California Royale (17 page)

Jason and Sally struck up a strange, bantering friendship that resulted in an even stranger happening: Jason apologized for calling her a fat broad. After that Sally looked at him with growing adoration, and Duke gave in easily when she insisted on walking Jason to the group home.

She and Jason ambled off in the darkness, swinging flashlights and telling each other bad jokes. Duke called the head counselor, explained the situation, and directed him to give Sally a ride back to her cottage. When he got off the phone, he came to the kitchen and pried Shea away from the dishwasher.

“You’re fantastic,” he told her in a husky tone. “You surprised yourself, didn’t you? You thought you could resist the kids.”

“Can’t I be mysterious?” she retorted sharply. “You told me once that you like mystery in a woman.”

Suddenly, now that they were alone, she couldn’t hold her emotions in check any longer. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Shea?” Duke said anxiously.

“Let’s go to bed,” she whispered in a broken voice. “I just want to be quiet and feel your arms around me.”

“But what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk. Please.” She put a finger over his mouth and shook her head. “Please.”

His eyes were troubled, but he nodded and drew her to him for a long hug. He reached out and flicked the wall switch, then picked her up and walked out of the dark kitchen. She continued crying softly even after they were undressed and in bed. Duke held her to his chest and stroked her hair until she finally fell asleep. He felt as if he were hurting her in some way he didn’t understand.

“A toast to the beautiful
señorita
!”

The leader of the mariachi band lifted a mug of beer in salute. His fellow musicians whistled and raised their beers also. Shea, uncomfortable at being the center of attention, nearly blushed. Duke’s friends had scrutinized her all evening, in a pleasant way, as if they’d already concluded that she would one day become Duke’s wife. People crowded into the hacienda’s courtyard and began to applaud. Drake’s arm slid around her shoulders and her chest swelled with tenderness. He sensed her embarrassment and was trying to ease it.

“
Gracias
,” she called cheerfully, nodding to the band members. She glanced up at Duke, and he winked as he raised his glass. Smiling, he bent his head and whispered several intimate words of praise in her ear.

“Your flattery has got to stop,” she whispered back. “In about a hundred years.”

O’Malley, looking very different to Shea because he wore slacks and a sport shirt instead of the grubby work clothes he’d favored in Mendocino, raised a glass and called out, “Here’s to the Mendocino Group Home! A helluva proud project!”

The party crowd whistled and applauded again. As Shea raised her glass she turned her face away from Duke so that he wouldn’t see her pensive expression.
The mariachi band started playing again. A pair of cowboy types with handlebar mustaches swaggered up, and Duke removed his arm from her shoulders to return their handshakes.

Shea took the opportunity to slip through the crowd and head inside. O’Malley caught up with her in Duke’s huge airy kitchen as she traded her sangria for a glass of water.

“I’ve brought me Irish intuition with me tonight,” he said in a terrible fake brogue. “And I think, me girl, that you’re not very happy.”

“O’Malley, you’ve got a lot of blarney, not intuition, and I’m fine.” She patted his arm.

“You look fine, I admit it.” He nodded at the flowers in her upswept hair, her white, off-the-shoulder top, and brightly colored skirt. “Like an ad for the Mexican tourist bureau.”

Shea was proud of the outfit, prouder still that Duke had chosen it for her. She smiled. “It was a present.”

“He adores you, lady. Everyone here has noticed it.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“Is everything all right up in Mendocino? Duke said the first two weeks were rough, but he expects the next group of teenagers to be less trouble.”

“They’re girls, so he thinks that they’ll be easy to manage. I haven’t had the heart to tell him that he’s wrong.”

“Is that why you’re so subdued tonight?”

“Relax, O’Malley, we only got here yesterday, and the trip’s a long one. We have to head back to Mendocino tomorrow, and I’ve got a lot of paperwork waiting for me Monday morning. I’m just preoccupied.”

Jennie wandered into the kitchen and thumped O’Malley on the arm before he could ask anything else. “I want to dance,” she said firmly.

He grinned at her. “Don’t mince words. Tell me exactly
what you want, Red.” He pivoted, grabbed her, and swung her around.

Shea smiled as she watched the two of them. Jennie’s vacation had begun on Friday, and she’d left immediately for O’Malley’s San Diego home. After the party they were heading for a resort on the Mexican coast. As far as Shea could tell, their relationship was passionate and good-natured but hardly serious.

“Vamoose,” she told them.

Shea left the kitchen and went to the deep, sheltering porch that fronted the house, where she stood quietly, letting the night breezes play over her face and bare shoulders. The exterior of the house was white stucco, with a red tin roof, big deep-set doors, thick walls, and massive concrete columns that held up the porch. It was a study in reds and sun-bleached whites.

She loved Duke’s place, with its amazing vista of sky and rolling, harsh land. The ranch was a green island carefully preserved by irrigation; somehow that made it more beautiful. Duke had fought hard to build something special in this dry, demanding section of the state.

When she heard footsteps behind her on the tile floor, she sensed that the long, confident stride could only belong to him. Shea turned to watch him walk toward her in the shadowy light.

“
Querida
?” he asked softly. “Are you feeling all right?” He cupped her face in his hands and tried to see her expression.

Shea kissed him lightly. “I’m having a terrific time. I’m just in a quiet mood.”

That didn’t satisfy him. “You’ve been that way for more than a week.”

“Life has been, well, different lately. With the group home opening, and the kids coming over to the estate …”

“It’ll settle down. Whatever’s bothering you, tell me.”

After a moment she admitted, “I’m not looking forward to the next group of teenagers.”

He took her in his arms. “Palomino, I know they remind you of yourself as a teenager. Don’t let the past hold on to you. You’re a classy, successful woman, not a disadvantaged kid anymore. Let it go.”

“I will, Alejandro. I just need time.” The sounds of a slow, erotic song drifted to them from the courtyard. Shea felt as though the music were winding through her body. She put her head on Duke’s shoulder and swayed slightly. He picked up the cue and moved with her. Their dance was barely more than an excuse to hold each other in the darkness.

Dawn widened the horizon with pink and magenta shadows as Duke guided Outlaw up the ridge. He glanced over at Shea, who had changed from her party outfit to jeans and a pullover sweater. With her face raised to catch the morning breeze, her rein hand relaxed on the horn of her saddle, she seemed at ease on the tall gray mare Luis had selected for her.

“It’s been a while since I stayed up all night,” she said. “This is a beautiful way to end a party.”

“Sí. From loud to quiet. I like this better.” They topped the ridge, and Outlaw stopped automatically. Shea’s mare stopped alongside him.

“Oh, Alejandro.” Shea’s voice held wonder as she gazed at the distant desert. “It reflects the colors from the sunrise. It’s like a dream.”

“I’ve wanted to show you this place for a long time,” he murmured. He dismounted and lifted her dowa from her horse.

“How old-fashioned and gallant,” she whispered tenderly.

She put her arm around his waist, and he drew her close to his side. They stood silently for some time, watching the dawn melt the line between sky and desert.

Shea kissed his cheek and he turned to face her, his eyes intense, searching. He grasped both her hands. They looked at each other without moving.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

Visions of a wonderful future with him flashed through her mind, igniting elemental emotions that she didn’t need to analyze. She had known for a long time that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Alejandro. Shea kissed him slowly, savoring him as if they’d never kissed before. She murmured her answer across his parted lips.

“Someday, sweetheart, of course.”

He smiled quickly, then frowned. “Someday? I meant soon.”

Shea shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to ease the knowledge that she was causing him pain. “No. Not right away.”

He took her shoulders between his big hands as if he might shake her. “Someday is a lousy answer. Do you want to marry me or not?”

“Don’t do this,” she begged softly. “Don’t be angry because I didn’t say yes.”

“But why …?”

“I love you.” She looked at him with pain showing in her eyes. “But I want to come to terms with my past. I’m unhappy, and I don’t want to marry you when I feel this way. I want to know exactly who I am—past, present, and future. You encouraged me to begin this process, Alejandro. I’m glad.”

“I brought this unhappiness into your life,” he said wearily, “with the group home.”

“Yes. But it’s good for me, Alejandro.”

He grimaced as if he, too, were hurting inside. “I’ll
close the road to the estate and keep the teenagers away. I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“No. I’m not going to run from memories anymore.”

The torment in his eyes made him look fierce. “But don’t run from
me
either.”

She caressed his face gently, trying to smooth away the concern and disappointment there. “I couldn’t,” she whispered. “You’re part of my soul.” She put her arms around his neck and held him almost desperately. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you,” she said raggedly. “Be patient, Alejandro. And never forget that I adore you.”

With a muffled groan that conveyed both love and bittersweet frustration, Duke buried his face in her golden hair.

“Hello, ladies. Welcome to Estate Mendocino.”

The looks Shea received for her polite words ranged from sullen to awed. Ten teenage girls stood in the reception area outside her office, accompanied by a female counselor from the group home. All wore shorts and lightweight tops, but uniformity ended there. Several of the girls resembled discount versions of Madonna, a couple were dressed in clothes three sizes too large, and the rest had discovered their own ways to proclaim their individuality.

Shea’s eyes were drawn repeatedly to the most hostile of the group, a chubby brunet who wore a huge Los Angeles Rams football jersey, cutoffs, and unlaced basketball shoes. The girl had ancient green eyes in a face that could have been pretty except for its perpetual scowl. Her hair was shoulder length and shaggy. There was something about the girl’s attitude that made Shea’s insides churn with recognition.

Taking a deep breath, Shea plunged onward. “We’re glad to have you as our guests here at Estate Mendocino, one of the finest health resorts in the world. ”

“Yeah, sure, you’re glad to have us,” muttered the brunet. “And Princess Di wants to invite us to tea too.”

Shea decided it was pointless to continue the niceties. “Save the wisecracks for your first comedy spot on TV. I’m taking you guys to visit the estate’s personaldesign studio. In other words, we’re spending the morning in the beauty parlor. Beauty is only skin deep, but self-image goes straight to the bone. Anybody who wants a make-over can have one. Anybody who doesn’t can go swimming. Any questions?”

“I don’t want a make-over, and I don’t want to go swimming,” the brunet retorted.

“Then read a magazine,” Shea told her.

“I hate to read.”

“Yeah,” someone interjected, “she’s too busy eating to have time to read.”

The brunet turned menacingly toward the source of that comment and gave her some inventive instructions about her anatomy. Shea rubbed her forehead and grimaced. She hadn’t heard this kind of crude repartee in years, and she’d forgotten how creative girls could be with words like those. She waved one hand toward the hallway.

“If you please, ladies. Beauty awaits.”

The brunet sat morosely in a corner, watching the other girls get makeup and hair styling advice from the studio director and her assistants. The brunet was doing her best to give the impression that she wouldn’t mind if the whole world went to hell. Shea’s sympathies were drawn to her aggression and isolation, and she had the uncanny feeling that she’d known this girl all her life. She walked over and sat down beside her.

“I’m fourteen, my name’s Amanda, and no, I don’t want to make friends,” the girl told her bluntly.

“I’m twenty-nine, you already know my name, and I don’t want to make friends either.” Shea suppressed a victorious smile when the girl looked at her askance. “I just want to talk. I’m as bored with this as you are.”

“You? Hell, lady, you look like you spend half your day in joints like this.”

“Wrong, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I don’t need this makeup and hair crap. I like myself the way I am.” Amanda squinted at her angrily. “And I don’t mind being fat, so don’t do a psychology job on me. ‘Poor little defensive fat kid.’ ”

“Great. Let’s blow this joint and go swimming.”

“Don’t try to talk cool, lady. It’s like watching Mary Poppins try to break dance. Unbelievable.”

“I’m not as G-rated as I look. Now what about that swim?”

“I said before that I don’t like to swim.”

“All right, I’ll bite. What do you like to do?”

“Pick up men and drink beer.”

Shea didn’t believe it for a minute. Yesterday she’d watched this girl cringe like a frightened rabbit when Duke introduced himself at the stables. She was afraid of people, men in particular.

“Picking up men and drinking beer sounds interesting,” Shea responded.

“You never picked up a guy in your life. Goldilocks. And I bet you don’t drink anything but champagne.”

“I’ve developed a fondness for Mexican beer. And tequila.”