When Tomorrow Comes (11 page)

Sunlight stole softly into the bedroom, giving the pale lavender room a fragile radiance as light filtered through the lace curtains, creating soft patterns on the wall. Cait stirred, unconsciously pressing her length against the man who still held her in his arms. Recalling the night before, she smiled, stretching like a cat after a long, satisfying sleep. Dominic pulled her closer and Cait willingly complied, content, nestling her head beneath his chin. She moved her fingers across his chest in a random careless gesture and knew he had awakened. She closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to her cheek.

Each touch communicated what words never could. She had almost forgotten what it was like to run her hand over a man’s body and feel the muscles relax or tense accordingly, and she gloried in that discovery. More than anything else, she was ecstatic that Dominic needed touching and holding just as much as she did. It pleased her and she raised herself up on her elbow, her hair cascading across his chest as she gazed down into his amber eyes.

“You’ve given me new life. Do you realize that?” she whispered, meaning it in many ways.

She hoped he understood. Not only had he helped cleanse her old wounds, he had also showed her that she could respond as she had once before.

He reached up, capturing her clean jaw and drew her down until their lips met in a fragile kiss. Cait was hypnotized by the burning desire deep within his eyes as she drew only an inch away from his strong mouth. “It was a fair exchange,
querida.
You helped me discover a missing part to myself last night.” He caressed her hair, allowing the silken, gleaming strands of her hair to slip through his fingers.

“What do you mean?”

“I never thought I could deeply love a woman again.” He studied her intently, as if to memorize her face. “Do you have any idea how lovely you are? No, don’t laugh,
querida.
I mean it.
Dios,
the first time I saw you, I thought I was going to lose myself in the sea foam color of your eyes. It took everything I had, to keep from staring at you like a gawky young boy.”

She smiled tenderly, tracing the outline of his mouth with her fingertip. “You scared the hell out of me the first time I saw you.”

He laughed, the chuckle rumbling deep within his chest. “You hide your fears and wounds well,
querida.
” He frowned. “Too well, in fact.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I know a side of you that is so damn sensitive and giving. That facade you throw up at work is a good one, but it can work against you, too. I worry about that.”

Cait snuggled down into his arms, giving him a delicious hug of utter joy. “Well, if I roll over and play a woman at the site, nothing will get done.”

“One of these days, when the idea is accepted more, the women who follow you won’t have to hide their womanhood. Not ever.” He kissed the crown of her head, giving her a quick squeeze.

“Listen, whatever was wrong with me is right now, believe me,” she answered.

“Just what the doctor ordered?” he teased.

Cait shut her eyes momentarily. “God, that’s the truth. I never realized how tense I was until—”

“Well,” he murmured, pushing himself up and capturing her. “I’ll just make sure you stay relaxed for the rest of this project.”

She looked up at him, her eyes betraying the confusion she felt. “Dominic, where are we going?” she whispered.

He shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled indulgently, his hand trailing down her slender neck. “Keep your engineering rationale out of our relationship,
mi leona.
”

She grimaced at his retort and tried to pull free. Within moments Dominic had her gently pinned beneath him and she was vividly aware of his barely restrained control. He leaned down, kissing her soundly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she protested.

He grinned and nibbled at her earlobe. “Yes, you do,
querida.
Engineers are raised on a pablum of logic, rationale and geometry. Just don’t try and label what we have, what it is or where it’s going, because you could destroy it with too much analysis.” He trailed fiery kisses down her throat to her breasts. She arched instinctively. “Don’t think,
querida,
just act and react,” he growled huskily. He captured her nipple, suckling deeply.

What little logical thinking she had done was explosively detonated in her dizzied, frenzied senses. Time became a throbbing whirlpool of lights, color and a rhythm of bodies matched in unison to each other. She had had no idea of how thirsty her body had become in those long months since her husband’s death. His fingers trailed between her thighs, gently tracing her rim, feeling the wetness and readiness of her once more. In glorious moments of eternity, she became one with Dominic, a cry of pleasure bubbling from her throat. The orgasms spilled out of her, powerful and intense beneath his fingers and then as he entered her. Afterward Cait lay against him, totally spent, and absolved of the past. Only the faint smile in his golden eyes mattered, and she returned that intimate smile, nuzzling her head against his neck and jaw.

Later, as the intensity of their shared passion ebbed like an outgoing tide, Cait noticed, for the first time, how high the sun had become.

“It’s probably around ten,” Dominic replied lazily.

“Sinful, isn’t it?”

“Not in the least. Do you feel guilty?”

“No. I feel good.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not anymore.”

Dominic grinned. “I’m talking about food,
querida.
”

“Oh. Well, yes, come to think of it, I’m starved.”

“Me, too. I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Let’s have breakfast at my ranch. It’s only a thirty-minute flight from BA. What do you say?”

Cait frowned, and he tapped her on the nose. “Stop thinking about the damn site. It’s fine.”

She grinned, embarrassed. “Do you read minds, too?”

“With special people, I do.” He touched her mouth with his in a lingering kiss. “And you are very special,
mi leona.
Now, how about breakfast? I’ll cook.”

“You’re on. I like scrambled eggs, in case you break the yolks.”

He laughed fully, embracing her. “I haven’t broken a yolk in two years.”

Cait stared down at the two eggs in the frying pan. She muffled a giggle and stole a glance up at Dominic. “Well, one out of two isn’t bad. I’ll eat the scrambled one and you can have the good egg.”

She leaned against him for a moment in laughter. “I really don’t have a preference, master chef. I’ll butter the toast.”

“Mmm, good. Oh, bring the honey. It’s in the refrigerator.”

He put the plates down on a patio table beneath a silver-leafed eucalyptus tree. A high adobe brick wall surrounded the well-kept garden, and Cait inhaled the fragrant flowers.

“This is a lovely home, Dominic. Now I can see why you enjoy coming here.”

He poured the coffee and they sat down. “I’m here only three months out of the year at the most. The rest of the time I’m on projects.”

Cait dug hungrily into the eggs and took a bite of her toast. “It’s so peaceful here. I love this garden.”

“I knew you would. You have the earth in your soul, Cait Monahan.”

“That and bulldozers,” she said wryly. She felt more at peace than she had since Dave’s death. Dominic made everything feel right. No matter where he was, she treasured being there with him.

The flight from BA had been spectacular, and she had gotten her first glimpse of the true pampas, or the Camp, as it was called. She had had no idea what the Camp would be like. The smell of freshly cut hay filled the air with a heady perfume, and Cait inhaled deeply as she leaned against the wrought-iron chair, holding her coffee cup close to her lips.

Dominic glanced over at her. “You like the smell too.”

“Very much. It reminds me of my home in Colorado. Sort of makes me homesick.”

“Home is where the heart is,
querida.
”

She sipped the coffee, a glint in her emerald eyes. “Does being home make the philosopher in you come out?”

“Sometimes. Mostly it’s me company I’m keeping. Do you always make a man want to confide in you?”

She colored slightly and set the cup down. “Dave and I always talked a lot about what we felt, saw or heard. Maybe that’s it.”

“It’s a good habit to get into. I just wished that when I was younger, I had had the good sense to know that.”

Cait toyed with the china cup. “I can’t imagine any marriage surviving without a lot of honest communication.”

He picked up her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Well, let’s talk. What do you want to do today? We don’t have to be anywhere until late Sunday afternoon.”

“I’d love to explore your ranch and see your famous gauchos, if that’s possible.”

He inclined his head. “All of that is possible,
mi leona.
” They walked across the patio toward a side door that led into a maze of paddocks. Cait sized up the broodmares, with their young babies.

“They’re thoroughbreds,” Dominic explained. “Father imported most of the stock off Kentucky farms. When I married, he gave me most of the bloodstock, and I took over the breeding end of the operation.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

He rested his darkly bronzed arms on the paddock. “I enjoyed the foaling. Watching those colts and fillies struggle to stand, minutes after they were born, has always fascinated me.”

Cait laughed. “Dominic Tobbar, you are a big softy at heart. Why don’t you let it show more?”

His eyes darkened and he picked up her hand, continuing toward the barn. “Let’s just say circumstances quenched some of my natural exuberance. But”—” he looked down at, her “—”you seem to have a knack of bringing it out.”

At the entrance Cait brightened. Horses neighed in greeting as they walked down the center aisle of the spotless rows of box stalls. Dominic stopped at each one and introduced her to his charges. Finally, at the end, he slid open the door and lead a dainty bay mare out into the saddling area.

“This is Dirah. Do you recognize her breeding?”

Cait eyed the mare critically. She had a broad forehead, large, expressive black eyes and a dished face that sloped into a teacup muzzle. “Distinctly Arabian,” she decided.

“Very good,” he praised.

“Your favorite breed?”

Dominic lifted a blanket and saddle from the tack room and expertly saddled the mare. “Yes.”

“Did your father approve?”

“No. But then, he never did approve of much of what I wanted. So what was the difference?” He bridled Dirah and put the reins in Cait’s awaiting hand. “I wanted to breed Arabs with thoroughbreds to produce a better Camp horse, one with speed and endurance. The gauchos have always used those chunky little Spanish horses.” He pulled a tall chestnut gelding from the next stall, and Cait could see the best traits of Arab breeding in the horse. Within minutes, Dominic had him saddled, and they led them out into the sunlight.

“Here, you’ll need this,” he said, handing her a hat that reminded her of the type horsemen in the bull arena wore. He gave her a dazzling smile. “Ready?”

Cait mounted in one smooth motion. The bay mare sidled in anticipation. “Ready,” she answered.

The grass of the Camp lay in a carpet before them as they trotted away from the small ranch area. The movement of a good horse beneath her and the hot sun overhead made Cait doubly aware of her deep feeling for the natural world. Occasionally Dominic’s leg brushed against her own, and she gloried in the slight touch. It seemed so natural, and the day seemed to belong only to them.

The knee-high grass gave way to shorter alfalfa and clover fields, which had been recently cut. Long rectangular bales of hay lay in neat rows, reminding Cait of soldiers standing at rigid attention. Dominic halted, squinting toward the east.

“There, can you see it? That dust cloud?”

Cait pulled her mare to a stop and shaded her eyes. “Yes. What is it?”

“Let’s head that way. That’s where the gauchos are singling out the calves from their mothers.”

They swung into a gallop, and the fields became a blur of green beneath the horses’ pounding hoofs. Laughter sprang from Cait’s throat as she moved in unison with each stride of the mare. Once she felt her horse tense and spotted an armadillo dashing madly for the safety of his hole. Such holes could spell disaster for an animal, and she wisely followed Dominic, who seemed to know the safest route through the unfenced fields.

As they neared their destination, Dominic moved upwind from the clouds of dust created by the cows mooing plaintively for their recently removed calves. Holding pens made of maroon-colored fence posts kept the bawling babies away from the rest of the milling herds. Gauchos expertly swung their lassos to prevent single animals from breaking away from the main group.

They slowed to a stop, and Cait reached down to pat Dirah. Dominic swung his leg over the saddle and rested lazily atop the gelding. He waved to one gaucho and turned to Cait. “That’s Giulio, the manager of this herd and majordomo over the rest of the gauchos. He’s been with us since long before I was born.”

Cait smiled, admiring the foreign flavor of the costume. She was used to cowboy hats, narrow-toed boots and long-sleeved shirts. Instead the gauchos wore a black beret tipped cockily to one side of their lean, spare features. The glint of metal drew her attention, and she asked, “What are they wearing around their waists?”

“Coins. It’s a statement of a gaucho’s total monetary worth. You can see it’s a very wide belt, and most of them keep an assortment of items in it, including a façon or dagger. They use that to kill or skin an animal, to fight with or as a skewer over a fire to hold their meat. It’s an all-purpose weapon.”

“Is it true they are hot-tempered?”

Dominic shrugged. “Seventy years ago, they had a reputation for being fierce. Did you know they helped to build Argentina’s independence? A long time ago, the word
gaucho
meant outcast or a lost animal. But ever since they rendered their services to General Martin de Guemes, they’ve been considered heroes. Without them, we’d have a monarchy. So the name became a compliment instead of an insult. These are men who live by a fairly simple code,
mi leona.
In the past they killed for honor or in the heat of passion—but never over money. Nowadays only the stories are passed on, and the men are a relatively tame lot.”

“That’s a shame.”

Dominic grinned. “Do you think so? I don’t think you’d like being married to one.”

She returned the smile. “Why not?”

“For one, they used to live in mud-and-grass shacks. A bed was made up of animal skins, and a chair was constructed of a set of horse skulls or hip bones. Sometimes they’d find an ostrich egg or bring home vizcachas for a change of diet.”

Cait wrinkled her nose. “What is a vizcacha?”

“A cross between a rat and rabbit, which grows to be about two feet long. It tastes pretty good, despite the ugliness of the thing.” He laughed. “Back then, water was very scarce and the people never took baths. The women had to live in those huts, with little more than a shapeless gown to wear and no shoes.”

“You’re right. I’d never make a gaucho’s woman.”

“Watch that gaucho single out that calf,” he said.

Cait straightened up in the saddle, watching the dust-caked horse and rider spurt out of the herd. The gaucho pulled the boleadoras from around his waist, swinging the two balls that were suspended from a long leather strap above his head. In an instant he had loosened the bola, and Cait watched in admiration as the calf went down, two of his legs wrapped expertly by the bola. “He’s good,” she admitted.

Dominic agreed. “On the plus side, a gaucho is probably one of the hardest-working professionals in Argentina. Gauchos are of Indian extraction, and no one can hunt, trap, trail and herd better than they can. I know that sounds chauvinistic, but that’s their code.”

Cait laughed. “You mean they wouldn’t like me to go out there and rope one of those calves for them?”

“Not in the least. They think a woman’s place is at home, raising the children.”

She smiled, appreciating the timing of the gauchos’ movements on their well-trained horses. Their baggy black trousers and rope-soled sandals looked strange, but Cait realized those wiry, high-cheeked men could probably outwork ranch hands from Colorado. “You seem to enjoy this sort of work.”

Dominic lifted his leg over the gelding, and they turned back the way they had come. “Yes, I do. Look, there’s Giulio. He’s been with us since before I was born, and he became a sort of foster father when I was very young. My real father had his business in BA, and I saw him only on weekends. I probably rode more with Giulio than I ever walked the first seven years of my life.”

“When you talk about him, Dominic, I hear a special sound in your voice, almost as if you were back in that time.”

He shrugged, reaching out to press a kiss to her hand. “Giulio made me see the difference between money and power, and what it was like to be my own person.” He smiled, drinking in her attentive features. “And that’s where the rub between my father and me began. I saw my mother alone five days of a week, sometimes more, because he was in the city. I saw Giulio ride back to his home every night, into the waiting arms of his wife and six children. At five years old I knew which lifestyle I wanted.”

“Did you spend a lot of nights at Giulio’s home?”

“Yes. Far too many, according to my father.”

She returned his carefree smile and felt a surge of pride. “So when did the friction begin?” she asked.

“When it was time for me to go to a private school instead of the local school, where all my friends were. I should amend that. My father felt I shouldn’t have friends among the poor, only among the rich and affluent.” Dominic rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a rueful sidelong glance. “I found out very quickly that rich kids were shallow and manipulative, compared to the farm friends I grew up with.”

Cait nodded and closed her eyes, languishing in the warming rays of the setting sun. Curtains of heat rose from the land like filmy drapes waving lazily in the breeze. Sharing the past with Dominic seemed natural, and Cait realized how much he had entrusted her with. It spoke of the seriousness of their relationship and she felt a thrill of happiness. She watched him ride with an ease born of having done it all his life.

“I hear that nasty word again,” she teased.

“
Manipulate?
”

“Yes. I thought you had grown to dislike the word, because of your marriage, but I can see now it happened much earlier.”

He laughed. “And with that knowledge, you’d think I would have recognized those very traits in Alicia. But I didn’t. I fell hopelessly in love with her. But I had no business getting married.”

“You said it had been arranged?”

“Yes. It was the only thing I let my father ever talk me into, and what a disaster it turned out to be. After the divorce he grudgingly acknowledged I was the best one to run my life. I know he feels responsible and guilty for shoving the marriage on me.”

Cait noticed a slight tremor in his voice when he said “
Alicia.
” A tiny alarm went off in her head, and she frowned. “For all the problems she seems to have caused, you sound as if you still love her.” It was posed as a statement, but Cait felt the question in her own unsure voice.

She looked intently at Dominic and found herself melting each time she took in his strong face and golden eyes, each time she felt the strength of his hard, muscular body against her own. She sighed, her heart thudding.

“I hated her for a long time, Cait. And until very recently it seemed I was still attracted to that kind of woman. That’s why I had a hell of a time with you. None of the women I knew, would ever dream of laughing freely or crying openly. When I made love to them, it was like making love to a carefully timed machine that was rigged to make the proper response or the proper rejoinder at the proper time.” He studied her. “Now do you understand why I blundered in so brazenly with you at the beginning? You were so damn lovely, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. All I knew was that I wanted you. All my usual lines backfired with you.” They laughed.

“I was absolutely mortified at your insolence! I thought this couldn’t be happening—not on my job!”