Expecting...in Texas (2 page)

With a supreme effort, Savannah looked away from Cruz and toward the bride—her best friend from college. But she could still feel his intense gaze upon her. Color rose to her cheeks, but she kept her eyes riveted to the back of the house, where Vanessa was making her entrance.

Looking like a dapper, proud lion Ryan Fortune solemnly walked down the aisle with his daughter on his arm. But it was Vanessa who immediately stole everyone’s attention, in her beautiful, formfitting long white lace gown with its delicate Spanish lace veil that eloquently trailed after her. The handmade veil represented something borrowed as well as something old. Cruz’s mother Rosita, the Fortune’s housekeeper had worn it herself forty years ago, when she had married Ruben. It had been a gift to her from Vanessa’s own mother, Janine Fortune— Ryan’s late first wife.

Now it was a tradition, Savannah mused. A
lovely tradition. Vanessa would probably pass it on to her daughters when the time came.

And what would she pass on to her child? What sort of tradition could she give to a baby who was starting out life with only one parent, its very identity a secret that couldn’t be shared?

Not now
Savannah ordered herself sternly.

This wasn’t the time for sad thoughts, only happy ones. She wished her hormones would stop swinging back and forth like a pendulum running amok, and just settle down to an even tempo. Pregnancy was making her lose her bearings; she wasn’t accustomed to being like this.

Savannah stepped a little further to the side as Vanessa reached the altar that Cruz and his father had finished erecting only hours earlier. Vanessa gave up her bouquet to Savannah, a look filled with friendship and memories passing between them. Savannah was surprised to discover that Vanessa’s fingertips were icy. She couldn’t picture Vanessa afraid of anything.

Marriage was a big step and even if you were sure, you were still nervous, Savannah suddenly realized.

“Good luck,” she mouthed. Vanessa brightened.

The soft buzzing behind them stopped, and the legion of guests fell silent as Reverend Callaway
began to speak the words that would forever seal Vanessa and Devin to one another as husband and wife.

Savannah felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she listened to the precious vows—promises of a lifetime together. She remembered eyes that had made promises to her.

Promises that completely undid her that passionate, wonderful day, three months ago.

Savannah’s mind had heard and understood the risks of falling for someone like Cruz. But her heart, well, her heart had been a completely different matter.

She tried to protect her heart now by holding back the memories, but they came anyway, like a flood that no barrier could hold at bay….

“Would you like to dance?”

Five simple words, tendered politely, that were destined to seal Savannah’s fate. They had come floating to her, uttered by a voice that had just the smallest whisper of a Mexican accent.

All around her, couples were having a good time, dancing at Bryan Fortune’s christening party. Savannah had always loved music, but had never had the time to learn how to dance. She was content now to stand on the sidelines and listen.

But she never got a chance to refuse Cruz. Even
as she turned around to face him, he was taking her hand in his and leading her to the dance floor that he had helped construct.

A small wave of panic swept through her. She hated looking like a fool. “Wait, I didn’t say yes,” she protested.

Facing her, Cruz was already taking her into his arms. “Oh, but you did. With your eyes.” He fitted her body against his in a provocative move that was smoother than silk. Resting her hand against his chest, he smiled into her eyes. “I always pay very close attention to a lady’s eyes. They tell me things she doesn’t trust her mouth to say.”

Savannah could feel her pulse accelerating and wondered if it was because of the wine she’d had, or the man she was with. For now, it was enough just to savor the thrill.

“Such as?”

The smile that curved his full, sensuous mouth cut clear down to her bones. “Such as— Yes, I would love to dance with you instead of standing here, only swaying to the music.”

He was right, but she felt as if she had to protest. “I was not swaying.”

His eyes laughed at her, and instantly she found herself being charmed. “Oh, but you were. I’ve been watching you for a while now.”

She tried very hard not to be flattered but knew
that the effort was doomed to failure. After all, he could have been with anyone yet, he’d made his way to her without any encouragement on her part. She would have been less than human if some of the pride that her recent broken engagement had shredded so badly hadn’t responded to that.

Even though she could feel electricity humming between them, she tried to keep the moment light. Amusement tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Nothing better to do than to watch a woman keeping time to the music?”

Cruz leaned his head against hers. “Nothing.”

He breathed the word so enticingly that every nerve ending along her body stood up in response. Savannah felt as if she were floating, not just across the floor, but all around. She felt as if everything within her had suddenly come awake again after a very long, troubled sleep.

Awake and aroused.

She struggled very hard to keep things in perspective, but even then she sensed she was doomed to lose.

They danced several dances together—danced and talked. With each new dance, he subtly moved her farther away from the crowd. And closer to him.

“Tell me, why does a lovely woman like you find herself alone at such a lavish party?”

“But I’m not alone.” Feeling suddenly very light-headed, and maybe just a little giddy, she decided to play along and match Cruz, move for move, on a chessboard designed for sensuality and verbal foreplay. “I’m with you.”

“Yes, yes, you are,” he agreed heartily. “Perhaps I should have asked why you
arrived
alone.” His eyes studied her for a fleeting second. “I seem to have touched something hurtful. I’m sorry.”

God, what was the matter with her? A handsome hunk of a man was flirting with her, and she was letting her ex-fiancé Reese Culhane intrude and mess things up. Reese—who could look at her after she’d been with him for so long, after she’d given her heart to him, and say without a qualm that he’d fallen in love with someone else.

She shook her head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s not your fault.”

“Perhaps. But what I said reminded you of the wound, and for that, I apologize.”

She’d come to the christening party to forget about Reese and the years she’d wasted loving him. He wasn’t worth a memory, not now when she realized how very shallow he actually was.

Savannah placed her fingers to Cruz’s lips, silencing his apology. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His hand covering hers, he lightly kissed her
fingertips. “Then we won’t. We’ll enjoy the music.” He looked into her eyes so deeply that she was certain he’d touched her soul. “And the company.”

Looking back later, Savannah knew that was the moment—the precise moment—when she fell completely under Cruz’s spell. That was the moment when she decided to forget everything that troubled her—the heartache that had come along with her on this trip—so she could witness the christening of her best friend Vanessa’s nephew. She made up her mind to live for the moment.

And the moment had been touched by Cruz.

“I’ve completely forgotten to introduce myself. I’m Cruz Perez,” he whispered against her ear. And it was as if his very name was a magical cure to heal a heart that had been so badly misused.

Enjoying the warmth that shimmied up and down her spine, Savannah smiled to herself. “Yes, I know. I asked Vanessa about you. I’m Savannah Clark.”

It wasn’t a very sophisticated thing to admit. Saying it, Savannah fully expected Cruz to look at her like a male peacock whose vanity had been stroked. Instead, there had been an amused, partially obscured look in his eyes when he turned them on her.

As if her admission surprised him.

“You did?”

She nodded her head, excitement picking up pace. “Yes.”

“And what is it she told you?” He cocked his head, waiting for her reply.

Vanessa’s exact words came back to her. And looking at Cruz, Savannah could see why they had more than a kernel of truth to them. The man had incredibly disarming eyes and an equally disarming, wicked mouth.

“That mothers lock up their daughters when you’re around.”

He merely laughed at the warning. The sound wound its way deep into her system.

“Locked doors are really not an obstacle if someone is determined to get out.” His eyes glinted with mischief and sensuality. “Or get in.”

Looking into his eyes, Savannah had to remind herself to breathe. It took longer for her to find her tongue again.

“Vanessa says that you’re the best horse trainer the ranch ever had,” she said, abruptly steering the topic to safer ground. As she heard the words come out of her mouth, Savannah upbraided herself for sounding as stilted as a first-grade composition.

He smiled, looking over toward where Vanessa was standing. “Vanessa is known for her kind tongue.”

Savannah was the first to agree that Vanessa had a huge heart. But she was also honest. “Yes, but she doesn’t exaggerate.” And Vanessa had been very adamant about Cruz’s abilities—just as adamant about them as she’d been in her warning.

The band took a well-deserved break, and Savannah found herself alone with Cruz—farther away from the house than she’d realized.

It was as if the air had suddenly stopped moving around her, freezing everything except the two of them. Her eyes trapped by his, Savannah felt her heart hammering wildly.

As he leaned in to kiss her, she turned her head away at the last possible moment. She felt his lips brush against her hair. It was all she could do to take half a step back. Her mind scrambled for something to say. “Show them to me.”

Cruz blinked. “Excuse me?”

Savannah swallowed. She probably sounded like a complete idiot. “Your horses. I’d like to see your horses.”

Cruz paused, seeming to asses her motivation. “They aren’t mine.” He hesitated. “But maybe they’re more mine than anyone’s.”

He took her hand in his. “You’re not exactly dressed to go tramping through the stables.”

When he looked at her like that, as if he knew
every thought in her head, every feeling in her heart, she found it difficult to think coherently.

“Dresses can be cleaned,” she finally managed to get out.

His eyes washed over her slowly, making her warm, making her tremble inside—without so much as a word. And then, he laced his fingers through hers and turned away from the party.

And toward the stables.

“Well, what do you think?”

Hellfire was easily the most beautiful horse she had ever seen. It seemed fitting that the animal belonged to someone like Cruz. Both proud, magnificently regal—they belonged together. He told her that Vanessa had presented him with Hellfire for his twenty-fifth birthday.

Murmuring words of endearment, Savannah gently ran her hand along the horse’s muzzle, stroking it. “I think she’s beautiful.”

Leaning against the stall, Cruz laughed. “It’s a he, not a she. You can tell the difference by—”

“Yes,” she said quickly, before Cruz felt called upon to go into an anatomy lesson. “I know exactly how to tell the difference. I was raised on a ranch.”

Flustered, the color came rushing to her cheeks as she stepped away. It had been too crowded in
the stall at first for her to clearly view the golden quarter horse. Now that she did, the gender was obvious.

His laughter continued. Savannah could feel her color deepen on her cheeks. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Guiding her away from Hellfire, Cruz drew her toward an empty stall. “Oh, but I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at how impossibly sweet and innocent you seem.”

Stung, she raised her chin in protest. “I’m not innocent.”

His laughter melted into a wide, sensuous smile. “Oh, excuse me. But of course, you’re very worldly.”

Her
parents
were worldly. In an effort to be less like them, she had avoided all their trappings. Maybe, in the long run, that left her a little naive.

She shrugged, looking away. “Well, all right, not very, but—”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, drawing her attention back to him. And the moment. Savannah lost the thread of her protest.

The wide smile was gone, replaced by a smaller, more intense one that curled her toes. With the tip of his finger, he toyed with a wisp of hair that fell against her cheek.

“And as a worldly woman, you wouldn’t be offended if I kissed you?”

Was he asking for permission? Savannah’s mouth went dry.

“If you—what?” she barely whispered.

His hands tightened ever so slightly on her shoulders as he brought her closer to him. “I prefer showing to talking.”

She held her breath. Cruz slipped his hands from her shoulders up along the sides of her throat until his fingers gently framed her face. She felt every movement, vibrated with every heartbeat.

Waiting.

Anticipating.

This was so completely out of character for her that, for a brief moment, Savannah was convinced she was actually standing on the sidelines, watching, just like with the dance.

But she wasn’t on the sidelines; she was in the heart of the dance. In the heart of the seduction as it unfurled around her, bit by heated bit.

She melted the moment his lips touched hers, a snowflake unable to keep its shape when it was blown into the path of a sunbeam.

The moan that escaped her lips was a sound of pure surrender.

He deepened the kiss, assaulting her mouth again and again. Savannah shivered as he tugged at the zipper that ran the length of her back. As he
drew it all the way down, she felt the dress move away from her body.

And at that moment, she knew there was nothing she could refuse him.

Savannah couldn’t get her bearings. Everything melted into everything else. The stable, the horses, the hay within the stall—all faded from her consciousness. All that there was, was Cruz. Cruz—with his thick, dark hair that flowed to almost the tops of his shoulders. Cruz—with his heartstopping smile, his deep brown eyes that undid her, and his hard, sleek body that quickened her pulse. Cruz—who had the ability to reduce her to a mass of molten desire.