The Heart of a Stranger

She turned and fussed with the collar on her shirt. She was dressed like a cowgirl, with varying shades of denim hugging her curvaceous body. “I don’t have a husband. He died before I could divorce him.”

He thought that was an odd thing for her to say, but he was glad she wasn’t married. He didn’t want her cuddling up to someone else at night.

He had a right to covet his dream.

“I should let you sleep. Besides, I still have to eat. And get my daughters up. And go to work.”

“When will I see you again?” he asked, worried that she’d disappear, that he’d truly created her in his mind.

“Soon,” she said, reaching for the tray.

He closed his eyes for what seemed like a second, but when he opened them, the room was empty.

Juan Guapo’s angel was already gone.

Three days went by, but Lourdes hadn’t seen much of Juan. She’d deliberately kept her distance. He was Cáco’s patient, after all. And Lourdes was busy with the ranch. A busy bee, trying to keep her mind off a man who might be married.

She gazed at the horses in pasture. Her herd was small, but striking, a glorious sea of color, patches of chestnut, bay and black splashed against white. The paint horse was an eye-catching champion, praised in cultures all over the world.

Their image appeared in cave drawings in south-central Europe and on tombs in ancient Egypt.

Lourdes revered them with all her heart.

The way she revered the silver cross Juan wore.

Damn it. She ran her hands through her breeze-ravaged hair. Why did her thoughts always turn to him?

Because she was a foolish woman behaving like a schoolgirl.

She checked her watch and realized she was stalling, dragging her feet to go home for lunch.

Cursing her growling stomach, she gave up the fight. Her temporary ranch hand had headed into town to meet his wife at the diner.

And Juan—

Would disappear from her life soon enough, she acknowledged as she drove to her destination with the windows down and the radio turned up.

Two songs later, Lourdes entered the house and headed for the kitchen. After opening the refrigerator, she removed the covered containers Cáco had left for her. Beneath the lids, she found a ham and cheese sandwich, a pasta salad and an assortment of diced fruit.

Where was Cáco? Lourdes glanced at the microwave clock. Ironing clothes in the laundry room, most likely. Finishing her chores so she could watch the two o’clock soap opera that entertained her for an hour each day.

Lourdes made up a plate and went to the dining room, then stopped when she saw Juan sitting at the table with Amy, Nina and Paige.

The twins occupied the chairs on either side of Juan, and Amy had taken up residence across from them.

The teenager drew on a sophisticated sketchpad while the other three made haphazard art with crayons and coloring books.

He was coloring with her daughters.

Dressed in the jeans Cáco must have laundered for him, with no shirt and no shoes, he looked like a tenderhearted renegade. He’d shaved, showered and combed his damp hair away from his face. Lourdes knew Cáco had purchased a few simple toiletries for him at the market, adding an extra toothbrush, disposables razors and deodorant to the grocery list. He’d probably washed his hair with the no-more-tears baby shampoo already in the bathroom. But she supposed that was safer on his bruise-ringed eyes.

Nina wiggled in her chair, turned and saw Lourdes. “Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, baby.”

“We’re coloring.”

“So I see.”

Paige wiggled a little, too. Then grinned at Lourdes.

Her girls looked happy. Thrilled to have a big, brawny man beside them.

Amy spared a friendly glance, and Juan worked his lips into a lopsided smile. The cut had begun to heal, the swelling barely noticeable.

Will you kiss me?

Because Lourdes stood in the middle of the room with a plate of food, she moved forward and took a chair.

“Look, Mama.” Nina pushed a coloring book toward her. “Juan made the lady’s hair green.”

He defended himself with his crooked smile. “You told me to,” he said to the child. “And you, you little rascal.” He turned to the other twin. “You told me to color her hands purple and her feet pink.”

Paige didn’t deny his claim. Instead she looked up at him with big doe eyes.

Her quiet daughter had already developed a crush on him, Lourdes realized. Paige, the observer, was smitten.

That made two of them. Only Paige’s crush didn’t seem nearly as consuming as the one Lourdes battled. But how could it? Paige was only four years old, with an attention span that flitted like a butterfly.

“That’s quite a picture,” Lourdes told the three amigos who’d created it. “A true masterpiece. A collaboration worth framing.”

“We think so.” Juan took the coloring book back. And for a moment their eyes met and held.

“I’m surprised to see you up and about,” she said to him.

“Staying in bed all the time was making me stir-crazy. Besides, I’m feeling better. I’m not seeing double anymore.” He shifted to look at each twin. “Then again…”

The girls giggled, and Lourdes admired his easy manner with her kids.

Maybe he had a few little ones of his own.

And a loyal wife who missed him terribly.

Defending herself, she took a bite of her sandwich. So she was attracted to him? So what? Even if he were single, she wouldn’t get involved with him. Lourdes didn’t do affairs.

She wouldn’t be doing Juan.

Amy, who’d been silent up until now, closed her sketchbook and rose. “I’m going to get some pudding and watch TV.”