California Royale Page 11

  She passed the corner of the main house and stepped up on its low-slung front porch, her head still down in thought, her hands clasped behind her back.

  “Shea?”

  Shea jumped and jerked her gaze up hurriedly. Duke stood on the porch a few feet away, looking as stunned as she felt. His old jeans and faded safari shirt were stained with dirt and sweat; his face was lined with fatigue. He held a sheaf of blueprints in one big hand.

  “Alejandro,” she murmured. Shea glanced toward the yard and saw the Ferrari parked among construction machinery and piles of building materials. Hope, excitement, and confusion made her put her hands over her mouth and shut her eyes for a moment. Slowly she opened them and looked back at Duke. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming here?”

  “Didn’t know until last night.”

  Shea absorbed the intense, tormented look in his eyes and began to tremble. He’d been gone for three weeks; it felt like forever. Despite everything that was wrong between them, she was ecstatic at the sight of him. “Are there problems with the construction?”

  “No. I just wanted to see how the project was going. I’ve been working with the crew all day.” He gestured toward his dirty clothes. “Sorry,” he said sardonically. “My peasant clothes.”

  Shea’s happiness began to fade. “Alejandro,” she said in a quiet tone, “you know that I don’t care how you’re dressed.” She pointed at her sweaty blue jogging shorts and matching top, then at the disheveled braid that held her blond hair. “Look at me, for goodness sake.”

  “I am looking,” he muttered. “I can’t stop.”

  Shea inhaled raggedly. “So you drove from one end of the state to the other, on impulse?”

  “Lately I’ve acquired the habit of doing things on impulse.”

  Shea’s expression hardened as anger mixed with her jumbled emotions. “Romantically, you mean.” She stared while he leaned against a porch post, a guarded expression on his face. “When are you leaving again?” she asked.

  “Tonight.”

  “Were you going to see me before you left?”

  “Why? Do you have business to discuss?”

  Shea was infuriated by his stubborness and frightened by his reserve. She lost all calm and unleashed a torrent in Spanish.

  “Hombre! How can you stand there and act like ice when you know how much I care about you? You’ve tortured me for three weeks, and I won’t have it anymore! Either fire me or be nice to me, but don’t shut me out without a chance!”

  He straightened ominously and moved toward her then, frowning, his jaw tight, his back as straight as a redwood tree. When he was close enough to touch her, he spoke in a quiet tone. “I came here because I needed to be near you. I didn’t think you wanted to see me, so I wasn’t going to visit you or the damned estate.”

  Shea put her hand on his face. “You think I’m cold and heartless,” she whispered brokenly, “but nothing has ever hurt me so much as when you walked out of my office three weeks ago.”

  “Don’t touch me,” he warned softly. “It isn’t smart right now.”

  “I don’t want to be smart.” Shea slid both arms around his neck and pressed her body to his. Before he could move back, she kissed him.

  He twisted his lips away and grasped her arms, his fingers digging in sharply. “Stop.”

  “You think that I’m too elegant and calm to seduce you, Alejandro? You’re wrong. I can be just as lusty and demanding as you.”

  She curled her body against his torso and angled her head to kiss him again. The unfettered wildness was a foreign and overwhelming sensation that drained her of reservations. “Regardless of everything,” she said against his mouth, “we belong together. You used to say the same thing. What happens with the estate or this camp doesn’t matter. Alejandro, you’re back, and that’s all I care about.”

  He gave a hoarse moan and grabbed her in a fierce embrace, then submitted to her sweet torment and returned the kiss, his mouth rough and greedy. One hand slid down her spine and over her rump, pulling her up on her toes, pulling her forward so that their lower bodies meshed intimately.

  Shea buried her head against his shoulder and hugged him with all her strength. He kissed her hair, then dipped his head and whispered hoarsely against her ear.

  “I want you so bad that I could strip off your clothes and make love to you right here on the porch. I’ve never missed anyone as much as I’ve missed you. I’ve never needed anyone as much as I need you.” He paused, breathing so hard that she slid one hand down and stroked his chest anxiously. “But I have to leave, querida.”

  Shea lifted her head and gazed at him speechlessly. His dark eyes were filled with regret but also determination as they burned into her. “If we make love right now, it’ll only complicate the problem. Nothing would be solved and we’d hurt each other more.”

  “I love you, Alejandro.”

  His voice was troubled but gentle. “Enough to forget your doubts about this project of mine? Enough to forget that you resent what I’m trying to do? Can you do more than pretend to be enthusiastic?”

  Shea leaned her forehead against his shoulder and said sadly. “You ask for so much.”

  “You have so much to give.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “So am I, Palomino. I want to prove to you that our worlds aren’t so different.”

  “Bringing underprivileged kids to the estate will do that?”

  He stroked her hair. “I hope so.”

  Shea quivered and gently pushed herself away from him. He looked down at her with concern and sorrow. “Hombre,” she said in a voice that strained for lightness, “you’re a tough horse to tame.”

  He managed a chuckle, though it was a pained sound. “I’ll never be tame, and I hope you won’t be either.”

  “Do you have to leave right away?”

  Duke nodded. “I have to be back at the ranch by tomorrow morning. And if I stay with you much longer, I’ll … never mind.”

  “I’d never turn you loose. You’re right. Go.”

  “Come on, I’ll give you a ride to the estate.”

  Shea shook her head. She couldn’t keep up this nonchalant facade that long. “I’ll run back the way I came. If I hurry, I’ll be home before dark.”

  “You’ll ride in my car,” he said firmly. “I don’t like the idea of you running through the forest when it’s getting dark.”

  “Alejandro, I may be a sheep, but I can take care of myself.”

  He frowned in bewilderment. “A sheep? What the hell?”

  “Nothing. It has to do with something O’Malley said.”

  “You two are trading strange philosophies?”

  “O’Malley is chasing Jennie Cadishio. I’m their referee. I talk to him almost every day.” She turned and stepped off the porch, aching from the strain of continuing their gentle banter. Duke walked with her to the edge of the clearing, where the new road led back to the estate. Shea stopped and looked up at him. “I can barely force myself to leave you.” She reached for him, but he shook his head.

  His expression was almost harsh from the effort of restraining himself. “If we kiss good-bye, you’ll be in a helluva lot of trouble. I’d forget all my noble intentions. I’d put you in the Ferrari and take you to the ranch with me, and then I’d use every tactic short of force to keep you there. Away from the damned fat farm we’d have a better chance of being happy.”

  “The damned fat farm,” she echoed, frowning sadly. She let her hands drop back by her sides. “You hate it so much. Oh, Alejandro.”

  “I’m trying not to,” he said in a hoarse tone.

  She gave him a bittersweet smile and knew that she had to leave right away or she’d cry. “Good-bye,” she murmured, the words barely audible.

  He took her hands, lifted them, and kissed her palms. Fora moment he pressed his face there, his eyes closed. “Good night,” he told her. “Never good-bye.”

  The morning breeze swept across the desert pan
orama, then crept up the rocky slopes to the ridge where Duke sat on a huge palomino stallion. The breeze whispered over Duke’s face, bringing the arid, clean smell of the desert with it. The stallion snorted at the invigorating fragrance and shifted impatiently. The wind made a rustling sound in the low chaparral shrubs that were so typical of this part of southern California. Overhead a teal blue sky was emerging from the cover of night.

  “Someday, Outlaw,” Duke told the horse softly, “we’ll bring Shea here to see the desert wake up.” He either spoke those words or thought them every morning when he came to this spot. The ritual had begun after he left her at the estate the first time; now that he had left her there again, the ritual was even more important.

  “Maybe I’m a fool for leaving her, eh?” Duke murmured. The stallion snorted again. “It’s been two days, and it seems like two years. She wanted me to stay. If I didn’t love her so much, that would have been easy to do.” The stallion pawed the ground fiercely. “Patience,” Duke whispered, as much to himself as to Outlaw.

  With one nudge of the reins Duke swung the big stallion around and guided him toward the distant, green oasis that marked the Solo Verde ranch. Thirty minutes later the crisp white fences of the outlying pastures bordered Outlaw on both sides, and in five minutes more Duke reined the stallion to a halt by the first of several large barns.

  “Senor Duke!” A wizened little man with bow legs and silver-white hair hurried out of the bam and grasped Outlaw’s bridle. He looked up at Duke worriedly.

  “Luis, I’m going to put you on the track one day and clock you,” Duke joked lightly. “I bet you do a helluva quarter mile. What’s wrong?”

  “You have a visitor at the house!”

  Duke glanced at the sun rising in a golden explosion to the east, then swung down off Outlaw’s back and handed Luis the reins. “At this hour? Who?”

  “A very pretty lady!”

  “Hmmm. What’s her name?”

  “Shea Somerton.”

  Duke broke into a run.

  She was seated in his large den on a rugged equipal made of tanned pigskin and rough-hewn wood, looking as out of place as an orchid in a cactus patch. She was dressed in a flowing blue dress with a dark print scarf arranged artfully around her shoulders. Her hair was swept up in a mass of blond curls. But despite her flawless appearance, she looked haggard around the eyes, and makeup couldn’t hide the redness there. Duke knelt down in front of her and grasped both her hands. She looked at him calmly.

  “What’s happened?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes were pensive. “Nothing, really. I’m resigning as manager of the estate.”

  “What?”

  “I wanted to tell you in person. I wanted to tell you right away, so that I couldn’t change my mind. I flew to San Diego last night and rented a car to drive here.”

  Speechless, Duke simply stared at her for a moment. He shook his head as if to clear it. “You’re resigning? What the hell …”

  “I can’t fight you, and I can’t fight what I feel about your project.”

  “I don’t want you to leave the estate.”

  She gave him a look of determination. “It’s the only way. I won’t have any trouble finding a new job; my qualifications are excellent. And maybe with the issue of the estate out of the way, you and I—”

  “You’re the heart of the estate, dammit.” He stood, feeling angry and bewildered. “I won’t accept your resignation.”

  She stood also, her hands clasped in front of her over a tiny blue purse. “I’m doing this for us, Alejandro,” she explained firmly. “I’ve waited all my life for you, and I won’t let this problem drive you away again.”

  “You love me that much?” he asked hoarsely.

  Her voice trembled and her violet eyes narrowed as she fought tears. “Of course I do, hombre. This is my way of giving you everything you want. Love. Enthusiasm. If I participate in your group-home project from a distance, I think I can enjoy it.”

  He jerked the purse out of her hands and tossed it onto a chair, then pulled her into his arms. “Not like this, querida,” he insisted, his voice becoming gentle. “I don’t want you to give up everything you’ve worked for.”

  “I’m resigning, Alejandro. That’s firm.”

  He frowned. “Hell, no, you hard-headed woman.”

  Her eyed widened with annoyance. “Look, don’t try to bully me.”

  He glared down at her and searched his mind for a solution to this dilemma. She couldn’t quit, even if her reason made him adore her more than ever. “The estate won’t be anything but a hassle to me if you’re not there to run it,” he told her. “If you quit, I’ll close it down.”

  “That’s not fair!” She pushed him away and stepped back, breathing hard.

  Duke nodded to her with grim resignation. “I only play fair in poker and business,” he warned. “This is personal. I’m going to get what I want, and what I want is for you to keep running the fat farm.”

  “You wouldn’t shut it down. You wouldn’t put everyone on the staff out of work. You’re bluffing, poker man.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. That’s a risk you don’t want to take,” he told her.

  “And you accuse me of being cold and heartless!”

  Duke put a hand over the left side of his chest. “Nothing here but ice,” he said drolly.

  “Alejandro, I’m resigning for the sake of our relationship!”

  “You’re not resigning. I love you too much to let you give up the fat—the estate. I’ll learn to like the place, if that’ll make you feel better.”

  “Look, I really think I know best …”

  “You’re worn out and upset. How can you know best? Enough said.”

  He grabbed her suddenly and picked her up. She yelped in a most unsophisticated way and wriggled angrily, then lambasted him in loud Spanish when he refused to put her down. He stood unmoving, gazing at her sternly until she finished.

  “I’ve never been compared to so many different animals before,” he admitted. “And most of them ugly.” He started down a corridor in the big, Spanish-style ranch house, carrying her easily.

  “Put me down, Alejandro,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “I’ll put you down in my bed. You’ll get some sleep, and then you’ll go back to Mendocino. I can’t have my manager running around southern California when she’s got work to do.”

  “Damn your time!”

  He walked into a large and very masculine room that resembled the lair of an old-West bandit who’d acquired plenty of gold. Rough-hewn timbers lined the ceiling; Indian blankets decorated the white-washed walls; the floor consisted of big, unpolished clay tiles strewn with colorful rugs, and the heavy Southwestern-style furniture looked as if it had been designed for Paul Bunyan.

  Duke dumped her onto the jumbled sheets and blankets of his king-size bed. “Can I get you anything before you go to sleep?” he asked politely.

  With her legs splayed and a ringlet of hair hanging over her eyes, Shea felt less than dignified. She propped herself on both elbows and glared up at him. “I couldn’t get you to make love to me the other evening and I can’t get you to let me resign,” she fumed. “Just exactly what do you intend to do with me?”

  “I’ll let you know my long-range plans later. For right now, I intend to turn you into a den mother for a bunch of kids who desperately need all your gentleness and patience.”

  “I don’t feel gentle or patient!”

  “That’s because you’re sleepy.”

  “I’m not sleepy!”

  He sat down beside her, put one brawny hand on her shoulder, and blithely shoved her flat on the bed. “You will be,” he promised. Shea rolled away from him and sat up. She grasped her forehead quickly and went still.

  “You make me dizzy,” she muttered.

  “You’re exhausted.” Duke reached over and put one hand on her back, stroking softly. She trembled, and the tightness in her shoulders eased a little.


  “I dread meeting the kids from your group home,” she told him abruptly. “They’re going to remind me of everything I left behind.”

  “Lay down.” He guided her back until she lay with her head pillowed on his thigh. She looked up at him sadly, and he caressed her face with his fingertips. “I know you had an ugly childhood,” he began.

  “You don’t know how ugly, Alejandro.”

  “Sssh. When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen. But you can’t run from it forever, querida.”

  They became silent, and time passed without notice as she lost herself in his loving eyes. All the energy and resistance drained out of her. Shea blinked languidly as his fingers trailed back and forth across her forehead. “If I seem coldhearted toward your project,” she said, and now her voice was low and sleepy, “it really does have to do with the way I grew up.”

  “Sssh, querida, I’m beginning to understand that.”

  “I’m no … snob.”

  “I know, I know. Sssh. I’m sorry I ever accused you of that.”

  “I’ll … try to cooperate … with … enthusiasm.” Gathering one last ounce of rebellion, she squinted at him. “Bully,” she said without much malice. “I wanted to resign.”

  “No, you wanted to make things better between us. Things are fine with us, Palomino.” He brushed his fingers across her lips. His voice dropped. “Sleep now. I love you.”

  “Hmmm. I love you.”

  Her eyes closed and remained shut. He slid his arms under her, moved her so that her head rested on a pillow, then took her hair down and spread its lustrous strands around her face. “A halo,” he whispered.

  “Hmmm. Flattery.”

  Duke was filled with such tenderness for her that he couldn’t say anything else. Her breathing slowed and he knew that she slept. Working carefully, he undressed her. After he arranged the covers over Shea’s relaxed, naked body, he rose and went to the wide, glass-paned doors that opened onto a private courtyard at the center of his home. Sunlight filtered over him while he lazed, smiling, against a door jamb and watched Shea sleep. At least for the moment, everything in the world was golden.