The Good Daughter (11 page)

Drawing upon every ounce of acting skills he’d ever learned, Vince kept his hands to himself and shrugged. “I was just here at the right time.” He made himself walk away before he fell headfirst and fathoms deep into those soulful brown eyes. “Breakfast will be ready when you are.”

After a moment, he heard her footsteps moving down the hall.

In the kitchen, he stared unseeing out the window for a very long time.

C
HLOE GLANCED AROUND
at Vince’s neighborhood, an eclectic mix of houses older than those where she lived. Shotgun cottages stood cheek by jowl with big, rambling two-story Victorians. Travis Heights had gone to seed, but nowadays, young couples were remodeling and restoring the neighborhood to a new vitality. She hadn’t been here in a long time; South Austin and North Austin might as well straddle the Mason-Dixon Line, separate worlds divided by the river that flowed between them.

She would have pegged Vince Coronado as the type to live in some singles-only apartment complex, never a neighborhood as cozy as this. His house was one of the smaller ones on a street still half in, half out of decay, but she knew living here was a smart investment on his part. This northernmost neighborhood of South Austin had values skyrocketing simply because of its proximity to downtown. As Austin’s traffic had worsened, formerly modest neighborhoods like this one and her own had become coveted real estate regardless of the condition of the housing.

She wasn’t surprised that he’d made a smart investment; he was a very bright man, she’d come to realize.
Maybe he’d come from a deprived background, but the intelligence that crackled in the air around him could not be denied.

But that his house would feel so much like a home did surprise her. She could see the new roof, the trees he’d trimmed, the flower gardens weeded. New paint in a subtle but striking mix of cream and bronze and sable made this house stand out from its neighbors to either side and lifted the entire block a notch.

“I like it,” she said. Just then, something brushed against her leg, and she jolted before spying the cat. “Is it yours?” Chloe sank to her knees and stroked the fur.

Vince recoiled. “No way.” But the cat abandoned Chloe to wind around his ankles.

“Does he know that?”

“Not my fault he’s hard-of-hearing. I’ve told him to scram.”

Chloe grinned as the cat’s purring increased. “I see how he’s terrified of you.”

Vince squirmed under her appraisal. “It’s only a temporary arrangement. I don’t have time for pets.” But he’d already crouched beside her, absently stroking the animal.

She smothered a laugh. “It might be too late.” She glanced at the cat, who’d rolled over onto his back in bliss. She couldn’t take her eyes off Vince’s strong, lean fingers.

He saw her laughter and jerked his hand back as if burned, then quickly stood. “Want something cold to drink?”

“Sure.” She followed him inside and stopped in the living room in amazement. This room was finished, oak floors gleaming with what had to be hand-rubbed waxing. His furnishings were simple and clean of line—a long leather sofa saved from starkness by two overstuffed chairs, with ottomans, that looked like the perfect place to curl up and read. Bookcases lined the walls, crammed full; she itched to peruse the titles. His coffee table was burled wood, low and massive, and bore its own stacks of books. She saw no television, though there was a state-of-the-art sound system in place.

He’d turned back when she halted and noticed her absorption. “Sorry for the mess. I need more bookshelves,” he said. “Or maybe I need to quit buying books.”

“I love to read, too. My idea of a great vacation would be an all-expenses-paid four-star hotel with room service and an endless gift certificate at the bookstore next door.”

“I never read much as a kid, never was in school that often. Carlos taught me that even a poor kid could travel the world in the pages of a book. He took me to get my first library card.”

Sorrow cast a shadow across him. She marveled at how he’d triumphed over his background and knew she’d been right to think that Carlos Quintanilla’s death still affected him. “I’m so sorry I never knew him,” she said. “He must have been a wonderful man.”

Vince’s face shuttered. “He was.”

A strained silence ensued, and she sought to relieve it. “This room is beautiful, Vince.”

His smile was grateful. “Thanks. It’s one of two
rooms that are complete. Well, three if you count the master bath I made out of a bedroom.”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “A whole bedroom?”

“Want to see?” His blue eyes held both challenge and temptation.

Did she want to see his bedroom? She’d never wanted to see a man’s bedroom before, but…

“Yes.”

Vince grinned. “Let me get you that drink, and then we’ll take the nickel tour.”

And they did, Chloe exclaiming over the whirlpool tub and separate shower, trying not to focus too hard on the enormous bed that dominated the bedroom, all the while intensely aware of a subtle hum of attraction that made her both breathless and wary. As they moved through the house, Vince’s hand would rest on the small of her back or their bodies would brush in passing, and the voltage would increase until Chloe’s nerves danced with a mingle of anticipation and fear.

In the doorway to his room, he paused to let her by but crowded her slightly, his gaze never leaving hers, tangible and dangerous. She tried to ease past him without touching.

But oh, how she wanted—

She could hear him breathing, registered the warmth of him on her skin. Inhaled the scent that was new and tantalizing and…all man. Chloe stared at his chest only inches away and wondered what he’d do if she closed the distance and pressed her lips to the cotton stretched over that expanse of hard muscle—

“Chloe.” Her name on his lips was both entreaty and command.

Slowly, she dragged her gaze upward, preternaturally aware of the moisture gathering between her breasts, the softening of her body under the spell of power crackling around a man who’d stormed into her predictable life, sweeping away everything she thought she’d understood about herself.

It was too much. Chloe gasped and slipped past him, knowing herself for a thorough coward after all.

Yes, he tempted her unbearably, but she had only the slimmest grasp upon the reins of her life at this moment. Her head dropped. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, bracing herself for an explosion of fury he would be justified in feeling.

But she heard only silence.

Finally, she dared a glance at him.

Vince still stood in the opening to his bedroom, arms braced against the frame as he stared down.

“I—I can call a cab,” she ventured.

His head rose swiftly. “No.” He closed his eyes and frowned. “No.” He walked toward her with that slow masculine stride, and halted in front of her a careful distance away. “Talk to me, Chloe.” Though raspy, his voice held no trace of anger. “Something happened last night, and I think I’ve earned the right to an explanation.”

He was such a complex mix of cowboy and warrior and gentleman, all in the guise of an unredeemed rake. When he held out his hand, she slipped hers into his warm and reassuring grasp. Her whole world had
shifted on its axis, and she had no idea how to regain her equilibrium.

Vince took one look at the pale, tender skin revealed in the part of her hair, the defeat in her body, and knew he would stand here forever if necessary. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She was silent so long that he was about to give up, but then she spoke, her voice hushed, her eyes fixed on something past his shoulder. “I found out last night…” She paused and cleared her throat. “That I’m adopted.”

Prepared for anything from violence to terminal illness, Vince realized his first impulse was to say,
That’s all?
But something in the way she held herself so stiffly made it clear that she didn’t consider herself lucky to have been adopted into such privilege, that she hurt badly. “You didn’t suspect?”

Her head shook slowly. “It explains a lot now, but—” She lifted her gaze to his. “They lied to me, Vince. My whole life is a fraud.”

A hundred questions popped into his mind, but he was no counselor. He was out of his depth to deal with something like this. Then he remembered one of Chloe’s favorite questions in her sessions. “How do you feel about it?”

“I— A million things. I don’t know what to think.” Hugging her arms to herself, she began to pace. “At first I was stunned. I couldn’t believe I was really hearing it. I wanted to deny it, but the truth was there in their faces, the guilt and the pain and—” She swallowed hard.
“Then I got outraged. I’ve never been that angry in my life. I felt so betrayed, and then I knew…”

“What?”

She paused. “Why they always pushed me so hard to be perfect.”

“Which was?”

“Because there was something wrong, something shameful, in my past, and they were trying to discipline it out of me. They had to be on guard so I wouldn’t turn out to be—”

“Be what?”

Fury sparked. “Who I really am. My father abandoned us before my mother died. What kind of father—” Her voice dropped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it. Who your parents are—or aren’t—doesn’t matter. All that’s important is who you’ve made yourself.”

She looked stricken. “But that’s it, don’t you see? I didn’t make anything. I’m the product of parents who were too ashamed to admit that I wasn’t this lily-pure blueblood, that I was a castoff whose parents didn’t— Oh, God, Vince, I’m sorry— You know I don’t mean—”

“Chloe, I’m no hothouse flower. My mother was a whore who had no idea which man fathered me. It’s old news. It has no bearing on who I am.”

“But how can I know who I am when one family didn’t care enough to keep me and the other spent my whole life making me into a china doll?”

He cracked a smile at that. “You’re tougher than china, babe, trust me.”

In her eyes swirled hurt and hope. “I am?”

“China dolls are creampuffs compared with you. They sure don’t refinish their own floors.”

A faint smile curved that lush, wide mouth. “I bet they’re not much at darts, either.”

“There you go.”

She paused. “How is it you make me believe that this news isn’t the end of the world?”

He lifted one eyebrow. “It’s not, is it?”

“I don’t know. I feel so lost.” She stared off in the distance. “But at the same time, I feel almost…relieved. Free, as if I don’t have to keep trying to be perfect.”

“You’re too hardheaded to be considered perfect. I could have told you that the first time I met you.”

Her eyes held gratitude. “You’re determined to make me laugh about this, aren’t you?”

He tapped her nose with one finger. “Did crying fix it?”

“No,” she said. “But crying in your arms—” She glanced away. “I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

“I don’t suppose getting naked is an option.” When her gaze flew to his, he grinned. Beyond the panic, he saw again the temptation that had burned so hot a few moments ago.

Then her forehead wrinkled. “Vince, I don’t…” She hesitated.

Years had passed since he’d last felt humiliated. “Never mind. Of course you don’t.” Keeping his tone neutral, he started to move away. “I’ll take you home.”

Chloe grasped his arm and stopped him. “It’s not
what you think. I—” She drew a deep breath as if for courage. “I never really wanted to before. My parents aren’t—they don’t—” She looked puzzled. “I thought that it was in my blood, that I simply lacked the ability to feel passion, but—”

Vince swiveled to face her. “What are you saying?”

“Just that I—” She scrubbed both hands up and down her thighs, averting her eyes. “I’ve never—”

Understanding hit him like a ton of bricks. “Chloe, you’re not telling me you’ve never—”

Brown eyes lifted defiantly to his. “Yes.”

Holy— He was both terrified and unbearably aroused. “Why?” he croaked. “How could the men you’ve dated not—”

Frost crackled in her tone. “It was my decision, not theirs. Sex should be a matter of mutual consent between mature, thinking adults, not—”

Vince laughed and advanced on her. “Making love,” he warned, “should be hot and sweaty and rip your heart right out of your throat.”

If her eyes widened any farther, her eyeballs would pop out like a cartoon character’s. She swallowed visibly. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Christ, Doc, are you trying to drive me crazy or are you just that damn innocent?”

“I’m not innocent,” she said. “I understand all about the physical and psychological aspects of intercourse—”

Vince seized her then, barely keeping the beast inside him at bay, easing her against him with so much care he
thought he just might die, and brushed his lips against hers, teasing hers open with his tongue.

But then this egghead society girl who understood the cerebral aspect of sex—

Moaned. And let him inside, her unpracticed moves so unabashedly carnal that Vince was sliding fast past the point of no return.

If his pager hadn’t gone off at that moment, Chloe might not have remained a virgin past the next five minutes.

Fighting his way out of a need so huge that he was going under for the third time, Vince groaned from somewhere in his gut while he cursed whoever the hell considered anything important enough to interrupt this.

As Chloe stiffened in his arms, Vince reached to stop the damn pager and struggled to get one good breath. One solid thought not swimming in lust. He kept his eyes closed and rested his forehead against hers, muttering dark imprecations against whoever—

“Don’t you need to check who it is?” she asked. The quiver in her voice puffed his ego as much as it savaged his control.

“Am I supposed to care after that kiss?” He opened his eyes. Drank in the color in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes. “Damn, Chloe, don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t you look at
me
like that.”

“How?” He couldn’t resist teasing her.

A blush rose up her throat. “As if you want me.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.” He didn’t grin. It was too much the truth. Too foolish for a lot of
reasons he refused to think about yet. “But your first time should be special,” he said. “It should matter.”

“This doesn’t?” she asked in a small voice.

It mattered too much. “Chloe—”

His pager went off again.

Vince swore and checked the number. Then swore again. “Tino,” he muttered.

“Who’s Tino?”

And at least half of those reasons came rushing back. Moreno. Tino. The danger she’d be in if any of them realized that she was rapidly becoming too important to him.