The Bravo Bachelor Read online

  “But it turns out you’re more ready than you thought?”

  “Ida. Come on. You, of all people, know how I loved my husband. I loved him so much.”

  “Of course you did. And you made Rowdy happy—happier than he ever knew he could be. He’d always been the quiet type, kind of shy. But you opened him up, Mary.”

  Mary dabbed more tears away. “It was a good marriage.”

  “I know.” Ida’s eyes were full of gentle understanding. “But he’s gone. And he would want you to be happy, to find love again.”

  “Oh, Ida…”

  “You need to stop dithering.” Ida grabbed the phone from the coffee table. She took Mary’s hand and slapped the phone into it. “Call Gabe Bravo. Do it now.”

  “Oh, no. I couldn’t.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “Oh, Ida. I Googled him.”

  Ida didn’t know from Google. “You what?”

  “I looked him up on the Internet. And I found out he’s just about the most eligible bachelor in the south half of Texas, with a different woman on his arm every night—gorgeous, glamorous women, Ida. He’s known as the Bravo Bachelor. They actually called him that in San Antonio Monthly. And there’s constant speculation over which beautiful, wealthy socialite will win his ring on her finger….”

  “Mary, that’s neither here nor there.”

  “What? Of course, it’s—”

  “Call him. Talk to him. Ask him to meet you for coffee or something. And when you see him, you can ask him if he knows that his company has threatened you. See if he can do something to get them off your back.”

  “But I just told you. I can’t do it. I can’t call him. I sent him away. He doesn’t want to hear from me.”

  “Okay,” said Ida. “Now you’re acting like a fool.”

  Mary scowled at her mother-in-law. “Sometimes I hate it that you’re always right.”

  Chapter Ten

  Gabe almost didn’t check his BlackBerry when it vibrated.

  He was in the office late, going over a couple of prospective projects that Ash had passed to him for review and input, marking the spots where they would need to check further into the various legal ramifications before they decided whether or not to move forward. It was the kind of boring detail work that required strict concentration, and that was good. It helped him keep his mind off hopeless thoughts of Mary. So when his Black-

  Berry started buzzing, he should have left it to check later.

  But something made him reach for it and glance at the display. He didn’t recognize the number and that in trigued him.

  He answered, “Gabe Bravo.”

  “Hi. It’s Mary.”

  Mary. She said her name and it hit him like a kick in the gut. All he could do was say it back to her. “Mary…” Somehow he managed to add a rough, “Hi.” And then terror struck. “My God. Ginny. Is she—?”

  “Gabe. She’s fine. Truly. She’s just fine.”

  His racing heart slowed. But only a little. “Good.” He took a careful breath. “Good.”

  “It’s not about Ginny, don’t worry. And I didn’t mean to scare you, I just…Gabe, I wonder, could I come to your office, or meet you for coffee, maybe tomorrow sometime?”

  His office or a coffee shop. Why? “What’s this about?”

  “It’s kind of difficult. I’d rather talk face-to-face.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  He heard her small gasp and almost smiled. She started objecting. “No, really. It’s not right that you should have to—”

  “Half an hour.” He hung up before she could tell him again not to come.

  His business clothes weren’t going to work. If he’d wanted a business meeting with her, he would have agreed to see her at BravoCorp.

  He had a pair of jeans and a knit shirt in the dressing alcove off of the private bath in his office, so he went ahead and changed into them before he left. Then he stood at the mirror over the sink and rubbed his cheeks: serious stubble. He shaved, fast. By some miracle, he managed not to nick himself. He slapped on a little aftershave and combed his hair, feeling like a damned idiot—that it mattered so much, to look good for Mary. That he couldn’t help hoping she’d maybe changed her mind, hoping that she’d rethought the situation and decided she was ready to get something going with him, after all. Or at least, to talk about getting something going.

  Unbelievable. All Mary had to do was call and he was falling all over himself like some teenager with his first big crush.

  Once on the highway, he drove too fast. But the traffic gods smiled on him and he didn’t get stopped. Twenty-nine minutes after hanging up the phone, he turned into Mary’s driveway.

  He pulled to a stop in front of the house and killed the engine. The sun had set a while before and full dark was maybe half an hour away. Her porch light popped on as he got out of the car. She appeared, opening the front door, pushing wide the storm door, too, as he came up the steps. She looked so pretty and sweet in jeans and a tight pink T-shirt. The porch light picked up red and gold gleams in her shiny brown hair.

  He went in, getting that faint, tempting hint of soap and lemons as he passed her at the door. Her dog was there, just past the threshold, whining in greeting. He bent to give her a pat on the head.

  “Hi,” Mary said as he straightened.

  He wanted to grab her and kiss her. “Hi.”

  They stared at each other. It was awkward. Strange. His blood was pumping so fast through his veins it made his ears ring.

  Finally, she cleared her throat. “Thank you. For coming.”

  “It’s all right.” It came out flat. Expressionless. He was known for his smooth ways with women. Where was his legendary charm when he needed it?

  She closed the curtain across the front window against the growing darkness outside and gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat.”

  He stayed where he was. “Ginny?”

  “She’s great. Sleeping. You want to see her?” At his nod, she led the way to the bedroom.

  Careful to be quiet, he went to the bassinet. Ginny lay on her back, sound asleep, her tiny pink fists resting on either side of her head. He ached to hold her. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d wake up before Mary finished telling him whatever she’d called him to say.

  Mary left the door open a crack so she could hear if Ginny cried, and they went back to the living room.

  “She’s bigger.” He sat on the sofa.

  Mary nodded. “Babies do tend to grow.”

  “Right.”

  “You look…rested.” She took the chair across from him.

  “You, too. How’s Ida?”

  “Good. Great. She was here, earlier. But she…went on home.”

  “Ah.” He’d had enough of this tortured small talk. He went for it. “So why did you call me?”

  “I…” She swallowed, licked her lips. He imagined himself grabbing her, yanking her close, kissing her, hard, sucking her tongue into his mouth—and then he wondered if she read his desire on his face, because she pulled her tongue back in sharply and pressed her lips together.

  “Just tell me.” He made his voice gentle. “It can’t be all that bad.”

  “Right,” she said. “I will. I am. Um, last Monday, in the morning, I had a visit from…” She fell silent. They both heard the footsteps outside on the porch.

  He frowned at her. “Who’s that?”

  “Not a clue.” She was already up, answering the door before whoever it was could ring the bell—and possibly wake up Ginny. “Yes?” She pushed the storm door open a few inches.

  A male voice mumbled something.

  Mary smiled. “Of course. Hungry?”

  The voice said, “Yeah. I am.”

  “Tell you what, meet you around back at the kitchen door. I’ve got some extra brisket. I can make you a sandwich….”

  “That would be great.”

  “Five minutes—and don’t knock, okay? My baby’s sleeping.”

&nbs
p; The guy said something else and she nodded and shut the door. She turned to Gabe. “This’ll only take a minute.”

  “Sure.” For lack of anything better to do with himself, he followed her to the kitchen and watched her slap a bunch of meat on a slice of bread. She slathered it in barbecue sauce, added the other slice of bread and cut it in half. Then she slid it on a paper plate, took three cookies from a jar and put them on the plate, too. She worked fast, turning once to smile at him, but not saying anything, not telling him what the hell was going on.

  When the food was ready, she switched on the back patio light and opened the door. Gabe lurked behind her to get a look at whoever was out there.

  It was no one he knew. The guy looked like a drifter. He had hard times written all over him—from his worn-out rawhide boots to the dirty backpack slung over one shoulder.

  Mary gave him the food. He thanked her. She shut the door, but Gabe could still see through the glass top of it.

  He watched the man amble across the backyard. “He’s going to the barn.” He turned to Mary.

  She shrugged. “Yeah. I said he could sleep there. He needs a place. And when people need a place, I generally give them one—if they look okay to me, I mean.”

  Gabe couldn’t believe it. “Mary. You’re here alone. With a baby. And you let some stranger bed down in your barn?”

  She folded her arms under her breasts. “I don’t like your tone, Gabe.”

  He wanted to grab her and shake her. “It’s not safe. That man could murder you in your bed.” He didn’t realize he’d amped up the volume until she hissed at him.

  “Shh!” She tipped her head toward the bedroom where Ginny slept and then turned for the living room.

  Gabe fell in behind her. When they got to the sofa, she made a motion for him to sit, but he stayed on his feet.

  She didn’t sit either. And then she spoke, carefully. “I do appreciate your concern. But it’s my choice if I want to help people. It’s not much, a bed in the barn and a sandwich. But it’s something I can do. Times are tough for a lot of folks. Someone’s got to reach out a hand now and then. I have good locks on my doors and windows. Nobody’s going to hurt me or Ginny.”

  “You don’t know that guy. You have no idea what he might—”

  “Will you just let it go, please?”

  Let it go? He wanted to shout at her. He wanted to argue with her until she saw the light. He wanted to march out to the barn and tell the guy out there that Mary had people looking out for her and he’d damn well better not try anything stupid.

  But he knew it would be totally out of line to take the subject any further. It was Mary’s house and Mary’s barn. She had a right to do what she wanted with what was hers—and to suffer the consequences, if it came to that.

  “Your life, Mary,” he said, wanting to break something, yet careful to keep his voice neutral.

  “That’s right. My life.” She stood a few feet from him, and she kept her arms wrapped around herself. “Now, can we get back to the reason I asked you here?”

  “Sure.”

  “I…” She looked away, sucked in a slow breath, and then finally met his eyes again. “A week ago today, Emily Gray came to see me.”

  So. Yet another offer. He knew Emily. She was smart and ambitious. “Did you let her in?”

  The corner of her mouth lifted in an almost-smile. “I did not.”

  “Good for you. Don’t let them get to you.”

  “I won’t. I haven’t. Or, I wouldn’t…”

  “You want me to try and get BravoCorp to leave you alone, is that it? My dad’s a tough customer, but I’ll see what I can do.” He’d check with Ash first, see where he’d gotten on the other possible properties.

  Mary pulled her shoulders back. “Really, I can take it. I mean, if BravoCorp wants to send one fast talker after another out here, I say bring ’em on. It’s not that they won’t stop coming. It’s that Emily Gray came again this evening and she wasn’t so friendly this time.”

  He understood then. “She threatened you?” Was he surprised? Hardly. He’d just hoped the old man wouldn’t go this far, but he’d only been kidding himself. To get what he wanted, Davis Bravo would go as far as he had to go.

  Mary raked spread fingers through her hair. “She told me that if I didn’t ‘see reason,’ things could get ‘unpleasant.’”

  Gabe swore, low. Here he was getting all over her case about some bum sleeping in her barn, when the real threat was his own damn company—and his father most of all. He cleared the short distance between them, wanting to reach for her, but thinking better of it just in time.

  Instead, he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll take care of it, Mary. One way or another, I’ll make sure BravoCorp leaves you alone from now on.”

  “Oh, Gabe…” Her eyes were brimming.

  And then she reached for him. Out of nowhere, she was in his arms. He could hardly believe it: Mary. In his arms.

  At last.

  He held her close, kissed her shining lemon-scented hair, rocked her gently, like a baby, from side to side and whispered, “It’s okay. It’ll be okay, I swear to you…” She held him so tight, her warm, soft body pressing all along his. Gabe knew he had to be dreaming.

  But it was no dream. And it got better. She had her head buried tight against his shoulder. But then she looked up, her eyes bright as diamonds with the soft sheen of tears. “Oh, Gabe. When I sent you away….”

  “Yeah?” He whispered the word around the tightness in his throat.

  “It was only because I didn’t know…how to handle it. How to deal with the way I feel about you. I got scared, Gabe. I’ve been…wishing, you know? Wishing that maybe you’d give me another chance.”

  He smoothed a hand down her hair, so silky and warm, and dared to press his palm to the side of her sweet face. Because he could. Because she wanted him, after all. Mary wanted another chance.

  “Gabe.” She said his name on a breathless sigh. “Is there maybe a chance that you’d want to try again? Is there maybe a—”

  “Mary.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There is?”

  “Yeah. Kiss me, Mary.”

  “Oh, yes. Oh, Gabe….” She lifted her sweet mouth.

  And he took it.

  He meant to be gentle, to go easy, to take it slow. But the touch of her lips was like a match to tinder. With a hungry groan, he speared his tongue inside.

  And she didn’t deny him. Not this time. With a soft cry, she opened for him. He tasted her, deeply, a kiss that plundered, a kiss meant to claim her, a kiss to make up for the last week and a half of being without her.

  Of longing for her, aching for her, and knowing at the same time that he had to give it up, to forget her. To move on.

  All that was over now. She wanted him, after all. She wanted to try again.

  They would be lovers. She would be his. It seemed impossible.

  But no. It was real. True.

  He took her face between his hands and lifted his mouth enough to whisper her name, “Mary. Mary, Mary…” And then he kissed her some more, long and hard and deep.

  She didn’t pull away. She kissed him back. Giving him her mouth to taste, even sliding her sweet tongue along his, entering his mouth as he had tasted hers, shyly, hesitantly, with a tender, yearning sigh.

  He couldn’t get enough of her, of the feel of her in his arms. He ran his hand down her slim back, pressing hard into her, loving her softness, aroused out of all proportion by her full breasts pushing into his chest. He spread his hands and cupped her bottom, fingers digging in, pulling her up to him, so she could feel him, so she could know how much he needed her.

  A low, hungry moan escaped her. He kissed her, harder, taking that moan into him, drinking the sound, drinking her.

  He needed to touch her all over, every inch of her. He needed her naked.

  He needed that now.

  He slipped his hands up under
the hem of that little pink shirt and felt the warm, smooth flesh of her back, of her rib cage. Amazing, to be touching her, to have his hands on her. He touched the strap of her bra and followed it back to the center and began working the hooks to release them.

  But she caught his arms. And then she pulled away. “Gabe…” Lost in his need for her, he tried to capture her mouth again, but she wouldn’t let him. “Gabe.” She slid her hands up to capture his face. “Gabe, I can’t.”

  He sucked in a slow breath, regaining shaky control of himself and repeated, not getting it, “You can’t…?”

  “No.” She whispered the word, her sweet mouth trembling. “It’s only been two weeks since I had Ginny. It’s not safe for me yet.”

  “Not safe,” he repeated after her, like some kind of idiot, still not really getting what she was telling him.

  “Oh, Gabe.” She looked up at him, her face flushed, her expression regretful.

  And finally, he realized what she was trying to tell him. He shut his eyes. “God. I’m so sorry.”

  And she laughed, the sweetest, gentlest sound. “Don’t be. Please. I wish it was safe. Oh, I really, really do…”

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re not mad, that I got all over you?”

  “Oh, Gabe. Why would I be mad about something as wonderful as that?”

  He kissed her lips again—but softly this time. “Okay, if you’re not mad, then tell me…”

  She knew the question without his having to ask it. “How much longer?” At his nod, answered herself, “Usually, it’s about six weeks.”

  “Four more weeks. I don’t know if I can make it.”

  “Be strong,” she teased.

  “I will, considering I have no choice.” He scooped her high in his arms. She let out an “Oh!” of surprise, and then she sighed, wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his chest. It was three steps to the sofa. He took them, turning to sit with her still in his arms so she ended up in his lap. She felt really good there. He nuzzled her hair, whispered in her ear, “Let me stay the night. I’ll sleep right here, on the couch.”

  She read him so easily. “Stop worrying about that poor guy in the barn. He’s not going to hurt me.”