It's in His Touch

by Shelly Alexander

  Hell’s bells. There was no their. Their didn’t exist. Not really.

  They were just a one-time thing. Just sex. Nothing more. Just hot, sensual, passionate, mind-altering sex. That she was never going to experience again. Her whole. Entire. Life.

  “Give me another one.” She held out her glass and hiccupped again. “I’ll drink. You mix and drive.”

  Kimberly placed her untouched drink in front of Angelique since she was now the designated driver, and Angelique sucked half of it into her mouth, swishing it around before she swallowed.

  “Do you think I’m intimidating?” Angelique leaned on the table because the room was a little tilted.

  “Not at the moment, sweetie.” Kimberly took Angelique’s glass and led her to a chair. She dashed over to the hors d’oeuvres table and brought back a small plate of food and a tall glass of water. “Eat and drink this while I finish up.”

  “Seriously.” Angelique grabbed a cream cheese roll-up and nibbled at it. “Do I scare people?”

  Kimberly inhaled. “Let’s just say you have an authoritative persona, a characteristic that would be applauded if you were a man.”

  Another hiccup escaped Angelique. “That sounds like a smooth way to say I’m bitchy and I scare people.”

  “I say this with the utmost respect, but when it comes to your professional life, you’re like a bulldog in lipstick and stilettos. You’re the best at what you do, so roll with it. It’s a gift and a privilege to have your skills. Don’t let the opinions of others diminish that just because you don’t have a penis.”

  Angelique laughed and popped a cube of cheese into her mouth. She chewed. “Yet another reason I keep you around,” she said around a mouthful of protein. “You like me the way I am.”

  “Keep eating,” Kimberly said over her shoulder as she returned to the mixing table. “You’re going to need it to fight off a hangover.”

  Angelique sighed, munching on another cube of cheese. Blake seemed to like her just the way she was. A lot. Especially when they were naked. But he wouldn’t once he saw her in action.

  She didn’t see another way out of this, though. If she walked away from this case, she’d likely lose her partnership, and her client would find another lawyer to get the job done. Then what would she have left? A big fat nothing, because she didn’t have a future with Dr. Tall, Dark, and Hot-some, no matter how well they danced the horizontal two-step together. Even if he did seem to . . . enjoy her company . . . a lot . . . she couldn’t stand to see another man recoil from her if her illness came back. She had four more years before she hit the five-year mark and could rest easy. And even then, she doubted she’d ever really rest easy.

  Nope. She needed to get her professional act together, see this through, and go back to Albuquerque where she belonged. Except that when she thought of Albuquerque, it didn’t feel like home anymore. Didn’t make her feel all warm and fuzzy inside like the cozy cabin in Red River and the friendly people that she inevitably bumped into every time she strolled down Main Street.

  Angelique lowered her forehead and thumped it gently against the table.

  And a certain country doctor with eyes and abs that made her toes curl wasn’t waiting for her back in Albuquerque, either. He was right here in this tiny town that was growing on her with each passing day. Unfortunately, both he and the town would be gone once she completed her objective and moved on.

  Angelique’s dog showed up on Blake’s doorstep late Sunday afternoon, another prize clamped between his teeth. This pair was red.

  Thank you, Sergeant Schnitzel.

  Perfect excuse to hike across the footbridge again and knock on her door. Might earn him another chance to get her to see reason. Even if she accomplished her objective here, the firm she worked for back in Albuquerque probably wouldn’t be as loyal to her as she was to them. Her ex’s unchecked behavior had proven that, so why couldn’t she see it?

  At any rate, he wouldn’t be able to keep her true purpose for being here a secret much longer. So he’d spent the last few hours devising a fallback plan because, yeah, he was getting desperate. If she’d give him a chance, he could show her what Red River had to offer. What he had to offer.

  When Mrs. Barbetta answered the door and he’d set Sarge down in the kitchen, she’d made Blake an offer he couldn’t refuse—dessert and coffee. Good neighbors. He took another bite of tiramisu and licked a dab of mascarpone cheese from his fork. Really good neighbors.

  “This is delicious, Mrs. Barbetta,” he said, taking another bite. Like a delicious piece of edible art; he’d had to restrain himself from moaning while he inhaled it.

  “Oh, let me get you another piece.” Mrs. Barbetta stopped cleaning the kitchen and reached for the pan of tiramisu.

  He waved her off. “Thanks, but I’ve had plenty.” Angelique’s parents didn’t know when she’d be back, and Blake couldn’t sit there all day eating dessert no matter how good it tasted.

  Mrs. Barbetta continued to yammer at him as if he were a long-lost son, while Mr. Barbetta worked a crossword puzzle across the kitchen table from him. Nona slipped something from a flask into her mug when she thought no one was watching.

  “What’s an eight-letter word for aggravation?” Mr. Barbetta asked. He was obviously a nice guy. A good family man. The Barbettas had spent the last thirty minutes talking about Angelique and her siblings, and Blake admired their strong family ties. Hoped to have the same in his life soon.

  “Son-in-law,” Nona offered.

  “Very funny,” Mr. Barbetta said. “Aha! Nuisance.” He glanced up at Nona. “Good word.” He scribbled it into the boxes.

  By the time Mrs. Barbetta refilled his mug the second time around, he’d been asked for an effective treatment for the butt rash on their infant grandson who lived in Denver, and Blake knew which cousin hadn’t yet come out of the closet.

  “Come on!” the entire family had wailed over the cousin’s failure to report his gayness, hands flailing about in dramatic Italian fashion. “Does he think we’re stupid? Or, God fa-bid, narrow-minded?” Everyone protested at once.

  Blake sat at the end of the table polishing off the last of his generous slice of tiramisu, Sarge curled on top of his foot, when someone’s cell phone rang.

  Mrs. Barbetta answered it. “Kimberly?” She listened into the phone. “Is she sick?”

  Blake stiffened. He was a doctor after all, sickness was his business, and it sounded like they might be talking about Angelique.

  More listening. “Uh-huh . . . okay, I’ll start a fresh pot now.” She hung up and sighed. Then she started making another pot of coffee by grinding an enormous mound of fresh coffee beans.

  “What’s the matter?” Mr. Barbetta asked.

  “It’s that silly bucket list those two girls cooked up when Angelique was ill. They went to some bartending class, and Angelique drank a little too much. She’s not sick, just tipsy, and she can’t stop hiccupping. They’re just a few minutes away.”

  Oh yeah, this Blake had to see. Ms. Badass Attorney hiccupping like a little girl who’d drank too much soda pop.

  “On second thought, I’ll take another piece.” Blake held out his saucer. When Mrs. Barbetta enthusiastically dished up another generous portion, he ate slower, savoring both the flavor and the anticipation of seeing Angelique.

  He pictured the latest installment of the dog’s panty capers that were currently tucked into his front pocket. Excellent neighbors.

  About halfway through the second piece of dessert, a meaty sounding engine rumbled down the long drive and pulled up behind the house.

  Blake chewed, sipped. Couldn’t stop a smile from curling onto his lips. He sat back in his chair and waited as Sarge went to the door, wagging his long, taut tail with anticipation.

  The door swung open and a red-faced, giggling Angelique entered with Kimberly right behind her. And damn, Angelique looked like a supermodel. Her shimmering black hair was pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck, and large gol
d hoops dangled from each ear. Tall and all legs, she wore a black miniskirt the size of a Post-it note. A belt hung low on the swell of her hips and draped over a red turtleneck sweater that covered every inch of her torso but clung to each curve so perfectly that it left nothing to his imagination. A pair of high-heeled suede boots that ended just below her knees made his mouth water. She was gorgeous. And hot. And . . .

  His brain cramped with desire because all he wanted to do was take her home and make love to her until she yelled his name again.

  He broke into a spasmodic choke. Jesus, had he really just thought that with her father sitting in the same room? Blake’s eyes filled with water from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. And his brain, apparently. Must’ve collected below his belt because, yeah, he really did just think those exact words along with wondering what color panties she had on under that sex kitten outfit. Frankly, he was getting attached to his weekly panty ration.

  Thanks again, Sergeant Schnitzel. Great dog.

  Angelique’s eyes landed on him, and she stilled, her expression going stony. As he regained his composure, he stared back at her, letting a hint of a smile settle on his lips. A silent beat passed as they stared at each other.

  She hiccupped.

  His smile broadened, and her eyes narrowed at him.

  “Howdy, Doc,” Kimberly said, slinging her leopard-print purse onto the counter. “How’s it hanging?” She pulled out a chair next to Blake and motioned for Angelique to sit.

  Mr. Barbetta looked up from his crossword puzzle. “You’ll have to overlook Kimberly’s crudeness, Blake. She’s from Taos.” He said it like that was explanation enough, and Kimberly rolled her eyes.

  Angelique’s expression darkened as her eyes settled on the chair, a look of uncertainty capturing her features.

  “Come on, sweetie.” Kimberly crooked a finger at her. “You need to sit, especially in those heels.”

  Uh-huh, thought Blake as his eyes scanned every inch of her.

  Finally Angelique acquiesced and sat, looking like she might as well be jumping to her death. Sarge barked at her side for attention, and she gave him a playful scratch behind the ears just before another hiccup erupted from her painted lips.

  “I take it the class was a success?” Nona asked.

  “You know Angelique,” Kimberly said as she and Mrs. Barbetta prepared more coffee and dessert. “She’s an overachiever.”

  When everybody had a full mug and piece of dessert, they all sat around the table. Angelique was rigid, looking everywhere except at Blake.

  “It’s Italian roast.” Mrs. Barbetta motioned to her coffee mug.

  “What else would it be in this family?” Kimberly said, attacking the sweets in front of her. “At least Angelique didn’t get mistaken for a hooker during this bucket list adventure.”

  “What?” Mr. Barbetta scowled.

  “We went to the casino last weekend, number twelve on the bucket list, and some sleazeball propositioned Angelique.” Kimberly scarfed down half of her tiramisu in two bites.

  “I’ll kill him,” Mr. Barbetta huffed, and Blake had to agree. He’d like to find the guy and teach him some manners.

  “I handled it.” Angelique finally picked up her coffee with both hands and blew on it.

  Kimberly snorted. “The douchebag’s probably still walking with a limp.”

  “Watch your language, young lady, we have company,” scolded Mrs. Barbetta.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Kimberly winked at Nona, who rolled her fly-like eyes behind thick lenses.

  Angelique’s eyes squeezed shut with irritation, and frankly, Blake’s head was starting to hurt from the constant volley of barbs. An evening at the Barbettas’ was a cross between The Godfather and Moonstruck, but he had to admit, he loved every minute of the insanity. It was so . . . family-ish, and he was damned tired of being alone.

  “So, Dr. Hollo—” Hiccup. Angelique covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers and tried to hide a tiny belch. “—way.”

  Dr. Holloway, huh? He preferred Dr. Tall, Dark, and Hot-some.

  Returning the cup to her lips with both elbows resting on the table, she talked into her mug. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

  Oh, this was going to be good.

  He gave her a steady smile. “Just bringing your dog home again. He paid me another thought-provoking visit. He’s quite the scavenger hunter.” His stare lingered over her lips as they parted. She searched his eyes for a hidden meaning, found it, and then she turned an incredibly attractive shade of red. Kind of matched the panties in his pocket. This pair probably covered more real estate than the black thong. Not much, though.

  “Who knows why that dog does what he does.” Nona polished off her second helping of tiramisu.

  His stare lingered on Angelique’s blushing face, and his tone turned just a bit husky. “A man can only imagine,” Blake said, and Angelique dropped her fork. It clattered against the saucer, and she silenced it by slamming her open palm straight down on top.

  “Are you okay, dear?” her mother asked. “I’m sure that gentleman at the casino didn’t mean anything. He was probably trying to pay you a compliment.”

  “He asked me how much, Mother,” Angelique said through clenched teeth.

  “That’s it.” Mr. Barbetta wadded his napkin and tossed it on the table. “Enough with the bucket list nonsense. It’s trouble waiting to happen.”

  “Oh, come on!” Kimberly half shouted. “Security walked us to the car.”

  “Actually, I have an idea for your bucket list.” Blake spoke up, and all heads turned to look at him. “It’s perfectly safe, I’ll be there, and you’ll be helping a lot of underprivileged children.”

  “Oh, that sounds fantastic.” Mrs. Barbetta clasped her hands under her chin. Kimberly nodded, and Mr. Barbetta mumbled something about it being okay with him as long as a man was around for protection.

  Angelique glowered at her father, smoldering like Mount Vesuvius. Just as hot too.

  “Tuesday evening after work then.” Blake looked around the table.

  “I’ll be in Taos,” said Kimberly.

  Mrs. Barbetta smiled. “Angelique can go with you, Blake.”

  Angelique stabbed her mother with a sharp glare. “No, I can’t.”

  “Sure you can, dear.” Her mom stared back like it was a Sicilian mafia standoff.

  Blake held back a satisfied smirk. “Great.” He wiped his mouth and stood. “Thanks for the dessert and coffee, Mrs. B.” He looked at Angelique, her eyes simmering up at him through silky lashes. “I’ll pick you up Tuesday at five.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Blake was punctual, Angelique would give him that. When Tuesday evening rolled around, he’d knocked on her door at five o’clock sharp. She could’ve refused to go with him. Should’ve refused to be alone with him. But she did owe him for pretending to be her boyfriend, so she’d reluctantly climbed into his double-cab pickup.

  “So, where are we going?” she asked as they tooled along Highway 518.

  “Beautiful out, isn’t it?” He avoided the question and pointed to the west. “New Mexico is famous for its sunsets, but they’re the best here in the northern part of the state.”

  The truck climbed another hill, the last rays of evening sun slinging a palette of colors across the sky. A few clouds feathered through the stains of purple, orange, and pink, casting a lavender hue on the timbered mountains that surrounded them.

  Her gaze followed his finger, and a sigh slipped through her lips. “It is beautiful up here.”

  “Prettier than Albuquerque?”

  “You lived there, right? You should know the answer to that.”

  He blew out a laugh. “I only lived there during my residency, and I rarely saw anything but the inside of the hospital.”

  “So did Sarge really bring you another pair of my panties, or were you lying again?” she asked, shifting her gaze to him instead of the mesmerizing landscape.

  He smiled, tossing he
r a smug glance. “They’re red.”

  “That freaking dog,” she said, staring at the road again. “I should’ve left him with Ga—” She snapped her mouth closed, clipping off the rest of Gabriel’s name. Too late. Blake went rigid, and coldness filled the cab of the truck. The silence grew thick, except for the rhythmic beating of the tires against the road.

  “Do you still care about him?” Blake finally asked.

  Angelique drew in a breath. “Of course I do.”

  Blake’s hands tightened around the steering wheel and turned a chalky shade of white.

  “He’s a good dog. He just has a few irritating habits.”

  Blake relaxed. “I was talking about your ex-fiancé.”

  Angelique knew exactly what he meant, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to share that information with Blake. Give him false hope for a future that could never be. But somehow she wanted Blake to know the truth. Didn’t want him to see her as the fool she’d been for getting involved with Gabriel to begin with.

  What the hay. She’d already breached every personal boundary she’d set for herself. She didn’t have much left to lose, except the resort development case, and that wasn’t going to happen.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I ever really did, at least not enough to spend a lifetime with him.” She fingered the ends of her hair.

  “Why did you agree to marry him?”

  “It’s hard to meet new prospects when you’re so absorbed in a career. I suppose he was convenient, and one of the only men I’ve ever met who wasn’t threatened by me.” She laughed. Not a deep, hearty laugh, but a weak, cheerless laugh that rang hollow.

  “I think he’s very threatened by you.” Blake flipped up his sun visor and turned on the headlights as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. “Probably why he cheated.” Blake paused. “And he probably showed up in Red River in person because he wants you back.”

  Angelique scoffed. “He’s getting married in a few weeks. She’s young, attractive, and don’t forget pregnant with his baby.”