Читать книгу Rock-A-Bye Rancher - Judy Duarte, Judy Duarte - Страница 11

Upon arriving in Guadalajara and going through the port of entry check, Clay called the limousine service he’d lined up—a reputable company that had been recommended by a fellow cattleman who traveled regularly to Mexico on business. Then he, Roger and Daniela, who seemed to list to the side while walking, headed for the sleek, black luxury vehicle. The driver opened the door, and Clay held Daniela’s arm—more in an effort to steady her than to be polite.

She wobbled, then stumbled. “Oops.”

Clay reached for her, just as she lost her balance, and caught her, drawing her back against his chest. His arms rested under the fullness of her breasts, his cheek against her hair. It had been a while since he’d held a woman close. Too long, he realized.

“Sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder and tossed him a silly smile. “My foot slipped, and I almost fell. Thank you for not letting me.”

“My pleasure.”

“I’ll bet it was,” Roger said with a chuckle.

When they all got inside the car, the driver shut the door, then climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

“Daniela,” Clay said. “Tell him we’re going to El Jardin. It’s a hotel not far from here.”

When she didn’t respond, he turned and spotted her slouched in the seat, her eyes closed, her head tilted against the backrest.

“I think she passed out,” Roger said.

Damn. Roger was right. Quite frankly, Clay found it amusing. But if she remembered in the morning, she’d probably be embarrassed.

“Vamos al hotel El Jardin,” Clay told the driver.

“Sí, señor.”

“Your Spanish sounds pretty good,” Roger said.

“I can get by.”

Roger nodded at Daniela. “So why the interpreter?”

“I wanted her along just in case we have any trouble with the law or the authorities. If that happens, we’ll need someone with a better handle on the language than I have.”

“You think so?”

Clay chuffed. “I know so. When I was nineteen, a buddy and I went to El Paso on business. We finished early, then decided to celebrate across the border in Juarez. We had a little too much to drink, I had a run-in with a couple of the locals and ended up in jail for nine scary days. And Rex, my…well, I guess you would call him my old man…spent quite a bundle to get me out. So I don’t want to take any chances on this trip. We’ll be in and out of here before you can count to tres.”

“Do you want me to go with you to the church?” Roger asked.

“No. Wait for us here. Or we’ll drop you off at the airport. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Just have the plane fueled and ready to take off the moment we get back.”

“You don’t expect any problems?” Roger asked.

No. But there could be plenty. “I came prepared for almost everything.” Clay studied the woman seated beside him. Better make that “slumped” beside him. “At least, I thought I did.” A grin tugged at his lips. Damn, she was a cute drunk.

He’d only meant to see her relax, but he shouldn’t have plied her with so many screwdrivers. He’d overdone it. His lovely young attorney was a real jabberbox when she drank too much.

He wondered how much of this day she’d remember in the morning. Not that he’d tell Martin about her family situation. Or her feelings of inadequacy with the kids. Even if Clay was prone to idle chatter—and he wasn’t—who was he to cast stones at people with lousy parenting skills?

He’d raised Trevor for five years, and what did he have to show for it?

A couple of school pictures.

A roomful of books, clothes and things he’d yet to sort through.

An ache in his chest and a gut full of guilt.

Ten minutes later, the limousine pulled into the red-bougainvillea-lined drive of El Jardin, one of the nicest hotels in town. The white stucco building boasted Spanish tile floors, a hand-crafted stone fountain in the lobby and an Old-World charm that was hard to beat.

Roger sat in the car with Daniela, while Clay checked in. And after securing the keys to three separate rooms, he returned to the limo.

“Venga por nosotros mañana,” Clay told the driver, giving him instructions to return at the crack of dawn. “A las seis.”

“Muy bien,” the driver responded. “Hasta mañana, señor.”

As the bellman loaded their luggage and belongings, Clay studied the woman sleeping in the vehicle.

“How do you plan to get her to her room?” Roger asked.

“Throw her over my shoulder, I guess.” Clay shot the pilot a conspiratorial grin.

“No kidding? Like a sack of grain?”

“Come on, Roger. I’ll be a gentleman.” Then Clay stooped and reached into the car. “Hey…Daniela. Wake up.”

She mumbled something and tried to scoot forward, but her efforts weren’t especially effective. With his help, she managed to climb from the car, then swayed on her feet.

Not again, Clay thought as he caught her. But this time he scooped her into his arms.

Her eyes, the color of melted caramel, locked on his, and she grinned. “You’re stronger than I expected.”

“Nah, not really. You’re just a lightweight.” He meant her alcohol-tolerance level as well as her size.

“Think so?” She slipped her arms around his neck. “I haven’t been carried by anyone in a long time.”

“Oh, no? Then it’s my lucky day.” He took her into the lobby and waited for Roger to summon the elevator.

He juggled his lovely load, while handing the keys to Roger. “Take these. I’ve got my hands full.”

As the lighted numbers indicated the elevator was slowly coming down to the lobby level, Daniela nuzzled her head against Clay’s cheek and whispered, “You smell good.”

“Thanks.” So did she.

He savored the faint, powdery scent of her body lotion, a peach blossom scent, and the silk of her hair.

As the elevator doors opened, they stepped inside.

“Which floor?” the pilot asked.

“Third and fourth.”

Roger studied the keys, taking the one that was engraved with 406 and returned the others to Clay. “You two can take the rooms on the third floor. I think it’s best if you stay close to her. She may need a babysitter tonight, and that’s a better job for you.”

“Why?”

“For one reason, it looks like you’ve already got her under control.” Roger chuckled. “And for another, my wife would turn me every which way but loose if she thought I’d put a pretty, drunken woman to bed when I’m supposed to be working.”

When the elevator made the first stop, Clay got out. “I’ll get her settled and wait for the bellman to bring her things.”

Roger nodded, a wry grin pulling at his lips. Then the doors closed, leaving Clay and Daniela alone in the hall.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“To bed.”

Her eyes fluttered, and her gaze met his. “Oh, no, that isn’t a good idea. I don’t think Martin would approve.”

Clay chuckled. Martin was a straight shooter and would undoubtedly come unglued. Even if Clay would let himself succumb to that kind of temptation, he wouldn’t take advantage of her inebriation. He liked his lovers to be willing participants.

“I wouldn’t approve of it, either,” he told her.

“Approve of what?”

That was the point. She wasn’t in any condition to be truly willing.

When he reached room 312, he set her feet on the floor, then unlocked the door and let her inside.

She was walking now, without help. But she immediately kicked off her shoes and removed her jacket. Next she began to unbutton her blouse.

“Hang on there, Daniela.”

“You keep calling me that, but now that we’re friends, you should call me Dani.”

“All right. But why don’t you wait to get undressed until the bellman brings your bag up here?”

“Okay. Good idea.” She plopped down on the bed. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“I have a room down the hall.”

When a knock sounded at the door, Clay let the bellman in, pointed out which suitcase stayed and which things went to the other rooms. Then he gave the young man a generous tip.

If the bellman—Paco, according to the badge on his shirt—wondered where the baby was who went with all the stuff going to Clay’s room, he didn’t ask.

“Gracias,” Paco said, giving a slight bow before leaving.

Clay ought to leave, too, but he wanted to make sure Daniela—Dani—was settled in for the night and safe. “I’ve got a wakeup call scheduled for five o’clock. Are you going to be okay with that?”

She nodded. “I’m an early bird.”

“Yeah. A little mockingbird.” When she scrunched her face, obviously a bit perplexed, he chuckled. “You’re a real jabberbox, Dani.”

She titled her head. “I am? Do you mean that in a bad way?”

“No,” he said. “Why don’t you go into the bathroom and get ready for bed. I’ll turn down the covers for you, okay?”

She slid him a grin. “Thanks, Clay. You’re really a nice guy. A true gentleman.”

Oh, yeah? Well he didn’t feel so nice. Or even remotely like a gentleman.

“Thank you so much,” she said.

For what? Taking her away from kids who probably needed her? Putting her on a plane when she was afraid of flying? Plying her full of alcohol, just to keep her from becoming troublesome?