than tease him. And she’d done it gently, at that. Nothing she’d said or done had warranted his behavior. Even if she had come down to the barn purposely to see him, even if she was using him to amuse herself, that didn’t mean he should have taken the bait. He liked to think he was older and wiser than to let his head be turned by a pretty face.
But the moment she’d stood next to him, her face only inches away, her scent drifting over him, tantalizing every cell in his body, his common sense had crawled out the door. Now just the memory of her lips beneath his, the feel of her hands moving against his chest was enough to leave him hard and frustrated.
So what are you going to do now, Gabe?
Remind himself that he was nothing more than a hired hand and get to work.
Chapter Three
Later that morning, Mercedes was in her bedroom, trying to motivate herself to finish unpacking the boxes that were stacked in one corner. So far, she’d done little more than hang a few garments in the armoire.
What was she really doing here on the ranch, anyway? she asked herself for the umpteenth time. Was she really home to stay, or was she simply using the ranch as a launching pad to some other job at some other place?
Sighing wistfully, she dropped the slinky blouse back to the open box lying upon the bed and walked over to a huge arched window. Since her upstairs bedroom was on the west end of the house, the window was partially shaded by the enormous limbs of a live oak, yet through the break in the leaves she could see a part of the ranch yard and a small portion of the horse barn. Just looking at the old barn and recalling her encounter with Gabe Trevino was enough to make her blush.
Unwittingly, her fingertips lifted to her lips. She’d never been kissed like that before, as though she were a piece of meat and he a starving animal. It was embarrassing to think how much the kiss had excited her, had shaken the very core of her womanhood.
She’d thought John had been an adept lover. She’d believed that she would never meet another man whose touch would sweep her senses into such a mushy state of bliss. But Gabe had done that and more. Those few moments in his arms had left her feeling like a hungry tigress. She’d wanted to tear at his clothes and her own. She’d wanted to surrender to him completely. It was frightening to think how he’d woken her sleeping sexuality and turned it into a sizzling libido.
“Darling, you haven’t even gotten started with these boxes. Would you like for Alida to come up and help you?”
At the sound of her mother’s voice, Mercedes turned away from the window to see that Geraldine had walked into the room. Concern was on her face as her gaze flicked from her daughter to the still packed boxes.
“Mother, I didn’t have a maid in the Air Force. I hardly need one now.”
Geraldine scowled. “No need to get huffy. I was just offering. Or would you rather I help you?”
“No. I can manage,” she insisted. Spotting the faint look of hurt on her mother’s face, she crossed the space between them and pecked a kiss on her smooth cheek. “I don’t mean to sound sharp, Mother. I’m tired, that’s all. This past week has been a little hectic. I don’t think I’ve caught up from the jet lag yet.”
Mercedes didn’t go on to say that having a maid in the house made her feel guilty and overly pampered, especially after some of the pitiful sights she’d endured while on rescue missions in America and abroad. Floods, fires, earthquakes. The U.S. military stepped in to help when natural catastrophes shredded people’s lives and left them homeless and frightened. In those cases, having necessities was the difference between living or dying. The word maid didn’t exist in that reality.
Geraldine turned a sympathetic smile on her daughter. “And the party last night went on forever,” she conceded. “I guess I should have waited to throw it. But everyone has been so excited about you coming home. I didn’t want to wait.”
Nodding that she understood, Mercedes went over to the queen-size bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “I’m glad you didn’t wait. I enjoyed seeing everyone again.”
Geraldine walked over to a nearby armchair and sank into it. As she crossed her long legs, Mercedes couldn’t help thinking that her mother had hardly aged the past eight years. She was quite slim and shapely for a woman of sixty-four. Her complexion was tanned and smooth, while her silver hair sparkled with life. This past year, she’d started to date again, a widowed Texas senator. Mercedes admired her courage and was especially glad that she’d never given up on life after her husband had died.
The way you’ve given up on men? Maybe she had given up on men, she told herself, but she had good reason—they weren’t to be trusted.
“Darling, we’ve not done anything to this room since you left for the Air Force,” Geraldine commented as she looked around the room. “Maybe you’d like a change. New paint? Drapes? Furniture?”
The walls of the room were a soft, textured pink and the furniture was antique heavy oak that had been here since her grandparents’ heyday. She didn’t want to change a thing about the room. It was herself that Mercedes needed to change. But she didn’t have a clue how to start. How did a person forget pain and betrayal? How could she ever have a family of her own if she couldn’t trust a man to take out the garbage on time, much less take care of her heart?
Mercedes’s gaze joined her mother’s as it traveled around the walls that were crowded with photos and paintings, then down to the Spanish tile scattered with thick looped throw rugs. “There’s nothing wrong with this room, Mother. I don’t want it changed.”
Seeming not to hear her, Geraldine went on, “Well, since Nicci’s moved out, you could take over her room if you like it better.”
Now that Nicci had married Ridge and given birth to a new daughter, Sara Rose, her sister’s bedroom was empty. As empty as Mercedes’s heart.
“No,” Mercedes said flatly. “I’m happy here.”
Geraldine’s lips pursed together. “You hardly look as if you’re happy, Mercedes. And I don’t mean to push you, but frankly, I’m worried about you, honey. I thought—” She paused and shook her head with frustration. “Well, let’s just say that I hoped coming home would make you feel differently about things.”
Mercedes plucked at the knobby bedspread. “What things?”
“Well, dammit, I’m not going to beat around the bush with you. I never have, so I don’t guess I should start now. I’m talking about that bastard—John. And don’t tell me that you’re still not moping about him. I would have thought that after eight years, you would have gotten the man out of your system. But no, I still catch you staring off into space with that my-world-has-ended look. Frankly, Mercedes, I’m sick of seeing it.”
Geraldine’s angry words snapped Mercedes’s head up. “That’s not true! I’m not moping about John Layton. Good Lord, Mother, it’s like you just said, that was more than eight years ago!”
“But you haven’t forgotten.”
How could she forget the most humiliating, heartbreaking experience of her life? John had been her history professor at the University of Texas. He’d been a quiet, serious man, highly intellectual and handsome to boot. When he’d first shown a romantic interest in Mercedes, she’d been completely bowled over by his charm. Later, as their relationship had progressed into a full-blown affair, she’d truly believed that he loved her and wanted to marry her. She’d thought that the two of them together could conquer the world. God, she’d looked at him and the world through rosecolored glasses.
Sighing, she tried to explain. “Look, Mother, I believed John was the love of my life. I thought he was going to be my husband. The father of my children!”
“Instead, you learned in an offhanded way that he already had a wife with a child on the way. Believe me, Mercedes, that would have been enough