by Ann Major
When she heard his footsteps crunching into the gravel as his long strides carried him to her, she winced even as Coco nickered encouragement.
“I believe these are yours.” Leo’s amused voice sounded dry.
She turned. When she saw a pair of red satin panties dangling from his brown fingertips, she felt her cheeks heat.
He grinned, and her body grew hotter. Irritated, she snatched her panties and stuffed them into the back pocket of her jeans.
“Okay. Waving my panties at me like a flag had to be fun. Now please go!”
“It wasn’t nearly as much fun as you were the other night.”
Without another word, she turned her back on him and led Coco inside her barn, which smelled of hay, leather, sweet feed and saddle soap. Normally such smells would have relaxed her. Not tonight, not with the clamor of Leo’s boots clanging on the concrete behind her.
Still, for the mare’s sake, she pretended she didn’t feel edgy. With steady, sure hands, she went about the business of unsaddling Coco, removing her bridle, grooming and feeding her.
Leo sat down on a pile of feed sacks and watched.
“I asked you to go.”
He didn’t budge.
When she was done and headed past him with the mare on the way to Coco’s stall, he said, “Sorry…about the panties. That was a dirty trick.”
“To say the least,” she muttered as she locked Coco inside her stall.
“If you’d answered your phone…”
She turned and glared at him. “Why are men always so arrogant? You don’t own me, you know…just because…”
He shot to his feet.
Dear God, he was tall. And powerfully built, too.
“I know that. I just wanted to talk to you. To make sense out of…”
“Maybe you should have just taken the hint.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“You could have saved me a lot of time if you’d simply called back and left a message telling me where my truck was.”
“Okay, I’m sorry about that.”
“By the time I found it, it had about several hundred dollars in parking tickets.”
“I’ll pay—”
He grinned at her. “I don’t care about the truck…or the tickets. All I care about is finding out why you won’t even talk to me.”
“I—I hope you won’t tell…any of our neighbors…or your brother…about what happened the other night.”
“Is that what you think of me?”
“Clearly I wasn’t thinking or I never would have gone to your loft that night.” She flushed again at the memory of his body tangled with hers.
“Have you had dinner?” he murmured in a deep low tone.
“No, but I don’t want to go out.”
“Tomorrow night then?”
“I wish you wouldn’t push.”
“Give it to me straight.”
“You’re a nice guy…probably.” She spoke slowly, distinctly. “But you’re not my type.”
“You could have fooled me.”
She gave a brittle little laugh and felt furious at him again. “I’m going through a rough time.”
“So am I.” The lines around his mouth deepened as he studied her.
“I want to forget that night ever happened.”
“That’s asking a lot.”
“Can we just be neighbors?”
“Why are you so dead set against me?”
“Because I’m in love with somebody else. There!”
“Hello! He dumped you.”
“I’m still in love with him, so I’ve decided it wouldn’t be fair to me or to anybody else for me to date right now. The whole time I was with you, I was pretending you were him. How does that make you feel?”
“Lousy.” He scowled down at her, his thick black brows nearly meeting over the bridge of his straight nose.
“Okay. So, now you know. I need some time—to get my head straight.”
“All right.” His eyes were bleak and dark as he turned to go.
“Leo—”
His raven head snapped around.
“I don’t remember much that happened at your place. Did we—”
“Do it?” he whispered helpfully, his good humor instantly restored by the awful memory. He grinned.
They had. At the thought, her knees turned into jelly.
“Don’t worry. You were great! Which is why I want to see you again. So, when you get your head on straight again, call me. But if you want all the delightful details, don’t delay. I might forget some of them.”
“I wish you the worst case of amnesia ever.” He grinned again. “We’ll have dinner. I’ll cook steaks. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Leo! Swear you won’t tell anybody else!”
He put his hand on his heart. “I can’t wait for you to call.”
“Don’t hold your breath. No! On second thought do!”
She turned and raced toward her house.
Twenty-Three
Awash in sunlight, the ranch chapel brimmed with sweetly smelling, south Texas wildflowers—mock bishop’s weed, daisies, dandelions, bluebonnets and purple thistles.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the preacher asked.
“I do,” Joanne replied with quiet reverence.
Her mother’s soft voice brought tears to Mia’s eyes because she couldn’t help thinking of her father, both fathers, who weren’t there.
“Wherever you are, be happy for me, Daddy,” Mia whispered under her breath, thinking of Caesar. “Or at least, please try.”
Standing beside Shanghai, she wore a white lace sundress and a wreath of wild daisies in her plaited hair. Despite the simplicity of her attire, she’d taken great pains to be beautiful for him.
Shanghai wore a black suit. It looked good on him. This was the first time she’d ever seen him not dressed in jeans.
Even though Mia hadn’t had time to do invitations, she’d called a lot of people. The chapel pews overflowed with ranch hands, family and dozens of local ranchers and their families. Near the doors at the back Gus sat with two plainclothes FBI and DEA agents, who were posing as ranchers and standing guard, in case Tavio should make an appearance.
Directly behind Mia in the front pew, Joanne and Delia were struggling to hold Vanilla still. When they could no longer contain the little whirlwind in pink satin, Shanghai winked at Joanne, and she let the toddler go. With a little cry of joy, the child erupted out of her grandmother’s arms and began to skip shyly up and down the aisle, smiling at guests she knew. Finally when she returned to the altar, she came to a standstill beside Shanghai and Cole. When she grinned up at Shanghai, he knelt and lifted her into his arms where she remained, playing peep-eye over her daddy’s shoulder with her grandmother throughout the rest of the ceremony.
When it was time to say their vows, Shanghai offered Mia his arm before they moved toward the altar. When he said the words in his deep, strong voice, Mia fought to ignore the nervous knot in her stomach.
All her life she’d dreamed of Shanghai loving her some day and marrying her. Was today a dream come true? Or was he going through the motions? Would he leave her as easily as he always had before?
Then his warm, dark hand was on hers, and she shivered when she felt him slide her wedding ring onto her finger. She clenched her hand tightly for a long moment, to make sure it was real. As if he stood a great distance from her, she heard the minister tell Shanghai he could kiss her.
Shanghai tipped her chin, and the warmth of his mouth grazed hers.
From the fifth pew Benjamin Kemble, who was ten, let out a shudder. “Yuck. Kissing.” Then his mother told him to be quiet.
Several guests laughed.
When the kiss ended, Shanghai held Mia close.
As Vanilla began to clap, Shanghai looked into Mia’s eyes so long and lingeringly, she wondered if he was searching to find his future there, too.
She smiled.
Covering her hand with his, and squeezing it hard, he smiled back.
“Mrs. Knight,” he said, his deep voice ringing forcefully in the hushed chapel.
After that, the rest of the preacher’s words floated over her. The only reality was Shanghai’s tall, dark body beside hers, their locked hands and Vanilla wriggling beside her in his arms as the child pointed out various fixtures in the church to her parents.
Maybe their marriage wouldn’t last, but she and Vanilla were safe so long as he was near, Mia thought.
Shanghai was here beside them now.
She pressed his hand.
If only…
The reception at the big house was in full swing. With the ceremony over, Mia felt lonely and a little let down as she stood apart from Shanghai but among her laughing friends and family.
There hadn’t been time to plan a fancy reception, but Sy’rai and the wives of the neighboring ranchers had prepared a feast, even if most of the food was casual. There were mountains of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy. Another table overflowed with barbecue and still another with fresh gulf seafood.
Since Mia hadn’t had time to hire a photographer, either, she’d bought disposable cameras for her guests. All her young cousins had seized them and were racing around taking pictures.
“Phone call. For Shanghai,” Sy’rai said rushing up to Mia with Shanghai’s cell phone. “Do you know where he is?”
“Over by the cake, but I’ll take it to him.”
“It’s Mr. Hart.”
Mia’s hand tightened on the cell phone. “Not now, Mr. Hart,” she wanted to say.
She was lifting the phone when William shouted to little Benjamin to go stand by Cousin Mia so he could snap their picture. When Ben hurtled recklessly up to stand beside her, he knocked the phone out of her hand.
He picked it up and flipped it shut before she could tell him not to and jammed it into her hand.
Well, so much for Mr. John Hart.
William was squinting as he peered at them through his yellow camera.
“Tell Ben not to make a bad face, Cousin Mia!” he shouted.
Benjamin was pulling at his ears and sticking his tongue out at his cousin.
“Stop that, Benjamin,” Mia said, hiding the phone behind her back so it wouldn’t show in the photograph. “How will a face like that look in my wedding album?”
“Funny!” He giggled. “Watch this! I can touch my nose with my tongue! See!”
Just as Benjamin’s tongue curved fiendishly upward, William’s flash blinded them.
“You’d better be careful, Ben, making those faces. Your face could freeze.”
He laughed. “No, it can’t!” But he sucked in his tongue before he ran off.
“Mia! It’s time to cut the cake!” Lizzy was waving at her from across the room.
Mia headed through the throng toward the table that held the cake, but slowly, for she stopped to chat frequently. On such short notice, they certainly had a huge turnout.
All the happy faces made her feel joyous that so many people she loved were here to share this special moment in her life. Oh, if only her mother could have agreed with her that Terence Collins should be invited. If it weren’t for him, she might still be in Mexico.
Mia still couldn’t get over how upset her mother had gotten when Mia had suggested calling him. Her mother had been washing a big terra-cotta pot in the sink at her greenhouse at the time.
“No! Absolutely not! I will not call that man!”
“Such passion,” Mia had teased aloud. “From you. I wonder why. You’re usually so controlled.”
Her mother’s cheeks had become blotchy and stained with flags of red. She’d set the pot down in the sink and had dashed off with the water running.
“I’ll never forgive him for writing that awful piece that could have so easily backfired and gotten you killed…. The brute didn’t even think to ask my permission.”
“He’s a journalist. And if he hadn’t written it, we might not be having a wedding. We went through so much, he and I. I like him so much.”
“I simply can’t stand the man.”
“You said he was brilliant.”
Her mother began fiddling with the stacks of gardening gloves on a shelf.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken. He’s an egotist. Besides…he smokes. But, dear, it’s your wedding. Of course, I’ll invite him—if it’s that important to you.” She threw a glove down. “I really can’t abide smoking, though.”
“I had the strongest impression that you two liked each other very much right after I came home.”
“I—I can’t imagine how you formed it,” Joanne had sputtered before she’d whirled out of the greenhouse without remembering to turn off the water.
The whole discussion had seemed false and strange. It wasn’t like her stern mother to love or hate anyone with such vehemence, especially a man she barely knew.
On the opposite side of the library, she heard Shanghai. He and Wolf and several of his rodeo buddies stood near the cake. When their eyes met, he shot her a quick, white grin that was so sheepishly endearing, she wanted nothing more than to rush across the library into his arms. For an instant the madhouse grew silent and there was only Shanghai looking at her, only her heart pounding in her ears with the hope that maybe today was the beginning of a whole lifetime of such secret, meaningful glances between them.
Just as she was about to run to him, Shanghai’s phone vibrated in her hand. She looked down and read the name, John Hart.
Carefully she flipped the phone open. “Hello. John? It’s Mia.”
“Finally.”
“It’s my wedding day. Busy day, you know.” Her voice had sharpened as it sometimes did when she spoke to him.
“Rumor has it Morales has crossed the border. Put Shanghai on.”
“We’re about to cut the cake.”
“Okay, but tell him to call me back! And fast! I’ll be in a dead area soon.”
She hissed in a breath. “All right. Whatever you say.”
She was about to hang up when he added, “If you’re smart, you’ll start cooperating with me, Mia. I’m not the bad guy, you know. Morales is. He wants to kidnap you, remember?”
She hung up.
She chewed her bottom lip. Hart had made several big seizures lately. He was supposed to be a top agent.
It didn’t matter. She didn’t trust him.
To heck with John Hart. Why should he spoil her wedding day? With a frozen smile she went to Shanghai and handed him the phone.
“Sy’rai said you left it in the kitchen.”
Shanghai kissed her rather fiercely on the lips.
“Yuck,” Benjamin yelled, and everybody laughed as if he were very witty. Thus inspired, he had to say yuck over and over.
After the laughter died, everyone gathered around to watch the bride and groom. Shanghai slipped the phone into his pocket and handed Mia the heavy, silver cake knife. Slicing into the white cake, she smiled up at him again.
His hand touched her waist. Suddenly she felt so radiantly happy to be with him, to be married to him. All her life she had dreamed of this. Cutting a small piece of cake, she lifted it to his lips. Then he did the same, placing a lush bite thick with sugary icing on the tip of her tongue.
When she licked her lips, he said, “That looks like fun,” and licked her and kissed her again.
Giggling with embarrassment, Benjamin covered his eyes and repeated his favorite Y word.
Not wanting to spoil the precious moment, Mia decided to postpone telling Shanghai about Hart’s call indefinitely.
What difference could it possibly make?
Twenty-Four
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Mia said when they drove around the bend and she saw the newly painted house Shanghai had grown up in peeping through the mesquite and oak trees.
If it weren’t nearly dusk, the white house would have gleamed.
“You totally remodeled it without telling me
.”
“I wanted to surprise you, but there’s still a lot to be done,” Shanghai said as he parked in the deep shade near the house. “Leo and Cole helped a lot.”
He yanked the knot of his tie loose and ripped it through his collar. Then he shrugged out of his jacket and laid both items on the back seat.
The wind sighed in the trees. Despite the renovations, she felt strangely uneasy. Was it bridal jitters—she’d been running on nerves all week—or the lateness of the hour, or Hart’s call about Morales that had her so spooked? She needed to tell Shanghai about Hart, but didn’t feel like facing such a conversation.
Long, purple shadows wrapped the tiny white house so that it seemed lost in the gloom.
She scanned the darkening trees. Where was Gus? As usual, he kept himself well-hidden.
“I thought the reception would never end,” Shanghai said. “I wanted to be with you here alone so much.”
“Me, too. But everybody else was having such a good time.”
“They’re all so thrilled you’re alive.”
She stared in awe at the house that a mere week of hard work had transformed. “How did you do it?”
“Why? would be a better question,” he said. “When I lived here, I was so damn determined to run from this place. I used to think it seemed evil. I can’t believe I spent all week fixing it up so we could honeymoon here. Believe me it took teams of people. And it isn’t near finished. I got all the utilities turned on. The phone people are coming on Tuesday. There was a lot to do, but the foundation and the substructure of the roof were as sound as was the plumbing.”
“We’ll have to plant flowers,” she said, seeking to dispel her alarm about all the shadows. “It’s too dark and shady under the trees. If you weren’t here, I’d be scared.”
His smile vanished as he eyed the dense trees. “Because of Tavio?”
“Don’t be jealous of him.”
“His undying passion for you makes me seethe.”
“It’s not reciprocated. I—I just blame myself for putting you and Vanilla and everybody else in danger because I was so unlucky to cross paths with him.”
“I hate that you knew him, and that everybody knows you lived with him a year. And yet I want him to come. I want to end this thing—one way or the other so you’ll never have to be afraid of him again.”
