A Bravo's Honour

Her dark eyes widened. Another step, close enough that he could smell her. She smelled good. Fresh. Like a meadow of wildflowers in early morning. With a hint of something sweetly spicy, something exotic and tempting.

“I, um…” She licked those lips of hers, quickly drawing her pink tongue back inside. He wanted to sink his teeth into the smooth brown flesh of her throat, to suck that tongue of hers deep into his mouth. To rip off that snug T-shirt, shove down those faded jeans. “Call the office,” she said. “If there’s a problem.”

“I’ll do that.” He held her gaze and his voice went lower, rougher. “I remember you. When you first came to stay with the Cabreras. I remember those eyes of yours. Black. True black.”

Those eyes tracked—his mouth to his eyes. And back again. “She had cancer, my mother.”

“I heard that. It was hard for you, huh?”

“She died a year after we came to stay with Luz and Javier. They made her final months as good as they could have been. They loved her. And me. And I’m their daughter now, their true daughter. In my heart. And by law.”

He stepped closer. Close enough he could have reached out and grabbed her. But he didn’t.

She held her ground. “I owe them everything.”

Another step. He was crowding her. There was no excuse for such behavior. But he did it any way, stepping sideways, boxing her in. Too late, she moved to put distance between them. Since he blocked the exit, she backed up. Three steps and she could go no farther. The section of wall between Candyman’s stall and the next one over stopped her. She watched him, her eyes locked on his, as he closed the distance between them.

“Luke.”

“What?”

She gazed up at him, eyes deep and dark enough for drowning, and she whispered, “We shouldn’t…”

Before he took her mouth, he whispered back, “I know.”

Chapter Two

She sighed when his lips touched hers. It was the sweetest, sexiest sound. A sound of surrender. A sound that told him everything he needed to know.

The black bag fell to the straw at their feet.

He wrapped his fingers around the bars of two stalls—Candyman’s and the empty stall next to it. He did that to keep from grabbing her, to keep from pulling her down to the straw-strewn dirt floor with him, to control himself.

At least a little.

He held those bars hard and tight as he kissed her, nuzzling those soft, sweet lips of hers, urging her to open and then sliding his tongue inside the instant her lips parted.

She tasted so good. He drank in her long, hungry sigh, then lifted his head from hers just long enough to slant the kiss the other way. That time, she let him inside without his even having to press his tongue against her lips. She parted for him and he swept those silky, wet inner surfaces.

Her low moan of need and desire had him pressing his hips to her, rubbing his aching hardness against her flat belly.

Too soon, with a low cry, she turned her head away. “No,” she whispered. “No…” Her breath came hot and heavy.

So did his.

Her hair tangled against the stall bars, and her dark lashes were down, silky fans against her smooth cheeks, those eyes closed to him. And she kept her head turned hard away. Luke’s mind got the message, though his body didn’t like it. With slow care, he peeled his hands from around the bars and stepped back from her.

Only then did she turn her head to him and open her eyes. Her lips were redder even than before, plundered by his kiss. And her eyes had storm clouds in them. With stunning grace, she dipped to her knees and grasped the handle of her vet’s bag. She rose again with the same elegance. Luke stepped to the side, clearing her way out of the stable.

“That never happened,” she said flatly. And then she turned and left him there.

Luke watched her go, aching to follow, to grab her and kiss her again.

But he knew she was right. It was asking for trouble to even consider getting something going with a Cabrera. And he wasn’t considering it. He would be steering clear of the tempting Mercy from now on.

“He did not.” Elena’s big brown eyes were shining.

“Oh, yeah. He did.”

“Did you…like it?”

“Chica, don’t ask me that.” It was Thursday night, less than twenty-four hours after Mercy had stitched up Luke Bravo’s gray stallion. Elena was spending the night at Mercy’s little South Side house. They sat on Mercy’s bed, sharing secrets the way they always did, with Mercy’s dog, Orlando, snoozing on his rug in the corner. Mercy was sitting cross-legged behind her sister, brushing Elena’s long, brown hair. So beautiful, her sister’s hair. Softly curling, crackling with life, silky to the touch and shot with strands of red and gold. “I would love to have your hair, Elena…”

Elena reached back and stilled Mercy’s hand. “Who cares about my hair? I want to know if Luke Bravo’s a good kisser.”

Mercy freed her hand from Elena’s grip and continued brushing. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me. I mean it.”

Mercy couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Papi would kill me.”

“Tell me.” Elena scooted out from under Mercy’s touch and turned to face her.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Elena sucked in a breath of pure sisterly outrage. “What? Of course you should have mentioned it. You should tell me everything. Same as I tell you.”

“I told him no. When I left, I said that it never happened.”

Elena lowered her head and glanced up from under her lashes with a slow grin. “But it did. And you liked it.”

Mercy set the brush on the nightstand. “Yeah. I liked it. I liked it a lot. Way too much. And that’s why it can’t ever happen again.”

Elena scowled. “That’s stupid. You like him. I can see it in your eyes. In the way your face goes all soft when you talk about him.”

“He’s a Bravo. His grandfather stole our land, tore down our home and killed our grandfather. Then he murdered our uncle. And his father caused our father to leave our mother.”

“James Bravo didn’t steal our land. His horse beat grandfather’s horse in a race. James Bravo bet money. And grandfather bet La Joya because he wanted that money and the rancho was all he had by then. And then grandfather died on a Bravo oil rig, working to support his family, since he’d foolishly gambled his home away.”

Mercy had her mouth hanging open by then. “What’s the matter with you? Now you’re defending the Bravos?”

“It’s a stupid feud. We both know it. James Bravo killed Uncle Emilio in self-defense.”

“That’s what the Bravos said. And the Anglo sheriff went along with his lies…”

“And Papi shouldn’t have been such a jerk when Mami took that job with the Bravo company.”

“How can you know that, Elena? You weren’t even born then.”