The Charmer in Chaps

by Julia London

  She drew his bottom lip between her teeth and slid her hand down his rump. “So?”

  He smiled, and then kissed her so steamily that she was a furnace of want, of hot, molten sexual desire. How could he make her feel so ravenous? How could he make her knees wobbly with a kiss? His kiss didn’t feel just hungry and lustful. It was also reverent. He stroked her face. Her hair. His hand splayed across her face, not to move her head around to suit him, but to touch her.

  And then, like a dream, he lifted his head, and it was over. He stepped to one side and opened the driver’s side door of her vehicle.

  Ella hadn’t moved. She was staring at him, still deep in that heady space of desire.

  Luca smiled, she thought, a little smugly. Like he knew the sort of knee-melting power he had over her.

  Dammit. Damndamndamn. She’d shown her hand.

  “Goodnight, Ella,” he said as she forced herself to step around him and slip into the driver’s seat.

  “Goodnight, Luca,” she said pertly, and cranked the engine. She gave him a cheery little wave out the window as she backed away, then roared out of the parking lot as she gasped for breath.

  She drove home in something of a fog, uncertain about everything suddenly. She didn’t know when she’d see him again. Or even if she should. She didn’t know where this thing between them was going, exactly, or when it would end, but her fear of that had been dwarfed tonight by the desire to see him again, to feel his hands on her body, to see that shine in his eyes.

  Imagining it made her shiver.

  When she pulled up to her house, Buddy and the pig were stretched out on the porch waiting for her. She gave them both belly rubs, then walked into her rotting little house.

  She shut the door and looked around at the furniture she’d salvaged from bulk trash by driving around the Terrell Hills neighborhood in San Antonio on pick-up day. The two blue-green totes stacked in the corner that carried her life’s belongings. She’d learned at an early age to travel light, to keep possessions to a minimum.

  She sank down on the couch and thought about the two La-Z-Boy armchairs that had stood side-by-side in this very spot when she was a child. The art had consisted of her grandmother’s cross-stitched angels and snowy village scenes.

  Ella was not as numb to her past or her memories as she’d claimed to be. She still felt her grandparents’ loss. She felt the loss of her mother, and although it was a different loss, it ran just as deep. The truth, that Ella refused to let anyone see, was that searing losses burned in her gut and her head, and no matter how she tried to make it out as though her life had gone on and she was fine, those scars were with her every single moment. She once had loved her grandma, and her grandma had given in death the one thing she couldn’t give Ella in life, the thing Ella had always craved—a real home. But she’d recently come to suspect that the only thing missing from this bona fide miracle was someone to share it with.

  In all her wildest dreams, she wished it was Luca. In her wildest dreams, she knew that person was not Luca. Oh, she didn’t doubt that he genuinely liked her and was attracted to her. But he was too rich, too important, from a family too powerful to ever be saddled with someone like her.

  So what was she doing with him? Why was she playing with a bonfire that would torch her in the end?

  Her phone rang, causing Ella to jump. She smiled and dug in her pocket for it, expecting it to be Luca.

  It was not Luca on her cell phone. It was Stacy.

  Her warm mood quickly turned cool. Ella tossed the phone on the couch and stood up, walked into her bedroom, and ignored the insistent ringing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Luca had just started up the Sombra when he got a text from his older brother. Where R U?

  Town, Luca texted back.

  Come out to the ranch?

  Luca had planned to go to his loft, but he texted back a thumbs-up and headed out to the ranch.

  He pulled into the garage and walked up to the house on a flagstone path that wended through palms and loquat trees, through azalea and bougainvillea, past shaped hedges, and through a stone archway into the pool area.

  That’s where he saw his sister languishing on a chaise longue near the pool. She was wearing a dress, and she had a stiletto heel on one foot; the other foot was suspiciously bare. Her hat, like something he’d seen women wear to a garden party, was pulled down over her face so that all he could see was the ends of her strawberry blond hair.

  Luca headed over to the chair. When Hallie did not look up, he nudged her. “I thought you were in Houston.”

  “I was. Go away,” she said, without removing the hat from her face. “I’m having a pity party, table for one.”

  “Is everything okay?” Luca asked.

  With a sigh, Hallie removed the hat and looked up at him. “I don’t know. I’m just thinking, Luca. Or maybe I’m not thinking at all. Actually, what I’m doing is feeling sorry for myself and I’d like to do it in peace, so if you don’t mind, go away.”

  Luca knew his twin pretty well. He pushed her legs to one side and sat next to her on the chaise. “What happened to your other shoe?”

  Hallie’s gaze shifted to the pool. Luca followed her gaze, leaned over her legs, and spotted a shoe at the bottom of the pool, its red sole clearly visible.

  “Don’t ask,” Hallie said.

  He was not about to ask—if there was one thing he’d learned through the years, it was that when a woman said don’t ask, either do as she asked or get ready for a tongue-lashing. Whatever was behind this shoe business, it seemed like a job for Hallie’s fiancé. Speaking of which, he asked, “Where’s Chris?”

  “In Houston.” She covered her face with the hat again.

  “How did you get here?”

  “Nick flew in to get me.”

  Luca thought he’d smelled jet fuel. They had a small airstrip nearby and a hangar on the other side of the stables for the two Prince planes. He was about to ask Hallie what had happened in Houston, but she suddenly removed her hat and peered closely at him. “Where have you been?”

  “In town.”

  “Three Rivers? Who were you with?”

  “Why are you so nosy?”

  Hallie’s gaze narrowed accusingly. “Who was she?”

  “Who said it was a she?”

  “You look cute, Luca. And you’re in a fairly good mood, which is kind of noticeable around here these days.”

  Hallie knew him too well. “Ella Kendall.”

  Hallie gasped with surprise, and her eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. She pushed herself up in the chaise and tossed her hat to another chair. “Ella Kendall,” she said gleefully. “I thought she didn’t like you.”

  “I’ve been working on that.”

  She gasped. “Are you dating?”

  “No,” he said, and pointed at her. “Don’t, Hallie. I helped her out around the house, and then we had tacos. End of story.” Jesus, he sounded like Ella.

  “But why were you helping her at her house?” she asked, waggling her brows at him.

  “Because I wanted to see the spring.”

  Hallie’s smile faded, and she sank back against the chaise. “When are you going to tell Mom what’s going on with you and that land?”

  “When the time is right,” he said. Hallie was the only person Luca had told about his and Brandon’s plans. He hadn’t intended to tell her at all until everything was ready to go. But she was at home the day he’d looked at the painting in his room and had understood what his dad had done. He’d pulled Hallie into his room to take a look with him and tell him he wasn’t crazy.

  “So?” he’d asked her after she’d stared at it for a good long minute. “Am I crazy?”

  “You’re not crazy,” she’d confirmed.

  That epiphany had opened up his grief, had found a
fissure and cracked it open to let some sun in. In hindsight, it was so simple. When they’d first heard about the will, Luca had understood immediately why his dad had left Nick the running of the family business—he was the oldest, the heir apparent. Nick had been looking to get out of the ranching business before his dad died. He wanted to fly. Literally fly, as in big planes, private jets, anything. But for now, Nick was stuck, at least until he could convince their mom to hire a manager.

  And then there was Hallie of the one shoe. She’d been moping around since she’d learned she wasn’t going to get her Big Society Wedding that was supposed to have been featured in Bridal Guide magazine. Not only had Dad’s gambling pulled that rug out from under her, he’d also left her the headache of a few empty warehouses near San Antonio. Warehouses. For a woman whose life goal had been to be a ballerina, leaving her empty warehouses didn’t make a whole lot of sense to Luca. Or anyone else, for that matter.

  Dad had also left Tanner Sutton some land that he owned free and clear of their mom—Luca wasn’t sure how that had come about—but it was land along the highway, and his mom and grandma were certain “that upstart” was going to build apartment buildings and “ruin our lives” with it.

  Last, but not least, he’d left the two thousand acres of crap land to Luca.

  “I like her,” Hallie said thoughtfully.

  “Ella? Did you know her in school?”

  “Not really,” she said. “But I always kind of liked her. She was one of those people who always struck me as a little mysterious, you know? Like there was a lot more going on with her than anyone could guess.”

  His sister was perceptive.

  “You have officially ruined the end of my pity party, you know. Nick is waiting. He wants to have a family meeting.”

  “Great,” Luca muttered. He looked at the house. Lights were blazing in the more than a dozen windows that faced the pool area. “So, tell me the truth. Does Mom suspect anything about what I’m doing?”

  “Oh, George may have mentioned your visit with him. And, of course, she sees Mrs. Hurst all the time, so I am sure she’s heard about the land Brandon bought and what he meant to do with it. But she doesn’t know what you’re up to, Luca.” She pinned him with a look. “You better tell her,” she warned. “Because she will really come unglued if she thinks you’ve been doing this behind her back.”

  “I have been doing it behind her back.”

  “So you better tell her if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life listening to her complain about the time you planned a fund-raiser without telling her. Help me up,” she said, pushing him off her chaise. She slipped off her shoe and dangled it from one finger as they walked to the house.

  They made their way inside, walking down a long hallway on hickory floors, past paintings bought at art auctions in New York, beneath a pair of crystal chandeliers that had been shipped from the Island of Murano in Italy. The hickory gave way to marble in the foyer, which paved the path to the spacious, sunken family room with commanding views of the ranch. Here, the floor was thick planks of hand-scraped oak. The ceiling soared overhead, a boxed beam construct. The furnishings were fine leather and the rugs hand-knotted wool and silk.

  If there was one thing their mother did well, it was display the Prince wealth.

  Luca’s mother was seated in one of two overstuffed leather chairs near the windows. His grandmother sat in the other one, her feet on the ottoman, the bottoms of her shoes facing them all. Nick was behind the small bar their father had installed one particularly wet winter. He lifted his chin in greeting when Luca and Hallie walked in.

  Hallie headed for the couch, plopping down on her back, stretching her legs out, and taking up most of the space.

  “What have you been up to?” Nick asked Luca when he stepped behind the bar.

  “Not much. I’ll take a whiskey, barkeep. Something tells me I’m going to need it.”

  “You might need two,” Nick said drily.

  “You’re going to ruin that pretty dress,” his mom said to Hallie. “That’s no way for a lady to sit.”

  That was his mother’s job in this family as Luca saw it—to make sure everyone knew what they were doing wrong.

  “Perfect. I don’t feel much like a lady today,” Hallie shot back.

  His mom turned her gaze to the window, surprisingly unwilling to argue.

  “I don’t like wearing dresses, myself,” his grandma said. “Never did. Too much fuss. Give me a pair of Levi 501s, a nice linen shirt, and I’m fine.”

  “I like 501s,” Hallie said absently.

  “They don’t make ’em like they used to, you know,” his grandma said.

  His mother sighed wearily, then stood up from her chair and wandered over to the window.

  “They used to be made so well that if someone tried to get in your pants, it wasn’t going to happen. Not like today with all that Lycra.”

  “Dolly, please?” his mom asked wearily.

  “Now I’ll tell you what I don’t like,” his grandma continued, ignoring her daughter-in-law. “Those cut-off shorts all the young girls are wearing now. They’re too short. You can see all of China and all of France.”

  “Maybe we could save the discussion about denim for another time,” his mom suggested.

  “Anytime you like,” his grandma said. “Make me a martini, Delia, please.”

  Luca noticed his mother’s shoulders seemed to sag a bit, but she dutifully walked over to the bar. Her gaze flicked over him as she picked up the shaker. “You look nice.”

  “Thanks. So what’s this party about?” Luca asked.

  “Money,” Nick said. “What else?” He came out from behind the bar with Luca’s whiskey. Nick was an inch taller than Luca. And a little broader, although that didn’t stop him from helping himself to Luca’s shirts when he was at the ranch.

  “Do we have to talk about money again?” Hallie complained. “It seems like every time I am here, we are talking about money.”

  “Oh, we have to talk about it,” Nick said. “You, especially, Hallie.”

  “Me!”

  “You shop too much. How many handbags does one person need?”

  “Hey!” Hallie snapped, and sat up. “Who gave you the right to look at my receipts?”

  “Dad did when he died, that’s who,” Nick said calmly. “I keep an eye on the Prince books now, and your money, like all our money, comes from the Prince Family coffers. You’ve got the trust Grandpa left you if you want to own that many handbags.”

  “But that’s for my future,” Hallie said.

  “Yeah, well, the family account is for all of our futures,” Nick said. He paused, took a sip of his whiskey. “I’ve been working with our CPA to get a handle on our cash. Our property tax has gone up quite a lot. Not to mention the estate tax. The upshot is, we’re all going to have to tighten our belts.”

  Nick actually looked worried. Luca couldn’t recall ever seeing him so concerned. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Nick sighed and ran his fingers through his sandy brown hair. “We’re pretty low on cash. We—” He was interrupted by Mom’s suddenly loud and vigorous shaking of their grandma’s martini. She looked as if she’d heard it all before.

  When she finished, Nick said, “We have a lot less than I thought.”

  Less money was not something that was ever discussed at Three Rivers Ranch.

  “But we’re rich,” Hallie said unnecessarily. “I thought we were the one percent of the one percents.”

  “I don’t know where we fall in the rankings,” Nick said with a look for Hallie. “And I’m not saying we’re destitute. We’re rich in assets, but not so rich in cash. Dad . . .” Nick paused. He glanced down, his jaw working a moment, as if he were having to swallow something bitter. “Dad had a lot of debt,” he said. “He took a big chunk of our cash reserves t
o pay off some of his debt, but he had even more debt because of gambling losses and bad investments.”

  “Well now, that’s your opinion, Nick,” their grandma said a bit defensively. “They were good investments when he made them. He couldn’t help it that other people are sorry crooks.”

  “I don’t like it either, Grandma, but they were bad deals.”

  His mom handed his grandma the martini she’d requested. “You know how impulsive Charlie could be, Dolly.”

  Hallie had come up on her knees on the couch. “Okay, so what does this mean, Nick? How are we supposed to tighten our belts?” she demanded, as if Nick’s suggestion that they live like most people was impossible.

  “I mean don’t spend so much. Don’t run up your credit card and expect that it’s going to be paid, no questions asked. Don’t fly off to New York or LA on a whim.”

  “Those trips were not whims,” she said defiantly, then sank back. “This sucks. First Dad dies, and now we have to tighten our belts?”

  “It’s not like I’m asking you to shop at a thrift store, for Pete’s sake,” Nick said.

  Hallie gasped softly but wisely said nothing.

  “And you, Luca. Stop staying at the most expensive hotels and having them cater your parties.”

  Luca felt slightly warm under the collar. It was true that he’d gone on something of a bender after his dad’s funeral. He hadn’t known how else to grieve. None of them had. Nick walked around pissed all the time. Mom drank. Hallie shopped. Grandma was turning her hair purple and pink and blue.

  Their answer to all their problems had always been money. They didn’t know how to not have it. “It couldn’t have been that much,” he scoffed. At least he hoped not, but honestly, he was uncertain. He never looked at the bills. Just signed them and went on to the next diversion.

  “Would you like me to announce how much?” Nick drawled.

  Luca gave him a withering look. “I get it, Nick. I understand.”

  “If you understand, Luca, how about you stop chasing this ridiculous dream of creating some sort of new ecosystem?” his mother asked, and turned from the window. “We don’t have the money for that. Or this . . . party you want to have.”