Chapter 1 Read online

  I swallowed my apprehension. “If they have choke chains and leashes, then we’re all set.”

  Carmen leaped from her chair. “No! Not you, too! Choke chains?” She glared at me. “I fired the last trainers when I found out they were going to use those horrible things.”

  “But we need to get control. Used properly, they won’t hurt the dogs.” Some trainers advocated other methods, but I had only a month, and if we were to succeed, I had to depend on what I knew. “I promise I won’t do anything that will hurt them.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “No. I will not have them choked.”

  Nick surprised me by intervening. “Carmen, I’d listen to the lady if I were you. Berto said this is your last chance.”

  “Berto,” she spat out. “What does he know? This is all about Berto.”

  “Have you told Julie what Noche did to him?”

  Carmen’s shoulders drooped.

  Nick stared at her until she looked up at him. “She needs to know,” he said.

  Carmen glanced over at me and chewed the end of her thumb. “It was Berto’s fault. He tried to take a bone away from Noche.”

  I waited, but she didn’t finish. “And?”

  “Noche growled and snapped at him. But it was Noche’s bone, not Berto’s.”

  So Noche might also be food-aggressive. What had I gotten myself into? “Back to the…um, training collars.”

  The shift in terminology didn’t fool her. Her dark eyes burned into my blue ones. “I refuse to have my niños choked.”

  “You have to trust me. I’ve done this before.” It was partly true, but I felt as if I’d just added liar to my list of many sins.

  Carmen tossed her head and gave a small snort. “I’ll let Nick show you to your rooms.”

  He motioned toward the door. “Come with me.”

  By now, I was as pooped as Philip after a day with the groomer and too tired to protest. Nick led me out back to a brick path trailing downward toward the lake. I wondered if I’d misjudged him. “Thanks for supporting me.”

  “No problem.”

  Gaslights illuminated the path, but the footing was uneven. When I stumbled, he reached for me. I leaned into him, and his warm body commanded me. Julie. Stay. Good Julie.

  “Thank you again.” My voice quavered, and I fought the urge to fold myself into his arms.

  “You’re very welcome.” Even in the darkness, his teeth gleamed. “Are you okay?”

  His smile looked mocking in the moonlight. I pulled myself up to my full five feet, four inches. “I tripped on a rock. I’m perfectly fine. Where are you taking me?”

  He leaned close and lightly touched my back. “Where would you like me to take you?”

  I squirmed away from him, though my body wanted to sit up and beg for more.

  “How about heaven by the lake?” Nick asked.

  “In your dreams,” I said, an edge to my voice.

  He laughed.

  The man was impossible. He hadn’t thought it so funny when Blanco poked him in the butt with her nose. My voice took on a shrill quality I didn’t like. “Why do you keep laughing at me?”

  “I’m laughing because that’s the name.”

  “The name of what?”

  “The name of where we’re staying. Cielo por el Lago. It means ‘heaven by the lake.’ Carmen and Berto always name their houses, even the guesthouse.”

  That woke me up. “What do you mean, where we’re staying?”

  “You didn’t think I was going to fly out of here at this time of night, did you? After all the food and drink? I’m a good boy. I don’t drink and drive, or fly.”

  Bad enough I’d soon be training the poodles of the Baskervilles and their unruly mistress, but I’d assumed by day’s end Mr. Oozing-Sex-Appeal would be well on his way to his next conquest. Did the Espositos expect me to spend the night with him?

  At this rate, I’d have choke chains on all of them before the week was out.

  Chapter Two

  When Nick and I reached Cielo por el Lago, I was in for another surprise. Stretched out under a thicket of live oaks on a good-sized lot, the guesthouse was huge. I counted at least six sets of windows on the front side alone.

  Nick opened the door and escorted me into a Texas-sized living area, but the lavish decor was anything but Texan. African, East Indian, Latin-American, Oriental—you name it. Either the Espositos were world travelers or they had a hefty account at an imported furniture store. I seriously doubted they’d bought any of these furnishings in Waco. From the carved wooden trunk to the lacquered and gilt frames, the room reeked of expensive artifacts, not cheap imports from Pier 1 or Hobby Lobby. Judging from the number of crystal chandeliers, they must be procreating.

  “Look over there.” Nick pointed to an entire wall of glass. “Wait till you see the view in the morning. It’s the same in the bedroom. All glass.”

  This reminder of the sleeping situation snapped me back to reality. I waved toward a gold brocade sofa. “I’ll sleep there.”

  He smiled. “Come on. Take a look at the rest of it.”

  Since my new motto was looking can’t hurt, I agreed.

  “Here’s the kitchenette.” He guided me with his hand at the small of my back. A disturbing yet pleasant sensation flowed through me. Since a kitchenette seemed like fairly safe territory, I didn’t shrug him off this time. The kitchen was galley style with a narrow passage between a wall of appliances on one side, sink and cabinets on the other.

  “If you get hungry in the middle of the night, the fridge and cupboards are well stocked. For breakfast here’s coffee, some rolls…” He continued opening cabinets and pointing out various foods and appliances.

  I’d walked in ahead of him, not realizing I was trapping myself in a dead end. In fact, Nick was so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. Or maybe it was my own radiator. A scene from Fatal Attraction popped into my head. The one where Michael Douglas and Glenn Close have steamy sex in the kitchen. I began to pant like a poodle.

  Nick glanced over at me. “You all right?”

  “Fine,” I gasped.

  I opened the freezer on the pretext of looking for food and stuck my head in next to a bag of broccoli to cool off. I realized this was not such a good idea when the cold air made my nipples pop out like pencil erasers.

  “Just need some air,” I said. I pushed past Nick and moved into the living area where I could once again breathe like a human being. Picking up a loose sofa cushion, I hugged it to my chest to hide the nubs on my small but heaving bosom.

  He gave me a puzzled look, obviously oblivious to my heaving. “Let’s make sure Ramón put your suitcase in the bedroom before we turn in.”

  Hearing the words bedroom and we in the same sentence made my palms sweat. Nick opened the door to an adjacent room. This time I followed. Against the far wall was a king-sized bed of dark, burnished wood, covered with a tapestry quilt in jewel tones. Behind the tall headboard were blood-red decorative curtains that seemed to serve no purpose but to assail the senses with more color.

  I imagined Nick swirling around, decked out in a matador’s cape, wielding a sword of glinting steel, offering me a rose to clamp between my teeth.

  “Bathroom’s over there,” he continued, like a tour guide on autopilot. “Ah, here’s your bag.” He pointed to the top of a low chest where Ramón had placed my suitcase. Nick was so solicitous that for a second I wondered if he was going to unpack for me.

  “Look at this.” He pushed a button next to the window. Drapes slid back, revealing a wall of glass similar to the one in the living area. Moonlight reflected off the lake. The view was magical.

  Nick walked over and stood beside me. “Muy bonita.”

  “Yes, very pretty,” I replied, managing a translation, thanks to my limited high school Spanish.

  But when I looked at him, he was looking at me, not at the lake. If I’d been a thermometer, my mercury would have popped to the top. Somehow I manag
ed to shake myself out of the spell brought on by the wine and the room and this man. I strode over to my suitcase, hoisted it off the trunk with a grunt, and began rolling it out of the bedroom.

  “What are you doing?”

  I didn’t look in his direction. “I need sleep.”

  “But the bed’s in here.”

  “I told you I’d sleep on the sofa,” I said, as my suitcase bumped over the tile floor.

  “Suit yourself. But it won’t be as comfortable as the bed. Hope you get a good night’s rest.”

  I straightened my back. “I’m sure I will.” I pulled an afghan from the back of one of the chairs and sat on the sofa, waiting for him to shut the bedroom door.

  Instead, he walked to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside. Then, before shutting the door, he stuck his head back inside. “Sweet dreams,” he said, grinning.

  If it were a movie, I’d have smacked the devilish grin off his face, but it wasn’t, and I wasn’t the violent type. Instead, I picked up a pillow and threw it at the door. By then he was gone.

  I sat there wondering what he might do next. Surely he wouldn’t walk away and leave me, not after all the attention he’d given me today. Where was the instant replay when I needed it? Had my overactive imagination misinterpreted his interest in me?

  The only answer I got was silence.

  I walked to the door, switched off the lights, and peeked through the window blinds, half expecting him to jump out of the shadows. Craning my head, I tried to see where he’d gone. With the help of the moonlight, I could make out the pathway leading back to the house, but Nick had vanished, along with any evidence of his ever being here. Even my eraser nipples had disappeared.

  The next morning when my feet hit the cold tile floor, I did a quick-step to the bathroom and sank my frozen toes into the thick island of bathmat to warm them up. After the heat I’d given off yesterday, the cold was a shock to my system. I turned the thermostat up a notch.

  The room had been designed with a woman in mind. The windows, full-length mirror, and shower entry all had the same tiled archways as the main house. Potted plants and candles surrounded a raised garden tub. Bottles of shampoo, lotion, and thick cream-colored towels beckoned. Add to all that the matching terrycloth bathrobe hanging inside the door—it was enough to make Paris Hilton feel at home.

  As I stood there taking it in, I heard water running through the pipes. Climbing to the edge of the tub, I stood on tiptoe and peered out the high window but could see only trees and lake. Then I heard the faint sounds of music. I climbed down from the tub and put my ear to the wall. A man was singing in Spanish, though I didn’t recognize the tune or the words. Obviously, there was another apartment or room on the other side of the wall, and either the Espositos had another guest or Ramón was working inside.

  Putting it from my mind, I made a quick call to my sister, who said Philip was fine and assured me I was missing nothing in Abilene. I should have known. Life there was like a soap opera. You could tune in once a month and nothing would have changed.

  I decided to go for a swim, relieved Nick was gone and no longer dogging my every move. As I pulled on my black bikini, the image in the mirror reflected a slim, very white woman in her early thirties with a firm bottom and shapely legs. The push-up bra allowed me to pretend I saw cleavage when I bent forward. The sight of my own bare flesh caused my thoughts to stray to Nick again, but I quickly banished them. It was a new day, and I had several hours to kill before my first lesson with the dogs. Even better, I was Nick-free.

  I wrapped a black sarong over my suit, slipped into my flip-flops, and opened the front door. Carmen had thought of everything—a copy of the Waco Tribune-Herald lay on the porch. I picked it up and tossed it inside to read later. Might as well stay abreast of local goings-on while I was here.

  The sky was bright blue, the sun blinding. I looked around for signs of life, saw none, and headed up the trail Nick and I had taken the night before. The swimming pool was about halfway between the guest quarters and the main house. Near the pool, a brass armadillo on a fake lily pad squirted water into a fish pond filled with Japanese koi.

  I unwrapped the sarong, draped it over a lawn chair, and tested the water with my big toe. It was warm, so I stepped into the shallow end and swam to the other side. I’d forgotten how relaxing a swim could feel.

  Leaning back to wet my hair, I let the sun bake my face. After a few laps, I lay back and floated, allowing the sun to caress my body, idly wondering if my vow of celibacy extended to self-gratification. No, it was men who got me into trouble, not sex.

  Lucky for me, I didn’t get past the thinking stage.

  “Good morning,” boomed a male voice, yanking me out of my hedonistic reverie.

  I jerked in the water like that girl in Jaws, and my arms involuntarily crossed over my chest. “What are you doing here?” I didn’t like being blindsided, and I’d assumed Nick would be miles away by now. “Why aren’t you at work?”

  The fact I was half-naked made me feel extra vulnerable. Nick was fully dressed in crisp khakis and a polo shirt, his hair still wet from a shower. For a moment, I could imagine what he must have looked like as a little boy. Then he grinned, and my pulse quickened.

  Treading water and glowering at him, I used one hand to shade my eyes from the sunlight overhead. Since Nick’s grin was aimed at annihilating my defenses, I re-erected my mental barriers, poured burning oil from the parapets while he rammed the heavy castle doors. But my metaphors played against me.

  “I am working,” he said, unaware of all the burning and ramming taking place in my head.

  “Ha. Sure you are.”

  “Would I lie to you?” He was still smiling.

  “I don’t know, would you? How can you call this working?” The sarcasm dripped from my tongue like a leaky faucet, a cold one.

  “Carmen said to tell you lunch would be served on the patio in about an hour.”

  Why was Carmen using Nick as her lackey?

  “You can go tell Carmen you’ve accomplished your mission.”

  Instead, he settled into a lawn chair and leaned back, as if in no hurry to leave. His eyes never wavered from where I bobbed upright in the water, trying to keep as much of my body covered as possible.

  “Go ahead. Don’t let me interrupt,” he said. “Swim, do whatever you were doing.”

  Oh my God, surely he couldn’t read minds.

  I bobbed to the other side of the pool, keeping my back to him. When I glanced over my shoulder, he smiled and waved. Dammit. Since my fingers were beginning to shrivel, I’d have to let him win this hand. I bobbed back to his side.

  “Do me a favor and hand me my cover-up, would you?” I tried to sound sweet.

  Nick glanced toward the chair where my sarong lay. He reached over and picked it off the chair, then slowly ran his hand down the length of the silky fabric. “Feels nice.”

  A throb of excitement made me ache for more. Stop it. This is as close as he’s going to get to you.

  He walked toward the edge of the pool and knelt by the ladder.

  “You can leave it there.” I paddled like a dog to stay afloat.

  He didn’t budge.

  “Just leave it, please,” I repeated, but he still didn’t move. “Thank you,” I said curtly, trying to release him, but like a well-trained dog, he held his stay. What nerve.

  I held onto the ladder with one hand and pulled at the bottom of my suit with the other. I’d bought the suit a few years back while in the throes of passion over another charmer, thinking a tiny bikini would keep his eyes from wandering. It hadn’t. When I caught him in my bed with a Hooters waitress, I figured it was time to call it quits.

  I snatched the sarong from Nick’s hands and draped it around me best I could while mounting the ladder. No makeup, wet hair—that alone should send him running.

  He reached into his pocket. “I have something you need.”

  I raised an eyebrow. I’ll bet.

&
nbsp; He pulled out two slip chains. “I thought you might be able to use these. Carmen doesn’t know. I found them in the garage.”

  I looked up, trying not to show the gratitude I felt. “Thanks,” I mumbled. His hand brushed mine and I shivered, but I was far from cold. When our eyes met, I could tell he was fully aware of the effect he had on me. To get even, I moved toward him, deliberately dripping water, forcing him to step back or get wet. I was tempted to shake myself dry.

  “Great view this morning,” he said.

  As a tart reply started to slip from my lips, I realized he was looking at the lake, not me. I stifled my smart-ass comeback just in time.

  “Did you remember to look outside when you got up?” he asked. “From your bedroom window, the lake shimmers at dawn.”

  Mention of my bedroom felt way too personal, so I avoided the question. “You were up that early?” It was well after midnight when we’d finally reached the guesthouse. Did the man not need sleep?

  He shrugged. “I like to take an early morning run over the dam.”

  I deliberately flicked a few droplets of water from my hair onto his face. He jumped back and said, “Hey!” and we both laughed.

  “You should do that more often,” he said. “Laugh, I mean. You’re even more beautiful.” His eyes, like blue flames, seared mine.

  My laughter died, and I drew inward. Most women would feel flattered, but to me it was just more smooth talk. I clasped my arms over my chest and shivered again. “I need to get cleaned up for lunch.” Not waiting for his response, I took off for the guesthouse at a fast clip.

  The lake was a brilliant blue, and the sun’s heat had opened blooms on the moss rose lining the pathway.

  Like living in Paradise. Better watch out for snakes.

  An hour later as I neared the patio, Carmen spotted me and waved. I saw no sign of my personal snake.

  Someone had spread out quite a feast on a large wooden table. At this rate, I’d need a plus-size bikini by the end of the month. Multi-colored hand-painted plates sat atop woven placemats the color of straw. Neatly folded green and gold cloth napkins, sterling silver flatware, crystal goblets—I could hear my mother saying, “It’s all about presentation.” Personally, I didn’t understand why people bothered with such time-wasting amenities. But then, I’d always been the dirty white sheep of my family.