by Janet Dailey
“I’m a mess.” She picked at the clinging front of her blouse, pulling it away from her skin, then again pushed at her hair. “I wish I had a comb.”
She saw his muddy boot an instant before a black comb was thrust almost under her nose. “Thank you.” She took it from his hand without looking up.
Raul moved away, crossing to the pile of debris to search for more firewood. She listened to the rummaging sounds he made while she raked the comb’s teeth through the wet tangle of her hair, slicking it back and away from her face. When she had finished, she self-consciously fiddled with the comb until Raul came back to the fire and added a few more pieces to the dwindling supply of fuel.
She passed him the comb, doubting that her disheveled appearance had been greatly improved.
As she lowered her glance, she saw him slide the comb into his hip pocket. Luz couldn’t help noticing the way his wet breeches clung to his lean flank and muscled thigh, showing the outline of his jockey shorts. She looked quickly away when he crouched down to assume his former position beside the small fire.
“You have not said whether you intend to comply with my request.” Raul poked at the fire, sending up sparks, not leaving it alone any more than he let her alone.
The chair wobbled under her when she shifted positions to grip the sides of the seat. She smiled wanly at the thought that she was literally and figuratively on shaky ground, then sighed.
“I’ll stay away.” It occurred to her that they wouldn’t be sitting by this fire if he had explained his request earlier instead of attempting to make it an onto. But he’d lost his temper, and so had she, and here they were. “Polo is important to Rob.” Luz explained her change of mind. “It’s the most important thing in his life right now. I don’t know if you can understand how determined he is to prove himself. He wants to be at the top. I want to help him do that, in whatever way I can, even if that includes staying away from the workouts.”
“I think you will not regret it,” Raul said. “And I have noticed the way he drives himself. Polo is not simply a sport to him. For the moment at least, it is his life. We will see if that will last.”
“I believe it will.” She hesitated thinking of Drew’s plans for Rob to attend college. “Although I’m not sure that’s good.”
“Does it bother you that he may wish to make a career of polo?”
“Not really. I know it’s a dangerous sport, and players have been killed or crippled by falls, but that’s part of it.” Luz paused, the corners of her mouth pulled down in grim resignation. “It’s his father who won’t be pleased by the decision.” Leaning forward, she let go of the chair seat and crossed her forearms, resting them atop her legs. Her gaze turned thoughtfully to Raul, studying his impassive features. “Did your mother object to your playing polo?” she asked.
“By the time I took up the game, she had died,” he replied without emotion. Something in his sharp glance rejected any polite mouthings of sympathy from her.
“What do you think of Rob’s ability? I know you haven’t worked with him long, but does he have the potential?”
“Possibly. He wants it badly enough.” Raul broke off a large splinter of wood from his fire-stirring stick and tossed it into the flames and watched it catch fire. “Sometimes I see some of myself in him.”
“What do you mean?” Other than their mutual interest in polo, she saw no similarities.
“I suppose it is the determination you mentioned, the demand you make on yourself for perfection and never being satisfied with less.”
“How did you learn to play polo? I mean, I know you worked for a man who played, but did anyone teach you about the game?”
“Here and there, this one would show me that. But I was a groom playing with my employers’ guests. Not much notice was paid to me unless I did something wrong. Hector taught me many things about horses. But the game itself, I learned by trial and error—mostly error.”
“You’ve known Hector a very long time then.” Hector had implied as much. “How old were you when you played your first game?”
“Fifteen. When I played in my first club match, I was seventeen. Before that, the others had been friendly games on the estancia’s polo field, but this one—it was an official game with umpires, scoreboards, timekeepers, spectators.” A sardonic humor seemed to twist his mouth. “Señor Boone, my employer, provided me with my polo equipment and colored shirt. Hector loaned me his spurs. My white breeches were an old pair Señor Boone’s son had outgrown. I remember they smelted of mothballs. And I spent every bit of money I had on a pair of shiny new boots.” As he paused, he looked at her. “No one told me that you shouldn’t wear black boots because the blacking comes off when you rub against another player’s white breeches. I was very unpopular that day.”
Luz could well imagine the derisive comments he’d drawn, and the ridicule, either to his face or behind his back, but Raul would have known. She knew how humiliated her son would have felt if it had happened to him at seventeen. “I imagine that was the last time you wore them.”
“They were all I had. I tried to polish them brown, but it was not very successful. It took me six months to save up enough money to buy another pair.”
“Why did you go back on the field?” She marveled at his ability to swallow his pride and continue to play—in his brown-polished black boots, knowing he’d be subjected to more ridicule. Considering how many times his pride must have been crushed, it was no wonder he had acquired such a thick skin. Perhaps he was entitled to some arrogance now.
“I knew I was good at polo. I was determined to prove I could be the best, not because they scorned my black boots, but because I knew I could do it. There were other things I could not do, but at this I could be the best.”
His expression became strained with the intensity of his feelings. The glitter in his eyes and the aggressive angle of his jaw were hardened by the passionate determination that drove him. Nothing was going to stand in his way of achieving this end, Luz realized. Nothing else mattered to him. She frowned as her bewilderment deepened.
“For more than twenty years, I have practiced and played, practiced and played. I have studied every facet of the game, gone over every play, every mistake, and worked to do a little bit better. It is impossible to be at one hundred percent for every game, not when you play nearly every month of the year. But I try for seventy-five percent, eighty, ninety, to raise my game standard. Still they rate me at nine goals. I wonder what it is I have to do—what I have missed that keeps me from the ten.” Frustration brought his teeth close together, forcing the words through them. “In my gut, I know it can be.”
“You sound like Rob.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“Then you know how it is,” he said tightly.
“No. I don’t.” She shook her head numbly from side to side. “I don’t understand at all. I’ve never wanted anything so much that I hurt inside. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
As she listened to Raul, remembering similar thoughts expressed by Rob and recalling Trisha’s need for a purpose, all of it came crashing in on her. There was nothing like that in her life. There wasn’t any goal she was striving to attain. She had nothing in particular she wanted to accomplish. If she’d had any dreams of anything beyond a husband and family, she didn’t remember them. She’d gone on from day to day, certain there was nothing she lacked. She was Luz Kincaid; she had everything.
“What is it?” Raul frowned.
“Nothing.” But her wavering voice betrayed her.
In one continuous motion, Luz stood up and turned her back to him. She shut her eyes for a moment to stem the flow of tears and breathed in deeply through her nose to steady her shaken senses. Then she felt his presence very close to her. When she opened her eyes to look, she found him beside her, frowning intently at her.
“What is wrong?” he questioned again. When she tried to turn away, his hand checked her movement and gently drew her back to face him. “Why are you
crying?”
“Because …” Luz stared at the row of buttons down his damp shirtfront. “Because I’ve never felt that way about anything in my life. I don’t know what you’re saying. Isn’t that crazy? Everybody I know has his heart set on something except me. With Rob, it’s polo. Trisha wants to be a lawyer. Audra wants to keep the family together. For God’s sake, even Drew is waiting for the day he can try a case before the Supreme Court. I’m forty-two years old. And I don’t know why I’m on this earth!”
His frown deepened. Almost tentatively his hand touched the combed-slick side of her hair, then lightly stroked it. “Luz …” But he didn’t seem to know the words that would reassure her.
She turned her face against his arm, resting her cheek against the damp sleeve. “I don’t want to write a book. I don’t want to sing songs. I don’t want to make a million dollars. I don’t want to be the best at anything. My God.” She choked on a sob. “What’s wrong with me?”
“No se,” he murmured.
The sobs broke from her, and she started crying and couldn’t stop. She wasn’t even conscious of his arms going around her. His shoulder offered a solid pillow for her head, and she cried softly against it. There was no measure of time, only the steady patter of the rain on the roof and the soft crackle of the small fire.
Long after the tears stopped falling, Luz remained enfolded in his arms, too drained to move or feel. There was comfort in the slow, gentle rock of his body and the soothing stroke of his hand on her head. Finally, she wiped at the tears on her cheeks, then felt the downward turn of his head.
“You are better now?” he asked.
“Yes.” Self-consciously, Luz moved to disentangle herself from his comforting embrace. “You must think I’m a blubbering fool.”
“I think nothing.”
But she didn’t believe him. She moved to the fire and held her hands out to its rising warmth. The smell of him clung damply to her. It stirred up longings that she’d struggled too hard to bury. In her side vision, she caught his movement as Raul crossed to the fire. Crouching beside it, he added more fuel to the hot center. The flames leaped greedily around it, their light flaring through the room. Raul straightened and met her gaze. The adobe hut suddenly seemed much too small and confining.
“I think the rain’s let up,” she said, even though the rapid tempo of the raindrops pelting the corrugated iron seemed unchanged. “Why don’t we make a dash for the truck?”
“Your clothes are almost dry,” he observed. “We will wait another quarter of an hour. There is no need to get them wet again.”
“You can stay if you like.” Luz moved toward the door, thinking to force him into acceding to her wishes. “But I’m leaving.”
The rain showered her face the minute she opened the door. She had one foot over the threshold when Raul caught her and dragged her back inside. “Idiota!” The momentum carried her against him. She clutched at his shirt to keep from falling while his hands gripped her shoulders to steady both of them.
When Luz tipped her head to look at him, her gaze traveled no farther than the line of his mouth. It was so close. A stillness claimed her as her pulse took an erratic course, skipping beats all over the place. Before when he’d held her, she hadn’t been conscious of the flatly muscled contours of his body. She was too lost in her own pain. Now she was aware of the wide shoulders and narrow hips and the hard wall of his stomach.
He raked a hand into her hair and cupped the back of her neck. The pressure of it drew her more fully against him and tilted her head farther back, forcing her gaze upward. His gaze skimmed over her face, finally stopped on her lips. Luz didn’t want to breathe.
“This was inevitable, I think,” he murmured thickly.
Her lashes drifted down as his face came toward her. He rocked into them with loving force. The remembered sensation of a man’s kiss was not equal to the real thing. Luz had forgotten the other things that went with it—the tightening circle of his arms, the caressing fan of his breath on her skin, and the taste of him on her tongue.
The needs in her were strong, and she responded with long-unsatisfied hunger. Delicious little shudders danced along her skin when his mouth grazed across her cheek to find the sensitive hollow below her ear. She slid her fingers into his hair, its damp, fine texture so silken to her touch. Turning, she searched for his mouth, her lips trailing across the hint of bristles on his shaved cheek. She found the deep groove that flanked the corner of his mouth, then Raul was turning to end her search.
This time there was no leading contact as he immediately plunged deeply inside, filling her up until she thought she would burst. But it only made her hungry for more. There never was enough. No matter how much he gave and how much she took, she always wanted more. She’d been so empty for so long. It would take a lot of filling up before she was full.
Through the dampness of his shirt, she could feel the warmth of his body and the solidness of his flesh. While she continued to feed on his kiss, she brought her hands down and began unbuttoning his shirt, loosening every one of them down to the waistband of his tan trousers. She felt the sharp intake of his breath when her hands slid onto the smooth skin covering his ribcage.
A moment later, she could no longer feel the roaming pressure of his hands on her back and waist, but there was movement behind her. When he lifted his head, drawing slightly back, she saw that he’d unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. She watched the naked expanse of his chest come into view as he shrugged out of his shirt. Her hands ran over the curves and indentations of the muscles across his chest and shoulders.
His fingers took hold of the top button on her blouse, and she looked up at his heavy-lidded eyes. Until that moment Luz hadn’t really thought about his wanting her. It had all seemed so one-sided, something she had to grab for herself while she had the chance, a chance that might never come again. Suddenly it was much more important that Raul wanted her.
She watched his face uncertainly, conscious of the manipulations of his fingers and the draft against her skin when the front of her blouse separated. Slowly he parted the material and pushed it off her shoulders onto her arms as if unveiling a statue. Luz tugged it the rest of the way off, then he took it and tossed it on the bench with his shirt.
His hands came back to her, their roughened texture sliding onto her back. When she felt his fingers on her bra hook, her lashes fluttered down and her hands dug into the flexed biceps to steady her suddenly shaky knees. The minute the fasteners were released, the loose straps slid off her shoulders, of their own accord, it seemed. Swallowing convulsively, she let go of his arms and took it the rest of the way off.
Covertly she watched him look at her. This wasn’t Drew gazing at the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed—not Drew, who knew every inch of their mature contours. There was no sameness to this moment. It was new, and in its newness, there was uncertainty. With a husband of twenty-odd years, what did she care how she compared to other women? Maybe she should have, but she hadn’t. Now she wondered.
His hand slid up her ribs and cupped the underside of a breast, taking the weight of it in his palm. The stroking caress of his thumb across its point started a curling sensation in her stomach. Slowly, Raul pulled her toward him again until her bare skin was against the heated wall of his chest and stomach. A little groan of pleasure broke from her throat as his mouth descended onto hers again. She strained into it, giving, giving, giving, yet always finding more pleasure being returned.
He framed her face in his hands, kissing her nose, cheek, and lips while he studied every inch of her face. She couldn’t seem to breathe. His blue eyes looked so dark that she felt absorbed by them. Her heart pounded while she waited for some signal, but none came. She couldn’t stand the suspense.
“Raul, do you want me?”
His thumb rubbed the center of her lips and slowly stroked over their outline, then his lips came down to brush back and forth across their softness. “Sí” he murmured against them.
“I want you.” And the pressure that had been so light became firm in possession.
The tension that had held her desire in check melted under his assertive kiss. Luz returned the kiss with driving need, while she wrapped her arms tightly around him, a hand pressing down on the back of his head to deepen the kiss. She was flooded by a renewed sense of worth and value, so many of her doubts about her own desirability fading as his arms enfolded her.
But the hands gliding down her shoulders and spine didn’t stop. One arm tightly circled her waist while the other continued down over her rounded buttocks. With a dipping movement of his body, Raul curved his arm behind her thighs and scooped her up, nestling her sideways on his hip. She felt weightless in his strong arms. In more than one way, her feet weren’t touching the ground as he carried her across the room.
When he set her down, it was on the edge of the corner cot. In a wonderful daze, she watched him crouch down, one knee resting on the earthen floor, and pick up her foot. As he pulled off its mud-caked boot, Luz gazed at the strong bone structure of his face, handsome in a way that Drew had never been. Without being conscious of directing her actions, she unfastened the waistband of her slacks. When her boots and socks were removed, Luz stood up, the fine-grained dirt under her bare feet oddly stimulating her sensitive soles. As she stepped out of her slacks, Raul took her place on the cot and pulled off his boots.
Taking her time so that she could watch him undress, she pushed her silk panties down and stepped out of the clinging, wet undergarment. The rather hesitant curiosity that sent her glance traveling up the muscled length of his leg to the hollowed cheeks of his lean flanks, then skittering away from his erection, almost made her smile at such schoolgirl silliness. He was hardly her first man, but he was the first in what seemed like a long time.