“Hey, Eli,” Bea said, plopping down. Her voice was friendly enough but a little reserved. “How’ve you been?”
“Very well, thank you,” he said. “You?”
“Good. Excellent, really. Since the paper went belly-up I’ve been working on my canine agility trainer certification. I have my exam in six weeks.”
Eli smiled at the tall, older woman. “That’s great, Bea. Congratulations. You have a gift, you know.”
Bea glanced down at Martina lying at her feet, then gave him a self-conscious smile. “Thanks.”
“Martina is a happy and stable dog,” he added.
Bea’s smile widened. “I really appreciate that,” she said, pausing to look at him thoughtfully. “It means a lot coming from you.”
Their conversation ended as a wave of delighted gasps and sighs spread through the room. Eli saw that Ginger and Josie had just unwrapped identical wood-inlay boxes, marveling at their beauty as they ran their fingers over the intricate carving. A handsome white-haired man kissed each of them, then wiped tears from his eyes as he returned to a love seat.
“That’s Lucio’s father. He lives in southern Spain,” Bea told him, leaning in close. “The lady next to him—the one with the boobs-not-found-in-nature? See her?”
Eli coughed.
“That’s Ginger’s mother.”
“Ah. Thanks for keeping me abreast of the situation.”
Bea let go with a hearty laugh. Then she sighed, her face slowly becoming more serious. “Hey, look, Eli. I like you. A lot. You seem like a real decent guy. But … uh …”
He knew where this awkward exchange was headed, and he appreciated Bea’s courage. “I’m listening,” he said.
“I’m not sure I should be telling you this.”
Eli nodded.
“Roxie is … uh …”
He decided to make it easier for her. “So where did she run off to?”
Bea studied him, her eyes filled with concern. “The barn.”
“Because of me?”
She laughed. “Oh, yeah.”
Eli stared at the beer bottle in his hand. “It’s that bad, huh?”
“ ’Fraid so.”
He nodded. It wasn’t a simple matter, this thing with the stunning, raven-haired Roxanne Bloom. He’d met her only half a dozen times, usually at social situations like this one, but the energy between them was like nothing he’d ever experienced with a woman. It was dazzling in its intensity. It screamed for his attention. And it was thoroughly, maddeningly unwelcome.
Roxanne had called last fall to ask him to lunch. He’d had to say no. He’d had no choice, though she didn’t even give him a chance to explain. And since then, their dynamic had been real simple: she avoided him and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was ridiculous, he knew, and it had to be sorted out—now. Letting this kind of unfinished emotional business fester went against everything he believed in. He would not let it go on another day.
“Roxie is a little on the complicated side,” Bea said under her breath.
He smiled. “So it seems.”
“I love her to death, though.”
Eli sipped his beer.
“She’s a pussycat, really. A pussycat in a porcupine suit.”
Eli chuckled.
Bea stared at him, looking slightly dazed. “Go after her,” she whispered, then swiveled her head around to make sure no one was listening. “She’d kill me if she knew I was doing this, but I think you should go after her. Hurry. Before it’s too late.”
For a long moment, the two stared at each other.
“All right,” Eli said. “Don’t mind if I do.” He grabbed his hat from under the chair and patted Bea on the knee as he stood up. “You know where to find me,” he said, giving her a wink.
Eli headed for the kitchen door, knowing he had a four-legged fan club at his heels. He kept his eyes looking forward, his shoulders level, and didn’t glance down at the pack. As expected, the dogs made way for him to pass through the door, alone.
* * *
“Babies, babies, babies, babies, babies …”
Roxanne felt free to mutter to herself out here at the paddock, because her only witness was a pretty Appaloosa mare who loitered about ten feet away, languidly chomping on alfalfa, her big brown eyes looking sympathetic to her concerns.
Roxie propped a foot on the lowest rail of the fence and draped her elbows over the highest. “How am I supposed to be a cogodmother?” she asked the horse. “I don’t know the first thing about babies. I’m not even sure I like them! Fine, they’re important to the continuation of the species and all that, but there are days I’m not sure the human species deserves a pass, you know what I’m saying?”
The horse snorted and twitched its ears as if to agree.
“I mean, why keep adding extra people to the mix when the ones already here can’t treat each other decently?”
The horse ambled over to the fence, where she nosed Roxie under the crook of her arm. Roxie stroked the mare’s neck. “How did this happen? That’s all I’m asking. A year ago we were all perfectly miserable—manless and about to lose our jobs at the paper. But at least we were a unified front in our misery, you know? We even took a vow to be alone together, just us and our dogs!”
The horse blew air from its nostrils and pawed at the dirt.
“And then, Josie goes out and finds Rick Rousseau, a hunk with a heart bigger than his bank account. And Ginger somehow conjures up Lucio Montevez, a Mediterranean sex god who basically worships her. And suddenly everybody’s in a family way and happier than pigs in you-know-what and I’m still …” Roxie stopped herself, sighing deeply. The horse moved closer, waiting for her to finish her sentence.
“Oh, never mind,” Roxie told her. She let her forehead rest on the broad and smooth plane between the horse’s gentle eyes. “I think I’ve already missed my chance to be a mother. I guess that’s what this is all about. I’m probably a little jealous of my friends.”
The horse whinnied in protest. “Fine,” Roxanne said with annoyance. “I realize Bea isn’t married and pregnant but, come on, like that’s ever going to happen? My point is, she’s following her dream. Becoming an agility trainer is making her as happy as Ginger and Josie, just in her own way.”
Roxie lifted her head and stared off across the miles of rolling vineyard. “What I’m saying is, everyone in our little group has moved on—except me. I’m still right where I started.”
“Animals are good listeners,” a voice said from behind her.
Roxie froze. She knew that voice. It was an irritatingly masculine voice. Annoyingly sexy. She hated the way it flowed, like a slow and deep river sure of its destination. And she really hated the fact that the owner of that voice might have heard even a syllable of her very private musings.
She blew out air, not turning around. So that man had suddenly decided she was worth a little of his time? Ha! And he thought it was acceptable to follow her out here without her permission? What a complete tool this guy was!
“You and I need to talk,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “I promise I’ll be a good listener, too.”
She kept her back to him. He didn’t deserve her full attention.
But he moved closer and … dammit! There it was again, that weird vibration she’d felt the very first time she’d met him, right here at the ranch, the day of Josie and Rick’s wedding. She would never forget the instant she noticed him. He was leaning against the stone wall between the garden and the lawn, one knee bent, the heel of one cowboy boot propped against the wall and the toe of the other tapping in the dirt. He’d pushed that stupid black hat back on his blond curls and bit down on the inside of his mouth, as if he were trying to keep from laughing. He’d focused his intense green eyes right on her.
Oh, damn, he’d been gorgeous. Big and muscular in his suit. Sun-browned skin. Sensual lips. Graceful hands.
Roxanne didn’t want to think about what happened next, but she couldn’t stop h
erself from remembering. The truth was, Eli Gallagher’s intense gaze had sliced through her flesh, raced through her blood, and landed with a hot thud right between her legs.
The moment had made such an impression because, embarrassingly enough, that had been the only thing that had landed with a hot thud between her legs in a very long while. And that encounter with Eli had taken place more than nine months ago! And there’d certainly been no thudding since. She absolutely refused to do the bigger-picture math.
“I owe you an apology, Roxanne.”
“Nope. You don’t.” She kept her eyes on the vineyards.
“An explanation, then.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” She waited. She strained to hear him let go with an exasperated sigh, or a groan of frustration, or a bitter laugh—anything that would indicate she’d gotten the better of him.
“You are one tough cookie, Ms. Bloom,” is what he said.
For just a second, she shut her eyes. She summoned her strength. She knew exactly what she’d see when she turned around—an extremely handsome man, somewhere in his early thirties, with loose blond curls, dusky green eyes accented by smile lines, a set of full lips, an elegant chin, and a tall and fit body tucked inside a pair of worn jeans.
A man that spectacular could have any woman he wanted. And, as he’d made painfully clear a while back, he didn’t want her.
It was for the best. Roxanne knew she was too much for him to handle. She was too much for any man to handle. That concept was introduced to her in childhood, with her own father. It was a pattern that would repeat itself through high school, college, then after college, and, most recently, with Raymond Sandberg—the one man she’d convinced herself was mature enough to appreciate everything she brought to the table.
Whoops. She’d been wrong on that one, hadn’t she? But it would be the last time she’d ever be wrong about a man, because she understood now. There was no man for her. There never would be. And it didn’t matter if two of her best friends had recently been sucked into the vortex of love. She would have to be okay with that. She would have to find her own peace. She was a strong woman, and if anyone could do it, Roxie could.
She shook her hair back over her shoulder, then slowly turned to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, Ian—that is your name, right? Did I remember it correctly?”
He offered her a small smile. There wasn’t even the slightest flicker of hurt in his green eyes. Her insult seemed to bounce right off him.
“Elias Jedidiah Gallagher,” he said. With dramatic flair, he swept up his hand to pluck his big black cowboy hat off his head. He placed it on his heart and bent at the waist. “At your service,” he added.
He was such an ass. Roxanne wanted to grab that ridiculous hat and whack him upside the head with it.
The Appaloosa whinnied loudly in Roxie’s ear.
“But you know that, of course,” he added, his voice teasing and pleasant. “We talked for a long while at Rick and Josie’s wedding, and there was a strong attraction between us. We both felt it. And we discussed how I might help you with your rescue dog’s aggression issues.”
“She’s cured,” Roxie said, smiling. “I no longer need your help.”
“And I distinctly remember giving you my card.”
“I must have thrown it away,” she said.
“Before or after I turned you down for that lunch date?”
Roxie enjoyed a bit of clever banter as much as the next girl. In fact, that was something she could never get enough of with Raymond. They would spar, and their words would heat up and the double entendres would fly, and they’d end up rolling around in bed together, enflamed with desire. Raymond might have been almost thirty years her senior, but the man had been sizzling hot. Whoever said the brain was the primary sexual organ knew what they were talking about.
But, since Roxie had no interest in banter with Eli, clever or otherwise, she decided to put an end to the barnyard ambush. One ambush per day was her limit anyway, and Mrs. Needleman had gotten to her first.
“Unfortunately for you, Ian,” she said, “cowboys don’t do anything for me.” She stifled a yawn. “But I do know a girl with a major cowboy fetish. Want her number?”
“The name’s Eli.”
“Whatever.”
Eli nodded broadly. “Right. I think I understand now,” he said. “The sheer force of your indifference toward me sent you racing out the kitchen door the moment I arrived. Is that it?”
“You flatter yourself,” she said, her heart now at a full gallop in her chest. She didn’t want any of this. Not the spark. Not the crackling attraction. Not the racing pulse. It had to end. So she delivered what she was sure would be the final blow. “Anyway, you had your chance. You blew it. I don’t give second chances.”
Now that got a flicker out of him. Understanding flashed in his eyes, but disappeared immediately. Eli had no comeback. He returned the hat to his head and tugged at the brim, as if to announce his imminent departure. Good riddance to him, she thought.
Suddenly, Roxanne felt something nudge her butt so hard her feet left the ground. She flew forward. She slammed right up against the front of Eli’s solid body. She screamed. Eli grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her, her toes just grazing the dirt. She leaned back awkwardly.
“Seems you got goosed,” Eli said, smiling.
Roxie whipped her head around in time to see the traitorous horse lope off to the other side of the paddock. When she returned her gaze to Eli she noticed that his eyelids were heavy and his attention had shifted to her chest, throat, mouth. Then she became agonizingly aware of the touch of his strong fingers on her upper arms. Next she realized their bellies were pressed together. The front of her thighs were smashed right into his hard …
Oh, God.
She began to squirm. She squealed in frustration. “Let me go,” she said between clenched teeth.
He didn’t. His grip on her stayed gentle but seemed to deepen somehow. Roxie kicked but her feet barely skimmed across the dust. His gaze returned to hers and locked in. And that’s when the strangest thing happened.
Her body began to flood with a sensation she could only call “ease.” A warm, steady, calming relief that washed through her, softening her and opening her up. Everywhere.
No way was she falling for that shit.
“Settle down, sweet thing.”
The words had been delivered in that deep-river voice. His muted green eyes smiled.
Settle? Down? Sweet thing?
Just four little words and it felt as if the earth had stopped turning. That comment was condescending, domineering, insulting, and, at the same time, strangely arousing. His hands maintained their grip on her as he lowered her feet to the ground. She became a little light-headed. She didn’t know what was happening. The sensations swirling around inside her were confusing. Scary. Intense. Sexual. She resented all of it.
And if she hadn’t despised Eli Gallagher before, she surely did now. How dare he touch her like this? How dare he talk to her with that languid voice? How dare he treat her like a wild stray animal who needed his gentle touch?
And who the hell did he think he was, knocking her off balance like this? If she’d wanted to experience ease and calm she would have gone out and gotten it the normal way—with a prescription!
“Don’t ever put your hands on me again,” Roxie managed.
“I won’t hurt you, Roxanne.”
She felt weak. Way too warm. She wanted to escape his grip but couldn’t seem to muster the energy. It took every bit of strength she possessed to shake her head side to side. “No,” she whispered.
“You’re safe with me.”
And that’s when it happened. Out of nowhere, for no good reason, a sob erupted from her throat. Before she even realized what was happening, the calm had punched a hole in that giant bubble of rage and grief inside her, and it all came flooding out in one long, searing moan. There was no stopping it. She wanted to die fr
om shame.
Eli kissed her. She knew immediately that the kiss wasn’t designed to stop the outburst. Its fierceness only demanded more. The kiss—the heat, the pressure, the need—it wrenched the emotion right of her.
No. This was impossible. This was nuts! She wouldn’t allow it. No man would ever again lull her into being a stupid, hopeful, defenseless, emotional, babbling idiot the way she’d been with Raymond. She would never leave herself vulnerable like that again. It had been a sacred promise she’d made to herself. No man—Eli Gallagher included—was worth the loss of her self-respect.
She shoved so hard that he lost his grip on her, with both his hands and his lips. Roxie gasped for breath and tried to find her bearings, quite aware of how Eli’s eyes had widened with confusion. She turned and ran. Her feet pounded the hard dirt. Within minutes she was in her car heading south on Highway 121, on her way home to San Francisco, where she would undoubtedly shove everything back in its proper place, the way she always did.
Chapter 2
Eli stood on the wide front porch of Rick’s Sonoma Valley estate, watching her make her getaway. Roxanne Bloom’s little square hybrid car kicked up so much dust as it bounced down the lane that he could barely make out the bumper sticker advertising her livelihood:
www.i-vomit-on-all-men.com
A CYBER HAVEN FOR THE SPURNED AND BURNED
He chuckled, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. True, there were an infinite number of things he did not know or understand about this life, but two things were beyond doubt: that woman’s poor dog could not possibly be “cured,” because the woman herself was a complete disaster; and he had no business messing with an emotional powder keg like that one, no matter how fucking beautiful she was, even if he planned to stay in California for the rest of his days. Which he did not.
Eli shook his head, collapsed into one of the big wooden porch rockers, and crossed an ankle over a knee. He’d kissed her. He’d grabbed her and held her tight against the front of his body and just devoured the girl. Then he’d felt empty when she pulled away. He could sit there and ask himself what had happened, but he already knew. It had been all instinct. Drive. Fever. Shiii-it. He made a living telling people they needed to be calm and stable. What a joke.