Melinda tapped her fingers on the table. “Well. Again, generally speaking, watch what the other person does. If they have a tendency to give gifts, that might be their language. If they tell people of their appreciation for them, then words of affirmation might be their language. Or, in the case of my Andreas, and frankly I think in all my boys, if they like to hug or tend to clap each other on the shoulder in approval or appreciation, physical touch may top their list. It works not only with spouses, but in all relationships. With siblings, parents to children and between friends.”
Gwen chewed over that as thoroughly as she did the rest of her sandwich, realizing she’d gone from feigned interest to consideration over the course of the conversation. She looked over at Annie who was transferring potato salad from one container to a fancier one for the guests. “So, Annie, does that mean yours is acts of service?”
Annie let out a belly laugh. “Heavens no. That just happens to be my job. One I excel at I might add.”
Melinda and Gwen shared a grin. “Behind Annie’s need to order us about, she’s an affectionate one, aren’t you, Annie?”
Annie paused at Melinda’s question. “Maybe.”
Gwen almost let out a chuckle, seeing where her boss was going. “So tell us, Annie. What would you rather have from Bob? A gift or a hug? For him to wash your car or tell you that he loves you? Or how about spending some quality time together?”
Annie turned to face them, arms crossed over her ample chest. “All right, all right. The hug. A massage.
Physical touch. That’s my love language.”
Chin in her hands, Gwen smiled over at the
housekeeper. “That’s lovely.”
Melinda, eyes twinkling with mischief, added, “You naughty girl. Always wanting sex.”
Annie’s face reddened all the way to the roots of her gray hair, but the amused glow in her own eyes belied any embarrassment. “Simply holding hands will do. And now this naughty girl has some guests to feed.” With that parting remark, she picked up the large tray of sandwiches and marched out the swinging double doors that divided the kitchen from the dining room.
Chapter Eight
Dennis left after lunch. When Gwen had entered the crop shop in search of him, she found him sitting on one of the cots in the lounge, eyes closed, head back against the wall with an expression of pain across his face. Her advice to go home, get some rest and heal had been met with a fierce scowl and a male arrogant reply that he was just fine, thank you very much. So she’d given him three options.
One, go home. Two, work in the office, or three, go out to inspect the fence. But if he choose the latter and ended up passing out or injuring himself, she would leave him there for the rain, wind and mosquitoes to torment.
So maybe the latter course of action wasn’t completely true, but something in her expression must have convinced him otherwise because he left, grudgingly, shortly after.
Dennis hated paperwork as much as she did.
Now she was making her way through the reserve on her own, only, instead of taking the right trail which would lead her to the east fence-line, her feet pointed her straight ahead and to the clearing where the old cabin sat. Not that she was hoping Rome was on guard duty or anything.
Nope. Not at all. Which meant she wasn’t bummed when Santos came into view.
Halting at the edge of the clearing, Gwen watched his retreating back, pressing her lips together to hold back a bubble of laughter. A pair of headphones covered his ears and he swung a metal detector from side to side, his shoulder-length hair held back in a dark tail, eyes focused on the ground in front of him.
“Treasure fever has struck once again.” Though her words weren’t overly loud, Santos glanced over his shoulder, his expression resigned.
“Not really.” He slid the headphones down to circle his neck. “Frankly, I figure any loot old Morgan had was used to buy this place.” He shrugged. “But we though what the hell.
Especially since we’re out here anyway until the cameras are installed.”
Gwen moved closer. “Find anything?”
Rather than a verbal answer, Santos dug into a back pocket of his jeans and pulled out...a bottle cap.
Plucking it from his hand, she looked at the faded top.
“A beer cap?
The tiniest of smiles tugged the corners of lips as sensual as Rome’s. A bit taller and broader than Rome or Porter, Santos was neverthe-less every bit as sexy and gorgeous as his siblings, but only Rome managed to make her body stand on high alert when he was near. Like a primal awareness of him as pure male and she as intrinsically female. As basic as two people can get.
“Probably from Rome or I.”
With a twitch of her own lips, Gwen handed the cap back. “Don’t tell me. You two used to sneak out here when you were young and drink beer.” That’s what her older brothers did on more than one occasion, only it was the tree house in the back yard. If they had this much space to run around in, her wild siblings would have gotten into a lot more trouble.
His grin was a little wicked and nearly took her breath away. He rarely smiled, though his eyes might light with amusement, and seeing it now she realized it was a damn shame. Grooves slashed at the sides of his mouth, transforming his features from ruggedly imposing to charming reprobate. He had an air of mystery about him, enhanced by his private nature and reserved manner, and it fascinated many of the single women who stayed at the bed-and-breakfast. Only they eyed him from afar, his brisk manner and steely gaze keeping all but the most brave at a distance. Gwen didn’t know if she pitied or envied the woman who eventually took this big boy on.
Santos flipped the cap deftly through his fingers. “We did. Until the twins found us.”
Enchanted at this peek into the Felix siblings’
childhood that so resembled her own, Gwen tuned everything else out. “Threatened to tattle?”
“Yeah. So we gave them a bottle to split.”
Of course they did. Boys. Enough said. “How old were you guys?”
He rubbed a hand across the dark stubble on his cheeks. “Guess I was sixteen, so that made the twins, what? Eleven? Twelve?’
“You gave two eleven-year-old boys alcohol?” Never would Gwen have thought the no-nonsense man she’d come to know had ever had an irrational bone in his body.
“It shut them up. Until Porter fell out of the tree and broke his arm. Then he screamed like a girl.”
“Wait. What? He was in a tree?”
“We all were.” Santos looked over and up into the thick foliage surrounding them. “All of us climbed these trees as high as we could and just hang.”
“And drink beer? When you were under-aged and twenty feet off the ground?”
He lifted one shoulder like it was no big deal. “Why not?”
Why not indeed. “Because somebody could have fallen and really hurt themselves, which Porter apparently did!”
Santos waved away that observation as if it were an annoying fly. “We didn’t even have time to hide the evidence. Dad was out here within minutes because of Porter’s squealing. ”
Gwen shifted to look back at the trail from were she’d come before turning a questioning gaze to Santos. “Your dad heard Porter crying from all the way out here?”
His eyes went dark and flat for a brief second, then he dropped them and pocketed the bottle cap. “Parent’s intuition or something. Anyway, the accident ruined things for Rome and I. We were grounded from the reserve for six months.”
“Idiots.” Gwen shook her head, oblivious she’d been neatly sidetracked. “You got off easy. I would have chained you both to your beds.”
“That’s what mom wanted to do. Instead she turned us into slave labor and we started the renovations on the house.”
“When Rome mentioned it took five years to renovate the house, I didn’t realize you did it yourselves.”
“All that physical work saved our sanity, instilled good work ethics, taught us a lot about a lot
of things, and give us a sense of pride at a job well done. It was actually very clever of our parents.” Santos looked away from Gwen, toward the trail leading to the west section of the reserve and she had the feeling he was at his social limit for the day. Given that this was by far the longest conversation she’d ever had with the enigmatic oldest brother, Gwen debated on whether she could get some information out of Santos about Rome without it appearing she was fishing, or leave the man alone so he could get back to his own treasure fishing expedition.
She toyed with the end of her braid, saying almost absently, “Hmm. Kids do have a tendency to think their parents smarter as they themselves get older.”
Lost as she was in the internal deliberation, Gwen didn’t realize how long the silence stretched out until Santos spoke, startling her with his voice. “Rome and Dad are over at the west fence-line.”
“Rome? I’m not looking for Rome. Why would I be looking for Rome?” Did she have a neon sign on her forehead or something?
Santos looked down at the controls of the metal detector, his tone as void of emotion as his profile. “I never said you were looking for him.”
“And I’m not looking for him.” Uneasy, Gwen shifted her weight from one foot to the next. “What are they doing out there anyway?”
“Checking for entrance points.” Santos slipped the headphones back on his ears.
Not quite done with the conversation, Gwen hopped over to walk along side Santos as he retraced his steps.
“Entrance points for what?”
“For whoever dug the hole.” As close as she was, she had to dodge the brawny arm that came up to point at the cabin.
“So you don’t think it was an employee?” She asked.
Santos swiveled at the edge and nearly ran her over as he started down another path. “The truth will come out.”
Yeah. Gwen sighed. It was time to go. His sentences had become shorter and sharper, a clear indication that he was done. “All right. See you later.”
Yet as she turned from him and headed east, Santos called out to her. “Where are you going?”
Gwen peered over her shoulder. “Checking the east fence-line.”
Santos pulled down the earphones and looked around as if just now realizing she was out here with him alone. “By yourself? Where’s Dennis?”
“Sent him home after lunch. He’s still not up to par, but he did work the front east-line with me.” She wasn’t going to let Santos think Dennis was slacking. The kid really did look bad.
Santos let out a soft curse and, after looking around once again said, “Hold on.” He set down the detector and headphones against the cabin and trotted over to where Gwen stood.
She frowned up at him. “What are you doing?”
“Going with you.”
“Why?”
He looked at her in amazement. “Because one, there’s a storm brewing and two, until we catch our trespassers, you’re not safe out here alone.”
While it made sense and she was more than happy to have the big guy watching over her, the comment still bristled. “You’re out here alone.”
“Do you really want me to pull out the man card?”
Her lips twitched. “Yeah, I know. You the big, tough male and I’m just a defenseless female.”
His eyes took on that steely bent, the sunshine seemingly to give them a green glow, not unlike Rome’s on Friday night in the garden. It made her think what she had seen that night wasn’t her imagination after all. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Oh really?” Gwen set a hand on her hip. “You going to tell me the whole of it?”
Santos shook his head and started out for the east section, Gwen hustling to catch up to his much longer and very fast strides. “Not now and not for me to tell.”
Well. Wasn’t that a mysterious statement from the equally bewildering brother, and Gwen did like herself a good mystery. Narrowing her eyes, she set to work, contemplating who she could make talk. Definitely not Santos. Porter, maybe. Melinda or Andreas? No. Which left Rome.
Rome. Wasn’t there a saying about all roads leading back to Rome or something? In Gwen’s case, all her thoughts arrowed back to Rome.
Talk about a mixed up mess.
Chapter Nine
Through the storm window in Gwen’s living area, lightening flashed bright enough to illuminate the turbulent waves crashing against the far-off rocky beach. Situated on a bay, the orchard was generally protected against the harsher winds from ocean storms. She could only imagine, if the storm was near hurricane proportions in this inlet, how terrible it must be lashing at the open coastline.
“One. Two. Three. Four,” she counted quietly until thunder boomed overhead. Gwen lay her forehead against the glass, unsurprised to find it warm. Lately everything felt warm to her, and she couldn’t blame it all on the late summer season. The air conditioner pumped out cool air, keeping her suite at comfortable levels, but no matter how low she put the thermostat, her body felt as if she’d been staked out under a desert sun. Too hot, too tight, and heavy.
Though she and Santos had finished the fence inspection in record time, it was all due to Santos and not Gwen, which in itself was mortifying. It was her job after all.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t concentrate for longer than five minutes and moved like the air around her was thick as molasses.
Sick? No. Horny? Oh, yeah.
Which simply sucked. She couldn’t deny she had the hots for Rome. Simply thinking about him increased her core temperature and caused a liquid pull of desire to swirl in her tummy. She was not happy, uncomfortable and downright agitated at the whole mess.
To soothe herself, she lifted her hair, slightly damp from her recent shower, and ran a hand along the midnight length. Unbound, it cascaded in a straight fall almost to her waist. Most of her siblings had inherited gorgeous, near blood-red highlights Gwen always envied, and though her own was an unrelieved black, it was thick, smooth and silky to the touch.
The repetitive motion had a calming effect, like stroking the fur of a cat. It also reminded her of Rome, and how he had run her thick braid through his enclosed hand, over and over again.
What would he think of it loose?
Aaaannd she was right back to agitated. With a soft sound of disgust, she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. She shouldn’t care what Rome thought of her hair. She shouldn’t be thinking of him. At all. Mooning over a man was not a common pastime for Gwen. She was logical and cautious, especially after the Steven debacle, and not given to feminine sighs or lost to her emotions.
Except when it came to Rome it appeared, and all her calm and cool-headedness flew out the proverbial window.
The thinking of Rome was followed by the imagining of him.
Always with the naked, sweaty and in bed fantasy. Which in turn made her feel all girly and want to sigh with feminine appreciation and longing.
“I will not be ruled by my body.” She snarked at the pale image of herself reflected in the dark window. “And I will not do anything to put my job here, which I happen to like very much, in jeopardy. Sex is not worth it.”
Mother nature responded to her vow with another jagged lightening flash, nearly blinding her with its intensity, and she counted again. “One. Two. Three.” Boom. The storm was getting closer, which was fine as it suited her current mood. Restless and broody. And while she wasn’t particular afraid of storms, she was feeling strangely alone.
Turning from the window, she bypassed the door leading to the separate bedroom, knowing sleep wouldn’t come any time soon. Maybe she could find something on TV or put in one of the movies she had at her disposal.
When a knock sounded on the main door to her room, she frowned and glanced at the clock on the DVD player situated beneath the flat screen on the entertainment center. Just after ten. Not really late, but still. She rarely had visitors and since the Merchin family had left late that afternoon, she once again had the whole second floor wing to herse
lf.
That knowledge had to be why she suddenly felt lonely.
She certainly wasn’t wishing for the company of a particular male she hadn’t seen all damn day.
Striding over to the front door, she placed her eye to the peephole – thank you Melinda for thinking of that little detail in the remodeling of the house. Her mouth opened on a silent gasp when she saw Rome on the other side.
Dammit. And there went her heart, racing at top speed. For the tiniest second she thought about ignoring the knock, pretend she was asleep or something, but that would be cowardly and she wasn’t a coward. She could handle Rome, and for that matter, she could also control her wayward lust when it came to him.
She shook her arms, bracing herself for the impact of him, which, intellectually she knew was dumb because he was just a man. But her reaction to him was far from intellectual. It was pure chemistry, with a ton of physical attraction to boot. Okay, and maybe a little emotion added to the mix. Regardless, she would guard herself against his magnetic draw.
Magnetic draw? That ridiculous thought made her mouth twitch and so when she opened the door and peeked out, her lips were curved up rather than twisted in the scowl she had on before.
“Hi.”
“Hi. I saw the light on and figured you hadn’t gone to bed yet.”
“The light?” She looked over her shoulder to the far window and back again, brows arching in disbelief. “You were out in this?’
His grin was deadly to her willpower. “Your hair is down. It’s gorgeous. Like midnight satin. And no. I saw the light from under the door.”
So he liked her hair down and had purposely come to her room. Her stupid heart skipped a beat. “Is everything okay? Nothing’s wrong with Melinda or...”
“No, no.” He waved that away. “Everyone’s fine. With the storm I knew you wouldn’t be able to have your nightly sojourn in the garden, which made me think of something.”
Gwen narrowed her eyes. Oh yeah. She bet he could think of something. So could she, and it wasn’t going to happen, no matter how much she wanted it to. “Uh huh.”
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