Someone To Watch Over Me (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  Isabella felt an iciness steal over her.

  “He seemed so reluctant I wondered if he had authorization to sell it,” the mother was saying. “I inquired at the bank, and the manager said the property is for sale. Cindy, give her the address.”

  Cindy wrote it with a flourish, but Isabella didn’t need the girl to finish. The chill that enveloped her had served as premonition.

  Closing her book, Isabella tried not to show the revulsion she felt. Her house. This nice young woman was planning a celebration in the house beset by tragedy.

  “I’m afraid I can’t handle your reception, after all,” Isabella said, hearing the words leave her lips as she handed back the mother’s check.

  “No?” Cindy looked bewildered. “I thought you said that day was okay?”

  Even as she fought to stave off the darkness threatening to close in on her, Isabella tried to stay calm. Maybe Cindy could be happy there. And Lord knew, the money from the house sale would make it easier to take time off for the trial. Of course, Julian’s half of the proceeds would buy him more people to work on his defense….

  She had to make up something believable and get these people out of her shop. She grabbed at the first thought that came to mind. “I…I…may be planning my own wedding in September.” The lie seemed to roll off her tongue. “In fact, I’m meeting my boyfriend later today. I’m fairly sure he’s going to give me a ring. All my life I’ve dreamed of a fall wedding.” Isabella reached for a card file and avoided making eye contact with the pair while she shuffled through the cards. “Here are the names of two other caterers in the area. Either one will do a fine job. I…ah…hate to rush you, but I’ve got pastry due out of the oven.”

  They acted more than a little shocked at being hustled out. Isabella hurried across the room the minute the door closed, and turned the dead bolt. Her hands and knees shook. She managed to make it all the way to the kitchen before she sank down on the floor, huddled in misery.

  She rocked back and forth, wishing for cleansing tears. As usual, her eyes remained parched and dry.

  Trini had taken the van, but she’d left the keys to the family car. With no purpose or destination in mind, Isabella left the bakery and drove aimlessly. Somehow it didn’t surprise her when she pulled into the empty parking lot of St. Bonaventure church.

  Confession was good for the soul. She felt guilty over hiding the truth from Cindy, felt she’d been unfair to this friendly, pleasant girl.

  It was dark and comforting inside the church. And claustrophobic inside the confessional. Isabella almost fled at that point; then she heard one of the priests slide open the opposite door. “Father, forgive me for I have sinned—in word if not in deed,” she began, hands clasped so tight in her lap she felt the pain. Good. She needed to feel something. Speaking of feeling… While she was here, she ought to confess the feelings she’d had for Gabe Poston, too.

  NOT WANTING TO BE LATE for his meeting with Isabella, Gabe rushed into the Green Willow Café at five minutes before the hour. A quick perusal of the seated customers told him he’d beaten her to the restaurant.

  Megan Ward saw him standing next to the sign asking that patrons wait to be seated. She patted her blond hair into place and greeted him with a wide smile. “Gabe. I couldn’t believe my ears the other night when Trini Navarro said you’d bought a ranch in the area. I guess it’s true.”

  “It is,” Gabe acknowledged, purposely not elaborating.

  “Well, that’s nice.” Her smile turned up a few watts. “Are you eating at the counter? Or if you’d like company, I’ll seat you in a booth and join you in…oh, ten minutes. I’m due for a break then.”

  “I would like a booth. I’m meeting a woman,” he added quickly so Megan wouldn’t get the wrong impression. “She should be along shortly.”

  “Who?” Megan demanded as if it was her right to know.

  “I’ll sit facing the door so I can see her when she comes in,” Gabe said. “But if I could trouble you for coffee now? Otherwise, I’ll wait to order.”

  “Uh…sure.” Megan sped off in front of him, apparently getting the message.

  Gabe downed the first cup of coffee in short order. He’d worked hard to grab a shower after leaving Benito’s, and still accomplish all his errands before seeing Isabella.

  The old lawyer, Larkin Crosley, had talked his ear off. He’d twisted Gabe’s arm every way from Sunday, trying to sell him his law practice. Larkin said a town the size of Callanton needed a CPA and an all-purpose lawyer. He further noted that it wouldn’t take much for Gabe to broaden his scope into corporate and civil law.

  Recalling the bruises he’d discovered on his arms and legs while showering—the result, Gabe assumed, of wrestling sheep—made Larkin’s offer worth considering. He poured himself a second cup of coffee, musing about sheep men. Were they born that way, as John Campos had implied? Was it work that you grasped instinctively, rather than a skill to be learned?

  Gabe checked his watch and the door for the umpteenth time. Isabella was late. Fifteen minutes late. She didn’t strike him as the type to keep a man waiting on purpose. Unless she intended to stand him up altogether…

  Megan, who’d had her eye on him and likewise on the entrance to the café, approached his booth with a saucy switch to her backside.

  “If your date was due here at six, you guys must’ve got your wires crossed. You’ve had a chance to look at the menu, so if you’ll tell me what you’d like, I’ll give your order to the cook before I take my break.”

  Gabe considered admitting this evening was business rather than a real date. He knew Isabella would prefer he not give the wrong impression. On the other hand, Megan wasn’t anyone he wanted to encourage. “My…friend could’ve gotten tied up at work. Bring me a bottle of merlot and two glasses, please.” He named a specific winery. “That’ll give us a chance to unwind. We’ll order when you return. Or…is that Helen coming to relieve you? She can handle our table if my date’s too hungry to wait.”

  Megan flounced off and returned to plunk down a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

  Gabe read the label. “Hey—this isn’t what I ordered.” Holding his temper, he handed the bottle back to Megan, who’d brought a wine Gabe thought tasted like kerosene. He accepted the new bottle with equanimity.

  He’d about given up on Isabella when the door slid silently open and she slipped in. She was balanced on the balls of her feet, as though she could turn and leave at any moment. He’d seen her wan and nervous before. But never this bad.

  Jumping up, Gabe moved to take her arm. “Hello, there. I hope you like red wine. I took the liberty of ordering that and coffee. Helen,” he called to the older waitress working the counter. “Do you mind bringing us a warm-up?”

  The waitress met them at his booth. “Isabella,” she exclaimed. “This is a rare treat. Well, I don’t blame you for letting this handsome devil bring you out of hiding. Say, I hear from Summer that your catering business has really taken off.”

  Clearing her throat, Isabella mumbled something that passed for agreement.

  Gabe wanted to put her at ease. Helen and Megan were both outgoing, jovial women. Either one of them could overwhelm Isabella without trying. “We’ll talk a while and enjoy our wine and be ready to order in fifteen minutes or so.”

  Helen knew when to leave her customers alone. She nodded and withdrew.

  “Busy day?” Gabe inquired, after pouring them each a half glass of wine.

  Isabella spun her glass around and around. “Trying, certainly.”

  Nothing followed that response. Gabe felt himself growing edgy. “I have good news for you.”

  “You do?”

  “Larkin Crosley has agreed to let us use his library any evening we want.” Gabe patted his pocket. “He gave me a key.”

  “Fine. Very good. Shall we set a time? How about tomorrow at six?” Pushing the wine aside, she collected the purse she’d dropped on the seat beside her.

  “That’s it
? You’re going?”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but one of two women who bustled past the booth, being led by Helen, suddenly stopped. The younger of the two, a freckled redhead, squeezed Isabella’s arm. “It is you,” she said, bending to study Isabella’s left hand. “Darn. He hasn’t given you the ring yet?” Just as quickly, the young woman dropped Isabella’s hand and turned flashing green eyes on Gabe. “You don’t look bashful,” she announced. Then, because the woman she was with called, “Cindy, come sit down,” the girl wafted a sparkling diamond under Gabe’s nose and sashayed on past. Or she did after whispering something to Isabella that Gabe didn’t catch.

  He wasn’t at all sure what had happened, but Isabella had turned white and red, then white again.

  “What was all that about?” he murmured.

  “Nothing. Er…she must have me confused with someone else. Look, Gabe, this has really been a horrible day for me. And I wouldn’t be good company.” She slid out of the booth.

  Confused, Gabe rose, too. He shelled out what he hoped would cover the coffee and wine and enough for a tip, then ran after his rapidly departing date.

  Helping her silently into her car, he saw by a clock tower down the street that it was going on seven. “I didn’t eat, and neither did you. I did pick up brochures on living-and dining-room furniture. We made a bargain, remember? I’d arrange for access to the law library, and you’d advise me on furniture. Meet me at my house in half an hour, okay? I’ll pick up a pizza on my way out of town.”

  Isabella thought about the lengthy lecture she’d received from Father Espinosa about the dangers of lustful thoughts. She also recalled the twist of joy her stomach had given when Gabe came forward to greet her at the restaurant. Still, she intended to decline his invitation.

  “All right. I’ll be there,” she said, shocking herself.

  Gabe didn’t rush right over to his own SUV but stood gaping after Isabella’s retreating car. Damn, the woman tied him in knots. Maybe he should forget about raising sheep and furthering a relationship with Isabella Navarro. Maybe. But he hadn’t done anything reckless in many long years. It was about time he shook up his life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WHEN GABE REACHED the only pizza parlor in town, he realized he’d forgotten to ask Isabella’s preference in toppings. As he didn’t want to leave her with too much time to change her mind, he ordered medium pizzas in three varieties. Plain cheese, sausage and mushroom, and one all-veggie. So what if he had a ton left over? He’d been known to eat cold pizza for breakfast.

  The aroma tantalized him throughout the drive home.

  He halfway didn’t expect Isabella to be at his house. His fear seemed warranted when he saw her car—or rather her sister’s car—parked alongside the catering van in the Navarro driveway. Gabe got out of the SUV, feeling downright discouraged.

  “Boy, something smells delicious.” Isabella emerged from the shadows that ringed Gabe’s porch.

  A stab of pure pleasure made him fumble the boxes. “And I’ve been thinking I’d have to bribe you to eat once I got here.”

  “I wasn’t hungry until you opened your car door and the smell of the pizza hit me. By the way, I stopped for soda and beer. I was pretty sure your fridge was still empty. And I brought a spare microwave from my bakery. Use it until you get settled.”

  He’d finally managed to collect the stacked pizza cartons and close the door with his hip—still bruised from where several rams had butted him. “Ow, dang!”

  “What’d you do?” She moved into the moonlight. “Gosh, are you planning a party? Tell me you didn’t buy all that for the two of us.”

  “I brought several choices because I never thought to ask what toppings you liked. Don’t worry, it’ll keep. Any guy who spent time in the military considers pizza a staple.”

  “The military? Oh, now it makes sense why Summer’s husband has such an odd assortment of friends.” Isabella opened the front door and stepped aside to let Gabe pass. In this neck of the woods, people didn’t lock their doors.

  Gabe flipped on lights as he walked through the house. “Odd? That’s not very flattering.”

  “I didn’t mean funny-odd. Eclectic, maybe. I could see a horse-trainer and a vet being pals. But Trini, Sylvia and I couldn’t figure out Colt’s close association with a lawyer and a car salesman. I mean, you guys seem as close as my brothers are.”

  “I’m a CPA with a backup degree in law. Marc? Someone with his gift for blarney could sell anything. So happens he’s had a lifelong love affair with fancy cars. He could probably build one if he set his mind to it. In the beginning, in boot camp, we were four cocky kids who all had a lot of growing up to do. Say, the pizza does need reheating. Pick what you want. I’ll plug in the microwave. And thanks. I’ll return yours after I buy my own. I don’t know how John managed without one.”

  “Here, let me do that.” Isabella attempted to relieve him of the plates he’d pulled from the cupboard.

  He retained a firm grip. “You’re the one who had the bad day. Sit. Tonight you get to be the guest.”

  She blinked at him. “I can’t let you wait on me.”

  Gabe laughed. “Why not? There’s no law against it, is there?”

  Sitting, she laced her fingers together. “Here in the valley, our families are pretty traditional. Women’s domain is house, food, garden, kids. Men take care of flocks, orchards and income.”

  “Which pizza?” Gabe asked again.

  Isabella frowned as she selected a narrow slice of cheese and one of the veggie pizza.

  Gabe slid her plate into the oven, set out two glasses and asked whether she wanted soda or beer.

  “Beer. Save the glass.”

  He opened two bottles, adding those plus utensils and napkins to the items already on the table. “You run a business, Isabella. Yet, along with most of the women in your family, you worked night after night saving lambs. Seems to me that was in addition to what you normally do.”

  “So, there are a few exceptions,” she said, accepting the plate he set in front of her. “Historically speaking, though, the exchange of tasks doesn’t go both ways. Isn’t that the case with your family, too?”

  He removed his piping hot plate and took a seat opposite her. “My family?” He cut off a bite of pizza and chewed as long as he dared. Once he’d swallowed, he dodged her question. “My family was nothing like yours. For one thing, my folks were never home. I guess you could say the Marines ended up being my family.” He could’ve told her the family he’d been born into made dysfunctional appear normal, but something held him back.

  During the time it took each of them to finish what was on their plates, Gabe admitted to having had a skewed view of life when he’d landed in the military at eighteen.

  “One of the tough guys, huh?”

  “I was pretty much a bad-ass kid,” he said, shrugging off the fact that he’d had a choice of three-to-five in prison for getting caught making book on horse races or four years in the service of his country.

  “A lot of teen boys are filled with rage. Perhaps rage is what made you a survivor,” she half-mused. “It does keep a person going.”

  “No.” Gabe shook his head. “Rage in any form is a mind-numbing emotion, Isabella. That’s not good. It’s debilitating. People have to move beyond rage or hate or whatever you want to call it, or they lose out on the important things in life.”

  “You’re wrong. I’ll never stop hating Julian. I’m consumed by rage. It’s what gets me out of bed every morning, Gabe. It’s what keeps my heart from breaking into a million bits. Without anger, I’m afraid I’d feel nothing at all.”

  She’d lashed out automatically. And fast. So, what was the best way to respond to the vehemence he felt in her every word? After a moment’s silence, Gabe lazily lifted his beer. “I didn’t say I recovered overnight, Isabella.”

  Her eyes never strayed from his throat as he swallowed. The broad hand holding his beer remained rock-steady. Hers jerked
spasmodically. The mere mention of her ex-husband made it hurt to breathe. “We’re talking apples and oranges. I’m quite sure any sins you committed as a teen can’t hold a candle to Julian’s.”

  Gabe lowered his bottle and rolled it between his hands. “There’s no crime worse than his. I’m not arguing that point. In fact, I’m not arguing any point.”

  “It sounded like you were.”

  He reached across the table and captured one of her fluttering hands. “I’m in your corner, Isabella.”

  She snatched her hand away and sipped from her beer. Setting her beer down hard, she licked her lower lip. “I want Julian to rot in hell. Furthermore, I intend to see that he does. I’m hoping to learn a lot from the summaries of similar cases.”

  “I doubt we’ll find any the prosecutor hasn’t already pulled up for review.”

  “I’ll be looking at them from a different perspective. James Hayden is…so dispassionate about everything.”

  “In first-year law, they stress objectivity. To reach this stage in his career, Hayden’s probably handled hundreds of cases as bad as yours.” Gabe helped himself to another piece of pizza and slowly ate it cold.

  “That’s just it. To Hayden this is simply another case among many he’s prosecuted. Well, to me it’s more. Much, much more.”

  Gabe wiped his fingers on his napkin and tossed it aside. “There’s such a thing as getting too close to a case, Isabella. Effective lawyers have learned to separate their feelings toward the person on trial from whatever heinous act he’s committed. Otherwise, they’d go off the deep end themselves. Which brings me to another question. Are you going to hold up okay, poring over abstract after abstract of cases that bear a resemblance to yours?”

  “I will.”

  She said it with such cold sincerity, Gabe believed her. At least he believed she’d give it her best shot. He sensed that she was hanging on by a worn thread, however. Because of that, because of his sympathy, his compassion, he was moved to touch her face. Just a feather-light skimming of his fingers along her jaw.