by Janet Dailey
“Neither, thank you.”
“I don’t care for any coffee, Emma,” Rob said as he pulled a chair closer to the sofa and sat down, leaning forward in an attitude of intense interest.
Emma placed two cups of coffee in their saucers on the round marble-topped table in front of the sofa for Raul and Trisha, then went back for the third. “What more would you like me to tell you about my school?” Raul reached for his cup.
“I believe Rob had some questions after looking at your brochure.” Luz took the cup and saucer from Emma. “Thank you.”
“What was it you wished to know?” Raul directed the question to Rob.
While they talked, Luz sipped at her coffee, but it burned her tongue. She set it down to cool and stared absently at her shoe to avoid looking at Raul while he talked. She listened to the two of them, paying little attention to the actual content of their discussion. Polo was a subject Rob could go on about for hours. She could hear the eager quality of his voice, his earnest absorption with the topic, and that hunger to know more. When she lifted her gaze, it was to study him.
His sandy hair, a couple of shades darker than her own, grew long in the back, curling over the collar of his jacket. Although he shaved daily, his cheeks still had a boyish smoothness. His features were so serious—even in animation they had an intensity of purpose behind them, like his eyes, dark coals burning with an inner fire she didn’t understand. She knew that look on his face, that wanting of something so desperately that he hurt inside. She recognized it, but couldn’t comprehend it.
There was a lull in the conversation. Luz started to take a sip of her coffee and discovered that sometime in the interim she’d drunk it all. Emma had withdrawn to her own room to let them talk in private. She stood up, then paused to ask, “Would anyone care for more coffee?”
“No, thank you,” Raul said, and Trisha shook her head negatively.
“What do you think, Luz?” Rob asked as she crossed to the long table.
“About what?” She hadn’t been listening, so she couldn’t be sure of his reference.
“The school, of course. It sounds ideal to me—just the kind of learning experience I need.” He pushed out of his chair and walked over to where she was standing as if seeking some way to impress upon her the certainty of his feelings.
The demanding appeal of his gaze left her with little doubt, but Luz asked anyway, “Are you sure this school is the one you want to attend?”
“Yes. We’re going to Argentina to buy horses anyway, so why not make one trip count for both? Why should I go somewhere else? This is one of the best,” he argued.
“Don’t you think it might be wiser to wait until we get to Argentina and you have a chance to see the school, before you make the decision?” she reasoned as she refilled her cup.
“Why? After I get there, if it turns out that I’m not learning all that I could, I can always leave. It isn’t as though I have to stick it out if it turns out to be something other than what we believe. Which I don’t think it will.”
“I see.” She walked back to her chair and sat down, poised slightly on the edge of it and holding the cup on her lap. “It appears my son has made up his mind. As he said, your program has been recommended to us as one of the best. That’s what I want for him.” She faced Raul squarely, meeting his eyes. This had nothing to do with anything other than polo. She hoped she was making that clear to him.
“I do not believe you will be disappointed in your choice,” he stated.
“I will be accompanying him,” she continued. There were too many unknowns for Luz to allow Rob to go there alone. “I’m not certain how long I’ll be staying. That’s a decision I’ll make after we get there.”
“I’m coming, too,” Trisha asserted.
“You are welcome, of course,” Raul said. “But I must tell you that our accommodations may seem spartan to you. While we do have a swimming pool and tennis court on the grounds, our facilities are mainly designed around the school. And the household staff takes care of the basic necessities. The estancia is not a resort.”
“I understand. I believe I’m capable of roughing it for a while,” Luz assured him, a tiny sting in her voice. “And I don’t expect to be entertained while I’m there.”
“What’s the weather like in August where you live, Raul?” Trisha wanted to know.
“The climate is similar to northern Florida’s. The days are mild, but the nights can be cool.” It was an offhand answer, most of his attention centering on Luz.
“According to your brochure, you are located southwest of Buenos Aires,” she said.
“Yes. It’s approximately a three-hour drive by car. I would recommend that when you make your travel plans, you arrange to spend your first night at a hotel in Buenos Aires. You will be tired after the long flight from the States.”
Now that the decision had been made, there were more details to be discussed. This time, Luz took an active part in the conversation, but she found it difficult to talk with Raul without that female part of her being stirred.
Later, when she watched Trisha walk him to the door, she realized just how difficult this trip to Argentina could turn out to be. She was committed to it—because Rob was committed to it. This was what he wanted more than anything. Maybe it was wrong to live her life for the children, but they were all she had. She needed them.
CHAPTER XVI
The Florida sun was still making its morning climb into the blue summer sky, but its heat was already felt on the green practice field near the private stables on the house grounds. Luz could taste the salty sweat on her lips as she galloped the pinto horse after the ball. She lined the pony so that the ball would be on the right when they approached it, allowing her a simple offside forehand stroke.
Rising in the stirrups to brace for the shot, Luz put her full weight on the irons and gripped with her knees and thighs to maintain her position on the horse’s back. As her hand cocked the long stick above her head, she twisted her body from the hips, pointing her left shoulder at the ball, and leaned out to the right. She kept the hand holding the stick well above her head so the mallet head could gather speed when she made the downward swing.
With her eye on the ball, she timed her swing to begin when the ball was a couple of feet from the point of her shoulder. At the moment when her shoulder, arm, and stick were in a straight line at the lowest point of the swing, the broadside of the mallet made contact with the ball, a solid thunk, the impact vibrating up her arm. She completed the follow-through of her swing as the ball sailed ahead, bouncing toward the near side of the field, where the groom, Jimmy Ray Turnbull, was standing. Someone was with him, she noticed. The pinto’s sides heaved beneath her as it blew out a rolling snort. At almost the same instant, Luz recognized that trimly built figure with a flash of silver-gray in his hair. A sudden tension raced through her. Instinctively, she checked the pinto, obeying her initial impulse to turn and run rather than face Drew, but that was countered almost immediately by a surge of pride, and she urged the horse on. The conflicting signals had the horse sidestepping nervously.
The last time she’d seen him had been at the graduation exercises over two months ago, and then only briefly. And Claudia had been with him. What was he doing here now after all this time? It wasn’t to welcome her home. They’d been back from Europe for three weeks. Why was he here? What did he want? Her nerves suddenly felt raw, the wounds reopened.
Fighting the suffocating memories of the fool she had been, Luz let the polo mallet dangle from its wrist strap, unhooked the chin strap of the helmet, and pulled it off, trying to clear her head. With the back of her hand, she wiped at the perspiration that had collected on her upper lip and realized what a mess she was. No makeup, sweat streaming down her face and along the creases of her eyes, her hair flattened to her head—this wasn’t the way she wanted him to see her again after all this time.
Damn him for catching her out like this! Why hadn’t he called? Did he think this
was still his home and he could drop by whenever he pleased? Angrily, Luz rode over to the sideline where he stood with Jimmy Ray and stopped the pinto in front of the groom, not even acknowledging Drew’s presence with a look.
“Hello, Luz.” His tone was as casual as if it had been two days instead of two months since they’d last spoken. “That was some good form out there.”
Dismounting, she kept her back to him and handed Jimmy Ray the helmet and stick. “Take these to the equipment room,” she ordered, then turned toward the house, tugging off the riding glove she wore on her right hand to avoid blisters. “If you came to see Rob or Trisha, they aren’t here,” she informed Drew with a half-glance his way.
“I didn’t. I wanted to speak to you, privately.”
The clop-clopping of the pinto’s hooves as Jimmy Ray led the horse toward the stable seemed to echo the sudden loud thumping of her heart. Her mind raced wildly over Drew’s possible reasons for wanting a private talk with her. The settlement agreements and the divorce documents, even the tax returns, had all been completed long ago. And their lawyers would have handled anything related to that anyway.
So it could only be personal. Luz refused to allow herself to think he might be having problems in his relationship with Claudia. The possibility frightened her in a strange way, as if it made her vulnerable all over again. When Trisha had asked her if she and Drew would go back together again, the chance seemed so remote. But if he did want to come back to her, what would she do? Did she want that marriage again? She didn’t think so. But what if …
“Why don’t we go to the house?” Luz said and started forward, still avoiding his eyes. Drew moved with her. Walking with him was such a familiar pattern that it tugged at her. It would be so easy to fall back into old habits, she realized. Reaching up, she unclasped the wide barrette securing the knot of hair atop her head and shook out its damp length. She knew it didn’t improve her appearance. “You should have called.”
“I did. Emma told me you were out with the horses, so I came over.” Drew lagged behind her as they skirted the swimming pool.
There was little protest she could make without admitting that she hated being caught looking like this. Obviously, while they were married, he’d seen her looking worse. But things were different now.
Until she had returned from Europe, Luz hadn’t realized how much of an escape that trip had been. Now, in this closeknit community, she was “poor Luz” again, rejected by her husband for a younger woman. That’s what made it so horrible to have him see her in this disheveled state—naked of makeup, smelling of horse and sweat, her hair straggly and unkempt. She was hardly a sight likely to kindle regret.
They entered the house through the French doors to the living room. “Excuse me while I freshen up a bit,” Luz said over her shoulder as she continued through the room. “Emma will bring you some coffee.”
“Take your time.”
He probably thought she needed it, Luz guessed angrily and ran up the oak stairs to her private rooms. She entered the bedroom, stripped off her blouse and bra, sat on the bed long enough to tug off her riding boots and socks, then shed her breeches and panties and headed straight for the shower.
In fifteen minutes flat, she had showered, shampooed, put on makeup, and styled her wet hair in a French braid. She grabbed a white smocked cotton dress with drop shoulders from the closet and pulled it over her head, then slipped her feet into a pair of sling heels. She headed back downstairs, belting the voluminous dress at the waist as she went, somewhat fortified by the transformation.
When she walked into the living room, Drew was pouring himself another cup of coffee. A second cup was sitting on the tray “Want some coffee?” he asked.
“No thanks. After that workout on the practice field I need something tall and cold.” Luz crossed to the bar and went behind the counter, taking a glass from the shelf and adding ice cubes to it.
“Isn’t it a little early in the day to be drinking?” Drew eyed her critically as he wandered over to a stool, coffee cup in hand. He didn’t see the green Perrier bottle until she plunked it on the counter with a glare of defiance.
“You sound like Audra.” She popped the cap off and poured the water over ice cubes in the glass, then added a wedge of lime from the bowl in the bar’s refrigerator.
“I’d heard you’d been drinking heavily. I’m glad to see you’re laying off the booze,” he said, and Luz guessed a little bitterly that Trisha was the source of his information.
“Don’t tell me you’re here to talk about my alleged drinking problem?” she mocked. “‘Alleged.’ That’s a legal term, isn’t it? I guess I must have picked up some of your jargon after all.” She realized how very bitter she sounded and knew this was no way to begin the conversation, with her emotions so exposed. She looked at the green citrus wedge floating atop the cubes. “Maybe we should start this over, Drew. How have you been?” It was a poised, polite inquiry. “You’re looking well.”
Indeed he did. Trim and tan, handsome as always, he was exactly as she remembered. Maybe not quite, she revised. He didn’t seem quite as preoccupied, and there was a more youthful quality about him, or maybe she was imagining that.
Yet something was troubling him. After living with him for twenty years, she could sense when something was wrong. The impression lost some of its strength when he smiled at her.
“I’m fine. How was Europe?”
“Wonderful, as always,” Luz replied. “How’s the law practice? Have you been keeping busy?”
“Yes.” He lifted his coffee cup to take a drink. “And yourself?”
“Of course.” Which wasn’t precisely true.
“I’ve heard you’re dating Fred de Silva.” The vague disapproval in his voice caught her attention. Luz couldn’t help wondering if he was jealous.
“I’ve only been out to dinner with him twice in two weeks, That hardly constitutes dating,” she replied.
Actually she didn’t know Fred de Silva that well, only having met him socially. A rather good-looking man in his late forties, a natty dresser, he had the reputation of being, if not a playboy, at least a ladies’ man. When she’d run into him at the polo club and he’d asked her to dinner, the invitation had sounded like a welcome change from her usual evenings. Truthfully, Rob and Trisha could not give her all the company she needed, and attending social functions alone didn’t satisfy her need for companionship.
The dinners had been just that—a change of pace. She couldn’t even say that she liked the man. In some ways, he was too flamboyant and overly charming for her tastes. When she had complained to her sister, Mary, about the gold chains around his neck and the huge diamonds on his fingers, Mary reminded her that Kincaids came from old money—and old money frowned on overt displays of wealth.
So far, there hadn’t been a third invitation from him, but Luz doubted that she’d accept if it came, mostly because she didn’t want to start something. In a way, going out with him had been a means to get Raul Buchanan off her mind. If she didn’t see other men, it would be too easy for her to fantasize about him.
“I hope he didn’t talk you into anything, Luz,” Drew said grimly. She sharply probed his expression as she searched for signs of jealousy.
“If you’re wondering whether I slept with him, that isn’t any of your business.” Other than a few heavy-breathing kisses, nothing had happened, but Luz hoped it bothered him to imagine her in the arms of another man. She knew the hell that her images of Claudia and him together had been for her, and she wanted him to have a taste of it.
“I recognize that you are free to see whomever you please.” He seemed grim, and he was slow to look at her. “I’m concerned that you might have put some money into one of his ventures.”
“My evenings with Fred were purely social.” She resented his implication that she had to buy companionship. Moving out from behind the bar, she rubbed a hand across the cold, wet sides of the Perrier glass, her temper needing its cooling effe
ct.
“From what I’ve been able to learn, de Silva is in considerable financial trouble. That big real estate development deal of his isn’t panning out.”
“That has nothing to do with me,” she declared, irritated that he believed she would be gullible enough to invest in something solely on a man’s word, without checking into it. After all, she was Jake Kincaid’s daughter, which meant she wasn’t a total fool even if Drew had made one of her.
“Some of his investors have been threatening to pull out of the project, but now the rumor is that Kincaid money is coming in to bail it out.” Drew absently swirled the coffee in the cup, then looked over to her. “De Silva obviously made sure he was seen with you. I’m afraid he’s using you, Luz, to stall for time—or to set you up for an investment pitch.”
Inside, she was trembling with hurt and anger, but she held herself stiffly motionless. “It was so clever of you to figure that out, Drew. Of course, you had the advantage of knowing that my company is far from scintillating, so if it wasn’t that Fred was seeking, it had to be the Kincaid fortune—or my share of it. Am I supposed to be grateful that you’ve taken time from your precious law practice to warn me about him?”
“That isn’t the only reason I’m here,” he replied impatiently. “I know you won’t believe me, but I happen to still care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt any more.”
Confusion pounded at her temples. First he slapped her down, then held out his hand. She gripped the glass tightly, so damned unsure of her position. “Tell me, Drew,” Luz challenged. “Does Claudia know that you’ve come to see me this morning?”
“Of course.” But the mention of her name seemed to make him uncomfortable. Covering it, he finished the coffee in his cup, then set it aside. “We have no secrets from each other.”
“I’m so glad to hear that you don’t lie to her the way you lied to me. You’ve obviously learned something.” Bitterness and sarcasm mixed together in her words. “The sin isn’t in making a mistake, but in repeating it.”