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.
NED COURTLAND WASN’T as big as Bowie. He was lean and fairly tall, with dark eyes and skin and silver-streaked black hair. He looked pleasant enough, but there were hard lines in his face and a stubborn set to his chin. Gaby, who’d had years of practice sizing up potential interviewees, would have pegged him as a man who presented a calm front but had a strong will and a formidable temper. He had the look of authority that usually came with money. But all that, she reminded herself, could be part of his act if he was looking to deceive Aggie.
“Hello, darling,” Aggie said, laughing as she hugged Gaby. “What in the world brings you down here?”
“A two-week vacation that Johnny talked me out of last year,” she said with commendable acting ability. “And I seem to have arrived at a very bad time...” Her eyes went past Aggie to Ned Courtland.
“Not at all!” Aggie scoffed, although the man behind her didn’t seem overjoyed to find a resident house guest. “Ned, come here and meet Gaby. She’s the next best thing to a daughter in my life. I’ve told you all about her. Gaby, this is Ned Courtland from Wyoming.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Courtland,” Gaby said politely, and shook hands with him. He had a strong grip, and his eyes didn’t waver as they met hers. Good traits, she thought absently.
“Same here, Miss Cane,” he replied. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“I could postpone my vacation,” Gaby offered, feeling guilty and half mad at Bowie for dragging her into this.
Aggie made a familiar gesture with her hand. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, with bangs, and she was wearing a red pantsuit that emphasized her olive complexion and dark, snapping eyes. She was still a pretty woman, and as capable in business as her late husband had been. She was not an easy woman to fool. Of course, she had been lonely, Gaby recalled.
“You aren’t about to postpone your vacation,” Aggie said firmly. “We’ll enjoy having you around while Ned gets an eyeful of the Arizona cattle business. He has cattle of his own, you know,” she added, and glanced up at the tall man with pure adoration in her eyes.
He smiled at her just faintly. “Just a few head, Aggie,” he murmured. “Don’t make me into a cattle baron.”
He didn’t look like one, Gaby had to agree. He was wearing a simple gray suit, which looked very nice on him, but it wasn’t an expensive suit. With it he wore cowboy boots and an inexpensive felt cowboy hat. The hat was cocked at a jaunty angle, but that seemed to suit him. Gaby wondered what secrets lurked in that calm, quiet face. Mr. Courtland didn’t look like a gigolo, whatever he really was.
“I have just this minute told Tía Elena to start setting the table for lunch.” Montoya grinned. “I will help her get the food to the table. Uh, shall I call Señor Bowie?”
Aggie blinked. “Call him in Tucson, you mean?”
“Actually, he’s in the swimming pool,” Gaby said, grimacing at Aggie’s rapidly changing expression. “He got here just after I did.”
“How sweet of the dear boy to come down to meet his tired old gray-haired mother, fresh from the cruise ship in Miami and the plane at the Tucson airport,” Aggie said through her teeth
