Runaway Mistress

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Runaway Mistress by

Sandra Marton Chapter One Rio de Santos did not believe in fate. It was true that life was like a game of cards. You were dealt a hand to play but, in the end, your skill was all that mattered. Rio was skillful. When he knew something was right for him, he went after it. It was the way he'd acquired the financial empire that spanned two continents, the ranch high in the hills outside Madrid, the penthouse in New York, the beautiful women who warmed his bed — although acquiring them required no skill at all. They had come to him since he'd turned 16, more than a dozen years ago. He'd been working for a rancher in Barcelona. By day, he rode horses. By night, he rode the rancher's wife. "Gorgeous," she'd whispered, as she'd undressed him. Rio smiled as his silver Learjet swooped over the Texas landscape. The lady had taught him much. How to please a woman. How to make her want to please him. How to ease himself, gently, out of a relationship when it grew stale, as all relationships eventually did. His smile faded. Either she had not taught him enough, or he had not been as good a pupil as he'd imagined. Otherwise, why would Esmé Bennett have been the first woman to leave him before he'd tired of her? It wasn't ego that made this fact troubling. It wasn't that he wanted her back, either. Hadn't he known it was time to end things? Six months with one woman was three months too many. That had always been his rule; he still had no idea why he'd deviated from it but when he realized he had, he'd begun to wind things down. More flowers, more gifts; fewer phone calls, fewer intimate evenings. That had been the plan, anyway, but somehow, it had gone wrong. Rio folded his arms, his frown deepening to a glower. One weekend, when he was away, Esmé had vanished from his life.

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What sort of woman left a man without a word? No note. No phone call. Nothing but a recorded voice saying that her telephone number was no longer in service. Rio had gone to her apartment, in a part of Greenwich Village that was still a slum as far as he was concerned — she'd refused to give it up even though he'd offered to move her closer to him, on the East Side — "Se?or de Santos?" — and found the place empty. He'd had to hire a private investigator; after all, she could have been ill, or hurt. It had been the right thing to do. The surprise was not that the P.I. found her but that he found her in Texas. Coolly urbane Esmé Bennett had left the city, had lefthim, for a ranch called Espada. As it happened, Rio knew of the place. It bred some of the finest horses in the world. A man who believed in fate would have found that interesting. Rio simply found it convenient. Among other things, he was a rancher. It was only logical he'd improve the bloodlines of his horses by adding an Espada-bred stallion or mare to his stock. "Sir? You said you'd want to take the controls when we neared Austin." Rio looked up. His pilot was standing beside him, a polite smile on his lips. "S?." Rio cleared his throat and rose to his feet. "Thank you, Jack." He ducked his head as he went through the cockpit door, then buckled himself into the pilot's seat. He liked to fly, liked the combined sense of freedom and control it gave him. It was always a propitious way to start a business trip, and that was all this was. He'd do a little horse-trading with Jonas Baron and if, in the process, he saw Esmé, if he found himself alone with her, if he were still curious enough to give a damn…maybe then he'd ask her why she had left him. Not that he wanted her back. Hell, no, Rio thought grimly, and took the jet down toward Espada and whatever was in store for him there…had he been foolish enough to believe in fate.

Chapter Two The silver jet swooped over Espada and touched down on the Barons' private airstrip. The landing was quiet and uneventful, but the black stallion in the small paddock nearest the stables snorted and danced with terror. Esmé, who'd been working with the horse most of the morning, barely had time to grab its bridle and hang on.

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"Dammit," she said, through her teeth. All this effort spent soothing the animal, talking to it, letting it grow accustomed to her, and now some idiot in a shiny toy had all but ruined her hard work. The same idiot she'd probably be stuck with for the weekend, somebody with too much money, too much machismo, and too many people to do his bidding. Someone like the man she'd left almost three months ago, but why ruin the day by thinking about him? The horse nickered softly and nuzzled Esmé's shoulder. She smiled, dug into the pocket of her jeans, and offered him a chocolate mint. "Okay," she said, "you're entitled to a treat." The stallion took it delicately from her outstretched palm. She looked past him, to where a plume of dust rose lazily against the cloudless sky, proof that the plane had landed. It had to be that Eastern big shot, flying in to buy a stallion. Or a mare. "He ain't said which," Jonas had told her, with a grin. "That's your job, missy. You got to help him figure it out." Help him, indeed. Esmé led the horse toward the stables. Men with enough money to own planes and buy Baron-bred horses didn't need to bother themselves with the down and dirty details of life. They could snap their fingers, bark out orders, behave as if they owned the planet and everything on it, the way Rio… "Dammit," Esmé muttered again. The horse shied and she patted its neck. "Easy, handsome. I'm talking to me, not you." Why was she wasting time thinking about Rio de Santos? He was out of her life and she was out of his. That was the good news. That she'd made the first move was even better. It had been the only possible move, to save even a vestige of her pride. Esmé slipped the bridle from the stallion, patted his muzzle and shut the gate to his stall. Why think about a man who wouldn't have spent a moment thinking about her? Oh, maybe he'd have wondered about her a little, but only because she'd put a dent in his precious ego. Except for that, he'd be glad she was gone. He'd been planning to end their affair. The signs had all been there to read. She blinked as she stepped out into the sunlight. She knew she should never have become involved with him in the first place. The fellow models she’d worked with had warned her. He was gorgeous, they said, and sexy, and incredible, but he went through women like candy. "He'll break your heart," one had said, but that wasn't true. Rio hadn't broken her heart; you had to love a man for that to happen, and she'd never loved Rio. Never. She was too wise for that, and if it still hurt to think about him, if she sometimes imagined how it would feel, if he came after her… "Hello, Esmé." The earth seemed to tilt. Her heart and soul knew that deep, lightly accented voice, but it wasn't possible. Rio couldn't be here. He couldn't be.

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"Are you afraid to look at me?" She was trembling, but she knew better than to let him see it. "That's stupid," she said, and managed to sound as if seeing him again wasn't sending her pulse into overdrive. "Why would I be afraid?" Esmé took a deep breath, fixed a polite expression to her face. Then she turned around and looked at the man who had been her lover until a few months ago, the man who had awakened her to passion. He was wrong. She wasn't afraid of seeing him again. She was terrified.

Chapter Three Esmé wasn’t terrified of Rio, physically. As big as he was, as powerfully male, she knew he would never hurt her. But she hadn't expected the sight of him to hurt so much. She thought she'd forgotten the rugged masculinity that radiated from his long, leanly muscled body; forgotten the black hair that felt like silk; the piercing emerald eyes that could see into her soul; the straight nose and wide, mobile mouth capable of such drugging kisses when he made love to her.… No. It hadn't been love, it had been sex. That was all he wanted to give; all she wanted from him. Hadn't she told him so? Pleasure. That was what they'd both sought. No entanglements, nothing to distract either of them from their careers. It was just that, sometimes, lying in his arms after he'd spent himself in her, she'd felt lonely. Unbearably lonely. She'd almost admitted that to him one night. "Querida?" he'd whispered. "You are so quiet. Is something troubling you?" "No," she'd said, and that was good because, soon after, he'd gone to Madrid without her. He'd never left her before, not in the six months they'd been together, and when she added that to the other subtle changes in their relationship, she'd realized he was getting ready to end their affair. "Querida," he said now, in a way that made a mockery of the endearment, "I take it you're not pleased to see me." Esmé looked into Rio's eyes, saw the coldness in them and her heart hardened. He had been her lover. Now, he was a stranger. He had only come after her because she was the first woman who'd walked out on him. "What are you doing here, Rio?" A tight smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "As always, direct and to the point."

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"I would appreciate the same courtesy from you." "Of course." He looked around him with studied ease. "This is Espada, isn't it?" he said politely. "Yes." "Well, then, I've come to see Jonas Baron." "For what reason?" Rio folded his arms. "Are you his secretary?" "No." "Then it's none of your business." "It's very much my business," Esmé snapped. "I'm not a fool. I know why you're really here." A slow smile curved his mouth. "Do you," he said flatly. "Yes. I do. And I'm not interested." "In what?" His dark brows lifted. "Ah. You think I've come for you." She felt a flush tinge her cheeks. "I didn't say that." "You didn't have to. It's there, in those eyes of yours." She started to turn away and he reached out, caught her wrist. "I hate to disappoint you,querida, but I haven't come to take you back." The heat in her face burned like flame. "That's good, because I have no intention of going back." "Such self-assurance." His hand tightened on hers; he drew her closer. She could see the gold flecks in his eyes, the flicker of a muscle in his jaw. "Such righteous indignation,querida. As if you were the injured party, not I." "You? Injured?" She laughed. "It's your ego that's injured, Rio. Look, if it makes you feel better, you can tell people you left me." "Damn you!" His eyes burned with green fire. "Do you think I care what people think?" "Let go of me!" Her mouth thinned as she tried to twist free of his hand. "I left you because I was tired of you." "Liar." "I know you can't believe it but that's how it is. I never wanted to see you again. I don't want to see you now. Just — just get back on that plane and —" "Well, now, missy, what kind of hospitality is this?" Esmé swung around. Jonas Baron was strolling toward them, his bushy white eyebrows raised.

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"De Santos," he said, and held out his hand, "good to meet you." Rio let go of her wrist. "And you, sir." "I take it you and the little lady here are old friends." Jonas grinned. "Makes it even better that she's goin' to spend the weekend showin' you around." "No," Esmé said, "no!" "Yes," Rio said, and from the quick flash in his eyes, she knew there was no way out.…

Chapter Four Esmé sat stiffly on her horse, her back as rigid as an iron rod. Rio, riding just behind her, wondered — for probably the 1000th time — why in hell he had come after her. What did it matter, who had left whom? It had been time, past time, to end their affair. And he was certainly not going to demand she tell him the reasons she'd left him. Did a man really want to hear a woman enumerate such things? Rio narrowed his eyes. The trail curved like a snake as it wound up into the trees; there was a long drop to the right but Esmé paid it no attention. She sat in the saddle as if she'd been born to it. His mouth twisted. This was the woman he'd met at a charity ball at the Plaza and dined with at the Four Seasons. He'd taken her to Monaco, where she'd chatted easily with royalty; he'd watched her charm officials at a Washington gala. He knew her to be elegant, beautiful, and sophisticated. Now, she was wearing a cotton shirt, faded jeans, and scuffed boots. She had answered all his questions about the Baron stock with intriguing familiarity while handling a horse the size of Texas with little more than soft words and softer touches — and handling him with icy disdain. He felt as if she were two different women. How was that possible? More to the point, how could he have only known one? Rio's horse picked its way delicately across a cottonwood deadfall. Esmé had moved out far ahead, where the trail opened onto a flat, wide plateau. He urged his mount forward and caught up to her just as she drew back on the reins. "You wanted to see the mares." She spoke tonelessly, not looking at him but at the meadow at the foot of the plateau. "Well, there they are."

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Rio dragged his eyes from Esmé, followed her gaze. Horses grazed far below them, muzzles deep in the summer grass. The animals were delicate and beautiful, but not as beautiful as the woman who sat on her horse beside him. "They're all Arabians," she said. He smiled, knowing her polite statement meant she didn't trust him to know very much about horses. "Yes. I prefer them. That aura of fragility, belying an inbred strength and stamina, especially in the mares…I find it most appealing." Her eyes met his. A faint pink color rose in her cheeks. "Yes," she said, "it is. It's one of the characteristics the Baron line has built upon." "You aren't a Baron." "We're talking about horses." "How do you know the family?" "Didn't whoever you paid to find me give you a complete dossier?" "Such hostility,querida. " "Such curiosity, Rio." "I simply find it odd you should go from modeling in New York to riding the range on Espada." Esmé sighed. "I grew up here." She flashed him a look filled with challenge. "My mother is the Barons' housekeeper." His elegant mistress, the housekeeper's daughter. It seemed so incongruous that Rio smiled. "I'm glad you find that amusing," she said coldly. "I don't. I find it interesting." "Going slumming is always interesting." He looked at her, his dark brows raised. "Have I ever so much as inferred I am a man who would do such a thing?" She flushed. He hadn't. She had no idea why she'd said it. It was only that he confused her. His horse whinnied, tossed its head. Rio leaned forward, stroked the arched neck and the mare responded as any female would to that gentle, yet possessive, touch. Their eyes met, and what she saw set her blood on fire, just as it had the first time. She looked away, dismounted, and looped the reins over a low-hanging branch. "There are 100 horses in that herd," she said briskly. Leather creaked behind her. "I can point out some

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of the ones Jonas would be willing to —" "Esmé," Rio said huskily, and without thinking about the consequences, she turned and went into his arms.

Chapter Five This was what Esmé had really feared. That Rio would kiss her… That she would respond. She didn't want to, but how could she resist him? It had been like this from the beginning. The cool, silken brush of his lips turning hot, then hotter still as the kiss deepened. The taste of him, a rich, clean sweetness, like cold winter days and hot summer nights blended into one. She heard herself whimper, heard Rio's answering groan. He swept his arms around her, drew her close. His heart pounded against hers; his body hardened and she felt her own softening in response, felt the flowering dampness between her thighs. "Querida,"he whispered, and she rose to him, looped her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the kiss, to what she had dreamed of each night since she'd left him because yes, she dreamed of him, yes, she still wanted him, yes, she loved… Esmé stiffened and tried to tear her mouth from Rio's, but he wouldn't let her. "No," he said thickly, and kissed her again, framing her face, holding her sweetly captive. Boneless, she let herself melt into him one last time before she pulled away again. When he tried to stop her, she pressed her hands against his chest, turned her face to the side and, at last, he let her go. She was trembling. How could he still have this effect on her? She had left him; she had eliminated him from her life. He was bad for her, he was everything her mother had warned her about, probably what all mothers warned their daughters about, and yet, oh, and yet… "Why did you run away from me?" He reached for her again, his hands bracketing her shoulders, his eyes hot and dark. "I returned from Madrid, and you were gone. No note. No message. How could you do such a thing?" "It was — it was time. To — to end things. We'd both said —" He kissed her before she could stop him, his mouth crushing hers, silencing the lie, because itwas a lie; she couldn't deny it any longer, not to herself. "Don't," she whispered. She pulled back, clasped his wrists. "It's over. Just accept that, and go back to New York. We said —" "What we said was that our relationship would end, when it was time. But that time hasn't come yet, querida. Surely, you know that now."

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"It wasn't a relationship," Esmé said, hating herself for the tremor she heard in her voice, the tears she felt stinging her eyes. "It was an affair." Rio smiled slightly. "Why are women so hung up on words?" "Women," she said bitterly. "Is that how you think of me, Se?or de Santos? As one of your 'women’?" "No, of course not. It was a figure of speech,querida. " "And don't call me that! What is it, a — a generic term, so you don't have to try to remember the name of thequerida you're with?" "Esmé." Rio frowned, as if he were confronting a jigsaw puzzle with a piece missing. "What is all this nonsense? Must we analyze everything? All that matters is that you still want me —" "ThatI still wantyou ?" "S?."It was so obvious. Couldn't she see it? He smiled, put a finger under her chin. "What could be more important than that?" She swung at him. It was a fast, wild blow and he dodged it easily, but that didn't keep him from staring at her in disbelief. Esmé? His cool, sophisticated Esmé, balling up her fist and trying to sock him in the jaw? "Est? un idiota cretino,"she snapped, and her fury stunned him so completely that he didn't realize she'd cursed him in his own language until she'd stormed away, scrambled onto the back of her horse, and galloped out of sight.

Chapter Six Esmé opened the screen door that led into the Baron kitchen and let it bang shut after her. Damn Rio for making her so angry! Who did he think he was, telling her that she still wanted him? She didn't. It was just that he'd always known how to kiss her so that she felt it, straight down to her toes. So that one kiss wasn't enough, any more than one touch, one feel of his hands on her skin was enough.… "I hate him," she said through her teeth. "Per Dios, Abel!" The Baron's housekeeper came bustling out of the pantry. "Do you want to take the door off its hinges? Then you will complain when I tell you I need one of your men to fix… Oh." Carmen stared at Esmé. "I thought you were Abel. The foreman. He is always slamming —" "I know who Abel is, Mama," Esmé said dryly. She strode to the refrigerator, yanked the door open, then shut it so hard that it rattled. Carmen raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

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"Yes! I've been dealing with an idiot, a man who flew here to buy horses from Jonas." Esmé opened a cupboard door, peered inside, then slapped it shut. "With all the cooking and fussing and shopping you do, I'd have thought there'd be a bottle of water in this place." "I do my job," Carmen said calmly, "nothing more. As for water, we are not so fussy as city people. You know our water comes from the well." She opened the faucet, filled a glass, and handed it to her daughter. "Why are you so upset?" "I'm not upset," Esmé snapped, and downed the water in one long swallow. Droplets of it moistened her lips and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. "I'm tired, hot, and thirsty." "Tired, hot, and thirsty,s?. " Carmen took the glass, rinsed it, and placed it in the drainer. "Tired ever since you returned here." "I have some kind of virus, that's all." "No virus lingers this long,chica ." "Mama, please. I have things on my mind." "Upsetting things, and do not bother to tell me I'm wrong." "For God's sake, Mama…" "I do not like it when you take the Lord's name in vain, Esmerelda. And since when have you gone back to calling me 'Mama’?"

Esmé sighed deeply. "Look, let's start again, okay? I don't want us to quarrel." Her lips softened, curved into a smile. "Mama or Mother, I love you. You know that." Carmen sighed and held out her arms. Esmé went into them. "I only want the best for you," Carmen said softly. "I want you to have a better life than I had. Surely, you know that." "Yes, I do." "You are not a naïve girl from a village in Mexico, to be seduced by a man's lies. You are an educated young woman with a fine mind, and you would have a teaching certificate if you had not decided to drop out of school and take up modeling." Esmé stepped out of her mother's embrace. "Mama," she said quietly, "we've been through this. Teaching was your dream for me, not mine." "It is a profession. Modeling is not." "Teaching is fine but I wanted to travel, to see the world before I settle down. Modeling gives me that."

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"It can also give you trouble." Carmen huffed out a breath. "Men will prey on you,chica . Will you be strong enough to resist them?" Esmé knew she was coloring. She swung away from her mother's questioning eyes. "I'm not a fool, Mama. I know how to take care of myself." "You think you do. But if a man comes along with soft words and turns your blood to fire…" "You said it yourself, Mama. I'm not you. No man can —" The screen door flew open. Both women swung toward it as Rio stepped into the room, his eyes dark with anger as they lit on Esmé. "There you are," he growled. "Did you really think you could get away from me so easily?"

Chapter Seven Carmen looked from the stranger's angry face to her daughter's pale one. All at once, she understood everything. Why Esmé had come back to Espada so suddenly. Why she'd spent the past several weeks in edgy silence. Why she was so upset today. This man, this dangerous-looking stranger with the angry eyes, was the reason. Her throat constricted. Foolish girl, she thought angrily. Foolish, foolishchica . She wanted to grab Esmé and shake her. Better still, she wanted to grab her and spirit her away…but that wasn't possible. Esmé was a woman, not a child. Besides, one glance at this man and she knew she would never be able to keep him from Esmé, if he was determined to find her. Still, a mother could protect her young as long as she was able. She stepped in front of her daughter, looked at the stranger, and spoke as calmly as possible. "I am Carmen Bennett." She saw the surprise register in his hard, handsome face. "Bennett?" His eyes flew past her to Esmé. "Are you Esmé's mother?" "I am Esmerelda's mother,s? . And you are…?" "I am Rio de Santos, se?ora." Rio de Santos? Carmen thought, in surprise. A Spaniard, not a Mexican, from his looks, and perhaps that was not so surprising, now that she considered it. For who but an arrogant, hot-tempered Latin

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could have tamed her equally hot-tempered daughter? He smiled, and she saw the lazy charm of a tiger ready to be unleashed. "I am a guest of the Barons." He took her hand, brought it to his lips. Carmen told herself she was too old and too wise to be influenced by tigers. "Perdone,se?or, but guests of the Baron family —" "Perhaps I should have been more specific. I am not a guest, I am a client." "S?.Of course. Nevertheless —" Esmé stepped past Carmen. "Go away, Rio," she said coldly. Rio folded his arms over his chest. "Is that your solution to everything? To run?" "I'm not running. I'm simply asking you to leave." "No." "Coming after me was pointless. I'm not interested." "In what?" His smile was cool. "I don't recall making any offers." Esmé jerked up her chin. "Will you just — just climb into that plane of yours and fly back to New York?" "I intend to. After things are settled." "Thingsare settled. I thought I made that very clear." "I thought so, too." His smile tilted. "Until a few minutes ago, on that mesa." "What mesa?" Carmen said suspiciously. "Esmerelda, what is he talking about?" "We — we rode up to Superstition Butte." Esmé cleared her throat. "And — and we had a discussion.…" Rio laughed. She looked at him, eyes snapping. Then she brushed past her mother, grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the door. "I'll be back, Mama." "When?" Carmen put her hand to her throat. "Esmé.Chica …. Don't do anything foolish." "I've already done as many foolish things as I ever intend to do," Esmé said, with a brittle laugh. "Don't worry, Mama. I'm done playing the fool." But as the screen door swung shut behind them, and she felt Rio's arm slide possessively around her waist, Esmé had the terrible feeling that her words were nothing but empty promises.

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Chapter Eight Rio marched Esmé away from the house, his arm encircling her waist like a band of steel. "Let go of me," she demanded. Rio answered by tightening his hold. Esmé cursed and tried to break free but he was big and strong, and angry enough to be formidable. He had a hell of a lot of nerve! She was the one who had the right to be angry. He had followed her to Espada, made her look foolish in front of Jonas Baron, her employer, made her look even more foolish in front of her very own mother.… "Are you deaf?" she hissed furiously. "I told you to let go!" "When I'm done with you,chica, " he said coldly. "Then, I will let you go." "Don't call me that! I amnot a little girl." "Then stop behaving like one." "You can't do this!" "I already am." "Dammit, Rio —" "You're repeating yourself. Besides, it is improper for a well-bred Spanish se?orita to use vulgarities." "A well-bred…" Esmé laughed. "Don't delude yourself, se?or. I'm not Spanish. My mother was born in Mexico. My father was born in the States. I am amestizo, and proud of it. And even if Iwere Spanish, if I want to curse, I will." "Not when you are with me." "I'm not with you! I'm being dragged alongby you, as if I were a — a package. And I don't like it." He stopped and spun her toward him. She could see a muscle flexing in his jaw. The emerald eyes that could burn hot as flame were icy with anger. "Do you wish to draw everyone's attention to us?" Esmé slapped her hands on her hips. "Me, draw everyone's attention to us?" She tossed her head; her dark hair flew around her head like a raven's wings. Rio fought the sudden desire to sink his hands into that dark silk, cup her face, and kiss that sullen anger from her mouth.

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She was beautiful, yes, but she was behaving like a brat and he was tired of it. He was tired of chasing after her, too, from New York to Texas, from a windswept mesa to the Baron kitchen. If she had something to say to him, let her say it. He stepped closer to her. "I am pleased you find my comments amusing." He moved toward her again and saw the faintest flicker in her eyes. Good, he thought grimly. She was afraid of what he might do next. Let her be. Maybe then he'd be able to get her to tell him what in hell was going on, why she'd left him because yes, he wanted to know the reason. He was entitled to know it — especially after the way she'd kissed him a little while ago. A woman who gave herself to a man in a kiss was not a woman who should be running away from him. "As for who is drawing attention to us — if you would behave yourself." "You mean, if I would just let you order me around, don't you? Have me fall into step next to you? Or maybe walk two paces to the rear?" Rio's eyes narrowed. He reached out, grabbed her wrist, tugged her to within an inch of his body. "Lower your voice and walk beside me like a civilized woman." "I'm completely civilized." She poked a finger into his chest. "You're the one who's behaving like a savage!" He looked at her finger, then at her. "Do not poke at me," he said quietly.

"How about you not telling me what to do?"

"Esmé. I am warning you —" "And I am warning you, Rio. Don't you dare —" Her angry protest ended in a shriek as Rio picked her up, dumped her over his shoulder like a sack of laundry, and strode toward the stable.

Chapter Nine Esmé couldn't believe Rio was doing this, that he'd grabbed her, tossed her over his shoulder, and marched away with her. "Are you crazy? Put me down!" He answered by shifting her weight and clamping his arm more tightly behind her knees. "Put — me — down!" Esmé pounded her fists against his back. "Put — me —"

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"Uh, mister? You need some help here?" Esmé saw a pair of familiar-looking, beaten-up boots come into view. "Who is that? Abel? Is it you? Abel, tell this idiot to put me down!" "No," Rio said politely, "thank you, se?or, I am doing just fine." "He's not doing fine! He's — he's kidnapping me!" "Don't look like much of a kidnap to me," Abel said, after a moment that Esmé suspected had probably included a wink of the eye from one man to the other. "The se?orita seems to have had a bit too much sun." The stable doors loomed ahead. Rio shouldered them open; Abel reached out a hand and held them ajar. "She'll be all right as soon as I get her into the shade." "I will notbe all right! Iam all right! Abel? If you don't tell this — this idiot to put me down —" "Thank you for your assistance, Se?or Abel." "Think nothin' of it, se?or." The foreman stepped back. The doors swung shut and Esmé and Rio were alone in the shadowed, silent stable. Rio dumped Esmé on her feet. She spun toward the door but he grabbed her, shoved her back until her shoulder blades hit the wall, and planted a spread hand on either side of her. He looked at her and frowned. "You are pale," he said. She probably was. Hanging upside down had down something to her stomach. She took a couple of deep breaths before she answered him. "Let's not waste time on solicitude, okay? What do you want, Rio? Why did you cart me around like a — a sack of feed?" "I carted you around, as you so charmingly put it, because there was no other way to gain your attention." Esmé slapped her hands on her hips and blew a dangling strand of dark hair off her forehead. "Yes, well, you've certainly gained my attention, and the attention of every other human being on this ranch! Maybe it doesn't bother you that I'll be the topic of conversation in the bunkhouse for the next umpteen evenings, but it sure as hell bothers me!" "I suppose that is true." Rio's mouth twitched. "It will make for some talk among the men." "Damned right. It's hard enough to get respect from a bunch of grungy cowboys —" "Any man who shows you a lack of respect will have to answer to me," Rio said, his voice suddenly cold and hard.

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"I didn't mean respect as a woman, I meant respect as a horse trainer." A horse trainer. His elegant Esmé. Rio couldn't help but smile. "What's so funny?" Her eyes narrowed. "I am an excellent trainer. Ask Jonas, if you don't believe me." "Oh, I believe you. It is only that I would not have thought a woman whose lovely face is on magazine covers would prefer to train horses." "That just shows how little you know me," Esmé said. "I never intended to model forever. I just — I wanted something different for a while, that’s all." "And now you will train horses?" She nodded, and Rio smiled again. "You’re right,querida. I did not know this other side of the woman who is my lover." Color flooded her face. "I am not your lover. Not anymore." Rio lifted a hand to her face. She would have jerked away from his touch but he clasped her chin, traced the arc of her cheekbone with his thumb. It wasn't fair that such a simple gesture should still make her catch her breath. "Don't — don't do that," she said quickly. "Do what?" A muscle flickered in his jaw. He stepped closer, bent his head, nuzzled the damp strands of hair from her temple. "Do what,querida ?" he whispered, and took her mouth with his.

Chapter Ten Rio's mouth closed over Esmé's. For a heartbeat, she gave herself up to the heat and excitement of the kiss, but this was exactly why she'd left him, because he'd still had this power over her, even though he'd been getting ready to leave her. Where was her pride? Her self-respect? She twisted her face away from his. "Stop it," she said, in a shaky whisper. He clasped her head and turned her face to his. His eyes were hot coals, his mouth a thin line of sensuality. He looked as he always did when he wanted her, and just seeing that need in his face had always made every pleasure point in her body throb in response. From the start, this was how it had been between them. All Rio had to do was look at her this way, no matter where they were, and she would feel the pull of his desire deep inside. She had never been able to resist him, never wanted to resist. Being in Rio's arms, in his bed, made her feel alive. That was what was so dangerous about him, that he could do this to her, even now, when she knew she didn't want to be just another woman, passing through his life.…

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Esmé gasped for breath, wrenched free, and jammed her hands against his chest. "I don't want you to kiss me," she said. "Not anymore." A quick smile flashed across his handsome face. "Liar," he said softly. He bent his head, put his mouth to her throat. Heat sizzled through her again. He whispered her name and bent her back over his arm, his teeth nipping lightly at her flesh, and she moaned, clasped his head, arched back so he could reach her breasts. Oh, it was wonderful to be in his arms again, to feel his hard body against hers. All these weeks, without his touch, without his kisses, without him. She'd been so lonely. How many times had she awakened in the night, her body on fire for his possession? Rio, she thought, Rio, I love you.… The shock of it swept through her like a tidal wave. No. She didn't love this man. She couldn't. She wouldn't. She was a toy to him. A conquest. He only wanted her because she'd had the courage to do what no other woman had done — she’d left him. The last thing she would do was give him that power over her heart again. "No!" she cried, against his mouth, and fought him, really fought him, the arms that held her, the kisses that drugged her, until, finally, he lifted his head and stared at her through eyes blurred with passion. "Esmé?" he said thickly. "Querida?What is wrong?" "You," she said, her voice trembling. "You're what's wrong. Do you really think you can — you can turn up in my life and — and manhandle me?" "Manhandle?" Rio's eyes narrowed. "Is that what you call it when I take you in my arms to make love?" "It isn't love. It's — it's you trying to seduce me." "I see." His mouth twisted, as if the words he spoke tasted bitter. "I manhandle you, and I seduce you. Is that what you think?" Esmé wrapped her arms around herself. The stable was filled with the heat of the horses, and having Rio's arms around her had always been more than enough to ward off any chill before. But now, she was cold, icy cold, with the realization that she loved a man who could never love her. "Yes," she said, and looked straight into his eyes. "I do. That's why I left you, Rio. I was bored. I admit, it was fun and exciting at first, that whole Latin lover thing, but after a few months, it — it grew old. I knew it was time for a change, and —" She gasped as he grabbed her wrist, brought her arm up between them. "Keep away from me," he said, his voice an icy whisper. "Do you understand, Esmé? Keep away from me, for the balance of the time I am here, or I will not be responsible for what I do." He flung her from him and strode from the stable.

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Chapter Eleven Esmé's arms ached. She had mucked out the stalls and forked in fresh straw bedding for the horses she and Rio had ridden, then started brushing the other horses in their stalls. One of the hands wandered in while she was working, watched for a while, then offered to take over. "Thank you," she'd replied politely, "but I'm perfectly capable of doing the job." The hand — a new one, and so young she doubted he had to shave more than once a week — had cleared his throat. "Yes'm. I know you can. I just thought —" "Don't think," she'd snapped. "It isn't what you're paid to do." Just remembering how she'd spoken to the boy made her cringe. "I'm sorry," she'd said quickly, and the boy had said that was okay, she didn't have to apologize, but it was a lie. She wished she could go back in time and snip out her tongue, rather than say anything so mean to the kid. And it was all Rio's fault. It had been difficult enough, gaining the respect of a bunch of cowboys, especially after half of them had seen her face in magazines, advertising everything from lipstick to automobiles. But she'd done it, showing them what Jonas had remembered, that she had a natural touch with horses. Rio had ruined it. She'd have to work twice as hard now to erase what at least some of them had seen — Rio, carrying her off like a prize.… Carrying her here, into the quiet shadows, where he'd have made love to her, endless love, where he'd have buried himself deep within her, rocked her and rocked her until she cried out his name… The horse she was grooming whinnied its displeasure. She'd stopped brushing him; her hand lay still against his withers. Esmé blinked and looked into the big, dark eyes. More, those eyes seemed to be saying, it felt so good to be stroked.… "Stop it," she said. The animal snorted and Esmé made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "Sorry, sweetheart. I was scolding myself, not you." She rubbed the velvet muzzle, left the stall and let herself out of the barn, out into the afternoon. The hot afternoon…

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The world spun; the path dipped under her feet. "Hey," a voice said, and a pair of arms went around her. Not Rio's; even as everything grayed, she knew it wasn't he who'd caught her. "Miz Bennett? You okay?" Esmé's vision cleared. It was the young ranch hand who'd caught her before she could faint. He was looking at her as if she might break apart. "I'm fine." Her voice was weak; she could tell from the look on the boy's face that her words didn't reassure him any more than they reassured her. "Really," she said, and managed a quick smile. "I'm all right." The boy frowned, let go of her, but kept a hand out as if she might sink to the ground. "You sure?" She nodded. A mistake, because the simple action made her stomach rise into her throat. "Yes," she said, and swallowed hard. "The sun —" She gestured at the blue, hot sky and bright yellow disk blazing against it. The kid nodded. "Yeah. It can really get to you, if you ain't used to it." "I'm used to it," Esmé said. "I grew up here. Why is it everyone thinks they know all there is to know about me, when actually…" The boy was looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. Maybe she had, she thought. "Thank you," she said briskly, and headed for the house before the world turned gray again, which was exactly what it was threatening to do.

Chapter Twelve "Esmerelda! Are you all right?" Carmen was standing in the doorway, holding open the screen door. Esmé brushed past her and headed for the sink. "Oh, hell," she murmured, as she opened the cold-water tap. "I suppose everyone on the ranch saw me trip over my own feet!" "Here,chica. " Carmen bustled to the sink, snatched up a dish towel and soaked it in the spill of icy water. "Put this on your forehead and sit down." "I'm fine, Mama." "Good. Now, sit down."

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"Honestly, I'm okay." "Must you argue about everything?" Carmen took her daughter's arm, led her to the big oak table, gently pushed her into a chair. "Just sit here and let me take care of you." Esmé sighed. The truth was, her knees still felt as if they were made of noodles and there were little black dots dancing in front of her eyes. "Thank you." Carmen clucked her tongue. "And it is not necessary for a daughter to thank her mother. Here. Drink this." Esmé took the glass from her hand. "Orange juice?" "S?. With sugar added, the way you liked it when you were small." "The way you wouldn't let me drink it," Esmé said, with a little smile. She sipped the cold, sweet liquid, felt it slide down her throat, where it seemed to collect in a blob too large to deal with. She swallowed very carefully, and put the glass down. "Too much sugar?" "No. I just… It's the sun, Mama. I feel a little nauseous." "Ah. Well, take tiny sips,chica. Have you eaten anything today? I know you didn't touch your breakfast… What is it?" Esmé could feel the sweat on her forehead turning to icy beads. "Please. Don't talk about breakfast." Carmen turned and looked at her daughter. She drew out a chair and sat down across from her. "Did you feel sick then, too?" she asked softly. "This morning, I mean?" Esmé nodded. "A little. Actually, I've been feeling queasy lately." She brought the glass to her lips and took a cautious drink. "I guess that cowboy was right." "Which cowboy?" "The kid who caught me before I could pass out." She sighed and smiled at her mother over the rim of her glass. "He said it took time to get used to the heat and I said I didn't have to get used to it, that I'd grown up here. But I've been away for so long.…" "Long enough to have involved yourself with a man like Rio de Santos." Esmé looked up. Her mother's expression was unreadable, but her black eyes were flashing. "Mama," she said carefully, "I don't want to discuss Rio de Santos." "No. I'm sure you do not." Carmen got to her feet, took a cloth from the sink and began briskly wiping down the countertop. "What girl would wish to discuss her lover with her mother?"

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"I'm not a girl. And Rio's not my lover." "Not anymore, but surely, he was." "That's the operative word, Mama. Was. Rio isn't anything to me, not anymore." "No?" Carmen tossed the cloth into the sink and put her fists on her hips. "Then, what is he doing here, huh?" "He came to buy horses." Carmen barked out a laugh. "Horses? You cannot be so blind,chica. He came here for you." "If he did, he's wasting his time." Esmé pushed back her chair and stood up. "I don't want him." "A woman does not turn her back on a man like that. He is the kind who leaves a woman to weep into her pillow, alone." "That's so old-fashioned it makes me…sick," Esmé groaned, and ran for the bathroom. Carmen gripped the edge of the sink. She closed her eyes, as if in supplication, though she feared her prayer was already too late.

Chapter Thirteen Night had fallen on Espada. Heat lightning lit the sky as thunder mumbled threateningly from the hills. Esmé sat before the TV set in her small apartment behind the tack room, just off the stable, and clicked mindlessly through the channels. "The apartment ain't much," Jonas had said when he'd hired her, "but you can have it, if you want." She'd wanted. Otherwise, she'd have had to share her mother's quarters and that would have meant that Carmen would have known that sometimes she spent half the night staring sightlessly at the television. Lightning rent the sky; thunder pealed again, faster and closer than before. The storm was coming nearer. Maybe it would bring an end to the relentless heat. Maybe then, she'd be able to sleep. Esmé sighed, clicked onto an ancientI Love Lucy rerun and sat back on the sofa. She smiled slightly; she'd seen this episode before. Lucy and Ethel were struggling to keep pace with a conveyer belt of chocolate candies. Just the sight of Lucy downing all that chocolate made Esmé feel queasy. She clicked the set off. Except for the growl of thunder, Espada was still. She dropped the remote on the coffee table and got to her feet. She was wearing an oversize T-shirt and

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a pair of cotton panties, her favorite bedtime attire now that she wasn't sleeping with — now that she was here, on the ranch. The cotton was the coolest thing to wear and she didn't have to worry about looking sexy enough to appeal to — to anyone. She realized now that she'd made a conscious effort to do that, toward the end of things, once she'd become aware of how much longer Rio had been with her than he'd been with any other woman. "Must be something special about you," one of the girls she worked with had teased. Esmé had never thought about how long their affair would last before her colleague’s words. After that, it was all she could think of, and after a while, when Rio had started breaking an occasional date, when she'd catch him watching her with a funny look on his face, she'd upped what she thought of as the glamour quotient. More silk nightgowns, new perfume… What an idiot she'd been! She went into the tiny kitchen, luxuriated in the blast of icy air as she opened the freezer compartment and dumped a handful of ice cubes into a glass. Her mother was right, she thought, as she filled the glass with water. Espada's well water was cool and delicious. It was just that she'd grown accustomed to drinking bottled water in New York. She'd grown accustomed to lots of things while living in the city. The noise, for instance. When she'd first returned to Espada, she'd had difficulty sleeping without an accompanying backdrop of traffic sounds. Mostly, she'd had trouble sleeping without Rio. Without his arm around her; without her head on his shoulder. Without him waking her in the night to kiss and caress her before it was time to leave her in the morning. He'd wanted to move her to an apartment nearer to his, but she'd refused. "I pay my own rent," she'd said. It was true, she'd wanted to hang on to her independence…but after a while, if he'd asked her to move in with him, not to move in near him, she'd have done it in a heartbeat. The truth, the naked truth, was that she'd wanted him to love her, and he didn't. He wouldn't. He'd been up-front about that from the beginning. The rain finally arrived, pounding against the tin roof like a tap dancer gone crazy. Lightning flashed through the kitchen; thunder rolled overhead. The lights blinked once, twice, then went out. Esmé jumped, then gave a shaky laugh. A storm was only a storm. There was nothing to be afraid of.… The door flew open. She screamed, swung toward it and saw a figure silhouetted against the lightning-torn sky. It was Rio. Rio, soaked to the skin, looking enraged and dangerous and gorgeous enough to stop her heart. "Damn you, Esmerelda," he growled, and he stepped inside, slammed the door shut, and pulled her into his arms.

Chapter Fourteen

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The storm raging outside, raw and uncontrolled, was reflected in Rio's eyes. He had always been a passionate lover. Still, Esmé had sensed that he'd withheld a part of himself, never lost control, and that was good. It helped her keep her own emotions leashed. Sometimes when they'd made love, she'd felt as if she were trembling on the brink of eternity, that one more touch, one more kiss, would turn her inside out. She'd known better than to let that happen…but now, as he gathered her in his arms, she knew that he was going to demand everything, offer everything.… And she would let it happen. Thunder boomed over Espada as Rio's arms closed, hard, around her. His eyes filled with passion. She could smell desire on him, a hot, clean, masculine scent that sent her pulse rocketing. "Esmé," he said, and he put his hand in the neckline of her shirt, closed it into a fist, and ripped the cotton fabric from her throat to the hem. His gaze dropped to her naked breasts and she felt her nipples lift and swell in response. "Rio," she whispered, and he caught her mouth with his, took it with such need that she swayed toward him. He cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs stroking the crests. "Tell me that you want me," he said thickly, "that you want this." She rose toward him, eyes closed, lips parted, her heart thundering in her ears. "Yes," she said. "Yes, yes, yes.…" Rio dropped his hands to her hips, yanked down her panties, tore them free of her ankles. A jagged streak of lightning splattered the room with light and she saw his face, exulted in what she saw there, in what she was doing to him. She reached for his belt but her fingers wouldn't obey quickly enough and he brushed her hands aside, tore his soaked T-shirt over his head, undid his belt, stripped away his clothes until he was as naked as she. Esmé's breath caught. He was as beautiful as she'd remembered, his body muscled and magnificently male. "Rio," she whispered, and touched him. He groaned when her hand closed around him, said something so explicitly sexual in Spanish that her knees almost buckled. "Is that what you want,querida ?" he growled. "Is it what you want me to do?" "Yes," she said, "please, yes…"

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Rio's fingers wound through hers. He lifted her hands, pinned her to the wall with his weight, her arms outstretched to her sides as he bent his head and kissed her, his mouth devouring hers, his teeth nipping at her flesh, giving her pain, giving her pleasure, giving her what she'd longed for, all these lonely weeks. Esmé whimpered, moved against him, lifted her hips, ground her pelvis against the hard ridge of his desire. Rio groaned. She was killing him but if he had to die, he would die willingly, so long as it were like this. This was the woman he'd never quite been able to touch, the one he'd sensed was hidden inside the cool, elegant outer shell. She'd always been responsive and passionate. Still, he'd had the feeling she'd held back some part of herself, that she'd never quite let him inside her soul. Tonight, he knew she was holding nothing back. And neither would he. He lifted her in his arms, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and he entered her on one long, hard, exquisite thrust. She cried out his name and he kissed her mouth while he took her closer to the edge of the chasm that loomed before them. "You are mine," he said fiercely. "Do you hear me,querida ? You are mine!" "Yes," she said brokenly, "yes, yes.…" He moved, moved again, and she gave a high, shrill cry and shattered in his arms. "Rio," she sobbed, and he groaned, buried his face against her throat, and emptied himself into her sweet, silken warmth.

Chapter Fifteen The sound of thunder receded; lightning painted a distant glow on the horizon. The hall lamp flickered, once, twice, then came on. Esmé, still locked in Rio's arms, sighed with contentment. Her head fell forward, onto his shoulder. She knew she ought to ease herself from his embrace, that he had to be as drained as she was, but she didn’t want to end this moment. She had never felt so close to him before, or so filled with happiness. "Querida."His breath whispered against her ear."Querida, forgive me. I should have taken you slowly, but I wanted you so badly.…" "Don't apologize," she said softly. "It was the same for me." His arms tightened around her. "Was it?" She nodded. "Yes." It was a dangerous admission, one that left her vulnerable to him, but what was the sense in pretending, after what had just happened?

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He kissed her with almost unbearable tenderness. Slowly, he let her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor. "I missed this," he said. This, Esmé thought. He had missed this, not her. Suddenly, she was aware of how wanton she must look, of how she'd behaved. She drew back a little, crossed her arms over her breasts. "Rio." She swallowed dryly. "I think — I think you should leave.…" "Don't hide yourself from me," he said softly. He clasped her wrists and gently brought her arms to her sides. "You are so beautiful, Esmé. I could never tire of looking at you." Color flooded her face. She wanted to tell him she never tired of looking at him, either, but then she might tell him too many things, none of which he wanted to hear. "Querida.Why did you leave me?" Because I fell in love with you, she thought, but she knew better than to say it. "I almost went crazy when you disappeared. I thought something had happened to you, that you were ill.…" "I'm sorry. I should have left a note." "You should not have left me at all," he said roughly. He swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall to the bedroom. "Never mind all that. I have found you again. That's what matters." Gently, he lowered her to the bed. "But I want you to know that I understand." She looked up. His eyes were dark and unreadable as he came down on the bed beside her. "You do?" "You felt you were losing your freedom,querida. "He took her in his arms, held her close and kissed her. "It was the same for me." God, her heart was going to break. Silly, she told herself, she was being so silly. Rio had simply confirmed her suspicions. He'd been getting ready to end their affair. "Am I right, Esmé?" "Yes," she said, forcing the word past the lump in her throat. "But we were both wrong." He kissed her, his tongue stroking gently against hers. "After you left, I realized I was wrong, that we were not ready to end this thing between us." He smiled. "And now I am sure that you know it, too." Esmé felt torn between laughter and tears. She'd run away because that had seemed easier than having Rio walk out of her life, but leaving him had only sparked his desire for her. She knew it was time to tell him the truth, not that she loved him — never that — but that he was wrong, that she wanted to end their

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affair.… Rio kissed her, bent his dark head to her breasts. She felt the quickening of not just her body but of her heart as he made love to her with such sweet tenderness that, at the end, she could do nothing but weep.

Chapter Sixteen Dawn was just painting the sky when Rio awakened. Esmé lay in the curve of his arm, her head on his shoulder, her hand over his heart. He took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. She sighed, murmured something in her sleep, and snuggled closer. Rio glanced out the window. The sun would show itself soon, as it began its rise over the hills that rimmed Espada. People would be up and about. He knew it was time to get up, get dressed, and make his way back to his guest rooms in the main house. That was what his mind told him. His heart told him something else, that what he really wanted was to make love to the woman in his arms and then go out the door with her so that everyone on the ranch, everyone in the world knew that she belonged to him.… Rio frowned. Carefully, he eased his arm out from beneath Esmé's head, sat up, and swung his legs to the floor. Where had that idiotic thought come from? She didn't "belong" to him. He didn't "belong" to her. He didn't like that kind of thinking. Neither did she. That was why she'd left him, because she'd realized, the same as he, that their relationship had become too confining. She had agreed to leave Espada and return to New York with him. She would live with him — temporarily, of course, until she found another apartment. And when their affair eventually ended, it would do so civilly. It was a sensible plan. Naked, Rio padded down the hall to the front door. His clothes, and Esmé's, were strewn everywhere. He bent down, picked up her torn T-shirt and brought it to his face. The soft cotton bore the scent of something light and floral and feminine. Her scent. Had he really ripped the shirt off her last night? Had he taken her against the wall with no preliminaries? He had done such things before with women; swift, hot sex could be incredibly arousing, but what he'd done last night was different. He hadn't planned any of it, hadn't even imagined it. One moment, he'd been pacing his room, his thoughts a blur, and the next he'd been striding through the pouring rain, straight to her door, ready to break it down if she didn't let him in. What had become of all his control?

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Rio put Esmé's shirt on a chair, collected his own clothing, and dressed. Then he reached for the doorknob.… No. He had to see her one last time. He made his way to the bedroom, paused just outside the door. She was still asleep. Well, he wouldn't wake her. He'd only go quietly to the bed, press a kiss to her shoulder. Or maybe he'd draw down the sheet, just so he could see her. Maybe he'd take her in his arms, kiss her until she awoke, until her lips parted and clung to his, and then he'd make love to her again, make love to her until she admitted she was his, only his, that she would never belong to another man.… He took a step back. Idiotic thoughts, again. What was wrong with him? He liked his life just as it was. He was free; he could do what he pleased, when he pleased. Oh, someday, yes, that would change. He would grow older, know it was time to settle down, choose a wife who would be easy to deal with, who would be obedient and respectful, who would never even think of striking him in anger.… Who would never let him see the depth of her passion for him. He turned away, hurried to the front door and stepped out into the early morning. Something was happening to him, but what? Whatever it was, it scared the hell out of him.

Chapter Seventeen Esmé opened her eyes when she heard the front door close. It was safe. Rio was gone. She wasn’t ready to face him this morning. He'd always been a wonderful lover, but the past hours had left her feeling stripped of all defenses. How many times had she awakened to his caresses? Sometimes, she imagined she was dreaming about him, only to open her eyes and find herself in his arms, find him touching her and kissing her, bringing her to climax again and again with his body, his hands, his mouth.… Esmé rolled onto her belly, pressed her face into the pillow that still bore traces of his masculine scent. After the last time they'd made love, he'd told her he wanted her ready to leave Espada by evening. "I can't," she'd said, and she'd felt him stiffen. "What do you mean, you can't?" His voice had been edged with anger. "This thing between us —" "Dammit," she'd said, before she could stop herself, "don't call it that!" "Call it what you will,querida. You are coming with me to New York."

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"It isn't that easy. I have a job here." "Jonas will just have to replace you." "Thank you." She'd pushed free of his arms and turned away from him. "It's lovely to know you think I'm so easily replaced." Rio had laughed as he rolled her onto her back. "If you were, would I be here?" It wasn't exactly the answer she'd longed for but it was more than she'd ever hoped to get from him. Slowly, she relaxed in his arms. "And then there's my apartment." He nuzzled the sheet down, exposing her breasts. "What about it?" "I don't have one. I gave it up when —" Her breath caught. "Don't do that." "Why not?" "Because — because I can't think. I was trying to tell you that I have no place to live.…" "You will move in with me." At first, she'd thought she'd misunderstood him. Hadn't they just discussed the importance of not feeling trapped? But Rio had flashed a smile so smug and arrogant she knew she'd heard him correctly. "That's impossible," she'd said. "Nothing is impossible,querida, " he'd said softly, and then he'd kissed her, moved against her, and she'd been lost to everything but him. But he was wrong. Some things were impossible, and living with him certainly topped the list. Did he really think he could arrange everything to suit himself? Esmé flung back the sheet and sat up. It was a big mistake. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Nausea roiled through her. She reached the bathroom just in time. This was becoming ridiculous. She was always tired, and she was starting to hate the mornings because almost each one began this same way.… The sheer impossibility of the thought took her breath away. Cautiously, she put her hand over her belly. No. It was the same, still flat, as it had always been. She brushed her teeth, splashed cold water on her face, scrambled into her robe, and went to the little desk in the kitchen. It wasn't really worth checking but she'd check, anyway. Her appointment book was in the top drawer. She took it out, thumbed back a few months. There was a little red check on the 10th of April, another on the 10th of May. But where was the check for June, or July?

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"Esmé?" And August. What about August? The 10th had come and gone, and the 11th… "Esmerelda?Chica, are you there?" She turned to the door, opened it. The sun was blinding; she could feel its heat on her face but somehow she felt cold. Icy cold, straight down into her bones. "Esmerelda?" Carmen stared at her white face. "What is it?" "Mama," Esmé whispered. "Oh, Mama, I think I'm pregnant."

Chapter Eighteen Carmen staggered as if she'd been struck. This was what she'd feared, what she'd refused to acknowledge. "No," she said, "no, it cannot be." "I - I was with him only twice," Esmé whispered, "before I went on the pill.…" "All it takes is once," Carmen said coldly. "Is it this man, this Spaniard, who did this to you?" "It isn't Rio's fault." It wasn't. They'd talked about contraception, discussed if she wanted to take care of it or if she wanted him to use condoms. "I'm on the pill," she had told him, because she hadn't wanted anything to separate her from Rio's possession, but she'd lied - she'd had to go out and get a prescription. There'd been no reason for her to have been taking the pill. She'd only slept with a couple of men in her life, and that was long before she met Rio. Her tears came hotter and faster. Carmen held out her arms. Esmé went into them, sobbing. "Are you certain, chica?" "I haven't had a period in three months. And I've been feeling sick in the mornings, and tired…" "Ay." Carmen sighed. "I noticed. Still, until you take a test…" She took a tissue from the pocket of her apron and wiped Esmé's streaming eyes. "Come," she said brusquely. "We will drive to town and purchase a testing kit. Then we will know what we must do." An hour later, the two women sat in Esmé's kitchen. Her pregnancy had been confirmed. Esmé knew it was crazy but somehow, she felt calmer. Knowing the truth had done that because it was better to face facts than supposition. Carmen, on the other hand, was frantic.

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"How could you do something so foolish, Esmerelda?" "I didn't do it deliberately," Esmé said wearily. "I told you. It just happened." "It just happened," Carmen scoffed. "Well, now something else must happen. Either you will not have this baby, or you will give it up after it is born." "No," Esmé said sharply. "I won't do either of those things." "Then you will go to your lover and demand he marry you." Esmé gave a bitter laugh. "That's out of the question." "I will speak to him, then. I will tell him that he must face his responsibilities.…" "No!" Esmé leaped to her feet. "You don't understand, Mama. I - I love Rio." "Then, what is the problem, chica?" Carmen's expression softened. "Many babies are born before a marriage is nine months old. It is not right, but -" "I love him. But he doesn't love me." "If he is a decent man, he will do what he must. He will marry you, or at least he will agree to support you and the child." "He is decent. And he probably would offer to do the right thing." Esmé's voice broke. "But I don't want to trap him into a marriage he doesn't want, or a relationship that will stretch on endlessly into the future. I love him too much to force him into anything like that." Carmen's mouth thinned. "You are a fool, Esmerelda. How will you manage on your own? How will you support your baby?" "I'll stay on here at Espada, training horses. Or I'll go back to school and get that degree you want me to have. I'll find a way." "You will destroy your life!" "Did having me destroy yours?" "I was uneducated. I knew I could only be a maid or a cook. Besides, I married the man who created you." "And he began to cheat on you, and left you, as soon as I was born. Did that kind of marriage change anything for either you or me, Mama?" Carmen sighed. "No," she admitted, after a minute. "It did not." Esmé smiled, despite the tears that glittered in her eyes. "I'll be fine," she said softly. "You just wait and see." And she would be, she thought an hour later, after she'd put on her makeup, dressed, and turned herself

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back into cool, sophisticated Esmé Bennett of Manhattan. She'd be fine…and she would have Rio's child to love. That wasn't so bad, when she thought about it. All she had to do now was face Rio, and tell him that she had changed her mind about being his mistress.

Chapter Nineteen Esmé looked for Rio in the stables, but he wasn't there. She headed up to the house, let herself in through the always-unlocked front door so that she could avoid seeing her mother again, and met Jonas, at the top of the stairs. "Lookin' for the se?or?" he said, and grinned. "Yes. Yes, I am." "Well, he's in the guest suite, checkin' out the paperwork on the fillies he bought." Jonas winked. "Man sure does have a good eye, when it comes to the ladies…which reminds me, missy. Rio says you'll be leavin' us. Got to tell you, I'm sorry to see you go. You got a fine way with horses." "Rio spoke too soon," Esmé said quickly. "I'm not going anywhere." "Oh?" Jonas jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "The se?or might not approve." "The se?or doesn't run my life," she replied, and knocked on Rio's door. He opened it, stared at her, then smiled and reached for her hand. "Querida," he said, and drew her inside. "Rio. I - I have to talk to -" Rio shut the door, gathered her into his arms and kissed her. For a moment, she gave herself up to the kiss. Then she put her hands against his chest and pulled away. He looked at her and frowned. "Esmé? What is wrong?" "I have something to tell you." She stepped out of his encircling arms and hoped he couldn't see the frantic beat of her pulse in her throat. She'd been good at modeling; photographers loved what they called her cool look. It was the look she deliberately set her features to now. "Do you?" His voice had an edge to it; she could only imagine how he would sound after she told him she wasn't returning to New York as his mistress. "Tell me, then, querida. Don't keep us both in suspense." She took a deep breath. "I've changed my mind. About going back with you to New York." A muscle knotted in his cheek. " Well, I can accept that. You need a few more days here. You don't

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want to leave Jonas, as you say, in the lurch." "No." Her hands were trembling. She dug them deep into the pockets of her gray silk trousers. "No, you don't understand. I'm not going back to New York, Rio. I'm not going to - to pick up where we left off." Rio said nothing. Esmé could hear the beat of her own heart, the soft rush of her own breath. "I see," he said, at last. "And the reason for this decision is…?" "I don't -" God, she thought, God, please get me through this. "I don't see any point to it." She smiled, though it felt as if her lips were sticking to her teeth. "I admit that last night was - it was exciting, but that's only because we'd been apart for a while. We both know that - that sooner or later, we'll be back where we were before I left, with - with our affair over and both of us wishing to be free…" "Free," he said, very softly. "That is what you wish? To be free of me?" Tears rose in her eyes. She damned herself silently for not being able to control her emotions but with luck, he wouldn't notice. He was so angry, his face so pale beneath its usual golden tan, that she didn't think he'd notice anything but the fact that his ego had been hammered again. "Yes." She lifted her chin. "That's right, and it's better if we end things now, as friends, than if we wait a few weeks, or even a few months, and -" "As I have said before,amada , you are a bad liar," Rio growled, and hauled her into his arms.

Chapter Twenty Esmé told herself not to kiss Rio back, but her head wasn't paying attention to her heart. She not only kissed him, she clung to him, opened her mouth to him, twisted her fingers in his shirt while tears ran down her cheeks. After a long time, Rio drew back and clasped her shoulders. "You don't want to leave me," he said softly. "Yes. I do. I…" He kissed her again and again, and she moaned softly against his mouth. "Tell me the truth,amada . You don't want to leave me, do you?" How could she go on lying? "No," she said, "no, oh no, I don't. I — I —" Rio took her face in his hands. "What,querida ? Say the words." She shook her head. She had some pride left. Besides, she had to leave him, before her secret became visible. "Very well." He smiled. "I will say them first."

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It was a brave start and a brave smile, but he could feel himself starting to shake, which was ridiculous. He was a man who feared nothing, not a ride on the wildest horse or the wildest stock market, and yet he feared speaking the words in his heart to this gentle, beautiful woman. What if she rejected him?Dios , it would kill him… But the words needed saying. He had only admitted them to himself as he'd walked to the house this morning, still seeing her in his mind's eye, remembering how empty his life had been without her, how she had wept when he'd made love to her. He knew what he felt. And he was almost sure he knew what she felt.… "Esmé." He drew a deep breath. "Esmé, I love you." He thought, at first, she hadn't heard him. She just went on looking at him, staring at him…but then he saw the rush of color into her pale face and he felt his heart swell. "I love you," he said again. "I adore you,querida , and yes, you are coming home with me, and yes, you are moving in with me." He laughed softly. "I suspect that is the worst marriage proposal in the world, my beloved, but then, I have never asked a woman to marry me before." Esmé laughed. She cried. She rose on her toes and kissed him. Rio cleared his throat. "Is that a yes?" he said nervously. "You do love me?" "Oh, yes. I love you, Rio. I've loved you for so long.… That was why I left you, because I knew you were going to tell me it was over…" He shook his head. "I lied to myself, sweetheart. My need for you terrified me, so I tried to put you at arm's length, but it was useless." He drew her to him and kissed her, not just with passion but with love. "Marry me," he said, and leaned his forehead against hers. "Marry me, and tell me you want lots of babies.… What?" "How soon do you want those babies?" she whispered. His eyes met hers, searched out the meaning of her question. "I'm pregnant," she said, and he pumped his fist into the air. "I am going to be a papa!" Rio swept her into his arms. He spun in a circle, and then he stopped and kissed her with all the love in his heart. "You will be my joy," he said softly, "all the days of my life." "And you will be my love," Esmé murmured, "forever."

The End

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