was genteel, refined, not like the other women he’d bedded. Women who wanted a wild ride with the rebel stallion, who hadn’t seen him for who he really was. Savannah had looked into his eyes, and he’d felt that she was seeing things inside of him that he had only been wishing were there.
She made him want to be a better man.
Still, when she’d left soon afterward, he’d locked her memory away and gone on with his work, being a horse whisperer. Gone on with his life, bedding every willing woman he came across. But even then, Savannah had haunted the perimeters of his mind, making him long for her even though she was an unattainable dream.
After she’d lost her teaching position in a prim and proper private school, she’d returned, to work for the Fortunes as the Double Crown’s bookkeeper. He’d been stunned to see her belly slightly rounded with child. His child, although pride had her denying it at first.
Pride was the one thing they had in common. Her pride wouldn’t let him marry her out of a sense of obligation, so she’d lied to him about the baby’s father. And his pride wouldn’t allow Savannah to be married to anyone but a success.
It still didn’t.
He was determined to be that success for her. And for his son. Honor demanded nothing less.
He’d expanded on the original ranch’s one hundred acres, buying more land to the east, planning on having more horses, planning to put the name of La Esperanza on the map. This ranch would never rival in size anything the Fortunes had, but in quality…well, that he could strive for. That would be something worthy he could give Savannah and Luke and whoever else was joining the family in six months. No, four, he mentally corrected himself after ticking off the months in his mind.
Damn, it was hard to keep that straight. Hard to keep anything in his life straight these days, what with one thing after another. Just the day-to-day chores were overwhelming now that Paco had left for reasons that had nothing to do with Cruz.
Didn’t matter what the reasons, he thought, walking up to the front door. He still felt the man’s loss. Paco had been with him since the beginning and had remained more out of loyalty than the pay. Cruz was down to three hands. The money he’d set aside to hire a new man had been eaten up by vet bills when one of his mares had been bitten by a rattlesnake. He’d come close to having to put her down, but now she was out of the woods. And he was very close to being out of money.
That left him a man short, with him having to take up the slack, since in clear conscience he couldn’t ask anyone else to do it. He wasn’t that kind of a boss, wanting his hands to do more than he did himself.
It was after nine. The last bit of July daylight had been siphoned off, and night had descended, sitting oppressively over the terrain along with its humidity.
He felt more dead than alive, but he remembered to stomp his boots on the doormat with its faded Welcome sign. He knew how Savannah hated having dirt tracked into the house.
Lately, there seemed to be a lot of things Savannah hated, he thought.
He followed the trail of lights, shutting them off as he went. Electric bills didn’t pay for themselves.
He found her sitting at the table in the small dining room. She turned her face toward him as he entered. The table was set for two.
A sad smile twisted his lips. Savannah had given up setting it for three. Luke had long since gone to bed.
Cruz missed his son. Missed his wife. Missed enjoying his life. But sitting back and enjoying things was for dreamers. Not for men with responsibilities.
Someday, he promised himself, he would be able to kick back a little and enjoy the fruit of his labors, like the Fortune men he’d grown up with. Right now was his time to prosper.
But only if he kept after it.
He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Hi,” he said wearily.
Savannah forced a smile to her lips. He looked as tired as she felt, she thought. “You made it home,” she murmured.
His broad shoulders moved in a careless shrug beneath a faded denim work shirt that was damp with sweat. “I always do.”
He said that as if he resented coming home to her, she thought. She took a breath. “Hungry?”
Yes, he was hungry. Hungry for a lot of things. Hungry for more than food. But all his body begged for was some place to drop so that it could finally, finally rest. Cruz shook his head.
“No, I’ll just turn in.”
She looked at the food, which had long since cooled, waiting on his arrival. After leaving Vanessa’s, she’d returned home, determined to be more patient. To be the loving wife she wanted to be. That had entailed making an elaborate Mexican dish her mother-in-law had taught her how to prepare. “But I made your favorite.”
Cruz forced a smile to his lips only because he was too tired to do it naturally. He looked at the meal. Chewing took more effort than he could give it.
“Thanks. Save it for tomorrow.”
She struggled to hide her hurt. He was rejecting her. Again. “It won’t taste the same.”
“You made it. It’ll still taste good.” Cruz felt his temper threatening to spike. It took all the energy he could muster to keep it in check. “Look, I’m exhausted. If you don’t mind, I’m going to turn in.” He was already walking away from her toward the stairs.
“Yes, I do mind,” Savannah said under her breath, but Cruz was too far away to hear.
Angry tears stung her eyes as she began to clear the table.
Two
S avannah made it upstairs less than half an hour later, after clearing the table and putting away all the untouched food. She’d gone to the trouble of cooking mainly for Cruz. The way her stomach was behaving, it didn’t welcome eating no matter what time of day she tried. The best she could hope for was to keep down a few crackers at a time.
Crossing the threshold into their room, she found him facedown on the bed, his face pressed against a pillow. Cruz was sound asleep.
She sighed. Her husband looked as if he’d crashed on the bed the second he came into the room. His body was sprawled on top of the covers, his opened shirt fanned out on either side of him like denim wings. Savannah shook her head. Cruz hadn’t even bothered getting undressed, except for his boots.
The air in the master bedroom was oppressively heavy. It felt sticky, still ripe with the day’s humidity. Savannah walked to the windows on either side of the king-size bed and opened them as far as they would go, hoping to get a little air circulating through the room.
Nothing happened. If there was a breeze in the vicinity, it was avoiding them.
Not bothering to shed the loose-fitting sundress she had on, Savannah lay down on the other side of the bed and pretended that all was well in her life.
“Why didn’t you put your nightgown on last night?”
It was the first question she heard
