The Charmer in Chaps

by Julia London

  Another man appeared before them and bowed. “I will be your wine steward this evening, Mr. Prince.” He presented a menu to Ella that looked two feet long, with a double column of wines.

  When the steward stepped away from the table, she looked at Luca in a slight panic. “I have no idea,” she said.

  “Let me show you a couple of tricks an illiterate cowboy has learned along the way,” he said, and took the menu from her hand. When the steward returned to the table, Luca handed it to the steward. “Bring us your best French champagne,” he said.

  “Very good, Mr. Prince,” the steward said.

  Ella giggled as the steward stepped away. “Is that what you do?”

  “I have for a very long time, yes, and I can say I’ve had some interesting wines along the way,” he said. “But I’m reading menus now,” he added with a wink. He stretched his arm across the back of the booth.

  Ella looked at the suave man beside her. She couldn’t help but imagine how difficult it must have been for him, how many situations he’d had to learn to handle, and she felt a surge of sympathy for him.

  The champagne was quickly served, and Luca touched his glass to hers. “To you,” he said.

  Ella smiled. “To you,” she responded. To us, she wanted to say, but there was still the tiniest shadow of doubt in the back of her head, still a fear that this would all come crashing down.

  The waiter appeared with the menus, but Luca waved them away. “Tell us what you recommend.”

  Ella almost laughed—he certainly had this down. When the waiter had gone through the options, and they’d ordered and sent him off, she said, “I’m impressed, Luca.”

  “Don’t be,” he said, grinning.

  “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you all these years.”

  “I’ve had a good life. I can’t complain.”

  “But still,” she said.

  He considered her a moment. “Do you want me to say it’s shameful? That I have died a thousand deaths? That every time a teacher called on me to read something or write something, I almost pissed my pants?”

  “Is that true?” she asked.

  He lifted his champagne and touched his flute to hers. “To a certain extent. It’s kept me from relationships. From pursuing things I would have liked. Every time I got close to someone, it wasn’t long before the truth reared its head, and my response was to walk away rather than let anyone know that I was afflicted with something as embarrassing as an inability to read.”

  “But you told me,” she pointed out.

  “I told you because there is something different about you, Ella. You never seemed judgmental, even when you didn’t like me. You’re compassionate.”

  Ella had never realized what a compliment it was to be called compassionate. She lifted her flute. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  Over dinner—after he showed her how to use a fish fork and knife—he talked about growing up a Prince. Trips to Europe in the summers. Pursuing any hobby that struck their fancy. Nick pursued flying. Hallie pursued dancing. He pursued rodeo.

  “Rodeo!” She laughed. “You never mentioned rodeo.”

  “I didn’t? I’ll have to dig out my lariat and show you a few tricks,” he said with a wink.

  The talk turned to her life, too. Luca wanted to know more about the various homes she’d lived in, how the stigma of not living with her parents affected her in school. He was surprised to learn the state had paid for her college tuition as it did for all foster children who wanted to go, but that she almost hadn’t gone because she hadn’t known what to do. There had been no one to guide her. The only guidance she’d had at all was Mrs. Ellicott, who had urged her to study accounting or finance.

  Their conversation was, as always, easy and interesting. Ella loved listening to Luca talk about the land where he’d grown up. He glowed with excitement when he talked about the fund-raiser and how many positive responses he’d received. “It’s going to be a bigger event than Brandon and I ever anticipated,” he said. “Who knew that there were environmentalists starved for a project like this?”

  “That’s great, Luca.”

  “I’m going to give a speech,” he said, and smiled self-consciously. “You won’t want to miss that, me and my note cards.”

  No, she did not want to miss that, his crowning achievement.

  When Luca asked about her new client, the Ladies Auxiliary, Ella’s tongue had been considerably loosened with champagne, and she blurted the talk she’d heard about his family. “I don’t know why I’m telling you,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to have that sort of thing in my head without you knowing.”

  He tucked a bit of hair behind her ear that had come loose from her chignon. “Don’t worry about that. Someone is always talking about the Princes. There is something online or in a paper all the time.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “A little, maybe, but all of that gossip is just that—gossip. Most of it isn’t true. People assume a lot. So I ignore it. Besides, it doesn’t do me any good to let it bother me.”

  After dinner, when he handed off a card to the waiter without looking at the bill, Ella had to fight the urge to call the bill back so she could go over it to make sure they hadn’t charged them for two bottles of champagne instead of one. Luca suggested a walk, and with his arm around her waist, they went out the river side of the restaurant and took a languid stroll along the Riverwalk. It was a gorgeous evening. Ella had been on the river many times, but it had never seemed quite as glittery or colorful as it did tonight. Strains of music drifted out at them from various music venues, punctuated by the clinks and din of people dining alfresco.

  They strolled along, pausing to look at a display of piñatas, and then some pottery. But when they reached a red brick building that looked as if it had been turned from industrial to chic, Luca took her by the hand and walked into the lobby.

  “Hello, Mr. Prince!” said a cheery, heavyset woman behind the reception desk.

  “Hello, Jan. How’s your mom?”

  Jan?

  “Oh, thanks for asking. She’s much better. The girls were in today, so your place should be sparkling,” she said, and got up, walked to the elevator banks, and punched a button.

  “Thank you,” he said, and tugged on Ella’s hand so that she would move.

  When the elevator doors closed, she said, “Where are we? Who is Jan?”

  He smiled enigmatically, punched a code into the keypad, and continued to smile until the doors opened onto a loft.

  Ella’s mouth gaped. She’d seen lofts like this in movies—floor to ceiling windows, hardwood floors, and thick iron posts holding up the tall ceiling. In the center of the room was a grouping of overstuffed leather furniture on a thick shag rug. A kitchen to the left was gleaming with stainless appliances, marble counter tops, and sleek gray cabinets. And while Ella was no connoisseur, the modern art on the walls looked to be originals.

  “Is this your place?” she asked in absolute awe.

  Luca shrugged out of his jacket and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “Yep.”

  She turned in a full circle to take it all in. It was so modern, so cool. If this was his place in the city, what must Three Rivers Ranch look like? She was dumbstruck by the opulence and moved to the middle of the loft, studying the industrial ceiling with the exposed ducts, the thick windows, the hand-scraped floors. It was grander than any house she’d ever been in. She was almost afraid to touch anything. “It’s amazing,” she said, and turned around to face him. “It’s incredible, Luca.”

  He seemed almost embarrassed by her awe. He went into the kitchen, opened a cabinet—when he did, the shelf automatically slid out—removed two glasses, and closed it again. “Want a nightcap?”

  “Sure.” She walked to the windows and leaned forward
as he prepared the drinks. She could see people moving around below them on the Riverwalk like little armies of ants. She heard the clink of ice into the glasses. She heard the click of his shoes on the floor as he moved across the room. He set the glasses down, and a moment later, he was behind her, his arms around her waist.

  Ella closed her eyes and leaned back against him, trying to envision nights like this. A life like this.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “That this has been a fairy-tale evening. What are you thinking?”

  “How beautiful you are,” he muttered, and kissed the nape of her neck before pulling free the barrette she’d used to hold her hair in place. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders.

  He moved one hand up her abdomen, to her breast. Ella opened her eyes and looked out at the night sky, the stars twinkling above all the glittering lights below. It was as if Luca’s house was in the clouds, shimmering along with the rest of the world.

  He slipped his hand into the vee of her dress, his skin warm. She was beginning to stir, the movement before the boil. She felt above the clouds, too, as if she were floating along in all those lights on a raft of sensation and want.

  Luca slid his hand down her side and around, sliding in between her legs. “Let’s go to bed,” he said low.

  “No,” she said. “Let’s stay right here.”

  She felt him pause, felt him lift his head from her neck and look out the window. He reached for the hem of her dress.

  Ella would never know why that moment, of all the moments in Luca’s company, would possess her so completely as it did, but she felt as if she was in a waking dream, drifting through snatches of imagery. A strand of lights here, a heavy cloud there. As his hands stroked her body, she felt herself flying higher and higher above the city.

  Luca kept his grip on her waist, as if he feared she would leap from the window and fly. The pleasure in his caress tormented her. She was moved by the evening, moved by his regard for her. She could feel her border wall cracking, could feel the warmth of the sun as it shone through the cracks. Something was happening to her, something that felt profound and life altering.

  Her dress slipped off, and Luca tossed it onto a chair. He was not intimidated by her undergarments, sliding his hands into them and pulling them off. She was naked above the city, her hands pressed against the cool glass, her gaze on the dazzling lights below.

  Luca seemed as lost in the moment as she was. His clothes had come off, too, because she could feel the heat of his skin at her back, the hardness of him against her hips. His fingers tangled in her hair, then scraped down her body, between her legs.

  When he lifted her leg and slid into her from behind, Ella’s heart began to race. She pressed against the glass, gasping for air, her heart feeling as if it might burst and rain down on the people below. “My God,” he breathed. He pressed a hand against hers, gripping her fingers against the glass as he moved inside her.

  Ella closed her eyes and dropped her head back, giving in to the night, to her soaring desire, to her affection for him, feeling it all spill through the cracks in her wall and shimmer in her blood, in her groin, in the air around them.

  Luca suddenly pulled out of her and turned her around, putting her back against the window. He framed her face with his hand as he entered her again. Ella wrapped her legs around his waist, pressed herself against him, and kissed him with the heat of her desire. Their lovemaking turned ferocious, both of them striving, moving hard against each other, battering down all the barriers that remained between them. It was urgent, and when they reached the end of that ride, she burst into the rich light of a sun-filled Texas day.

  They collapsed against each other, emptied of their physical desire for the moment. Luca swept her up and carried her to the couch, and the two of them fell on it, breathless and perspiring. Her arm lay limply across his chest, his foot draped hers.

  She was speechless. The light was still glistening in her, and she believed in that tender moment that she really could have this life with him. That she really could run with his crowd.

  He caressed her face and her hair. “This has been the best date of my life,” he murmured.

  “It’s been the best date of my life, too.”

  “Did you say date?” He slowly lifted his head to look at her, and a slow, sultry smile lit his face. “Ella Kendall, are you finally falling for me?”

  “Maybe a little,” she said, and giggled.

  He laughed. “Then I guess I need to get to work and push you over the edge,” he said, and kissed her into oblivion.

  * * *

  • • •

  The next morning, Ella woke up to the sound of water running and realized that Luca was in the shower. She groggily sat up and looked around her. In the daylight, she could see just how richly appointed this loft was. Everything in here was beyond what even HGTV had taught her to imagine. Last night was beyond her imagination, too—she never would have dreamed that a girl like her could end up with a man like Luca Prince, in a place like this.

  They grabbed a couple of breakfast tacos on their way out of town. Ella had to work later, and Luca had a meeting with Brandon. At her house, he got out and opened the car door for her, but he didn’t move toward the house. It looked so tiny and ramshackle compared to where they’d just been.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to run,” he said, and lifted her hand to kiss it.

  “Me, too.” She rose up on her toes and put her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much for last night. I had the best time.”

  “Thank you, Ella. Does this mean you’ll come to the fund-raiser?”

  “Luca, I don’t know. I have nothing to wear to an event like that,” she pointed out.

  “Are you kidding? Wear what you’ve got on. You look like a million bucks.”

  Ella looked down. She loved this dress, but a fancy black tie event?

  “Please say you’ll come,” he said. “I need you there. I need to know you’re in my corner.”

  She was in his corner. “Okay,” she said.

  He paused. “You’ll come?” he asked skeptically.

  “I will.”

  Luca sighed. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, hard. “Thank you. I’ll call you later,” he said. “I’ve got to run—I’m already late.”

  She watched him get in the Sombra and drive away, then turned toward her house, smiling to herself. She felt on top of the world. This had happened to her, and it was glorious.

  Ella floated to the door and fit her key into the lock. She realized, as she pushed the door open, that the happy she was feeling was not normal for her. But oh, how she wanted it to be normal, because it felt so damn good.

  She walked into her house, shut the door, turned around—and screamed.

  “Don’t be mad,” Stacy said. She was sitting balled up on the couch, Buddy beside her. She looked gaunt. Her hair extensions were gone. Her face was red and puffy and streaked with tears.

  “What the hell?” Ella demanded, her heart still pounding from her scare. “Could you not have texted me? How did you get in?”

  “I threw my phone away,” she said tearfully. “And I got in through an open window in the kitchen. I really need to talk to you, Ella.”

  She reached down to her purse on the floor and picked it up, then tearfully, carefully, removed a revolver.

  Ella cried out with alarm and fell back against the door. “What are you doing, Stacy? What have you done? Put that thing away, please! I don’t want a gun in my house.”

  “I don’t want it here either, but I need to do something with it. You have to help me, Ella. Something’s happened and I’m in horrible trouble.”

  Ella’s heart plummeted. So many familiar emotions began to bubble in her. Fear. Loathing. Compassion. Loss. She’d just lost the happiness, the dream, she’d walked in the
door with, and she knew it.

  Her little fairy tale had come to an end, and she was right back in foster care number two, the children’s home. The children’s home where a boy would come in several nights a week and do something to the girl in bed next to her. Ella had been seven years old and hadn’t known what to do. And the girl—Ella couldn’t even remember her name now—hadn’t known what to do either. Her eyes had looked so dull, as if the light had gone out of them. Snuffed out by a boy in the dark. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right.

  Stacy’s eyes looked just like that girl, and Ella had to figure out what to do.

  Why an image of Luca should loom over her, she didn’t really know, other than that vague feeling of knowing all along that whatever they had could not last.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Luca met Brandon and Dr. Greg Castillo at the Hurst family ranch on the other side of Three Rivers. The Hurst ranch was old, too, like Three Rivers. The heir, Thomas Hurst, had built a bigger, grander home north of San Antonio, in the very upscale Dominion. Now, the only person who lived here full-time was Brandon’s grandmother and a couple of ranch hands.

  The Hurst ranch had been famed in the mid-century, but it showed signs of aging. Mrs. Hurst apparently liked the rustic charm. “It’s like she’s living at the Ponderosa,” Brandon had once groused.

  Dr. Castillo was a young environmental scientist from Trinity University in San Antonio. He was enthusiastic about what Luca and Brandon wanted to attempt with Luca’s land. “This is fantastic,” he said. “There are certainly opportunities for grants and outside funding. I can tell you that the university has been searching for an outdoor environmental laboratory for our students for some time.”

  “That’s exactly the sort of thing we’re hoping for,” Luca said. “Conservation and the study of the environment and ecology.”

  “When can I take a look at your land?” Dr. Castillo asked.

  They agreed on a time that they might ride out and have a look. As they were wrapping up, Blake Hurst sauntered in wearing full sheriff gear and a smug look. How he’d managed to get himself elected sheriff of Cimarron County was a mystery to Luca. He’d always been a bully. And his ridicule of Luca had been a life-long endeavor. Once, when Blake was a teen and was driving Luca and Brandon somewhere, he’d pulled up to an intersection in Three Rivers and said, “Well, look here, boys, we’re lost. Luca, I’m gonna need you to read that sign over there.”