Someone To Watch Over Me (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  “Isabella,” he said softly. “Don’t apologize every time I ask a personal question. I sure as hell don’t want you eating something you can barely manage to look at.”

  “I’m sorry.” She dropped her fork. A shadow of fear replaced the routinely dead expression in her eyes.

  “Dammit, Isabella! Did Benito force you to clean your plate when you were little or something?” He closed his eyes, shocked by her sudden pallor. “Trade plates with me.” Opening his eyes, he made the switch. “My mission tonight is to see you put something in your stomach. Anything. Dammit, woman, you’ll keel over if you keep losing weight.”

  Wordlessly, she accepted his plate and at once popped a bite of egg into her mouth. Her hand quivered, but her color seeped back little by little as Gabe dug into the frothy strawberries and cream.

  Finally, after several seconds, she again attempted to take the blame. “I don’t recall strawberry waffles being so sweet. My stomach balked. Here, please, this is what you wanted. Take some bacon. Honestly, it’s too much for me.”

  “Okay, but only if you promise to eat one piece and all the eggs.” Gabe stabbed the remaining slices of bacon. He couldn’t possibly know how Julian had made mealtimes an ordeal, how he’d harangued her and the kids. It was all about control, the shrink had told her, and that she did agree with.

  She didn’t quite clean up all the scrambled eggs. “I’m full,” she announced. “Gabe, really, I have no appetite,” she said when he looked skeptical.

  “You don’t want to faint during the trial.” He decided to try a new tack and appeal to the one thing that seemed to drive her very existence.

  “Absolutely not. Okay. I’ll try to eat a little every day.”

  Pushing the half-demolished waffle aside, Gabe folded his napkin and drained his coffee cup. As he dug out his wallet, he broached a topic that had been on his mind. “I skied some in Bend this past winter before I closed the SOS books on Summer’s ranch, so I got to know the place. How about if I book our rooms for the trial?”

  He’d said rooms—plural—so Isabella had no reason to believe he had anything inappropriate in mind. “Would you do that? I’m not familiar with Bend at all. I’d be grateful. But…arrange it so that we split the bill.”

  An objection rose to the tip of his tongue, but Gabe bit it back. “No problem. Now if you’re finished and ready to leave, I wouldn’t mind running by the furniture store I told you about last night. They’re open until ten.”

  “Sure. I meant to apologize for dashing off before we had a chance to look at your brochures.”

  “You were not happy with me, if I recall. Isabella, do you ever raise your voice when you get mad?” he asked. “Even a little?” He opened the restaurant’s outer door and they emerged into the cooler night air.

  Making a show of buttoning her sweater, Isabella acted as if she didn’t hear his question.

  Gabe wasn’t buying it. “I thought as much,” he said, unlocking the passenger door. He waited until she’d slipped in, which in the SUV put her level with his eyes. “Try it next time someone irritates you. I’ll bet they think twice about intimidating you again.” He shut her door with a soft click.

  He hadn’t expected her to respond. In fact, he just wanted to plant the seed. Under all her pain and grief, a vital, fiery woman lay dormant. Flashes of passion she didn’t even know she possessed were what had first attracted Gabe. That passion still attracted him and made him more determined than ever to hang around for the long haul.

  The furniture store they drove to was indeed open; they walked in with twenty minutes to spare.

  “Oh, will you look at that luscious leather sofa and chair.” Isabella homed in on the very set Gabe liked best. More satisfied than he had any right to be, he followed her over and showed her a palette of available colors.

  “Definitely this shade of nut-brown. Not the one with reddish hues. I can see this set arranged in front of a blazing fireplace.” She stroked the sample, and Gabe quite frankly found himself wishing she’d touch him instead. Her fingers were delicate but strong. He’d seen how compassionately they’d ministered to a sick lamb. And also their strength when she kneaded bread dough.

  “I’ve always coveted leather,” she murmured. “Julian said it was too expensive. And that I’d let the kids ruin it. Which wasn’t true. He never allowed them in the living room with food, drinks or toys, anyway.”

  “Didn’t he know leather lasts a lifetime? The salesman said they put a finish on it now that makes it easier to clean. One of the reasons this group appealed to me is because the stuff’s…I don’t know…bounceable? I mean, I walked in and could instantly visualize a bunch of kids dressed in pj’s playing on these fat cushions.”

  “Are you saying this is the set you’re considering?”

  “Yep. And you picked the color I favored, too. I just didn’t know if it’d be too dark for that oak-paneled room.”

  “I don’t think so. Did you know there are fantastic hardwood floors under that ratty rug of John’s? If it were me, I’d buy an area rug in blacks and reds and rusts. The Paiutes weave some beautiful ones. Of course they’re expensive. But if you drove out to the reservation, you’d get a better deal, and maybe they’d make you matching sofa pillows.”

  “I like that idea. I knew you’d have an eye for what I needed to give the house character.”

  She blushed. “Oh, you probably shouldn’t listen to me. I do have ideas but not one iota of training. Julian hired a design expert to do our house. After all, what do I know?”

  He eyed her speculatively. “You have a house?”

  “Not…not really. Technically it’s half mine. Julian’s parents plan to use his half of the money to help pay for his defense. They demanded I sell. Recently I relisted it, and already there’s a sale pending. I can’t bear to drive past—even drive down the street.”

  Isabella shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Gabe, do you remember the woman who stopped at the Green Willow and spoke to me the other night? Her fiancé made an offer on the house. I’ve gotta tell you why I bolted from the restaurant. She came to the bakery wanting me to do her wedding reception…there…at the house.” Her voice cracked. Taking a deep breath, Isabella sank down on the sofa. “I know the Realtor didn’t tell her…what ha-app-ened there. I’m not blaming the agency, but I can’t cater her reception. So I made up the first excuse that came into my head. I said I was meeting my boyfriend later, and that I expected him to give me a ring. I implied I’d be planning my own wedding for September. I’m so sorry, Gabe. Who would’ve dreamed she’d turn up at the Green Willow and assume you were my fictitious boyfriend?”

  Gabe knelt in front of her. “If the circumstances weren’t so tragic, the incident itself would be humorous. Chances of that happening have got to be one in a million. So that’s why you ran out like a bat out of hell. Jeez, why didn’t you say something? I’d have played along.”

  “Lies always catch up to a person. I want you to know I went to confession and was given penance.”

  “Penance? Hmm. Will they take it back and give you brownie points if I put a ring on your finger?” he teased.

  “Gabe! Don’t make fun of something I take seriously. I’ve always been scrupulously honest. And like I told Trini, Julian’s defense team would love to dig up some dirt on me. I shouldn’t even be out with you this late. If someone in his family should see us, they’d blow it way out of proportion.”

  “Why? You and Julian were divorced before he went nuts.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Could you take me back to Callanton?”

  “Sure,” he said, helping her up from the soft couch. “But since we’re here, could you spare me ten more minutes? I see that the salesman I spoke with last week has finished with his other customer. I may as well buy this while I’m here. Otherwise I risk having it sold out from under me.”

  “You’re buying it tonight? The entire
set?”

  He chuckled. “Yes. I just needed your opinion. You agreed with me, so why drag my feet? You haven’t suddenly changed your mind, have you?”

  “No. But, Gabe, what if you take my word, and spend an indecent amount of money only to discover everyone else hates how it looks in your house?”

  “Everyone who? It’s my house.”

  “Everyone like…whatever woman you marry. You said you’ve decided it’s time to settle down and start a family. That process usually begins with marriage.”

  Gabe shook his head. She really didn’t have a clue that he’d fallen for her. He’d turned his life upside down to be near her, and she didn’t have a God-damned clue.

  It was probably a good thing the salesman rushed up right then, or Gabe might have blown any chance he had with Isabella by blurting the truth. Instead, he filled out the forms, signed the credit slip and gave directions for delivery. He’d obviously put too much store in that last kiss he’d given her. Man, was he arrogant, assuming she’d get the message on the basis of a couple of kisses.

  He didn’t doubt that the guys would rib him unmercifully about losing his touch. They used to call him Cool Hand Gabe for the phenomenal luck he had with women. That was probably all it had been, too. Luck. Obviously he needed to revise his methods to make any headway with Isabella.

  Damn. She was the only woman who counted. The only one he wanted to impress.

  Gabe unlocked her door and boosted her up into the Lexus. As he stuck his copy of the receipt between his teeth in order to steady her with both hands, she said, “This is probably tacky, but I’ve never met anyone who visited a furniture store twice, then—just like that—bought a whole living room full of top-of-the-line stuff. The people I know comparison shop.”

  “Really? Don’t forget to buckle up.” He whistled an off-key tune as he walked around the hood. He felt as if he’d accomplished something tonight. When he climbed in, before he fired the engine, he conferred with Isabella over trying another CD. They eventually agreed on a U2 album recorded the year the group came out of retirement.

  “Has Papa talked to you about how much time and money it takes to build an income-producing flock of sheep? I thought I’d ask, as you seem bent on throwing your money around.”

  “We discussed the prices wool and mohair topped out at this past shearing season. Benito said domestic demand for wool is up. I got the impression Angel and Louis would like to double the goat herd and add dairy goats, but Joe’s adamantly opposed.” Gabe turned down the music as they left the city lights behind. He wanted to hear what a knowledgeable bystander had to say on the subject.

  “Mountain lions in these parts consider goat a delicacy. That’s one reason Joe’s against expanding the herd.”

  “Yeah, but red fox prey on lambs. So that’s one reason. What’s another?”

  Isabella lowered the music even more. “I’m sure if you asked Joe, he’d tell you. Our range, as well as Angel and Louis’s, currently run the maximum stock advisable to maintain healthy animals. Papa wants to buy more pastureland. To do that, he’d have to second-mortgage the house. Joe’s afraid Papa’s age makes such a big loan inadvisable.” She held up a hand when Gabe started to interrupt. “I already know what you’re going to ask. What about leasing more government-held space?”

  “It is logical, given how long it takes to build high-peak production.”

  “Yes, but ranchers have quotas for leased lands. I don’t know the formula, but they’re calculated in part on acres owned. Without expanding their current holdings, none of them can bump up their leased portions.”

  “So, the only ways this operation can increase profits is to run more efficiently, gain higher output of wool and mohair from existing flocks, or add land.”

  She nodded. “And the market fluctuates wildly from year to year.”

  “Your family’s been honest with me about the volatility of the industry. The extent of their knowledge is amazing. Me, I think I’ve learned to tell the difference between the Romanovs and the Rambouillets. And that’s about all.”

  “Yet you still come back day after day. I couldn’t believe it when Joe said you’d quit your job with SOS.”

  “Talk about volatility. That agency depends entirely on the largesse of benefactors. Today, those creatures are scarcer than the rarest breed of sheep and goats.”

  “Gabe, where are we?” Isabella leaned forward to peer out the front windshield.

  “Nearly home, why?”

  “I left my van in Callanton. It’s parked in front of Mr. Crosley’s office.”

  “Damn, I forgot. Well, it’s too late to turn back. I’ll collect you in the morning and give you a lift to town.”

  “We could go back now.”

  “Doesn’t make much sense. We’re two minutes from home.”

  “So we are.” She sighed. “Stop here. I’ll hike to the house.” Unfastening her seat belt, she gathered her purse and her pads of notes.

  Gabe dealt her a look Isabella was beginning to recognize. “I’ve never thrown a date out in the middle of the road,” he said. “And I don’t intend to start now.”

  “This wasn’t a date.” She felt heat stinging her cheeks. “Oh—did I forget to thank you for feeding me earlier?”

  He turned into her drive, stopping well away from the light that spilled from the porch lamp. “Thanks aren’t necessary, but I won’t turn down a good-night kiss.”

  Before she was able to find a comeback, Gabe bounded out and around the SUV. Yanking open the passenger door, he tumbled her into his waiting arms.

  If possible, this kiss took more starch out of her legs than the previous one. There was a roaring in her ears, and Isabella completely lost her grip on her purse. Her notepads slipped from her hands, as well. Something struck her foot, but she couldn’t identify what because her legs and feet had gone numb. With her hands freed, she grabbed Gabe’s shirtfront, and hung on for dear life.

  The noise inside her head and the storm in her chest didn’t abate until Isabella realized their lips had disconnected.

  Gabe studied her with a smile that could only be described as immensely satisfied. “Someone’s stepped out on your porch, Isabella. I’ll collect the stuff you dropped if you’ll turn loose of my shirt.”

  “Oh. Oh, of course.” More embarrassed than she ever remembered being, she released Gabe at once. The last time she’d experienced this kind of disorientation, she’d sampled too much of her brother-in-law’s new batch of wine.

  Gabe carefully pressed her possessions into her hands.

  Thankfully a gusty wind sprang up then, cooling the fever that fired through her veins.

  “Hi, Luisa.” Gabe’s voice came at Isabella through a fog. She forced herself to listen, to pay attention.

  “It was late when we finished going through Crosley’s records,” Gabe was saying. “We drove to Burns for a bite to eat. Considering the late hour, we left Isabella’s van in town. I’ll take her to get it tomorrow morning.”

  “I’m glad you ate.” The older woman tightened the sash on her robe and bent to pat the dog who’d bounded up the steps. “The others have gone to bed. Bella, I stayed up to tell you James Hayden has to switch your meeting from afternoon to morning. Will that put you in a bind at the bakery?”

  “No, Mama. I cleared my calendar of outside jobs because of the trial starting next week. Today I sold all perishable items to Phil Eubanks at the Mercantile. As of now, I’m free.”

  “Not the rest of us, unfortunately,” her mother said. “Dawn comes early, as you know. You’d better let Gabe get home to bed now.”

  Dropping out of the clouds after she’d finally shaken off the lingering effects of his kiss, it was all Isabella could do to glance over at Gabe.

  If he suffered any of the same consequences, she detected no sign of it as he slid a hand around her waist and guided her to the steps leading up to the porch, where her mother waited. His touch evoked an involuntary shiver.

  “You
’re cold,” he murmured. “I’ll say good-night, ladies.”

  Isabella’s brain registered the sound of his SUV starting and backing down the drive. Her mother chattered away as they entered the house, but Isabella didn’t assimilate a single thing she said. Gabe’s kiss had utterly destroyed her ability to think.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SLEEP ELUDED ISABELLA for another night. She told herself it was nerves caused by the long-awaited start of Julian’s trial. In reality, her mind kept jumping back to the times Gabe Poston had kissed her—and to her own reaction, which had gone from surprise, to excitement, to participation in at least two instances.

  Toward morning, she came to the same conclusion she’d reached before. She had no right to the happiness Gabe’s kisses brought her. She had even less right to long for the intimate physical aspects of a relationship with him. Her purpose over the next few weeks was to see that justice was done for her children. Gabe Poston was a distraction she couldn’t afford.

  Having decided that, Isabella showered and dressed for the day. She made her way downstairs early for the express purpose of asking someone in her family to spare the time to run her into town.

  Seeing Gabe seated at the breakfast table, laughing with her father and brother, blew Isabella’s newfound resolve straight to hell.

  As if radar had kicked in, he glanced up and saw her. A slow, sexy smile spread across his face. Sheesh, he didn’t even have to try to look sexy; it came naturally.

  The impact of that smile slammed into Isabella’s midriff with the force of a stampede. A rush of emotions, none strengthening her resolve to cut him out of her life, tore at her heart. A heart boarded up and chained to keep feelings out. Especially those that might leave her open to falling in love again. Because love only led to pain and sorrow.

  Then why did that very same heart turn handsprings starting the instant she set eyes on Gabriel Poston?

  “Ah, I see you’re finally up.” Rising, Gabe grabbed a clean mug and filled it with coffee from the pot before he crossed over to Isabella. She hadn’t budged from the stairs.