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.”