Expecting...in Texas Page 2

Anticipating.

  This was so completely out of character for her that, for a brief moment, Savannah was convinced she was actually standing on the sidelines, watching, just like with the dance.

  But she wasn’t on the sidelines; she was in the heart of the dance. In the heart of the seduction as it unfurled around her, bit by heated bit.

  She melted the moment his lips touched hers, a snowflake unable to keep its shape when it was blown into the path of a sunbeam.

  The moan that escaped her lips was a sound of pure surrender.

  He deepened the kiss, assaulting her mouth again and again. Savannah shivered as he tugged at the zipper that ran the length of her back. As he drew it all the way down, she felt the dress move away from her body.

  And at that moment, she knew there was nothing she could refuse him.

  Savannah couldn’t get her bearings. Everything melted into everything else. The stable, the horses, the hay within the stall—all faded from her consciousness. All that there was, was Cruz. Cruz—with his thick, dark hair that flowed to almost the tops of his shoulders. Cruz—with his heartstopping smile, his deep brown eyes that undid her, and his hard, sleek body that quickened her pulse. Cruz—who had the ability to reduce her to a mass of molten desire.

  She’d never behaved this way before, never abandoned herself, her common sense, her ethics before. She didn’t believe in casual affairs—in casual anything, for that matter.

  Yet here she was, giving herself to a man she’d only danced with. Wanting a man she’d barely met. Feeling as if she’d known him her entire life.

  It made no sense. And yet, it was happening.

  Each place he touched her quivering body seemed a revelation to her, leaving her bewildered, anticipating, yearning. Though not completely inexperienced, she knew she was merely a dazed novice at his hands. A novice with a thirst for learning.

  He made her feel beautiful, like a queen beneath his hand, a wild woman beneath his questing mouth. It was as if every fiber of her body was on fire, and he was fanning the flames.

  Explosions racked her body as Cruz skillfully moved his fingers, his lips and his tongue over her. There were points along her body she’d thought harmless, certainly not centers of passion.

  Until now.

  The skin behind her knees, the space inside her elbow, the hollow of her throat—all these he teased, all these he turned into places of heated desire. And when he moved lower, when he finally drove himself into her, she thought herself too weak, too spent to react.

  She was wrong.

  Everything that came before was but a warm-up act for a finale that left Savannah sobbing his name, biting her lower lip for fear of screaming and bringing everyone here—to this stable where she felt reborn.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  The words uttered by the minister abruptly drew Savannah back to the wedding. What was wrong with her? This was Vanessa’s moment. She was here to share it with her, not relive one night of passion best forgotten.

  Two

  “You came back.”

  Only ten minutes into the wedding reception, Savannah’s stomach merged with her heart and both instantly raced for her throat. She wasn’t sure just which won the narrow space for its own as she turned around to face Cruz for the first time since that heated encounter in the stables.

  Dressed in a black, embroidered western jacket and a light blue shirt that made his complexion that much more romantically olive, Cruz was standing behind her, a glass of punch in each hand.

  It must have been her stomach that won the race, Savannah reasoned. Because her heart had stopped. Completely.

  Cruz nodded toward the glasses, his smile unfurling like warm brandy sipped slowly on a cold day. “I seem to find myself with two glasses. Would you like to help me out and take one?”

  She became aware that she was smiling in return. Widely. Savannah reminded herself that there was absolutely no reason for her to behave like a tongue-tied adolescent. Yes, he was beautiful, and yes, they had made wild, wonderful, passionate love together. But in the greater scheme of things, that meant nothing.

  Nothing, except that their night of lovemaking had produced a baby. A baby she wasn’t ever going to let Cruz know was his. Because she would never tie him to her. Not with bonds—like her parents—forged out of guilt.

  Savannah inclined her head as she took the glass. “I guess I could, just this once.”

  She looked at the way the red punch caught the sun within it and gleamed invitingly. Almost as invitingly as Cruz’s eyes had that night.

  And now.

  She raised her eyes to his. “And why wouldn’t I come back for my best friend’s wedding?”

  “No reason.” He shrugged. His eyes traveled over the soft contours of her face. Savannah felt as if he were actually touching her. “Except that you left so quickly the last time we were together. When I woke, you were gone. I thought that perhaps it was something I’d said. Or done.”

  His smile was so sensual that she struggled to keep her mind on the conversation.

  Yes, it was something you’d done. You completely unraveled me, made me behave so that I didn’t even recognize myself. And then made me want more.

  Savannah took a long sip before she spoke, her throat suddenly too parched to house dust.

  “I had to get back.” She purposely looked past his head as she spoke. “I had papers to grade. It was the end of the semester—the end of the year,” she corrected, silently chastising herself for stumbling.

  But while she’d always been very self-assured in her chosen professional life as an elementary school teacher, her personal one, especially since Reese had left, was another matter entirely. Even before Reese had broken her heart by breaking off their engagement, she had never been very experienced when it came to men.

  That was probably why he’d strayed and ultimately left, she had come to realize. Because she wasn’t exciting enough to hold him. All he’d wanted, apparently, was a woman who was as empty of mind as she was well endowed of body.

  But Savannah had always been praised more for her mind than her looks. She was not the type who instantly attracted men. That was part of the reason she’d been so flattered by Cruz and his attention. He could have had any woman—and there had been plenty at the party. Yet he’d singled her out.

  She couldn’t help wondering why.

  “Good.” Pleased, he nodded his head. “Then it wasn’t me. What about now?”

  She didn’t understand. “Now?”

  “Will you be leaving tomorrow?” He raised one eyebrow, as if he could see right through her excuse, right through her. “More papers to grade?”

  Was he asking her because he wanted to be sure that she wouldn’t be around to become a problem? Or was he asking because he wanted to know whether she’d grown up a little, become a little more sophisticated?

  Savannah couldn’t make up her mind which it was. Not when she was being so distracted by the look in his eyes, by the way his lips moved when he spoke. There was no doubt about it— Cruz Perez was raw sex and sensuality, served up on a section of delicious toast.

  It was a crisp September afternoon. There was even a bit of a chill in the wind. Yet she felt so warm, as if the air around her were heated by his presence.

  It took a moment, but she finally found her voice, and with it a little bit of conviction. “No, no papers to grade.”

  “Oh. Right. It’s too early.” He looked at her knowingly. “You’re one of the nice teachers.”

  “One of the nice teachers?” she echoed, not sure what he was driving at. Was he referring to some sort of exclusive club? Whatever it was, he’d called her nice, and she liked that. Liked thinking that he’d meant it. “What makes you say that?”

  “Instinct,” he said, sounding sincere.

  His mother was the “seer” around here, the one who had dreams she claimed came true. It was only so in about a third of the cases, although no one went out of their way
to point the fact out to her. But even so, if there was a scrap of truth about her abilities, maybe they were passed on. Maybe he’d inherent a smattering of it himself. Because he was beginning to sense things about Savannah Clark, things that he found enticing and pleasing.

  Casually, Cruz threaded his arm around her shoulders.

  He had no way of knowing how intimate that felt to her, Savannah thought. Or maybe he did, and that was the whole point of it. She struggled not to enjoy the feeling as much as she did. Allowing herself to venture deeper into the trap really wouldn’t help anything in the long run.

  But logic didn’t seem to be working for her today, she thought. Magic was. His magic.

  “I always used to hate it when the teachers would give long assignments the first week of school,” he confided. “I couldn’t shake the feeling that they did it to get back at us because they had to return from their vacations and work again.”

  Habit made her protective of her vocation. “That’s not true. It’s to get students back into a thinking mode after they’ve been playing all summer.” And Savannah didn’t have to ask to know that Cruz had been one of those students who had played the hardest and the longest.

  “There’s nothing wrong with playing.” His mouth curved a little more deeply, drawing her in further still. “It can be hard work, too.”

  Not for him, she thought. For him, it came naturally. Like breathing. Like kissing.

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  His face turned toward hers, Cruz lightly touched the outline of her pearl drop earring and sent it swaying ever so slightly.

  “So,” he asked softly, “you like to stimulate your students?”

  Her blood was beginning to roar through her veins, like Indy-500 stock cars revving up their engines. She had to concentrate on each word to get it out.

  “Getting them to think for themselves is always a good thing.”

  He smiled to himself, seeing the effect he was having on her. That it heightened his own excitement was a bonus in the bargain.

  “And you are an expert on that?” he teased. “On thinking?”

  Her knees felt like water. Which made her knees and her mind a perfect set.

  Savannah licked her lips. “Not an expert, but—”

  She stopped. Cruz was making her feel flustered, and he knew it. She could tell by the look in his eyes. Why couldn’t she resist him? Why couldn’t she be sophisticated like Vanessa or one of her other friends, and just exchange teasing phrases?

  He moved slightly to stand in front of her, his brown eyes challenging her. “Tell me, Savannah, what am I thinking now?”

  He’d never called her by her name before. It seemed to float to her on his tongue, making her feel even warmer than she already was. She was beginning to wish fervently that the bridesmaid dress had been sleeveless instead of having tight, long sleeves that ended a little over her wrists. She had a feeling even that wouldn’t help to cool her off.

  After a moment, she found her breath. “That you’d like to dance with me.” It was a stab in the dark, and probably wrong, but it was the only thing that came to her.

  The deep, lusty laugh enveloped her as Cruz obviously enjoyed her answer.

  That was definitely not what had been on his mind. He was thinking of the way she’d looked, with only the moonlight sneaking into the stables. She’d looked soft and pliant, with the sheen of lovemaking still fresh on her firm, nude body and seeing her like that had made him want to make love to her all over again.

  “All right,” he agreed amiably. “We can do that if you’d like.”

  She’d been right. Dancing hadn’t been on his mind. But she was afraid to think what had been. Afraid to think because she might be right.

  More afraid because she might be wrong—and disappointed.

  Taking the glass from her hand, Cruz placed it on the first available flat surface, then gently took her into his arms.

  She tried not to let the warmth of Cruz’s body seep into hers. She might as well have tried to breathe under water. It couldn’t be done.

  Savannah felt like a princess, just like the first time they had danced.

  “I looked for you, you know. The morning after,” he added when she looked up at him questioningly. “I was surprised that you had gone so quickly.”

  She’d gone because the reality of what she had done had suddenly hit her with the force of a two-ton truck. She’d been embarrassed and somewhat ashamed, as well. And more than that, she’d been afraid that he would laugh at her, at how easily he’d been able to seduce her. She couldn’t have faced his laughter. Better to walk away with a lovely memory than to deal with aftermath and reality.

  Except that now she had to.

  She studied his face, looking for an answer, trying not to let herself be distracted. “Why would you look for me?”

  “Why does any man look for a woman?”

  She lifted one shoulder beneath her gown in a half shrug. “For a very long list of reasons,” she murmured evasively as he spun her around.

  “Shorten it,” he whispered against her hair.

  Urges began to grow, to multiply within her.

  No, not this time, Savannah warned silently, trying hard to steel herself. She couldn’t allow herself to give in again.

  No matter what she wanted, she had to maintain a barrier. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to stay here. And the Double Crown was her last hope. She’d been “released” from Pierce Academy after the principal had discovered she was pregnant. Out of sympathy and kindness, Vanessa had offered her a job and a place to stay at the ranch for as long as she wanted it.

  Savannah had no other options. She absolutely refused to turn to either of her parents. They had already done enough for her by getting married in the first place to give her a name. For that, they’d each paid dearly and continually suffered one another’s company in a union that should never have been allowed to take place. She’d left home as soon as she was old enough, unable to stand the guilt of knowing she’d inadvertently ruined two people’s lives just by drawing breath.

  It was a fate she was determined that she was never going to bequeath to her child.

  Putting on her most carefree face, Savannah turned it up to him. “Is it your sworn duty to seduce every woman under the age of fifty?”

  He saw the smile playing on her lips and realized she was teasing rather than being coy. With Savannah, there was a difference.

  “Only the beautiful ones.”

  “Oh, I see.” Beautiful. It was a word she’d never heard applied to herself, and she didn’t cleave to it now. “Then you’re just practicing on me.”

  “Practicing?” For a second, Cruz didn’t understand, then he realized that perhaps she was being coy after all. “Querida, I don’t need practice. And you are the prize.”

  She laughed shortly. She’d been an ugly duckling as a child, a fact that only added to her parents’ misery. Neither could believe that they had created such a plain child between them, when they were both regarded as extremely good-looking in their circles.

  “I’m hardly that.”

  He cocked his head, looking at her. “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

  The subject made her uncomfortable. She’d heard enough taunts as a child to instinctively brace herself for a punch line at her expense. “I don’t think about the way I look at all.”

  “It’s a lie.” Cruz called her on it, looking amused. “Every woman thinks about how she looks—if she is exciting, if she makes a man’s head turn, his mouth water, his—”

  Savannah was afraid to let him go any further. “I don’t.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Then you are even more unique than I thought.”

  He doesn’t think I’m unique—it’s a line, she told herself.

  A line she wished with all her heart she could believe.

  Becoming defensive, Savannah raised her chin ever so slightly.

  “I’m not unique, I’m stable. Sensible.”
She ticked off terms that she’d heard applied to herself over the course of her life.

  Cruz made a face at the last word. “Sensible is for shoes.”

  He made it sound as if it were a bad thing. She didn’t think so. Maybe it wasn’t a very exciting quality, but she was proud of being sensible—even though what she had done that night in the stable was as far from sensible as the earth was from the moon.

  “Not if you work for a living.”

  Savannah had struck a chord. Cruz looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment as they whirled around on the floor.

  “Maybe you are at that. Sensible,” he added in case she’d lost the thread. “But you are still beautiful,” he insisted.

  “It’s the dress.”

  “You can put a beautiful gown on a warthog,” he pointed out. “But in the long run, you still have a very ugly animal in a dress.”

  She laughed. “You’re very colorful.”

  If the compliment pleased him, he gave no indication. “I read.”

  The admission caught her interest, appealing to the teacher within her. “A lot?”

  He shrugged, perhaps uncomfortable at the confession. “Whenever I get the chance.”

  It wasn’t something he often admitted, but he read everything he could get his hands on, determined not to just work with his hands, but with his mind as well. He couldn’t afford to go to college, the way Ryan Fortune’s children had, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t continue learning.

  He looked around at the others dancing around them. “I want to know as much as these hidalgos do. More.” That was the whole point of it. They took their education for granted, something that was handed to them. To him, knowledge was a special thing, even if he didn’t readily talk about it.

  “Hidalgos?”

  “It means—”

  “I know what it means,” she interrupted, wanting to get at the heart of his feelings before he changed the subject. “Do you see them that way? The Fortunes?”

  He began to laugh off his words, then stopped abruptly. Maybe the role of the smiling, easygoing cowboy was getting to him. God knows he was tired of it, of its confining web.

  “There is no other way to see them. Some are kinder than others, to be sure, but all of them see themselves as above the people who work for them.” Chunks of memories crowd his mind. Memories that weren’t always pleasant. Memories that would probably surprise someone like Savannah Clark with her education and her upper crust private school. “When I was growing up, my mother took care of the Fortune children, and my sisters and I played with them. But their father made sure that none of us would ever forget that there was a line between us.” Bitterness infused his smile. “Master and servant.”