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Marriage, Bravo Style!
Christine Rimmer
You are cordially invited to the…shotgun…wedding ofElena Cabrera BravoandRogan MurdochDate: As soon as labor is over.Time: Just enough for the bride to fit into something other than a hospital gown.Hosted by: The brothers of the bride. In fact, they insisted on it!Reason for Union: The bride and groom love each other…even if they're both too stubborn to admit it!RSVP to the Bravo Family.Gifts (wedding and baby) optional…



Pregnant.
Elena got pregnant.
He couldn’t believe it. She’d been on the pill. They’d used condoms faithfully.
He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t be saying he was the father if it wasn’t true.
A baby. She was having his baby. Rogan felt something like wonder.
He also felt a slow anger, like hot coals burning red beneath a layer of ash. All those times he’d almost called her—but stopped himself before he actually went through with it. He should have called her. Maybe if he had, she would have busted to the truth before now.
Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t be racing against the clock to have a prayer of being there when his own child was born.
Dear Reader,
Elena Cabrera, illegitimate daughter of Bravo family patriarch Davis Bravo is ready for love. Builder Rogan Murdoch is ready for his freedom. Finally.
Rogan’s parents died tragically when he was barely an adult and not only did he take over the family business, Murdoch Homes, but he also became guardian and stand-in parent to his three younger siblings. It hasn’t been an easy time. But he and his family made it through. Now, the last of his charges, his baby sister, is off to college in the fall. And he’s looking forward to being footloose at last.
But then he meets Elena. The attraction is instant. And powerful. But he knows she’s not the kind of woman who’ll go for a casual affair. And that’s all he’s ready for right now.
He should stay away from her. Far, far away.
But somehow, fate keeps throwing them together. And every time he sees her, it’s harder for him to resist her—let alone remember all the reasons he needs to be free.
Happy reading everyone,
Christine Rimmer

Marriage, Bravo Style!
Christine Rimmer


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHRISTINE RIMMER
came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a salesclerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves, who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at www.christinerimmer.com.
To our families.
They drive us crazy and teach us what life is all about.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One
“Elena, I don’t know how to say this…”
“Say what?” Carefully, so not too much filling would spill out, Elena Cabrera lifted a taco off her plate.
“I’ve met someone else.”
Elena had her mouth wide open to take a bite. Instead, she eased the taco back down to the plate. Then she put her hands in her lap and stared across the cozy corner table at totally hunky Antonio Aguilar.
So much for going on the pill, she thought.
They’d been dating for two months now. She’d started on the pill two weeks ago. Because she’d been really, really hoping that Tonio would be the one.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Elena.” His dark-chocolate eyes were full of regret. “I don’t know why we never really clicked….”
Clicked. They hadn’t clicked. Was that the problem?
Something was. She was twenty-five years old and still a virgin.
Nothing against being a virgin, per se. Until not all that long ago, being a virgin had been her choice. Men had made advances. She’d turned down every one.
After all, she was a woman of principle. She’d been saving herself for true love. Seriously. True, forever love. Like her sister, Mercy, had with Luke.
Like her parents had.
Or like she’d always thought they had.
But then, three years ago, she’d learned that her darling Papi wasn’t her biological father, after all. Her father’s sworn enemy, Davis Bravo, was. Her mom had been lying to her dad for all these years, letting him believe that Elena was his. Letting Elena believe it, too.
Needless to say, her dad and her mom weren’t together anymore.
So much for true, forever love.
“Elena.” Tonio leaned toward her across his untouched plate. He looked more than a little annoyed. “Have you heard a single word I said?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s not working out. You’ve found someone else.”
“This is pretty much the whole problem. You know that, don’t you?”
“This?”
“This.” He said a bad word in Spanish under his breath and made a sweeping gesture with his lean brown hand, his sculpted cheekbones flushed with color. He was definitely not happy with her. “You.”
“Me.”
“You. Elena, when we’re together, you act like you’re a thousand miles away.” He pushed his plate toward the center of the table with a look of pure disdain. “And now I’ve met Tappy, well, there’s no comparison. Tappy adores me. A man needs that, to know that his woman is there for him, that he has her absolute undivided attention when he speaks.”
“Wait a minute. Tappy. Her name is Tappy?”
He made a hissing sound between his gorgeous white teeth, and looked away. “Now you make fun of her name. A woman cares for me. Really cares. And you make fun of her name.” More Spanish swear words ensued.
“Tonio. Come on…” Now she felt guilty—which made no sense. He was breaking up with her. And she felt guilty…?
“No.” He showed her the palm of his hand. “It’s enough. I don’t know why I was so worried about telling you. It’s not as if you care.”
“Tonio, please…”
“It’s over. Finished.”
“Well, I know that. You said that. But couldn’t we at least—?”
“Stop.” He took out his wallet, threw some bills on the table. “You never respected me. You never wanted me.” He swept to his feet. “Well, I have a real woman now. Goodbye, Elena.”
And with a scornful toss of his proud dark head, he was gone.
Elena didn’t watch him go. She picked up the taco again and finished her lunch, her gaze studiously on her plate. If people were staring, she didn’t want to know. The whole situation was embarrassing enough as it was.
Not only had she lost Antonio, she didn’t feel all that bad about it.
Was there something wrong with her? Sometimes she really did wonder.
Her cell rang as she stood at the cash register paying the check. It was her sister.
Mercy said, “Hey.”
Elena signaled to the hostess that the five dollars in change should go to the waiter and smiled at the sound of her sister’s voice. “Hey.” She turned for the glass doors that led to the parking lot.
“Did you hear?” Mercy asked. “Dad thinks he’s found a buyer for the company.” Their father was a builder. He owned and ran Cabrera Construction. Lately, he’d been making noises that he wanted to retire. Mercy added, “Some friend of Caleb’s, I think.”
Caleb was one of Davis Bravo’s seven sons, and thus Elena’s half brother. He was also Mercy’s brother-in-law, since Mercy’s husband, Luke, was another of Davis’s sons.
Family connections. Truly convoluted, at least when it came to the Bravos and the Cabreras. It wasn’t quite as creepy as it might sound, though. Mercy, unlike Elena, was not related by blood to the Bravos—or the Cabreras, for that matter. Mercy had been adopted into the Cabrera family when she was twelve.
Elena reached her car and pulled open the door. “I remember now. Caleb mentioned that some guy he knows in Dallas—Logan somebody-or-other?—might be interested.” In the past few years, after the big revelation concerning Elena’s true parentage, Elena and Caleb had become not only newfound siblings, but close friends, as well.
“Not Logan,” said Mercy. “Rogan. Rogan Murdoch.”
“Rogan. Right.” Elena slid in behind the wheel and started the engine to get the air-conditioning going. April in San Antonio could be as hot as August in other places. “Caleb said the guy runs his family’s company.”
“Murdoch Homes,” Mercy confirmed. “And he wants to expand. He showed up yesterday. And he’s with Dad now….”
“With Dad at the office?”
“That’s what Papi said when I called.”
Elena readjusted the vent so the cold air blasted into her face. It felt good. “You think I should go over there? Check the guy out?”
Mercy laughed. “I would do it myself, but I have a sick heifer to treat.” Mercy was a large-animal vet. “And then I have to get home to take Lucas to Mommy and Me.” Lucas was her two-year-old. And she was two months pregnant with her and Luke’s second baby.
True love, a toddler and a baby on the way. Mercy had it all. Elena adored her big sister. Otherwise, she would be green with envy.
“I’ll take care of it.” She bent closer to the vent so the cool air flowed down the front of her shirt. “It’s Good Friday. What else have I got to do?” Elena taught middle-school social studies. Good Friday was a school holiday.
“You sure? I thought you mentioned something about lunch with Antonio….”
“Oh.” Elena slumped back in the seat and stared glumly out the windshield. “That.”
Mercy made a low, sympathetic sound. “What happened?”
“I just got dumped over fish tacos.”
“No.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you all right?”
“Sadly, yes. I’m just fine.”
“Oh, chica…”
“Tonio’s found someone else.”
“That bastard.”
“Her name is Tappy.”
“Tappy?”
“It’s what I said—and I can hear you laughing.”
“Tappy?”
“Stop it, Mercedes.” But Mercy didn’t stop. And then Elena was laughing, too.
Finally, Mercy pulled herself together enough to remark philosophically, “Well, at least your heart isn’t broken over this.”
“Yeah. It’s really depressing.”
“Elena.” Her sister’s voice was gentle, soothing. “There’s someone out there for you. I know there is.”
“Keep talking. I’m twenty-five. I’ve never been in love—not that I’m feeling sorry for myself or anything.”
“What’s this never? What about Roberto Pena?”
“That was high school. It’s been a decade, in case you didn’t notice.”
“It will happen. You’ll see.”
Enough of the pity party. Elena sat forward again and reached for the ignition key. “Gotta go. Got to check out this Rogan character, make sure Papi knows what he’s doing.”
“Hit me back. Let me know what you think of him.”

Cabrera Construction took up half a block in a street of auto repair shops and contractor supply outlets. Years and years ago, the place had been a used car lot, so it had plenty of parking surrounding the flat-roofed central structure, which was the former showroom. It had big windows in front and a giant reception area, with a warren of hallways and office space in back. Behind the main building, there was more parking and also four large sheds where Elena’s dad stored equipment and building supplies that weren’t currently needed on a job.
Elena pulled in next to her dad’s giant shiny red extended cab. There were three other vehicles parked in the same row. One was her dad’s secretary’s car. One belonged to another Cabrera Construction employee.
There was also a Mercedes she’d never seen before. It was low and lean and fast-looking. A beautiful silver bullet of a car.
As she entered the building that her dad had owned for almost twenty years now, she thought how sad it was that he might actually sell out. She had memories here. Family memories. From back when her mom and dad were still together and so much in love it was kind of embarrassing.
If she closed her eyes and listened real hard, she could almost hear her own happy laughter as she and Mercy played tag or hide-and-seek.
“Tag, you’re it!” Mercy would crow in big-sister triumph.
“No fair!” Elena would whine.
“Is so!”
“Papi, Mercy cheated….”
“Don’t be such a baby.” Mercy would stick out her tongue. “Did not.”
“Did so!”
Elena opened her eyes. The memory of young voices receded. Yes, it was sad to think of someone else running the place, someone else’s children playing tag in the reception area.
But then again, neither of Javier Cabrera’s daughters had shown any interest in following in his footsteps. Elena was a teacher, Mercy a vet. And there was no son. Her dad was close to sixty and he often complained that he was tired, ready to relax a little, maybe travel some, see the world.
If this thing with Caleb’s friend panned out, her dad might get his chance for freedom. Too bad he no longer had her mom to share his retirement with.
He really ought to get out more, Elena thought. He ought to try and meet someone. But he never did. He and her mom were over and done with. But they were true Catholics. They might be apart with no hope for a reconciliation, but there would be no one else for either of them.
Really, it was kind of heartbreaking.
But she shouldn’t think like that. Maybe they would surprise her, and each of them would end up happy with someone else.
It could happen. Lately, even though she dreaded the thought of dealing with a stepmother or stepfather, she found herself wishing for one. Hadn’t her parents suffered enough? Elena thought so. They both ought to just move on….
“Elena.” Marcella, who had been her dad’s secretary for as long as Elena could remember, smiled a greeting from behind the front desk.
“Hi. Is my dad in back?”
The secretary nodded and then tipped her big head of red hair toward the hallway that led to Javier’s private office and the drafting room. She pitched her voice low. “He’s with the buyer.” The buyer. So was the sale already made, then? “Is it all right if I go back, you think?”
Marcella shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
Elena hesitated. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything important. What if they’re in the middle of delicate negotiations?” And then she heard voices—her dad’s and another man’s.
Marcella smiled again. “No problem. They’re coming out, anyway.”
“Elena,” her dad said a moment later as he and another taller, younger man emerged from the hallway to the back rooms. Her dad gave her a warm, tired-looking smile.
They’d come a long way from those first awful days when he’d learned that she wasn’t his natural daughter. There had been a time when he could hardly bear to look at her. He’d hated himself for that. But she’d never held it against him. She’d understood his pain. After all, she had lived through that same pain herself.
And slowly, they’d become what they really were again. Father and daughter, blood tie or not.
She went to him and he wrapped his strong arms around her. He smelled of everything safe and good in the world, like Old Spice aftershave and geraniums in the sun. “Papi,” she whispered. “I just thought I’d stop by.”
“I’m glad.” He released her. She gazed up at him, thinking he looked so old, all of a sudden. The crow’s feet at the corners of his black eyes were etched so deep they seemed to make his whole face droop. Her dear Papi. Old. When had that happened? “Elena, this is Rogan Murdoch.”
She turned to the other man, her gaze tracking up his broad, deep chest to a very Irish-looking face with green eyes and straight brows, full lips, a square jaw and a strong nose that looked like it had been broken at least once. He wasn’t handsome, exactly. But he was certainly compelling. And very…male.
He smiled at her and took her hand. “Elena,” he said, as if he knew her already. As if he’d only been waiting for her to show up. Her throat felt dry. She gulped. Words completely eluded her. “Caleb’s mentioned you often.” His large, warm hand engulfed hers. She couldn’t breathe—or more precisely, she wasn’t breathing. She had to consciously suck in a breath and push it back out again. “We’re just going to lunch,” he said. “Why don’t you join us?”
She eased her hand free of his. It seemed safer, somehow, not to be touching him. At the same time, she had the presence of mind to glance down, to check out his other hand.
He had thick, strong fingers. And he wore no wedding band.
She managed weakly, “I already ate, thanks.”
“Come with us, anyway,” her dad said from behind her. “Have a cold drink, maybe a piece of pie.”
“Well, I…”
“Yeah. Please,” Rogan said, in his deep, rich, slightly rough voice that sent a lovely shiver racing under the surface of her skin. “Join us.”
She couldn’t have said no if her life had depended on it.

Chapter Two
At lunch, Rogan sat across from Javier and his daughter. The restaurant was on the River Walk. They had a table out on the patio overlooking the water and the tour boats gliding past.
But the best view was across the table from Rogan. He tried not to stare.
The Cabrera girl was beautiful. Too beautiful. Mess-with-a-man’s-head beautiful.
She had thick coffee-colored hair that fell around her slim shoulders in soft waves, hair shot through with strands of red and gold. It was the kind of hair that made a man’s fingers itch to touch it. And beyond all that amazing hair, she had golden brown eyes and a mouth made for kissing.
And her skin. Soft. Velvety. Golden as the rest of her. Somehow, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off that dimple that appeared at the corner of her mouth when she smiled.
Rogan was not a poetic man. But when he looked at Elena Cabrera, he heard poems in his head.
It was an acute case of lust at first sight.
And lust was fine. Lust was great. With somebody other than Javier Cabrera’s daughter. Somebody who didn’t happen to be Caleb Bravo’s adored half sister.
Rogan could tell just by looking at her that she wasn’t going to be interested in a simple, mutually satisfying hookup. She would want at least the potential for a serious romance. Marriage would have to be a possibility.
And it wasn’t. Not for Rogan. Not for years yet.
He saw freedom in his immediate future and he intended to enjoy it.
Javier said, “I understand that you and Caleb went to school together?”
Rogan smiled at the older man. Time to trot out the family history, clarify the personal connections. “Yes, we did. UT in Austin. He introduced me to Victor Lukovic. Victor had come to the U.S. on a football scholarship. Now he plays football for the Dallas Cowboys. We hung out together for a while, the three of us—Caleb, Victor and me.”
Elena told her father, “Victor and Caleb’s wife, Irina, were raised together in Argovia—it’s a small country in the Balkans, on the Adriatic Sea.”
“Ah,” said Javier. “That’s right. I remember now.” He glanced across at Rogan again. “Caleb gave Irina a job as his housekeeper, so she could get a permit to work in the U.S. They fell in love and married.”
“That’s right.”
“And Victor is a linebacker. They call him the Balkan Bear.”
“The one and only,” Rogan said. “Since he and his family live in the Dallas area, we get together often.”
“So you all three graduated from UT the same year?”
“No. Caleb was a year ahead of Victor and me. And I left in my junior year, so I never did get my degree.”
Javier frowned. “What happened that you didn’t graduate?”
“My parents were killed in a freak boating accident. I went home and took over the family business.”
Javier’s daughter made a soft sound of distress. “Oh, Rogan. How awful for you….”
“How old were you?” Javier asked.
“Twenty-one.”
“So young to be in charge of your own company…”
He shook his head. “The death of my parents, that was bad. They should have had years and years ahead of them. But taking over the business? It was no hardship. It was something I wanted to do. I’d been working with my dad every summer for years before he died. I knew the business. And my plan had always been to go in with my dad eventually, to take over when he was ready to retire.”
“I lost my father when I was twenty,” said Javier. The dark circles under his eyes gave him a haunted look just then. “It’s not a good thing, for a man to lose the steadying hand of a father too soon. It can make him…bitter. Impatient. Angry.”
Rogan met Javier’s eyes without flinching. “I managed. I got through it. I don’t think I’m bitter.”
Javier shook his head and muttered regretfully, “I spoke of myself, not of you.”
“Ah,” Rogan said, and left it at that.
Elena was looking at her father now. “Papi,” she said softly, and touched his shoulder, a consoling sort of touch.
Javier gave her a gentle smile. And then he spoke to Rogan again. “And didn’t you tell me you had brothers and a sister?”
“Cormac and Niall are twenty-four and twenty-three respectively. Cormac works with me. We’re partners. I run the jobs. He runs the finances and acts as my second on-site when necessary. Niall is in law school. My baby sister, Brenda, is eighteen and headed off to college back east in the fall.”
“They’re all doing well, then?”
“Yes, they are.”
“Who cared for them, when you lost your mother and father?”
“I did.”
The older man regarded him for several long seconds. At last, he nodded. “You are an admirable man.”
Rogan didn’t feel all that admirable. “I did what I had to do.”
“No,” said Javier. “You did the right thing at a difficult time. In the end, family is what matters. And you thought of your family when many would have only cared for themselves. I respect that, greatly. I wish…” He looked away.
Elena leaned toward her father. Rogan thought she would say something to the older man—something comforting, maybe. But then she only put her hand on his arm.
Javier patted her hand and gave her another of those gentle smiles.
The waiter came with their food. After that, they spoke mostly of the various projects Javier’s company had in the works and of how both men viewed the transition should they reach an agreement.
Elena didn’t say much through the meal. She sipped the iced tea she’d ordered and laughed a couple of times, once at a wry joke Javier made, once at some remark of Rogan’s. Her laughter was low and rich. It sent a thrill through him, a kind of vibration that brought with it a feeling of promise.
Of anticipation.
As a rule, Rogan was a strictly disciplined man. He’d had to be, after his parents were gone. He made decisions and he stuck by them.
He’d made a decision about Elena the first moment he saw her: hands off. But when she laughed in that way of hers and when that dimple tucked itself in so temptingly beside her full mouth, well, he didn’t feel all that disciplined. He felt he stood on the brink of something heady and fine.
And all he wanted was a little shove, just enough to give himself permission to jump.

“Well?” Mercy said without even a hello. “You didn’t call me back.”
It was after five and Elena was at home, in her office at her condo, grading papers. She tucked the phone against her shoulder and set down her red marker. “You said you had Mommy and Me.”
“That was then. We got home two hours ago. But anyway. What did you think of Rogan Murdoch?”
“I liked him. There’s something…solid about him. And I think Dad likes him a lot.”
“But is Dad actually going to sell to him?”
“Nothing was said either way while I was with them—but yeah, that’s the feeling I get.”
“Wow.” Mercy made a low, disbelieving sound. “Really?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Dad. Retired. It’s hard to imagine.” Mercy’s voice held a note of sadness. “And I can’t quite get my mind around the idea of Cabrera Construction belonging to someone else. I mean, sometimes it seems as though our past, together, as a family…it’s just slowly fading away.”
Elena knew exactly what her sister was talking about. “I hear you. It’s depressing. But still. I can see it happening, see Dad selling, now I’ve met Rogan.”
“So what’s he look like?”
“Big. Irish.” Elena stared into the middle distance, conjuring up the sight of him. “He has these beautiful green eyes. Irish eyes, you know? Like that old song…”
Mercy chuckled. “You really liked him.”
She might play coy with someone else. But never with Mercy. “Yeah. I really did.”
“Did he ask you out?”
I wish. “Oh, come on. I just met him.”
“Well. Did he like you, too?”
If you can’t tell the truth to your own sister, who can you tell it to? Plus, Mercy wouldn’t say a word to anyone else. When it came to romance, the two of them had a longstanding vow to keep each other’s confidences. “I think he did like me. Yeah.”
“Come to dinner at the ranch Sunday,” Mercy said—out of nowhere, it seemed to Elena. By “the ranch,” Mercy meant the Bravo family ranch, Bravo Ridge, which was a little ways out of town going north, on the southern edge of the Hill Country. Once Bravo Ridge had belonged to the Cabreras. But back in the 1950s, James Bravo had won it off Emilio Cabrera in a horse race, setting off decades of feuding between the families.
The feud was over now.
More or less.
And Mercy, Luke and little Lucas lived at Bravo Ridge together. Luke ran the place. And just about every Sunday they had a big family dinner there. Davis Bravo—who was the oldest son of James—and his wife, Aleta, had had nine children. The siblings and their families tried to show up for Sunday dinner at the ranch at least every couple of months or so.
“Now, there’s my idea of a great time,” Elena said wryly. “Easter Sunday dinner with the sperm donor and family.”
“You’ve got to quit calling him that,” Mercy chided.
Elena laughed. “I always call him that. And you always tell me I have to stop.”
“You need to make peace with him.”
“Mercy, I don’t care if you are my big sister. Don’t lecture me, okay?”
“He is your father.”
“Papi is my father. And can we not have this argument again, please?”
“You’ve forgiven Mom,” Mercy prodded reproachfully. Lately, she was getting like a dog with a favorite bone on this subject. She just wouldn’t let go. “And think about it…”
“I’d rather not.”
Mercy kept after her anyway. “Mami did worse than Davis. Davis confessed to Aleta that he’d had an affair. And he never even knew you were his daughter for all those years. Why can’t you forgive him?”
“Mom is…my mother.”
“And Davis is—”
“Uh-uh. Don’t say it again. Just let it be. I mean it. Please?”
Mercy drew in an audible breath and blew it out hard. “All right. I’m done. At least for now—but say you’ll come to Sunday dinner.”
With waning patience, Elena reminded her, “I thought you just said you were done.”
“I am. I’m not asking you to come for Davis’s sake. I’m asking because Caleb and Irina are coming. And Mr. Irish Eyes is staying with them….”
Rogan was staying with Caleb and Irina.
And he would be at the ranch on Sunday.
Elena’s heart rate accelerated and she felt slightly breathless.
Stunned, she put a hand against her chest. How lovely, to simply think of a certain man and get that rising feeling inside.
At last.
She asked, sounding as breathless as she felt, “He’s coming to dinner Sunday? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Mercy chuckled. “You didn’t give me a chance. You started right in about Davis. So. You’ll come?”
Elena considered the pros and cons. Getting to see Rogan again versus having to be around the sperm donor. It took her about half a second to make her choice. “Fine. I’m there.”
She’d barely hung up from talking to Mercy when Caleb called.
Her favorite brother asked, “How about dinner tomorrow night, at my house?”
Her heart was getting a workout. Now, it did a happy dance. Rogan was staying with Caleb, so he would most likely be there for dinner tomorrow.
Another chance to see him. She grinned like an idiot. Why shouldn’t she grin? No one was watching. “Love to,” she said.
“You’re so easy,” Caleb teased.
“Well, I do like your wife a lot. And I’m willing to put up with you.”
“I was afraid you maybe had a date with Antonio.”
“Uh, no. Antonio and I have decided to…move on.”
Caleb was a salesman by nature and by trade, the top producer at BravoCorp, the family company. He usually knew just the right thing to say. This situation was no exception. He went directly to the assumption that it must have been Elena who had done the dumping. “Poor guy. I hope you let him down easy.”
“I think he’s going to survive the breakup,” she said wryly.
Gently, her brother asked, “And you?”
“Antonio? Never heard of him.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“So about tomorrow night. Will it just be the three of us?” To her brother, she was giving nothing away. Not at this point, anyway. She would trust Caleb with her life. But this attraction to Rogan, well, it was too new to go broadcasting it to the whole family.
Caleb told her what she’d been longing to hear. “Rogan will be here, too. He’s staying with us. You know, your dad’s potential buyer? He says he met you today.”
“Oh, yes. Rogan,” she replied in a purposely neutral tone. Did he say anything about me? she longed to ask. But she didn’t. “I liked him.”
“He liked you, too. He says you’re charming. And gorgeous.”
Her pulse sped up again and her heart seemed to expand inside her chest, a sensation that somehow contained equal parts pain and pleasure. “Those Irish. Always with the flattery.”
“Well, you are charming and gorgeous.”
“I love absolute loyalty in a brother.”
“I told him he was allowed to ask you out. But he’d better treat you right or he’d be dealing with me.”
She groaned. “Oh, God. Caleb, you didn’t.”
He laughed. “Okay, I didn’t. I only thought it.”
She let out a relieved breath. “All right,” she muttered grudgingly. “You get to live. What time tomorrow night?”
“Seven?”
“See you then.” She hung up in a very cool and collected manner.
And then she let out a whoop of excitement, jumped to her feet and set off at a wild run around the condo, from her office, to her bedroom, back down the hall, around the living room, dining room and kitchen area. She stopped at the counter by the sink, got down a glass, went to the water cooler and poured herself a drink, which she drained in one gulp, plunking the glass down hard when it was empty.
“Yes!” she shouted, loud and proud, not even caring that she was acting more like a preteen at a Jonas Brothers concert than a grown woman with a real job and a home of her own.
Rogan Murdoch thought she was charming and gorgeous.
And she would be seeing him tomorrow night—and Sunday, as well.

But first, there was lunch with her mother Saturday afternoon.
A year ago, Luz Cabrera had sold the beautiful Spanish-style house that Javier had built for the family. She’d moved into a smaller place near the office where she worked as a Realtor.
“What do I need with all this space?” she’d asked when she’d put the family home on the market. “It echoes of the life we knew, all of us, our family, together. That life is over. It’s time I moved on.”
They had lunch at the new house, out on the patio in the shade of a Mexican live oak. The house backed onto a golf course, so the view was of rolling greens and winding golf paths.
After the meal, they sat for a while, drinking iced tea, enjoying the welcome breeze.
Luz gathered her long dark hair off her neck and twisted it into a knot at the back of her head with a sigh. Elena studied her profile. Luz was fifty-two but looked younger. The last few years of heartache had aged her, though. The line of her jaw wasn’t as firm as it had been. Her hair was still dark and vibrant as ever. But then, she had a great hairdresser who was genius with color.
Luz said, “I talked to your father last night. He wanted to tell me that he plans to sell the business to Caleb’s friend.”
Elena reached across the table and touched her mother’s slim hand. “Does that upset you?”
Luz’s dark brows drew together as she considered the question. Then she shook her head. “It’s like the house, I think. Time to let it go.” She eased her hand from under Elena’s and clasped Elena’s fingers. A quick, warm squeeze. “I think there is peace between us, at last.”
“You and Dad?”
“Uh-huh. Did you know he went to counseling?”
That was a surprise. “No. He told you that?”
Luz nodded. “He said he had been wondering who he really was in all the trouble.”
Elena didn’t get that. “What do you mean, who he was?”
“A wronged husband—or a dangerous and violent man.”
Elena jumped to her dad’s defense. “Papi’s not dangerous. And he’s kind, a good man. You know he is.”
“M’hija.” Her mother’s voice was so gentle. “He hit me the day he found out. Only once, but hard enough to draw blood.”
“I remember.” At the time, she’d been so furious with her mother, she hadn’t really stopped to consider that her father had actually struck her mom. She hadn’t let herself admit how wrong that was. “He shouldn’t have done that,” she muttered, feeling a little ashamed of herself. And then she bit her lip and said no more. Anything else she said right then would probably be out of line.
Luz continued, “And he went after Davis with a gun. Remember that?”
Javier had fired that gun, too. The shot had grazed Aleta Bravo’s arm when she jumped in front of her husband to protect him.
Elena bit her lip again. “Aleta forgave Dad for that. She understood what he was going through.”
“But, m’hija, he needed to forgive himself. He needed to…understand himself better. He needed to face the wrongs he’d done, to make amends, so he could move on. We all need to do that when we hurt other people.”
Elena wasn’t sure what she felt at that moment. Anger, certainly. Yes, her father had done wrong. But her mom was no innocent in the whole thing.
Plus, Elena had become accustomed to the idea that her parents were finished. Yet now, the way her mother was talking, she was starting to wonder if there might be hope for their marriage, after all.
It had hurt so much to let hope go. She didn’t know if she could bear to start hoping again. It was very confusing.
She asked, “So has Dad made amends to you, then?”
“Yes. He apologized to me, for hitting me. And for the more distant past, for the way he drove me away when we were young, for the part he played all those years ago in our early troubles. I accepted his apology. And also he’s been to see Aleta, to make amends with her face-to-face. And with Davis, too.”
Elena saw red. “Dad owes nothing to that man.”
“Javier felt that he did. I agree with him. And your father told me that Davis had a few amends of his own to make, that the two of them had a good talk.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?”
“I’m telling you. Now. And if you ask your father about it, I know he will be relieved to have it out in the open with you.”
“And what about you, Mami?” Elena couldn’t hold the question back. “Don’t you need to make amends?”
Luz leaned back in the patio chair and rested her elbows on the chair arms, linking her hands across her lap. Her engagement diamond caught the light and glittered in a ray of sun that had slipped through the dappled shade of the oak that sheltered them. Luz had never taken off her rings.
“Yes,” Luz said. “I need to make amends. Very much so. And I have done that, to the best of my ability. I have apologized to your father, for my betrayal of our marriage and our love, and for my many lies. I have also done my best to make amends to Aleta Bravo. I have prayed and taken confession and done the penance Father Joseph assigned me. And now, I live every day honestly. I tell the truth and I am straightforward with those I love.” Luz spoke from the heart. Elena started to feel a little guilty for getting on her. But then Luz added, “And you’re angry with me. Mercy said you would be.”
“Mercy?” Fresh irritation made her voice sharp. “You already told her about all this?”
“Yes. She called this morning. We talked about it.”
“Suddenly I feel like the baby of the family again. Always the last to know about everything that happens.”
“Elena, por favor. I’ve told you both. And I only told your sister first because I talked to her before I talked to you.”
Shamed, Elena dropped her gaze. “Sorry. I guess I’m kind of acting like the baby of the family….”
“It’s okay,” her mother said. “I understand. None of this is easy. There is so much pain. It’s a natural thing to want to lash out when we are hurting.”
Elena lifted her head, met her mother’s loving eyes, and asked the big question. “So…does this mean you and Dad are considering getting back together?”
Slowly, Luz shook her head. “No. That part of our marriage is over. We live apart now and we are both accustomed to it. We both have a kind of peace now, of contentment.”
A moment ago, Elena had been angry at the thought that they might reunite. Now, she ached at the idea that they never would. “What kind of marriage is it, if you don’t even get to be together? Aleta and Davis worked it out, even though she moved out of their house and he had to crawl on his belly like the snake he is to get her back.”
“Davis Bravo is not a snake,” her mother said sternly.
Elena folded her arms across her chest, muttered, “Tell that to someone who cares,” and knew that she was acting like a baby again.
Her mother made a low, sympathetic sound. And then lectured Elena some more. “Davis has made mistakes, yes. Big ones. As we all have. And now, what we want, all of us, is peace in the family. Because we are all one family now, united by you, m’hija. And by Mercy and Luke and Lucas and the new baby that’s coming. United by your close bond with Caleb, your brother. Una familia. The Cabreras and the Bravos. You know that we are.”
Elena did know. But they—her sister, her mother, all of them—asked too much of her. “Do not tell me that I have to make peace with Davis Bravo. I get enough of that from Mercy.”
Her mother reached out again. She got hold of Elena’s right wrist and tugged. Elena gave in and relaxed a little, letting her arms fall away from her chest, allowing her mother to take her hand.
Luz said, “I am not telling you what to do. You have to make your own decisions about your relationship with Davis.”
Gently now, Elena pulled her hand free. She picked up her glass, sipped her tea. “There is no relationship between me and Davis.”
Luz sank back to her own chair again. She stared at the tall glass of tea in front of her, but didn’t reach for it. “I have told you what I needed to tell you. Why don’t we speak of something more pleasant now?”
More pleasant. Like Rogan Murdoch.
But no. She wasn’t ready to talk about him with anyone but her sister. And anyway, what was there to say? About that guy who’s buying dad’s company? He told Caleb he thought I was charming and gorgeous. I really wish he would ask me out.
Uh-uh. Either he would or he wouldn’t. If it ever went anywhere with him, then she would have something to say to her mother about it.
She put on a smile. “I’m going to Bravo Ridge for Easter dinner tomorrow. Mercy talked me into it. How about you?” Mercy always invited their mom to the Bravo family dinners—and she invited their dad, too, though Javier never went.
“I don’t think so,” Luz said. Her eyes were full of memories.
When Elena and Mercy were young, Easter was a big day for the family. They all went to mass and took communion together, early in the morning. And, then, at home, when Elena was small, she hunted Easter eggs like any other American child. But by the time she was eight or nine, egg hunts were for babies. By then, Mercy was part of the family, too.
And in those years, they would often drive down to Corpus Christi and spend the day at the beach. Always, they had wonderful food. Avocado soup. Roast lamb to celebrate the end of Lent. Agua de melón. And capirotada, Mexican bread pudding, for dessert.
They were all together then, a happy family. And that was what mattered, that was what made Easter such a special day.
“I wish you would come, Mom,” Elena said.
“Not this year.”
They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea, watching a golf cart roll along a winding trail until it disappeared in a stand of trees.
Her mother spoke again. “Forgiveness, m’hija. Sometimes I think it is the secret to a full life. We forgive and we let go. And then we can move on, we are ready to accept all the good that life still has to offer us, because we’ve made an open space in our hearts where bitterness and anger and our own secret guilts once lived.”
“Mom. I promise you. I have no secret guilts.”
“But anger and bitterness, eh? Maybe a little of those?”
“I thought we were moving on to more pleasant subjects, remember?”
“Ah, but to me forgiveness is pleasant. Better than pleasant. Forgiveness is the way to happiness.”

Anticipation.
There was no other word for what Rogan was feeling.
He’d been looking forward to seeing Elena again since he’d sat across from her at lunch the day before. It was not a feeling he should have allowed himself, given that he’d already decided he would not ask her out.
She arrived at seven. He and Caleb were in the kitchen with Irina, keeping her company while she finished getting the meal ready. The doorbell rang and Rogan had to hold himself in check against the powerful urge to jump from the counter stool and run to get it.
“That’s Elena.” Caleb left them and returned a minute later, laughing at something his sister had said, carrying a bag of chips and a covered bowl.
Elena was right behind him. She looked as beautiful as she had the day before. Maybe more so. She wore a white strapless sundress printed with vivid red, pink and purple flowers. Her hair was down, thick and shining. And the velvet skin of her shoulders made him ache to touch her.
He wouldn’t, of course. Not ever.
But hey. A man could dream.
“Hi,” she said, sending him a bright smile that made weird things happen in the pit of his stomach. “Hi, Elena.”
She set the bottle of wine she’d brought on the counter and went over to greet Irina with a quick kiss on the cheek. “What are we having?”
“Cedar plank salmon, sweet and sour rice and roasted asparagus,” Irina said in her throaty, slightly accented English.
“Yum. I brought white bean dip and olives for an appetizer.”
“Perfect,” Irina declared.
Elena took the bowl from Caleb and unwrapped it. It was the divided kind—olives on one side, dip on the other. Irina handed her a big basket for the chips.
For while, they all just stood around, chatting. Again, like yesterday at the restaurant, Rogan found it hard not to stare at Elena. That dimple at the corner of her mouth enchanted him. And he loved the husky sound of her laughter.
Eventually, they sat down to eat. Caleb got the salmon from out on the grill and opened the white wine Elena had brought. He poured for all but Irina, who was expecting their first baby in August. The food was great, the conversation easy.
Elena talked a little about her job teaching social studies to eighth graders, and Irina bragged about some deal Caleb had just made for BravoCorp, selling imported wine to a chain of high-priced restaurants.
Rogan talked about Murdoch Homes and his plans for expansion. Nobody mentioned Cabrera Construction, or the negotiations Rogan and Javier were deep into. That was fine with Rogan. It wasn’t a done deal. Not yet, anyway.
The evening went by much too quickly. They finished the meal and sipped the last of the wine. Irina served dessert and coffee outside on the patio, poolside.
At ten, Elena got up to go.
Too soon.
Magically, Rogan found himself on his feet when she rose from her chair. Which was fine. The polite thing to do. After that, he meant to tell her it was nice seeing her again and then to sit back down.
But then he heard himself saying, “I’ll walk you out….”
Caleb sent him a knowing look, which Rogan ignored. He turned and followed Elena inside. They went through the kitchen and on out to the front foyer.
It was a great place to be, following Elena. He watched the gentle swaying of her hips beneath the full skirt of her dress.
She turned to him at the door. He looked down into those bronze-colored eyes of hers and felt dazed and confused and way too eager.
To kiss her.
To stay up all night talking with her. He didn’t care in the least about what.
She said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m guessing—at the Bravo family ranch?”
He could get lost in the sound of her voice, in the tempting way her mouth moved when she talked.
“Rogan?”
He realized he’d been staring. And he hadn’t answered her question. “Right. Easter dinner. I’ll be there.”
A smile played at the corner of her red lips and that dimple teased him, appearing, then vanishing. Then appearing again. “If you buy my father’s business…” She let the sentence trail off.
He was lost in her eyes. And this close, the scent of her was driving him crazy. She smelled like a tropical garden. Jasmine and sandalwood. Gardenias. Orange blossoms.
Somehow, impossibly, he remembered to speak. “If I buy your dad’s business, then what?”
“Will you be moving to San Antonio?”
He longed to nod, to lie outright, to tell her he was, yes. Absolutely. If she was here, he wanted to be here, too.
Absurd. Pointless. Over the top. Completely unlike him.
“No,” he said. “I’ll stay at the home office. One of my top contractors is willing to make the move, though. His name’s Ellis Pierce. He’s a good man, with a wife and two little girls.”
“A wife and two little girls,” she echoed. Her eyes shimmered with sudden tears. “Just like my dad, way back when.”
“Right. I hadn’t realized.” And the last thing he’d meant to do was to make her cry. “Hey…”
She blinked, put on a tight smile and hitched her chin a fraction higher. “Hmm?”
“I’m sorry. What did I say?”
“It’s not you, Rogan. Really.” She glanced down, dark lashes like fans of silk against her cheeks. When she looked at him again, she had her tears under control. “Just sentimental, I guess. It’s hard to picture my dad retired. Next thing you know, he’ll be buying a Winnebago, heading for Florida or Arizona, where all the retired people go.”
He wanted to comfort her. It was like a physical need in him—to pull her close to him, to guide her shining head down to rest on his shoulder.
But of course, he did no such thing. “Would that be so bad, your dad moving to Florida?”
“No. Not at all. As long as he’s happy there—and what’s that they say? ‘The only constant in life is change.’”
“Ain’t that the truth—but at this point, I feel obliged to add that nothing’s settled yet. Your dad and I are still hammering out a deal.”
“Ah. I see. The good man with the wife and the two little girls will be taking over if you and my dad work things out.”
“Exactly. If…”
“You’re being way too cautious, I think. I have a really strong feeling it’s all going to work out.” She gazed up at him with open invitation in those golden-brown eyes, clearly talking about more than his negotiations with Cabrera Construction. It was a very tempting offer. He ached to take her up on it.
Talk about playing with fire. He was smarter than that—or so he kept trying to tell himself.
She said, “You mentioned that your brother was your business manager?”
“Cormac. Yes.” He braced a hand on the doorframe a few inches from her head, much too close to all that glorious gold-shot dark hair.
“Will Cormac be coming down here soon—I mean, if the negotiations continue?”
“Yes, he will. Next week.”
“And you’ll both stay here, at Caleb’s?”
“No, we have a suite reserved at the Hilton—the one on the River Walk? Caleb and Irina have been great, but I don’t want to take advantage of them.”
“They have plenty of room. I think they’d love to have you and Cormac stay with them.”
“That’s what they said, too. But no. The Hilton will be perfect.”
“So…the negotiations are moving right along, then?”
“Absolutely.”
She slanted him a knowing look. “But you still won’t admit that it’s a done deal.”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll look forward to meeting Cormac.” She smiled—and there it was, that tempting dimple teasing him again, right there beside her way-too-kissable mouth.
It was his turn to say something. Anything. It didn’t really matter what the words were, he realized. Only that he spoke. And she answered. “I like your dad.”
“He likes you.” Her gaze slid to his mouth—and then swiftly lifted again so she was looking in his eyes.
A kiss, he was thinking. Just one. How wrong could it be to steal one little kiss?
True, it couldn’t go anywhere between them. But not everything had to go somewhere. It was such a simple, perfect moment. A beautiful woman, a whispered good-night.
A kiss. One kiss…
He went for it, stepping in a little closer, lowering his head.
She lifted hers.
Their lips met. Electric and tender.
He wanted to linger, to take her by the shoulders, pull her body close to his, to wrap his arms good and tight around her, to taste her more deeply.
To take his sweet time about it.
But he didn’t. That wouldn’t be right.
He lifted his head, whispered her name. “Elena…” It tasted so good in his mouth, as good as her lips had felt pressed to his, as good as the scent of her, sultry and sweet.
“Good night, Rogan.” She slipped away from him, opened the door and went out.
He followed, as if pulled by invisible strings, and stood on the porch to watch her run down the walk away from him, the high heels of her red sandals tapping briskly with each step. At her car, she circled around to the driver’s door, pausing when she got there to give him a last wave.
He lifted his hand, returned the gesture.
And then she was ducking inside. The engine started up. The car pulled away from the curb and rolled off down the street.
Rogan stood there on the front step after she was gone, thinking that he shouldn’t have kissed her.
Wishing he had kissed her again.

Chapter Three
That night, Elena dreamed of Rogan. Of kissing Rogan. Of being with him in some hazy, romantic place where they talked about everything, all through the night.
But when she woke in the morning, she couldn’t remember a single thing they’d said. All she knew was that she would see him again that afternoon.
She could not wait.
Eager for the day to come, she threw back the covers and headed for the shower. An hour later, she met her mother at church and they attended early mass together, took communion side-by-side. After mass, Elena suggested they share Easter breakfast.
But Luz only hugged her and said, “Not today, m’hija. Have a beautiful holiday….”
Elena almost told her then. I plan to. Mami, I’ve met someone. Someone so special…
But she didn’t. She hugged Luz a second time and they parted on the church steps.
At home, she made coffee and stared out the kitchen window while it brewed, thinking about Rogan, trying to make the all-important decision as to what to wear to Bravo Ridge that afternoon. The knock came at the front door as she was filling a cup.
She went to answer and found her dad, wearing a white dress shirt and dark trousers, holding a bakery box. “I stopped in at El Mercado.”
Laughing with pleasure at the sight of him, she took his arm and pulled him inside. “Just in time. I have the coffee ready.”
She filled two cups, got out the milk and sugar and they sat at her kitchen table and ate cuernos de azúcar—Mexican croissants dusted with sugar—and lemon-filled empanadas.
“More coffee?” she asked.
At his nod, she got up and poured them both another cup and then carried the pot back to the warming ring.
When she returned to the table and slid into her seat, he reached out and laid his hand on her arm. “Elena…” All at once, his eyes were so serious, the set of his mouth way too grim.
A panicked tightness squeezed her throat. She gulped. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He patted her arm. “Please. Don’t be afraid. It’s nothing so terrible.” A sad laugh escaped him. He withdrew his hand. “Or at least, it’s nothing you don’t already know about.”
She remembered her mother’s refusal to have breakfast with her. Not today, m’hija, Luz had said, but nothing about why not. “Mom knows you’re here?”
He gave a slow nod. “She told me that she spoke with you, about the ways we are working to have peace in our family, at last.” He looked so uncomfortable. She ached for him.
“Dad, we don’t have to talk about this.”
“Ah. But I think we do. I want you to understand….” He seemed unsure how to continue.
She made a sound of encouragement. “What? Tell me.”
He sipped from his cup, set it down with a tired sigh. “Most of the time I was a good husband to your mother. But not always.”
“Yes. I know. It was bad, that you hit her.”
“It was worse than bad. It was not acceptable. She betrayed me. She lied to me. And that hurt me deeply. But striking her was no answer to my pain. She had never—ever—done any violence to me.”
Softly, she confessed, “Mami said you’ve been seeing a counselor.”
He nodded again. “To try to…understand myself a little better, to face all the ways I have lied to myself over the years. To look honestly into my own heart, to face the darkness there.”
An outraged sound escaped her and tears stung her eyes. “Darkness? What are you talking about? Why do you have to make yourself the bad guy in this? You’re not. No way.”
“Elena,” he said so gently. “No llores. Don’t cry…” He touched her arm again.
She grabbed for his hand, held it tight between both of hers. “Sorry.” She sniffed, blinked away the moisture. “So sorry…”
“There is nothing for you to be sorry about. Know that. Believe that.”
She nodded eagerly, clutched his hand tighter. “Yes. I do. I know it. But I seem to have…oh, I don’t know, a lot of heat on this whole subject, I guess you could say.”
“It’s not surprising. What happened has hurt you. I hurt you, by turning my back on you when I first learned that you weren’t my blood child.”
“That’s all in the past. We got through it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Javier insisted, “It does matter.”
“Papi. I understood. I really did.”
He said nothing for a moment. Then he sighed. “You are my daughter,” he said. “In all the ways that really matter.”
She knew it already. Still, it felt so good to hear him say it out loud. She bit her lip, swallowed back a fresh flood of tears and leaned across the distance between them to press a kiss on his lined cheek.
He touched the side of her face, a tender caress. “You still blame your mother.”
She sank back to her own chair, wanting to argue. But no. He was right.
He said, “You don’t know how I was, how angry and bitter, when she went to work for Davis Bravo. No, she shouldn’t have done what she did in betraying our marriage vows—and with my sworn, lifelong enemy, too. But I do see my part in it now. In some ways, time and growing older can be a man’s best friend. He learns to see more clearly. And I see that I drove her away. I was angry, so angry—at the Bravos, for taking our land, taking everything. For the death of my father, which I blamed on James Bravo, though it was my father who broke into the Bravo ranch house with murder on his mind. It’s not so hard now, to see that James Bravo had to protect himself and his family when he killed my father.
“And even more than for my father’s death, I was angry for…selfish reasons. For my idea of myself, as a man. I was angry because your mother and I had no babies, while my enemy had so many. I never hit your mother then, all those years ago. But I was cruel to her. I said hard things, things that hurt her. I called her barren. I said she was…no good, as a woman. I didn’t want to face that the problem might lie with me….”
Elena’s hand shook as she picked up her cup and took a slow sip. She knew he wasn’t finished.
He went on, “And then she took that job working for Davis. I left her then. And Davis was kind to her. And he had his own problems at the time, he and Aleta. They…took comfort in each other, your mother and Davis. And both of them regretted what they did as soon as they had done it. Your mother left that job with him and she and I reunited. I was the happiest man alive the day she told me that she was going to have a baby—have you. And we were happy. So happy. Together.”
Elena longed to argue that it wasn’t right. It was all based on a lie. But what good would that do? Her mother’s lie had been found out in time. In the end, they had all paid the price for it.
She turned away as she muttered bleakly, “Mom says you and Davis have made peace with each other.”
“We have, yes,” her father said. “We will never be friends. But I think we understand each other now. There can be true peace between us now. After all, we share two daughters….”
She took his meaning. Mercy was Davis’s daughter-in-law. And she, Elena, was his…
Not his daughter. No. She refused to even let herself think it. “Next, you’ll be telling me you want me to get to know him better.” Her voice was tinged with bitterness and she felt only slightly bad about that.
Her dad just smiled. “No. I will give you no advice when it comes to Davis Bravo.”
“Whew. Thank you.”
“But I will say that if you decide you want to meet with him, to talk with him, to find your way to some kind of closeness with him, I will be pleased for you.”
She gazed at him, disbelieving. “You’re not serious.”
“Ah, but I am. I told you, I see things much more clearly now. Don’t deny your blood father for my sake. There is no law that says you can’t have two fathers. The fact is you do have two fathers.” She opened her mouth to deny it, but he stopped her words with a look. “I’m not telling you what to do, m’hija. I’m only saying, if you hold back from knowing Davis, let it be by your own choice. Don’t lay the blame on me.” He picked up his coffee and took a thoughtful sip.
She was thinking about her mom again. “You know, it’s true what you said a few minutes ago. I love Mom. But I do blame her the most, I think, for everything that happened. She cheated and she lied. She lied every day for over twenty years.”
“M’hija.” With care, her father set down his cup. “Your mother knew me. She knew me so well. If she had told me the truth all those years ago, that she had been with Davis, that the baby—that you were Davis’s blood and not mine…my anger was so deep then. You can’t know how deep. I would have hurt her. And I would have gone after Davis. I might have killed him then, or someone close to him.”
“No!” She didn’t believe that.
He met her gaze steadily. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. Consider what did happen three years ago. I hit your mother when I learned the truth. And I got my pistol and I went after Davis.”
They were silent, the two of them, for what seemed like a long time. Somewhere outside, she heard a woman, calling, “Jenny! Jenny, where are you?” And a child answered, “Here, Mommy! Coming…”
Her father said, “So instead of the truth when you were born, we had happiness. As a family. We grew prosperous. And when the truth finally found us, well, at least I was older, a little bit wiser. A little more able to learn, slowly, from the hard lessons life has thrown at me—at all of us. Can you see that?”
“Yes. All right. I…I see what you mean.”
Her father almost smiled. “You’re wondering why I’ve said all this, wondering why I thought you needed to hear it.”
It had meant a lot—so very much—to hear him say out loud that she was his true daughter, to know that their bond was as strong as it had ever been. But as for the rest of it, well, “Maybe it was something you needed to tell me.”
He chuckled then. “Es verdad. I did need to tell you.” He was shaking his head. “I am so glad that I’m no longer young. It wasn’t easy to be young. So much passion. So much frustration. And confusion. It’s an exhausting time of life.”
She reached for him again, caught his hand. “Are you okay, Papi? I mean, really okay? You look so tired.”
He stood, pulled her close and wrapped her in a loving hug. “I am tired, yes. And yet, more myself. More…content than I have ever been.”
She moved back enough to meet his eyes, but remained in the circle of his strong arms. “Content.” She resisted the urge to make a sour face. “It’s what Mom said.”
“And we are content, your mother and I, both of us. Just as we are now. More than you know.”
What could she say to that? No, she didn’t get it. Didn’t get how anyone could be satisfied with mere contentment.
Was that because she was still young, as he said, still young and full of passion and confusion? Whatever. If he was happy with being “content,” well, who was she to argue with that?
Still, she couldn’t help teasing him, “So maybe you and Mom should get back together. She could retire, too. You could travel a little, get out and see the world, be ‘content’ together.”
He answered pretty much as her mother had. “I don’t think so, m’hija.”
She left it at that. In the end, it was her parents’ business, whether they lived apart or not. She might be young, but she knew that much.
He left a few minutes later. At the door, he hugged her one more time and told her how much he loved her.
And when he was gone, she felt really good—lighter, somehow. As if the things her father had said had lifted a weight off her shoulders, a weight she hadn’t even realized she was carrying. It occurred to her that this could end up being the best Easter ever, even if her mom and dad were apart.
At least there was peace between her parents now—what the psychologists always called “closure.” They each had their own personal “contentment.” Maybe that was as good as it got for them.
But not for her. She had her whole life ahead of her. Closure and contentment were the last things she wanted now.
She wanted excitement. Passion. Love, eventually.
And then everything that came with love: Commitment. Children. A family of her own.
But right now, what she wanted more than anything was to see Rogan Murdoch again.
And in a few hours, she would.

Rogan was beyond pissed at himself.
And he had been since about ten minutes after Elena drove away the night before, once he could no longer smell the tempting scent of her perfume. Once he’d returned to his senses.
What was the matter with him, to go leading her on like that? Walking her to the door. Flirting with her outright. Kissing her. He had more sense than that.
A man didn’t make moves on a woman like Elena without knowing exactly what kind of signal he was giving her.
It had been wrong, what he’d done. That one amazing, unforgettable kiss would have been more than enough to get her thinking they were going somewhere with each other—at the very least, on a first date.
He thought about that. About how maybe he should ask her out. And then he could explain his situation. He could tell her frankly that if she wanted anything more than his company or maybe a hot night of good sex—or two—he wasn’t her guy.
But considering his behavior last night, going out with her seemed like just begging for trouble. If he couldn’t keep his hands off her when they were at Caleb’s, with her adoring and protective big brother nearby, how was he going to exercise restraint if it were just the two of them?
No.
A date was not the answer.
Avoidance was. She was going to think he was a jerk, and he deserved that. Really, if you got right down to it, he was a jerk for sending her signals when he had no intention of following through on them.
Rogan went to the Bravo ranch determined to stay as far away from Elena Cabrera as he possibly could.

That plan lasted about an hour.
Until he saw her again. She walked in the front door of the big Bravo ranch house and he was a goner.
Was it possible she could be even more gorgeous that day than the night before? She wore a close-fitting white-dotted dark blue dress and a short-sleeved white jacket. She had her hair swept up, soft little curls escaping to kiss the back of her slim golden neck. He wished he was one of those little curls so he could brush against that neck.
It was hopeless. Really. No way could he resist her.
He hung back as she hugged her sister and exchanged greetings with Caleb, and then he moved in.
She turned and smiled at him, dimple flashing. Pure temptation. “Rogan.” She laughed and the sound was as fine as the scent of her. “It’s been so long.”
“Hours,” he said. It came out in a growl.
Ridiculous. Insane. Totally unacceptable.
He only wanted to be near her. Was that so damn wrong?
He knew it was.
Still, wrong or not, he stayed near her.
First, they wandered into the kitchen together and chatted with Mercy and Aleta and a couple of the other Bravo wives.
And an hour later, there was an egg hunt out on the back grounds for the kids. Only a few of them were the right age for it, but they seemed to have a ball. Their parents followed them around and everyone else got comfortable on patio furniture arranged around the pool and on the edges of the lawn.
Rogan and Elena found chairs side by side and watched the kids racing all around in the grass, under the oak trees and even along the pretty trails of the formal garden, doting parents following after them. Lucas—Mercy and Luke’s toddler—was especially cute. He was in too much of a hurry for his fat little legs and he kept falling over into the grass. But falling didn’t stop him. He would struggle upright again, grab his basket and lurch off in a different direction, laughing the whole time.
Besides Lucas, there was seven-year-old Kira, Matt and Corrine Bravo’s older girl, and three-year-old Ginny, Mary Bravo’s daughter from her first marriage.
As Rogan watched, Lucas took another header onto the grass. His big cousin Kira, who happened to be a few feet away, darted over to help him up.
“Lucas,” she scolded. “You have to be more careful.”
“Kira, no!” he commanded, batting her hands away. “I do it, me.”
“Oh, fine. You just go ahead.” Kira made a disgusted sound and whirled away, the full skirt of her pink Easter dress belling out around her.
“Kira is the greatest kid.” Elena leaned close to him, bringing a sweet hint of jasmine that made his head swim. “But also really bossy. Sometimes she reminds me of Mercy.”
He turned his head to meet those brandy-colored eyes. “Mercy was a bossy big sister?”
“Oh, yeah. She and her mom didn’t come to stay with us until she was eleven—did Caleb tell you my parents adopted her after her mom died?”
“He did mention that, as a matter of fact.”
A frown creased her smooth brow. “Really? What else did he mention?”
“He explained all the…complicated family relationships—in a very general way.”
She rolled those amazing eyes. “Well. If you know that Caleb’s my half brother, it’s not that hard to put it together, anyway, I guess.”
Settling back into her chair, she stared out across the lawn again, toward where Davis and Aleta sat together, holding hands, beaming like the proud grandparents they were. “They’ve been married for about thirty-five years.” Her voice was flat. “I’m twenty-five. One of them cheated. It wasn’t Aleta.”
He leaned closer to her again and she turned to meet his gaze. Her eyes were stormy now, her mouth set. “You’re angry,” he said. “Maybe we should change the subject.”
“I’m not angry. But suit yourself.”
He wanted to touch her, soothe her. But he kept his hands to himself. “Look. It’s okay. If talking about your relationship with Davis makes you uncomfortable, I get it. And I’m more than ready to move on.”
She sighed, a tender little sound, and the thick fans of her eyelashes swept down. After a long moment, she looked at him again, the hostility gone now. “Sorry. I don’t mind talking about it. I’m not happy with the whole situation, but everyone tells me I need to get over that.”
“But you’re not—over it, I mean.”
“No. I guess I’m not.” She didn’t elaborate.
He didn’t push. “And you were saying, about Mercy being bossy…?”
Instantly, her expression brightened. “Oh. Right. She started bossing me around the first day she moved in with us. A natural big sister. I resented her totally. And I also completely adored and idolized her.”
“Sounds like the perfect big sister to me.”
“She was. She is.” Her mouth was so soft. He remembered how good it had felt, kissing her. He wanted to do it again. Right there, on the back grounds of the Bravo ranch house, during the family egg hunt.
Somehow, he managed not to.
But it was a near thing.
Little Ginny, in a lavender dress with a big satin bow, had just found another egg. She bent at the waist, the wide hem of her dress lifting out behind her. Grabbing the egg, she straightened and held it high. “I got one, I got one!”
Rogan chuckled at the sight.
Elena was watching him. “You like kids?”
“I’d better. I just finished raising three of them.”
“Does this remind you of the egg hunts of your childhood?”
“Yeah. Mostly the later ones, when I was too big for hunting eggs and got to help my parents hide them. I felt so grown-up, I remember, watching my sister and brothers running around the backyard, letting out little squeals of triumph each time one of them found another egg.”
She chuckled. “I always wanted a big brother.” Her expression changed, grew thoughtful. “And now I have seven of them.” She tipped her chin up, cheerful and defiant at the same time. “So I guess being Davis Bravo’s love child isn’t all bad.”
He thought she looked a little bit lost, suddenly. And the need to touch her got the better of him. He reached for her hand, twined his fingers between her slim, soft ones. “Don’t be sad,” he whispered. “Think of Caleb. Can you imagine your life now without Caleb? I know he couldn’t get along without you.”
She almost smiled. “Yeah. It’s funny. We grew close really fast, right after we found out the truth. And you’re right. It’s like he’s always been my brother, somehow…”
The brother in question was sitting with Irina a few feet away. Were his ears burning? Maybe. When they both turned to look at him, Caleb stared back, one eyebrow lifted.
And Rogan was still holding Elena’s hand.
Seriously, he needed to get a grip. What about all those promises he’d made himself, the ones about how he would stay the hell away from her?
And yet here he was, his head bent close to hers, drinking in the scent of her, hanging on her every word, fingers woven with hers.
He should let go. But he didn’t.
A couple of minutes later, she did it for him. Gently, she eased her hand away, a slight smile curving her beautiful mouth, a blush on her cheeks.
The egg hunt wound down. Then Luke suggested a walk out to the stables. He raised horses on the ranch.
The men agreed to go with him, and the women, taking the children, headed for the kitchen to start pulling the meal together. Rogan gathered what little sanity remained to him and went with the men.
But later, at dinnertime, he caught up with Elena again. They sat together. He took great care not to touch her, not even in passing, not to lean too close. Somehow, he succeeded in getting through the meal without putting his hands on her.
After dinner, everyone helped clear the table. They took a break before dessert. Some wandered into the big living room, some of them chose the game room, which had a pool table and cabinets full of board games. Others went out in back again to sit by the pool or under the trees.
Elena stayed with Mercy, Mary Bravo and Irina in the kitchen. Rogan headed for the game room and played pool with Caleb for a while. Surprisingly, his friend said nothing about the way he’d been hanging all over Elena—sitting beside her at dinner and holding her hand during the egg hunt. Rogan was grateful for Caleb’s silence on the subject. Again, he promised himself to show restraint from now on.
That promise lasted about an hour and a half. Until they all returned to the formal dining room for coffee, coconut cake and homemade ice cream.
Elena had saved a chair for him. What could he do but sit beside her, get lost in her eyes, drown in her laughter, become drunk on the scent of her skin?
After dessert, the two of them went into the living room together. They sat close on one of the long sofas there. By the time everyone started making time-to-go-home noises, he had more or less accepted that he really needed to stop lying to himself, stop making himself promises he was not going to keep.
He liked Elena. A lot. And she clearly liked him. She was twenty-five years old. All grown-up. If he wanted to be with her and she wanted to be with him, well, why not? There was no need to make a big deal out of something so simple.

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