A Bravo Homecoming

by Christine Rimmer

  It was a beautiful evening. She met the CFO and his wife and a lot of other people who worked for Travis’s company. A few of them even knew who she was, being something of a legend, a tool pusher who was not only young for the job, but a woman, as well.

  They all accepted her, treated her as one of them. Evidently, if you knew how to handle yourself and could carry on a decent casual conversation—if you looked the part of a woman that Travis Bravo might marry—well, no one asked questions. Why should they? Appearances, in the end, counted for a whole frickin’ lot.

  She smiled to herself as she thought the forbidden word.

  Travis leaned close to her. “What are you smiling about?”

  She turned and looked right at him. “I was just thinking that I’m having a terrific time.”

  Midnight came. She and Travis were in the walnut-paneled library, sipping champagne. The ornate clock on the mantel chimed the hour. Sam smiled again as the chimes rang out. Nothing happened. She didn’t look down to see her little black dress turning into a pair of greasy coveralls. Her black lace shoes did not suddenly become muddy steel-toed boots. She wasn’t Cinderella after all.

  Uh-uh. Her transformation was going to be a permanent one.

  It was two-thirty a.m. when they got back to the Four Seasons. Travis had his suitcases already packed and in the Cadillac. In the morning, they would be driving up to San Antonio straight from the hotel.

  He grabbed his overnight bag from the trunk and passed the keys to the valet. They went up to the suite.

  Travis had his card key out when they got to the door. He stuck it in the slot and pushed the door open.

  Sam went in ahead of him. She eased the shrug from her shoulders, dropping it and her bag to a chair.

  With Jonathan gone, the suite seemed strangely empty. She wandered through the sitting room and into the bedroom where he had stayed.

  Travis followed her. He tossed his bag onto a chair. “Strange, huh? The covers on the bed turned back, chocolates on the pillow and not a sign that Jonathan was ever here.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and braced her hands on the bedspread to either side of her. “I was just thinking the same thing.” But then, wasn’t that how it went with a fairy godmother? They were gone in a sparkle of fairy dust as soon as their work was done.

  And speaking of sparkles…

  She glanced down at her left hand. The engagement diamond glittered in the light from the bedside lamp.

  Travis said, “You were incredible tonight.”

  She felt suddenly shy and couldn’t quite bring herself to lift her head and meet his eyes. “You think I passed my test?”

  “With flying colors—and remember when Steve took me aside, just before we left?”

  “I remember.” Steve Daily was the CFO of STOI and their host at the party.

  “He asked me where I’d been hiding you.”

  “In plain sight.” She looked up then and laughed. “Wearing coveralls, safety glasses and a hard hat, on the Deepwater Venture.”

  He held her gaze. All night, he’d been doing that. He would look at her and she would stare back at him and somehow, neither of them seemed to want to look away. “I think it’s going to be a piece of cake, getting you that job you’re hoping for.”

  “Oh, I hope so.”

  “As soon as the week in San Antonio is over, you’ll need to polish up your résumé.”

  As soon as the week’s over…

  She didn’t want to think about it being over. Why should she? It hadn’t even started yet.

  But then she reminded herself not to get carried away with this fantasy of being Travis’s true love. The love part wasn’t real.

  She had to remember that.

  The possibility of a new life in a new job…that was the goal here.

  “I’m flying to my place in San Diego afterward,” she said. “I’ll get to work the minute I get there, get that résumé all ready.”

  He kept on staring at her, his eyes so dark and soft. “Good. I’ll be putting out the feelers. You might have to take a serious pay cut to start, maybe pick up a few online classes to get up to speed….”

  Actually, she’d been thinking of going back to school. Maybe full-time, to get a degree. But a starter position and some online classes were an option, too. “You know I can do it. Whatever I need to do.” She reached down, slid off one lace shoe and then the other. It felt good to be out of them. She wiggled her toes in the thick bedroom carpet.

  He said, “Oh, yeah. I know you can.”

  “And I have a good chunk of money saved, plus what my dad put aside for me when he sold the ranch, so I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you will.” He held down his hand to her.

  She took it without really stopping to think that touching him, right now, when it was just the two of them alone in the room where he would spend the night, well, maybe that wasn’t such a smart idea. She’d been getting lost in way too many fantasies about him lately, getting so she thought of him as much more than her good old buddy Travis.

  Much, much more.

  His fingers touched hers.

  Warmth spread through her from the point of contact.

  He gave a gentle tug.

  She rose and he reached out and wrapped his free arm around her.

  It was like a dream, a magical dream that she wished she wouldn’t have to wake up from. He held her gaze, his eyes so soft, full of admiration. And maybe something more, something hot and hopeful and deliciously dangerous.

  And then he moved in that crucial fraction closer.

  Excitement crackled through her as understanding dawned.

  Travis was going to kiss her—and not just on the cheek or the forehead, the way he did now and then. Not some brotherly little peck, the usual friends-only kiss.

  Uh-uh. She could see it in his eyes.

  For the very first time, he was going to kiss her the way a man kisses a woman he desires.

  Chapter Five

  Travis knew he shouldn’t kiss her. There was no reason to kiss her right now, no one to put on a show for. There was only the two of them.

  Alone in his room.

  It was a really bad idea to kiss her right now.

  But he didn’t give a damn if it was a bad idea. He wanted to kiss her. He burned for it.

  The whole evening had been the strangest thing. An exercise in shifting realities.

  Being out with Sam, who was like family to him. Sam, for whom he felt frank affection and definite protectiveness.

  Sam, who was the same Sam he’d always known. And yet…not the same at all.

  Suddenly she was not only big and strong and smart and capable, a loyal friend with a hell of a mouth on her.

  Now she was…very much a woman. All woman. In-your-face, sexy-as-all-get-out woman. Six feet of knock-your-socks-off gorgeous. With those iridescent blue eyes of hers that tilted so temptingly at the corners, that body that was strong and broad-shouldered and muscular as ever, but sleek and smooth and dangerously exciting, too.

  And the scent of her…

  He nuzzled her velvety cheek, breathed her in. She didn’t smell like a tool pusher anymore.

  She smelled of exotic flowers, of a tropical night, of spice and sweetness.

  He couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to stop himself.

  He touched his lips to hers.

  Her mouth trembled slightly, and then went so soft and willing. Instantly, he was aching to go further, to guide her down to the bed, to lower those skinny black straps on that curve-hugging, eye-popping little black dress. He wanted to kiss her all over. And then, after that, to roll her under him and bury himself in her hot, strong sweetness, until she wrapped those long, hard, smooth legs around him and cried out his name as she came.

  No.

  He wasn’t going to do any such thing.

  He’d already taken serious advantage of her when he talked her into posing as his bride-to-be. It was enough—too much. He had n
o right to try to get her in bed. That would be flat-out wrong. She deserved better than that.

  He gently clasped her silky shoulders. She made a small, way-too-feminine sound of regret as he put her away from him.

  Her eyes were full of light—and questions. She lifted a smooth hand, touched her lips where he had kissed her and she whispered his name on a sigh. “Travis…”

  He caressed her short, silky hair, brushed it fondly with the backs of his fingers, thinking how he wanted to take her mouth again.

  Promising himself he would do no such thing.

  He said, “It’s late. We should get an early start tomorrow.”

  She lowered her fingers from her lips. “You’re right.” And then she bent and scooped up those lacy black shoes. “Good night.”

  He just stood there, staring, trying to deny how much he wanted to pull her close to him again.

  A smile tugged at one corner of that beautiful mouth of hers and she whispered, “If you want me to go, you’ll have to move out of the way.”

  He blinked as he realized he was blocking her path to the door. “Uh. Yeah. Right. Sorry.” He stepped aside.

  And then he couldn’t resist turning to watch her leave. The black dress clung to every tight, perfect curve as she walked away from him, her hips swaying just enough to make him ache for what he was missing, those sexy black shoes of hers dangling from the fingers of her long, strong right hand.

  How easy it would be to go after her, to grab her free hand, to haul her back to him, wrap his arms around her, kiss her again and again and again.

  But he didn’t.

  Somehow, he kept his head.

  She turned when she reached the doorway to the sitting room. “See you tomorrow.” She quietly shut the door behind her.

  He sank to the edge of the bed, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

  Thinking he should call the whole thing off.

  And knowing he would do no such thing.

  In the morning, he was up at seven. He showered, dressed, packed up his overnight bag and was ready to go at seven-thirty. The drive to Bravo Ridge, outside San Antonio, would take more than three hours. He wanted to be on the way.

  But he hesitated at the door to the sitting room, his hand on the doorknob, feeling edgy and way too aware of that brief, amazing kiss the night before. It annoyed the hell out of him, to be all nervous and unsure—about Sam, of all people.

  Would she be up yet? Would he have to knock on the door to her room and tell her to get moving, they needed to head out?

  And then how long would he have to wait for her to be dressed and ready? The Sam he’d always known could be ready for anything in five minutes flat. She didn’t need all that time for deciding what to wear and fiddling with her hair and putting on makeup, the way most women did.

  But because she wasn’t exactly the Sam he’d always known anymore, he had no way to gauge how long it would take her to pull herself together so they could get on the road.

  He pulled open the door.

  And there she was, sitting on the sofa by the picture window, downtown Houston spread out behind her, all dressed and ready to go. And she looked terrific, in sexy skinny jeans and a soft, clingy blue-green sweater that showed off all those dangerous curves he’d somehow never realized she had until last night.

  Her suitcases were waiting by the door.

  She rose to her feet. “Morning.” And there were two places set at the table in the corner. He could smell bacon. “I ordered breakfast. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Uh. Great.” He felt guilty, for doubting her, for assuming that because she was gorgeous now, she’d be lazing in bed. She might look so good she messed with his head, but inside, she was still Sam. He needed to remember that.

  They sat down to eat. He looked at her across the table from him, so fresh and pretty in the morning light, and he thought about Rachel, for some unknown reason. Rachel, with her long black hair and deep brown eyes, sitting across from him in another hotel room, years and years ago. Rachel, drinking coffee, nibbling toast, the future—their future—bright and full of promise, spread out ahead of them.

  They’d been so happy, he and Rachel. They’d had no clue that death was going to snatch her away from him. That she would be gone from him forever within a few short weeks of that beautiful getaway engagement trip to Mexico.

  He couldn’t take that kind of loss again. He needed to remember that.

  Sam was looking at him sideways. “Something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Not a thing.” He polished off his scrambled eggs.

  A bellman appeared with a cart as they finished the meal. Sam had called for him to carry her bags down.

  The car was waiting, out at the front entrance. Sam had asked for it, too. The bellman loaded their bags in. Travis tipped him and the valet.

  They got in, buckled up and were on their way.

  Travis didn’t say much during the ride to San Antonio.

  Sam took her cue from him. She stared out the window at the highway ahead of them and she thought about last night, about the magic of the evening they’d spent together.

  About that one sweet, too-short kiss they had shared.

  She’d gone back to her room and gone right to sleep. And in the morning, when she woke up, she’d lain there for a minute or two, wondering if that kiss had been a dream after all.

  But she knew that it wasn’t. Travis really had kissed her. And she truly believed he’d wanted to kiss her some more.

  She wished that he had.

  They stopped for a soda and a restroom break midway. She offered to drive.

  He said no, he was doing fine.

  They set off again. Once or twice, she tried to get some conversation going. She remarked on the weather. She asked him a couple of questions about his brothers.

  Each time, he replied by using as few words as possible. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk.

  So, fine. She had an iPod and her trusty Miss Manners book, which reminded her of Jonathan and made her smile. She read and she listened to music.

  When at last they neared San Antonio, Travis turned the Cadillac north toward the Hill Country on a road called Farm to Market. Sam started to feel a certain restlessness about then.

  They couldn’t be far from the family ranch now. Soon she would meet his mother and his father, his brother Luke, who ran the ranch. And Luke’s wife, Mercy, and their two children. And any other of his sisters and brothers who had shown up for Sunday dinner.

  It was a thing with the Bravos, Travis had told her: Sunday-afternoon dinner at the ranch. They didn’t all show up every time, but they all had an open invitation. And because it was the Sunday before a very special Thanksgiving when Davis and Aleta would renew their vows, Sam had a feeling there might be a lot of Bravos there that day.

  She put the book down, put her iPod away.

  “How you holding up?” he asked.

  When she turned to meet his eyes he was smiling. “A little nervous, I guess,” she admitted.

  “You look terrific and my family will love you.”

  It was exactly the right thing for him to say. She forgave him for being Mr. Strong and Surly through most of the ride. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  “There might be a lot of them,” he warned.

  “I was thinking that there probably would be.”

  “But the good news is they’re great people. I think you’ll enjoy yourself.”

  She nodded and turned her gaze back to the road.

  But now, all of a sudden, he wanted to talk. “Sam.”

  She kept her eyes focused front. “Yeah?”

  “About last night…”

  Her throat felt tight. “Yeah?”

  “I think it was a good thing that I kissed you.” What was he getting at? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. He added, “I mean, we’re supposed to be engaged, right?”

  “Right.” Out the windshield, the land was gently rolling now, dotted with limest
one outcroppings. There were oak trees and cattle grazing in the dry winter grass of wide pastures. Cottony clouds dotted the sky.

  He said, “It would be odd, to pretend to be engaged without even having kissed, don’t you think?”

  She did glance at him then. He was staring straight ahead. A muscle twitched in his jaw. And she almost smiled, feeling a certain fondness for him, and sympathy, too, as he tried to get her talking on a not-so-easy subject. At the same time, she felt a prickle of annoyance. He’d shut her out for most of the ride—and now, when they were almost there, he suddenly decided they just had to rehash last night.

  “Odd?” She frowned and turned to watch the rolling land go by out her side window. “Yeah, I guess it would be, to be engaged without ever sharing a kiss. But we’re not really engaged, so what does it matter?”

  “Sam…” He waited until she met his eyes before he looked at the road ahead again. “My mom has got to believe we’re for real, you know?”

  She stared at his profile, at his nicely chiseled jaw and manly blade of a nose. “How could I forget? Didn’t I just spend a week and a big ol’ pile of your money whipping myself into shape so I can pull the wool over your poor, trusting mama’s loving eyes?”

  He gave her another quick glance—one that almost made her laugh. He kind of reminded her of Jimmy Betts after she reamed him a new one for almost knocking one of the rock docs off the rig with a length of pipe.

  “You’re pissed at me.” His voice was flat.

  She almost denied it, but come on. They might be about to tell a whopping lie to his mom and the rest of his family, but right now it was just the two of them. The least she could do was keep it honest between them. “Duh. Yeah. I’m a little ticked off at you. You’ve hardly said a word to me all morning. And now, all of a sudden, you want to go into detail about how great it is that you kissed me. Not because you wanted to kiss me, but because we’re about to fake being engaged and we need all the practice we can get to make it look real.”