“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
“I wasn’t until I saw that look in your eyes just now.”
“That phone call should have been silly, but instead….”
“It doesn’t take much.”
“Especially when we’re alone. But tonight, when your whole family is back here, that will make a huge difference. Once I’m tucked into my room at the main house, I’ll find the inner strength to stay there.”
He chuckled. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Chapter Twelve
The delicious aroma of warm masa and fragrant chili peppers drifted through the open windows of Luis’s dun-colored casita. Jordan settled deeper into one of four cushy chairs ringing a wrought-iron table.
She’d deliberately inserted herself into this colorful, tempting world. Luis’s world. No point in blaming anyone or anything for the war going on in her mind and body. She’d created it.
Before Luis had gone inside, he’d tilted the red umbrella to provide rose-tinted shade. Then he’d made tracks for his kitchen.
What did it look like? She wouldn’t find out unless she crept over here tonight. Her internal debate began all over again.
This cozy domestic setting didn’t surprise her. It suited him. But unlike her, he wasn’t meant to live alone. She’d known that from the get-go. Why in hell wasn’t he married by now?
While moving around in the kitchen, he began humming Cielito Lindo. He called it his theme song. She couldn’t hear it without remembering their last night together.
He’d sung it to her and then translated the lyrics. The inspiring message—sing, don’t cry—was how he wanted to live his life.
That intimate detail was only one of many he’d shared with her during those three days and passion-filled nights. Why?
She’d been too young and self-absorbed to ask herself that question. But now that she’d spent time with him on his own turf, the answer was obvious.
He’d been raised surrounded by a loving family and a supportive community. When he found a kindred spirit, he was hard-wired to make a deep connection.
Today he’d claimed to have seen the light. They weren’t meant to be. End of story. How had he put it? My body wants what it wants, but my head knows you have to leave on Monday.
Sounded good, didn’t it? Logical. Except he’d left out a third, crucial element, one that governed both his head and his body.
She would take that into account during those times when his soulful brown eyes threatened to destroy her resistance. Whether she surrendered or stayed strong, she would drive away on Monday and she didn’t want to leave a path of destruction in her wake.
“Hey, Jordan, quieres una cervesa?” he called through the window.
“Si, por favor.” A cold beer sounded awesome right now. He’d likely have stocked his favorite, Modelo.
She hadn’t tasted that hearty brew in five years. It would go great with tamales and if alcohol lowered their defenses a wee bit, the lack of privacy would keep them in check.
Moments later, the arched wooden door swung open and Luis appeared, balancing a loaded wooden tray with one hand while he closed the door with the other. He’d left his hat inside. “Lunch is served.”
“Wow.” Damn, he was gorgeous. She itched to shove her fingers through those thick curls. She hoped he’d assume she’d exclaimed over the tray of food and not the hunk of burning love delivering it.
She stood. “Let me help you with that.”
“No worries.” He laid out two placemats and added napkins and silverware. “I’m a professional. Don’t try this at home.”
“Clearly somebody used to wait tables.” She returned to her seat, flushed with the battle between lust and logic. His rolled-up sleeves drew her gaze to his muscled forearms and his strong, capable hands as he deposited a frosty bottle of dark beer at each place.
“We all worked as servers. Mom and Dad encouraged us to get a job at least one summer at the Raccoon. They said it builds character.”
“I agree with that.” He’d earned a few more scars since she’d last seen him. Wrangling horses, especially wild ones, meant getting scraped up. But it was good work, humane work, and he’d dedicated his life to it. Admirable. Sexy as hell.
