by Aimée Thurlo
Burke seemed interested in everything about them, though Laura couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if he was simply being charming and polite.
Finally, after the tension washed out of Elena and she had relaxed again, Burke turned the conversation back to business.
“Tell me about this brother-in-law of yours, Doña Elena,” he said, his voice calm but authoritative.
“He’s a difficult man,” she answered. “If he thought I kept that land deed here, or the will, that would explain all this,” she said, waving a hand around the room. “My brother-in-law has claimed that the tract of land I inherited should have gone to him because, originally, he was half owner. But he sold his share to my husband several years ago when he needed cash. My attorney, Ernest Martinez, says that Al has no further claim on the land. But Al has accused me of tampering with Diego’s will, saying that his brother had left the property to him.”
“After we received word that he’d filed a lawsuit, Elena started getting nasty calls at all hours of the night,” Laura added. “We finally got caller ID and started disconnecting the phone when we went to bed.”
Laura watched her godmother as she filled Burke in on a few more details. Burke had worked his magic on her and she was answering all his questions without becoming upset or excited.
Laura suppressed a sigh. There was no denying that Burke was attractive and charming. But something was warning her to be cautious, and she always trusted her intuition. Theirs was not a neighborhood that had known many break-ins, but he’d only been around a week, and now this. It was possible that he was totally innocent, but it was all working out too perfectly. He’d been there to help her; now he was offering two strangers his home. If this was all completely coincidental, she’d eat her shoe.
She had to start thinking in nonfiction terms, concentrating on facts only. If she didn’t do that, she had a feeling she’d end up with some major-league trouble—trouble that would no doubt answer to the name of Burke.
Chapter Three
Laura watched him carefully, trying to freeze out her hormones with a dose of logic, but it wasn’t quite working. It was hard to even think when he trained his pale brown eyes on her. Contrasting sharply with his dark copper skin, they were nothing short of mesmerizing.
Irritated with herself, Laura brought her thoughts back to what her madrina was saying. “My brother-in-law, Al, has always been a problem for my husband’s family. He never amounted to anything, because he’s lazy and always searching for the easy way out. Diego wouldn’t even allow him into our home for a long time because Al had started drinking heavily. After Diego passed away Al thought he’d get a windfall. Reality hit him hard. The man has never learned that the only thing that pays off with any certainty in this world is hard work and dedication.”
As a cold draft came in from the kitchen, where the damaged back door couldn’t be properly closed, Elena shivered and wrapped her shawl tighter around herself.
Noticing the gesture, Laura went to the closet and got her godmother’s winter coat. “We have to get going,” she told Burke. “Now that the sun has set, it’s going to get cold in here pretty fast.
“Madrina,” she continued, looking at Elena, “I wondered if you would enjoy a bed-and-breakfast. We really shouldn’t impose on our new neighbor.”
“It’s no imposition,” Burke assured them quickly. “It’ll be a pleasure.” Taking off his leather jacket, he placed it around Laura’s shoulders. “Let’s go to my house so Doña Elena can get settled in, then we can come back and get some of the things you’ll both need.”
Feeling the warmth of his jacket around her was like being embraced by this man, whose scent spoke of the wildness and freedom of the night. But it was all too distracting.
“You don’t have to give me your jacket,” she said, trying to pass it back to him. “You’ll freeze.” She felt like an idiot for not having taken out her own coat when she went to the closet for Elena’s.
“I’m fine. I’m bigger and tougher,” Burke answered playfully, placing it back over her shoulders.
He led the way to his home, a modern structure constructed in a classic Southwestern style known as Territorial. When he stepped around them to open the heavy wooden door, Laura noticed that he hadn’t bothered to lock it.
“Don’t you lock your doors?” she asked, aghast. “I know we don’t have many incidents—”
She stopped suddenly when a huge, shaggy beast came shooting across the brick foyer, plopping down at Burke’s feet when he called, “Sit!” The black-and-silver animal looked a lot like a cross between a giant German shepherd and a wolf.
“Holy saints!” Elena whispered. “I thought you said you had a dog.”
“That’s not a dog. That’s a bear,” Laura managed to gasp. “No wonder you’re not concerned about leaving your house unlocked.”
“He’s really friendly.” Burke took her hand in his own and held it out in front of the beast. Laura stopped breathing.
“Friend, Wolf.”
Wolf sniffed her hand. “See? Now he knows you,” Burke said.
The warmth of Burke’s hand intertwined with hers made a tingle spread all through her body. As his gaze fastened on hers, she saw that his eyes had darkened slightly, awareness and desire touching their depths. Everything feminine in her came suddenly and vibrantly alive.
Laura pulled her hand away and tore her eyes from his. Even casual contact between them held danger. Needing to distract herself, she crouched down and petted the dog.
“Shake hands with the lady,” Burke said.
Wolf held out his paw, then yawned as if the whole business was beneath him.
Laura laughed and took his paw. “Pleasure to meet you, Wolf.”
Elena crouched down and scratched him behind the ears until Wolf’s eyes closed and he made a contented sound.
“What a wonderful companion you have,” Elena said.
“My godmother adores dogs,” Laura said. “Her mastiff, Bruno, died last year right before she moved in with me. She’s been wanting to get another one, but she hasn’t convinced me yet.”
Once he knew they were at ease around Wolf, Burke showed them to a room down the hall. It was simply furnished, with a four-poster bed and a chest of drawers, yet the furniture, constructed of dark woods, suggested a discerning taste.
Exquisitely crafted antique Navajo rugs, woven in earth tones, adorned the walls. “Those are beautiful,” Elena said. “The one on the left in particular.”
He nodded, pleased she’d complimented it. “It’s what my people call a Yei rug. The tall slender figures are the Holy People and, in this case, they’re shown carrying yucca strips. That rug is made up of elements our medicine men depict in sandpaintings used for healing. We believe that the Holy People are said to restore health when properly appealed to.”
“So it’s a religious artifact?”
“No, it’s not, but a sandpainting made to look like that, and done according to our ways, would be a religious object. This is just a wool rug, deliberately woven with a flaw—a thin line made from the center to the edge. That’s done as a tribute to Spider Woman, who taught our people the art of weaving.”
Elena studied everything in the room, from the beautiful handcrafted quilt on the bed to the small woven basket, made from grass coils and dyed yucca, that rested on the nightstand. “This is such a lovely room.”
“I thought you’d feel that way, so this one is for you,” Burke said. Then he glanced at Laura. “I think you’ll prefer the room across the hall.”
Laura followed him and saw another Southwest style room, in harmony with the rest of the house. This one had high ceilings composed of hand finished, stained logs, or vigas, and more modern milled lumber. The large bed in the middle had a hand carved headboard that was really an elaborate bookcase. She looked up at Burke quickly, wondering if he’d guessed what she did for a living.
“I met your godmother at the fence several times and she mentioned you love
d books,” he said. “I thought you might appreciate this room, since there’s a light on the headboard for easy reading at night.” He demonstrated how to work the small, adjustable brass lamp.
“I do love books, that’s true,” she admitted, not quite willing to say anything more about her work at the moment. “I’m really amazed at what you’ve done here in such a short time. I expected to find a lot of unpacked boxes.”
“I hired people to help me move in and put things away so I wouldn’t miss any work. I don’t have a lot of possessions, and it didn’t take long.” Burke glanced at his watch. “And now, I’m going to have to get moving. I’m late for work.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Thinking about the way he’d seemed to know what to do in the aftermath of the break-in, she added, “Are you a cop?” If so, that would put a new slant on things.…”
“Something like that,” he answered, then whistled for Wolf. “You stay here with the ladies.” The dog sat, panting, but it looked for all the world as if he were grinning. “And try not to look so happy about it. You’re a guard dog, remember?”
“Is he trained for that kind of work?” Laura asked, suddenly apprehensive.
“Yes,” Burke said, then with a twinkle in his eye, quickly added, “He’s a danger to any crook who’d trip over him.”
Wolf made a low grumbling sound in protest.
“Sorry, Wolf. I should have told the ladies you were absolutely ferocious.”
The dog barked once and Laura laughed. “It’s as if he understands you.”
“With this dog, I truly never know,” Burke answered honestly. “The keys to my castle, madam.” He took her hand and placed the keys in her palm, but he didn’t let go right away.
Laura held her breath. The warmth of his touch seemed to travel through her, slipping around barriers she’d learned to put up between herself and the world.
“I’ll be back before you know it. You’re safe here,” he said, then released her.
As the words still resonated through her, Burke opened the front door.
“Your jacket,” she said quickly, and started to slip it off.
“Keep it on until you warm up. I have a good windbreaker in one of the saddlebags of my bike,” he said, then disappeared out the door.
A moment later, Laura heard him gunning the engine of his motorcycle. She went to the window to catch a final glimpse of him, and at that moment he glanced up, saw her and waved.
Cursing herself for letting him see that she’d been looking at him, she moved back into the center of the room.
“You see? He’s as charming as I told you he’d be,” Elena said softly.
“We still don’t know a thing about him, Elena. We have to be careful.”
“I’m very seldom wrong about people, hijita, you know that.”
Laura shook her head. “Yes, I do, but there’s something about him that makes me uneasy.”
“That’s only because he reminds you of things you’re missing from your life. Back in the days when you believed in love and were open to the possibilities, a man like Burke would have sparked your imagination, and your heart would have beat a little faster every time you saw him. But now…”
“I’ve had relationships before, but they didn’t work out. Once we mature, our hearts toughen up. We learn the hard way to avoid pain.”
“Life comes with joy and pain. You can’t avoid either, even if you try.” Elena paused, gathering her thoughts. “But these days, your work has become enough to make you happy, and that just shouldn’t be.”
“I’m very lucky to be able to make my living doing something that I love. If I don’t socialize much it’s because writing is very time-consuming. People think you get an idea for a book, then just sit down and type it out. But the truth is that the idea is just the beginning. The real work comes when you do draft after draft, until you practically know the book by heart.”
“You create fantasies and cater to illusions woman have held dear since they first heard of Prince Charming. But you’re not willing to take the same risks your heroines take. These days you want safety and guarantees before you give any man the time of day.”
“You make it sound as if I’m turning away truckloads of eligible men. But let’s face it, in my work, I seldom meet people at all. Creativity and solitude are companions. And when I do meet a new guy, they turn out to be like Ken.” She shuddered. “I’d rather be alone than with him.”
Elena smiled. “I don’t blame you there, but there’ve been others. Now this wonderful man steps into your life and you’re already busy finding fault—anything to keep from getting too close.”
“I’m not finding fault, Elena. I’m just pointing out that he could be a serial killer, for all we know.”
“He’s not.”
“And just how do you know that?”
“Because I keep my eyes and ears open. First, I’ve heard talk about him. He’s in some kind of law enforcement work. Mrs. Patrick told me that her son worked with him once.”
“The attorney?”
Elena nodded. “She wouldn’t give me the details. She said it was all confidential, but she spoke of our new neighbor with respect.”
Laura looked across the room pensively. Something still didn’t add up, but she just couldn’t put her finger on it.
“And look at what this house tells us about him. He’s a man who cares about the place he calls home and his heritage. Did you see the fetish in the nicho in the wall in the living room?”
Laura remembered seeing the recessed niche in the wall, but she hadn’t taken a closer look at what it contained. “No, I didn’t. What animal does the fetish depict?”
“The mountain lion. It’s on a special earthenware dish sprinkled with cornmeal, which is supposed to keep the fetish’s powers strong. The mountain lion is his animal medicine and that tells you about the man he is.”
“What’s it represent? Do you know?”
“Yes, I learned about animal fetishes and their medicine years ago because they fascinated me. The mountain lion is the hunter god. Think of the spiritual attributes of the animal—courage, faithful to his purpose and committed. That’s the animal medicine he draws upon.”
“Okay, Sherlock,” Laura teased. She took off Burke’s jacket, feeling warm now in a properly heated home. “But, for my sake, don’t be so quick to think the best of him. People in law enforcement, no matter what their background, aren’t always nice and stable.”
Elena shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry so much about you if you were at least curious about him and trying to learn more, but as it is…”
Wolf came up beside Laura and pressed his muzzle into her hand, asking to be petted. She scratched his head, enjoying the soft feel of his thick fur.
“You’ve never had a love that lasted,” Elena continued, “but now when you look at Burke, I see it flickering to life. Hold on to that. If your fears and doubts win over every time the opportunity comes, you’ll end up letting life slip right through your fingers.”
Laura started to make excuses, but decided to be honest instead. “I like my life the way it is. I don’t depend on anyone for my happiness, and that gives me a sense of security and accomplishment.”
“But there’s so much more to life. You’ve got to go out and meet new people and give yourself a chance.”
“There’s more to Burke than meets the eye, Elena. There’s a hard edge to that guy that doesn’t quite fit in with the charming man who graciously offered us his home.”
Elena sighed. “I’m going to bed. I can see that you’re determined to find a reason to back away. Will you at least think about what I’ve told you?”
Laura kissed her good-night. “I always do.”
After Elena had gone to bed, Laura wandered around the house, with Wolf padding along beside her. She stopped by the nicho in the wall where the animal fetish was kept, and studied the mountain lion. The four-inch figure, hand carved out of petrified wood, was exquisitely
made. She started to touch it, but drew her hand back. It seemed too personal to disturb.
Laura continued to the den. The leather furniture looked comfortable and held that touch of masculinity that so defined Burke. This was a man’s room through and through. There was a no-nonsense, no-frills style of decor here that fitted in with what she’d learned about him so far, but nothing here really cast a light on his personal life.
In her own den there were photos of her mother, and a rare one of her father. He’d died when she was three. There were shots of picnics with Elena and Christmases with friends and family, a chronicle of good times past. But there was nothing of that sort here.
She looked at his bookcase, wondering what she’d be able to learn about him from his choice of reading material. She recognized several titles from her college days, such as The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli. If memory served her right, the author’s philosophy was simply that theological and moral arguments had no place in the political game. It was a gruesome, practical book that modern day military people were required to study. There was The Art of War by Tzu Sun, which ran along the same vein, A Book of Five Rings, which had been written by a famous samurai master. Then on a lighter vein—if one could call them that—were books by Ludlum, Clancy and Trevanian.
Missing were the kind of books she treasured—ones by Tolkien, or David Eddings, or Danielle Steele—books that mingled fantasy with romantic adventure. Of course, generally speaking, she didn’t share the reading tastes of most men, something she attributed to yet another instance of the left brain–right brain dichotomy.
Wondering which of the books on the shelf was his favorite, she leafed through several. It was clear from the wear and tear on the Clancy books that he’d reread all of them.
Well, at least he favored fiction.
Not in the least bit sleepy, Laura sat down on the leather sofa and looked around the room, wondering why there was nothing in the house, with the exception of the fetish and the books, capable of giving her a glimpse into Burke’s personal life. The more she mused about it, the more uneasy it made her. The place was beautiful, but more like a model home than an actual residence.