“I’m sorry, Alex. I swear I never meant to put you in such an awkward position.”
“And yet, here you stand,” he snapped, “on the verge of shredding my reputation.”
She stared at him in utter bewilderment. “Excuse me? How would this affect your reputation?”
A mask fell over his expression, cold and forbidding. “How do you think my guests will react when you answer the door dressed like that? If you play servant to my lord of the manor? They will take one look at you and walk out of my home.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “Don’t you get it? My reputation is all I’ve ever had. Whatever I’ve earned has been through that and sheer hard work. Endless days and nights of it. And I won’t have you or anyone else destroy in one single night what I’ve spent decades building.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” she said stiffly.
“In that case, you have a choice, Rebecca. You can retire for the evening, or you can put on a dress, along with a pleasant expression, and join your friends while they celebrate Darius and Summer’s marriage. Or are you so determined to show everyone what a total bastard I am that you’ll go to any length to prove it?”
A knock sounded at the door and before either could answer it, it opened. One look at the Brodys’ expressions and it was clear they’d heard the argument right through the solid-oak partition. Their gazes slid from Rebecca to Alex and back again. Horrified understanding dawned in Kate’s expression as she took in her friend’s attire.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, her grip tightening on her husband’s arm.
Lance had taken in the situation with a single glance, as well. “Problem?” he asked coldly.
“No problem at all,” Alex responded, keeping his gaze fixed on Rebecca. “A small misunderstanding that will be cleared up momentarily. Please come in and help yourself to some champagne.” He addressed one of the catering staff who’d appeared in the doorway and indicated the tray. “Would you greet our guests as they arrive and show them to the ballroom? We’ll join everyone in a minute.”
He didn’t wait for a response, but simply snagged Rebecca’s arm and towed her in the direction of her quarters. Once there, he immediately went to the closet and removed the first bit of color and sparkle he came across, tossing it onto the bed. It pooled there in a brilliant lake of emerald-green silk.
“Strip,” he ordered.
He wasn’t surprised to see her mouth drop open in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?” she stammered.
He managed to control his temper, but it was by a mere thread. “Take off what you’re wearing and put this dress on and do it within the next thirty seconds,” he instructed, “or I swear by all that’s holy, I’ll do it for you.”
Something about his implacable expression must have convinced her of his sincerity. She removed her blouse and skirt without a word of argument and in less than thirty seconds had exchanged it for the dress he’d chosen.
She lifted her chin and faced him. “Satisfied?”
“Not even a little.” He regarded her critically. “Jewelry?”
Crossing to her dresser, she opened the top drawer and pulled out a rolled-up silk case tied with a tasseled string. After removing a few discreet pieces, she put them on. Pearls and gold gleamed softly against her earlobes and throat. “Now are we done?”
“One last thing.” He came toward her, trying not to feel offended when she fell back a step. “Relax, Rebecca.”
Reaching behind her, he removed the clip that held her hair in a tidy roll. The strands rained down to her shoulders, flashing with fire. He ran his fingers through the length, the silky texture tempting him almost beyond endurance. The emerald-green dress matched the color of her eyes and complemented the richness of her hair. Her anger had given her cheeks a healthy flush and made her beauty all the more startling.
“Now we’re done,” he informed her in a husky voice. “Let’s go greet our guests.”
“Your guests,” she dared to correct.
“Our friends,” he offered as a compromise.
She sighed. “I’m sorry.” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “I guess I’m tired. I didn’t mean to spoil the evening. It’s just—” She broke off with a shake of her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
He stilled. It should have occurred to him before that there was more going on than Rebecca being contrary. Or he would have if his anger hadn’t gotten in the way. “Just what?”
She hesitated before admitting, “Someone said something to me about the party and about my role in it. I thought you expected me to show up as your housekeeper rather than a guest.” She trailed off with a shrug. “Obviously I was wrong.”
“Yes, you were. As was the person foolish enough to put the thought in your head. You should have asked me.” He shook his head with a smile. “Or did your pride get in the way?”
“A Huntington flaw, it would seem.” She returned his smile with a rueful one of her own. “One of many, in case you didn’t notice.”
“Can’t say that I did,” he lied diplomatically. He offered his arm. “Shall we?”
“My pleasure.”
When they entered the ballroom, it was to find the rest of the guests had arrived and all eyes were fixed on them. For the first time in more years than he could recall, he felt the old awkwardness he used to experience when he’d been an angry outsider, new to a high school rife with the cream of the social select. Rebecca took one look at the expressions on the faces of her friends and offered an abashed grin.
“Sorry, guys. My fault. I misjudged the time I would need to change and get ready for the party.”
Rebecca kept her hand firmly on his arm as she approached Darius and his wife, Summer, both of whom radiated the joy of a couple deeply in love and exquisitely blissful. She hugged first one and then the other. “Congratulations, you two. I couldn’t be happier for you.”
And just like that the entire atmosphere changed from charged to celebratory. The party continued on until the candles guttered and the caterers had long gone. Finally, sleepy couples offered their thanks and farewells, and just as the one day ended and the next began, the party drew to a close.
“That went well, don’t you think?” At her nod of agreement, he gestured toward an unopened bottle of champagne. “Would you like a final drink before we turn in?”
Rebecca stifled a yawn. “Okay. Why don’t we have it in the living room? I want to show you the tree we put up.”
He poured two glasses of champagne and together they wandered into the room, a spacious area with a plush rug and thirty-foot ceilings trimmed in juniper. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the huge Christmas tree positioned in front of them. Alex let out a low whistle.
“I think that’s the prettiest tree I’ve ever seen.”
Rebecca smiled, amused to feel a blush warm her cheeks at the compliment. “Thanks.”
“No.” He turned to face her. “Thank you. You made this evening one of the most enjoyable I can remember in a long time.”
“My pleasure.”
He tossed back the champagne, all the time studying her. “What the hell am I going to do about you?”
She stilled and he saw her give the question serious consideration. Then she set her champagne aside and turned to him. Everything about her was vibrant and glowing. But it was her eyes that gave him the answer long before she spoke the words. “Love me,” she whispered. “Make love to me right here and now.”
“I’ve been giving that considerable thought,” he admitted.
“And?”
“And no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep myself from wanting you. From touching you.” He placed his flute on a nearby table and gathered her into his arms. Then he lowered his head until their mouths were no more than a breath apart. “I can’t keep from doing this….”
He kissed her, giving free rein to all that he’d kept under such tight control these past weeks. Her arms entwined around his neck and she shifted closer. From t
he very start she’d brought a delicate grace to their mating dance, melding their bodies with a slow, delicious rhythm so distinctively her own. It had always stunned him how she opened herself to him, completely and utterly, allowing him to know her at her most vulnerable. Gifting him—heart, body and soul—without reluctance or reserve. And so it had been from the start.
The knowledge humbled him.
Without a word, he undressed first himself and then her, stripping away all artifice until all that remained was the bare essence of them both. As one, they sank onto the plush rug in front of the Christmas tree. The soft glow from the lights caressed her alabaster skin, sliding over the lovely swell of her breasts and setting aflame the burnished curls between her legs. Gently, he reached for her, the contrast between her paleness and his own bronzed skin tones adding to the dichotomy between masculine and feminine.
She was all light and brilliant color. A soft place to rest. He was made up of darkness, with the strength and determination of stone. He’d never been a soft place for her to rest and he doubted he ever would be. They were opposites in every way, coming together in brief, sweet interludes before fate pushed them apart again.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
He hesitated. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, amazed by the depth of despair the request caused him.
She smiled. “Not that. Stop thinking. Stop analyzing.” Her touch was one of infinite tenderness. “Stop trying to protect me and simply love me.”
He didn’t require any further prompting. Lowering his head, he worshipped her with mouth and tongue and teeth. He felt the warm tide of desire sweep across her skin like a sun-drenched wave, and he cupped her breast, feeling her heart beating for him and only him. She flowed against him, her hips lifting to mesh with his.
He took her with a slow, easy stroke, drawing the moment out. But the night wasn’t meant for slow. A hunger burned between them, a demand that compelled them toward something harder and more urgent. Fierce heat melded with a fluid softness and he drove into her. Her breath escaped in a frantic plea as she lifted herself to him, matching his rhythm until they were both driven to a peak beyond anything he could recall ever experiencing before.
They teetered there for an instant. But it couldn’t last, couldn’t do more than hold them there for a brief, incandescent moment before they took flight, soaring together, forever bound. He surrendered to the woman in his arms, surrendered all he’d worked so hard to protect. Surrendered his body and heart.
Surrendered all that he was to the woman he loved.
The next morning Rebecca awoke to find herself in her own bed. She stretched, feeling happier and more deeply in love than she could ever remember. Anything and everything seemed possible. Life was perfect—or so it seemed—right up until she arrived at the Texas Cattleman’s Club to have lunch with Kate. She caught a buzz of excitement the instant she stepped through the doors, one that increased when she walked into view.
For some reason, she was the center of attention and it made her extremely nervous. It only strengthened when she caught a glimpse of her friend’s broad, excited grin. Kate flew to her side and threw her arms around Rebecca.
“Congratulations! All I can say is that it’s about damn time.”
“What? What’s happened?”
“Don’t play coy. Not with me. Come on.” She held out her hand in a demanding manner. “Let’s see it.”
Rebecca shook her head in genuine bewilderment. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. See what?”
“The rock Alex put on your finger last night.”
Rebecca’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
Kate froze, her eyes widening. Hustling Rebecca into the club library, she dragged her to a secluded reading alcove. “You need to level with me, Bec. Are you or are you not engaged to Alex?”
Rebecca’s throat closed over. “Not.”
“Well, your father is here having lunch with some of his cronies. Someone made some crack about your serving Alex’s guests at the party last night and your father told everyone within hearing that you and Alex are engaged.”
“No.” Rebecca shook her head, her voice taking on an air of desperation. “No, that’s not true.”
“Well, you better get it straightened out and fast. Like, seriously fast.”
“Why? Oh, no. Tell me Alex isn’t here, too.”
“Not yet. But the guys are meeting so Darius can update them about the arson investigation. And if he hasn’t gotten wind of this yet, he will the minute he steps foot through the front doors.”
Rebecca shot to her feet. “Where’s my father?”
“He’s just finishing lunch at the café.”
She left the library without another word and caught up with her father just as he was exiting the restaurant. Grabbing his arm, she drew him away from the avid gaze of the other patrons. “Kate just told me you announced to everyone that I’m engaged to Alex. Where did you hear such a thing, Dad? It’s not true and you have to tell everyone it’s not.”
“It will be,” her father retorted calmly. “Montoya can’t very well back out now that it’s public information, not without looking like a total bastard.”
“You set us up? Deliberately?” Rebecca demanded in an appalled undertone. “How could you do such a thing?”
His jaw assumed a stubborn slant. “I’ve only told everyone what I had to in order for us to continue holding our heads up in this town.”
“Have you lost your mind? After everything Alex has done for us—”
“What he’s done for us?” her father repeated in an irate undertone. “What he’s done is turn you into a laughingstock. He’s forced you to become both his housekeeper and his mistress.”
“In case you failed to notice, I’ve chosen my own path in life, Dad, just as you have. Alex didn’t force me to do anything. I went to him and told him I’d be his housekeeper until I paid off your debt. He didn’t want me working for him and for good reason. I’m a terrible housekeeper. And if I ended up in his bed, it was because that’s where I wanted to be.”
He waved her comments aside as though they didn’t matter. “You’re a fool, Rebecca. You could work for that man for the rest of your life and never come close to putting a dent in that debt.”
“What are you talking about? Three hundred thousand is a lot, granted, but I’ve already paid down a decent portion of that.”
“It’s not three hundred thousand. It’s one-point-three million. My debt to Rodriquez? It’s a million dollars, Rebecca.”
Her mouth dropped open and she could only stare, stricken. To her horror, Alex chose that moment to appear, his expression one of unmitigated fury. He could barely bring himself to look at her.
Focusing on her father, he said, “I’ll deal with you in the morning when I’m not tempted to put an end to your miserable life. And in case you’ve forgotten, your membership was suspended. I suggest you leave before I have you thrown out.” He still refused to so much as glance her way, even when he addressed her. “Rebecca, we’re leaving. Let’s go.”
He didn’t bother to see whether she followed. Before going after him, she addressed her father in a harsh undertone. “Fair warning, Dad. When Alex is done with you, I intend to have a go at whatever he hasn’t chewed up and spat out.”
“It was for your own good.”
Rebecca refused to let him get away with that one. “No, Dad. It was for yours.”
She caught up with Alex just as he exited the club and addressed him in a breathless voice. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll straighten it out. I had no idea he planned to do that.”
“We’ll discuss it back at the ranch.”
They covered the miles in a painful silence. His anger was so great he practically vibrated with it. She could only hope the time it took to reach El Diablo allowed his infamous temper to cool somewhat. It was a forlorn hope. She joined him as he pounded up the steps of the porch and entered the house. He made a beeline for hi
s office where he poured several fingers of whiskey into a tumbler and downed it in a single swallow.
“Madre de Dios!” he swore. “I have had about as much as I can stomach.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I promise I’ll take care of it.”
He poured two drinks this time, then rounded on her. “How do you intend to do that?” He handed her one of the glasses. “‘My mistake, everyone. Alex didn’t propose. My father just claimed he did because he couldn’t bear the idea that I’ve become both his housekeeper and mistress.’ Is that what you plan to say?”
“Something like that.” She took a gulp of the whiskey and winced. The potent liquor burned her throat and caused tears to fill her eyes. She much preferred whiskey when it was disguised as Irish coffee. “I may leave out the housekeeper and mistress part of the explanation,” she managed to gasp.
“Do not attempt to humor me. I don’t find any part of this the least bit amusing.”
She released a tired sigh. “I don’t, either, Alex. But considering all that’s happened over the past few weeks, a sense of humor is just about the only thing left to me.” He started to speak, but she waved him silent. “What does it matter what I tell people or what they think of me? They can’t think much worse than they already do.”
“But they can think worse of me.”
It took her a moment to puzzle through that one. And then it hit her. “And they’d think worse of you if you married the daughter of a thief and arsonist, wouldn’t they, Alex?”
She must have hit pretty close to the truth because he swore again, this time a virulent string of words in Spanish. All the while Rebecca fought to breathe. To pretend that his attitude toward her and her father hadn’t wounded her to the very depths of her being. To her relief, fury came to her rescue.
“Let me make sure I understand this,” she said with impressive calm. “You’re not upset because of what my father did, but because you’re—” she struggled to find the most appropriate word “—because you’re disgusted at the idea of being romantically linked to a Huntington? Your business would be harmed? Your precious reputation? Your honor?”
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