It's in His Touch (17 page)

“Come on!” the entire family had wailed over the cousin’s failure to report his gayness, hands flailing about in dramatic Italian fashion. “Does he think we’re stupid? Or, God
fa-bid
, narrow-minded?” Everyone protested at once.

Blake sat at the end of the table polishing off the last of his generous slice of tiramisu, Sarge curled on top of his foot, when someone’s cell phone rang.

Mrs. Barbetta answered it. “Kimberly?” She listened into the phone. “Is she sick?”

Blake stiffened. He was a doctor after all, sickness was his business, and it sounded like they might be talking about Angelique.

More listening. “Uh-huh . . . okay, I’ll start a fresh pot now.” She hung up and sighed. Then she started making another pot of coffee by grinding an enormous mound of fresh coffee beans.

“What’s the matter?” Mr. Barbetta asked.

“It’s that silly bucket list those two girls cooked up when Angelique was ill. They went to some bartending class, and Angelique drank a little too much. She’s not sick, just tipsy, and she can’t stop hiccupping. They’re just a few minutes away.”

Oh yeah, this Blake had to see. Ms. Badass Attorney hiccupping like a little girl who’d drank too much soda pop.

“On second thought, I’ll take another piece.” Blake held out his saucer. When Mrs. Barbetta enthusiastically dished up another generous portion, he ate slower, savoring both the flavor and the anticipation of seeing Angelique.

He pictured the latest installment of the dog’s panty capers that were currently tucked into his front pocket.
Excellent
neighbors.

About halfway through the second piece of dessert, a meaty sounding engine rumbled down the long drive and pulled up behind the house.

Blake chewed, sipped. Couldn’t stop a smile from curling onto his lips. He sat back in his chair and waited as Sarge went to the door, wagging his long, taut tail with anticipation.

The door swung open and a red-faced, giggling Angelique entered with Kimberly right behind her. And damn, Angelique looked like a supermodel. Her shimmering black hair was pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck, and large gold hoops dangled from each ear. Tall and all legs, she wore a black miniskirt the size of a Post-it note. A belt hung low on the swell of her hips and draped over a red turtleneck sweater that covered every inch of her torso but clung to each curve so perfectly that it left nothing to his imagination. A pair of high-heeled suede boots that ended just below her knees made his mouth water. She was gorgeous. And hot. And . . .

His brain cramped with desire because all he wanted to do was take her home and make love to her until she yelled his name again.

He broke into a spasmodic choke. Jesus, had he really just thought that with her father sitting in the same room?
Blake’s eyes filled with water from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. And his brain, apparently. Must’ve collected below his belt because, yeah, he really did just think those exact words along with wondering what color panties she had on under that sex kitten outfit. Frankly, he was getting attached to his weekly panty ration.

Thanks again, Sergeant Schnitzel. Great dog
.

Angelique’s eyes landed on him, and she stilled, her expression going stony. As he regained his composure, he stared back at her, letting a hint of a smile settle on his lips. A silent beat passed as they stared at each other.

She hiccupped.

His smile broadened, and her eyes narrowed at him.

“Howdy, Doc,” Kimberly said, slinging her leopard-print purse onto the counter. “How’s it hanging?” She pulled out a chair next to Blake and motioned for Angelique to sit.

Mr. Barbetta looked up from his crossword puzzle. “You’ll have to overlook Kimberly’s crudeness, Blake. She’s from Taos.” He said it like that was explanation enough, and Kimberly rolled her eyes.

Angelique’s expression darkened as her eyes settled on the chair, a look of uncertainty capturing her features.

“Come on, sweetie.” Kimberly crooked a finger at her. “You need to sit, especially in those heels.”

Uh-huh,
thought Blake as his eyes scanned every inch of her.

Finally Angelique acquiesced and sat, looking like she might as well be jumping to her death. Sarge barked at her side for attention, and she gave him a playful scratch behind the ears just before another hiccup erupted from her painted lips.

“I take it the class was a success?” Nona asked.

“You know Angelique,” Kimberly said as she and Mrs. Barbetta prepared more coffee and dessert. “She’s an overachiever.”

When everybody had a full mug and piece of dessert, they all sat around the table. Angelique was rigid, looking everywhere except at Blake.

“It’s Italian roast.” Mrs. Barbetta motioned to her coffee mug.

“What else would it be in this family?” Kimberly said, attacking the sweets in front of her. “At least Angelique didn’t get mistaken for a hooker during this bucket list adventure.”

“What?”
Mr. Barbetta scowled.

“We went to the casino last weekend, number twelve on the bucket list, and some sleazeball propositioned Angelique.” Kimberly scarfed down half of her tiramisu in two bites.

“I’ll kill him,” Mr. Barbetta huffed, and Blake had to agree. He’d like to find the guy and teach him some manners.

“I handled it.” Angelique finally picked up her coffee with both hands and blew on it.

Kimberly snorted. “The douchebag’s probably still walking with a limp.”

“Watch your language, young lady, we have company,” scolded Mrs. Barbetta.

“Yes, ma’am.” Kimberly winked at Nona, who rolled her fly-like eyes behind thick lenses.

Angelique’s eyes squeezed shut with irritation, and frankly, Blake’s head was starting to hurt from the constant volley of barbs. An evening at the Barbettas’ was a cross between
The Godfather
and
Moonstruck
, but he had to admit, he loved every minute of the insanity. It was so . . . family-ish, and he was damned tired of being alone.

“So, Dr. Hollo—”
Hiccup.
Angelique covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers and tried to hide a tiny belch. “—way.”

Dr. Holloway, huh?
He preferred Dr. Tall, Dark, and Hot-some.

Returning the cup to her lips with both elbows resting on the table, she talked into her mug. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Oh, this was going to be good.

He gave her a steady smile. “Just bringing your dog home again. He paid me another thought-provoking visit. He’s quite the scavenger hunter.” His stare lingered over her lips as they parted. She searched his eyes for a hidden meaning, found it, and then she turned an incredibly attractive shade of red. Kind of matched the panties in his pocket. This pair probably covered more real estate than the black thong. Not much, though.

“Who knows why that dog does what he does.” Nona polished off her second helping of tiramisu.

His stare lingered on Angelique’s blushing face, and his tone turned just a bit husky. “A man can only imagine,” Blake said, and Angelique dropped her fork. It clattered against the saucer, and she silenced it by slamming her open palm straight down on top.

“Are you okay, dear?” her mother asked. “I’m sure that gentleman at the casino didn’t mean anything. He was probably trying to pay you a compliment.”

“He asked me how much, Mother,” Angelique said through clenched teeth.

“That’s it.” Mr. Barbetta wadded his napkin and tossed it on the table. “Enough with the bucket list nonsense. It’s trouble waiting to happen.”

“Oh, come on!” Kimberly half shouted. “Security walked us to the car.”

“Actually, I have an idea for your bucket list.” Blake spoke up, and all heads turned to look at him. “It’s perfectly safe, I’ll be there, and you’ll be helping a lot of underprivileged children.”

“Oh, that sounds fantastic.” Mrs. Barbetta clasped her hands under her chin. Kimberly nodded, and Mr. Barbetta mumbled something about it being okay with him as long as a man was around for protection.

Angelique glowered at her father, smoldering like Mount Vesuvius. Just as hot too.

“Tuesday evening after work then.” Blake looked around the table.

“I’ll be in Taos,” said Kimberly.

Mrs. Barbetta smiled. “Angelique can go with you, Blake.”

Angelique stabbed her mother with a sharp glare. “No, I can’t.”

“Sure you can, dear.” Her mom stared back like it was a Sicilian mafia standoff.

Blake held back a satisfied smirk. “Great.” He wiped his mouth and stood. “Thanks for the dessert and coffee, Mrs. B.” He looked at Angelique, her eyes simmering up at him through silky lashes. “I’ll pick you up Tuesday at five.”

C
hapter
F
ourteen

Blake was punctual, Angelique would give him that. When Tuesday evening rolled around, he’d knocked on her door at five o’clock sharp. She could’ve refused to go with him.
Should’ve
refused to be alone with him. But she did owe him for pretending to be her boyfriend, so she’d reluctantly climbed into his double-cab pickup.

“So, where are we going?” she asked as they tooled along Highway 518.

“Beautiful out, isn’t it?” He avoided the question and pointed to the west. “New Mexico is famous for its sunsets, but they’re the best here in the northern part of the state.”

The truck climbed another hill, the last rays of evening sun slinging a palette of colors across the sky. A few clouds feathered through the stains of purple, orange, and pink, casting a lavender hue on the timbered mountains that surrounded them.

Her gaze followed his finger, and a sigh slipped through her lips. “It
is
beautiful up here.”

“Prettier than Albuquerque?”

“You lived there, right? You should know the answer to that.”

He blew out a laugh. “I only lived there during my residency, and I rarely saw anything but the inside of the hospital.”

“So did Sarge really bring you another pair of my panties, or were you lying again?” she asked, shifting her gaze to him instead of the mesmerizing landscape.

He smiled, tossing her a smug glance. “They’re red.”

“That freaking dog,” she said, staring at the road again. “I should’ve left him with Ga—” She snapped her mouth closed, clipping off the rest of Gabriel’s name. Too late. Blake went rigid, and coldness filled the cab of the truck. The silence grew thick, except for the rhythmic beating of the tires against the road.

“Do you still care about him?” Blake finally asked.

Angelique drew in a breath. “Of course I do.”

Blake’s hands tightened around the steering wheel and turned a chalky shade of white.

“He’s a good dog. He just has a few irritating habits.”

Blake relaxed. “I was talking about your ex-fiancé.”

Angelique knew exactly what he meant, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to share that information with Blake. Give him false hope for a future that could never be. But somehow she wanted Blake to know the truth. Didn’t want him to see her as the fool she’d been for getting involved with Gabriel to begin with.

What the hay
. She’d already breached every personal boundary she’d set for herself. She didn’t have much left to lose, except the resort development case, and that wasn’t going to happen.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I ever really did, at least not enough to spend a lifetime with him.” She fingered the ends of her hair.

“Why did you agree to marry him?”

“It’s hard to meet new prospects when you’re so absorbed in a career. I suppose he was convenient, and one of the only men I’ve ever met who wasn’t threatened by me.” She laughed. Not a deep, hearty laugh, but a weak, cheerless laugh that rang hollow.

“I think he’s very threatened by you.” Blake flipped up his sun visor and turned on the headlights as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. “Probably why he cheated.” Blake paused. “And he probably showed up in Red River in person because he wants you back.”

Angelique scoffed. “He’s getting married in a few weeks. She’s young, attractive, and don’t forget pregnant with his baby.”

“He’s also smart enough to know it was a mistake to let you go,” Blake said. “I’m a man. Trust me, I can read other men fairly well.” Blake slowed the truck and flipped up the blinker. The ticktock filled the cab as he turned onto a narrow, winding back road. “He still wants you, and if he can find a way to have you both, he’ll try.”

She wrinkled her nose and shivered at the repulsive thought. “I wouldn’t give him another chance even if the Cheerleader was out of his life for good.”

Blake laughed, deep and loud. “The Cheerleader?”

She couldn’t stop a satisfied grin from spreading across her face. “Kimberly came up with the nickname.” Angelique shrugged. “If the pom-poms fit.”

He smiled, broad and full and contagious in the last hint of daylight. That smile, so authentic and pure that it made Angelique’s insides dance the rumba, her heart thrum, and she smiled so wide it made her cheeks hurt.

“Your description of her proves my point. He still wants the best of both worlds—you
and
his new fiancée. She’s safe and doesn’t challenge his inflated ego, and you’re . . .” He glanced at her, lust blazing to life in his sapphire eyes. “Well, you’re you.”

Her whole body grew hot.

What she ever saw in a man as self-absorbed and inconsiderate as Gabriel was a mystery to her now that she’d met Blake Holloway, who thought of everyone first and put himself dead last.

She studied his profile.

The Cheerleader and Gabriel deserved each other. The only thing they possessed that Angelique envied was the fact that the Cheerleader would feel the kick of an unborn child in her stomach, the sensation of a baby nursing at her breast, and she probably wouldn’t appreciate it the way Angelique would have if that part of her life hadn’t been ripped away.

“As for your Rottweiler personality,” Blake said, “there are other ways to put it to good use, you know.”

The moment of basking in his shower of compliments gone, she glowered at him. Rottweiler? That was barely a step above bottom dweller. “Is there a compliment in there somewhere?” She folded both arms across her chest. “Please tell me there is.”

He chuckled. “Relax. It
is
a compliment.”

A few miles down the isolated road, a community of lights appeared in the distance. He pointed to them. “That’s where we’re going.”

Angelique looked into the distance at the twinkling streetlights. “Where are we?”

“The small reservation where my dad and stepmom live. They’re expecting us.”

Angelique drew in a sharp breath. “You’re taking me to meet your parents?” Her hands went to her hair to smooth it. “You could’ve warned me.” She adjusted the black sweater she’d pulled on with her favorite jeans and fawn-colored UGG boots.

“You look fine.”

He turned left at a sign marking the reservation land and entered a small community of shabby adobe houses, some mere shacks. Maneuvering through the potholed dirt roads, he parked at a building labeled “Infirmary.” An aging Chevy Suburban and a few cars were parked out front, and the windows of the infirmary glowed with fluorescent lighting. Pushing the gearshift into park, he killed the engine.

He leaned over the console and took her hand, caressing the back of it with the pad of his thumb. “You could do amazing things with your skills in an area like this, Angelique. It wouldn’t be very lucrative, but some things are far more rewarding.”

His earthy scent filled her mind . . . and her heart, and at that moment her resolve was ready to crumble like a house of cards in a windstorm.

“I . . . I’m . . .” She swallowed. “I’m damaged goods.” She had no idea why she was spilling her most intimate fears and secrets, but she couldn’t stop. Her throat started to close, and she pulled her hand from his grasp. “I’m no good to anyone. My career is all I have left.” And the only thing she could completely give herself to without risk. Her future health was too uncertain, a relationship too much of a gamble. And even if she found a man who would be loyal, a man like Blake, it wouldn’t be fair to put him through that. “I won’t let anything”—she glanced away—“or anybody take that away from me.”

Blake sighed. Didn’t move. Just studied her through the dark. Waiting. She wasn’t sure for what, but he obviously had the patience of a saint because he didn’t falter. He just sat quietly, looking in her direction. Waiting for . . . something.

“Look,” Angelique said as she wrung her hands. “I owe you. A lot, actually, for playing along with my charade when Gabriel was in town. And for keeping my job a secret so the locals don’t make my time here difficult, and for my dog and the whole ridiculous panty thing, which you still haven’t given back to me, by the way. And . . . and . . .”
And for the best sex I’ve ever had . . . will ever have
. She rubbed her neck with the palm of her hand. “I don’t know why you brought me here.” Actually, she could make an educated guess, and it probably had something to do with playing her heartstrings like a violin. “But let’s just do this thing, and we’ll call it even, okay?”

The evening had grown completely dark, but the smile in Blake’s voice was clear as a sunny day in springtime. “I’ll give you your panties back, but it’s going to take a lot more than an evening drive to a poor village to make us even.”

She turned toward the door and reached for the handle.

“And, Angelique.” His voice had grown husky.

She turned back to him because, really, what woman in her right mind could resist the obvious desire that twined itself in every throaty syllable.

“You’re anything but damaged goods. I’m just not sure what else I can do to prove it to you except this.”

And just like that, he pulled her half across the console, scooped her into his arms, and laid the sweetest, dreamiest kiss on her lips.

Blake led Angelique into the decaying building he and his dad had converted into a clinic two years ago.

Angelique’s parents and Kimberly had unknowingly helped him initiate Operation Prod the Badass Attorney’s Conscience with enviable precision. Or maybe they did know because they seemed to do their best to push him and Angelique together. Even Sarge was making it difficult for Angelique to completely avoid Blake.

He circumvented the rudimentary front desk, Angelique following him into the treatment area.

“Hey, Dad.” Blake headed straight for his father.

His dad—early seventies, tall and slender like Blake, with gray wavy hair—was hunched at an old metal table, organizing vaccine syringes. His aging father turned affectionate eyes on him and stood to give Blake a hug. With a warm embrace, Blake gave him a slap on the back before releasing him.

“Thanks for coming, son. The measles outbreak has gotten worse, and a few cases of whooping cough showed up in a neighboring reservation. I’m trying to nip it before it spreads too far.”

“Anytime, you know that.” Blake stepped aside so Angelique wasn’t blocked from view. “Dad, this is Angelique Barbetta.”

She extended a hand with choppy movements, her steely self-confidence wavering.

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Holloway.”

The fluorescent overhead lights cast a yellow hue over the room, making it look even more dismal than it really was, but Angelique looked stunning. In any lighting, any clothing—even in creepy puppet slippers—or no clothing at all, Blake couldn’t get enough of her. She was like an addiction that had him totally hooked regardless of the consequences.

“Likewise,” said Blake’s quiet, introverted father as he clasped Angelique’s hand between his.

Ludy, his half-Hispanic, half-Native American stepmom, came out of the medical supply room and waved.

“Hey, Ludy.”

A little portly around the middle in her older age, Ludy shuffled over to hug Blake.

She looked at Angelique. “You brought new help this time.” Ludy patted him on the cheek. “Good boy.”

“Ludy, this is Angelique. She’s assisting me tonight.”

“Excellent, I have a station set up for you back here.” She crooked a pudgy finger and led them to the back of the clinic.

Blake let Angelique go first, following close behind. Her intelligent eyes took in the desolate conditions as she scanned every inch of the clinic.

Bingo.
A swell of satisfaction blossomed in his chest.

“The shuttle will be here with the first load of patients in a few minutes,” Ludy said over her shoulder. She led them into a makeshift exam station, one of several since the room was divided by mobile partitions instead of solid walls. A papered examination table sat catty-corner, ready for a new patient. A few chairs lined the walls, along with a desk, and a long table was already set up with boxes of vaccines and various medical supplies.

Blake withdrew his personal prescription pad from a pocket and tossed it on the desk.