… deep and private things Mateo Celeca wouldn’t want to divulge. And certainly not divulge to a troublesome passerby like herself. Even if they had the time to get acquainted, he’d been clear. She wasn’t the kind of woman the doctor wanted to get too close to.
Bailey thought of those shoulders—those eyes—and, holding the flutter in her tummy, concurred.
She didn’t need to get that close either.
Three
Early the next morning, Mateo strode out his back door and threw an annoyed glance around the hedges and their statues. Not a sign of her anywhere. Seemed Bailey Ross had flown the coop.
After knocking on her bedroom door—politely at first—thinking she must be hungry and might join him for breakfast, he’d found the room empty. The shabby knapsack vanished. No matter her consequences, she shouldn’t have taken money from an elderly, obviously soft-hearted woman. Equally, she ought to have had the decency to at least stay long enough to say “thanks for the bed,” and “so long.”
He’d practically laughed in her face when she’d vowed to pay that “loan” back. After this disappearing act, he’d bet all he owned neither he nor Mama would hear from Miss Ross again. She was a woman without scruples. And yet, he couldn’t deny it—he was attracted to her.
After her stumble yesterday, when he’d cupped, then searched, her face, the urge to lean closer and slant his mouth over hers had been overwhelming. Last night while they’d spoken among the shadows of these gardens, he’d fought to keep a lid on that same impulse. Something deep and strong reacted whenever she was near. Something primordial and potentially dangerous.
He’d felt this kind of intense chemistry once before, Mateo recalled, looking over the statue of mother and child Bailey had found so interesting last night. Unfortunately, at twenty-three he’d been too wet behind the ears to see that particular woman for what she was: a beautiful, seductive leech. He’d fallen hard and had given Linda Webb everything she’d wanted. Or, rather, he’d tried. Expensive perfume, jewelry, even a car. She was an unquenchable well. Took twelve months and a ransacked savings account before he’d faced facts—unemployed Linda hadn’t wanted a fiancé as much as a financier.
Unlike Mama, he had no problem with being wealthy. He’d worked hard to achieve this level of security and he wouldn’t apologize for doing well. He also liked to be generous—but only where and when his gifts were put to good use and appreciated. That cancelled out the likes of Linda Webb and Bailey Ross.
Giving up the search, Mateo rotated away from a view of bordering pines at the same time he saw her.
Beyond the glass-paneled pool fence, a lithe figure lay on a sun lounge, floppy straw hat covering the back of her head and the teeniest of micro bikinis covering not much of the rest. An invisible band around Mateo’s chest tightened while his clamoring heartbeat ratcheted up another notch. Last night in the moonlight she’d looked beyond tempting, but in an almost innocent way. There was nothing innocent about the way Miss Ross looked this morning.
Those bikini bottoms weren’t technically a thong, but far more was revealed by that sliver of bright pink fabric than was covered. Minus the jeans, her legs appeared even longer, naturally tanned. Smooth. His fingertips, and other extremities, tingled and grew warm. He couldn’t deny that every male cell in his body wanted to reach out and touch her.
One of Bailey’s tanned arms braced as she shifted on the lounge. The disturbed floppy hat fell to the ground. When she blindly felt around but couldn’t find it, she shifted again, pushing up on both palms. A frown pinched her brow and, as if she’d sensed him standing nearby, her gaze tipped higher then wandered across the lawn.
When their eyes connected, hers popped and she sprang up to a sit while Mateo fought every impulse known to man to check out the twin pink triangles almost covering her perfect breasts. With difficulty, he forced his face into an unaffected mask.
Get a grip. You’re a medical doctor. An obstetrician who has tended hundreds of clients.
But there was a distinction between “work” and this vastly different environment. Irrespective of profession, he was still a man, complete with a man’s urges and desires. Under normal circumstances, being physically attracted to a member of the opposite sex was nothing immoral. Trouble was … he didn’t want to be attracted to Bailey Ross. Whether she was a victim or a schemer, she was a drifter who seemed to court trouble.
As Bailey swiped her T-shirt off the back of the lounge, Mateo set his hands in his trouser pockets and cast an aimless glance around. When he was certain her top half was covered, he crossed over.
“I took an early morning dip,” she said as he entered the pool area.
“When I couldn’t find you inside, I thought you’d run off.”
She frowned. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“Unless I was your fiancé?”
“I’m grateful for the bed,” she said, standing, “but not appreciative enough to listen to any more of your put-downs.”
He moved to the rock waterfall, wedged his hands in his pockets again and, after debating with himself several moments, said calmly, “So tell me more about your situation.”
“So you can scoff?”
“So I can understand.”
Dammit, one minute he was wanting to help, offering her a bed, the next he was lumping her in the same class as Linda. Was Bailey genuine about paying that money back, or were her dealings with Mama merely a side issue for him? Was his interest more about that long fair hair, those blazing blue eyes?
That, after his last comment, seemed to have lost a little of their fire.
Folding back down again, she set that straw hat on her lap and explained.
“After that night … the night Emilio proposed,” she said, “his sisters jumped into organizing the wedding. Emilio set the date two months from the day he shoved that ring on my finger. He wouldn’t listen when I told him it was a mistake. He only smiled and tried to hug me when I said this had all happened too fast. Everyone kept saying what a great catch he was.”
“Not in your opinion.”
“Sure, we had fun,” she admitted. “Up to that point. But after that night, whenever I got vocal and tried to return his ring, Emilio got upset. His face would turn red and beads of sweat would break on his brow. He’d proposed, he’d say, and I’d accepted. I’d taken his family’s charity by working at the taverna and sleeping under their roof. We were getting married and he knew once I got over my nerves I’d be happy. I didn’t have nearly enough money for a ticket home. I was trapped.” Looking at her feet, she exhaled. “One day at Mama’s place, I broke down. We were alone and when she asked what was wrong I told her I couldn’t go through with the wedding. Everyone else might have been in love with Emilio but I wasn’t.”
“Why not call your father?”
Regardless of disagreements, family was family. His own father had been there through thick and thin. Or rather the man he knew as a father was.
“If I introduced you to Dad,” she plopped her hat back on her head, “you’d understand
