Tender Triumph

by Judith McNaught

  The Spanish girl to whom Gabriella had intro­duced Katie before as Ramon Galverra's novia, saw Katie, beamed a bright smile at her, and hurried over. With her help on Monday, Katie had discov­ered thick, fluffy towels in solid colors of red, white and black beneath a stack of men's work pants. Katie had bought all six of them and ordered a dozen more in assorted sizes. Evidently the girl thought Katie had come to see if the rest of the towels were here yet, for she picked up a towel, held it up, and regretfully shook her head, relying on pantomime since she spoke no English.

  Katie grinned and pointed to the shelves of gro­ceries interspersed with shovels and rakes, then went over to make her selections. Carrying the fresh fruit, bread and packaged meat she had selected over to the crowded counter, Katie dug in her purse for her money. When she glanced up, the little Spanish girl smilingly presented her with two bills, each for one-half the amount of her purchase. The girl was so proud of having remembered that Katie always asked for the bills in this way, that Katie didn't bother trying to explain that it wasn't necessary for groceries.

  The scene that greeted Katie when the car bumped past the canopy of scarlet poinciana trees took her completely by surprise. The yard was filled with bat­tered old trucks, two horses and another truck load­ed with debris, which had obviously been removed from the house and was being hauled away. Two men were replacing tiles on the roof, and two more were stripping all the peeling paint from the wood trim. The shutters had been repaired and were open beside windows with crystal-clear panes of glass. This was the first time Katie had been here since Sunday, and she was eager to see what progress had been made inside. She took a quick look in the car's rearview mirror, freshened her lip gloss, and smoothed her hair back into place.

  She climbed out of the car and brushed a piece of lint from her designer jeans, then tucked her plaid shirt into her waistband. The constant staccato sounds of hammering that had been coming from inside ceased abruptly. The men on the roof scam­pered down as Katie walked up the brick path, which was no longer missing bricks or strewn with broken tiles. She glanced at her watch: it was exactly six, and apparently the men were finished for the day.

  The front door, which Ramon had broken on Sunday, had been rehung, and the peeling paint stripped down to smooth bare wood. Katie stepped aside as eight men came through the doorway carry­ing their wooden toolboxes. Rafael and his two sons were behind them. There was an army working up here, Katie thought with amazement. "Ramon is in the kitchen with the plumber," Rafael said with one of his warm, fatherly smiles. His sons both grinned at her as they passed.

  The living-room walls, which were made of grooved boards, had been sanded already, as had the planked floors. It took Katie a moment to understand why the house seemed so cheerful and sunny. Then she realized that all of the windows were sparkling clean, and some of them were open, letting the balmy breeze in to mingle with the pun­gent scent of fresh sawdust. An elderly man carrying a huge wrench in each hand shuffled out of the kitchen, tipped his hat politely to Katie, then van­ished through the living room and outside. The plumber, Katie guessed.

  With a last appreciative glance around her, Katie wandered into the kitchen. Like every other wooden surface, the kitchen cabinets had been stripped, and the ugly peeling linoleum had been taken up. The sharp clang of metal on metal drew her attention toward the sink. A pair of long, muscular legs were stretched out on the floor, the torso belonging to them hidden beneath the sink. Katie smiled, recognizing those long legs and slim hips even without seeing the head and shoulders that were blocked from view by the convoluted plumbing pipes.

  Apparently Ramon didn't realize the plumber had left, because his familiar Spanish voice issued a muf­fled order in a sharp tone. Katie hesitated uncertain­ly, then, feeling like a child playing a trick on an adult, she picked up the wrench lying on the counter and passed it beneath the newly installed stainless steel sink to Ramon. She almost laughed aloud when the wrench was rudely shoved back at her, and the same order was irritably repeated, this time accom­panied by an impatient bang on the bottom of the sink.

  Making a calculated guess, she leaned forward and turned on both taps. The torrent of water brought a string of savage curses that erupted from below the sink at the same time Ramon did, with water streaming from his face, his hair and his bare chest. Snatching a towel from the floor, he came to his feet in one lithe, furious movement, drying his head and face while Katie frantically dived for the taps and turned them off. In appalled fascination she listened to the scathing Spanish remarks coming from behind the towel, then jumped when he flung it down and glared at her.

  His expression turned to blank shock. "I—I wanted to surprise you," Katie explained, biting her lower lip to control her laughter. Water was drip­ping from his curling hair, his eyebrows and his eye­lashes, and sparkling on the crisp hairs on his broad chest. Katie's shoulders began to shake.

  A gleam entered Ramon's eyes. "I think one 'sur­prise' deserves another." His right hand shot out and turned on the cold water tap. Before Katie could do more than squeal a protest, her head was being forced down into the sink a bare inch from the rush­ing water.

  "Don't you dare!" she shrieked, laughing. The water was turned up harder, and her head forced even closer to the spout. "Stop it!" she howled, her laughter echoing in the stainless-steel sink. "The water is running all over the floor!"

  Ramon released her and turned off the tap. "The pipes leak," he remarked without concern. He arched an eyebrow at her and added ominously, "I will have to think of some better way to 'surprise' you."

  Katie laughingly ignored the threat. "I thought you said you knew about carpentry," she teased, plunking her hands on her slim hips.

  "I said," Ramon corrected dryly, "that I know as much about carpentry as you know about making curtains."

  Katie choked back a giggle and managed to look comically indignant. "My curtains are progressing far better than your plumbing." Because Gabriella and Senora Villegas are doing the sewing, Katie add­ed silently.

  "Oh, is that right?" Ramon mocked. "Go into the bathroom."

  Katie was surprised when he didn't follow her, but instead reached for the towel and the clean shirt hanging on a nail. Outside the bathroom door she paused, mentally bracing herself to face again the crawling insect population that had inhabited the rusty bathtub on Sunday. When she hesitantly opened the door her eyes widened.

  Gone were the old bathroom fixtures. In their place was a modern vanity with a sink, and a large fiberglass shower stall with sliding glass doors. Experimentally, she pushed one of the doors aside, noting with approval that it slid smoothly on its track. The shower spout was dripping, however, and Katie shook her head in amusement at Ramon's lack of concern about leaking water. Cautiously, she stepped inside, avoiding the slippery puddle on the fiberglass floor, while reaching out for the tap to turn it off. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as a deluge of freezing water hit her in the face. Blinded, she turned to leap out of the shower and the leather sole of her shoe slid from beneath her, sending her sprawling on all fours beneath the icy downpour.

  She crawled out of it on her hands and knees, her soaked clothing clinging to her skin, water stream­ing from her hair and face. Awkwardly, she strug­gled to her feet and lifted the hair out of her eyes. Ramon was standing in the doorway, visibly strug­gling to keep his face straight. "Don't you dare laugh," Katie warned darkly.

  "Would you like some soap?" he offered solici­tously. "A towel, perhaps?" he volunteered dead­pan, handing her the towel he had been holding in his hand. He pulled the clean shirt he had just put on from his waistband and began unbuttoning it, continuing conversationally. "Would you allow me to offer you the shirt off my back, then?"

  Katie, who was on the verge of laughing herself, was about to make some sheepish retort when Ra­mon added, "Strange, is it not, the way one 'sur­prise' can lead to another?"

  Outrage burst within her at the realization that he had actually done this to her on p
urpose. Shivering, she snatched the shirt from his hand and slammed the door in his grinning face! He must have watched her step into the shower and then turned on the main valve, she thought furiously as she pulled off her freezing wet jeans. So this was how a Latin male re­taliated for being made the recipient of an uninten­tional dousing! This was the sort of retribution their monstrous male egos demanded! She flung open the bathroom door, clad only in her wet underpants and Ramon's white shirt, and stalked out of the empty house.

  Ramon was in the front yard, calmly spreading the blanket she had brought in the trunk of the car, beneath a tree. Of all the monumental arro­gance. ..! He actually believed she would meekly tolerate this sort of treatment. He truly expected her to stay here and have a cozy little picnic with him!

  Ramon paused in his crouching position and looked up at her, his expression impassive. "Do not ever slam another door in my face," he said evenly. And then, as if that was supposed to conclude the entire episode, his expression warmed admiringly. Seething inwardly, Katie folded her arms beneath her breasts, leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, and crossed one trim ankle over the other, letting him look his fill. Because looking at her was all he was going to do. In another few seconds she was going to pick up that blanket, wrap it around her and drive back to Gabriella's!

  Ramon's gaze moved from the cascade of reddish hair hanging in damp waves down her shoulders, over her thrusting breasts revealed by the clinging shirt, paused at the place where his shirt ended at mid-thigh, then continued down her long, shapely legs. "Have you seen enough?" she asked him, not bothering to hide her hostility. "Are you quite satisfied?"

  His head lifted sharply, his eyes assessing her face as if he could not quite fathom her mood. "Is 'satis­fying' me what you have in mind, Katie?"

  Ignoring the sexual innuendo, Katie straightened and strolled over to the blanket where he was sitting back on his heels. "I'm leaving," she said, looking down at him with stony hauteur.

  "There is no need to go for more clothes. Yours will dry, and in the meantime, I have already seen you wearing far less."

  "I'm not going for more clothes. I have no inten­tion of staying here for a picnic after you purposely soaked me to get even."

  Ramon came slowly to his feet, towering over her, and Katie angrily kept her eyes on the bare expanse of his bronzed chest. "I need the blanket to put around me so that I can go back to Gabriella's, and you're standing on it."

  "So I am," he said softly, stepping back.

  Katie snatched it up, wrapped it around her toga-style and headed for the car, aware that Ramon was leaning casually against a tree, watching her every step. She slid behind the steering wheel and reached for the keys she had left in the ignition. They were gone. She didn't need to search the seat, she knew exactly who had them.

  She glowered at him through the open car win­dow, and he reached into his pocket, extracted the keys and held them out to her in his open palm. "You will need these."

  Katie climbed out of the car and marched toward him with as much dignity as her trailing blanket would allow. Warily, she searched his face when she came within arm's reach. "Give them to me," she said, thrusting out her hand.

  "Take them," he replied indifferently.

  "Do you swear you won't touch me?"

  "I would not dream of it," Ramon replied with infuriating calm. "But I see no reason why I should not make you touch me." In angry stupefaction Katie watched him shove the keys into the deep pocket of his Levi's, and cross his arms over his chest. "Go ahead and take them."

  "Are you enjoying this?" Katie hissed furiously.

  "I am planning to."

  Katie was now so angry she'd have knocked him down and wrestled him for the damned keys. She strode up to him, jammed her hand down into his side pocket ignoring the intimacy, and jerked them out. "Thank you," she said snidely.

  "Thank you," he replied suggestively.

  She whirled around and took a step, only to have her blanket come loose and fall to the ground—with the aid of Ramon's booted foot, which was firmly planted on the end of it. With her fists clenched impotently at her sides, Katie swung around on her heel.

  "How could you think I would deliberately do a thing like that to you?" he asked her quietly.

  Katie scanned his handsome, composed face, and her anger evaporated, leaving her deflated. "Didn't you?"

  "What do you think?"

  Katie bit her lip, feeling utterly foolish and thor­oughly obnoxious. "I—I don't think you did," she admitted, glancing at her bare feet in dejected shame.

  His voice was tinged with amusement. "Now what are you going to do?"

  Katie's blue eyes were warm with laughter and apology when she raised them to his. "I am going to show you how sorry I am by waiting on you hand and foot for the rest of the night!"

  "I see," he said with an answering grin. "In that case, what should I do now?"

  "Just stand there while I arrange the blanket, then I'll pour you some wine and fix you a sand­wich." With amused satisfaction, Ramon allowed her to fix him three roast beef sandwiches, keep his wineglass filled, and provide him with slices of cheese whenever he requested one.

  "A man could get used to this," he chuckled when Katie insisted on not only peeling his apple but cutting it into wedges and feeding it to him.

  Katie looked at him in the deepening twilight, her senses alive to his nearness. He was stretched out on his back, his hands linked behind his head, looking like a lithe, powerful jungle cat who knows that his prey is within reach and not going to escape.

  "Katie," he murmured in a sensuous voice. "Do you know what I want now?"

  Katie's hand stilled as she lifted her glass of wine to her lips, her pulse quickening. "What?" she asked softly.

  "One of your back rubs," he announced, rolling onto his stomach, presenting his back for his ministrations.

  Katie put her glass aside and came up on her knees beside him. His broad, muscled shoulders and tapered back felt like bunched satin, smooth and warm beneath her stroking fingers. She continued kneading and rubbing his hard flesh until her hands tired, then she sat back down and picked up her wineglass.

  "Katie?" he said again, turning his dark head away from her.

  "Hmm?"

  "I did it on purpose."

  In one lightning movement, Katie dumped her wine on his bare back, scampered to her feet and sprinted toward the house. Ramon grabbed her by the waist when she was halfway across the dark liv­ing room, his whole body shaking with laughter as she kicked backward at him. "You beast!" she gasped, caught somewhere between hilarity and hos­tility. "You are the most treacherous, arrogant—"

  "Innocent person you know," he chuckled. "I give you my word."

  "I could murder you!" she laughed, wriggling and writhing ineffectually in his unbreakable hold.

  Behind her, his deep voice suddenly became very husky. "If you continue to do that, I am going to need a cold shower.''

  Katie stilled, becoming aware of the stirring hard­ness pressing against her rounded bottom, while desire began to pour through her veins. His lips brushed her ear, then slid sensuously down the curve of her neck, tasting and exploring every inch of her exposed skin. His hands caressed her breasts with, the same possessive mastery that always made her knees weak.

  "Your nipples are hard," he told her in a low, throbbing voice, his thumbs brushing over the hard­ened, sensitized nubs. "And your breasts are swell­ing to fill my hands. Turn around, querida" he murmured hotly, "I want to feel them against my chest."

  Shivering with anticipation, Katie turned in his arms. He stared at the cleft between her full, aching breasts, then lifted his burning gaze to hers. Mes­merized, Katie watched his mouth slowly descend­ing, as his hand slid up her nape and his fingers sank into her heavy hair.

  The moment his parted lips covered hers the kiss was out of control. His tongue plunged into her mouth with a driving hunger and naked urgency that made Katie burst into flames in his arms.
His free hand swept down her spine, fusing her melting body to the scorching heat of his thighs, holding her there as he kissed her into absolute insensibility. He lifted his mouth from hers. "Come outside with me," he ordered hoarsely, and when Katie whispered "yes," he groaned and buried his lips in the moist softness of hers for one more endless, shattering kiss.

  A blinding flash of light exploded behind Katie's closed eyelids at the same instant a voice demanded, "May I ask who performed the wedding that pre­cipitated this honeymoon, Ramon?"

  Katie's eyes snapped open, her shocked gaze flew to the peculiarly garbed man who was standing in the now brightly lit room, then ricochetted to Ra­mon whose head was thrown back, his eyes tightly shut, his expression a combination of utter disbelief, irritation and amusement. Sighing, Ramon finally opened his eyes and looked over his left shoulder at the intruder. "Padre Gregorio, I—"

  Katie's knees buckled.

  Ramon's arms tightened, his gaze swerving from the priest to Katie's white face with its huge, stricken eyes. "Katie, are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

  "I am certain that Senorita Connelly is not all right," the old priest snapped. "She would un­doubtedly like to go and clothe herself."

  Embarrassed antagonism brought bright flags of color to Katie's pale cheeks. "My clothes are soak­ing wet," she said. Unfortunately at that moment she became conscious that with Ramon's arms around her, his shirt was hiked up above the lace band at the leg of her underpants. Self-consciously she jerked the shirt down and pulled away from Ra­mon's supporting arms.

  "Then perhaps you would like to put that blanket I saw outside, to the use for which it was intended, and cover yourself with it."

  Ramon said something in sharp Spanish to the priest and reached out to stop Katie, but she side­stepped and stalked outside. She was humiliated, intimidated and furiously angry with herself for feeling like a naughty fifteen-year-old. That hateful, domineering old man was the priest whose approval she had to win before he would perform their mar­riage, she raged inwardly. Never, never in her life had she despised anyone more! In ten seconds he had made her feel dirty and cheap. She who was practically a virgin by today's standards!