Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  He shrugged. “Your call,” he told her, and exited the kitchen, whistling.

  • • •

  She shouldn’t be here. Chance and Rosa had both insisted she shouldn’t change her routine. She couldn’t, not if Robbie would suffer. Robbie. A real nickname. She raised the baby’s chubby hand high enough to press a kiss on the back. He stirred slightly, but didn’t wake. She smiled. She’d held him for hours, watching him sleep and wake, feeling more like his mother than the aunt he didn’t know he had.

  Her smile faded and her mouth tightened as questions stormed in. She must have been shocked into a numb mindlessness when Chance showed her the birth certificate. He’d known? He’d known and hadn’t told her! Why? She paced a short path near the crib, rubbing her arms as she felt chilled air raise goose bumps again. What the hell was wrong with her, imagining evil lurking in this beautifully appointed room? With goodness itself sleeping paces away in that crib.

  Robbie hiccupped and she took a step toward him, but he rolled over, pulled his blanket off, and nestled his face into its softness, clearly not ready to face the morning.

  “Neither am I, little man,” she murmured, feeling the sting of tears and blinking hard. Why hadn’t Gina told her about Robbie? Or at least told their mom. A tear escaped as she thought of her hard-working, often solitary mother. A grandmother! She could have Gina’s son if—if Mike Towers could be convinced. She wouldn’t demand money. She could support him well enough. But why wasn’t Mike Towers listed as Robbie’s father? Screw Chance Landin with his secrets and his claims that Gina had been unfaithful. Nothing—no one—could have driven her sister to cheat. They’d had many a fight as teenagers over whether or not you could cheat if you were cheated on. Gina never bought into that mentality, as she herself once had.

  “AJ,” Rosa whispered behind her and she jerked toward the door. “You must leave. Chance has found a way to talk to you. Go.”

  “But Robbie—”

  “Will be here all day. Please. Go!”

  AJ hesitated, reluctant to listen to Rosa. But she’d clearly been putting the baby first since Gina’s death. Causing the nanny problems wouldn’t help anyone, least of all the baby.

  “Can I talk to you later, Rosa?” she asked quietly.

  Rosa nodded. “We’ll find a time and place. I don’t trust María when the boss isn’t here. Now please, go!”

  AJ hurried down the hall and into her room, pushing the door shut with her foot as she stripped off her T-shirt and hurled it toward the bed.

  Then she heard someone suck in air and swear softly. Chance Landin stood by her bed, staring at her, his mouth slightly open.

  Shock stunned her momentarily, followed quickly by embarrassment and then rage.

  “You—you pervert!” She advanced on him in a fury, her hands balled into fists, and slugged him in the chest. “You sneak into my room, hide—”

  “I didn’t sneak in.” He caught her hands as she moved to hit him again, holding them away and half turning. “You’re kind of naked, AJ. Please stop … jiggling all over the place.”

  Jiggling? Jiggling? A different kind of outrage froze her instantly. She was fit, toned from working out and from her days of throwing hay bales around. She did not jiggle.

  She jerked her hands free and reclaimed the T-shirt, shoving it on.

  “So exactly what are you doing here?” she demanded. “I hardly expected to find you hiding in a closet or—”

  “I didn’t sneak in and I wasn’t hiding.” He spoke slowly and calmly, as if he doubted her intelligence. “Rosa said she’d tell you I needed to see you.”

  Rosa. Right. She had said that, hadn’t she?

  AJ’s anger faded, but the slight embarrassment remained. She could only imagine what she’d looked like, exposed from the waist up, launching herself at him, flailing around—and jiggling? Color rose in her cheeks even though she told herself to get over it. Maybe she had jiggled.

  “She did tell me,” AJ admitted. “But can we talk here? María—”

  “Get dressed.” He shook his head once, hard, when she started to say something. “After I leave. We’re going to Laredo for the day. I’ll pick you up in the kitchen in fifteen minutes.”

  He didn’t look back at her as he hurried out, not even checking the hall for passersby before exiting the room.

  AJ walked over and locked the door before casting the T-shirt off again and flinging it on the bed. Fifteen minutes? Not much time to get ready. She threw make-up into a small case and headed for what she hoped would be a five-minute shower.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chance glanced at his watch. He had no idea if AJ was ready, but his sweep of the grounds had run late. He broke into a jog, startling the stocky man walking sedately behind him.

  “¡Epa, compadre!” the man complained. “I am not young like you!” In spite of grumbling, though, he too broke into a jog, steadying the holstered pistol at his side.

  “Aw, come on, Santos! You need the exercise and I’m late.” They reached the kitchen door and Chance pulled it open for the older, heavier man, who gasped for air as he clattered into the kitchen. Across the room, María fixed both of them with one of her unflinching stares.

  “Hey, María. You know Santos, yes? Helps me with security and the dogs when Mike needs me elsewhere?”

  “We know each other.” María turned away with a slight sniff and went back to going through a pile of pinto beans, looking for small rocks that might have made it into the batch.

  Good. She doesn’t like Santos the way she does Jaime. He allowed himself to wonder if Jaime and María were lovers. Jaime scored a fair number of women—good-looking women—simply because Towers kept his pockets full. At least, so Mike had led him to believe. Chance tamped down his resentment and patted the pocket where he’d tucked a couple of hundred-dollar bills. People—men or women—had to live and they couldn’t always choose the cleanest path.

  “Let’s look at the monitors in Mike’s office,” Chance said, ushering him into the spacious room and closing the door quietly.

  “Have you heard from the boss?” he asked and Santos shook his head.

  “Me? No.” He rubbed a hand through hair that brushed his shirt collar. “The boss doesn’t know I’m alive, most of the time.” He sighed. “The last time he knew was when that witch,” he waved in the direction of the kitchen, “caught me sleeping in the office when you and the boss had gone across. Took a picture of me with her phone and por poco—well, she nearly got me fired.”

  Perfect. “Yeah, I sort of remember.” He gave the man his most genial smile. “Came down on me—said why did I keep someone who couldn’t do the job?”

  Santos shuffled his feet in the carpet and glanced away. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  Chance clapped the man on the arm. “Water under the bridge. Besides, María sticks knives in everyone’s back.”

  “Seguro que si—for sure!”

  “Have to tell you, Santos, I’m a little worried. I told the boss that Ms. Owens—you’ve met Ms. Owens?” Chance went on when the man nodded. “Well, she wants to go into Laredo. The boss sort of abandoned her here and told her to stay put. But he wants her to be happy and he told me to take her across, let her spend some money—”

  “Do what las mujeres do,” Santos finished, nodding sagely. “Women need their little excursions. Of course.”

  “Look, Santos, Towers told me to take her across, but María hates her—hell, she hates me, too. Last time we happened to wind up across together, she had the boss ready to shoot us both.”

  “He could do that, too, and get away with it,” Santos muttered, “long as he did it here.”

  “Well, it won’t come to that. But just in case you think María’s stirring up trouble somehow—I don’t know—calling Mike with lies, or anything obvious—let me know, would you?”

  “You want me to stay in the house?”

  “Yeah. Huerta’s got the outside and dogs. Stay here, watch the video. She pro
bably wouldn’t call on a house line, but walk around the house now and then.” He shot the guard a smile. “Drink a lot of water. She hangs out in the kitchen a lot—hatches her plots there.”

  “My pleasure,” Santos agreed easily, nodding.

  “Just stay awake,” Chance warned, grinning to take any threat out of the words. He slid the folded bills out of his pocket. He’d decided on two hundred instead of three hundred, not wanting to raise suspicions.

  “This is just because I know I can trust you, and because—hell, hassle with Mike is never worth it. So if María starts—”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” Santos assured him, beaming. He reached out and pumped Chance’s hand. “You’re a good friend, Chance.”

  He smiled and clapped Santos on the shoulder just as he heard an impatient knock on the door, followed by AJ’s voice. “Chance? María said you were in here?”

  “On my way, AJ,” he assured her, and pulled the door open.

  She stood there, dampness darkening her hair, somehow making a sailor top and a pair of jeans look incredibly stylish. And deliciously sinful. The memory of her half-naked, coming at him in a fury more arousing than intimidating, crashed back.

  “Let’s get out of Dodge,” he muttered, moving toward the door and brushing past her. Hoping she hadn’t noticed the effect his recent memory of her had on him.

  • • •

  He pushed through the door, his arm actually brushing her, expecting her to follow him. She ignored the brief flare of warmth where their skin touched, that tiny current of physical shock, because she wanted to know what she’d seen in his face before he ducked away.

  The glance he shot her seemed full of—apology? If so, for what? Desire? Had he been remembering their encounter a short while ago?

  The glare of the sun, already blinding and hot, made her blink away the images of his face and focus on this unplanned excursion. She hadn’t asked why they were leaving. She’d planned on spending as much of the day as she could with Robbie. Just the thought of him made her smile.

  “Happy to escape for a while?” Chance asked as he opened the door for her to his Jeep.

  “Yes,” she admitted, climbing in, “but … ”

  He closed the door and went around, swinging up. “You’re worried about Rebel and Robbie,” he finished for her. “Not to insult you or anything, but both of them were fine before you came and nothing has changed that endangers them in any way.” He seemed to rethink that. “Well, we do need to talk, especially about Robbie. That could change before we’re ready. You have to be more careful, AJ. Not to show interest in him—not more than usual.”

  “He’s my nephew!”

  “Which is exactly why you’re going to be careful. Until you leave with him.”

  Leave with him? Her heart pounded. She’d thought fleetingly of the possibility in the early morning hours, watching him sleep. But—how? You didn’t just pick up a child and walk out with him. A man like Mike Towers could make it impossible.

  She drew a deep breath and pressed her eyes tightly closed for a moment, mentally counting backwards from ten to one. Patience. And quiet. She always thought better with silence around her.

  So she said nothing else, just watched Laredo flash by, not questioning Chance. She’d deal with it all when she knew what “it” was.

  Traffic eased as they reached the outskirts, and she realized he was taking her to see Goof. She’d been worried about the gelding, and had managed to sneak brief phone conversations with Ed, but she couldn’t wait to throw her arms around Goof’s neck and hug him. At the same time, she knew she’d have to give Chance some deeper answers than she had before.

  She didn’t know if she could. He’d told her about Robbie. But could she trust his plans for Rebel?

  She didn’t hear herself sigh, but Chance looked across at her and gave her a brief smile. “My thoughts exactly,” he offered. He pulled up to the trailer and killed the engine. They both just sat there a moment. “Did you bring your key?”

  She fished briefly through her bag and extracted it after a momentary panic.

  “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today,” he told her.

  Again, Ed appeared out of nowhere, smiling broadly and holding out a hand as he greeted AJ.

  “Nice to see you, Joanie. It’s been longer than I thought—but don’t you worry. I care for that horse like he’s worth a million dollars!”

  The irony wasn’t lost on Chance, whose lips twitched slightly as he held out a hand to the caretaker. “Chance Landin,” he introduced himself. “Sorry that we haven’t had a chance to come by.”

  “Before you leave, Ed, I want to pay you for another week or so and be sure Goof has enough food,” AJ said, and he nodded.

  “Sure thing, miss. No one trying to win me away at my age, so this job suits me just fine.”

  “Give me the key, AJ,” Chance ordered, holding out his hand as Ed wandered away. “Or should I call you Joanie?”

  AJ raised an eyebrow. “Give you my key?”

  He reached out and snatched it. “Seems to me turning on the air would be smart,” he explained. “But my guess is you won’t go near the trailer till you’ve seen your danged horse.”

  She laughed. “You’re catching on, Chance. Turn on both units, or we’ll boil.” She didn’t wait to see if he could manage the sometimes tricky door in her eagerness to see Rebel’s brother.

  He lifted his head when she popped into the small shed and let loose a plaintive burst of snorts and nickers that filled her with guilt over abandoning him for so long.

  “You’re an overgrown mutt,” she scolded, stepping into the stall and letting him press his head into her chest and puff happy little breaths across her face. “Just a puppy who didn’t stop growing!”

  “I can’t get over how much he and Rebel look alike,” Chance observed, coming in and patting the gelding’s neck. “So, are you going to be honest today?”

  AJ sighed and gently pushed Goof’s head away. “Depends on the questions, Chance. And on one other thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “Whether or not you do the same.”

  • • •

  The units humming in the windows of the old trailer hadn’t helped yet. Humid, musty air encased them and AJ absently pulled at her blouse, feeling it cling to her damp skin.

  “Look, we could find somewhere else,” Chance suggested. “Although I don’t think we’ll be here long.”

  “You said we have a lot to do,” AJ noted, tossing her bag on the sofa. “What? And how did you decide to spring me, anyway?”

  “We can’t afford to have María call and find some reason to drag Mike back. She’d already started with her innuendo and insults when I got down to the kitchen. I don’t know if she knew how long you’d been in Robbie’s room. I called Mike in front of her and asked permission to bring you over for a day of shopping.”

  She snorted. “What am I supposed to buy?”

  “We’ll worry about that later. Do you need breakfast?”

  “No.”

  Chance leaned against the bar dividing the kitchen and living area. “So tell me the real story, AJ. Tell me how you planned on getting Rebel back. Tell me why you brought Goof.” He paused and she thought his eyes looked darker and his face angrier.

  “Tell me why you thought the only way to get your horse back would be to sleep with your sister’s husband.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The questions weren’t unexpected. But they hurt anyway.

  She swallowed and turned away for a minute, deciding what and how much to explain. Anger and pride urged her to tell him to go to hell and walk out of the trailer. But she couldn’t do that. He could keep her away from Robbie and Rebel.

  Her heart whispered, Chance won’t do that. He’s a good man.

  Logic reminded her that she’d been burned several times in her life by good men. And that Gina died under Mike Towers’s care. And Chance Landin’s watch. She stif
fened and faced him, waving at one of the couches. “Sit down. I’m going to tell you about Rebel and Goof—but then it’s your turn.”

  Chance glanced at the couch. “I’m fine standing. Not a sitter. Why not start with how you didn’t know about Robbie? Why you didn’t come to Gina’s burial?”

  The words slammed into her and she couldn’t breathe. Then the welcome anger she’d contained for months stormed back.

  “That sounds more like something you should explain to me, Chance Landin! Head of security? The one who held her a virtual prisoner? Because I don’t believe that she wouldn’t have come home to us if she could have!”

  Raw fury propelled her over to where he stood, straightening as she approached. Without thinking, she stabbed a finger into his chest as she snarled, “Maybe you can explain why Mom didn’t find out about her death for three weeks after the fact? Why she was told services had been held, but that Towers would ship Gina’s ashes if she wanted them?”

  He hadn’t known. She could see the shock freeze his face. He completely ignored the thrust of her finger into his chest. And knowing that he hadn’t been a participant at least in the final outrages committed against Gina suddenly meant the world.

  “You didn’t know,” she breathed, and sagged against him as the rage and resentment dissipated, leaving her unable to stand.

  • • •

  He hadn’t known. He heard her say the words and recognized the truth in them. Easy barbs came to mind—above his pay grade, not his job, the relationship between a married couple wasn’t his business.

  He couldn’t excuse himself. He should have known. She fell forward, her anger abruptly gone, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “Mike told me he called you the night of the accident, and again when the funeral arrangements were made.” His arms tightened around her slightly, the warmth and hardness comforting, a granite pillar heated by sun. She let her own arms slide around his torso, keeping him close until she could regain her own strength.