“This feels very isolated,” he said as the trees on either side of the road seemed to crawl closer.
“It is. It’s a pretty big spread but most of it hasn’t been cleared or anything. My grandfather bought the land years ago, long before there was a resort. My father and mother chose to make it their home after my grandparents died and I’ve always lived here. I like the isolation, the beautiful nature that surrounds me when I step outside my front or back door. Is your country beautiful?”
“White beaches, blue seas, lush flowers…yes, Barajas is very beautiful, but I find Wyoming to be as beautiful, just different.”
She turned off the road and onto a driveway that led to a small cottage. A light shone from the front porch, a welcome beacon in the darkness that had fallen. Colorful flowers spilled from boxes under the windows. It looked like something from a fairy tale, an enchanted cottage in the middle of the wilderness.
“It’s not much,” she said with a touch of defensiveness. “But it’s all mine and I love it here.” This time her words held an obvious sense of pride.
The sense of welcome that the porch light had emitted continued on into the house. As Antoine stepped inside the living room the earthy burnt orange and browns of the décor instantly put him at rest.
“Please, have a seat.” She gestured him toward the overstuffed sofa. “I’m just going to get out of my uniform. I’ll be right back to start the coffee.”
She disappeared down the hallway and Antoine sank into the comfortable couch cushion and gazed around the room. Like subtle facial features that could give away internal emotions and weaknesses, he knew a room could speak volumes about the person who lived in it.
A bookcase stood against one wall, one of the shelves filled with framed photos of Beth with an older woman who appeared to be her mother. The television was small, as if watching it wasn’t a top priority. A paperback lay on the end of the coffee table, the couple’s clinch on the cover letting him know it was a romance novel. A wind chime tinkled a lovely melody from someplace outside the windows.
A lonely romantic who loved nature, he thought. There was no sign of a man’s presence anywhere in the room. An old record player sat next to a stack of ancient LPs and it was easy for him to imagine her curled on the sofa with a book in hand while old, romantic music filled the house.
He looked up as she returned to the room, clad in a pair of jeans that looked slightly worn and hugged her long slender legs to perfection. Her mint-green T-shirt fit a little big but not so much that he didn’t notice the press of her full breasts against the material.
He suddenly wished he was in a pair of jeans, on the back of a horse with her, her arms wrapped tightly around him as they rode carefree across a pasture. It was a vision that brought the first burst of pleasure he’d felt since arriving in Wyoming.
“Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll make the coffee,” she said.
He followed after her, unable to avoid noticing the way her jeans cupped her shapely buttocks. Why was there no man in her life? A woman like her should have a man to thrill her with his lovemaking and then hold her tight through the darkness of the night.
The kitchen was a surprise. Large and airy, with a breakfast nook that was surrounded on three sides by floor-to-ceiling windows, it was obviously the heart of the house. Gourmet copper-bottomed pans hung from a rack above the stove and a variety of cooking-aid machines lined the counters.
“You like to cook.” He stated the obvious.
She flashed him a bright smile that warmed him in places he hadn’t realized were cold. “I love to cook. It’s my secret passion.” She pointed him to the round oak table in the nook. “Have a seat. The coffee will be ready in just a minute and I have some leftover red velvet cake to go with it.”
He sat and enjoyed the view of her bustling to get the coffee brewing. It had been far too long since he’d enjoyed the pleasure of a woman. For weeks before the trip to the resort there had been meeting after meeting to decide what to offer and what they needed from the trade agreements they intended to make. There had been almost no time for any kind of a social life.
“Hopefully Jane will have something for you tomorrow,” she said as she placed a creamer and sugar bowl on the table. Then went back to the counter and returned with a platter holding a cake that looked as if it had just come out of a bakery.
“Hopefully,” he replied. “But I don’t want to talk about any of that tonight. Tonight I want to talk about ordinary things, things that don’t set off a burn of anger in my belly. I noticed that you have a lot of pictures of you and your mother in the living room.”
“Yes. My dad died when I was six and when I was thirteen my mom developed a severe heart condition. Unfortunately she passed away three years ago.”
“My parents died when I was young.” A long-remembered grief touched Antoine’s heart. He thought about the horrific night of his parents’ deaths often, recognized and never forgot the lesson he’d learned that night.
“I’m so sorry.” She poured the coffee and carried the cups to the table, then sank down in the chair opposite his. “Was it some kind of an accident?”
“Actually, they were murdered.” She gasped and he continued, “My father was initially my mother’s bodyguard. He was an American, an ex-mercenary and they fell in love and married. Unfortunately my father had made many enemies in his past and that night those enemies found him and my mother.”
“So, who raised you and your brother?”
“My mother’s father, King Omar Zubira.” A whisper of a smile curved his lips as he thought of the stern but loving man who had raised them. “He didn’t approve of my mother’s marriage and never really accepted my father, but he was a loving man to me and Sebastian, although I must admit we sometimes gave him a hard time.”
“The twin thing?”
He grinned. “But, of course. Being an identical twin can be quite amusing and Sebastian and I definitely used it to our advantage whenever possible. After grandfather died I was grateful to have Sebastian by my side to share the responsibility of ruling Barajas.”
“It must be a huge responsibility, to run a nation,” she said as she sliced the cake and shoved a generous piece toward him.
“Probably no bigger than running the housekeeping staff at a luxury resort,” he replied. “To be truthful Sebastian carries much of the weight. He’s a good man with a knack for politics and he’d do fine without me. But enough about me. What I really want to know is why you don’t have a man in your life. Surely you meet men during the course of your work.”
He picked up his fork and took a bite of the cake and noticed that her features tightened slightly and a whisper of hurt filled her eyes. It was there only a moment and then gone, but it let him know that at some time in the not so distant past a man had hurt her…hurt her badly.
“I don’t date hotel guests and besides, I stay busy with my work and I’m not particularly interested in a relationship right now.”
It was a lie, he could see the deception in her features. “That’s a shame, because you have lips meant for kissing.”
Her cheeks
