Having The Cowboy’s Baby
Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all my readers.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Coming Next Month

Chapter One

Oh God, don’t let it happen again.

Anne-Marie Duveuil refused to fall under the spell of a man like Cordero Sanchez. She’d already had her life’s plan of entering a convent shattered by one sexy man. To let another one turn her head would be worse than a sin, it would be ruination.

She’d never met anyone with such rakish features or such a sexual presence. His hair was crow-black and waved to the back of his neck in a length that was far too long to be neat. But then, neat wouldn’t match a man like him, she decided. He was a rebel and a rounder. Even though he’d not said one word out of place since he’d arrived, she could see trouble all over his handsome face and long lean body. And she desperately wished that anyone other than this man had delivered her father’s newly acquired horses to Cane’s Landing.

A few minutes ago Anne-Marie had shown her guest into the parlor for refreshments. After all, he’d traveled a long distance to get here and her mother had taught her to be a proper hostess, even when a visitor made her feel uncomfortable. And Cordero Sanchez was definitely doing that and much more.

Up to this point she’d tried her best to keep their conversation polite and impersonal, but the man seemed dead set on learning about her family’s history. A moment ago he’d left his chair to inspect the long row of photos resting on the rock mantle of the fireplace and innate manners had forced Anne-Marie to cross the room to stand by his side.

“That’s my father when he was a very young man,” she explained as he paused to examine one particular photo. “In those days he liked to hunt ducks and the bird dogs you see with him were some that he’d trained.”

“I didn’t know that Jules liked to hunt,” he admitted. “But then we’re always talking horses.”

Forsaking the image of her father, he moved on down the hearth and she stiffened as he picked up an enlarged snapshot of her. In it she was wearing a simple yellow sundress and her long hair was tied back with a coral colored scarf. Several young children with brown skin and black hair were standing with her in front of a crude, clapboard building.

“That was in Guatemala,” she said quietly. “I was teaching at a Catholic school.”

He looked at her with open interest. “You’re a teacher?”

A negligible shrug barely moved her shoulder. “I taught languages for a while. But that was long ago, when I still had dreams of entering a convent.”

Clearly stunned by her revelation, she could feel him staring at her.

“A convent!” He repeated the word with hushed amazement. “What happened?”

As she lifted her eyes to his, her lips twisted to a bitter line. “I met a man just like you.”

An expression of comical confusion swept across his dark face. “What the hell does that mean?”

Flustered with him and herself, her cheeks began to burn.

Her cheeks still burning, she exclaimed, “Oh! I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Cordero.”

His hazel-green eyes continued to study her closely. “It’s all right. But I got the impression that this…man you just compared me to is not someone on your most valued list.”

“No.” Turning away from him, she walked over to the coffee table and returned her glass to the tray of cold refreshments that Darcella, their cook, had provided for them. “But that has nothing to do with you.” Keeping her back to him, she added, “I mean. Not personally. He just happened to be a man that was virile and handsome, like you. That’s all.”

Cordero had never had trouble garnering attention from the opposite sex, but he’d never been stuck on himself. When he looked in the mirror he saw a regular guy, a horseman who did his best to enjoy every minute of the day. To hear this vision of a woman call him virile and handsome jolted him.

“What was this man to you?” Cordero asked thoughtfully.

She looked at him then, her face full of wry resignation. “He was my lover.”

If she’d walked over and slapped him hard on the face he wouldn’t have been any more floored. He could say nothing. At least nothing that would make sense. Yet she seemed to be waiting for some sort of reply, so he drew in a deep breath and said the first thing that came to his mind. “I take it things didn’t work out.”

“No.”

Cordero wished she would tell him more, but he wasn’t going to prod her. Even if he did kick up his heels on Saturday night with the rest of the wranglers on his family’s ranch, he liked to think of himself as a gentleman. And since he’d only arrived at this Louisiana sugar cane plantation an hour ago, he could hardly start prying into the woman’s personal life. But he had to admit that he fervently wanted to.

He’d never seen a woman quite so beautiful. Oh, he’d seen plenty of glamour girls, but they were mostly paint and powder and provocative clothing. This woman was nothing close to that. Her blue eyes were like chunks of crystal sky and her bare lips the soft pink of a wild rose. A glow that had nothing to do with the heat of the summer afternoon seemed to emanate from her pearly skin. She was as natural and as breathtaking as the rising sun.

She cleared her throat and smiled as though the two of them had just been discussing the weather instead of her ex-lover. The abrupt change jarred him. But not any more than learning when he’d arrived that his old friend Jules Duveuil had a young, beautiful daughter.

“It’s getting late,” she observed with a glance at her watch. “If you’re ready, maybe we should head to the hospital.”

To add to Cordero’s surprise, he’d also learned that Jules had been admitted to a hospital in Thibodaux only yesterday. Three days before Cordero had left Texas, he’d spoken with the older man over the phone and nothing had been amiss then. Jules had sounded healthy and excited that Cordero would soon be arriving with the pair of gray quarter horses from the Sandbur ranch.

Apparently Jules had a heart condition and the doctor had admitted him for a few tests. Now the old man was asking to see Cordero and he couldn’t refuse. Jules Duveuil had been a friend to Cordero and his family for more than two years.

Cordero had first met Jules at a cutting horse show in Houston and since then Jules had sent several horse buyers to the ranch, who’d spent thousands of dollars on Sandbur horses. Only a month ago, Jules had flown down to the south Texas ranch to view their quarter horses. He’d purchased a pair without any quibbling over the price. There was no way Cordero could slight Jules by avoiding a visit to the hospital. In Cordero’s opinion, the older man was more than a good client; he was a friend.

Nodding his agreement at Anne-Marie, Cordero stepped past her and retrieved his hat from the floor where he’d left it at the foot of an armchair. As he pulled the brim down on his forehead, he said, “Yeah, let’s get going. I’m anxious to see your father.”

In the front room, she gathered her handbag from a small table, then headed toward the door. Cordero automatically followed while his mind spun. From the first moment he’d spotted Anne-Marie walking across the yard to greet him, he’d been totally mesmerized by the sight of her. She’d been dressed in some sort of gauzy white dress that floated around her slender body like a thin misty cloud. Flaming copper hair had hung in thick waves to the middle of her back and caressed the faint jut of her breasts. Even from a distance, he’d been able to see that her skin was milky white and as smooth as top cream. As she’d walked toward him there’d been a smile on her face that had made him think of a Southern belle hiding her expression behind a palmetto fan. Now that she’d confessed to a broken romance and diverted plans to enter a convent, she was even more intriguing. What sort of man had seduced her, he wondered, and why wasn’t she with him now?

Careful, Cordero, don’t try to make this woman your business. She’s not for you. Not even close. You want those carefree, love ’em and leave ’em types. Not a sweet angel with a broken wing.

“We’ll take my car,” she said once they were out on the porch. “That way you won’t have to worry with unhitching your horse trailer.”

“It’s really no problem if you’d like for me to drive my truck,” he offered.

“That isn’t necessary. My car is parked right over here in the garage.”

The Duveuil house wasn’t the typical Grecian structure he’d expected to find at Cane’s Landing. Instead of typical white pillars and red brick, the massive two-story was made entirely of wood and displayed a Creole flavor. Verandahs, with overhangs supported by carved black posts, lined all sides of the structure. Matching black shutters bracketed the many windows on the graceful facade.

As he followed Anne-Marie down the front steps, he noticed that live oaks, all of them dripping with Spanish moss, hugged the house with massive sagging limbs. Along the lattice-covered foundation, dahlias, camellias and hollyhocks bloomed bright and lush.

The estate was beautiful, he silently noted, but compared to the Sandbur ranch it was damn quiet. Back in Texas there were always people and vehicles about, cowboys and cattle buyers milling around the barns and pens. Here at Cane’s Landing the only sounds he’d heard were the songbirds and an occasional bark from a bluetick hound.

The garage was a separate building situated about a hundred feet from the house. Presently the double doors were opened and he could see a dark green luxury car parked on the left side.

She handed him the keys. “I hate driving,” she said. “Will you do the chore?”

For her? Cordero would split a cord of wood with an ax or stack ten ton of hay in the barn loft just to see a tiny smile on her face. Merely looking at her made him feel like an adolescent and he didn’t know how to deal with his strange reaction. It was downright scary. He needed to get away from Cane’s Landing just as fast as he could get. But how the heck was he going to do that, when he’d already promised Jules he’d spend the remainder of the week here?

But he’d made that promise before he’d met Jules’s beautiful daughter. Now he had to find some way to cut short his stay. Otherwise, this vision with flaming hair was going to end up leading him around by the nose. And he wasn’t the sort of man to let himself be led by a woman.

“I’d be glad to drive,” he told her.

After helping her into the passenger seat, he walked around the car and slid beneath the steering wheel. The seat squished comfortably around him like a marshmallow.

There was no doubt the Duveuils’ finances were secure. If this woman ever did look at him in a manto-woman way, it wouldn’t be for his money. They were equal in that aspect, but polar opposites in every other way. He couldn’t see Anne-Marie at a Texas dance hall, kicking up her heels in a pair of jeans and cowboy boots. No more than he could imagine himself joining her on a missionary trek to some third world country. Those differences ought to be enough to make him keep his hands to himself. Still, it wasn’t enough to stop the itch to touch her.

Slowly, he eased the car down the oak-lined lane. Once they had reached the blacktopped road, Anne-Marie instructed him to turn left. With the setting of the sun, the massive pines sent deep shadows across the roadway and made the evening seem much older than it was. The dimness of the car interior cocooned them together. As the miles passed, Cordero found his gaze slipping over to her slim figure far more than safety allowed.

He needed to keep his mind on the job of driving rather than on her. But she was a tempting sight and the clothes she’d changed into made looking at her even more pleasant. Her beige slacks were slim-fitting linen and matched the short, sleeveless top that left her arms and a provocative amount of skin at the neckline exposed to his view. It would be easy enough to reach across the seat and slide a finger against that soft skin, but he figured her response would be fast and furious.

Realizing he needed to break the train of his thoughts, Cordero asked, “What does your father plan to do with the horses? Since I’ve run into him at several horse shows here lately, I thought he might be planning to ride himself.”

Anne-Marie continued to stare out the window. It was much safer and wiser than looking at him. “It’s been several years since we’ve had horses here at Cane’s Landing. Father’s only started going to horse shows again after his health forced him to retire from managing the plantation. I guess the competition never left his blood, but now it’s not for himself. It’s for me.”

“You?”

There was so much surprise in his voice that she turned to look at him. He was staring at her in disbelief and the sight nettled her in a way she’d not felt in years. Just because he was from Texas didn’t mean he was an expert on equines or who was qualified to ride them.

“Why, yes. I do ride. And I have since I was a very young girl.” Folding her hands together on her lap, she silently told herself to relax. This man’s opinion of her was of no importance. His stay here would be short. Besides, it wasn’t his fault that he had enough sexuality for ten men and that she was too weak-willed to ignore it.

Breathing deeply, she added, “Father wants me to compete in Western reining or in cutting competitions. But I’m not sure I want to do either.”

Cordero couldn’t imagine this woman even sitting astride a horse, much less riding one as it spun in tight circles or jumped violently back and forth to head off a cantankerous steer. But then he’d been surprised by women before. In fact, most of them were never what they appeared to be on the surface. He was beginning to think Anne-Marie wasn’t what she appeared to be, either.

“Why not?” he asked. “You don’t have the confidence to compete?”

She started to take offense at his question, before she realized he was asking it sincerely.

“Well, I’m not timid,” she answered. “And I’m sure I could get my riding skills sharpened fairly quickly. But that’s not the issue. I have…other plans that have nothing to do with horses.”

“Apparently your father doesn’t know about your ‘other’ plans.”

Her mouth pressed into a grim line. “Oh yes, he does. But he’s the persistent type. He’ll never give up on the idea of me following his wishes instead of mine.”

Cordero couldn’t help but wonder if her “other” plans had anything to do with a man. But he quickly told himself to forget the question. Anne-Marie wasn’t the modern, free-spirited sort. She was the picture of old-fashioned family values. She’d even wanted to enter a convent! If she ever did decide to get involved with a man, it would be with marriage in mind. And matrimony, with any woman, was not part of Cordero’s plans. He’d seen too much loss, too much heartache, in his family to risk putting himself through such pain.

Seven years ago, his brother’s wife had died in a tragic riding accident, then Cordero’s mother had died from health problems in the very same year, leaving their father a grieving husband. After that, Cordero had helplessly watched both men struggle to deal with the emptiness. He’d vowed then that he wouldn’t suffer like that. Love just wasn’t worth the heartache. Since that time he’d stuck to his promise.

In a matter of moments, the outskirts of town appeared and Anne-Marie gave Cordero directions to the hospital. Since the small town was easy to navigate, they were soon entering the building and riding the elevator up to her father’s room.

“Does your father know we’re coming?” he asked as they made their way down a long corridor.

“I promised I’d get you here as soon as we got the horses settled. I’m sure he’s expecting us at any time.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “I hope being in a hospital doesn’t upset you. Some people can’t deal with illness and death. If you’re uncomfortable just tell me and we’ll make the visit as short as we can.”

Cordero shook his head. “I don’t look at a hospital as a bad place to be. My father just went through a very serious operation. He was paralyzed, now he’s almost back to normal. I thank God for these places.”

She seemed surprised by his comment, but then she quickly smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way, Cordero.”

The way she said his name, with that Cajun lilt, did something to him. Each time it rolled past her lips, he felt his stomach turn over. He couldn’t imagine what it would do to him if she whispered in his ear, murmuring his name with longing.

“Here it is,” she said, gesturing toward the next door to their right.

Her announcement jolted him out of the half trance he’d sunk into. As the two of them entered the hospital room, he cleared his throat and lifted his hat from his head.

The small space was typical of a hospital. The spare utilitarian bed was raised at the head, while a television with the sound muted was mounted to the ceiling in one corner of the room. Jules Duveuil, dressed in a thin maroon robe over matching pajamas, was sitting in a padded vinyl chair with his feet propped on a foot-stool. Small reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, while the front section of the Times-Picayune was on his lap. He had thick gray hair and a slim, aristocratic face. Cordero never had been good at guessing people’s ages, but he figured Anne-Marie’s father had passed seventy and then some. His condition couldn’t be terribly serious, Cordero hoped, because he wasn’t hooked up to an IV or oxygen.

The moment Jules spotted the two of them, his face brightened and he smiled with pleasure.

“Finally! I’ve been expecting you all evening,” he exclaimed.

Quickly leaving Cordero’s side, Anne-Marie kissed her father’s wrinkled cheek.

“I’m sorry. It took us a while to get the horses settled.” Rising to her full height, she gestured toward Cordero. “Mr. Sanchez was sorry to hear you were in the hospital.”

“Forget the Mr. Sanchez thing. I know him by Cordero.” Grinning broadly, Jules extended his hand. “Glad you’re finally here, son. Thank you for coming.”

Cordero walked over to Jules and gave the older man’s hand a firm shake. “No thanks necessary. I just hope you’re feeling better.”

Jules batted a hand at the air in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, it’s nothing really. I think the doctor’s have decided they can’t kill me with the stuff they’ve been making me swallow so they’re trying something new.”

Anne-Marie rolled her eyes and groaned. “Oh, Father, don’t make a joke about your health.”

Jules shot Cordero a conspiring wink before he said to his daughter. “Honey, we’re all mortal. It’s not something we can change or buy our way out of. When my time comes, nothing, especially all this fretting you’re doing, will stop it and neither can these know-it-all doctors. The best a person can do is to have fun until you reach that time.”

“Jules, I couldn’t have said that any better,” Cordero replied with a grin.

His blue eyes twinkling, Jules cast his daughter a smug smile. “See, my young friend knows a little about life.” He gave Cordero an appreciative look. “I want to thank you again for all the trouble you’ve taken by bringing my horses home. How did they make the trip?”

“Fine, Jules. No problems. We put them in the round pen for tonight so they could get a little exercise. Were you planning to keep them stalled or put them out to pasture?”

Jules looked at his daughter with mild surprise. “You didn’t show him the trap?”

Anne-Marie looked as though she wanted to sigh with frustration. Maybe the two of them had quarreled openly about the purchase of the horses. She’d already admitted that she wasn’t keen on Jules’s idea that she should ride competitively. The last thing Cordero wanted was to get in the middle of a family squabble.

“No,” she said. “I didn’t go into all of that. Mr. Sanchez, uh, Cordero arrived rather late. I’ll show him the area tomorrow and see if he thinks it will be adequate. She looked at Cordero and quickly explained. “The trap Father is talking about is a small, two-acre pasture not far from the stables.”

Cordero nodded. “I’ll look it over before I leave tomorrow.”

Jules began to splutter. “Leave? You’re not planning on leaving tomorrow, are you?”

Trying not to feel guilty, Cordero said, “Well, yes. Now that you’re laid up in the hospital, we can’t go to that horse sale up in Bossier City or do the other things we’d planned to do. I need to get out of the way and let you get well.”

His lips compressed with disapproval, Jules motioned for Anne-Marie to fetch the empty plastic chair sitting near the head of the bed. “Get our guest a seat,” he said.

Cordero grabbed the chair before Anne-Marie could do the old man’s bidding. But rather than taking the chair for himself, he took her by the arm and urged her onto the seat. “I’m fine standing. You sit, Anne-Marie.”

While she murmured her thanks and made herself comfortable, he straightened to his full height. Jules was regarding him in a thoughtful, almost conspiring way.

“All right, Cordero. Now what’s all this talk about leaving tomorrow? I know this hospital thing has thrown a few kinks in our plans but there’s no need for you to cut your visit short. Even though I can’t get out and about, Anne-Marie can. In fact, this may be the perfect time for you to help my daughter get accustomed to being back in the saddle.”

From the corner of his eye Cordero could see Anne-Marie close her eyes with embarrassment. Cordero shuffled his weight from one boot to the other. “Uh, I’m not really into the instructing part of things. Now my father—”

“Isn’t here,” Jules interrupted. “You are.”

“Father,” Anne-Marie spoke up in a slightly scolding tone, “Cordero is a busy man. He has a ranch to take care of. He didn’t come all the way to Louisiana to give me riding lessons!”

Jules leveled a gentle smile at his daughter. “Anne-Marie would you be a sweetheart and go get your father a cup of coffee? You know how I like it, with cream and sugar.”

Clearly annoyed with him, she frowned. “Why don’t you just say you want to talk to Cordero without my presence? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

Jules looked up at Cordero and gestured to Anne-Marie with a fond smile. “Stubborn redhead—just like her mother was.” To Anne-Marie, he said, “All right, daughter. I want to speak to our guest in private. But I do want the coffee, too. Is that better?”

For a moment Cordero thought she might argue, but then with the tiniest of sighs, she rose from the chair and left the room.

Once the door had shut behind her, Jules leaned earnestly forward in his chair. “Okay, now that my daughter is out of listening range, I’ll say this flat out. I’ll pay you anything you ask if you’ll agree to stick around for the remainder of the week.”

Cordero was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable. This request wasn’t about horses and a friendship between two men. It would be crazy for him to get involved. But there was such a desperate look on Jules’s face that Cordero didn’t have the heart to give the man an absolute no. He owed him too much.

“Hell, Jules, I didn’t agree to stay at Cane’s Landing to take on the job of riding instructor! And I don’t want any sort of pay! I thought you and I were going to—”

Jules held up his hand. “I know we’d planned to do a lot of things together while you’re here in Louisiana. But that’s off. And now I’m asking a favor from you. If you don’t want pay for it, that’s fine—even better.”

Cordero let out a long breath. “I don’t think your daughter wants my help.”

Jules features twisted into a sardonic expression. “Anne-Marie has never known what the hell she wants. That bastard in her past ruined her. Or so she thinks. She sees herself as spoiled goods. She was always so virtuous before him. And then after she fell for him—well, she’s hidden from life. Now she’s secluded herself at Cane’s Landing, telling herself that her father needs her constant attention.”

“And you don’t?”

Jules swatted the air with his hand and muttered another curse. “No. And I’ll confess to you, Cordero, I’m only here in the hospital because I made my doctor put me here!”

Stunned by this revelation, Cordero sank into the seat Anne-Marie had vacated. “How did you manage to do that?”

“Threatened to take away all my donations to the hospital fund,” he said smugly. “Money will do it every time.”

Cordero’s head swung back and forth as he tried to get the whole picture. “I don’t understand. Why do you want to be in this place?” Glancing around the room, Cordero figured he’d have to have a mighty good reason to be cloistered in such a place if it wasn’t necessary. “And why drag me into this?”

Jules looked as if he considered Cordero to be as slow as molasses on a cold morning. “Because I knew you were bringing the horses and if I’d been home, Anne-Marie would have stayed hidden in her room and let me deal with you and the animals. Me being out of the house forces her to act like she’s alive. Now I need to stay in here a few days longer-until you’re able to get her into the saddle and her mind on something else besides—”

“Besides what? Has your daughter had some sort of health problem or something?”

The old man’s mouth snapped shut and he looked at Cordero for several long, thoughtful moments. “Look, Cordero, my daughter is too good for her own good. She never thinks about herself, only others. She’s wasting her youth—hiding herself because she’s afraid to deal with real life. I bought the horses hoping she’d be interested in something that would get her away from the plantation. I think someone like you could nudge her into it if you’d just give her a little push. I know you like a son. You come from a good family and I trust you with my daughter.”

What did Cordero look like? A psychologist in cowboy boots? He was feeling more awkward by the minute. Especially since Anne-Marie had more or less told him that she wanted her own life, not the one her father wanted for her.

“It sounds like what you want for your daughter is a companion. And I can’t be that, Jules. Not even for a week. It wouldn’t be right.”

The old man’s eyes narrowed perceptively. “You’ve told me before that you weren’t married. Have you gotten engaged or something?”

Cordero had to stifle a groan. “No. And I damn well don’t plan to. But that’s not the point.”

Relief, or something close to it, crossed Jules face. “Good,” he said with a smile. “You’d already planned to take some time off from the Sandbur. You can think of the next few days as a vacation.”

Las Vegas would be a vacation, Cordero thought. Bright lights. Music and gambling tables. Beautiful, scantily dressed showgirls. That was his idea of fun. Not a plantation where the most action he was likely to see was a hound treeing a squirrel. And yet, he had to admit that the thought of spending more time with Anne-Marie was an enticing notion. She might present a prim appearance on the outside, but she wasn’t completely innocent on the inside. She’d already admitted that she’d had a lover. If Cordero played his cards right, he might persuade her that a brief tryst with him would be perfectly harmless. And giving the beautiful redhead a few instructions in bed would be far more enjoyable than giving her riding lessons.

He glanced thoughtfully at Jules. Here he was making plans to seduce his good friend’s daughter. Did that mean he was betraying Jules’s trust? Of course not.

Hell, Cordero thought, he shouldn’t even let that question cross his mind. Not when Jules was handing over his daughter on a silver platter.

“All right, Jules,” Cordero said after a moment. “I’ll stay. For a day or two. If by then Anne-Marie doesn’t seem to resent me being around, I’ll wait until Sunday to leave for Texas.”

Today was Monday, Cordero silently calculated. That would give him six days with Anne-Marie. A shrewd smile crossed his face. In that length of time, he could make most anything happen.

Chapter Two

Slapping his knee, Jules beamed. “I couldn’t ask any more than that from you, son. And I won’t forget this. I’ll pay the favor back. You can bet on that.”

This was looking more and more like an attempt at matchmaking. Admitting himself into the hospital and asking a friend to keep his daughter company, wasn’t a normal request from a father. But whatever Jules had planned, it originated in the love he had for his daughter.

“You’ve already done enough for me, Jules. And don’t thank me yet. Anne-Marie isn’t a pushover. If she isn’t interested in the horses, I can’t twist her arm.”

Jules snorted. “If she isn’t interested in the horses, then get her interested in you! The girl needs her temperature raised a little and I don’t care how you do it.”

Before Cordero could make any response to the old man’s remark, a swishing noise sounded behind him. Cordero glanced over his shoulder to see Anne-Marie pushing through the door. The foam cup she carried was steaming.

“One of the nurses just made a new pot, so it should be fresh,” she told him.

With a tender smile for his daughter, Jules took the coffee from her. “You’re the best, sweetheart.” He took a careful sip and his eyes twinkled as he gave Anne-Marie another big smile. “And I have good news for you. Cordero has agreed to stay on with us for a few days—just like he first planned.”

With a stunned expression, she whipped her head around to stare at Cordero. “You—you’re not going home tomorrow after all?”

The strained timbre to her voice reminded Cordero of someone in a panic. Was she frightened of him? If that was the case, he was glad he’d decided to stay. He wanted her to discover for herself that he was a gentleman, not a wolf in a cowboy’s clothing.

“That’s right. Your father persuaded me that I’d be doing you both a favor if I stuck around and helped you get acquainted with the horses.” He gave her a harmless grin. “I’d feel pretty awful if I left and then you had a nasty fall or something.”

Forget about the horses, Anne-Marie thought wildly. The only nasty tumble she was in danger of taking was for him. And that was something she wasn’t about to let happen. Going back to her missionary work was all she wanted. And she intended to do just that as soon as her father was well enough to live on the plantation without her help.

Jules spoke up in an all-too-casual way. “Now that I think of it, Anne-Marie, I’d planned to take Cordero over to New Orleans tomorrow night for some blues music and dinner at Antoine’s. Now that I’m stuck in this place, you’ll have to take him.” Jules tossed Cordero an innocent look. “If you’ve never visited the French Quarter, I think you’ll find it a real treat.”

Cordero had visited that colorful part of the city more than once. But with Anne-Marie as a guide, visiting Bourbon Street would be more than a treat. It would be a double dose of sensuality. Just the thought had his eyes sliding over her slim figure.

“Sounds nice. But Anne-Marie might have something else planned,” Cordero said as diplomatically as he could.

Normally he’d pitch a fit if someone tried to manipulate him as this old man was doing. But he liked Jules. And a man would have to be crazy or half-dead not to want to spend time with a woman like Anne-Marie. It might be tricky to keep everything between them light and fun, he thought with a grain of concern, but he was damn well going to try.

Jules let out a mocking snort. “Don’t worry about that. The last time Anne-Marie went out for entertainment, I still had black hair.”

Anne-Marie gasped. “Father! Really! Cordero didn’t come up here to get involved in our personal lives. And frankly—”

Jules interrupted her in a voice that had suddenly gone hoarse and weak. “I’m tired. I need to get back in bed. You take Cordero on home and I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow. “

Anne-Marie wanted to argue, but with her father looking so weary she bit her tongue and decided it would keep until later. After all, Cordero had already planned to stay at Cane’s Landing for the coming week. Maybe one night of solitude, without her father around to entertain him, would make the man change his mind and head on back to Texas. No doubt Cordero had a bevy of girlfriends waiting there for him.

She sighed. “All right, Father. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

After she kissed his cheek and Cordero shook Jules’s hand, they headed down the hospital corridor. When they were safely out of earshot, Anne-Marie whirled on Cordero.

“Why did you do that?” she asked through clenched teeth. “Why did you let him hire you like some common gigolo?”

His green eyes darkened to the color of a dangerous swamp and a muscle jumped in his clenched jaw. The anger on his face was a tangible thing and she swallowed hard as she eased a couple of steps back from him.

“Is that what you think?” He growled out the question. “That I hire myself out to pitiful spinsters who can’t find themselves a man?”

Anne-Marie’s nostrils flared as her temper shot straight to the top of her head. “Is that what you think I am? A pitiful spinster?” She heaved out a breath as she glanced frantically around to make sure no one was nearby. “Look, cowboy, I don’t have to pay for a companion! Furthermore, I don’t want one! Especially not the likes of you!”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabbed her by the arm and led her firmly toward the elevator. Once they stepped inside the cubicle, Anne-Marie prayed for someone, anyone, to join them, but the doors swished shut and the two of them were left alone.

Bracing herself for a volley of insults, she watched him push the button for the ground floor. But once the elevator stirred into motion, he surprised her by remaining stubbornly silent.

“What’s the matter?” she finally asked in a sardonic voice. “Are you shocked that I’m not falling in a worshipful heap at your feet?”

“No. I’m just waiting for the right moment to shut you up,” he said with cool casualness. “And I think I’ve found it.”

Jerking her head up to his, she opened her mouth to blast him with another retort. Instead, a silent O formed on her lips and she watched in shocked fascination as his head swooped toward hers.

Anne-Marie’s dazed hesitation caused her to miss the chance to turn her head and gave him the perfect opportunity to plant his lips over hers.

She was so stunned by the intimate contact that she went stock-still. Her heart and lungs felt as though they’d stopped working as his mouth made a quick, thorough search of hers.

From somewhere inside her, heat rose up to scald the roots of her hair and scorch her cheeks. With each passing second, her knees grew weaker. She was about to grab onto the front of his shirt to keep from falling when he jerked up his head and gave her a cutting stare.

She said in a tight, low voice, “Whatever was said between you and my father—this wasn’t part of the deal!”

His black brows lifted to become two sardonic arches. “What makes you think you’d even be worth a deal?”

Her mind spun. She searched for the most ridiculing words she could find to hurl at him. But she didn’t have to bother coming up with anything. The elevator doors opened and she marched out of the cubicle without him.

Behind her, she heard him chuckling and the cruel sound had her biting down on her swollen lip and blinking back tears. Damn the man. He wasn’t worth crying over. No man was. Still, she couldn’t stop one lone teardrop from rolling down her cheek.

She was in the foyer when, from behind, a pair of hands snaked around her waist. A gasp rushed past her lips as she spun around to face him.

“Let me go! Haven’t you insulted me enough for one night?” Her words were pushed through clenched teeth as she tried to wriggle away from his grasp.

“Hold on a minute, Anne-Marie.”

His voice was soft and threaded with regret. The sound stilled her and brought her eyes up to his.

He hurriedly tried to explain. “You’ve jumped to the wrong conclusions. Your father didn’t hire me for anything. Jules is my friend. I only agreed to stay and help you with the horses because he asked me to. I agreed as a favor to him.”

The grip he had on her waist eased to a warm clasp and Anne-Marie knew she was a fool for responding to it. But she’d never met a man like him before. One that could make her feel fury and passion all at the same time. It was scary.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I shouldn’t have said any of those things to you. But this is all so—embarrassing. My father—it’s obvious he’s trying to manipulate us and I thought you’d agreed to go along with him.”

Regret twisted his lips. “Forgive me, Anne-Marie. I shouldn’t have reacted the way that I did. But I don’t take too kindly to being called a gigolo.”

Mortified all over again, Anne-Marie dropped her gaze to the floor. “Believe me, Cordero, I don’t normally say that sort of thing to anyone. But Father has never put me in such an awkward situation before. I really don’t know what he’s thinking—I’m even beginning to worry that he’s getting senile.”

Cordero could have told her that there wasn’t anything senile about Jules’s mind. Calculating would be more like it, he thought wryly. But as far as he was concerned, the old man’s manipulating was harmless. Even though that kiss he’d stolen in the elevator had jolted him right down to the heels of his boots, Cordero needed to make Anne-Marie see that she was taking this much too seriously.

“Look, Anne-Marie, we both need to take a deep breath and start over. There’s really no need to make an issue out of this. Even if Jules is trying to maneuver us—we’re adults, we can see through it. It won’t hurt either of us to indulge a sick old man and pretend we’re having a good time together these next few days.” His hands slid gently down her forearms and the act was like brushing his fingers against a bird’s wing. He’d never felt anything so soft, so fragile. “I have a feeling it would make him happy.”

Anne-Marie didn’t know what to make of his words. Confusion warred with the indignation she was already feeling toward this Texas cowboy who had kissed her as if he owned her. But perhaps he was right. She didn’t want to put any undue stress on her father. And just because he was trying to throw her at Cordero didn’t mean she had to fall into the cowboy’s arms.

She drew in a troubled breath, then let it out. “I suppose you’re right. But all that talk about taking you to Bourbon Street—that has nothing to do with you helping me with the horses. It was so obvious and humiliating.”

Cordero suddenly grinned and she felt her stomach flutter as though she’d just swallowed a hummingbird.

“Actually, I thought your father’s idea was a good one. I’d like for the two of us to make a trip to New Orleans. I’d planned on going anyway before I left for Texas and it would be far more enjoyable to have your company.”

He was as smooth as water on a windless night, Anne-Marie thought, and just as enticing. If she ever really let her guard down around him, she’d be totally lost.

Trying not to dwell on that danger, she said, “We’ll see. Right now we’d better go home. Darcella is waiting to serve supper.”

He silently complied by taking her arm and leading her out of the double doors. By now darkness had fallen and Anne-Marie felt the confines of the car even more with only the dim lights from the dashboard illuminating the small space between them.

She tried to close her eyes and pretend his long lean body wasn’t there beside her, but his presence was too strong to ignore. The scent of him drifted to her, reminding her of wide-open ranges, sagebrush and wild mustangs. It was a scent that called to her senses and all she could think about was the feel of his lips upon hers, the warm touch of his fingers on her arm.

The practical part of her wished that he’d never kissed her, but the woman in her was still swooning, still wondering what it would be like if he were to take her into his arms and really kiss her with desire. It was indecent of her to think such things. She didn’t even know the man. Only a few hours had passed since she’d first laid eyes on him. Yet something about him had stirred up ashes in her that she’d believed were stone-cold. She had to find her will to resist.

“I’m not a doctor, but I thought your father looked pretty good.”

Cordero’s comment jerked Anne-Marie out of her erotic thoughts. “Yes, I thought so, too. His doctor says he doesn’t think this little flare-up is anything to be concerned about. I think he’s just taking extra precautions with my father’s health.”

What would she think, he wondered, if she knew Jules had purposely put himself in the hospital so it would force her to play hostess to Cordero? She’d really think the man had gone senile. But Cordero had no intention of giving away his friend’s secret. It would be no gain to any of them and only cause worse feelings all around. “I’m glad,” he said. “Your father is a great guy. He’s always laughing and full of jokes.”

His remark surprised her. Most young men didn’t have time or patience when it came to dealing with the older generation. Some of them only feigned respect for their elders. Like Ian, she thought bitterly. He couldn’t have cared less about her father. And she’d been stupid for believing that he’d loved Jules anymore than he’d loved her. The guy had only cared about two things. Himself and money.

“Father has always been full of life. Even after Mama died he managed to hold himself together and find joy in other things. I realize he wants me to be more fun-loving, like him. But I’m just not made that way.”

Cordero had known for a long time that Jules was a widower. He’d not thought much about that until he’d met Anne-Marie. She was young. Her mother couldn’t have been very old when she’d passed away. And the fact that the two of them had prematurely lost their mothers connected him to her in a way he’d never expected.

“How long has your mother been gone?” he asked.

“Sixteen years. I was ten at the time. She died quite suddenly from an aneurysm. For a long time after that Father couldn’t bear to look at the horses. You see, they belonged to Mama. She rode all the time.”

Cordero heard something more than sadness in her voice; a tinge of bitterness edged her words. It made him wonder exactly what sort of relationship she’d had with her mother. Or maybe she was angry with God for taking away her parent? Maybe losing her mother had more to do with her not entering a convent than her broken affair? He could only guess.

“And now it’s just you and your father?” he asked quietly. “You don’t have any siblings?”

Anne-Marie shook her head. “No. I was an only child and Father was never interested in remarrying.”

“Neither is mine.”

He could feel her blue eyes on his face and he darted another glance at her.

“Your mother is dead, too?” she asked with surprise.

Cordero nodded. “Seven years ago. Complications from diabetes. She was only fifty-six.”

“Oh. Then you know how it feels to have a parent gone.”

His throat grew so tight that for a moment all he could do was manage a nod. He’d been very close to his mother, far closer than his older brother, Matt, or his sister, Lucita. Which seemed strange whenever he thought about it. He was a replica of his father, who had a magic hand with a horse and had taught Cordero everything he knew about raising the animals. Cordero was also like Mingo in the fact that he loved a pretty woman’s company and considered life something to be enjoyed rather than endured. He loved and respected his father, who was thankfully alive and well today. But his mother still lived like the warm glow of a candle in his heart. And after seven years without her, he missed her. Really missed her.

“Yeah. It’s tough,” he murmured. “Damn tough.”

He could feel her regarding him with a thoughtful eye, but she didn’t say more about his mother. Cordero was glad. He didn’t want to dwell on that part of his past.

Reaching across the seat, he folded his hand around hers. “Let’s not think about such sad things. I want to enjoy these next few days and I hope you’ll enjoy them with me.”

His fingers were warm, the skin hardened with calluses. She tried not to think how they would feel sliding across her naked skin or cupping her breasts, but the images wouldn’t budge from her mind. Her whole body flushed with heat as she swallowed and turned her head toward the passenger window.

“I’m not a fun sort of woman, Cordero. I’m afraid you’re going to end up being very bored during your stay at Cane’s Landing.”

His fingers tightened on hers. “Maybe I can teach you how to have a little fun.”

Anne-Marie wasn’t about to ask him what sort of fun he had in mind. The man was already putting sinful thoughts in her head. She didn’t need any more added to them. And as for having fun, she wasn’t at all sure she’d ever known how to enjoy herself as other young women seemed to do. From the time of her mother’s death, she’d viewed life as a serious journey. Even her relationship with Ian had been slowly and carefully entered into, one step at a time.

She still hadn’t replied to his suggestive words when the footlights illuminating the turnoff to Cane’s Landing came into view. Glad for any reason to ease her hand from beneath his, she motioned toward the entrance leading off the left side of the blacktop road. “There’s our turnoff.”

The drive up the tree-lined lane to the house took less than two minutes. Once they were out of the car, Cordero offered her his arm for the walk through the dark shadows between the garage and the house. Anne-Marie realized that touching him, for any reason, was not something she should do. But he was being a gentleman and it wasn’t his fault that her senses went haywire around him, so she curled her arm through his and rested her hand on his strong forearm.

As they passed Cordero’s truck, Anne-Marie suggested that it might be a good time to get his bags. After he pulled out two leather duffel bags, he offered her his arm again and they made their way into the house.

Darcella met them in the front room. The cook was a tall, big-boned woman with graying brown hair that was cut in a pixie style that framed her round face. Her wide smile seemed to deepen as she spotted Anne-Marie’s arm looped through Cordero’s. Anne-Marie knew that Darcella had been initially shocked when she’d first met the Texas rancher. Both women had expected Jules’s friend to be much closer to his age. That assumption couldn’t have been more off base.

“How was Mr. Jules?” the cook asked. “Feeling better?”

Anne-Marie sighed as she slipped her arm from Cordero’s and moved away from his side. “He seemed full of life,” she told the woman. “In fact, I think he looked better than he has in months.”

“Oh. That’s good. Real good. Maybe he’ll get to come home soon.”

“We’re all hoping that, Darcella.” Anne-Marie walked across the room and placed her handbag on a small table.

Behind her, Darcella said, “Well, I’ve left a tray of drinks out on the back porch. I thought you two would like to unwind before I serve supper.”

Walking back to the center of the room, Anne-Marie glanced from Darcella to Cordero then back again. She wanted to tell the cook that there was no need to make a big deal out of this supper. She didn’t want Cordero to get the impression that she was going out of her way to entertain him. But if she urged Darcella to leave, it would only look as if she wanted to be alone with the man.

Stifling a groan, she turned to Cordero and tried to smile. “Darcella has gone to a lot of trouble to make mint juleps for us tonight.”

“Sounds great.” He looked at the cook and gave her a conspiring wink. “Darcella, if you’re not a married woman, you need to come to the Sandbur sometime and meet our cook. Juan’s a little older than you but he’s single and he loves to dance. He makes a mean margarita, too.”

Darcella giggled in a way that Anne-Marie had never heard before.

“I might just do that some time, Mr. Sanchez. Especially if Anne-Marie would come with me.”

Cordero turned a suggestive look to Anne-Marie, who quickly cleared her throat and changed the subject completely.

“Come on,” she invited. “I’ll show you to your room. After you’ve had a chance to freshen up, we’ll go to the porch for those drinks.”

She started toward a long, curving staircase and Cordero picked up his bags and followed. As he climbed one step behind her, he allowed his gaze to swing around the massive room below. The large area was lit with only two small lamps, but even in the semidarkness he could see the rich antique furniture typical of the antebellum period. The walls were covered with heavy paper printed with trailing vines and some sort of maroon flower. The balustrade along the staircase and the upstairs landing was made of polished cypress and smelled faintly of lemon wax. The only sound to be heard was the faint ticking of a tall, grandfather clock.

This afternoon, when Anne-Marie had shown him into the parlor, he’d gotten the feeling that he’d stepped back in time. Now, as he followed her up through the dark quietness, that same sensation hit him again.

Once they reached the landing, she walked to the end and pushed open a door on her right. “I hope you’ll find the room agreeable. Verbena, our maid, made sure there were fresh towels and washcloths in the bath.” She pointed to a door in the far corner of the room. “But if you need anything else, just let me know.”

The bed was an enormous oak four-poster with a dark green duvet. On the outer wall, several feet away, were three tall windows covered with sheer beige curtains. Beyond the windowpanes, he could barely discern the shape of huge tree limbs, but nothing else.

“You can store your things here in the dresser, if you like.” She opened one of the top drawers. “You won’t disturb anything. This is just a guest room. And it’s been ages since anyone has visited.”

Cordero got the feeling that time here on the plantation moved at glacial speed so it would be hard to interpret what she meant by ages. He couldn’t help but wonder if her ex-lover had stayed here, perhaps even in this room. He hated to think so. For some unexplainable reason he didn’t want to be connected to the guy in any way.

“Thanks, Anne-Marie. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

He placed his duffel bag on the end of the bed and wondered why he felt so awkward and out of place in this opulent bedroom. He was not a poor man. In fact, the Sandbur was known all over South Texas. He was used to fairly lavish surroundings and servants at his beck and call. But his home in Texas was laid-back. It invited a man to kick off his boots and prop his feet on the furniture. This place was a little stiff for his liking. Or was it the kiss he’d planted on Anne-Marie’s lips that was really bothering him? He couldn’t forget it. Even now, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until they both ended up on the four-poster behind him. He was a man who’d always liked women, but he’d never encountered one that had taken such a hold on him in a matter of hours.

Something of what Cordero was feeling must have shown on his face because she suddenly folded her hands together and began to inch backward toward the door.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the bottom of the landing in five minutes.”

His gaze settled on her rose-pink lips. “Yeah. Five minutes. See you then.”

With a stilted nod, she hurried out of the room. Once she’d closed the door behind her, Cordero wiped a hand over his face and wondered what in hell he’d gotten himself into.

Chapter Three

When Anne-Marie came down from her bedroom a few minutes later, Cordero was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. The white-and-blue windowpane shirt he’d been wearing had been exchanged for a dark red cotton. The rich color only intensified the deep brown of his skin and made his white teeth appear that much whiter. He didn’t bother to hide the appreciation in his eyes as she descended the stairs, but Anne-Marie tried her best not to dwell on it as she joined him on the polished parquet.

“Since I don’t know which way to go, you’d better lead me,” he murmured.

Anne-Marie didn’t resist his warm hand as it wrapped around hers, but as she led him through the house, she promised herself that once their houseguest had gone back to Texas, her father was going to get a piece of her mind. Jules had made it quite clear for some time now that he wanted her to get out of the house and date young men, to put some excitement in her life, but she’d never dreamed he would take matters into his own hands and practically thrust her into Cordero Sanchez’s arms. Jules needed to learn once and for all that she was going to lead her own life and it wasn’t going to have a man in it.

The back porch ran the total width of the house and was enclosed with screen to keep the ever-present mosquitoes at bay. Comfortable lawn furniture was scattered from one end of the space to the other, along with many potted plants, some of which were covered with vivid blooms.

A wicker settee and armchairs padded with bright yellow cushions sat at the far end of the porch and it was here that Darcella had left the tray of drinks.

Anne-Marie extricated her hand from Cordero’s and took a seat on the settee. To her dismay, he dropped his long frame down next to her.

“This is nice,” he said. “Quiet. But nice.”

Leaning forward, she picked up two squatty tumblers and handed one to him. His fingers brushed against hers as he took the cool, sweaty glass and for one brief moment she wished he would reach over and take her hand again. Touching him thrilled her and reminded her that she was still a flesh-and-blood woman. Something she’d been desperately trying to forget since her downfall at Ian’s hands.

“Your home on the ranch isn’t quiet?” she asked.

He laughed and the deep gravelly sound sent shivers of pleasure rushing over her skin while inside her the need to slide away from his side fought wildly with the urge to wiggle closer.

“Uh, not too often. My brother, Matt, and his family live in the same house. They have a teenage daughter and a baby on the way. And Dad lives with us, too. Things can get rowdy when all of us are home. But the house is big and we wouldn’t know any other way, except being together.”

Being together. Those two words reminded her of happier times. When her mother had still been alive and the three of them had been a family. Now she clung to her father, afraid that soon she would lose him, too. It wasn’t the way a young woman like her was supposed to be living. Except for Jules, and two cousins in Thibodaux, she was alone. And somehow being here with Cordero and listening to him speak of his family only reminded her of that fact even more.

“Your family is important to you. I can tell,” she said.

Grooves of amusement bracketed his lips. “You sound like that surprises you.”

A faint blush of heat filtered into her cheeks. “Fun-loving guys like you don’t usually put importance on much of anything. Except the next party. The next girl.”

“Ouch. Why didn’t you just pinch me?” he asked drily, then shook his head. “I hate to tell you this, Anne-Marie, but you don’t know me. You’re trying to draw a picture without really understanding the subject.”

Maybe she wasn’t being fair in her assessment, she thought. But it didn’t matter. She couldn’t let herself really get to know him. He lived in a different world and soon he would be going back to it. Something told her that a momentary fling with this man would be even more devastating to her heart than Ian’s drawn-out deception.

“You’re right. I don’t know you well enough to make those sorts of comments.” She cautiously sipped her julep, then glanced at him over the rim of her glass. “How do you like your drink?”

He chuckled. “It’s good, but I can already feel a wallop. What did Darcella put in these things anyway?”

She smiled. “I think she made them out of vodka and she uses a heavy hand. I should have warned you.”

“For a man who’s only used to one or two beers at a time, I think one of these things is all I can handle.”

Her glance turned a bit teasing. “What about those mean margaritas that your cook at the Sandbur makes?”

Another chuckle rolled out of him. “Oh. We only have those on special occasions. Like birthdays, weddings, anniversaries.” His eyes softened as they roamed over her face. “But if you decide to come to the ranch, I’m sure we’d all view it as a special occasion.”

The touch of his gaze was almost as heady as the trail of his fingers over hers. His eyes were a tricky color to label. They held too many brown flecks to call them green and too much green to call them brown. Altogether they were like green leaves dappled with golden sunshine and the thick veil of black lashes surrounding them only intensified their vivid color.

Feeling a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with the strong julep, she placed her glass back on the tray and rose to her feet.

“I’m getting very hungry. If you’re finished with that, let’s go in and eat,” she suggested.

Cordero could have argued. For him it was a slice of heaven to be out here alone with her. Especially with the strong, sweet drink warming his already-heated blood and the frogs and locusts singing a nighttime symphony. But she seemed eager to leave the porch and he didn’t want to irk her again. Not after he’d witnessed a glimpse of her temper at the hospital. The idea of spending the next few days around a stirred-up hornet, even a beautiful one, wasn’t exactly his idea of fun.

Inside the house, Anne-Marie directed him to the dining room, a large square space with tall ceilings and two chandeliers hanging over a long, oak table. But the tiny slabs of crystal weren’t shedding any light from overhead. Instead, six candles spaced at intervals in the middle of the table shed a soft yellow glow over the settings of delicate china.

Beside him, he heard Anne-Marie gasp. “What in the world is Darcella thinking? We never eat by candlelight! I’ll turn on the lights.”

She turned to walk over to the light switch on the wall, but Cordero caught her by the wrist. “Don’t do that,” he urged. “She’s gone to a lot of trouble. And I think it’s nice.”

Hell, what was he thinking? He wasn’t a man who made a habit of having romantic candlelit dinners with a woman. He did well to take her to an eating place where the forks were real stainless steel instead of plastic. But something about Cane’s Landing and the woman standing at his side made him want to experience things he’d never dreamed of before. The whole notion was damned unsettling.

He watched her lips compress with disapproval and then she shrugged as though it was nothing to make an issue over. “All right. But just so you know, I didn’t ask for this.”

“I didn’t think for one minute that you had,” he said wryly.

She threw him a look that was mostly confused and he felt compelled to add, “You don’t seem the type.”

Pulling her wrist from his grasp, she asked a bit warily, “What type is that?”

“The type to purposely set out to seduce a man.”

“Oh.”

If she was insulted by his comment she deftly covered her feelings as she walked over to the table and waited for him to help her into one of the high-backed chairs.

By the time Cordero had taken his seat at the end of the table, Darcella arrived with their first dish. As she placed the small bowls of spicy shrimp gumbo in front of them, he complimented the woman on the beautiful table and the mint juleps.

Darcella gave Cordero a wide, toothy grin. “Thank you, Cordero.” She turned a pointed look on Anne-Marie. “I’m glad someone around here appreciates me.”

After the cook left the room, Anne-Marie tilted her face toward the ceiling and wearily shook her head. “Cordero, you must be thinking Father and Darcella are manipulators of the worst kind.” She turned a helpless look on him, then gestured toward the lighted candles. “Just, please, overlook all this.”

Overlook it? He couldn’t. Being with her like this was nigh irresistible and he didn’t care who was doing the manipulating as long as he was sitting across from her watching the candlelight flicker across her lovely face.

With a placating smile, he said, “You’re worrying too much about nothing, Anne-Marie. Let’s just enjoy our supper.”

They’d hardly finished the first course when Darcella returned with a platter of fried catfish, hush puppies and pan-fried potatoes.

“Be sure and save room for dessert,” she warned as she left the dining room.

“Dessert? Is she kidding?” Cordero asked.

Anne-Marie shook her head. “No. She’s made one of her famous chocolate cakes. And if you like sweets, you don’t want to miss it.” She glanced at him as she placed a small helping of fish on her plate. “It’s no wonder Father has heart trouble. He’s enjoyed Darcella’s cooking for many years and her menus aren’t exactly low in cholesterol.”

Cordero grunted with amusement. “That’s why it tastes so good.”

“Well, to be fair, Darcella does try to cook healthy things for Father. But most of those things end up being thrown in the trash. He says food is one of man’s pleasures in life and he doesn’t intend to miss out.”

Cordero thrust his glass of iced tea toward her in a cheeky salute. “I’ll say amen to that.”

She rolled her eyes, but the faint upward curve to her lips said that she understood all about a man’s weakness for physical pleasures. The idea teased his thoughts with all sorts of erotic images and for the remainder of the meal he found he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Candlelight bathed her face and throat and turned her skin to golden satin. The glow of the tiny flames sparked her red hair with flickering highlights and more than once he had to fight the urge to reach across the corner of the table and mesh his fingers in the long burnished strands lying against her breast.

Two days ago he’d been attending his cousin Nicci’s wedding at the Sandbur. Hundreds of people had swarmed the ranch for the reception that had been held outside in the shaded backyard of the Saddler house. Eating and drinking, dancing and foot-stomping laughter had taken place until the wee hours of the morning. There had been plenty of young, beautiful women among the guests and most of them hadn’t been shy about wanting Cordero’s attention. But now, as he looked at Anne-Marie, he realized that none of them had affected him as much as she was affecting him now. And what shook him the most was that she wasn’t even trying to tempt him.

What would happen to him, he wondered wildly, if he was able to seduce her? Would he be able to go back to Texas and forget her? Or would making love to her burn him like one of Matt’s hot branding irons burned cowhide?

At some point in his tangled thoughts, Cordero realized Anne-Marie’s lips were moving, but he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

“Uh, sorry, Anne-Marie. You were saying something?”

With slow, graceful movements, she pulled a linen napkin from her lap and placed it next to her plate. “I was saying that if you’ve finished eating, you might like to take a walk in the backyard garden. It’s still too early for bed and it’s pleasant out there at this time of night.”

Hoping the grin on his face wasn’t as wolfish as it felt, Cordero hurriedly left his chair and helped her to her feet.

As they left the dining room, he took the opportunity to slip his arm around her back. The moment he touched her, he could feel her body tense, but after they took a few steps she seemed to relax and accept the weight of his hand resting in the curve of her waist.

In a matter of moments they were on the porch where they’d left the juleps. There, a screen door led down several wooden steps and onto a neat trail covered with washed river gravel.

Anne-Marie inclined her head toward an archway tangled with moon blossom vines. “Through there,” she said. “The footlights are enough light.”

By now the sun had been down for a couple of hours and the temperature was cooling to a bearable level. The faint breeze stirring the oak leaves above their heads helped ward off the occasional mosquito.

Cordero felt a strange sense of peace as he looked around at the carefully groomed rosebushes and smelled the pungent scent of jasmine. “I noticed this part of the backyard when we hauled the horses down to the stables,” he said to Anne-Marie. “I thought it looked like something in an Old Spanish courtyard or a private garden behind a sanctuary.”

“I suppose it does. My mother built this garden shortly after she married Father. She was a deeply religious person and I think she liked to use this as a quiet place to pray.”

“Did she work as a missionary, too?” Cordero asked as they strolled along the winding trail.

“No. She was a high school music teacher. But she did lots of church work.”

“Is she the reason you thought about entering a convent?” Even as he asked the question, Cordero couldn’t imagine this warm, vibrant woman next to him making a vow of chastity. One look at her was enough to tell him she was meant to love a man and have his children.

Her chin dropped and she kept her eyes on the ground as they continued deeper into the garden. “Maybe. I think I always viewed her as an angel. She seemed so perfect. And I wanted to be like her.”

Cordero smiled faintly. “That’s because she was your mother. You were viewing her through very young eyes.”

Her gaze slipped up to his shadowed face. “She had friends from all over Assumption and St. James parishes and she had a special way of taking care of others—people who were sick or emotionally needy. As I grew older I thought becoming a sister would be the best way to give of myself—like she did. But that wasn’t meant to be. I learned I—well, I’m not worthy.”

Cordero couldn’t believe she’d said such a thing about herself. He wanted to press her about the comment, but she suddenly changed the subject completely. “Do you know anything about sugarcane?”

He laughed. “The only thing I know is that I like desserts and I like molasses poured over a hot biscuit.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Maybe I could show you some of the fields tomorrow and give you a little lesson,” she suggested. “If you’d like, that is.”

He’d made a big mistake, Cordero thought, as he gazed down at her beautiful face. He should never have agreed to stay here alone with her, even for a few days. One evening with this woman was turning him into a complete fool. He felt like a teenager, raging hormones were directing his brain. What would he be like after spending a few days with her?

Don’t worry about it, Cordero, once you’re back in Texas nothing about Anne-Marie Duveuil will matter. You’ve been temporarily enchanted with a woman before. This one is no different.

The little voice in his head was enough to momentarily push the nagging question out of Cordero’s mind and his fingers tightened on the side of her waist.

“I’d like it a lot,” he murmured, then remarked, “Your home here is really something. Has it always been in your family?”

She nodded. “The Duveuils have always been here. Our family tree goes back to some of the first Acadians who settled this area. My ancestors were part of the French Acadians that had to flee Canada in 1755. They came down here to Louisiana when it was still just a Spanish colony. I’m sure at that time most of my distant relatives were trappers. But down through the years the Duveuils began to farm and we’ve raised sugarcane here in the river bottoms for nearly two hundred years.”

Anne-Marie was relieved to see the wrought iron bench come into view. Maybe if they sat down, he’d be forced to take his hand away and she could put some distance between them. Otherwise, with his fingers dipping into her flesh, she could scarcely think about anything except the excitement that was rushing through her, making her heart beat way too fast.

“Let’s sit,” she suggested and, pulling away from his hold on her, she walked to the bench and took a seat at one end.

In front of her, slightly to the left, was an old concrete fountain built in the image of an angel. Most of the fountain was covered with moss and algae, making a major portion of the figure a muted green color. Water trickled from a large jug cradled in the cherub’s hands and splashed like musical notes into the pool surrounding her feet. Normally the sound of the cascading water soothed Anne-Marie, but tonight, with Cordero easing down on the seat next to her, she could hardly hear it for her pulse pounding in her ears.

“I feel like a bull in a china shop,” he said wryly, as he took in the delicate white roses encircling the fountain. “Maybe we should go back to the porch.”

Anne-Marie’s gaze settled on his brown cowboy boots. The toes were slightly rounded, the heels slanted and high. She could easily picture him in spurs and chaps, cracking a whip at a charging bull. “Why? Don’t you like it out here?”

“It’s beautiful. The roses look like something out of a gardening magazine. But it’s—” He glanced around as though he expected to find someone standing in the shadows. “I get the feeling someone is here—watching us. I feel like I’m intruding.”

Anne-Marie wondered what it meant that he felt the presence, too. No one else had. Not even Jules.

“I think it’s Mama’s spirit. I guess that’s why I love this garden so much.” She let out a wistful sigh, then glanced at him. “Tell me about your ranch. What does it look like?”

He leaned back in the seat and crossed his boots at the ankles. Anne-Marie was glad to see the mention of a spirit hadn’t spooked him or made him laugh at her as Ian used to.

“The Sandbur is a big property. It covers several thousands of acres. In the main ranch yard, there are lots of corrals and fences and barns. We employ cowboys to take care of the cattle and the horses.”

“Does all your family live on the ranch? In one house?”

With a fond smile curving his lips, he picked up her hand and gently rubbed his thumb against the soft skin of her palm. Anne-Marie swallowed as her heart kicked into an even higher gear. She didn’t know why the memory of that kiss he’d planted on her in the elevator was still rattling around in her head like a dangerous bullet. She should have forgotten the whole thing. Instead, those moments seemed to be growing more and more vivid in her mind.

“Most of my family lives on the ranch,” he said. “But not in the same house. There are two main houses on the Sandbur. The Sanchez house and the Saddler house, which belongs to my Aunt Geraldine. My cousin Lex lives with her. He’s in charge of sales and marketing.”

“Is he married?”

Her question brought a loud guffaw from him. “Not on your life! Lex is like me. He enjoys his freedom too much to let a woman tie him down. He’s about to turn thirty-five and he hasn’t been married yet. I doubt he’ll ever walk down the aisle.”

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