Without answering immediately, she carefully walked over the rough terrain until she could see what the growth and distance hid.
“Y’all call that a river?” she asked, sarcastically.
“We all weren’t born long side the Rio Grande,” Rafael retorted, moving up behind her to look down at the small stream gurgling over small stones. “Although, actually, I guess we both were.”
That surprised her. Esme turned a little, careful not to catch a heel and fall on her behind again. “Really? You? I didn’t know the Bentons were ever there.”
“They—we—have been there. But I was born there. I’m adopted.”
She turned to face him then, surprised. “So Cody . . . ”
“Was my little sister,” he answered. “Period.”
“Okay.” She fell silent, not knowing where she wanted the conversation to go. He didn’t say anything else for a while, just stared out over the landscape. Then he sighed and waved a hand at the truck.
“Luc, Chief, in, boys.”
The dogs, apparently somewhere nearby, materialized out of the undergrowth and jumped easily up into the bed of the pickup. Those were the rambunctious mutts who’d threatened her?
“Nice,” she muttered. “They listen remarkably well when they’re not knocking someone off their feet.”
“I didn’t see you coming,” he explained. “Again . . . I’ll speak to Marie. I’m sorry about your dress.”
“What’s wrong with my dress?” she demanded, smoothing her hands over the sides and glancing down at the front.
His eyes followed the path of her hands and something sparked in his dark eyes. Something hot and enticing. Not to be encouraged, she reminded herself. This was the man who’d offered to “buy” her.
“You . . . um . . . sat down hard enough the dirt kind of . . . clung.” He started out searching carefully for words, then suddenly shrugged and flashed her a grin. “You’ve got a nice print of your ass on the back of your skirt.”
“Shoot!” She ran her hands over the unseen print, feeling the dampness and grit. “It’s probably wrecked.”
“I’ll replace it. The dogs . . . ”
She couldn’t let him blame the dogs; she’d fallen before they arrived. She suddenly wished one of her promises to herself back in Rose Creek hadn’t been to be as honest as possible. Taking advantage of any situation had been a strength of hers up until a few short months ago.
“They didn’t knock me down. I’d already tripped and fallen.”
“Still. You must have come here to find me. Did Lillie Mae have anything to do with this?”
“Lillie Mae!” She shook her head slightly. “Cantankerous old woman. Yet from everything I’ve heard, she’s like the town conscience or something.”
“Something,” he agreed, smiling again. “She can make or break you here in Truth.”
“Why did you tell me to go see her? She took my head off for being stupid enough to need advice. She knew I was a counselor. Did you know that?”
“Everyone in Truth knows that. Didn’t you say you came here from a small town?”
“Yes, but . . . ”
“Everyone knows. But I figured she’d at least assure you I’m not some depraved sex fiend trying to buy you for a summer of . . . whatever depraved sex fiends do.”
She looked around at the deserted surroundings. She didn’t feel threatened, not at all. But she didn’t want to sit on a tailgate in the middle of nowhere in a dirty dress and discuss Rafael Benton’s insane job offer. Before she could say that, though, his phone rang.
He pulled it out of his pocket, checked the number, and declined it. “Not important,” he explained. “Look, Esmeralda, let me show you something. Then maybe we can go back to the house and talk. Here.”
He handed her the phone. She looked at it blankly. The phone screen was of a cute kid with blue eyes and dimples. His? She blinked.
“So?” she asked.
“That’s my nephew, Justin. Cody’s little boy.” He paused, let her look again at the picture, then gently retrieved his phone. “He’s why I need a wife.”
• • •
They wound up in the covered gazebo in a garden behind the gloomy house. The garden was walled on three sides with the white and gray rock so common in the area, and like the other gardens she’d spotted when she came the first time, had a mixture of flowers she recognized, from canna lilies to roses. Hummingbirds darted around, additional bits of color, iridescent sparks in the sun.
“If it’s too hot, we can go in,” Rafael suggested. “Your dress really isn’t a problem. I don’t obsess over the furnishings or anything.”
“Hmpf. Out here’s fine.” Nothing you can say will actually interest me. I’m just here . . . because I’m curious. Nosy. That’s why I’m here.
Glum-faced Marie must have been chastised when Rafael stopped by the house, because when she brought out a pitcher of tea and bottles of water she greeted Esmeralda formally, put down the drinks, and left.
Serves her right for thinking I’m after the boss. “So, tell me what your nephew has do with this really strange nonsense you’re spouting,” Esme said, after sipping some of the tea Rafael handed her. “Not that I think anything you say will convince me you’re not . . . ”
“Crazy? My best friend thinks I might be. But at least he knows my mom and dad, and what happened with Cody.”
“Where’s Justin now?”
“At my folks’s home outside Dallas. They had a business trip to Europe planned for some time and couldn’t take him.”
“But they didn’t leave him with you?” she pressed gently.
“No.” He stared off for a moment at the horizon, then drew in a deep breath and faced her. “He stayed with my Nana Ellen. She’s the woman who took care of me when my parents had to travel and I was in school.”
“But you’re here and they’re not?”
“He’s used to the house there and they didn’t want to move him.” He stood up and walked to the far side of the gazebo, distancing himself, and then turned to add, “I don’t know that they trust me with him. Yet.”
He didn’t sound agitated, but Esmeralda noticed the faint tightening of his lips and his hands knotted against his hips. She didn’t want to press, but she wanted to know more. “Why would you think that? I don’t understand . . . ”
“I didn’t keep Cody safe for them. My one job and I couldn’t do it.” Now the defeat in his voice was unmistakable. Strangely, she felt sudden empathy for this man she didn’t know at all. How could parents blame one child for the death of another from a drug overdose, especially when both were adults? Her parents’s condemnation of her relationship with Toby had inflicted wounds that never quite seemed to go away. They’d done everything they could to drive Toby away, even filing police reports and threatening to send her to live with her father’s family in Michigan. Toby had caved, joining the Army to prove he was responsible and willing to support Esmeralda. He had died, just as Cody had, and she still blamed herself sometimes. And her parents. But how unfair of his parents if they truly blamed him for Cody’s death. And how unbearable would it be to have your sister’s child kept from you because of her own mistakes?
“Rafael . . . ”
He raised a hand. “That probably sounded defensive. I don’t mean it to be. I blame myself for what happened, probably more than they do. My parents are great people, Esmeralda. They picked me up—pretty much literally—off the street when I was a ten-year-old. Full of hate and anger. I don’t remember everything, but I know Dad and Mom met me when I was breaking the windows out of their Cadillac.”
“They must be really good-hearted, if they wanted you after you ruined their car,” she observed, wanting to hear more, unable to imagine the successful man across from her had ever been poor. She could believe the anger, though; she had heard anger in his voice when he muttered that he’d kill someone.
She should remember the Rafael who claimed he’d been full of hate and dism
iss the thoughts that kept teasing her senses. About how good he looked in the perfectly fit jeans and snug T-shirt. About how he’d stolen her breath when he came up behind her in the mirror that day at her aunt’s.
“They’re the best people in the world,” he said, and came over to sit down again, leaning toward her, sincerity clear in his voice. “But they believe what they believe, and no one can make them compromise their principles. They’re business people and they built an empire from nothing, so it’s not like they’re these rigid monsters who can’t work with others.”
She thought she could figure out why he was telling her that, but . . .
“My mom has worked with children from broken homes for thirty years. When she’s at home, she’s volunteering. And she and Dad believe absolutely that children should have two parents—they believe in marriage.” He smiled fondly. “They’re working on forty years and they love each other like crazy. Guess they can’t see past their own love for each other.”
“But, today . . . ”
“They accept that not everyone will be married. Not all marriages are happy. They get that. But they fight it. Dad offers marriage counseling to his employees who want to try it. He has single mothers who work for him. He and Mom are fine with that, except for occasional subtle efforts to match lonely souls.” He smiled a little. “They haven’t had a lot of success with that, from what I’ve heard. In fact, there has been the occasional bad publicity or lawsuit. But they mean well and mostly, everyone understands that about them. They were raised by poor parents who had very little, but who loved their families beyond anything, and that’s what they want for Justin. And for me.”
The tenderness and conviction in his voice almost brought tears to her eyes. Her mother Adriana and father Eduardo had celebrated their thirty-fifth anniversary last year. They were still together, but the happiness and joy seemed to be missing—always had, really. They professed to love their children and each other, but the atmosphere had been so constrained, so lacking in excitement or enthusiasm. She straightened a little, though, reminding herself not to judge on what he said. He was, after all, trying to paint his own picture. She had no idea if he was being truthful.
“Which is why . . . ”
“I decided I need to hire a wife. Temporarily.” He said it quickly, almost as if that would make it more acceptable. “My parents would be reassured that I’m ready to settle down and not go running all over the world with Marc.”
“Marc?”
“My best friend. He works for my dad, too. It’s mostly for them, Esmeralda, but not only. Now that Cody’s will has been probated and news leaked out that Justin inherited everything, we’re afraid that fathers will suddenly come out of every swamp or hole to be found.”
“Fathers?” Esme asked in disbelief. She’d dealt with cases at school of mothers whose children all had different fathers. She’d even counseled two students who were half-brothers but didn’t know it. Difficult situations. But if Cody Benton was the daughter of such wonderful parents, and such a big star to boot . . . no. She wouldn’t judge Cody Benton. Lord knew her parents and high school friends had assumed the worst of her.
“She didn’t know. There were men in her life who were . . . in and out.” He shrugged and looked away again. “It’s hard to admit that we don’t know who Justin’s dad is,” he said eventually. “And that of the men who might be the father, not one of them’s worth squat.”
“You love Justin,” she noted quietly.
“I do. I adore him. He’s so little, and happy—he looks so much like Cody. But he’s lost his mother, and we—my parents and I—can’t lose him. We just can’t.”
“How would marriage have anything to do with that, though?” She stood up to stretch, fingering the necklace thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t think anyone would even consider marital status anymore. I mean, think of all the living arrangements, and break-ups, and blends and . . . why?”
“Courts still have to act in the best interest of the child, and there are still some very conservative courts. My parents are in good health, but they’re not young. My job involved a lot of traveling, until Cody broke into music. Even then, but it was different; I was with her. We usually were on buses and in the States. Slightly more kid-friendly than my previous life, when Marc and I would go flying off at a moment’s notice. We’d be in the Middle East one day and South America the next.” He smiled, remembering. “We had fun, even if there were a few scrapes along the way. Right before Cody got serious about music, Marc and I noticed Dad was sending us to much safer places on sort of made-up work. Like studying the fracking process in North Dakota, when we both knew he’d already committed to an operation in Texas.” The smile faded. “When Cody started calling Truth home, Mom and Dad asked me to stay. Now that she’s gone, family—a wife—would give me more reason to settle down.”
“So you’d lie to a court?”
“No. Not really. In the first place, I’m talking about a legal marriage. And I won’t be leaving after the divorce. I’ll be here in Truth with Justin when and if my Mom and Dad decide to give up custody. He was born here.” He stood again, too, eyes intense as he continued. “I didn’t have a home for the first ten years of my life. Justin will never go through what I did. He’ll always know where he was born, where home is, and who his family is.”
She didn’t have an answer for that; she couldn’t blame someone who’d apparently had a tough childhood for wanting to protect his nephew. But marriage for parents and a child that really wasn’t yours? Not to mention the other obvious problem with this crazy plan of his. Not that she was considering it. But still . . .
“You seem to be overlooking one major problem. It would be a problem for me, anyway, and I’m sure many others.”
“Problem?”
“Call it what you want, temporary wife, a job . . . but how is money for sex not asking a woman to be a whore?” She chose the vulgarity deliberately, wanting to make him see the insult his misguided offer could inflict.
He looked a little taken aback at her question, but only briefly, then shrugged it off.
“Esmeralda Salinas, get your mind out of the gutter. I have no intention of having sex with you or anyone else while I’m married.”
Chapter Seven
Esmeralda’s mouth fell open. He’d heard the expression “jaw dropping,” but he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such surprise on such a lovely face. Or any face.
When he realized how his answer sounded, he sort of understood. He’d either implied she wouldn’t interest him sexually for possibly up to two months in an intimate environment, or that he personally could abstain from sex for some infinite period. Neither of those were what he meant. Looking at her close her mouth slowly and then moisten her lips with her tongue was torture, even standing several feet away from her. He didn’t want to think of the temptations they’d encounter sharing a room, even one as large as his upstairs suite.
But he might only put his foot in his mouth again if he tried to correct any of her false assumptions, and clearly, she wasn’t going to accept the job anyway. In a way he regretted that. Besides being beautiful, she was a counselor and had nerve. Her training in helping young children would have let her interact safely with Justin—helping him without becoming too attached to him. Or letting him become too attached to her. And her nerve—he took a step away from her, turning, pretending to be engrossed in watching a deer who had wandered out of the trees encircling the house and started to munch on the flowers in one of the gardens.
Luc appeared out of nowhere, walking over to the deer with a wagging tail. The two touched noses and then the doe went back to her food, and Luc sprawled where he was, watching her feed.
Wasn’t there a song about everyone having someone? He just couldn’t remember with the multitude of country songs he’d been surrounded with for the past three years who sang it or the exact words. And here he was, seeking a temporary wife—a make-believe wife—when many men his age were settling down
happily. Marc was right. He was being stupid.
Behind him, he heard Esmeralda shuffle slightly, and reluctantly turned back.
“Look, Rafael.” She seemed softer now, less condemning of him. “Some of what you say is sweet. I don’t think it makes sense, but you know the situation and I don’t.” She hesitated, then held out a hand. “Good luck.”
He realized as he took her hand he didn’t want someone else as his wife—not even his temporary wife. “So you won’t consider letting me give you more details?”
She shook her head. “Find someone else if you think you have to go through with this.”
He released her hand. “Esmeralda, can I ask a favor? Would you mind keeping this quiet? I mean, your aunt knows, but only she, Lillie Mae, and one other person knows. It’s not the kind of thing I want everyone in Truth gossiping about, or I’d never be able to make it work. My parents should be here in about three weeks.”
“I won’t say a word,” she promised, and he believed her. She took a step toward the door, then stopped and shot him a glance over her shoulder. “Too bad you’ll be a married man soon,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
The smile she shot him sizzled through him with the sting of a bare electrical wire. “We could have had a good summer. But I don’t date married men.”
He watched her go, the stain on her skirt less noticeable but still hypnotizing, and her words playing over in his head like the chorus of one of Cody’s songs.
• • •
By the time she pulled into her aunt’s drive fifteen minutes later, Esmeralda’s head was pounding and she wished she could just sit in a dark corner and forget everything for a few minutes. Just a few minutes. What kind of man was Rafael Benton? His idea was insane. Her attraction to him was insane. She needed to remember that she’d almost wrecked her own life pursuing men she couldn’t or shouldn’t want. Rafael fell in that category, without question. She could still see the passion in his eyes, the love, when he spoke of his parents and nephew.
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