by Leanne Banks
Rex cracked a smile. “We still have Brownie.”
Troy watched Senada’s eyes widen in surprise. “I’m surprised she’s still alive.”
“Oh, yeah. Kept one of her foals too.”
“Brownie?” Troy interjected.
“Sin’s favorite horse. Barely a horse really. Small, but this mare has the disposition of a saint.”
“I haven’t been riding in years,” Sin murmured.
“You oughta come out.”
A lengthy silence followed where a father’s eyes searched his daughter’s. Troy saw her soften, just a little. “Thanks. Maybe I will.”
The evening continued with small steps forward. Troy and Sheree filled gaps in the conversation. Rex watched Senada.
“I like that dress, Missy. You look pretty in it. Real classy,” he said of Senada’s simple white sheath.
She grinned. “Thank you, Dad.”
“Covers better than that black sleazy thing you wore the other night,” he added firmly.
Troy put his hand on Sin’s knee and watched Sheree’s elbow make contact with Rex’s side. Senada’s smile tightened slightly. “There’s all kinds of tastes for different fashions.”
Troy gave her a reassuring squeeze.
Sheree nodded. “That’s so true, and in a few months I’ll be wearing one kind. Tents.”
They all laughed, and the conversation continued. Troy and Rex argued over who would pay the check. After it was paid, Rex turned to Senada with a serious look on his face. “How long have you been sick, baby?”
Sin went very still. Troy felt her body tense, but her tone was casual. “I’m not sick.”
“You got the diabetes, don’t you?”
“It’s a disease, Dad, but I’m not sick,” she said patiently. “In fact, I’m probably healthier than I’ve ever been.”
Rex looked unconvinced. He sighed and put his arm around his wife. “Listen, baby, Sheree and I have discussed it, and I want you to know that you can come and live with us if you want to.”
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why would I want to?”
“Well,” he said hesitantly. “In case you ever get sick and can’t live alone.”
Troy watched Senada’s face turn pale. “I’m not going to get sick,” she insisted in a painfully precise voice. “If I did, I wouldn’t come to you. As I remember, Rex, you don’t handle serious illness well.”
Rex looked as if he’d been slapped. He stood, and Senada did too, matching his shame with her own indignation.
“It was an offer,” he said gruffly. “A father should take care of his daughter.”
“And what should a husband do for his wife?” she asked him quietly. “It wasn’t an offer. It was penance.” She shook her head. “Sorry, Rex, you’ll have to find another way to absolve your guilt.”
They stood silently for a moment, then her lips tilted in a sad smile. “We just can’t seem to get together without hurting each other, can we, Rex? Sorry if I gave you indigestion.” She fluttered her hand toward his, then without touching him, dropped it to her side. “Thanks for dinner. Good night,” she murmured, nodding toward Sheree, then walked away.
Troy rose and glanced at Rex with a shrug.
Sin’s father waved his hand. “You don’t need to say a word. I know it was my mouth as much as it was hers that messed things up. Maybe more,” he added. “Go on after her,” he said, tilting his head toward the exit. “Maybe she’ll calm down once she gets home.”
Troy jammed his hands in his pockets as he walked to the front of the restaurant. God, what a mess. And now he was going to have to try to calm Sin down. He glared at a potted plant. He wasn’t looking forward to it.
Glancing around the entrance, he didn’t see her. He noticed the ladies’ room was to the left and concluded she was in there. He sat down in an upholstered chair to wait. A couple of minutes passed, and Rex and Sheree appeared.
Rex frowned. “Where’s Sin?”
“I think she’s in the restroom,” Troy told him.
“Would you like me to check?” Sheree offered.
Troy paused. It had been a few minutes. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. Thanks.”
Sheree smiled and went into the restroom. A minute later she returned, confusion marring her serene features. “No one’s in there,” she said. “No one at all.”
“No one,” Troy and Rex said at the same time.
“Well where—”
Rex glanced out the window and swore. “Better take a look.”
Troy stared out the window, gaping. He watched as Senada got into the passenger seat of a white convertible. A guy was driving. Troy didn’t have a clue who it was. His feet started moving before his brain did.
“What in hell is she—” He nearly pulled the door off the hinges as he opened it. “Sin!” he yelled, but the only response he got was a cloud of exhaust.
Rex walked to his side. “Who was that?”
Troy shook his head. “Don’t know.”
Rex swore. “She’s done it again.”
Troy unglued his gaze from the license plate of the white convertible. “What do you mean, she’s done it again?”
“Run off,” Rex said with a sigh. “She used to do this all the time when she was a teenager. Especially when she was upset.”
Run off. Troy felt a sinking sensation. He was responsible for this. “Where’d she go?”
“Usually somewhere just over the border in Mexico.”
He resisted the urge to swear. “Anywhere in particular?” he asked, knowing he was going to have to go get her.
Rex made a clicking noise with his tongue and shook his head. “I can give you a few suggestions, but Mexico’s got more little border places than I’ve got cattle. And I’ve got a lot of cattle, Troy.”
“Give me the short list.”
“It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Rex warned.
“I don’t have a choice,” Troy told the older man. “She’s upset. I’m partly responsible.”
Troy quickly learned he was at a disadvantage. The Mexicans he encountered found it extremely amusing that he was looking for a woman. “Muchas muchachas bonitas.”
He went into bars asking the same question. At the eleventh, a young English-speaking man overheard his conversation with the bartender and approached him. “You looking for the one they call Sin?”
Troy gave the guy a double take. “Yeah. You know where she is?”
“She was here earlier.” The guy motioned the bartender for another beer. “About an hour.”
Troy ground his teeth. “Do you know where she was headed?”
The man gave Troy a look of sympathy. “Sorry. I just heard her say she wanted to dance.”
“Dance,” Troy echoed. He was going to kill her. When he found her. “You mind giving me a short list of the most popular places for dancing?”
The man obliged, and Troy continued his quest. He stopped in one place and would have sworn he could smell her perfume. She was nowhere to be seen, however, so he went on.
The next to the last bar was a loud, jumping place. The music was fast and hot, the crowd of people spilling out onto the porch, and the walls of the building seemed to bulge and vibrate from the pounding rhythm of drums and feet. Hoots and rippling screams of delight echoed out the open windows.
Sin was there.
Troy knew it, felt it in his bones, and he steeled himself for seeing her as he climbed the steps. He walked through the door and took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The room was a mass of gyrating bodies, and the smell of Mexican beer and tequila was strong. As soon as his gaze focused, he saw her. She would have been hard to miss.
Since she was dancing on a tabletop with a half-dozen men cheering her on.
Troy swore and moved toward her. Thank the Lord for small things, he told himself. At least she was still fully dressed. The way she moved, however, compensated for her conservative nice-girl sheath. Her hands lifted on either side of her body, she twisted and swive
led, alternately tiptoeing and stomping her heels on the wooden tabletop. Her hair was wild and loose. Any man would want to sift his fingers through it and get lost. Any man would want those silky waves flowing over his body.
As did the men at her feet.
Troy gave a wry chuckle. Sin was so accustomed to having men at her feet, she didn’t seem to notice them. She danced unto herself, passionate, her eyes staring off into the distance as she spent her energy and emotion. She smiled at no one in particular, clearly enjoying the music.
It was cathartic, he realized, and his urge to wring her neck died a quick death. Dinner had been too much, and this was her way of venting. “Well, hell,” he muttered. He’d been afraid she was going to do something to hurt herself.
Instead she just needed to let off a little steam.
The song ended and the crowd screamed for more. Sin paused, but when the music began again, so did she. Troy grabbed a chair off to the side and checked his watch. Midnight. He let out a sigh and shifted to get comfortable. He unbuttoned a couple of shirt buttons, thankful he’d ditched his coat and tie earlier. He might as well settle in.
Senada felt her stomach rumble and knew it was time to eat. She had a pack of crackers in her purse that would keep her in balance, but she’d danced for hours and, wonder of wonders, her feet were starting to hurt.
“Must be getting old,” she muttered, glancing down at her high heels. She felt tired, but better. The music lifted her spirit, dancing took the edge off her disappointing meeting with her father, and now she’d be able to sleep like a baby.
As long as she found a ride home. Ricardo, the man fate had brought by the restaurant at just the right moment, had consumed a little too much tequila. Unfortunately, when Ricardo drank too much tequila he became convinced that he was God’s gift to women and that no woman could resist him.
She sighed. That could be tiresome right now. Glancing down at the men standing around her table, she smiled. “It’s been fun, boys, but it’s time for me to go. Where’s the phone?”
They moaned their disappointment and made various amorous suggestions in Spanish and English. She smiled again and shook her head. “You tempt me, but you’re all so wonderful. I can only handle one man at a time. How could I choose?”
More suggestions followed while she looked toward the bar for the phone. Spotting it, she stepped down from the table onto a chair. One of the men was determined to assist her, putting his hand at her waist and taking her hand. She murmured a quick “Gracias,” and extricated herself. It took another little dance, but she escaped and arrived at the phone, purse in hand. She dialed for a taxi and waited while the dispatcher took his time.
When he told her no cabs were available, she bit back an oath of frustration. “What do you mean you only have two drivers working tonight and both are busy?” she demanded.
From behind her, a large masculine hand pushed the receiver down, and Sin whipped around to tear a strip off the macho idiot who dared—
She stopped dead when she saw it was Troy.
“You’ve had a busy night, haven’t you?”
She hadn’t expected him. The mere sight of him, his presence, grabbed at her heart. God, he looked good to her.
He raised his eyebrows at her silence. “Need a ride?”
She stared into his eyes expecting censure, but finding none. She waited a moment, wondering when he was going to start in on how irresponsible she’d been. He didn’t. In fact, he seemed at ease, accepting.
“Or did you want to dance some more?” he added.
She shook her head, still unsure of him. “No. I’d like to go home.”
“I can do that.”
She walked with him out to the car and got in. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him how he’d found her. Senada bit her tongue. Taking an inventory of his appearance, she wondered what was going through his mind. He wore the shirt and slacks from dinner, but he looked rumpled in a sexy, masculine way. His hair was mussed as if he’d run his hand through it several times in exasperation. Senada restrained the urge to smile. Her middle name was exasperation.
He started the engine and pulled onto the road. “Didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” he said.
She felt a dart of surprising self-consciousness. “You saw me.”
“Kinda hard to miss,” he said. “I watched the last thirty-minute set. The guys around your table looked entertained.”
“You should have joined them,” she told him, giving it back to him a little.
“Never was much for being one of a crowd.”
“You’d prefer a private dance?” She heard the huskiness in her voice and wondered where it had come from.
A charged silence followed before he dipped his head. “Is that an offer?” he asked low and deep.
She felt a wicked surge of excitement. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”
He chuckled. “You’re a tease, Sin. You could drive a man insane.”
Satisfied he might not grill her after all, she relaxed and laid her head back on the seat. “I think insanity’s underrated. Look at all the things you can get away with if people think you’re insane. You can dress however you like, walk in the rain without an umbrella, sing in public, dance at a funeral—”
“Dance on top of a table in a Mexican tavern with six men salivating at your feet,” Troy interjected.
Sin smiled. “You think they were interested in my feet?”
Troy sighed. “I think they were interested in every inch of you.”
“Some inches more than others.”
“Are you trying to provoke me?”
“Yes. It’s one of my little hobbies.”
“Thought of another benefit to insanity, Sin.”
She turned her head toward him, admiring his strong profile. “Oh, yeah?”
He nodded, a mock warning glint in his eye. “People use it to get away with murder.”
Chapter Eleven
Sin slept on the drive home, and Troy expected he would carry her inside. Instead she woke just as he cut the engine. Yawning, she stretched, then blinked her eyes. She looked at Troy and smiled. “Thanks for the ride. Coming in?”
He nodded, unwilling to quibble with her casual invitation. Earlier in the evening, he’d wondered if she would speak to him again, let alone invite him back into her home.
They walked up the walk and inside the house. She dropped her purse on a table in the living room. “Bet you’re tired, aren’t you?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “A little.”
“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll get us something to drink.”
Shrugging, he sank onto the sofa and turned his head from side to side to relieve the tension in his neck. She returned with wine for him and water for her. She was eating an apple. Slipping past him, she put a CD in her stereo, then joined him on the sofa.
She ate a few more bites of the apple and, feeling his gaze on her, stopped. She looked at the apple, then at him. “Want a bite?”
Troy felt his stomach tighten. The woman didn’t have a clue. He wanted whatever she offered him and more. “Yeah, I do,” he said, and lifted the hand she used to hold the apple to his mouth. The fruit was juicy and sweet with just a hint of tartness. Like Sin. Troy kept his thoughts to himself.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
Troy thought back to the number of bars he’d gone through and took a drink of his wine.
“Lists,” he said.
“Lists?” she echoed, her eyes mirroring her confusion.
“Your father said you’d probably gone over the border, and I asked him for a list of possible places.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “How, uh, long was this list?”
“He gave me the name of a dozen places.”
Senada winced.
Troy took another drink. “I only went to eleven.”
“Oh,” she said again, clearly unsure how to respond.
He was starting to enjoy t
his. “At the eleventh place, I ran into a guy who had seen you. He’d overheard you say you wanted to dance. He gave me the second list.”
Senada’s face fell. “The second list?”
“Yeah. This one was for the most popular places people go to dance. You were at the third one.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You went to fourteen different places looking for me.”
Troy nodded and chuckled. “I’m a persistent sonovabitch.”
Her eyes were filled with wonder. “No one has ever gone to that much trouble for me.
Ever.”
Troy felt his grin fade. He’d never loved a woman the way he loved Sin either, but he wasn’t ready to say the words aloud. She wasn’t ready to hear them either, he thought. The moment wrapped around them like a tight rubber band, binding them together.
Senada leaned closer, her gaze searching his. “Wanna dance?”
Dance? Troy heard the warm huskiness in her tone and wondered if he’d ever make sense of her. “It’s 2:00 a.m.”
She gave a slow smile. “Early.”
“You have to work tomorrow.”
Sin stood. “This is your offer for a private dance. Are you going to shut up and dance with me or not?”
Troy, who had a retort for nearly everything, clamped his mouth shut and joined her.
He hadn’t paid any attention to the music until now. A female singer with a plaintive, ethereal voice wove a little magic inside him, making his protected, buried feelings rise to the surface. The music made him feel vulnerable. He was unaccustomed to the sensation and might have fought it, but the woman who had stolen his heart was in his arms.
She led him. He led her. She put her hand on his chest where his heart beat, and with her gaze meeting his, she brushed away his shirt.
Unable to wait any longer, he kissed her long with naked emotion. She kindled his need with her response.
“Do you want me?” he asked.
“Yes.” She opened her mouth against his neck and pulled him closer.
“Show me,” he whispered.
And with the music winding its spell around them, she did, with every touch, every caress, every private pleasure. When his clothes were gone and hers were too, they still danced, nude, her warm, moist body undulating against his hard hungry form. He wanted her so much he hurt. It was more than a physical pain. It went all the way to his well-guarded heart.