Champagne Romance (Romance Novel) (10 page)

If Swan had known how to contact Ace, she
would have done so. The privacy act kept most people from invading
the files of Americans and so it left her at a dead end;
especially, when she did not even have his real name. It seemed to
be an impossible dream. Perhaps, someday fate would intervene and
he would be part of her life and their son. She knew that she was
dreaming fairytales, but it assisted her in getting through the
day. It helped that she could very distinctly remember his gentle
touch as he orchestrated their lovemaking and how he was inclined
to take charge until they both were glowing in happiness.

Swan suspected that Ace always was in control
of his own life making it twist and turn to his satisfaction. She
could picture him putting square pegs in a round hole and
succeeding. Perhaps, it is just as well that he didn’t know about
their love child. But, she would like to imagine him flashing those
deep dimples and enthusiastically greeting the prospect of
fatherhood, but in reality, he probably would not be a happy
camper. After all, what did she know about him, but very little? He
was outdoorsy with skills that probably came from working on his
ranch that was located somewhere far from Los Angeles. She had to
remember that she and her son would never be a part of the world
that he had created for himself. She really could not predict ever
seeing him again and she knew she wouldn’t be able to recognize him
if she did. The only thing that she had figured out was a little
about Slater’s physical build. She knew he was taller than she. As
they had lain together stretched out from head to toe, he had put
his chin on top of her head and still his feet had dangled below
hers. He was physically fit. His six-pack tummy was as solid and
bumpy as cobblestone. His arms were strong and muscular. Let’s face
it, he was really, really buff. He was confidant and a “take
charge” sexy guy. It was obvious that he had determination,
toughness, and a fierceness for survival. Yet, he could be tender
and soothing. His voice was deep and gentle. He had saved her life
and given her life. For that, she would be eternally grateful.

CHAPTER 25

Slater walked down to his Malibu barn
enjoying the early morning sunrise against the violet mountains and
colorful dessert flowers. The original hacienda barn had burned to
the ground over a hundred years ago. It was just as well as it
would have been too antiquated to be of any use to a modern
rancher.

The smell of fresh hay greeted Slater’s nose
as he pulled the sliding doors back from the frame letting in the
morning sunlight. Bales of hay were stacked in the corner close to
the stalls. He could hear the stirring of pony hoofs as they
reacted in anticipation of a breakfast of hay and oats. The five
stalls were for Slater’s small herd of working ponies when they
weren’t out roaming Yucca Point. Occasionally, the barn stalls were
also used for birthing animals that were sick or injured. Slater
had participated in his share of both tasks when it was necessary.
Today, they were full to keep the horses safe from another possible
cat on the prowl.

A cowpoke room with a double bed upon which
Juanita kept fresh cotton sheets and a wool blanket was at the
front of the barn. Connected to the bedroom was a large granite
shower with a Mexican tile floor. The bedroom had shiny pine floors
and a shelf of paperback books above the window on the west. A
large floor to ceiling window on the south let in the sunshine and
the ocean breeze. It was practical and simple. It was only used
when needed for a cowhand that was looking for a place to stay
during the branding season.

Slater headed for the tack room. He grabbed a
nearby saddle, blanket, and bridle that hung on the wall with lots
of other ranching gear. It wasn’t a fancy room, but it contained
the necessity of ranching, which included a glass medical cabinet
that contained any equipment or medicine that might possibly be
used in daily life or in an emergency for human and animal.

Slater walked over to the stall of his fast
and sturdy pinto. She was chosen for her intelligence and
endurance. The ancestors of this little pinto had been introduced
to new America around 1519 by the Spanish. The Native Americans
stole and bred them as they were highly prized for their hardiness,
color, and astuteness. Slater liked them for the same reasons.

Slater threw the old saddle blanket over the
pinto mare’s back. He then pulled and tugged the saddle strap until
he was satisfied with the degree of tightness. Sticking his cell
phone in his back pocket, his titanium Mark XIX magnum in the
other, and a high-powered rifle in the holder next to the saddle
horn, he mounted Origami. The different puzzle shapes on her
horsehide seemed to make this an appropriate name for his little
pinto.

Slater was looking forward to an exhilarating
run on the beach with this stout little mare and so was Origami.
Caesar sat nearby and whined his impatience. The palomino in the
next stall whinnied his disappointment at not being the chosen one,
but soon settled down after Slater gave him a handful of oats.

As Slater mounted Origami, she began pulling
at the reins and dancing. “Easy, girl,” he gently whispered. “We’ll
soon be riding the wind.”

Taking Origami out the door of the barn,
Slater mounted her. Carefully, guiding her through the yucca plants
and over the bumpy terrain of native grass and cactus flowers, he
headed for the flat plain of the beach. True to his word, Origami
and Slater were soon riding as one through the ocean mist as they
pounded the sand at a full gallop with Caesar racing along beside
them. It was a fast and hard ride for both man and beast. At times,
it was difficult to tell the difference.

Finally, the exercise for man and beast was
exhausted and it was time to get down to business. Something had
been killing Jacob’s cattle. Slater was out to find the culprit and
put a stop to it. After the steady ride that seemed to satisfy his
little pinto, he began wondering in and out among the hills with
Caesar following and chasing nearby rabbits.

It was nearly two hours before Slater picked
up a trail of footprints. It was a cat all right--a big one! He
felt a little off center as though things didn’t seem to add up,
but the evidence was right there in front of him. Mountain lions
were elusive creatures and this one was no exception. He followed
the trail for another hour and then the morning mist turned to
heavy fog quite suddenly. Unable to continue, Slater turned the
pinto around and began to retrace his tracks back home.

Origami had been extra nervous all morning.
That was to be expected the minute she got a cat whiff, but as they
started back down the trail she was beginning to be exceptional
difficult to handle. He let up on the reins a little, looked around
and listened. Out of the blind fog, a roaring cat appeared.
Fortunately, Origami spooked to the right quickly enough to evade a
capture, but not far enough to escape a swipe from extended lethal
claws. All Slater saw was a blur of golden fur. Then, it
disappeared like a ghost and just as quickly dissolved into the
thick cloudy cover. Slater drew his rifle and fired, but the fog
was too dense to get a clear target before it was gone. This was
not an ordinary mountain lion. It was rare that they were confident
and cunning enough to become the hunter rather than the hunted as
most wild creatures were instinctively afraid of man.

Slater jumped off a trembling Origami and
tried to calm her down. She had a big gash in her hindquarters.
Blood was running down her wobbly leg. It didn’t appear to have
gone deep enough to have injured any muscle. The trauma, however,
was making her extremely difficult. They needed to get out of there
before the cat circled around and attacked again. Fresh blood just
might be all the encouragement it needed. With much coaxing,
Origami finally obeyed his soothing command. She remained steady as
Slater remounted her and returned home, which was just over the
next hill.

After attending to the traumatized Origami’s
superficial wound and giving her a good rubdown, Slater secured the
barn door. He then went inside, poured himself a cup of coffee, and
waited for the fog to clear.

By noon, Slater was on his palomino and
retracing the cat trail before it went cold. The palomino was a
little jumpy, but soon relaxed with a little bit of encouragement
from Slater. This time he brought his binoculars. He climbed a
rocky hill and inched out on a ledge with his Apache crawl of his
ancestors. From his vantage point on the high edge of the rocky
shelf, he could see for great distances. He lay there for about an
hour before he was rewarded with some movement at the east end of
the pasture.

The cat was moving in a low slow stalk, while
he focused on an unassuming doe grazing in an open meadow. He had
probably been laying low in the grass for some time--waiting and
watching. Because of his golden color, he blended into his
surroundings. Slater watched in stunned fascination as the king of
the jungle, an AFRICAN male lion attacked and killed his prey. He
couldn’t believe what he was seeing! There was no doubt that this
was a full-blooded adult male lion with a large fluffy mane
circling his head. Slater followed his every movement as his lethal
teeth showed their fierceness and tore apart the prey that he held
with his deadly claws.

Slater realized that he must be watching
Frazer who according to an old news headline had escaped from the
San Diego zoo some months earlier. He had managed to avoid capture
probably because the hunters had assumed he had gone south to the
warm climate of Mexico instead of north to Malibu. He might even
have disappeared into the hills of Las Vegas before heading back to
the coastline.

Slater pulled out his cell and contacted the
appropriate authorities. He watched Frazer while he was absorbed in
his feeding frenzy. He was fascinated with the King of the Jungle
that seemed to be in his element. Frazier would probably remain
where he was until he was well satisfied with his comfort food.
That would give the county animal control enough time to get a
tranquilizing gun and hightail it to Frazier’s dinner table. A
couple of hours later, he was captured, ending his happy
sabbatical. He was lifted by helicopter back to his fenced-in
domain in San Diego and a pride of females that seemed excited to
see him.

CHAPTER 26

Swan was getting close to delivery time. In
fact, she was about a week late according to the doctor. She had
just returned to her condo from a walk on the beach. It had felt
good to feel the warm sand between her toes and listen to the
sounds of children playing in the surf. It made everything seem
normal. She smiled when she felt Quinn kick and move his elbow
across her tummy. She was just getting into the refrigerator for a
glass of orange juice when her water broke followed by a sharp
cramp. As it is with most pregnancies, it was at a totally
unexpected moment. Carefully, tiptoeing around the slippery liquid,
she called for Maria.

Kat came over immediately and drove Swan to
the hospital. Kat was extremely concerned for her friend as she
moaned with each sharp pain. She was more than grateful when she
finally pulled up to the emergency entrance and found a nurse to
guide Swan into a wheel chair and take over from there. Two hours
later after a difficult labor, Swan birthed a healthy baby boy with
fuzzy black hair and very loud lungs.

Swan had fallen asleep soon after the birth
of her son. Now, she was wide awake and lay in the hospital bed
smiling. She knew exactly what her baby boy looked like. She didn’t
know how she knew, she just did. She heard a little noise next to
her. She turned her head and opened her eyes. A little person was
looking directly at her. He immediately, scrunched up his face and
began to howl. She was fascinated with the antics that he was
performing and even more so with her own as she watched her hand
travel out to pick him up and soothe him.

The nurse soon appeared at the doorway with
some nourishment and Swan’s new baby boy began to calm down. There
was so much activity that it wasn’t until the nurse shut the door
that Swan realized a double miracle had happened. The trauma (just
as the doctors had predicted) of a breech birth and the intense
desire of a mother to see her first born had probably been
instrumental aids in restoring her eyesight back to happy
normal.

CHAPTER 27

Almost four years had passed since the
disastrous airline crash on the mountaintop in the Rockies. Slater
had managed to tuck the memory of Swan at the back of his brain and
rarely gave her a thought.

It was late August and Slater had just sat
down to have lunch with some businessmen at a popular Newport
restaurant when this familiar saucy redhead walked into the Italian
eatery. He felt as though he had just been polar-axed deep in the
belly. Swan looked directly at him and sashayed right past as
though he were some lowly peasant. He watched with narrowed eyes as
she sat down and began to READ the menu. That just about sent him
over the edge with fury. As unreasonable as it was, it really
irritated him that she was no longer visually impaired. Slater’s
befuddled emotions begun to churn out of control before he realized
that Swan had never seen him although it was quite obvious that she
had regained her eyesight. He suddenly realized that he had the
advantage of knowing her, and not vice versa. He was not averse to
using that knowledge to his advantage.

Swan’s napkin floated from her lap to the
floor shortly after she sat down. Slater saw a perfect opportunity
that he could not pass up. He graciously excused himself from his
table on the pretense of heading for the gentleman’s room. Masking
himself with masculine charm, he leaned down to pick up the fallen
napkin.