I’ll never forgive myself for not backing you up with William Dugan.”

Christina’s stomach turned. It had been the hardest time in her life, with her breaking up with Carson because she’d believed that he was attracted to Gloria. With her reeling under the inappropriate advances of William Dugan.

It’d taken all her strength to press sexual harassment charges against him. And when Rebecca had started spreading rumors that Christina had “asked for it,” she’d lost courage. Then she’d had trouble prosecuting Dugan, since his powerful reputation spoke louder than her pitiful, hard-to-prove accusations. The final nail in her coffin had been when Gloria had refused to believe her, too, even hinting that Dugan’s harassment was a figment of Christina’s imagination.

Soon after the charges against her boss had been dismissed, she’d moved to Los Angeles, mired in shame and distrust.

“I think,” said Christina, reaching out for her sister’s hands, “we’re beyond all that. We’re here to move on, right?”

“Right,” they said, holding on to each other.

She was so caught up in her sisters that she barely heard the front door open and close.

This is what mattered, she thought, squeezing their fingers in her grip. Family.

Never having anyone come between them again.

But just as she was fighting the happy tears aching in her throat, an interloper stepped in front of her, breaking her hold on Gloria.

“Christina.”

Out of breath, Derek Rockwell stood there, brown eyes turned to a deep black, a high flush overcoming the usual tan of his face.

The shock of seeing him electrified Christina, fixing her into one place, speechless. As they locked gazes, her heartbeat thudded in her ears.

But her sisters weren’t so overcome.

“Who are you?” Gloria asked.

“That wasn’t very polite,” Sierra added.

He was frozen, too, and for a second, Christina actually thought he might be just as rattled by seeing her again.

She blinked. He blinked.

Then they both regained their composure.

“I apologize,” he said, turning around to face her sisters. “That was very rude, but…”

He grabbed Christina’s hand and started leading her out of the kitchen.

“Christina?” Gloria asked.

“Just a minute.” She tugged away from Rockwell, pointed to him. “This is my boss. Evidently, I’m still on the clock.”

Rockwell paused, then flashed that lethal grin at her sisters. Immediately, they both relaxed and smiled right back.

Suckers.

Yeah. As if she were one to talk.

“Derek Rockwell,” he said, striding forward to shake their hands. “Again, I apologize.”

When the introductions had been completed, he turned back to Christina. Behind him, Sierra and Gloria gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. How embarrassing.

“Did you finally decide to join the little people for some fun and games at the barbecue?” she asked.

“Not exactly.”

He started to lead her away again, but she dug in her heels. Finally, no doubt realizing she wouldn’t be pushed around, Rockwell stopped walking. But he did keep his hand on her elbow.

Fingers against her bare skin. The sensation shot a jumble of awareness through her.

And she couldn’t help wondering if he was feeling the same explosions.

Derek didn’t want to stop touching her.

This was the most skin he’d ever seen Christina exhibit. Sure, she was wearing a pretty tame T-shirt with shorts and sandals, but he could see actual curves now.

The fluid lines of her hips, her waist, her breasts.

Desire jagged through his belly, and he forced himself to let go of her.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

Because he was a workaholic? Because he’d started to convince himself that a good presentation would make him shine in Jack’s and Patrick’s estimations?

He went with the simplest explanation.

“You wouldn’t take any of my calls.”

“Doesn’t that tell you something?”

Whoa. Slightly ticked off.

“I like my employees to always be available,” he said. “And I don’t like to be ignored.”

“Then maybe you should invest in a harem.”

In the background, there was the sudden rattling of dishes. Shortly thereafter, Sierra and Gloria whizzed past, carrying plates out of the room.

When they were gone, Derek couldn’t help offering a grin to her. Hell, The Rockwell Smile had been getting him out of tough spots with women for years.

“What makes you think I don’t already have a harem?” he asked.

“Not only is that wrong in so many ways,” she said, planting her hands on her slim hips, “but I’m willing to bet you’re being facetious. Now leave.”

Hello? The smile? Hadn’t she seen it?

He cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t come to the office, so I’m here to bring the office to you. I’ve got the materials in my car.”

Her mouth gaped, then she shut it. “You came all the way out here, twenty miles one way from San Antonio, to ruin my day? Did I not say that I would come in tonight?”

“I’m inspired now.”

“And I’m not. I’m having quality family time, and no one disturbs that.”

Derek didn’t know much about “family time,” so he couldn’t relate. Except when it came to Patrick, of course, but that was different. They generally didn’t have barbecues together.

“I can’t do this without you,” he said, ignoring her excuses.

Christina closed her eyes, almost looking as if she were going to explode from a lack of patience. Calmly, she said, “You really need to learn the PowerPoint computer program, Rockwell.”

Rockwell? At least it was more personal without the “Mr.”

Derek couldn’t help feeling a certain sense of accomplishment.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll run my ideas past you and you can show me the finer points of cyber slide shows.”

When she opened her eyes, his heart jumped. God, she was incredibly hot with some anger running through her. Her eyes were a more golden shade, livid with emotion.

“I’m not leaving my family,” she said. “Never again. Not even for a day.”

Derek didn’t want to admit it, but he thought his new idea would be the coup de grâce of their presentation. Impressing his colleagues was all-important, especially since Jack would be in the room.

Spurred by the need to look good at all costs, Derek reacted without thinking.

Earlier, he’d spotted a rope hanging on the wall, a decoration. But he had need of it in an entirely different way now.

He took it down and inspected it.

“What are you doing, Rockwell?”

“You coming?” He looped it, stepped closer to her.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

As an answer, he slid the lasso over her body. It wasn’t tight enough to do damage, but it made moving her arms real tough.

“Very funny,” she said, looking as if she were close to blowing her top. “Now take it off.”

Instead, he started walking, pulling her along. “I need you, Christina.”

“So you said. Look, can’t you take no for an answer?”

“I didn’t get where I am listening to refusals.”

As he guided her through the spacious living room, they ran into Patrick, who’d obviously been summoned by her sisters.

“I’m being kidnapped,” Christina said.

“About time,” Patrick said, leaning against a wall and smiling.

As Christina’s mouth dropped open, Derek shot the older man a chastising glance. “Not another comment, all right?”

“Fair enough.” Patrick motioned toward the backyard. “Stay with us and I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

“Nope, too much work to do. That’s why you brought me to San Antonio, right? To get something done?”

While Patrick considered this, Christina interrupted.

“Rockwell, your partner and his wife are requesting your presence. Wouldn’t it be a good networking move to stay?”

Hope gleamed in her eyes, but Derek wasn’t about to give in. He could let up on their schedules when this was over and done with. If he stayed here, he’d never relax anyway.

Work was the only way to calm him.

From the look on Patrick’s face, the older man understood. They’d been partners for too long.

“I wish you’d slow down, Derek,” he said softly.

“You know me better than that.”

Christina was trying to shrug out of the lasso. In a flash of guilt, Derek almost helped her.

But he wanted her with him. Needed her help, damn it.

She caught his gaze and stopped moving. Shaking her head, she seemed to comprehend his urgent hunger to succeed, too.

“Ay,” she said reluctantly. “I’ll come to the darn office. You’ve got me paranoid that the presentation isn’t good enough.”

Great, now he was feeling like a real heel. He freed her, more out of shame than anything else.

What had he been thinking?

Patrick was still watching Derek, a slight quirk to his mouth. Why was he looking so smug?

“Just don’t work too late kids,” he said, traipsing back toward the barbecue.

Both Derek and Christina followed his progress, then stood in silence as the patio door slid closed.

“Well…” she said, walking toward the front door.

“You can stay.”

His mouth snapped shut before he could back down any further.

Christina glanced toward where Patrick had disappeared, then at the floor, almost as if she’d realized just how damned much this meant to him.

His heart clenched into itself.

She resumed her progress toward the door, sighing. “Since I’m now as nervous as you are about the presentation, I’ve got no stomach to stay. I’ll meet you at the office. I’d like to have access to the AV equipment instead of working out of your trunk.”

“Christina?”

She stopped, hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn around.

“I appreciate…” What? Her understanding?

They didn’t know each other enough for that. And they never would.

She opened the door, aiming her next words over her shoulder. “I know. Believe me…I know.”

As she left, he didn’t say a word.

He’d said too much already.

Chapter Four

At midnight, Derek felt as if there were still a thousand things left to do, even though he and Christina had been working nonstop for hours.

Saturdays usually meant that there were employees in and out of the building all day, but no one else was crazy enough to be in the offices at this time. Thus, the lonely glow of lights and the hum of his and Christina’s computers only added to what went unspoken between them.

He glanced up from the spreadsheet he was laboring over, his gaze finding his co-worker yet again, pure lust clutching at his body.

She was sitting on a chair that had been reversed and was slumped over the back of it while reading a community college catalog. Chin resting on a forearm, she moved her lips slightly as she took in the text, as if mouthing the words would make their meaning clearer. A sure sign of her tiredness.

Her hair was still up, of course, but tonight she’d used a leather thong with a wooden stick to fashion a bun with strands spiking out of it. A looser style, he thought.

And she’d kicked off her sandals long ago, the casual gesture making Derek wonder how she’d look walking around his bedroom, barefoot and clad in one of his own shirts, hair tumbled.

Caught up in the image, Derek sat back in his chair, running a hand over his smile.

“Pecos Community College has a good program,” she said, still inspecting the catalog.

“It’s close by, too,” he said.

This was part of his big idea: offering college-level financial classes to the employees for credit, which would go toward salary raises.

Earlier, after he and Christina had arrived at Fortune-Rockwell in their separate cars, he’d tried to make her forget about his hotheaded me-man-you-employee act by explaining the positives of his new plan. Luckily, she’d bought into it right away, immediately getting to work and seeming to forget that he’d literally roped her in here.

He just wasn’t used to reacting so strongly to the word no. Probably because he wasn’t used to hearing it.

“So what do you think?” he asked. “Would the college dean be open to chatting with us at this time of night? It’d be worth his while to hear us out.”

Christina shot him a half-amused, lowered gaze over the top of the catalog. “Not everyone is at your beck and call. You need to learn some boundaries, Rockwell, even if I was stupid enough to give in to you just this once.”

“Maybe I can get a hold of him tomorrow to talk specifics, then we can run from there. Think we need to call in Twyla, Jonathan and Seth to help us out?”

“Our team needs to enjoy their weekend.” Putting down the catalog, Christina shut her eyes, then raised her hands over her head, arching her back. “We can handle this ourselves, if you can refrain from acting entitled.”

Ya-ow.

As she stretched, her small, firm breasts pressed against her olive T-shirt. He could almost feel them in his hands, the tips aroused and beaded against his palms.

He could imagine slipping his hand into the curved small of her back, gently bending her away, shaping her so she’d fit against his own body, skin-to-skin under the moonlight.

Damn. The agony of wanting her when she was only a few feet away, the knowledge that he wasn’t going to have her.

Not if he was a smart businessman.

“Okay,” she said, ending the stretch and rubbing her eyes. “We’ve adjusted the slide presentation to our best ability tonight. And it looks like we need to get hold of Pecos College’s administration before we go any further. Should we line up some alternative colleges, just in case Pecos refuses?”

Time to get his mind back on work, eh? “We probably should.”

But both of them just sat there, exhausted.

“We could take a break,” he said.

“Too much to do.”

“Right.”

Still, neither of them moved.

Instead, he fixed his gaze on her laptop, which was stranded on the cushions of his leather couch. The screen saver—a picture of a gigantic ice cream sundae swirled with rainbow colors—hypnotized him.

Better to look there than at Christina, he thought.

But then he started thinking about the comparisons. Christina. Ice cream.

Both of them would taste real sweet.

“Well, I’ll be licked,” she said.

Flinching, Derek turned his attention toward her.

She was inspecting her cell phone, which she’d explained earlier was always set on silent mode during marathon work sessions.

“Sierra called three times.” Christina laughed. “I’m sure she wants to know if I’m safe from your overzealous charm.”

“What, she doesn’t trust me?”

“Rockwell, you lassoed me.”

He smoothed a hand over his hair. “I can’t say I’ve ever tried that method of getting someone to work. But it was highly effective.”

“You’re just fortunate I have a sense of humor.”

There was something about the tone of her voice that gave him pause.

“I know. You’re right, Christina. You have my deepest apologies.”

She hesitated. “I appreciate that, Rockwell.”

Last name again. Somehow, he’d been hoping that the hushed office and the midnight hour would lend themselves to some humanization.

Giving up, he said, “Maybe you ought to call Sierra’s voice mail, tell her that your big bad boss is treating you with kid gloves.”

“Are you referring to this torture by sleep deprivation?” Christina shut her phone, stuffed it back into her bag. “That’s kid-glove treatment?”

Derek held back from elaborating on just how he wanted to be treating her:

Warm candlelight.

Soft sheets.

Hot kisses.

“Besides,” she continued, amazingly oblivious to the rise in his body temperature, “I called home on my way here. Gloria answered, and I told her not to worry.”

“Worry?” he asked, trying to appear innocent. “With me? A family couldn’t want more for their little girl.”

Christina raised her eyebrows. “You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”

Derek shrugged. “I’m not such an awful guy.”

“Oh, you’re not a corporate wolf, huh? Patrick seems inordinately proud of your feral instincts. Your tear-’em-up reputation.”

She had to be talking about his business calling card, because Derek wouldn’t have said the same thing when it came to females. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a one-woman guy, but he liked to think he treated the fairer persuasion with appreciation—even if the relationships didn’t last long.

“Patrick helped me become a success,” he said. “I’m sort of a younger version of him, I guess.”

Except for the part where Patrick was head over heels for one woman—his wife, Lacey.

Christina’s gaze softened, and Derek’s chest got tight, numb with wanting to actually deserve such an admiring look from her.

“You and Patrick have a bond,” she said. “I can tell. Is that why…”

“What?” Did she want to ask about his tension with Jack?

“Nothing.”

She stood from her chair, glancing away from him.

“Is Patrick the reason Jack and I have that sibling rivalry going?” he finished for her.

“I’m tired, and my mouth is running before my brain can catch up. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

As she moved toward his desk, all lean grace, with those long, bare legs and sun-toasted skin, she touched the picture of his mom and her dogs. It took all his strength not to put it facedown on his desk, turn his past away from this woman as he’d done the other day.

Besides, something about the dead of night encouraged him to tell her about himself. But why? Derek never talked about his family to anyone—except Patrick.

So he was incredulous when the words spilled out.

“Patrick really helped me,” he said. “I was purposely aimless as a kid.”

Still, he wouldn’t tell her everything, like how his rebellion had been in reaction to all of Sir’s rules and regulations.

He continued. “Even so, just as soon as I could, I joined the Marines, right out of high school.”

Christina leaned against the side of his desk, crossed one leg over the other. She was close enough so he could catch the shine of deep red polish on her toenails.

Red. So that’s the color she’d been hiding under her usual business-day pumps.

“I guessed it,” she said. “Even on that first day, I thought there was something precise about you. Your hair, your clothes. Very regimented.”

A spark of anger lit through Derek. Is that how she saw him? A reflection of Sir?

“You’ve got a naturally commanding presence,” she added.

Then she looked down, and Derek knew she’d given away too much of her opinions to him.

Quelling the rage of his memories, he tentatively reached out to tug on her T-shirt. She startled, but didn’t move away.

“I don’t seem to scare you too much,” he said.

She didn’t respond to his comment. Instead, she turned back to him, redirected the subject.

“And how did you get from the Marines to Fortune-Rockwell?”

He drew his fingers back from her shirt, keeping his hand in front of him on the desk. “I had a short stint in the military. Basically…”

He thought of how he would glance at himself in the mirror and see a man in uniform. A man who looked too much like his father.

After the mirror epiphany, he’d quit the Corps as soon as possible.

Derek’s fingers tightened around a pen. “Basically, in school, I’d liked math, and I was always the guy who had some kind of scheme to get rich. So it made sense for me to learn more about business. That’s how I ended up with an MBA at Columbia.”

“Not bad,” she said.

Her respect made him kind of giddy. Or maybe he was just too tired to think straight.

“Then I met Patrick at a mentor dinner. Our philosophies meshed and, soon afterward, I went to work for him at Fortune Banking. It wasn’t long until the business evolved into Fortune-Rockwell.”

And, from there, he’d become the toast of New York. Charity functions, galas, the opera…He attended them all, with the gossip columns capturing a new beauty on his arm every time he hit the town.

Where had that guy gone?

“You’re lucky,” she said, “to have found a friend in Patrick. My family feels the same way.”

“He’s one in a million.”

The conversation dwindled, and he searched for something to say. He was afraid she’d hop up from his desk to blurt, “All rightie, then. Enough talk. Time to get back to college catalogs.”

But she surprised him by laughing instead.

A low, sultry sound—something you might hear as a bow moved over the strings of a cello.

She was staring at his loosened collar with those forever-deep hazel eyes. Irises that hid libraries of knowledge, years of wisdom that she’d experienced in her short life.

“Um, your…” She gestured with her hand.

He looked down, pulled at his collar and discovered that wrinkle again. Each morning it started out straight, perfect. But somehow, during the day, the material curled, thwarting his best efforts.

When he glanced back up at her, he snared her gaze with his. The throb of an endless heartbeat pulsed between them.

She reached over.

With slow care, she folded the linen back where it belonged.

“It was distracting me,” she said, her voice throaty. Different from the normally clipped, professional tone of Christina Mendoza, business analyst.

Now, she was just a woman.

And he was a man.

Alone together on a Saturday night.

He didn’t even breathe for fear of reminding her that her fingertips were still brushing his collar. The heat of her skin lingering so close to his neck turned him inside out, exposing a side of himself he always kept locked away.

Did she see the unguarded desire in his eyes? The terrifying curiosity of wanting to know what it was like to be with a woman who had great substance?

Maybe she did because, before his heart could beat again, she’d pulled away, stood, walked toward her computer on the couch.

Dammit, why hadn’t he made a move on her?

From the way she’d been acting, he could’ve had her. Could’ve been stripping off her T-shirt, her shorts.

Could’ve been kissing his way down her body.

What was so different about this woman that he hadn’t taken advantage of the fleeting intimacy?

She’d thrown him off guard for some reason. He just wasn’t used to easy touches, drawn-out beats of uncertain tension.

Tender gestures.

As she sat down on the couch, attention suddenly glued to her computer, Derek longed to make a joke of what had just happened. To ease the obvious discomfort.

But if there was one thing he knew about this woman already, it was that she was incredibly skittish about compliments and intimate office situations.

He’d forget about what had happened.

It was the best solution.

Determined to erase his emotions, he tapped at the keyboard, but it did no good.

The new awareness filtering the room wouldn’t lift.

It was only when his cell phone rang that he felt halfway relieved.

Yet, when he checked to see who was calling at this hour, he cursed. She was the last person he needed to talk with right now.

And a perfect way to get his mind off Christina, he supposed.

Remember the bet. Remember Gloria in a French maid suit…

Oh, did Christina ever have to convince herself to stay here, rooted to the couch. She’d do anything to keep from dashing back over to Rockwell and wrestling him to the floor in a love hug.

When his phone rang, it was as if her senses had slammed right back into her from wherever the heck they’d been vacationing.

Now, she was just trying to get back to normal.

Peace. Calm. Yoga breathing.

Good. Now that she had it together, she could berate herself for how dumb she’d been.

Touching his collar?

Granted, it hadn’t been as if she’d licked him up and down like a lollipop, but the gesture had been just as obvious.

Never again, she thought.

Just remember William Dugan.

As a matter of fact, maybe it’d even be a good idea for Christina to go home. Time had gotten away from her, and she hadn’t given a second thought to how an isolated nighttime work session with her boss would look.

All right. She’d wait for him to get off the phone and check out for the night. Then she could take some work home until tomorrow, when daylight would bring other employees into the office, just like she’d seen today.

Although she was being cautious, Christina would get through this without having to deal with rumors or more Rebecca Waters–type insinuations that could damage a business reputation.

From Rockwell’s position behind the desk, he cursed, giving Christina an excuse to look at him.

He was staring at his ringing phone, frowning. She wanted to ask who it was and why the call put him on edge, but she refrained, thinking she’d already been way too forward tonight.

Punchy. Si, that was why she’d lost control. Lack of sleep had frazzled her nerves as well as her common sense.

Relieved to have justified her behavior, she accessed an Internet search engine so she could absorb herself in local community colleges. But her attention wavered.

Especially when Rockwell answered his phone.

“Derek, here.”

There was a pause as the person on the other line talked. While Christina pretended not to peek at his reaction, he kept his demeanor unconcerned, unemotional.

Dios Mio, what a babe. Even as worn out as he was from their night of labor, he still came off as arrogant and self-possessed as ever.

As he answered the caller, she saw a shift in his expression. A firmness. A darkening of his brown eyes to black.

Was it her imagination, or did his irises actually change color when he was agitated or angry?

Ooo, that was intriguing.

“Chantelle, we talked about this,” he said.

Christina whipped her attention back to the computer.

Chantelle. Wasn’t that some kind of $100-an-ounce perfume that smelled like seventy-year-old socialites lunching in the Foo-Foo Room?

Rockwell got out of his seat and made his way toward the personal suite attached to his office.

“I know you do. But I’m working in San Antonio now.” Pause. “I don’t know when I’m coming back.”

Ah-ha. Okay. If Christina hadn’t caught onto it before, she had now. Chantelle was a girlfriend from New York. Or maybe not a girlfriend anymore.

At any rate, she felt strongly enough about Rockwell to be calling him in the middle of the night.

As he shut the door, she heard him say, “No, I’m not with anybody right now.”

Her heart sank. She was that “nobody” he was with.

Hadn’t he seen her offer him a tiny piece of her heart earlier?

Figures. That’s where touching men’s collars got you. Ignore-o-ville.

She couldn’t hear the rest of Chantelle’s long-distance booty call because the suite was well insulated from the outer office. So Christina settled into a more comfortable position on the couch, lying on her side.

Might as well get some work done while Rockwell was messing around with personal issues.

But the screen only blurred in front of her eyes, even as she tried valiantly to keep them open.

Before she could stop the inevitable, she drifted off to a well-earned sleep, dreaming of stolen touches, passionate kisses, hungry moans of faraway pleasure.

Dreaming of Derek.

The attached suite included a changing room filled with Derek’s extra business wardrobe and gym gear, a shower with all the required supplies and a restroom.

This was where Derek was at the moment, propped against the marble sink counter, one arm crossed over his chest as if to ward off Chantelle from across the miles.

“I miss you so much,” she said in a husky, one-pack-a-day voice.

He’d gone out with her once before being transferred from New York. Actually, his relocation had offered a good excuse to say a graceful goodbye to this particular Lite, because even after just one encounter, she’d grown way too possessive. Still, she’d been calling him off and on for a month now, and as lonely as he’d been for female company, he’d flirted with her over the airwaves.

But now, he knew it was time to end it.

“I won’t be back for a while,” he said, trying to let her down gently.

He didn’t want to say what was really on his mind: I’m just not interested. At all.

“Maybe,” she said teasingly, “we can pass the time by, you know, getting close right now.”

Phone sex? Christina was in the next room. Chantelle’s idea was definitely out of the question.

“In all honesty, Chantelle, I’m working. There’s a presentation I’ve got to get done by Monday.”

“What are you wearing?” she asked, undaunted.

He could almost see the redhead lounging on her bed, a half glass full of champagne losing its bubbles on the nightstand next to her, her curvy body covered by nothing more than a pink teddy.

From her reputation, he hadn’t expected her to become clingy, but that was the danger of acting like a playboy, he guessed. Sometimes the women changed their minds about the rules after they’d accepted them.

“Thanks, Chantelle,” he said. “But…”

For his own peace of mind, he had to put an end to all these midnight calls. “…I’m seeing someone.”

Silence on the other end of the line.

Derek began to pace. “We talked about our night together being just that—one night.”

“Who is she?”

Here it went. “You don’t know her. She’s a business associate and…”

“Go on.”

Derek smiled, thinking of the woman sitting on his couch. “I’m crazy about her.”

“For the time being, right?”

Chantelle was challenging him, probably wondering why he all of a sudden had decided to change his MO and stick with one woman.

“Right,” he said, reminding himself that he never took relationships seriously. “For the time being.”

“It doesn’t sound like a big deal. I could fly out there and—”

“Chantelle.” He sighed. “There’s nothing between us. You’re a beautiful woman who’s got a lot to give a man who can settle down. But you know I’m not that guy.”

“I was just hoping…”

“I’m sorry.”

With a sound of fury, she hung up on him.

As he made his way back to the office, Derek shut off his own phone, drained. Disgusted with himself for the first time since he’d started dating.

What had happened to the fun? The old times, when he could be with a woman and they’d romance the night away, only to leave in the morning with a sweet goodbye and a clear understanding that it was over before it’d begun?

He stepped into the office proper, ready to bury himself in work again.

But that’s when he saw her.

Christina, cuddled on his couch, hands tucked under her head as she slept. One of her legs was curled over the other, causing her cute rump to stick out.

In that instant, Derek’s heart cracked.

Quietly, he bent near her, getting his fill of her serenity. There was no urgency to her right now, no sense of prim expectancy.

No, at the moment her lips were pursed in soft slumber, her dark lashes winging against rosy cheeks.

Unable to stop himself, Derek ran a forefinger over the hollow of her cheekbone, a foreign tingle running up his arm and to his chest.

He wanted to stay here all night, just watching her, just feeling this contented buzz. But what would he do if she woke up to find him hovering?

The consequences wouldn’t be helpful to their working relationship, that was for sure.

Smacked back to reality, he stood, then went to the wardrobe closet to get the pillow and blanket that he used when he pulled office overnighters.

With the utmost care, he slipped the down cushion under her head, freezing when she moaned and stirred. As she shifted position, her mouth came to rest against his bared arm, and the contact sent a jolt through him.

Pulse hammering, he concentrated on covering her with the blanket, one-handed. Then, not quite wanting to move yet, he sat there, feeling her breath caress his skin.

Minutes passed—enough time for the inevitable guilt to rattle him. To convince him to remove his arm, inch by agonizing inch, from beneath her head.

Then, telling himself to act like a real boss, he retreated to his chair and closed his eyes.

Fully guarded once again.

Chapter Five

Christina was awakened by the aroma of fresh coffee and the sting of sunlight pouring through office windows.

Office windows?

Disoriented, she caught her breath and sat up to survey her surroundings.

A few potted plants. World-beat instruments. Massive desk. Big, empty boss chair.

With Sierra sitting in it.

What? Christina closed her eyes, then opened them again.

“Buenos dias,” her youngest sister said, dressed in a white, flower-sprigged sundress, her curly hair pulled back.

Bright and fresh.

“The last time I looked,” Christina said, “you were a social worker, not a corporate shark named Rockwell. Where is he?”

“Gone when I got here. I didn’t want to wake you up, so I waited, but not for long.” Sierra got out of her seat and put down the college catalog she’d been using to pass the time. “Sis, you never returned my calls last night.”

“I wanted to, but I crashed.” A little more awake now, Christina could actually formulate some questions. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but why are you in this office?”

“Gloria said you were alone with Derek, and no one answered at your condo, so I thought I’d just check on you here. And…ta-da!”

She motioned toward a table by the doorway. It held a bag, a carton with cups and a grease-stained box.

Christina’s mouth started to water, and she realized that her stomach was hollow. Her food cravings almost overcame her misgivings about Sierra coming to check up on her.

It was just like her hermanita to concern herself with everyone else’s problems. Having Sierra show up at the crack of dawn wasn’t all that much of a surprise.

Years ago, when Christina and Gloria had been fighting, Sierra had performed this same nurturing wake-up routine with each of them. Not only had their little sister been worried about both of them, but she suffered from insomnia.

Poor, fretful Sierra.

As Christina headed toward the food, just to inspect what was there, of course, she said, “How did you manage to get past security downstairs?”

“Patrick arranged clearance.”

“Helpful, that Patrick.” She lifted the plastic lid off one of the cups, and the rich steam of gourmet coffee floated out. But Christina didn’t drink the stuff. Not in public at least. It was terrible for the body.

“There’s green tea for you,” Sierra said. “But I thought Derek might like some fresh brew.”

Her sister came to the table and started to unload the treats: frosted doughnuts, éclairs, breakfast burritos.

If Christina wasn’t careful, she’d drool all over her shirt. But she could avoid temptation. All kinds, if necessary.

Finding a bran muffin, she peeled away the paper lining. Mmm, so nutritious.

She could always eat a doughnut later, alone, when no one else was around. Junk food tasted much better in secret, anyway.

Christina cleared her materials from the couch and set them on the floor, making room for Sierra. Her sister had a plate full of baked goods.

“There’s a lot left for Derek,” she said, and from the way she was pursing her lips, Christina knew that she had a load of questions waiting to be asked.

“I accidentally fell asleep, Sierra,” she said, steeping the tea bag in her hot water. “Nothing happened. You know how I feel about office shenanigans.”

Or how she used to feel, at least.

“Even after the way he whisked you away from us yesterday?”

“Granted, his method of getting me here was extreme, but it was all business.”

Most of it, anyway. Except for that moment when she’d been the one to overstep the lines she’d drawn.

But there was still room to go back. He hadn’t responded to her collar groping, so maybe it wasn’t even something she should be worrying about.

“It’s just…” Sierra hesitated. “I was surprised you stayed the night here. Especially after what happened with your sexual harassment charges against William Dugan.”

“This isn’t one of my shiniest moments, I’ll tell you that. Neither of us was paying attention to the time, and I was going to leave. Really I was.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re wary, and you have every right to be.”

Christina knew that, but she didn’t want to be neurotic about her office relationships. And she didn’t want to go overboard, documenting every interaction or being so closed-off that she was impossible to work with. Ultimately, she reasoned, treating every man as if he were a potential harasser only made the true cases weaker.

But she still had to consider her business reputation.

“I made a bad call last night,” she said. “It definitely won’t happen again.”

She ate some of the muffin, putting an end to a conversation she’d rather forget.

“I believe you.” Sierra took a sip of coffee, made a face, then added sweetener. “Unlike Gloria, I just don’t want you to become the next victim of our bet.”

Chewing, Christina merely sent a quizzical glance to her sister.

Sierra nodded. “Uh-huh. She thinks there’s something going on between you and the boss, and she’s already planning your punishment for losing.”

“Knowing Gloria, it’ll be devious.”

“It’ll be something public. Something dirty, since she’s still sore about having to clean our houses.”

Gloria had always encouraged Christina to shed her shyness, and there was no doubt her scheme would include this angle, too.

“Then I’ll have to make sure I don’t fall to man temptation,” Christina said, drinking some tea.

Though she sounded casual, she was really thinking that, for something that should’ve been so easy to do, winning the bet sounded awfully tough.

A whole year of not dating men.

Before now, it’d never been a big deal.

“Then, there it is.” Sierra stuck out her hand. “The two of us won’t give in, even if Gloria couldn’t help herself. Shake on it.”

Christina did, and the two sisters laughed, knowing how ridiculous everyone no doubt thought it was to be betting on this type of thing.

But, to them, it was all-important. Giving up men would enhance their lives.

They ate and moved on, chatting about the barbecue, about the happiness of becoming aunts to Gloria’s child, about Sierra’s circle of friends and her frustrations with one of them in particular—Alex Calloway, who always seemed to give her grief.

Christina got the feeling there was more to Sierra’s talk than she would admit to, but she let it go for the time being.

However, she’d keep an eye on her sister, just as well as Sierra was monitoring her.

While they were enjoying each other’s company, a few drop-in employees wandered into the office, equipped with that sense every nine-to-fiver cultivated for finding treats, no matter where they were hidden.

It was nice to see that she and Rockwell might not be entirely alone, since there were other weekend warriors here, as well.

But just as she was getting more comfortable, Rockwell himself stepped through the doorway—a Rockwell who was a whole lot different from the one she was used to seeing.

He wore athletic shoes; loose, gray sweatpants and a blue tank top that sweat had molded to his muscular chest. Perspiration coated his tanned, strong arms, his face, his hair.

Christina’s determination to avoid man temptation screeched to a burning halt.

“Morning,” he said, flashing that sidelong grin at them. “I was hoping to sneak past Christina while she was still sleeping.”

Then he turned “The Grin” on her, subjecting her to the full force of his charm. She gulped down the last of the bran muffin she’d been demolishing.

Caramba.

Wow, wow, wow.

What was it about him that made Christina want to drop her defenses and paste herself all over his bod?

Hold off, girl, just hold off of him.

While Sierra greeted Rockwell, Christina realized that one side of her hair bun had dipped down and what little makeup she used was probably off her face by now. She tried to fade into the couch cushions, just to see if she could get away with him not picking up on those humbling details.

Sierra was talking. “We’ve got a bunch of food for you. I’m sure you’re hungry after working out. Were you jogging? Christina loves to jog, too.”

“Nah, we’ve got a rowing machine in our company gym, if you could call it that. Christina, we might want to think of expanding it for employee morale and healthier workers. What do you think?”

She managed to move her head up and down, still trying to hide.

“Rowing?” Sierra sat up in her seat. “If you like putting paddles in the water, San Antonio’s the place for you. Did you know we’ve got the Texas Water Safari every May? You can enter the canoeing competition.”

“I already have.” Rockwell started walking toward his personal suite. “First thing I did when Patrick asked me to move here. I used to be on the heavyweight crew team back at Columbia, and I row every morning, even if it’s on a machine. I’m addicted.”

“Just like Christina.” Sierra swatted her sister on the leg. “Another exercise hound.”

Averting her face, she got up from the couch. No lipstick, no eye makeup. Not good.

“Speaking of which,” Christina said, walking toward the other side of the room where she’d put her belongings, “I’m due for a workout back home.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Rockwell. “I’m taking a shower, digging into Sierra’s banquet, then getting to the project again. You coming back here today?”

Actually, she was still on the whole “I’m taking a shower” part.

Rockwell. No clothes. Water beading on his skin, sluicing over muscles, making him even more slick and dangerous.

Her conscience batted at her. Should she work in this semideserted office with him again? Especially with these horn-dog thoughts running through her head?

“We’re just about done,” he added.

“Maybe we could have a change of scenery,” she said, slipping into her sandals and thinking about the other employees whose presence could keep her libido on the straight and narrow. “Maybe we could work in my office this afternoon.”

Unlike his buried alcove, her place was in the midst of the floor plan, the windows giving her a view of a lobby with other private offices surrounding it.

“Sure,” he said, sounding happy to accommodate her.

Suddenly, she felt like a fool for being so cautious. “Then expect me at about eleven.”

That’d leave her enough time for some jogging, yoga, a shower, then Mass.

“I’d like to get home as early as possible,” she added, “to gear up for tomorrow’s big day.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Without glancing at him—Lord help her—Christina jetted out of the office, Sierra trailing behind her after bidding Rockwell goodbye.

“What’s your rush?” her sister asked as they settled into the elevator.

“I want to get started. Too much to do.”

It sounded reasonable.

Besides, telling Sierra that Christina needed a cold shower right away would’ve been far too telling.

Because she was going to win this bet.

And keep her self-respect.

The afternoon melted into a glorious twilight, and as it spilled through Christina’s office window, the room was bathed in orange and red.

The colors mingled over her hair, Derek noted, as he watched her from the love seat. The shades turned her upswept tresses into shimmers of dark, exotic rain.

When he was a kid, he’d seen something similar while his father had been stationed in South Korea.

One night, after Sir had gotten on Derek’s ass because he’d found a speck of spaghetti sauce on the dishes his son had washed, Derek had run into the rain, finding the darkest possible corner of the base. He’d watched it fall, how it sparkled and disappeared just as soon as it hit the ground.

Too bad Sir couldn’t cease to exist in just the same way, Derek had thought.

But, being too young to strike out on his own, he’d gone home. He always did—until it was legally possible for him to join the Marines.

Yeah, smart choice, wasn’t it? He’d chosen the Corps because Sir was in the Army, and Derek had known how much it’d tick off the old man. Sir had despised the Marines, calling them “Bullet Meat” and “Jarheads.”

It’d given Derek great pleasure to cause his dad that much consternation.

Until Derek realized how much like Sir he’d become.

At that point, he’d worked hard to establish his own identity, going into business with Patrick, proving that he didn’t need Sir’s rigid structures by dating woman after woman.

Derek blocked out the thought of the man by diving into his work once again, erasing the past with a parade of numbers and details.

And, soon, he and Christina were ready to do a final run-through of tomorrow’s adjusted presentation.

They set up in a conference room and, when they were ready, Christina took a spot near the slide screen while Derek pretended to be an observer. He’d have a minimal amount to say tomorrow, preferring instead to allow his employee to take the reins and quote statistics while both of them fielded questions.

She started PowerPoint, and he sat back to enjoy the show, ready to take notes about any adjustments they’d need to make.

For a woman who’d initially come off as cold and shy, she had commanding stage presence. Even if she was wearing khaki shorts and a blue blouse, Christina Mendoza was an erudite professional.

But there was something more, too. A red-carpet grace, a sense of white-gloved class that most women didn’t possess.

Derek couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

The presentation went off without a hitch and, judging from the glow on her face, she damned well knew it.

“Well?” she asked.

“I took some notes. You’ll want to read them.”

She did a double take. “What did I do that wasn’t perfect?”

There was that career cockiness, which didn’t seem to suit her reserved personality.

Tossing the notepad on the table, he pointed to it. “Just read.”

She rushed right over, clearly ready to tell him why their presentation didn’t need retooling again. But she loosened up when she spied what he’d written: You were amazing.

A smile lit over her mouth, brightening her face until Derek warmed up just from the look of it. Then she poised her hands over her head.

“Yes!”

Derek laughed, liking this freed spirit. Every day brought more surprises from this woman, made her less removed and untouchable.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She wiggled her hips a little, doing an impromptu dance.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Salsa. Hot mama, lovely, I’m-done-with-this-presentation salsa!”

Well, he could certainly get used to watching this, her bottom waving back and forth in a smooth groove as she kept time to the musical celebration in her mind.

“Don’t you love it?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

She stopped her dancing, face flushed. “Not that, Rockwell. I’m talking about the rush you get when you realize you’re going to kick some caboose for dollars.”

Forget corporate profit. All Derek wanted was to see the look on Jack Fortune’s face.

Dammit, why’d he have to feel like a kid with a one-size-too-big batting helmet slumped over his sight, staring at the bleachers and waving to his big brother?

Because it’d be great to hit that home run and watch while Jack acknowledged how good he was.

Christina was still flittering around, high on success. “They say analysts are bad for employee morale in general. Humph. Take that whoever ‘they’ are. Pow!” She pretended to slap an invisible face.

Getting out of his seat, he said, “You’re practically drunk with joy.”

“I get like this.” She was slightly panting, holding a hand to her heart. “When I got home and went jogging this morning, I felt it. I know you feel it, too, after you row. The endorphins, kicking right in. I can’t get enough of them.”

As he moved closer to her, his heart started pulsing, much like it did during his exercise sessions. But this was different, if not just as addictive.

This was fear and desire wrapped around each other.

This was an unquenchable thirst in the face of a tall, cool drink waiting and within his reach.

Christina reached up and touched her hair. For a second, Derek thought she was about to set it free, to allow it to tumble to her shoulders.

His breath hitched in anticipation.

But she merely patted a loose strand back into the shimmery blue clip that was holding it captive.

“Sorry for acting like such a crazy fool,” she said, a glint in her eye, “but I need to let off steam. Getting just a few hours of sleep will do that to a person. This is like an all-nighter in college, when you’re working like a demon to get a project completed for the next day’s due date. Or when you’ve finished finals…”

Or, he asked himself, when you were so damned sexually frustrated that jumping around was the only way to release the pressure?

Sure, he knew how that felt.

“If it weren’t such a bad idea,” she added, getting squirrelly again, “I’d give you a dancing lesson.”

“You’re right. Dancing and getting loose at the office is completely inappropriate.”

Christina shot him a knowing glance. “That’s not what I mean.”

So they were back to employee and boss.

And here he thought they’d made some personal progress, even though Derek knew he shouldn’t want it—for more reasons than just keeping his hands off his subordinate.

He recalled how sad his mom had been, waiting for her Army husband to return from the far corners of the earth.

Commitment stunk, all right. And Christina Mendoza wasn’t the type of woman who came without that sort of price attached.

Even Derek wasn’t a good enough negotiator to avoid that caveat.

“Before you get too happy,” he said, turning to the next page of his notes, “maybe you should read this.”

Breath coming in deep gasps, Christina stilled her private party, then crept toward the table again, peeking at the paper.

He’d written a couple of things that required finetuning: the pacing of the slides, a typo that reflected an inaccurate pricing quote from when they’d gotten hold of the Pecos College dean today.

“And the next page,” he added.

When she looked at it, her smile returned. She no doubt realized that the troubleshooting would be insignificant.

On the last piece of paper, he’d written: You’re going to blow them away.

“You scared me to death!” she said, jumping up and grabbing his button-down shirt while pulling him toward her in a show of excited frustration.

Flying high, Christina was hardly even aware of what she was doing. All she knew was that she was happy. Reckless with the exhilaration of success.

She could do anything! And she had, putting together a damned good presentation in record time.

As Derek’s dark eyes widened, she even felt a bit more power at his surprise. The scent of him—a tinge of clear, crisp new money and heady musk—spiked her good-girl hormones, throwing them off-kilter.

Before she could tell herself to stop, she was impetuously pulling him down to her, crushing her mouth to his.

For a second, he stiffened, but something buried, something deeply tamed within Christina took this as a challenge.

She could control a man for once. Bring him to his knees instead of the other way around. Couldn’t she?

Christina increased the urgency of the kiss, wanting so badly to know that he would give in.

Then, just as she was losing confidence, patience, Derek reacted, echoing the insistent pressure of her lips. He placed a hand at the base of her head to urge her closer, slid his other hand to the small of her back, where his fingers clenched her blouse as if his life depended on it.

Ecstatic, she moaned against him, encouraging his willingness by fisting his hair, seeking, devouring.

As her breasts pressed against his chest, her own body echoed the rise and fall of his breathing, the extent of a shared mindless hunger.

And his head was bursting with confusion, a passion he couldn’t contain.

The ice queen was kissing him.

How had this happened?

No time to analyze. Who cared anyway? She was excited, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to push her away.

But how could he explain the need to take her in his arms, to hold her against him so she wouldn’t back away? Because he knew she would, and the knowledge of it ached, made him burn and long to possess her.

Yet Derek didn’t work that way. He didn’t keep something once he had it. That’s why he’d jumped at the chance to move from New York to San Antonio. There’d been too many roots forming, attaching him to a lifestyle that was becoming a habit.

And the act of wrapping his arms around her was too reminiscent of something like ivy, clinging.

Needing something outside of itself to stay standing.

To survive.

Belly fisting, Derek took one last moment to enjoy the scent of her clean hair. The smoothness of her skin. The heat of her lips.

With something close to regret, he ended the kiss, their mouths remaining a whisper apart.

“That was a real moment of insanity,” he said, trying to play off the situation.

His heartbeat was loud enough to shake the room.

Obviously mortified, Christina’s skin blazed a bright red as she turned and walked away from him. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking for all the world as if she were shivering in the cold in front of a house that she’d been locked out of.

“Whoo.” She tried to laugh. “You’re right. Not enough sleep.”

Relieved by her willingness to take this less than seriously, Derek agreed. “Too much coffee.”

“Or tea.”

They both nodded thoughtfully, unwilling to move and force the truth out of its hiding place.

“Well.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “We should rest up for tomorrow. Big day. You good to go?”

“Definitely.”

While she slowly walked to the door, he stayed in the room, wanting to allow her to leave the building first. To give her room.

But then she turned around, mouth opened to say something.

Frozen, Derek hoped she wasn’t about to remind him of what had just happened. He was too afraid of what he might say back to her.

She must have read his fear, his doubts. “’Night, Rockwell.”

“’Night.”

She paused, sighed, then left him standing there, playing that kiss over and over in his mind like a flag that wouldn’t stop snapping in the wind.

Finally, the place went dark.

Clearly, the sensor had detected that there wasn’t any life left in the room.

Chapter Six

“Damn him.”

It was Monday, just moments after the presentation and, already, Derek was on fire. As he burst into the small lobby of his office, his assistant glanced up from her desk.

“Mr. Rockwell? What’s wrong?”

Regretting that he couldn’t restrain his disappointment, Derek made an effort to calm himself.

“Nothing I can’t get over, Dora. Any messages?”

She bestowed a sympathetic smile on him and handed over some papers. “No urgent calls or summons. How did the presentation go?”

Derek bristled, but hoped he didn’t show it. “Really well. Our audience loved what we had to say and, in fact, they want more ideas.”

So why was he cranky?

After accepting Dora’s “Good job, Mr. Rockwell,” and walking into his office, he admitted that he knew the reason.

Jack, naturally.

During the postpresentation briefing session, Derek’s new partner had basically congratulated Christina on being the driving force behind the concept of personal development. He’d even heaped praise on the rest of the team.

Yet he’d all but ignored Derek’s contributions.

Not that Christina and the team didn’t deserve acknowledgment. Derek wasn’t begrudging anyone—especially their business analyst—that. And she’d taken great pains to give credit to Derek. But, dammit, just once he’d like Jack to say, “You did a hell of a job, Derek.”

But maybe he was being ridiculous. So what if his ego had been wounded? He wasn’t thirteen anymore, under the thumb of Sir, always seeking impossible approval.

He’d move on and get over it.

So he did, in the best way he knew how—by settling into work, developing ideas for the next phase of the personal development project: constructing “game rooms” and “creative rooms” in order to promote employee productivity.

But just as he was warming up his computer, in strolled Christina.

The gorgeous woman he’d been trying to think of as “his employee” since last night.

Dressed in a deep purple suit, she was riding the wave of success, still glowing, containing whatever overwhelming urges that had caused her to kiss him.

God, if only they were in a different place, in a different situation.

He wouldn’t mind another of those lip-locks.

Without thinking, he leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his mouth to erase a grin of provocative reminiscence.

“You scooted off before we could catch you,” she said, hands behind her back, body swaying back and forth playfully as if she had something to hide.

“Why linger? Jack didn’t have much to say to me.”

Damn. He hadn’t meant for that to come out.

“Jack had plenty of good things to say about everything. After you left, we finally got around to talking about the college classes for credit. Like Patrick and the rest of our audience, Jack loved it.”

Derek couldn’t help a spark of pride from lighting up inside of him.

As Christina took a couple more steps into the room, he could see the flush of her skin intensifying.

Was she fighting it, too? Remembering the way she’d kissed him, held on to him, molded her body against his?

When she smiled softly and glanced at the carpet, he knew it was true. His heart banged against his rib cage.

Why? It didn’t make sense. Maybe it was because Christina Mendoza was all contradictions: increasingly willing, yet a double dose of challenge that he wasn’t used to.

“What’re you working on now?” she asked.

“Getting started on the rooms.”

“Not yet you aren’t.” She raised her voice. “Ready!”

A round of cheers sounded from outside his lobby and, through his windows, he could see the rest of the team—Twyla, Seth and Jonathan—enter, carrying a cake and beverages.

Finally, Christina brought her hands out from behind her back. Champagne glasses.

“To a job well done!” she said, beaming.

“Booze?”

“No.” She guided Twyla and the cake to the table by the entrance. “Sparkling cider. We still have a lot of work to do today, so it’s no use clouding our heads. Still, we deserve some good times.”

As Seth and Jonathan poured, Twyla came over to pull Derek out of his seat. He thought he detected a curious glance from Christina as the blonde linked arms with him and led him to the treats.

But then his analyst glanced away and laughed at something Seth said, making Derek wonder if Christina cared about Twyla’s flirtation at all.

In moments, they all had filled glasses raised in a toast.

“Boss?” Christina said, indicating that he should lead.

Boss. That told him all he needed to know.

Officially, the kiss had never happened.

Derek wasn’t in the mood for toasts or celebrations. “Here’s to Seth and Jonathan climbing on the Pecos College wagon and getting it up and running. Today. And here’s to Twyla arranging in-house personal development classes. Starting now. And here’s to me and Christina Mendoza putting together the next presentation. Pronto.”

Elevating his glass, Derek quickly tossed back the cider.

Twyla, Seth and Jonathan just stared at each other, then cautiously consumed their own drinks. Christina merely tapped her fingertips against her glass.

“That’s it?” she asked. “Not even a half hour to bask in a bit of glory?”

“I’ve got a lot to do.”

Derek wanted to clam up, to stop his simmering resentment from ruining everyone else’s day. In fact, he hated that his ego was so damned easily bruised.

Christina had tilted her head, gauging him with that clever gaze, as if she knew exactly what was bothering him.

“You were sensational,” she said. “Every person in that room realized it.”

“Enough.”

Her eyes widened, lips parting ever so slightly.

Her compliments had pushed a button in him, revealing his need to be valued by Jack. The emotion made him weak, and seeing her acknowledge it laid him bare.

Even though a hidden, more logical part of him adored her for what she was trying to do.

As she lifted her chin and concentrated on drinking her cider, Derek wanted to say he was sorry, to brush his fingers over her temple and hold on to her.

But he was too strong to do that. Too mired in old habits.

While Seth cleared his throat and Jonathan shuffled his shoes, Twyla caught Derek’s eye. She was sending him a saucy smile, just like the ones he’d caught all of last week.

But before Derek could discourage her with a stern glance again, a hearty laugh filled the outer lobby and he saw that Patrick was approaching. The old man had been at the presentation, nodding the whole time, offering his tacit support.

Derek’s hero.

His former partner burst into the room, a bolt of welcome energy. “Here they are, the company’s saviors!”

Immediately, the team’s spirits rose. Dammit, Derek could take lessons from Patrick: Don’t let your soft spots affect your attitude and get in the way of work. Always be encouraging.

As Christina hugged Patrick, laughing with him, Derek felt more alone than ever.

“Christina’s right,” Twyla said, having sauntered over, as if sensing his isolation. “You’re the best, Derek.”

The way she said it, voice teasing, lashes lowered, made the New York Derek go, “Hmm. Gimme a Lite.”

A woman like Twyla, with her one-inch skirts and three-inch heels, could banish his bad mood very easily.

But as Christina talked with his old partner, her words as bubbly as the sparkling cider, Derek realized that all his Lite cravings had gone flat.

Or maybe his fascination with this woman was just a phase, a hunger to have what seemed impossible.

Twyla was pulling on his sleeve suggestively, so Derek patted her shoulder in a professional manner, letting her know that he wasn’t interested.

With a disbelieving arch of the brow, Twyla shrugged, then went back to the cake table to refill her cider glass.

Ten minutes later, after Patrick had flattered them all he could, the team vacated the room, promising Derek they were getting right back to work.

That left him with Christina and Patrick.

The older man grasped his protégé’s shoulders. “I knew I made the right choice, asking you to turn this place on its head. You make me proud, son.”

Derek couldn’t hold back a swell of gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Christina.” Patrick kept one hand on Derek and hugged her with the other arm. “Initially, I had no idea what a team you two would make. Now, the sky is the limit. You’re both absolutely golden around here, and I’m not just talking about the opinions of the bigwigs. From the clerical assistants to the brokers, word has already gotten around about the programs. When I walk around the building, I can feel a change in the air. Excitement. Optimism. Something we were lacking before.”

It looked as if Christina were about to walk on air. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. Let’s just hope this change is for the long term.”

“I have no doubt of it.” Patrick squeezed both their arms. “How about whooping it up with dinner tonight? My treat for such a stupendous job.”

Derek glanced at Christina at the same time she checked out his reaction.

Dinner? she was probably thinking. Wouldn’t that be too personal?

But how could she use that as an excuse when she’d laid one on him last night?

Seeing nothing untoward in the situation, Derek said, “I’m in.”

Christina still hadn’t answered.

“Come on,” Patrick said to her. “Lacey will come. And we’ll bring your folks, too. What do you think of that Brazilian steak house near the river?”

Obviously, the mention of other diners had put Christina more at ease. “Sounds great.”

“Seven thirty, then.” Patrick nodded, making the offer final.

“Gotcha.” Christina gave him one last hug, then made her way toward the exit. “I’ll need to get cracking if I’m going to accomplish anything today. Derek, I’ll clean up the cake later. Patrick might want some.”

Then she waved and left the room, Derek training a gaze on the way her hips swayed while she walked.

“Buddy boy.” Patrick poked him in the ribs with an elbow, and Derek straightened up.

The old man had a curious gleam in his blue eyes. “Is that notorious Rockwell animal magnetism working on her?”

“Christina?” Derek shook his head, went back to his desk. “She’s off-limits, Patrick. Look but don’t touch. That’s my motto with employees.”

“Is that what you were saying when young Twyla was ready to puddle at your feet?”

Twyla? It took a second for her face to register over the lingering image of Christina.

“Listen,” Derek said. “We’re both guys. We know how we function. So maybe I’ve thought about Christina in ways that are…let’s just say ‘intriguing.’ But that’s as far as it goes.”

Patrick didn’t say anything for a second. “That’d be your loss, then. She’s quite a woman. I guess some lucky man will find that out soon enough.”

A shard of envy cut through Derek, but he didn’t respond to the bait. Instead, he said, “So seven thirty, huh?”

Nodding with a grin, Patrick raised a hand in farewell. But not before he lobbed a final comment at his protégé.

“Work away, my boy. I hope it’s enough to keep you warm at night.”

Then he was gone, the observation leaving Derek cold.

The steak house was decorated like a rain forest, brimming with greenery, waterfalls and a Latin drum soundtrack. Waiters went from table to table, offering different varieties of meat that they carved right off their skewers: lamb, pork tenderloin, filet mignon, rib eye. This piecemeal method of eating was known as churrascaria del rodizio, derived from a time when cowboys used to barbecue their food over an open flame.

To Christina, it was food heaven.

And willpower hell.

Kind of like that kiss with Derek had been.

As she sat at the table with him, Lacey and Patrick Fortune and her own parents, she tried to keep her mind on family. The bet. Her work.

But it just wasn’t happening.

Every time she took a sip of Syrah wine, the wet warmth of it would remind her of his lips, the spicy taste of him. She wanted to savor the memory, take it into her until she shivered with the heady feelings he’d evoked: Passion. The longing for the slide of his bare skin against hers. Acceptance.

But that last part had been real quick to evaporate. Acceptance. After all, when he’d ended the kiss, he’d acted as if it hadn’t even happened.

Well, she’d taken the hint, wounded and maybe even relieved that he’d ignored her folly. And this morning at work, they’d gone about their business.

Best thing that could’ve happened, really. She’d gotten that one moment of impulsive desire out of her system, and she was all the better for it.

She was ready to forget and party the night away.

For the hundredth time, she concentrated on keeping her attention away from him and on her joyful companions. But it was so hard, with Derek sitting right next to her, freshly showered and wearing a smart button-down with khaki pants and Doc Martens.

She’d changed out of her office garb, too, choosing something more casual after her own shower. An herbal-scented body splash. Black underwear and bra. A sleeveless “little black dress” that was elegant, yet understated. Black pumps with straps decorating her ankles. An intricate black hair clip to hold back a loose chignon.

But even though she was wearing black, her insides were smoldering, still sizzling with longing.

When she’d arrived at the restaurant, Derek had been the only one at their reserved table, on time to the minute. He’d watched her walk to him, a feral flare in the way his gaze bathed her from her toes to her head.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn at a fiesta,” he’d said, a ragged crack in his voice.

She’d wanted to cuddle against him right there and then, but she knew what sort of reaction she’d get.

More rejection in spite of the invitation. Who needed that?

Then, minutes later, Lacey and Patrick had arrived. The magnate’s wife commanded the room with her cool grace, blond-gray hair swept back, green eyes connecting with Patrick’s every other second, it seemed.

And then Mama and Papa had come through the door, dressed in sunset colors, raining kisses on their daughter when Patrick lavished more praise on her work.

They’d ordered wine, dined on meat and conversation, the hours passing like minutes. Even Christina, who normally didn’t indulge or loosen up around business associates, found that the company and surroundings had liberated her even more.

Now, as they enjoyed after-dinner drinks and the restaurant crowd slimmed, the party still hadn’t ended for their table.

“I have to admit that this is a fine eatery,” said Jose, her distinguished papa who liked to dress in swanky suits. He was wearing one even now. “It doesn’t compare to Red, but then, what does?”

Mama tweaked her husband’s arm. “Your restaurant is the toast of Texas, mi corazon. You don’t have to fish for compliments from us.”

“Yes,” said Christina, “even now I’m dying for one of Papa’s wonderful margaritas. No one makes them like Red.”

“Oh,” he said, “you do make me conceited, Christina.”

Derek raised his caipirenha, a drink similar to a margarita, but with the emphasis on lime.

“Here’s to pride in a job well done,” he said, “whether it be in Jose’s restaurant, Patrick’s businesses, Maria’s knitting store, Lacey’s charitable causes…”

He took a deep breath, making the table laugh as they proffered their glasses, too.

“…Christina’s grace under pressure or my tendency to crack the whip too enthusiastically.”

“Amen to that,” added Christina, thinking of the day he’d dragged her away from the barbecue for the sake of work.

While they all clinked glasses and drank, Derek nudged her leg with his under the table.

She did it right back to him, carried away by the high spirits.

“Such a taskmaster,” Patrick said, sounding tipsy and jolly as his voice bounced off the restaurant walls.

The sober Lacey put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh. Lower the volume on that megaphone.”

Mama giggled, having consumed her share of wine.

Thank goodness they were all taking Patrick’s chauffeured Town Cars back home, Christina thought.

Patrick bussed his wife on the cheek. “Thank you, my darling.” He started again, softer this time. “A taskmaster. That’s what our Derek is. I saw that aura of success when I first laid eyes on the boy. I’m pleased to have been the one to discover him.”

“I’m happy about it, too.” Derek, who seemed more relaxed than usual, but hardly inebriated, was watching Patrick with great affection.

The emotion snuggled around Christina’s heart.

“And I’ll tell you this.” Patrick leaned an elbow on the table, pointing a finger in the air, glasses slipping down on his nose. “He’ll own the world in two years, give or take.”

Lacey adjusted her husband’s glasses, then caressed his cheek.

Mama balanced her arms on the table. “My Christina is quite the winner, as well. Did you know that she made the dean’s list every year in college? And that she’s received numerous awards from her employers?”

“I did,” Patrick said, winking at Christina.

She flashed a smile back.

“Did you know,” he added, “that Derek closed on one of the biggest business deals in New York history?”

“He’s exaggerating,” Derek said.

“Bigger than Donald Trump?” Jose asked, impressed.

Patrick looked secretive. “Let’s just say Trump doesn’t always work alone.”

Papa gaped at Derek. He watched The Apprentice way too much.

“Bueno,” Mama said, “but Christina won a big jogging marathon in L. A.”

“Oh, stop,” Christina said, laughing, even though she was embarrassed.

“We’re so proud of both of you.” Mama held a hand over her heart. “You two, with your ambition and drive, match each other in so many ways.”

Ay.

Christina could sense Derek’s gaze on her. But she wasn’t going to look. One glance would break her down.

Don’t do it, she thought. Don’t…

She did.

Christina’s blood started bubbling, fired up from the spark of their eye contact.

He was lifting an eyebrow, his grin indicating that he wasn’t at all offended by her mother’s runaway mouth.

Maybe he was even interested…

Nah. A relationship with Derek Rockwell? It could never work. And based on Christina’s experience with bosses, she wasn’t even willing to give it a chance.

Too bad, because with the way she was feeling tonight—after such a successful day—she was somewhat out of her mind, temporarily brave, willing to step out of her personal-space bubble and take a risk.

When Patrick started agreeing with Mama about the whole “perfect match” thing, Lacey whipped out her napkin and covered his mouth with it, wiping away the remnants of dinner.

“This one’s got to catch his jet to New York in the morning,” she said. “I think it’s time to tuck him in to bed.”

“Ooh la la,” said Christina, the words slipping right out in the groove of the moment.

Everyone oohed and chuckled, causing Patrick to teasingly shake his finger at Christina.

Next thing they knew, Jose was noting that old people aren’t equipped to party like the young. And, besides, they were the only ones left in the restaurant.

Grudgingly, all of them stood. Dinner had come to an end.

Patrick settled the bill, and they all thanked him, making their way out the door. Then the Town Cars pulled up, waiting for them as they said their goodbyes, Mama hugging Derek like one of the family before the vehicles drove them away.

That left Christina all alone with the boss.

Away from the office.

Going back to her condo seemed like a social death to her. The night was too beautiful. The dinner had been too uplifting.

Why did it have to end? she thought, not wanting to face another quiet night.

“You going to get home all right?” Derek asked.

In his more casual clothes, he seemed less intimidating, more like a man she could approach and talk to—if she normally did that sort of thing.

Before she could think about what she was saying, the words tumbled out.

“Actually, I was thinking of getting a drink.”

He paused. “A drink?”

“Yeah.” Oh, boy, what had she done? He was going to pretend she hadn’t invited him anywhere, just as he’d done with that kiss. Ignoring the heat, the heavy breathing, the arduous contact of their bodies.

“I’m too hyper to go home,” she added.

“You’ve really loosened up.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair. What was next? A “Thanks, but no thanks”?

“I guess I’m still adrenalized. I only had one glass of wine all night, so it’s not like I’m out to get tanked.”

“Oh, I’m not saying you’re drunk.” He paused.

She steadied herself for the rejection. The hurt, just like she’d felt today in the office when she’d tried to compliment him about his performance.

“You have a place in mind?” he asked.

There was that grin again, aimed at her, ready to fire.

My, oh, my.

While her blood was busy pounding in her veins, she managed to nod. “There’s a great bar about a block away, also by the riverfront.”

“I’m game.”

There was a growl lurking just beneath his words. What had she invited?

Whatever it was, the threat of being exposed excited her.

Christina, girl, she thought. What are you doing?

Having fun, said a side that rarely emerged. Getting loose and enjoying life a little.

“Come on then.” She led the way, flashing him a shy smile.

And he followed, just as she’d hoped he would.

Chapter Seven

As Derek and Christina walked toward the riverfront bar, his mind kept reeling.

Ms. Mendoza, frosty business analyst, had invited him for a drink.

First a kiss and now…

What the hell was happening?

He could hear the place before they actually arrived. Salsa music, with its driving rhythm woven through with percussion, piano and bass, mixed with the night air.

Bandini’s. It almost looked like a shack floating on the San Antonio River, with red chile and white fairy lights shining over the low glow of fiery lanterns. Many of the rickety wooden seats were empty, but that was only because everyone was having a great time on the roomy, planked dance floor.

Christina, obviously moved by the steamy atmosphere, grabbed his hand and led him to the bar, where they each took a stool and ordered drinks. A margarita for her, a longneck beer flavored with lime for him.

Then they drank and watched the dancers: The women in their red dresses, gyrating, flirting. The men responding in a musical counterattack.

Leaning toward him, Christina spoke in his ear to be heard over the song. Her words tickled, warming him.

“See the couple in the upper right corner of the floor?”

Derek spied them, two particularly good dancers.

“They’re here every time I come,” she said. “Champions or something.”

Bending over to talk in her ear, Derek caught a whiff of her hair’s herbal fragrance, the perfume of her skin. He shuddered, getting used to taking her in.

“There are such things as salsa competitions?”

When she maneuvered her mouth near his ear again, he turned his head to accommodate her, but not soon enough. Her lips brushed his cheek, and she drew back, laughing at the unexpected contact.

Even though her mouth had left a burning imprint on his skin, he couldn’t help laughing, too, connected to her by the awkward, incidental touch. Back in the office, this would’ve been a big deal. But here, in a salsa bar with the moonlight and music, it was more of an icebreaker.

A peek into how happy they could make each other if they’d both let down their defenses for a night.

And that’s all it’d be, he told himself. A night.

Never anything more.

She tried again to speak into his ear, this time bracing a hand on his shoulder. Her touch was light, enough to hammer his pulse.

“Competitions are what some of these people live for,” she said.

Before she could move away, Derek took a chance, cradled the back of her head with his hand, kept her in place. All he had to do was turn his face to speak into her ear.

Some of her hair had come loose during the course of the night. This time when he talked, his breath moved a few of those strands. They caressed his face, adding further heat to his yearning for this woman.

“You must come here a lot,” he said.

She didn’t move from their intimate pose. Encouraged, he trailed his fingertips from the back of her head to the side of her neck—casual, but not demanding. Once there, he rested his thumb in the moist dip separating her collarbone, his fingers coming to linger in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

He thought he heard her breath catch.

“I come by every so often,” she said. “I live close. And they serve good enchiladas here. Amazingly healthy.”

So she wasn’t a barfly. That was no surprise. But still, Derek could detect a loneliness similar to someone who sat drinking, waiting for a stranger’s company night after night.

He lightly coaxed his thumb up the center of her throat, and she swayed in her seat, anchoring an open hand on his thigh. Longing tightened his belly.

“Did you really bring me here for a drink, Christina?”

When she didn’t answer, he coasted his hand upward, using his thumb and forefinger to frame her chin. Guiding her face toward him, he met her gaze.

Hazel eyes, dark in the low, red light. Liquid in the way they were asking him to keep touching her.

He traced her full lower lip, entranced by its softness, and she closed her eyes.

This couldn’t be happening, Christina thought.

Sure, she’d invited him here, but she’d been warring with the don’t-do-it chiding of her common sense the entire way.

Now, as he caressed her mouth with his thumb, the long-dormant desire to be loved again crushed her barriers, told her it was all right to give in.

Just a little.

Hesitating, she parted her lips, allowed the tip of his thumb inside her mouth, where she sucked, then let him loose.

A sense of pure delight consumed her. Oh, that had been a bad-girl move. And it was addictive.

But she shouldn’t go any further, not even an inch more.

The seductive gesture had Derek reaching out with his free hand to take a fistful of her skirt.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he asked.

Encouraging you to kiss me again, she thought. And to have you admit that you want me this time.

A slow, sexy song came on, the volume waning, the pace of the dancing slowing to a hush. Waves of motion from undulating bodies both calmed the room and turned up the temperature at the same time.

The feverish heat was getting to her. That had to be it. Why else would she be asking herself if she could manage to get back at him—even a little—for rejecting her?

At the same time, why shouldn’t she be the kind of woman who danced under the spell of salsa, just as she’d wanted to for so many late, quiet nights while she’d sat at a corner table eating dinner and watching all the couples?

Holding her breath, Christina pulled Derek off his stool. He followed her to the floor.

She turned to him and started a more deliberate version of the dance she’d been doing last night in the deserted conference room, right before the kiss. Swirling her hips, shoulders. Smiling at the freedom of losing herself in the seductive tempo.

Through her eyelashes, she saw him standing there, watching, an obvious hunger building up in the clench of his fists, the quickened pace of his breathing.

Tell me you don’t want to kiss me again, she thought.

Taking both of his hands, Christina imitated what she’d seen the dancers do a thousand times, arranging his palms on her waist, then sliding them down to her hips.

Oh, this felt right. And it would never have to be mentioned again between them. Not if she stopped in a few more decadent seconds.

But that’s clearly not what he had in mind.

With a ruthless grin, Derek took over, pulling her flush against his body, letting her feel his arousal, the wicked effect she had on him.

As she opened her mouth, he eased his palms from her hips downward, smoothing over her rear end. Then, with a semirough thrust upward, he pressed her into him.

Time to stop now? asked her brain.

Hell, no, said her traitorous body.

Eyes wide, she bit her lip, locking gazes with him, doubting the wisdom of what she’d conjured in Derek. She’d gone too far, hadn’t she?

Not that she was really regretting it. But she should be.

Really. She should be.

But, somehow, she wasn’t.

He leaned down, mouth to her ear, to talk over the music. Every warm word drained more strength from her.

“I’m tired of ignoring what’s going on between us,” he said. “It’s there, like it or not.”

Game over. She’d proven her point, right? He was primed for a kiss—and more.

It would be smart to walk away now, get back to the land of personal bubbles and private spaces.

While she was arguing with herself, his hands traveled up the lines of her back, melding her to him. He positioned one palm on her hip, while the other hand held her fingers.

A more traditional slow dance style.

Christina’s blood gave a za-room! Fluid electricity flashed through her veins, numbing her to any thought of leaving.

But she didn’t want to anyway. Didn’t want to stop what she’d started.

How long had it been since she’d last felt like a woman?

Too long. And she didn’t want to give it up.

For a full minute, they ignored the music, moving in time to their own sensuous song. Gradually, she nestled closer to him, lost in the found comfort of his arms.

“Have you ever had an affair with a co-worker, Christina?” His voice was hoarse, graveled.

“Not an affair.”

Would one night with Derek qualify? Would it get her in as much trouble as the rumor of sex had with William Dugan? Granted, she’d been innocent in that scenario, but…

Was being with the boss a wise move?

Did she even care at this point?

And what about that dating bet she had with her sisters, the one that was based on men being nothing but trouble?

If she stole a teeny bit of breathless serenity from Derek for just one night, would it matter? Would she lose for winning?

“What did you have if it wasn’t an affair?” he asked, words stirring aside her hair.

With her free hand, she rubbed up and down his biceps, testing, enjoying.

“It was nothing,” she said, not wanting to remember Dugan.

Then, proving to herself that she could carry on with a normal love life, even after what her old boss had put her through, she ran her hand upward, spanning the back of Derek’s head, drawing him down to her lips once again and taking control of the situation.

Her choice this time. Not Dugan’s. Not Rebecca Waters’s.

This kiss was softer than the last one, a lazy, searing promise of what could be.

So good. Salt, lime and beer.

With building passion, Derek increased the pressure, parting her lips with his tongue, meeting hers with easy strokes.

They’d stopped pretending to dance altogether, unable to help themselves. She was getting dizzier, each step convincing her more and more that she could get away with one full night of bad judgment.

But then a new song came on, fast, loud, frenzied.

As a whole, the crowd cheered, whipped into a flurry of motion.

The two of them merely came up for air, lips still poised against each other as they struggled to breathe.

Then she stood on her toes again, snuggled her mouth against his ear.

“What would happen if you came home with me?”

Du-du-du-duuuuuh.

She couldn’t even believe she’d said it.

“You know the answer, Christina. Think about what you’re asking for.”

She had. Believe it.

And even though she knew this was wrong, she wanted him. Body and soul, this would sustain her. Maybe even change her life.

As an answer, she snuggled against his chest, unwilling to give him up for principles.

That’s when he grabbed Christina’s hand, made quick work of paying the bartender and brought her outside.

From there, she guided him to her condo, which was only minutes away.

It wasn’t long before she was fumbling with her keys and crashing open her door.

This was muy loco. Yet good. Oh, very good.

But it’d been so long, she thought, practically yanking Derek inside her home, stumbling backward as the weight of him crashed into her.

“Whoa,” he said, regaining his balance, holding her against his chest as he braced a hand against the tiles of her foyer wall.

With the other hand, he shut the door, the sound making her realize that the way back to yesterday was sealed off.

Whenever they looked at each other in the office from now on, they’d know. Their bodies would no longer be secrets. Their souls would be laid bare tonight.

And Christina was ready for it.

She started to unbutton his shirt, fingers trembling.

Would she remember how to have sex? Would she be terrible at it? After all, her last boyfriend had been Carson, and that was five, long, pathetic years ago.

Derek laughed low in his throat, the mirth rumbling through his chest under her hands.

“Wait, sweetheart, wait.” He shifted position, backing her against the wall to stare up at him.

See, she’d already done something wrong. Too eager.

Ease up.

“I just want to…” He hesitated, then touched her hair.

A drift of moonlight from the windows revealed a look of tender longing on his face.

Or was she projecting what she felt onto him?

Slowly, he undid the clip holding up her chignon. As her hair unfurled to her shoulders, he dug his fingers into it, playing with the strands, leaning forward to take in the scent of it.

“You never wear it down,” he said. “Drives me ape because I’ve always wondered what it looks like.”

As he nuzzled against her neck, Christina sunk into him, wanting to feel herself against his hard body.

Tentatively, she started to unbutton his shirt again, delving her hands under the material, grooving her fingers into the muscled ridges of his abs, his ribs. Gliding her hands upward, thumbs catching the crests of his nipples, she circled over them until he groaned.

Shivering, she reveled in the power.

She could turn a man on.

Derek caught her lips with his, his hands roaming her hair, her neck, her shoulders.

When they stroked downward to cup her breasts, Christina leaned her head back, thrilling to the play of his fingers, the sensitivity of her arousal.

“You’re melting,” he said teasingly, talking against her throat. “The first day you walked into my office, I wanted to do so many things to you…”

“Like what?” she whispered, stimulated by the thought of him fantasizing about her.

Just as she had about him, night after night.

He reached around to the back of her dress and, as he undid it, the zipper sounded like a descent of sorts.

Her fall from the throne of an ice queen.

“Like this.” He eased the material away from her shoulders, kissing her skin in the wake of it, grabbing a hold of one bra strap with his teeth and leading it down her arm.

He inserted a thumb beneath the other strap, stripping it off, also. The black lace seemed to disappear as he then unhooked the bra.

That left her standing there, knees weak, breasts exposed to the night air. To his gaze.

With maddening care, he licked at one nipple, drew around it with his tongue. Then he surged forward, taking it into his mouth to suck on it. He paid close attention to the other one, too, cupping her breast in his palm, kneading it gently.

Arching up to meet him, Christina worked his shirt off, craving the feel of his skin, which was damp with a thin sheen of sweat by now. She ran her nails over his back, moving her hips in time to the laving of his tongue.

A humid steam was building up in her, making her ache and grow more restless. She wiggled her hips, sliding down the wall a fraction, unable to stand on her own anymore.

He laid her down on the lush carpet, kissing his way down her stomach, tugging at her dress, turning his body sideways so he could coax the linen over her legs and strappy shoes.

Stroking her lower belly, he glanced up, a wild gleam in his dark eyes. She gave a frustrated little cry, his hands so close to where she really wanted them to be.

“And what else did you want to do to me?” She was panting, hardly even sounding like her normal self.

He caressed the length of one of her legs, then parted them so she was open for him.

Bending down to her kneecap, he spoke against it. “I want to turn you to water.”

Por favor. Please, please, please do.

Trailing his mouth up her inner thigh, he nipped his way to the center of her.

On the edge and even somewhat anxious, Christina shifted. She’d positioned her arms over her head, seeking something to grab onto. As she found a wrought-iron table leg, she held on for dear life.

He’d moved his body between her legs, maneuvering one over his bare shoulder, causing her pump’s heel to scratch against his back.

“My shoes…”

“No,” he said, rubbing his clean-shaven cheek against her thigh, “leave them on.”

Part of his fantasy?

Then he nudged the center of her, her panties wet, telling him how ready she was. Gasping at the contact, Christina lifted her back off the carpet to meet his mouth.

While he loved her through the lace, she rocked with every kiss, her breath coming in tiny pants.

One of her hands came to rest over her eyes, the other clutching the table leg. She could hear the terra-cotta plant vase on top of the table jerking back and forth with her exertions. Without really knowing what she was saying, a stream of Spanish words tumbled out of her mouth.

Faintly, she was aware of him removing her underwear. She was too busy climbing to greater heights to notice much else.

Her vision was caving in, swirled with the red of salsa lights, the sparkle of water under a night sky. Stars pulsated, coming in and out of focus.

Boom. Ba-boom.

As he increased the pace of his intimate kisses, her heart almost fluttered apart, almost disconnected into pieces that would be floated away by her simmering blood.

“Derek,” she said, not really intending to say anything. Not knowing what to say. “Oh…”

The stars in her blurred sight winked, beating in a chaotic frenzy. Flashing. Bursting. Showering all over the sky and dropping to water with the hiss of a beautiful death.

Lungs burning from her frantic efforts at breathing—or had she been holding her breath?—she clawed for air.

But Derek was unforgiving, gliding up her sweatslicked body, pressing his chest to hers, devouring her mouth in a famished kiss. Possessing her.

Catching his fever, Christina grappled with his belt, got it loose, undid his pants and got them off with his help. They managed to get a condom out of his wallet at the same time, then opened the wrapping.

He was hard against her leg. Greedily, she reached down, stroking the condom over him.

“There are so many things I want to do to you,” she said in a whisper.

“We’ve got lots of time until sunrise.”

As he looked down at her, his short brown hair ruffled by her fingers, sweat beading his forehead, Christina thought she detected a splinter of feeling in his eyes. A fleeting admission that they’d have to face more than carpet burn by the start of tomorrow’s work day.

He smoothed away a strand of wet hair that had stuck to her forehead, traced his thumb over her cheekbone. “You do something to me, Christina.”

For a moment, there were no more words. Just lulling caresses. Just the two of them.

Then he seemed to realize his honest admission and recovered with a slow grin.

The gesture caged her, reminded her of his abundant charm and all the doubts she’d had about it. His was the smile of a confirmed bachelor. A sidestep away from the emotion she’d seen on his face only a second before.

But they’d gone too far for it to matter. She’d made her decision to be with him and she’d have to deal with the consequences.

Because it’d sure been worth it so far.

Reaching down, he slid his fingers between her legs, opened her for him, then slipped inside of her, filling her up until she had to bite into his shoulder to ease the new, yet old, feeling.

He must’ve felt her tightness, because he paused.

But she took up where he left off, grinding against him, wanting more.

What started as a slow dance built into a faster, more intense tempo. Since she hadn’t yet come all the way down from her last orgasm—wouldn’t it be nice if she never did?—she was halfway to crying out his name already.

As he drove into her, she moved with him, needing to take him all in, to savor every second of this high-flying ecstasy.

In this new world, she shot back up to the stars, touching the sizzling core of them, becoming part of the light, basking in their glow.

Then she flew to another, and another, brushing too close to the heat, the burn, the sweet agony…

Downward again, back to earth, wings melted and—

Crash.

An explosion, tearing her apart.

As she embraced him, her skin prickled with heat, rivulets of sweat running to the floor. The weight of him made her dizzy but, still, she held him close.

Wondering what would happen when sunrise came.

Chapter Eight

Afterward, Derek tried to seem as unaffected as possible, removing her shoes and tickling her feet, carrying her to the bedroom so they could spend the rest of the night there.

Christina had just thrown him for a loop, that’s all. Come morning, she’d be out of his system. If they were lucky, Derek could even turn this experience to their advantage, erasing the tension between them, relaxing all the “what-ifs” and returning their main focus to business.

That’s what he told himself, at least, as he watched Christina snooze once again.

As with the other night in the office, she was sleeping the slumber of the innocent.

Earlier, she’d turned on a dim lamp at his request, allowing him to enjoy every inch of her beautiful body as they made love a second time. Now, with her dark hair spread over the pillow, her face smooth, her hands cupped near her chin, he could hardly believe this angel was the same woman he’d made love with an hour ago.

But, hell, it wasn’t much of a shock to Derek that she matched him in passion—he’d been banking on it.

In his experience, in fact, it was always the prim and proper types who turned up the most heat.

But not as much as Christina had.

The way she’d cried out his name…the way she’d bitten his shoulder during the throes of climax…

“So can we manage each other tomorrow?” he whispered now, skimming a finger down the elegant slope of her nose.

Her only answer was a deep inhalation, a satiated “Mmm” as she stirred and resumed her regular breathing pattern.

Truthfully, lingering in a woman’s bed was a new experience for him. Too bad he hadn’t explained his usual type of “date” to Christina before they’d come back to her place. When he’d promised to stay until sunrise, he hadn’t been thinking clearly.

Still, he didn’t feel all that compelled to leave just yet.

In all honesty, he could even sit here, listening to her sleep, until morning. There was something sublimely intimate about it, as if he were awake to protect her during the most vulnerable state of existence.

Guardian of her slumber, he thought.

Overcome, Derek bent down, gently nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers.

Okay, wait.

Derek backed away. Had he just been Eskimo-kissing a woman?

With a sneaking sense of doom, he moved to the other side of the bed.

The snuggle had been rash. He hadn’t meant it.

Especially since it was something Sir would’ve done, back when Mom was alive. Back when she’d been lying in that hospital bed when he’d finally come home from that dirt-poor Third World hole where he’d been stationed.

In fact, Sir had done the Eskimo kiss on Mom, avoiding all the tubes attached to her arms, leaning over her sleeping form, rubbing his nose against hers. At the same time, a tear had fallen from that hard bastard’s face and onto her pale skin.

“Please don’t die,” the old man had said in a softer version of his Southern-fried bark. “Stay.”

He obviously hadn’t known that Derek was awake and when he’d sensed his son’s awareness, there’d been hell to pay. Sir always needed to take out his disappointments on someone, and Derek was always pretty convenient for that.

Dammit, he thought, trying to brush away the memory. Wasn’t there a cigarette or something around here that could buzz the pain away?

Then again, he didn’t smoke. Too unhealthy. But maybe he should pick up the habit, just for moments like this.

At a loss, Derek fidgeted, wondering if slipping out of Christina’s bed without saying goodbye would be considered bad form.

She stirred, stretched. “Time for work?”

Her voice was no more than a slurred mumble. When he glanced at his lover, she resembled an awakening kitten, fuzzed by slumber and too much warm milk.

Here was his chance. He could thank her for a great night, explain his philosophy of noncommitment, then sweet-talk her into feeling good about herself anyway.

But he’d never encountered a Christina before. She wasn’t Lite. Wasn’t someone he could so easily lead or dismiss.

Derek didn’t stop to think about why that was.

“We still have hours left,” he said, wanting to touch her so badly, yet not daring to. “Go back to sleep.”

Coward.

“Want something to eat?” Christina struggled up, holding the sheet over her breasts, hair a cloud of dark brown silk.

“Only if you have potato chips,” he said, joking around. He knew full well that a health nut like her wouldn’t have any junk food on hand.

She looked guilty.

Laughing, Derek said, “You’re kidding. What’re you doing with bad eats in your house, Christina?”

“I didn’t say I had some.”

“You didn’t have to.” Quite naturally, he was back to feeling comfortable with her. “Be honest.”

“Oh, boy…” She leaned her head on the cushioned headboard and scrunched up her face in defeat. “I’ve got a few chips around. Just crumbs, though.”

“Really. So if I got out of bed and went to your cupboards…”

He made a move to do just that, and she grabbed his arm.

“All right, you caught me. I’m a food pig.”

An image of her slim, rosy-skinned body, coated by a silver veil of moonlit sweat, crashed over him. Hers was not the figure of someone who snacked on too much fatty grub.

“You could’ve fooled me,” he said, relaxing and sliding to a cozier position where he could lean on an elbow.

Hey, shouldn’t he be going? Wasn’t that what his conscience was telling him to do?

Now, it told him. Go go go—

Yet…he wasn’t moving.

At least, not in the way he should’ve been.

Instead, he found himself reaching out to her half of the sheet, lifting it to peek underneath.

She swatted it down, laughing. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying every moment.” Until what they had together needed to end.

Then he took a different tack, avoiding her reach by slipping his hand under an opening near her knee.

“Derek!”

Grabbing onto her, he squeezed, making her jump.

“Calm down,” he said.

“I’m calm.”

But she giggled, telling him she was nervous about something.

A bout of threatened tickling?

Probably not.

How things would work out in the office tomorrow?

More than likely.

He started to stroke her thigh. “Shhh. See, I mean no harm at all.”

“You? Derek Rockwell?” She settled down under his soothing caresses, raised an eyebrow. “I think your self-perception differs from that of everyone else’s.”

“Tell me then. What does the rest of the world think about me?”

As his hand crept higher, she slumped lower, her bones seeming to soften.

“About you? Well, I can only say what I think.”

“Go on.”

He massaged her upper thigh, and Christina closed her eyes, lost in his ministrations. Her blushed skin fascinated him, made him feel good about making her feel good.

“From what I’ve heard and the little I’ve seen,” she said, “you’re a heck of a businessman. Great instincts. Wonderful head for numbers. Calculating in the way you go after what you want.”

Calculating.

It sounded too much like someone else he knew—cold, precise, demanding.

“Is that how I come off?” he asked, trying to act like it didn’t matter.

“You don’t appreciate the description? People work for years to establish such a business reputation.”

Had he spent so much time trying to avoid being like his father that he’d accidentally morphed into him?

No. Sir had never indulged in a careless good time. Not with women, not with life. He wasn’t a risk taker.

Derek was his own man.

Taking his hand away from Christina’s thigh, he said, “I’m not just talking about my professional appearance.”

His voice had been too quiet. Great, why not bare all his fears to her?

Christina gauged him once again, sympathy in her gaze. She scooted over, coming face-to-face with him as she leaned her elbow on the mattress and rested her head in her palm, too.

“The truth?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Out of the office,” she said, “you’re just as fantastic.”

Derek tried to shut out the voices of the other women who’d cooed to him in bed. Somehow, he’d been born with the gift of knowing how to talk a smooth game, how to touch them in the right places and leave them happy.

But that was all superficial, because he had no idea how to truly love anyone.

And he was beginning to think that Christina deserved so much more.

Hesitantly, she brushed her fingertips against his upper chest, playing with a few hairs.

“You don’t have to answer this, but…” She paused, smiled. “I’m just curious about a superstar like you. Does a tycoon generally have time for girlfriends?”

Here came the pillow talk. Was she trying to get a feel for how far tonight would extend into their daily lives?

Since he’d failed to establish his boundaries with her before, now was as good a time as any to make the situation clear.

“I don’t have a lot of time for dating, no.”

“Me, either. I tell everyone I’m in love with my career.” Her laugh was forced. “Being good at corporate dealings sure makes it tough to put anything—or anyone—else first, doesn’t it?”

“You’re right.” She seemed to be doing all the work for him, laying down reasons for why this night would be their only one together.

While relief flooded him, regret did, also.

“So,” she asked, “have you ever had any time in your busy schedule to fall in love?”

Now was the time to tell her.

“Come to think of it, I’ve never told a woman I’ve loved her.”

He’d meant it to sound like a gentle warning, but instead, the confession shook him to the core.

Even Christina’s eyes told him how damned sad it was.

“Never?” she asked, as if giving him a chance to amend his answer.

“Never. I don’t do well in relationships.”

“Oh.” She removed her hand from his chest, laid it on the mattress.

Already he missed the contact.

After a pause, something seemed to kick in with Christina, a realization.

When she shrugged good-naturedly, Derek lost hope, lost the fleeting thought that maybe a woman like Christina would have the power to turn him around.

Right.

“Actually,” she said, “I don’t do so well, either. In relationships, I mean. I guess I’ve always been too driven to put a lot of effort into men, much to Mama’s dissatisfaction.”

Derek wished he still had a mother who was alive enough to give her opinions about his lack-of-love life. “You’re telling me that guys aren’t beating down your door?”

She seemed taken aback. “Of course not.”

Huh? Didn’t she know what a knockout she was? Or was Christina Mendoza one of those women who couldn’t believe the best about themselves?

Inconceivable.

He wanted to tell her that any man would be fortunate to win her love. That she should have confidence in what a great catch she was.

But he could hardly say those things when he wasn’t willing to go any further with her.

“Hey.” He ran a forefinger under her chin, flicking it, flirting. “I feel lucky to be with you tonight.”

It was the best he could do without seeming like a fraud.

“Thank you,” she said, brightening a bit.

They both smiled at each other, and she went back to touching his chest.

That was better.

“I could live with your compliments,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “It’s an improvement over being called ‘cold’ or ‘removed.’”

Derek frowned. “Someone said that to you?”

“Oh, my first real boyfriend, actually. I was a late bloomer, always more into my books than I was boys, so I didn’t really begin a social life until college.”

“Don’t worry. This fellow Army brat I knew when I was a kid acted the same way. And he was a guy. In high school, he took this personal oath that’d he’d make love only with the woman he married. That, of course, changed during his freshman year of college, but you’re not alone, Christina.”

“Good to hear.” She crept closer to him, inserting a long leg between his own. “I never really minded my atypical dating behavior. As Mama always said, I was too independent to care—and too shy. Besides, I got my kicks from good grades and academic competitions, not sorority socials.”

Derek absently ran his knuckles over her arm, watching the fine hairs rise off her skin. “And when did that end?”

“Sophomore year. The first bloom of amour.”

“Young love,” he said, sort of wishing he had a story or two to tell her.

No chance of that. Derek had spent the tender years of dating in much the same way as he had his adult life—short, to the point, then bye-bye. In truth, he’d moved to so many Army bases that Derek hadn’t been given the opportunity to develop many relationships, but that wasn’t much of an excuse.

“Well, my love story doesn’t exactly have a happy ending,” she said. “My boyfriend got frustrated with me and my ambitions after a mere two months, then told me that—let’s all say it together—I was…”

She tapped Derek’s collarbone while she said the words. “Too cold and devoted to my work.”

He wasn’t about to tell her that he’d had the same impression until recently.

“After that,” she continued, tone studiously flippant, “I went into Christina World, where it was all about moving up the ladder of success.”

“And you did pretty damned well.”

She didn’t respond, only bit her lip.

To get her attention again, Derek tugged at the sheet, exposing the swell of her breasts. The sight was like a punch to his gut.

But a nice one.

“So he was your only boyfriend?” he asked. “Ever?”

“Seriously?” She swallowed as he pulled the sheet all the way down to her waist. “There was one more. Didn’t end well, either. Lots of misunderstandings, because I thought he was more into my sister Gloria than me.”

“Then he’s a fool.” Derek’s voice was choked with lust as he scanned her body—the small, but full breasts. The tiny waist and flat belly. The slender, toned hips. The endless runner’s legs.

He must be a fool, too, he thought.

Probably able to read every wolfish thought in his mind and body, she casually covered herself with her hands. When she spoke, her voice was resigned, yet not unhappy.

“I’ve learned a lot of lessons from those fools, Derek. When I was younger, I had so many pure ideals that I clung to—things I was taught by my family, my community. Then I got older, and waiting for love didn’t seem to make much sense anymore. I don’t expect much from men now.”

He averted his gaze from her, thinking he was a letch for wanting to love her again after her frank admission.

“As a matter of fact,” she added, laughing a little, “I’ve got a bet going with my sisters. None of us is supposed to date for a whole year. I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”

He could detect the question in her words: had she lost the bet by being with him?

As he was thinking about the answer, she sighed, came to rest against him, body-to-body, holding him to her.

“But this definitely does not count,” she said, “me and you being together for one night. I’m off the hook if you don’t spread the word.”

A thread of relief snapped inside of him but, at the same time, he couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

So she’d never expected more of him than this, he thought. A one-time fling. Christina was as obsessed with business as he was, and their tryst wasn’t anything more than it seemed.

She’d gone to great lengths to explain this.

“You promised me the sunrise,” she whispered, then pressed her lips to his neck, kissing her way downward.

And he took Christina’s loving for what it was worth: a single night of sheer bliss.

She woke up alone the next morning to the ding of her doorbell.

Groggy from lack of sleep, Christina practically rolled out of bed, wincing at the soreness of muscles she hadn’t used in years.

After blinking herself awake and glancing at the clock—shoot, she’d forgotten to set her alarm and it was a half hour after her usual reporting time—Christina absorbed the sight of her rumpled bed.

The evidence of Derek having slept there last night.

The word sleep being debatable, of course.

Was he still here in the condo somewhere?

Two more dings echoed through the air. Maybe it was Derek?

Christina smiled, a false sense of modesty causing her to grab a white terry-cloth housecoat, then stumble to the door.

Their sex-a-thon must have made him as famished as she was. Maybe he’d decided to surprise her with coffee and hot buttered corn tortillas from the café next door?

And to think she’d believed that she’d scared him off for a minute there last night. When he’d asked about old boyfriends, she’d only wanted to make light of her very thin book of love. Had wanted to put Derek at ease, since he’d seemed so out of sorts, slumped against the headrest on his side of the bed.

But she’d also wanted to test the waters, she supposed, dancing around the subject of relationships. Seeing if one could possibly be in the cards for them.

Then she’d started thinking that bringing him home had been a mistake. And that’s when she’d told him about the bet.

As she’d hoped, the mention of it had relaxed him, brought them back to the lighthearted lovemaking she’d relished earlier in the night.

In the end, part of her celebrated the fact that he’d wanted her passionately and that the rejected kiss hadn’t been any indication of her unattractiveness.

His body had told her just how beautiful she was.

Still, another part of her wondered why she wasn’t enough woman to keep him for more than a night.

The bell dinged three times.

But maybe he was here right now, asking to come back in.

Trying not to seem too excited, Christina whipped open the door, letting in the early-morning light.

And there stood Mama with her new friend, Edith.

“Rise and shine!” she said, bustling past her daughter while dragging Edith in behind her. “We were having breakfast at La Tapatia down the street when we decided to catch you before you went in to work.”

Sure. And the sky was actually made of blue cotton candy.

At least Derek wasn’t here. That would’ve been a definite nightmare, not to mention a slight technicality as far as the bet with her sisters went. But she and Derek weren’t really dating. Not if his quick disappearing act had anything to do with it.

“I invited Maria to dine with me this morning,” Edith said, as if the excuse were scripted.

A thin, nervous woman with black hair, she worked at Fortune-Rockwell as a broker’s assistant. About a month ago, Patrick had suggested that Edith check out Mama’s knitting store in Red Rock, seeing as his employee was an avid craftswoman herself. She and Mama had hit it off, scheduling breakfast every week in San Antonio.

They’d just never stopped by Christina’s apartment before.

“Welcome, Edith,” Christina said, not wanting to be rude. “Something to drink?”

She’d just stay later at work to make up for the time she was away from it now.

“No, we are all coffee-ed out,” Mama said. “I wanted Edith to see your pretty place, is all.”

With that, she started to play tour guide, pointing out Christina’s Southwestern flair for decorating, the wooden statues of saints, the Mexican pottery and frozen sun motif in the pictures and sculptures.

In the meantime, Christina waited, highly suspicious of this visit.

Her worst fears were realized after Mama’s token five-minute excursion had ended.

“You had some fine times last night,” she said, Edith following quietly in her shadow. “How did everything turn out, mi hija?”

“Whatever do you mean, Mama?” Christina widened her eyes at her mother in exasperation.

“I mean you and Derek were the only ones left after dinner.”

Even Edith seemed interested. But of course she was. As sweet as she seemed, she was one of the biggest gossips at Fortune-Rockwell. Luckily, Christina had managed to avoid the yap-yap trap so far, thank goodness.

“What?” Christina said. “Two grown people can’t stand on a sidewalk together at night?”

“You do not like him?” Mama asked. “I do. For my bookish daughter, it will take an aggressive man to pull her out of that shell she is in.”

“Maybe your judgment was affected by too many drinks?” Christina asked.

“What a way to talk to your Mama.” The matron patted her dark, gray-streaked hair in patent pride. “Besides, I can hold my liquor.”

Edith piped up. “Derek is a favorite with all the ladies, so I’m not surprised you like him, Christina.”

Newsflash: Women liked Derek. Details at eleven.

“Oh, yes,” Mama said. “Patrick has mentioned the parties and the socialites in New York. But we can all turn over a new leaf. Besides, he is muy guapo, yes, Christina?”

Something Derek had said last night about never falling in love came back to haunt Christina’s doubts.

“He’s a womanizer, all right,” Edith added, “but you just can’t help adoring the man. It’s like his smile’s a hook and, if you don’t want to get caught, you’d better get out of the way when he flashes it. All the women in administration talk about his cute butt.”

“How many of those women has he dated?” asked Mama, all territorial-like.

Good, because Christina was wondering the same thing.

“Oh, he doesn’t date in the office. Not as far as I know, anyway. If he does, he keeps it quiet.”

Gulp. Was that what Christina had been? A secret that would be notched in his memory?

Her heart sank. She’d made a mistake, hadn’t she? What had she been thinking by sleeping with her boss in a moment of mind-scrambled yearning?

Hadn’t she learned anything from the past about how sex and business can’t mix?

What would she do if things fell apart at the office?

Dumb, dumb, dumb.

“Excuse me,” she said to Mama and Edith. “I’ve got to get ready for work. And for the last time, I’m not interested in Rockwell. Do you understand?”

Mama sighed, resigned. “Then we’ll be going.”

She came over to squeeze Christina, reemphasizing to her daughter that there would always be family.

Even if business failed.

After Edith said her farewells, they left Christina to a quick shower.

That’s when her mind started to whir.

He’s a womanizer, all right. His smile’s a hook.

And he hadn’t been in bed to greet her this morning.

Dios, maybe Derek Rockwell was even laughing at his desk right now, congratulating himself on conquering the office ice queen.

She’d taken a chance with a man who’d made no promises to her. All of the blame for her discomfort rested on her shoulders, and that made her so very angry.

Angry at herself for losing her head.

No more. From now on, it was business only. Even if his words were charming. Even if she couldn’t forget how his kisses branded her, revealing her passion, restoring her confidence, just for a night.

She had to take control of the situation now.

As Christina left her condo, her determination grew with every mile that closed between her and the office.

There was absolutely no way she’d allow her life to fall apart because of a boss again.

Because once had been enough.

Chapter Nine

At sunrise, Derek had quietly gone straight from Christina’s condo to his place near the river. There, he’d prepared his rowing equipment and taken out his frustrations on the misty water, slicing through it, obliterating it with each dip of his oars.

But he hadn’t exorcised his demons.

In fact, he’d been even angrier at himself after he’d showered and come into work before most people had even finished their morning cup of coffee.

As he paced his office floor while trying to read a financial report, questions kept running through Derek’s head.

Why hadn’t he stayed with Christina until she’d woken up? Or why hadn’t he even left her a note?

Maybe it was because of how the dawn had bathed Christina’s body as he’d awakened. Or maybe it was because of how her gorgeous, turn-your-heart-upside-down face looked, so peaceful and happy.

When he’d laid eyes on her first thing this morning, emotions he couldn’t identify—didn’t want to identify—had attacked him, taken him down like lightning slamming into a tree.

And Derek had panicked, remembering the bet Christina had talked about.

The one that told him he was expendable.

Confused and rattled, he’d left her to slumber, needing time to be away from the temptation of her.

Needing time to get it together.

He was still in the process of doing just that when she showed up in his office, an hour and a half late for work.

Not sure how to interact with her, Derek tossed the report on his desk. It gave him something to do, especially during this initial moment of morningafter awkwardness.

“I know,” she said, “I’m late. It won’t happen again.”

After coolly sauntering to a chair, she sat and crossed her legs. Her earth-colored skirt suit covered most of what Derek had enjoyed last night. And if that didn’t hint that things were definitely back to business as usual, her upswept hair practically shouted the message.

As did her aloof attitude.

First things first, he had to apologize for this morning, even though his mind told him it’d been the right way to handle this delicate situation.

“Christina, before the rest of the team gets here, I want to—”

She held up a hand, silencing him, shooting him a detached smile. “That isn’t necessary. What happened last night, stays in last night. Know what I mean?”

A slap in the face would’ve been more comforting. At least, then, he would have known that she cared.

“I’m going to have a hard time forgetting about our time together,” he said.

Dammit, that hadn’t been the right combination of words at all.

“You…what?” she asked. “I thought…”

She stood from the chair, calmly walking toward his attached suite.

When she saw that he wasn’t following her, she made a subtle motion with her hand.

Come in here.

Might as well get this over with.

She led him to his walk-in closet, then waited in front of a row of hanging suits, arms crossed over her chest.

As soon as Derek entered, Christina explained her rules, words tinged with a thick, emotional Spanish accent.

“To be clear, last night can be filed under the category of Unmentionable. It was a mistake. A momentary loss of brain power.”

It was as if a blast of freezing air had whisked through Derek’s body.

How could she be so cold about what they’d shared?

Or had their connection—the touching of two lost people—been completely one-sided?

Hell, no. She’d returned every kiss, measure for measure. Derek hadn’t been imagining it.

“A mistake?” he asked. “You know better, Christina.”

She bunched her fists, but was still collected. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, and you…Even you don’t fish in the office pool.”

“True. But even though this makes business somewhat more challenging, we didn’t make a mistake.”

After he said it, he realized it was the truth. He wouldn’t take back their lovemaking for anything.

How could she not feel the same way?

Now his dander was up. “Do you want to pretend nothing ever happened?”

He thought he saw a burst of pain in her gaze.

“That would be a good idea,” she said. “We could go back to square one and—”

Without thinking, he stepped closer to her. In reaction, she backed up, hangers clanging as she mashed into his suits.

Her reaction baffled him. “Christina…?”

What was going on? On the one hand, she was watching him with the same look he’d seen last night: eyes soft and willing, lips parted.

But then again, she had a hand in front of her chest, palm out, as if posting a barrier between them.

“This is not a good idea,” she whispered.

She hadn’t told him to get lost. Hadn’t told him that he was overstepping his bounds.

Were her words more of a warning to herself than to him?

Slowly, he took her hand, massaged it with his thumb, gentling her.

“Just tell me you still need me,” he said.

“I will not.”

Her breath was coming in tiny gasps as she stared at the floor. But she hadn’t told him to stop touching her. The minute she did, he’d back away, give up, admit that last night had been the world’s biggest error.

Encouraged, he turned up the steam, using his other hand to caress the underside of her jaw.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and her hand started to tremble.

“Tell me last night was no fluke, Christina.”

“I won’t do that.”

And she meant it, she thought. Their time together had changed everything—office dynamics, the way she saw the world.

The way she saw herself.

It hadn’t been a negative experience. Dios, in fact, Christina wanted much, much more. Her body craved him as if he were a forbidden opiate, one that made her feel sexy, dreamy, content.

Even now, as his fingertips danced over her throat, warming her deep inside, she wanted to cast aside all her doubts and promises from this morning. Wanted to tear off both of their clothes so they could meld together again.

“Derek…” she said, trying to put him off, but knowing her heart wasn’t in it.

He must have taken his whispered name as an invitation, because he pressed his lips against her forehead. A red-hot, moist sear of possession, marking her.

“Say it, Christina.” He spoke against her skin, just as he’d done last night against her knee, her thighs.

The memory of their joining tore her apart: the building tension, blinding heat, shuddering ecstasy.

He’d owned her, body and soul. But at this moment, the two halves were warring with each other for dominance.

Her body said: Derek wants Christina, and Christina wants Derek. Why fight it?

But this isn’t based on any real emotion, said her soul. It won’t ever be love.

Then her brain kicked in, reminding her of Edith’s words this morning: he’s just a womanizer.

And she’d allowed him to be one by inviting him into her bedroom.

Why did all those mixed thoughts have to remind her of William Dugan and the trouble he’d caused her?

As Derek cupped her face in his hands, brushing her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, Christina gathered all her strength.

All her experience.

“It was a mistake,” she repeated, latching onto his hands with her own, removing them from her skin.

Obviously frustrated, he clenched his jaw.

Cold air took the place of his touch on her skin, but Christina told herself she didn’t mind. She was doing what was right. Protecting herself in so many ways he’d never understand.

He backed up, clearing the way for her to leave the wardrobe area ahead of him.

“I won’t mention it again,” he said stiffly.

With every step she took away from him, her heart cracked a little, like ice forming over what was once fluid and open.

And, when she reached the office and took a seat, waiting for the team to arrive, she couldn’t help feeling as if she’d returned to a throne.

Whether she wanted it or not, the ice queen was back.

By lunchtime, Twyla was crying.

Dammit, Derek hadn’t meant to bring her to the point of tears. But she’d been so busy being precious, making an impression on their two additional team members—Adam and Ben—that she was failing to concentrate. To brainstorm different components of a “creative room” where employees could go to relax and reenergize at the same time.

“Twyla,” he’d said to the blonde after the third time she’d made an irrelevant comment while dimpling at the male team members, “stop messing around and earn your paycheck.”

Right off the bat, he knew she’d been more embarrassed than anything else. But it’d taken a few seconds for her tears to drop from her face, down to the notepad paper she’d come to stare at.

“Aw, jeez,” he’d said, ticked at himself.

Maybe he’d still been stinging from Christina’s rejection this morning and that was reflected in the demands he was putting on the team. But one thing he knew for certain was that they were going to produce another fabulous presentation, come hell, high water or even Twyla’s tears.

Her flirting would only distract them.

With a chastising glance at Derek—yeah, he deserved it for being so snappish—Christina had led an upset Twyla into the wardrobe suite.

The place seemed to be a hot spot for controversy today.

As the males—the returning Jonathan and Seth, plus the two new guys—all sat around and cleared their throats, Derek was thankful that he and Christina were still able to work well together.

Yes, they were civil and productive. But simmering underneath every verbal exchange, every glance, was the knowledge that he’d been inside her. That he’d explored every inch of her body.

Good God, it was hard to keep his mind on anything else.

After a few minutes, Christina and Twyla reemerged, the young assistant much too reserved.

Had Christina seconded Derek’s opinions about keeping the flirting out of the office?

Damn, he felt like a hypocrite. And to make matters worse, his act of wounding Twyla brought back bitter memories of his father and what he used to do to Mom and Derek with his verbal abuse.

Well, Sir and his harshly precise lifestyle could go to the big military base down below, for all Derek was concerned.

Maybe the old man had even ended up there.

“I think this is a good time to break for lunch,” Derek said.

“I’m heading for the cafeteria,” Twyla said much too quickly.

Without wasting a second, she darted out of the room, followed by the guys.

As Christina gathered some papers, Derek couldn’t help thinking she was staying behind for a good reason.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Let me have it.”

Pausing, she glanced up at him, all traces of the passionate woman he’d known last night gone.

“Twyla’s still inexperienced and kind of hormonal, but she’s a good worker. She didn’t mean to put a kink in your well-oiled machine of corporate progress.”

Why was there an echo beneath every one of her words?

We made a mistake, a mistake, a mistake…

“I need everyone on track,” he said, ignoring the reminders.

She finished putting away her papers. “Why? Do you have something to prove?”

“To who?”

He came around to the front of his desk, his body vibrating like a damned divining rod in her presence.

She put her hands on her hips, as if girding herself against him. “Jack, that’s who. Just because you two are vying for the position of Number One Son with Patrick, don’t drag the rest of us into it.”

“That’s bull,” he said, knowing she was all too right.

“Is it?”

He really didn’t need a lecture, especially from a woman who’d messed with his mind enough already.

Needing a breather, he walked past her. “I’m going to put some diesel into my engine.”

And he was out the door before she could say anything else.

Fine timing. Not only could he escape the frustrating enigma that was Christina, but he could grab something to quench his dry mouth. And while he was there, he could even meet his apology quota for the day and say sorry to Twyla.

As he headed for the cafeteria via the elevator, he tried to keep his head from exploding.

Jack. The presentation. The maddening woman who’d turned his world topsy-turvy in the matter of a few days.

What had happened to the carefree life he’d shaped for himself?

After searching for the break area—this was only the second time he’d been there aside from a firstday tour given by Patrick—Derek asked directions from a female broker. She seemed stunned that he was talking to her.

Excellent. Nothing like being the boss everyone cringed from. He’d taken great pains in New York to avoid that sort of reputation, and he’d have to correct it.

When he got to the crowded lunchroom, he acclimated himself, remembering how the place was set up. Vending machines were located in a far alcove, where a few more tables waited, allowing some privacy for the workers.

Walking through the hamburger-and-grease-tainted room, he left a trail of hushed conversations in his wake, all the while searching for Twyla. When he stopped to ask a table of women if they’d seen her, they accommodated him by pointing to a room just behind the soda machines.

Efficient. He’d get his drink, then drop in to do a little employee maintenance.

As he deposited his coins into the slots, he heard whispers from the nearby tables, then a discussion from around the corner. Sounded like Twyla’s voice, but she was hidden by half of a wall, and Derek couldn’t be sure.

“…and then she told me that flirting in the office would get me in a sticky situation,” she said.

Definitely Twyla’s chirpy twang.

A male voice—Adam?—said, “If you ask me, I’d follow Christina’s advice. You just never know these days. As a guy, I’m scared to death to tell a harmless joke for fear that some woman’s going to jump all over my case. It could mean a sexual harassment suit.”

Derek’s ears perked up with interest.

“Oh, lighten up,” Twyla said. “When I smile at you during work hours, do you feel threatened? That’s all I was doing.”

Several male voices laughed and denied the danger to their manhood.

Derek knew he shouldn’t be here listening, but he was still trying to decide which drink he wanted. Water or Gatorade? Decisions, decisions.

Besides, they were talking about Christina. How could he not be lured by the subject?

“At any rate,” Twyla continued, “she’s the last one to talk. I heard through the grapevine that she was out with Derek last night. Out out, if you know what I mean.”

What? How did they…?

“Are you sure?” It sounded like Seth, a stalwart kid if Derek had ever met one. “Christina’s a pretty straight arrow. All business.”

“Oh, yeah.” Twyla laughed. “Edith Lavery was at Ms. Monkey Business’s condo this morning, and she thought something was brewing between our boss man and Christina. Something more than just flirting. I mean, how dare she lecture me about office etiquette when she boinks her way into jobs?”

Hoooold on. Enough was enough.

As the guys at the table responded by either questioning or protesting, Derek stepped around the corner to indeed find Twyla holding court in a near-empty alcove with a kitchen sink and refrigerator. Seth and Jonathan had already stood from their seats.

All of the crowd blanched when they spotted him.

“For the record,” Derek said, voice barely held in check, “Christina Mendoza is qualified beyond a doubt. And gossiping about your bosses in the building is probably not the wisest career move.”

“I…uh…” Twyla said.

“Stay here for a minute, Ms. Daraway. For the rest of you, take lunch somewhere else. And I suggest you come back to my office in forty-five minutes with your minds erased of idle gossip.”

“Yes, Mr. Rockwell,” the guys said, filing past him with lunch trays in hand.

As Seth and Jonathan walked out of the room, Derek nodded to them, knowing they weren’t the cancer in the group.

That left Twyla alone with him.

“Care to explain why you’d stab Christina—who’s only looked out for you from day one—in the back?” he asked.

“I didn’t mean anything by it.” Twyla’s face was red as she locked her gaze on the table. “It’s just that I heard—”

“Do you realize what gossip could do to a career?”

Especially a woman’s, he thought, regretting that he’d inadvertently made this happen to Christina.

He was no stranger to the female mind. He knew how ruthless they could be when it came to taking each other down. Part of him couldn’t help wondering if Twyla was jealous of the rumored romance since she’d been trying to win him over herself.

“I didn’t realize…” she said, just about shriveling into her bright blue suit.

“This is the way it works,” Derek said. “We’re going to Personnel, and they’ll counsel you about spreading malicious gossip. It’ll be documented and serve as a warning.”

“But…”

“Listen, Twyla. Christina’s on your side. We both agree that you’re a strong employee, but we don’t play turncoat here at Fortune-Rockwell. You need to adjust your attitude if you want to be here for the long run.”

Drawing herself up, Twyla raised her chin. “I’ll stop. I promise, Mr. Rockwell.”

Should he believe her? As Christina had noted, this woman was still young and would make many mistakes in her career. Hell, he’d been the same way, even under Patrick’s guidance.

Truthfully, Twyla seemed to have the stuff of success in her, and maybe that would win out over her missteps.

Still, what she’d said about Christina made him want to stand up for his employee, to defend her.

But his outrage was purely professional, he told himself.

“On a personal note,” he said, anger boiling over once again, “I respect Ms. Mendoza more than you can imagine. She’s an amazing businesswoman, and she doesn’t deserve your pettiness.”

“I really am sorry.” And Twyla looked it, with her mouth turned down in a frown and her lashes batting furiously to keep back more tears. “I’ll apologize to Christina and tell everyone that the rumors aren’t true.”

“That’s a start,” he said.

As he waited for his employee to walk out of the room ahead of him, Derek finally chose water from the vending machine.

He’d need something to put out the flames he’d caused for Christina.

“She said what?” Christina asked, feeling the blood drain out of her skin.

Derek had dismissed the team to work on individual projects for the afternoon, asking his right-hand woman to stay behind. But she’d had no idea he was going to tell her about Twyla and her lethal gabbing.

Sitting her down on the leather couch—probably because it looked as if she were going to fall—Derek said, “Twyla was telling the guys about a rumor that’s going around. Your mom’s friend, Edith, has been talking.”

This wasn’t happening. Not again.

Years ago, Rebecca Waters had done the same thing to Christina. Had told the entire office that she was bringing sexual harassment charges against William Dugan for no good reason. That Christina had tried to seduce him and had become resentful when the married William had spurned her advances.

Derek glanced at his assistant who was planted just outside the door at her desk. He’d made sure Dora would be present during this entire talk, just so they wouldn’t be alone anymore, causing additional gossip.

“Twyla won’t do it again,” he said, “not after she realizes how serious this is. Personnel is taking care of that right now.”

“When I was twenty-four,” Christina said, “I wouldn’t have dreamed of talking that way about my boss. Do you think this was all an innocent error? Or does she have an agenda?”

When Derek didn’t answer right away, Christina shook her head, then asked, “Are we keeping Twyla on the team?”

“I’m leaving that up to you.”

After everything that had happened between them, it was nice to know that he still respected her judgment.

“She’s doing a bang-up job with the classes,” she said. “Taking her off that project would set us back.”

“Then maybe we can leave her with that and use the guys for the new phase. That’ll give Twyla the opportunity to show us she’s serious about making some amends.”

“Sounds like a good solution.”

But what was she going to do about Edith? The older woman couldn’t help herself when it came to flapping her jaws. Maybe Christina should invite her to breakfast tomorrow along with Mama, just to let them know how much damage had been done.

Derek was watching her, concern etched in the tiny crinkles near his eyes. His gaze had darkened, black as a deep cave that hid thousands of secrets.

Was he angry because his employees had misbehaved today?

Or…Christina didn’t even dare think it.

But she did. Was he enraged for her sake?

Something told her it was more personal than business, that he was offended for her. The realization warmed her frozen heart, made her feel protected, even though he was the one she needed to guard against.

“Christina,” he asked softly, “are you okay?”

“I’m just fine.” She couldn’t let him see how Twyla had reached in and stirred awake her worst fears.

“All right, then.” This was his cue to go back to his spot behind the desk, but he didn’t move. Instead, he reached one of his hands toward her, as if he wanted to touch her again.

Wounded by today’s events, Christina jerked back from him, eyes wide.

They both stared at each other, at a loss.

An eternal second later, she jolted out of her seat and gathered her materials. “I’ll be in my office.” Blocking out his response, she didn’t look back at him.

Because all she’d see was her past.

And all of her mistakes.

Chapter Ten

Christina managed to get through the rest of the week without more professional disasters.

Though the gossip hadn’t wrecked her career, it had made her a minor celebrity of sorts around the office. Wherever she went, gazes followed, and she knew what they were probably thinking: She’s sleeping her way to the top.

But no one ever came right out and said it, due to the way Derek had handled Twyla and Edith, whom he’d also sent to Personnel for counseling and paperwork.

In truth, many employees acted as if they hadn’t heard the gossip at all. A lot of them had even introduced themselves, thanking Christina for all her suggested company improvements. Thanking her for caring.

And, adding to the growing love train, Twyla had done her part by bringing Christina flowers while apologizing profusely for what she’d done.

As for the boss himself? Well, he’d taken to treating her like an official co-worker, never requesting one-on-one meetings without another person present. Never asking her to the corner café for lunch or dinner anymore.

There was definitely a professional distance between them, one Christina had encouraged herself.

But there were also moments that told her she hadn’t gotten far enough away from him.

During every meeting, when she’d inevitably give in to the lure of glancing at her sexy boss—just to tide herself over, naturally—she’d catch him watching her with a breath-stealing hunger in his eyes.

But it wasn’t anything more than lust, Christina told herself each time they’d lock gazes, then abruptly disconnect. By his own admission, Rockwell wasn’t capable of anything more.

When the weekend finally arrived, Christina made a valiant effort to put the office behind her. Unlike the first rushed presentation, the team had this one well in hand. They’d be sharing their “creative” and “recreational” room findings late next week and, unbelievably, they were ahead of schedule.

Which meant she was allowed to enjoy herself for now.

If she could remember how.

At the moment, she was trying to do so as she sat at a courtyard table in Papa’s restaurant, Red.

Relax, she thought, twisting a napkin in her hands.

Yes, twisting. Just like a heroine in a melodrama who was watching the mustachioed villain rip up the deed to her beloved land.

Realizing her failure to de-stress, Christina tossed the linen onto her lap and continued waiting for Gloria and Sierra to arrive for lunch. Papa had already been by to serve her a large, unsweetened glass of iced tea, garnished with a mint sprig and lemon, leaving her alone to listen to the burbling fountain as well as the never-ending Greek chorus of her conscience.

She wasn’t going to think about Fortune-Rockwell anymore, darn it.

Instead, she reminded herself of how lucky she was to be back in Red Rock. And in Red itself.

The restaurant was a converted two-story hacienda that had once been owned by a historically influential Spanish family. While the first floor was decorated like a cozy casa with thick, dark-wooded tables and chairs, low lighting, greenery, ceiling fans and terra-cotta tiles, the second was used for office space and storage.

Though the inside was comfortable, Christina far preferred the courtyard. With the red umbrellas covering pine tables and gaily hued paper lanterns strung around the perimeter, she couldn’t help but feel welcome here.

Just as Christina finally closed her eyes and permitted herself to do nothing for the afternoon, Gloria arrived, placing a hand over her sister’s mouth.

“Shhh,” she said. “Something’s going on.”

When Christina opened her eyes, Gloria removed her hand, pointing toward the ivy-strewn iron gates that offered a peek of the outside world.

She could barely see two people standing there, facing each other. Voices murmured, words unintelligible.

“It’s Sierra,” whispered Gloria. “And she’s with one of her buddies. Alex Calloway.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that name before. He’s a friend from college, right? And she thinks he’s always on her case.”

“Si, Christina. You sound as suspicious as I am. Do you think he’s a good way for Sierra to lose our bet?”

The bet.

Christina gulped. She wasn’t going to say a word about losing it. Besides, she wasn’t involved with Derek. Never had been.

That meant she was still in the race. Right?

As Gloria sat down, the sun shining on her long, honey-light hair, Christina saw that she was wearing a smart white halter top and skirt with new earrings. Graceful dream catchers, woven with turquoise and fine strands of silver.

Her sister’s talent with jewelry choked Christina up a little. Yes, it was silly, to be emotionally moved by earrings. But this particular art had been Gloria’s saving grace, a therapeutic way of recovering from alcoholism during her time in rehab.

She was so proud of Gloria for beating her troubles.

As Christina basked in the feeling, they both tried to hear what Sierra and Alex were saying to each other. But there were only raised voices, then a parting of the ways as the couple cleared the gate.

Alex went one direction, Sierra the other.

It didn’t take long for their youngest sister to make her way to the table, a slight breeze knocking around the dark curls of her hair, the skirt of her pink sundress. She looked fresh, sweet, so baby-sisterish that Christina just wanted to protectively banish that frown marring her pretty face.

As they all hugged and kissed hello, Christina tried to ignore how out of place she felt in her conservative shorts and blouse. She was a soccer mom next to fashionable Gloria and lovely Sierra.

Think it’s time to loosen up? she thought.

After all, it’d felt pretty good the other night with Derek.

“Sierra, what’s wrong?” Gloria asked as they all took their seats again.

“Ohhhh.” Sierra growled in frustration. “That Alex. You’d think I’d broken into his home or something with the way he treats me.”

Christina and Gloria exchanged glances, knowing better.

“Are you caught up in his business?” Gloria asked.

“Of course not!” Sierra furrowed her brow, reconsidering. “Then again, maybe I was. But all I did was ask him if he’d purchased a gift for his adoptive mom’s birthday yet.”

Since Sierra had already told her sisters about her circle of college friends, Christina knew that Alex was touchy about having been adopted. Sierra’s habit of tracking his personal relationships no doubt rankled him.

Christina wanted to comfort her younger sister, especially since Sierra had tried to make her feel better so many times in the past. She’d been one of few beacons of hope during the dark times of William Dugan and the falling-out with Gloria.

But, then again, all this worrying about other people wasn’t doing Sierra any good. Christina hated to see her wilt from too much stress.

“Sierra,” she said, placing a hand over her sister’s, “even though you’re so good at loving, you don’t need to be everyone’s caretaker.”

After a pause, Sierra grabbed onto Christina’s hand in a tender squeeze, then let go. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I won’t give a hoot about Alex anymore. He doesn’t appreciate my efforts anyway.”

Leaning back in her chair, Gloria had a wheels-are-turnin’ look in her eyes. “By all means, Sierra, please give a hoot. I have a lot of heinous work in mind. Lots of embarrassing chores to make up for your man temptation.”

Oh, boy. Christina was in mucho trouble if they ever found out about Derek.

“No, oh, no.” Sierra sat back, too, gripping the arms of her pine wood chair. “You won’t see me losing this bet, Gloria. Especially not with a rude ingrate like Alex.”

“That’s all she wrote, then.” Gloria turned her attention to Christina. “I guess I’ll just have to depend on my big sister to blow it with Mr. Rockwell.”

A mix of panic and shame led Christina to blush furiously. Panic because she didn’t want them to know how thoroughly she’d lost the bet already. Shame because she didn’t like keeping it from her sisters.

“I told you about last week’s office gossip,” she said to divert the guilt. “Rockwell is nothing to joke about.”

“Oh, no jokes here.” Gloria grinned. “The rumors, as unfortunate as they are, go to show that everyone—not only our family—has noticed the va-va-voom between you and the boss.”

“Gloria,” Sierra said, “you’re just as bad as the gossips. Mama is angry with Edith because of the lies she spread. You don’t want to be on her bad side, too.”

“No, I sure don’t.”

Gloria seemed to shudder, just as much as Christina had when Sierra had mentioned the word lies.

Although Edith had been gossiping, she hadn’t literally been lying about Christina’s liaison with Derek. Thus, during breakfast a few days ago, Christina had gone easy on her, merely asking her to think about the effect her rumors had on other people.

But Mama hadn’t been so forgiving. Even now, she wouldn’t take Edith’s calls, even though Christina was trying to convince her to forgive and forget.

Papa had walked into the courtyard, dressed in a silk button-down and dapper slacks. “Have my girls decided what I should cook for them?”

“Are you open for lunch yet?” asked Sierra. “We can wait.”

“For you,” Papa said, bending down to pat Sierra’s cheek, “I’m always open.”

“Aw, Papa,” they said, standing, showering affection on him. After happily withstanding the onslaught of their attention, he took their orders: chicken tostada with no sour cream or guacamole for Christina, beef fajitas for Sierra and shrimp soft tacos for Gloria.

Before Papa left, he grasped Gloria’s hand, inspecting it. “You are keeping a surprise from your sisters?”

Gloria actually giggled. “I’m getting around to revealing it.”

“What?” Sierra asked. “What’re you hiding?”

Papa stayed, and Christina guessed Gloria’s news was something big.

“Tell us!” she said.

With a huge smile, Gloria reached into her purse, then slipped a beautiful diamond ring onto her finger.

Both Christina and Sierra gasped, then cried out, hugging their sister. Papa joined in but, when Christina detected a soulful tear in his eye, he retreated to the kitchen, muttering something about making tortillas.

While they all admired the ring, Gloria told them about how Jack had proposed. “He came to Mama and Papa late last night and asked them for my hand. Can you believe that? Jack, the gruff, stubborn manly man?”

“When’s the wedding?” Christina asked.

“We’re planning a small one for June.”

“Oh!” Sierra’s lower lip trembled, even though she was smiling. “I’m just so…so happy for you, Gloria.”

Before anyone could react, Sierra darted out of her chair to crush Gloria in another hug, then ran into the restaurant.

“It’s Chad,” Christina said. “She still isn’t over that jerk, but she’s truly excited for you.”

“I know.” Gloria looked worried. “Do you think we should go after her?”

“In a second. Give her some time to recover. She’ll be mortified about breaking down like this.” Spellbound, Christina touched the ring. “Jack’s one lucky man.”

“Thanks. I just wish…”

“That Sierra and I would find men, too? Don’t worry. There’re other ways to be happy.”

Leaning forward, Gloria took Christina’s face in her hands, really looking at her. “You’re going through something, aren’t you? Maybe it has to do with all those stupid office rumors. Or maybe…it’s more.”

“It’s nothing.”

Her sister shook her head. “Don’t fib to me. Just…whatever it is, will you just follow your heart? I would have wasted much less time and trouble with Jack if I’d let myself trust and love a little easier.”

Christina wanted to ask how Gloria was so certain this was about love, but she was afraid to. She was probably wearing her repressed emotions on her buttoned sleeve without knowing it.

There was a pause, weighed down with unspoken thoughts and explanations, but it was interrupted by the harplike ring of Christina’s cell phone.

Gloria stood, gestured to the restaurant. “I’ll check on Sierra.”

“Be right there.”

Alone, she allowed it to ring once more before she finally glanced at the calling screen.

Derek. The man she’d been dreading…and hoping…would be on the line.

Follow your heart, Gloria had said.

And, though it was so hard, Christina decided to try.

She answered his weekend call.

After lunch, Christina went home to change into something more colorful: yellow shorts, a yellow-and-white-striped tank top and white Skechers. Then she’d pulled her hair into a casual ponytail instead of the librarian-like chignon she’d been favoring lately.

What could she say? Maybe she was in the mood for some change.

As she drove downriver, where Derek’s condo was located, Christina wondered if following her heart meant ignoring her brain.

Could I talk to you? he’d said over the phone. I’d like to clear something up before office hours. If you feel okay about coming to my place, you’ll be well chaperoned and no one will ever know you were here.

She’d agreed, wondering what he’d meant by “chaperoned,” but feeling secure about trusting herself around him if they were under observation.

And, let’s face it, she thought. She’d seize any excuse to be around the guy.

When she arrived at the white, Mediterranean-style complex, she followed his directions, which led her down flagstone paths lined with man-made rocky streams. Finally, after passing blooming flower gardens and a variety of home security warning signs, she came to his slightly opened door.

The gaping invitation, in turn, beckoned her into a stately, yet modestly decorated condo exploding with a strange, dangerous buzzing noise.

She stuck her head around the door, knocking, calling out, “Hello?”

“Back here.” It was Derek’s voice, vying with that electronic sound.

Shutting the door, she ventured inside. A lemony scent tinged the air, as if the sleek, black furnishings had been recently polished to a shine. Extra rooms revealed the skeletons of sparse furniture, plus exercise equipment, including a rowing machine.

Interesting, how Derek didn’t flaunt his great wealth. He could have afforded limousines, but instead drove his own Beemer. He could have lived in a mansion, but chose something more down-to-earth instead.

As she wandered closer to the noise, she noticed a wider selection of those primitive musical instruments that barely decorated his office: rawhide-bound drums, delicately painted stringed instruments, wooden flutes, a smooth rainstick.

Some of the items weren’t even placed in strategic corners or hung on the white walls; a few were tossed over the beige carpet, used and abused.

The trail of instruments led to a state-of-the-art big-screen TV that showed two Jedi Knights in heated battle, their light sabers zooming across the screen in streaks of color. In front of the set were two hypnotized people, madly manipulating their control pads.

Derek and a young boy, who didn’t look more than eight years old, with his spiky red hair and glasses.

Was this their chaperone?

“Glad you could come over,” Derek said glancing away from the action.

He was dressed in a white T-shirt, faded jeans and work boots, his casual air lending him a ruggedness she’d never seen before. Even his hair seemed a bit longer, more carefree.

His lighthearted grin invited her to smile back, and Christina couldn’t stop her heart from twisting, wringing out any doubts she’d had about being here.

He had that expression on his face that guys usually got when they wanted to tell you how nice you looked—not that Christina had heard, or paid attention to, many of those. But she knew he wouldn’t say it out loud, taking a chance on making her uncomfortable after all that’d gone on this past week.

Besides, she was wearing shorts. A ponytail.

She had to be misinterpreting the appreciative look in his eyes.

Derek seemed to have forgotten about the game, thus allowing his Jedi to get tossed across the space port by a flick of his opponent’s hand.

“Hey,” he said to the boy, “that’s dirty.”

“Of The Force, always be mindful.” The boy laughed, then glanced at Christina. “Is she here to play?”

“You wish. I’m not about to subject her to your Dark Side.” Derek pressed a button and set his remote on the carpet, then stood. “This is my guest, Richie. Her name’s Christina Mendoza.”

Getting serious, the boy got to his feet, too, then came over to shake Christina’s hand.

“You wanna be a Jedi, Miss Mendoza?”

Shoot, yes, she would. This was some setup.

Derek interrupted. “We’ve got to do a bit of boring adult talk, so why don’t you ask the computer to play against you and we’ll be right outside.”

Then, nodding to some rattan chairs on the jasmine-lined patio, Derek went to the fridge and poured them both some bottled water over ice.

Christina really would’ve liked to play, but now wasn’t the time. “Good to meet you, Richie,” she said as the boy went back to saving the galaxy.

“You, too, Miss Mendoza.”

She met Derek on the porch, and he offered her the sweating drink. Richie was within sight, though the sliding glass door had been pulled to block out sound from both directions.

“Sorry,” he said, indicating the water, “it’s all I have. Time to do some grocery shopping.”

“Water’s perfect.” She took a sip, then asked, “So, Richie?”

“A neighbor’s son. He gets pretty lonely because his mom’s out most of the time. I’m the baby-sitter of choice, I suppose.”

“You?”

“Don’t be shocked. I need an excuse to play video games, and Richie’s it.”

Touched by his obvious lie, Christina knew it’d be smart not to show it. So she glanced over the low wall, at the shimmer of the river as it lazily flowed by. “This is a lovely complex. Does she have to work as much as we do to maintain residence?”

“No, her ex-husband’s loaded, and he pays for them to live here. For now, at least. She dates a lot. Looking for the second Mr. Right of her life.”

Had Richie’s mom given Derek a shot yet? Something told Christina that he’d probably taken one look at the young boy then removed himself from consideration. Just because he was a good babysitter didn’t mean Derek the Womanizer was on the market for an instant family.

“She’s on a first date as we speak,” Derek said. “Who knows? Maybe this’ll be her lucky day.”

After he chugged some of his water, he narrowed his eyes. They’d darkened in the last few seconds.

“Are you angry about something?” Christina asked.

“Nah. Just…” As he cut himself off by closing his mouth, a muscle twitched in his jaw.

She leaned forward. “What?”

“It’s…I guess I kind of feel sorry for the kid. Real sorry. Even though I haven’t lived here very long, the father’s barely dropped by. Two times in two months for visitation. Nice, huh? And I could hear some heavy yelling through the walls…Mom and Dad’s happy reunion. The dad’s a winner, all right, and I wish Richie didn’t have to suffer for it.”

Derek was tracing the rim of his glass with a finger, avoiding her gaze. Condensation beaded on his fingertips, a drop falling to the concrete like a released tear.

There was definitely something else going on here, Christina thought. A buried sadness. A jagged secret deep inside.

Through the window, Richie played on, one of Derek’s instruments sitting near his leg. A rainstick. Christina knew how they worked: turn them upside down and the broken pieces hidden inside trickled downward, creating soft, haunting music.

She glanced back at Derek, finding him watching her intensely.

Shaken, she fixed her eyes on the instrument again.

He must have followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah. Richie’s new toys. My mom used to make my dad buy them for me, hoping to bring out this mysterious musical gene her side of the family was supposed to have. I got them out of storage because Richie likes them.”

“They look foreign.”

“I was an Army brat, so my father got around.” The sentence was short, to the point.

“Do you still see your parents?”

Derek shifted in his chair. “Both passed away a long time ago. Hepatitis, then heart failure.”

Before she could say she was sorry, a change came over him, a straightening of his posture. A return to control.

The boss.

“I didn’t call you over to chat exactly,” he said.

“That’s right. Business.” The avoidance of anything that mattered.

So why did she sound resentful? Wasn’t that how she wanted it with him? Impersonal?

His arched eyebrow told her he was wondering the same thing. But there was no doubt he knew better than to ask.

“I was worried about you last week,” he said.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“No, I meant…” He was searching for words. “How you reacted after I told you about Twyla’s gossip. It concerned me. So I did some digging, Christina.”

Her pulse started to pound. “What do you mean?”

“The charges.” His voice was so gentle, almost as if he didn’t want to hurt her by bringing this up. “William Dugan.”

With all the calm she could muster, she set her water glass on a table before her hands could start to shake.

And, sure enough, they did.

Chapter Eleven

Christina’s face went pale.

Derek had expected such a reaction. That’s why he’d invited her over—so he could address what was worrying him without her being forced to put on an office game face for the rest of the day.

Last week, he’d contacted some business connections, slowly putting together details that weren’t exactly listed on Christina’s résumé. And he’d finally discovered why she’d been so skittish around him, why she’d decided their night together had been a “mistake.”

God, he felt like a fool for the way he’d treated her. For the way he’d tried to make her admit that it had been so right, that it hadn’t been wrong at all.

Setting down his own glass of water, Derek leaned his forearms on his jeans-clad thighs. “Can you tell me your side of the story, Christina? I talked to several people, but I want to hear what you have to say.”

She smoothed a hand over the crease of her shorts, avoided meeting his gaze. “You heard the basics, I’m sure. I cried harassment, Dugan cried denial and, in the end, I cried all the way to Los Angeles. Just so you know, I don’t make a habit of suing my bosses. Are you worried about that?”

“Good question.”

That got her attention. She whipped her gaze up to him, hurt.

“I suppose I can’t blame you for feeling that way,” she said.

“Wait. What I meant is that it’s something a decent boss would consider, but I don’t believe for a second that you’d ever do something so underhanded.”

“Then…” She tilted her head. “You believe my side of the story?”

She looked so sweet, so open.

He wanted to take her in his arms, soothe her. But he could only sit there, mindful of how she’d no doubt feel about him touching her again.

“I believe you, Christina. Since you quit Macrizon, William Dugan has been sued by two more female co-workers.”

Nodding, Christina exhaled. “I kept in touch with some of the employees. The cases are still pending, so we’ll see if Dugan finally gets his due. Back when I brought charges, no one took me seriously. He was too rich, too influential and my complaints were dismissed because of a lack of evidence. But if I hadn’t done it, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

She paused, considering. “A lot of reasons. It isn’t exactly something you advertise to your new boss. ‘Hey, by the way, I accused a former employer of harassing me with constantly lewd comments, sexual situations and the threat of losing my job if I didn’t put out. But you can trust me and feel good about working with me anyway.’”

“I see your point.” Derek was trying not to sound bruised. “But I thought we had more than an office relationship.”

“Derek…” She sighed. “You know that it was a good idea for us to stop before things got ugly. I’m sorry for putting us both in this position, but for once in my life, I couldn’t help myself…”

She left the sentence hanging, a wisp of steam rising, then dissipating.

“I’m glad you lost control,” he said.

Christina looked away, started to push back a stray hair from her forehead before stopping, probably realizing her hair was entirely in place.

As usual.

“I’m glad, too,” she said, “even though it won’t happen again.”

His fantasies did a free fall at her words, but how could he blame her? Her background put a wrench into having a casual affair. Hell, he’d been lucky that she’d let him in for even one night.

Still, he heard himself saying, “What if we could keep our extracurricular activities under wraps? Would that matter?”

There. That sounded more like the old Rockwell. Stopping at nothing to get what he wanted. A man who relied on that “animal magnetism” to seek out a no-strings-attached good time.

It’s not as if he were asking her to have some kind of long-term affair. Not at all. When the San Antonio offices of Fortune-Rockwell became profitable again, who knew how long he’d be around.

Don’t stay in one place—or with one woman—too long. That was his philosophy. Walk away while everything was still good.

“To be honest,” she said, “I’m sorely tempted. God knows I am, but carrying on with my boss would be like holding my hand over a flame to see how long I could take the heat before I got burned.”

Ouch. “I’m sure there’s not that much pain involved.”

He added a killer grin, just to be that much more convincing.

“Stop, Derek.” She laughed gently, no stranger to his technique. “You can’t win me over this time. Last week’s gossip was a close call, and I’d be stupid not to pay attention to the warning. Loose talk is a mighty corporate weapon.”

Hell, he’d given it the old college try. But he wasn’t done questioning her about that other matter. “I heard you were also scorched by some fellow employees during the harassment suit.”

“Yes, Rebecca Waters. I have no proof, but I know she spread the word that I was the one who came on to Dugan.”

“Why would she do that?”

Clearly miffed, Christina shrugged. “Long story. Let’s just say Rebecca took great pleasure in bringing other women down for some psychologically tweaked reason. In the beginning, Gloria and I were friends with Rebecca. We did everything together at work, after work…But Rebecca did drugs, and she got my sister started down the wrong path. When I tried to talk some sense into Gloria, Rebecca took offense.”

“So she weakened your case against Dugan out of revenge.” Women could be so damned toxic.

“You got it. And last week, with Twyla’s rumors, all this came back to haunt me. It was almost like I’d never left Macrizon.”

Derek’s sight went red. “Dammit, I wish I’d been Rebecca’s boss. There’d have been hell to pay.”

Immediately, he wanted to take the comment back. Not because Christina’s eyes had widened in grateful wonder. He kind of liked that. But because getting this defensive about a woman wasn’t in his playbook.

Clearing his throat, he tried to seem less emotional. Christina could definitely handle herself. She didn’t need him around to fight battles for her. He didn’t even need to be doing it, period.

She must have sensed his backtracking, because she continued, talking around his outburst, letting him off the hook.

“You know the worst part about Macrizon?” she asked. “Gloria didn’t believe me. That’s when I quit the firm and left my family. I was angry at the injustice of it all, the shame of accusing someone and coming out looking the fool. Facing them was impossible.”

Touched by her vulnerability once again—it’d take a man of stone not to be—Derek rested a hand on her bare knee. It wasn’t an overture, and she seemed to understand this, hesitating, reaching out to touch her fingertips to his.

“You could never be a failure,” he said. “You’re brilliant, Christina Mendoza. And the amount of courage it took to step up and seek justice from a powerful man who’d wronged you…” He turned his hand over, clasping her fingers. “Your bravery blows my mind.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, only watched him with a shine to her eyes.

“Coming from you, that means a lot,” she said.

Now it was his turn to blush. Yeah, blush. Or maybe the late afternoon sun had gotten to him.

That had to be it. First, he’d chattered out too much information about his family life. Then there was that knight-to-the-rescue declaration. Now, this.

Could Christina mess up his existence any more? Derek was scaring the living soul out of himself with all these damned self-discoveries.

During the ensuing pause, they both held on to their water glasses, sipped at them, watched the river. The weakening sun flashed off the surface while canoes and boats coasted by.

“So how’s the rowing coming?” she asked.

Derek almost fell off his chair in relief. Thank God for a change of subject. Not that he was sorry he’d brought up the whole Dugan conversation—it needed to be addressed—but…

He was sorry she’d ended up scrambling his brain so much.

“I’m still working out every morning,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of months until the Water Safari.”

“Sounds fun.” A breeze picked up, fluttering her dark ponytail. “I’ve never rowed, canoed, kay-aked…anything like that.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to take you sometime.”

Bam! He’d said it before thinking. Water time was Derek time, a groove of peace he kept all to himself during the quiet of morning or dusk.

But, somehow, sharing his passion for the sport with Christina didn’t seem all that out of line.

“I’d really love that,” she said.

She smiled, blindsiding him.

Enchanted, he lowered his voice, revved up by her interest. “How about tonight, Christina? Late. After Richie goes home. A midnight row.”

His body primed itself with heat, just at the thought of the possibilities. Moonlight, water…absolute seduction material.

But he shouldn’t be thinking like that. What a letch.

She took so long to answer, Derek thought that maybe he hadn’t asked at all.

Finally, she spoke. “If we go, it would be on a friendly basis. There can’t be anything…you know. Beyond.”

Though his instinct was to pursue the matter, to convince her into saying yes, Derek restrained himself.

He knew why she was saying no, and he couldn’t disrespect how she felt. But it’d been worth a try.

A knock on the sliding glass door captured his attention. Richie, standing there with his Opie-red hair and thick glasses.

Poor guy. If Derek ever had a child—unlikely as it was—he’d never relegate the kid to a spot on the calendar that appeared only once a month. He knew too well how it felt to be alienated by your dad, deserted by your mom.

Without hesitation, Derek got to his feet, opened the door and mussed Richie’s hair, bringing a smile to the boy’s face.

“I’m hungry,” the kid said.

Derek checked his watch. Almost dinnertime, all right. Sandra, Richie’s mom, had said she’d be back late tonight, and Derek had just planned on asking the boy what kind of pizza he wanted. Simple.

But he doubted the kid ate anything but fast food for a regular diet. Based on what Richie said, Sandra wasn’t exactly what you’d call a cook.

“You want to go over to La Villita for some grub?” Derek asked Richie.

Grinning, Christina crossed one tanned leg over the other as she watched him deal with a miniperson. It was a much more subtle process than corporate wheeling-and-dealing, and she looked real entertained by that fact, bobbing her tennis shoe up and down.

Derek was so caught up in her that he almost didn’t hear Richie’s answer.

“La Villita.” Richie seemed interested. “We studied that in school. It’s San Antonio’s first neighborhood.”

“You told me,” he said, tearing his gaze away from Christina. “I remember you said something about getting an A on your project for it. We can have steak or seafood…Whatever you want.”

“I like hamburgers.”

“All right, then.” Hell, Derek was striking out all over the place. “Get your jacket. It’s on the chair by the door.”

After Derek let the child go, he noticed Christina’s amused lift of the brow.

“What?” he asked.

“Score for you. You’re good with him.”

He hoped she wasn’t thinking like other women: how baby-sitting would translate into a nursery in a suburban house with topiaries and swing sets.

But so what if she was? Christina didn’t even want a short, hot fling with him.

Richie, clad in a green windbreaker, scooted right back, ducking his head out the door to address Christina. “You hungry, too?”

“I don’t…”

Stubborn lady. Even so, Derek didn’t want her to go home yet.

“Yeah,” he said, goading her. “Why don’t you come with us? A friendly outing, of course.”

“Well…It’s a chaperoned field trip?” she asked, a sparkle in her eyes.

“Safe as can be.”

Christina put on a mock show of really turning this over in her mind, and that’s when Derek knew she’d be coming with them.

Friend: 1. Fling: 0.

He’d just have to live with it.

For tonight, at least.

The south bank of the San Antonio River was home to La Villita, with its historically preserved buildings, which housed art studios, crafts stores, shops and restaurants. Originally, Spanish soldiers from the Alamo—or what was then known as Mission San Antonio Valero—had settled here in primitive huts until a flood washed the structures away.

Nature’s wrath had then made way for German and French immigrants, then a decline into a slum until the city fathers decided to preserve the village.

Christina had learned all this and more during dinner with Richie and Derek at the Guadalajara Grill. Over Tex-Mex and Richie’s favorite meal—a burger—they’d laughed together, talked about Richie’s school, compared different video games and how they rated.

Afterward, they killed time by strolling the cobblestoned streets past shops constructed of caliche block and limestone. In five minutes, they were scheduled to meet Richie’s mom so she could introduce her son to her date—who seemed to be the next Mr. Right, after all—then take the child home.

Full of energy at the prospect of seeing “Mommy,” Richie had darted ahead, putting on the brakes only to inspect the display window of a mercantile.

Alone at last, thought Christina. Oh, no.

“I didn’t realize you were into video games,” Derek said, a teasing glint in his gaze.

“What can I say? Grand Theft Auto keeps me coming back for more.” She didn’t mention that, in her entertainment center next to her yoga DVDs, she had a small collection of those stress-relieving games.

Junk food for the mind.

They were walking side by side, the light hairs on his arm brushing her skin every few seconds. Even though she could’ve moved away, putting some much-needed space between them, she didn’t.

Not after their talk today. As she’d unburdened herself about William Dugan, Christina had felt a great weight lift from her body, something permanent she’d been trying to achieve for years with running and exercise.

But Derek’s understanding had made it so much easier to breathe now.

As they approached the mercantile, he casually guided her with his fingertips on the small of her back.

The contact was innocent. Nice. Fit for an old-fashioned starlit walk.

So why had his touch sent a naughty, very modern zing up her spine?

Richie didn’t look at them, just kept staring at the bath products displayed in the window.

“Think he’ll be okay?” the child asked.

He was talking about his mom’s date. Christina felt so badly for Richie. At dinner, he’d talked about “Mommy” as if she’d hung the moon but, from what Derek had said earlier, it sounded as if the woman had taken up residence there most of the time, too. Without Richie.

“If he’s not okay,” Derek said, resting a hand on Richie’s small shoulder, “you tell me.”

There it was again, that protective side of him, overwhelming her with a dizzy warmth.

So dependable. Trustworthy.

“Really?” Richie asked. “You’d beat him up for me?”

“Well, not beat—”

Richie had turned around, fixing a look of such heartbreaking adoration on his baby-sitter that it made Christina cover her chest with an opened hand.

Derek shrugged. “I’d do my best to help you out, Richie. Definitely.”

A huge grin split the boy’s face, and Derek stuck his hands on his hips, concentrating on the mercantile window, the ghost of a smile on his own mouth.

What had happened to Patrick’s “predatory pride and joy”?

Was this actually the same business shark?

Christina’s heart thumped loudly under her palm, tapping out a message: Fall-ing. Fall-ing.

A female voice shouted out Richie’s name from down the street, near a plaza. They all turned to find his mom, decked out in date finery, with her arms opened for her son.

With a jump of joy, Richie launched himself at Derek, clamping his arms around his waist. “Thank you for the food. This was lots of fun.”

“I had a great time, too.” Gingerly, Derek patted the boy’s back. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t.” Richie disengaged and was immediately on Christina, hugging her, also. She bent down, returning the affection.

Wishing that someday she could…

She cut off the surprisingly domestic thought as Richie backed away.

“You think you’ll come over so we can play?” he asked. “You’d be a real good Jedi.”

“I could manage a visit.” She smiled. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

As Richie said one last, “Cool,” then took off, Christina stood again. Both she and Derek watched the boy dash toward his mom, who scooped him into her arms and waved. A man, decent-looking and somewhat hesitant, waited in the wings.

The date.

“He looks nice,” Christina said, waving back.

“Bet he’s another loser. If he is, I’m going to have a talk with Sandra. It’s hard enough to keep my mouth shut about her ex-husband, but if she asks my opinion—”

“How can you have an opinion?” Gently, she tugged on his shirt. “You haven’t met this guy.”

When he captured her searching gaze with his own, his eyes had darkened to black. “I haven’t met him yet.”

Oh, this man, she thought. He’d defended Christina just as tenaciously in the face of adversity, too. But how long would it last with her? Was he offering the boy something he couldn’t offer to women?

Curious, she touched his elbow. In response, he shot her a halfhearted grin, then took her arm and led her toward the welcoming light of an open antique shop.

Was it a good idea to remind him that their chaperone was gone and it was time to call it a night?

She nestled her fingers further into the crook of his muscular arm.

Nah. She was at ease with him, with no expectations, their rules laid out in front of them like a bricksolid road.

There’d be no seductive surprises tonight, just a harmless stroll around La Villita, right?

Even if the moon was out, bathing him in shadow and light, making the night—and him—more mysterious.

When he walked her into the safety of the store, she relaxed. The shopkeeper acknowledged them, then went back to reading her Entertainment Weekly magazine.

The scent of musty wood and dried flowers mixed into a heady brew as she sauntered to the back of the place while inspecting the merchandise: rusted lanterns, stained glass windows, pictographs and faded clothing.

One item in particular caught her attention—a red shawl, worked with an intricate pattern of roses.

Won over, Christina touched it, felt the silky lace glide over her fingers. Normally, she didn’t wear bold colors. They brought too much attention to a person who usually sought to avoid it.

But what if she were the kind of woman who felt confident in clothing such as this? A Spanish señorita at a fiesta, flirting with the caballeros. A lady of quality on her balcony, fixing a rose into her dark hair as her man watched from the shadows.

The romance got to her, made her wonder how the sight of her in something so lovely and free would effect Derek.

She felt him move up behind her, ease the shawl off its hanger.

“You like this,” he said. “I could tell, even from across the store.”

He was so close that she could feel the vibration of his voice through the skin of her back. She shivered, wanting him to say more.

Instead, he slipped the shawl over her shoulders, then unbound her hair.

It felt like she’d been submerged in a pool of petals, bathed in smooth, luxurious silk.

When his hands rested on her shoulders, stroking the material over her, Christina’s knees melted to oil.

“Let me buy it for you,” he whispered.

If they were just two people who didn’t have a care in the world, she could imagine going home with him, stripping off her boring clothes and emerging only with the shawl wrapped around her body. Her skin would peek through the lace, taunting him as he watched her from the bed, desiring her.

Making her feel as alive as he had only days ago.

But they weren’t those people. They had their places in the world, and neither of them cared to step away from their jobs long enough to surrender their identities.

With reluctance, she removed the shawl, then replaced it on the hanger. Even without looking at Derek, she knew he was disappointed.

Yet so was she.

“I’m not the type to wear red.” She smiled up at him to ease the tension that suddenly permeated the room.

His intense, dark gaze reflected his need, echoing that night at the riverside salsa bar. He was ready to pounce, famished for her.

Would it be like this all the time now? They hadn’t gotten each other out of their systems at all, had they? Their need had only boiled over. Become more dangerous.

Trying to keep matters in hand, Christina walked away from Derek, stretching that good-idea distance between them. When she spotted some candy, she decided to busy herself with lusting after that instead of her boss.

He left her alone at the back of the store, but that was fine by her. She’d require a cooling-off period before facing him again anyway.

A few minutes later, she was ready, a paper sack of lemon drops in hand. After purchasing it, she found him outside, waiting for her.

Grinning, he jerked his chin toward the candy.

“Couldn’t resist, could you?”

Er…the candy? Or him?

Opening the bag, she offered him first choice. With a, “Why not?” he took one.

“Sometimes I just can’t help myself,” she said as they walked in the direction of the parking lot. It was as if both of them knew that separating for the night was the best course of action.

“Any more secrets I should know about you?” he asked. “Besides all the fattening food and the scariness of that hidden video game fetish?”

Not to mention William Dugan. She was happy he didn’t say it out loud.

“Nope. Today was the last of the secrets.”

But what about you? she felt like asking. Tell me what you’re hiding. Because I’ve seen it in your eyes so many times. The bitterness. The isolation.

Asking him would’ve been opening a Pandora’s box, and Christina knew better. She might as well leave things as they were now, with an easy companionship just hovering over their attraction. Digging deeper would get her in over her head.

Or would it make her fall just a little more?

They’d driven their own vehicles to La Villita so, as they said their goodbyes in the public parking lot, there was a Saturday night crowd swarming around them. Keeping her in check. Taking away the spell of being alone with him.

Still, as they parted ways, she couldn’t help looking back over her shoulder. Just one last peek.

He was watching her, too, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans.

Their shared glance jolted her, made her want to run back to him, cover him in shawl-soft kisses.

But, instead, as mist from the river filtered through the light from a street lamp, then down to him, he raised his hand.

Bye.

She did the same, almost feeling as if she were using her palm to push him away.

That night, her sleep was restless, brimming with sweet, impossible dreams of him. Dreams painted with sighs, red lace, diamonds sparkling with the fervor of Gloria’s engagement ring.

And when she woke up the next morning, she found a package on her doorstep. Brown paper wrapped around a gift.

The shawl.

As she stood on her threshold in her robe, holding the present to her face, taking in the scent of roses and old memories, Christina felt her heart stumble.

A prelude to the ultimate fall.

Chapter Twelve

Sunday morning, Derek missed Christina’s phone call because he was out on the river.

But the sound of her voice on the answering machine shook him up all the same.

I got your gift, she’d said. Thank you, Derek. You seem to know how to make me happy.

Of course, he’d glowed for the rest of the day, smiling to himself every once in a while as he caught up on office work in his condo.

How did she have such power over him? Either he couldn’t figure it out or he didn’t want to.

All Derek knew was that the sight of her in the red shawl had not only aroused him physically, but emotionally, too.

When’s the last time he’d impulsively wrapped a woman in his embrace like that? Never, that’s when. He’d never wanted to hold on to someone so tightly, bundle them up to keep them warm and safe.

Even though she’d refused the shawl in the end, he’d known that she longed for it. So while she’d poked around the candy section, he’d purchased the item, coming back for it after they’d said goodbye in the parking lot.

Then delivering it to her door in the wee hours of the morning.

It’d taken a lot of strength not to knock, to beg to come in. But he’d done it, knowing Christina Mendoza was a woman who required respectful treatment.

When Monday morning rolled around, Derek was still consumed with her, but surely this stronger-than-usual infatuation would wear off soon.

Wouldn’t it?

True to form, he arrived before the rest of the building did. Sometimes he even beat Christina to the office, but not today.

She was waiting in the chair by his desk, going over some reports, when he walked in. Surprisingly, she had her hair down, the dark-brown strands raining over her shoulders and tucked behind her ears. She was also wearing khaki slacks and a striking red blouse that brought out the glow of her skin, the shine of her eyes.

They’d been instructed to dress casually today, since a “team building leader” would be putting them through physical exercises later in the conference room. Derek was even planning to don some jeans himself.

After his heart stopped jumping up and down in gleeful excitement at the sight of her, it occurred to him that he wouldn’t mind seeing her first thing in the morning all the time.

But he’d get over this.

Even if…

My God, she was so beautiful.

She was flashing a smile at him as he lay his briefcase on a table. “Hi. I was hoping to catch you before everyone else came trooping in.”

He found that he couldn’t look at her without losing a part of himself. But he forced himself to, keeping the desk between them as insurance.

“I’m all yours,” he said, cringing at his words. They were too true.

Standing, she set her papers on the chair. “A phone call didn’t seem to be sufficient for what you gave me.”

“The shawl?” He shrugged, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t been sending her more than just a gift. That the shawl hadn’t actually been some kind of message.

But what the hell had he been trying to say?

“I…” She wandered closer. “I’ve never received anything so wonderful before. I want you to know that.”

When he glanced up at her, he expected to find The Christina Blush veiling her face, the shyness and distance.

That wasn’t what he got.

Instead, she was watching him intently, boldly. Deep emotion stirred in her gaze, drawing him in, inviting him to claim it.

Her expression took the air right out of him, making time stop. He was sorely aware of her, of the images spinning in his mind.

Sir telling little Derek that he needed discipline, commitment to win in life, then forcing his son to hold up his shaking hands for two full hours just to prove his point.

Sir commanding his son to stand guard over Mom’s open casket at the funeral, never allowing him to leave his post, even when Derek couldn’t bear to see her unmoving body another second.

In a change of pattern, Derek then saw himself joining the Marines, ignoring Sir’s phone calls and letters.

Sir’s own funeral, attended by only five people, where Derek hesitated when he accepted the folded flag that had covered his father’s coffin.

Derek dating woman after woman, overcompensating, bucking any kind of structure, just to prove his point to the world.

Rattled, Derek glanced away, wanting to chase off the memories as well as Christina’s silent offer of something more than he could return.

“You looked good in the shawl,” he said, forcing a grin, the gesture weighing heavily. “So I bought it.”

She just stood there, tracing the edge of his desk with her finger. “Oh. All right.”

Had she interpreted the shawl to mean something more?

Well, it had. But admitting it would take Derek in a direction he wasn’t willing to travel.

The truth was that he’d merely been swept away by his libido during the weekend. Shaping this gift into some kind of grand gesture would be a mistake.

“Ready for our meeting?” he asked, desperate to concentrate on work—his savior.

“Sure.” She smoothed down her slacks and backed away, retrieving her papers. “See you in the conference room in an hour then?”

“Will do.” Derek concerned himself with booting up his computer.

As she left his office, his regret grew, blinding him to his surroundings.

Forget Fortune-Rockwell.

Why had he been such a jerk to her? Why had he turned her away, just as she’d been opening up to him?

Swiveling his chair so he faced his grand window view of San Antonio, Derek berated himself for pushing her away.

It was a lecture far worse than any of Sir’s had been.

Christina placed information packets before every conference room chair, preparing for the meeting. Seth had developed the bright idea of hosting a management retreat, just to strengthen the impression that Fortune-Rockwell was starting anew, that they all needed to bond in order to make this branch successful again.

Today, they were interviewing a team building leader who specialized in encouraging employees to be more positive, to trust their co-workers through exercises. Therapy.

Lord knew Christina needed some herself.

What had she been doing, laying herself on the line with Derek like that? Oh, boy, had it been a mistake.

To think, she’d been willing to express her growing feelings for him. To tell him she was ready to take things to the next level, whatever that meant. She’d never gotten past square two of a relationship, so this was all new to her. Exciting.

Hope defying.

She’d tried to articulate to him how much that shawl meant. The gift had shown her that he’d looked deep inside her soul and noticed her burning need to be desired and loved. No man had ever paid such attention to her, looking beyond the prim suits and cool attitude.

But Derek was different, she’d thought. He could see through her, into her.

Christina should’ve known better. When God had been giving out luck with men, she’d gotten to the front of the line only to have them run plum out of it.

Heck, she was used to burying herself in work to avoid this pain, and she’d just go right back to doing it. No problemo.

She’d recover. Someday.

Even though she’d already lost her heart to the guy.

Yes, she was hopelessly enamored. During the course of their working relationship, her itty-bitty crush had turned into something much scarier.

And more sublime.

Over the next few minutes, the casually dressed personal development team—Seth, Jonathan, Adam and Ben—reported to the conference room, and she was there to meet them with a pasted-on smile. Good old responsible Christina, the woman dedicated to her professional calling. Yes, that was her. Still.

Soon, the team building leader arrived, as did Jack and Derek, who sat in the seat next to her, dressed in jeans, a button-down and his work boots. His clothes reminded her of their weekend, the casual ruffle of his hair, the family man demeanor.

As everyone settled down for the meeting, Christina accidentally glanced at him, discovering that he was already watching her, an apology in his gaze.

Blood kicking in her veins, she didn’t know how to respond. Had something changed since this morning?

When his hand skimmed over her thigh under the table, Christina thought she could maybe take a good guess.

The meeting started, and she took his hand in hers, holding her breath to see how he’d react.

He ran his thumb over her fingers, stroking, setting her at ease.

Oh, but she was melting again. Not good. Businesswomen didn’t turn to slush in the middle of important meetings.

They managed to hide their contact for a while, linking pinkies, playing a bout of squeeze tag, basically attempting to seem very serious above the table.

Then the team building leader asked them to get to their feet for a sample of one of his “trust exercises.”

It was the one where someone stands on the table, falls backward without looking and everyone catches the victim.

“I hate this kind of stuff,” Derek whispered in Christina’s ear as they lined up on opposite sides to face each other. The scent of her hair wove around his thoughts.

“Focus on work,” she whispered back.

He couldn’t wait for a break so he could talk to her, tell her…what? That he wanted to sleep with her again and that’s it?

Jonathan, a really tiny guy, had volunteered to take the initial fall, so he climbed on the table, telling the participants that they’d better catch him or else.

Derek took the opportunity to send Christina a smile—not one of his gimme-some grins, either. This one was filled with a softness he hadn’t known he’d possessed.

Across the aisle, Jack saw it, brow cocking in question.

In fact, after all of them had taken their turns falling—frightening as hell, that exercise—they took a break, and Jack intercepted Derek before he could take Christina aside.

His partner took him into Derek’s nearby office, then shut the door. “What was that?”

“I know.” Derek played dumb. “Damned headshrinking exercises.”

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about.” Jack’s blue eyes were saucered with surprise, and not even in a bad way. “I saw those puppy-love looks you were giving Christina.”

“Aw, come on. Just because you got engaged doesn’t mean the rest of the world is riding on hearts, Jack.”

“You’re so full of…” His partner shook a finger at him. “I’ve been noticing a definite metamorphosis. Back in New York, I knew a man who was aggressive and one immovable warrior. But something happened here. Ever since Christina Mendoza walked into your office…”

Panic needled Derek. “I haven’t lost my edge.”

“Not in business. But you haven’t been seen around town with a string of women, either. What happened?”

“I’ll be getting into the swing of the San Antonio social life. I just need the time to do it. Don’t worry.”

“And your hair?”

Derek touched it. “What?”

“It’s longer.” Jack gestured to his own black strands. “My mom was the one who mentioned it, because women don’t let any detail go unnoticed.”

“Oh.” So Derek hadn’t gone for his weekly cut. Big deal. Ever since Christina had mentioned the military-like precision of his style, it’d bothered Derek. Growing it out felt damned good.

“I’m worried for you.” Jack plopped onto the leather couch. “Too many weird changes.”

Could this be true? Jack, Derek’s own self-appointed nemesis, was concerned?

A smile burst over his face. He’d finally hit that home run over the far fence, and Jack was here to see it.

His big-brother figure continued, shaking his head. “I thought you’d be the last man standing, Derek, impervious to love.”

Love? LOVE? Who said anything about…?

Had he gone and done it with Christina? And was it that damned obvious?

Stunned, Derek started pacing, trying to find a way out of this box he found himself in. “Christina deserves a guy who can commit.”

“Absolutely.”

“And that’s never been my style.”

Jack paused, giving Derek time to realize how stupid he sounded.

“Why not?” asked his partner.

Yeah, why not?

Because, even now, when he’d halfway admitted his feelings for her, he was short of breath, scared witless.

But, even without having Jack lecture him about the joys of falling for a woman—which he started to do anyway, just because he claimed more experience—Derek knew he could never settle down enough to make Christina happy.

Being a numbers guy, he knew the bottom line.

And this was it.

When Derek had taken off with Jack during the break, Christina had been left to wonder what the heck was going on.

Wasn’t there a lot to say to each other?

Of course, they were at work, which made that sort of talk all the riskier. Maybe, at the end of the day, they could safely hash things out?

On her way back to her own office—she just had to check her e-mail—Twyla found her, asking if they could talk.

Once there, they sat in opposing chairs, Christina facing the petite blonde who’d tried to bring her down with words.

“How can I help you, Twyla?” Not as rude as she wanted to be, but not entirely welcoming, either.

“I wanted to touch base, if that’s okay.” Her subordinate handed over a stack of bound papers. “Everything you need to know about Fortune-Rockwell’s new personal development classes and more.”

The young worker beamed at a job well done and, as Christina leafed through the documents, she couldn’t help but to be impressed.

“This is excellent,” she said. “Thank you, Twyla.”

“You’re welcome.” She didn’t make a move to leave.

“Anything else?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, exhaled. “I was wondering if I could be allowed back on your team.”

If Twyla hadn’t broached the subject, Christina would have. She’d thought a lot about giving Twyla a second chance, but something unexpected had happened since she’d returned to Red Rock.

Christina had gained confidence.

And she’d come to realize that allowing an employee to backstab her yet again was a slap in the face, not only to her, but to the team members who’d worked their rear ends off to keep their ethics intact.

Avoiding the trap of seeming superior, Christina carefully worded her response. “What you did, Twyla, didn’t make a very good case for your return. You showed disrespect for me, and that can never be erased.”

Visions of Rebecca Waters and her vengeful attitude kept Christina strong in her convictions.

She continued, even as her assistant’s posture crumbled.

“I’m sure you can understand why I think we should part ways, Twyla. You can have a fresh start in another department.”

“But Derek’s team is the prestigious one.”

So she’d been playing the flirting card to move up the corporate food chain, Christina thought. Tempting the men on the team with her smile and provocative comments. Flashing cleavage to Derek. Using gossip to oust the competition.

Christina stood from her chair, tacitly dismissing Twyla. “You’ll do solid work elsewhere in the company. I’ve no doubt about that. Good luck.”

Gripping the arms of her chair until her knuckles were white, Twyla didn’t move. She merely kept a bead on Christina.

“You’re not such hot stuff just because you got cozy with the boss,” she said. “Anyone can do that, you know.”

Even though Christina knew Derek hadn’t been sampling from the office, the words still tore at her.

Or was she wrong? Was Derek so good at keeping his affairs undercover that she just didn’t know about them?

“Twyla,” Christina opened her door, waiting for the girl to leave, “you might want to stop now, before you do even more damage to your career.”

“I’ve got Jack Fortune in my cheering section.” Twyla made herself at home, crossing her arms over her chest while leaning back into the cushions. “I’m not going anywhere.”

We’ll see about that, Christina thought.

“Derek’s going to make sure of it, too,” Twyla added.

Unable to move, to even function, Christina merely stood in place, holding on to the door for support.

“You’re too stubborn to ask,” Twyla said, “so I’ll spell it out.”

“I don’t want to hear your vitriol—”

“This is how Derek works.” Twyla finally stood, coming face-to-face with Christina. The smaller woman’s spiky pumps gave her some height, some power. “Everyone knows he eats women for breakfast. Think about it, Christina. Why not take advantage of that weakness?”

It was like seeing a car lose control and screech off a highway, slowly flying through the air, then crashing into a building. Christina couldn’t stop watching, listening, waiting for the explosion.

“Business is not a battleground, Twyla.” Right. Hadn’t she spent years disproving that theory?

Her employee was staring at her, knowing Christina was grasping at straws, trying to stay afloat in her own world of self-delusion.

She couldn’t admit that Derek was one of them. As much of an enemy as William Dugan.

“Now, I haven’t been with Derek myself,” Twyla said. “At least, not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. Playboys get around.”

Crash! There it was. All the doubts Christina had harbored about him. All the disappointment she’d forced on herself because she’d brought sex into the office when she knew better.

“Get out.” Christina stood at her door, her face a study in cool composure.

But judging by the grin on Twyla’s mouth, she’d done her job.

“I’ll get back on the team,” she said as she walked past, “with or without your help. I’ll do it my way.”

Christina wanted to tell the girl that females like Twyla gave businesswomen a bad name.

And Derek a bad reputation.

Still, her suspicions returned full force. Playboy. Womanizer.

Just because he’d held her hand this morning, did that mean he wouldn’t drop her like a hot stone by the end of the week?

She’d done it again, hadn’t she? Let down her defenses and made yet another work situation impossible to handle.

When would she learn?

Shutting her door, Christina leaned against it, suddenly exhausted. But after a moment, she straightened up, realizing something.

She had learned.

Gradually, she’d realized that this bitterness about Dugan was holding her back. That she needed to let go of it in order to move on. And move on she would.

Should she go to a place where no one knew her before the situation became unbearable? Leave Fortune-Rockwell, which seemed to get uglier by the week, to start over?

But, dammit, she’d run away before, and it’d just brought her back to square one.

Yet it didn’t have to be that way, not anymore. If Christina could clear her slate now, she could make her life better, never repeating the past again.

It was the best solution.

Resolute, Christina returned to the conference room, where the team building leader was ready to begin another bonding exercise: a simple pyramid.

She took care to stay away from Derek, although she could feel the heat of his gaze upon her, asking her to glance back at him.

To connect, just as they had this weekend.

But she wouldn’t. She’d stay self-contained and safe.

“As in business,” said the leader, a peppy little man in a company polo shirt, “we need a strong foundation on the bottom. Who would you all choose as your floor level?”

“Don’t mind if I sit this one out,” Jack said, ambling over to a chair, where he grinned and watched the action.

While the guys on the team chose Derek, Seth and Ben to be the foundation, Jack winked at Christina.

Dios. Why a wink?

The team shuffled, getting ready for the building process, but Derek took a detour, brushing past Christina.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“What about?”

“Christina, look at me, dammit.”

She couldn’t. Just couldn’t. She’d lose her common sense, her determination to move on if she…did.

He was watching her with such tenderness that Christina almost nestled against his chest, seeking reassurance.

Fighting the temptation, she finally won, knowing that she couldn’t stay on this hamster wheel, running in place forever.

Besides, it didn’t matter if Derek Rockwell couldn’t love her back. She’d spent her whole life knowing love was for other people. That all she’d have was man temptation and that’s it.

“Mr. Rockwell?” said the leader.

With a gentle smile, Derek asked Christina, “Later?”

She didn’t answer, just tried to focus as Jonathan and Adam were chosen for the pyramid’s second level. She’d be the pinnacle.

As the two guys took their places, a prone Derek took the brunt of their weight, since he was in the center of the base.

“Aren’t you going to tell them to get off your back, Derek?” Jack asked. “I hear it every day from you.”

Her boss laughed, music to Christina’s ears. In a perfect world, she could hear that sound for the rest of her life and never get tired of it.

But, suddenly, seeing him having a good time saddened her. How could she just stand here, pretending everything was okay?

Making believe that they were nothing more than boss and employee and that there was nothing going on between them was killing her.

“Christina?” asked the leader, inviting her to join them.

Simmering with pent-up emotions, she struggled to get to the top, wobbling, balancing so she wouldn’t fall.

Even though she already had. For Derek. And hard.

She was sick of keeping everything back, of hiding what she felt, of running behind her books when the going got tough.

Remaining silent gave your power to other people, she thought. She couldn’t do that anymore.

No more. Twyla’s words weren’t going to ruin her. And neither were office secrets.

No more bitterness.

“Derek?” she said.

“Yeah.” He was so strong that she didn’t hear any strain in his voice.

“I need a word with you.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Wait.” The team builder stood in front of them, hands pushed out. “See how long you can hold each other up.”

“I’m so tired of all these games,” she said.

The team builder looked crushed.

“No, not yours,” Christina said, swaying and recovering with the force of what she needed to do. “Office hide-and-seek. Gossip. Never being able to be a real person because you’re too afraid of saying the wrong thing and being reprimanded for it. Cowering from people with more influence.”

“Christina?”

It was both a warning and a question from Derek, but she was beyond holding anything back.

“We give people the power to undermine us,” she added, too far gone to stop now. Speaking out felt good. “And I’m taking that power back.”

Jonathan tried to glance up at her, but he faltered, making the entire pyramid tilt.

“Derek,” she said, “I’ve gone and fallen in love with you.”

Someone—her boss?—cursed, and their structure wavered. Then, with a burst of grunts and yells, they all came tumbling down.

For a second, they all sat on the carpet, gaping at each other.

Derek, himself, looked as if he’d been KO’d by the world heavyweight champion.

He didn’t have to say anything for Christina to know she’d overstepped her bounds.

“I’m sorry,” she said, rising to her feet, already on her way to the door. “But it’s out, and I feel better than I have in years.”

“Christina…” Derek’s voice was choked.

She passed Jack, wanting so badly to leave, to escape Derek’s oncoming rejection while she had the chance.

“I’ll fax my resignation letter by the end of the day,” she said.

And, with that, she shut the conference room door, knowing from experience that, just because you’d spoken out, it didn’t mean you were going to be the better for it.

But, this time, unlike with William Dugan, she knew she would be.

Chapter Thirteen

She was in love with him?

Her declaration sent his world flip-flopping. Turning right side up, where it should’ve been in the first place.

Suddenly, everything—his refusal to settle down, his constant running from commitment—whirled away, leaving images in its wake.

Sitting at home on Saturday nights, eating popcorn and watching movies with Christina.

Spiriting her away to a quiet countryside cottage, where he could have her all to himself with no interference.

Laughing at the dinner table with their child, just as easily as they had with his little neighbor, Richie.

Uh-huh, Derek Rockwell had been taken down.

Even though the other team members, plus Jack, were all ogling him like guppies gasping for oxygen, Derek couldn’t get to his feet.

He doubted his legs would hold him up even if he tried.

“You’re just sitting here after what she said?” Seth asked, rubbing his knees from the crash.

“Man,” added Adam, “that’s cold.”

Cold. Stone damned cold. Just like Sir.

But, as Derek had been trying to tell himself for all of his life, he wasn’t his father.

Well, it was damned time to really prove it.

He struggled to a stand, stomach silly with butterflies.

Winged creatures tickling his gut. This was new to him, but he kind of liked it.

Actually, he liked it a lot.

Jack had come to stand in front of him, looking so smug that Derek wanted to rearrange his face.

“You going to take care of this?” Jack asked, voice rushed and anxious. “Not only is she a hell of an analyst, Derek, she’s a hell of a woman. Talk her out of quitting. And while you’re at it—”

“I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

All the guys who’d fallen when Derek’s arms had given out at the “I love you” declaration yelled at him.

“Get out of here, man.”

“Go get her!”

“As I was saying,” Derek said, backing toward the door, “I’m on my way.”

Jack thumped him on the back, and off he went. Even though some joker said, “Does this mean a long lunch?” as he left, Derek let it go.

For now.

Christina couldn’t quit. He wouldn’t be able to stand a day without seeing her, without being privy to her intelligence and kindhearted smiles. Wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t take this risk.

Sure, she was a crackerjack analyst, but that was secondary to the woman inside.

He jogged down the halls, dodging employees, trying to catch the woman he loved—good God, loved—before she left the building.

Stopping by her office on the way to the elevators, he took the chance on seeing that she was there.

Bingo.

With haste, she was dumping personal items into a box, her back to the lobby windows.

As Derek caught his breath, his heart exploded in his chest, a crescendo of emotion to the dance they’d been performing together.

The dance of a strange but ultimately wonderful courtship.

She must have heard him quietly walk up behind her, because she froze, her hair curtaining the side of her face.

Derek reached out, pushed the strands back.

Still, she didn’t look at him. “I’m making this easy on you since it’ll be impossible to work with each other now.”

“It will?”

She glanced at him, questions in her hazel eyes. “I put it all out there, Derek. And I meant what I said. I lost my professional judgment and fell in love with my boss. But I wouldn’t take back what I said. Not if you paid me. I don’t care who knows about how I feel for you. I don’t care what they think.”

“Good, because I think the word’s bound to spread like wildfire.” He stroked her hair again, changing her look to one of hopeful confusion. “Wait until someone calls Patrick to tell him the news. He’ll be overjoyed.”

“What news?” she said cautiously. “That I fired myself in a spectacular blaze of glory?”

“No.” Cupping her face in both of his hands, Derek stroked his thumbs over the hollows of her cheekbones. “That I’m far gone for you, too.”

She stared at him as if trying to decipher what he’d said. He remembered her sad ex-boyfriend stories, how her past had built a glass wall of low self-esteem around her year after year. So he hurried to reassure her.

Not that he was very good at it.

“The thing is,” he said, “I’m having trouble getting the right phrase out. You know I’ve never said it before. But it’s there, believe me.”

So why was it so hard to say I love you, Christina?

Time to try again. “All my life, I’ve been making my best effort to be the opposite of my father. I over-compensated by dating Lite women, ones who didn’t expect me to commit to them. Then you came along.”

Her lips were parted, her brows knitted, as if she were wondering what exactly he was doing in her office, chattering away in the aftermath of her emotional doomsday in the conference room.

“What’s a Lite woman?” she asked.

“The anti-you.” He traced her jawline with his thumb. “Someone who cared as little as I did. See, my father—he made me call him Sir since he was a sergeant in the Army—well, he taught me that rules and regulations were the only way to survive in life. When I rebelled, he punished me, and that just made me more ornery. I decided I’d never walk in his polished-shoe steps, then started on what I believed was a different path.”

Tentatively, Christina folded her hands around his, drawing them away from her face, pressing them near her collarbone, where she could rest her chin on them. She glanced up at him from beneath lowered eyelashes, stealing his heart yet again. Encouraging him to continue.

“When he was home, I had to make my bed for Sir. He’d try to bounce a quarter off of it. Usually, I failed to meet his standards, so I’d start the day with five hundred push-ups. And it just went from there.”

“I could tell there was something going on with you,” she said. “The loneliness in your eyes when you’d talk about family. The way you didn’t want to acknowledge them at all.”

No one else, besides Patrick, had ever bothered to read between Derek’s perfect lines. It was a miracle that he’d found someone who could.

“Odd,” she added. “You tried to be so different from your dad, but on the outside, you aren’t, really. The authoritative boss. The conservative demeanor.”

She flicked his button-down shirt’s opened collar. When he pulled the material away from his neck, he realized that it’d curled upward yet again.

“But then,” she said, “there was always a part of you that wanted to be set free, I think.”

“You’re one of the only people who seems to understand that I was a slave to Sir’s memory.”

She smiled, no doubt still waiting for that phrase. The one that meant commitment, the one that had always been so hard for him to say.

But for this woman, he’d lay his soul on the line.

“Translated from Ultimate Bachelorspeak, all my blithering means I love you, Christina.”

Whoosh…

It felt as if the world had fallen off his shoulders, stripping a facade away from him, revealing the heart he’d forgotten he had.

She’d closed her eyes, kissing one of his wrists. When she opened her gaze again, tears glimmered, spilling down her face.

“Did I say it wrong?” he asked.

“No. I like your translation just fine.”

He became aware of employees lingering outside her office window, but he couldn’t have cared less.

“There’s Twyla,” she said, her voice stronger as she glanced out the window, too. Even though she’d overcome the need to hide what was between her and Derek, she didn’t want his own reputation to suffer for it.

But when she tried to pull away from him, restoring a professional distance, he wouldn’t let her go.

Ecstatic, she settled right back into his arms.

Her ex-team member, who was in the midst of a gathering group in the lobby, glanced away, attempting to seem busy by scribbling on a notepad, nodding to her cohorts as if deep in the thrall of business.

The sight of Twyla only made Christina realize that her bitterness about the past was really gone. Kaput.

Once Derek had chased her down and confessed his own love, Christina’s slate had been wiped clean, ready for new memories. Like the man she loved, she, too, could let go of her old hurts, making room in her heart for a much brighter future.

“Twyla?” Derek asked. “What about her?”

When she glanced back at him, he was grinning, teasing.

“Maybe your next business analyst will tell you all about Twyla and how she needs to be fired,” she said, pushing at his chest as he laughed.

His mirth trailed away, and he tightened his grip around her. “There won’t be a next analyst. I’m going to talk the one we have into staying. She’s much too valuable to let go. In a lot of ways.”

She couldn’t believe he was returning her affection.

She’d fantasized about this moment for so long that the real thing almost seemed like a dream, too.

“As much as I appreciate your compliments, Derek, we can’t carry on as we were. Team dynamics would be uncomfortable. People would start to gossip again and that would be a distraction—it’d take away from employee efficiency.”

He shook his head. “Carrying on? As I said, now that I have you, I’m not letting you go anywhere, Christina.” He took a deep breath, then exhaled. “I’m going to marry you.”

Fireworks exploded inside her chest, a celebration, a grand surprise she’d always hoped for, but never expected.

She wanted to hear it again, so she pretended she hadn’t understood in the first place. “You…what?”

Bringing her hands to rest over his heart, he repeated himself.

“Marry me, Christina.”

Instinctively, all her inner watchdogs rushed in to shield her, to make excuses: She and Derek hadn’t known each other that long. This was still too new. What if, what if, what if…?

But, even if she’d told herself in the past that she’d never find love, an undying spark in her soul had always saved hope. It was this part of her that knew Derek was the one. Crazy as it seemed, a person didn’t have to date for three months or even be engaged for one year to develop something beautiful.

Sometimes, she thought, rekindled, love flashed as quickly as lightning that needed to be captured. You just had to be brave enough to hold it to you, pain and all. To allow it to light up your soul with its eternal illumination.

“Even though you’ve always respected me,” she said, “you also knew how to make me feel like a woman.”

“Is that a yes?”

Though the question sounded doubtful, she could tell by the affection in his brown eyes that he knew what her answer would be.

“Yes, Derek. Yes!”

With a joyful laugh, he picked her up, twirled her in his arms. In return, she hugged him tightly.

Capturing her lightning.

When he finally set her down, he said, “Thank God. I don’t think I could be happy without you, Christina. I believe I knew that the second you stepped into my office. It was just hell to admit.”

“You were too busy ordering me around to notice.”

As they laughed together, they realized there was quite a big audience outside the window. The employees weren’t even bothering to hide their curiosity, watching them as if they were in a fishbowl, there to entertain.

Even the team, including Jack, was present. He was doing his best to peer at the contents of a folder while spying on them as he crossed the lobby.

“They’re dying to know what’s happening,” she said.

Derek got a wicked gleam in his gaze. “Haven’t they always been? Hell, they might as well know that Fortune-Rockwell is about to add another partner.”

She’d never considered money as being part of the deal. Even though Derek was very well off, he managed not to flaunt his wealth. At least, not here in San Antonio. She’d almost forgotten he wasn’t even near normal.

He grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the closed door.

“Derek…” She laughed, giddy with the touch of him.

Sending her his devilish smirk, he opened the door, bringing her outside, too.

“Looks like everyone’s enjoying their lunch hour,” he announced jovially.

The crowd shuffled, no doubt embarrassed that their boss was calling them on their nosiness.

But Derek didn’t acknowledge the awkwardness. “I thought you’d like to know that she said yes.”

Some employees pretended not to know what he was talking about. But Adam, Jonathan, Seth, Ben and Jack all high-fived, causing a relieved chain reaction of applause and felicitations.

Before anyone could approach them, Christina gripped Derek’s hand and tugged him down the hall toward his office. She wanted to be alone with the man she loved.

Wanted him, period, since there was nothing standing between her and her fiancé now.

Si. Her fiancé.

True love had finally hit her, Christina Mendoza, the unluckiest target of love to ever exist.

They passed Twyla, who was leaning against the wall while excited chatter filled the room. The blonde was sending Christina a jaded look, one that seemed to say, “We both know better, don’t we?”

But Christina only held tighter to Derek’s hand, feeling the rough skin of his palm brush against hers, creating sparks. Flames.

For a split second, Christina imagined Rebecca Waters’s face superimposed over Twyla’s. The frowns merged together, morphing into one bad memory.

But, then, unruffled, Christina walked right past, leaving them both behind.

When they arrived at Derek’s office, he dismissed Dora, who was eating a sandwich at her desk while surfing the Internet.

“In fact,” Derek said to her, “why don’t you just take the rest of the day off.”

Dora jumped out of her chair. “This job gets better and better!”

Then she took off, and Derek locked the door to his small lobby, turning around to find his newly minted fiancée leaning against his desk.

Christina.

A fiery flush had stamped her cheeks, bringing a beautiful shine to her eyes and skin.

His wife. His future.

“Should we call Patrick? My parents?” Her smile lit up the room. “Two engagements in the space of days. Mama and Papa are going to hit the roof.”

“What about your bet?” he asked, slowly walking away from the door. “Is this going to mess it up?”

“Terribly. I’m toast, Derek. But I’m betting you’ll be worth all the heinous work I’ll be performing for this lapse into man temptation.”

“I’ll help you through it.”

He was standing in front of her now, coaxing her hair back with his fingers, taking her in as if she’d disappear.

But she wouldn’t. This woman would always be around to rescue him from facing more lonely, soulless nights.

“Let’s make the phone calls later,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Work?” She seemed highly disappointed. “You’re kidding, right? Because if you’re not, I’m really quitting this time.”

“A wife can’t quit her and her husband’s company.”

“I’m not your wife yet.”

Derek scooped Christina into his arms. “Yes, you are. The minute you said you loved me, I became your husband.”

Molding her body against him, Christina rested her lips against his neck, communicating with a language of kisses. “You move fast, Mr. Rockwell.”

“I know a good deal when I see it.” He memorized her back with an opened palm, easing over the line of her spine, the curve of her rear end. “They say I’m ruthless when it comes to getting what I want.”

“Then show me.”

With tender persuasion, he caught her mouth with his, kissing her, slowly exploring her lips, taking his sweet time.

Now, he wasn’t afraid to take her inside of him, to let her all the way into a place no one else had ever ventured before. He absorbed the love she was willing to give, allowing it to make him stronger.

Not weaker.

As her kisses burned his skin, searing him with what he once perceived to be wounds, he felt himself healing under her touch, her care.

He lowered her to the carpet, spreading out her hair like an exotic fan, tracing his fingers over her breasts, watching as they peaked, straining against her red shirt.

“I’ve got that blanket in the closet,” he said. “Let me get it.”

She pulled him back down to her, and he didn’t even mind being restrained.

“I’m comfortable just the way we are,” she said.

He had a vision of the red shawl, the way it’d covered her, protected her, bringing out the deeper feelings he’d been repressing.

“I don’t want you to be just comfortable.” He got up, hating to lose the heat between them. But he’d be right back, restoking it. “I want you to know I’m always thinking of you, whether it’s a blanket under your back or a far grander gesture. Rose petals over your skin, a trip to a first-class Paris hotel…”

“I just need you,” she said. “Not the trimmings.”

“Humor me.”

Playfully, she stretched out on the floor, Cleopatra-like. “You come right back in record time.”

As she sent him a lazy, kiss-warmed smile, Derek’s pulse slammed against his skin. He made fast work of fetching the blanket, then made sure he had a condom ready to go.

He spread the heavy, silky material on the floor, then moved over to her, relieving her of her sandals, sliding his fingers over her delicate ankle while urging her body over to him.

“Your office seems like a forbidden place to make love in,” she said, voice light, teasing.

“It’s been my fortress. And…” He reached over to guide her shirt over her head, leaving her in a lacy white bra. “…you’ve stormed it.”

They slicked off the rest of their clothes until she was in her underwear and he was bare-chested, wearing only his jeans.

Making love in his office would be the statement of all statements. He was changing the tone of it, announcing to himself that work was nothing compared to this woman.

As Derek lay his body over hers, kissing her once again, business fell by the wayside.

Instead, he lavished fingertip praise on the tops of her breasts, which were mounded by the confines of her bra. With easy strokes, he shaped them, making her shiver, her breath quicken.

Inspired, he dipped his thumb into the cup of her bra, tracing the nipple, round and round, taunting it into arousal.

She reached down between them, caressing him, bringing him to a stiff, aching erection.

Soon, all their clothes littered the floor, and she’d worked the condom over his length, wriggling her hips and lulling him inside, where he slid, drove, pulsated into her.

Together, they danced forward, avoiding the backtracking they’d been doing for most of their lives. They followed their own footsteps this time, not the ones other people had laid out for them.

With rhythmic grace, they explored new ground, forging their own path, seeking mountaintops, peaks, summits.

As Derek got higher and higher with Christina matching every climb in elevation, moaning, gyrating, soaring with him, the pressure built in his body.

It stopped his heart, dizzied his head, stole his oxygen. When his partner climaxed beneath him, crying out her love, helping him reach the top, too, Derek finally burst into pieces, overwhelmed by where they’d gone.

Where they’d go every day for the rest of their lives.

Spent, Derek held Christina to him, their skin slick, melting into each other, fusing two into one.

Then he looked at her, replenishing himself with the woman who’d stolen his energy in the first place. She smiled up at him, a tear of sweat trickling down her face, meandering between her lips like a moist kiss.

He fit his mouth to hers, tasting the salt of it.

Drinking her in.

His wife. His partner.

His elixir.

Epilogue

When Patrick Fortune had received the call from Derek, announcing his engagement to Christina, he’d already been on his way back to Texas from New York, planning to personally congratulate Jack and Gloria on their own upcoming nuptials.

And, now, with the success of The Sequel, Patrick felt doubly blessed.

When he’d learned about the office rumors dogging Christina and Derek, guilt had overshadowed Patrick. But his employees had handled the strife beautifully themselves. Then again, they were both the best, so he wouldn’t have expected anything less of them.

However, wanting to make up for his absence, Patrick had hightailed it to the Mendoza house, which had been host to one big party ever since two out of three daughters had gotten engaged. All week, Patrick had toasted their love, eaten Jose’s marvelous food and enjoyed the comfort of family.

But on this weekend, the Mendoza sisters were celebrating Christina’s engagement in a different way.

As Patrick’s driver dropped him off at the Blinko Gas Station near Stocking Stitch, Maria’s knitting store in Red Rock, he caught wind of the festivities: loud laughter, jokes, the lively recorded music of acoustic guitars and the spray of water.

Drawing closer, Patrick adjusted his glasses. Yes, it was true. Just as Gloria had promised, she’d constructed signs that were flapping in the breeze as the Mendozas gathered around a boom box and a cooler of colas and snacks. At the same time, they poked fun at Christina as she washed cars.

Vehicles were lined up on the street, the occupants joining in the fun, calling out to Christina every so often. She’d return the jesting while squirting Jack with water or inviting Sierra to come out and join her.

Labor Of Love! read one sign.

Christina Fought Cupid And Cupid Won! said another.

Another sign, less clever by far, but more meaningful, boasted the words: Car Wash, $10, For Charity. Proceeds Go To The Pediatric Ward Of Red Rock General Hospital.

Patrick wouldn’t advertise it, but he’d chip in a few stacks of bills, too. But, just to get into the spirit, he’d allow Christina to work for it.

After all, she had lost the bet.

When he walked up, the crowd let out a raucous cheer.

“Sit down and watch the show!” Pregnant, yet still slim, Gloria was happy to squash Christina’s shyness with a very public reckoning. Like royalty, she was seated in a lawn chair under an umbrella.

Jack came over to offer his father a cola. Ice chips flaked off the bottle in the spring sun. “Glad you could watch this spectacle, too, Dad.”

They made Patrick comfortable in his own chair near Maria and Rosita. While Christina trooped around in her tennis shoes and grubby, wet shorts and shirt, soapy sponge and hose in hand, a dark head popped up from the other side of the car she was washing.

“Is Derek allowed to be helping?” Patrick asked.

Petite Rosita was using a hand-painted fan to cool herself off. “There are so many waiting cars that the Committee for Man Temptation is allowing it.”

“Jack, Jose and Sierra are talking about helping, also,” Maria said, looking so very pleased about finding two of her daughters their perfect mates. “There is a much bigger turnout than we expected.”

Patrick watched as Derek ambled by Christina, smearing her cheek with bubbles. In retaliation, she sprayed him. When he stopped the attack by enfolding her in a bear hug and kissing her senseless, the observers clapped, urging them on.

“Christina!” yelled Gloria. “I think Sierra took her ring-sitting duties too seriously and ran away with it!”

That got instant attention.

On the sidelines, Sierra was flashing the diamond jewelry at her sister, pretending as if she would take off.

While Derek made to pursue Sierra, Christina held him back, saying how much she trusted her younger sibling. Appeased, Derek resumed work along with his fiancée. But that didn’t keep them from casting flirty glances at each other.

Patrick noticed Sierra’s own gaze lingering on the ring. A deep loneliness filled her eyes, and it broke his old heart.

“Got any ideas?” Maria asked, noticing his focus.

He turned to her and Rosita, who were on the edges of their seats, anticipating his response.

“Give me some time to think about it,” he said, relaxing back into his own. “Just give me some time.”

And, with that, his eye turned back to his latest successful merger.

Between his good friends’ daughter.

And the son of his heart.

What a team, thought Patrick, only too happy to help out.

Still, he wondered if maybe his best work was yet to come.

In a Texas Minute

By

Stella Bagwell

Stella Bagwell sold her first book in November 1985. More than fifty novels later, she still loves her job and says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. Recently, she and her husband of thirty years moved from the hills of Oklahoma to Seadrift, Texas, a sleepy little fishing town located on the coastal bend. Stella says the water, the tropical climate and the seabirds make it a lovely place to let her imagination soar and to put the stories in her head down on paper.

She and her husband have one son, Jason, who lives and teaches maths in nearby Port Lavaca.

Chapter One

“Sierra! Hello! Are you there?”

Sierra Mendoza’s gaze circled the table where she and her friends had gathered for lunch. Every eye was zeroed in on her and she suddenly realized her mind had wandered off again and she’d lost all train of the conversation.

Her cheeks pink with embarrassment, she glanced at Gayle, a blonde who was five years older than Sierra and much more experienced in the men department.

“I’m sorry, Gayle, I was…thinking about something. I didn’t hear your question.”

Gayle rolled her blue eyes, but softened the impatient gesture with a smile. “I asked if you wanted to try one of those fudge brownie desserts with me today?”

“Ugh, no. I—I’m just not in the mood for sugar today,” she said, declining.

Actually Sierra wasn’t in the mood for anything. She was only here at this lunch because these people were her best friends and had been since she’d met them at the University of Texas at Austin many years ago.

Today the two women and three men had congregated for their weekly lunch get-together at the Longhorn Bar and Grill in downtown Red Rock, Texas.

Back in San Antonio’s earlier days, the Longhorn building had been a feed-and-grain store and today it was still more like a barn than anything else. The ceiling was high, open and crossed with heavy rafters. The wooden planked floor was rough and the pine picnic tables were covered with blue-and-white checked tablecloths. What used to be the loading dock was now an outside dining area that looked out over Main Street. The air in and out of the Longhorn always smelled of beer and fried onions, scents that mingled with laughter and rowdy conversation.

Mario, a Hispanic doctor who worked the emergency room in one of San Antonio’s larger hospitals, turned a look of concern on Sierra. “What’s the matter? Are you trying to diet? You certainly don’t need to. You’ve gotten too thin in my opinion.”

Feeling as if a bright spotlight were focused on her, Sierra dropped her gaze to the half-eaten lunch plate in front of her. “Not really, Mario. I’ve been eating plenty. I just don’t want dessert today.” She looked up and smiled apologetically at Gayle. “Maybe next week I’ll have more of an appetite. Why don’t you go ahead and eat one without me.”

Laughing, Gayle shook her head. “No way. I’m not going to be the only one to eat a days’ worth of calories in one small bowl.”

“Well, I think Mario is right,” Trey spoke up. “Sierra looks thin and pale. We’ve all noticed it. So what’s wrong, honey? Still mooning over Chad Newbern?”

She looked at Trey, a big, brawny civil engineer with forearms the size of Popeye’s and an even bigger heart.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” she said flatly.

She didn’t even want to think about Chad, much less talk about him. Sierra had dated the man for two long years and then, suddenly, two months ago, he’d told her he wanted out of their relationship. He’d explained how he wanted more excitement in his life and Sierra was left with the clear conclusion that she’d simply been too boring to satisfy him. The whole incident had left her ego in shreds.

“Why not? It’s obvious you’re still thinking about the loser.”

A grimace tightened her jaw as she looked directly across the table at Alex Calloway, the smooth lawyer of the bunch. A look of pure boredom etched his handsome features and Sierra had the most unladylike urge to kick his shins beneath the table. Of all her friends, Alex had a way of irritating her the most. Sarcasm should have been his middle name and there were times he could be so callous Sierra wanted to bop him over the head. Yet, on the other hand, he could turn around and be a real peach whenever he wanted to be.

Sierra had never considered him as more than a good friend and she supposed it was that complex personality of his that had kept her from falling for his tall, lanky good looks. And thank God for that, she thought. Alex was a heartbreaker of the worst kind.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” she bit sharply back at him.

“Well, I certainly believed old Chad was gonna be your husband someday soon. I was expectin’ you to waltz in here and tell us wedding bells were fixin’ to ring,” Trey spoke up. “Instead the jerk runs out on you.”

“Yeah. And after all you’ve done for the cad,” Gayle added disgustedly. “There’s nothing as sorry as a sorry man.”

Trey scowled at Gayle, but none of the three men at the table bothered to speak up and defend their gender. Instead Mario looked sympathetically at Sierra and said, “Well, at least you got him off alcohol. And he’s got a steady job. You can feel good about that.”

“Yes, sir,” Trey spoke up brightly, “you fixed Chad Newbern when he was pretty broken. You can feel proud of yourself for helping someone to get on with his life.”

It was true that Sierra had been proud of the progress Chad had made since she’d first met him two years ago. At that time, he’d just been discharged from the navy for medical reasons and he’d been devastated over losing a career he’d wanted so badly. He’d taken to drinking to get the loss off his mind, until the liquor had taken hold of him.

Sierra had been touched by his wounded spirit and slowly but surely she’d helped him get over the drinking problem. In the process, she’d fallen in love. And she supposed her biggest mistake had been thinking that Chad had fallen in love, too.

“Yeah,” Alex drawled as he lifted his beer mug to his lips, “Sierra’s not just a social worker, she’s a miracle worker. She’s good at patching things. No matter how rotten they are.”

“Alex!” Gayle scolded. “Can’t you see that Sierra is hurting? She needs our support.”

A mocking slant spread over Alex’s firmly chiseled lips. “What Sierra needs to do is stiffen her spine before someone else walks all over her.”

Sierra gripped her beer mug with both hands and stared down at the thick sudsy bubbles as she did her best to blink back her tears. Maybe Alex was right, she thought with a sigh of defeat. It seemed as though every boyfriend she’d ever had in the past only stuck around long enough for Sierra to “fix” him, and then he was gone with the wind. What was wrong with her anyway? Didn’t she have any lasting appeal to the opposite sex?

Straightening her shoulders as best she could, Sierra pinned her warm brown eyes on Alex’s mocking face.

“Like you do to your opponents in the courtroom?” she asked coolly.

The mocking twist of his lips suddenly tilted upward to a droll smile. “You play the game to win, Sierra. You don’t play it to lose.”

For a moment awkward silence fell over the table, then finally Trey said, “Sierra, you’re a beautiful young woman. You’ll find the right man for you one of these days. Just keep that pretty little chin of yours up.”

Sierra appreciated Trey’s kindness, but she’d never gone so far as to think of herself as beautiful. Her sisters, Gloria and Christina, were beautiful. They were tall and willowy and sophisticated. Sierra barely measured five foot three. And though she was curvy, she was very petite. Many of her old high school friends still called her Runt and the long black mass of curls flying around her head didn’t help her little-girl image.

“Thanks, Trey,” she said. “But I don’t think I’ll be looking for a long, long while. Right after Chad and I broke up, I made a pact with my sisters. We all vowed to steer clear of men completely. If we broke our promise, we’d have to do some unholy task like mow the lawn or wash cars. Believe me, I’m not going to end up like Gloria and Christina. I plan to stick to my pledge.”

“Oh, don’t let this make you cynical,” Mario spoke up. “Trey is right. You’ll find the right person. Maybe tomorrow. Who knows?”

Mario was smiling at her with encouragement and she tried her best to smile back. Thankfully the waitress chose that moment to arrive with their food and the subject of Sierra’s love life was dropped. She focused her attention on the meal as though she was thoroughly enjoying every bite.

However, she was relieved when the five of them said their goodbyes and she hurried across the parking lot to her waiting car. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation with anyone. The spring afternoon was windy, but bright and warm. A walk in the park would do her good. But, at the moment, all she wanted to do was go home and cry her eyes out.

“Just a minute, Sierra. I want to talk to you.”

Hearing Alex’s voice right behind her, Sierra paused from opening the car door to turn and look at him. He was a tall man, at least six foot, with warm brown hair combed straight back from his forehead and clear green eyes that were usually glinting with a heavy dose of cynicism. He had the sort of hard, tough features that intimidated people, which she supposed was an asset in his line of work. Yet his face matched his lean, leathery body perfectly and, in spite of his lack of feelings at times, she had to admit he was a very attractive man.

“Why?” she quipped the question. “So you can stick the dagger in farther and twist it? I’ve really had enough, Alex.”

Turning back to the car door, she jabbed the key in the lock and twisted it. Yet before she could pull the door open, Alex’s hand was on her shoulder and she frowned as he tugged her back around to face him.

“No,” he said in a voice as smooth as steel. “I don’t think you’ve had nearly enough. It’s ridiculous the way you were back there in the grill, crying into your beer like all your tomorrows have ended.”

The disgust on his face not only hurt Sierra, it infuriated her and her pink lips parted as she stared up at him. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Alex. You wouldn’t know what love was, even if it gave you a good slap in the face.”

He rolled his eyes and she breathed in a deep breath hoping it would calm her rising temper.

“Oh, please!” he groaned with disbelief. “You call what you had with Chad ‘the loser’ Newbern love? You needed to get rid of him ages ago. I’m glad he finally got enough sense to see it, too.”

Her jaw clamped tight, Sierra turned her face away from his. “I’d really like to know who named you perfect man of the year,” she said through gritted teeth. “Whoever it was had a screw loose.”

“I don’t profess to be perfect,” he shot back at her.

Sierra’s gaze flew up to his. “If you know so much about love, Counselor, why don’t you have a woman draped permanently on your arm?”

His lean features scowled at her. “Maybe because I’m smart enough to realize that I don’t need a woman just to make me happy. Hell, I don’t even need one to help me stand upright. I can do that all by myself. The way you should be doing instead of clinging like a needy vine to every loser who comes along and gives you a second glance.”

Pain ricocheted through her body. She was used to Alex being tough at times, but she wasn’t ready for this kind of scolding. He was her friend, for Pete’s sake. Couldn’t he see she needed sympathy and understanding right now?

Swallowing at the knot of pain in her throat, she reached up and grabbed at the curls blowing into her misty brown eyes. “I’ve got to go, Alex.”

“Not yet. I—”

“You’ve made your point.” She shrugged her shoulder away from his hand. “I’m going home. I’ll see you later,” she said numbly, and before he could stop her she opened the car door and quickly slid behind the wheel.

Throwing up his hands with disgust, Alex stepped back and watched her drive out of the parking lot.

Damn man, Sierra thought as she drove through the residential streets of Red Rock. He could be so pompous at times that she wanted to slap him. But she couldn’t help loving him as a friend. During college Sierra had gone through some rough ground. Alex had always been there to lend her a hand and keep her morale boosted. Then later, after college, when her two older sisters had become estranged from the family and each other, Sierra had been devastated. Being a social worker, she’d always believed she could help the most torn families get back together, but she’d not been able to make her sisters see eye to eye and that had left Sierra feeling even more useless. Alex had been around to promise her that things would get better. And they had.

Gloria and Christina had both come home to stay. Everyone was talking and laughing again. Gloria was pregnant with her first child and planning a June wedding with business magnate Jack Fortune. Christina had just announced her engagement to Derek Rockwell. Both her sisters were happy and in love.

Sierra had believed she would be the next in line. She’d been dreaming of going to her sisters and telling them that she, too, would soon be walking down the aisle. But that likelihood had ended, along with all the rest of her starry-eyed plans for the future.

Five minutes later, Sierra was trying not to think about anything pertaining to marriage as she turned down a neat residential street and parked in front of an old two-story house shaded in the front and the back by spreading live oaks.

A cattleman had built the house back in the 1880s. The story went that his wife had loved throwing parties and the couple had needed a second house in town to accommodate their guests. Down through the years, the owners of the house had changed, and modern bathrooms had been added, but basically the structure had remained the same. The floors were all polished oak and the walls and ceiling intricate tongue and groove.

The place needed a bit of repairs here and there and the board siding was faded to a chalky-white, but since the owner was an old friend of the family, Sierra got a great deal on the rent. And she loved the space and the character of the house, even if the old rooms seemed lonely at night.

Inside, she went straight to her bedroom and changed her printed cotton dress for a pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt. After she’d slipped on a pair of loafers and tied her black curls into a ponytail, she went out to the living room to go through the mail she’d left stacked on an end table near the couch.

By now her earlier anger at Alex had dissolved and as she ripped into the envelopes, regret began to settle on her shoulders. Even if Alex had been nasty to her, he’d been doing it out of kindness. She shouldn’t have been nasty back to him. That was beneath her usual demeanor and she hated that she’d lost her temper with him. Maybe she should give him time to get back to his office, then call and apologize, she pondered.

She was still debating whether to pick up the phone, when a knock sounded on the front door. Since she rarely had visitors in the middle of the afternoon, she was fully expecting to see a salesman when she opened the door. The last person she imagined to see standing on the porch was Alex Calloway.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly.

With a slight grimace, he ran a hand through his brown hair. “May I come in?” he asked.

Sierra had already forgiven him, but she didn’t want to be too quick in letting him know it. He was always accusing her of being too soft. Maybe now was the time to show him a tougher side of her.

“Why? So you can continue to insult me?”

His brows lifted and fell as he eyed her grim face. “No. And I don’t want to have this conversation standing in the doorway.”

Heaving out a breath, she pushed the screen door wide and gestured for him to come into the house. He walked to the middle of the room and jammed his hands into the pockets of his chinos. The khaki-colored pants were topped with a long-sleeved, dark green shirt and matching green tie flecked with spots of bright yellow. His clothing was far from the high-powered designer suits that were seen on many of the affluent lawyers in San Antonio. But Alex wasn’t into impressions, especially the outward kind. He was more interested in making his clients feel comfortable and gaining their confidence. That was something Sierra had always appreciated about him.

“I thought you had a client to meet with this afternoon. Isn’t he waiting?” Sierra asked.

Alex was a trial lawyer with an office in San Antonio. Since he’d gotten his license to practice four years ago, he’d gone it alone, preferring to have his own business and do things his own way than to be a part of a large firm. Sierra admired his independence, but she often questioned him about the location of his office.

San Antonio was twenty miles away. Alex lived here in Red Rock. His hometown needed him much more than a city that was already full of lawyers.

“I told Pauline to keep him entertained until I got there,” he answered. “She will.”

Pauline was a perky, middle-aged woman who ran Alex’s office single-handedly. The legal secretary was the only woman Sierra had ever met who could put Alex in his place. Yet he was always quick to sing Pauline’s praises. Which was a smart thing on his part. Sierra seriously doubted he could find another paralegal who would put up with his demands.

Sierra went over to the couch and sank onto an end cushion. Since the day was warm but not hot, she’d opened the windows and turned on the ceiling fans. The blades far above Alex’s head were turning in lazy, squeaky circles while beyond the window screens two mockingbirds jabbered at each other. It was a lazy, Texas afternoon, but at the moment every nerve in her body was focused on the male strutting back and forth in front of her.

“So, why are you here?” she asked again.

He paused to look at her. “To say I’m sorry and that I acted like a jerk to you.”

Sierra was swamped with relief and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “You did act like a jerk, but I forgive you. Actually, about the time you knocked on the door, I’d decided I needed to call you to apologize. I wasn’t exactly nice to you, either.”

His hands still in his pockets, he walked over to the couch and took a seat next to her. “Forget it, Sierra. I just want you to—well, I don’t like seeing you like this. We’ve been friends for years and how many times have I watched some good-for-nothing bum walk all over you? Too many,” he added before she could answer. “Trey is right. You’re a beautiful young woman, you shouldn’t be settling for less.”

Alex thought she was beautiful? He’d never said anything like that to her before! Alex had always had his pick of gorgeous women. To think that he’d even bothered to consider her looks was a shocker.

Feeling suddenly awkward, Sierra’s gaze dropped to a spot on the floor. “Alex, I’ve never purposely set out to pick a loser for a boyfriend. It—it just turns out that way. I guess I just have horrible judgment of men.”

She lifted her eyes to see him shaking his head. “Why do you even need a man in your life, Sierra?”

Gasping, she rolled her brown eyes toward the ceiling. “Are you crazy, Alex? I’m a woman and I have normal, healthy needs just like other women my age. We want affection, love and companionship in our lives. Let’s face it. Living single gets pretty lonely at times. You should know that.”

“Look, Sierra, there’s nothing wrong with having a man around now and then. You just don’t need to—well, long so much for wedding bells. I thought you women had moved beyond that old-fashioned notion of marriage, anyway.”

She shook her head in dismay. “Alex, you just don’t understand.”

He arched an accusing brow at her. “It’s your sisters who have you all upset. They’re getting married in the next few months. And now your chance is gone because Chad, the loser, skipped out on you. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

Feeling as though she were under a microscope, Sierra got to her feet and began to walk around the large, sparsely furnished room. “Maybe. Just a little,” she mumbled. “For five years my sisters were both gone from home. Gloria lived in Colorado and Christina lived in California, but you know all of this. I’ve whined to you about it so many times before. You understand how much I missed them and how awful it was for my parents to lose two of their daughters.”

Alex nodded. “I remember the rift between your sisters was awful—it tore your parents’ hearts out to have the family broken in such a way. And all that time, you stayed behind and did your best to help your parents in any way they needed. Now your black-sheep sisters come home and smooth out their differences. All is well. They’re forgiven. Both of them find the loves of their life.”

“Yeah,” Sierra tacked on with a measure of bitterness. “And me—the boring, good little daughter loses hers.”

The last of her words were spoken in a choked voice and she paused at one of the open windows to compose herself.

Across the room, Alex cursed and jumped to his feet. “Hell’s bells, Sierra! Chad wasn’t the love of your life! You and I both know it!”

She glanced over her shoulder to see him striding toward her. His face was a picture of impatient disgust and she realized their conversation in the parking lot had suddenly come full circle.

“You don’t know any such thing, Counselor.”

His hand closed around her upper arm and as he looked down at her, his features gentled. “Yes, I do, honey. You’ve never had that look of love on your face. It hasn’t happened yet.”

Sierra’s brown eyes widened. “You know how a woman in love looks?”

Suddenly he laughed and patted her cheek. “Is that a trick question, Sierra?”

She started to laugh with him, but the lighthearted moment quickly ended as another knock sounded on the front door.

Frowning, Alex glanced toward the front entrance. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No. It’s probably a darn salesperson. Maybe you should go to the door, Alex. They don’t like to deal with men.”

He flashed her a confident smile. “Sure. I’ll get rid of him real quick.”

While Alex went to answer the door, Sierra decided to go into the kitchen and make a pot of coffee. She was halfway there when Alex turned away from the door and called to her.

“Sierra, I think you need to come here.”

“Coming.”

She joined Alex on the threshold and was surprised when she looked out onto the wide porch to see a teenage girl holding a newborn baby in a plastic carrier.

“Miss Sierra?” she asked in a small voice. “Is that you?”

“Yes.” Sierra pushed the screen door open and stepped onto the porch for a better look at the timid teenager. “Is that you, Ginger?”

The young woman with short, chestnut hair and very pale skin nodded. At the same time Sierra recognized her from one of the families she’d visited as a social worker. Ginger Rollins. Her father had abused her mother and the courts had issued a restraining order against him. Now the mother was doing her best to care for three children. It was the same old refrain that Sierra saw over and over in her line of work. Only this time it was complicated even more by Ginger being pregnant with a child.

“Is something wrong? Has your dad moved back in the house?”

Ginger nervously shook her head. “No. I—see—I’ve had my baby. A boy.”

Sierra stepped forward and peered down at the tiny infant. A fuzz of light, reddish-brown hair covered his head and although his eyes were closed in sleep, Sierra could see he was a handsome child with a sweet little bow mouth and a nose that was just big enough to look boyish.

“He’s adorable, Ginger,” Sierra exclaimed with a glowing smile for the baby. “You must be very proud.”

“Yes, Miss Sierra. I am.”

Sierra looked up at the girl’s anxious face. “So what can I do for you, Ginger?”

Blushing, the teenager looked down at her baby and Sierra felt her heart jerk with sorrow. Mother and child both needed so much help if they expected to make it in this world. And where would they find it? Certainly not from her family, she thought sadly.

“I was wondering if you could babysit for me? Just for a little while,” she added hastily. “You see, my mom’s at work and I—need to go to the hospital. My aunt is there having some tests run and she’s pretty scared and all. I thought I’d sit with her and try to make her feel a little better.”

Sierra didn’t hesitate. She had the rest of the day off. Having a baby in the house might be the very thing she needed to shake the depression she’d been feeling today.

“Why, of course,” she told Ginger. “I’d be glad to watch him for you.”

Smiling with relief, Ginger pushed the baby carrier into Sierra’s arms. “That’d be great! I’ll go get his diaper bag from the car. I’ll be back in a second.”

“You’re a real sucker for a manly face, aren’t you?”

She glanced around to see that Alex had walked out onto the porch and was now peering over her shoulder at the baby.

“Well, I just couldn’t resist this little man,” she confessed. “Isn’t he cute, Alex? Look, he’s got a dimpled chin just like yours.”

Alex chuckled. “Oh, no,” he said wryly. “You won’t ever see a baby with my genes stamped on his face. Kids are a serious responsibility. One that I’m not up to.”

Sierra had never heard Alex say he was opposed to having children and she started to question him about his remark, but Ginger was returning with the diaper bag.

“Thank you, Miss Sierra,” the teenager said with a breathless rush. “Everything that you need is in there. And I’ll—be back as soon as I can.”

“There’s no need for you to hurry your visit, Ginger,” Sierra assured her. “I hope you can help your aunt feel better. And your baby will be in good hands.”

With a sheepish smile, Ginger jumped off the porch and hurried across the lawn to the curb where a rattletrap, hatchback car was waiting.

Thoughtfully, Sierra watched the girl pull onto the street and drive out of sight. “Looks like I’ve been handed a job for this afternoon,” she said as she turned to go into the house.

Alex grabbed the diaper bag and followed her. “What’s the baby’s name?” he asked.

“Oh. I forgot to ask,” Sierra told him. “But since he can’t answer us, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Her face glowing with excitement, she carried the baby over to the couch and placed him and the carrier onto the middle cushion. Alex sat down on the opposite side of the sleeping boy.

“He is cute,” Alex admitted as he closely studied the baby. “Kinda bald, but I guess his hair will grow. Are all babies like that? With just a little bit of hair?”

Sierra’s soft laugh was full of disbelief. “It amazes me that you’re smart enough to pass the bar exam but you don’t know anything about a baby.”

“I’m smart enough to know that they’re noisy and wet. And that so far I’ve been careful not to produce any.”

She leaned back from the baby and folded her arms against her breasts. “And why is that, Alex?”

He shot her a tired look. “Isn’t it obvious, Sierra? I’m not married. A kid needs a mom and a dad. Together in the same house. Instead of one living on the north side of town and one living on the south.”

Her eyes slid over his rugged features as she imagined what a son of Alex’s might be like. Strong, sturdy and handsome. He would raise a child of his with a firm but loving hand, just the way a father should be.

“Well, you’ve had plenty of offers for marriage,” Sierra reminded him.

With a mocking laugh, he stood up. “Marriage is just something to keep divorce lawyers rich. I don’t plan on contributing to their wealth.”

“One of these days we’re going to have to work on that cynical attitude of yours,” Sierra told him.

He grinned. “Yeah. And one of these days you’re going to learn to put some iron in that spine of yours.” With a cocky wink, he started to the door. “I’ve got to get to work. Have a nice afternoon, little mother.”

“I was going to make you some coffee,” she called to him. “Now you’re running off.”

Shaking his head, he stepped onto the porch. “We’ll do that some other time.” He peered back at her through the screen. “You just take care of your little guy, there. And forget about that other one. Hear me?”

Hear him? He’d been giving her advice for years. Maybe it was time she listened to the bossy counselor.

“I’ll try, Alex.”

Chapter Two

Sierra was so fascinated by the baby that an hour passed before she realized she’d been sitting on the couch simply watching him sleep.

After a few more minutes, she forced herself to get up and go to the kitchen and began making that pot of coffee. While she was waiting for it to drip, the baby began to let out soft, intermittent cries.

Back in the living room, she carefully changed the baby’s diaper and then fed him the formula that Ginger had left in the diaper bag. He went back to sleep soon after he drank a portion of the bottle and Sierra lay him on her bed so that he’d be out of the afternoon breeze wafting through the living room windows.

While the baby slept, Sierra couldn’t help wondering about the tot’s name and how Ginger and her mother were going to care for him when they now had five mouths in the house to feed. There were programs for the needy that would help. Sierra was going to make a point to go by the Rollinses’ house and make sure Mrs. Rollins took advantage of the aid. She also wanted to make sure that Mr. Rollins wouldn’t be coming around in a drunken stupor and swinging his fist at anyone who stepped in front of him.

Another hour passed and then two more. And though she was enjoying every minute with the baby, Sierra couldn’t help but wonder what was keeping Ginger. Four hours had passed since she’d dropped the child off and she’d not heard a word from her.

Deciding she’d better try to make contact, she called Red Rock General and asked them to page Ginger. After a long wait on hold, the switchboard operator came back on the line.

“I’m sorry, Miss Mendoza. The person isn’t responding. She must have left the hospital.”

Sierra’s heart sank. “Oh. Well, could you tell me if you have a Mrs. Rollins listed?”

“Sure. Just a moment.”

Sierra looked at the sleeping baby while she waited for an answer. Why would Ginger have stayed away this long? Why would she have simply left the newborn with her?

“Sorry, Miss Mendoza. There’s no one been admitted by that name. Is there another name she might be listed under?”

Sierra had no idea what Ginger’s maternal aunt’s name might be so she simply thanked the operator and hung up.

What in the world was she going to do now? she wondered, call child care services? No. Because the Rollinses’ home wasn’t exactly fit for a newborn, they would probably take him straight to a foster home, or even worse an orphanage until something could be decided about his future. She couldn’t bear the thought of this little guy being handed from one person to the next.

Worried now, Sierra began to pace the living room. While she’d been on the phone to the hospital, the sun had set and long shadows from the live oaks had settled over the front of the house. She switched on a lamp to chase away the gloom, then sat down next to the baby.

Maybe she should call her own parents, Sierra considered. But Jose and Maria couldn’t do any more than she was already doing. And anyway, they were always scolding her for taking on everyone else’s problems. They would definitely see “baby” as a huge problem. On top of that, her parents were usually at Red, the restaurant they owned, this time of the evening, eating or generally seeing that everything was running smoothly.

Sierra was acquainted with Wyatt Grayhawk, the sheriff of Red Rock. She should probably call him and report the baby as abandoned. But Wyatt was a tough stickler for the law and he would insist that the baby be taken to the proper authorities. She could already hear him saying that would be the right thing to do.

But every time Sierra looked at the baby’s sweet, innocent face, she felt a fierce sense of protectiveness. She wanted to make sure he was loved, not just cared for.

Alex! She’d call Alex, Sierra suddenly decided. He was her friend and a lawyer; he’d weigh both sides of the situation for her.

At the same time, in San Antonio, Pauline, Alex’s paralegal, marched into his office.

“Alex, what in hell are you doing? Your client just walked out the door. And he wasn’t just angry. He was furious. He slammed the door so hard as he was leaving I thought the windows were going to shatter.”

Leaning back in a large, black leather desk chair, Alex looked at his secretary who was leaning over his desk, waiting to hear a logical reason for the storm that had just blown from the office.

“It’s simple, Pauline. I wouldn’t take his case.”

The graying brunette shot him a droll look. “I gathered that much, Alex. I want to know why? The man has money. He could have paid some bills around here. You know his father owns that construction firm that’s building the fancy new row of shops out by the interstate.”

“I don’t care if his father is building a new mansion up at Crawford for the president. He’s guilty. And you know my rules about taking cases. If I’m not totally sure the person is innocent, forget it.”

Pauline straightened away from his desk and walked over to a coffeemaker situated in one corner of the small office. As she poured the brown liquid into a foam cup she said, “Well, it would be nice to stay on speaking terms with the electric company. We might need some light around here to get any work done.”

Alex was more amused than anything by his secretary’s comment. “I have plenty of candles at home. If need be, I’ll bring them to work.”

Pauline leveled a wry look at him as she carefully sipped her coffee. “It’s April. Texas is starting to heat up. What are we going to do for air-conditioning?”

Alex batted a dismissive hand in her direction. “Hand fans. You can buy one for a dollar or two.”

Pauline let out a mocking laugh. “Oh, that’d be real pleasant. What do you intend to do, sweat the truth out of your potential clients?”

“Very funny, Pauline. You know that we have plenty in the coffers to pay the electric bill. Don’t try to make me feel guilty that I decided not to represent that bum.”

Rising to his feet, he went over and poured himself a cup of coffee and added a measure of powdered creamer.

As he thoughtfully stirred his drink, Pauline said, “I always thought it was every person’s right to have representation in court.”

“Hmm. It is. He’ll just have to find it somewhere else.”

Seeing he’d made up his mind about the issue, Pauline said, “Okay. The bum was your last appointment for today. You’ve got a court date in the morning. Do you want to go over your opening argument?”

Alex shook his head. “No. I’m going to wait and let it all come from here.” He tapped the spot on his chest that covered the region of his heart.

“All right. Do you want to go over your notes with me?”

Seeing she was intent on staying busy, Alex gave in. “Sure. Get the things. It never hurts to know every little detail of the case.”

Pauline started out of the room to fetch the files, when the telephone rang. On her way toward the door, she stopped by one corner of Alex’s desk and picked up the receiver.

After a brief exchange of words, she held the phone out to her boss. “It’s Sierra.”

Alex’s brows shot up with surprise. Sierra rarely called him at work. And since he’d just left her house after lunch, he couldn’t imagine what she might have to say to him.

Pauline jabbed the phone at Alex as though he needed to wake up. “You know, Sierra, the pretty young Hispanic woman who comes by and sees you from time to time.”

Scowling impatiently at his secretary, he jerked the phone from her hand. “Yes, I know. And you can shut the door behind you!”

Pauline merely laughed as she left the room. Alex waited for the woman to close the door and then he sank onto his desk chair.

“Sierra, what’s up?”

Sierra seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice. “I’m sorry to bother you like this, Alex. I realize it’s late and you’re probably getting ready to head home, but I just had to speak to you. You’re the only person I could think of to call about this.”

Picking up on the panicked sound of her voice, Alex leaned forward, his expression alert. “What is ‘this’?”

For some crazy reason, Sierra felt a ball of tears rushing to her throat. “It’s the baby, Alex. Ginger never came back to get him.”

“What do you mean, never came back? You haven’t heard from her?”

Sierra gripped the receiver. “No. I tried to contact her at the hospital, but apparently she wasn’t there. And now I have a sneaking suspicion the visit to her aunt was just a fabrication. Alex, I don’t know what to do!”

Alex rose to his feet. “Sierra,” he stressed with calm patience. “It’s simple. You’ve got to call the authorities.”

“No! I mean—not right now. Please, can you come over? I need to talk to you about this.”

His first instinct was to yell at her, to order her to get off the phone and call the sheriff. But something about the desperate note in her voice stopped him. She’d just gone through a big disappointment with that Chad guy. And Alex had already given her enough rough treatment for one day. It wouldn’t hurt if a little more time passed before she had to deal with the authorities.

“All right, Sierra. Sit tight and I’ll be right over.”

Alex hung up the phone and as he hurried out of the building, he ordered Pauline to close up and go home.

As he drove the twenty miles back to Red Rock, he kept thinking about Sierra. Ever since their college days, he’d considered her a close friend. She’d been an attractive woman when they’d walked the Texas University campus, and Alex couldn’t deny that she’d grown even more beautiful these past few years. But he was smart enough to know that the two of them would never be compatible. She was too much of a Florence Nightingale and he—well, he had his own demons to deal with.

Sierra was walking the floor waiting for Alex to arrive when the baby started to whimper again. Taking a seat on the couch, she cradled him in her arms and then reached for the diaper bag sitting nearby. She remembered one more bottle being inside. Once that was gone, she’d have to see about getting more.

Whoa, Sierra. This baby isn’t yours. Don’t start letting yourself think in those terms.

Pressing her lips together in firm conviction, Sierra began to dig through the items in the baby bag. She pulled out a clean diaper and was fishing around for the bottle of formula when her hand came in contact with a piece of paper.

Pulling it from the bag, she could see it was a piece of lined notebook paper. The side facing her was blank, so she flipped it over and just as quickly reared back with shock. It was a short note:

Dear Miss Sierra,

I guess by now you’ve figured out that I’m leaving the baby with you. You’ve always been good to me and I know you’ll love him and take good care of him. You’ll give him the sort of home that I never could.

I’ve always wanted to go to California so that’s where I’m headed. I want to find a better life for myself.

Ginger

Just then Sierra heard Alex parking his SUV in front of her house and she ran out onto the porch and across the yard to meet him.

“Oh, Alex! You’re not going to believe this! I can hardly believe it myself. And I don’t know what to do! You’ve—”

Alex grabbed her by the upper arms as she did a frantic dance on her toes.

“Whoa, honey. Just calm down. Where’s the baby?”

A breath rushed out of her. “On the couch. Asleep. He just downed the last bottle.”

Alex’s arm slipped around her waist as he urged her toward the house. “Come on. Let’s go in and you can tell me all about it.”

Just having Alex near was enough to soothe her frayed nerves. By the time they entered the living room and took seats on the couch, her body had begun to relax somewhat.

“Okay. Start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out,” Alex instructed.

Sierra rolled her eyes. “Dear God, do you always have to be such a—lawyer?” She reached and collected a piece of paper from the coffee table. “Just read this. It explains most everything.”

Alex took the note and quickly read through the carefully printed words. When he looked up at Sierra, his green eyes were as hard as stone.

“She just left him. Without a backward glance. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

The cold irony in his voice stunned Sierra. Alex had dealt with all sorts of crimes in his profession. He was used to seeing human nature at its worse and for the most part he took it all in stride.

“Alex! You’re making Ginger sound like—a murderer, or worse!” Sierra gasped.

Rising, Alex went over to the baby and gazed down at his sleeping face. As Sierra watched a muscle tick in his jaw, she realized that this whole situation had brought painful memories back to him.

“Can you think of anything worse than abandoning your own child?” he asked sharply.

Her face full of concern, she got to her feet and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Alex, I’m—sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have involved you.”

A tight grimace etched his rugged features and then just as quickly the pained expression disappeared and he shook his head. “Forget it, Sierra. I came here to help you. Not to condemn anybody.”

When Sierra’s sisters, Gloria and Christina, had been gone from the family and her parents had constantly fretted about their welfare, she’d often lamented her worries to Alex. During one of those times, he’d surprised her by saying that at least Sierra knew who her real parents and siblings were.

Sierra had pressed him to explain the comment and he’d eventually confessed that, when he was thirteen, he’d discovered his adoption papers among his parents’ important documents. Mitch and Emily Calloway had never told Alex that he was their adopted son. They’d always led him to believe that he’d been born to them right there in a Dallas hospital.

Alex had confronted the couple with the adoption papers and he’d eventually learned that his biological mother had left him on the steps of a human services building in Dallas. He’d only been two days old at the time. The truth had shaken the very foundation beneath Alex’s feet and Sierra wasn’t at all sure that he’d ever made peace with the circumstances of his birth.

“If it’s too upsetting to you—”

“Sierra! I’m here. And I said forget it. Okay?”

Biting down on her lip, she studied him with worried brown eyes. Alex groaned and reached for her hand.

“Sierra,” he said, his tone suddenly gentle. “It’s all right. I’m a big boy. You don’t have to worry about me.”

The touch of his fingers wrapped around hers was strong and warm and comforting. Sierra unconsciously tightened her hand around his. “All right. So what do you advise me to do, Counselor?”

“Does Ginger have a family?”

“Yes. But the father has a restraining order against him. He drinks. And if he lives in the same house with the family, he beats on the mother and the children. Mrs. Rollins is trying to make a living for herself and her other children without him. There’s no way she is capable of caring for an infant. She’s just an inch away from having her own children taken away from her.”

“Sounds like a lovely home life,” Alex said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She sighed. “People can get themselves in some real predicaments, Alex. We’re not all perfect and at least Mrs. Rollins is trying to overcome her mistake of a bad marriage.”

Shaking his head, he pulled away from her and walked across the room. “God, Sierra, that soft heart of yours is going to get you into big trouble someday. Not everybody in this world has good in them, you know.”

He was standing at one of the open windows, his forearm resting against the wooden seal as he looked out at the darkening night. Sierra left the couch and went to him.

“Alex, Ginger wanted me to have this baby. The note plainly says so. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

His eyes widened in complete disbelief. “Are you telling me you want to keep the baby? Is that what this is all about?”

A pleading expression crossed her face as she held her hands outward and upward. “Alex, I don’t want the boy to go to some orphanage or foster home.”

He stabbed a forefinger toward the couch where the infant was quietly sleeping. “That little guy doesn’t have any attachment to you.”

Lifting her chin with defiance, she said, “Maybe not yet. But he will. And I know I can take wonderful care of him.”

“Okay. Okay. I don’t see any problem with you being a foster mother. But as for Ginger’s note, I’m not so sure it would stand up in a court of law. You’ll have to become his foster mother on your own merit.”

Sierra breathed a bit easier. She didn’t know why the baby had become so important to her. She’d only had him with her for a few hours. And babysitting was nothing new for her. Friends were often asking Sierra to watch their children and not once during those occasions had she felt the sudden, unshakable attachment as she had with this little guy.

Her smooth brow puckered with concern. “Do you think that’s possible? Child care services are so picky.”

His lips slanted wryly. “We won’t know until we talk with them,” he said and before she could reply he started to the phone. “Where’s your directory?”

Sierra found the book for him and stood anxiously aside as she waited for him to make the call.

After what seemed like an eon had passed, Alex finally hung up the phone and looked up at her. “Someone will be here within the hour. While we wait, why don’t we have some coffee?”

Nodding numbly, Sierra started toward the kitchen. “You watch the little guy,” she told him. “I’ll bring the coffee in here when it’s ready.”

Alex opened his mouth to protest, but he closed it just as quickly. The baby was asleep. He wouldn’t have to do anything. And Sierra was already in enough turmoil without him riling her with what she would consider foolishness on his part.

Besides, he didn’t want to explain to her that it bothered him to be around babies. Or maybe she’d already guessed that. She’d apologized for bringing him into this situation. Apparently she’d realized Ginger’s behavior had reminded him of his own biological mother. Damn the woman, wherever in the world she was. She’d not wanted Alex any more than Ginger had wanted the precious little life sleeping on Sierra’s couch.

Tentatively he walked over to the baby and stared down at him. He was a handsome guy with thick lush lashes resting on his rosy cheeks. His arms and legs were long, predicting a tall man, while his chest promised to be wide and strong. His tiny lips made sucking movements and Alex was suddenly struck by the baby’s total innocence, the overwhelming need for someone to nurture and care for him.

Sierra would be a good mother. He didn’t have to think twice about that. But did he want to see her get mixed up with someone else’s child? Did he want to see her get tangled up with any child?

“I’m sorry, Miss Mendoza, but our first obligation is to place this child with its own family. I’ll need to make a concerted effort to find the birth mother.”

Sierra swiped a hand across her forehead as she looked at the woman sitting in the armchair. Nancy Williams was a large, older lady with weary blue eyes and graying brown hair. She looked exhausted and Sierra figured she’d been in and out of several homes today. Places that weren’t really homes but had to be inspected as such.

“Mrs. Williams, when you read the Rollins file, you’ll see that placing the baby in that home is impossible. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’d be neglected.”

“I’ll read the file Monday,” the woman promised. “As for now, the sheriff needs to be contacted and the baby placed in a foster home until we can locate Ginger Rollins.”

Sierra darted a look at Alex, who was sitting close beside her on the couch. Thank God, he’d never left her side since the woman had arrived. Right now she needed his strength.

“Why?” Sierra asked. “I’m perfectly capable of caring for the child. I can be his foster mother.”

The child care worker’s smile was too patronizing to hold any sort of warmth. “I’m certain you’ve never been a foster mother before, Miss Mendoza. And we have several homes with openings now. It won’t be a problem to place the baby in one of them.”

Sierra wanted to throw herself against Alex’s chest and cling to him for dear life. He couldn’t allow this woman to take the baby away. He just couldn’t.

Reaching for his hand, she gripped it tightly and said, “I may not have been a foster mother before, but I have taken care of children. I can give him a good home.”

“Miss Mendoza—”

“Look, Mrs. Williams,” Alex suddenly interrupted the woman. “Sierra has worked for several years as a social worker. She understands what it takes to make a home for a child. Along with that, she’s an upstanding member of the community. She’s lived here in Red Rock all of her life and her parents own a popular eating establishment here in town. I can assure you she can produce excellent references to her character.”

The woman studied the two of them for a moment, then let out a long breath as though she’d carefully considered the situation and hated to deliver her decision.

“Well,” she began, “I’m sure Miss Mendoza is a reputable person, but we do like for there to be a man in the house and—”

“What luck,” Alex interrupted again. He slid a possessive arm around Sierra’s shoulders. “Sierra and I have decided to get married soon and since we’d like to have children right off, having the baby here would be wonderful practice for both of us.”

The woman’s face brightened considerably. “You two are getting married?”

Nodding, Alex answered without hesitation. “Yes. And if you need my references, I practice law in San Antonio. You can either call my office or stop by.”

Sierra suspected she must look like a dying carp, so she snapped her mouth shut and tried not to hide the shock rushing from her head to her feet. What was Alex doing telling this woman an out-and-out lie? she wondered wildly. He hated liars! And he hated the idea of marriage even more!

Chapter Three

“Oh, well, that changes the whole situation,” Nancy Williams said. “I’m sure there will be no problem for you to keep the baby here with the two of you. I’ll notify the authorities of the child’s whereabouts. And later, on Monday, I’ll need for you to come down to our offices and sign some papers. Say, around ten o’clock in the morning?”

“I have to be in court Monday morning. Can we make it in the afternoon?” Alex asked.

Smiling wanly, the woman rose to her feet. “I’m sure that will be fine, Mr. Calloway. I’ll call Miss Mendoza with a time.” She turned a serious look on Sierra. “If you start having reservations about this, don’t hesitate to call. Here’s my card.”

She placed it on the coffee table and Sierra left the couch to see the woman to the door. After another round of thank-yous and goodbyes, Sierra closed the door behind Nancy Williams and rushed out of the small foyer and into the living room where Alex still sat beside the baby.

“Alex! What has come over you? Are you taking some sort of mood-altering drug? Or have you and Pauline been having afternoon tequilas?”

Alex chuckled as he watched Sierra come to a screeching halt in the middle of the room and plant her fists on both sides of her hips.

“I’ll have you know that I’m completely sober.”

Her hands flew helplessly up in the air as she shook her head with disbelief, then tossed a hank of tangled black curls away from her face. “You’re sober,” she repeated with a sardonic roll of her eyes. “And you sat there and lied like a sneaky dog—implying to that woman that we are engaged and want children! What came over you anyway?”

Alex couldn’t possibly tell Sierra what had come over him. Frankly, he didn’t know. He was almost as stunned as Sierra was by his behavior. Yet now that it was done, he felt happy about the sudden impulse, as though something inside him was saying his intervention with a little white lie had been the right thing to do.

“What are you yapping about?” he countered. “It worked, didn’t it? You got to keep the little guy. He’s not going to an orphanage or a foster home. At least for now.”

A pent-up breath rushed out of her and as it did she suddenly felt exhausted. The day had been a roller-coaster ride and now Alex was acting so out of character she was actually worried about him.

Going to the couch, she eased down next to him and laid a palm on his forehead. “You can’t be well. Even on the most sane day of your life, you’d never tell anyone you were getting married.”

“Bull,” he said with a shrug, then turned his gaze on the baby. “What difference is it going to make what I told that woman? She’s not going to bug this place with a camera.”

Sierra noticed, not for the first time this evening, that Alex’s features softened whenever he looked at the baby. There was a tenderness in his eyes that she’d never seen before and she had to admit she was very drawn to this new side of her friend.

“No,” Sierra reluctantly agreed. “But eventually she, or someone else like her, will be back here to check up on us. They’ll know that we aren’t married. That we’re not even living together!”

Turning his attention back to Sierra, Alex leaned over and grasped her by the upper arms. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes. Besides, by that time you’ll probably be ready to place the child in a good foster home.”

Sierra didn’t think so. But she wasn’t going to argue with Alex tonight. He was right. For now everything was okay and she needed to leave it at that.

Closing her eyes, she nodded. “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to get so carried away.” She looked at him as a weak smile slanted her rosy-pink lips. “And I do thank you so very much for stepping in and convincing Mrs. Williams to let me keep the baby.”

Releasing his hold on her arms, he reached up and patted her cheek. “No need to thank me, kiddo. We’re friends. We’re supposed to help each other.”

In Sierra’s opinion what he’d done was above and beyond the call of friendship, but she wasn’t going to point that out to him. The whole idea of them being engaged, even in a fake way, had left her feeling awkward and acutely aware of Alex’s hand touching her cheek, his thigh pressing into hers.

Her throat suddenly tightened and she swallowed as her gaze dropped to her lap. “I couldn’t think of anyone else to call but you. It means a lot to me that you came running.”

He didn’t reply immediately and she lifted her gaze to see he was thoughtfully studying her.

“Don’t get soppy on me, Sierra. You know I’m not worth it,” he said, then rose to his feet and walked over to a small table where he’d left his coffee cup. Picking it up, he asked, “What are you going to call him?”

“The baby?”

He cocked an eyebrow in an arrogant, upward slant. “That is what this is all about, isn’t it?”

Knowing her cheeks were turning pink and hating him for it, she pushed herself up from the couch and walked over to where he stood.

“You can be a real ass, Alex.”

“If I was any other way, no one would recognize me,” he said, then smiled to buffer his words.

She groaned, but stopped herself from saying anything. From the first time she’d met Alex, nearly nine years ago, she could see he was wearing a callous, who-gives-a-damn cloak around him. But there were times that the cloak cracked just enough for her to see inside the man and she’d learned he had a big heart that was very capable of being broken. No one else but Sierra seemed to see this about Alex Calloway, the successful trial lawyer. And she supposed that was a major reason she did her best to overlook his sarcastic veneer. She knew there was far more to the man than the slick words that came out of his mouth.

“I don’t know what to call him. Whatever he was named before—well, that life for him is over. He needs to start new with a whole new name. Got any ideas?” she asked.

Alex started to remind her that whatever she decided to call the baby would only be temporary. Just like her custody of him would only be temporary. But she seemed so happy about her new little charge, he couldn’t bring himself to burst her bubble.

What the hell has come over you, Calloway? You take one look at a woman with a baby in her arms and you get soft as cornmeal mush.

Shaking away that disgusting thought, Alex said, “What about Bowie? After real Texas hero, Jim Bowie.”

Sierra’s brown eyes widened as she rolled the names over her tongue. “Jim Bowie. Bowie. Yes, that’s nice and strong. Bowie—” She paused abruptly and shrugged. “Well, I guess we can’t pin a last name on him. But Bowie will be enough for now.”

As if he seemed to know he was being discussed, the baby began to stir. By the time Sierra reached him, he was squalling at the top of his lungs and punching the air with two tight little fists.

“What’s the matter with him?” Alex asked.

Sierra felt the baby’s diaper. It was wet so she immediately sat down on the couch to change it. “This is the last diaper I have,” Sierra said. “And I gave him the last bottle right before you came. I’m going to have to go to the store tonight and buy some baby supplies. Do you think you could help me?”

“Tonight! I’ve got to be in court by eight o’clock in the morning,” Alex exclaimed loud enough to be heard above the baby’s crying. “I’ve got notes to make and—”

“All right,” Sierra abruptly interrupted. “Sorry I asked.”

With a shake of his head, Alex headed toward the kitchen with his empty coffee cup. After a couple minutes, he returned and stood in the middle of the living room, his arms folded against his chest.

“You’re really pushing our friendship, Sierra, you know that, don’t you?” She didn’t answer immediately and he groaned with surrender. “Okay, so I did offer to help you out.”

She tried not to smile as she carefully placed the baby against her shoulder. He squirmed and then instantly quieted as she patted his back. “It’s just one evening out of your busy life, Alex. And little Bowie will thank you for it later.”

“Damn it,” he said with a scowl. “Get whatever you need and let’s go before I change my mind.”

A few minutes later, as they neared the end of Austin Street and were about to turn onto Main, Sierra said, “Alex, would you please drive out to that new grocery store on the west side of town? I don’t want to go to Bailey’s. Everybody in there knows me.”

Behind the wheel, Alex glanced at her as he braked to a stop at the intersection. “So? What’s wrong with that?”

Tilting her head back and forth, she tried to explain without sounding insulting. “Well, you’re with me.”

“So?” he repeated. “Do I look like I’m diseased or something? The last I heard Bailey’s hadn’t barred lawyers from shopping there.”

Frustration pushed a moan past her lips. “Oh, Alex, you know what I’m talking about. They’ll think something is fishy. Me and you and a baby. Talk will be all over Red Rock.”

“Sierra,” he said with exaggerated patience. “We just told a child care worker that we planned to get married. The sooner that gossip gets around, the better.”

She looked at him, her expression horrified. “No! Alex, my parents. I could never deceive them like that. There’s already been too much miscommunication in my family.”

“All right. All right. Explain to them what’s going on, but make them promise to keep it quiet until little Bowie finds another home. Otherwise you might as well kiss him goodbye right now.”

Sierra glanced over her shoulder at the baby strapped safely in his car seat. Funny how Bowie was already starting to feel like hers, she thought with a sting of emotional tears. And wasn’t it even more odd to think of Alex as his father? Bowie Calloway. The name had a very nice ring to it even if she didn’t have one on her finger.

The next afternoon, Sierra surprised her parents by showing up on their front porch with little Bowie in her arms. She’d dressed him in a pair of blue shorts and matching striped T-shirt, just one of the sets of clothing that she and Alex had purchased last night on their shopping spree for the baby. She’d combed Bowie’s hair with just enough oil to make it lay to one side and tied a pair of tiny tennis shoes on his feet. He looked adorable and Sierra could see from the light in her mother’s eyes that she was instantly taken with the baby.

“Sierra, where in the world did you get such a precious baby?”

Maria Mendoza leaned over Bowie for a closer look at the baby. Meanwhile Jose had come to the door to see who’d been ringing the bell. When he spotted Sierra and the baby, he joined them on the porch.

“A cute little boy,” he remarked. “Who are you babysitting for, Sierra?”

Sierra looked from her father to her mother. The couple had been deeply in love for more than thirty years and that love had kept them both young and vibrant, even through the trying times. At sixty-two, Maria had the svelte, curvy body of a woman twenty years younger. Her rosy-tan skin glowed with scarcely a wrinkle and her black hair was streaked with only a small amount of gray. She was still quite a beautiful woman and made a perfect partner for Jose, who in Sierra’s opinion had to be the most handsome, distinguished man in all of Red Rock.

Her father was a tall, strongly built man with black hair that had yet refused to gray, even though he had reached the age of sixty-five. He adored his wife and children and Sierra had often wished she could find a man in her life who was even half as wonderful as her father.

“Actually I’m not babysitting,” Sierra told the both of them. “I’ve become Bowie’s foster mother.”

“You what?” This was from Jose.

At the same time, her mother exclaimed by practically shouting her name, “Sierra!”

“Let’s go into the house,” Sierra suggested. “The mosquitoes are out today and I don’t want Bowie to get bit.”

Her parents hurried their daughter into the house and hovered over her as she went into the kitchen and placed Bowie, strapped in his carrier, on the dining table.

“Now what is this about being a foster mother?” Jose demanded.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Maria sank weakly onto one of the wooden chairs surrounding the table. “Sierra! A baby isn’t like a stray cat or sick puppy!”

Sierra tried to hide her disappointment as her gaze took in both parents. She’d been hoping the two of them would be happy about the baby. But in all honesty, she hadn’t really expected a joyous reaction from them. For some reason, maybe because she was the youngest of their three daughters, they’d always considered her their little girl instead of a grown woman. Even when she’d been dating Chad and talking of marriage, they had always dismissed her plans, certain that she would break up with him. Well, that part of their opinion about her had been right. She had broken up with Chad. But if they thought, for one minute, that baby Bowie was just a whim with her, then they were going to be in for a surprise.

“Mother, I do know the difference between a child and an animal!”

Maria waved a scoffing hand at Sierra. “Oh, you know what I mean. You’ve always taken in stray animals. And even needy friends at times. But a baby is a huge responsibility.”

Stepping forward, Jose thoughtfully rubbed his jaw as he inspected Bowie’s sleeping face.

“Your mother is right, honey. You have a job that takes up nearly all your time and—”

“I’m going to take a leave of absence for a month or two. I have enough money saved. And my position at work will be there when I’m ready to go back. I’ve already discussed it with my superiors.”

Jose’s black brows lifted as he shared a look of surprise with his wife.

“You’ve already made these decisions?”

Sierra nodded. “I know this all sounds sudden. But, frankly, everything happened at once. The baby was left with me at my house. Abandoned. And the mother wants me to have him.”

Shocked, Maria’s hand crept to her open mouth. Jose clucked his tongue with dismay.

“Sierra, your job—you see such horrible things. A woman giving up her own baby! What kind of person is this?” her father asked.

“A desperate teenager, Daddy. She has no husband and her father beats her and her mother.”

Closing his eyes, Jose placed a hand against his forehead and shook his head. “Dear God, such evilness!”

Maria said, “There has to be more to it than just this girl wanting you to have the baby. There are laws and regulations about these things. What—”

“I’ve already spoken to child care services. Alex and I have to go to their offices in San Antonio in about an hour and sign some papers.”

A curious frown wrinkled Jose’s dark features. “Alex? Alex Calloway? Is he acting as your lawyer or something?”

Sierra cleared her throat. “Uh, no. Not exactly. We—uh, we told the child care worker that we were getting married so that little Bowie would have two parents.”

Aghast, Maria shot up from her chair. “Married! Sierra, what were you thinking?”

“Are you two getting married?” Jose asked in a far more normal tone than his wife had spoken.

Sierra wasted no time in shaking her head. “Of course not. He—he’s just helping me out with this. Because he knows I want to keep Bowie. At least for a while.” She turned pleading eyes on her parents. “Please. Both of you, please, keep this to yourselves. Alex and I want everyone to think we’re getting married. Otherwise—well, there might be all sorts of problems.”

Maria groaned. “And you think lying will keep trouble from happening? That’s not logical, Sierra.”

Bowie chose that moment to wake up. As he began to squirm and open his eyes, Sierra reached down and picked him up from his carrier. The slight weight of his body cradled against her breast felt good and right. But she doubted her parents would understand her maternal feelings.

“Alex and I aren’t lying, Mother. We’re just pretending a bit. There can’t be any harm in that. The two of us have been good friends for years. We understand each other. Believe me, there won’t be any problems.”

Maria and Jose exchanged worried glances while Sierra checked her wristwatch.

“I’m sorry, you two, but I’ve got to be going,” Sierra apologized. “Alex is going to be expecting us at his office in about thirty minutes. And I might run into traffic.”

Picking up the plastic carrier with one hand, Sierra turned and started out of the room. Her parents followed close on her heels.

“But what about your sisters?” Maria asked in a frantic rush. “What are we supposed to tell them?”

“That Alex and I are taking care of a baby for the next few weeks. That’s all they need to know.”

Daughter and parents reached the front entrance to the house and Jose laid a gentle hand on Sierra’s shoulder.

“Where is this all going to lead, Sierra? I can’t see anything permanent. And if you become attached to Bowie it could become very painful for you. Are you sure you want to go through such trauma? After all, you’ve just had this breakup with Chad.”

“Your father is right, honey,” Maria added. “If you’re clinging to this child because you miss Chad, then you’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”

“Chad isn’t even in the picture now,” she said and realized with a start that she really meant it. Chad had been a bad mistake, nothing more. Strange that it had taken little Bowie and a few words from Alex to make her see that.

“Well, you certainly seemed all cut up about him a couple months ago. When you first told us about the breakup,” Maria countered.

Sierra smiled broadly and marveled that she felt so lighthearted, so good today. Alex had been right all along. She’d not needed Chad “the loser” Newbern to make her happy.

“I was in a mild state of shock, Mother. But that’s passed. And don’t worry, you two, I can handle this.”

With a quick wave she hurried out the door and down the steps. She was half afraid that her parents were going to follow her to the car and insist that they accompany her and Alex to child care services and it was all she could do not to look over her shoulder to see if they were emerging from the house. But as she strapped Bowie and his carrier into the back seat of her small car, the front door remained closed and Sierra drove away with a sigh of relief.

“Yesterday you chased a potential client out of the office and today you tell me to cancel your last two appointments.” Pauline tsk-tsked her tongue as she paced back and forth in front of Alex’s desk. “I really want you to see a doctor, hon. As far as I can tell, you’re cracking up.”

Alex, who’d been trying to concentrate on the notes he’d made during the trial this morning, snapped his head up with irritation.

“Damn it, Pauline, don’t you have anything better to do than to make noise in my office? Go make some coffee or file your nails. God knows you’re not going to do any work around here anyway.”

Pauline stopped in front of Alex’s desk and folded her arms across her chest. “And you are?” she asked in an incredulous tone. “Tell that to the two people who wanted to discuss their problems with you today. Not tomorrow or the next day.”

Tossing down his pencil, Alex glared at her. “Pauline, one of these days that nose of yours is going to get you into deep trouble. It’s none of your business why I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off.”

She pooh-poohed his sarcasm. “Well, you’re so right, Counselor. Your secretary and general right-hand woman doesn’t need to know what her boss is up to. If anyone calls I can just wing it and say you’re out meeting with a go-go dancer who forgot to keep her clothes on.”

Leaning back in his chair, Alex ran a hand over his hair as he thoughtfully studied his secretary. “You really want to know where I’m going?” he asked after a moment.

“Is Texas big?”

A clever grin spread across his face. “I’m going to the offices of child care services.”

His secretary was clearly disappointed. “Oh. I thought you had some wild, hot afternoon date or something,” she confessed, then frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t know of anyone who’s been in the office that’s needed your help with child services. I—”

Pauline’s words broke off as the tinkling sound of the outer door of the building was opened and closed.

“Well, what do you think about that?” she whispered toward Alex. “I might get to go to work, after all.”

Alex chuckled as he watched his secretary scurry out of his office. It was just about time for Sierra to be showing up with little Bowie. Pauline was definitely going to be surprised to see the both of them. And no doubt his clever secretary would take one quick look at the baby and know that Sierra was the woman who needed him.

Tucking away his legal notes, Alex rose from his chair and carried the manila folder over to a tall file cabinet.

As he slipped the notes into the proper spot, Sierra’s voice sounded behind him.

“Am I interrupting?”

Alex turned and was instantly jolted by the sight of his sweet friend. She was dressed in a close-fitting beige sheath and matching high heels. The color enhanced her rosy-tan skin and made her black hair even blacker. This afternoon she had the mass of curls pinned up on the back of her head with a few stray coils left to dangle against her neck. She looked sexy and sophisticated at the same time. And, like an idiot, he wondered if she’d dressed up for his sake or only to make an impression at child care services.

Whistling under his breath, Alex walked over to her. “My, my, you look—fabulous.”

His compliment brought a bright blush of pink to Sierra’s cheeks. “I wanted to make a good impression with child care services,” she said.

For some reason, her admission stabbed him with disappointment but he made a point to push the feeling aside. Sierra was just a friend. Her concerns were for Bowie, not him.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll have any problem doing that,” he said. “Where’s Bowie?”

“Pauline took one look at him and snatched him from me.”

Slipping his arm around Sierra’s waist, Alex urged her toward the door. “We’d better get in there before she ruins him.”

“Alex!” Pauline scolded as Alex and Sierra entered the outer office. “You didn’t tell me that Sierra was the guardian of a new baby!”

“I haven’t had time. And she’s not yet officially the guardian. That’s why we’re headed to child care services,” Alex told her.

Pauline turned a coy look on her boss. “Oh. Sierra’s your reason for time off. I now forgive you.”

“What did she mean by that?” Sierra asked as she and the baby and Alex left the law office.

Alex made a dismissive shrug of one shoulder. “Pauline was cranky with me because I changed some appointment dates.”

“Oh, Alex, I didn’t want to interrupt your work,” Sierra said with regret. “I hope none of this causes you any problems.”

“Forget it, Sierra. Court appearances are always being changed from one day to the next so I’m always juggling appointments. It’s no big deal.”

Alex’s black SUV was parked behind the building, forcing them to walk down the block and then cut through to a back alleyway. Alex carried the baby while giving Sierra a steadying hand over the rough asphalt of the back street.

Once they reached the SUV, he buckled the baby in the back seat, then helped Sierra into the front bucket seat before he took his place behind the wheel. Although she’d taken short trips around town with him before, being enclosed in such a small space with him now somehow felt different to Sierra. She tried to hide her nervousness as she glanced over at him and smiled.

Oh my, oh my, she thought. Why was she suddenly seeing a sexy, intelligent lawyer instead of an old college pal? Why was she charmed by the loop of brown hair falling onto his forehead and the dimple that was coming and going in his cheek? This was Alex. Her old friend, Alex. She wasn’t supposed to be noticing him like this.

“Uh—I took the baby by my parents just before I drove to your office,” Sierra said, hoping a little conversation would get that marble in her brain back in the right spot. “They were—surprised, to say the least. I’m not so sure they think it’s a good idea for me to keep Bowie. But that doesn’t surprise me,” she added wryly.

Alex glanced at her as he wheeled them into the flow of traffic. “Why do you say that? Your parents have always seemed like very understanding people to me.”

Sierra twisted her hands together in her lap. “They are. But I’m their youngest child. They don’t think I’m grown up enough to do anything so serious as take on the responsibility of a baby.”

Alex’s brows lifted and fell in contemplation. “Well, it is a serious thing. But you’re not an idiot.” He slanted her a sardonic glance. “You’re only one of those when it comes to choosing boyfriends.”

“Gee, Alex, how sweet of you to say so.”

Laughing at her retort, he reached over and picked up one of her hands. Sierra nearly gasped out loud as he lifted the back of her hand to his lips.

“I can’t get over how gorgeous you look today. I didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased.

And she never knew that a compliment from Alex could make her feel so feminine or desirable. Through the years, Sierra had always seen herself as lacking in the looks department. Especially when she compared herself to her glamorous sisters. To have a man of the town like Alex imply that she was gorgeous was enough to set her heart to pounding.

“Alex, you don’t have to spread it on. I’m feeling confident about this afternoon.”

Alex’s gaze slid discreetly over her crossed legs. Although she was a petite woman, she was shaped like an hourglass. Even her legs were curvy and smooth, the kind that called for a man to touch and slide his hand against them.

While his covert glance traveled from her calf down to her ankle, he surprised himself by wondering what she would do or think if he were to reach over and place his hand on her knee. The fine-gauged material of her stockings would gently rasp against his fingertips. The warmth of her body would seep into his palm.

“Alex! Didn’t you hear me, or are you off in some courtroom?”

Jerking his wayward thoughts back to the present, he glanced at her and hoped he wasn’t blushing. She might not find his erotic thoughts too funny. Sierra wasn’t a prude, but she abhorred sleaziness.

“Uh—sorry, I was just thinking about something. What did you say?”

“I asked if you’d talked to your parents. If you’d told them about Bowie and what you were doing for me.”

The slow curl of heat that had been coiling around in Alex’s groin suddenly froze. “No. Why would I want to?”

Sierra shrugged before she looked over her shoulder at Bowie. The movement of the car was keeping him sound asleep. His pug little chin was tucked against his chest and hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. His head had drooped to one side and he was sucking intermittently on the pacifier she’d placed in his mouth at the start of the trip. She figured the baby was less than a week old and probably weighed no more than seven or eight pounds. But each time Sierra looked at him, she could easily see a young boy learning to ride a bike, a young man graduating college.

“Why not? They’d be pleased to know that you’re helping a child find a home.”

“Like they did?” he quipped dryly.

“Alex,” she scolded softly as she reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I thought you’d forgiven them for not telling you about your adoption. It’s been so long now since you found out about it. Why does it still rile you so?”

He let out a rough sigh as he braked the car at a red light. “It doesn’t rile me, Sierra. I just—wish they could have been honest with me.”

Regret and a sweet sense of caring filled her as she quietly studied his grim profile. “And would that have made you happy? If they’d started out telling you at a very young age that your mother had deserted you on the steps of a building? I’m not so sure, Alex.”

“Let’s not talk about this, Sierra,” he clipped back at her.

Pressing her lips together, she dropped her hand from his shoulder. She’d always wanted to make Alex see that his being adopted didn’t mean he was any less of a man than the next guy. He’d been raised in a normal, loving household. He’d been blessed and he needed to remember those blessings instead of dwelling on the subterfuge of how he’d come to be a part of the Calloway family.

But now was not the time to dig into him about it. She needed his help and when you ruffled his feathers, Alex was unpredictable. If she made him angry, he just might turn the car around, head back to his office and tell her to deal with Bowie on her own.

“All right, Alex.”

The tight grip he had on the steering wheel eased. “Sierra, Bowie will be a man someday and then he—”

Sierra waited patiently for him to finish, but silent moments continued to tick away until she prompted, “Then he what, Alex? What were you going to say?”

Shaking his head, he said, “It wasn’t important. And here’s the block of Department of Human Services buildings. We’re here.” He pulled into the nearest parking slot he could find and killed the engine. “Let’s go in and get this over with.”

Chapter Four

Three days later, on the Mendoza backyard patio, Sierra stood next to her father as he tested a slab of brisket cooking on the barbecue grill. The scent of the juicy beef was enough to make Sierra’s mouth water. Her stomach growled hungrily as her father closed the lid.

“Dad, it can’t need much more cooking,” she protested. “When are you going to take it off the fire?”

With a chuckle, Jose patted his youngest daughter’s shoulder. “A little more patience, honey. By the time you help your mother get the rest of the food out here on the picnic table, the brisket will be ready.”

Relieved that supper was finally near, Sierra hurried into the house to help her mother gather up the accompanying dishes Maria had prepared earlier in the day.

The two of them were setting everything onto the outdoor table when Gloria and her fiancé, Jack Fortune, emerged from the back door of the house.

“You must have smelled food,” Maria said happily at the sight of her middle daughter. “Do you two have time to join us?”

Jack, a tall man with short black hair and blue eyes, sauntered over to his soon-to-be mother-in-law and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“We’ll make time, Maria,” he said. “Gloria heard through Sierra that Jose was cooking brisket. So we invited ourselves.”

Jack was Patrick Fortune’s son and nephew to Ryan who owned the Double Crown Ranch just outside Red Rock. Up until about three months ago, the powerful businessman had been living and working in Manhattan. But Patrick had decided to send his son down to San Antonio to help Gloria establish her jewelry business.

To the whole family’s surprise, Jack and Gloria had established more than a thriving new business. Their baby was due in early fall and their wedding plans were going at a brisk pace.

“That’s good,” Jose spoke up from his position at the barbecue grill. “We’ve got enough food here to feed an army. Does anybody know if Christina is coming?”

“She said that she and Derek would try to make it,” Gloria stated as she hugged her mother and then her father. “But she wasn’t sure. They’ve been doing a lot of extra work lately at Fortune-Rockwell Investments.”

Sierra put down the handful of utensils she was holding and hurried over to greet her sister. As usual, Gloria was a fashion plate in a pair of white capri pants and a red-and-white striped blouse that tied at the waist and exposed her slightly growing belly. Her light brown hair was twisted into a sexy knot at the back of her head and gold hoops swung from her ears. She was so beautiful it was no surprise that one of San Antonio’s most eligible bachelors had fallen for her. Sierra had always felt dowdy in comparison. But her lack in looks wasn’t really important to her anymore. Especially now that she had little Bowie. He’d made all of her values take on an entirely different direction.

“Sierra, I’m so glad you’re here,” Gloria said as she hugged Sierra tightly. “Mom has told me all about the baby. Where is he? I want to see him!”

“That’s all she’s been talking about,” Jack spoke up with a wink. “Maternal hormones at work.”

Laughing softly, Sierra took her older sister by the arm and urged her toward a door that would take them into the kitchen. “Bowie’s in the house, in my old bedroom. I was just about to go in and get him.”

As the two women walked through the kitchen and down a long hallway, Gloria said, “I was so surprised when Mom told me about the baby. I couldn’t believe the mother just left him like that. Now that I’m going to marry the man that I love and have his baby, it’s made me see my role as a woman in a different light. I don’t have to think twice. My child and my husband will always come first in my life.”

Sierra glanced at Gloria and couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. Even though she’d been blessed with little Bowie, he didn’t officially belong to her. Child services could take him away at any moment. And with Chad now gone with the wind, there was no chance she’d be having a child of her own anytime soon.

“Gloria, you know how happy I am for you and Christina, too. It was so awful when you were both gone. I tried to fill the void with Mom and Dad as best I could. But I wasn’t enough to make up for you and Christina.”

Gloria spared her sister a regretful look. “Christina and I made life terrible for you, Sierra. I don’t know how either one of us can ever make it up to you.”

Sierra quickly shook her head. “Don’t be silly. I just want the both of you to be happy.”

By now the two women had reached Sierra’s old bedroom. The door was ajar and without waiting for her sister’s permission Gloria pushed it aside and hurried into the room.

Thankfully, Bowie was already awake and the happy squeal that Gloria emitted when she saw him lying in the middle of the bed didn’t do anything but catch his attention.

“What a precious! Sierra, he’s gorgeous!”

Unexplained pride surged through Sierra as she watched an enchanted smile spread across Gloria’s face as her sister leaned over the baby for a closer inspection.

“Talk about changing your life,” Sierra said wryly. “Having a little one in the house makes everything different.”

“No late-night dates with Chad, I’ll bet,” Gloria said. Then, as soon as the comment passed her lips, she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Sierra, I’m so sorry! I keep forgetting that you and Chad called it quits. I wasn’t thinking.” Concerned now, she straightened away from the baby to study Sierra. “How are you doing?”

Sierra shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I think I’m better off without Chad Newbern. He wants to play the field. He wants excitement in his life. My wants are more centered on hearth and home. Boring, huh? But that’s just me and I can’t change for anyone.”

Gloria slung her arm around Sierra’s slumped shoulders. “There’s not one boring thing about you. You’re the sweetest sister any girl could have. You stuck up for Christina and me when we were both—well, more than a little misguided.” She wrinkled her nose affectionately at Sierra. “And I’ll tell you something else, you’re going to find someone who’ll be a hell of a lot better for you than Chad Newbern.”

Collecting a clean diaper off the dresser top, Sierra went over to the bed and began to change Bowie.

“You sound like Alex,” Sierra said. “He’s been shouting hallelujah at Chad’s departure.”

Gloria tapped a thoughtful forefinger against her pretty chin. “Mom said Alex signed papers with you so that you could keep Bowie. That was awfully big of him.”

The corners of Sierra’s lips tilted upward. “Yeah. Alex can be wonderful when he wants to be.”

“I’m wondering why he did it. There wasn’t anything in it for him,” Gloria said, pondering out loud.

Sierra frowned at her sister’s remark. “Gloria! Alex isn’t one of those unfeeling lawyers who have nothing on their mind but winning a case and making big bucks.”

Linking her fingers together, Gloria walked over to the bed and sat down facing her sister. “Really? That surprises me to hear you say that. I always remember you saying he was one of the most callous, unfeeling men you’d ever known.”

A rosy color swept across Sierra’s high cheeks. “Well, he can be that way,” she admitted. “But lately he seems to be changing—mostly for the good.”

Gloria’s delicately arched brows inched upward. “Mom says he told child services that you two were getting married. What brought that on? Wishful thinking on his part?”

Sierra laughed heartily as she smoothed the sticky tabs on Bowie’s clean diaper. “Not hardly! Do you honestly think a man like Alex Calloway would take a second look at me?”

“Of course I do,” Gloria answered with conviction. “You’re an intelligent, educated woman who has a wonderful gift for dealing with people. On top of all that, you’re pretty and sexy. What more could a man ask for?”

Sierra rolled her eyes before she turned a sardonic look on Gloria. “Uh, maybe a sister to feed his ego?”

Gloria laughed. Sierra picked up Bowie and carefully rose to her feet. “Come on. Dad’s surely got the brisket off the grill by now.”

By the time Sierra drove back to town and turned onto Austin Street, it was well past dark. She certainly wasn’t expecting to find a vehicle parked in her driveway at this late hour.

Was that Alex’s SUV? She parked next to the black vehicle and as she climbed out to the ground, she spotted him standing on the porch, leaning lazily against one of the carved post. The unexpected sight of him filled her with a sweet sense of pleasure and she knew her smile could be heard in her voice as she called out to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” He jumped off the edge of the porch and walked across the short driveway to meet her. “I was just about to give up and go when I saw your headlights. Where’s Bowie?”

This was the second time he’d been to her house this week. Alex just didn’t call on her like this. Not unless he had some sort of agenda. But for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine what that might be, unless he was here just as a way to show a little concern for their new charge.

Sierra motioned toward the car. “In the back seat. Want to get him out for me?”

“Sure.” He opened the back door and leaned in to unfasten Bowie from the car carrier. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for ages.”

He cradled the baby in the crook of his arm. Sierra collected the diaper bag from the car and the two of them started to the house.

“Why didn’t you call first?” she questioned. “I drove out to my parents’ to have supper.”

They stepped up onto the porch and he held the screen door out of the way while she unlocked the main, wooden door.

As Alex followed her into the house, he said, “I took it for granted that you’d be home. I didn’t think you’d be out gallivanting around with little Bowie. Especially at this hour.”

Sierra laughed with disbelief. “It’s only eight o’clock, Alex. And I was hardly gallivanting. You sound like a jealous husband or something,” she joked.

Alex grimaced as he gazed down at Bowie. He supposed he was getting close to sounding possessive. And to tell the truth, just before Sierra had shown up, he’d been getting downright annoyed that she wasn’t yet home. He’d driven all the way over here because he’d wanted to see her. And he’d wanted to see the baby. Finding them gone had been more disappointing than he wanted to admit.

“All right. Make fun of me. But I’ve had a hell of a long day in the courtroom and I drove all the way over here just to see how you and Bowie were doing.”

The tartness in his voice caught Sierra’s attention and she looked at him with surprise. “Well, I’m sorry, Alex,” she said contritely. “And I am glad you’re here.”

He offered her a halfhearted smile. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

“Good. Now that we got that out of the way, would you like something to eat? I brought food home from my parents’. Brisket, potato salad, pinto beans and corn bread.”

This time he really smiled at her and she felt that sudden surge of joy rushing up in her like an overflowing fountain. What in the world was going on with her anyway? she wondered. It wasn’t like her to get a bubbly feeling around a man. And especially not Alex. If he knew some of the things she’d been thinking about him lately, he’d have a fit. And she’d be rightly embarrassed.

“You little darlin’,” he crooned. “How did you guess I was starving?”

“You have the look of a hungry man,” she said with a knowing smile. “Just have a seat and I’ll go carry in the food from the car.”

Sierra’s mother had placed all the covered containers of food into one large cardboard box to make it easier for Sierra to transport into her car. Sierra carried in the load and quickly set about placing everything onto the table.

When she returned to the living room to announce that the meal was ready, she found Alex sitting on the couch with Bowie still cradled in his arms. He was talking to the baby about selecting jurors and how important it was to look into a person’s eyes to gauge their honesty. Bowie appeared to be mesmerized by the legal lesson and, just as Sierra approached the two of them, he gave Alex a toothless smile.

“Look at this, Sierra,” Alex said excitedly. “He’s smiling at me! I’ll bet he’s never done that to you!”

Only two dozen or more times, but Sierra wasn’t about to burst Alex’s proud bubble. It was nice—no, it was more than nice—to have him wanting to be something special to the baby.

“Nope. He must really be impressed with all that law jargon,” Sierra told him.

“He should be. It took years of having my nose stuck in a book to get it.” He glanced up at Sierra. “Supper ready?”

She nodded. “I’ll push Bowie’s bassinet into the kitchen and he can lay in it while you eat.”

The old house had a big, roomy kitchen with high ceilings and a row of windows that looked onto a back porch that was shaded by a huge pecan tree. Beneath the windows was an old white farm table covered with a red tablecloth. In the middle she’d lit a hurricane lamp just to make the room a bit cozier.

Why Sierra had wanted to make things cozy was beyond her. She wasn’t about to set her eye on any man. Like her sisters, she’d sworn off men. Yeah, and look at her sisters now, she thought wryly. Their lives now centered around a special man. But that didn’t mean that Sierra was going to succumb to the opposite sex. No, this last experience with Chad had left her feeling like a complete idiot. She didn’t want to repeat the process. Even with someone as handsome as Alex.

The two of them carefully situated Bowie in the bassinet and then took their seats kitty-cornered to each other at the breakfast table. While Alex dug into the food, Sierra sipped on a glass of iced tea.

“You’ll have to overlook the mismatched dishes,” she apologized. “They’re some of the restaurant’s throwaways. When I moved into this old house, Mom wanted to buy me a new set of dishes, but I discouraged her from that. The odds and ends match me better.”

“Who cares about matching dishes,” Alex said just before he bit into a forkful of tender smoked brisket. “Mmm. No wonder Red is so popular. Your parents are the best cooks in the world.”

“They are,” Sierra agreed with a proud smile. “But it’s been years since they’ve actually done any of the cooking in the restaurant. Thankfully it was successful enough for them to hire cooks and all the help they needed to make it run smoothly. Now they’re coasting on easy street.”

She watched him eat for a moment, then asked, “Why were you in court late today? Trouble?”

He shook his head as he chewed. “Not really. Just arguing a motion to suppress evidence.”

Propping her chin on her fist, she studied him with interest. “How did the judge rule? In your favor?”

“I wish,” he answered, then frowned. “She won’t make a ruling until next week. The trial will resume after that.”

“Oh.” Lifting her chin, she leaned her shoulders against the back of the chair. For some reason she was finding it hard to relax. Her gaze kept wandering over the navy blue pin-striped shirt Alex was wearing. The fabric accentuated his broad shoulders and the rolled-back cuffs exposed strong forearms sprinkled with dark hair. Sometimes she’d heard him talking about working out at the gym and it definitely showed in the hard, muscular shape of his body.

His body is off-limits to you, Sierra. Don’t even think about it.

“So what did Pauline think about Bowie?” she asked as she struggled to get her mind on safer topics.

“What does any woman think about a baby when she sees one?” he asked flippantly. “She oohed and aahed and then she wondered what in heck I was doing getting tangled up in such a mess.”

“I beg your pardon! Bowie is not a mess,” she said with a huff that told him she was clearly insulted.

Alex waved his fork at her. “She didn’t say he was. At least she didn’t use the word “mess.” But she implied that she thinks Bowie’s parentage could come into question and there won’t be anything either of us will be able to do about it.”

Uneasy now, Sierra leaned anxiously toward him. “I don’t know why there should be a problem. If called upon, I’m sure Ginger would sign her rights to the baby over to me. She hasn’t shown up here these past few days and I’d bet my last dollar that she isn’t going to.”

Alex’s fork paused in midair, as he looked over at her. “Pauline doesn’t understand why I’ve gotten involved. And, frankly, I don’t, either.”

Suddenly, keeping Bowie meant nothing without Alex along.

Reaching over, she gripped his hand with hers. “Are you regretting signing those papers with me?” she asked bluntly.

Was he? Over the past week Alex had asked himself that same question several times and all it had taken for an answer was to think about the joy on Sierra’s face when she held Bowie to know that he’d done the right thing.

“Are you?” he countered.

“Never,” she uttered passionately.

A brief smile crossed his face. “Then I don’t regret it, either.”

A long sigh of relief eased from her lungs. “I saw Gloria this evening at my parents’. She and Jack had supper with us. Being pregnant herself, she was enamored with Bowie.”

Alex glanced over at the baby. “Hmm. You’re enamored with Bowie and you’re not pregnant. Or are you?” he said teasingly.

Sierra’s mouth popped open. “Alex! Do you always have to be—such a lawyer!”

Actually it wasn’t the lawyer in him that had prompted the question. As a man and as a friend, he wanted to know.

With a nonchalant shrug, he said, “Well, you appeared to be crazy about Chad ‘the loser.’ And you were so torn up when he left that I was thinking—something more than just breaking up was bothering you.”

Rising to her feet, she went over to the sink and, turning her back to him, began to rinse a few glasses she’d used earlier in the day. “Not that torn up,” she muttered. “And there’s not a chance I’m pregnant.”

Alex’s brows lifted slightly as he studied her rigid posture. “You sound awfully positive. Weren’t you and Chad that close?”

Incredulous that he was probing into her love life, Sierra turned and folded her arms against her breasts as she faced him. “Do you really think what I did or didn’t do with Chad is any of your business?”

A crafty grin teased his lips. “Probably not. But I am the foster father of your child. That ought to garner me some privileges,” he argued.

Slapping her hand against her forehead, she shook her head in dismay. How could she be irked at the man when he was sitting there looking so adorable with his collar open, his sleeves rolled up, his brown hair rumpled and the dimples in his cheeks aimed straight at her?

“Oh, I suppose it does,” she conceded, trying her best to sound cross with him but failing terribly. “So for your information, Chad and I weren’t lovers.”

He didn’t appear to be all that surprised by her confession. In fact, he almost seemed pleased about the news. Or maybe that was just amusement on his face, Sierra thought.

“Why not?” he asked.

Wiping her hands against the front of her jeans, Sierra walked back over to the table and sank onto the seat she’d occupied before he’d begun cross-examining her.

“I just wasn’t quite sure I wanted to take that big of a step with him,” she admitted. “Now I’m glad I didn’t.”

Alex’s gaze suddenly took on a new light as he probed her pretty face. “Don’t tell me you’re still a virgin.”

Hot color poured into her cheeks. “Believe me, I won’t tell you that,” she snapped back at him. “My innocence, or lack of it, is none of your business. Besides, being a virgin is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Surprised to see her punching back at him, he countered smoothly, “I didn’t say it was.” Then, pushing his empty plate back, he glanced over at the counter. “Got any coffee made?”

At least his blatant hint got them off the subject of her love life and she gladly rose to her feet and started gathering the makings for a pot of coffee. “It doesn’t take you long to make yourself at home, does it?”

“No. Sorry. But you have a way of doing that to me, Sierra,” Alex said as he watched her graceful movements.

He didn’t go on to tell her that she was the only woman he’d ever felt completely comfortable with, the only one who made him want to kick off his shoes and lay down on her couch.

If he allowed himself to really think about things, he’d have to admit that he was here tonight because being with Sierra made him feel good. She had always made him feel good. And his lonely apartment did nothing to nurture a cynical soul.

With a fatalistic sigh, he rose to his feet and walked over to her. As he placed his hand against her back, her head twisted around and up. Her brown eyes were wide, her soft, pink lips slightly parted and the sudden realization that he desperately wanted to kiss her hit him like the wham of a baseball bat.

“Is something wrong?” she asked as she spotted the tiny frown marring his forehead.

“I—er, no. Not a thing,” he said. Then, taking her by the upper arms, he moved her aside and reached for the glass carafe. “Let me finish making the coffee, honey. You’ve already done enough for me tonight.”

Chapter Five

By the time the coffee had dripped, Bowie had fallen asleep. Alex pushed the bassinet onto the back porch. Sierra followed with the coffee and two bowls of dewberry cobbler.

A soft south wind was blowing in from the gulf, warming the already humid air. Frogs and insects were singing a nighttime lullaby and far across the yard a whip-poor-will’s cry pierced the steady chorus.

“He must be lost,” Alex commented about the night bird. “I haven’t heard one of those around here in ages.”

“I hope he stays,” Sierra said as she took a seat next to Alex on the porch swing. “He’ll eat the mosquitoes.”

She hadn’t been all that keen on coming outside with him tonight. Not that she disapproved of being outdoors. Truth was she loved being out here. Many of her sleepless nights were spent here on this back porch. But where Alex was concerned, these past few days she’d been having strange vibrations around him. The closer she got to him, the more awkward she felt. And sitting next to him like this in the dark wasn’t helping the matter one whit.

“You think Bowie will be all right? We don’t want a mosquito to get on him,” Alex said between bites of cobbler.

“The netting I draped over him will keep him in fine shape. And I’ve already discovered that he loves it outside. Isn’t it amazing how such a tiny baby could know when he’s out of doors?”

“You’re learning a lot about babies since you got Bowie, aren’t you?”

He’d pushed the swing into a lazy sway and Sierra found the movement made her think of slow, hot hands and hard, warm lips.

“Yes.”

He put down his spoon for a moment. “You talked about seeing Gloria tonight. Are you jealous that she’s marrying into the rich Fortune family? And that Christina is engaged to a highly successful businessman?”

If anyone else had asked her such questions she would have been offended, but Alex was a lawyer, he couldn’t help himself. And he didn’t really poke and prod as a way to hurt her.

“No. I’m very happy for both of them. You know me, Alex. Money never was my main agenda or I certainly wouldn’t have gone into social work.” She waved her hand around her. “You can see how modestly I live. And that’s the way I like it. Gloria and Christina are different. Not that either of them are money hungry, but they do live lifestyles that are nothing like mine.”

“But Gloria is pregnant. She’s going to give your parents their first grandchild. They’re fawning over her when you’re the one who stuck by Marie and Jose while their two older daughters were off, refusing to come home for even a brief visit.”

Sierra thoughtfully pushed the cobbler around her bowl. “There are times I can’t help resenting the way both of them behaved—the seemingly careless way they hurt my parents by leaving the family.”

“You were hurt, too,” Alex said softly. “You don’t think I’ve forgotten all the pain and heartache you went through when you tried to patch the broken relationship between your two sisters, do you?”

To be honest, she was surprised he remembered anything about her personal life. He’d always seemed bored or annoyed with her family sob stories. This past year, whenever her group of friends had met at the Longhorn, she’d tried her best to keep her contribution to the conversation away from her personal life just because she couldn’t take Alex’s disdain. And she’d done a pretty good job of it, until a couple months ago when she’d announced to her friends that Chad had flown the coop.

“I wasn’t sure you remembered any of that time,” she admitted.

“Sierra,” he scolded gently. “You must think I’m a real monster. Of course I remember it. I hated all those damn tears you cried.”

“Well, I’m not crying them anymore. And I’m very happy that Gloria is going to have a baby. I might be a little envious, but I’ll have my turn someday. And besides, I have Bowie and he already feels like my very own,” she said softly.

He didn’t say anything to that and Sierra finished the last few bites of her dessert before she looked over at him.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You’re silently laughing because you think I’ll never find a man who’d put up with me on a permanent basis?”

Alex shook his head. “No. I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort. I was wondering—how long do you plan on keeping Bowie as your foster child?”

Her gaze flew to the bassinet sitting a few steps away from them. It was impossible to imagine not having Bowie with her. It was unbearable to envision a life where she couldn’t see him take his first step or say his first word. She needed to be there when he started school, when he began to play sports and date girls. She realized she was getting beyond herself, but her heart was moving far faster than the realistic hopes in her head.

“I don’t know, Alex. I’ve been thinking a lot about some of the things you said. And you’re right.”

He placed his empty bowl on the porch floor and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Hmm. Something is wrong for you to be agreeing with me.”

She ignored his flip remark. “Bowie needs more than just what I can give him. He needs a father, too. And I want him to have the very best. I don’t want him to miss out on anything in life. But—” she halted as her throat tightened painfully “—I don’t want to give him up. I’ve got to keep him, Alex, at least for a little while longer.”

Turning on the seat, he took hold of both her hands. As he squeezed her fingers, Sierra sniffed to ward off the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. The last thing she wanted Alex to think was that she was a sniveling little girl who still had a lot of growing up to do.

“You’re getting attached to him,” he stated.

Nameless emotions squeezed her heart. “I believe you’re getting attached to him, too, Alex.”

He shifted closer as his green eyes wandered over her face. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he admitted after a moment. “But that’s not what’s worrying me.”

Sierra’s heart began to thump harder and faster. His face was getting so close to hers that she could see the pores in his skin, smell the masculine cologne clinging to his clothes. Heat radiated from his body and seemed to arc into her like a hot beam of light. Her breath lodged in her throat and though she kept telling herself to pull back from him she felt her head tilting forward.

“What’s worrying you?” she asked in a raspy whisper.

“What to do about this,” he murmured.

Sierra was given no time to ask about “this.” In fact, she didn’t even have time to suck in a shocked breath before she saw Alex’s face drawing closer and felt his lips touching hers.

A tiny moan of disbelief sounded in her throat and fearing she was going to pull away from him, Alex framed her face with both hands and held her head gently but firmly as he explored the soft, full curves of her lips.

The taste of her was sweet, delicious and, oh, so precious. Alex had never expected kissing her to feel so warm and wonderful and he realized with a shocked start that he wanted the kiss to go on and on. He wanted to deepen the union of their lips and crush her body up against his.

A need for air was finally the thing that caused Alex to lift his head and stare at her in stunned silence.

Sierra pressed her fingertips to her swollen lips and stared back.

“What was that?” she finally managed to ask.

He swallowed as a strange sort of exhilaration rushed to his head and whirled his senses about like a sudden tornado.

“If I have to explain, then you’re way more innocent than I ever thought.”

Jumping to her feet, she scurried over to the bassinet, then turned and tossed her hair out of her face before she locked gazes with him. “I know what it was! I mean—why? Why did you kiss me?”

Feeling stupid, but happy, Alex held his palms up in a helpless gesture. “Because I’d been wanting to kiss you all evening.”

His honesty floored her and she realized her knees had turned to two pieces of sponge. But whether that malady was from his words or his kiss, she wasn’t quite sure.

“Alex! We’re—we’re friends,” she sputtered.

Pushing himself up from the swing, he closed the short distance between them and placed his hands on her shoulders. Beneath his fingers, he could feel her trembling and he wondered if she’d been as besotted with their kiss as he’d been.

“Friends are allowed to kiss,” he softly reasoned.

“Not like that.”

Her voice was strained and as she turned her face to one side, her expression looked like someone who’d just committed a horrible sin. Alex would have laughed if he hadn’t been so scared himself. He didn’t know what was happening to him or to Sierra, but each minute he spent with her, he’d felt a tension growing between them. He could no longer simply think of her as his sweet buddy with a heart too big for her own good. Something had opened his eyes to the fact that she was a woman and that she wasn’t quite the pushover he’d always thought her to be.

If someone tried to take Bowie from her, Alex knew she’d fight him or her to the bitter end. And if she loved a man, would she fight just as hard for him? She’d allowed Chad to walk away and that could only mean one thing. She hadn’t really loved the guy. The notion curled the corners of Alex’s lips with a satisfied smile.

“Why not? You have to be friends before you can be lovers.”

Her face jerked back to his and their gazes clashed like swords clanging in the darkness.

Lifting her chin to a challenging angle, she protested in a husky whisper, “We—uh—we aren’t going to become lovers!”

The smile on Alex’s face deepened to a cocky grin. “You think not, do you?”

She swallowed as the rapid beat of her heart fluttered in her throat like a trapped bird. “I know not!”

The words floated out on a gasp, but her shocked reaction didn’t deter Alex at all. His hands slid up and down the slope of her shoulders in a slow, sensuous fashion until they finally curled around her throat and his thumbs rested beneath the angle of her jaw.

“You sound awfully sure of that.”

And he sounded so all-fired cocksure of himself that needles of fear jabbed her from every direction. She’d not known Alex for years without learning that he usually got what he went after. She just couldn’t understand why he suddenly wanted her.

“I am!” she shot back at him. “You’re a great friend, Alex. But I, well, having you in my bed is another matter.”

His thumbs reached out and rubbed the soft skin of her chin. It was all she could do to keep from shivering with longing.

“It sure is,” he suggested in a low, provocative tone.

“You’re heartless. You’re cocky and infuriating. You’re a—a smart-assed lawyer!” She ended with a toss of her head.

“I promise I don’t take any of those traits to bed with me. I leave them on the dresser with my wristwatch and billfold.”

The image of Alex, tall, tanned and muscular and shedding his clothes for bed, popped into her brain like a tease from an erotic movie trailer.

Groaning, Sierra twisted loose from his grasp and reached for Bowie’s bassinet.

“Please, open the door. I’m taking Bowie back inside. And you’re leaving,” she said primly.

“Leaving! I haven’t even finished my coffee,” he complained.

“I’m sure you can make yourself another pot when you get home,” she said as she started pushing the bassinet toward the door.

Home. He’d never thought of that damned apartment as home. He was a bachelor. He’d never wanted a home for himself or even thought of what one might be like. Meals on the table and a pretty little wife hovering over him had never been on Alex’s agenda. But tonight, this old house seemed like a place where he wanted to stay and he wanted Sierra to do far more than hover over him.

“All right,” he said crossly. “I’ll leave. But if you think we can just go back to being old college buddies, you’re out of your mind.”

With that he opened the door and helped her push Bowie and the bassinet back inside the kitchen. Once there, Sierra hurried on to the living room with Alex practically stomping on her heels.

“I was out of my mind all right,” she muttered tightly. “For kissing you like I did.”

Exasperation twisted his features as he looked at her. “Well, it sure as hell didn’t feel like a friendly kiss.”

Pushing the bassinet to a stop near the couch, she pulled off the gauze she’d draped over the baby and tossed it to one side. Without looking at Alex, she said, “You’ve always told me I have poor judgment in men. So I’m taking your advice and not making another mistake with you!”

As Alex headed toward the door, he felt sure his ears were blowing smoke and fire.

“Mistake! For the first time in your life you let yourself act like a woman instead of a—a caretaker! And you call that a mistake! I’m outta here.”

Sierra flinched as the door slammed behind him and then, covering her face with both hands, she sank onto the couch. Her whole body was trembling and she was having trouble sucking air into her lungs and pushing it out. Relief didn’t come until tears started rolling down her face.

The next morning, Sierra was still in bed when she heard someone pounding on the front door.

With a groggy groan, she jerked on a long cotton robe and stumbled through the living room.

“Who is it?” she called through the door as she swiped her tangled hair out of her face.

“Your sister. Christina.”

Oh, thank God, she thought. For a second, she’d feared it might be Alex and she certainly wasn’t up to facing him this morning.

Fumbling with the lock, she finally managed to open the door and usher her sister into the house.

At thirty-two Christina was the eldest of the three Mendoza sisters. She was also extremely elegant with a tall, willowy figure and straight, dark brown hair that swung against her shoulders. She was a highly intelligent businesswoman and her job at Fortune-Rockwell had led her straight to the love of her life, Derek Rockwell.

“What are you doing out so early?” Sierra asked as the two of them moved into the living room. Christina and Derek had finally shown up at her parents’ barbecue, but thankfully the food was still out on the table, and everyone had been glad to see them in spite of the late hour. “We just saw each other last night at Mom and Dad’s.”

Christina held up a white bag stamped with a local bakery’s logo. The smell of fresh pastries verified that her sister had experienced a sudden breakdown and had stopped to appease her sweet tooth.

“With Gloria and Jack there, I didn’t get to talk to you all that much. And I thought you might like to share an apple fritter with me. There’s also a cinnamon roll and a chocolate éclair.”

Sierra glanced at her sister, who was dressed in a pin-striped suit, and managed to look both professional and beautiful at the same time.

“Dear Lord, you must really be craving sugar this morning,” Sierra exclaimed.

“I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. I need the extra energy,” she said as she glanced toward the kitchen. “Got any coffee made?”

Shaking her head, Sierra motioned for Christina to follow her into the kitchen. “No. I was still in bed when I heard you knocking.”

Christina placed the sack of pastries on the kitchen table and turned to study Sierra as she began to spoon coffee grounds into a filter.

“Wow. That’s not like you to lie around in bed until seven-thirty. What’s wrong? One of your sleepless nights again?”

Sierra nodded. For years now she’d had trouble sleeping. Her busy mind often refused to shut down and last night it had been working overtime. But unlike other nights when her sleeplessness had been caused by work or family matters, this time the cause had been Alex, and Alex only.

“Yeah. I think I finally fell asleep about five o’clock this morning. And then Bowie woke up and let me know he wanted his bottle. By the time I finished feeding him and putting him back to bed I was so exhausted I fell back to sleep.”

Christina made an apologetic face at her sister. “Sorry, hon. If I’d known it had been one of those nights, I wouldn’t have stopped and woken you. You really should see a doctor about your insomnia, Sierra. It isn’t good for your health.”

“Christina! Have you forgotten all those doctors that Mom dragged me to when I was in high school?”

“Pooh,” Christina scoffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. “That was years ago. You need to try another doctor. Techniques and medicine have probably advanced a lot since you tried to get help.”

“I have an update for you,” Sierra told her. “I saw one while you and Gloria were living away. All he did was give me sleeping pills and the next morning I woke up so groggy it took me half a day to actually feel energized.” With a shake of her head, she dumped cold water into the coffeemaker. “I’ll just deal with the problem myself. Besides, last night I just had a lot of things on my mind.”

“The baby?”

Christina and Derek had stopped by their parents’ house yesterday evening while Sierra and Bowie were still there. Christina had pronounced Bowie adorable, yet Sierra had sensed a lack of enthusiasm in her sister’s reaction to the baby. But then Christina had always been the most reserved of the family.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a grim look lining Christina’s lovely features. It made Sierra wonder what was really going on in her sister’s head.

“No. Well, I do think about him a lot,” Sierra admitted. “I guess it’s pretty obvious that I’m getting attached to the little guy. But I don’t know any woman alive who could hold a baby in her arms and hang on to her heart at the same time.”

She switched on the coffeemaker and then realizing she’d not cleaned up Alex’s supper mess last night, she hurriedly began to pick up the dirty dishes from the table and toss them into the sink.

Christina eased down onto one of the chairs. “I thought you ate at Mom and Dad’s last night. What did you do, come home and eat again?” she asked as she surveyed the last of the clutter.

Trying not to appear flustered, Sierra picked up a bottle of Tabasco and stored it in the cabinet. “Uh—Alex came by and I fed him some of the leftovers. Sorry about the mess,” she quickly apologized.

“Forget that.” She patted the tabletop. “Come on and sit down with me.”

“The coffee. It’s almost finished dripping.”

Christina frowned and pointed to one of the chairs. “Sit. I’ll get our coffee in a minute.”

Retying the sash of her robe, Sierra took a seat and used her hands to try to calm the riot of black curls falling into her face. “Okay. Here I am.”

“Good. It’s about time you realized that it’s okay to let someone wait on you once in a while, instead of you jumping to everyone else’s beck and call.”

Leaning back in her chair, Sierra placed a hand against her forehead and feigned a haughty pose. “Yes, I do deserve to be treated like a princess,” she joked.

Christina didn’t laugh. “You do deserve to be treated like a princess and the sooner you realize that the better.”

A puzzled expression crossed Sierra’s face. “Did you stop by here this morning to give me a lecture of some sort?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Christina saw that the coffee was finished brewing. She rose to her feet and fetched cups from the cabinet. As she poured the brew, she said, “Not exactly. But I will admit that I’m a little worried about you, Sierra. First you go through that awful breakup with Chad—”

“I’m glad about that. It saved me from discovering what a jerk he was later on.”

“Okay. So maybe that was a blessing in disguise,” Christina agreed. “But the baby. Frankly, I’m worried about you, hon.”

Sierra watched her older sister place the filled mugs and paper plates on the table. A look of concern marred her face and Sierra bristled at the idea that Christina had come swishing in here as though she knew best and it was her duty to make sure Sierra walked the right path.

Mentally counting to ten, she shrugged a shoulder. “What’s there to be worried about? I’m taking care of a baby. That’s all.”

Christina eased down into one of the chairs and reached for the bag of pastries. As she handed the apple fritter to Sierra, she said, “And how long do you plan on caring for him?”

Sierra’s brows peaked at Christina’s pointed question. “Since I’ve only had him for a few days, it’s too early for me to make such a decision.”

Christina pulled another pastry from the bag and took a quick bite. “And how do you think you’ll feel a week from now? Two weeks from now? As time goes on, don’t you think you’re going to become even more attached to him?”

“Most normal persons would,” Sierra retorted.

Ignoring the waspish tone in Sierra’s voice, Christina said, “That’s right. And as far as I can see, you’re normal. No, scratch that. You’re not normal. Your heart is bigger than your head. You’ve probably already fallen head over heels in love with the cute little guy.”

Sierra crammed a piece of the fritter into her mouth. “So what if I have?” she asked between chews. “He needs someone to love him.”

Tilting her face toward the ceiling, Christina shook her head. “Oh, my darling sister, don’t you see? Loving Bowie would be wonderful if you intended to keep him as your own. But we both know that’s impossible and—”

“Why is it impossible?” Sierra interrupted.

A tender look of regret filled Christina’s face as she reached over and tucked Sierra’s wayward hair back behind her shoulder. “Child services wants to place the baby in a home with two parents. And with Chad gone, I don’t see you getting married anytime soon.”

Rising from the table, Sierra carried her coffee cup with her as she walked over to the door leading onto the back porch. With the top of the door being constructed of paned glass, it allowed a wide view of the shaded yard and the portion of the porch where she and Alex had sat on the cedar swing. And kissed.

“You really know how to make a girl feel good, sis,” Sierra muttered. “This is just what I need in the morning to get me going for the day ahead.”

“Oh, Sierra, don’t get mad at me. I don’t mean it in a demeaning way. You’re going to find your Prince Charming and when you do he’ll jump at the chance to make you his wife. But that isn’t going to happen just because you have Bowie. And without a husband, I can’t see child services allowing you to keep him for very long.”

Sierra clamped her lips together. She wanted to tell Christina that she and Gloria weren’t the only Mendoza women who could attract a man. She wasn’t a doormat for men to walk on.

Squaring her shoulders, she glanced over her shoulder at her well-meaning sister. “I guess Mom didn’t tell you. Alex told child services that we were getting married.”

The pastry in Christina’s hand stopped midway to her mouth. “Alex? Alex Calloway? No! Mom didn’t say a thing about it,” she said in a quiet, shocked voice. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you say something about it last night?”

Sierra knew she should explain the whole story to Christina, but it felt too good to let her sister think that she was loved by a hunky lawyer like Alex.

“I didn’t say anything because, well, we haven’t set a date or anything. We—uh—we’ve just now realized how we feel about each other.” Maybe that wasn’t too much of a fib, Sierra thought. She and Alex had definitely felt something for each other last night when they’d kissed like there was no tomorrow.

A smile sparkled across Christina’s face. “Boy, do I feel stupid. Here I was doing all this worrying about my sister and now I learn you do have a plan for yourself and the baby.”

Sierra returned her sister’s smile with a wobbly one of her own. “Well, I’m trying, sis. But who’s to say it will all work out.” And that certainly was the truth, she thought.

“None of us have any guarantees, Sierra. But I’ve got to say I think you’re on the right track with Alex. He’s the first man you’ve ever been with who didn’t need emotional therapy.”

Sierra walked back to the table and sank onto a chair. She felt utterly drained and the day was just starting. “Gee, you make it sound like I picked my boyfriends from the mental hospital.”

“Don’t be silly,” Christina scolded. “They were all just a little too needy. If you know what I mean.”

“And you think Alex isn’t?” Sierra couldn’t help but ask.

Christina’s smile turned a bit wicked. “Alex’s needs are those of a typical man.” She winked at Sierra and laughed suggestively. “But I’m sure you’ve already figured that out.”

Sierra hadn’t figured anything out about Alex. She wasn’t even sure why he’d suddenly inserted himself into her life. Sure they were friends and had been for years. But last night he’d not been behaving like a friend. And heaven forbid, neither had she.

Clearing her throat, Sierra pushed herself up from the chair. “Stay put and finish your coffee, sis. I think I hear Bowie. If he’s awake I’ll bring him back to the kitchen so that you can say hello.”

Christina glanced at her wristwatch. “I was about to say I’ve got to leave. But I’ll stay long enough to kiss Bowie good morning. Derek needs to learn he’s not the only male around here to turn my head,” she joked.

Glad that she’d managed to put an end to the subject of Alex, Sierra left the kitchen and hurried to collect the baby.

Chapter Six

Two days after Christina’s visit, Sierra, feeling housebound, decided to go to the market for a few groceries for herself and to restock her supply of baby formula and diapers for Bowie.

That afternoon she was carrying the things in from the car when she heard the phone begin to ring. Since she’d already carried Bowie into the house and placed him in a safe spot on the couch, she forgot about the last of her groceries and ran to pick up the phone.

After a breathless hello, a familiar male voice sounded in her ear.

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling for the past two hours!”

If she’d thought his question had come from male passion, she would have scolded him. But since there was concern in his voice she wanted to soothe him.

“I went to the market,” she explained. “Bowie was running low on a few things. Especially formula.”

“The boy must eat like a horse.”

Pride surged through her as she glanced at Bowie. The baby was kicking and waving his legs and arms with obvious enthusiasm. Apparently it felt good to him to be out of the confines of the car seat. “He’s growing,” she said to Alex. “He needs plenty of nourishment.”

“I’m glad you brought that up, Sierra. Since we need our nourishment, too, how about going out to dinner tonight?”

Sierra suddenly gripped the phone. “With you?”

He made a sound of disgust. “No, I’m calling to ask you to have dinner with John Gutierrez.”

She frowned. “Who’s he?”

Alex groaned. “Damn it, Sierra, how should I know! I just made up the name. I’m asking you to go out with me—for dinner.”

Sierra felt herself begin to tremble both inside and out. “You mean, like a date?”

“I don’t care what you call it,” he said impatiently. “It’ll be the two of us eating together. No big deal.”

Maybe not to him, Sierra thought. But to her it was a giant deal. She’d been out with Alex before and had even shared a meal with him, but only as a friend. This would be different and they both knew it. Especially after that hot kiss he’d given her the last time they’d been together and then the horrible fight that had followed it.

“I don’t want to leave Bowie with—anyone.”

“I’m not asking you to. He can come along, too. If he starts bawling too loudly we can always get up from the table and take him outside. Like you see all those other harried parents doing.”

Just like they were a married couple with a baby, Sierra thought. The idea caused a wistful sigh to pass her lips.

“All right,” she said. “Where are we going? So I’ll know what to wear.”

A grin laced his voice. “I thought we’d go to Red. Like I said, nobody does food better than the Mendozas. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

At ten minutes to seven, Sierra was ready and waiting for Alex. As she paced nervously around the living room, she caught her reflection in a mirror hanging on a wall behind the couch.

She’d spent an eternity picking out a skirt and then finding a top that looked decent enough to wear with it. Sierra had never been a clotheshorse like Gloria. And since Sierra’s job had never required her to purchase expensive pieces, nearly all of her things were casual.

Tonight she’d decided to wear a gored, red floral skirt. On the left side, the hem angled downward into a sexy point against her calf. Her blouse was a white gauzy material that draped across her breasts and tied at the side of the waist. As for her hair, she’d decided to pin it all up in a curly mass atop her head and leave a few tendrils to hang at her ears and the back of her neck. At least with her hair up, she did look like a grown woman, she decided. Whether that was a sensual grown woman, Sierra could only hope.

Alex arrived promptly at seven and after helping Sierra get Bowie buckled safely in his own little seat, he drove the short distance to downtown Red Rock and parked in the massive lot behind the Mendoza restaurant.

Red was located in a converted hacienda that had once been owned by an influential Spanish family rumored to be related to Santa Ana. Thankfully Jose and Maria had been lucky enough to buy the place at an affordable price before anyone realized it was a historical treasure. The structure had been built with two stories, but her parents had chosen to only use the bottom floor for the restaurant. Part of the top floor had been renovated for office use and the remainder was simply used as storage.

There was a beautiful courtyard inside the square of the building, which featured an old fountain that supplied diners with the soft, musical notes of trickling water. Colored umbrellas shaded pine tables and chairs, which were arranged at odd angles among several tall, Mexican fan trees. Bougainvillea grew at every turn and bloomed vividly in fuchsia, purple and gold.

Sierra had to admit that the courtyard was her favorite dining area at Red, but she figured since they had little Bowie with them, it would be safer to keep him inside. The air had grown very hot and humid this evening and she didn’t want the baby getting congested.

Alex insisted on carrying Bowie as they walked around the building to the front entrance. Inside the restaurant, a hostess dressed in a long black skirt and a white gypsy-style blouse greeted Sierra by name, then turned to Alex.

“Right this way, Mr. Calloway,” the young woman said with a gesture for them to follow her. “We already have your table ready.”

Impressed, Sierra glanced up at Alex. “You made reservations?”

His green eyes twinkled down at her. “Of course. I’m a lawyer. I’m always prepared.”

They followed the hostess through the main dining area to one of the smaller rooms, which held only a handful of pine tables and chairs. Like the rest of restaurant, it was decorated in typical hacienda style with plenty of southwestern colored blankets and antiques dating as far back as 1845 when President Polk announced Texas the twenty-eighth state of the Union. Paintings depicting the battles between Texans and Mexicans to free the republic from Santa Ana’s rule hung along the dark wooden walls here and in the main dining area. No matter how many times Sierra walked through the door of Red, she was reminded how hard her parents had worked to embellish this place with an atmosphere that all Texans, especially those from Red Rock, would enjoy.

The hostess found a special seat to place Bowie’s carrier in and after Alex had secured the baby, he helped Sierra into her chair. As he took the seat angled to her right elbow, a waiter hovered to take their orders for drinks.

At the last minute, Sierra decided to be a little reckless and order a margarita. Since she wasn’t much of a social drinker, it only took a small amount of alcohol to go straight to her head. But with Alex already making her head spin, what did a little extra drunkenness hurt? she thought wryly.

“I always forget what a fabulous place this is,” Alex commented as the waiter disappeared from the room. His gaze roamed appreciatively around the dimly lit walls then came to rest on her face. “But I never forget your sweet face,” he added softly.

Feeling totally out of her depth, Sierra clasped her hands together on her lap and tried not to appear as nervous as she felt. “You’ve gone through a long line of women in your time, Alex Calloway. How do you keep my face separate from theirs?”

Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “It’s hard. But I manage.” He made a motion with his hand at their surroundings. “I know you’ve told me that you love to eat in the courtyard, but with little Bowie, I wasn’t sure about getting a table out there.”

Sierra was totally surprised by his thoughtfulness. “You were right. It’s too hot and muggy to have him out tonight.” Propping her chin on the heel of her palm, she looked at him. “I thought you didn’t know anything about caring for babies?”

Resting his forearms on the tabletop, he leaned toward her and gave her a wicked wink. “I don’t. I’m just letting my common sense show. We lawyers have that, too.”

Her hand dropped away from her face as she laughed softly. “What on earth has Pauline been putting in your coffee? A lawyer with common sense? You’d be ruined.”

“You’re being downright cruel tonight, Sierra,” he teased just as the waiter appeared with their drinks.

The young man served Sierra a tall, frozen margarita and Alex a glass of red wine. As he was leaving, Maria walked in and headed straight to their table.

“Mom. I didn’t realize you were here at the restaurant tonight. I thought you and Dad were home resting,” Sierra said with a bit of surprise.

Maria made a comical face. “Dear daughter, your parents don’t need to be in a geriatric home yet. We do still have some life left in us.”

“Here, here,” Alex said with enthusiasm as he lifted his wineglass toward Sierra’s mother. “You look beautiful and vibrant tonight, Mrs. Mendoza.”

Clearly flattered by Alex’s compliment, Maria smiled at him and for a moment Sierra expected to see her mother pat her hair and bat her eyelashes.

“And it’s good to see you, too, Alex,” Maria said. “Have you been doing well?”

Alex glanced furtively at Sierra, before he turned his gaze back on Maria. “Very well. Thank you for asking.”

Maria moved around the table until she was standing over Bowie’s high chair. Her expression softened with tenderness as she gazed down at the sleeping baby. “Jose and I are very grateful to you for helping our Sierra keep Bowie,” she said to Alex. “At first we were a bit worried about her decision, but now we can see how happy the baby makes her.”

“Yes,” Alex replied. “And I think we’d both agree that Sierra deserves a little happiness.”

Maria looked up just as Alex reached over and lifted the back of Sierra’s hand to his lips.

Dear Lord, what was he trying to do? Sierra wondered as she watched her mother’s eyes narrow into shrewd, calculating slits.

“Uh, if you two don’t mind, I’d like to take Bowie upstairs. Jose and I are having a little snack and we’d like the chance to have the baby with us for a few minutes. Is that all right with you, Sierra?”

What could she say? Sierra wondered. It would sound silly to object, even though Sierra knew with a measure of certainty that her mother hadn’t just casually come downstairs to take Bowie off her hands.

“Of course, Mom. His diaper bag is sitting beneath the high chair. You might want to take it with you. Just in case he wakes and acts hungry.”

“Oh, babies are my specialty,” she happily crooned as she lifted Bowie and his carrier into her arms. “I know exactly how to take care of them. After all, I had three of my own. And now Gloria is expecting and you have Bowie. Maybe Christina will be next and the house will be full of babies.” She tilted her chin to a smug angle. “You know, Rosita isn’t the only one around here who can have grandchildren.”

Maria waltzed out the door with Bowie and the diaper bag. Sierra turned an amazed look on Alex. “I’m worried, Alex. Mom’s taken a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. She’s been warning me not to get too attached to Bowie. Now she’s behaving like he’s her grandchild! And don’t think for one minute that she showed up here at our table just by coincidence. Someone told her we were here and for some reason she decided to take our boy off our hands.”

Our boy. The sound of that made Alex smile inside, though he couldn’t explain why. The notion of him having a son of his own was scary as hell. Raising a child was serious business. If you didn’t do it right, you’d leave scars. He ought to know; he had plenty of them himself.

Through the years those scars had hardened until sometimes he wondered if he could ever feel anything for anybody, including himself. But then Sierra had always been around to scold and prod and shame him until she pricked his conscience and he gave in and tried to show her a softer side of himself. Which, most of the time, was always just an act to make her happy.

But in the past few days Alex had to concede that something had happened to him. Ever since Bowie had come into his life, he’d felt himself changing and looking at things in a totally different light. The baby and Sierra had brought an importance to his life that he’d never experienced before. He was beginning to think that maybe his existence did mean more than just courtroom tactics and getting some joker off the legal hook.

“Who’s Rosita?” Alex asked.

Sierra reached for her margarita. “Oh, you’ve heard me speak of her before, Alex. She’s the older lady who works as a housekeeper for Lily and Ryan Fortune out at the Fortune ranch. She’s been with them for years and years. Mom has tried to get her to retire, but Rosita won’t hear of it. I think she likes working because it keeps her in the thick of the Fortune family happenings. She’s a distant cousin to Mom and they’ve been good friends since they were children. Mom is jealous because Rosita has several grandchildren and she’s still waiting.”

“Oh, yes, I think I do remember you mentioning Rosita before. She’s the one who has the prophetic dreams, isn’t she?”

Sierra’s low chuckle was full of doubt. “Well, some of them have proved to come true. But her family takes all of her prophecies with a grain of salt.”

“Maybe we should get her to tell us our fortunes,” Alex suggested. “It might be amusing to hear what we’ll be doing a year or two from now.”

Shaking her head, Sierra said, “Rosita isn’t some sort of gypsy woman reading palms. These intuitions or dreams or whatever they are simply come to her. She doesn’t ask for them.”

Alex shrugged as he sipped his wine. “That’s too bad. It would be nice to know if I’m going to win my next case.”

Sierra rolled her eyes. As far as she was concerned she didn’t want to see what she and Alex would be doing a year or two from now. Especially with him acting so downright seductive toward her.

She shot him a coy look. “I thought you were always certain of a victory in the courtroom.”

Laughing softly, he picked up her hand and kissed her fingers. “Honey, you do know how to feed my ego.”

Upstairs, in a room that Maria and Jose had furnished as a living room/office, Jose took pleasure in rocking Bowie in an old wooden office chair. Nearby on a dark green couch, Maria shook her finger at her husband.

“I’m telling you, Jose, there’s something going on between the two of them. He was kissing her hand!”

Jose smiled to himself. “So.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Ay! Ay! Ay! Do you go around kissing a woman’s hand if she’s only a friend?”

Jose glanced up from the baby’s angelic face. The moment his wife had discovered that Alex had made a reservation for two tonight, her calculating mind had gone into overdrive. She’d insisted that the two of them have their dinner up here in the office so that she could go downstairs and casually meander through the room where Alex and Sierra would be eating and offer to watch Bowie for them.

“Is that a trick question, woman?” Jose asked.

Maria let out a long, impatient breath. Sometimes men could be so slow, or maybe they weren’t actually slow, they just pretended to be, she thought.

“Jose Mendoza, I’m not questioning your fidelity. I’m just saying a man doesn’t go around kissing a woman’s hand out of friendship. Don’t you agree?”

Jose cuddled the baby in the crook of his big arm and turned his attention to his wife. “Maybe. And maybe Alex is attracted to our little girl. Are you worried that he’s going to break her heart?”

Maria thought about her husband’s question for a moment before she shook her head. “Not really. I’m more worried that she won’t take advantage of his attraction. Alex is just right for Sierra. I’ve never understood why she hasn’t noticed that before.”

Jose scowled at his wife as she rose to her feet and began to walk back and forth in front of him. “And what makes you think they’re so perfect for each other? They’ve been friends for years. Don’t you think something should have sparked between them before now?” Jose questioned.

Maria paused long enough to glance at her husband and bat a hand through the air. “Pooh! Sierra has always had some sort of boyfriend hanging on her arm. And Alex has been too tied up with his career to fall in love.”

Shaking his head, Jose clicked his tongue with disbelief. “Boyfriends. Careers. It takes more than that to keep people from falling in love. And while we’re on this subject, you need to forget all about pushing Sierra and Alex together. Let nature take its course.”

Comic outrage froze her features. “How can you say that to me? Look what I’ve done for Gloria and Christina! They’re happy—they’re both going to be married. That’s what I want for Sierra. And besides all that, nature takes too damn long.”

Marie picked up a finger sandwich from a tray sitting on the corner of a large oak desk and shook it at Jose as she went on, “Sierra is twenty-eight. She needs to get a life—a family of her own.”

Jose bit back a sigh and tried to answer as patiently as he could. “She will. When the time is right. And if Alex is the man for her, then I’m sure she’ll let him hear about it.”

Maria was thoughtful for a few moments and then a cunning smile spread across her face as she lifted the sandwich to her lips. “Well, at least we have Bowie with us tonight. The two of them can have a quiet, romantic dinner alone.”

“I feel lost without Bowie,” Sierra said some minutes later as she and Alex partook of a table full of food. For her main dish, Sierra had ordered one of her favorites, grilled chicken breast stuffed with spinach and topped with queso sauce. Every bite was hot and spicy and she found herself reaching frequently for the margarita to cool her tongue.

“I’m sure you do,” Alex replied, “but it’s good for you to have a rest. I’m glad your mother made the offer to watch him.”

Sierra started to tell him that Maria’s kindly gesture had been blatantly deliberate, but she didn’t bother. Alex had a strong mind of his own. He saw all sorts of people in the courtroom who were experts at manipulation. He certainly couldn’t be swayed one way or the other by a meddling, middle-aged woman hell-bent on marrying off her three daughters.

A half hour later, the two of them had finished their meal and Alex had related to Sierra several amusing incidents that had happened to him in the courtroom when he’d first started practicing law. The laughter and the alcohol had left her feeling a bit giddy and when he suggested they walk out to the courtyard, she was glad for the opportunity to get some fresh air.

As soon as they stepped outside onto the red-brick paving that formed a small patio beneath the eave of the building, the warm, muggy air wrapped around them like a velvet blanket. The trickling water fountain filled the gardenlike area with soothing music while chattering mockingbirds and the gentle cooing of gray doves added their own special notes to the song.

Alex placed his arm lightly against the back of Sierra’s waist and guided her toward one of the empty tables situated in the far corner of the courtyard. The space was partially hidden by a thick oleander dripping with white blossoms.

The moment the two of them stepped behind the bush, Alex tugged her into his arms.

“Alex! What—what are you doing?” she stuttered as her palms instinctively came up against the broad width of his chest.

With his head bending downward, he murmured, “Surely you don’t have to ask.”

Sierra had never expected him to kiss her here, like this, where people were dining only a few feet away! Actually she’d not expected him to kiss her at all. Maybe that was naïve thinking on her part after the heated exchange they’d shared on the porch swing. But she’d pretty much convinced herself that his attraction for her was just a momentary thing. Something he’d get over quickly, like the three-day measles.

Now, as his lips sealed hers with a slow, seductive search, she realized she’d been very wrong. If anything, the desire she felt on his lips was hungry and reckless and totally shocking to her senses.

Stolen moments turned into risky minutes until finally Sierra’s knees began to give way and Alex was so starved for air he was forced to lift his head.

“Alex,” she said in a breathless rush. “Have you gone crazy? If someone sees us, they’ll complain of indecency!”

Nuzzling his cheek against the curve of her neck, he chuckled softly. “I’m a lawyer, remember. If we get charged I can get us off.”

Oh Lord, it was heaven to have him touching her, holding her like this, Sierra thought desperately. How could she resist him, when all she really wanted to do was curl her arms around his neck and hang on for dear life?

“Oh,” she said in a thick, drowsy voice. “How would you manage to do that?”

His hands began to move up and down across her back. Heat filled every inch of Sierra’s body and burned her face like the hot afternoon sun. Why hadn’t she ever felt like this before? Why had it taken Alex to wake up the latent woman inside her?

“Demand a jury trial and make sure it was made up of nearly all men. None of them could blame me for wanting to make love with you.”

“Alex,” she whispered sweetly, “you’re so silly.”

He brought his face back around to hers and said in a husky voice, “You know, you’re right. I’ve been very silly all these years not to realize how beautiful you are. Inside and out.”

Sierra winced as pain and joy balled together and smacked her right in the middle of her chest. “Don’t fib, Alex,” she pleaded.

Bringing his forefinger beneath her chin, he lifted her face up to his. “I’m not lying,” he insisted.

“Then stop trying to charm me.”

He looked amused. “Why? Because you think I’m trying to seduce you? Well, I am.”

Desperate to hide how shaken she was by his blunt statement, Sierra turned her back to him and sucked in a shaky breath. “I can’t understand why. You can have any woman you want. And you’ve never wanted me.”

His hands curled over the back of her shoulders as he bent his head and spoke softly against her ear. “That’s not true. I can’t have any woman I want. And I’ve always wanted you as a friend. Now I happen to want you to be more than a friend.”

Sierra closed her eyes as all sorts of wicked images danced through her mind. At least he was being honest, she thought. At least he wasn’t trying to pretend he felt love for her. Especially when they both knew it was sex. And sex only.

But even knowing that wasn’t enough to damper the longing that was growing, spreading through every inch of Sierra’s body. She’d never felt such a sudden, overwhelming desire for any man, and maybe a few days ago she would have been too shy and worried to act upon her feelings. But tonight she was feeling anything but timid.

Turning slowly back around to him, Sierra lifted her face and met the dark, smoky glint in his green eyes.

“I think we’d better get Bowie and go home,” she murmured. “Don’t you?”

Surprise flickered across his face and then he gave her a slow, crooked smile. “Straight home. Without any stops or U-turns.”

Chapter Seven

Minutes later, Alex and Sierra were driving the short distance back to Sierra’s two-story. In the back, Bowie was fussing and chewing his fist.

“He must be hungry,” Alex suggested. “Isn’t that what a baby does to try to tell you that he’s hungry?”

Twisting around in her seat as far as the seat belt would allow, Sierra studied the baby’s red face and jerky arm movements. “I think so. But he shouldn’t be hungry. Mom said he just drank a whole bottle of formula.”

When the two of them had gone up to her parents’ office to pick up Bowie, they’d both made an issue of wanting to keep the baby longer and that they’d not had nearly enough time to spend with him. Maria had even suggested that she keep Bowie overnight to give Sierra a restful night’s sleep. But Sierra wouldn’t hear of it. She wasn’t quite ready to let her little guy be that far away from her. And besides, she got the feeling that Alex was around because baby Bowie was around. She didn’t want to take away his chance to spend more time with the baby.

“That may be the problem,” Sierra said as her forehead puckered with worry. “He usually doesn’t eat that much at a time. He’s probably got a tummy ache.”

“When a baby has a stomachache, don’t you call that colic?” Alex asked.

Sierra groaned. “Yeah. That and a nightmare.”

By the time Alex parked his SUV in front of the house and Sierra lifted Bowie out of his carrier, the baby was squalling at the top of his lungs.

“I’ll bring the diaper bag. You take him on into the house,” Alex told her as she carefully propped the baby against her shoulder.

Sierra went ahead of him and after turning on a lamp, she sank onto a wooden rocking chair and checked Bowie’s diaper. It was clean and dry so she ruled that out as the offending culprit.

Alex appeared and set the diaper bag down on the floor next to the rocker. “I’ve never heard our boy cry like this. He must be miserable,” Alex mused aloud as he gazed down at the baby nestled in the crook of Sierra’s arm. “And look how he’s drawing his legs up. Must be his stomach. What do you do for colic? Is there some sort of medicine you can give him?”

Ashamed that she didn’t have answers for all his questions, she said, “I’m sorry, Alex. I’ve never been a mother before. I’m just learning about all this stuff. Maybe we could call the all-night drugstore and ask the pharmacist?”

“Good idea,” Alex said. “I’ll call while you see if you can quiet him.”

Sierra began to rock and the lulling motion settled his screams to hiccupping wails. Smoothing her fingers over his head, she began to sing a lullaby in hopes her voice would distract him.

Across the room, Alex hung up the phone and hurried back to Sierra and the baby. “He said it sounds like colic and there’s not much you can do for it. If he doesn’t get better soon, he suggested giving him a few drops of liquid simethicone. But he said before we resort to that, we might try making him burp the gas off his stomach.”

Sierra was incredulous. “Use medicine as the last resort? Wouldn’t easing his stomach with medicine be better than him screaming with pain?”

Alex shook his head. “The pharmacist said when it comes to infants as young as Bowie, it’s best not to overmedicate.”

Put like that, Sierra could understand. But she could hardly bear to see the baby in such distress.

Shifting in the rocker, she started to lift Bowie to her shoulder, but Alex quickly bent and reached for him. “Here, let me have the little guy. I was the best belcher in the high school locker room. If anyone can get it out of him, I can.”

Sierra didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as she handed the fussy baby over to Alex. “Just because you know how to rid yourself of gas doesn’t mean you can make Bowie do it,” Sierra argued. “He’s a baby!”

Placing the infant against his broad shoulder, Alex began strolling around the large living room as he patted and rubbed Bowie’s back in a circular motion.

Sierra watched Alex’s tender ministrations and her heart clutched with something that felt soft and warm and terrifyingly like love.

No! That couldn’t be, she silently denied. Wanting Alex in her arms was one thing, but loving him was something altogether different. He was a man who played fast and loose. In and out of the courtroom. She couldn’t love a man who would never love her back.

As Alex completed another circle around the room, he paused by the rocker to toss Sierra a droll look. “Of course I know he’s a baby,” he said, attempting to raise his voice above the baby’s wails. “And I’m not a dunce. I’ve seen all this stuff on television. You pat their back and soured milk spews out. Just give me time.”

Alex had hardly spoken the last word, when a loud burp erupted from Bowie.

Putting a hand to her mouth, Sierra began to giggle. Alex twisted his head in an effort to see what sort of substance was running down the back of his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about your shirt, Alex,” Sierra said between laughs. “But you should have seen Bowie’s face. He looked so surprised and relieved.”

Alex grinned with inane pride. “Told you I could do it. Do you think that’s all of it? The gas, I mean?”

Sierra left the rocker and headed toward the kitchen. “I don’t know. Maybe you should pat him a little more and I’ll get a towel for your shirt.”

In the kitchen she grabbed paper towels and dampened a dish towel with warm water and soap. She was turning away from the sink when Alex appeared in the doorway. He mouthed the words “asleep” and with his free hand pointed to the baby.

Sierra walked quietly over to the two of them and peered at Bowie’s face which was scrunched up against Alex’s shoulder. The baby was snoozing peacefully as though he’d never experienced a moment of colic in his life.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sierra nodded. “He’s out like a light.”

“What do I do with him now?”

Sierra wanted to laugh. For a man who’d seemed so confident about baby care a few minutes ago, he sure seemed lost now.

“Bring him into my bedroom and we’ll put him to bed in the bassinet. Hopefully he’ll stay asleep now that he’s rid of some of that formula.”

Putting down the things to clean his shirt, Sierra followed Alex to the bedroom and straightened the blankets in the little bassinet. Once she stepped out of the way, Alex carefully laid the sleeping baby onto the bed and covered him with a light blanket.

“He has dried milk around his mouth,” Sierra whispered.

Alex turned wide, threatening eyes on her. “You’re not about to wake that little boy up just so that he can have a clean mouth,” he said in a loud whisper. “He’ll sleep just fine like that.”

To make certain Sierra didn’t try anything, Alex took her by the arm and led her out of the bedroom. Sierra left the door partly ajar so that they could hear the baby just in case he did wake up with another bout of colic.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, Alex. You’ve worked hard all day and you didn’t plan on relaxing like this,” she said.

Disappointment was evident in his green eyes as they roamed her face. “Why do you think you need to apologize for Bowie? We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

She hesitated, uncertain as to what he wanted to hear or what she needed to say. “Well…yes. I suppose we are. Without you I couldn’t have kept Bowie. Child services believe you’re going to be acting as his father.”

His brows pulled together. “I am acting as his father, aren’t I? I’m the closest thing to a daddy that the kid has right now.”

Sierra’s head tilted up and down in agreement, but her expression was clearly sad.

Seeing the woeful look on her face, Alex pulled her over to the couch and sat her down next to him. “What’s the matter, you don’t think I’m capable of being a daddy, is that it?”

She couldn’t believe he was running off on a tangent like this. It wasn’t like him. But then it wasn’t like him to take her out to dinner or to care for a colicky baby, either. This Alex was not the same sardonic friend who scolded her for having a mushy heart and useless boyfriends.

“No, Alex! That’s hardly what I was thinking.”

“Well, you had a damn miserable look on your face,” he accused. “What was that all about?”

She shrugged one shoulder. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt his feelings. Especially after the closeness they’d shared in Red’s courtyard.

“I was just thinking that you’re only a part-time daddy for Bowie.”

Something like regret tugged down the corners of his mouth and he looked away from her as he rubbed his hands against his thighs. “Yeah. Well, that’s about par for the course, isn’t it? An adopted kid wouldn’t know how to be a real dad.”

“Alex! Damn you!” she cried as she snatched a grip on his upper arm. “That’s an awful thing to say. To imply something like that is to—you’re insulting thousands of adopted men out there—”

“I’m not talking about other men,” he interrupted sharply. “I’m talking about me.” He plunked a finger into the middle of his chest. “I grew up living a lie. My own father didn’t want me. And the man who raised me didn’t have the guts to tell me the truth.”

Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Oh, Alex, why are you bringing all this up now? I believed—” She paused as her brown eyes pleaded with him. “We were going to have a nice evening together. Bowie is asleep. And the house is quiet.”

The soft, inviting tone of her voice got through to him and the angry lines on his face slowly relaxed. Sierra sighed as he smiled and reached for her.

“God, I’m sorry, Sierra. I didn’t mean to go off like that. We were coming home for other things, weren’t we?” he asked with a throaty chuckle.

Her cheeks warmed with color as she nestled her head against his shoulder. “Bowie got us sidetracked.”

Sierra slid her hands around to his back to slide closer, but suddenly her hand came in contact with something wet and gooey.

“Ugh! Your shirt!” Pulling away from him, she wrinkled her nose with disgust. “You’ve still got spit-up all over your back.”

“Sorry,” he said, then quickly suggested, “Maybe you should wipe it off for me.”

Rising to her feet, Sierra held out a hand to him. “Maybe I should wash the whole shirt. Give it to me.”

His jaw dropped as he feigned a look of shock, then with a wide, wicked smile, he stood and began to unbutton the blue, windowpane shirt. Starting with the bottom button and working his way to the top, his fingers maneuvered the fastenings until the fronts of the shirt fell away to expose a slice of male flesh.

Sierra’s pulse rate nearly doubled and her mouth went desert dry as she watched him slip the garment from his shoulders and hand it to her.

As her fingers clutched the fabric, her eyes darted to the walls, the floor and the ceiling as she tried to avoid staring at his bare chest and arms, and the hard abs that disappeared beneath the waist of his chinos.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, obviously amused at her reaction. “You look like you’ve never seen a man without a shirt on.”

Heat filled her face and spread downward until it felt as if her whole body was blushing as she forced her eyes to meet with his. “Of course I have. But this…is…different. You’re a friend.”

Dimples bracketed his mouth as he stepped forward and slipped an arm around her waist. “And that just makes it all the nicer,” he whispered.

Her heart was beating in her throat like a nervous little wren caught in the talons of a red-tailed hawk. And when he pulled the shirt from her hand and tossed it to the floor, she could hardly speak.

“Uh—would you like for me to find you another shirt?” she offered.

The amused look on his face turned into an all-out grin and he murmured in a voice as smooth as whiskey, “What I’d like won’t require a shirt.”

She groaned. Or had she whispered his name? Whatever had come out of her mouth didn’t matter as Alex bent down and scooped her up in his arms.

“Bowie is in your bedroom. We don’t want to wake him.”

Sierra shook her head. “He sleeps soundly. We won’t disturb him.”

Assured by her answer, he began to carry her toward Sierra’s bedroom.

Except for a faint strip of moonlight from the window, the room had grown very dark. Slipping through the shadows, Alex carefully made his way to the four-poster bed and placed Sierra onto the smooth yellow comforter.

For one wild second, as she watched his smiling face bending down to hers, she panicked. Oh, what was she doing? she desperately wondered. Alex was a playboy. This didn’t mean anything to him. It was all fun and games.

Yet she couldn’t roll away from him. She couldn’t demand that he allow her up and out of the cozy bedroom. Like a deep craving that couldn’t be denied, she had to kiss him, hold him and feel her naked body pressed against his.

“Sierra,” he murmured as he moved up beside her and rubbed his nose alongside her heated cheek. “Why has it taken us so long to get here?”

Shifting toward him, she reached up and cradled the side of his face in her palm. “Are you even sure we should be here?” she asked softly.

He groaned and then brought his lips to hers. Sierra slipped her arm around his neck and snuggled closer against his chest. His skin was smooth, hot and filled her nostrils with a scent she’d come to recognize as simply Alex. It was a heady scent and she gathered it in her nostrils as her lips eagerly searched his.

“Doesn’t it feel like we should be here?” Alex asked once he’d ended the kiss.

Sierra’s breath was nearly gone and she waited a second for her head to stop spinning before she spoke. “It feels like magic, Alex. But—”

His nose and lips nuzzled the curve of her throat, the back of her ear and finally her temple. “But what?” he asked. “Do you want this all to end? Are you afraid to make love with me?”

Make love with me. Yes, that was exactly what she would be doing, Sierra thought. She’d be making love with him straight from the center of her heart. She’d be giving him her body and soul. That was enough to make her terrified. And yet her fear, as strong as it was, still wasn’t powerful enough to beat down the desire she felt for this man.

“No.”

A sigh of relief rippled past his lips and brushed her cheek. “That’s good. Because it would be hell to take my hands off you now.”

Before she could make any sort of reply to that, Alex covered her mouth with another kiss. And after that, nothing else mattered. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to worry or wonder how she’d feel once the sobering light of day arrived. Alex wanted her and she wanted him. That was enough for now.

As Alex kissed her, he could feel the struggle inside her collapse. Her body went limp, her mouth became even hungrier. The idea that she wanted him was a powerful aphrodisiac and his veins pulsed with heat and the throbbing need to be inside her.

Urgent now, his hands found the tie at her waist and tugged it loose. Her blouse had no buttons so as quickly as the sashes fell apart so did the front of the garment. She wasn’t wearing a bra and Alex drew in a short, sharp breath as his eyes laid upon her small, perfectly made breasts.

“Oh, woman,” he whispered, “how very beautiful you are.”

Reverently his hand reached and cupped around the soft mound centered with a rosy-brown bud. Sierra moaned and arched toward him in silent need. Alex shifted so that his mouth was level with her breasts and for a moment he buried his face between them and breathed in the sweet, womanly scent of her skin, listened to the rapid beat of her heart as it shook her left breast and caused his own hands to tremble as they slid over her warm, satiny skin.

When his mouth finally touched her nipple, desire shot through him like an arc of electricity and he felt his loins tighten with overwhelming need, his manhood pulse. The strong, sudden reaction to the woman in his arms was shocking to Alex. Wanting a woman wasn’t supposed to move this quickly!

Tearing his mouth from her breast, he reached to peel away the rest of her clothing, which consisted of only her skirt and a skimpy pair of pink panties. After tossing them to the floor, he dealt with his jeans and shoes. The items landed on top of Sierra’s with a soft thud as he turned back to her.

“I hope you have some sort of birth control here,” he said gently as he joined her on the queen-size mattress. “I don’t go around prepared for such things.”

Sierra reached for him and he growled with pleasure as she tugged him toward her. “I’m so very glad to hear that, Counselor. I thought you stayed prepared for this sort of thing.”

“Hmm, you thought wrong,” he said against her cheek.

“Well, don’t worry. I’m covered.”

His head reared back to look at her with stunned fascination. “I thought you said that you and Chad weren’t lovers.”

“We weren’t. I have to—take oral contraceptives for other—monthly reasons,” she explained.

A silly sort of relief rushed through him and he wondered why he was even thinking such thoughts. It didn’t matter who Sierra had made love with in the past or how often. What mattered was this moment and each moment forward.

“Oh. I see. That’s good. Real good.”

“Is it?” she asked.

He slid his hands beneath her back and rolled her atop of him. With his palms cupping the flare of her hips, he said, “We already have one baby. We don’t need another one right now.”

We. We have a baby. His words sounded so sweet, so much like man-and-wife talk. Was he thinking of her in those terms? she wondered. No. She couldn’t let herself imagine such a thing. She couldn’t start letting herself believe that tonight was anything more than sex.

“Alex—” She paused as his hands slid upward and over the curved indention of her tiny waist, her ribs, and finally rested upon her shoulders. “I know that you’ve had lots of girlfriends and I—”

“Stop it. They have nothing to do with you and me. They’re all in the past anyway. I don’t have anyone in my life but you. Just you.”

Her face dropped shyly away from his. “That’s—that’s not what’s bothering me,” she murmured.

He rested his head in the curve of her shoulder and speared his fingers into her hair. One by one, he pulled the pins until the long, curly mass spilled onto her shoulders and into his face.

“Oh, honey,” he said gently. “There shouldn’t be anything bothering you.”

“I—I’m not very experienced, Alex. I’ve only done this once and that was a long time ago. And it—was just a rushed fumble in a college dorm room.”

Rolling them both over, he placed her on her back and, propping his chin on the heel of his palm, studied her face in the semidarkness. All these years he’d known Sierra, he’d believed she’d been sharing “close” relationships with the boyfriends she’d paraded in front of him. To think that she’d gone so long without being intimate with anyone was shocking to him.

“Sierra, that’s awful. Why? Why haven’t you made love since? You’ve had boyfriends. Didn’t they ever want—to be this close to you?”

Her face burned with embarrassment, but she didn’t turn away or try to hide from him. She wanted him to know exactly how she was feeling. “Oh, yes, they wanted. I just wasn’t ready to give. After that one time, I decided it would never happen again until I was with someone special, someone I trusted.”

And that someone was him? Alex asked himself. The idea shook him down deep, in a spot that must have been dead before.

His heart swelled with tenderness as he reached to draw her closer. “Little darlin’, I don’t know what to say,” he murmured as he brushed his fingertips against her temple. “Except that I’m glad you’re not experienced. I’m glad that I’ll be your first real lover.”

Something between a sob and a laugh escaped her throat before she lifted her head from the mattress and latched her lips on to his.

After that, words weren’t important. Hands searched and caressed while their kisses deepened and heated to a frantic mating of lips and tongues.

Sierra was caught up in a whirlwind that seemed to be going faster and faster as her body filled with heat, her mind shut down to everything except the wondrous magic of Alex’s hands touching her breasts, her belly and thighs and the sweet mindless sensation of having their mouths connected.

Eventually his lips left hers and she sighed as his tongue began a measured, wet descent to the hollow of her throat, then farther on to the slope of one breast. As soon as his teeth closed gently around her excited nipple, she moaned and arched upward toward the mind-tingling pleasure.

“Alex—I—I didn’t know it was supposed to feel this way!” she whimpered in astonishment.

Lifting his face, he saw her head writhing against the bed, her hair spread like tangled black vines around her face. Her eyes were closed, her sweet, wet lips twisted with something that was partly pleasure and partly pain.

Oh, but she was beautiful, he thought with renewed wonder, a dark, erotic goddess who’d never been initiated into the art of making love. Just looking at her aroused him like nothing ever had. Every nerve, every muscle in his body was pulsing to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Sweat had misted his face and lathered his body. When he spoke his voice came out in a choked, guttural sound, “Neither did I, Sierra. Neither did I.”

Dropping his head back to the opposite breast, he moistened the nipple with the tip of his tongue as his fingers worked a slow, wayward path to the soft curls nestled between her thighs.

Tensing with anticipation, Sierra clutched his muscled shoulders.

“Alex—”

“Shh. Don’t be afraid, honey. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to love you. Love you.”

The last two words came out on a desperate groan. The erotic sound merged with Sierra’s gasp as his fingers found the intimate folds of her womanhood and slipped inside.

Whimpering with need, she held on to him tightly until the ache in the lower part of her body became such a palpable throb she was certain every inch of her was going to burst into flames.

“I want you, Alex. Please, don’t make me keep waiting,” she pleaded.

With his face hovering over hers, he whispered against her lips. “Hold on to me, baby. Hold on and don’t let go.”

He entered her slowly and gently until their bodies were completely united, but all too quickly the incredible sensation of being surrounded by her warmth and wetness overcame him and he began to move with deep, hungry thrusts.

For a moment, Sierra was stunned motionless by the unaccustomed invasion, but a few seconds was all it took before her body began to sing like a taut wire in a high wind.

Clasping her arms around his rib cage, she lifted her hips and met his mind-shattering thrust until both of their bodies were slick with sweat, their breathing fast and ragged. Yet she couldn’t stop to get her breath or to even think. She had to find whatever it was that his body was offering. She had to put an end to the aching need that gripped her body.

When the climb finally ended, Sierra cried out softly as the room around them spun into a million tiny stars, shining and twirling all around them like jewels of passion.

The wonder of it stayed with her for long minutes, until finally the weight of Alex’s body began to press her into the mattress and she squirmed for enough space to draw in a deep breath.

Sensing that he was squashing her, Alex rolled on the bed and pulled her along with him so that he could keep a hand on the curve of her waist.

With her eyes still closed, she rubbed her palms against his hair-roughened chest. “Mmm. You feel so good.”

“You feel pretty incredible yourself,” he replied with a tired smile.

Scooting closer, she pressed her cheek against the region of his heart. His hand ran down the back of her head and into her hair to make her lips tilt into a contented smile.

Bending his neck, Alex placed a kiss on her crown of black curls. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean for that to happen so quickly. I wanted to give you more time.”

Sierra had never felt so close, so drawn to any man as she did to Alex at this moment. “I didn’t need more time.”

He moved his head so that his cheek was resting against hers and she made a soft, mewing noise as his hands slid down her back and cupped her bottom. “Yes, you did. We both did. But you’re just a bit too potent for me.”

She giggled with disbelief, but Alex couldn’t bring himself to laugh along with her. He was still too stunned, too dazed by what had just taken place between them. He’d expected making love with Sierra to be more than enjoyable. As far as physical pleasure went, he’d planned on it being very, very nice. He’d not expected it to be an earthquake. He’d not anticipated wanting her so quickly or so badly that he couldn’t hold himself back.

She’d not just rattled Alex’s body, she’d shaken his heart and that was the scariest part of it all.

“Alex?”

He felt her curvy little leg slide over his, her breasts press into his abdomen, and like a rewound clock he started to tick again.

“Yes.”

“Uh—can we do it again?”

Chuckling under his breath, he took her face between his hands and brought his lips down to hers.

“Little wanton hussy.”

Chapter Eight

The next morning Sierra awoke to sunlight streaming through the windows and the smell of fresh, strong coffee drifting into the bedroom.

Cracking one eye, she stretched, then suddenly remembering Bowie hadn’t wakened her, she jerked her head toward the bassinet. It was gone!

Practically leaping out of bed, she wrapped a thin cotton robe around her naked body and raced out to the living room. One quick glance told her that part of the house was empty, so she trotted to the kitchen.

Halfway through the open door, she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the sight before her. Alex had Bowie lying on a blanket spread upon the breakfast table and was in the process of changing the baby’s diaper. Not just a wet diaper—a dirty diaper.

“Nice way to start a morning, huh?”

Obviously not hearing the approach of her bare feet, Alex looked up at the sound of her voice. A smile curved his lips as he took in her disheveled appearance.

“We’re doing all right.” He made a silly goo-goo face at Bowie. “Aren’t we, baby boy?”

Tears were suddenly burning the back of Sierra’s eyes and she didn’t have a clue to why they were there. She only knew that something about the sight of Alex caring for Bowie was so sweet, so right that it touched the deepest part of her.

“Need any help?” She moved into the room and came to stand next to him.

He’d already rolled up the dirty disposable diaper and was fastening the new one around Bowie’s tummy. Once it was secure, he picked up the offensive-smelling diaper as though it were a basketball and made a three-pointer in a trash can sitting several feet away.

“Nope. I think he’s all set.”

For good measure he reached for a container of baby powder and sprinkled it on the baby’s legs. As Sierra watched his long, tanned fingers rub the talc into Bowie’s skin, she couldn’t help but recall how those same fingers had touched her last night, had turned her inside out with longing. Just thinking about their lovemaking heated her face. Especially now that they were facing each other in the light of day.

Stepping away from him, she hurried over to the cabinet. “I think I’ll get some coffee. Have you had any yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve been too busy feeding Bowie.”

Turning away from the cabinet, her brows lifted in surprise as she looked at him. “You’ve already fed Bowie?”

Alex gave her a smug smile. “Why, yes. You don’t think I’d let the little fellow go hungry while his Sleeping Beauty mother lies in the bed, do you?”

Sierra glanced at the apple-shaped kitchen clock hanging over the double sink. It was only a quarter to seven. But his comment suddenly reminded her of how she must look to him this morning with her face bare, her hair tangled, her eyes puffy with sleep. Her appearance couldn’t be a good sight. Whereas he looked as fresh as if he’d slept ten hours instead of a measly four.

Sierra pulled a sardonic face at him. “I’m hardly a Sleeping Beauty.”

Chuckling at her early-morning testiness, Alex placed the baby in his infant carrier and propped him up to a sitting position. Once he was certain that Bowie was safe and satisfied, he walked over to where Sierra was stirring half-and-half into her coffee.

Pressing the front of his body to the back of hers, he slid his arms around her waist and linked his hands against her stomach. “You look like one to me,” he murmured.

Sierra closed her eyes as she felt her bones melting, her heart filling with so much joy it terrified her.

“Hmm. I wonder who leads you around in the courtroom? I’m surprised you can find the judge’s bench with that kind of eyesight.”

“Ha, ha. You’re so funny this morning. I didn’t realize sleep turned you into a beautiful little monster.”

Sierra found it impossible to keep a wide smile from her face as she turned in his arms and tilted her head back to look at him.

“What sleep?”

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

Blushing, she pressed her cheek against his bare chest. The scent of his skin was an erotic reminder of the pleasure his body had given hers and the first stirrings of desire fluttered softly in the pit of her stomach. How could she be wanting him again, so soon? she wondered. Had he awakened some sort of dormant sex maniac?

“You’ve always accused me of being too easy. I guess last night proved just how easy.”

He made a grunting sound of disapproval. “I hope you were teasing when you said that.”

“I was,” she replied, but silently she couldn’t help wondering if she’d jumped into a deep pit without any hopes of ever climbing out. Alex was a bachelor. He’d never shown any sign that he was interested in marrying. He didn’t want that close a relationship with any woman. So where did that leave her?

Stifling a sigh, she eased out of his embrace and turned to pick up her coffee. “Do you have court today?” she asked as she carefully sipped the hot drink.

Alex watched her swipe a fumbling hand at the black hair falling into her face. She looked so sweet and vulnerable and he realized that her softness, her easygoing heart, the very things he’d chided her about were exactly the things that were drawing him to her now. From his perspective, none of that made sense. But he felt it all the same.

“Ten, this morning. One, this afternoon. I’ll be at the courthouse most of the day.” He glanced at the clock. “And by the way, I’d better be going. I’ve got some depositions to go over before trial this morning. And Pauline will give me hell if I’m late.”

“Wouldn’t you like some breakfast? I’ll cook you some hotcakes with pecan syrup and peppered bacon.”

Because cooking was second nature to Sierra, Alex knew that she considered the offer a simple thing. Yet it touched him in an odd, silly way that made his chest swell and his heart smile.

Closing the small distance between them, he planted a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you, darlin’, but I don’t have time.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

He lifted a black curl from her shoulder and brought it to his lips. “Don’t look so disappointed. I’ll be back this evening.”

Her brows shot up. “This evening?”

Amusement dimpled his cheeks. “Yes, tonight. After work. Why? You’d rather not have me around?”

Her brown eyes darkened with concern as her hand fluttered in a helpless gesture against his chest. “Of course I—you know that I want you around. But, Alex, what is—what does this mean?”

The pads of his fingers slid gently underneath her jaw as he studied her troubled face. “It means that I want to be with you.” Bending his head, he pressed several kisses to her cheek, her nose and her forehead. “In fact, I think I might bring a razor and a pair of khakis with me. I might need them if I stay overnight.”

A stunned look came over her face, but Alex figured she couldn’t be nearly as surprised at the suggestion as he was of it himself. He’d never set out to charm Sierra, to seduce her and turn their relationship into something far more than friends. The whole thing had happened as though fate had taken hold of his hand and he couldn’t break away.

“Sierra, you’re not saying anything. What do you think? Can I hang my trousers in your closet?”

She was probably heading straight to Heartbreak Pass. It wasn’t written anywhere on this earth that Alex would stay around a day longer than any of her past boyfriends. But then Alex was more than a boyfriend. As of last night, he’d become her lover. She adored him and probably had for years now. There was no way that she could ever deny herself the pleasure of having him close.

“I’ll make room.”

An hour later, Sierra, showered and dressed in a fluttery gauze dress and high-heel sandals, called the Stocking Stitch to ask her mother if she could watch Bowie for a few hours while Sierra filled in at the social services office for another co-worker.

“Oh, Sierra, I would in a minute,” Maria said with disappointment. “But I’ve got two knitting classes today and both of them are filled to the brim. Why don’t you drive out to Rosita’s? She’d love to watch Bowie for you.”

Normally, since Sierra was on leave, the office wouldn’t have called her. But several employees were out for different reasons and the staff was operating very shorthanded. Sierra didn’t mind working for a few hours. As long as she knew Bowie was being well cared for.

“She’s not going to be attending classes with you today?”

“No. And she’s not down at the big Fortune house today, either. I talked to her earlier this morning. She’s home, getting some sort of special dinner ready for Cruz. I’ll call her and warn her that you’re coming,” Maria insisted.

Sierra sighed. She didn’t really have the time to drive all the way out to the Double Crown Ranch, but there wasn’t really anyone else around who she would trust to care for Bowie.

“All right, Mom. I’m heading out there now. And thanks.”

“Before you go, Sierra, how did your dinner date go last night? You and Alex left the restaurant so early!”

It was a good thing Sierra wasn’t hooked up to one of those video cameras that allowed the caller a view of the person they were having a conversation with. Otherwise her mother would see that her daughter’s face was beet red.

“Uh, well, it wasn’t all that early. We wanted to get home to watch a certain program on television. Then Bowie had a bout of colic. But we had a nice evening. I’ve got to go now, Mom, or I’m going to be late.”

“Bowie had colic? Oh dear, how did Alex handle all that crying?”

Like a real father, Sierra thought. For a man who’d never had siblings or been around babies, he seemed to have a natural instinct for dealing with Bowie. He handled the baby with loving ease, as though he was meant to be a daddy, not just to Bowie, but to several children. Yet she sensed that he would laugh at the very idea.

“He handled it better than I did. Bye, Mom.”

She hung up before her mother could question her further. She didn’t want to slip up and give her mother any idea that Alex had spent the night with her. Not that she would be angry about it, Sierra thought. In fact, she figured her mother would be pleased to hear that her daughter and Alex had gotten “close.” But Maria would put far too much importance on the whole affair.

Affair. Sierra had always hated the word and she didn’t like it any better this morning. She didn’t want to label her relationship with Alex as something purely sexual and short-lived. But what else could it be? she wondered glumly.

A few minutes later, Sierra was driving south, toward the Double Crown Ranch. With Red Rock behind her, the landscape opened up to short, rolling hills and green pastures dotted with spreading live oak and pecan trees.

When Sierra reached a side entrance to the ranch, she pulled through a cattle guard flanked by tall clusters of blooming pampas grass and purple sage. Off to the left, surrounded by a sandstone wall, the Double Crown ranch house sat like a Western-style castle beneath towering cottonwoods and spreading live oaks.

The sight never failed to stir Sierra and she rested her foot on the brake as she paused to take a gander at the home of one of the most famous families in south Texas.

The adobe structure had a flat roof supported by heavy wooden beams and covered with terra-cotta-colored tiles. Wrought-iron gates opened onto a fabulous courtyard where the grounds were kept immaculate and always blooming with bougainvillea, roses and hibiscus. Sierra considered the inside of the house to be even more majestic than the grounds outside and she’d never forget as a child how intimidated she’d felt when she’d attended her first social function in the grand home.

Now that she’d grown up, she realized the Fortunes weren’t snobs. In fact, most of them were always helping some person or some worthy cause. Sadly, down through the years, there had been much tragedy in the family. Sierra could only hope the Fortune heartbreak didn’t spill onto her sister once Gloria married Jack.

Sierra lifted her foot from the brake and pressed on the gas. As the car moved forward, she said to the baby, who was strapped into the back seat and happily nursing on a pacifier, “Just think, Bowie, my sister is marrying into the Fortune family. They’re rich and famous. That’s nice. But it’s not my style. I’d rather just have you and me and Alex in the old two-story.”

Realizing how matrimonial that sounded, she shook the dreamy image from her mind. Alex might want to share her bed and her closet from time to time. But he wouldn’t be there forever. She was smart enough to prepare herself for reality.

Rosita and Ruben’s small ranch house was situated a short distance down the road from the ranch yard where cattle and horses were penned and cared for. The Perezes had worked for Ryan Fortune for many years and Rosita especially was very close to the whole family. It was obvious this would be the couple’s home for the rest of their lives.

Sierra passed several barns and corrals before she eventually turned onto a short graveled driveway that led to the Perez home. Before she could unbuckle Bowie from his safety seat, Rosita was out the front door and ambling out to the car to greet her.

If Rosita lived to be a hundred, Sierra doubted her appearance would change. For as long as she could remember, Rosita had worn her black hair pulled straight back into a bun. Even the gray streak at the temple had remained the same size and color over the years. Her thick middle was a result of her delicious cooking, just as the warm smile on her face was a product of her huge heart.

“Sierra, I was so happy when Maria called a few minutes ago. I’ve been wanting to see this baby of yours. Where is he?”

The older woman grabbed Sierra and gave her a tight hug. Sierra hugged her back and kissed the housekeeper’s smooth brown cheek. “He’s in the back. I’ll get him out.”

After Sierra unbuckled the baby from the car seat, she placed him over in the smaller carrier before she finally lifted him out of the car.

With a pleased smile on her face, Sierra presented the baby to Rosita. The older woman quickly inspected him, then waved an admonishing hand at her.

“No. No, Sierra. You shouldn’t be carrying the baby like this. Let me have the precious one and I’ll show you how to hold him like a baby should be held.”

Before Sierra could react, Rosita dug the baby out of the plastic carrier and cradled him against her soft, ample bosom. “Now see,” she said to Sierra. “He feels strong arms around him, a warm breast next to his cheek. Those are the things a baby longs for when he comes into the world. That will never change—no matter how many plastic contraptions there are in the stores.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right, Rosita,” Sierra agreed. “But the carrier supports his back and neck.”

Rosita rolled her brown eyes as if to say the younger generation was so misguided. “A piece of cold plastic is not what he needs. How would you like to be laid out on a board? You use your arms and your hands to support him. He needs to learn the smell and the feel of his mother. It will make him feel safe and loved.”

Since Rosita had raised several children of her own and was now helping care for her grandchildren, Sierra couldn’t doubt her experience in caring for babies.

“Okay, Rosita, I won’t use the carrier unless I’m going to set him somewhere.”

Grinning with approval, Rosita looked down at the baby. “He’s a handsome guy, Sierra,” she said, then immediately shook her head in disbelief. “What sort of woman could turn away from something so precious?”

“Not a woman, Rosita. A young teenager, who wasn’t even capable of caring for herself.”

Rosita smoothed a finger across the baby’s cheek. “Well, at least she had sense enough to give the child to you.” Turning toward the house, she motioned for Sierra to follow. “Bring his things.”

Once inside the small, neat house, Rosita sat down on the couch. Sierra needed to be back on the road, but she’d not spoken to Rosita in a while, and she didn’t want to be rude. Not when the woman was so generously helping her out with Bowie.

Easing down onto the seat of an easy chair, she said, “You’re so sweet to watch him for me like this, Rosita. Mom said you were going to be busy cooking today. I hope this isn’t going to interrupt your work.”

Rosita laughed. “You think I don’t know how to take care of a baby and cook at the same time?”

Sierra laughed along with the other woman. “I guess that was silly of me, wasn’t it.”

The Fortunes longtime housekeeper passed a keen gaze over Sierra’s appearance. “We haven’t talked in a long time. Not since your two sisters came home. Are you glad they’re back?”

“Rosita!” Sierra exclaimed with a shocked laugh. “How could you ask me such a question? Gloria and Christina are my sisters. Of course I’m glad they’re back home. And you know how my parents feel about having them near again. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so happy. Especially with Gloria planning her wedding and Christina getting engaged.”

The older woman’s lips pursed with disapproval as she continued to study Sierra. “Gloria and Christina aren’t the only ones in the family. Maria and Jose have another daughter, too, you know. Their world doesn’t just revolve around two of their five children.”

Dropping her head, Sierra stared blankly at her linked fingers. “I understand that, Rosita. I just meant that—well, Gloria and Christina have had all sorts of problems and heartaches whereas I’ve just been little ol’ me. Nothing my parents need to worry about.”

The tsking of Rosita’s tongue told Sierra that the other woman was a little disgusted with her, although she didn’t understand why. Sierra was the one who’d come straight home from college to be with her parents, to help them with the restaurant, illnesses, family matters, anything that they needed help with. Sierra was the one who’d worn herself to a frazzle trying to patch the rift between her sisters and keep peace in the family. Most of the time during that period her private life had suffered greatly.

“But they do worry about you, Sierra. They want you to be happy, too. You have proved your love and dedication to them over and over. Don’t think they ever forget that.”

Regret saddened Sierra’s features as she looked at the other woman. “Sometimes I feel awful, Rosita. Sometimes I resent how my sisters ran off from home and responsibilities and left everything to me. And now—it looks like they’ve been rewarded for their past bad behavior. Gloria is pregnant and marrying into the Fortune family. Christina will marry a Rockwell. And me—well, why does life happen this way, Rosita? Is it fair?”

The older woman smiled gently at Sierra. “You know the old saying, Sierra. The only fair is one with cows and pigs. But you’re not to worry. I had a dream about you the other night.”

Like Sierra had told Alex at dinner the other night, Rosita had been having dreams and intuitions for years. The ones that came true always left an eerie chill down Sierra’s back. She honestly didn’t want to know what Rosita had dreamed about her for fear that it really would come to pass. “Really?”

Glancing down at Bowie, Rosita shifted the baby to a more comfortable position in her arms and then she looked up to pin her dark, serious gaze on Sierra.

“Yes. I dreamed that you would become a wife before your two sisters married.”

Sierra sucked in a shocked breath and then, the longer she thought about it, a laugh erupted from deep in her throat.

“Rosita! Have you been getting into Ryan Fortune’s wine collection? I believe you’re nipping the sauce. Or you must have had indigestion the night you had that dream. I’m not even engaged.”

“You have a fella, don’t you?” Rosita countered, clearly irritated that Sierra was fluffing off her important dream.

Sierra started to say no, Chad had left her in the dust. But Chad had never been her fella in the real sense of the word. Making love with Alex had shown her just how shallow her feelings had been toward the man.

“Uh, yes. Sort of.” After last night Alex felt like her man. At least she had to believe he’d be her man for a while. Knowing Alex’s fleeting relationships, that was the best she could hope for.

“Then you mark my word. You’ll be kneeling before the priest, saying your vows very soon.”

Unsettled by Rosita’s strange prediction, Sierra quickly rose to her feet and grabbed the diaper bag holding all the baby’s necessities. “I’m—I’m running late for work, Rosita. Let me show you about mixing Bowie’s formula and then I’ve got to be going.”

More than an hour later, Sierra was sitting at her desk, going over a family visitation report, when a co-worker paused beside her chair.

She looked up to see Vivian, a divorced, middle-aged redhead, who Sierra could always count on as a friend. The woman had worked for social services for many years and had been a veteran when Sierra had started out as a green field officer. The stressful toll showed in Vivian’s faded blue eyes and the cynical droop of her mouth, and oftentimes when Sierra looked at her friend, she wondered if that’s what trying to help people did to a person. Drained the very life from them. While her sisters had been gone from the family it had certainly taken a toll on Sierra’s outlook.

“Hi, Viv. What’s up?”

The other woman’s smile was a bit hesitant. “I’m glad you came in today. I tried to call you yesterday, but you must have been out of the house.”

Sierra turned the swivel chair so that she was facing Vivian. The woman placed a short envelope on the corner of the desk.

“What’s that?”

“A letter from Ginger’s mother. At least that’s what the return says. I didn’t open it. It came here to the department, but it’s addressed to you.”

An uneasy feeling hit Sierra’s stomach as she reached for the envelope and slowly slipped the top open with a fingernail file.

“Do you think she wants Bowie back?” Vivian asked, as she worriedly chewed on her bottom lip. “Or maybe Ginger wants him back and she’s too afraid to approach you about him.”

Just the idea of having her baby taken away made Sierra quake with fear. He was beginning to feel more and more like a child that she’d actually given birth to. Especially now that Alex was sharing the baby with her.

“I don’t know—just let me read,” Sierra answered in a strained voice.

The letter was short and to the point, the grammar and spelling not even close to being correct. But the words were full of emotion and after a moment Sierra was forced to close her eyes and blink back tears.

Placing a supportive hand on Sierra’s shoulder, Vivian asked in a hurried rush, “What’s the matter?”

Shaking her head, Sierra dabbed at her eyes and sniffed. “It’s just so sad, Viv. To think of any woman living like Mrs. Rollins is forced to live.”

“What do you mean, Sierra? The woman isn’t forced,” Vivian said mockingly. “She chose the loser husband who enjoys slapping her around. She could definitely get rid of him if she wanted to.”

Sierra glared at her co-worker’s pessimistic attitude. “Viv! Since when did you become so heartless? The woman is trying to get rid of him without getting herself killed. And that’s what she says in this letter. She and Ginger don’t want the baby to be in the Rollinses’ home. She says they love him too much to see his life ruined and they know he’ll get a good life with me.”

The last part of Mrs. Rollins’s message had left Sierra feeling very humble and weepy. She didn’t understand why the two women had considered her to be the right person to raise Bowie, but they had, and she couldn’t help feeling proud and immensely relieved.

Vivian suddenly looked deflated. “Oh. Well, I’m glad about the baby.” She cast a guilty glance at Sierra. “And that part about Mrs. Rollins doing better, I know that she’s trying. And I realize it’s hard for her. I guess—I’m just getting hard-nosed.” She sighed with weary regret. “When you see so much abuse and poverty over and over for years, you tend to get hard, Sierra. You’ll learn that after you’ve been here several more years.”

Sierra didn’t think so. If she ever stopped really caring for the people she was trying to help, then she would know it was time to get out of the job.

Patting Vivian’s hand, she said, “Maybe you should take a little time off, Viv. You could go on a nice long vacation. Heaven knows you’ve paid your dues here. I can’t remember the last time you took even a day away from work.”

Vivian batted a hand through the air and smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about me, Sierra. I haven’t burned out yet. What I’d like to know, though, is what you’re going to do about Bowie?”

Ignoring the ringing telephones and the workers bustling through the aisles of cubicles that served as offices, Sierra put the letter away and looked at her friend. “What sort of question is that?”

“A normal one, I’d think. You’re a young, beautiful woman and you’re single. Do you really think you want to be saddled with a child? And when you meet the right man, he might not want to raise someone else’s child, he might only want his own flesh and blood. Then what sort of problems are you going to have on your hands?”

Her lips pressed together, Sierra turned the chair back to her desk and picked up the file she’d been reading. “Viv, I wouldn’t allow a man like that to live in my doghouse, much less close to me.”

“Oh, come on, Sierra. You know what I’m trying to say.”

Sierra sighed. She loved Vivian, but sometimes the woman was like sandpaper scratching a blackboard.

“I know that any man who wouldn’t accept a child of mine would be crossed off my list,” Sierra said flatly.

“Well, I suppose a woman who looks like you can afford to be choosey when it comes to men. The rest of us have to kowtow.”

Groaning, Sierra said, “Not hardly. Besides, I—well, I already have someone in my life. And he loves Bowie.”

Vivian’s eyes popped wide, but before she could fire any questions at Sierra, the office manager stuck her head around Sierra’s cubicle and ordered the other woman to her office.

Once Vivian was gone, Sierra tried her best to get back into the file she’d been going over, but some of what Vivian had been saying kept popping up in her thoughts. Sierra realized that there were men in the world who refused to raise another man’s child. But she couldn’t imagine Alex having such a selfish attitude. After all, he was adopted himself. He knew how important it was for a baby to be given a good home and family. And he seemed so attached to Bowie. If she did decide to adopt Bowie, would Alex stand beside her? she wondered. Oh God, she hoped so. Because she was beginning to realize that she couldn’t give up either one of them.

Chapter Nine

A week later, Alex was sitting in his office contemplating a lunch of tuna sandwich and a bag of potato chips when Pauline sounded off from the room next door.

“Alex, your mother is on the line.”

Since the office was empty, Pauline preferred to use the strength of her lungs rather than the intercoms on their desks. Like a blow horn, her voice nearly rattled the windows.

“I’ve got it,” he called back to his secretary and with a heavy sigh he punched in line two and picked up the receiver.

He wasn’t in the mood to talk to his mother. He’d had a particularly rough morning in court defending a man who’d been accused of stealing from his business partner. And once the lunch recess was over, he was facing an even rougher afternoon with a hostile witness. For the first time he could ever remember, he honestly wasn’t looking forward to the courtroom sparring between lawyers and judge. He’d rather be home with Sierra and the baby.

“Hello, Mom.”

“Hi, honey. I hope I’m not interrupting. Pauline said you had a minute or two.”

Alex couldn’t deny his mother was a lovely woman. At fifty, Emily Calloway’s face was nearly line free, her reddish-brown hair threaded with only a handful of gray and her figure trim and fit. On the inside, she was equally pretty, and since Alex had grown up and moved away, she’d spent most of her time trying to help the less fortunate people of Dallas.

His father, Dave Calloway, was a successful businessman and had made a fortune in the construction business in and around the Forth Worth-Dallas area. He was a gentle, good-hearted man who’d worked hard to see that his wife had anything she needed, along with his son.

His son. But he wasn’t actually Dave Calloway’s son. Alex’s real father was out there someplace, a man whom he would never see, but someone whose genes and blood ran through his body.

“Alex? Are you there? Hello?”

Shaking his head, Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to concentrate on his mother’s voice. “Yeah. Sorry, Mom. I—I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Your work?”

Not exactly, he thought. His work was always unpredictable and stressful. He was accustomed to the chaotic schedule. Frankly, he was worried about himself, about Sierra and, last but not least, little Bowie. Spending more time with her and the baby had seemed like the logical thing to do. He wanted to be with them. But he’d not expected staying under the same roof with a woman and a baby would have such an impact on him. He’d not expected to feel so happy, so peaceful and settled. That wasn’t like him at all, and it scared the hell out of him to think that it was all going to end.

But Alex didn’t want to share any of those thoughts with his mother. It was all too fresh, too personal to pour out to anyone.

“Uh—yeah,” he answered. “Tough trial. But it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Well, I won’t keep you long, Alex. I was just wondering when you might be driving up to Dallas? We haven’t seen you in a long time and your dad’s birthday is at the end of the month. We’d love to have you with us for the celebration.”

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Alex swallowed at the wad of emotions trying to collect in his throat. Damn it, the two people he’d loved so much, whom he’d trusted with all his heart and soul, had lied to him. Over the years, he’d tried to forget and forgive them for the deceit. And he had forgiven them. His parents loved him; he couldn’t doubt that. But the two of them had never realized what their deception had done to him or how it constantly guided his decisions.

“I’d love to be with you, too. But I don’t think I’ll be able to make a hole in my schedule. I’ll have Pauline to see what’s lined up for that date, though,” he added, to soften her disappointment.

“Oh.”

He could hear her sigh and it made him feel awful. Hell, being around Sierra was making him soft; as soft as a pat of warm butter.

“Well, it’s good that your business has picked up that much. Maybe Dad and I could drive down to San Antonio. That way you wouldn’t have to do anything except put up with us for a night or two.”

Oh Lord. He might as well spit out the truth. “Uh—Mom. I don’t—I’m not always living at my apartment.”

“Whaaat? What’s happened?”

Five foot three inches of sugar and spice, Alex thought. Aloud, he said, “Nothing. I still have the apartment. I’m just—spending a lot of time with someone else now.”

“A woman.”

He could hear the excitement rattling her voice.

“Naturally.”

Emily chuckled. “Naturally? You’ve never mentioned staying overnight with a woman before. What does this mean?”

Of course she’d have to ask, he thought wryly. And how did she expect him to answer when he had no idea what it meant? Except that he was crazy about Sierra. And Bowie, too.

“Don’t start jumping the gun, Mom. We’re taking things slowly.” Yeah, right. He’d gone from being her friend to her lover all in the matter of one night. That was a real snail’s pace.

“Well, this is wonderful news, son. Maybe I can finally look forward to some grandchildren,” she said with another suggestive chuckle.

Alex wasn’t about to give his mother a hint about Bowie. She’d be on a plane tomorrow to see him. “Mom, I really have to go. I’ve got to be back in court in twenty minutes and I haven’t finished my lunch yet.” He paused, pinched the bridge of his nose, then added, “And as for Dad’s birthday, I’ll try to make it up there somehow.”

“Wonderful, son! I love you. Bye now.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

Alex tossed the receiver onto the hook and let out a weary sigh. What in hell was happening to him? It wasn’t like him to cave in to someone else’s wants and wishes. He normally put his own needs first. After all, who was going to take care of him if he didn’t? But the whole time his mother had been speaking, he’d been thinking how disappointed Sierra would be with him if he didn’t make an effort to observe his father’s birthday.

Raking both hands through his brown hair, he stared blankly at the view of the street beyond the windows. Did he love Sierra? he wondered. Did he want to marry her? The questions sent something like panic rushing through him, but like a witness facing a judge, he had to at least try to answer honestly.

And the truth was, he couldn’t imagine not having Sierra in his life. He’d known her since he was nineteen years old and through the years he’d never let their relationship drift apart. Even though she drove him batty with frustration at times, he’d always wanted her company. Maybe something had always been trying to tell him that she was supposed to be his woman.

But Alex had never been good with the idea of loving a woman. Hell, he even had trouble keeping a real, true friend around for more than a year or two. Oh, there were Trey, Mario and Gayle, but they were just people to laugh and have a beer with once a week. Sierra was the only one of the bunch he’d ever hung out with outside their lunch meeting.

Sierra. Sierra. Always Sierra.

“Alex! Have you seen a UFO? You’re in a trance!”

The sound of Pauline’s harsh scolding jerked Alex out of his thoughts and caused him to outwardly flinch as though a bomb had gone off in the outer office.

“Pauline, damn it, I’ve got trial in—” he paused long enough to glance down at his wrist “—ten minutes!”

Jumping up from the desk chair, he grabbed his notes, stuffed them into a black leather briefcase and adjusted his tie. “I’ve gotta get going.”

Leaving the desk, he jogged toward the door with Pauline racing right on his heels. “Alex, I’m making you a doctor’s appointment!” she exclaimed. “You’re sick. You’re not yourself!”

With Pauline yelling after him, Alex hurried around the building to his SUV. As he started the vehicle and headed down the street to the courthouse, he wondered if his secretary was right. Maybe he was sick. Lovesick. Maybe that’s the reason he couldn’t get Sierra out of his mind for more than five minutes at a time. Or why every night he couldn’t wait to get home to make love with her.

No. God help him, no. He couldn’t be in love. He didn’t want to feel that close to a woman. If he did, he’d have to start trusting her. He’d have to believe that she would always be honest with him and he wasn’t at all sure that he could ever do that again.

Sierra hummed along to a song on the radio as she set plates onto the table and stirred jambalaya on the gas range. Outside the kitchen, rain poured from the roof of the porch and splashed onto her boxes of tomato plants.

Darkness had fallen a few short minutes ago and she knew Alex would be arriving home soon. The knowledge filled her heart with joy and she realized that each day she spent with him was more precious than the last.

“Mmm. Mmm. Something smells good.”

As Alex entered the warm kitchen, he spotted Sierra stirring a pot on the range. A pair of worn blue jeans fit snugly against her pert little bottom and shapely legs. A halter made of red bandana material was tied against her smooth brown back and the sexy sight of her was enough to push away his mental fatigue.

With the sound of the rain masking his footsteps, Alex came up behind her and slipped his hands around her bare waist.

Squealing, she whirled around and the second she realized it was him, the shock on her face turned to a happy smile.

Rising on her tiptoes, she reached to hug him. “Hello, Counselor,” she said.

Having Sierra back in his arms was like a long cool drink after a broiling hot day. He bent his head and murmured against her ear. “Hello, yourself. Did you miss me?”

“Terribly,” she teased. “I cried all day.”

He gave her bottom a playful little pinch, then before she realized his intentions, he stooped down and scooped her up in his arms.

Her gasp of surprise was smothered beneath the hungry kiss he planted on her lips.

“Where’s Bowie?” he finally whispered.

She pointed toward the living room. “In his bassinet. Asleep. Why?”

The half grin on his face was wicked and tempting, the glint in his eyes making all sorts of delicious promises and Sierra’s heart began to chug with heavy, rapid beats.

“Because I can’t wait to make love with you. Turn off the stove. We’ll eat later,” he ordered huskily.

Since they were already standing close to the range, Sierra reached down and switched off the burner beneath the jambalaya. As soon as that was done, Alex carried her to the bedroom and left the door open so they could hear Bowie, just in case he cried.

Shadows darkened the bed and the rain had left the room cooler than normal. Alex placed Sierra in the middle of the mattress, then starting with his loosened tie began to shed his clothing.

Sierra watched him for a few moments until he reached to pull down his trousers and by then she was aching for him so badly she hurried to remove her own clothing.

“Oh, darling,” she whispered as he lowered himself down next to her. “Hurry! I can’t wait.”

Spurred by her pleas, he covered her lips with his and plunged his manhood deep within her. The sudden sensation of being inside her tight, moist folds rocked him like an explosion and his head fell back as a rough groan rumbled up from his chest.

Somewhere in his heated daze, he felt her legs wind around his, her hands clasp his hips. He began to thrust fiercely as the need to possess her, to become a part of her, overrode everything.

Sierra matched the rhythm of his body and soon their skin became slick with sweat, their breathing raspy and uneven. His lips clung to hers as he pushed his tongue past her teeth and tasted the sweet, intimate cavity of her mouth.

Sliding one hand beneath her back, he lifted her slightly from the mattress so that her breasts would touch his chest, her tight nipples would tease his skin. She moaned and slid her hands upward so that she could hold on and keep the contact of their upper bodies.

Outside, rain continued to drum on the roof and, like the rain, Alex wished he could go on and on, making love with Sierra until his mind was blank, his heart content.

But the richness of her body was almost too much for him to bear and before long he felt the pressure in his loins building, building until he couldn’t hold back his release. With a guttural cry, he grabbed her buttocks and lifted her even closer.

Like a vortex of whipping winds, he felt the room around them begin to whirl, the breath being sucked from his lungs. He heard her desperate cries and knew that he could wait no longer.

Burying his face in the side of her neck, he felt the very essence of him pour into her body.

Afterward he rolled away and tried to quickly fill his empty lungs. Inches away, Sierra waited until her own breathing had calmed before she turned on her side to face him.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly.

He didn’t answer immediately and she passed a hand over his damp chest. The soft hair curled around her fingers and she pulled it gently as she waited for his response.

“Sure. Why do you ask?”

A worried groove appeared between her brows. “I don’t know. You just seem—a little desperate tonight.”

Funny that she should use that word, Alex thought. Because that was exactly how he was feeling: fraught, anxious and desperate to have her.

“I’m okay, Sierra. Don’t worry about me.”

Rolling closer, she snuggled her cheek upon his chest. “You’re not feeling ill, are you?”

He stroked her back and savored the velvet smoothness of her skin. “No. But Pauline thinks I’m sick. I didn’t tell her that making love with you every night is wearing me down.”

She studied him for long moments as she waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she decided to tell him about the letter she’d received from Mrs. Rollins.

“That’s good,” Alex said once she was finished. “At least now you know the Rollinses won’t be yelling for custody anytime soon.”

Hopefully they would never yell to get custody of Bowie, Sierra thought. But she didn’t say more on the subject. Right now she was more concerned with Alex’s melancholy mood.

She trailed her fingers along his damp abs and up along his rib cage. “Hmm, tomorrow night when you come in, I’m sending you straight to the recliner and I’ll carry your supper to you.”

A soft chuckle shook his chest. “Sounds like you’re going to try to spoil me.”

“You’re worth it,” she said gently. Then, lifting her head, she began to press slow, moist kisses over his shoulder and up the side of his neck.

With a groan, he reached for her and wrapped her body next to his. “Baby, baby. The things you do to me.”

Her lips reached his jaw and she paused long enough to slide her tongue against the faint stubble of his beard. “Well, we could get up and eat jambalaya.”

Turning his face into hers, he whispered against her lips, “The jambalaya can wait.”

The next morning, Sierra drove to San Antonio to shop at Babies Unlimited, a boutique on the river walk that sold everything from clothing and diaper pins, to baby beds and infant swings.

For the past week, she’d been slowly attempting to transform the bedroom next to hers into a nursery. She’d papered the walls with a clown print, dressed the windows with blue-and-white checked curtains and used the same material to skirt the bassinet. All she lacked now to make it usable was a baby bed and she wanted the crib to be a special one.

After the rainstorm that had swept through the night before, the morning had turned clear and gorgeous. Hot sunshine beat down on her arms and neck as she slowly pushed Bowie along the water’s edge in his new stroller.

“Sierra! Sierra, is that you?”

Hearing the female voice some distance behind her, Sierra stopped to look and was surprised to see her sister Gloria waving at her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she sauntered gracefully up to Sierra.

As usual, Gloria was dressed adorably in a snappy green spring suit and her makeup was as perfect as her hair. Compared to her older sister, Sierra felt dowdy in her casual jeans and ponytail. But Alex thought she was beautiful. At least he told her she was and that was all that Sierra needed.

“I’m going to Babies Unlimited. What are you doing?” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Why aren’t you at work?”

Gloria’s nose crinkled playfully. “I am at work. But I had an assistant take over for a few minutes. I wanted to see what sort of nursery furniture Babies Unlimited had to offer. Can you believe the two of us had the same idea this morning?”

Her sister rounded the stroller and squatted down to Bowie’s level. “Aw, Sierra, he’s getting more precious every day.” She picked up his tiny hand and kissed it. “He’s really going to be a handsome guy.”

Sierra’s heart swelled with love and pride. “I think so.”

Rising back to her full height, Gloria motioned toward an empty park bench that was shaded by the drooping limbs of a nearby willow. “Let’s sit down a minute,” she suggested. “Before we walk on to the boutique.”

Sierra followed her sister and once they were settled on the bench, Gloria reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, sis. How are things going? Has having Bowie around helped you to get Chad out of your system?”

Sierra very nearly laughed. If only Gloria could see how her life had changed since Alex had been spending some of his nights with her. For the first time, she felt like a woman, she felt important to someone.

“Chad Newbern is just a wisp of a memory. I’m doing—great. Really great,” she added with a smile.

“That must be true,” Gloria said as she inspected Sierra’s glowing face. “You must be sleeping better these days.”

Once again, Sierra felt a laugh bubble up in her throat. What would her sister think if she told her about the wickedly delicious nights she’d been spending in Alex’s arms? Sleep had been the last thing on her mind.

“Oh, much better. I can’t understand it, but it’s been days since I’ve had to get up and drink a cup of warm milk or read a book,” she said as normally as she could.

“That’s good to hear. It must be the baby,” she reasoned. “I don’t have to ask. I can see how much you love Bowie. And that’s what I’ve been thinking about—wondering what you plan to do about him.”

Sierra frowned. “Right now, he’s my foster child.”

Gloria nodded with concern. “Yes. But is that enough for you? What if social services wants to place him elsewhere?”

“They could. But I don’t see any reason for them to do that.”

“You’re a single mother,” Gloria reasoned. “They might find a regular family to take him.”

She and Alex were a regular family, Sierra thought. At least as regular as a man and woman could be without being married. But she wasn’t yet ready to confess to her sister that Alex had been staying part of the time with her or that she could fall in love with the independent lawyer.

Glancing down at the sluggish flow of the narrow river, Sierra said with a thread of defiance, “I can give Bowie everything he needs.”

“Okay. So what if his mother decides she wants him back? You would be crushed.”

That scenario had gone over and over in Sierra’s mind and each time she thought about Ginger trying to reclaim Bowie, she shook with fear.

But she had Ginger’s note and Mrs. Rollins’s letter, she tried to assure herself. Both of which voiced their wishes to have Sierra be Bowie’s mother. That would surely carry some major weight with child care services or in a court of law.

Her expression troubled, Sierra looked at her sister. “What are you trying to say, Gloria? You think I should give Bowie up?”

Gloria quickly shook her head with frustration. “No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying if you love him, really love him, maybe you should start thinking about adoption. I realize it’s harder for a single person to adopt a child, but it can be done. Jack and I will help you all we can and I’m sure Mom and Dad would, too.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Sierra said doubtfully. “They probably think I should be more concerned about having children of my own.”

“Sierra!” Gloria gently scolded. “You were always the sensible sister. But you’re not thinking clearly now. Mom and Dad understand that Bowie has become a part of your life and they also understand that he needs a home as much as you want to give him one.”

Sierra didn’t realize her emotions were working overtime until she drew in a deep breath and her whole body trembled from the effort. “I’m so glad to hear you say that, Gloria. I thought maybe my family would try to discourage me. And I have been thinking about adoption. It’s in the back of my mind all the time.”

Smiling brightly, Gloria squeezed her hand. “Then why don’t you go for it, girl? Bowie can grow up with his cousin.” She patted her growing tummy. “And who knows, maybe Christina and Derek will decide to have a family soon and they’ll be a threesome, just like their mothers.”

Sierra studied her sister as all sorts of joyous and doubtful thoughts mingled together to put a mixture of confusion on her face.

“I—I’m just not sure, Gloria. It’s a big step. And I don’t know—” She stopped as she realized she’d been about to say she didn’t know what Alex might think of the whole thing. He was a part of her life now and she wanted him to remain a part of it. His feelings in the matter had to be considered. But it was too early to explain any of her concerns to Gloria, so she tried her best to smile. “I don’t exactly know what sort of steps I’d need to take to be a candidate for adoption.”

Gloria’s smiled turned clever. “Darlin’, your friend Alex is a lawyer. If you ask him, I’m sure he’d be glad to help.”

Chapter Ten

Late that afternoon, Babies Unlimited sent a man out with the crib and matching dresser. Once he had the pieces of furniture in place and had driven away, Sierra quickly put the finishing touches to the room and closed the door. She didn’t want Alex to get even a tiny glimpse of the new nursery. Not until she was ready to share it with him.

She’d kept the project a secret in hopes of surprising him. Now that it was completed, she couldn’t wait for him to arrive home from work.

Alex finally arrived a little after six. She was in the bedroom changing out of the clothes she’d cooked supper in when she heard his footsteps heading toward the kitchen.

“In here, Alex,” she called out to him.

Seconds later, he paused in the open doorway of their bedroom and gave a low whistle as he eyed her in a lacy red bra and matching panties.

“Hey, hey, hey. You don’t need to dress for supper. You look fantastic like that.”

He strode into the room, and, laughing, Sierra quickly stepped into a blue cotton shift and pulled it up over her hips.

“You can see through the kitchen curtains and we do have close neighbors, you know.” As he approached her, she turned her back to him. “Would you zip me?”

“There’s nothing in the world I’d rather do,” he assured her, but before his hands pulled the folds of her dress together, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to the base of her neck. “Mmm. You smell delicious.”

“That’s steak,” Sierra corrected him.

He chuckled and slid his arms around her waist and drew her backside against the front of his body. “No,” he said against her cheek. “That’s you.”

“Losing your sense of smell along with your eyesight,” she teased. “Pretty soon your sense of touch will be gone.”

“If that’s the case, I’d better make the most of what little time I have left,” he murmured while running his hands up to her breasts and cupping his fingers around the small mounds.

“Oh, no.” Sierra grabbed hold of his misbehaving hands and twisted around in his arms. “I’ve made a special supper for you and I don’t want it getting cold.”

Alex was just as happy to have the front of her shapely curves pressing into him and he slipped his hands to her buttocks and drew the juncture of her thighs tightly against his manhood.

“What could be more special than making love?” he wanted to know.

“Steak and baked potatoes and strawberry shortcake.”

Alex shook his head. “Couldn’t hold a light to you.”

Sierra’s soft laughter was playfully mocking. “You’re a wicked, wicked guy, Alex Calloway.” She slipped her arms around his neck and, rising on tiptoe, placed a soft kiss on his lips. His hand slipped into her hair and cradled the back of her head so that his lips continued to hover over hers. Sierra was almost tempted to tell him they’d forget supper.

“I’m dying to show you just how wicked,” he whispered.

Woozy with desire, she inhaled deeply and turned her back to him. As she motioned for him to zip her dress, she said, “That naughty part of you is just going to have to wait until later tonight. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” That got his attention and he quickly zipped her dress and fastened the hook and eye at the neckline. Then, smoothing his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, he said, “Don’t tell me you’ve invited our friends over.”

Her forehead puckered with a frown as she twisted her head around and looked up at him. “Why would I do that when our regular lunch get-together is tomorrow?”

Tomorrow? He’d forgotten all about it. Last week, the meeting had been canceled because Trey’s job had taken him out of town and Mario had been tied up at the hospital. Since then too much had happened to think about meeting his friends at the Longhorn.

“Oh. I forgot. Are we going?”

Wide eyed, she turned to face him. “Well, why wouldn’t we?” she countered with surprise. “They’re our friends. They’ll be worrying and wondering if we don’t show up.”

Alex shrugged and was surprised when he felt color springing to his cheeks. “I understand that. But it’s going to be kind of different now. With us—well, you know—together.”

“Why, Alex,” she scolded gently. “Are you embarrassed to let them know that the two of us are close?”

“Uh, no.” He dropped his hold on her and made a helpless gesture with his hands. “But they’re probably going to think it’s strange. Especially the part about Bowie. None of them have learned about you having the baby, much less about me.”

She watched as he reached up and pulled the olive green printed tie from around his neck and tossed it onto the bed. As his fingers moved down the buttons of his shirt, his gaze slipped away from her and Sierra felt a tiny chill pass over her.

“Alex, are you—ashamed for them to know that you’re with me?”

His green gaze flew back to hers. “Of course not!”

Uncertain, she stepped forward and curled her fingers over his forearm. “Well, something’s making you uncomfortable about seeing them. What is it?”

He shook his head, then rubbed the back of his neck. “You,” he said. “I don’t want any of them thinking badly of you. Your morals have always been high and I don’t want them getting the idea that you’ve lowered them with me.”

The notion was so sweet and old-fashioned that she had to smile at him. “Oh, Alex, we’re not living in the dark ages. They’re not going to label me a hussy just because you’re sleeping by my side.”

“They damn well better not,” he growled. “If anyone insults you, they’ll have to answer to me.”

If he was that all-fired worried about her honor, why didn’t he make an honest woman out of her? Sierra wanted to ask him. But there was no way she could get words like that past her lips. He’d probably run backward so fast, he’d hurt himself. And anyway, she wasn’t so sure that marrying Alex would be the right step for her. Even though he spent most of his time with her right now, he was a bachelor at heart. Once he grew bored with her, he’d drift on to someone else. That was the way Alex had always worked.

“Thank you, Sir Galahad.” She pecked a short kiss on his cheek then turned and walked to the door. “I’m going to finish supper. It’ll be ready in five minutes, so hurry.”

He looked over his shoulder at her with an expression hovering between teasing and serious.

“I’m not hungry for food.”

Sierra scraped a forefinger down the length of the opposite forefinger, but her chuckle softened the shameful gesture. “All you lawyers are the same. You have to win, at any cost.”

Ten minutes later the two of them were sitting at the dining table eating the juicy steak that Sierra had broiled on the charcoal grill. Between bites, Alex began to tell her all about his day.

By the time they finished the strawberry shortcake he was telling jokes and laughing and Sierra was relieved to see him relaxed again. He had such a stressful job he didn’t need silly worries about her piled on him, too.

“Okay, now what is this surprise you tempted me with? You said you went shopping today. Was it the lingerie department?” His eyes glinted devilishly. “Maybe something with a garter belt and fishnet hose?”

Her heart was suddenly beating very fast. Not because he’d suggested the two of them doing something erotic together. No, she was thinking about the nursery and whether he was going to view her work as a sign she wanted to keep Bowie on a permanent basis. There was no way she could know exactly how he felt about that prospect. Since the day he’d told child care services that the two of them were engaged and planning a family, he’d not talked about the future with Sierra. Not the far future. But then Alex had always been a person who lived from week to week and the only thing he took seriously was his work.

“Uh, no, sorry. It’s nothing like that.” Her smile was hesitant as she released a nervous little laugh. “If you’re finished eating, I’ll show you.”

“I couldn’t eat another bite,” he assured her.

Sierra rose from her chair and reached for his hand. “Okay. Close your eyes and I’ll lead you.”

He chuckled as he stood and obediently closed his eyes, then placed his hand in hers. Sierra’s heart pounded with nervous anticipation as she led him to the door of the nursery and swung it wide.

“You can open your eyes now,” she said.

She watched his eyelids flutter open and the faint amusement on his face instantly disappeared as surprise took over. He stared at the bright, happy wallpaper, the curtains, the chest and finally the crib with its colorful mobile of bugs and butterflies.

“What, uh, when did you do all of this?”

She followed him as he stepped into the room.

“I’ve been working on it all week. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise.”

He continued to look around the room as though he’d never seen a nursery before. “Well, you’ve certainly surprised me.”

Sierra reached for his hand and twined her fingers through his. “Bowie deserves to have a real nursery. And I wanted it to look nice. I’ll admit I paid a hefty amount for the crib and chest. But hopefully I’ll be using it again, when I have more children.”

Her last two words caught his attention and he arched a brow at her. “More children? Are you trying to tell me you’re pregnant?”

Sierra could feel hot color consume her face. “Why, no. I told you I take an oral contraceptive.”

“Pills can be forgotten,” he said dryly.

His caustic remark hit Sierra hard, but she tried her best not to let it hurt her. Alex had always been frank and sarcastic at times. She’d decided a long time ago that you had to take the good with the bad if you wanted to hang around with Alex Calloway.

“I never forget,” she said in a voice sharp enough to catch his attention.

He looked down at her and suddenly his features softened. “I didn’t mean it that way, Sierra.”

Still stinging from the insensitive comment, she said, “Just to ease your mind, I’d never trap a man that way. And that includes you, Alex Calloway.”

Alex released a heavy sigh. He didn’t know why he’d said such a thing to Sierra. In his heart he was certain she wasn’t that type of woman. But the second he’d laid his eyes on the nursery he’d felt smothered and scared. Now she was probably thinking he was just using her.

Well, aren’t you, Alex?

The inward voice stabbed him swift and deep. Was he using Sierra just for a sexual partner? No. She was more to him that that. But just how much more was a question he was afraid to answer.

“All right, honey.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her to him. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not like that. Forgive me, huh?”

It wasn’t Sierra’s nature to stay angry for more than a minute or two and she grinned shyly up at him. “You’re forgiven. Now tell me what you think about the nursery.”

Once again his gaze swung full circle around the room. “You’ve obviously put a lot of work into it. And you’ve done a great job. If Bowie was old enough to really see it, I’m sure he’d be goo-gooing with pleasure.”

She laughed softly. “Well, he will be gooing and squealing when he starts pulling up to the side of the crib and looking around at things.”

Walking over to the baby bed, she pointed to the intricately carved posts. “See, the posts are close together so he can’t get his little head hung between them. And these things around the bottom are bumper pads so when he starts rolling, he won’t hurt himself. I looked at one of those portable intercom things, too. So that way if he makes even a tiny noise I could hear him. But they were rather pricey and I’d already spent so much on the furniture I decided I’d better wait until I get another paycheck.”

“Always the practical woman,” he murmured somewhat absently, then, rubbing his fingers across his forehead, he pulled his gaze away from the bed to look at her.

“What does this all mean, Sierra? I don’t think you would have done all of this unless you have long-term plans for Bowie.”

She drew in a long, bracing breath and released it. “I’ve been doing a lot of studying about that, Alex. And—” She paused as she pushed back a heavy swath of black hair from her shoulders and tried to find the right words. “I guess you can tell I’m crazy about Bowie.”

He nodded. “I’d have to be blind not to see it.”

“He—well, he feels like my boy. My own baby.” Her brown eyes turned pleading as she looked up at him. “It’s hard for me to explain just how I’m feeling. But all I can tell you is that I don’t want to give him up.”

He walked over to the crib and, with his forefinger, made an antenna on one of the butterflies bounce up and down. “Why should you have to give him up? I’m sure you can continue to be his foster mother until they find a good home for him.”

Alex’s green eyes were searching her face so intently that Sierra had to break eye contact and her gaze dropped to the blue-and-white checked comforter spread across the bottom of the crib.

Swinging her head back and forth, she said, “Who knows when or if Ginger might show up to reclaim him.”

“You got that letter from her mother the other day. It should have reassured you that the Rollins family isn’t going to stake any claims on the baby.”

Her eyes darted up to his, then back to the comforter. “It did reassure me to a certain point. But I don’t want to take any chances. I’ve decided I want to adopt Bowie.”

He didn’t say anything and suddenly the room was so quiet and tense Sierra was sure he could probably hear the loud beating of her heart.

“Adopt?”

The one-word question came out softly, as though he wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly.

Sierra quickly closed the distance between them and wrapped her hand around his arm. “Yes, adopt. What do you think about it, Alex? Will you help me?”

“Help you?” His features twisted with comical disbelief. “You are kidding, aren’t you?”

Sierra felt a cool wind wafting through the room. It slipped down her spine and sent goose bumps crawling up the backs of her arms.

“No. I wouldn’t kid about something so serious. I’m asking you to help me.”

Suddenly he turned his back to her, threw up his arms, then let them fall with a heavy whack against his sides. “What in hell are you thinking, Sierra? Asking me, of all people, to help you adopt?”

Stunned by the censure in his voice, Sierra stepped backward and swallowed hard. “I—you helped me gain foster care. I thought—I’d hoped you be happy to help make Bowie my baby. Don’t you—care for him, even the least little bit?”

Her question seemed to insult and irritate him even more and through clenched teeth he let out a loud groan. “Damn it, Sierra! Of course I care for Bowie. That’s not what this is about.”

She looked at him, her eyes shadowed with pain and confusion. “It isn’t?”

He whirled back to her. “No! It isn’t! You’re talking about adoption. That’s a big step for anyone, much less a single woman.”

“I realize that.”

He frowned. “You’re young, Sierra. You’ll eventually have children of your own.”

“I hope so. I want Bowie to have brothers and sisters. I’m sure you understand it’s not good to grow up alone.”

“And it’s damn sure not good to grow up believing you’re a real part of the family when you aren’t!”

Like a cold rain, disappointment washed through her. “Oh. So that’s where you’re coming from,” she said with regret. “Well, I’m sorry I asked for your help. But since you are a lawyer and my friend—my closest friend—you were my first choice.”

Sierra didn’t wait for him to respond. She brushed past him and walked out of the nursery. As she hurried toward the kitchen, tears burned her throat, but she refused to give in to them. Alex might think she was a pushover, but he was going to see just how tough she could be.

She was bending over the bassinet to make sure Bowie was still sleeping, when Alex came up behind her and wrapped his hand around her upper arm.

“Come here. We’ve got to talk.”

The hurt part of her wanted to resist him. But the sensible side realized the two of them had to talk. She didn’t want to remain at loggerheads with him. She loved him. She needed his arms around her. She needed his support.

“All right.”

She allowed him to lead her into the living room where the television was tuned in to the weather channel. Sierra didn’t need to see the forecast. She could already predict a brewing storm.

Sierra sat down on the couch and expected him to join her. Instead he stood in front of her for a moment, quietly studying her face, and then he began to pace around the room until she got the impression she was on the witness stand and he was about to cut her to pieces.

After a moment, she said, “I thought you wanted to talk.”

“I do. I’m trying to think of a way to make you understand that adopting Bowie is all wrong. For you. For me. For Bowie.”

She tried not to flinch at his harsh words.

“Why?” she demanded. “How could loving and nourishing a child be wrong? Alex, I don’t understand. You do have a heart and sometimes you even use it.”

He stopped in the middle of the room and twisted his head in her direction. “This is not a time for sarcasm,” he accused.

Her mouth popped open. “Then don’t use any on me,” she snapped.

He appeared to be taken aback by her sudden show of fire and Sierra watched him walk over and take a seat next to her.

“Listen, Sierra, none of this has anything to do with Bowie—”

“I beg your pardon?” she interrupted hotly. “It has everything to do with him!”

His hand came up before she could finish speaking.

“Just wait until I finish, please.”

She glared and he continued, “I love Bowie. You might not think I’m capable of such an emotion, but I am. And, in the long run, I want what’s best for the boy. He needs parents. Two of them. A nice married couple who will see that he’s loved and cared for.”

“I don’t have to be married to give Bowie love and a good home,” she shot back at him. “You and I both know that. Besides, I’m only twenty-eight. I don’t plan on staying single for the rest of my life.”

No quick retort came from his lips and Sierra realized her remark had taken their battle to dangerous ground.

His jaw like granite, he said, “Really. Is that what this is all about? You want the two of us to get married and adopt Bowie?”

She started to scream “No” out loud, but somehow managed to stop the word before it passed her lips. How could she answer no, when he’d just spoken her most fervent wish? Of course she’d imagined her and Alex married with Bowie and more children to go with him. It was a wonderful dream, even though, in the back of her mind, she understood it would never happen.

Her heart aching, she asked softly, “Would that be so bad?”

Cursing, he jumped to his feet. “Hell, yes! I don’t want to be married. I don’t want to have to trust anyone that much. And I sure as hell don’t want to be the one who has to tell Bowie that somewhere out there he has two parents who didn’t want him, who deserted him without a backward glance!”

Pushing herself to her feet, Sierra’s lips quivered as she met his fierce gaze.

“Well, don’t worry, Alex Calloway. Because I wouldn’t marry you even if you got down on your belly and crawled across the floor to ask me!”

His nostrils flared with anger. “I wouldn’t turn myself into a snake for any woman.”

Sierra laughed scathingly. “Turn into? You already are one, Alex. Poison through and through.”

Not waiting around to hear more, she held her head up and walked briskly to the kitchen and began to blindly gather up the remnants of their special meal.

Her plans to surprise Alex had backfired big time, she thought wretchedly. But at least now his feelings toward her and Bowie were crystal clear. There was nothing permanent about them.

She was scraping plates, hoping the simple task would stop her hands from trembling, when she heard footsteps behind her.

Turning, she saw Alex standing in the doorway. A grim look was on his face and slowly but surely she felt her insides dying. “Yes,” she acknowledged.

“I’ve gotten my things loaded into the SUV. I’m leaving.”

He might as well have punched her in the stomach with his fist. It wouldn’t have hurt any more than his blunt farewell.

Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she walked toward him. “You’re leaving?”

He nodded and she couldn’t help notice that he was avoiding eye contact. Maybe this wasn’t any easier for him than it was for her, she thought.

“Well, I guess it’s for the best,” she said soberly. “There’s no sense in us trying to be together when we’re really worlds apart. And I—I’m sorry I said those nasty things to you, Alex. You have a right to feel as you do.”

“I’m glad you understand that much,” he said stiffly.

“Goodbye, Alex.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, then turned on his heel and hurried out of the room.

Just as Sierra heard the front door click behind him, Bowie started to squirm and cry. As Sierra picked the baby up from the bassinet, she cried along with him.

Chapter Eleven

Early the next morning, Sierra was giving Bowie a bath in the kitchen sink when the telephone rang.

Muttering with annoyance, she ignored the sound until she’d rinsed the baby and wrapped him in a towel. By then the caller had hung up so she laid Bowie on the table to diaper him. She’d just finished that task, when the phone began to shrill a second time.

Quickly she wrapped a thin blanket around Bowie and hurried over to the portable phone on the kitchen cabinet.

“Hello,” she said with a hint of weary exasperation. She’d had one of those horrible nights where she’d not gotten a wink of sleep. With Alex’s leaving, her insomnia had returned big time and she was totally drained from having no rest.

“Oh, you’re there. I had just about decided you must already be at work.”

Her heart sank when she heard her old college friend Gayle’s voice on the other end of the line. Damn, damn. Today was the group’s regular lunch day at the Longhorn. What was she going to do? She couldn’t face Alex. Not today.

“Hi, Gayle. What’s up?” she asked while desperately trying to keep her voice light and natural. Which was a major effort when her nasal passages were swollen from last night’s flood of tears.

“Just calling to make sure you can make it to lunch today. And if you haven’t eaten breakfast yet, then don’t. I want you to try that fudge brownie dessert with me. Remember?”

A fattening dessert was the least of her worries, Sierra thought. “Uh—I don’t know, Gayle. Something has come up.”

“Are you sick?” the blonde quickly questioned.

“No, no. Nothing like that.”

“Oh, then it’s work.” Gayle was quick to presume. “Sorry, Sierra. Can’t you get away even for thirty minutes? I wanted to see how things have been going with you since old Chad headed for the hills.”

Sierra nearly choked on something between a sob and a laugh. “Gayle—listen, I really don’t think I can come to lunch today. And it’s not my job that’s causing the problem. Actually I’m on a short leave from work right now.”

“Hmm. Must be nice being a lady of leisure,” Gayle teased. “So what’s the problem?”

“Alex.”

There was a long pause, then Gayle said in a quiet, strained voice, “Oh?”

Sierra could imagine the other woman’s red lips pursing with disapproval. “Yes. We—uh—had an argument. And I really don’t want to sit across the table from him right now. If you know what I mean.”

“Dear God. It must have been an awful one,” Gayle exclaimed. “What happened? I saw you two together out in the parking lot talking after our last lunch. Is that when you argued?”

Bowie was eating his fist and beginning to put up a fuss for his bottle. In an attempt to pacify him, Sierra gently bounced him against her shoulder. “Gayle, it’s a long story. And I really don’t want to go into it over the phone.”

By now Bowie was letting out a squall of impatience and naturally Gayle picked up on the sound.

“Sierra, do I hear a baby in your house?”

Sierra sighed. Maybe it would be good for her to meet with Gayle and get some of this awful weight off her shoulders, she thought. She’d always shared her personal life with the other woman, it shouldn’t matter that Alex was their mutual friend. Talking to Gayle would be much easier than facing her mother or sisters right now. The last thing she wanted was for her family to find out she’d already lost another man.

Oh well, at least there was one good thing about Alex’s leaving, Sierra thought glumly: she wouldn’t have to do some heinous task for her sisters now.

“Yes. That’s Bowie,” she answered Gayle. “He’s three weeks old and I’m a foster mother now.”

“Sierra!” Gayle shrieked with surprise. “When did this come about? And why haven’t you called me?”

Just like a waiting man, Bowie’s patience had worn completely thin. His face was as red as a cowboy’s bandana and he was screaming so loudly in Sierra’s ear she could hardly decipher Gayle’s words.

“Sorry, Gayle. I’ve got to get off the telephone. I’ll meet you at the burger hut around twelve, okay?”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Gayle assured her.

It would be raining, Alex thought grimly, as he pulled into the covered parking area of San Antonio International Airport. He didn’t like to fly when it was raining, even in a big jet. But for the first time in ages, he’d managed to clear the weekend of work, and since he had nothing else to do, he’d decided to fly up to Dallas to see his parents. His father’s birthday wasn’t for another week, but he’d called and warned his mother that this would be the only time he could make it.

Inside the airport terminal, Alex waited until the last minute to go through security and board the plane. Later he was glad he’d not been too eager to get into the confines of the airliner. The flight was grounded for forty minutes due to lightning. A delay that was longer than the amount of time it took a jet to fly to Dallas.

To pass the time, Alex rested his head on the back of the seat and tried to sleep. He’d had a trying week at work with everything from taking on a client accused of murdering his wife, to thugs begging for his help to keep them out of prison, to a woman who wanted to sue her ex-husband because he’d taken her cat.

Who the hell was he kidding? Alex asked himself. He had that sort of stuff waltz in and out of his office every week. Normally he thrived on the chaos and even enjoyed Pauline’s tirades. She gave him something to laugh about. But this week, his secretary had stretched his nerves to the breaking point and he’d ended up yelling at her every fifteen minutes.

He realized he was a temperamental man and he’d never understood how Pauline put up with him. But he was thankful that she did. He’d have to give her a raise or send her on some special cruise or something. His devoted secretary was irreplaceable and he didn’t want to lose her.

Suddenly from somewhere behind him a baby’s cry pierced the plane’s interior.

Bowie!

Like a fool, he twisted around in his first-class seat to look. Several rows behind him, he spotted a woman holding a baby against her shoulder. The child was wearing tiny bib overalls and the woman was patting his back in an effort to soothe and quiet him.

The sight caused Alex’s gut to clench with regret and he jerked his head back to the front of the plane and tried to push the image out of his mind. Damn it, one of the reasons he’d come on this trip was to make an effort to get Sierra and Bowie out of his mind. But he should have known that was stupid, wishful thinking. Everywhere, everything reminded him of the two of them.

The past week had been more awful than he could have ever imagined. He’d never felt pain like this in his whole life. Not even when he’d found his adoption papers and he’d discovered the truth of his birth.

The night Alex had walked out of Sierra’s house, he’d never expected to feel the sort of misery that was now weighing him down. He’d expected to feel a bit glum for a day or two, then his head would clear and he’d realize he was relieved to be disentangled from the family situation he’d created by being with Sierra.

Unfortunately it hadn’t worked the way he’d expected. So far, he’d never experienced anything remotely related to relief. He ached to see Sierra. He wanted to hold her, make love with her, the way they’d made love before. He wanted to see little Bowie, hold the baby against his chest and kiss his smooth cheek.

“Sir?”

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see a young woman with curly black hair bending over him. For a split second Sierra’s face swam in front of his vision.

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you. Would you like something to drink once we get in the air? A soda, water, a bourbon and Coke, perhaps?”

Alex mentally shook himself and looked up at the flight attendant. She was a young beauty with a wide smile and blue eyes that were twinkling brightly back at him. Any other time, he would have been taking advantage of the situation. But today the woman didn’t spark even a tiny interest in him. He felt dead and empty inside and he was smart enough to know that the void couldn’t be filled by just a pretty face.

“No, thanks,” he told her. “But could you tell me when we might be taking off?”

“I believe the weather system is almost past us now, sir. We should be taking off shortly.”

She moved on down the aisle of passengers and Alex let out a heavy sigh. No doubt about it, he thought grimly. He was a ruined man.

Two hours later, Alex’s flight set down at Dallas-Fort Worth International. Since he only had a carry-on bag, he walked straight to the outer terminal and began to search through the crowd for his parents. The two of them had insisted on picking Alex up at the airport instead of allowing him to take a taxi to their home in north Dallas.

Thankfully he spotted his mother rather quickly and called to her over the heads of several rambunctious boys pushing and fighting their way toward the next terminal.

Where were the little heathens’ parents? he wondered. Never, under any circumstance, would he allow Bowie to behave so wildly in public.

Don’t worry, Alex. It’s not going to be up to you to see that Bowie is taught manners and respect. Some other man will come into Sierra’s life and help her guide the little boy into manhood.

“Alex!” his mother shouted excitedly.

She started toward him and Alex increased his long strides to pass the rowdy boys and meet up with his mother.

“Hi, Mom. You look great.” He hugged her close and kissed her cheek and she beamed up at him with a joy that left him somehow ashamed of himself.

“Gosh, it’s so good to see you, son.” She kissed him back, then turned to her husband who’d stepped up behind the two of them. “Doesn’t he look wonderful, darlin’?”

A wide smile split Mitch Calloway’s face as he stepped forward and reached for his son’s hand. With a firm grip, Alex shook his father’s hand. Then, at the last moment, before he released his hold, something made Alex move even closer and give his dad a hug.

“Nice to see you, Dad.”

Mitch, a tall, ruggedly built man with iron-gray hair, patted Alex’s shoulder with obvious affection. “It’s wonderful to have you home for a few days, son.”

The older man’s gaze left Alex to look at his wife and even though a word wasn’t spoken between the two of them, Alex could see they were silently communicating, the way couples did after they’d been together for many, many years. And they were both expressing their surprise over Alex’s warm greeting.

The whole idea left Alex feeling a little awkward and he reached down and picked up the leather bag sitting next to his feet.

“Well, if you two are ready, let’s get out of here,” he suggested. “This has been a heck of a flight.”

“We were beginning to get worried,” Emily said as the three of them headed toward the nearest exit. “Especially after we heard the flight was delayed due to thunderstorms. I don’t even trust these planes in dry weather, much less in a storm.”

“Well, he’s here safe and sound now, dear. You can quit chewing your nails,” Mitch teased.

Emily laughed as she looped her arm through Alex’s. “Your dad is trying to be amusing,” she said to Alex. “He knows I couldn’t chew these acrylic things even if I had beaver teeth.”

Alex’s mother was always graciously dressed in feminine clothing and her hair, makeup and nails groomed to a tee. She was the epitome of a Dallas lady and Alex couldn’t help thinking how different she and Sierra were in their outward appearances, but how alike they were in matters of the heart. They were both loving, caring women who put the needs of others before their own. How many men in the world were lucky enough to be loved by women like that? he wondered.

Whoa, Alex. You don’t know that Sierra ever loved you. She made love with you. But that could have been just sex. And even if it had been love, you blew it. You showed her what a selfish bastard you really are.

Thankfully his mother began to chatter and Alex was forced to thrust the miserable thoughts from his mind as best he could. But later, as he and his parents drove to the Calloway home, the accusing little voice inside him kept coming back again and again.

Two days later, on Sunday morning, Sierra took Bowie and herself to early mass, then drove out to her parents’ home for breakfast. She’d not seen any of her family since Alex had moved out and dread was boiling in the pit of her stomach. Even though she doubted any of them was aware how much she and Alex had shared those two weeks, she knew that her mother had her mind set on the two of them getting together romantically.

That idea was enough to make her groan out loud. If her mother only knew just how close she’d been with Alex, she’d be shocked. Or would she? Her mother wasn’t a prude. She understood what it was like to love a man with all your heart. And that was the way she loved Alex. She might as well face the dismal fact.

When Sierra walked into her parents’ kitchen, she was surprised to find her two sisters sitting at the breakfast table. Both Gloria and Christina got up from their chairs to greet her with a hug and a kiss.

“Let me hold Bowie,” Gloria said, already reaching to take the baby from Sierra’s arms. “My, my, he’s growing in leaps and bounds. And he’s so bright eyed. I think he’s actually picking up our images.”

“He’s probably picking up all that cackling you girls are doing,” Jose teased from the end of the table where he was trying to read the Sunday morning paper.

“Oh, Daddy, that’s awful,” Christina scolded him. “Your daughters have always been quiet and refined.”

As Gloria took a seat with Bowie carefully cradled in her arms, Jose eased down his paper and laughed.

“Quiet and refined? Honey,” he called to his wife. “Do you hear your daughter? Maybe we should bring out some of the old home videos.”

Maria approached the table with a platter of chorizo sausage and eggs. As she placed it next to a stack of warm tortillas, she said, “Jose, if we let them see what a handful they were to raise we might never get grandchildren. Just let them keep on thinking they were quiet, obedient girls.”

Except for Sierra, everyone around the table laughed. But she wasn’t in the mood for laughter. She’d hoped that being with her family would lift her spirits. She’d thought the visit might actually help rid her heart of the misery she felt over Alex. But being here with her parents and siblings was only reminding her of all that she’d lost when he’d walked out the door.

Picking up Bowie’s diaper bag, she headed to the cabinet counter. “If we’re ready to eat,” Sierra said, “I’d better heat up Bowie’s formula. I don’t think he’s up to chorizo yet.”

“Oh, yes, Sierra, and let me feed him,” Gloria called over to her. “I need the practice. And he needs to eat more than I do.”

Christina shook a finger at her sister. “Gloria, when are you going to remember that you’re eating for two? You can’t have a healthy baby eating like a bird.”

“A bird,” Gloria said with a laugh. “I’ve gained five pounds already! You just want me to look like a sow at my wedding, so that you’ll be the most beautiful bride when your wedding comes around.”

Christina groaned with amused disbelief. “Bologna! Derek and I will probably wind up eloping. Planning a big, grand wedding is such a bother.”

Maria stared openmouthed at Christina while Gloria laughed loudly.

“Oh, sure, Christina, that’s the biggest whopper you’ve ever told.”

Sierra glanced over at the two of them just in time to see Gloria patting her thickening stomach and Christina giggling with amusement.

A pang of envy hit Sierra hard. But on the other hand, she could acknowledge that she was happy her sisters had found love and happiness. Maybe the same sort of joy would come to her someday. But she couldn’t imagine loving anyone other than Alex. So where did that leave her? Single for the rest of her life?

With everyone lingering around the table to finish their coffee, breakfast lasted more than an hour. Sometime during the meal, Bowie fell asleep in Gloria’s arms and she carried the child to the couch and carefully covered him with a light blanket before she returned to her seat next to Sierra.

Eventually Jose announced he’d had enough female conversation to last him awhile. He left the table and went outside to get the riding lawn mower out of the garage.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Maria turned a worried look on her youngest daughter. “All right, my little one, now that your father is out of hearing range, what is wrong with you this morning? We haven’t seen or heard from you in days and now that you’re here you act like the world is coming to an end.”

Her world had come to an end, Sierra thought sadly. Maybe the sooner she admitted her fate the sooner she could accept it.

“I don’t know why you think there’s anything wrong. Daddy didn’t.”

Maria pursed her lips as she tore off a piece of flour tortilla. “There are some things that fathers just can’t read in their daughters. And I didn’t bring this up in front of him because I knew it would worry him to think you’re having some sort of trouble.”

Sierra studied her half-eaten breakfast while wondering if she was really that transparent or if her mother was the only one who could see the pain tearing through every part of her.

“There’s no trouble, Mom,” she did her best to deny. “I’m just a little wrung out from caring for Bowie. And I’ve been having more insomnia lately.”

Maria was hardly convinced. “You’ve always suffered from insomnia, Sierra. And a few minutes ago, you told us Bowie was a wonderful baby. You said he rarely cried unless he was hungry and that he woke up only once during the night. It doesn’t sound to me like he should have you all wrung out. Maybe you should go to the doctor and see why you’re feeling so tired.”

Sierra sipped at the last of her coffee. “I don’t need a doctor, Mom. I’m fine. Just fine.”

Her voice was so brittle the sound of it caused both her sisters to stare at her.

“Sierra!” Gloria gasped.

Christina leaned toward her youngest sister and placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Honey, what’s the matter? Are you sick of hearing about Gloria and me getting married? Does that bother you?”

Feeling awful, Sierra bent her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “No—it’s nothing like that. I’m happy for you two. Really—very happy.”

In spite of Sierra’s struggle to appear normal, her voice broke on her last words, causing the other three women to exchange worried glances.

“All right,” Maria spoke up firmly. “This is not like you, Sierra. Tell us what’s happened. Is it Bowie? Is someone trying to take him away from you? The mother?”

Shaking her head fervently, Sierra lifted her head and sniffed at the tears threatening to pool in her brown eyes. “No. Nothing like that has happened. At least not yet.”

“You’re expecting it to?” Gloria spoke up.

Sierra looked at her. “Maybe. Hopefully not. I can’t be certain, though.”

“Dear God,” Christina said softly, “that’s enough to make you a nervous wreck.”

“Yes. But—” Knowing she couldn’t keep the truth from her family any longer, she paused to draw in a deep, bracing breath. “That’s not the thing that has me so—miserable. It’s Alex. He’s—he’s broken my heart.”

Chapter Twelve

Maria grimly jerked her head up and down while Christina and Gloria looked at each other with arched brows.

“You’ve had an argument?” Maria questioned.

Sierra choked on a sob. “No, Mom. It’s worse than that.” Before she could change her mind, she began to blurt out everything from Alex staying with her, to how she’d fallen in love with him, to their argument, and finally his leaving.

By the time she was finished, her mother was quietly crying while her two sisters were ranting and raving about no-good men.

“Sierra, this is awful,” Maria said with a sad sniff. “So awful. I had hoped that you and Alex were going to get together. You seem so right for each other.”

Sighing heavily, Sierra got up from her chair, carried her plate to the kitchen sink and began to wash the dishes that were already piled there. She had to move her body, to do something or else she was sure she was going to break right down the middle.

“Yes, I thought so, too, Mom. But it wasn’t meant to be. Alex doesn’t want to be a family man and it would be wrong of me to try to turn him into one.”

“But he must care about Bowie,” Maria reasoned. “Why would he be so against you adopting him?”

Sierra scrubbed at a tiny spot of dried egg on the edge of a plate. “He’s adopted himself, Mom. Remember?”

“Yes,” Christina spoke up. “I remember you talking about him once. You said he felt very bitter about his parents keeping the truth from him and you were trying to encourage him to forgive them.”

Sierra nodded. “That was a long time ago. And I believe, for the most part, that he has forgiven his parents. But he doesn’t want to have to be the one to tell Bowie that his real parents deserted him.”

Gloria cast a worried look at her younger sister. “Maybe he believes Bowie would grow up to resent the two of you like Alex did his own parents?”

Pausing with her hands in the dishwater, Sierra stared thoughtfully out the window over the kitchen sink. Her father was going back and forth on the lawn tractor and enjoying every second of it. Even though Jose was a brilliant businessman, he was a deep family man. From all that her mother had told her, he had looked forward to having children and once she and her sisters had been born, he’d embraced the three of them with all his heart. If only Alex had those same traits, she thought wistfully. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have been able to turn his back on her and Bowie. But she had to remember that her father had loved her mother from the very beginning and that was the key. Alex didn’t love her. He’d only wanted her, desired her.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m going to forget about Alex Calloway. I’m going to concentrate on adopting Bowie. And as for Alex, he can go jump in the river.”

Leaving her seat at the table, Christina walked over and put her arm around Sierra’s slender shoulders. “Honey,” she said in a voice only for Sierra’s ears, “do you remember when I was going through that horrible sexual harassment case?”

“Of course I remember it,” Sierra spoke quietly. “You went through hell at that time. Nobody believed you.”

“Except for you,” Christina said with affection. “You believed in me and you wouldn’t let me give up. So I’m not going to allow you to give up and turn into a sob sister. If you love Alex, you’d better go after him. Make him see that the three of you are meant to be a family.”

Sierra looked up from the sudsy water and stared at her sister through teary eyes. “Alex has always said I’m too soft. Maybe I should show him I’m not a complete marshmallow.”

“Now you’re talking, sweetie,” Christina said, then happily turned to Gloria and their mother. “Relax, you two, I’ve made her see reason. She’s gonna fight for her man!”

“It’s about time,” Gloria muttered.

“Thank you God,” Maria said reverently as she crossed herself. “Rosita’s dream will come true now.”

Sierra understood what dream her mother was talking about, but she didn’t bother to point out that Rosita’s dreams were just that—dreams. And Alex wasn’t a marrying man.

Later that afternoon in Dallas, Alex was in his parents’ backyard putting golf balls into a tin cup his father had sunk into the ground. He’d never been one to play the game in earnest, mainly because he was too busy trying to keep the electric bill paid at the office so that Pauline wouldn’t have to resort to a hand fan. But his father loved the game and he enjoyed showing off his putting skills to Alex.

“Hey, you can’t make that,” Alex challenged good-naturedly as he watched his father place the ball about eighteen feet from the hole.

Across the yard, reclining on a lounger, Emily glanced up from the paperback book she was reading. The day was sunny and hot and his mother was wearing a pair of black capri pants with a matching shirt and a pair of white sunglasses with rhinestones dotting the rims. She looked like something out of a James Bond movie and Alex realized that next to Sierra his mother was the most beautiful and caring woman on earth. Why had it taken him this long to realize that?

“Don’t bet on it, Alex,” Emily said. “He does this for hours every day. He’s an expert.”

Mitch took his time lining up the shot and eventually gave the ball a solid nudge with his putter. To Alex’s amazement the ball rattled around the lip of the hole, then fell in, and he laughed as his father pumped a triumphant fist in the air.

“I’m glad I didn’t bet. You’re getting salty, Dad. I won’t be challenging you to eighteen holes anytime soon.”

Smiling at the two of them, Emily tossed her book aside and stood up. “I’m going in to make iced tea,” she announced. “You two want a glass?”

“Sure. Bring the pitcher,” Alex answered.

Once his mother had disappeared into the house, Alex walked over to his father. “Dad, can I talk to you a minute?”

Picking up the seriousness in his voice, Mitch laid his putter aside and motioned for Alex to sit beside him on the porch steps where a sycamore dappled them with cooling shade.

“Let ’er rip,” he invited.

As he looked into his father’s strong face, Alex was suddenly overcome with emotions he’d never expected to feel.

“I—this is going to sound strange to you probably. But I—” He paused and shook his head in a helpless gesture. “Have you and Mother always been glad that you adopted me?”

Mitch’s whole forehead jerked upward with surprise. Then he studied his son’s solemn face for long moments before he finally broke into a wide smile.

“We’ve always been very glad and very proud that you’re our son. You don’t doubt that, do you?”

At one time he had, Alex thought. Back when he was an impressionable, moody teenager he’d had this idea that Mitch and Emily had adopted him just so they could say they had a child like the rest of their friends. Not because they loved him. And later, well, he’d dwelled on the fact that they’d kept his adoption a secret rather than concentrate on all the wonderful things they’d done for him.

“No. I don’t doubt it. But was there ever a time, in the very beginning, that you weren’t sure about taking on a son who wasn’t conceived from your genes?”

Mitch thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “Alex, I’ll be honest with you. There were moments, before we ever signed the adoption papers, that I worried. Raising a child is a huge responsibility. I kept wondering if I could do it right. I asked myself what would happen if I couldn’t take care of you financially. What if I suddenly died and left your mother with a baby to rear on her own. All sorts of questions like that ran through my head. But I never worried about your blood or your genes. I don’t care about any of that,” he argued gently. “The bond between us is what makes us father and son.”

Until this moment Alex hadn’t realized how closed off his heart had been. Now he could feel a heavy door slowly creaking open and a warm light flooding him.

“I’m lucky to have you, Dad. You and Mom both.”

Mitch squeezed his shoulder and looked out across the manicured lawn. “Was there some reason you were thinking about all of this, Alex? All weekend I’ve gotten the sense that your mind has been occupied with something.”

Alex nodded glumly. “There’s this woman—I’ve known her for a long time and I care about her. She’s—she’s caring for a newborn who she wants to adopt. I told her she should wait and have children of her own. We ended up arguing bitterly—and I walked out.”

“Why?” Mitch asked.

Alex sighed. “Because I’m a selfish bastard, I guess. Walking is easier than facing a woman with tears in her eyes.”

“No. I mean why did you oppose her adopting the baby?”

Alex shrugged. Now that his father put the question to him point-blank, his reasons seemed foolish and selfish. “I don’t really know. I just kept thinking that someday I’d have to tell him that his real parents hadn’t wanted him. And I couldn’t imagine having to see his pain.”

Mitch gave his son’s shoulder another encouraging squeeze. “The love you’ll give him will make up for all of that. Don’t you agree?”

Alex had to think only for a second before a slow smile began to spread across his face. “Yeah. I agree.”

“So what are you going to do about this young woman?” Mitch asked.

The smile fell from Alex’s face. “I don’t know, Dad. I said some pretty awful things to her.”

“I’ve said some pretty awful things to your mother, too. But thankfully for us men, most women are forgiving creatures.”

“I can only hope,” Alex told him.

Monday afternoon Sierra dressed carefully in a flirty knee-length skirt and a matching blouse. She secured the left side of her hair behind her ear with a pearl studded comb and allowed the rest to fall in curls around her shoulders.

Once she had finished with her makeup and gathered up Bowie and his diaper bag, she left the house and drove straight to the Stocking Stitch, her mother’s knitting store in downtown Red Rock.

Upon hearing Sierra’s plans to drive to San Antonio to see Alex at his law office, Maria had insisted on keeping Bowie while she made the trip. At first, Sierra was reluctant to leave the baby with her mother. She’d intended for Bowie to be with her when she faced Alex again. After all, the baby had been at the center of their argument and she wanted him to see that Bowie was still a part of her life. But her mother had finally convinced her that she needed to talk to Alex without the distraction of a baby.

As Sierra drove the twenty miles to San Antonio, she wasn’t sure her mother was right about leaving Bowie with her. But then it probably wouldn’t matter if the baby was right in front of Alex or back in Red Rock; she expected the man to be a hard case.

A half hour later, Sierra entered the front door of Calloway Law Office. No clients were seated in the small waiting area and Pauline was two-stepping around the room with a feather duster while on the radio George Strait was singing about coming unwound.

“Oh, Sierra. I didn’t realize anyone had come in,” she said the moment she spotted Sierra standing just inside the doorway.

The woman hurried over to the radio and turned down the volume. “Sorry about that,” she said as she wiped her hands against the hips of her black slacks. “Alex is out and I’m all caught up on paperwork. And since I double as janitor, too, I thought it would be a good time to stir up some dust around here.”

Sierra looked around the long, wood-paneled room. It was filled with a couch, several wooden hardback chairs, two lamps and three magazine racks. In one corner, a small television was tuned in to a soap opera, but the sound was turned off.

“Alex doesn’t deserve you, you know,” Sierra told her. “You should tell him that you don’t do windows.”

Pauline laughed. “I don’t mind. Gives me a little exercise. Besides, I feel the same way as Alex. I don’t want some stranger coming in here sniffing around our private papers and things. You can’t trust anyone these days.”

She motioned for Sierra to follow her over to the couch. “So I’m guessing you’re here to see Alex.” The woman sank onto the end cushion and crossed her legs out in front of her.

Sierra continued to stand. Now that she’d learned Alex was out, there wasn’t any need for her to stay. She might as well get on back to the Stocking Stitch and relieve her mother of Bowie.

“I—was hoping to talk to him. I just took a chance that he’d be in.” She hadn’t wanted to call before making the drive over. She hadn’t wanted to give Alex the chance to snub her without facing her first.

“That’s too bad. He had opening arguments on an insurance fraud case today. And Judge Brookings is on the bench for this one. The old judge doesn’t want to waste a minute of the taxpayers’ money. If there’s a spare half hour left in the day, he’ll try to run two or three witnesses through examination.”

Disappointment swamped Sierra. She’d gotten herself all psyched up for this meeting. Now she felt deflated.

“Oh. Well, I’ll try to catch him later,” she said to the secretary.

Sierra started toward the door and Pauline jumped up to follow her.

“Uh, you wouldn’t happen to know what’s been wrong with Alex, would you?” she asked. “He’s turned into a regular monster. I think he’s sick, but he refuses to go to the doctor.”

Sierra shook her head. She hoped the other woman was wrong. To even think of Alex being ill caused her stomach to clench with alarm.

“No. I haven’t seen Alex in…a few days,” she said.

Pauline released a wistful sigh. “Well, at least he seemed better today. I guess spending the weekend with his parents helped him.”

Sierra looked at her. “Alex went to Dallas?”

Pauline nodded. “Yes. Surprised the heck out of me. He doesn’t go up there too often.”

This news sent Sierra’s head spinning and she replied in an absent voice, “No. He doesn’t.”

“Should I tell him you stopped by?” Pauline asked as Sierra reached to push open the door.

“Uh, no,” Sierra answered. “Whenever I see him, I want it to be a surprise.”

She said goodbye to Alex’s secretary then stepped out into the late-evening sun. A humid breeze was blowing directly from the south and it fluttered the hem of Sierra’s skirt and tossed the black curls around her head as she walked down the sidewalk toward her parked car.

She was trying to tell herself not to feel dejected when she heard someone calling her name. Turning, she was suddenly frozen by the sight of Alex hurrying down the sidewalk in her direction.

“Sierra, what are you doing here?”

His tie was loosened, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled back against his forearms and his brown hair windblown against his forehead. His muscular body appeared thinner through the midsection, his face gaunt and tired. Sierra suddenly wanted to burst into tears at the sight of him.

“I came by to see you.”

She could see that her answer had shocked him. It was clear in the way his brows lifted and his green eyes widened ever so slightly. But after a moment he appeared to collect himself and he glanced over her shoulder toward her parked car.

“You don’t have Bowie with you?”

She shook her head and his expression instantly turned fearful.

“What—you haven’t done anything, have you? I mean, Bowie is still with you, isn’t he?”

She wanted to ask him why it mattered to him, but she kept the sharp words buried inside of her. At least they were talking. That was better than what had transpired between them these past several days.

“Why, yes. My mother has him at the Stocking Stitch. Showing him off to all her knitting customers, I’m sure.”

He let out a sigh of relief, then glanced thoughtfully down the sidewalk in the direction of his office. “Uh, come on,” he told her. “Let’s go back to the office. We can talk there.”

His hand closed around her upper arm and Sierra’s heart began to trip over itself. To have him touching her again was so exciting and familiarly sweet. No man had ever made her feel as Alex did and she was absolutely certain no man ever would.

They strode down the sidewalk and entered the law office. Alex quickly caught Pauline’s attention and jerked his thumb toward the door. “Go home,” he ordered.

Jumping to her feet, the secretary pulled her purse from a desk drawer and shoved her chair in place. “You don’t have to tell me twice. But what happened with Brookings? I thought you’d be gone ’til six tonight.”

Alex grinned slyly. “Brookings got mad at the A.D.A. for not turning over a piece of evidence to me. Called us both in chambers and said he was fed up and for us to go home and come back in the morning.”

Pauline laughed. “So now you have the judge in your pocket. I wish I had your charm, Alex Calloway.”

She slipped out the door and Alex, who was still holding on to Sierra’s arm, dropped it long enough to lock the door behind his secretary. Once he’d finished that task, he led Sierra to his private office.

After he’d closed the door, he took both her hands and led her over to his desk where a banker’s lamp was still burning in the shadowy room.

“You look beautiful, Sierra,” he said softly. “Do you know how happy I am to see you?”

Fear and pain and hope all coiled together inside of Sierra until all she could do was shake her head. “I—I haven’t seen or heard from you in days…weeks now. How can I believe that you’re happy to see me?” she asked doubtfully.

A frown quirked the muscles around his mouth as his hands released hers and began to slide seductively up her arms. “Maybe showing you would be better,” he said huskily.

He leaned in to kiss her, but Sierra held him off, placing both hands against his chest. “No! None of that right now, Alex. We’d wind up right over there on your couch. And that wouldn’t get us anywhere.”

As far as Alex was concerned, it would get them everywhere. But he could see from the set of her jaw that she was resolute and the last thing he wanted to do was anger her more than he already had.

“All right,” he gently agreed, but his concession didn’t stop him from taking a firm hold on her hands once again. “I’m glad to see you because I want to apologize, Sierra. I was wrong. Flat wrong. And I’m asking you to forgive me.”

Alex was apologizing to her? Sierra was shocked. It was a rare thing for the man to apologize to anyone, much less her. He usually considered a wink and a pat on the cheek a sufficient apology.

“Forgive you for what?” she asked. “Being a jackass?”

Alex tried not to outwardly flinch. “Honey, I—” He paused long enough to shake his head, then tried again. “Yeah, I guess I was a jackass. But I’m not anymore.”

Her chin tilted to a challenging angle. “You’ve changed overnight?”

His little dove had turned into a tigress, Alex couldn’t help thinking, as he studied the fiery sparks in her brown eyes. “Sort of. I don’t know. Oh, hell, Sierra, don’t keep me in misery. Are you going to forgive me or not?”

She studied him beneath dipped lashes. “What will it mean if I do?”

With a groan of misery, Alex reached out and brushed his knuckles against her throat and down the rosy-tan skin exposed by the deep V of her blouse.

“It means, my darlin’, that the three of us will be together again. The way we should have been all along.”

She released a shaky breath and Alex decided he couldn’t keep his distance any longer. Slipping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close against him. The scent of lilac drifted up from her windblown hair.

“Alex, you’ve got to understand right now that I still have plans to adopt Bowie. With or without your help.”

“I’m glad.”

Disbelief swam across her face as she tilted her head back to look at him. “Glad? You said it was the wrong thing to do! What’s happened to you Alex?”

Lifting his hands to her hair, he threaded his fingers through the silky strands until he was cradling the back of her head.

“I went to see my parents.”

“Yes, Pauline told me. But you’ve gone to see your parents before. What has that got to do with you and me and Bowie?”

He smiled because he was a different man now and he desperately wanted her to understand that. “Because this visit was different, Sierra. When I first caught sight of my parents waiting for me at the terminal gate—I don’t know—everything inside of me seemed to turn upside down. I was seeing my parents in a totally different light. I suddenly wanted to hug them close, to talk with them, listen to them, just be with them in a way I’d never wanted before. Does that make sense?”

Somewhere deep inside Sierra, a tiny flicker of hope tried to flare to life. “Yes. It does make sense. But why? Why now after all these years? There’s been so many times that I’ve urged you to be thankful for your wonderful parents.”

The smile on his face broadened even more and Sierra could only stare at him in wonder.

“I know. They are great, aren’t they?”

“I’m glad you’ve finally realized that. But—”

“Don’t you see, Sierra?” he interrupted. “It’s because of you and Bowie. Being with you two, as a family, opened my eyes in a way I’d never expected.”

“And when were you going to let me in on this change?” she asked accusingly. “I haven’t heard from you since you walked out!”

Groaning with regret, he pulled her close. “You probably won’t believe it, but I was planning to drive over to your place tonight, after court had recessed for the day.” His gaze roamed adoringly over her face. “I couldn’t believe my eyes a few minutes ago when I spotted you on the sidewalk. I—I was afraid you’d never speak to me again. The last thing I expected was for you to come here to me!”

“Alex—” She paused, her face marred with doubt as she looked at him. “Are you trying to tell me that you want to help me adopt Bowie now?”

He chuckled softly as his hands roamed her back and crushed her up against his hard body. “I’m trying to tell you that I want to marry you. I want for us to adopt Bowie.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Marry you?” Sierra asked, shocked.

Alex grinned down at her. “That’s what I said. I think we should get married. Don’t you?”

This was not the sort of marriage proposal Sierra had dreamed of. She’d always pictured a ring, and maybe roses or lilies. Much more important, she’d believed she would be listening as the man in her life to be vowed his love and devotion. But love had never been mentioned.

Alex had never been bashful about speaking his mind. Getting the point across was his job. Knowing that, Sierra could only assume his feelings didn’t include love.

“I—don’t know, Alex,” she said hesitantly. “Marriage is a huge step.”

He studied her face for long seconds. “You don’t want to marry me?”

She tried to breathe as a ball of emotion threatened to burst her heart. “I didn’t say that.”

He frowned. “Well, you sure don’t seem to be cottoning to the idea.”

She couldn’t think rationally when he was holding her close. Not when every inch of her body was begging her to snuggle against him, to seek his kiss.

Pulling out of his embrace, Sierra turned and walked across the room. With her back to him, she said, “It’s not that, Alex. You’ve shocked me. I don’t know what to think.”

“You don’t believe I’ve changed. Is that it?”

Turning, she looked at him and instantly wished she hadn’t. Just the sight of him was enough to remind her of all those nights they’d made love, all those mornings she’d woken in his arms.

“If you’ve changed your mind about adopting Bowie, then you must have changed.”

He left the desk to stride quickly toward her and in that moment Sierra thought that she’d never seen him look so serious or so humble.

“I have changed, Sierra. I realized that all these years I didn’t really resent my parents. Somewhere in the deepest part of me I knew that they loved me. I—well, all that anger I’d harbored was really directed at the man and woman who’d chosen to give me away, as if I were just a thing they didn’t want.”

Sierra felt as if her heart was tearing right down the middle. How awful that he’d lived all this time with that sort of pain, she thought.

Closing the space between them, she touched his face, then stepped into his arms. “Oh, Alex, I’ve missed you so much. It’s been awful since you left. I never want to go through that again.”

Relief poured through Alex and he closed his eyes as he stroked her hair. “I haven’t been able to eat or sleep or work. All I could think about was you and Bowie.” He slipped his thumbs beneath her jaw and tilted her face up to his. “I never want to go through that much misery again, either. I want us to be married. I want Bowie to be ours and the three of us to be a family again.”

Sierra wanted that, too. Desperately. But he didn’t love her. He cared about her, but he wasn’t in love with her. Could she live with that?

“Alex, maybe we should go slow and think—”

“Slow! Bowie is growing up even as we speak. If we file adoption papers, we need to be married. Sierra, you know that much without me having to tell you.”

She drew in a long, shaky breath and let it out. “Alex, marriage is very serious. We haven’t been a couple for very long. We need to know—”

He gave her a placating smile as he bent his head and touched his lips to her forehead. “Sierra, darlin’, we’ve been friends, close friends, for nine years. We know more about each other than most couples that go through long engagements. Our marriage will work, honey. We’ll make it work.”

And she had to believe that, Sierra thought. Because, sensible or not, she had to have this man beside her.

“All right,” she said with a little hesitant smile. “What sort of wedding date are you wanting?”

“Uh, how about tomorrow?” he asked quickly.

“You’re not serious! We can’t. I want to be married in church. Like my sisters.”

“Dear Lord, Sierra, your sisters are planning huge, expensive ceremonies! Do you need all that to feel married to me?”

In her heart she already felt married to him and she clasped her hands around his. “I don’t mean I want a fancy ceremony like that. I just don’t want to settle for a quick exchange in the judge’s chambers. I want the priest to pray over us.”

“And so do I, Sierra. But we can do that in a week’s time, can’t we?”

“A week!” His suggestion was so wild that excitement began to pour through her and she began to laugh. “I’ll have to put my sisters to work on this!”

Laughing with her, he bent his head and kissed her. “Let’s go get our baby,” he whispered.

The next morning after a bite of breakfast, Sierra made a beeline to San Antonio and dropped Bowie off with the good sisters at St. Anthony’s child care services. Since Gloria had learned she was expecting, she’d already made a point of searching out reputable day cares and she’d suggested to Sierra that she might want to use St. Anthony’s once she started back to work. And with that time being only two weeks away, Sierra figured today would be a good time to give Bowie a chance to get adjusted.

Once she’d made sure the baby was safely settled and content, she drove straight to Gloria’s jewelry shop, the Love Affair. When Sierra entered the building, there were already two customers inside perusing her sister’s beautiful creations.

Sierra waited by one of the glass counters while Gloria waited on the two patrons. Eventually they both made purchases and left the shop. By then Sierra was about to burst with her news.

“Sierra! What are you doing out so early? And where’s my sweet Bowie?”

Sierra cast her sister a sly smile. “He’s at St. Anthony’s. And I’m here in the city to do a bit of clothes shopping.”

Gloria giggled. “You, clothes shopping? This is a first. You’ve never been into fashion. What’s brought this on?”

Sierra couldn’t hold it in any longer; a bubbly laugh burst past her lips. “I’m getting married! This coming Saturday! I need a dress, and fast. Will you help me find one?”

“Married! Next Saturday!” Gloria was clearly shocked and she hurried around the glass showcases to take Sierra by the hand. “Sierra, are you—did you take something that’s made you delusional? The other day you were crying because you and Alex had split. Now you’re saying you’re getting married!”

Sierra smiled patiently at her older sister. “That’s right. Alex and I have solved our differences. He proposed and I accepted. We want to get married quickly so we can start the adoption papers for Bowie right after.”

“Oh.” A tiny frown creased the middle of her forehead. “Well, this is great news. Surprising. But great.” She smiled then and leaning forward placed a kiss on Sierra’s cheek. “Congratulations, sis.”

Sierra kissed her in return. “Thank you. But you don’t sound all that happy about it to me.”

Gloria waved a ringed hand through the air. “I am, Sierra, truly. But the part about Bowie. Are you sure you’re not just marrying Alex so that you’ll have a better chance of adopting? Maybe you’re getting your feelings for Alex and Bowie all tangled up together.”

Of course her feelings for the two men in her life were tangled together, Sierra thought. That’s the way it was when a woman loved a man and their child.

“No, Gloria. I’m not marrying Alex just as a way to get Bowie. That would be—how could you think I could be so conniving? I love Alex. Very much.”

She’d thought admitting such a thing to anyone would be hard to do, but now that she’d said it, she was amazed at how good it felt.

“Sierra, I wasn’t suggesting you were doing anything conniving—you’re the last person on earth who could use another person. I just want you to be sure that you’re marrying Alex for the right reasons.”

Her eyes misty, Sierra hugged her sister close. “I am, Gloria. I can’t live without the man.”

Gloria chuckled softly. “You must know what you’re doing because that’s exactly the way I feel about Jack. Have you told Mom and Dad yet? And does Christina know?”

“I called them all earlier this morning. Christina wanted to come with us to shop for the dress, but she had an important meeting at work. Mom is going to meet me later to talk about the church and the flowers and what we’re going to do about a reception. I tried to tell her that we didn’t need a reception, but she won’t hear of it.”

“Of course she won’t hear of it. We Mendozas like to celebrate,” Gloria said, then dropped Sierra’s hand and hurried back behind the counter. “Just let me get my purse. We’re going to shop for this wedding until we drop.”

Sierra laughed. “What about your shop? You can’t just close up.”

“Watch me,” Gloria retorted as she grabbed her handbag and motioned for Sierra to follow her to the door. Once there, she flipped a Closed sign toward the front of the glass. “My sister is only getting married once in her lifetime. I’m not going to miss any of it.”

The week passed for Sierra like a blurred trip on a fairground ride. She was so busy planning the wedding during the day that she fell into bed at night so exhausted that she slept. Fitfully, but she did sleep. Which was somewhat better than the wide-awake nights she’d spent while she and Alex had been separated.

Since the two of them had decided to get married, Sierra had asked Alex if he would refrain from moving into the house until they were married. She wanted their reunion to be special and blessed. She wanted their wedding night to be the start of all their tomorrows.

Thankfully Alex had understood her needs and had used the week to pack up his apartment and deal with ending his lease. Once their brief honeymoon was over Trey and Mario were going to help him move what furniture he wanted to keep and his endless boxes of law books while Gayle had promised to help Sierra move things around so the two-story would have enough room to accommodate Alex’s things.

At first, their longtime college buddies had been stunned to hear that Alex and Sierra were getting married. But once the initial shock wore off, they were all thrilled and confident that the couple would have a long, happy marriage.

But now that the wedding day was upon them, Sierra was quaking with uncertainty as she dressed for the ceremony. With everything inside her, she hoped their friends were right. More than anything, she wanted their marriage to be happy and long-lived, but could that really happen if Alex didn’t love her? she wondered. Would the love she felt for him be enough to keep them together through the sad and trying times?

“Sierra, you look like you’re about to go into the hospital for open heart surgery, instead of about to marry the man of your dreams,” Christina said to her as she fastened a pearl choker around Sierra’s neck. “Are you feeling okay? You’re as white as your dress.”

Sierra, her two sisters who were also her bridesmaids, and her friend Gayle, who’d be standing as her maid of honor, were gathered in a small dressing room located in one of the lesson rooms at the back of St. Mary’s church. For the past thirty minutes, a crowd of women wanting to wish her well had passed in and out of the room. But now things had quieted down and the only thing left to complete Sierra’s readiness was attaching her veil.

“Christina, I can’t look as white as my dress.” From her seat on the dressing stool, Sierra tried to laugh at her image in the mirror in front of her. “I’m Hispanic, remember.”

Gayle, who was standing to one side in a svelte, dark blue shift, surveyed the bride with an eagle eye. “Your sister is right,” she said, shaking a finger at Sierra. “You look like you’re about to be sentenced to the death chamber. Are you scared or worried about something?”

Shaking her head, she gave the two women a wobbly smile. “I’m just nervous. Doesn’t a bride have a right to be nervous?”

“Yes, but—” Christina started to reply but Sierra quickly interrupted her.

“Why are you looking for trouble?” she questioned crossly. “There’s nothing wrong!”

Gloria rose from a folding chair where she’d been resting and walked over to where the two women were hovering over Sierra. “Christina, quit badgering her! For heaven’s sake, it’s her wedding day!”

“I’m not badgering her,” Christina retorted. “I just want to understand why she’s so panicky.” She looked anxiously down at Sierra’s tight features. “All right, honey, if you expect to walk down the aisle when they start playing the ‘Wedding March,’ then you’d better speak up. Otherwise, I’m not letting you out of this room.”

“Christina!” Gayle scolded again. “There is something on Sierra’s mind. I can see it,” she said, agreeing with Christina’s observations.

Sierra let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know why you’re doing this to me now—just a few minutes before the ceremony is supposed to start!”

“Because,” Christina said gently as she laid a steadying hand on Sierra’s shoulder. “When Daddy takes you by the arm and leads you down the aisle to Alex, we want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. I’m just a little scared, that’s all.”

Gayle moved to Sierra’s side and took her by the hand. “It’s Alex, isn’t it?” she asked with somber concern.

After a moment or two of looking into her dear friend’s face, Sierra realized she couldn’t hold up her front any longer. Nodding, she said, “Yes, it’s Alex.”

“Well, honey, to be honest, I’d be more than a little nervous if I was marrying him,” Gayle reasoned. “He’s gorgeous, but he’s a handful. He’s so damn alpha male that you never know what’s going to come out of his mouth. And there’s also the problem of women eyeing him like a piece of candy.”

“No. No. It’s nothing like that,” Sierra said in a low, strained voice. “I—I’m just not sure that Alex cares for me enough. I mean, not enough to be marrying me.”

Gloria groaned in loud disbelief. Christina made a scolding noise with the tip of her tongue. Beyond the closed door, in the other part of the church, Sierra could hear the pianist playing “Tonight We Love.” But tonight wasn’t what she was worried about. It was tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that.

“Alex cares for you deeply, Sierra,” Gayle said. “Next to you, I probably know him better than anyone else in this room. And I can see how happy you’ve made him.”

“Caring for and loving someone are two entirely different things,” Sierra countered.

“What makes you think Alex doesn’t love you?” Gloria spoke up.

Sierra grimaced. “Because he’s never told me so. I’m not even sure he believes in love like that between a man and a woman.”

“Good Lord,” Christina exclaimed. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be worrying about that?”

Bending her head, she said, “It doesn’t matter, really. Because I love Alex enough for the both of us.”

“And you’ve told him that?” Gayle prodded.

Sierra lifted her head to look at all three women. “No. I couldn’t. Not knowing how he feels, well, I don’t want him to think I’m pressuring him. If he does fall in love with me, I want him to do it on his own. I want it to be real.”

“But if he doesn’t know how you feel,” Gloria pointed out. “And—”

“You don’t know how he feels,” Christina finished. “Then the two of you are going to be going through this marriage as blind as bats. Your relationship can’t thrive and grow if you’re holding back your feelings.”

Sierra’s brown eyes darkened with shadows of doubt. “But what if he’s only marrying me so that he can be Bowie’s father? He loves the baby very much.”

“And so do you,” Gayle reasoned. “But let’s face it, Alex is a stud. He doesn’t have to marry you to get a son.”

“That’s right,” Gloria said gently. “Alex is marrying you because he loves you. I’d bet some of Jack’s money on that,” she teased.

They all laughed and Sierra suddenly realized her sisters and friend were right. She had to be honest with Alex. And tonight she would be.

Her eyes misty, Sierra smiled at the three of them. “Okay, now that I know what I have to do, would someone help me with my veil?”

A few short minutes later, Sierra came out of the dressing room with her maid of honor and bridesmaids in tow. Her father was waiting for her in the vestibule and his proud, fatherly smile beamed from ear to ear when he spotted his daughter moving toward him.

Her wedding gown, a gift from her two sisters, was white, floor-length silk. The princess style was fashioned with a sweetheart neckline that dipped to a low V between her breasts and a gored skirt that flared out from her slender waist. The long sleeves of Chantilly lace narrowed down to a point atop her hand, which was shaking, in spite of the pep talk Gayle and her sisters had given her.

Adjusting her bouquet of white lilies and Texas bluebonnets, she slipped her arm through her father’s and he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“I have never seen you look more beautiful, my daughter. I wish you every happiness in the world. No one knows, more than me, how much you deserve it.”

Afraid her eyes were going to fill with tears, she blinked rapidly and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered. “Thank you for always loving me.”

Beyond the vestibule the “Wedding March” began to play and Sierra watched her father’s brown eyes fill with tears.

“It’s time to go, honey. Your man is waiting.”

They moved forward to the entrance of the church, then stepped onto the aisle leading to the altar where candlelight flickered and white lilies draped an archway.

On either side of Sierra and her father, the pews of the small church were filled with family and friends, but she was only partially aware of the attending crowd.

Behind the filmy white layers of netting, her gaze was focused on Alex standing tall and handsome at the altar in a dark suit. His eyes were locked on her, as if there was no one else in the room, or even the world, and in that moment all she could think was how very much she loved him.

During the past week the Calloways had flown down from Dallas and met with Sierra’s family. The Mendozas had kindly invited them to stay in their home until the wedding took place. Maria and Jose had also prepared a magnificent reception for the newlyweds at Red. A live band played a variety of dance music and long tables were laden with some of the most delicious dishes the restaurant had to offer. An enormous tiered wedding cake, complete with bride and groom on top, finished off the celebration.

By the time the two of them were finally able to sneak away from the party, the sun was dipping low and they had less than an hour to make it to the airport in San Antonio.

During the flight south, Sierra drifted off to sleep with her hand wrapped in Alex’s and her head resting on his shoulder. It was the first peaceful minute they’d had all day and though Alex tried to sleep, too, he couldn’t close his eyes, much less think about sleeping.

Sierra was finally his wife. It was amazing how much that meant to him and how desperately he’d wanted their marriage to happen. He’d never thought he could feel this protective about any woman. He’d never believed he could want one so much, or love one so deeply.

It had taken Alex a long time to realize just how strong his feelings for Sierra were. Years, he supposed, because ever since their college days, something had always drawn him to her. Something had made him so frustrated with the boyfriends she’d dated. And he’d hated the way she was always caring for some downtrodden soul instead of herself.

That last thought put a wan smile on Alex’s lips. Funny how that caring heart of hers was the very thing he adored about her now. Which only proved that love had the power to change a person.

Sierra groaned faintly in her sleep and Alex glanced down to study her face in the muted light. Her thick lashes rested like black crescent moons against her cheeks, her rosy-pink lips were slightly parted and so inviting even in slumber. The beauty of her features only made the unrest inside him whip up to all-out worry.

Sierra loved Bowie. He’d heard her say it time and again. No one had to tell him that she would do anything and everything to hold on to her baby. Did that also include marrying him? Alex wondered. Was that the only reason she’d accepted his proposal?

Maybe his fears were unwarranted, but he couldn’t forget the fact that she’d never once mentioned love to him. Oh, she wanted him, just like he wanted her. But was that as far as it went with her? Sex and insurance that Bowie would finally be legally hers? Dear God, he didn’t want to think that way. Especially on their wedding night.

But tonight was not his real worry, he realized. It was their future and if his love for Sierra was enough to keep her by his side.

Eventually the two of them landed in Brownsville and took a rental car to Padre Island. The hotel where they had reservations was located directly on the beach and the French doors in their room opened onto a balcony that looked out over the rolling gulf.

Sierra was entranced by the beautiful sight and kept repeating to Alex how wonderful he was to bring her to such a romantic place.

“Why wouldn’t I bring you to a romantic place?” he teased as he stood beside her on the balcony, his arm draped loosely against the back of her waist. “Honeymoons aren’t science field trips.”

Laughing softly, she turned and slipped both arms around his waist. “Hmm. Just goes to prove a woman can learn something every day. So if we’re not here on a field trip to catch butterflies, what are we going to do?”

“What a brazen hussy you are, Mrs. Calloway,” he teased affectionately.

She smiled up at him and his heart caught as he watched the sea breeze tease her wet black curls and lift the ruffle of her low neckline. Only moments ago, she’d stepped out of the shower and Alex couldn’t forget that underneath her thin robe was her beautiful naked body.

“It’s you who made me this way,” she said playfully.

Her robe was made of some sort of sheer fabric and the heat of her body warmed Alex’s hands as he splayed them against her back and drew her forward.

“Hmm. Then I’ve done something right for once in my life.” Bending his head, he gently settled his lips over hers. At the same time he felt her arms try to gather him closer, her lips part with hunger. The simple invitation was more than enough to fire his blood and he deepened the kiss until they were both heaving for air.

“Sierra,” he said raggedly. “It’s been hell not making love with you these past weeks. I didn’t know I could hurt for someone the way I’ve hurt for you.”

Her hands came up to cradle his face and she pushed at the hank of hair the sea wind had blown into his eyes. “I’ve taken a few cold showers myself,” she admitted.

Surprise arched his brows. “Really?”

She laughed softly and the sound buoyed his heart. If he could only hear that sound for the rest of his life, he’d die a happy man.

“Alex, surely, when we were together weeks back, you could see, feel how much I wanted you.”

Wanted? What about loved? What’s in that sweet, giving heart of yours, Sierra?

The questions were on the tip of Alex’s tongue, but he bit them back with a groan that betrayed some of the anguish he was feeling.

“I hope you didn’t waste money on one of those flimsy negligees. I don’t want to wait while you lock yourself inside the bathroom and dress yourself up for me. You’ll look beautiful enough with just this on,” he said, lifting her left hand to his lips and kissing the gold band on her finger.

Her chuckle was more like a sexy growl. “I didn’t bother buying any sort of sleepwear for our honeymoon. Not when I knew I’d only be wearing it for a few seconds.”

“Come here, my wife.” With a husky laugh, he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

Chapter Fourteen

A dim pool of light coming from the bedside lamp illuminated the king-size bed. After Alex had deposited her on the edge of the mattress, he reached down and clicked off the artificial light. Instantly the room was bathed in soft moonlight and the silver glow reflecting off the ocean.

Sierra watched him toss away his shirt and shorts and then she stood, only inches in front of him, and loosened the tie at her waist. As soon as he touched her shoulders, the flimsy material slid to the floor.

She could hear his breathing quicken as he reached out and touched one breast and her pulse began to race with sweet anticipation.

“Today when I saw you walking down the aisle toward me, I was certain you could never look more beautiful,” he whispered. “But tonight you look like a goddess.”

Smiling, she stepped closer and slid her hands down the planes of his shoulders. “That’s because you turned out the light.”

His hands closed around her waist and drew her against him. Sierra’s blood began to sing as his hands cupped her buttocks and his arousal stirred against her belly.

“I can see just fine, Mrs. Calloway.”

Rising on her tiptoes, she curled her arms around his neck and turned her lips to the side of his face. He quickly twisted his head to find her mouth and Sierra moaned with pleasure as his lips roamed greedily over hers.

Continuing the kiss, he nudged her backward until her calves hit the side of the bed, then, gently, he eased the both of them down on the mattress.

Once he broke the contact of their lips, they were both gulping for air and Alex whispered against the curve of her neck. “I need you so much—so much.”

And she needed him for the rest of her life, she thought, as love swelled her heart to the bursting point.

“Let me do something about that,” she murmured as desire began to grip her like a tight glove. She pushed at his shoulder until he was lying on his back and then she straddled his hips.

“Baby. Baby! You’re too good to me,” he muttered in a hoarse voice.

Leaning forward, she cupped her palm against his cheek. “My husband,” she whispered fervently, then, bending lower, she placed her lips over his.

With a growl of fierce need, Alex thrust himself inside her and let the hungry rhythm of her body carry him away.

Later, after the heat of their bodies had cooled, Alex drowsily stroked the back of Sierra’s long hair.

“Alex?” She propped her head on her hand and studied his face in the moonlight.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go sit on the beach. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“The beach! Good Lord, woman, it’s way past midnight, can’t you talk right here? This bed feels awfully good, especially with you in it.”

She slid a finger down the middle of his chest until she reached his navel. Once there, she hesitated, then dared to slip her hand a bit farther.

“Yeah, but just think how good it will feel to get back in it,” she softly purred.

“God, I must have been out of my mind,” he exclaimed good-naturedly as he rose up and flung the sheet off both their legs. “All these years I thought you were some meek little thing that got her kicks from books. Boy, did I have you pegged wrong.”

Even though he was teasing, his comment thrilled Sierra. For a long time, even before she’d ever dreamed of having him for a lover, she’d wanted him to think of her as sexy and sultry and a woman who could turn a man’s head and keep it turned. But when one man after another had left her flat and the last one had accused her of being boring, she’d doubted herself as a woman capable of attracting any man.

Now Alex made her feel beautiful and sensuous and wanted. If she tried to tell him in a million words how empowered that made her feel, he still wouldn’t understand.

“You’ll survive,” she promised as she jerked on a pair of shorts and a halter top.

Seeing she wasn’t about to relent on her purpose, Alex pulled on shorts and a shirt, leaving the latter unbuttoned to the muggy air.

The both of them stuck their feet in leather sandals before they exited the hotel through a side door away from the main lobby.

The night was very warm, the wind stiff. Alex noticed a half moon was suspended above the ocean and the silver light laced the tide as it rolled onto the wide beach. As he took Sierra by the hand and walked across the warm sand, he wondered how he could get through the days and months ahead without knowing if his wife loved him. If she’d simply married him to secure Bowie’s adoption, he didn’t know if he could stand it. Yet he had to, he realized. He loved her too much to do anything else.

“Do you think Bowie is okay?” she asked as they found a spot just out of reach of the tide and sank onto the sand. “I miss him so much.”

He swallowed as uncertainty rolled around in the pit of his stomach. “I’m sure your mother is taking wonderful care of him. And if she needs help, you have two sisters who will be more than willing to lend a hand.”

“Yes, but he’s used to me. I know exactly how he likes to be rocked and fed—” She stopped suddenly and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Alex. I sound like a fretful mother. That’s not what a groom wants to hear on his wedding night.”

He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I want to hear anything you want to tell me.”

Oh God, he was so dear, so much a part of her, she thought. If she said something wrong, if she got too emotional and caused a wedge between them now, she’d never be able to stand it.

Turning her face to the salty breeze, she shook back her hair and breathed deeply.

“Alex, I didn’t ask you to come down here to talk about Bowie. I think I’m pretty sure you understand how much I love him. And I’m fairly certain that you love him, too.”

Still holding on to her fingers, he slipped his opposite hand around the back of her waist. “That is the reason I’m making him my son.”

She released another shaky breath. “He’s important to both of us.”

“That’s probably an understatement,” he said gently, then, studying her face, he shook his head. “Darlin’, why are you looking so serious? It’s a gorgeous night. We’re on the beach and we have each other all to ourselves.”

Lifting her chin, she gave him a quavering smile. “You’re right. This night is so special.” She lifted her hand and touched her fingers to his cheek. “That’s why I—oh, Alex, promise that you won’t laugh or ridicule me when I tell you this—”

“Sierra,” he gently interrupted. “No one has to tell me I’m a stinker at times. But I won’t laugh. Unless you tell me a joke.”

But maybe he would think it was a joke, Sierra thought sickly. All these years he’d mostly used the word “love” as a sarcastic verb.

“Alex, the real reason I married you is—”

Terrified at what she was about to tell him, he touched a finger to her lips. “Before you say anything else, I have to tell you something. I—”

“Alex, don’t keep interrupting me!” she scolded gently. “I’m trying to tell you that I love you!”

Her outburst caught him totally off guard and he stared at her for long moments. “Oh God. Oh, Sierra!”

His hands came up to cradle the back of her head and he tilted her face upward to the moonlight.

Her expression puzzled, she asked, “Alex, what are you doing?”

“I’m looking at you with your face bathed in moonlight and your hair whipping like strands of glossy silk. I want to always remember you just like this.”

Sierra’s heart was beating so hard and fast she thought it was going to burst from her chest. “Why?”

The corners of his mouth tilted to a satisfied grin. “Because you’re my wife. The woman I love.”

It took a moment for her to digest his declaration, but once she did, a whimper passed her lips and she fell forward and buried her face against his bare chest.

“Alex,” she said through happy tears. “All this time I’ve been afraid to tell you how I felt—because I was certain you could never love me. I thought—I was afraid you were only marrying me because you wanted to be Bowie’s father.”

He laughed as a joy such as he’d never felt before zinged through his veins and pumped sheer happiness straight into his heart. “Oh, Sierra, you’re not going to believe this. But I thought the same thing about you. I figured you were only marrying me because your chances of adopting Bowie would be much better with a father in the house.”

Her cheeks wet with happy tears, she flung her arms around his neck and clung tightly. “We’ve been crazy, Alex.”

“Yeah. And we’ll probably be crazy again. But we’ll get through it. Together. Always together.” Easing her head back, he placed a long, promising kiss upon her lips that left her sighing with contentment.

“What do you think about starting on a brother or sister for Bowie? He’ll need several, you know,” he said with a sly grin. “Or do you want to wait until we’re married longer?”

Why would she want to wait? Sierra wondered blissfully. They’d already had nine years together. She knew he’d be around for the next nine and for always after that.

“Actually I’ve got to admit something, Alex. For the first time ever, I forgot to take my birth control pill this morning. I guess I was just too excited with wedding preparations to remember. Maybe now is a good time to toss the rest of them in the trash?”

Laughing, he tugged her up from their seats on the sand and pulled her along toward the roaring surf.

“Uh, don’t you think that project would work better if we went back to bed?” she asked.

“Later.”

“Alex!” she squealed as water rushed over her feet. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to take a little swim.”

“Now?” she asked incredulously. “What about the bed?”

Laughing, he teased, “Just think how good it will feel once we get back in it.”

Epilogue

Sierra didn’t waste any time about paying off her debt to her sisters. The next weekend after she and Alex had come home from their honeymoon, she offered herself to Christina and Gloria as their happy slave.

Since either sister couldn’t think of any task they considered awful enough to punish Sierra for going back on her word and marrying a man, she suggested they allow her to cook each one of them a nice dinner. She even managed to add a shudder, as though the very thought was downright horrible.

Let them think they were punishing her, Sierra thought, as she happily hummed to herself in Christina’s kitchen. She loved to cook and because she did so much of it, she was very efficient in the kitchen.

Yesterday had been Gloria’s payday and Sierra had pretended to kill herself over a huge pot roast dinner. She wasn’t about to tell her sisters that she’d read a paperback while the whole thing was cooking in the oven.

Today, for Christina, she was preparing steak fajitas. What could be easier than stir-frying a few strips of meat, peppers and onions and rolling it all up in warm tortillas, she thought with a clever giggle.

“Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a chore for you,” Christina suddenly spoke from out of nowhere. “Instead you’re laughing. If you think it’s so funny, maybe Gloria and I should put you outside mowing the lawn.”

Christina wasn’t supposed to be back in the house for another hour. The sound of her voice shocked Sierra and she whirled around from the sizzling skillet to see both her sisters standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyeing her with amused but accusing looks.

Laughing sheepishly, Sierra waved a dismissive hand in the air and tried to appear as weary as possible. “Oh, you two are really mean. I wasn’t laughing about the cooking. In fact, I’m just exhausted from standing over this hot stove. I don’t know why Christina made me do all this frying!”

“Uh-huh,” Gloria said with a pointed smile. “Everybody laughs when they’re exhausted.”

Sierra’s mind grabbed on to the first feasible excuse that popped into her head. “For your information, dear sisters, I was laughing because I’m so happy. Alex and I received some great news this morning.”

“Oh? What?” Christina quickly prompted. She walked over to the cabinet and picked up a strip of raw bell pepper and chomped into the piece of vegetable.

Sierra’s brown eyes were suddenly lit from within and the glow spread to her entire face. “We’ll be signing the adoption papers for Bowie on Tuesday.”

“That soon!” Gloria exclaimed. “I thought there’d be weeks of red tape. Even with Alex using his legal prowess.”

“So did we,” Sierra explained. “Alex and I both expected a long process. But he has friends in high places. One of the state legislators owed him a favor and he pulled some strings. The papers will be ready for us to sign in a couple days. And then you two can help me plan a christening party.”

“Oh, Sierra, that’s the greatest news!” Christina cried with joy.

“Absolutely wonderful!” Gloria added as both sisters rushed to hug Sierra tightly.

After a few moments of happy tears and congratulations, Sierra disentangled herself from the two women and turned back to her skillet before the whole meal was burned to a crisp.

Christina and Gloria grabbed cold sodas from the fridge and sat down at a nearby table. Both women kicked off their heels and sighed with pleasure as they wiggled squished toes.

After a moment Christina looked at Gloria and winked. “Sierra, there’s flour all over that cute little nose of yours. You’d better be careful and not sneeze. Your nostrils might glue together.”

“Very funny,” Sierra drawled. “That’s what I get for making you homemade tortillas. See what I ever do for you again.” Glancing over her shoulder, she arched a brow at her sisters. “So what have you two been doing, out trying to make up nasty jokes about your sister’s cooking?”

Laughing, Gloria reached down and rubbed her aching calves. “Not hardly. We’ve been out all day shopping for evening dresses.”

Surprised, Sierra looked back and forth between the two of them. “Evening dresses,” she repeated blankly. “What’s the occasion, Fortune-Rockwell is throwing some sort of shindig?”

Christina rose from her chair and twirled around on the ball of her bare foot. “It’s much more exciting than that. Governor Meyers is throwing a party and we’re invited.”

Sierra raised her brows to mocking proportions. “Oh, I didn’t realize you two were chummy with the governor.”

Gloria laughed. “We’re not. But we’re friends with Ryan Fortune and the governor happens to think Ryan deserves a party for all of the charitable deeds he’s done for our area.”

“He certainly does deserve it,” Sierra said matter-of-factly. “So did you two find something to wear?”

“Not yet,” Christina told her. “We’re going to look again tomorrow. Want to come with us?”

Sierra tossed her sisters a wry smile. “Why would I want to go? I don’t need an evening dress.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” Gloria spoke up. “You and Alex are invited, too. But come to think of it, you look pretty cute in that getup you’re cooking in. Maybe you just ought to wear that.”

Sierra glanced down at her flour-and-grease splotched T-shirt and jeans, then burst out laughing.

Giggling along with her, Gloria and Christina left their seats to join her and all three women hugged together in a tight, loving circle. They were truly a family again.

The price of privilege, the power of family!

FORTUNE’S HEIRS: REUNION

Three exciting stories linked to the beloved Fortune dynasty from three favourite authors

We’re proud to present

MILLS & BOON SPOTLIGHT™

A chance to buy collections of bestselling novels by favourite authors every month – they’re back by popular demand!

February 2010 His Virgin Wife

Featuring

The Wedding in White by Diana Palmer Caught in the Crossfire by Annette Broadrick The Virgin’s Secret Marriage by Cathy Gillen Thacker

Fortune’s Heirs: Reunion

Featuring

Her Good Fortune by Marie Ferrarella A Tycoon in Texas by Crystal Green In a Texas Minute by Stella Bagwell

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

First published in Great Britain 2009
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Harlequin Books S.A. 2005

ISBN: 978-1-4089-2100-5

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Full Title Page

Her Good Fortune

About The Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

A Tycoon in Texas

About The Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

In a Texas Minute

About The Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Preview

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