Authors: Helen Conrad
David stopped her, holding firm, taking hold of her shoulders. She couldn’t see what he was think
ing because he’d shoved the dark glasses down over his eyes again. “Wait a minute,” he
murmured, turning his attention towards her grandfather.
“
No!” she said urgently. “I can get him quieted
down if you’ll just go! You confused him completely the other day, made him think people were
out to get him. He’ll just think it’s true if he sees you
here . . .”
David’s mouth twisted in a humorless grin. “It’s
a little too late to keep him from seeing me,” he reminded her. “Hello, Mr. Carrington,” he said as Granpa Jim came to a dusty stop before them. “How are you, sir?”
“Just what do you think you’re doing here?” the
older man sputtered. “You don’t belong here.”
David released Shawnee and turned to face
Granpa Jim fully, but he didn’t say anything right away. It seemed as though he was at a loss as to how Granpa Jim should be approached.
Granpa snorted and jabbed at David’s chest with a forefinger. “Why aren’t you out tending to getting
the shoeing done on that new bunch of mares we
brought in from Santa Maria? Isn’t that what I told
you to do this morning?”
Shawnee put a hand to her mouth. He thought
this was one of his ranch hands. How could he possibly think that, seeing the way David was dressed? And what would he do when David explained who he really was? She tried to think of
something to say to stop the flow of disillusionment
she could see rushing in to sweep them along, but
words didn’t come.
The moment hung in the air. What was David going to do? If he tried to drag the older man back into reality, how was he going to react? Her heart was breaking.
As she watched, holding her breath,
David straightened, plunging his hands into his pockets and widening his stance. To Shawnee’s
amazement, he took on the look of a cowboy
before her eyes, even though he wasn’t dressed for the part.
“Yessir,” he drawled slowly, bobbing his head in respect, not glancing at her. “I finished that,
Mr. Carrington. I thought I’d come on back and help your granddaughter with the house painting, if that’s all right with you.”
Shawnee’s jaw dropped. He was playing along!
His quick intelligence had grasped what was wrong,
on just where Granpa Jim’s mind was floating, and he understood. She stared at David as though she’d
never seen him before. He’d picked up what was
happening and hadn’t skipped a beat.
She looked at him suspiciously. Was he laughing at her grandfather? No. She couldn’t detect the least bit of scorn.
Granpa Jim was shrugging. “All right. Why not?”
he muttered, suddenly a little confused. “She could
use the help. I’m too old to be much use to her now,
you know.” He waved a hand at them, turning
towards the house. “You two get this painting done,
then,” he allowed. “I’m going to go in and work on
some figures.”
“
Working on some figures
” was an excuse to take
a nap. Shawnee watched until he disappeared into the house, then turned to David, not sure just what
she should say. She felt a bright rush of affection for
the man and what he’d just done. But she didn’t
want him to think that blotted out everything else.
Because it couldn’t possibly.
“You can go on,” she said huskily. “He won’t
come back out, and if he does, he’ll probably have
forgotten all about it.”
He grinned at her. “Are you kidding? I said I was going to help you paint. And that’s exactly what I’m
going to do.”
She wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right. “I’m
really, seriously painting this house,” she reminded
him. “I’m going to work on it until it’s finished.”
He shook his head. “It’s a damn fool idea, but if you must, I’m going to help you do it.” He stripped
off his shirt before her eyes, hanging it on a nearby
limb. His shoulders were wide and tanned in the
sunlight and when he shrugged them, she wanted to reach out and touch the heat of his skin. He looked
wonderful without a shirt. Almost too good to be
true.
She looked away, hoping he couldn’t read the
admiration in her eyes. She was angry with him and
half in love with him at the same time. That made for a very confusing jumble of emotions inside. She
had to keep her head.
David had taken off his shirt, so at least he
wouldn’t tear or dirty it in helping her. But he still wore a pair of impeccable slacks and fine leather
shoes that would be destroyed if paint got on them.
“You’re going to ruin your clothes,” she pro
tested, then narrowed her eyes and added, partly in
jest, partly in sincere rebuff, “Or maybe you
Santiagos are so rich, you just don’t have to worry
about things like that.”
He wasn’t going to let her get his goat. “You
could look at it that way,” he acknowledged, cock
ing his head to the side. He pulled off the dark
glasses and his eyes were a piercing force she could hardly face. “Or you could say,” he continued softly,
“that I want to be with you so much, I’ll risk anything—any time. Personally, I prefer that version.”
She swallowed. Was he really prepared to help her paint when he thought the whole project was
utterly absurd? It seemed so.
“Here,” she said gruffly, handing him the paint can. “Go and fill this. And this time, you can take
the ladder.”
He grinned again. “You still don’t trust me?”
She didn’t bother to answer, turning away so he
wouldn’t see the smile she couldn’t hide any longer, the full, glowing smile that would telegraph how happy she was. There were still problems between
them—big, impossible, problems—but for this
afternoon, she would let herself feel the happiness
his
presence would create. After all, maybe she
deserved it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A SUMMER PICNIC
The time flew by. Shawnee wasn’t sure if it went so quickly because David worked so fast, or because she seemed to be operating, mind and body both, at a supercharged level of excitement with him so near. But somehow, the hours melted away. David painted more than competently, and Shawnee found she had only to come behind, working on the trim with a smaller brush, and before they knew it, the exterior of the little house was finished.
“It doesn’t look half bad,” David admitted as they stood back in the yard and examined it. “We make quite a team. Maybe we should go into the house-painting business. ‘Santiago and Carrington, Experts in Exterior Design’.”
It sounded odd to hear those names spoken together. Odd, but strangely appealing. She looked at him, noting the streak of beige color that outlined his long nose like Indian war paint. “How about ‘Carrington and Santiago, the Two Stooges’?” she laughed, reaching up to brush away some flakes of paint from his chest.
He caught her hand, holding it to him. “How about ‘Santiago and Carrington, the two lovers’?” he said softly. “And how about making that title come true?”
She stared up into his dark gaze, wondering at the ease with which he threw her off balance every time. He played with her, teased her, acted the part of a friend. Then, just when she was lulled into a false feeling of security, the passion that lay behind his light-hearted manner came bubbling up, shocking her again, sending out a sense of the strength of the physical tie that held them, both bound and helpless.
He wanted her, but no more than she wanted him. And yet, she had to hold back. There was no other way. If she gave in to this temptation, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
“David . . .” She tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“I’ve tried to forget about you,” he said with low, dark urgency. “I’ve told myself you were right, that we didn’t belong together.” His free hand cupped her chin. “But I can’t seem to believe it. Not when I can feel you here, waiting for me.” He shrugged. “I tried to stay away. But I can’t.”
His words thrilled her almost as much as his touch. Still, a part of her was warning her to keep her head. She remembered what Allison had said that day in the barn.
“I’ve never known a girl yet who could resist David
,” she’d remarked. Was that all it was? Was David fascinated by a woman who told him to stay away?
“It’s inevitable, Shawnee,” he continued, his voice a husky embrace of her senses. He bent his head so that he almost touched her upturned face. “Can’t you feel it?”
She could feel it. That she couldn’t deny. And she could feel the building crescendo of his heartbeat, just beneath her hand. She could feel the heat of his blood, the stirring of his masculine need. Her breath caught in her throat and she gasped as he pulled her close.
His gaze explored her eyes, her lips, and then he
lowered slowly to kiss her. She couldn’t move. It
felt as though everything stood still around her.
The wind died down and even the birds stopped their chirping. There was nothing, nothing . . . nothing but the tender warmth of his mouth open
ing on hers. Her body clung to his, molding to his hard length like a curling breeze, living for him like
a flame.
How easy it would be to let this feeling sweep her
away. She had only to react the way her body
wanted her to. She had only to close off her mind,
to forget what lay between them. For just a mo
ment, she was tempted. But deep down, she knew with a sense of dread what would happen if she did
what she wanted so badly to do. The payment would be far too steep.
“David,” she moaned, trying to pull away from
the steel web of his embrace. “David, please don’t!”
He kissed her chin, her neck, the sensitive area behind her ear, and then he reluctantly drew back. “I
can’t wait much longer,” he murmured, still hold
ing her close. “You and I have begun something
that can’t be stopped. And you know it as well as I
do.” He looked down into her eyes. “Don’t you?”
She avoided his eyes, shivering slightly. “Not
here,” she whispered. “Not now.”
She could feel him harden. “Then where?” he asked, his voice growing harsher. “When?”
She pulled out of his arms, turning away. How
could she answer that? If she said “never— nowhere” he wouldn’t accept it. And yet she couldn’t give him any other answer.
“Hey.” His voice was light again, as though he’d
regained some control over his emotions. He touched her arm gently, and she turned to look
back at him. “Did I mention that I want you?” he
asked softly, a slight smile curling his wide mouth,
“And that I think about you all the time?”
She felt herself flush. Now, why would she flush
at a time like this? It was silly. And yet, there it was.
He was throwing her off balance again. One
minute he was demanding, the next, a gentle
stranger. She didn’t know how to build defenses against someone who changed tactics with every
shift in the wind.
She managed a crooked smile. “Did I mention
that you have paint on your nose?” she replied. “We
ought to wash-up.”
He followed her reluctantly, but at least he seemed to be ready to let the matter drop for the moment.
They used the hose at the corner of the house
. The adrenalin pumped up by their
sensual encounter served as fuel for a pushing,
shoving, teasing match that ended with each squirt
ing the other until they were both soaking wet.
Soaking wet, but laughing. And very hungry.
“I’ve got food,” David announced. “You choose the picnic spot.”
“What are you talking about?”
He gestured towards his car. “I came prepared
with a picnic lunch. I was hoping to kidnap you and drive off into the hills somewhere. But we might as
well eat it here.”
They got the basket from the car and she led him
across the field to where the river cut into her grand
father’s small piece of land.
“Do you suppose the Spanish caballero gave the Indian maiden a feast like this?” David asked as he brought out the delicious contents of his basket.
She watched as he set out porcelain bowls so delicate they were almost transparent, filled with asparagus tip and bay shrimp salad, parsley rolls, and seasoned butter. He produced a tall bottle of a crisp white wine with a flourish that would have done a maitre d’ proud.
“I don’t think the Indian maiden would have known what to do with all this,” she admitted. “But then the caballero wouldn’t have either. He would have been more likely to come up with beef jerky and tortillas, with maybe a nice pumpkin pudding to top off the meal.”
The rest of the afternoon floated by like a dream. They ate, talked, lay back and watched the clouds. David didn’t try to touch her again, but there was an intimacy between them that seemed almost tactile. When his gaze swept across her bare arm, she felt as though he’d placed a hand there. Goose bumps spread across her skin and she shivered delightedly. Then he told a joke and she laughed, meeting his eyes and feeling warm and happy.
“I... I want to thank you for what you did with my grandfather,” she said at one point. “You realized where he was coming from and joined him there. I appreciate it.”