by Kate Pearce
“Maybe he didn’t want to upset your mother.”
“He spent three years fighting her for sole custody, bribed judges, and used every dirty trick in the book to show my mother in a bad light so she wouldn’t ever get to see me again.”
“Maybe he’s changed.”
“You sound like my mom.” He shook his head. “I can’t see it, myself. And, anyway, we’re supposed to be talking about you.”
He was good at that—redirecting the conversation away from the personal. She’d noticed it before, and here in San Francisco, where he had to deal with his parents in person, it was even more apparent. But where did the truth lie? Was his Mom a saint and his dad the devil? In her experience, things were rarely that simple....
* * *
Rio checked the time, and waited for Yvonne to come out of the bedroom. They were going back to the suite in the Ritz-Carlton, where Yvonne could meet his mom and sister while he got changed for dinner. It wasn’t far to his father’s new place, so they wouldn’t be late.
He wished he’d taken Yvonne up on her offer of a shower because something about being in a city always made him feel grimy. But he figured that if he got naked they might not be going anywhere ever again. She’d looked glorious today in her blue pantsuit with her hair piled high on the top of her head, displaying the elegant length of her neck and her beautiful face.
“Sorry, I took so long, Rio. Can you help me with the clasp?”
He looked up from his cell to see her backing toward him, one hand grasping the ties of her dress. For the first time ever, he was completely bereft of speech. She wore a clinging black dress with a halter neck that left most of her back exposed.
“Rio?” She tried to look over her shoulder. “It’s just a hook and eye and pearl-button thingy, but I can’t get my fingers around it.”
“Sure.”
He swallowed hard and approached her. She smelled like a flower garden underplayed by the subtle scent of vanilla that never seemed to leave her. She bent her neck, offering herself, and he fought the urge to kiss his way down her spine.
“I’ve got it. You can let go.”
Jeez, his fingers were trembling so much he almost couldn’t fasten the tiny hook and eye. The pearl button was even harder.
He stepped back before he did something foolish like fall to his knees and worship her.
“Thanks.” She turned around, and he was treated to the front view, which was not as swooping as the back, but still spectacular. “Are you drooling?”
He wiped an unsteady hand over his mouth. “Probably.”
“Good.” Her mischievous smile flashed out. “This is my favorite dress.”
“It’s rapidly becoming my favorite, too,” Rio murmured.
“I really need better shoes, but I couldn’t get any more pairs in my bag.”
He looked down at her black, spiked-heel sandals. “They look pretty good to me,” he said hoarsely.
“You’re obviously a lost cause.” She did a pirouette in front of the mirror, making her short skirt ripple around her. “Do you think your family will approve?”
“I don’t care.”
She gave him an exasperated, but fond look. “Are you ready to go?”
“I’ve been ready for the past half an hour.”
And, if he didn’t leave pretty damn soon he’d be tearing that dress off her, throwing her over his shoulder, and taking her to bed. Considering the evening ahead of him, that idea sounded better with every second.
She picked up her wrap and purse, and headed for the door.
“Come on, then. I can’t wait to meet your mom.”
Chapter Eleven
Isabelle Martinez was a delight. Yvonne could easily see whom Rio had inherited his charm from. And his half sister, Josie, was funny as hell and super smart, even if she delighted in telling Yvonne all the horrendous things Rio had ever done to her.
Yvonne was sitting with them while Rio got changed, and he was totally unaware of what was going on. Yvonne enjoyed every second of the gentle teasing, and filed a few things away for future reference.
“So, Yvonne, you run a coffee shop and patisserie, yes?” Isabelle asked.
“That’s right. I trained in France, and then came back home to set up my own business.”
“That was very brave of you,” Isabelle said approvingly. She had a delightful, lilting accent. “And why did you pick Morgantown? Do you have family there?”
“No, I just fell in love with the place. When I realized there was no eatery catering to the locals and tourists, I knew I’d found my home.”
“And you’ve been successful?” Josie looked up from her cell. “I know how hard it is to start a new restaurant.”
“It was something of a struggle to begin with,” Yvonne admitted. “We didn’t have the money to pay any staff, so at first we did all the baking, and all the serving. It was exhausting.”
“We? Did you have a business partner?” Josie asked.
“Well, yes and no. I was married when I first came back, so I started the café with my husband.” She fixed on a bright smile. “But that didn’t work out, so he went home to France just before our official opening, and I kept plugging away at it.”
Isabelle’s eyes softened. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
“It certainly didn’t help. I was lucky enough to make some good friends in Morgantown who helped me find new staff and keep going.”
“Where is your husband now?”
“My ex returned to live in Paris. He’s a chef. We met at pastry school.”
“You are divorced then?”
“Yes.” Yvonne mentally crossed her fingers and helped herself to more coffee. At least she hoped she was divorced. When she saw Paul, she’d make darned sure of it.
“Good.” Isabelle clapped her hands and leaned closer. “And what do you think of my lovely son?”
“He’s been very kind to me,” Yvonne replied. “I will certainly miss him when he leaves the ranch.”
“I think he’ll miss you, too. You are the first woman he has ever introduced me to.”
“Really?” Yvonne tried to conceal a smile. From the hopeful expression on Isabelle’s face, she was attempting a little unsubtle matchmaking. “Maybe that’s because you’re based in Brazil, and Rio hasn’t been able to bring anyone down there to meet you.”
Isabelle waved that idea away with a flick of her beringed fingers. “If a woman was important to him, he would bring her to my ranch.”
Josie cleared her throat. “Mom, stop fishing. It’s embarrassing.” She winked at Yvonne. “She’s just desperate for grandchildren.”
“Oh God, not that again.” Rio entered the conversation, and Yvonne turned to look at him.
He’d abandoned the suit in favor of his usual PBR shirt, black jeans, and cowboy boots. His hat twirled through his fingers. She couldn’t decide which Rio she preferred. They were both pretty hot. But which one was the authentic version? Could a man really separate out his life so cleanly?
“Don’t listen to either of them,” Rio recommended as he came to sit beside her on the couch. “They just love making stuff up about me.”
“Actually, your mom was telling me how great you were.” She tried to look innocent. “I should’ve known not to believe her.”
“Hey.” His smile was for her alone. “You already know how great I am.”
Her first answer was not fit to be uttered in front of his mother so she settled for an enigmatic smile.
“You’re not that bad.”
Josie chuckled. “Yeah. I can get behind that statement. Wow, bro, you really know how to charm the ladies.” She glanced at the clock. “After all your primping, are you ready to leave now? I can’t wait to meet your father, Rio.”
“Sure, let’s go.”
Yvonne noticed Rio wasn’t looking quite as thrilled with the idea as his sister. He opened the door of the suite and stood back to allow all the womenfolk to go past him.
“I’ll survive.” He looked like he was bracing himself for a storm. “He doesn’t scare me anymore.”
She linked her arm through his and patted his biceps. “Good. Because you are a remarkable person, and if he gets into anything with you, I’ll be the first to stand up, and tell him a few truths.”
He paused to look down at her, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’d do that for me?”
“Sure. I like you.”
“Yeah?”
His slow smile made her knees wobble.
He bent down, his hat shielding his face from his mother and kissed her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Yvonne breathed.
They went down in the elevator, and Rio was just about to find a taxi when a uniformed man came toward them.
“Mr. Martinez? The boss told me to come back and collect you all this evening. I hope that’s okay.”
Isabelle rushed forward to take the chauffeur’s hand. “How lovely to see you again, Dominic! How is your wife today? Did she have the baby?”
“Not yet, Mrs. Martinez . . .”
Rio glanced down at Yvonne with a wry smile as Isabelle went out chatting to the chauffeur. “My mother loves getting to know people.”
“She’s a sweetheart.”
* * *
It seemed that Rio’s father didn’t own an apartment but a whole house among the famous San Francisco painted ladies on Steiner Street. Or maybe he was just renting it for the week. Rio had said his business was based in Boston.
They were ushered inside by a butler-type person, divested of their coats, and led through into the drawing room. which seemed to go the length of the building. The house was furnished in a lush, rich Victorian style that went well with the age of the house and its proportions. A couple stood waiting by the far window. The woman was beautifully dressed and looked about the same age as Josie. Her smile was less than enthusiastic. Yvonne could detect no likeness to Rio in the older man who came toward them. He wore the typical Californian uniform of a golf shirt and ironed chinos.
“Isabelle, how kind of you to come tonight.”
He drew his ex-wife into an embrace and kept his arm around her waist as he swung around.
“This is my wife, Jennifer.” After the two women exchanged an awkward hello, his attention moved quickly on. “And you must be Josie. Please call me Graham.”
Josie, who was wearing a pink and black striped tunic and flowered leggings, stuck out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Graham.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Graham nodded as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I hear you just graduated from college with a double major.”
“That’s right.” Josie grinned at him. “Any jobs going at your place?”
“Josie!” Isabelle remonstrated. “There’s a time and a place for business, and this isn’t it.”
“Sorry, Mom.” Josie didn’t look sorry at all and had the audacity to wink at Graham and mouth, “Call me,” which made Yvonne want to laugh.
Graham turned to Yvonne. “By default, you must be my son’s friend, Yvonne.”
“That’s correct.” She shook his proffered hand. “Thank you so much for allowing me to tag along tonight.”
“It was my pleasure.” He didn’t release her hand, his gaze traveling over her from head to toe in a leisurely fashion that made her raise her chin and stare right back at him. “Any friend of my son’s is welcome here.”
She thought Rio, who was standing behind her, might have snorted.
Detaching her hand, she stepped back, and almost collided with Rio’s chest. He was obviously in protective mode tonight.
“Good evening, son.” Graham nodded at Rio. “Glad you could make it.”
“Mom wanted to come, so I made the time.”
Yvonne glanced uncertainly up at Rio’s face. Gone was her charming, warm cowboy, replaced by the cold, clipped businessman she’d encountered earlier. The dislike emanating from him was palpable.
As Rio turned away to shake hands with his father’s wife, Graham’s faint sigh caught Yvonne’s attention. He met her gaze and grimaced.
“He doesn’t like me very much,” Graham murmured. “It’s quite understandable, but it still hurts.”
“That’s really none of my business,” Yvonne said firmly.
He took her by the elbow and walked her toward a bar, where the butler was now polishing glasses. Graham was obviously the kind of man who was used to getting his own way. She could either go with him or cause a scene, which really left her only one option.
“Would you like a glass of wine or a cocktail?” Graham asked.
“Sparkling water would be fine, please.”
“No wine?” Her companion raised his eyebrows. “Yet I believe you have a French surname.”
“I’m not technically French, although my mother had French citizenship through her mother. I just lived and studied there for a few years.”
“And didn’t pick up the habit of drinking wine? Now that I find hard to believe.”
Yvonne took the glass of sparling water adorned with a slice of lime, and thanked the butler. “I’ll definitely enjoy a glass of wine with my dinner. I’m sure you’ll have something nice for us to try.”
“I do hope so.” Graham smiled. “I own a vineyard in Napa Valley that produces a very good chardonnay. You should get Aurelio to take you out there one day. He knows it well. He helped set it up.”
“Aurelio?” Yvonne asked.
“That’s ‘Rio’s’ real name. I can’t abide nicknames. Hasn’t he mentioned it to you?”
“Why would he?” Yvonne shrugged. “We’re just good friends, and everyone in Morgantown calls him Rio, which suits him just fine.”
She looked around to see where Aurelio had gotten to, but he was talking with Graham’s young wife, who had suddenly found her smile, just for him. Luckily, Isabelle was bearing down on them, so there was some hope of escape. She didn’t like the intensity of Graham’s scrutiny, and his attempts to be charming.
“Ah, Isabelle. Do you still drink cocktails?” Graham asked. “Johnson, my butler, knows how to make about a hundred different kinds.”
“How lovely! I shall try and give him a challenge then,” Isabelle replied.
Josie came up too, and gave Yvonne an encouraging smile. “He’s not as awful as I thought he’d be. And I’m pretty sure he’d give me a job if Mom and Rio got their noses out of my business. He seems to like you, though. Maybe he’s dying to be a grandparent just like my mom and thinks you and my bro are a couple.”
That wasn’t the vibe Yvonne was getting, but she didn’t argue. Graham was certainly used to being in charge, and being listened to. She took a sip of her water, and tried not to notice how Rio was now making Wife Number Four laugh.
Josie nudged her in the ribs. “Guess how old Jennifer is?”
“Thirty?” Yvonne guessed.
“No, she’s twenty-two. Graham is thirty years older than her.”
“Wow.” Yvonne glanced over at Jennifer, who was listening intently to whatever Rio was telling her. “She’s very beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you, and don’t worry, Rio would never take up with one of his father’s exes.”
Yvonne went to reply, and then realized that Josie was grinning. “You’re so not funny.”
“Dude, the fact that you actually care who my bro is speaking to is even funnier.”
“I’m just worried about him, period,” Yvonne said. “He didn’t want to come tonight.”
“Well, Mom seems to have gotten over her dislike of her first husband, and is having a lovely time. Maybe Rio will loosen up, too.”
Rio came up to talk to his mother while Jennifer got a drink, and then he stopped beside Yvonne.
“You doing okay?”
“I was just about to ask you the same question,” Yvon
ne said.
“I’ll survive.”
His dimple appeared, and for one glorious second, she contemplated grabbing his hand, and running for the hills. And San Francisco definitely had a few challenging slopes.
Unfortunately, the butler cleared his throat.
“Dinner is served. Please come through to the dining room.”
* * *
“Would you mind bringing your brandy through to my study while the ladies enjoy their coffee so that we can have a moment in private, son?”
Rio looked down the table to where his father was sitting. The dinner had been perfectly prepared, and the accompanying wine had impressed his discerning palate. Conversation had remained reasonably polite, and his father had displayed a dry sense of humor Rio had never noticed before.
Isabelle turned toward him. “Converse com ele. Por favor.”
Rio gave his mother a long stare and then reluctantly stood up.“Tá bem.”
He laid his napkin on his plate, and carefully avoided Yvonne’s gaze. The sense that his father wanted something from him had only grown during the evening. He was now at the point where he just wanted the suspense to be over, which was probably exactly what his father wanted.
As he followed Graham along the hallway and up the stairs, he reminded himself that he was an independent adult, and that there was nothing his father could do to hurt him.
The study was wallpapered in dark green silk and contained rows of bookcases and a large oak desk that took up half the space. It smelled faintly of the cigars his father had always imported from Cuba—a scent that brought back several unhappy memories.
Rio waited until his father sat down and switched on his laptop before sinking into the chair in front of the desk. He’d wait him out. He had nothing to say right now. A clock ticked on the mantelpiece, and Rio sipped his excellent brandy.
“I wanted to talk to you about your future plans,” Graham said.
“My future plans?” Rio asked. “With all due respect, what do they have to do with you?”
“Do you intend to keep riding bulls?”
“I’m the current world champion,” Rio said. “Believe it or not, I have obligations to my sponsors and management team to keep competing.”