“She’s beautiful. Like you.”
He felt her edging up behind his shoulder and without turning to look, he could envision her body in that sexy dress, the way the fabric framed her bosom and exposed the satiny skin of her chest. The image sent subtle fingers of heat spreading through his body and he swallowed in an effort to ignore his growing desire.
“She was beautiful,” she said softly. “Inside and out. There’s never a day that goes by that I don’t think of her and miss her.”
Placing the photo back on the table, he turned to her, his expression wry. “It’s too bad that both of our mothers are gone. I think you would have liked mine. She was a strong, opinionated woman—like someone else I know,” he added with an impish grin.
Laughing softly at his insinuation, she opened her handbag and began to check the contents. “Then I know I would have liked her. And it would have been interesting to hear what she had to say about raising two sons like you and Cordero.”
His smile changed to one of fond remembrance. “Gracia says the same thing. She was only around seven when her grandmother died so she didn’t get to have any sort of adult conversations with her. But thankfully she does have memories and that’s more than some children ever have. Like you, I suppose,” he added soberly.
Nodding with a sad sort of acceptance, she snapped the bag shut, then turned toward an arched doorway. “I’ll go lock the back door and we can be on our way. Or would you like something to drink before we head out?”
He’d like to forget the drink, the food and everything else, Matt thought helplessly. He felt like a rutting buck that had just woken up and realized he was about to miss the whole mating season.
“No thanks. We’ll get drinks when we get there.”
Matt drove her to an old historic house on the outskirts of town that had been turned into a restaurant that served both Mexican and traditional food. They both settled for Mexican and ordered cabeza, a spicy beef that they wrapped in flour tortillas and ate with refried beans and Spanish rice. The two of them washed it all down with salty margaritas and by the time the meal was finished, Juliet was stuffed and pleasantly relaxed.
She almost didn’t notice when Matt pulled out of the driveway and turned the truck onto the highway headed west rather than back to town.
“What are you doing? My house is back that way,” she said, gesturing behind them.
By now it was totally dark, yet she could see his profile in the illumination from the dashboard. The sensual grin on his face set her heart thumping.
“My sense of direction isn’t confused. I thought we’d drive out to the ranch and have dessert. Cook sent over some of her famous pecan cake. I think you’ll find it worth the drive.”
The drive to the ranch wasn’t just a short hop. It took almost thirty minutes to get to there from Goliad. But she wasn’t going to point that out to the man—he’d lived here all his life. Apparently he had the time to waste and the cost of burning extra gasoline for the round trip would seem like pennies to a person with his financial means.
“Sure,” she replied. “It’ll give me an opportunity to say hello to Gracia.”
As the truck began to pick up speed, he glanced her way. “Gracia won’t be there. She’s—uh—spending the night with her aunt Geraldine.”
“Oh. Did she do this because you were going to be out of the house tonight?”
He turned his attention back on the highway. “No. It wasn’t an issue of her being alone. Even though Cordero is off on a horse-buying trip, Juan is there.” He cast her a sly smile. “If you’re thinking I sent her off so that we could be alone, you’re wrong. It was Gracia’s idea to go up to the Saddler house. And it’s not unusual. She likes to stay with her aunt and cousin from time to time. Sorta gives her a girls’ night out.”
He made it sound so casual and unplanned, yet Juliet couldn’t help wonder if this was more of Gracia’s subtle matchmaking.
“What did she think about you taking me to dinner tonight?”
“What do you think? She thought it was grand. She was thrilled.” His expression wry, he glanced at her. “I guess you’ve realized that she has this image of you becoming her mother.”
Surprised that he’d already seen through Gracia’s maneuvering, she squared around slightly in the seat and looked at him. “I didn’t know you’d realized that.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I can be slow to understand my daughter. But on this count she’s been pretty transparent.”
Sighing, Juliet looked out at the darkened night and wondered what it would be like to be sitting here as his wife. What would her life be like sharing his home, his bed and life?
From the time she’d grown old enough to have a woman’s thoughts and feelings, she’d longed for a home and family and all the deep roots that went with it. But the more she’d searched for that love and happiness, the more she’d seemed to get hurt. She didn’t want to think that Matt was only going to be another name on her list of heartaches.
“I hope you haven’t made a big deal of it with her,” Juliet said quietly. “She’s young—she doesn’t understand that you have all sorts of reasons you don’t want a wife.”
He stared stoically ahead. “Yeah. All sorts of reasons,” he murmured.
Juliet waited in hopes that he would say more on the subject. But he didn’t and after a few moments passed he changed the subject completely and they finished the trip with small talk about her job at the newspaper.
When they arrived at the Sanchez house the only lights that appeared to be burning were on the front porch and the foot lamps lining the sidewalk. The night was warm and insects were singing a symphony as Matt took her by the arm and escorted her along the lighted path until they reached the front door.
It wasn’t surprising to see him open the entrance without a key. The Sandbur was like a small village unto itself with its own special brand of security, mostly in the form of cur dogs that freely roamed the property.
He preceded her into the house and left her in the foyer until he’d turned on a lamp in the great room. Once she’d stepped into the larger area, he motioned for her to take a seat on the couch or in one of the stuffed armchairs flanking a huge stone fireplace.
“Have a seat and I’ll go to the kitchen for the cake,” he told her.
“I don’t need to sit,” she told him. “I’ll come along and help you.”
“Suit yourself,” he said and gestured for her to follow him out of the room.
They traveled through a short hallway, then turned right into a spacious kitchen. A small lamp atop the fridge shed enough illumination for them to see without filling the room with glaring light. Juliet followed him over to a row of cabinets.
“Juan usually leaves the coffeemaker ready to go. All I have to do is flip the switch,” he told her and reached over to the nearby machine to do just that.
“How nice,” Juliet remarked. “I can’t imagine having someone do all those things for me. I’d probably get to feeling spoiled.”
He shot her a wry grin. “Don’t get to thinking I have it easy. I get up at four and my day doesn’t end until dusk.”
Moving to another section of pine cabinets, he pulled down two small plates and two matching cups, then took silverware from a drawer beneath. All the while Juliet watched the way his back muscles rippled beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, the way his jeans hugged his lean waist and hips. He was made like a man who spent endless hours in the gym, yet she was certain he’d never seen the inside of such a place much less exercised just for the sake of it. No, that lean, hard body of his came as a result of long tiring hours in the saddle.
Deciding she needed to get her mind elsewhere, Juliet looked around her. “Is there anything I can do? If you’ll show me where the cake is, I can do the slicing.”
He pointed to a plastic container on a nearby dining table. “Right there. I’ll get one of those things to cut it with.”
The thing he meant turned out to be a pi
e server. Juliet took the tool and sliced him a hefty piece of the stacked cake and a much thinner one for herself.
After the coffee was ready, Matt asked, “Do you want to eat in here or in the great room?”
She glanced around the cozy kitchen with its red checked curtains, varnished pine cabinets and plenty of potted succulents. “This is nice. Besides, we won’t have to worry about crumbs in here.”
He cast her a droll look as he pulled out a chair for her. “We wouldn’t have to worry about the crumbs in there, either. We have three maids that keep both places running clean and smoothly. They need something to do.”
Just one more giant difference in their lifestyles, Juliet thought, as she took a bite of Cook’s pecan cake.
“Mmm. This is delicious,” she said. “You’re right, it was worth the trip out here.”
Lines of amusement creased Matt’s face as he watched her dig into the cake. “What about the company?” he asked suggestively.
She looked up and Matt’s gaze zeroed in on a morsel of icing stuck to her lips. He was thinking about leaning across the corner of the table and kissing it off when the tip of her tongue appeared and did the job for him.
“I’m enjoying the company very much.”
His hand slid across the tabletop until his fingers were touching her bare forearm. “You must be a forgiving person,” he said wryly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here.”
Her brows peaked with curiosity. “What does that mean?”
His fingers slid upward to her elbow, then back down to her wrist. Her skin was like touching warm cream and it wasn’t difficult to imagine how it would feel beneath his lips.
“I behaved in a pretty obnoxious way when we first met.”
She laughed. “That’s putting it gently. But to be fair, you didn’t know me. Or trust me.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Our family can’t be as trusting as most. When you have money and—a history—people are out to take advantage. And since Dad is incapacitated now, I feel responsible for everyone here on the Sandbur.”
Juliet reached for her coffee. “You don’t have to explain.”
His lips slanted with regret. “Don’t I? When I think of some of the things I’ve said to you—well, I don’t feel too proud of myself. But I want you to know that I…trust you now. I know you wouldn’t deliberately do anything to hurt me or my family.”
Gilbert’s threat pushed through Juliet’s head like a steamroller, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Matt about the editor’s persistent idea to write a seedy story about the Ketchum family. In a few days, when she felt their relationship was on firmer ground, she’d approach him on the subject. But not tonight. Tonight was too special and she wasn’t about to spoil it.
“You have my promise on that,” she said softly, then feeling a bit awkward, she made a general gesture to the room. “Ever since I visited the other day, I’ve been curious about this house. I was surprised to see this plantation-style structure. Especially when the other house is hacienda style. Who built this one?”
Settling back in his chair, he sipped his coffee, then said, “My parents. They took a trip to Houston once and my mother saw a house like this. She told Dad she wanted one just like it and he came home and hired a contractor. Before that, they lived with Geraldine and her husband, Paul, in the big house. But that was long before either sister had all of their children and there was plenty of room for both families.”
“I see,” Juliet said wistfully as she imagined the large family living together. “And how romantic of your father to build your mother her dream house. He must have adored her.”
His expression reflective, Matt nodded. “He loved her madly. And I thought—we all thought—that when Mother died our father would fall to pieces. Instead, he surprised us by being very strong. He told us that was the way Elizabeth wanted him to be and I guess even after she was gone, he couldn’t let her down.”
Complete devotion. She’d heard about real couples in love and together for all their lives, but she often doubted she would be that fortunate, to find a man who would stick by her side through good and bad. “What happened to Elizabeth?” she asked curiously.
His fingers moved to the top of her hand where they slid back and forth over her skin, as though touching her comforted him. Instinctively, Juliet turned her palm upward and clasped her fingers around his. Her action caused their eyes to meet and she felt a connection far deeper than any kiss they’d shared.
He said, “She had diabetes, which caused several other health complications. In the end, her heart failed. Since she was only fifty-six at the time, we all felt robbed and even angry, I guess, that we didn’t have her for many years. But after a while the whole family came to realize we were just lucky to have had her for any amount of time.”
Her eyes soft, she gently squeezed his hand. “You were lucky, Matt. When you were talking about your father’s love for your mother I was thinking, wondering how my life would have been different if my parents’ marriage had been that devoted and real. What I remember most is my mother shedding thousands of tears and my father constantly turning his back on her. I grew up hating him and vowing to never be in the position my mother was in.”
Frowning, he asked, “Why didn’t she get out of it?”
Juliet sighed. “In the end I suppose she was too weak and sick to make such a traumatic move for herself. But initially, when she was still young and healthy—well, I just don’t know. Ultimately, I think she was too charmed by him to get out from under his spell.”
His gaze caressed her face. “Is that really why you haven’t married yet? Because of your father?”
Matt’s questions surprised her, even bothered her, because it made her face parts of her life she wasn’t all that proud of.
“Maybe. Deep down I guess it worries me that I’ll fall for someone that isn’t good for me and then wind up being as helpless and hurt as my mother.” Sighing, she rose from the table and carried her empty plate and cup to the sink. “I almost married Michael, not knowing that he had other women on the side. When I found out about them and broke our engagement, he begged me to take him back and promised he would change. I was almost tempted to believe him. But I kept hearing my father make those same promises to my mother and that gave me enough strength to walk away and not look back.”
Rising from his chair, he moved to her side. Juliet’s heart fluttered as his hand curved against the side of her neck.
“I’m glad you didn’t look back, Juliet.”
His murmured words filled her eyes with surprise. “Does that mean you’re glad I’m here instead—with you?”
His dark green eyes thoughtfully searched her face. “I’ve brought you here to my home. That should tell you how I feel.”
Moving closer, she rested her palms against his chest. “You’re a hard man to understand, Matt. Ever since I met you I’ve had the impression that you’re still in love with your late wife. Am I right?”
Frowning, he said, “Why would you think that?”
Her gaze fell to the middle of his chest where her fingers were splayed against hard muscles. “You’ve said you weren’t interested in ever getting married again. I just assumed that was because you still loved your wife.”
He sighed. “If you’re asking me if I’m still in love with my wife, then the answer is no. She’s gone. And you can’t be in love with a memory. At least, I can’t. I remember her with love. But it was our marriage and her death that…changed me.”
Glancing up at him, she gently searched his face. “Your marriage—it was good, wasn’t it?”
His expression wry, he stepped away from her and began to move aimlessly around the room. Juliet’s gaze followed him as she hoped and wondered if he finally felt close enough to open up to her.
“There were good times,” he finally agreed. “And then there were other times that—well, Erica was from the East Coast. I met her in Fort Worth while I was there at a cattleman’s conven
tion. She was there with a group of other models in town to do a fashion show for a big charity event. We happened to be staying in the same hotel and our paths crossed in, of all places, the elevator. We had a whirlwind courtship and married a few months after we met. She knew nothing about ranching or living a rural life, but I will admit she worked hard to fit in.”
“Then she must have loved you.”
He paused at the table’s edge to glance her way. “She did love me, in her own way. But I think it was more like she was in love with the image I represented. You know, the Wild West cowboy, the rancher, the macho Mexican who rode bucking horses and roped bulls. At the time I met her, I really didn’t care why she was so attracted to me. She was beautiful and fascinating and I wanted to bring her here to the ranch and keep her all for myself—like putting a colorful, but fragile butterfly in a glass jar so I could always have it at hand.”
Juliet wanted to walk over to him, to touch him in a reassuring way, but she didn’t want to divert his thoughts. She wanted to hear about this beautiful Erica who had once shared his life and borne his child.
“You make it sound as though you shouldn’t have married her,” Juliet stated with a frown. “Is that how you feel?”
He shrugged as he turned his gaze to a darkened window across the room. “Sometimes. I don’t know. I’ve always felt guilty about her death. I should have been watching her closer, making sure she wasn’t doing something dangerous.”
Juliet’s frown deepened. “For heaven’s sake, Matt, she wasn’t a child that you had to keep constant watch over.”
“No. But she was—well, she was constantly doing things behind my back. Not necessarily bad things, but doing them nonetheless. It caused problems between us, because I felt I couldn’t trust her. Not when she refused to be completely open with me about everything. On the morning of the day she was killed, I found airline tickets to Greece that she’d purchased without ever mentioning anything to me. We quarreled about it and I told her she’d wasted the money because I wasn’t going anywhere with her.”
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