Fierce Love (15 page)

“Don’t underestimate your appeal, Rafael. She might like you quite a bit.”

His brows dipped in a confused line. “Wouldn’t that bother you?”

“We’ve no control over how someone else feels, so there’s no point in being jealous.”

“You don’t think like a woman.”

Clearly he thought himself an expert. “Because I’m rational? I’m not unique.”

“Maybe not, but a Gypsy woman wouldn’t allow another woman to flirt with her man.”

“Are you my man?” The question slipped out before she could catch it.

He pulled her hand to his lips and gave her knuckle a playful bite. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re very late for lunch.” She gave him a forceful tug, and he followed her into the dining room. Ana and Santos were seated side by side and Maggie and Rafael sat down opposite them. One of Refugio’s helpers brought Rafael a roast beef sandwich and a beer, but she didn’t ask for anything more.

“Aren’t you going to ask me for an opinion on Rafael?” Santos asked her.

“I thought our father was making the decision.”

“Yes, but I have an opinion too.” He took another bite of his sandwich. The meat was sliced so thin pieces kept sliding out, and he pushed them back between the thick slices of bread. “For today I have one; tomorrow I might have another.”

“Tell me what you think tomorrow, then,” Maggie asked.

“You two really look alike,” Ana mused thoughtfully. “Don’t they, Rafael?”

Rafael set his sandwich on his plate and wiped his mouth on his napkin before replying. “Maggie is much prettier.”

“Yes, she is, but the family resemblance is strong. Anyone could see you’re Miguel’s children. I’d like to photograph you together. I plan to work as a photographer when I retire from modeling and am always looking for an appealing subject. I have to go into Zaragoza this afternoon, so we can do it later. Do you want to come along, Magdalena?”

“Go,” Rafael encouraged. “You need a dress and shoes for flamenco.”

Maggie had pretty dance clothes at home, but it would be nice to have something new she could boast came from Spain. “Do you know a place that sells those?”

Ana had finished her bowl of soup and set the spoon carefully on her plate. “I know where to buy anything even remotely related to fashion.”

Santos leaned close to kiss Ana. “We’re going to look through Augustín’s journals, probably from opposite ends of the house, so shop as long as you like.”

When they were finished eating, Maggie went upstairs to get her purse and joined Ana and the men out front. The model drove a light blue Porsche that looked brand new. “What a beautiful car.”

“Thank you. It was a gift.”

Santos looked up at the cloudless sky, so clearly the expensive sports car wasn’t from him. Maggie wondered if it could have been from their father and if Miguel was equally generous with all his girlfriends. The possibility brought an ache suspiciously close to jealousy, which she’d never admit to Rafael.

Rafael walked her to the passenger side of the car and bent down to whisper, “Do you need money?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.”

“Never make a woman ask for money,” Santos scolded. “Do it like this.” He pulled a couple of large bills from a money clip and slipped them into Ana’s hand as he kissed her.

“I thought you just left money on the dresser,” Rafael shot back at him.

Maggie leaped in front of Rafael as Santos came around the front of the Porsche in two long, angry strides. Rafael picked her up and set her out of his way. “Your sister’s afraid I’ll hurt you, because she knows you can’t hurt me.”

“Stop it!” Maggie shouted with the same authoritative tone she’d used to break up fights in the corridors of Catalina Foothills high. “You two have no better manners than the bulls you torture. Give us the video camera, and we’ll take it to Miguel right now. I’m not staying here to watch you scuffle in the dirt, and if that insults you both, I’m glad.”

Rafael raised his hands and moved back while Santos curled his hands into fists and glared at him. “I’ll take you home. You don’t have to ride with him,” her brother promised through clenched teeth.

Fox came around the side of the house, took one look at the men’s hostile stances and hurried to join them. “If there’s going to be a fight, my money’s on the Gypsy.”

“Wise choice,” Rafael answered.

Ana punched Santos in the stomach. “If I’d known you and Rafael were going to fight over Magdalena, I wouldn’t have come. It’s a good thing I didn’t bother to unpack.” She started toward the house, her fair curls flying behind her.

Santos didn’t glance her way. “I mean it, Magdalena. You’re coming with me.”

“No, she isn’t,” Rafael answered.

“I don’t want to ride with either of you. I’d ask Ana for a ride home, but I can’t leave you two here alone. This is like the story of the man trying to cross a river with a fox, a chicken and a sack of grain.”

“What?” Santos asked.

“It’s a math story problem for children,” Rafael explained. “I’m sure you could figure it out in a day or two.”

“That’s it,” Maggie cried. “I’m leaving with Rafael because he hasn’t got the sense to keep his mouth shut. Come on, let’s get our things. Where’s the video camera?”

A sly smile curved Santos’s lips. “Sorry. I wanted to give him a chance to do better tomorrow, and I erased the video.”

Rafael swore a particularly bitter curse under his breath, but Maggie caught every foul word. “We could stay in Zaragoza tonight and come back here tomorrow.”

“No, stay. I promise to be good,” Santos vowed unconvincingly. “I hadn’t used the camera in a while, and the video wasn’t worth saving. Tomorrow I’ll do a better job.”

“I don’t trust you to even point it in the right direction,” Rafael complained.

“Convince Ana to stay,” Maggie suggested, “and she can handle the camera.”

Santos shrugged and turned toward the house. “I’ll try.”

“Just slip more money in her hand,” Rafael called.

Maggie looked up at him and shook her head. “With that mouth, how did you survive a prison sentence?”

Fox thought the whole confrontation funny. “You can tell he wouldn’t be anyone’s bitch.”

Maggie looked around, but there was no place to go. Her heart was pounding, and, feeling shaky, she leaned back against the Porsche. “You pick fights for fun, and I absolutely abhor conflict. Do you see something wrong with this picture?”

“I don’t think she’s asking me,” Fox said.

Rafael gritted his teeth. “Santos and I have never liked each other. I’ll not insult him within your hearing. Is that good enough?”

Maggie thought it a lame promise, but it was probably the best he would do. “When Santos’s mother learned Miguel had married my mother, she hanged herself in the stable here. He was only a baby. Try and remember that the next time he’s rude to you. Don’t tell him I told you that story either. He wouldn’t want your sympathy, but if he can be nice to me, when his mother is dead because of mine, then you should be able to be civil to him.”

“Do you suppose the stable is haunted?” Fox wondered aloud.

Rafael leaned back against the Porsche and draped his arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “I only knew he’s Miguel’s son, but he hasn’t been kind to me either. If you want to compare pitiful stories, I have them too.”

He was no more self-centered than most men, but it was incredibly annoying. “True, but will you work on being kinder yourself just because he’s my brother?”

Ana came out of the house alone carrying only her purse. “Do you still want to go to Zaragoza, Magdalena?”

“No, thank you. I think I better stay here.” She and Rafael moved away from her car.

“What about you, Fox?”

“I’ll go, sure.” He slid into the Porsche and hurriedly fastened his seatbelt as though he feared he might be left behind.

Maggie and Rafael watched them drive away. She’d driven across Arizona several times, and the scenery between Tucson and Phoenix was equally barren and wild, but she’d always been on her way somewhere, not stuck in the middle of it. “It’s lonely out here. Is it your dream to own a ranch?”

“No, but I only plan a week ahead.”

That was all she needed, another reminder he might not be with them after Sunday. “We’re definitely going to have to stick to dancing, because I absolutely refuse to fall for a reckless fool.”

Rafael leaned down to kiss her. “Too late.”

Chapter Eleven

Leaving the den to Santos, Maggie and Rafael sat outside on the front porch. He wore a thoughtful expression as he read one of Augustín’s journals, but she found the family album more troubling than helpful. Some of the photos had come loose from their pages, but there was no legible information on the back. She wondered if there was any glue in the desk but lacked the energy to go look. She closed the album and sat back. The wicker chair was thickly padded, and she was content to sit for the moment.

“Find anything?” Rafael asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know what I was looking for, maybe just a familiar face so I’d feel as though I fit among them. You’re so sure of who you are, but I’ve never felt as though I belonged anywhere.”

“You fake it very well, then.”

“I’m not a fake.” She clutched the album tightly to her chest.

He eased out of his chair to face her. “Perhaps I used the wrong word, but you’re such a confident woman, not shy or lost.”

“Self-confidence is another thing entirely.”

“Is it?”

She stood and remained close to him. “Yes, and please let’s not argue.”

He ran his fingertips down her cheek in a gentle caress. “Some things are worth arguing over.”

“True, but this isn’t one of them. Have you found anything useful?”

He regarded her with a sad smile, as though she were missing his whole point. “Yes, I thought I was observant, but Augustín could read the ring without missing a single detail while still keeping his focus on the bull. Death should take the bull by surprise. Augustín knew how to keep the bull from surprising him. Thank you for finding these. There’s much more advice in them than what Miguel taught me.”

She wondered if Santos would find the journals equally helpful or if he already knew everything their grandfather had to teach. “I want to look at another album. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine, and I’m staying out here to keep your brother safe.”

He might be doing as she’d asked, but a steely defiance ran through him head to toe, and she’d been the fool to think she could rein it in. She found Santos seated at the desk with his boot heels resting on the corner.

He grinned at her. “Did you notice I didn’t ask Rafael if he could read?”

“Am I supposed to be grateful? You’re too handsome a man to lose your front teeth.”

“I’m not worried, but I didn’t want to make you angry. You’re awfully cute when you are, but I’m restraining myself.”

“Thank you, whatever the reason.”

She replaced the album and took out the next one. It was heavier than the first, and she hoped it held more clues to the family. “Tell me something, Santos, did you erase the video because Rafael looked too good?”

He pulled his feet off the desk, and his boots hit the floor with a loud thump. “Don’t kid yourself, he’s not that good. He’s got balls, I’ll give him that, but his technique is rough, not as polished as it should be. He can pass for a matador as he struts into an arena wearing a suit of lights, but he can’t prove it once he’s there. If they loved him in Mexico, it’s because the people there couldn’t see the difference.”

“And you’re a man with brilliant technique?”

“Our father had it, and Augustín too. I’m nearly there. Mondragon will never achieve it.”

She didn’t care how sloppy Rafael’s technique might be. She just wanted him to stay alive. “Augustín was supposedly working on a memoir. Have you ever heard anything about it, or know where it might be?”

“I stayed out of his way. He could have been knitting Christmas stockings, and I wouldn’t have known. What does Mrs. Lujan say?”

“She thought it was in the tin box. I’m afraid Carmen might have burned it.”

He nodded. “We’ll have to ask her about it just to see her squirm.” He raised his voice to a rasping soprano: “A memoir? Why no, I know nothing about it.”

Maggie laughed with him and went back outside to sit with Rafael. “I’m hoping to have better luck with this album.”

“At least you know they’re family. I don’t have any pictures of anyone, not even my sister.”

It was made as an offhand comment, but, touched, Maggie reached for his hand. He moved with such pride and confidence, but for an instant he’d let his façade slip, and she’d glimpsed the pain underneath. He’d reject any word of sympathy, so she offered something far better. “I keep thinking about dessert.”

“Let me carry that album upstairs for you.”

“Would you please?”

They walked up the stairs with the quiet steps they’d use to sneak past a sentry and carefully closed the door to Maggie’s room and locked it. Rafael set the album on the dresser and laid Augustín’s journal on top. Before he could turn around, Maggie wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight.