“Should I pretend I care?” she asked. “I don’t care, and I haven’t for years. I mean that.”
“You have no reason to,” he agreed reasonably. “But I have to admit I’m not too happy. About the picture you found in his desk.”
The photo. Pain slashed through her again as she remembered finding it. Recognizing his betrayal, although she had misunderstood what it meant.
“I wonder why he had it, and how he got it,” she mused, and Jovi grimaced.
“My best guess is Danny. And I hope his interest in me — his concern about me — was whether or not you and I were sleeping together. He must have known I was DEA at one time — traffickers find out those things. But I do hope his sources know I left them. And have no reason to suspect me now. That would be bad.”
Fear twisted in her stomach. “You don’t really think anything could happen to you?”
He gave a half shrug, but his expression was grim. “I’d be happier if he hadn’t had a photo of me in his desk. We’ll just leave it at that.” He paused. “I think it was Danny that night at the pool, too,” he admitted. “Nothing else makes sense. De Cordova probably had Danny watching you since he started working for your father, and then keeping really close tabs on what you and I were doing.”
Dell shook her head. “This is a nightmare,” she whispered. “Una pesadilla.” She shivered in spite of the oppressive heat. “You’re telling me that I — we — were spied on. And that I’ve been cleared from suspicions I didn’t know had been raised, but you’re saying it’s still not over? At least not for you?”
He reached out a bronzed hand and cupped her cheek. His fingers were warm and strong, his touch reassuring.
“No. That’s not what I’m trying to say at all. It’s over, Dell. All of it.”
“But the photo — ”
“Even if he had it for the worst possible reasons, he really isn’t in a position to call attention to himself. Danny’s facing jail time, but he doesn’t seem to know much, so I doubt he could tell De Cordova much. I’m not involved in the investigation now, even if he suspects I was. So he has no reason to do anything to me. Don’t worry.”
For a few precious seconds, she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into the warmth of his hand. Then, reluctantly, she straightened. Stiffened. Drew back, reinstating the distance between them.
“Jovi … When you left the ranch, you still thought — ”
“That you were an incredibly beautiful, giving woman,” he said without hesitation. His eyes met her levelly. “And I knew you couldn’t be involved with the De Cordova operations. In my heart, I knew that.” He paused before adding softly, “But the part of me that used to be a cop wanted proof.” Real regret darkened his eyes. “You don’t know how sorry I am I didn’t trust my heart.”
“People should trust their hearts,” Dell said, then thought of Samuel Rosales and his heartbreak. Jeremy and his betrayal. “No,” she corrected grimly. “People shouldn’t trust their hearts. It hurts too much. Logic is better.”
“Is it?” Jovi’s voice was almost as soft as hers. “Would your father have considered his life more worthwhile without you? Without Erika De Cordova, for whatever time he had her? More painless, maybe. But I doubt he would have traded what he did have for life without you, Dell. Only a very stupid man would do that.” He hesitated. “You trust your heart every day, Dell. With Becky. With the girls. Even with Maribel. Your heart won’t let you throw her away. If you can trust your heart with everyone else, why not with me?”
The knot in her throat kept her from speaking, and after a long, silent moment, Jovi sighed and turned away.
“I’ll take you back now,” he said flatly, starting toward the truck. He had taken three or four steps before Dell could loosen her constricted throat enough to speak.
“Wait!”
He glanced over his shoulder, startled, but stopped. “Yes?”
“You’re right. My father wouldn’t have given up the illusions he had — the memory he created — of my mother. Not for anything.”
He seemed surprised, and turned completely to face her.
What she was saying surprised her, too, actually — but she realized it was what her heart had been saying all along. What she hadn’t ever let herself hear.
“But memories aren’t enough. Not for me. They’re all I’ve let myself have. Memories of my mother. Of my father. Of a man I thought loved me — all the things I really didn’t have.” She stopped again abruptly, her throat burning and her chest tight.
“And?” he prompted cautiously.
“I don’t want you to be just another one of the things I didn’t have,” she said slowly. “I don’t need more hazy memories. Stay. Be what’s real in my life.”
He closed his eyes, as if in prayer. Or shock. Then he swept her up in his arms, hugging her close, whispering her name. He brushed her hair with his lips, then tilted her chin up, his lips closing over hers, first with tenderness, then with urgency.
She was breathless when he finally stepped back, looking down at her with dancing eyes.
“You probably want to set a good example for the girls,” he said seriously, in spite of the laughter in his eyes.
“Of course,” Dell agreed, smiling up at him. “So … just what are you getting at, anyway?”
“Well, we can’t really carry on an affair in front of those impressionable teenagers.”
“No. We can’t.” Dell’s lips twitched, even though she meant it.
“There’s obviously only one solution,” he said slowly, and then his grin blossomed again. “Do you think I should ask Lionel De Cordova for your hand?”
Dell laughed and wrapped her arms around him. “Somehow I don’t think he’d approve. Maybe I should just talk to your mom.”
Epilogue
The lights faded into shadows around the edges of the yard, and the honeysuckle lingered on the slight, warm breeze. Dell yawned and leaned back more comfortably against Jovi, the porch swing creaking beneath them.
“Tired?”
“How did so many people fit into this yard?” she asked, and he chuckled.
“At times, it was a tight fit. But a beautiful reception, nonetheless.”
“Yes. And having Hal and Carmela share it — they should have married so long ago. She deserves to be recognized as the woman in his life, even if we had to give them a nudge.” Dell smiled and rubbed her cheek lazily against Jovi’s shoulder. “Everyone seemed to have fun.”
“Becky especially. She’s going to love weddings.”
Dell smiled wryly. “I just hope she doesn’t have one for twenty or thirty years.”
“Not thirty,” Jovi said immediately, kissing the corner of her mouth. “That would be too late. Think how long before we’d be grandparents.”
She laughed. “I sort of feel like a grandmother already, with Selina’s little boy visiting so often.”
He chuckled and eased her away from him to stand up.
“Everyone’s gone,” he pointed out, drawing her up and into his arms. “We don’t leave for Florida until tomorrow — ”
“Stopping to see racing stock on our way to a cruise ship.” She nodded. “You’re a real romantic, Jovi Treviño.” She pressed into the hard contours of his body and kissed his chin.
“But you don’t mind?” He kissed the corner of her mouth, and she eased away enough to look up at him.
“I don’t mind meeting the Coopers,” she agreed. “But, since we’re married now and you should confess all your sins, tell me the truth about Griselda. Why you called her “inalcanzable”?
He laughed. “Expected that question ages ago,” he admitted. “I never called her that, Dell. She and I worked together at DEA.” He hugged her close, brushed a kiss against her hair before continuing. “When you came in and saw m
e with the paper, I had to come up with something.” He paused, and humor laced his voice. “Can I think on my feet or what?”
“I think I’ll like the Coopers,” Dell murmured against his cheek. “Even Griselda.” She cupped his cheek and urged him close for another, lingering kiss that left them both breathless.
“And they call you incalcanzable … ” His lips touched hers again, but after a moment he drew back. “You don’t know how far away I thought you were,” he said. “How unreachable. Unattainable.”
She eased out of his grip, then held her hand out to him. “Let’s go in,” she suggested huskily. “I’ve never been that far away,” she added as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “No one’s beyond love … no one really is.”
“No,” he agreed, and together they made their way into the darkened house, touched by love.
The End
One Writer’s Story …
My first published story appeared on the bulletin board of little Mt. Carmel Elementary School in Douglasville, GA when I was six. My first sale came later that year, when the short-lived children’s magazine Kids bought a terrible poem about dolphins for an amazing $1.50.
A childhood filled with haunted pecan orchards, 4-H meetings, six siblings and a roadside amusement park would be useful for most any writer, but most of my stories and poetry so far deal with Texas, the state I once loved to hate. The Hill Country and the Rio Grande offer their own charms and stories, including Unattainable, my first romance for Crimson Romance.
Married with four adult children and nine (9!) precocious grandchildren, I have been a south Texas educator for 20 years, mostly in first grade, and will undoubtedly continue trying to impress six year olds with the power of words for years to come.
I would love to hear from you, either at www.facebook.com/LeslieP.Garcia or by e-mail at [email protected] .
For poetry and short fiction, please visit me at AuthorsDen, http://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?authorid=4186 .
Thanks for the opportunity to share my writing with you!
A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance
(From In Love and War by Tara Mills)
Summer, 2006
Ariela Perrine’s face fell and she groaned when she saw the dark blue, checked necktie hanging from the doorknob. Laying her ear against the door, she could hear the unmistakable sounds of an action movie on the television. Her eyes dropped to the necktie once more, and she bit her lip and wondered what to do.
Screw it; she was home now. They could move it into Jean’s bedroom.
She knocked on the door three times — hard, so they’d hear her over the movie.
“I’m home, so zip up,” she yelled, tapping her foot impatiently.
“Hang on!” Jean shot back.
You’d think they were still in college.
“Are you decent yet?” Ariela finally called again.
“All clear.”
Ariela dropped the looped necktie over her head, accessorizing her smirk, and went in. Ron and Jean were still making wardrobe adjustments when she flopped into the easy chair with a dejected sigh.
Jean frowned. “Why are you home this early? I thought you were going dancing? What? You didn’t like Patrick, either?”
Jean tucked her legs beneath her and settled against Ron. He pulled her close and kissed her on the temple.
Ariela sent her roommate a long look. “Where would I even start?” She turned to the television. “So, what are you watching anyway?”
Ron looked up. “Split Infinity,”
Ariela leaned back and stared at the screen, but having missed the beginning of the movie, she couldn’t catch up. “Is there anything to eat?”
Jean stared at her. “You just came from dinner.”
“Like I could eat looking at that. The man never stopped talking, not even when the food came. I swear it was like watching a front-load washing machine, except with a washer, there’s usually no danger you’re going to get hit by something flying out of it.”
Jean’s face contorted in disgust. “You’re kidding?”
“I wish. It was disgusting.”
“So, how much did you drink?” Jean asked perceptively.
“Two glasses of wine, then I pretended I was coming down with something and that’s why I didn’t have any appetite. Got me out of a kiss — thank god. That tongue of his wasn’t getting anywhere near me.”
“There’s pizza on the counter.” Ron broke in with an amused smile.
Ariela popped up to go investigate. “Thanks. Anything I have to pull off of it?”
“‘Shrooms,” said Jean.
“You guys,” she whined.
“Hey, we didn’t order pineapple because you bitched so much last time,” said Jean.
“I did, didn’t I?” Ariela admitted.
Ron stood and stretched, letting out a low rumble with his extension. “Well, I suppose I better clear out. I have an early morning.”
Ariela glanced over the open pizza box and through the kitchen doorway in time to catch Jean’s pout. She smiled and tore a slice of pizza free, peeling back the cheese so she could pick off the mushrooms.
“See you later, Ron,” Ariela called as the couple kissed good-night at the door.
There was a pause before he answered back. “Be good, Ariela.”
Ariela rolled her eyes. She was always good. She was boring and bored by being so good. She wanted to be bad, to be a rabble rouser, to get into a little trouble. Too bad it didn’t come naturally. She needed someone to corrupt her. Yeah, a bad influence would be good about now.
Jean wandered into the kitchen and took a glass down from the cabinet. Going into the fridge, she held up the carton. “Milk?”
“I think I’ll have juice.”
“I don’t see any,” Jean said, studying the shelves.
“Fine. I’ll take milk too.”
She was off to a good, rebellious start. Well, at least she was getting her calcium. Tomorrow, she’d better get to the store and pick up more of her cranberry blends.
Jean set Ariela’s glass down and joined her at the table. Reaching into the box, she helped herself, wiggling her eyebrows at Ariela as she bit the mushroom on the very tip clean off.
Ariela shuddered. “Hey, I’m eating here.”
“So am I. You know, I think I like cold pizza best.” Jean dabbed her mouth with a napkin.
“I get into moods.”
Jean leaned back in her chair and considered her roommate thoughtfully.
Wary, Ariela lowered her second slice of pizza, and her eyebrows arched up. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No no no no. Tell me.”
“It’s just that I figured Patrick was going to be a bust. He’s just another dud in a pattern of duds for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You go out with losers, knowing they’re losers and they’re going to be disappointing. It’s like you’re setting yourself up on purpose.”
Ariela snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m just saying. You know what you want, and you refuse to go there.” Jean took another bite of pizza.
“I go out with the guys who ask me.”
“You turn down any guy who might be interesting.”
“I haven’t met any of those.”
“You don’t want to.” Jean tossed her crust onto the table in front of her and wiped her hands. “I think you’re afraid to fall in love.”
“Is that right?”
“I’ve known you a long time and I know you better than you think. You’re afraid to end up like your mom.”
“I don’t think this is how a psych session is supposed to work. I believe I’m supposed to be
the one talking and you’re supposed to take notes and nod occasionally and say things like ‘hmm,’ and ‘I see. Very interesting.’”
“I’ve just made observations over the years, that’s all, and you have to admit, you don’t go deep with men. You keep them shallow, where they can’t hurt you.”
Ariela laughed. “Okay then, point me in the right direction, because I’m obviously mucking things up on my own.”
“Be serious.” There was an understanding look in Jean’s eyes. “You can’t run away forever.”
• • •
Daylight was fading fast when Dylan Bond sat down at his computer and shot the smuggled USB driver home. As he slowly peeled back layer upon layer of evidence, the room fell dark around him. The only illumination left came from the computer screen. The unnatural glow sharpened and defined his features, the planes of his face, the clean line of his nose. Dylan’s eyes, lost in shadow, flashed black, all pupil, the lapis blue of his irises completely obscured by the lack of light.
Dylan glanced at the sleeping Golden Retriever sprawled next to him. He reached out with his stockinged foot and gave the animal’s stomach an affectionate rub.
“You wouldn’t believe what I’m reading. This scum was already setting things up three years ago.”
The dog’s eyes flickered and closed. His tail flopped on the floor a couple of times as his satisfied groan rose and fell with the belly rub.
It was well over two hours since Dylan had given any thought to his aching back. All sense of time and discomfort were lost in a flurry of mental activity. He was in his zone, a maestro of political commentary, as his words flowed across the screen.
“ — and unfortunately for the American people, Senator Norton has never acted on any legislation before his financial terms have been worked out first. The Carpenter Bill is a prime example. It makes this jaded journalist pine for the days when money was passed discreetly under the table instead of brazenly and unapologetically in the open.”
Unattainable Page 26
