Diana Palmer - Fire Brand

“I know that, too. I don’t like trespassing on her privacy. I didn’t do it much, even when Dad was still alive.”

“I guess you resented me more than you ever said,” she ventured, studying him.

He smiled faintly. “From time to time. I didn’t fall in line when he wanted me to; then, we didn’t speak for two years while I was in Vietnam. After I got back, I worked in a construction gang for a rival company. It was Aggie who persuaded me to talk to my father, and he eventually wore me down. That was the year before you showed up. There’d been no time before, and there was none after. You were their hearts. They both wanted a daughter. They got me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I never knew the whole truth.”

“You still don’t. But it was a long time ago. No need to brood about it, tidbit. Did you have to fight for your time off?”

“I told Johnny I’d get him a great scoop on that agricultural conglomerate that’s trying to locate here.”

His face went hard. “Is the job all you think about?”

“That’s not fair,” she replied. “I had to have an excuse. You don’t just walk out the door and tell your boss you’re taking a vacation!”

“Why in hell not?” he demanded. “My God, Gaby, you’ll inherit part of Casa Río. There’s more than enough here to support both of us for life.”

“I don’t want part of Casa Río!” she shot back. She knew she must be pale; she could feel the blood running out of her cheeks. “It’s your birthright, not mine. If there’s any outsider here, it’s not your mother’s friend, it’s me!”

He moved toward her, big and confident and a little frightening because of the sheer size of him. She had to look up to see his eyes, and all the while she was aware of the hard muscle of his body, the broadness of his chest, the masculine beauty of the darkly tanned hands holding the towel as he patted his chest with it absently to absorb the moisture.

“I don’t think of you as an outsider, despite the fact that we don’t see much of each other,” he said quietly. “And I don’t resent what Aggie feels for you—not anymore.”

“Oh, I know that, but it should be yours. You love it more than I ever could. Someday you’ll marry and have sons to inherit it...” She stopped because the thought of Bowie marrying someone and having children upset her.

“Oddly enough, Gaby, I don’t get along very well with most women,” he told her honestly. “I don’t flatter, I say what I think, and I expect intelligent conversation.” He smiled lazily. “Shall I tell you what most of my escorts expect from me, or are you sophisticated enough to guess?”

She was and she could. “You can hardly blame them,” she said defensively, and her eyes ran over him softly, making fires where they touched. “My gosh...!” She averted her eyes from his chest and shoulders.

He felt the impact of her eyes like brands on his skin. He moved a step closer, so that with one more step he could have stood against her. The nearness of her slender body, even in its habitual camouflage, made his breathing rough. He looked at her soft mouth and wondered again how it would taste under his in passion. He wondered if Gaby had ever known passion.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” he said deeply. “I meant, my escorts expect some tangible evidence of my regard: a diamond necklace, roses at breakfast—that sort of thing.”

She lifted her eyes to his hard mouth and forced them all the way to his black eyes. “What a pity they don’t know you,” she murmured. “You aren’t at all the kind of person who deals in buying and selling bodies.”

He felt his body go taut and hoped to God she didn’t notice what was happening to him. Her unexpected perception aroused him totally. “How do you know that?” he asked.

She smiled softly. “I don’t know. Aggie talks about you a lot, and so do other people. I’ve learned a lot about you that way.”

He didn’t have room to talk. He’d learned a lot about her the same way. He liked very much what he saw. She had a lovely figure, and a sexy, soft mouth. Besides that, she had a big heart, plenty of spirit, and an impish sense of humor. He’d never really known anyone like her.

“I’ve got to get dressed,” he said, forcing himself to think sensibly and not give in to the urge to make a grab for her. “Montoya said that Aggie was on the way.”

“And you want to be ready—lying in wait to ambush them, right?” she teased, wondering why it felt so natural to play with Bowie.

He smiled back. “That’s the general idea.”

“It’s never wise to mix in other people’s business.” She sighed.

“I know that, too,” he told her. “Get going. I’ll be along in a minute or two.” He would, when he got himself under control again, he thought ruefully. He was reacting to her in a totally unexpected way. He had to curb his instincts before he frightened her.

“Okay.”

It was almost a relief to get away for a few minutes and gather her shattered nerves. Being close to him produced the most incredibly sweet sensations. She wondered how it would have felt if she’d gone in the pool with him—if he’d held her while they were both barely dressed. She wondered if his hands were as capable and expert as they looked, and how it would be if she let him touch her with them. The most erotic images danced in her brain—Bowie towering over her in the shallow area of the pool; his hands peeling away the top of her swimsuit, baring her to his eyes; bending, putting his hot mouth over her soft skin...

Blushing furiously, she moved quickly out of the pool area, her legs feeling like rubber beneath her.

She’d only gotten as far as the hall when a commotion outside caught her attention. She went quickly to the front porch, just in time to see Montoya embracing a radiant Aggie. And a few steps behind her was the source of all the excitement at Casa Río—a tall, lean figure of a man about Aggie’s age, looking perfectly at home, his eyes, steady and adoring, on Agatha McCayde.

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