Within Reach

by Marilyn Pappano

  Krista’s own surge of anger chased away her shakiness. “You can’t believe I did this on purpose! I could have been killed! I guess you think I have nothing better to do with my time than follow you around and look for ways to get together with you! You flatter yourself, Contreras. I have plenty of more important things to occupy my time!”

  All through her outburst Rafael stared down at her, hearing her words but paying no attention to them. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to see if her lips were as soft as they looked, if her mouth tasted as sweet as he expected it to. He wanted to seduce her with nothing more than a kiss, and he could do it. He knew he could….

  Not Art McLaren’s daughter, he reminded himself. She reminds you of Rebecca. She has blond hair and blue eyes, and she’s McLaren’s daughter.

  But the rebellious part of his mind was compelled to argue. She’s beautiful, and you want her. And she wants you. Rebecca doesn’t matter; her father doesn’t matter. Take what she’s offering. Take what you want.

  His hand was halfway to her hair before he realized it and pulled it back. This woman was dangerous. He couldn’t allow himself to seduce her. Even one brief night learning the pleasures of her body would affect the rest of his life.

  “Do you have a flashlight?” he asked abruptly.

  Reluctantly, Krista said no. If he didn’t already think she was stupid, he would now. A flashlight was a basic piece of equipment for a car, like a spare tire or a jack. Only an idiot would drive at night without one.

  It was apparent that Rafael thought so, too. “I’ll get mine,” he said grimly, striding across the scarred ground to his Bronco, which was parked on the shoulder of the road. Instead of waiting for him, Krista decided to go ahead and check the damage to her car. She almost fell into the ditch that her right wheels had slid into, but she caught herself. It was hard to see in the darkness, so she bent to take a closer look.

  “Need some help, lady?” an accented voice asked from right behind her.

  A cry of fright escaped her, and she popped up to stare at a young Mexican boy. “My God, you scared me!”

  He grinned, raising his hands in the air. “I’m not armed or nothing. I was on my way to my uncle’s house, and I saw your car. You all right, lady?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “It’s not smart to be out all by yourself this late at night, lady. Someone could hurt you.”

  “And it’s not smart to get so involved looking at pretty ladies that you don’t hear someone come up behind you,” came Rafael’s raspy voice.

  The boy was as startled as Krista had been a moment earlier. He peered closely at the man’s clothes, noting the jeans and red shirt, then relaxed. “You off duty, Contreras?” he asked cockily.

  “Yes, but I can still take you in, Eduardo. I know you don’t want that, and I’ve got enough problems tonight without adding you to the list, so do us both a favor and go home.”

  “I could walk over that hill and wait until you’re gone, then go north,” the boy boasted.

  “And I’d find out and come looking for you.” Rafael switched on the flashlight and played the beam along the side of the car.

  Krista crossed her arms over her chest and turned a skeptical look on Eduardo. “On your way to your uncle’s house?” she asked dryly.

  He laughed, shrugging his slender shoulders. “How was I supposed to know you’d be with Contreras? This your lady, Contreras?”

  Rafael stiffened imperceptibly, but neither Krista nor Eduardo noticed. “I’m not, but if it were in his power, I think he’d give me to you,” she teased. “He thinks I’m a nuisance.”

  Eduardo gave a low whistle and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close. “I’d be glad to take you off his hands, lady. I bet you and me could have some real fun together.”

  Rafael straightened at the front of the car and turned off the light. He told himself it was ridiculous to feel jealous of a sixteen-year-old boy who was holding Krista in a casual embrace, but that didn’t make the feelings go away. He issued a sharp command to Eduardo in Spanish, ordering him on his way.

  “Got to go, lady,” Eduardo said apologetically. “I been caught too many times this month. Maybe I’ll see you again.”

  Krista gave him her prettiest smile. “Maybe so, Eduardo. Be careful.”

  They watched the boy until he disappeared in the darkness; then Rafael said flatly, “Your radiator is busted, and the left front tire is flat.”

  “Oh.” She smiled brightly. “Then I’ll have to ask you to drive me home, won’t I?” Even in the moonlight she could see his face settle into stern, uncompromising lines. “Come on, Rafael, surely not even you would leave me out here alone.”

  No, he couldn’t do that. The next person who happened along might not be as friendly as Eduardo. “Get your things.”

  Krista tried not to look too triumphant as she reached inside the car for her purse, but she was elated by the chance to spend more time alone with him.

  She shouldn’t have been. He stopped in town to call a tow truck, giving the man the precise location of the car; then he headed the Bronco out of town, never speaking. As they approached the Blue Parrot on the north edge of town Krista broke the silence. “Feel like stopping for a drink? My treat—as thanks for your help.”

  “No.” He didn’t want a drink; he simply wanted to get away from her. Every moment he spent with her weakened his resolve to have nothing more to do with her.

  There was no further conversation until he stopped the Bronco in front of the lovely old house. “Thanks,” she said.

  He stared straight ahead, giving no sign of hearing her.

  Krista sighed wearily. “You’re never going to give me a break, are you?” She got out of the truck. “I’m sorry about the accident, I hope you’re all right, and I’m sorry I put you out by needing a ride home. Thanks a lot and good night.”

  Chapter 3

  She was going to forget him. That was simply all there was to it. For some reason Rafael Contreras had decided he didn’t like her. He obviously wanted nothing to do with her and, after all, she did have her pride. She didn’t need him for a friend or anything else. Rafael Contreras was nothing special.

  Oh, but he was special. Krista had never met a man who interested her the way he did. Until now. What a man to fall for.

  Without conceit she could easily name a dozen men in New York who would be happy if she showed the slightest interest in them. But not this one. Not strong, silent Rafael Contreras. He would be quite happy, she suspected, if she left town and he never saw her again, and that nagged at her.

  Who the hell was he, to brush her off as unimportant? He hadn’t even given her a chance before deciding that she wasn’t worthy of his attention.

  Krista rubbed at her temples to ease the headache trying to start there. She had slept poorly the night before—with her doors locked, because her father’s guests had spent the night. Sometime around two o’clock, while she tossed sleeplessly in bed, trying to force one handsome Mexican from her mind, the ever-friendly Mr. Baker had tried the door, softly calling her name several times before he gave up and returned to his own room.

  After a few hours of restless sleep she’d gone downstairs to breakfast, only to find the man in the chair next to hers. While he carried on a casual conversation with her father and Mr. Smith, he continued to ogle Krista, making frequent references to the next time he’d see her and how he hoped they’d get better acquainted. Over her dead body, she thought crossly.

  As soon as breakfast was over the guests left, and Krista was subjected to a lecture from Art for leaving early the night before. Then she received a call from the garage with an estimate on her car that made her bite her tongue in shock even as she authorized the work. That was followed by more thoughts of Rafael and arguments with herself over her course of action regarding him.

  All in all, she thought as the radio announcer proclaimed the time to be twelve-thirty, it hadn’t been a good day so far.

&nb
sp; Royce Ann Stone was never on time for anything; she was either early or late but never on time. She arrived for their one-o’clock lunch date at twelve thirty-five, providing a much-needed diversion for Krista. “I swear, Krista, you look like death warmed over,” the woman said in greeting. “I heard about your accident. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Krista reassured her, then casually asked, “How did you hear? I haven’t told anyone.”

  Royce Ann pushed her raven-black hair over her shoulder. “Nueva Vida is a small town. News spreads fast. Everyone knows that Krista McLaren’s Mustang was towed in last night and that Rafe Contreras called the tow truck, but no one knows what happened. Care to make me the first?”

  With some embarrassment Krista told her about the illegal, dangerous and very stupid U-turn that had caused her wreck.

  “So…was he any nicer?” Royce Ann asked; then she laughed. “Nice. What a word to use in reference to Rafe Contreras. I imagine ‘nice’ for him is not biting your head off.”

  They were in the workroom upstairs, Krista working and Royce Ann watching from a comfortable chair opposite her. “Rafael is different,” Krista said softly, her scissors still. “He’s not like any of the men I’ve known.”

  “Is that any reason to decide you’ve got to have him? He’s just a man, Krista. Surely he can’t compare to the men you date in New York. There’s that Frenchman, and the Italian count, and the baseball player, and the actor—all gorgeous and sexy and rich. How could you even consider a man who works for the border control, who probably doesn’t make more than a few thousand dollars a year more than Jim? And believe me, that’s not a lot. A man who doesn’t like people, who’s not even—” She stopped suddenly, and color suffused her cheeks.

  Krista knew as surely as she knew her own name what Royce Ann had started to say. “It bothers you that he’s Mexican, doesn’t it?” she asked, solemn but not accusing.

  Royce Ann’s blush deepened. “I—I…it’s not that he’s Mexican…Well, maybe it is. You know, Jim spends so much time picking up illegals and shipping them back to Mexico, and sometimes they’re armed, and they fight, and they come right back, and they create so much trouble. Yes, I guess I have become a bit prejudiced.”

  “The problem’s with the system, Royce Ann, and with the Mexican government. I know Jim’s job isn’t the easiest, and he deals with some bad people, but that’s no reason to dislike all Mexicans, is it? There are a lot of bad Americans, too. Besides, Mexican or not, Rafael’s on Jim’s side; he’s working with him, not against him.”

  Royce Ann shrugged apologetically. “No one ever said prejudices were rationally based.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter much, does it? He obviously isn’t interested in me. I guess I’ll just have to find someone I do impress.”

  “The offer to set you up with some of Jim’s buddies still stands. Darren’s really nice, and he’s cute, and I think you’d like him.” Suddenly Royce Ann’s blue eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Who is he to decide that you’re not impressive? How can you let some man treat you like that, Krista?” she asked indignantly. “Doesn’t he know how lucky he is that you’ve even bothered to look at him? Doesn’t he know that you’ve dated actors and counts and Mike Davis?”

  Krista laughed as she began clearing her work table. “Somehow I don’t think Rafael is a baseball fan. I doubt he has any idea who Mike Davis is and couldn’t care less. Come on, Juana should be serving lunch in a few minutes.”

  The table was set in a glass-walled, air-conditioned sitting room that offered a spectacular view of the desert and distant mountains. Royce Ann sprawled in one of two wicker chairs, looking out. “I hate the desert, and I hate the heat,” she said flatly. “If Jim had to go into government service, I wish it had been the navy or the marines—someone who knows the meaning of the word ‘transfer.”’

  Krista sat down across from her after filling their glasses with iced tea. “If he’d joined the marines they’d probably have sent him to Yuma. The navy would’ve sent him to El Centro.”

  Royce Ann grimaced at the mention of the two towns, both small and both in the desert. “Yeah, but they wouldn’t keep him there indefinitely. We’ll never get out of Nueva Vida.”

  Drawing her fingertip down the side of her glass, Krista dislodged the drops of condensation, and they formed a tiny rivulet. “I like the desert,” she remarked dreamily. “It’s so strong…and quiet…and mysterious. It endures. Whatever happens, it will be here.”

  Royce Ann stared at her, her glass halfway to her lips. Was her friend talking about the desert—or Rafe Contreras? Contrary to Krista’s claims that she would find someone other than Contreras to practice her charms on, Royce Ann was certain in that moment that she would never be convinced to date anyone else in Nueva Vida. Krista had fallen hard for the man least likely to return her affection.

  “Have I sprouted horns? Turned purple?”

  The questions jolted Royce Ann out of her thoughts. “What?”

  “You were staring at me as if you’d never seen me before. Do you find it that hard to believe that someone actually likes living out here?”

  “Oh…well…it is odd. It’s pretty when the flowers bloom, but the rest of the year it’s always the same. Hot and dry.”

  “If you hate it so much, you could always move away,” Krista quietly stated.

  “But Jim’s job—”

  “Jim doesn’t have to go.” Her expression was slightly pained. She was remembering the day her lovely, beautiful mother had left because she couldn’t stand the desert, the house or “that clinging brat” any longer. For a time the child that Krista had been had hated the desert and the house, and she had hated herself for making her mother leave. It had taken years for her to let go of her guilt, to realize that no one was responsible for Selena’s actions except Selena herself.

  Krista knew what Royce Ann’s response to her suggestion would be: shock that any woman could possibly care more about where she lived than whom she lived with. She was staring at Krista in disbelief. “You mean leave Jim? I couldn’t do that. I love him! I’d live in the middle of the Sahara if that was where he was!”

  She smiled. “So the desert isn’t so bad as long as you’re with him. You know, Royce Ann, I think you just like to complain. That’s all it is, just a desire to complain about something.”

  The black-haired woman’s defense was stalled by Juana’s entrance with their lunch. By the time they finished eating she had forgotten what had been said, and Krista was spared any further thoughts on the subject.

  Three days had gone by with no sign of Krista McLaren. Maybe she’d already lost interest. She undoubtedly wasn’t used to being refused anything. She’d probably found someone else in town who would willingly offer the attention and the worship that Rafael had withheld.

  The suggestion both relieved and irritated him. He was relieved because he didn’t know how much longer he could have kept her at a distance. When he wanted something as badly as he wanted her, it was hard to listen to his mind when it said no. His mind wasn’t the part of him that ached to possess her.

  He was irritated for the same reason. When he wanted her that badly, the idea of her being with another man wasn’t a pleasant one. His mind knew it was best she hadn’t come around, but his heart and his body wanted what was best for them.

  Rafael stretched his legs out in front of him. It was a clear, still night, and he often found himself sitting on the porch steps on nights like this, when it was easy to think, but this evening the night’s magic was gone. For a week now it had been gone—since meeting Krista McLaren.

  The progression of his thoughts was natural, from Krista to another blonde with blue eyes. Rebecca Halderman. He had loved her with all the passion and intensity that a young man could possess, and she had hurt him as deeply as a young man could be hurt. She had broken his heart, destroyed his faith in women, ruined his sister’s life and damn near ended his. All because she was rich and spoiled and used to get
ting her way.

  Had she ever considered the damage she was causing when she seduced him, when she dazzled him with the beauty of her fair skin and her blue eyes, when she offered him her perfect body? Had she ever cared that his family had lost their dreams, that Josefina had paid as high a price as Rafael himself?

  No, he was sure she hadn’t cared. Rebecca had been wealthy, spoiled and selfish. She cared only for herself, for her amusements, and the consequences be damned. She had gotten what she wanted, and that was all that mattered to women like Rebecca Halderman. Women like Krista McLaren.

  It had been twelve years—twelve long, lonely years. Shamed by Rebecca’s deceit, guilt-ridden because his family had been forced to return to Mexico and because of Josefina, Rafael had gradually lost touch with his family. His mother still sent occasional letters, pleading with him to return home for this holiday or that birthday, but he refused. He had failed his family. He had been stupid, foolish, careless, and he had brought them grief and pain. After twelve years he still couldn’t forgive himself.

  The dozen years hadn’t been so bad for the Contreras family. Rafael sent them money regularly, and they had been able to buy a small farm to replace the one he had caused them to lose in California. Josefina was now married, the mother of three and very happy, according to their mother’s letters.

  Everyone had healed except Rafael. He was still alone; he still ached; he still blamed himself. He still needed someone.

  That last thought didn’t sit well with him. He prided himself on being self-sufficient. He provided everything he needed himself. But in the dark night he could admit that he needed someone—a woman, a lover, a friend. A wife. He wanted children; he wanted not to be alone, as he’d been for the last twelve years, as he would be for the rest of his life.

  He could probably marry Constancia. He didn’t love her, and he knew she didn’t love him, but did that really matter? Maybe marriages without love were best, because if you didn’t love, you couldn’t be hurt. Maybe he and Constancia could have a good marriage with lots of children…a comfortable marriage…a dull marriage.