The Heart of a Stranger (5 page)

That family notion came back, but this time he let it linger.

The twins' room was as pink as their pajamas, with chenille bedspreads and Barbie dolls in every corner. He saw a few Ken dolls lying around, too.

Suddenly he got a familiar feeling.

Over Barbie and Ken?

That didn't make a whole hell of a lot of sense. Unless—

Unless what? There had been a young girl in his life? A daughter?

No way. He knew he didn't have kids. What about a little sister?

Yes, he thought. A sister.

Still balancing Paige, he pulled back the covers and placed her in bed, adjusting the blanket around her.

He smoothed her hair, and bits of choppy information crowded his brain—dance classes, slumber parties, prom dresses.

His sister wasn't a little girl anymore. She was a woman now.

And she was dead.

Oh, God. He took a step back, watching Lourdes tuck Nina into bed. She kissed both children. Soft butterfly kisses. So sweet, so light and airy.

Juan's sister had drowned. A dark, cold river had swallowed her.

He stood like a zombie. He didn't want to remember this. He didn't want his mind pulling him into a myriad of pain.

Lourdes glanced up. “Are you all right, Juan?”

He managed a quick nod, wishing he could kiss her children, too. Press his lips to their foreheads the way she'd done. “I'm fine.”

She left a night-light on for the girls. A golden glimmer, he thought, in a mist of pink.

“Will you sit on the porch with me?” he asked, after she closed the door.

She gave him a concerned look. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“I just need some air.”

She followed him outside, and they sat in wicker chairs. The sun had set hours ago, leaving the sky dark and scattered with stars. A live oak in the center of the yard made a ghostly shadow, and the air smelled of fields, farms and ranches.

“I'm starting to remember things.” He gazed at Lourdes. The porch light cast a buttery glow, illuminating the streaks in her hair. “I think I have a sister. Or had a sister. I'm pretty sure she's dead now.”

“Oh, Juan. I'm so sorry.”

“I can't see her in my mind. She's just a feeling. An emotion, I guess.” A dark cloud tugging at his heart, a nameless, faceless body floating in a river somewhere. “I don't want to remember anything else.”

“You can't stop your memories. They're part of who you are.”

“I know.” As the moon slipped behind the ghost-tree, Juan closed his eyes. “Cáco told me that I might start recalling bits and pieces. She told me to be prepared.”

“I wish I could make it easier.” Lourdes brushed his hand, offering warmth and comfort.

He opened his eyes to look at her, to drink her in. “Tell me about your past,” he said suddenly, wanting to know everything. All the secrets in her soul. All the mysteries of a young rancher with two small children. “Tell me about Nina and Paige's father. Why you
married him. Why you wanted to divorce him. How he died.”

“Oh, my.” She drew an audible breath. “His name was Gunther Jones, and I met him when I was in college.”

“Was he another student?”

“No. Not Gunther. He didn't think being book smart mattered. Life was fun and fast to him. He got bored easily, so he was always trying to make his own amusement.”

“And that attracted you to him?”

“Yes, I suppose it did. He was so different from me. So wild, so aggressive. Gunther went after the things he wanted.”

Juan tilted his head. “And the thing he wanted most was you.”

She nodded. “Being with him was like riding a roller coaster with no safety bars. Thrilling, but frightening, too.”

But the thrill must have worn off, Juan thought. “So what happened?”

“I married him right after I graduated from college.” She clasped her hands on her lap. “My grandfather begged me not to. He tried to reason with me, but I insisted I was in love.” Shame edged her voice. “I left Painted Spirit and relocated to Laredo with Gunther. I walked away from this farm for a man who couldn't even hold down a job.”

“People make mistakes, Lourdes.”

“I know. But I was such a fool to think I could change him. That once we were married, he would settle down. I've always been naive, I guess.”

Juan frowned, and a fist of guilt jabbed him straight in the gut. He'd used that naiveté against her today.
He'd baited her into a sensual conversation, thinking how sweet and innocent she was for falling for his game.

Did that put him in the same take-advantage league as Gunther?

“Eventually I learned that my husband was a criminal. A thief, a drug addict. He was hooked on crystal meth.”

“Speed,” Juan put in.

“Yes. But he convinced me he was clean.”

“And he wasn't?”

“No. He'd been stealing TVs and car stereos from the warehouse where he worked to support his habit.” She made a bitter sound. “I was grateful that he'd finally landed a steady job. I didn't have a clue.” She shook her head. “I should have known he was still using. He was so moody. Nice one day, angry and belligerent the next.”

I'm not like him, Juan thought. I'm not.

She sighed. “Soon after I discovered I was pregnant, Gunther got caught and the warehouse pressed charges.”

“Was it his first offense?”

“No. But I didn't know he'd been in jail before.” Lourdes frowned. “He'd conned me right from the start. But at that point, I decided I wasn't going to stand by and let him destroy my life. I had a baby to consider.” Her voice turned soft. “Two babies, I learned later. Anyway, I came home, and my grandfather welcomed me back with open arms.”

Juan shifted in his chair. “So how did Gunther die?”

“A few weeks after he was incarcerated, he was killed in a jailhouse brawl. I had just gone to see an
attorney about filing for divorce, about getting him out of my life for good.”

“But one of the other inmates got to him first.”

She nodded. “It's over, and I have my babies now. My sweet little girls.”

“They are sweet.” He pictured them asleep in their puffy pink beds, then felt a strange chill in his bones.

A warning? A message?

Juan shook away the feeling. But a moment later, it returned.

He gazed at the yard, and a disturbing thought assaulted him.

What if he really was like Gunther? What if he was some sort of criminal?

Lourdes's voice cut into his fears. “Thank you for being so kind to my daughters. They're quite enamored of you.”

The chill faded, and Juan relaxed. “I'm enamored of them, too.”

“Gunther was upset when he discovered I was pregnant. He wanted me to have an abortion. He said the timing was wrong, that we couldn't afford to start a family. I guess he was worried that buying baby bottles and diapers would cut into his drug money.”

“Gunther was a jerk.” And I'm nothing like him, Juan thought. Not in any shape or form. No way was he a criminal, a man who abused the law.

He was just a regular guy, a lonely guy with distorted memories and a fondness for the family who'd taken him in when he'd needed someone to care.

He turned to look at Lourdes at the same moment she turned to look at him. She smiled, and he thanked God for the blessings he'd been given.

The company of a beautiful rancher and her chil
dren. An old Comanche woman. A gum-snapping teenager. Home-cooked meals, buttered popcorn and movies about mermaids.

The chance, he thought, to appreciate life and live each day as if it were his last.

L
ourdes stood next to Cindy O'Neil, an old college friend who'd stopped by the ranch to try to persuade her to go into town later for a drink. But at the moment neither Lourdes nor Cindy engaged in conversation. They remained quiet, sheltered in the breezeway of the barn, watching Juan like two sex-starved voyeurs.

He worked in the sun, replacing broken rails on a corral fence. He'd already removed his T-shirt and draped it over a post, leaving his muscled back exposed and glistening with sweat. A pair of Wranglers rode low on his hips, hugging his rear.

“No wonder you don't want to go out,” Cindy finally said. “You've got plenty of entertainment at home.”

“We're not…he's not…” Lourdes flustered. “He's just my new ranch hand.”

“Yeah, right.
Just
a ranch hand.” Cindy shook her
head. She wore her auburn hair in a mass of big, Texas-style waves. Tall and lean, she possessed the poise of a beauty queen and the sex drive of a siren. “Look at that body. Those muscles, that—”

Lourdes cut her off. “Don't start.”

“Don't start what? Comparing him to one of your stallions? No two ways about it, that man is a stud.”

A second later, Juan turned, leaned against the fence and guzzled bottled water.

Cindy panted like a dog, and Lourdes smacked her arm. “Knock if off.”

The other woman laughed. “What can I say? He's making me thirsty.” Her voice sobered, and she gave Lourdes a concerned look. “But all drooling aside, you better be careful. That one's got bad boy written all over him. And you've already been down that road before.”

“He's nothing like Gunther.”

“You sure about that?” Cindy cocked her hip. “Where did he get all those bruises?”

Lourdes held her ground. “He was robbed.”

“Robbed? Is that what he told you? I'd cast my vote for a bar fight.”

“You haven't seen him with my children.” Every time she pictured Juan with the twins, her heart went soft. “He's a good man, Cindy.”

The redhead batted her lashes. “Oh, my. Oh, dear.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Lourdes glanced at Juan. He'd gone back to work, hammering another nail into the fence.

“You're falling for him, sweetie.”

“I am not,” she lied.

“Oh, yes you are.”

“So what? No one else is complaining. My family
adores him.” And she couldn't stop herself from wanting him, from imagining what it would feel like to kiss him, to run her fingers through his hair.

“He looks dark and dangerous to me. Six foot two inches of trouble.”

Dark and dangerous.
That had been Lourdes's first impression of him, too. “Well, he's not.” She frowned at her friend. “And he's six-three.”

Cindy raised her delicately arched brows. “Why are you so defensive? What's going on that you're not telling me about?”

“Nothing.” Everything, she thought. She wasn't about to reveal the truth. Cindy didn't need to know that Juan Guapo wasn't his real name or that he'd appeared out of nowhere, half-conscious and wearing Lourdes's cross. “He's honest, hardworking and dependable.”

“Yeah. And big and tough and hungry as hell. That kind is always trouble.”

“Hungry as hell?”

“For you, you silly girl.” Cindy reached into her purse, and removed a stick of gum.

A chill raced up Lourdes's spine. A fast, hot, sultry chill. “And you know this because?”

“Because I can feel it.”

Lourdes shifted her gaze. Was it that obvious?

Of course, it was. Juan was absorbed in his work, yet the energy was still there, the awareness between them. No wonder Cindy could feel it.

“He's good to my kids,” she reiterated.

“And for that, I'm impressed.” Cindy snapped her gum. “But how long is he going to stick around? And as a ranch hand, no less? Something just doesn't add up.”

“He wasn't looking for a permanent job. This situation is only temporary.”

“And you're okay with that?”

Was she? Two days ago, he'd moved into the bunkhouse and already she missed him. What would happen when he was gone forever? When he no longer watched movies with the twins? Talked to Amy about the vampires on TV? Complimented Cácoonher cooking? Smiled at Lourdes from across the table?

“Well?” Cindy pressed.

“I'm okay with it.” Somehow she would have to be.

“All right. Fine.” The redhead snapped her gum again. “Any chance you might change your mind about going out tonight?”

Lourdes shook her head. “You know I'm not into bars.”

“The Saddlebag isn't a bar. It's a legend.”

A watering hole Lourdes could do without, a local establishment that reminded her of being young and foolish, of falling for a man who used to flirt with cowgirls and hustle pool. “Legend or not. It's not my kind of place.”

Cindy stole a glance at Juan. “I'll bet he's gotten drunk there a time or two. In fact.” She paused. “He actually seems sort of familiar. Like maybe I've seen him out on the town.”

Was that possible? Was Juan a drinker in his former life? A Mission Creek party boy?

No way. That didn't fit his character. Besides, Lourdes didn't think Juan was from the area. She suspected he'd been passing through when he'd gotten robbed.

“How can a man as handsome as Juan seem
sort
of
familiar?” she challenged, disturbed by Cindy's half-baked observation. “Either you've seen him at the Saddlebag or you haven't.”

The redhead sighed. “You know me. After I tie one on, all those big, hunky types start to look alike.” She waved away her lifestyle and her penchant for tall, tanned cowboys. “I could be mistaken. I probably am.”

Yes, Lourdes thought. You are.

“You're acting defensive again, sweetie. Are you sure your new ranch hand is as honorable as you seem to think he is?”

Was he? In her heart of hearts, Lourdes wanted to believe Juan was a good man. That his kind and noble behavior spoke for itself.

But how could she be sure?

In a lot of ways, he was still a stranger.

 

A few hours later, Lourdes and Juan sat side by side on a shaded redwood bench, sharing the meal Cáco had packed.

Lourdes normally went back to the house for lunch, but Cáco had thrust a picnic basket at her this morning, telling her to enjoy the nice weather with Juan.

The sun still shined, but the heat was no longer stifling.

Lourdes bit into her sandwich, thinking about what Cindy had said.

Was Juan as honorable as he seemed?

With the engraved cross glinting against his bare chest, and his hair falling rebelliously over his forehead, he looked like a celestial soldier, a warring angel with faded bruises and dirt-smudged jeans.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She swallowed the food in her mouth. “Why wouldn't I be?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. You seem preoccupied.”

Lourdes didn't know what to say, so she glanced away. But it didn't help. The setting—her ranch—was both beautiful and disturbing.

Elegant horses, big shady trees, a run-down barn, weather-beaten fences, an office jammed with trophies, ribbons and unpaid bills.

“Did I do something to upset you, Lourdes?”

She turned back to her companion. He watched her through confused eyes, and she resisted the urge to touch his cheek, to feel the warmth of his skin.

“No. You didn't do anything.”

He opened a container of diced melons. “Then what's wrong?”

Once again, Cindy's concerns filled her head.

Be careful. That one's got bad boy written all over him. I'll bet he's gotten drunk there a time or two.

Lourdes tore the crust off the rest of her sandwich, scattering it across the bench like bird feed. “Do you drink, Juan?”

“Drink?” He gave her a puzzled look. “What gives? What brought that on?”

“I just wondered.”

“I'm a social drinker, I suppose. Beer on the weekends, a glass of scotch now and then.” He snared her gaze. “What about you?”

“I enjoy wine with dinner.” But she hadn't started this conversation to discuss her habits. “So you're not the type to hit the party scene? To get drunk in public?” The way Gunther used to do, she thought.

He made a troubled face. “I've probably gotten
wasted and acted like an ass when I was feeling ornery or blue.” He paused, blew a breath. “Most guys have done that.”

“It's so hard not knowing details about you.” Not knowing who he really was.

“All I can tell you is what I sense about myself.” His voice turned scratchy, rough-edged and emotional. “I like it here, Lourdes. I like being with you and your family.” He toyed with the lid on the melon container. “But if you want me to go, I will. Just say the word and I'm gone.”

Suddenly her heart ached for him, for the loneliness she saw in his eyes. “I'm sorry, Juan. I didn't mean to make you feel unwelcome.”

A light breeze ruffled his hair. “You have every right to be concerned about my past. Hell, you don't know me from Adam.”

“You seem like a good man.”

“You think so?” He smiled a little. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

They sat quietly for the next few minutes, eating their lunch. He polished off his sandwich, and she nibbled on vanilla wafers. Both drank iced tea and watched the pastured horses.

Finally, Juan shifted to straddle the seat on the bench, turning toward Lourdes.

“I have a confession to make,” he said.

Curious, she swung her leg over the seat too, facing him the way he faced her. She couldn't help but wonder what he was going to say.

“I sort of faked something, Lourdes.”

Her pulse leaped like a frog. “Faked something?”

“About the horses. I'm…um…” He pulled a hand through his medium-length hair, dragging restless fin
gers to the ends curling at his nape. “I already knew all of that mating stuff you told me.”

Stunned, she could only stare. “But you asked me to explain how it's done.” She paused to catch her breath. “You let me describe it.” And he'd made naughty little comments while she'd struggled to remain focused and professional. “I can't believe you did that.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

Lourdes considered punching him, jabbing him right in the gut. Then she glanced at the yellowing bruises on his stomach and relaxed her fist. “You made a fool out of me, Juan.”

“That wasn't my intention.”

“Oh, really? Then maybe you better tell me exactly what your intention was.”

He winced like a kid, like an overgrown boy who'd been caught with dirty pictures under his mattress. And suddenly she knew. He'd done it to get turned on, to hear her talk about sex.

Horse sex.

Now she really wanted to smack him.

“Sorry,” he said again.

“Are you that depraved?”

“You mean deprived.”

“No, I mean
depraved.
”

“Hey, come on, that's not fair.” He dragged a hand through his hair again. “First I lose my memory, then I end up on a breeding farm with a beautiful woman. It's only natural that I would start thinking about guy stuff.”

She crossed her arms. “A stallion covering a mare is not guy stuff.”

“It is to a man who can't remember the last time he made love.”

When a warm, tingly shiver crept up her spine, she wanted to kick herself. She wouldn't let him win. Not this time. “I suppose you already know how semen is collected, too?”

“Yes, I know how it's done. Now, we can drop this conversation.”

Forgive and forget? Was he kidding? She wasn't about to let him off the hook. “Maybe I should test your knowledge. Maybe you should describe the collection procedure to me. Every detail.”

He crossed his arms. “This is ridiculous.”

She uncrossed hers and smiled. “Come on, be a sport. Give a girl a thrill.”

“Drop it, Lourdes.”

She kept her gaze directly on his. “No, really. Don't you want to discuss how to teach a stallion to mount a phantom mare? Or better yet, how to funnel his penis into an artificial—”

“Okay, that's enough.” Juan's face flushed. “You made your point.” He stood and unstraddled the bench. “And I've got work to do.”

As he walked away, she realized what she'd done. Suddenly she wanted to call him back, to apologize, but she didn't know what to say.

She'd embarrassed him, punished him for being attracted to her. A man who'd just told her she was beautiful. A man who couldn't remember the last time he'd made love.

 

As Lourdes tucked her daughters into bed that night, she couldn't stop thinking about Juan. He hadn't shown up at the house for dinner, but she couldn't
blame him. Her behavior this afternoon had left them both feeling awkward.

“Mama?” Paige said. Nina was already asleep, but the younger twin seemed troubled, as preoccupied as Lourdes.

“What is it, baby?” She sat on the edge of Paige's bed and drew the blanket around her.

The little girl looked up with big, sad eyes. “How come Juan doesn't like us anymore?”

Lourdes stroked her daughter's tawny hair. She knew exactly how the child felt. “He still likes us.”

“Then how come he didn't come over?” Paige's tiny lip quivered. “I colored him a really pretty picture. And I couldn't give it to him 'cause he wasn't here.”

Lourdes's chest constricted. Apparently Paige still had a crush on Juan. “He didn't know about your picture, honey. And he called Cáco and told her not to set a place for him at the table. He didn't skip out on us. He just decided to stay home.”

“How come?”

Because of me, she thought.