She forced her eyes to the fish that was flopping frantically, gills gasping, and forgot the tight jeans in a sudden feeling of guilt.
“Whatever it is, let it go,” she pleaded. “I can’t stand to see it like that.”
“It’s a smallmouth bass, but it’s too small to keep anyway,” he agreed, pulling it out of the net. “It’ll be okay for a minute. It’s your first fish.” He handed the fish, still on her line, to her, then pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket and snapped a quick picture.
With quick, skillful movements, he freed the fish, holding it up one final time. “Sure you don’t want to stuff it?”
“I thought I’d caught something worthwhile. It fought so hard.”
“Which is why fishermen love bass.” He waded into the water and leaned over, holding the bass in the water for a moment, then stepping back. Within seconds, the fish seemed to realize that it was free. With a final splash of silver and water, it was gone.
He waded out of the water, smiling broadly. “Haven’t had this much fun fishing in a while,” he said, patting the bandage he’d put over the ointment. “In spite of everything. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”
“I was just thinking I’ll never do this again,” she retorted, then grinned, remembering the line of a song about giving up love for fishing. “Of course, if I’d brought my guitar, I probably could write a country song.”
The smile faded and the dimples disappeared. She wanted to kick herself and opened her mouth to apologize, but he shook his head and touched her cheek with a gentle finger. “Cody will always be there, la espina de una rosa, and that thorn may always hurt, but it isn’t your problem.” Then, after a moment, he asked, folding the chair he’d set out for her, “Do I pick good first dates, or what?”
She shouldered him aside and picked up the folded chair, handing him the fishing pole instead. “There’s no way I’m carrying this to the truck. Who knows what I’d catch.”
He nodded, but she couldn’t miss the aura of sadness closing in around him. She didn’t want it to, but it tugged at her heart. She could remember losing Toby, and how the pain lingered for years after. And the chasm separating her from her parents still haunted her at times, making her wonder what she could have done differently. Cody hadn’t been gone long, and she didn’t want him to think he had to pretend for her sake.
“Let’s go,” she said gently. “But we still need to talk somewhere.”
“We will,” he promised.
She stowed the chair in the bed of the truck and climbed into the cab, letting him settle the dogs and check for forgotten items.
Finally he climbed in and shifted in the seat to face her. “So, where to? Fishing just didn’t bring us the right mood.”
“What’s the right mood to propose marriage to someone you don’t know? For money?”
He ignored the jab as he backed out, pushing Luc’s head out of his way as he turned to look behind them. “Why don’t we just go back to Witches Haven and talk there?”
“Didn’t work too well last time,” Esme pointed out. “And your secretary doesn’t like me.”
“Marie’s my assistant. She hates to be called a secretary. And she’s usually . . . fine.” He made the tight turn onto the road leading to Truth and on through to Witches Haven and grinned at her. “You already sound like a wife.”
They drove along and as they neared the hidden drive up to the dark house, he suddenly pointed. “Look! Haven’t seen wild turkeys in a while.”
She watched the three birds flap awkwardly into cover, a little amused at his enthusiasm. He said he’d traveled the world, but Rafael Benton was clearly a nature boy at heart. She didn’t dislike animals and she loved horses, but she couldn’t see herself being so excited over wild birds, no matter how big, ugly, and apparently uncommon they were.
“What are you smiling about?” Rafael asked curiously.
“Hummingbirds. The ones in your yard are a lot prettier than the turkeys we just saw.”
“When I first started coming here, turkeys weren’t something you saw constantly, but at certain times of day, you’d see them. Now, not so much. I think it’s sad to think of animals dying off or leaving an area, that’s all.”
Luc and Chief, quiet and well behaved for most of the ride, were excited to be home, and Esmeralda found herself ducking and bobbing to keep out of their way as they crowded her window. As soon as they stopped, Esmeralda threw off the seatbelt and jumped out, running both hands over her hair. “Dog slobber!” she complained. “And I thought having one lick my face was disgusting.”
Rafael didn’t say anything, just grinned as he opened the door and let the Danes hurtle from the truck and bound away. Then he leaned an arm against the truck and held out a handkerchief. “I have this,” he offered. “But it’s got a little blood on it. Someone tried to rip my neck open with a fish hook.”
“Oh, all right,” she muttered, following the dogs toward the air-conditioned house. “We’re even. But you don’t play fair.”
Chapter Nine
You don’t play fair. Her words stopped him in his tracks. She didn’t have a clue how right her words were. She could marry him and never have cause to complain. The draft contract he’d had written up as soon as he’d had this monumental idea would protect them both, financially. And he would be sure the relationship would remain platonic, as he promised.
Sure, women sold their virginity online these days, and “reality” shows delved into the most intimate of moments. But he knew, somehow, that as liberated as she claimed to be, even consensual sex with him while they were under contract would trouble her. And him, too.
He walked after her slowly, wondering how he could make her understand the need for his plan while exposing his own life as little as possible. He’d never liked talking about the pain of his childhood, or the mistakes he’d made moving from unwanted street child to the son his parents doted on. He’d been honest—mostly. His parents’ stance on marriage—undoubtedly grown from their own love for each other as well as their upbringing, their faith, and their work with troubled youth—was unpopular and sometimes hard to explain. But he loved them for their commitment to each other, and a temporary marriage to give happiness to two of the only three people who had ever loved him was a small price to pay—regardless of dollar amount. Money didn’t matter in the face of their happiness and approval. He’d hurt them so often over the years. The marriage would make them incredibly happy. A divorce would hurt them, but it would be amicable. Something they’d accept as better than waiting until it became bitter and complicated. At least, he hoped they’d accept it. He shook his head slightly, then touched the bandage as he felt a slight twinge of pain. A little too early to worry about a divorce when he hadn’t convinced anyone to marry him yet.
She’d stopped on the porch, obviously waiting for him, probably not wanting to face Marie. He’d have to talk to them both, if she agreed to take his offer.
And thinking of Marie made him think of Tina Cervantes. He wouldn’t deliberately destroy her, because vengeance wouldn’t bring Cody back. He tried to think rationally, but the bile rose and soured his throat, and his fists clenched. Or maybe he would, and that’s why Esme's words needled him. If he found out that Tina was still harboring Harper—maybe even encouraging his claims of being Justin’s father—then there wasn’t a power play in the world he wouldn’t use to stop them both. Destroy them both. Play fair? Tía’s bar was already teetering on the edge of financial ruin, and he’d heard around town that she wasn’t even coming in every day. She was drinking more, and alienating some of her suppliers. He smiled grimly. She’d better not know where Harper was. He’d seen ruthless business deals over the last ten or twelve years, and participated in a few. Pushing a failing bar over the edge into oblivion wouldn’t be hard. And no one would deserve it more than Tía.
Esme must have heard the low, snarling oath that forced itself out of his throat, because she faced him in surprise.
&nbs
p; “Did you say something else? I didn’t hear—”
Good. “No, not really.” He opened the door for her. “Let’s sneak up to the office before we’re seen. We can talk there.” They walked together to the stairs, and about halfway up, he noticed the dampness where one of the dogs had covered her with drool. “Heck, if you want, you can borrow the shower to wash off.”
I shouldn’t have said that. Or thought it. Images of her reaching up to lather her hair, her hands sliding over her body as she covered herself in soap . . . he stubbed his toes on the next step because he couldn’t see anything but her. Don’t let her turn around and find me drooling like one of the damn dogs.
She did, though, and raised her eyebrows. “Sneaking upstairs and a shower? Sounds more like funny business than legitimate business to me.”
She wasn’t helping.
“I only thought . . . but if your hair doesn’t bother you, then never mind.”
She reached up and patted the side of her head, and drew her hand away with a look of disgust. “Gross. I shouldn’t have checked. Point me to a towel and the shower.”
He led her down the tall, opening a closet on the way, exposing an array of neatly folded towels in a rainbow of vibrant colors. “Grab something you like and follow me.”
She grabbed the top towel and shook it out as she followed him through his bedroom. He opened the door and stepped aside, then saw the towel she’d chosen. An oversized bath sheet with a lifelike, nearly life size picture of Cody.
“This day couldn’t get weirder if it tried,” he muttered. “Look for me in the study when you’re ready, and uh . . . if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Rafa.” She patted his cheek as she moved by him. She’d never used his nickname before, but before he could comment on it, the door closed between them and moments later, water blasted against the shower walls.
The urge to turn the handle and see if she’d locked the door almost overwhelmed him. He beat it back. Why would he want to know if the door was open? He’d offered the shower and promised a hands-off relationship even if they shared a bedroom for a few weeks.
What he should want to know was just what would happen if she married him and he couldn’t keep his crazy promise about not wanting her in his shower every night. With the door open.
• • •
Esmeralda stood under the pounding spray and dropped her head, letting the water massage her neck and shoulders. She should turn off the faucet and get out. But she wasn’t ready to sit down next to Rafael Benton and discuss marriage, even a mock marriage. Stripping her clothes off and stepping into his shower seemed the most daring thing she’d done recently. He was sitting in his study waiting for her. Had he been thinking about her, here? Naked? A shiver of desire coursed through her. Probably. When she’d turned the water on, she’d had a delicious image of him in the stall, water sliding over his remarkable body . . . and of his eyes, burning dark fire, focused on her. She smiled as she stepped out and started to towel herself dry. She’d promised herself in Rose Creek not to pursue momentary relationships that were high risk and low emotion. Rafael had taken himself out of the running, and that was smart. She couldn’t see herself sleeping with a man when money was involved. But fantasizing about him? That couldn’t possibly be wrong. And sometimes fantasy was better than the real thing anyway.
He was working at a laptop when she went in, frowning over some numbers. “I’ll be right with you. The Houston office sent me a report they didn’t think looked right.”
She watched, mesmerized, while his fingers flicked over keys and his expression seemed to change constantly in relation to the severity of whatever it was that he was correcting. She knew he had money and hadn’t really thought he’d had to work for it. But clearly he knew what he was doing, and enjoyed it. She smiled to herself, thinking that he attacked this task with the same enthusiasm as he did fishing—probably with better results, too.
He finished and logged off, then stood and stretched and managed to half hide a yawn behind his forearm. “Late night,” he explained, with a wink. “First I got trapped into buying dinner for half the town at Rosita’s. Don’t ever let anyone there talk you into playing that game where they draw straws, because I haven’t won yet, and the loser buys dinner for everyone in the game. Then some redhead singing old country brought the house down around my ears and marches up to demand that I marry her.”
“Really?” Esmeralda stood and closed the distance between them. “What I heard,” she whispered throatily, “is that this smart-mouth little rich boy who thinks he’s all that tried to pick up this naïve karaoke singer . . . ”
“I’ll buy the naïve,” he answered gravely, but laughter tinged his voice anyway, and the dimples were there again. “I mean, this naïve karaoke singer couldn’t even name her horse after the simplest kinky fetish.”
Esme stepped closer and rested a palm on his chest. She could feel the slight tensing, the rhythm of his heart. She’d meant to stop his teasing about Domatrix, but she knew her own fingers quivered slightly in response to his reaction to her touch. And they were going to share living quarters and not touch for how long? She couldn’t give in, though, needed to make him understand that she controlled the relationships she was in.
“You know how you said you don’t always play fair? Well . . . ” Her fingers trailed down slightly, lingering on his taught stomach and stopping there. “I’m not naïve, Rafael. You’d do well to remember that.”
He raised an eyebrow, and lifted a hand to cup her chin. “You’d be surprised at how well I remember things, Esme. Take the first time I saw you, in the mirror—your hair wild, those green eyes.” His voice went still lower. “Your blouse half unbuttoned.”
She closed her eyes. Oh, she remembered. The memory sparked fire low in her belly and made her feel a little shaky. She could reach out, pull him close . . .
“Oh, excuse me.” The reproach cut through the room and the moment, and Esme let her hand drop, but refused to move away from Rafael. Marie was his secretary. And his watchdog, apparently. Let him deal with her.
“Yes, Marie?” The question was bland and professional, and there was some satisfaction that he didn’t immediately move away from her.
“I’m very sorry to interrupt.”
Yeah, right.
“It’s just that Missy from Angel Wings called to ask if you had room for a few more things. She wanted them to go to the Children’s Home in Nuevo Laredo.”
“Call her back and ask if I can swing by later tonight to pick everything up. I’ll find a way to fit everything in.”
“Right.” Marie nodded curtly and left, and Esmeralda glanced at her watch. “Tonight’s going to happen before you know it, and we haven’t talked.” She took advantage of the broken mood to return to her chair and sit down. “You’ve got one last chance to convince me, Benton,” she finished.
“All right.” He walked over and propped a hip on the corner of his desk. “What do I need to tell you?”
“Why you’re doing it. I still can’t wrap my mind around having to marry someone in this day and age for your parents. I mean, couldn’t you just pretend?”
He rubbed his chin, shook his head, and sighed. “I wish it were that easy. If you meet them, I think you’ll understand. I made the mistake of pretending once, Esme. I had a girlfriend in college. Serious, I thought. Paulette.”
“And?”
“I knew how my mom and dad felt even then. I was sure Paulette and I belonged together, even though none of my friends liked her. They all warned me she was with me for money, not love, but I blew them off.”
“What happened?”
“I took her home to meet Cody and the folks. Cody hated her, but I just thought Cody wasn’t ready to see her big brother—her only brother—with someone else. She was used to being the center of attention, and I thought she was jealous of Paulette. But I didn’t want Mom and Dad to think badly of Paulette or lecture her on how marriages create foundations for unbr
eakable families. So I told them we’d married secretly in college. Stopped on the way home from UT to buy her a ring. She didn’t mind playing along at all.”
“But she didn’t love you? Maybe—”
“No. Trust me. She didn’t. I spent several months playing husband to a woman who only wanted more. More money, more attention, more things. She kept going to my mom with complaints about how she’d given up her life for me. She kept asking my dad for money for this and that, saying that I’d told her we needed to be responsible and not take advantage of my parents. I was studying business then and not really working for my dad yet, except during the summer. I didn’t have my own income. I didn’t know she was telling them we were having all kinds of financial problems.”
Esme could remember all the years she’d spent trying to please her parents. Apparently he’d done more than she had to keep their affection; he’d toed the same line that she’d been so intent on crossing all those years ago. There was irony in that, and a little sadness. But she didn’t say anything, and when he didn’t go on, she prodded him, needing to hear how the story ended.
“And after that?”
“Eventually my mom had suspicions—not about the marriage, but about Paulette loving me. I caught Paulette in lies and knew something was wrong. But it came to a head when my mom visited her family out of town. She came back earlier than she expected and found Paulette in their bedroom—in their bed—hoping my father would walk in. She actually thought she could take him away from my mother.”
“But at least you hadn’t really married her.”
He laughed derisively. “You won’t believe this, but apparently it would have been smarter to do that! My folks paid a fortune in legal fees, because I’d passed her off everywhere as my wife. Common law, and she had some experience taking money from jerks.” He shrugged. “That’s when my mom and dad asked me to show them a pre-nuptial agreement before I married again. They said they needed to protect themselves and Cody, but I know they want to protect me. I guess they think I’d fall for that kind of woman again.”
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