Chapter Thirteen

“I don’t usually dance.” Caleb pulled her closer to him. She smelled like flowers, light and airy. Laura’s hand fit perfectly in his as he guided her around the floor. “I just really wanted to touch you, and this is the only appropriate way to do so.”

“Well, I’m glad to be in your arms.” She said moved in even closer.

He never danced. Not here, not at the bar in town. But tonight, he wanted to. He wanted to be close to her.

“Did Don upset you?” He bent his head and whispered in her ear. He wanted to kiss her but held back.

“No.” She shook her head. “He just reminded me that I have things to talk about with you tonight.”

“How’s that?” Caleb pulled back so he could look into her eyes.

“I have known Don for a few years.”

“You have?” He was worried when she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He let go of her hand and tipped up her chin, so she could look at him.

“The restaurant he mentioned?” She raised her eyebrows. “Bella Vita?”

Caleb nodded, recalling Don talking about it earlier at the bar.

“That was my restaurant.”

Her restaurant? Like, she worked there or it belonged to her? People around them were noticing they had stopped moving to the music. He resumed dancing with her.

“Really? Well, what a small world.”

He decided to let it drop until later when they were alone and in his hotel room, a glass of wine in her hand. He imagined it would be a long story, and it hurt his gut to even imagine what she would be telling him. He urged himself not to think the worst of them; it was probably just an innocent acquaintance.

“Did you have any luck with your schmoozing?” she asked.

“I haven’t done much. I can’t seem to keep my eyes off you.” He laughed and gave her a hug as the song ended.

Ken, the man they’d had dinner with, was waiting at their table for them. “Caleb, think we could talk business for a bit?” he asked before they even sat down.

“Sure. You bet.”

Ken glanced at Laura.

“Honey, maybe you could go freshen up?”

“No problem.” She smiled and nodded, grabbed her bag, and left the hall.

When they were alone, Ken started right in. There wasn’t room for small talk in this discussion. Apparently, he had something on his mind.

“Coupla of guys were commenting on the quality of your herd. You planning to sell off some bulls come spring? I could start with the cow-calf pairs too.”

“I thought you were just a crop farmer.” Caleb sipped on his watered-down pop. “I didn’t know you had livestock.”

“Well, that Don Peterson, he speaks pretty highly of your herd.” Ken motioned to the waitress for another drink. “I’ve considered for a coupla years diversifying with livestock. Prices have been good on beef lately. Figure it’s a good time to jump in.”

“Sure,” Caleb agreed. Ken was right. It was a good time to get into beef, which was why he needed to add to his herd.

“Do you and your woman swing?” Ken’s voice had dropped low.

“Country swing?” Caleb nodded. “She likes to dance, not me so much.”

“No, I mean swing.” He lowered his voice even further and leaned forward. “Wife swap? My wife and I decided to try it when we go to conferences like this. Gives you something to look forward to when you see the same people year after year.”

“You’ve got to be kidding?” Caleb laughed, still struggling to wrap his mind around what Ken was saying. He had to be joking.

“It’s a hell of a lotta fun. You know these conferences can get kinda dull.” Ken shook his head. “Makes things more interesting in the bedroom, if you know what I mean.” He elbowed Caleb. “’Course, with Laura, I bet things are always interesting. She’s got those legs that go on forever.”

Caleb swallowed, thinking he needed to slug the bastard.

“Excuse me.” Caleb stood so fast the chair tipped sideways.

“Wait! I’m sorry.” Ken grabbed Caleb’s arm to hold him there. “I just thought maybe I would ask. You never know who’s into what. I’d still like to talk business. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Probably not.” Caleb looked over the ballroom and saw Laura talking to Phil’s wife. Was she propositioning Laura too? What a whacked-out world they lived in. Too bizarre and complicated for a country boy like him. Wife swap? He would never in a million years let another man touch Laura.

And that possessiveness spoke volumes.

 

* * *

 

“Do you know what she asked me? I thought she was joking!” Once they were clear of the ballroom, Laura burst out laughing. He’d come to her rescue just in time. “Kathleen asked if I would sleep with her husband. She wanted to watch him do it with me.” She stopped and leaned against the wall, just next to the elevator, sure she was as flushed as a tomato. “She told me he’d spoken of nothing else since dinner but making love to me…actually, swapping.” She giggled. “You’d get her after she was done watching. Can you believe it?”

“I can.”

“What?” she squealed, her eyes narrowing. “Caleb?”

“That’s how I’ve felt since I met you, Laura. You’ve turned me into mush.”

He leaned into her and kissed her, holding her lips until the elevator doors opened. An older couple stepped off the elevator.

Laura and Caleb stepped on, and as soon as the doors closed, Caleb pushed her up against the wall, opening her mouth with his tongue. One hand remained against the wall, supporting him, while the other one rested on her waist, holding her against him. They arrived at their floor too soon, and the car came to a stop. He pulled away, rubbing his thumb gently over her lips.

How did he do that? With a simple, gentle kiss he made her hot.

“Your room or mine?” He took her hand and strolled with her down the hall.

She looked at him, caught his wink, and smiled. “Mine. Then I can kick you out before it goes too far.”

“How far is that?” he whispered, flashing her a wolfish grin.

“I’ll let you know.”

She slipped the plastic key card in the slot, and when the door clicked, pulled down on the handle, and they went inside. Laura flipped on the light. The maid had straightened since Laura had last been in there.

“So, shall we talk first or do you want to fool around?” He pulled his tie free and let it hang around his neck.

She slipped off her heels and tossed her wrap and handbag on the chair by the window. He hung his suit coat over the same chair and sat on the edge of the bed. She remained standing, uncertain of what to do next.

“You’re beautiful, Laura.” He held out a hand and pulled her onto the bed next to him. “’Course you don’t need me to tell you that.”

“It makes me feel good though, so don’t stop, okay?” She leaned forward and kissed him. Her hands cupped his face and held him tightly. She meant it to be gentle, and it was. She pulled away and stared at him. “I like you a whole lot, Caleb. I think you’re awfully handsome.” She joined her lips with his again before she pulled away and crossed her arms at her chest.

“Shall we play our question game again?” Caleb asked.

Could he sense her nervousness? It was easy and fun to be bold and clever when they could only go so far. A hotel room with a big bed was a different story. Was he as unsure of this as she was?

“I think you probably have more for me tonight, so maybe I’ll just sit in the hot seat?”

“Okay.” He bent over and untied his shoes and pulled them off.

It was oddly arousing and intimate to see the man in his stocking feet. He took off his tie completely, threw it on their heap of clothing, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, showing the light, dusting of hair she’d been hoping to find. He stood up and went to the head of the bed to fluff up the pillows. He sat back down and stretched out his legs in front of him.

“Getting comfy, are you?” Laura chuckled. “That’s the side I sleep on.”

“Me, too. I guess we’ll have to do rock, paper, scissors for it.”

“How about a thumb-wrestling match.” She giggled, making a fist and wiggling her thumb at him.

“I’d cream you.” He laughed and patted the area next to him on the bed.

“Probably.” She sighed dramatically. “Okay, I know there are two things for sure you want to know about. What I am other than a cook.” She counted on her fingers. “And why I know Don.”

“Right on both counts.” He nodded. “I’ve got more, but that will be a good start.”

“Which first?”

“Education.”

“Okay.” She cozied up next to him, crossing her legs in front of her, admiring her fresh pedicure through her pantyhose. “That’s easy. I went to Catholic schools from kindergarten through high school. I got a full ride to Notre Dame, where I majored in finance and business econ.” She wiggled her feet, surprised how much shorter her legs were than his. “The summer after I graduated, I went to the Culinary Institute in New York.” She laughed. “I feel like I’m in a job interview.”

“Don’t, Laura. It’s just the way you spoke at dinner, I knew there was more to your talents than what you can do in the kitchen. I noticed that too, when you asked about inventory and ordering. Most cooks would only care if they had ingredients, not how much they cost or even how they got them to the ranch.”

“Most of my cooking ability came down from my great grandma—Nonna Vita. The institute gave me the polish I could get only at a cooking school. That fall, I started my MBA at Northwestern. The next fall, I opened Bella Vita.” She shrugged. “I worked my tail off, never missed a night at the restaurant until my pop died.”

“When was that?”

His face was hard to read. Laura was putting all her cards on the table for this man, another person who would hold power over her head.

“A few months ago.”

She was glad he let that hang for the moment. She figured she’d be forced to go into greater detail in the near future.

“So, you chucked all that for Nebraska?” He shook his head and pulled her against him. “Not sure that was your best decision. I think, in your grief, you ran away.”

“There’s more to the story, I’m afraid.” She twisted herself, so she was no longer lying next to him but instead sat facing him. “That’s where Don comes in.”

“He met you at your restaurant.” He rested his hand on her thigh. “You told me. But what I can’t figure out is why you didn’t act like you knew him when we were sitting at the bar together? Did you have a relationship with him?”

“Heavens, no!” she barked. “He’s older than my dad was. At least, I think so.” She sat up straighter and arranged her dress, so she could cross her legs without flashing her panties. She took his hands. “This may sound off-the-wall, but if you don’t believe me, Don can back up the story.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Pop was murdered.” She started slowly, thinking through her choice of words as she went. “For all my life, or at least as long as I can remember, Pop was a runner for a man named Ernesto Garbaldo, who, for all intents and purposes, ran a gangster family in Chicago. He isn’t the biggest gun, by any means, but he’s still damn influential.”

“And that’s who murdered him? You know that?”

“Yes, we know that.” She swallowed, remembering the scene outside the courthouse, the pain that seared her flesh as the small bullet went into her back and out through her side. “We don’t know which man actually pulled the trigger.” She shook her head. “That, probably no one will ever know. But the problem is Pop, my sister, my mother, and I all ratted out Ernesto just days before Pop was murdered. The FBI told us we needed to make ourselves scarce, but Pop didn’t disappear fast enough.”

She met Caleb’s eyes, taken aback by the shock on his face. “They found the job at the Morning Glory, had me contact your brother, who sort of interviewed me, and the next thing I knew, I was on a plane headed for Omaha.”

“Wow, that’s quite the story.”

“It’s all true.” Laura nodded for emphasis. “Pop made the newspapers. I’ve got a gunshot wound in my back if you want to see.”

“They shot you too?” He pulled away, anger etched on his face.

“I got in the way. I was with Pop. We even had agents all around us, protecting us, and they still got us.”

“This is incredible, Laura.”

“The story of my life.” She ran her hands along her naked arms, feeling a chill. “I just wish it were fiction.”

“Are you cold?” He reached out to touch her arm.

“I might get changed, if that’s okay with you.” She shimmied off the bed. “You didn’t want to go dance anymore, did you?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Go ahead and change. Maybe you want me to leave?”

“No!” She rushed to answer him. “Unless you want to, now you’ve heard my tale?”

He shook his head.

“Maybe you want me to leave the ranch?” She hoped she knew the answer. “As long as Don is trustworthy, I’m not in any danger out there—and neither is your family.”

“He is. I don’t want you to leave. Just understand this is a lot for me to absorb.”

“I know. It was for me, too.”

 

* * *

 

Damn, what a surprise. Caleb shook his head. How the hell was he supposed to react to all this? He believed every word she said, knew she spoke the truth, but who would have thought she was involved in such a mess? He watched her grab clothes from her suitcase and walk into the bathroom to change.

He leaned his head back on the wooden headboard and rested a hand on his forehead. He still wanted her; if anything, his protective nature was coming out. He could trust Don, but to be sure, Caleb would have a discussion with his old business associate the next day.

“What’s your real name?” he asked as soon as she walked out of the bathroom. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a low-cut sweater that hugged her curves. Her hair was free from the fancy hairdo she’d worn for dinner and dancing. She looked real…and incredibly sexy.

“I don’t look like a Laura Marshall?” She hung her dress on a hanger and hooked it on the clothes rack near the door before crawling back onto the bed.

“No, you look too Italian to be a Marshall.”

“I wonder what nationality Marshall is? English, maybe? I probably should have studied that a little more.” She laughed. “The name I was given at birth was Sabrina Rose Marconi. Everyone called me Bre.”

“That suits you better,” he said, holding her next to him. “Anything else I need to know? Still a virgin?”

“Not quite,” she admitted with a chuckle. “Catholic girls might start too late, to quote that song, but I did make a couple of bad choices along the way.”

“Well, there are a few in my past too.” He reached for her. “I know any other man wouldn’t be able to hold back with you in bed, but I want our first time to be special. Should I call you Bre?”

“Better stick to Laura, and I think we’re okay with the waiting too. I wouldn’t mind cuddling with you in front of the television though. How about it?”

“Come here, then.” He took the remote from the bedside table and turned on the television. He raised his arm and pulled her underneath.

Her body curved next to his, and she rested her head back on his shoulder. They didn’t know each other very well, but he felt a connection to her. He reminded himself of his vow not to get too entangled with a woman—that they bring heartache—but he wasn’t going to let the thought ruin the moment. There was a long way between what they were sharing and a lifetime commitment.

“Why don’t you drink?” she asked quietly when a commercial came on.

He’d chosen the History Channel, which was showing a Halloween special about haunted houses in the West. He’d always been fascinated by such things. Before the commercial, they’d featured a haunted saloon outside of Denver.

“Personal choice.” He was purposely vague. She may have opened up to him, but he wasn’t quite ready to let go of all his secrets yet.

“I was surprised when you ordered wine for me at the bar.”

“Don’t most women like wine?”

“Yes, I think so; at least, at the restaurant they seemed to. I’m not much of a drinker though.” She reached across his lap and grabbed his hand. “I had a few lousy years in college when I had a real problem with the stuff. I avoid it most of the time now.”

“What got you to quit?” He met her gaze with a steady look.

“I was flunking one of the core business classes. I had to make up a test on a Friday morning, so I studied at the library on a Thursday instead of going to the frat house I’d been hanging out at, and I know it sounds weird, but I finally got it. I knew if I didn’t clean up, I would end up a runner for the mob. Or worse.”

“You knew what your folks did wasn’t right? I mean, even though you grew up in it, you knew it was wrong?”

She nodded. “I’ve lived a really clean life since then. I haven’t had sex since then either. So I was pretty glad when you asked to wait.” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. You’re my boss, and I hardly even know you!”

“I might be your boss, but I think we know it’s a hell of a lot more than that.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead, pulling her close. “Thank you for sharing. For trusting me with your secrets.”

She pulled back a bit and turned back to the television. He could tell she was uncomfortable by what she’d shared. He wished he had the guts to tell her his story, but he wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t ready to open himself up that far.

“We’re missing the popcorn,” she told him with a chuckle. “Need popcorn for a good ghost story.”

 

* * *

 

Pounding woke Laura up. The room was dark, and for a minute, she thought she was dreaming. Then she realized she was still at the hotel, and someone was banging on her door. She felt the bed, trying to remember when Caleb left her. He was gone, and her heart raced, scared who would be at the door.

Had Ernesto found her? Did Don lie about knowing him? She’d been so damn careful and now….

“Laura?”

She felt for the light on the bedside table and turned it on as she heard Caleb calling to her. It was three in the morning. What the hell was going on?

She sighed and crawled from the bed, the adrenaline from the sudden fear subsiding. She wasn’t in danger. Still in her jeans and sweater, she went to the door.

“Coming.” She looked through the peephole.

Caleb stood in the corridor wearing a T-shirt and sweats. She rushed to open the door and welcomed him inside.

“What happened? Why are you all wet?” she asked.

She looked down the hallway. Several other people were milling about.

“The sprinklers must have malfunctioned. I came to see if yours were going off too.” He wheeled in his bag and hung his suits in the closet.

She shut the door and looked around. “I guess not.” She looked down at his case. “Did your suitcase get all wet? Do you have something to change into?”

“I had it closed and it’s waterproof, so I think everything is safe.”

“Well, change already; you’ll catch a cold.” She waved him toward the bathroom. “You can sleep here tonight, and we’ll sort it out in a few hours.”

She crawled back into bed and snuggled into the small spot she’d already warmed. He joined her a few minutes later, hard and warm as he spooned her body. “Thanks for letting me share your bed.”

His breath was warm at her ear, and she held his hand wrapped at her waist.

“You’re welcome. Just don’t hog the covers.”

 

* * *

 

“They did what?” Laura stepped out of the bathroom, wearing her conservative, terrycloth robe, which concealed the racy undergarments Phyllis had convinced Laura to buy at the mall the day before. A thong, of all things, and an amazing lacy bra. The tile floor was cold on her bare feet, and her hair was still dripping water droplets from the shower.

“Jasper said in his voicemail that they were flying out of Casper early this morning for Vegas.” He glanced at his watch. “They’re probably in Salt Lake City already. They decided to get married! They’ll be back tomorrow morning before we leave for home. They plan to ride back to the ranch with us.”

“Wow.” She holding her toothpaste-loaded toothbrush, she turned back to the bathroom sink. She looked in the mirror and proceeded to follow her morning ritual. It was odd though, knowing he was watching. Not so much the makeup-free face—he’d seen that every morning before she’d gone for a run. More the intimate, standing-in-a-robe, brushing-the-teeth-barefoot thing.

“Help yourself to the shower,” she said. “I even left you a towel.”

She jumped when he lightly pinched her side on his way past.

Phyllis was getting married this morning. How strange to hop on a plane, fly to Vegas, and get hitched at some flowery, cheesy wedding chapel. But people did it all the time. She looked in the mirror, wiped the toothpaste off her cheek, and left the small bathroom. It was pretty romantic really. She hoped it worked out for them.

The water was running in the tub; she could hear him in the shower. Laura figured it was safe to get dressed. She pulled out one of the new outfits she’d bought the day before at the mall.

The thought of him naked in the shower was playing havoc with her senses. Scenes from an old daytime soap opera she used to watch in college filtered through her head, and she remembered how the heroine seduced her man by climbing in behind him, soaping his wet back, his bottom, his…. She sighed. Would she ever have the guts to do such a thing?

Caleb had taken her news in stride, hadn’t even seemed the least bit skeptical. Maybe it wasn’t an issue, like Laura had imagined it would be. First Don and now Caleb; two levelheaded men found the situation odd but accepted it.

When the shower turned off, she panicked and grabbed her bag. He would be coming out, probably wearing a little towel the hotel wrongly assumed would be large enough to wrap around the waist of a normal-sized person. She would run downstairs and grab coffee, giving him some privacy to dress.

Before she could leave, he cracked open the bathroom door and called out, “Are you decent?”

She chuckled. “Are you?”

“I’ve covered my privates.” He walked into the main room. “The towel doesn’t leave much room for anything else.”

“Wow.” Looking better than any half-naked fireman she’d seen on the calendars her sister hung up each year in their shared bathroom growing up, Caleb stood in front of her with wet, mussed hair and a towel that covered his waist and little else. His chest, from neck to the waist, was covered in curly brown hair. Laura stared in surprise. She hadn’t imagined he’d have so much hair. She couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Talk about beautiful.” She sighed.

“Stop staring,” he commanded with a laugh. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He walked to his suitcase, the towel parting, and she could see the uppermost part of his thigh. He was amazing, all muscle. Time to leave.

“I…um…I’ll go get some coffee.” The door stuck as she tried to flee, but she got it open and hurried out of the room.

He was covered, just not as much as she would have liked. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She would have liked him to be wearing less if she was honest with herself.

The soap opera heroine would have had fun with that. “Beautiful man in a skimpy towel—take one.” Of course, on the soap opera, they would still be in the shower.

She laughed at herself as she walked down the hallway, squishing on the wet carpet. The whole length of the hallway was wet, all the way to the elevator. It wasn’t standing water; the carpet had sucked it up like a sponge. A shame, really. It was a nice hotel.

She took the stairs to the main level, where the breakfast room was located.

Inside, Don was sitting at a table, reading one of the national papers. She filled two cups of coffee, grabbed two small creamers and some sugar, and walked back to say hello to him.

“How are you this morning?”

“Fine, fine,” he said, standing.

“Sit, please.” She smiled. “I was just getting coffee and going back up. I thought you were staying at a different hotel.”

“I am, but I was supposed to meet someone this morning for business talk.” He folded his paper and set it aside. “You might be interested in one of the afternoon presentations today.”

“Me? Really?” She frowned. “What’s the topic?”

“It’s a three-hour seminar on the basics of organics. Beef, vegetables. I’ve always admired that actor’s line of organic food.” Don leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “He does sauces and packaged food. I was thinking there was a pretty strong market for it, too, especially in the metropolitan areas with people who are more health-conscious. The millennial generation. With your recipes and a good, organic-food base, you could make a killing in the market. The biggest organic food store is merging with the largest online retailer. I expect the market to become huge.”

“You mean we could make a killing, don’t you?” She chuckled. “I thought about doing a cookbook with my great grandma’s recipes but never considered pre-packaged stuff. I did a lot of carry-out and premade meals at the restaurant.”

“Well, if you’re interested, I’ll be there. Maybe we could cook up something together?”

“Clever pun, Don.” She rolled her eyes and patted his shoulder.

“I love your cooking. That’s really an understatement.” He laughed and leaned back on his chair. “Organics is a food concept I want to explore. I have connections to some of the larger food processors. Ones in Omaha, even. Maybe Caleb would consider growing some of the veggies?” He shrugged. “It’s worth a pitch to them.”

She paused, considering, and then nodded.

“I’ll see you after lunch,” she said and walked out.

What a boon she’d just been handed! Live in the middle of nowhere, develop tasty, ready-made food, and then construct a cookbook. Using organics. She had used organics at her restaurant on a limited basis. The cost was prohibitive on the meats, but her tomatoes were all hydroponically raised.

Things were looking better by the minute.