Chapter 1 Read online

  He grinned and held my gaze until my face turned warm. Evidently my comment about Philip hadn’t deterred him. I should have known. Men like Nick Worthington thrived on competition.

  As we left the airport, I surveyed my new surroundings. So much green—trees, shrubs, grass. All so alive. In Abilene by this time of year, most vegetation had turned brown, except for the trees.

  He drove without speaking. I stole glances at him from time to time, telling myself there was no harm in looking. The drive turned out to be a short one.

  After rounding a corner, Nick slowed, pulled onto the side of the road, and braked. My body drew as taut as a steel guitar string.

  “Why are we stopping?” My voice came out sharp. For some reason Ted Bundy flashed through my mind. “People know where I am!”

  Nick raised an eyebrow, then leaned over and pointed out my window. “Look up.” I suppose he had an excuse for moving so close, but that didn’t mean my reaction was any less visceral. He’d been right. I was melting, though the air-conditioner was up full blast.

  I looked up to where he pointed. In the distance, perched atop a nearby hill, sat a Mission Revival style mansion. “So?”

  “Welcome to Casa del Lago.”

  He pulled back onto the road, and we cruised to the top of the hill and up the circular driveway in front of the house. I opened my door and got out before he could do the honors. I’d expected rich. I hadn’t expected ostentatious. From the red-tiled roof to the white stucco exterior and rounded archways, the house was a masterpiece of design and landscaping. Live oaks and tall tropical plants graced the façade, while red and yellow hibiscus in huge pots added color.

  I’d be spending the next few weeks here? Bless you, Dr. Arthur. Climbing Swiss mountains might be his idea of fun, but I appreciated certain amenities—like indoor plumbing—though I could live without fancy gold fixtures.

  Nick’s voice shook me out of my musings. “Wait till you see the view of the lake.”

  He lounged against the side of the BMW, watching me with an amused grin. My heart lurched. I was painfully aware of how well he filled out his jeans and the bulge of well-defined biceps under the sleeves of his T-shirt. As a defensive measure, I tried to imagine him bald. It didn’t work.

  “Waco has a lake?” I asked. Being from West Texas, I did like looking at water. In fact, water was a bona fide collector’s item in my hometown of Abilene, though you couldn’t exactly buy it on eBay.

  “Let’s get inside and find something cool to drink.” He hefted my suitcase from the trunk and pulled out the handle. “Have you talked with the lady of the house?”

  “Just e-mail. This trip was pretty sudden.”

  “She’s a firecracker, but you’ll like her.”

  A firecracker? She’d sounded pleasant enough in her messages.

  Effortlessly rolling my suitcase behind him on its squeaky little wheels, he guided me by the elbow through one of the archways. Though his touch was gentle, my pulse raced. As we entered a large courtyard, a man in his fifties greeted us. He wore loose-fitting linen trousers and a white Mexican wedding shirt. I caught a breath of Old Mexico.

  “Julie, meet Ramón. He’s the one who keeps this place running, from plants to pool.”

  Nick rolled the “r” in Ramón. I was impressed.

  I shook Ramón’s hand. “Beautiful job.”

  He rewarded me with a warm smile. “Gracias.”

  Nick handed him my suitcase, and Ramón gave me a quick bow. “I will take good care of it.” Then he disappeared around the side of the house. Nick opened one of the massive double doors and waited for me to pass through. Beside each door, vertical panes of stained glass depicted Saint Francis of Assisi, one with a dog at his side, the other with birds. I took it as a good omen.

  We made our way across floors of Saltillo tile through a foyer, which led into a large living area. Muted Mexican tapestries and crosses with silver milagros adorned the walls, and an art niche held an original hand-made Talavera vase from Central Mexico worth hundreds of American dollars. More hibiscus and greenery added an air of tranquility.

  “Welcome to Casa del Lago.” The honeyed voice bore a trace of a Spanish accent. I turned toward the sound. A petite woman dressed in a white sleeveless blouse, khaki shorts, and leather sandals strolled toward us. Her face was bare of makeup—she didn’t need any. She looked to be in her early forties, younger than I’d expected. What Carmen Esposito lacked in height, she made up for in presence and a smile that filled the room with light.

  Nick introduced us. “Carmen Esposito, Julie Shields.”

  “I’m so thankful you’ve come,” she said. The Spanish cadence of her speech was soothing, but I felt awkward around her poise and self-assurance. Dogs I could handle. Warming up to people sometimes took longer.

  Carmen stood on tip-toe and pecked Nick on the cheek. Her long dark hair, caught behind her neck with a silver clasp, was as glossy as a shampoo ad. “And did this wicked one behave himself?” She eyed him seductively, her long lashes fluttering slightly. The only time I’d ever tried that with a man, he’d asked if I had something in my eye.

  “He’s a skillful pilot.” I refused to say he’d “behaved.”

  “Come, sit, and let me get you something cool to drink,” Carmen said. “Would you like wine, beer, lemonade, tea?”

  Nick didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take a Dos Equis.”

  “Same for me,” I said, wanting to keep it simple.

  He scanned my face. “So you like Mexican beer?” It sounded like a challenge.

  “Sure.” Although my drink of choice was wine, I wasn’t fussy about brands, just so it came in a bottle and not a box. Preferably with a cork. I did have my standards.

  Nick made himself at home on a sumptuous loveseat, patting the cushion next to him for me to sit. Instead, I sank into a big chair across from him, shooting him a brief look of victory.

  He stretched out his long legs. “So what do you think?”

  “About the house?”

  “That will do.” He flashed a smile I tried to ignore.

  “Must be like living in a shrine.” The house was an impressive piece of work, but not enough to make me swoon into his arms if that’s what he was thinking. Besides, it wasn’t even his.

  Carmen reappeared with a tray containing three bottles of beer and frosted mugs. Nick jumped up and took the tray from her, placing it on a square, rustic table large enough for a flamenco dancer’s performance. She sat beside Nick and waited while he poured her beer.

  “Gracias,” she said. “Always the gentleman.”

  Laughing, he glanced toward me as he poured my beer. “Well, not always.”

  When he stood and handed me the mug, our hands brushed. I tried to suppress a tingle of pleasure. Then I caught him eyeing my bare ring finger.

  “Too bad Berto’s not here,” he said.

  Carmen’s eyes dimmed. “As usual, his business in Mexico took longer than expected.” She turned to me. “My Berto is gone much of the time, and I miss him so. But you know what they say: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” She smiled and sipped her beer. I did the same, trying to drink as gracefully as Carmen while wielding the heavy mug.

  Nick set his beer on the table. “Or out of sight, out of mind.” He flashed his white smile at me. No doubt he was referring to my comment about missing Philip.

  Carmen gave Nick a little kick. “Oh, you know better than that. When Berto is here, it’s like our honeymoon all over again.”

  Nick held up his arms in mock surrender. “I know. Just kidding. You’re lucky. Not everyone has a happy marriage like you two.”

  “We work at it,” Carmen said. “It doesn’t just happen. But enough of that—I want Julie to meet my two niños. I’ll be right back.”

  No one had said anything about children.

  Nick jumped to his feet as two huge fur balls bounded into the room—one white, one black, just like the photo. These dogs were obviously well fed and probably
weighed fifty pounds each, but with the abundant fur, they seemed much larger. No sissy clips for these two. They looked more like giant bichons. Real Texas big hair.

  Their behavior made it seem as if ten poodles, not two, had been let loose. They ran around the room, barking joyfully, vaulting over furniture and jumping onto chairs and sofas as if the furnishings were doggy trampolines. One swipe of a wiggling butt almost knocked the tray of bottles off the coffee table. Even in their wildness, they made me smile. These were happy dogs, still pups in many ways.

  Without warning, the black one leaped onto my lap. “Whoa, there,” I said, but not before he’d sloshed beer all over my T-shirt.

  “Meet Noche and Blanco, the other loves of my life,” Carmen said.

  Nick grinned at my surprise, but his smile disappeared when Blanco ran behind him and poked him in the rear with her snout. I burst out laughing. Nick didn’t look so cocky now. Served him right.

  “That’s Noche on your lap,” Carmen said, as if allowing a fifty-pound dog to jump into a chair on top of a guest was nothing unusual. “I almost named him Nick because the ladies love him. And Blanco”—Carmen paused, kissing the huge fur ball who’d run to her and was licking her face—”is my white beauty. She’s a sweetheart, too.”

  The top half of Blanco’s body was in Carmen’s lap, and the dog’s back legs were scrambling to reach higher. The comment about Nick wasn’t lost on me, but I had my own dog to deal with. Lowering my voice, I gave Noche an off command, but he ignored me and began licking spilled beer from the vicinity of my right boob.

  I jumped to my feet. “No!” I said, my voice firm. Nick had been watching intently, probably getting his own ideas, so I looked straight at him when I gave the command. Noche leaped off, ran to Carmen, and began humping her leg. I looked away. Tonight wasn’t the best time to talk to her about doggy etiquette. No wonder she’d almost named him Nick, though so far the human Nick had better manners.

  Dr. Arthur had warned me the dogs would be a handful, but I hadn’t expected pandemonium.

  “They’ll settle down in a minute,” Carmen said. “They get excited around company. They’re just babies. They celebrate their first birthday this month.”

  That meant teenagers in dog years, but these two showed no evidence of any schooling. I looked at Noche and at Blanco and then at Nick. He simply raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

  Carmen disappeared with both dogs in tow, leaving Nick and me alone again.

  “So you’re a dog trainer.” He made dog trainer sound like a dirty word.

  Who did this guy think he was? Top Gun? Just because he was a hot-shot private pilot was no cause for him to adopt a condescending attitude.

  “Yes, and no. I have trained dogs before. But I’m really a veterinary technician.”

  I might be ill prepared for this job, but I wasn’t about to let him know it. “In case you’re interested, I have a bachelor’s degree in biology, which means I could be making a lot more money doing something else. Instead, I choose to be a vet tech because I love animals and feel people need to be educated about their welfare. Do you know how many dogs are put down every year because people don’t care enough to train them? Right now, thousands of dogs—”

  “Hey, hey. Just a minute.” He put up his hand in a gesture a trained dog would recognize as wait. “I think what you’re doing is great. If anyone needs help, it’s Berto and Carmen.”

  I rubbed my temples. “That’s obvious.”

  “You’re the last chance to save their marriage. Berto says it’s either him or the dogs.”

  “So I’ll be responsible for the breakup of their marriage if I fail?”

  He looked as if I’d hurt him. I knew better. His kind didn’t hurt.

  “Look, I’m on your side,” he said. “But Carmen is desperate. She’s tried other trainers, but they didn’t work out.”

  “She fired them?”

  “Let’s just say you’re her last hope. She and Berto have been married twenty-five years. They grew up in Mexico, and now they’re living the American dream. They can’t lose it all over a couple of dogs.”

  “Those two are more than dogs to Carmen. Didn’t you hear her? Calling them her children?”

  “But Berto is her husband.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure she’s aware of that. But the dogs are with her every day. Her husband isn’t. He could cut her some slack.”

  “He has. You saw how they acted.”

  Nick just wasn’t getting it. I changed the subject. “So what’s your connection, other than their pilot? Why all the concern over the fate of the Esposito marriage?”

  “I’ve known Berto a long time. And I’ve flown for them for years. We’re also friends.”

  “You a dog person?”

  He hesitated. “Sure, dogs are okay.”

  “You have a dog?”

  “Not with my job. I’m gone too much of the time.”

  I detected something more behind the words, something he wasn’t telling me. I remembered how he’d stood up and kept his distance from Noche and Blanco.

  Oh, what do I care? I’d decided early on I wasn’t getting involved with him, even if he turned out to be president of the ASPCA.

  “So why were the last trainers fired? Poodles are the gifted and talented of the dog world. They usually make their owners look smart. Only a few repetitions, and—”

  Carmen’s reappearance stopped me. She motioned us to follow her. “Let’s take our drinks out onto the patio.”

  We picked up our drinks and trailed behind her. The sun was setting, the sky streaked with shades of orange and pink, contrasting with the cool blue of the water. I gazed at the lake, and for the first time in a long while, a sense of serenity swept over me.

  “This is nothing like West Texas.”

  “Doesn’t Abilene have a lake?” Carmen asked.

  “Not like this,” I said. “This one has blue water, not brown.”

  Carmen laughed. “It’s not very deep, and it’s polluted from the dairy farms upriver.”

  Like some men. Shallow and polluted. “Still beautiful,” I said, refusing to let her ruin it for me.

  Her next words snapped me out of my peaceful trance. “Okay, let’s talk business.”

  I’d hoped Nick would leave before that, but he was hanging around us like a sheepdog. I wanted to tell him he’d done his rounding up for the day, now get along home.

  “You’ve met my Blanco and Noche,” Carmen said. “So what do you think? Can you train them?” Though she smiled, I detected tension in her voice.

  “They’re beautiful, but as you said in your e-mail, a little out of control.” A lot out of control. “Did you try puppy kindergarten or obedience classes when they were younger?”

  “I did.” Her dark eyes turned fiery. “But the trainer was cruel, so we quit.”

  I looked at Nick. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. The dull ache in my temples increased to a throb. “Cruel?”

  “Yes, the walking was fine, though the last trainer lady wasn’t happy because they walked ahead of me. And she wanted me to pull on the chains and force them down on the floor and make them stay there. I told her it would break their spirit, but she wouldn’t listen. She even called my hija Blanco a bitch. Mis pobres perros.”

  Ho boy. I took a gulp of beer to cover my smile and almost choked. Now I understood why the professional trainers were fired.

  Nick merely grinned. I frowned at him, irritated he seemed to be enjoying himself. I pulled a notepad from my purse and clicked my pen open, hoping to look efficient.

  “So can you help?” Carmen asked.

  “I’ll try. But I’ll need your assistance. First, and most important, you must establish yourself as pack leader and not think of them as your children.”

  “But mis perros are my children,” Carmen protested. She reminded me of a pouty child herself. “My two niños. I suffer from empty-neck syndrome.”

  I looked toward Nick, baffled.<
br />
  “She means empty nest,” he explained. “One of her children lives in California, the other in New York. She doesn’t see them as often as she’d like.”

  “Yes,” Carmen said. “I’ve always loved the big family. Then one day, poof, they’re gone.”

  I scribbled on the pad, pretending to take notes. “Did you discipline your children?”

  “Of course. Berto was very strict. They said yes ma’am and no ma’am from the day they could talk.”

  I made another fake note. “How do the dogs behave when Berto is here?”

  “That’s part of the problem. Berto stays away more and more. He says the dogs are my responsibility. He’s even accused me of loving them more than him. He says when the dogs behave better he’ll spend more time at home. I don’t care if they can walk beside me or if they can sit and stay. But Berto…” She let out a heavy sigh and pooched out her lips. “He says they’re ruining our sex life. That’s where I need help.”

  I cleared my throat and kept my eyes averted, while Nick sat there calmly exuding testosterone till the air felt thick with it.

  Carmen fluttered her hands. “That’s enough. Let’s leave the rest for tomorrow.”

  Relieved, I put away my non-notes.

  “You must be tired and hungry. I’ve had Rosa prepare a light supper for us. You probably want to freshen up. Then we’ll eat, and I’ll show you to your living quarters out back.”

  Living quarters? Out back? I’d assumed I’d be staying in a bedroom here in the big house.

  ****

  The “light” supper included enchiladas, guacamole, taquitos, and chiles rellenos, washed down with red wine, followed by a delicious flan for dessert. Had I been flying again, the plane would never make it off the ground.

  Carmen finally brought the meal to a close. “I sleep late, so you can relax by the pool in the morning, and we’ll start work tomorrow afternoon. We have a little ballroom we can use.”

  A ballroom? And a private pilot, a gardener, and a cook? Even my mother wasn’t that extravagant. Carmen was obviously a woman used to getting what she wanted. I, on the other hand, was beginning to wonder if I had a snowball’s chance in Waco of delivering.