Chance didn’t know if Rodrigo del Toro was a violent man. But he sure as hell wasn’t pleasant to be around.
“I would like that.” She leaned up and brushed her lips across his. It took more than effort than he liked to keep from sweeping her into his arms and kissing the hell out of her. But he managed to keep the brakes on. “Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow,” he called to her as she strode past Joaquin and into the house.
The big man favored Chance with another murderous glare before he turned and slammed the door in Chance’s face.
Yeah.
Man, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked this forward to a Tuesday.
Eleven
The moment the door shut, Gabriella spun on her guard. “You are out of line, Joaquin. Out of line.”
Joaquin glared at her, but he did not respond.
Gabriella could not remember being madder than she was at this precise moment. There were many times she had been upset. When her brother had been granted permission to get his own apartment in Mexico City, she’d been beyond furious. And not because he was moving out for good.
Because the announcement had been book-ended by her father’s decision that she not be allowed to go to university. For her safety, of course.
Gabriella had rebelled long and hard. She’d cut her hair off with a pair of shears, leaving her beautiful tresses on the ground and what was left on her head an uneven mess. She’d gotten tattoos all over her arms and neck. True, they’d been drawn on with pen instead of with a needle, but it had been worth it for the look of horror on her father’s face.
It had taken weeks for the drawings to wash away, years for her hair to grow back.
She’d wanted to go to university for the sake of going—for being anywhere but home. It hadn’t been that different than any other teenage girl wanting to spread her wings and fly.
Normally, when she was upset, she threatened Joaquin with small things—her cooking, shoe shopping. It was a little game they played with each other. She had long since stopped asking for things she knew she would not get and fought only the small things she could.
This was different. This was not for the sake of going. No man—with the possible exception of Joaquin himself—had ever paid this kind of attention to her. Treated her as anything more than a fine china doll to be locked in a case and gazed at on occasion.
Chance treated her like the flesh-and-blood woman she was.
She had not lied to Chance. When she was on his ranch, riding his horse, working in his shop, she felt like the woman she always wanted to be. It wasn’t that different than what she did at home. But a picnic lunch? Dinners out?
A man who made her blood sing? Who saw her first and her family name last?
She would fight for that.
“I want to be with him. Are you going to stop me?”
Joaquin flinched, his jaw set. But still he did not speak.
She heard noises overhead. She had only a matter of moments before her father or brother came down. If it was Papa, he might start questioning where she’d been, who she’d been with. She did not want to lie to him. He may have kept her wrapped up like a china doll he was afraid of dropping but she still loved him.
“Are you going to tell on me as if I’m a little girl?”
Joaquin dropped his gaze to his shoes and she knew he would. The white-hot rage that coursed through her was only tempered by a wave of sadness. She might get to see Chance for a while, but sooner or later it would come to an end.
Sooner or later, she’d be put back in her glass case, a fragile thing to be protected above all else.
“After all this time—all the years you’ve stood by my side—I thought you might want me to be happy. I thought... I thought you might work for me. Not for Papa.”
He did not correct her. In fact, he did nothing but continue to stare at the tips of his shoes.
Ah.
Her time with Chance was limited. Her path and his would not cross again once she returned to Mexico. But she would have even less time now than she’d hoped.
She might only get one more day. One more evening to feel as special, as free, as he made her feel.
She had best make the most of it.
* * *
Chance sat in his living room across from Joaquin. Upstairs, he could hear the running water in his shower.
The shower that currently contained one very nude Gabriella del Toro.
If this were any other situation, Chance wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring match with a man. He’d have shucked his own clothes and offered his services in washing her back. And her front. And all the parts in between.
To hell with dinner. They’d never make it past the top step.
And yet, here he sat. With Joaquin.
If it were any other woman, this wouldn’t be worth it.
But Gabriella was.
At least the place was clean. His home wasn’t the Ritz, but the old place suited him just fine. Three bedrooms upstairs, with a kitchen, dining room and parlor downstairs. And he’d had Lupe come in today and give it a thorough once-over. He hoped Gabriella thought it was okay.
He heard the water shut off. God, she was probably rubbing a towel all over her wet body. Then sliding into a pair of little lacy panties. Settling her full breasts into an equally lacy bra. Would she be zipping up another body-hugging skirt or maybe a pair of tight slacks?
Although he didn’t move, Chance was pretty sure Joaquin made a noise of displeasure in the back of his throat. Great.
“You know I’m not going to hurt her, right?”
Joaquin raised an eyebrow in what looked a hell of a lot like disbelief.
“And that I didn’t do a thing to her brother?”
The other eyebrow went up. Yeah, Joaquin didn’t believe a word he said.
Chance sighed. He’d have a more successful conversation with his horse. “I just want her to be happy. That’s all. That doesn’t make me the bad guy here.”
At this, Joaquin’s face—well, it didn’t crumble. Chance wasn’t sure he even moved a muscle. But he went from looking dangerous to looking...sheepish? Was that possible?
“Ready,” Gabriella called from the top of the stairs.
Chance and Joaquin stood at the same time as Gabriella made her way downstairs. She had on a cream-colored skirt with a purple top and a pair of purple shoes. The skirt cupped her bottom and flared out, while the top didn’t have sleeves. Everything clung to her like a second skin.
Yeah, if it wasn’t for the bodyguard, they wouldn’t make it out of the house tonight.
“What do you think?” Gabriella spun in a slow circle for Chance. That’s when he saw that her top also didn’t have a whole lot of fabric in the back. It was one of those halter tops that tied at the neck and left most of her back bare and begging to be touched.
Man, did he want to touch.
“Well?” She’d turned back to face him again, her smile both knowing and somehow coy.
He managed to drag his eyes away from where he could now clearly see her nipples outlined in the thin fabric. “I don’t want you to get cold.” There. That was a reasonable thing to say that didn’t sound as if he was a slobbering horn-dog teenager who couldn’t get past the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Oh! The jacket! I’ll be right back.”
Chance was treated to the view of Gabriella’s legs and backside climbing the stairs. Wow. Wow. He wanted to get to dinner. The sooner they ate, the sooner they could come back.
At least, he hoped they were coming back. When Gabriella reappeared in a matching cream-colored jacket, he was relieved to see that she didn’t have the bag of toiletries she’d packed. Good. She was coming back here tonight to get her things. The quest
ion was, how long would she stay?
More importantly, what would he do when she left?
Yeah, that was the question of the day. Of the month.
“Shall we?” He managed to get the door opened.
“Is it all right if Joaquin drives?” Gabriella’s voice was light as she said this, but Chance heard an undercurrent of tension.
Was she nervous about dinner? He’d called ahead and reserved two tables, including the most private table in the restaurant, one tucked back in a little nook. He was lucky that Valentine’s Day had passed. There was no way he would have gotten that table on such short notice before that.
If Joaquin drove, they’d have to bring him home, right? He could only hope the big man wouldn’t make him walk the fifteen miles. “That’s fine.” He held the back door of the big SUV open for her as Joaquin clomped around to the driver’s side door. Then, once Gabriella had slid in, he climbed in after her.
And was thrilled to find that she hadn’t scooted all the way over to the other side. Instead she sat right in the middle—close enough to touch.
So he shut the door, buckled up and touched. He draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tighter against him.
She sighed, her body molding itself to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and then placed her left hand on his thigh. It wasn’t an overt come-on, but the feeling of her curled into him was more than enough to drive him to distraction.
Even though he was not, in fact, driving, he still had to make sure they got to where they were going. So, with Gabriella holding on to him as tightly as he was holding on to her, he gave Joaquin directions to Claire’s.
The whole time, he kept wondering how much longer he’d have. How much longer until Alex started feeling better? Until they caught the bastards that had kidnapped him in the first place? Until the entire del Toro family packed up and went south of the border?
How much longer would he have to look forward to saddling up with Gabriella and riding the range? To finding her all smudged and happy from another day spent at the furnace in Slim’s shop? To seeing her get all dressed up for a night out on the town?
He laced his fingers with hers. Her hands weren’t the babied softness of a woman who was afraid of work, afraid of messing up her manicure. They were clean but she had calluses on the sides of her fingers and a few small scars on the back where she’d probably caught a piece of hot metal at some point.
God, he hoped he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.
They arrived at Claire’s right at six-thirty. Chance didn’t wait to see if Joaquin would open the door for them. He didn’t think it’d go over real well if he started treating the big man like a chauffeur. So he hopped out and held out a hand for Gabriella.
He didn’t let go of her once she’d gotten her feet under her, either. He was tired of pretending he wasn’t interested in her. The little “conversation” in the front seat of his truck last night made pretending pointless.
“Hello, Mr. McDaniel.” The hostess gave them a polite smile and added, “This way, please,” before anyone could say anything else.
Gabriella’s hand tightened around his as they walked into the restaurant. “You called ahead?”
“I’m not leaving anything to chance tonight.” That included condoms. Hell, he didn’t know if they’d get to that point—or how—but after the way she’d straddled him last night?
She shot him a red-hot smile. “Good thinking.”
Oh, yeah.
The place wasn’t packed but it wasn’t empty, either. Chance saw Ryan Grant sitting with a beautiful redhead. It wasn’t until he waved and Ryan waved back that the woman turned—and he recognized Piper Kindred.
“Friends?” Gabriella asked, her grip tightening on his.
“Yup.” Obviously, Ryan and Piper were here on a date. Just like Chance and Gabriella.
So Chance tipped his hat to Ryan and Piper and led Gabriella away and back to the secluded table.
“Enjoy,” their hostess said.
She motioned Joaquin to a small table on the other side of the aisle. The big man could keep an eye on them—and the rest of the restaurant—but he wasn’t at their table. That’s all Chance wanted.
Well, it wasn’t all he wanted.
But it was what he would take for at the moment.
* * *
Gabriella settled into the chair that Chance held for her and focused on breathing. She couldn’t even see the couple that Chance had recognized earlier. She had no way of knowing if they were talking about him—or her. But the greetings had seemed friendly and neither the man nor the woman had given her the kind of look that she’d gotten last night at the club—the vicious, gleeful kind of look that went with gossip.
“Wine?” Chance asked, looking over the list.
“Yes, please.” He seemed more relaxed here than he had at the club last night. She needed to be the same.
She wanted to be the same. Alex had managed to keep Papa busy this morning. She had come up with every single menial errand and task that Joaquin could do for her to keep him too busy to have a private word with Papa. But she knew she couldn’t do that all day, every day. Sooner or later, Joaquin would provide a status update to Papa and her time with Chance would end.
So she had to make the most of tonight. She would make the most of it.
But first, wine.
They ordered—he got the prime rib, she ordered the black and blue steak salad with a bottle of Shiraz to share. She was trying not to look at Joaquin. She wanted this illusion of freedom, didn’t she? She wanted this taste of a life outside of her father’s control.
She wanted Chance.
Judging from the way his jaw had dropped when she’d first walked down the stairs in her slinkiest top, he wanted her, too.
That was what she needed to focus on. Not the roiling nerves that had her stomach in a state of distress and not whatever anyone else in the restaurant may or may not be saying about her and Chance.
Just the way he’d looked at her, as if she was the only woman in the world. As if he’d wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her right back up to that big bed in his room—because of course she’d peeked in and looked at how big his bed was. More than big enough for two people. The coverlet was a quilt done in blues and whites—old-fashioned, yes, but well loved and well taken care of. It had seemed perfectly in place in his home.
She wanted to get back to that bed tonight.
She glanced up at Chance and found him staring at her. “Yes?”
“You look amazing tonight.”
She felt the heat of the blush rush to her cheeks, but she didn’t try to distract from it with a soft platitude. Instead she let the smile take hold of her lips. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward. “Do you know how much longer you’re going to be in Royal?”
“Until Alex has been cleared by his doctors and the police to return.” Of course, Alex would have to actually meet with the doctors and officers to be cleared for travel—something he seemed in no great hurry to do.
“So you don’t know when you’re going to leave.” It didn’t quite sound like a question—more like a rumination.
“No.”
“And you’ll go back to your estate near Mexico City?”
“Yes.” Why was he asking about her travel plans?
“Do you ever leave the estate? Do you travel?”
She regarded him for a moment. “I go into the city for gallery openings. That occurs once or twice a year.”
“How about visitors? Do you ever have visitors at the estate?”
Gabriella couldn’t help herself. She glanced at Joaquin, who was staring at both of them, as was expected. “Why do you ask?”
Chance looked down at his hands. He’d st
arted rubbing his knuckles, as if he were looking for a fight.
Or as if he were nervous.
“It’s just that...” He cleared his throat and reached his hand halfway across the table, waiting for her to place her hand in his. “Please, Gabriella.”
He was nervous. That had the direct effect of making her nervous.
But she couldn’t resist the pull of his hand. She let the tips of her fingers skim over his palm before they locked hands together.
“I haven’t had a serious relationship in a while. I mean, yeah, I was dating Cara Windsor, but that was more because we were friends who got on well. I couldn’t see her making a place for herself out on the ranch. She didn’t like riding and was more than a little afraid of Slim.”
“Why are you telling me this?” She did not wish to speak of old girlfriends. She may not have a great deal of dating experience, but she was reasonably sure that this was the wrong way to seduce someone.
“Because after Cara left me for Alex, I told myself I was done. There weren’t too many women left in Royal who’d cotton to my way of living. I get up before dawn in the summer and don’t sit back down until the sun sets. I smell like horse and cow and dirt for most of the day.”
He was pouring his heart out, of that much she was certain. But... “What does ‘cotton’ mean?” She felt dumb for asking, but she recalled Slim saying that about his given name and she hadn’t yet figured out what it meant.
The grin that he gave her put her at ease. He didn’t think she was dumb for asking. “Take to. Like. No one else in this town cares to live the kind of life I live. Cara is a wonderful woman, but that’s not the kind of life she wanted and we both knew it. She was happier with your brother. That was the life she wanted and I accepted that.”
She flinched. She couldn’t help it. Talking about Alex would mean that she would either have to lie to Chance or betray her brother’s confidences, and she did not want to do either of those things. “I do not wish to speak of him. Not now.”
He nodded in agreement. “I don’t, either. I want you to understand. After Cara and I were done, I’d...I’d given up hoping that there was a woman in this world who would fit in mine.”
What a Rancher Wants Page 12
