Renee Simons Special Edition (39 page)

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Camping out. Inside."

"Excuse me?" One hand rested on the doorknob, but she stopped short of turning it. "I don't remember mentioning that I want — or need — company. I’m no damsel in distress, you know.”

"I know. I'm staying anyway."

“Over my dead body,”

“Not if I can help it.” He pointed to her hand. "Open up."

What she knew of him told her further argument would be futile. Once inside, Luc surveyed the entry hall.

"Where do you sleep?"

"Upstairs."

"Room?"

"Corner, on the left," she said warily.

"Good. I'll be down here, where I can hear and intercept anything dangerous. You'll have your privacy."

Callie glared at him. "This isn't necessary. I can manage just fine on my own. And I resent the implication that I can't."

"We've been through this, and settled it, so there must be something else bothering you." He took a step that brought him close enough for her to see a sleepy sensuality warming his eyes. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No," she said quickly. "Of course not."

"Then what?"

His tone had softened to a whisper that teased her senses and awoke memories of the magic that could move between a man and woman. “Afraid” didn’t come close.

"Nothing." Why had breathing become so difficult? "Nothing at all."

"You're lying, Callie."

"I beg your pardon...."

"No, I beg yours."

One hand pulled her close. The other slipped into her hair, supporting her head. Warm and firm, his lips gently brushed hers from side to side as if sampling some newly discovered delicacy. Lovely, she thought, then gave herself a mental shake. To her great distress, she was enjoying his caress much too much.

The unexpected kiss, the feel of his fingers entwined in her hair and his body so close to hers weakened her legs. She grasped his shoulders for support. He wrapped her in a powerful embrace, pressing her against him. She felt his arousal. The heat that flowed like a molten river through her body cooled only slightly when they separated.

He kept his arms around her waist and examined her face, that familiar smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

"I've wanted to do that since you first rode in."

"So our meeting wasn't accidental?" He shook his head.

"I couldn't believe my luck when I found you only a mile away from where I first saw you." He stepped back, leaving her feeling bereft. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

"I’ve wanted to know how your lips would taste," he said, "but I'm not ready for more.”

It was her turn to smile. “I think you are.”

He blushed and Callie melted again. “Appearances notwithstanding,” he said, “too many differences stand between us. No pun intended."

She felt only relief. One of them had to remain strong. Clearly, she couldn’t trust herself to be the one. "Well then, since our curiosities have been satisfied, I'm going upstairs to get some sleep." She took a few steps and turned back to him. “There’s a washroom near the kitchen, but if you want to shower, you’ll have to use the upstairs bathroom. It’s at the opposite end of the hall from my room. There are clean towels in both places.”

As she continued to climb the stairs he saluted her with two fingers at his brow. "Sweet dreams,
querida. Duerme bien
."

Once Luc heard a door on the second floor close, he flipped off the light switch and made a bed for himself in the darkened entry hall. As he stared at the ceiling, his thoughts drifted upstairs.

If his parting words contained any magic, her dreams would leave her refreshed while his, filled with her image, her scent, the lingering sweetness of her lips, and the feel of her body pressed against his would leave him thirsting for more. His lie would buy him time to figure out what was happening with his eyes and what he needed to do about them. And then there was the business about this house and the plans for the valley. Until all that was resolved, he intended to keep his distance. So what had this evening been about? He snorted.

“What?” His throbbing groin, that’s what. And she knew it.

He silenced his pesky inner voice by pulling on a sweater and going out into the night. Distance and the cool air might distract him. Certainly, given a choice of something to stare at, he preferred a black canopy of sky pierced by starlight to the shadowy confines of The Mansion. The stars turned fuzzy and indistinct as he watched from the top step of the veranda. This kind of thing happened too often lately, threatening every aspect of his previously well-ordered life. Time to visit his
compadre
, Eduardo Vega, and see what the good doctor had to say.

In the morning, Luc removed a gym bag containing a change of clothes from the car. Not a uniform, of course, but fresh briefs and tee shirt and a rolled up pair of jeans.

“I sure could use a shower,” he said.

But that would bring him too close to her. And that way lay danger. In a washroom the size of a broom closet, he stripped to the waist and washed his face and upper body. After toweling off, he rummaged around in the bag and came up with a straight razor. He soaped his face again and made a lather that would do almost as well as shaving cream. After the first swipe at his beard he glanced over his shoulder and got a glimpse of Callie watching him.

He grinned into the mirror. “Hoping I’ll puncture my jugular?”

She cleared her throat, but could do nothing about the blush that stained her cheeks or the yearning he saw in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said after a silent moment. “I didn’t mean to gawk.” She made a left turn into the kitchen.

He leaned out the door. “You can stay and watch, if you want,” he called out. She didn’t respond.

At his task again, he took comfort in the fact that he seemed to unnerve her as much as she did him. The thought pleased him more than it should, and nothing he did drove it away. “
No me gusta nada
,” he muttered to the mirror. “I don’t like this at all.”

They shared a large but silent dose of caffeine that neutralized a nearly sleepless night. After a polite farewell, he stepped outside, intending to leave before Nick and his men arrived. Callie followed him into the clear, bright light of early morning — only to be greeted by the knowing grins of workers unpacking their tools and materials for the day.

Nick glanced up at them. "Glad you kept watch here last night, Sheriff. J.D. and I were kind of worried about Callie being alone."

Luc noticed he'd spoken just loud enough for his men to get the message that he wanted their natural assumptions kept under wraps.

The contractor strapped on a tool belt. "Any more vandalism?"

"No, but you'd better check the rig just to make sure."

"Will do," Nick said as he turned away.

Luc examined Callie's face, noticing a new blush dusting her cheeks. "Sorry. I meant to avoid that."

She shrugged. "I'll live."

"Most happily, I hope, Señorita Patterson." He tugged at his hat brim. "
Hasta luego
."

"If by later you mean tonight, forget it. I don't expect to need guarding."

Before driving away, he gave her a look filled with irony.

Callie spent the day photographing and sketching the house, beginning a record of the progress made at each step along the way to bringing The Mansion to life again. While the light lasted, she diagramed what was left of the garden and original plantings to show J.D. and the landscape designer.

No sooner had Nick's crew left than Luc arrived with a shopping bag filled with cartons of Chinese takeout.

"What, no tacos or burritos?" Callie asked.

"Life would be boring if that's all we ate."

Despite his calm speech, the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes and a tightness around his mouth warned her she'd hit a nerve.

"For your information," he added, "we're even worldly enough to recognize a bagel when we see one."

Having tapped into a sensitivity she'd hardly suspected, she struggled to undo the damage. "I didn't mean what I said as a … slur. Really. It was supposed to be a joke … payback for your inference about my brother...." Knowing she'd failed to make things better she added, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I believe you."

Despite his words, Callie sensed a reserve he hadn't shown before. The lilt that gave his speech a special, almost musical quality had given way to something more formal, guarded. She hated that she'd caused him to be self-conscious, but only, she told herself, because his cooperation spelled success for her project. Could she find a way to put him at ease? She went to the cabinet for plates and utensils.

"Would you please clear the table?"

"No problem," he said. "Where do you want these books?"

"Anywhere out of the way."

"What’re you doing with this one on Spanish colonials?"

Hoping she hadn't offended him again she turned to watch his face. "I was trying to find out about your family."

A glint of humor returned to his eyes. "Did you?"

"Not so far, but I'm not finished yet."

"I'll tell you someday, if you're still interested."

"I'd like that."

"I've been reading, too. History and architecture."

"Why architecture?"

"To understand why your great-grandfather chose to build a house that belongs back east. And why you're so set on saving it."

She smiled. "And do you?"

"Not yet," he said with his ready grin, "but I'm not finished."

Luc cleared his throat and Callie laughed as the difficult moment passed. With the table set, they began opening cardboard boxes and foil trays.

"Watch out for the General Tso's Chicken," he said. "It's extra hot cause that’s the way we like things around here."

Callie laughed as she dug her chopsticks into the container. "Touché, Señor Sheriff.”

His features relaxed. "I'm sorry about what happened this morning," he said. "I knew what Nick's workers were thinking but I didn't know how to fix things."

"Why should you need to fix anything?"

"Guys don't care if other guys think they've spent the night with a beautiful woman," he said. "But I don't want them thinking about you that way."

Callie stopped in the process of lifting a plump tree mushroom to her lips. "At the risk of offending you again, may I say I wouldn't have expected such sensitivity," she said before popping the juicy morsel into her mouth.

"Thanks," he said with a jaundiced look. "You don't think much of me, do you?"

"Until now, you haven't given me much reason." She shrugged.

"Until now. Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

There's that little boy look again, Callie thought. He could be downright irresistible at times. She needed to be careful, something that became increasingly more difficult to remember with no Gram around to bolster her determination and to remind her that he was a
Moreno
and they were the enemy.

"Maybe," she said. She smiled as she opened another container. "Let's see what else you brought. Then I'll decide."

Some forty minutes later, they'd dumped the empty cartons into the shopping bag. Now, they sat at the bridge table in a near-stupor.

"Oh God," she said with a groan. "I shouldn't have eaten so much. I can't move." She rolled her eyes at Luc. "What are you grinning about?"

"I don't think you want to know."

"No fair, Sheriff. Come clean."

"You tackle everything with such passion, from defending this place to devouring a meal that would stop a field hand in his tracks. I was just imagining how you'd be if you were in love."

"Fierce."

He nodded. "That's what I figured." The laughter in his eyes brought heat to Callie's cheeks. "That's what made me smile."

She tossed a crumpled napkin at him. "I'm not sure I like the direction your mind is taking."

Luc took the cups and bowls to the sink. As their hands brushed, his body hardened in a potent reaction. The memory of their kiss didn’t help. Neither did his decision to stay away from her.

"I guess that means
your
mind is heading the same way." He leaned against the edge of the counter, folding his arms across his chest. "What do you think we should do about that?"

“You said you didn’t want to do anything about that.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I’m getting dizzy trying to keep track of your ambivalence.”

She stood beside him, adding glasses and serving spoons to the sink. A whiff of vanilla tantalized his nostrils and increased the seemingly ever-present pressure in his groin.

Her answer was slow in coming. Her voice, when she finally replied, took on a huskiness that caressed his ear in the most enticing way. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe we could compare fantasies. Play out the one we like best."