California Royale (6 page)

“And now you’ve got one of the best-known operations in the country.”

He looked up and grinned. “Proud of it, if I do say so myself.”

“I can understand why you’re proud.”

A look of gentle surprise lit his handsome features. “I know that you grew up a lot different from me.”

“Not really. I can understand.” Shea looked away quickly. She’d grown up under circumstances that were probably rougher than his own. “My mother didn’t have a lot of money. I didn’t have a silver-spoon childhood.”

“What is Shea Somerton all about?” he asked suddenly, his voice soft and low. “Behind those big violet eyes is she happy being such a tame filly?”

Shea looked back at him.
Could he read minds?
“My blood pressure’s terrific, my pulse is great, I can run a seven-minute mile and bench press more than my own weight. I sleep well, I have a lot of energy, and I look forward to going to work in the morning.”

“None of which necessarily says that you’re happy. What about your social life?”

“I have friends on the staff. I have hobbies.” She smiled at him primly. “I play the flute.”

“Sounds like a boring life to me.”

Shea opened her mouth, shut it, and silently admitted that her life
was
boring. Boring, but serene. “I like it,” she said.

“Your shoulders are all hunched up.”

“That’s because you make me cranky and tense. I’m going to get a massage after I leave here.”

“I give
great massages
. Ask any injured horse on my ranch. Lay down on your stomach and let me rub your shoulders.” When she started to protest, he held
up a finger and said coyly, “You’re not
afraid
of me, are you?”

She knew that she’d been offered a challenge, one that she couldn’t refuse. She wasn’t afraid of the man; she was afraid of what the man could do to her ordered life and emotions. That was different, wasn’t it?

“Hmmmph,” she mumbled, then turned to lay on her stomach and snuggle her face into the pillows. As she fiddled with her dress, tucking it tightly around her legs like a shield, Shea told herself that she was accommodating him for the estate’s sake. She had to keep him happy.

But she quivered when he sat down on the edge of the couch, his hard, lean hip and thigh pressed closely against her side. His hands settled on her bare shoulders, brushing aside wisps of hair. He molded his fingers to her skin and began to rub gently, circling, his touch sure and firm and incredible. Shea sighed with involuntary delight.

“Like that, do you?” he asked in a devilish voice.

“I envy your horses.”

He laughed seductively.

She was being hypnotized, Shea thought blankly. She couldn’t move … didn’t want to move.

“I’ve been talking to the staff,” Duke said, his voice almost a whisper. “They’re crazy about you. You do a great job here, they tell me.”

“They’re happy because I’m a soft touch, I stay off people’s backs as long as things run smoothly.”

“It’s more than that. Someone told me about Anna Fitzsimmons.”

“Uhmmm. I just helped her out of a tough spot. I would have helped anyone on the staff that way.”

“You sent her to a drug rehab program at the estate’s expense.”

Shea had her head turned to one side. She raised it
and looked at him warily over her shoulder. “I did. Sir Nigel let me use the budget any way I wanted. When I told him about Anna, he wasn’t upset by my decision. Are you?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Feeling embarrassed by the accusing tone she’d used, Shea frowned as she lowered her head back to the pillow.

“Sssh,
querida
. I’m not a monster. I admire the way you run this place. I admire your compassion for people.” His thumbs drew lines of delectable fire down the center of her spine. “No matter what I think about this resort, I like you.”

“I like you, too,” she mumbled, giving in to a mixture of relaxation and desire that made it difficult to think straight. “Dammit.”

“Now that’s what I want to hear. Don’t be polite to me. Let yourself go. Who knows what kind of wonderful wildness you’re hiding?” He laughed so softly that the sound was barely more than a rumble in his chest. “So you didn’t grow up rich and fancy. I’m glad. Means we have more in common.”

He leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck. The breath caught in Shea’s throat and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out with pleasure. His mouth was damp and hot; he trapped her skin between his teeth and nibbled, then moved to a different spot and did the same to it.

“I could eat you up,” he whispered, his breath tickling her. “I knew that the minute we met. And I think you’d like for me to try.”

Shea realized abruptly that she was trembling and that her whole body felt flushed and limp. “What I’d like,” she whispered back, “and what would be right, are two different things. You and I are at odds over the estate. And you’re my employer.”

He trailed slow kisses down her spine and spoke in between them. “What happens … to Estate Mendocino … has nothing to do … with what fate has planned for you and … me.”

Shea rolled over onto her back, intending to say that he was wrong, that the estate was her pride and joy—no, more than that, it was her sanctuary, the embodiment of the daydreams that had seen her through so many rough years as a youngster. But she gazed up at him and forgot every word. She had seen passion in men’s eyes before but never anything as compelling and tender as the look in his. Shea dimly heard herself make a small, encouraging sound.

He shivered visibly and slipped his arms under her. Cradling her, he never stopped looking into her eyes, and the look tore her reserve apart. Shea cupped her hands around his face and pulled him to her. This time need mingled with sweetness, and his mouth was open and intimate when she lifted hers to it. Their tongues touched and explored. His arms tightened around her, and her fingers sank deeply into his thick black hair.

“We’re not going to make love,” he whispered. “Not tonight, anyway.”

Breathing hard, Shea murmured in a puzzled tone, “You are the most confusing man.”

He dropped kisses across her face and down one side of her neck. “I just want you to stop wondering how far you can let yourself go. I just want you to relax and enjoy being touched by me. Lord, Shea, I love kissing you and touching you. That’s harmless enough, isn’t it,
querida
?”

“Harmless,” she murmured as his mouth seared a trail of kisses across her throat. Oh, this sweet, stubborn man made her want to cry for all the pleasure she’d never known until this moment. Was all the joy
in the world, all the joy she’d waited for, embodied in Duke Araiza? He made it so easy to be wild, and he understood her need for caution even better than she understood it herself.

He slipped his hands up her back and hooked his fingers into the bodice of her strapless sundress. For one long moment he searched her eyes, seeing the uncertainty there but also the desire. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he assured her. “I swear. You’re in control.”

“Harmless,” she murmured again. She was out of control and enjoying every minute of it. “A little more would be … harmless.”

Smiling tenderly, he pulled her bodice down below her breasts. Shea watched, mesmerized by the exquisitely happy look that came over his face as he studied her nakedness.

“I believe in quality, not quantity,” she noted in a droll tone.

Duke heard the tentative, vulnerable undercurrent she tried to hide. His gaze rose to hers. “
Querida
, your quality will never go unnoticed by me.”

Then he ducked his head and began kissing her breasts fervently, growling as he did. His actions were so comical and yet so sensual that Shea laughed even as her body arched upward in response. This man was a connoisseur who made her feel precious.

“Sometime soon I’m going to kiss the rest of your body this way,” he told her huskily. “You’re going to want me the way I want you,” he added just before his lips closed over one pink nipple.

“I want you,” she said, “but there’s so much to consider.”

He continued to drive her delightfully frantic with his skillful attention. His hands stroked her hips and thighs over the sundress, then dipped under her to raise her torso to his mouth once more.

“I’ll give you time,
querida
,” he promised. “But never forget that sometimes a man and a woman look at each other and see the future. That’s what we see.”

He sat up and pulled her with him, holding her tight in his arms as he whispered her name and kissed her forehead. After a moment of indecision she pushed him away gently.

“No more,” Shea begged. “The future frightens me. You’re only going to be here a few days.…”

“And those things don’t matter. What matters is that we’ve got a pull between us, a need to connect, like the sky and the ground during a thunderstorm.”

“Any relationship we’d have would be about that calm.”

“Who needs calm? Why should everything be calm?”

“I like calm.”

“Then let’s try it.” He let go of her with a slowness that showed how reluctant he was. Duke carefully pulled her bodice back into place. “Lay back on the pillows. Close your eyes.”

Shea did as he asked. The pillows were soft and textured under her head, and she could smell the pleasant musk of Duke’s skin as his fingertips began to stroke her forehead. He touched her lightly, drawing his fingers back and forth, the contact like the caress of a tantalizing breeze.

“I think you have the prettiest face,” he said eventually. “Whoops. Close those eyes. Don’t stare at me like a rope-shy mare. There. That’s right. Close ’em. Yeah, smile a little. I like your smile. I’m gonna call you Sophia.”

“Why?” Shea murmured languidly.

“You’re got a mouth like Sophia Loren. Smooth. Ripe.”

“Sounds like a piece of fruit.”

“Sssh. You don’t know how to let a man enjoy you.”

“I’ve been on my own a long time. Independent, self-sufficient, all that.”

“Me too. You don’t have to give up those things to fall in love, do you? Hey! Close those eyes! Close ’em! I did it again. I said too much.”

Her eyes shut but her thoughts racing, Shea asked, “Love?”

“Love at first sight, as far as I’m concerned.”

It was too much. She’d never felt loved in her entire life, and the idea that this remarkable man was sincere caused her to open her eyes wide. Duke cupped her chin in one hand, leaned forward, and kissed her mouth slowly, possessively, before he settled back and smiled at her. “I move fast, I know.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” The worst thing was that. Shea admitted silently, she was thrilled by what he’d said. She’d known Duke Araiza two days, he was here to look over with the estate and perhaps change it, he was a total outlaw, and yet she felt giddy because deep down she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone in her life. Everything was out of control, and her serenity was shot to hell.

“Love is a dangerous word, amigo,” she said in a taut, sad voice. “And one that I’m not very comfortable with.”

“You will be,” he promised.

“Where are the tequila and the candy bars?” she demanded. “I have to go. I … where are they?”

Frowning at her turbulent emotions Duke got up and went to a cabinet in the cottage’s minikitchen. He retrieved a brown paper bag and brought it to her. Shea got up and took it, giving him a formal little nod of thanks as she did.

“I suppose it would do me no good to ask which member of my staff you’re bribing to bring you this stuff,” she told him.

“That’s right. It’s wonderful being the owner. People let me have almost anything I want.”

“I suppose you’re going to get a new supply tomorrow?”

He gave her a challenging, teasing look. “Could be. Guess you’ll have to come back tomorrow night and check for it.”

Shea squinted at him and spoke a few short words in Spanish.

“You must have Latin blood in you,” he countered. “Someday I want to find out where you learned to sass people like that.”

“
Adios
,” she muttered.

He opened the door and Shea walked out without looking back. She felt as if she’d been dipped in hot gold and was only now being allowed to cool.

“Oh,
querida
, by the way,” he called, “I’ll be here for more than a few days. I’ve decided to stay for two weeks.” He’d just made that decision, but he wasn’t going to tell her so. She was beginning to relax, and all he needed was time.

“This dining room gives me heartburn,” Chip Greeson said to Duke as he shuttled a spoonful of whole-grain cereal and soy milk from a china bowl to his mouth. “Doesn’t it remind you of Marie Antoinette’s damned boudoir or something?”

Duke eyed the portly, white-haired game-show host affectionately. “Can’t say,” Duke told him drolly. “Never made acquaintance with that lady’s boudoir.”

“Well, hell, me neither,” Chip answered with a grunt. “But you know what I mean. Satin drapes on the walls, prissy little chairs with bowed legs, lots of flowers. Always feels damned funny to sit here in my jogging suit.”

Duke glanced down at his own outfit, well-worn gray sweatpants and a blue T-shirt with Santa Anita—Race Track of Champions printed on the chest. He grinned at Chip. “Pal, at least
your
suit matches,” he noted. “And it’s purple, which seems to be the ‘in’ color around here.”

“
Mauve
, friend, not
purple
. You’ve got to use Beverly Hills lingo in this joint.
Mauve
. Yeah, all the designers
are pushing mauve this spring, my wife says. She bought this for me. Told me not to come home until it’s baggy.” He laughed. “Good thing she was kidding.”

“Good morning. May Dan and I join you?”

Glenda Farrar, wearing a mauve jogging suit with rhinestone butterflies appliquéd on the padded shoulders, beamed down at Duke. He stood up politely and Chip followed. “Why, certainly,” Duke said. He glanced at Chip, and they shared a secret look of amusement. More
mauve
. Dan Steinberg was a tall, sternly handsome man with gray wings in his hair. Duke noted that his jogging suit was white.
Maybe Steinberg’s a renegade
, he decided wryly.