Someone To Watch Over Me (Harlequin Super Romance) (15 page)

“Trini!”

“Well, she will and you know it. Aunt Carmen is such a cultural snob.”

Isabella closed her eyes momentarily, feeling the niggle of a beginning headache. “The sun’s out again. Why don’t you make today’s bank deposit, and then deliver Soledad Capel’s cake? Whatever you do, while you’re at the Capels’, don’t mention seeing Ramona with that guy.”

Trini smirked. “Bella, Bella. Always the family peacemaker. Okay, I’ll be good. But I must admit it’s tempting. That day Gabe rode with you to the cemetery, Aunt Carmen was on the phone to Mama before we even knew who he was. She’s such a busybody. Papa’s always so fair about things. It’s hard to believe they had the same parents.”

“Aunt Carmen’s not alone in her thinking. And we don’t really know how fair Papa would be if one of his children decided to marry a non-Basque. So far, his beliefs have never been put to the test.”

“Hmm. Do you suppose he’d spring for a trip to
Bilbao or San Sebastian for me? We haven’t seen a new Basque family here in five years. I’ll never marry anyone from our village.”

“You could become a nun,” Isabella said with a remarkably straight face.

“Yeah, right. Just for that, I’m going straight home when I finish deliveries. I’ll see you at supper. And I’ll never speak to you again if you so much as hint that horrible idea to Papa.”

“I’m not coming home for supper,” Isabella called as Trini slammed into the office to tally the day’s receipts. “Remind Mama that I’m staying in town to meet Gabe.”

“Hmm. There’s a thought. Maybe you’ll be the first to marry outside the clan.”

Isabella threw a pot holder at her sister. “I said it’s not
that
kind of meeting.”

“Really, Bella? Be honest. Don’t you ever want to get married again? I can’t believe you want to spend the rest of your life alone.”

She was right; it was a prospect that didn’t hold any appeal for Isabella. Neither did the possibility of repeating a marriage like the one she’d suffered through with Julian. “Huh, with six brothers and sisters and all their families showing up at the house on a daily basis, you and I have a different concept of living alone.”

“You know what I mean. What about sex? Can you live a celibate life forever?”

Isabella took several minutes to answer. And when she finally did, her words were stiff, unemotional. “I can barely remember back to a time when Julian didn’t use sex as a method of punishment. Only the first year of our marriage was anywhere near normal. But then we had the children. They were my only bright spot.”

Trini looked stricken. “Bella! None of us even suspected.”

“I’ve never told anyone that. Promise me you’ll keep it to yourself.”

“I won’t breathe a word.” Subdued, Trini bent to the task of logging in receipts, and Isabella withdrew to the kitchen where she pulled the cakes out of the oven and set them to cool.

A short time later, she heard the back door open and close, and the delivery van start up. She almost wished she hadn’t sent Trini off for the remainder of the afternoon. Not after her sister had stoked fires better left to die along with her failed marriage.

Isabella smoothed the creamy frosting between the cooled cake layers. It was a simple task that allowed her mind to drift. To the act of sex. To memories of the few times her body had reacted in a warm and positive way. To thoughts of Gabe Poston’s gentle hands, which were at odds with his wicked smile.

Right in the middle of her lonely kitchen, Isabella’s body grew warm. She was struck by yearnings of what might have been. Yearnings for a man other than the one with whom she’d spoken vows.

The spatula slipped from her weak fingers, fell and spattered pale-yellow frosting across the tile floor.

The familiar motions of cleaning it up and finding a clean spatula diverted her attention. Thankfully, she’d no sooner finished decorating the cake that had been commissioned for a local rancher’s upcoming birthday than the bell over her front door jingled. A mother and daughter Isabella didn’t recognize wanted to discuss catering a wedding scheduled for early fall.

“September tenth, you said?” Isabella flipped the pages in her weekly planner. “The day looks clear. Are
you planning a church reception, or one in your home?”

“I haven’t decided,” announced the eager, fresh-faced girl. “Could I hold the date with a deposit for now?”

“Certainly. Depending on the size of your party, you’ve allowed plenty of time to fine-tune decorations, choose a menu and decide on all the trimmings that’ll make your day special.” Isabella mentioned a nominal deposit fee. “Just fill out this form with your name and address. The reception will be held locally, won’t it?” She noticed a Portland address on the woman’s check.

“My fiancé’s found a house on the outskirts of Callanton. He’s determined to buy it. Mother and I drove up to give it our okay. It’s beautiful. Fully furnished. I can’t believe the owner walked away and left it. Actually, the real estate agent didn’t give us much information.”

Isabella felt an iciness steal over her.

“He seemed so reluctant I wondered if he had authorization to sell it,” the mother was saying. “I inquired at the bank, and the manager said the property
is
for sale. Cindy, give her the address.”

Cindy wrote it with a flourish, but Isabella didn’t need the girl to finish. The chill that enveloped her had served as premonition.

Closing her book, Isabella tried not to show the revulsion she felt.
Her house.
This nice young woman was planning a celebration in the house beset by tragedy.

“I’m afraid I can’t handle your reception, after all,” Isabella said, hearing the words leave her lips as she handed back the mother’s check.

“No?” Cindy looked bewildered. “I thought you said that day was okay?”

Even as she fought to stave off the darkness threatening to close in on her, Isabella tried to stay calm. Maybe Cindy could be happy there. And Lord knew, the money from the house sale would make it easier to take time off for the trial. Of course, Julian’s half of the proceeds would buy him more people to work on his defense….

She had to make up something believable and get these people out of her shop. She grabbed at the first thought that came to mind. “I…I…may be planning my own wedding in September.” The lie seemed to roll off her tongue. “In fact, I’m meeting my boyfriend later today. I’m fairly sure he’s going to give me a ring. All my life I’ve dreamed of a fall wedding.” Isabella reached for a card file and avoided making eye contact with the pair while she shuffled through the cards. “Here are the names of two other caterers in the area. Either one will do a fine job. I…ah…hate to rush you, but I’ve got pastry due out of the oven.”

They acted more than a little shocked at being hustled out. Isabella hurried across the room the minute the door closed, and turned the dead bolt. Her hands and knees shook. She managed to make it all the way to the kitchen before she sank down on the floor, huddled in misery.

She rocked back and forth, wishing for cleansing tears. As usual, her eyes remained parched and dry.

Trini had taken the van, but she’d left the keys to the family car. With no purpose or destination in mind, Isabella left the bakery and drove aimlessly. Somehow it didn’t surprise her when she pulled into the empty parking lot of St. Bonaventure church.

Confession was good for the soul. She felt guilty over hiding the truth from Cindy, felt she’d been unfair to this friendly, pleasant girl.

It was dark and comforting inside the church. And claustrophobic inside the confessional. Isabella almost fled at that point; then she heard one of the priests slide open the opposite door. “Father, forgive me for I have sinned—in word if not in deed,” she began, hands clasped so tight in her lap she felt the pain.
Good. She needed to feel something.
Speaking of feeling… While she was here, she ought to confess the feelings she’d had for Gabe Poston, too.

N
OT WANTING TO BE LATE
for his meeting with Isabella, Gabe rushed into the Green Willow Café at five minutes before the hour. A quick perusal of the seated customers told him he’d beaten her to the restaurant.

Megan Ward saw him standing next to the sign asking that patrons wait to be seated. She patted her blond hair into place and greeted him with a wide smile. “Gabe. I couldn’t believe my ears the other night when Trini Navarro said you’d bought a ranch in the area. I guess it’s true.”

“It is,” Gabe acknowledged, purposely not elaborating.

“Well, that’s nice.” Her smile turned up a few watts. “Are you eating at the counter? Or if you’d like company, I’ll seat you in a booth and join you in…oh, ten minutes. I’m due for a break then.”

“I would like a booth. I’m meeting a woman,” he added quickly so Megan wouldn’t get the wrong impression. “She should be along shortly.”

“Who?” Megan demanded as if it was her right to know.

“I’ll sit facing the door so I can see her when she comes in,” Gabe said. “But if I could trouble you for coffee now? Otherwise, I’ll wait to order.”

“Uh…sure.” Megan sped off in front of him, apparently getting the message.

Gabe downed the first cup of coffee in short order. He’d worked hard to grab a shower after leaving Benito’s, and still accomplish all his errands before seeing Isabella.

The old lawyer, Larkin Crosley, had talked his ear off. He’d twisted Gabe’s arm every way from Sunday, trying to sell him his law practice. Larkin said a town the size of Callanton needed a CPA and an all-purpose lawyer. He further noted that it wouldn’t take much for Gabe to broaden his scope into corporate and civil law.

Recalling the bruises he’d discovered on his arms and legs while showering—the result, Gabe assumed, of wrestling sheep—made Larkin’s offer worth considering. He poured himself a second cup of coffee, musing about sheep men. Were they born that way, as John Campos had implied? Was it work that you grasped instinctively, rather than a skill to be learned?

Gabe checked his watch and the door for the umpteenth time. Isabella was late. Fifteen minutes late. She didn’t strike him as the type to keep a man waiting on purpose. Unless she intended to stand him up altogether…

Megan, who’d had her eye on him and likewise on the entrance to the café, approached his booth with a saucy switch to her backside.

“If your date was due here at six, you guys must’ve got your wires crossed. You’ve had a chance to look at the menu, so if you’ll tell me what you’d like, I’ll give your order to the cook before I take my break.”

Gabe considered admitting this evening was business rather than a real date. He knew Isabella would prefer he not give the wrong impression. On the other hand, Megan wasn’t anyone he wanted to encourage. “My…friend could’ve gotten tied up at work. Bring me a bottle of merlot and two glasses, please.” He named a specific winery. “That’ll give us a chance to unwind. We’ll order when you return. Or…is that Helen coming to relieve you? She can handle our table if my date’s too hungry to wait.”

Megan flounced off and returned to plunk down a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

Gabe read the label. “Hey—this isn’t what I ordered.” Holding his temper, he handed the bottle back to Megan, who’d brought a wine Gabe thought tasted like kerosene. He accepted the new bottle with equanimity.

He’d about given up on Isabella when the door slid silently open and she slipped in. She was balanced on the balls of her feet, as though she could turn and leave at any moment. He’d seen her wan and nervous before. But never this bad.

Jumping up, Gabe moved to take her arm. “Hello, there. I hope you like red wine. I took the liberty of ordering that and coffee. Helen,” he called to the older waitress working the counter. “Do you mind bringing us a warm-up?”

The waitress met them at his booth. “Isabella,” she exclaimed. “This is a rare treat. Well, I don’t blame you for letting this handsome devil bring you out of hiding. Say, I hear from Summer that your catering business has really taken off.”

Clearing her throat, Isabella mumbled something that passed for agreement.

Gabe wanted to put her at ease. Helen and Megan were both outgoing, jovial women. Either one of them could overwhelm Isabella without trying. “We’ll talk a while and enjoy our wine and be ready to order in fifteen minutes or so.”

Helen knew when to leave her customers alone. She nodded and withdrew.

“Busy day?” Gabe inquired, after pouring them each a half glass of wine.

Isabella spun her glass around and around. “Trying, certainly.”

Nothing followed that response. Gabe felt himself growing edgy. “I have good news for you.”

“You do?”

“Larkin Crosley has agreed to let us use his library any evening we want.” Gabe patted his pocket. “He gave me a key.”

“Fine. Very good. Shall we set a time? How about tomorrow at six?” Pushing the wine aside, she collected the purse she’d dropped on the seat beside her.

“That’s it? You’re going?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but one of two women who bustled past the booth, being led by Helen, suddenly stopped. The younger of the two, a freckled redhead, squeezed Isabella’s arm. “It
is
you,” she said, bending to study Isabella’s left hand. “Darn. He hasn’t given you the ring yet?” Just as quickly, the young woman dropped Isabella’s hand and turned flashing green eyes on Gabe. “You don’t
look
bashful,” she announced. Then, because the woman she was with called, “Cindy, come sit down,” the girl wafted a sparkling diamond under Gabe’s nose and sashayed on past. Or she did after whispering something to Isabella that Gabe didn’t catch.

He wasn’t at all sure what had happened, but Isabella had turned white and red, then white again.

“What was all that about?” he murmured.

“Nothing. Er…she must have me confused with someone else. Look, Gabe, this has really been a horrible day for me. And I wouldn’t be good company.” She slid out of the booth.

Confused, Gabe rose, too. He shelled out what he hoped would cover the coffee and wine and enough for a tip, then ran after his rapidly departing date.