A Bravo Homecoming Page 7

  Without warning, he swung the Caddy to the shoulder and braked to a squealing stop. The guy in the pickup behind them leaned on the horn as he swung past them and went on by.

  Sam pressed her lips together and stared out the windshield as the pickup vanished around the next turn.

  “Sam. Damn it, Sam.” He said a few more choice words. And then he was quiet. And then finally, “Come on. I’m sorry, okay?” He did sound like he meant it.

  And she felt sorry, too, but she still couldn’t make herself look at him.

  He turned off the engine, undid his seat belt and shifted in the seat, leaning across the leather console. She was way too aware of him, especially now that he’d moved closer. He rested his elbow on the back of her seat, his forearm against her headrest. And then she felt his touch at her temple, so lightly. And then gone. “What is this?” he asked, his voice low and teasing—and puzzled, too. “You and me fighting? We never fight.”

  She undid her own seat belt. He backed off an inch or two so she could slide the shoulder harness out of the way. And then she turned to him. He leaned close again. His handsome face was only inches from hers. She could smell his aftershave. She’d always liked his aftershave. It had a clean, fresh scent.

  “We never kissed, either.” She glanced down at those tempting lips of his—and then back up into his eyes. “Until last night. First time for everything, I guess.”

  He touched her hair, the same way he had done the night before, brushing the backs of his fingers against the short strands. And he spoke so softly, “I liked kissing you. I liked it a lot.”

  She held his eyes. “Don’t say it.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “That you liked it too much.”

  He chuckled then. “You know me way too well.”

  “Yeah, I do. So from now on, don’t feed me any bull. I can see it coming a mile away.”

  “You sure you’re still up for this?”

  She gave him a patient look. “What did I tell you the other night when you called me at the Four Seasons and caught me bawling my eyes out?”

  He grunted. “That you were sure and I should stop asking you if you wanted to back out.”

  She leaned into him sideways and nudged him with her shoulder. “So what about you? Is it possible that you’re the one who wants to back out?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “You’re not feeling guilty for trying to pull a number on your mom?”

  “Sure, I feel guilty, but I want her off my case for a while. If you’re still on, we’re going for it.” He started to retreat back behind the wheel.

  She just couldn’t leave it at that. She caught his arm. “Maybe you should kiss me again, before we go. I mean, how many engaged people do you know who’ve kissed only once?”

  He stiffened, but only for a second. And then he took up the challenge and leaned close once more. “I guess I deserved that.” His lips were an inch from hers. She felt his warm breath across her mouth.

  “You know you did,” she whispered back, loving the shiver of excitement that stirred just under the surface of her skin.

  His glance slanted down, toward her mouth. Her lips seemed to tingle in anticipation.

  Yeah, okay. Maybe she was playing with a big ol’ ball of fire. And that wasn’t smart. But there was a certain feeling of power she had now, knowing that Travis found her attractive, knowing that he wanted to kiss her, even if he felt that he shouldn’t.

  There really were definite benefits to being all feminine and womanly. Benefits she’d never understood before. It felt good to be womanly, to look in a man’s eyes and see that he wanted her.

  She thought of Zach Gunn then, of her one measly attempt to find what other women had—a little romance in her life, for cryin’ out loud. Had Zach ever even once looked at her the way Travis was looking at her now?

  She couldn’t remember.

  And truthfully, at this point, she didn’t even care.

  Travis said her name then. “Sam…” So soft and gentle, and with something like wonderment, too.

  She had to resist the longing to lean in that fraction more and make the kiss happen. Because she wanted him to do it. She wanted him to make that choice.

  And finally, he did.

  He closed the tiny distance between them and his mouth touched hers—gently, at first. Kind of soft and careful, a kiss with a question in it.

  But then she sighed in delight.

  And that must have been the answer he was waiting for.

  Because he slanted his mouth the other way and reached to pull her even closer, easing his big hand around the back of her neck, sliding his fingers up into her hair.

  The kiss deepened. It seemed to happen so naturally, so simply. His lips pressed hers more firmly. And she let her mouth relax.

  And then she felt his tongue—who knew that would feel so good? But it did. It felt amazing, rough and wet and tender, teasing at her lower lip, slipping inside….

  More cars passed, close enough that the Cadillac rocked a bit. She hardly noticed. She did think, vaguely, that they should probably get going, that it wasn’t safe to be parked on the narrow shoulder of the road, kissing.

  And kissing some more.

  He caressed the back of her neck with his warm, slightly rough hand. And her skin seemed to tingle all over, as if his touch somehow set off a chain of happy fireworks under her skin. As if her body recognized these sensations he brought to life in her.

  Recognized them. And wanted more.

  Another shiver of pleasure went through her. She let out a low, excited sound.

  And he moved his hand to cradle her cheek. His tongue stroked hers. His finger grazed her earlobe. And then his thumb was there, too. He caught her earlobe, rubbed it gently. The small, circular strokes thrilled her. Combined with the way his tongue was moving, so wet and hot and intimate, claiming the secret inner flesh of her mouth…

  It was dizzying. Disorienting. Like looking down from an enormous height—say from the top of the derrick on the Deepwater Venture—looking down and considering letting go, sailing off into the sky, soaring over the blue sea so far below, forgetting that you didn’t have wings, that you couldn’t fly and the fall would kill you.

  And that was too much.

  A small, frantic sound escaped her. She slid her hands up between them, pressed at his shoulders.

  Instantly he released her.

  She opened her eyes, blinked at him, felt the world come bouncing back into focus again.

  “Had enough?” he asked gruffly. His lips were red from kissing her and his eyes…they were darker than ever. She saw the heat in them. And some confusion. And anger—that she had goaded him into the kiss? Probably.

  But why the confusion?

  She wanted to ask him, but somehow, right then, she didn’t dare. He seemed…almost a stranger to her at that moment. A stranger, and way too male.

  She knew her lips must be at least as red as his. And her heart was pounding harder than it should have been. That scary, disoriented feeling hadn’t completely faded.

  “Yeah,” she admitted. “I’ve had enough.” And then her pride kicked in. “For now.”

  He almost smiled. “You always were too honest for your own good.”

  A certain sadness came over her. Strange. Her emotions were all wonky. She’d gone from turned-on to scared to sad, all in the course of maybe sixty seconds.

  Gentling her voice, she reminded him, “You’re honest, too, Travis. At least most of the time. It’s one of the things I like best about you.”

  “So, then.” He retreated to his seat and snapped his seat belt back on. The key was still in the ignition. He gave it a turn. The Caddy’s engine purred to life. “You ready to go and tell lies to my mother?”

  She put on her own seat belt. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Chapter Six

  Ten minutes after they left that spot on the side of the road, Travis turned the car onto a long private dri
veway fenced to either side. Horses grazed in the wide pastures beyond both fences.

  The driveway curved and revealed a sweeping turnaround in front of an imposing white house with thick pillars marching proudly along the facade. Wide steps led up between two central pillars to a long veranda. The front yard had been beautifully landscaped. Sam could see gardens in the side yards and even caught a glimpse of more gardens in the back.

  “Impressive,” she said.

  Travis sent her a look. “The house is modeled after the Governor’s Mansion. My grandpa James believed in living large.” He stopped the car near the front steps. A guy in jeans and a cowboy hat came jogging toward them along another driveway that led around to the side.

  Travis rolled down his window. “Hey, Paco.”

  “Travis, good to see you again.”

  Travis pushed open his door and got out, leaving the engine running. He came around and pulled open Sam’s door, offering her his hand. She took it, telling herself to ignore the thrill that quivered through her, just from laying her fingers in his.

  As she got out, Paco slid behind the wheel.

  Travis said, “Paco, this is Sam, my fiancée.”

  Paco leaned across the seat to tip his hat at her. She smiled at him and nodded. “Hi, Paco.”

  “I’ll have your suitcases brought in,” he said to Travis.

  “’Preciate it.” Travis shut Sam’s door and Paco drove the car away.

  They turned together for the stone steps that led up to the veranda.

  Right then, the big carved front doors swung open. A slim, good-looking older woman in soft linen pants and a white sweater emerged. She had sleek auburn hair and wore a welcoming smile. Beside her was a tall, imposing man with thick silver hair. Even if Sam hadn’t seen pictures of them, she would have known who they were: Travis’s mom and dad, Aleta and Davis. Travis had his father’s broad shoulders and proud bearing. And his mother’s smile.

  “Travis! You’re here!” Aleta called, real joy in her voice. She rushed down the stairs, her husband keeping pace at her side. When she reached Sam and Travis, she grabbed her son in a hug. “Oh, I can’t tell you— I’m so glad you’ve come to us. It’s been way too long.” And then, breathless, she let him go and turned to Sam. “Samantha?”

  Sam liked her on sight. She might be rich, from a big-time San Antonio family, but Aleta was no snob. There was something so honestly warm and welcoming about her. “Aleta, great to meet you at last.”

  Travis’s mom grabbed both her hands and gazed up at her all misty-eyed. “Oh, I’m so happy to meet you.” She pulled Sam close. They hugged. It was a little awkward, but not too bad. Travis’s mom was maybe five-seven, tall enough that Sam didn’t dwarf her like she did some women. When Aleta stepped back, she shook her head, laughing, “I promised myself I wasn’t going to fall all over you.”

  Davis offered a hand to Sam. She took it. He set his other hand on top of hers, enclosing it. “Wonderful to meet you, Samantha.” He had cool green eyes. Watchful eyes. But he seemed sincere enough in his greeting.

  Sam smiled and nodded.

  And finally, they went up the wide steps and in through the big doors.

  There were more Bravos inside—a whole bunch of them, as Sam had pretty much expected. Travis made the introductions, which seemed to go on forever, there were so many of them to meet.

  Eventually, though, everyone settled down. Some of them wandered away from the big front living room into other areas of the giant house. It was not yet noon, and dinner wouldn’t be for a few hours yet.

  Sam had just finished chatting with Luke’s wife, Mercy, about the drive from Houston, and the beauty of the Hill Country when Aleta spoke from directly behind her. “Feeling overwhelmed by Bravos?”

  Sam turned and smiled down at Travis’s mom. “Maybe a little bit.”

  Aleta grabbed her hand. “Come on. Paco’s carried your things up to your room. I’ll take you there. You can have a few minutes to settle in and catch your breath.”

  Sam looked around for Travis, but one of his brothers must have dragged him off to another room.

  “This way,” said Aleta, and pulled her toward the foyer and the wide curving staircase.

  Sam followed. She was slightly on edge about being alone with Travis’s mom for the first time, a tad worried she might mess up and put her foot in it somehow.

  Then again, Aleta was only being thoughtful. And a break about now wouldn’t be half bad. There really were a whole lot of Bravos. It was kind of stressful, trying to keep the names matched with the right faces. Time to rest and clear her mind before dinner would help a lot.

  Aleta led her to the third door on the left along the wide second floor hallway. “Here we are.” She gestured for Sam to go in ahead of her.

  “It’s lovely, thank you,” Sam said, “lovely” being one of those general-purpose polite words she’d picked up from Jonathan. In this case, it was the right word. The room was lovely, painted a sunny yellow, with carved white wood trim and white curtains. The cherry furniture was old and beautiful and her suitcases were waiting at the foot of the four-poster bed, which had old-time acorn finials. There was even a bay window that gave a nice view of the side gardens and provided a small sitting area.

  The door stood open on the room’s private bath. Another door, also open, led to the next room over. That room had blue walls and the furniture was heavier and darker than the pieces in Sam’s room.

  Aleta hovered near the door to the hall. She gestured toward the blue room. “That’s Travis’s room, through there.”

  “Ah,” said Sam, for lack of anything better.

  “Not his room from childhood. We never lived here at the ranch when the children were growing up. We would come, the same as now, for weekends and holidays. The kids took whatever rooms were convenient at the time.”

  “Yes, I know. Travis said you lived in town when he was small.”

  “Davis and I still keep a suite here. But it’s really Luke and Mercy’s house these days.” Aleta waved a slim hand in the direction of the open door to the blue room. “I wasn’t sure. Separate rooms. A shared room. Travis was not…forthcoming.”

  “This is perfect. Really.”

  “Good, then.” Aleta folded her hands together. “Excellent.” Sam thought she would go, but then she sucked in a careful breath. “I wonder if we might talk a little, before I leave you to yourself….”

  Alarm bells went off in Sam’s head. “Uh. Well, sure.”

  “Wonderful.” Aleta shut the door to the upstairs hall.

  Sam reminded herself that she liked this woman. And that she and Travis had agreed she would just be herself. Her new self, yes, but still, she had no deep secrets that Aleta might trip her up with—plus, there was no reason Travis’s mom should even want to trip her up. “Well, um. Have a seat.” There were two small upholstered chairs in the window nook. Aleta took one. Sam sat in the other.

  “Travis has mentioned you often, over the years…”

  “Ah. Well, he’s always been good to me, looked out for me, I guess you could say. Ever since I was a lonely kid living with my dad on our family ranch not far from Sioux Falls.”

  “He always spoke of you fondly.”

  “He’s…a good guy.”

  Aleta smiled. “Yes, he is.”

  “He helped me get my first job. And we’ve always stayed friends. And then, on this most recent project, we ended up working closely together.”

  “I’m glad that you know each other well. It gives you a good foundation to build on.”

  “Yeah. I…think you’re right about that.”

  “You said you were raised by your father?”

  “I was, yes.”

  “And your mother?”

  The old wound throbbed a little, a scar long-healed but still sensitive if you poked at it. “My mom left us when I was three. She didn’t much care for ranch life.”

  Real sympathy shone in Aleta’s clear blue eyes. “You’ve never
seen her since?”

  “I have, yes. I used to visit her, now and then, in Minneapolis, where she worked as a secretary. But that was in those first few years after she left. When I was nine, she married her boss. He isn’t a bad guy, but he’s kind of shy, I guess you could say. I never had much in common with him. They had two daughters eventually—twins. I didn’t ever fit in there. It just got easier for everyone if I stayed at the ranch with my dad.”

  “Easier? But you’re her child.”

  Sam could see where Travis got his tender, protective streak. “The truth is, we never got along, my mom and me. I made it more than clear that I didn’t want to be with her, even for a visit. I was pretty young, but still, I knew how I felt even then. I took my dad’s side when she left.”

  “And why wouldn’t you take your father’s side?” Aleta asked sharply. “I’m sure you felt abandoned. I’m sure you…” She cut herself off. Pressing her lips together, she lowered her head for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was calm. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions.”

  Sam grinned. “Hey, jump away. I did feel abandoned. And I hated her for it.”

  Aleta frowned. “And do you still hate her?”

  Sam shrugged. “Not so much anymore. I’m older. I can see her side of it, too, now. We…keep in touch. Maybe a phone call at Christmas or my birthday. But we’re not close. I don’t think we ever will be.”

  Aleta reached across the space between them to clasp Sam’s hand. Her touch was light. And reassuring, too. “I’m glad that you don’t hate your mom. Hatred doesn’t do anyone any good—and I’m so pleased to see you and Travis together. I’ve been worried about him, and driving him crazy, I know. Trying to get him to start dating again. To find someone special.”

  “You’ve been matchmaking.” Sam shook a finger. She hadn’t expected to feel so instantly comfortable with Travis’s mom. But she did—comfortable enough right off the bat to give her a hard time. She leaned closer to the older woman, lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “Travis told me everything.”