"I suppose . . ." She used to think that security was the most important thing. So what was wrong with her?
He slapped his knee. "Enough about me. What about you, Tory? What have you been doing since we last met?"
"Just working."
"At your shop?"
"The shop was my mother's, you know. I just inherited it."
"Like you inherited the debts? I'm assuming those are all paid off now. How's business?"
"Matter of fact, I'm in the process of selling it."
"Selling the shop? Why?"
She lifted her blue eyes imploringly. Would she be able to make Dodge understand? He, of all people, should. "Because I realized the shop wasn't for me anymore. It was never mine from the beginning. It was my mother's idea, her project, her life. Not mine."
He looked at her with a puzzled expression. "I'm not sure I understand. It's a business, and a good one. Most people would give their eye teeth for something like that."
"I know." She sighed. He did not understand her. Why did she think he would? "But I'm not a retailer. After Mama died last year, I tried to carry on, but it's been a disaster. Without Megan, my manager, I would have been bankrupt long ago."
He shook his head. "I thought you liked it?"
"I tried to like it. I wanted to. After all, that was the normal thing to do. But I've discovered that it just holds me down. A business is too confining for me. I want to be freer, I guess. Surely you, of all people, understand that, Dodge."
He ran a large hand through his unruly hair, messing it even more. When he didn't answer, she continued trying to explain. "So I've decided to sell the business to Megan. That's a safe bet, you know. She loves that shop, and actually, she'll do a better job of running it than I did."
"I see." He ambled around the pool, pausing to gulp the beer, then continuing to walk. "What are you going to do with yourself after you sell?"
"I don't know. Haven't decided yet. I thought" —she chuckled self-consciously and followed him —"I thought that it might be interesting to invest some of my money into a capitalistic venture. Like maybe . . . gold mining."
He looked up quickly, then away. "Yeah, well, I don't know how profitable those are."
"If you trust the company, it isn't so risky."
"I don't know of any around that can be trusted."
"Perhaps you're interested in forming another Sun Seekers Mining Company, Dodge."
"Naw. Too busy."
"Too busy writing articles and—"
"Too busy putting down roots."
"Oh." She sighed deeply. "Well, I know this all sounds sort of bizarre and unconventional."
"For you, Tory, it does. It doesn't sound like you at all."
She confronted him. "Does it sound like something Sharkey Carsen's daughter might do?"
He glared at her, his mouth working silently beneath that wonderful shaggy mustache. "Yes, maybe it does."
"Then what's wrong with it?"
"Nothing . . ." There was another moment of tense silence.
Then she spoke in a strained voice. "This whole thing is really crazy, Dodge. Seems like you've been busy buying property and putting down roots. And I've been busy selling everything I own and pulling up roots."
"Looks like we've both been busy changing."
"Yes, I think so." She turned and walked slowly back inside, placing her glass on a kitchen counter.
He followed her, saying nothing.
She halted before her bag in the foyer. Inside her chest was a knot that threatened to choke her. Things were not right here, not the same, not what she expected. And obviously, not what Dodge expected. All Tory could think of was that she did not belong in this house.
Dodge stopped in the doorway, almost filling the space with his large frame. "I'm still the same, Tory. Just in different surroundings."
"No, Dodge, you're different. I don't know what happened to us. Maybe we're both different. But I don't think this is right. I don't belong here."
"Don't you see, Tory? I did all this for you."
She clutched her bosom. "For me? Why—"
"Because you wanted a place of your own. And roots. And because ... I love you. I want you here. With me. I want you to love it here, too."
She gasped and for a moment she couldn't move. Slowly, she turned around.
His expression was filled with love. "I could never say it before. I was scared of what it would mean, how it would change everything for both of us. But I found that my love for you would not go away. So I tried to become what I thought you wanted in a man."
"But, Dodge, I never wanted anyone but you. Just the way you were. I fell in love with Dodge Callahan, the rough and ready cowboy, the sun seeker."
"I thought you wanted someone steady, someone who could offer security and roots because that's what you never had."
"So that's why you bought this house instead of a cruise around the world? And traded the Blazer for a sedan?"
He shrugged and laughed. "I never really considered a cruise. I'm not a sailor. I'm a . . . gold digger."
She turned away. "I suppose unconsciously I tried to become what I thought you wanted in a woman. Someone who could ride into the mountains with the best of them."
He took one hand, turned her around. "I fell in love with a classy woman with the longest legs in the world and the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. Especially when I made love to her. And I don't give a damn about how well you ride a mule into the mountains. Now, after seeing you again, I love you even more."
"Dodge . . ."
There was no more hesitation. She flew into his arms, and he lifted her off her feet. She squeezed him tightly, as if to make sure they never let go. And he held her securely, pressing their bodies and hearts together. For a wildly happy moment, Tory thought she might cry and buried her face against his neck. "Dodge, oh, Dodge, what have we done?"
His lips caressed her bare neck. "We almost lost something very, very wonderful between us."
She leaned her head back and allowed his kisses to trail around her neck, to the sensitive areas of her skin. "I missed you, missed what you do to me." He loosened his hold on her, and she slid sensuously down his unyielding body, down just far enough for their lips to meet. Then, lips still locking, he slowly lowered her further until her feet touched the floor.
His kiss practically took her breath away, a reminder of what they'd missed, a preview of things to come. It was wonderful and wild, and she could hardly believe they'd held back all this time. All the love they had stored away and held dormant in their hearts flowed to the surface. And bubbled over.
When they finally came up for air, he looked slightly dazed. "God, I thought I'd never get to see you again, or kiss you like that."
She took a deep breath. "Wow, what we've missed."
"And we nearly ruined everything by changing."
"Don't ever change, Dodge. I love you, Dodge —just the way you are."
His kiss smothered her lips as he lifted her up in his strong arms. "Tory, my darlin' lil' fancy pants, I love everything about you. Every inch, even your fancy pants."
"Show me."
He chuckled throatily as he whisked her into his bedroom. "Thank God you haven't lost your loving spirit, Tory Talbot!"
"Thank God you haven't lost your desire for me, Dodge Callahan."
"Never, my love." He dropped her on the bed and began stripping off his shirt and jeans. His feverish hands couldn't work fast enough.
She wriggled out of her jeans and silk blouse and waited impatiently for him.
They came together, nude and ready for love, holding each other close for a long time.
"I thought I'd never get to hold you again, Tory. Never get to touch you . . ." He bent to kiss her again.
Tory's joyous laughter danced through the rambling house, beneath the evergreen tree and up the spacious fireplace in the living room, out onto the brick patio and around the tiled pool.
Then the house was quiet, s
ave for low murmurs of love. Brief, sexy words punctuated the hush. They came together and merged with a clashing of cymbals, a ringing of bells, a pounding of drums. The world celebrated while they made love.
Tears of joy fell from her beautiful blue eyes. "You're crying?"
"It's all right. I just love you so much. Hold me, and never let go."
"You will always be here, near my heart." And he held her close, just the way she wanted.
Later, much later. . .
"Tory, I want you to be my wife."
"Is that a proposal?" She laughed aloud. "Oh, I get it! A professor working toward tenure can't have a live-in lover."
"It has nothing to do with tenure," he objected gruffly. "A man who loves and desires only one woman in the entire world wants to make doubly sure of the commitment. And I know for sure, Tory, I want you forever."
She ran her fingers through his hair, tousling it even more. "I love it when you insist on having your way."
He kissed the soft throbbing spot on her neck. "I hope my way is your way."
"This time it is," she murmured. "I think we're more alike than either of us was ever willing to admit. Actually, I like the idea of putting down roots in this house."
"You do?"
"Of course. It's a lovely house, as houses go. But I honestly can't believe you'll be willing to give up completely on finding the mother lode."
"I would do it for you."
"Oh, Dodge, I won't let you!" She raised up on one elbow. "The way I see it, you're a sun seeker by choice, but I come by it naturally. I have the blood of Sharkey Carsen in my veins, and my legacy calls me to the mountains in search of that glimmer of sun caught in the rocks. We were successful once, and I'll bet we can do it again. I'm willing to take a chance on a couple of gold mines that show promise. Together we could find Callahan's gold this time."
He threw his head back and laughed. "Callahan's gold, huh? Sounds good to me."
"We could try."
"We could," he agreed. "But no promises on the gold. The only promise I can make is that I love you, Tory, with all my heart and soul. I love you now and forever." He sealed the pledge with a kiss.
She snuggled into the cradle of his arms, content in the knowledge that she would be here, with Dodge . . . and they would make love forever.
The End
Read an excerpt from another adventure by Mary Tate Engels:
Rogue Diamond
Prologue
Email from Hermosillo, Mexico
To: Carol W
From: Alex J
Subject: baby girl
Hi Carol,
I just had a baby tonight! No, I haven't been keeping a secret from you. Actually, my housekeeper gave birth, but I almost feel as if I did. Anyway, I'm exhausted and exhilarated and far too excited to sleep right now. If the Mexican telephone system were more reliable, I'd call you, even though it's past midnight.
When the university sent Teresa to be my housekeeper a few months ago, no one knew she was pregnant. By the time I found out, I didn't have the heart to dismiss her. She's a good worker and needs the job desperately because she doesn't have a husband. She talks about going back to the States with me as if it were paradise. I've been so busy with my own job that I didn't give a second thought to how and where she would have this baby, just assuming she would go to the hospital. Imagine my surprise this afternoon when she asked me to send for the midwife. She was quite calm. I was a nervous wreck!
I'm sure I was slightly incoherent. I only remember saying "Don't you dare have that baby here, Teresa! You go to the hospital where you belong!" She just smiled and said, "No, senorita, in my room. Don't worry. Please call Consuela."
And sure enough, with Consuela attending, she had a baby girl! We sweated through ten hours of labor. I guess that's not too bad for a first baby. My God, Carol, Teresa is only a child herself, only eighteen! I tried to remember what the speaker from the Lamaze Method said, but it escaped me. I chanted things like "Breathe deeply," and "Try to relax," which, I'm sure, weren't highly appreciated at the time. My biggest contributions were to keep cool towels on her head and let her squeeze the hell out of my hand. By the time the baby's head appeared, we were all crying and laughing at the same time!
I will never, ever, forget the sound of her first squeaky cry! There are no words to describe what I was feeling at that moment.
Mother and daughter are doing fine. Consuela has completed her duty successfully. But la gringa assistant is going to have a tall glass of wine! Little did I realize when I accepted this Mexican assignment that I would become so involved in . . . life. Tonight, I've witnessed the awesome beginning!
A new Godmother, Alex
P.S. The baby's name is Jennifer Teresa Alexis Portillo, which is about as big as she is and she's absolutely beautiful.
CHAPTER ONE
A million times after the accident, Alexis reconstructed the scene in her mind and attempted to place everyone and everything in the correct sequence of events. But it did no good. She couldn't visualize the moment of Jenni's disappearance.
She recalled every detail except the crucial one.
The sultry air was redolent with scents typical of a Mexican marketplace. Charcoal grills with corn on the cob, fajitas, and barbecued beef, only added to the steamy street. The strong aroma of garlic clashed with the perfumed fragrance of flowers. She walked past crates of live chickens and turned her nose away from the pungent odor of damp feathers. And the air smelled like rain. It was unseasonably hot and humid for April.
She remembered the noise that day. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual medley of sounds—the lilting Spanish phrases of vendors hawking their wares, children giggling, the occasional braying of a bored donkey.
Alex touched Teresa's shoulder in order to get her attention. "I wish it would rain enough to cool things down, but not tonight. I want this party to be perfect."
"Sí, senorita." Teresa grinned and shrugged. "So what can we do about it? If it rains, it rains. Do you want mangos for the fruit tray?"
Alex envied Teresa's nonchalant attitude. "Mangos? Ah, yes! My consuming passion! Be sure to get enough for all the guests."
"I'll get them." Teresa began to sort through the yellowish orbs and Alex watched, holding little Jenni's small hand tightly.
She heard the whining of tires but had no time to think, to react to the car that headed straight for them! She screamed at Teresa and tried to shield Jenni.
Jenni! Would she ever see the child again?
A green, partially rusted car appeared out of nowhere and rammed people and wagons in the open-air marketplace. The vehicle finally stopped when it crashed into a light post. The disaster replayed again and again in Alex's mind, sometimes in slow motion. She could see the events as they happened, the events that changed the direction of her life forever.
The light post toppled slowly against a building, and it lay like a matchstick that had been carelessly dropped amid a miniature Mexican street scene. Display wagons loaded with colorful fruits, vegetables, and flowers, fell like dominoes one on top of another, scattering their contents everywhere.
Vibrant colors flashed through Alex's mind—yellow and orange and red flying in all directions. Then along came the green object of destruction. It all happened so fast: the green car fishtailing toward them, then the cacophony. The screams of fright, perhaps of pain. The braying of donkeys, the yelping of dogs. Rapid chattering of Spanish, all filling the chaotic Mexican marketplace, echoing in her head.
There was a moment of nothing, a blank spot in her memory. Alex later realized she must have blacked out for a brief moment. She lay sprawled on the sidewalk, gathering her senses. What happened?
She struggled to a sitting position and her eyes fell on Teresa. That's when the inner panic flushed through every inch of her, coursing like hot liquid fire, threatening to explode in a frenzy of screaming terror.
Oblivious to her own scraped knees and elbows, Alex scramble
d wildly over oranges and mangos to reach Teresa's still form. The young Mexican woman lay with her head nestled tranquilly against an adobe brick building, her eyes closed, and her body slack.
Alex's head reeled. They'd been walking along the street, laughing and talking, selecting mangos for the party. What seemed so crucial moments ago now seemed ludicrous. It was like a horror movie, one you never believed because it just couldn't happen that way, certainly not to you. Yet here they were, Teresa unconscious with Alex hovering nearby, trying to retain some sense of control over her wildly racing emotions.
Teresa moaned and rolled her head away from the crumbling adobe brick. Her eyes remained closed, as if she were asleep. And yet, her usually tanned face had an unnatural pallor. A lump the size of an egg marred the young woman's forehead, and was already turning deep blue-purple. For all the destruction and obvious harm, there was no blood. Teresa just looked like she was . . . asleep.
There was a moment of unnatural quiet while Alex tried to decide what to do. She wanted to scream, to cry, to shake Teresa awake. But she refrained, knowing instinctively none of that would help. Panic grew inside Alex, fueled by pumping adrenaline and revealed in her shaking hands which cradled and caressed Teresa's face. She was careful not to move her but yearned to wake Teresa and force those eyes open, to shake some life into her.
"Teresa . . . oh, my God, Teresa!" Alex's voice was oddly high-pitched and shaky. "Teresa, can you hear me? Wake up! Please, talk to me! Teresa! Everything's going to be all right. We'll get help."
She looked around frantically and later recalled the circle of stricken faces, all dark-skinned and dark-eyed. Before she could make an appeal for help, a man reluctantly shuffled forward from the crowd.
"How is she, seňorita?" he asked in Spanish.
"She needs help. Call an ambulance," Alex ordered, also speaking in Spanish. Something clicked inside and she was filled with a sense of pseudo composure. Suddenly, her voice was sure and strong. She knew that Teresa needed help, not hysteria. That much was obvious and clear in her mind. "Quickly!"
Callahan's Gold (Southwest Desert Series Book 3) Page 20
