California Royale (10 page)

“At least we wouldn’t need to fertilize the greens anymore,” someone noted.

Shea managed a smile. “I can tell you,
amigos
, that the new owner only appreciates tequila, women, and burritos.”

“And we have to teach him to appreciate mineral water, celibacy, and alfalfa sprouts,” Jennie noted wryly. “I think we should give up.”

As everyone chuckled, Shea simply nodded.

The day’s events had left her tired and in a bad mood, so she excused herself soon after dinner and headed back toward the estate. She eased her small, well-kept Honda along Highway 1, the winding coast road. From time to time she glimpsed the Pacific to her left. In the moonlight it churned and broke against craggy cliffs and beachless shores strewn with boulders.

The northern California coast was wild and vibrant, sometimes frightening but always exciting. Shea felt drawn to these wind-torn edges of the continent. She rubbed her forehead wearily and cursed under her breath. She was drawn toward the combination of rugged beauty and peril—the same qualities embodied in Alejandro Araiza.

The car slipped through the night, leaving the ocean view for a few minutes to delve into deep forest. Shea passed a roadside inn tucked into the apron of woodland, and a distracted part of her brain registered the fact that she’d glimpsed a red Ferrari in the crowded parking lot. The inn had a small bar and dance floor, making it a favorite hangout among the locals.

Shea jerked the Honda to a stop, backed up quickly, and drove into the inn’s lot.

Inside, the bar was dark and opulent, with touches of Mendocino’s Victorian style in the ornate woodwork and stained-glass lamps. The jukebox in one corner of the dance floor made a weird modern contrast to the surroundings. The bar’s patrons were a mixture of tourist and local, young and old. At the moment many of them were dancing. On the jukebox Elvis sang “I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You.”

Duke spotted Shea at almost the same second that her intense violet gaze came to rest on him. He felt a jolt of energy surge through him as yearning and anger fought for control of his emotions, but he remained as he was, leaning nonchalantly against the bar. His hand tightened around a glass of beer as he noted that most of the men in the bar turned their heads to look at her, at the sleek symmetry of lithe body and unique face and shoulder-length blond hair.

She wore gray flats, gray leather pants, and a wide-necked blue top that slipped off one golden shoulder.
Come on, Palomino, come on
, he told her silently as
she made her way through the crowd toward him.
Let’s tangle, lady. Let’s stop pretending that we can control this
. She returned his gaze with challenge, sweeping her eyes over his boots, jeans, and white knit pullover. Duke smiled at her undaunted attitude.

She stopped only inches from him.

“I went AWOL from the estate,” he told her bluntly, confirming the accusation in her eyes. “Just for tonight.”

“And you don’t give a damn if you set a bad example.”

“I’ve never tried to set a good example for anyone. Let’s dance.” To
hell with polite chitchat
.

He put his beer aside and quickly took her arm. She tried to pull away, but he resolutely dragged her onto the dance floor.

“Alejandro, this is ridiculous!” She spoke in Spanish, her voice low and full of tension. “Stop! I don’t want to dance. I just stopped to tell you how I—”

“You’re dancing. It’s too late.” He wrapped her in a tight embrace.

The sudden, unexpected closeness of their bodies silenced them both. Shea felt warm currents of sensual response flow through her. Her breasts were snug against his chest, her pelvis tight against his. She grasped his shoulders and the sheathed contours of his muscles moved beneath her hands like bands of flexible steel.

They danced without speaking, communicating their anger and sorrow through the rigid set of their bodies. His hands clasped her lower back with harsh pressure; she knotted her fingers in his thin sweater as if she wanted to shake him. Shea stared straight into his dark eyes, trying very hard and without success to unsettle the strength she saw there. The song ended and another began, Chicago’s achingly sensual “Color My World.” Shea shut her eyes and sagged a little. The song was Duke’s ally.

“What will be, will be,” he reminded her in a troubled and sardonic voice.

“If things were different.”

“Sssh. Live in the moment.”

Her hands knotted tighter in the material of his pullover, and she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. He hardened with arousal, and without thinking Shea pressed her stomach into that hardness. She tilted her head back and looked up into his face. His eyes were half-closed, sensual, compelling, with sadness gleaming in the dark depths. She had never shared such conflict and such need with another human being. A soft groan escaped from her throat.

He bent his head beside hers and brushed her ear with his lips. “You and me, Palomino. What’s between us is all that’s important. Nothing else. I won’t let
any
problem drive you away from me.”

His arms tightened around her and she felt him tremble. That vulnerable response made her bones melt. With another soft cry. Shea burrowed her face into the smooth, dark hollow of his neck and kissed the warm skin beneath his ear.

“Oh, Lord, I don’t believe this,” she murmured in a choked voice. “Thirty minutes ago I was at dinner in Mendocino, warning Jennie Cadishio and some of the other staffers about your intentions, and now here I am …”

“Where you belong. You worry too much.” He drew his head back slightly and brushed his mouth over hers. They clung to each other, swaying in time with the song, and she began to cry very softly.

“If you hurt the estate, you hurt me, Alejandro. I want you to know this.”

“Shea,
querida
, don’t cry,” he said in a husky voice as he stroked her cheek. “Whatever final decision I make, I won’t change things so much. You’ll still be
happy with the estate. You can run it almost as you please. Forget your fears. Love me,
querida
. Love me.”

Shea composed herself quickly and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to fall in love with you,” she said in torment. “We’re too much alike, Alejandro. Both stubborn.”

“I think you’ve already fallen in love with me,” he said very softly. “As I have with you.”

“People don’t fall in love this way. Things like this don’t happen to me. I don’t trust what I’m feeling. I’ve never gotten much love.…”

“And I’ve never offered much love,” he interjected. “So we have to practice. Together. The estate and its problems will take care of themselves.”

They looked at each other, and Shea spoke words that she instantly regretted. “You’re a betting man,” she blurted. “Let’s play poker for the estate.”

His eyes hardened and he arched one brow at her. “You never give up. The estate’s all that matters to you.”

Shea looked at him sadly for several seconds. She’d hurt him without intending to. And it was too late to turn back. “If it belonged to me, then our problems would be solved. I’m not asking for a gift. I’m asking for a chance. You like to take chances.”

His eyes narrowed as he assessed her, and she held his dark gaze calmly. “You’re an amazing woman,” he said in a low, thoughtful tone. “So determined to protect what you love. The estate, that is, not me.”

“Alejandro,” she began, her eyes troubled, but he cut her off tensely.

“And if we played poker for the estate, what would
you
bet of equal value?”

“I don’t know—”

“A month,” he interjected. “A month with me. Doing
whatever I ask you to do, going wherever I ask you to go with me. And sharing my bed, of course.”

Shaking, Shea pushed herself away from him. “That’s a despicable suggestion,” she said in a low, fierce voice. “When I make love to a man, it won’t be because he won me in a poker game.”

“I never expected you to take me up on the suggestion.” He let go of her as she took another step back. “I want both you
and
the estate,” Duke told her bluntly. “And I’m patient.”

Shea gave him another tormented, sorrowful look. “You want too much,” she said hoarsely.

Duke simply shook his head. She turned and made her way toward the exit. His eyes never left her.

The next day after lunch Shea returned to her office to find Glenda waiting in the reception area. “I really
must
speak to you,” she told Shea excitedly, smiling.

“Well, of course.”

They went into the office and Jennie closed the door behind them. Glenda grasped Shea’s hands. “It’s the most amazing thing. I’m a new person.”

Shea pointed to a settee by one window and they went to it. “You’re feeling better?” she asked when they were seated.

“Yes! You know, I was in a horrible state the other day, but after my hives cleared up, I thought, ‘Why, Glenda, you did do an amazing thing by going to Dan’s room. You proved that you could be assertive and survive the consequences.’ ”

When Shea didn’t comment, she added, “It’s just as Duke said. You must try something, he said, and if it goes wrong, then you must try something else. But you must never blame yourself for failing, when you’ve
done your best.” She smiled. “I still feel embarrassed that Dan refused my … uhmmm … advances, but I’m elated that I had the … the guts to give it a shot! Duke was so right!”

Shea leaned back on the settee and shook her head numbly. “You’re sure you feel better about the incident?”

“Why, my dear, I feel better about my whole life!”

After Glenda left the office, still bubbling about how wonderful Duke’s advice had been, Shea sat back down and pressed her hands to her face. “Okay, Somerton,” she said aloud, “you misjudged him. He’s right about Glenda Farrar. What else is he right about?”

She went to the intercom and called Jennie. “Check Duke Araiza’s schedule for the afternoon and tell me where he is, please.”

“He’s gone riding. I sat at his table during lunch. Overheard him tell Chip Greeson that he needed to ‘clear the cactus out of his mind,’ so he was going for a long ride. A man who looks like Duke Araiza shouldn’t be out in the woods alone. A female Bigfoot might carry him off.”

Shea thought firmly,
Not if I carry him off first
. To Jennie she said, “Call the stable and have someone saddle a horse for me.”

Of course, Duke wouldn’t stick to the marked trails, Shea mused with grim humor as she guided her stocky gray gelding up an incline flanked on both sides by deep forest. Being a maverick and an expert horseman, he’d explore territory where other guests would never dare venture. She was startled by how well she knew him, a man she’d met less than two weeks ago. Deep, unshakable intuition told her where he might be found.

A narrow deer trail branched off to the right, winding through the forest like a temptation to leave safety
behind. Shea’s horse followed it until they entered a grove of large redwoods, where the silence deepened and the light grew shadowy. The forest floor was clear of underbrush and the big trees stood like monuments in a well-kept park.

When they reached a boulder beside the trail, Shea turned her horse left and urged him up a hill so steep that she had to lean forward to keep her balance in the saddle. They topped the hill and followed a ridge for several minutes. The forest parted and Shea reined her horse to a stop.

An old gazebo stood in the center of a small, grassy clearing. Spring water trickled from a pipe on the far side and made a slender channel that disappeared into the forest. Grape vines draped the gazebo in festive greenery, and flowers surrounded the little structure.

Duke straightened beside the spring pipe, water seeping unnoticed from his cupped hands, his dark eyes studying her calmly. It was as if he’d expected her.

Leading her horse behind her, Shea walked toward Duke. His shirt lay across the gazebo’s railing; he wore only jeans and boots. His face and torso glistened where he’d recently splashed water on himself. A large black gelding, its gear removed, was tied to a tree at the other side of the clearing. The trail horses always wore halters and tie ropes under their bridles.

“I suspected that you’d find this place,” she told him quietly as she came to a stop in front of him. “Somehow I
knew
.”

“You come here too, then.” His voice was low and husky. “I thought so.” He pointed toward a patch of shrubbery by the steps to the gazebo. “Roses.”

“I planted them.”

“I figured. Did you put the gazebo here?”

“No. I came across it one day when I was exploring. It must have been built by the person who owned the
estate before Sir Nigel. It needed repairs, but I didn’t want anyone else to know about it, so I lugged paint and materials up here and fixed it myself.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “Don’t study it too closely. I’m a terrible carpenter.”

“Looks like the work was lovingly done.” His eyes were troubled, but respect flickered in their depths. “This is your special spot. I’ll be going.”

Shea shook her head slowly. “No. I came to find you. To apologize.”

“Hmmm. Is that so?”

“I’m sorry for saying that you had no delicacy or diplomacy when you gave advice to Glenda Farrar.” She briefly related her conversation with Glenda. “You helped her. I was wrong. What you told her to do was very wise.” Shea looked away, a little embarrassed. “I’ll trust your intuition more, after this.”

He put one hand under her chin and turned her face toward his. “Maybe I’ll be more careful with my advice to our guests,” he promised.

Our guests
. She smiled tentatively. “Maybe the estate would benefit more if I worked with you instead of against you.”

His eyes gleamed at that remark. “Stay,” he urged in a soft voice. Duke nodded at their surroundings. “Enjoy the scenery.”

“All right,” she agreed just as softly. He took her horse and led it over to the side of his. Together they removed the gelding’s gear, then tied the horse’s lead to a sturdy sapling.

“There,” Duke noted. “Now he’ll be able to eat some grass, like my horse. They’ll stay happy and quiet.”