Читать книгу Marriage, Bravo Style! - Christine Rimmer - Страница 9

At lunch, Rogan sat across from Javier and his daughter. The restaurant was on the River Walk. They had a table out on the patio overlooking the water and the tour boats gliding past.

But the best view was across the table from Rogan. He tried not to stare.

The Cabrera girl was beautiful. Too beautiful. Mess-with-a-man’s-head beautiful.

She had thick coffee-colored hair that fell around her slim shoulders in soft waves, hair shot through with strands of red and gold. It was the kind of hair that made a man’s fingers itch to touch it. And beyond all that amazing hair, she had golden brown eyes and a mouth made for kissing.

And her skin. Soft. Velvety. Golden as the rest of her. Somehow, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off that dimple that appeared at the corner of her mouth when she smiled.

Rogan was not a poetic man. But when he looked at Elena Cabrera, he heard poems in his head.

It was an acute case of lust at first sight.

And lust was fine. Lust was great. With somebody other than Javier Cabrera’s daughter. Somebody who didn’t happen to be Caleb Bravo’s adored half sister.

Rogan could tell just by looking at her that she wasn’t going to be interested in a simple, mutually satisfying hookup. She would want at least the potential for a serious romance. Marriage would have to be a possibility.

And it wasn’t. Not for Rogan. Not for years yet.

He saw freedom in his immediate future and he intended to enjoy it.

Javier said, “I understand that you and Caleb went to school together?”

Rogan smiled at the older man. Time to trot out the family history, clarify the personal connections. “Yes, we did. UT in Austin. He introduced me to Victor Lukovic. Victor had come to the U.S. on a football scholarship. Now he plays football for the Dallas Cowboys. We hung out together for a while, the three of us—Caleb, Victor and me.”

Elena told her father, “Victor and Caleb’s wife, Irina, were raised together in Argovia—it’s a small country in the Balkans, on the Adriatic Sea.”

“Ah,” said Javier. “That’s right. I remember now.” He glanced across at Rogan again. “Caleb gave Irina a job as his housekeeper, so she could get a permit to work in the U.S. They fell in love and married.”

“That’s right.”

“And Victor is a linebacker. They call him the Balkan Bear.”

“The one and only,” Rogan said. “Since he and his family live in the Dallas area, we get together often.”

“So you all three graduated from UT the same year?”

“No. Caleb was a year ahead of Victor and me. And I left in my junior year, so I never did get my degree.”

Javier frowned. “What happened that you didn’t graduate?”

“My parents were killed in a freak boating accident. I went home and took over the family business.”

Javier’s daughter made a soft sound of distress. “Oh, Rogan. How awful for you….”

“How old were you?” Javier asked.

“Twenty-one.”

“So young to be in charge of your own company…”

He shook his head. “The death of my parents, that was bad. They should have had years and years ahead of them. But taking over the business? It was no hardship. It was something I wanted to do. I’d been working with my dad every summer for years before he died. I knew the business. And my plan had always been to go in with my dad eventually, to take over when he was ready to retire.”

“I lost my father when I was twenty,” said Javier. The dark circles under his eyes gave him a haunted look just then. “It’s not a good thing, for a man to lose the steadying hand of a father too soon. It can make him…bitter. Impatient. Angry.”

Rogan met Javier’s eyes without flinching. “I managed. I got through it. I don’t think I’m bitter.”

Javier shook his head and muttered regretfully, “I spoke of myself, not of you.”

“Ah,” Rogan said, and left it at that.

Elena was looking at her father now. “Papi,” she said softly, and touched his shoulder, a consoling sort of touch.

Javier gave her a gentle smile. And then he spoke to Rogan again. “And didn’t you tell me you had brothers and a sister?”

“Cormac and Niall are twenty-four and twenty-three respectively. Cormac works with me. We’re partners. I run the jobs. He runs the finances and acts as my second on-site when necessary. Niall is in law school. My baby sister, Brenda, is eighteen and headed off to college back east in the fall.”

“They’re all doing well, then?”

“Yes, they are.”

“Who cared for them, when you lost your mother and father?”

“I did.”

The older man regarded him for several long seconds. At last, he nodded. “You are an admirable man.”

Rogan didn’t feel all that admirable. “I did what I had to do.”

“No,” said Javier. “You did the right thing at a difficult time. In the end, family is what matters. And you thought of your family when many would have only cared for themselves. I respect that, greatly. I wish…” He looked away.

Elena leaned toward her father. Rogan thought she would say something to the older man—something comforting, maybe. But then she only put her hand on his arm.

Javier patted her hand and gave her another of those gentle smiles.

The waiter came with their food. After that, they spoke mostly of the various projects Javier’s company had in the works and of how both men viewed the transition should they reach an agreement.

Elena didn’t say much through the meal. She sipped the iced tea she’d ordered and laughed a couple of times, once at a wry joke Javier made, once at some remark of Rogan’s. Her laughter was low and rich. It sent a thrill through him, a kind of vibration that brought with it a feeling of promise.

Of anticipation.

As a rule, Rogan was a strictly disciplined man. He’d had to be, after his parents were gone. He made decisions and he stuck by them.

He’d made a decision about Elena the first moment he saw her: hands off. But when she laughed in that way of hers and when that dimple tucked itself in so temptingly beside her full mouth, well, he didn’t feel all that disciplined. He felt he stood on the brink of something heady and fine.

And all he wanted was a little shove, just enough to give himself permission to jump.

“Well?” Mercy said without even a hello. “You didn’t call me back.”

It was after five and Elena was at home, in her office at her condo, grading papers. She tucked the phone against her shoulder and set down her red marker. “You said you had Mommy and Me.”

“That was then. We got home two hours ago. But anyway. What did you think of Rogan Murdoch?”

“I liked him. There’s something…solid about him. And I think Dad likes him a lot.”

“But is Dad actually going to sell to him?”

“Nothing was said either way while I was with them—but yeah, that’s the feeling I get.”

“Wow.” Mercy made a low, disbelieving sound. “Really?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Dad. Retired. It’s hard to imagine.” Mercy’s voice held a note of sadness. “And I can’t quite get my mind around the idea of Cabrera Construction belonging to someone else. I mean, sometimes it seems as though our past, together, as a family…it’s just slowly fading away.”

Elena knew exactly what her sister was talking about. “I hear you. It’s depressing. But still. I can see it happening, see Dad selling, now I’ve met Rogan.”

“So what’s he look like?”

“Big. Irish.” Elena stared into the middle distance, conjuring up the sight of him. “He has these beautiful green eyes. Irish eyes, you know? Like that old song…”

Mercy chuckled. “You really liked him.”

She might play coy with someone else. But never with Mercy. “Yeah. I really did.”

“Did he ask you out?”

I wish. “Oh, come on. I just met him.”

“Well. Did he like you, too?”

If you can’t tell the truth to your own sister, who can you tell it to? Plus, Mercy wouldn’t say a word to anyone else. When it came to romance, the two of them had a longstanding vow to keep each other’s confidences. “I think he did like me. Yeah.”

“Come to dinner at the ranch Sunday,” Mercy said—out of nowhere, it seemed to Elena. By “the ranch,” Mercy meant the Bravo family ranch, Bravo Ridge, which was a little ways out of town going north, on the southern edge of the Hill Country. Once Bravo Ridge had belonged to the Cabreras. But back in the 1950s, James Bravo had won it off Emilio Cabrera in a horse race, setting off decades of feuding between the families.

The feud was over now.

More or less.

And Mercy, Luke and little Lucas lived at Bravo Ridge together. Luke ran the place. And just about every Sunday they had a big family dinner there. Davis Bravo—who was the oldest son of James—and his wife, Aleta, had had nine children. The siblings and their families tried to show up for Sunday dinner at the ranch at least every couple of months or so.

“Now, there’s my idea of a great time,” Elena said wryly. “Easter Sunday dinner with the sperm donor and family.”

“You’ve got to quit calling him that,” Mercy chided.

Elena laughed. “I always call him that. And you always tell me I have to stop.”

“You need to make peace with him.”

“Mercy, I don’t care if you are my big sister. Don’t lecture me, okay?”

“He is your father.”

“Papi is my father. And can we not have this argument again, please?”

“You’ve forgiven Mom,” Mercy prodded reproachfully. Lately, she was getting like a dog with a favorite bone on this subject. She just wouldn’t let go. “And think about it…”

“I’d rather not.”

Mercy kept after her anyway. “Mami did worse than Davis. Davis confessed to Aleta that he’d had an affair. And he never even knew you were his daughter for all those years. Why can’t you forgive him?”

“Mom is…my mother.”

“And Davis is—”

“Uh-uh. Don’t say it again. Just let it be. I mean it. Please?”

Mercy drew in an audible breath and blew it out hard. “All right. I’m done. At least for now—but say you’ll come to Sunday dinner.”

With waning patience, Elena reminded her, “I thought you just said you were done.”

“I am. I’m not asking you to come for Davis’s sake. I’m asking because Caleb and Irina are coming. And Mr. Irish Eyes is staying with them….”

Rogan was staying with Caleb and Irina.

And he would be at the ranch on Sunday.

Elena’s heart rate accelerated and she felt slightly breathless.

Stunned, she put a hand against her chest. How lovely, to simply think of a certain man and get that rising feeling inside.

At last.

She asked, sounding as breathless as she felt, “He’s coming to dinner Sunday? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mercy chuckled. “You didn’t give me a chance. You started right in about Davis. So. You’ll come?”

Elena considered the pros and cons. Getting to see Rogan again versus having to be around the sperm donor. It took her about half a second to make her choice. “Fine. I’m there.”

She’d barely hung up from talking to Mercy when Caleb called.

Her favorite brother asked, “How about dinner tomorrow night, at my house?”

Her heart was getting a workout. Now, it did a happy dance. Rogan was staying with Caleb, so he would most likely be there for dinner tomorrow.

Another chance to see him. She grinned like an idiot. Why shouldn’t she grin? No one was watching. “Love to,” she said.

“You’re so easy,” Caleb teased.

“Well, I do like your wife a lot. And I’m willing to put up with you.”

“I was afraid you maybe had a date with Antonio.”

“Uh, no. Antonio and I have decided to…move on.”

Caleb was a salesman by nature and by trade, the top producer at BravoCorp, the family company. He usually knew just the right thing to say. This situation was no exception. He went directly to the assumption that it must have been Elena who had done the dumping. “Poor guy. I hope you let him down easy.”

“I think he’s going to survive the breakup,” she said wryly.

Gently, her brother asked, “And you?”

“Antonio? Never heard of him.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“So about tomorrow night. Will it just be the three of us?” To her brother, she was giving nothing away. Not at this point, anyway. She would trust Caleb with her life. But this attraction to Rogan, well, it was too new to go broadcasting it to the whole family.

Caleb told her what she’d been longing to hear. “Rogan will be here, too. He’s staying with us. You know, your dad’s potential buyer? He says he met you today.”

“Oh, yes. Rogan,” she replied in a purposely neutral tone. Did he say anything about me? she longed to ask. But she didn’t. “I liked him.”

“He liked you, too. He says you’re charming. And gorgeous.”

Her pulse sped up again and her heart seemed to expand inside her chest, a sensation that somehow contained equal parts pain and pleasure. “Those Irish. Always with the flattery.”

“Well, you are charming and gorgeous.”

“I love absolute loyalty in a brother.”

“I told him he was allowed to ask you out. But he’d better treat you right or he’d be dealing with me.”

She groaned. “Oh, God. Caleb, you didn’t.”

He laughed. “Okay, I didn’t. I only thought it.”

She let out a relieved breath. “All right,” she muttered grudgingly. “You get to live. What time tomorrow night?”

“Seven?”

“See you then.” She hung up in a very cool and collected manner.

And then she let out a whoop of excitement, jumped to her feet and set off at a wild run around the condo, from her office, to her bedroom, back down the hall, around the living room, dining room and kitchen area. She stopped at the counter by the sink, got down a glass, went to the water cooler and poured herself a drink, which she drained in one gulp, plunking the glass down hard when it was empty.

“Yes!” she shouted, loud and proud, not even caring that she was acting more like a preteen at a Jonas Brothers concert than a grown woman with a real job and a home of her own.

Rogan Murdoch thought she was charming and gorgeous.

And she would be seeing him tomorrow night—and Sunday, as well.

But first, there was lunch with her mother Saturday afternoon.

A year ago, Luz Cabrera had sold the beautiful Spanish-style house that Javier had built for the family. She’d moved into a smaller place near the office where she worked as a Realtor.

“What do I need with all this space?” she’d asked when she’d put the family home on the market. “It echoes of the life we knew, all of us, our family, together. That life is over. It’s time I moved on.”

They had lunch at the new house, out on the patio in the shade of a Mexican live oak. The house backed onto a golf course, so the view was of rolling greens and winding golf paths.

After the meal, they sat for a while, drinking iced tea, enjoying the welcome breeze.

Luz gathered her long dark hair off her neck and twisted it into a knot at the back of her head with a sigh. Elena studied her profile. Luz was fifty-two but looked younger. The last few years of heartache had aged her, though. The line of her jaw wasn’t as firm as it had been. Her hair was still dark and vibrant as ever. But then, she had a great hairdresser who was genius with color.

Luz said, “I talked to your father last night. He wanted to tell me that he plans to sell the business to Caleb’s friend.”

Elena reached across the table and touched her mother’s slim hand. “Does that upset you?”

Luz’s dark brows drew together as she considered the question. Then she shook her head. “It’s like the house, I think. Time to let it go.” She eased her hand from under Elena’s and clasped Elena’s fingers. A quick, warm squeeze. “I think there is peace between us, at last.”

“You and Dad?”

“Uh-huh. Did you know he went to counseling?”

That was a surprise. “No. He told you that?”

Luz nodded. “He said he had been wondering who he really was in all the trouble.”

Elena didn’t get that. “What do you mean, who he was?”

“A wronged husband—or a dangerous and violent man.”

Elena jumped to her dad’s defense. “Papi’s not dangerous. And he’s kind, a good man. You know he is.”

“M’hija.” Her mother’s voice was so gentle. “He hit me the day he found out. Only once, but hard enough to draw blood.”

“I remember.” At the time, she’d been so furious with her mother, she hadn’t really stopped to consider that her father had actually struck her mom. She hadn’t let herself admit how wrong that was. “He shouldn’t have done that,” she muttered, feeling a little ashamed of herself. And then she bit her lip and said no more. Anything else she said right then would probably be out of line.

Luz continued, “And he went after Davis with a gun. Remember that?”

Javier had fired that gun, too. The shot had grazed Aleta Bravo’s arm when she jumped in front of her husband to protect him.

Elena bit her lip again. “Aleta forgave Dad for that. She understood what he was going through.”

“But, m’hija, he needed to forgive himself. He needed to…understand himself better. He needed to face the wrongs he’d done, to make amends, so he could move on. We all need to do that when we hurt other people.”

Elena wasn’t sure what she felt at that moment. Anger, certainly. Yes, her father had done wrong. But her mom was no innocent in the whole thing.

Plus, Elena had become accustomed to the idea that her parents were finished. Yet now, the way her mother was talking, she was starting to wonder if there might be hope for their marriage, after all.

It had hurt so much to let hope go. She didn’t know if she could bear to start hoping again. It was very confusing.

She asked, “So has Dad made amends to you, then?”

“Yes. He apologized to me, for hitting me. And for the more distant past, for the way he drove me away when we were young, for the part he played all those years ago in our early troubles. I accepted his apology. And also he’s been to see Aleta, to make amends with her face-to-face. And with Davis, too.”

Elena saw red. “Dad owes nothing to that man.”

“Javier felt that he did. I agree with him. And your father told me that Davis had a few amends of his own to make, that the two of them had a good talk.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?”

“I’m telling you. Now. And if you ask your father about it, I know he will be relieved to have it out in the open with you.”

“And what about you, Mami?” Elena couldn’t hold the question back. “Don’t you need to make amends?”

Luz leaned back in the patio chair and rested her elbows on the chair arms, linking her hands across her lap. Her engagement diamond caught the light and glittered in a ray of sun that had slipped through the dappled shade of the oak that sheltered them. Luz had never taken off her rings.

“Yes,” Luz said. “I need to make amends. Very much so. And I have done that, to the best of my ability. I have apologized to your father, for my betrayal of our marriage and our love, and for my many lies. I have also done my best to make amends to Aleta Bravo. I have prayed and taken confession and done the penance Father Joseph assigned me. And now, I live every day honestly. I tell the truth and I am straightforward with those I love.” Luz spoke from the heart. Elena started to feel a little guilty for getting on her. But then Luz added, “And you’re angry with me. Mercy said you would be.”

“Mercy?” Fresh irritation made her voice sharp. “You already told her about all this?”

“Yes. She called this morning. We talked about it.”

“Suddenly I feel like the baby of the family again. Always the last to know about everything that happens.”

“Elena, por favor. I’ve told you both. And I only told your sister first because I talked to her before I talked to you.”

Shamed, Elena dropped her gaze. “Sorry. I guess I’m kind of acting like the baby of the family….”

“It’s okay,” her mother said. “I understand. None of this is easy. There is so much pain. It’s a natural thing to want to lash out when we are hurting.”

Elena lifted her head, met her mother’s loving eyes, and asked the big question. “So…does this mean you and Dad are considering getting back together?”

Slowly, Luz shook her head. “No. That part of our marriage is over. We live apart now and we are both accustomed to it. We both have a kind of peace now, of contentment.”

A moment ago, Elena had been angry at the thought that they might reunite. Now, she ached at the idea that they never would. “What kind of marriage is it, if you don’t even get to be together? Aleta and Davis worked it out, even though she moved out of their house and he had to crawl on his belly like the snake he is to get her back.”

“Davis Bravo is not a snake,” her mother said sternly.

Elena folded her arms across her chest, muttered, “Tell that to someone who cares,” and knew that she was acting like a baby again.

Her mother made a low, sympathetic sound. And then lectured Elena some more. “Davis has made mistakes, yes. Big ones. As we all have. And now, what we want, all of us, is peace in the family. Because we are all one family now, united by you, m’hija. And by Mercy and Luke and Lucas and the new baby that’s coming. United by your close bond with Caleb, your brother. Una familia. The Cabreras and the Bravos. You know that we are.”

Elena did know. But they—her sister, her mother, all of them—asked too much of her. “Do not tell me that I have to make peace with Davis Bravo. I get enough of that from Mercy.”

Her mother reached out again. She got hold of Elena’s right wrist and tugged. Elena gave in and relaxed a little, letting her arms fall away from her chest, allowing her mother to take her hand.

Luz said, “I am not telling you what to do. You have to make your own decisions about your relationship with Davis.”

Gently now, Elena pulled her hand free. She picked up her glass, sipped her tea. “There is no relationship between me and Davis.”

Luz sank back to her own chair again. She stared at the tall glass of tea in front of her, but didn’t reach for it. “I have told you what I needed to tell you. Why don’t we speak of something more pleasant now?”

More pleasant. Like Rogan Murdoch.

But no. She wasn’t ready to talk about him with anyone but her sister. And anyway, what was there to say? About that guy who’s buying dad’s company? He told Caleb he thought I was charming and gorgeous. I really wish he would ask me out.

Uh-uh. Either he would or he wouldn’t. If it ever went anywhere with him, then she would have something to say to her mother about it.

She put on a smile. “I’m going to Bravo Ridge for Easter dinner tomorrow. Mercy talked me into it. How about you?” Mercy always invited their mom to the Bravo family dinners—and she invited their dad, too, though Javier never went.

“I don’t think so,” Luz said. Her eyes were full of memories.

When Elena and Mercy were young, Easter was a big day for the family. They all went to mass and took communion together, early in the morning. And, then, at home, when Elena was small, she hunted Easter eggs like any other American child. But by the time she was eight or nine, egg hunts were for babies. By then, Mercy was part of the family, too.

And in those years, they would often drive down to Corpus Christi and spend the day at the beach. Always, they had wonderful food. Avocado soup. Roast lamb to celebrate the end of Lent. Agua de melón. And capirotada, Mexican bread pudding, for dessert.

They were all together then, a happy family. And that was what mattered, that was what made Easter such a special day.

“I wish you would come, Mom,” Elena said.

“Not this year.”

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea, watching a golf cart roll along a winding trail until it disappeared in a stand of trees.

Her mother spoke again. “Forgiveness, m’hija. Sometimes I think it is the secret to a full life. We forgive and we let go. And then we can move on, we are ready to accept all the good that life still has to offer us, because we’ve made an open space in our hearts where bitterness and anger and our own secret guilts once lived.”

“Mom. I promise you. I have no secret guilts.”

“But anger and bitterness, eh? Maybe a little of those?”

“I thought we were moving on to more pleasant subjects, remember?”

“Ah, but to me forgiveness is pleasant. Better than pleasant. Forgiveness is the way to happiness.”

Anticipation.

There was no other word for what Rogan was feeling.

He’d been looking forward to seeing Elena again since he’d sat across from her at lunch the day before. It was not a feeling he should have allowed himself, given that he’d already decided he would not ask her out.

She arrived at seven. He and Caleb were in the kitchen with Irina, keeping her company while she finished getting the meal ready. The doorbell rang and Rogan had to hold himself in check against the powerful urge to jump from the counter stool and run to get it.

“That’s Elena.” Caleb left them and returned a minute later, laughing at something his sister had said, carrying a bag of chips and a covered bowl.

Elena was right behind him. She looked as beautiful as she had the day before. Maybe more so. She wore a white strapless sundress printed with vivid red, pink and purple flowers. Her hair was down, thick and shining. And the velvet skin of her shoulders made him ache to touch her.

He wouldn’t, of course. Not ever.

But hey. A man could dream.

“Hi,” she said, sending him a bright smile that made weird things happen in the pit of his stomach. “Hi, Elena.”

She set the bottle of wine she’d brought on the counter and went over to greet Irina with a quick kiss on the cheek. “What are we having?”

“Cedar plank salmon, sweet and sour rice and roasted asparagus,” Irina said in her throaty, slightly accented English.

“Yum. I brought white bean dip and olives for an appetizer.”

“Perfect,” Irina declared.

Elena took the bowl from Caleb and unwrapped it. It was the divided kind—olives on one side, dip on the other. Irina handed her a big basket for the chips.

For while, they all just stood around, chatting. Again, like yesterday at the restaurant, Rogan found it hard not to stare at Elena. That dimple at the corner of her mouth enchanted him. And he loved the husky sound of her laughter.

Eventually, they sat down to eat. Caleb got the salmon from out on the grill and opened the white wine Elena had brought. He poured for all but Irina, who was expecting their first baby in August. The food was great, the conversation easy.

Elena talked a little about her job teaching social studies to eighth graders, and Irina bragged about some deal Caleb had just made for BravoCorp, selling imported wine to a chain of high-priced restaurants.

Rogan talked about Murdoch Homes and his plans for expansion. Nobody mentioned Cabrera Construction, or the negotiations Rogan and Javier were deep into. That was fine with Rogan. It wasn’t a done deal. Not yet, anyway.

The evening went by much too quickly. They finished the meal and sipped the last of the wine. Irina served dessert and coffee outside on the patio, poolside.

At ten, Elena got up to go.

Too soon.

Magically, Rogan found himself on his feet when she rose from her chair. Which was fine. The polite thing to do. After that, he meant to tell her it was nice seeing her again and then to sit back down.

But then he heard himself saying, “I’ll walk you out….”

Caleb sent him a knowing look, which Rogan ignored. He turned and followed Elena inside. They went through the kitchen and on out to the front foyer.

It was a great place to be, following Elena. He watched the gentle swaying of her hips beneath the full skirt of her dress.

She turned to him at the door. He looked down into those bronze-colored eyes of hers and felt dazed and confused and way too eager.

To kiss her.

To stay up all night talking with her. He didn’t care in the least about what.

She said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m guessing—at the Bravo family ranch?”

He could get lost in the sound of her voice, in the tempting way her mouth moved when she talked.

“Rogan?”

He realized he’d been staring. And he hadn’t answered her question. “Right. Easter dinner. I’ll be there.”

A smile played at the corner of her red lips and that dimple teased him, appearing, then vanishing. Then appearing again. “If you buy my father’s business…” She let the sentence trail off.

He was lost in her eyes. And this close, the scent of her was driving him crazy. She smelled like a tropical garden. Jasmine and sandalwood. Gardenias. Orange blossoms.

Somehow, impossibly, he remembered to speak. “If I buy your dad’s business, then what?”

“Will you be moving to San Antonio?”

He longed to nod, to lie outright, to tell her he was, yes. Absolutely. If she was here, he wanted to be here, too.

Absurd. Pointless. Over the top. Completely unlike him.

“No,” he said. “I’ll stay at the home office. One of my top contractors is willing to make the move, though. His name’s Ellis Pierce. He’s a good man, with a wife and two little girls.”

“A wife and two little girls,” she echoed. Her eyes shimmered with sudden tears. “Just like my dad, way back when.”

“Right. I hadn’t realized.” And the last thing he’d meant to do was to make her cry. “Hey…”

She blinked, put on a tight smile and hitched her chin a fraction higher. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. What did I say?”

“It’s not you, Rogan. Really.” She glanced down, dark lashes like fans of silk against her cheeks. When she looked at him again, she had her tears under control. “Just sentimental, I guess. It’s hard to picture my dad retired. Next thing you know, he’ll be buying a Winnebago, heading for Florida or Arizona, where all the retired people go.”

He wanted to comfort her. It was like a physical need in him—to pull her close to him, to guide her shining head down to rest on his shoulder.

But of course, he did no such thing. “Would that be so bad, your dad moving to Florida?”

“No. Not at all. As long as he’s happy there—and what’s that they say? ‘The only constant in life is change.’”

“Ain’t that the truth—but at this point, I feel obliged to add that nothing’s settled yet. Your dad and I are still hammering out a deal.”

“Ah. I see. The good man with the wife and the two little girls will be taking over if you and my dad work things out.”

“Exactly. If…”

“You’re being way too cautious, I think. I have a really strong feeling it’s all going to work out.” She gazed up at him with open invitation in those golden-brown eyes, clearly talking about more than his negotiations with Cabrera Construction. It was a very tempting offer. He ached to take her up on it.

Talk about playing with fire. He was smarter than that—or so he kept trying to tell himself.

She said, “You mentioned that your brother was your business manager?”

“Cormac. Yes.” He braced a hand on the doorframe a few inches from her head, much too close to all that glorious gold-shot dark hair.

“Will Cormac be coming down here soon—I mean, if the negotiations continue?”

“Yes, he will. Next week.”

“And you’ll both stay here, at Caleb’s?”

“No, we have a suite reserved at the Hilton—the one on the River Walk? Caleb and Irina have been great, but I don’t want to take advantage of them.”

“They have plenty of room. I think they’d love to have you and Cormac stay with them.”

“That’s what they said, too. But no. The Hilton will be perfect.”

“So…the negotiations are moving right along, then?”

“Absolutely.”

She slanted him a knowing look. “But you still won’t admit that it’s a done deal.”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll look forward to meeting Cormac.” She smiled—and there it was, that tempting dimple teasing him again, right there beside her way-too-kissable mouth.

It was his turn to say something. Anything. It didn’t really matter what the words were, he realized. Only that he spoke. And she answered. “I like your dad.”

“He likes you.” Her gaze slid to his mouth—and then swiftly lifted again so she was looking in his eyes.

A kiss, he was thinking. Just one. How wrong could it be to steal one little kiss?

True, it couldn’t go anywhere between them. But not everything had to go somewhere. It was such a simple, perfect moment. A beautiful woman, a whispered good-night.

A kiss. One kiss…

He went for it, stepping in a little closer, lowering his head.

She lifted hers.

Their lips met. Electric and tender.

He wanted to linger, to take her by the shoulders, pull her body close to his, to wrap his arms good and tight around her, to taste her more deeply.

To take his sweet time about it.

But he didn’t. That wouldn’t be right.

He lifted his head, whispered her name. “Elena…” It tasted so good in his mouth, as good as her lips had felt pressed to his, as good as the scent of her, sultry and sweet.

“Good night, Rogan.” She slipped away from him, opened the door and went out.

He followed, as if pulled by invisible strings, and stood on the porch to watch her run down the walk away from him, the high heels of her red sandals tapping briskly with each step. At her car, she circled around to the driver’s door, pausing when she got there to give him a last wave.

He lifted his hand, returned the gesture.

And then she was ducking inside. The engine started up. The car pulled away from the curb and rolled off down the street.

Rogan stood there on the front step after she was gone, thinking that he shouldn’t have kissed her.

Wishing he had kissed her again.