A touch of love (26 page)

Aubrey peered ahead, but the Chevy's headlights illuminated only a thin margin of chaparral on either side of the narrow road, and she had no idea where they were. They were sending up a cloud of red dust that spilled in the open rear window and choked her as she tried to speak.

"I didn't realize you lived so far from town."

"I told you I owned a ranch."

"Well, yes. I suppose it wouldn't be a ranch if it were in the middle of Sedona."

Jesse was too tired to do more than nod at that bit of piercing logic. "We're almost there." He slowed to take

the next turn, and for the first time, a faint light shone in the distance. "There it is, just up ahead."

Aubrey had begun to worry about what she had gotten herself into, but when the headlights swept across a low adobe structure with a red tile roof, she relaxed. "Did you build the house yourself?"

"No, but I've added on and modernized until I might as well have." He swung the Chevy around the circular drive and parked beside the front door. "Let's postpone the tour until morning. Right now, all I want is some sleep.'' He left the truck and removed their luggage from the back.

Having napped a good deal of the way, Aubrey was more curious than tired, but after letting Lucky explore the front patio, she followed Jesse through the handcarved wooden door. Square terra cotta tiles not only lined the entryway but spread out to form the floor of the living and dining area. Jesse had turned on an occasional lamp as he headed for his bedroom, and she followed the trail of light.

Navaho rugs woven in bright earthtones were scattered across the floor tiles, and from what she could see of the furnishings, they were a mixture of overstuffed leather and ornately carved wood. It was an impressive home, and thoroughly masculine in decor. When she finally reached Jesse's bedroom, he was seated on a huge bed formed of rough-hewn pine logs joined together at the corners with the stark beauty of fence posts. It was covered with a terra cotta comforter with a deep black border.

"I don't have a guest room," Jesse teased as he removed his boots, "unless you want to count the bunkhouse. I'm assuming you'd rather sleep here with me than with half a dozen men who probably forgot to bathe on Saturday night."

Aubrey glanced down at Lucky. "What do you say, boy? Shall we flip a coin?"

The dog thumped his tail on the tile.

"Lucky's voting for the bunkhouse, but I'll stay here— at least for tonight/'

Jesse nodded toward the adjacent doorway. "You take the first turn in the bathroom. I'll shut Lucky in the kitchen and put out a bowl of water. I doubt the scraps we fed him after dinner will hold him all night, but maybe I can find something for him to chew on in the refrigerator."

Aubrey handed him Lucky's leash, but as Jesse walked by her, she noticed him limping, and hoped he wasn't in too much pain. She had offered to take a turn driving, but he had stubbornly refused to consider it. Now that it was too late, she wished she had been more insistent.

She carried her satchel into the bathroom and was pleasantly surprised to find the room not only modern, but handsomely designed with beige fixtures and terra cotta tile accented with aqua trim. Thick aqua towels hung from wrought-iron racks, and a plush aqua rug covered the floor. Throughout the house bold earth colors and oversized furniture fit Jesse's personality and proportions well, but Aubrey found the complete lack of feminine touches a bit disconcerting.

She peeled off her clothes, stepped into the glass enclosed tub, and turned on the shower. The instant the warm water splashed her shoulders she wished Jesse had joined her, but because he hadn't, she hurried so as not to keep him waiting for his turn. She quickly toweled off, pulled on her lavender sleepshirt, and left the bathroom. She found Jesse already sprawled across his bed sound asleep.

Aubrey was positive she had not taken too long in the shower, so he must have been exhausted. Not wanting him to grow chilled, she covered him with the comforter, then climbed into the bed beside him. The mattress was too soft in her view, but she reminded herself she would not

be there long. The beige sheets were crisply pressed and smelled of sunshine, inviting her to snuggle down under the covers. She wished Jesse had at least been awake enough to kiss her good night.

Late the next morning, faint strains of mariachi music spilled over into Aubrey's dreams. Slowly teased awake by the exuberant melodies, she stretched lazily, then raised up slightly. Jesse's bedroom was larger than she had realized last night, and bathed in the bright morning sun, the whitewashed walls had taken on a soft golden glow. In the distance, the red mountains were dotted with pine trees.

"I can't believe you didn't wake me," Jesse complained. "Did you really think I'd enjoy sleeping in my clothes?"

Aubrey turned to look at him. He was leaning on his left elbow, and his chest above the sheet was bare. He was trying to affect a menacing frown, but a teasing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth to give away his true mood. "It looks as though you survived."

"Just barely," Jesse replied. He had gotten up earlier, showered, shaved, and then been lured back into bed by Aubrey's angelic smile. He was amazed she could have such pleasant dreams after being shot at, but extremely grateful that she felt safe enough with him to have them.

Aubrey had no recollection of her dreams, but Jesse looked awfully good to her that morning. She reached up to caress his cheek, and he caught her hand to draw her near. She pressed against the length of him, boldly fitting her curves against the hardened planes of his muscular body, but she still didn't feel close enough. She pulled away briefly to toss her sleepshirt aside, then returned to his arms with a contented sigh that soon became a sultry invitation for something far more passionate than mere gentle cuddling.

Having fallen asleep long before he had intended, Jesse readily responded to Aubrey's desire. On the drive to Arizona, he had replayed the moments preceding the gunshot a thousand times. He was uncertain when it had become imperative to bring Aubrey home with him, but when he had first mentioned it, she hadn't sounded particularly eager to make the trip. In fact, he had feared he would have to talk all the way to her house to convince her it was a good idea.

He recalled glancing toward her, and she had turned to him. Their timing had been as perfect as the steps of the most intricate ballet. Then, boom! Gilroy had fired a shot at them, and the day had taken on a white-hot glow.

As a child, he had been at a movie theater one afternoon when the film had broken. Scorched by the projector's brilliant light, the image on the screen had faded as though doused with bleach. Then the celluloid had blistered and melted, creating a nightmarish landscape on the screen. He had rather enjoyed the grisly sight as a kid, but yesterday, the scene had been played out far too close, and he just wanted to forget it.

What if he hadn't spoken, and Aubrey hadn't turned? That was too horrible a possibility to explore even in his mind, but looking at the sweet, sleepy softness of her now, he needed her with a desperate passion. "God, how I want you," he moaned, his voice husky with desire. Intent upon having her, he moved over her, but rather than rush, took his time to feel every delicious inch of her.

Aubrey had succeeded in distancing herself from her emotions yesterday, but now the memory of her close brush with death brought a searing heat that infused each of her gestures with an unmistakable demand for more than Jesse had ever given. Her kisses burned his mouth, and her nails grazed his shoulders as she pulled him deep into her embrace. With a consuming surrender, she wrapped

herself around him, and as she lost her heart, she longed to capture his.

It was afternoon before the hunger for more than each other drove them from the oversized bed. Arm in arm, and laughing happily, they wandered into the kitchen and found the housekeeper, Lupe Pena, putting away the groceries she had just brought back from Sedona. About to scold Jesse for failing to let her know when he would be home, she turned away from the refrigerator wearing an impatient frown. But the instant she saw Aubrey at his side, she broke into a wide smile.

"Finally!" she exclaimed, in a voice softly accented with the musical tones of her native Spanish. "I feared you would never find a woman to please you." She hurriedly wiped her hand on her apron, and extended it to Aubrey. "I'm Lupe Pena."

When Jesse had mentioned a housekeeper, Aubrey had imagined a plump, grandmotherly woman, who kept his house neat, and him well fed. Lupe, however, was closer to forty than sixty. A Hispanic beauty with beautiful dark eyes and thick, sable hair worn in a single braid, she was tall, slim, and dressed in Levi's, boots, and a red cotton shirt, rather than a prim uniform. It was only the wide gold band on her left hand, and a faint recollection that Jesse had mentioned her husband also worked for him, that gave Aubrey the courage to smile.

Sorry he hadn't been quicker, Jesse completed the introductions and then promptly dismissed Lupe's comment. "You're the first woman I've ever brought home, but considering the circumstances, I couldn't have done otherwise."

Lupe appeared greatly intrigued by that comment, while Aubrey wished it had been affection for her rather than fear for her safety which had inspired Jesse's invitation.

Her feelings hurt, she moved away from his side, then tried to hide her disappointment.

"What a pretty kitchen this is. I don't think I've ever seen a more colorful display of Mexican tile."

"You don't think it's too much?" Jesse asked.

The walls were white, as were the appliances, while the wooden cabinets were stained dark. The yellow tile counters were liberally accented with decorative Mexican tiles with intricate floral patterns in blue, white, and green. Windows above the sink let in plenty of light, along with a breathtaking view of the mountains, lending the kitchen a bright and festive mood. Lupe looked perfectly at home there, and was awaiting Aubrey's comment with an expectant glance.

"No," Aubrey assured Jesse. "This kitchen is absolutely spectacular. It suits you, and the house."

"You see, Jesse?" Lupe stressed. "He thought the tile should be as white as the walls, and I told him it would look like a hospital. Because I spend my time here, and he doesn't, I got my way."

Lupe appeared to be extremely pleased with herself, making Aubrey feel even more like an outsider. She remained silent while the housekeeper and Jesse discussed the menu for dinner, but hated to think she was causing extra work. "Please don't go to any trouble for me," she apologized.

"You're no trouble at all," Lupe assured her. "I cook for the men as well as Jesse, and the tiny portion you'll eat won't even be noticed. Now sit down at the dining table, and I'll bring you some fresh pan dulce and coffee."

"Aubrey drinks tea," Jesse advised, making it sound as though tea were a controlled substance.

When Lupe gave her a blank stare, Aubrey apologized again. "I should have brought some of my own. If you have any juice, I'll take that—or water is fine."

"I could send Fernando back to the store for tea," Lupe offered.

"No, don't bother," Jesse said. "I want to take Aubrey into town later, and we'll get some then."

"Really," Aubrey insisted. "Water will be fine."

"Why are you so nervous?" Jesse whispered as soon as they were seated at the heavy pine dining table. Placed at the end of the home's main room nearest the kitchen, the table and six ladderback chairs were as impressive as the rest of the furnishings.

"I didn't realize I was," Aubrey insisted, hating herself for the lie, but unwilling to reveal how little she appreciated being invited there out of a sense of duty. "Tell me something about this house. Was this center section with the fireplace the original structure?"

Jesse doubted Aubrey cared all that much about the architecture, but not wanting her to dwell on Harlan Caine, he supplied the answer. "Yes. The original owner came here to raise cattle around the turn of the century. He built this single room for living and sleeping, and cooked his meals outdoors. He had intended to add on to the house when he married, but the woman he had hoped to entice out here from Virginia kept postponing her trip, and then married someone else.

"The ranch was bought and sold several times, but apparently I was the first to want indoor plumbing and more than a single room. I rather like the old place, though. If and when I get real ambitious, I'm going to add on wings to give the house the shape of a C."

Lupe carried in a tray of flakey sweet Mexican pastries, coffee for Jesse, and glasses of orange juice for them both. "Perhaps I should have offered lunch rather than breakfast. Would you like something more?"

Aubrey waited for Jesse to assure her they were fine, and

then agreed. "Lupe seems very nice," she added when they were again alone.

Jesse smiled as he replaced his cup on the table. Lupe made the best coffee he had ever tasted, and even if she had not been able to do another thing, he would have kept her on the payroll. "Yes, she is. She's also a damn good cook, and I haven't found a speck of dust in here since the day she arrived. I think you'll like her husband. Fernando started working for me first, then I hired Lupe."

Aubrey hadn't eaten a pan duke in a while and pulled off a flavorful bite. It had a hint of almond and almost melted in her mouth. "Lupe's very attractive. Is he?"

Jesse laughed at that question. "You'll have to tell me. He takes care of my horses, and you'll meet him later. You do ride, don't you?"

"Ride? You mean horses?" Aubrey's heart sank.

"Well, you're too big to ride one of the llamas."

Aubrey shrugged slightly. "Well, I have ridden a horse upon occasion."

It had not even occurred to Jesse that Aubrey wouldn't know how to ride, but now he couldn't understand why he had thought a woman who had been raised in the city would. "That's good. Did you enjoy it?"

Aubrey doubted that she had been more than twelve or thirteen the last time she had been invited to go horseback riding. "I've only ridden horses I've rented for an hour or so, and the trails, like those around Griffith Park, weren't demanding. I would like to see something of the area though, and you know I can't stay long. I've a seminar to lead on Saturday, so I'll have to fly home on Friday."