Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

Being drunk enough not to notice a wedding ring was one thing, hanging around the married lady after finding out about the husband was quite another. Not that he had seen any evidence of a husband. This made the whole morning even more surreal.

  Kathleen hadn’t said anything about him, come to think of it. She didn’t seem in a hurry to get rid of him, or curious about where said husband was. What was that about?

  “What?” She sounded annoyed.

  Jackson grinned. He wanted to ask about the ring, her husband, how they wound up naked on the beach this morning. He didn’t ask any of these things, however, settling instead for, “Where’s the nearest phone?”

  He thought he heard a sigh from the other side of the door, but couldn’t be sure.

  “Through the lanai doors, down the hall to the right there is an alcove with a phone.” She mumbled something that sounded like, “‘Do not pass go, do not collect $200.00’.”

  • • •

  Go to the phone. Go directly to the phone and then out the front door. I don’t know where he is, but if you run into him Jackson you’ll wish you’d gone to jail.

  Kathleen wished she were in jail. An all-women’s cellblock. No testosterone wielding, pheromone sending men out on the make. It just figured years after college she would finally have her night with Jackson Taylor. And not remember a minute of it.

  Jackson Taylor, the man of her college fantasies. The half-brother of her recently exed boyfriend. Lord, could this get any worse?

  A glimmer of moonlight on the cove as she spun in a circle flashed into her mind. A male hand pulled her back into his arms, his hands lingering on her waist and working up to her breasts. Everything went black again. Not that she needed to see his face in her memory this time. No, those hands and those shoulders could only belong to Jackson Taylor.

  She caught her breath as the muscles in her abdomen clenched following the phantom movement of his hands. Okay, so she remembered thirty seconds of last night. Didn’t make a difference.

  At least she’d found her white halter-top dress tossed in a pile on one of the bench seats when she dove inside the cabana. Fully clothed she felt more like her old self. Sitting down hard on the bench seat, Kathleen buried her head in her hands. What had she done? All of her hard work over the past seven months was going to disappear down the drain if Jackson didn’t get away from the villa before Grandfather wandered outside looking for her. He couldn’t find Jackson here.

  A vacation fling was the sort of act that would convince Grandfather she was just like her sisters or the string of women her father had brought to the ranch while she was young. She could hear his voice, thundering at her father even now.

  “Incompetent, weak spined, won’t handle ranch life.”

  And invariably Grandfather was right. Since her mother’s death, Kathleen’s father had been married five times. None of the women lasted more than two years at the ranch before running for those bright city lights. Nicholas Witte had loved them all, but hadn’t been able to keep any of them. With each defection he had lost a bit more of his spirit until he was a shell of a man.

  Kathleen had tried to prove she wasn’t like her father’s women by not getting involved. By keeping men at least an arm’s length from her heart. She’d learned to enjoy their bodies, but the minute any of them made moves toward something deeper than a physical relationship she cut them loose.

  It was breakup number five that caught Grandfather’s attention. When Kathleen broke up with neighboring rancher Ty Henderson, Grandfather’s version of the perfect mate for her, he started talking about selling the ranch. Leaving only the house and a couple of acres to his granddaughters because none of them were strong enough, committed enough to carry on the family tradition.

  That was seven months ago. Since, Kathleen had dedicated every waking hour to the ranch. Working the new horses, overseeing the entire operation, making subtle changes in the day-to-day operation. Seven months and she nearly had Grandfather convinced she had turned over a new leaf. Then she let Vanessa, her younger sister, goad her into this stupid vacation and look where she was. Hiding in a cabana, hoping her grandfather didn’t see the now-half-naked man beside the pool. The rental car had to be his. She should be angry that Grandfather had come down here to check on her, but she couldn’t. In his heart he wanted the best for her, her sisters, the ranch. He just happened to be trapped in his old-school ways.

  “Kathleen?”

  “What?” She clasped her hands together, twisting the ring on her left hand. Another flash, this time of Jackson pulling a white flower from her hair. Her heart softened toward him. After their night on the beach, he had to be wondering about the cold shoulder treatment. “Jackson, the phone’s inside…” She trailed off, all of her attention suddenly focused on the thin, gold band on her left hand.

  The ring she had been mindlessly twisting around her finger for the last few minutes.

  What the heck?

  Kathleen had never seen the ring in her life, but it was definitely a wedding band. Only she wasn’t married. Would never be married. No way. Not happening.

  So where had it come from?

  Another flash of brightly lit lanterns and very soft Latin music flashed into her brain. The memory of a wrinkled, brown face smiling at her filled her mind and a sinking feeling filled her stomach. She wanted to throw up, and not from the hangover this time.

  No, she’d done it.

  End of life.

  End of the Double Diamond.

  The question was who was wearing the matching band?

  She focused on the closed cabana door. Jackson, who disappeared on her sometime during the night. Jackson, who knew his way around her private, rented villa. Jackson, who last she heard, was a struggling art photographer in New York because his step-mother cut him off from family money after his father died.

  Jackson, who kept hanging around even though he was mostly clothed and had been in a hurry to leave earlier.

  Just what was he trying to pull?

  “Jackson?” Was he still there?

  “Yeah.” Yep, still there. And he knew now where the phone was.

  “Go call your taxi.” She listened intently, but didn’t hear footsteps leading away from the pool.

  Any soft hearted feelings she had for him disappeared in a bubble of red-hot rage. Jackson, secretive, artistic Jackson who never had time for her in college was suddenly attached to her hip in Puerto Vallarta.

  Kathleen jumped up and began to pace. She willed the last flash to come back. She saw Jackson pull the white flower from behind her ear and hold it out to her. She took it, they turned and then … nothing. Blackness engulfed her memory.

  Crap, crap, crap. Why couldn’t she remember the whole night? She had never had this problem before. Never lost an entire night. She pounded the heel of her hand against her forehead and winced.

  “Before I call, do you want to talk about what happened last night? I’ve got a couple blanks that need to be filled in,” he said. His voice sounded very close, almost sad. Not sad. Curious, maybe, but not sad. What did he have to be sad about? A marriage to a rich rancher’s daughter probably fit right into his plans.

  She had more than a couple of blanks that needed filling in. More like twelve hours. She held back a sob. No, she didn’t want to talk about last night.

  Idiot, idiot, idiot. The words rolled through her mind like a freight train.

  “No,” she said, her voice cracking on the word. She swallowed hard and pressed her fingers into her eyes to stop the threatening tears. “I don’t want to talk about last night. I just want you to call for that cab.” And get out before your presence does more damage.

  “Listen, I’m just going to slide — ”

  His words were cut off when a voice from inside the house called out, “Kathleen? You out here, sweethea
rt?”

  Kathleen knew a moment of pure, unadulterated terror. She wasn’t wrong. Grandfather was here.

  Naked man by the pool. Naked man by the pool. Grandfather at the door.

  She did the only thing she could think of at that moment.

  Jerking open the cabana door, Kathleen tugged a startled Jackson inside the small room and slammed the door closed.

  He towered over her by a good five inches, but Kathleen didn’t care. She placed her hands on her hips and hissed, “One word out of you, Cowboy, and I’ll twist your balls so hard they’ll fall off.”

  Chapter Three

  When Jackson opened his mouth to speak Kathleen held up her hand, index finger pointing to the ceiling. “Not. One. Word.”

  Prudently, his mouth closed. Jackson turned to sit on the bench at the back of the cabana. His six-pack curved inward as he leaned against the wall, well-defined even in the relaxed pose. He really shouldn’t still have the hot university body. It would be much easier to think if he’d gained twenty pounds and developed a beer belly.

  “Kathleen?” Grandfather’s voice sounded close. Too close. Kathleen peered through one of the louvered slats. Mitchum Witte stood on the lanai, just outside the house looking like an image from an old black and white Texas postcard.

  Black leather boots and pressed Wranglers, a white crease centered down the leg. Big, silver belt buckle and wide, hand-tooled leather belt with ‘Witte’ emblazoned on the back. Starched, western cut shirt, long-sleeved with only the very top pearled button left open. He held a cream-colored Stetson in his hands. His dress hat. He must have come straight from the airport.

  Why had he come down here? This was her vacation, darn it. Her time alone.

  Kathleen turned, sagging back against the wall. “Without giving me too many details, could you just tell me what happened?”

  Jackson shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine; though I’m almost positive we had sex at some point last night.”

  She knew that much. What she needed to know was why they were wearing matching wedding bands. Crossing to him, Kathleen held his left hand up so he could see and placed her left hand beside it. “No, I mean what did you do to get this ring on my finger?”

  His face paled. Had he really not put two and two together? Not realized he was wearing a wedding ring? Okay, she couldn’t fault him there since she hadn’t realized it until she’d been twisting the stupid thing around her finger for several minutes.

  “Because I wasn’t wearing this before I left Texas, and assuming the flashes coming to me are from last night and not several nights ago, I wasn’t wearing it yesterday either. One of us has to remember or we’re both dead.” Okay, that was an exaggeration. Grandfather wasn’t likely to kill Jackson or her. He’d just make her wish her life was over.

  “So the man calling you sweetheart on the patio isn’t your husband?”

  Kathleen blanched. “No, idiot. He’s my grandfather. What do you think I am some Anna Nicole wannabe?”

  “No, but…Well who else would call you sweetheart besides your husband?”

  She glared at him. “Start talking, Cowboy. Am I remembering last night?”

  “I’m not sure, either.” When Kathleen would have socked him in the shoulder, he continued. “I was sent down here on a photo shoot for Sports Weekly last Monday. It wrapped and I decided to stay for a few extra days. I have a show booked in New York in a couple of months and I thought some shots of the crowds on the Malecon would do well. That would have been…Wednesday. Then I woke up on the beach this morning with you. So assuming this is Thursday, yeah, we’re both remembering the same night.”

  “Kathleen?”

  She ignored Grandfather and focused on Jackson. “You seriously don’t remember how this” — she wagged her right index finger between their left hands — “happened?” His only response was a slow shaking of his head from side to side. Wonderful. Wait. Wouldn’t that make the annulment that much simpler? All the celebrities did it. Get drunk, get married, plead incompetence because of alcohol and get a quickie annulment. If it was good enough for Britney it was good enough for Kathleen. As long as she could get the annulment ball rolling before Grandfather found out.

  “Kathy-bean?” Grandfather. Again. Kathleen hurried to the door and peeked out. He looked annoyed.

  She tried to get angry, to stay angry, but she couldn’t. Grandfather always had a reason. No doubt the reason for this trip was to make sure she was okay. He seemed to understand her need for a little time away, even if he didn’t approve of the timing. Sure, he was checking up on her but his heart was in the right place. With her father’s history, heck her own history, he had every right to be worried.

  Worried. She squinted her eyes and focused on Grandfather’s face. That wasn’t his annoyed look, it was his worried look. Was something wrong? Something he couldn’t tell her over the phone. Dad…

  Throwing a quelling look over her shoulder Kathleen repeated, “Don’t say anything. Don’t move. Just stay here until I get back and we’ll figure out what to do about this.” Without waiting for an answer, she opened the cabana door and waved.

  “I’m over here.” She pulled the door closed behind her and hurried to her grandfather’s side. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” She looped her arm through his and tried to guide him inside, but the older man didn’t budge.

  He looked intently at the cabana door, making Kathleen’s heart beat irregularly in her chest. Nope, nothing wrong at home. He was worried about her, and about to figure everything out unless she could get him back inside the house. She tugged on his arm.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you ’til I got off the plane this evening in San Antonio. You didn’t fly all the way down here just to keep me company on the flight, did you?” She tried to make her voice sound light, like Vanessa or Monica would. Neither of her sisters would worry about a strange man in the cabana. They would probably throw a party to introduce him to the staff.

  Finally, Grandfather let her pull him into the house. “I came down here to make sure everything’s okay,” he said, voice gruff as if he had just woken up.

  She ignored the question in his tone, deciding that pretending everything was fine was the best alternative at the moment. “No one is here yet, why don’t I pop into the kitchen to make some coffee while you relax. Then I can finish packing and we can hit the road. What time did you say you got in?” Couldn’t have been too long ago since the car hood was warm to the touch. And what did he mean he came down here to make sure everything was okay? Of course it was okay, man in the cabana notwithstanding, it was a vacation. Crimeny!

  Kathleen settled Mitchum on the sofa so he was facing into the room just in case Jackson came out of the cabana and then she hurried into the kitchen. She filled the brew-basket with grounds, dumped water in the tub, and tapped her foot impatiently as the carafe slowly filled with vanilla-flavored coffee. Grandfather’s favorite. When it was half full, she grabbed the carafe, stuck an old mug under the drip, and poured coffee into the service sitting on the counter. Tray loaded with a ceramic mug, serving carafe, and cream Kathleen headed back to the living room.

  She nearly tripped over her own feet when she saw Grandfather staring out the window toward the pool, tapping his hat against the windowpane. She caught herself, pasted a happy smile on her face, and called, “Coffee’s ready.”

  He turned from the window, taking in her appearance with a grim smile. Kathleen mentally reviewed how she must look. No shoes, wrinkled dress, mussed hair. Wedding ring. She curled her left hand into a fist, resting it fingers up in her lap. No need for him to take in her complete wardrobe. This problem was fixable. This didn’t have to ruin her life, and it wouldn’t as long as Mitchum didn’t see the ring. Oh, why hadn’t she taken it off in the kitchen when she had the chance?

  “Seems like you’ve had
a busy week,” Mitchum said, pouring cream into his coffee and sitting back in the sofa. He looked pointedly at Kathleen and she shook her head.

  No coffee for me, thanks. A shot of whiskey, maybe. “You know me, Pepsi or nothing.” Idiot, idiot, idiot. Just shut up and let the man speak. “You were saying?”

  Mitchum shook his head. “Not saying. Just asking. What have you been up to the last nine days, kiddo?”

  Finding out that sex on the beach isn’t just a drink. “Shopping on the Malecon, lying on the beach. Typical vacation stuff.” The full impact of Grandfather’s words hit her. Nine days? She had only been in Puerto Vallarta seven days. Okay, technically eight but she left on day eight so it didn’t count. Nine? She barely stopped her eyes from cutting to the cabana. What happened to evening seven and day eight?

  She took a breath, grabbed the remote control from the coffee table, and flicked on the television. She couldn’t understand the newscaster, but the date at the bottom of the screen was in both Spanish and English. Definitely nine days.

  “When your flight came in without you yesterday we thought you just missed it. But you didn’t call. The number down here was disconnected and I couldn’t get through to the leasing agency.” His voice never raised, his eyes never left hers. Kathleen felt like she was back in high school being lectured for a bad grade. Only this was so much worse than a C in Algebra. He and her father must have been frantic. Another stress that neither man needed.

  Grandfather took another sip of coffee and gently put the mug on the low table. His next words cut her to the bone. “I really thought you had outgrown this childish streak, Kathleen. That you were ready to take the reins. You can’t just leave horses to their own devices for days on end. You have to be there. Every day.”

  There was a subtle subtext to his words. She couldn’t leave her family for days on end, either. Grandfather wasn’t getting any younger. Her father was at best depressed after the latest marriage debacle, at worst a raging alcoholic who wouldn’t get help. Her sisters were spoiled brats with no thought to anything except their next tanning appointment. She was the glue that was supposed to keep everything running. Ranch, home, family.