to Casa Río.”
“Aggie’s bringing a man... I need a drink—something big.”
“That’s what I felt, too. It isn’t like her.”
The waiter came, but Bowie ordered coffee, not drinks, and sat patiently while Gaby read the entire menu twice before settling for a taco salad.
“My God, you didn’t need a menu to order that,” he said curtly when the waiter had gone.
“You didn’t need one to order steak ranchero, either,” she told him with a grin, “but you read the menu.”
“I wanted to make sure they still had steak ranchero.”
She shrugged. “Who is this man?” she asked.
“I don’t know him. She met him on a cruise down to Jamaica. His name is Ned Courtland.”
“I don’t know him.”
“Neither do I. She says he’s a cattleman from somewhere up north.” He glowered at the table. “More than likely, he’s got a couple of calves in a lot out back and he’s looking for a rich widow.”
“Aggie wouldn’t get mixed up with a gold digger,” she began but she was wondering about it herself.
“Aggie’s human, and she misses my father. She’s ripe for a holiday affair.”
She stiffened. “Aggie isn’t the type to have affairs, any more than I am.”
His head lifted and his black eyes scanned her face. He seemed to see right into her brain with that unblinking appraisal. It upset her and she moved her hand too quickly, almost overturning her water glass.
“Careful.” He righted the glass, his big, lean hand momentarily covering hers. Its warm strength sent an electric sensation up her arm. She lifted her eyes to his, curious and questioning, and he stared back at her with a faint scowl, as if the contact bothered him, too.
She didn’t try to pull her hand away. She was nervous of Bowie, but she’d never had any physical distaste for him, as she did with other men. She liked the touch of his skin against hers very much, and every once in a while, she found herself staring at his mouth with frank curiosity. She wondered how it would feel to kiss him, and that shocked her. She’d been kissed, but it had been somehow mechanical. She’d never really wanted it with anyone except Bowie—not that he knew. She’d made very sure that he hadn’t. He was the kind of man who took over people. She couldn’t bear the thought of that, ever.
He drew his hand back slowly, aware of an annoying surge of pleasure at the feel of those slender fingers under his. Gaby was off limits, he had to remember that. Aggie would cut his hands off if he tried anything with her baby.
Aggie had never made any secret of her love for Gaby, nor had his father. They seemed to stop caring about him the day Gaby had moved into Casa Río, and he felt like a spare person in the family. Gaby had robbed him of his rightful place. He tried not to show that resentment, but he frequently felt it. It had been Gaby at his father’s bedside when he died, because his father had called for Gaby before he had asked for his son. By the time he got to Copeland, it had been too late. He’d resented that, too. Aggie hadn’t seemed to notice. She was affectionate, but she reserved her displays of emotion for Gaby. Not once in recent years had she offered to embrace her son.
Gaby was blissfully unaware of his anger, but she had her own secrets, he was sure of it. Her attitude had puzzled him for years. It was odd to find a fifteen-year-old alone in a barn, especially one with no apparent background. His parents had been too fond of her to make inquiries, but Bowie hadn’t. He’d wanted to know all about her, but he had drawn a total blank. All his contacts and all his money hadn’t managed to ferret out one piece of information about her that he didn’t already have. He suspected that she had a past, but he had no idea what it was—or even where. She’d covered her tracks with excellent shrewdness, and that made him more suspicious about her.
“Why did you come to see me?” she asked to break the uneasy silence.
“You’ve got to help me do something about Aggie.”
Her eyebrows went up. “What did you have in mind?”
He paused as the waiter put a plate of steak medallions covered with Monterrey Jack cheese, onions, and peppers before him, and Gaby’s taco salad was placed before her. Two cups of steaming coffee, with a small pot of cream, came next. The waiter smiled and left.
“Well?” she prompted, her eyes anticipating with delight the fresh slices of avocado and the sour cream topping her enormous taco salad in its crispy shell.
“I want you to take a vacation.”
She stared at him blankly. “A what?”
“A vacation. It’s May. You didn’t take one at Christmas. You could take it now.”
“I’m sure you’re going to want me to spend it at Casa Río,” she murmured. She sighed. “Aggie and a man—my gosh.” She looked up, and now she was feeling some concern of her own. “He must be some fast worker if he’s gotten her this involved this quickly.”
“I know. That’s why I’m worried. If I didn’t have this project under way in Calgary, I’d camp down there myself. You know Aggie never minds if we come to stay, or how long for.” He glowered at the tablecloth. “Why can’t she stay home and start a business, or something constructive? Why hare off to the Caribbean and drag strange men home with her?”
Gaby almost grinned, but it was pretty serious. Aggie hadn’t dated anybody, except for a friendly dinner now and again with couples from the construction firm, who thoughtfully provided single men for her inspection. That hadn’t worked. Aggie was still a dish at fifty-six, and her short black hair was only flecked with silver. She had a nice figure. Gaby’s eyes narrowed. Aggie had been alone a long time; perhaps being flattered and escorted had played on her loneliness. She thought about some faceless man playing her adopted mother for a fool and got madder by the minute.
“I’ll go see Johnny Blake first thing in the morning,” Gaby murmured. “I’ll ask Aggie if I can stay a couple of weeks.” She looked up. “What if she says no?”
“When has she ever said no?” he asked testily, his black eyes questioning hers. “I don’t know how we can stop her, but we can certainly slow her down if she’s serious. In the meantime, we’ll find out what we can about her beau.”
“He could be on the level...” she murmured thoughtfully, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt for Aggie’s sake. If Aggie was really smitten, this could prove to be a nightmare for everyone concerned. Trying to dissuade a determined woman was difficult at best, and Aggie had a temper that would match even Bowie’s when she was aroused.
“He could be anything or anyone,” Bowie countered. “Con men prey on women her age. It’s nothing against her,” he added when Gaby opened her mouth to protest the insinuation. “You have to admit that this is unusual behavior for her. She’s been loyal to my father’s memory for a long time.”
That was true. Gaby’s mind conjured up a picture of big, blustering Copeland McCayde, Aggie’s exact opposite in every way. He’d been rather domineering and not very affectionate, but Aggie seemed to have loved him dearly.
