His Temporary Wife (3 page)

But he’d been stupid, telling Angela that he’d kill Tía. He didn’t mean it; he would
never hurt a woman. Probably not anyone else, either; his parents had brought him
up to be persistent, but not ruthless. Protective, but not violent. He smiled, seeing
images of his adoptive mother and father in his mind. Good people, enormously successful.
A little stubborn and set in their ways. Incredibly loved.

And he’d let them down. Irritated, he shoved himself from the chair and paced across
the small, polished wood floor, his stomach churning. From up here, he could still
see her life-size photo on the far wall of the club, a single candle burning there
always. Cody Benton. The baby sister he’d adored. The woman he’d let die. Bile rose
in his throat, and he swallowed hard. He’d had help letting her destroy herself. Tía
had been chief among all those “friends,” with their endless demands, pleasures, and
false smiles. For every move he’d made to increase the security around his sister,
Tía had managed to help Cody circumvent it.

He wouldn’t hurt Tía, though, and the fact that Angela trusted him here in her boss’s
sanctuary proved that she knew he wasn’t a threat. At least not physically. If he
could cause the collapse of this damn bar around Tina Cervantes’s ears, he would.
She deserved to lose something; his sister had lost everything. And the destruction
had started down on that stage tucked into a front corner of the bar.

He swallowed hard, trying to chase the sour taste out of his mouth. He’d been a fool
to involve her in his desperate plan to provide stability and safety for Cody’s now
motherless son. She couldn’t be trusted not to talk, though she’d sworn she could.
He’d thought he could buy her silence, if not loyalty, but he wasn’t sure he even
had that. If she talked, his parents would find out and be crushed. And he’d endanger
the only solution he’d come up with to assure his nephew’s future.

His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out. The wallpaper showed a smiling little boy,
chubby-cheeked with wheat colored hair and blinding blue eyes. His nephew, Justin.

The number belonged to his friend and former partner, Marc Dryer. Marc still worked
out of Rafael’s father’s Dallas office, chasing around the globe to investigate problems
within the oil company, assess threats, evaluate investments—the go-to man. A job
they’d done together, before Cody launched a music career.

Wearily he clicked the phone on.

“Marc, what’s up?”

“Nothing, man. Just called to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m good.”

“Hmph. Look, you’re punishing yourself. Tell your dad you want to come back to Houston.
I may be flying out to the Middle East next month. I’ll need you with me.”

“I have some loose ends to tie up here, Marc.”

They talked briefly, and then Marc said into a sudden lull, “So are you still going
to do it?”

“Yes, and don’t lecture me. I am.”

“Man, you’ve got rocks in your head. Cotton brains. A …”

“Save it,” Rafael snapped. “I’d do anything to make up for what I couldn’t do for
Cody, and you know it. Do you think I don’t know how I let Mom and Dad down? And my
nephew doesn’t have a mother. How do I fix that?”

Marc didn’t answer at first, but then he sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“But dude … I’m almost sure hiring a wife won’t work.”

When the front door of the club swung open at four and a petite woman bustled in,
Esmeralda straightened in her chair and peered at the newcomer doubtfully. If this
was her aunt, her memories were faulty. The high-piled raven hair glinted under the
soft lighting, and elaborate gold earrings fell almost to her shoulders. The woman
wore a long, flowered skirt that stopped high enough off the ground to show delicate
feet accented by the lace up heels. Esmeralda didn’t remember her aunt being so petite.
Even in heels, this woman was short.

The tight, low-cut top exposing a wealth of cleavage … well, she wouldn’t have noticed
that about her aunt on those brief moments she’d visited with her as a child, would
she? When she looked carefully at Tía’s face, she knew. Tía bore little resemblance
to her sister Adriana; the eyes and the nose were completely different. The broad
lips, though … their mouths would have been identical if Adriana had smiled more.
In Esme’s memories, Tía always smiled. Now, though, the woman who had come in looked
serious and unhappy, and the sullen mouth clearly identified her.

Drawing a deep breath, Esmeralda rose to her feet and walked towards her aunt. “Tía
Tina—TT!” The double initials were a nickname that Esme and her brother used for their
aunt, apparently because at some point Beto had been unable to pronounce his aunt’s
formal name.

Tina stopped, utter shock freezing her face. Seconds ticked past and Esmeralda felt
nerves clench in her stomach. Suddenly the faint aroma of the menudo oozing in from
the kitchen made her nauseous.

Then Tina crossed over to her, and placed hands on her arms, then her face. “Esme?
Esmeralda Salinas, is this really you … all …. all ….” She wrapped Esmeralda in an
enormous hug. “Where’s everyone? Did Angel feed you? Has anyone given you something
to drink? Angel!”

“I’m fine,” Esmeralda assured her. “It’s so good to see you, TT.”

“It’s … I can’t believe you’re here, girl! And looking like you just stepped out of
one of them fashion magazines!” She pinched Esme’s cheek with silver nails that sparkled.
“And I don’t mean beautiful, I mean you look starved!” She chortled a little. “Well,
okay, you’re gorgeous, too, but you seriously need to eat!”

“I’m fine,” Esme repeated. “I had a late lunch.”
And menudo would make me puke right now.

Angel hurried in just then. “
¿Me hablaste?”

Annoyance came and went in Tina’s face. “You know I called you, and you know I don’t
want you to use Spanish unless there’s a reason to. Did you feed my niece?”

Color tinted Angel’s cheeks. “She didn’t want anything, Tía. I did ask.”

“Please don’t scold her, TT. She insisted, but as I told you, I’d just eaten. I really
didn’t want food.”

“Okay. And darling, I have a little favor to ask.” Tina turned to Esme. “Please, please,
don’t call me TT. Or Tina.” She smiled, not quite enough to take the emphasis off
her order. “Bad for business. No one calls me anything but Tía.”

“Well, I guess I can do that. I mean, you really are my aunt.” Esmeralda grinned.

“Exactly. And all my best clients are family, too,” her aunt said. “Make them feel
like family and they’ll come here every time. Angel, where’s Tom?”

“In the back, checking stock. We’ve been watching. If anyone comes in, he’ll be right
out.”

“Good. Can’t have a bar without a bartender, can we? Go tell him it’s time for him
to be out here, Angel.” Tía turned back to Esmeralda. “So, darling, exactly what brought
you to the exciting town of Truth, Texas?”

“Two things,” Esmeralda admitted, watching her aunt’s face carefully. She reached
out and caught one of Tía’s hands, squeezing it. “I wanted to see you.” She paused,
fighting back her nervousness, and managed to smile a little. “And I decided to take
you up on your invitation.”

“My invitation?” Tía withdrew her hand and cocked her head a little, her glance quizzical.
“What invitation,
querida mía
?”

Her aunt’s endearment puzzled her a little, since she’d just told Angel not to use
Spanish. But at least the tone seemed positive.

“When you were in Chicago, you told me I should just drop by whenever—that I’d always
have a home. I … I decided to drop by and see … if you’d still have me.”

Tía looked like she’d been punched in the gut. All color left her face, and one hand
went to her chest, clasping the place over her heart as if she were in danger of falling
over.

Esme wanted to die.

“Tía, I’m sorry. I wanted to surprise you. I should have called.” She circled her
hands in the air helplessly. “I’ll rent a place for a few days. If you have time,
we’ll visit—”

“You didn’t call,” Tía hissed. “Moving in is a big deal, Esmeralda!”

“Of course it is,” Esme acknowledged, her cheeks flaming. “I’m so sorry … I …”

“Never mind,” Tía ordered, pulling herself together. The tight lines around her mouth
eased into the grin Esme remembered so well. “I guess I did that a couple or three
times, even to your Mom.”

“She’s your sister,” Esme reminded Tía. “She …”

“Tries to love me,” Tía retorted, nodding sarcastically. “And mostly fails.”

The door opened, and a couple of men walked in, choosing a table near her aunt. They
were middle-aged and dressed in ranch clothes—worn shirts and boots, jeans that bore
rips from riding through cedar or fighting barbed wire and losing. Not the Rose Creek
kind of cowboys. Excitement pricked in Esme. Solid men, cowboys. Not these men, who
probably had wives and half-grown children, but maybe she would quit looking for men
and find a man.
The
man. She allowed herself a tiny smile. If the man looked anything like Rafael Benton,
she could certainly live with that.

“
Hola
, Tía!” one of the men called in Anglicized Spanish. “Got Roy and me some menudo coming
out yet?”

“You betcha, Chuck!” Tía turned to the bar. “Tom, take care of my boys, won’t you?”

He nodded and headed off to the kitchen.

“None of my business, but … who’s your friend, Tía?” The cowboy smiled at Esmeralda,
“If you don’t mind my asking,” he added.

Esmeralda would have introduced herself, but Tía wrapped an arm around her, squeezing
her. “My niece, Esmeralda. Folks call her Esme.”

“Your niece!” Both men stood up and walked over, holding out hands. “Well, welcome
to Truth! We didn’t know our Tía here had real kin around.”

Esmeralda shook their hands, returning their smiles. “Just got here a couple of hours
ago,” she admitted. “Nice meeting you.”

Tom and Angela came out with colorfully decorated bowls of menudo and a basket heaped
with steaming tortillas.

“Enjoy,” Angel said, nodding at the pair as she left.

“Thanks, Angel,” they answered in unison.

“Excuse us,” Chuck said, nodding. “We have a date with some cow gut soup and cold
beer.”

“Hmph!” Tía swatted Chuck’s arm playfully. “Keep insulting my native food and I won’t
feed you. It’s not guts. It’s stomach.”

“That makes it all better.” Roy grinned, and the two headed back to dig into the food
they’d just insulted.

Tía turned back to Esmeralda. “Look, honey, things are about to get busy—for a Thursday
night. We’ll have our regulars, and this is tourist season. You look tired.” She reached
out and patted Esme’s cheek, this time not pinching her with the metallic nails. “I’d
be delighted to have you stay.”

Esme started to protest, but her aunt shushed her. “End of discussion. My house is
on Cattle Court Road. Just go back down the main street. It turns into the highway,
and half a mile out of town you’ll see a sign for Cattle Court Road on the left. There
are only two houses there—the rest is part of a ranch, but the ranch house sits way
back where you can’t see it from the road. My house is on the right. No dogs, but
my handyman carries a gun.”

“A gun?” Esme asked.

Her aunt chuckled. “Don’t worry. He pulls double duty as handyman and watchman.” She
fished out a cell phone. “I’ll call Andy and let him know not to shoot you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Esme muttered, and Tía laughed again.

“Welcome to Truth, honey. Drive safe.” Tía bussed her on the cheek. “Use anything
you want. Probably won’t see you till tomorrow.
Eat
.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Esme turned to the door, her legs a little weak. She hadn’t eaten since
breakfast, not wanting to leave Domatrix alone in the trailer on the way up, and anxiety
and fatigue from the unexpectedly difficult drive and her aunt’s initial reaction
had taken a toll. She couldn’t wait to get home. The word stopped her in mid-stride
for a moment, and she almost stumbled. Home? Rose Creek hadn’t been. Truth didn’t
feel that way. Not yet. She regained her balance, determined to give the tiny town
a chance.

• • •

Rafael watched the conversation going on below him, aware that nobody could have told
Tía he was here yet. Otherwise, she would have stormed up here in a rage and booted
him out, demanding that he speak to her downstairs. Wondering what he’d been looking
for.

He frowned. The one time Angel let him wait here before had seemed proof positive
to him that the woman was hiding something. Tía had been livid to find him alone in
the office, and accused him of going through her desk looking for valuables. She’d
fumed that strangers were never allowed here, but they hadn’t been strangers. They’d
met often, since he almost always accompanied Cody when she came, and given the wealth
and position of his parents—and his own, for crissakes—she couldn’t seriously have
been worried that he’d pocket anything of hers. Clearly, the woman was overly suspicious.
In his experience, that kind of alarm over something unimportant was a sign that the
person had things to hide.

He hoped Tom or Angel warned her before she walked in on him not even knowing he was
here.

He could see well enough to gauge some of the interaction he saw between Tía and Esmeralda.
He smiled a little. The name was one of his favorites, and it certainly matched her
eyes. He remembered the green gaze, reflected back to him by the mirror on the door.
He remembered more, too. The cotton shirt clinging to her damply, unbuttoned a little
lower than she probably realized and not nearly as low as he would have liked.
Damn, she was hot
.

Tía’s expression changed from distant and annoyed to friendly. Maybe Esmeralda would
even call it affectionate. How well did she know her aunt? He wouldn’t call their
meeting joyous, by any stretch. At one point, Esmeralda almost looked as if she’d
turn and walk away.

He gritted his teeth, but it didn’t help. Tía caused a lot of tears. It never seemed
to bother her. He hoped Esmeralda was tough. But not tough like her aunt.