by Janet Dailey
Vaguely impatient, she waited for him to climb behind the wheel. She moved over to sit close to him, turning slightly sideways so she could look at him, too. The rumble of the engine matched the purring sensation she felt inside, all because of him.
Shifting, she tucked a silk-clad leg beneath her while Raul maneuvered the car out of the parking space and onto the street. Leaning toward him, she bent her head and nibbled at the sinewy cord in his neck, following it down to his shoulder, then working her way back up to his ear. His clean, warm skin tasted good to her.
“Luz, I am trying to drive.” The sternness of his voice didn’t deter her, although she drew back.
She slid her hand inside his jacket and tried to unbutton his shirt so that she could feel the hard muscled flesh of his chest. His hand firmly gripped her wrist and pushed her hand back to her side.
“We’re almost there.”
“Home. We’re almost home,” she corrected him, then rested her chin atop his shoulder and drew an imaginary line around the opening of his ear with the tip of her fingernail. Raul turned his head away from the feathery touch.
When the car turned into the driveway, Luz swung away from him, straightening in her seat and leaning against its back. She ran her fingers through her hair, her smile still in place. “It was a wonderful party,” she mused aloud.
Raul parked the car in front of the garage, then came around to open the door for her. She climbed out and waited while he shut the door. He turned and headed in the opposite direction from the house. Startled, Luz watched him take a step away.
“Where are you going?”
“I noticed a light was on at the stable.” Raul paused. “Someone may have left it on.”
“There’s no need for you to go.” She moved toward him. “We can call Jimmy Ray from the house and have him check.” She slipped her arms around his neck and linked her hands behind it while she arched against him. “I had a glorious time tonight. Thank you.” Luz started to force his head down so she could kiss him.
His neck muscles stiffened, resisting the pressure as his hands came up and pulled her arms from around his neck, then pushed her away from him. She was stunned by his rejection and the coldness she now saw in his face.
“What’s wrong?” She frowned.
“Tonight you paraded me around your friends as if I were some new stud you’d bought. You do not own me, Luz.” His low voice vibrated with anger.
Stung by his reaction, her temper flared in defense. “Is that the way it looked to you? Well, maybe I was guilty of showing you off to my friends, but it so happens I was proud to be seen with you! I thought you would see that! And I am not interested in owning you! Thanks for spoiling what had been a glorious evening!” She started to walk away, then hesitated a second. “I’ve changed my mind. I think it’s an excellent idea for you to go check that light in the stables.”
Raul’s anger was expelled in a heavy breath as he watched the sequins flash on the skirt of her dress when the cloak billowed from her rapid pace. Her strident denial made him doubt that his accusation was just, but his irritability remained. The way the guests had regarded him at the party left a bad taste in his mouth. Perhaps Luz wasn’t to blame for it, but at the moment, it was a grudging concession.
Raul struck out for the stable, where the tack-room light gleamed in the night, intent on walking off his annoyance. The breeze was cool against his face, the smell of horses and hay mixing with its tangy fresh ocean scent.
Arriving at the stable, he opened the main door and stepped inside. A crack of light showed beneath the door to the tack room. He flipped on the switch to light the corridor and runway. A horse shifted in its stall, the straw rustling. Somewhere along the row, another one whickered softly, curiously.
As Raul approached the tack-room door, he caught the smell of something burning. He tried the door, but it was locked. He reached atop the doorsill, where he kept the key Luz had given him for the tack room. He heard a sound from inside as he turned the key in the lock. Pushing the door inward, he took a quick, long step into the room and stopped to face an equally startled Rob, whirling around and halting with his back to the workbench.
“Hey, man.” Rob laughed uncertainly. “You could scare a guy out of a year’s growth barging in like that. What’s the idea, anyway? You’re supposed to be at a party.”
“We just came back. I saw the light and thought someone had forgotten to shut it off.” That strange burning odor was fainter, but Raul could still smell it. Frowning, he looked around the tack room, expecting to find something smoldering.
“Nobody forgot. It’s just me. I was messin’ around down here. You can go on back to the house now. I’ll turn it off when I leave.” The quickly offered reassurance had a nervous edge to it, as Rob shifted and leaned back against the work counter.
“I smell something burning.” Raul eyed him suspiciously.
“I don’t smell anything.” Rob shrugged, the offhand smile not matching the anxiously averted glance that darted all around Raul. “I know what it might be. I smoked a joint in the john earlier. Maybe you can still smell that.”
Raul slowly realized that Rob hadn’t budged from the counter. “What are you working on?” He stepped forward, and Rob shifted to block his view.
“I don’t think it’s any of your business.” That nervous smile remained, but it was edged with defiance.
“What are you hiding?” When Raul took another step forward, Rob attempted to push him away. The movement permitted Raul to see the drug paraphernalia on the workbench. Angrily he shoved Rob backward. “What is that? Cocaine?”
“What if it is? So maybe I decided to do a little celebrating of my own, have a little fun. It’s got nothing to do with you. It doesn’t affect the way I play polo, and that’s your only concern,” Rob answered belligerently. “You may be shacking up with my mother, but that doesn’t give you any right to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do!”
Raul grabbed his shirtfront and pushed him backward, arching over the counter edge. “You will never speak of Luz like that again,” he ordered harshly and released his hold on the shirt to step away, disgust and anger trembling violently through him.
“She’s my mother,” Rob declared. “And you had better not forget that.”
“Does she know about this?” Raul jerked his head toward the counter.
“Go ahead and tell her,” he challenged. “I’ll deny it. I’ll blame it all on Jimmy Ray. Who do you think she’s going to believe? Me, that’s who. So you’d just better keep your mouth shut. You go trying to make trouble and you’re the one who’s going to be in it.”
Raul recognized the truth in what Rob was saying. Where her son was concerned, Luz had a blind spot. She’d warned him before that she’d side with her son. And he knew she’d never thank him for telling her Rob was using cocaine. It wasn’t his place. His involvement with Rob was strictly limited to the polo field. He had stayed out of the family disagreements in the past, and he’d stay out of this problem, too.
“This stays separate from polo, Rob. If you ever combine the two, you will have to answer to me,” Raul warned. “What you do in private is your concern. And what I do in private is none of yours. That includes your mother.”
“I knew you’d back down.” Rob grinned. “You don’t dare open your mouth. I almost wish you would. I’d give anything to watch Luz show you the door.”
“If she is hurt by this, you will be the one who does it.” Raul turned and walked out of the room.
He shut the door behind him and put the key back in its place. Leaving the stable, he walked slowly toward the house, wishing he didn’t share Rob’s secret. Cocaine was an expensive habit. Rob had the resources to support it, but sooner or later, Luz was going to find out. Raul dreaded that day, then was faintly surprised by the discovery that he expected to be there when it happened.
Returning to the house, Raul left the foyer light on for Rob and climbed the stairs to the master suite. He passed through the s
itting room and entered the empty bedroom. The red sequined dress lay neatly over a chair back, but there was no sign of Luz. Frowning, he looked around the room.
“Luz?” he called, and started back into the sitting room.
The reply, when it came, had a distant, flat ring to it. “I’m on the terrace.”
The French doors in the sitting room stood open onto the private sun deck. Raul walked over to them and paused in the opening when he saw the red-robed figure standing at the rail, her back to him. Her shoulders were curved downward, her arms folded in front. Her head was tipped up as if she was contemplating the confusion of stars in the night sky. Raul walked onto the deck, but she didn’t turn at his approach. Her position remained unchanged until he stopped behind her, then she bowed her head.
Looking at her subdued pose, he remembered her apprehensions over Trisha’s reaction to their relationship and over Rob’s jealousy of him. Inadvertently he had already caused Luz problems with her children—problems that were not yet fully resolved. They were her children, and her problems. She had not sought his advice, and he was in no position to offer it even if he knew a solution. He realized how fragile the bond between them was. It could not take much testing of its strength. He wouldn’t test it to see if it could withstand the weight of the new knowledge he had about Rob’s drug use.
As the silence lengthened, he placed his hands on her shoulders and felt her tension. He absently kneaded the taut cords while he stared at her slightly bowed head. Her hair was pale golden in the starlight, its delicate fragrant scent drifting to him.
“Tonight I used you as an instrument of revenge,” she said quietly.
Until that moment, Raul had forgotten about the quarrel they’d had earlier. It seemed very unimportant now. He started to tell her so, but she began talking again, so he let her continue.
“Not out of hatred or a desire to hurt anyone,” Luz added. “It was more to restore my own worth in the eyes of others. When Drew left me, all I saw in their eyes was pity, and not necessarily the gentle kind. They were always whispering behind my back. ‘Her husband dumped her for a younger woman. At her age, she’ll never find anyone else, unless it’s her money he’s after.’ “Behind that mocking hauteur, he heard the bitterness and the hurt it had caused. “I had to show them that I found somebody who wanted me for myself, and I wanted to see the envy in their eyes when they met you. So I did parade you around to them to wipe the pitying smirks off their faces. I never intended it to be an insult to you.”
Her explanation was the closest she could come to an apology. Raul understood that. In the time he’d known her, he couldn’t recall Luz ever saying she was sorry. She would admit to being wrong about something and explain her reasoning, but she was too proud to actually apologize. Yet her pride was one of the things he admired in her.
“No importa,” he assured her. Raul bent to nuzzle the curve of her neck, nibbling at its sensitive cord just as she had done to him in the car. He felt the involuntary quiver of her response, and slid his hands down her crossed arms, overlapping them and drawing her back against him.
Luz closed her eyes, savoring the sensations his teeth and tongue evoked. The warmth of his embrace assuaged the hurt that had followed their quarrel. Always his arms made her forget everything but the pleasure he gave her.
At midweek, Luz finished the initial estimate of the travel expenses the polo team and its entourage of horses and grooms were likely to incur. She brought it into the study for Raul to review and laid it on the desk in front of him.
“Would you check this over and see if I’ve over- or underestimated the stabling fees, lodging, or meal costs? I think I might be off on the gasoline expense for the trucks hauling the horse trailers. It’s on the second page.” She walked around the desk and stood beside his chair to point it out to him.
“It appears low.” Raul skimmed the other itemized figures. “This is very thorough.”
“You sound surprised,” Luz said, chiding him for doubting her money management knowledge. “Don’t forget, we Kincaids came from a banking background. We were taught the worth of a dollar despite being reared in the lap of luxury, so to speak. And I’ve managed the household budget for years and been on countless fund-raising committees. And when you’re trying to raise money, the idea is to take in more than you spend. I’m not exactly frugal with money, but I don’t squander it either.”
Smiling, Raul held up his hands in mock surrender. “I retract the comment.”
“Excuse me.” Emma Sanderson paused in the study doorway. “The mail is here, Luz.”
She came around the desk and took the stack of letters from her secretary. “Thank you, Emma,” Luz murmured and sat down on the leather couch to go through them while Raul went over the estimated expense list she had prepared.
The mail was mostly household bills and charge-account invoices along with the usual junk advertisements addressed to “Occupant.”
“A letter from Trisha.” It was the first she’d heard from her since Thanksgiving when she had called to let her know she was back safely from the ski trip. Luz tore open the flap with suppressed eagerness and quickly scanned the first paragraph of the letter, bracing herself for the possibility Trisha might be writing to say she was making other plans for the Christmas holidays. “Raul, she’s coming home … this weekend.” She couldn’t believe it and read on hurriedly. “She’ll be flying in Friday night. The baby’s being christened on Sunday.” Luz didn’t care what reason was bringing her as long as she came. “Emma!” Leaving the couch, she hurried to the doorway, the letter clutched in her hand. “Emma?”
The plump, gray-haired woman was halfway across the living room when she stopped and turned back in answer to the summons. “Yes?”
“Trisha’s coming home this weekend. Be sure and have her room ready for her.”
“I’ll see to it right away, Luz.”
“Good.” She started to turn back into the study, then checked the movement. “Oh, and Emma, get all the Christmas things out. We’ll be decorating the house on Saturday. You know how Trisha has always insisted that she be here when we do it.”
“I remember.” Emma smiled.
Luz swung back into the room and walked slowly to the desk while she read the rest of the letter. The rest of it mostly had to do with her activities at college. Luz paused beside Raul’s chair, unconsciously resting her hand on his shoulder.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she murmured as she reread the first part of the letter.
“Yes, it is,” Raul agreed. She was too wrapped up in the contents of Trisha’s letter to notice the quiet way he studied her face.
Balancing on the stepladder from the handyman’s toolshed, Luz held the end of a red velvet ribbon against the top curve of the dining-room arch. A mistletoe-covered ball swung from the ribbon. She arched backward, trying to gauge the distance on either side of it.
“Emma? Trisha! Anybody? Does this look like the center?” she called as she held the decoration in the place she’d selected and tried to eyeball it from her ladder perch.
“Will I do?”
Luz glanced over her shoulder at Raul, her expression mockingly dubious. “I don’t know. I really need an expert at this. From what I saw at your house, you aren’t much of a hand at decorating.”
“Ah, but the pictures I do have were hanging in the center of the wall,” he reminded her.
“You have me there.” She laughed. “So what do you think of this?”
“An inch to the right,” he instructed. Luz moved the ribbon over. “That is the center.”
While she held the end of the ribbon in place, she took a thumbtack from the small box atop the stepladder and pushed it through the material into the wood. Holding it there, she picked up the hammer and tapped the thumbtack firmly into position. When she finished, Raul held the ladder steady while she climbed down with her hammer and tacks. She stepped back to look at the ball of mistletoe hanging in the archway.
“You
’re right. It is the center.”
“Of course.”
“Are you familiar with the custom of kissing under the mistletoe?” Luz didn’t even try to understand this mood she was in, half flirty and half simply high spirits. Having Trisha home, the Christmas things out, and Raul here, everything seemed gloriously perfect.
“Perhaps you could freshen my memory,” Raul suggested.
“I would be delighted to.” She hooked her hands around his neck and raised onto her tiptoes, but Raul drew back when she started to kiss him.
“I thought we were supposed to stand under the mistletoe.” He arched a thick brow in question.
“A minor detail, my love. A minor detail,” Luz murmured, and brought her mouth against his lips, pushing into them with building interest. His arms went around her, his hands tangling in the loose folds of her oversize sweater while he pressed her to him and returned the lazy passion of her kiss.
“Is that how it is done?” Raul questioned when she drew away and let her heels touch the floor again.
“That’s just the first lesson.”
His peripheral vision noted a movement in the foyer. He glanced over the top of Luz’s head and saw Trisha standing in the opening, a papier-mâché piñata shaped like a horse in her hands. She had seen them kissing, he realized. When she saw him looking at her, she ducked quickly back into the foyer out of sight.
“Luz?” Emma bustled into the dining room. “I have your candy canes for the centerpieces and new bulbs to replace the burned-out ones in the tree lights.”
“Back to work,” Luz murmured to him and moved reluctantly away to take the items from her secretary. “Trisha!” she called. “We’ve got the lights, so we’re back in business.” When there was no response she glanced at him. “I think she’s finishing up in the foyer. Do you want to tell her on your way upstairs?”
“Of course.” Raul crossed through the living room into the large foyer. Pine boughs twined around the carved railing of the staircase, adorned with red velvet bows at intervals along the way. Trisha knelt beside the newel post, positioning the red-and-green piñata horse near its base. Raul paused, aware that she was aware of his presence even though she didn’t look up. “Luz asked me to tell you the bulbs for the tree lights are here.”
