The Heart of a Stranger Read online

  He merely nodded. Then followed her out the door and into the sweltering heat.

  Four

  The tour ended at the stud barn. It was readily available to the public, but located upwind of the other horses and not close enough to the breeding operation that the stallions could hear and see what was happening.

  “Painted Spirit was established in the seventies,” Lourdes said. “The house was already here, but my grandfather built the ranch.”

  Painted Spirit was a good name for the place, Juan thought. The American Paint Horse possessed beauty and spirit. Lourdes had two stallions, both of superior quality and champion bloodlines.

  The studs were able to see each other, but Juan knew they were easier to handle when exposed to the visual company of other horses. Their stalls were large, with spacious runs. A high fence with a wide alleyway between paddocks kept the studs from fighting.

  Juan was partial to Raven Wing, a black-and-white stallion that stood strong and muscular, with perfect legs, great feet and plenty of bone.

  “He’s a superb mover,” Lourdes remarked. “Light and responsive under the saddle.”

  “He is exceptional.”

  “Thank you.” She gave a proud smile. “I think so, too.”

  “He’s an overo, right?” Juan asked, referring to horse’s color pattern.

  She nodded. “When Cáco first came to the ranch, my grandfather owned a paint-style mustang. It was a Medicine Hat. That’s a nearly all-white overo with a dark, bonnetlike marking over the head and ears and an equally dark shield over the chest.”

  “Why was that important to Cáco?”

  “It’s extremely important because the Medicine Hat is revered in her culture. Only the most proven braves were allowed to ride them, and a Comanche who rode a Medicine Hat into battle considered himself invincible.”

  “You have an interesting family, Lourdes.”

  “You probably do, too.”

  Juan shrugged. He didn’t want to think about who his family might be. The idea made him edgy, giving him a dose of anxiety he couldn’t explain.

  Intent on ridding himself of the tension, he gazed at Lourdes, wishing he could lean into her again and inhale the soft, floral scent of her perfume.

  She smoothed her unbound hair, drawing it away from her face, and a warm, sensual swirl pooled low in his belly.

  “Tell me about the breeding procedure,” he said suddenly.

  Taken aback, she gazed at him for a second. “Are you asking me to describe a stallion covering a mare?”

  He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and tried for a casual stance, a pose that belied this insane game he was playing. This crazy need he couldn’t seem to stop.

  Was it wrong to want her to feed his libido? To drop some tidbits his way? “Do you mind?” he asked, keeping his voice as professional as he could. “I’d like to learn about the farm.”

  She frowned a little. “You said you spent time at a breeding facility. Surely you’re aware of the mating process.”

  He knew what was what and how it was done, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Not now. Not when he wanted her to explain how a stallion covered a mare. “You’re not embarrassed to talk about this, are you?”

  “Of course not. I was raised in this environment.”

  “Then talk,” he urged, baiting her.

  “Fine.” Sweet and stubborn, she lifted her chin. “I’ll start with how feral horses mate, then work my way up to domestic methods.”

  He moved closer, feeling naughty as hell. They remained in the stud barn, near Raven Wing’s stall.

  Lourdes smoothed her hair again. The honey-streaked stands framed her face, fanning across her shoulders. “A stallion knows when a mare is ready to mate by the pheromones she gives off and by her flirty behavior. She’ll approach him with a submissive teeth-snapping gesture, letting him know she’s interested.”

  “And what does her mate do?” Juan prodded.

  “The stallion sniffs and licks the mare’s flanks, the root of her tail and her…”

  “Her what?” he asked, although he knew. Shame on him.

  “Vulva,” Lourdes provided.

  “He tastes her?”

  “Yes.” She drew an audible breath. “He savors her scent and flavor. It stimulates him.”

  Yeah, Juan thought, and understandably so.

  “From there they might groom each other, working their incisors up and down each other’s necks, withers and backs.”

  “Go on,” he said, picturing the image of courting she described. She was so sweet, so naive, explaining every detail to a man who already knew how a feral stallion covered his mate.

  “The mare will show signs of being in full season, straddled legs, raised tail, winking vulva—”

  “It winks?”

  “That’s what it’s called when it opens and closes.”

  “Really?” He hoped his boyish reaction wasn’t giving him away. “Now that is flirty behavior.”

  “This isn’t supposed to be funny, Juan.”

  “Sorry.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Couldn’t help it.”

  She straightened her spine and continued. “The stallion usually approaches the mare from the side to avoid getting kicked. If she’s still cooperative, he works his way around the rear to mount and mate.”

  “And then it’s over?”

  “Yes, within a matter of seconds. But the stallion will keep a close association with the mare until he’s ready to mate her again.”

  Smart guy, Juan thought. Lucky, too.

  “The procedure isn’t nearly as natural at breeding farms. Far from it,” Lourdes said. “Once it’s decided a mare is ready to mate, she’s taken to the covering yard. She’s hobbled to prevent her from kicking the stallion. Her tail is bandaged. Often she wears a shield to protect her withers and neck in case the stallion bites.”

  Juan glanced at Raven Wing. “Does he tend to bite?”

  “Sometimes.”

  He gave the horse a serious study. The flashy stud seemed to be listening, eavesdropping on the human conversation. “Can’t blame him for being anxious, I guess.”

  She went on. Bound and determined, it seemed, to finish this, to get past Juan’s anecdotes. “Once the stallion is led in, they’re not permitted to court. That would be too dangerous. The stallion is restrained by the handler and not allowed to mount until he’s fully erect. The studman watches the stallion, making sure he ejaculates. If he doesn’t, he’ll be encouraged to mount the mare again.”

  Dare he ask? Or should he let her off the hook?

  Oh, what the hell. “How can you tell if he ejaculated?”

  She stepped back a little. “His tail pumps when it happens.”

  For a moment, they both fell silent. Lourdes twisted the collar on her blouse, and Juan removed his hands from his pockets.

  “Do you ship semen?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She glanced away. “You’re not going to ask me to explain how it’s collected, are you?”

  “No.” He was already aroused, feeling hungry and playful all at once. He wanted to pull her into his arms, nibble her neck, bump his fly against her hips. “We’ll save that for another lesson. If that’s all right with you.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Lourdes?”

  “Yes. Another lesson,” she agreed, her voice suddenly soft and shy and much too alluring.

  “Mama?”

  Lourdes blinked and turned to the sound of Nina’s voice. Her first-born twin sat at the dinner table with a perplexed expression.

  “Yes?” Lourdes asked.

  “How come you’re staring at Juan?”

  Lourdes’s heart banged inside her chest. Juan sat across from her, taking man-size bites from his plate, scooping chunks of an enchilada casserole onto his fork.

  He glanced up at the mention of his name, and her heart pounded even harder.

  “I wasn’t staring at him, honey.”

  “Yes, you was, Mama. J
ust like this.” Nina trained her gaze on Juan and mimicked her mother in a dramatic, starry-eyed look.

  Lourdes wanted to sink under the table. She had been staring. And now everyone—Cáco, Amy, Paige and Juan knew it. Thanks to Nina, the chatterbox.

  Juan seemed flattered yet embarrassed. He smiled a little at Lourdes, then decided to shovel another forkful of meat, cheese and baked tortilla into his mouth.

  “Cáco says people shouldn’t stare. Didn’t she teach you that when you was little, Mama?”

  Wonderful. Now her precocious, pigtailed daughter was giving her a lesson in etiquette. “Yes, of course, she did.”

  “Then how come you did it anyway?”

  Because he’s gorgeous, Lourdes thought. Because the conversation I had with him earlier made me feel sexy.

  Courting rituals, a stallion covering a mare, semen collection.

  How could such clinical things affect a woman with a degree in animal science? A woman raised on a horse-breeding farm?

  Of all people, Lourdes knew better.

  “Mama?” Nina pressed, pestering for a response.

  “I didn’t know I was staring, sweetie.”

  Cáco raised an eyebrow at that, but had the good sense to keep her opinion to herself.

  No one else reacted. Amy didn’t seem to care, Paige simply observed the entire scene and Juan continued eating.

  Keeping her hands busy, Lourdes added more lettuce to her bowl, then doused it with too much dressing.

  Nina chirped like a blue jay. “Juan?”

  He stopped eating. “Yes?”

  “Have you ever seen the Little Mermaid?”

  “No. I can’t say that I have.”

  “It’s me and Paige’s favorite movie. We have it on tape and everything. Wanna watch it with us after dinner?”

  “Sure.” He gave the child an easy smile, grateful, it seemed, with a new topic of conversation. “If that’s okay with your mom.”

  Lourdes spoke up quickly. “That’s fine. But the girls will have to take their bath first. And put their pajamas on.” She knew her kids would fall asleep in front of the TV before the movie ended.

  Nina bubbled in her seat. “Can we make popcorn?”

  “Yes, but after your bath.”

  “You can watch the movie, too, Mama,” Nina invited graciously, letting Lourdes know her daughters didn’t intend to keep Juan to themselves.

  At least not completely. She suspected they would horde him a little. But she couldn’t blame them. She knew their tiny hearts were starved for a masculine presence.

  Ten minutes later, the meal ended.

  Cáco volunteered to monitor the twins in the tub, and Juan offered to help Lourdes with the dishes. Amy behaved like a typical teenager and managed to dart off to her room to call a friend.

  Alone in the kitchen, Lourdes and Juan worked as a team.

  He stacked the dirty dishes, and she rinsed them. But when she opened the dishwasher, she saw the appliance was already full.

  “I’ll have to empty this first. I guess Cáco didn’t have time to do it earlier.”

  “No problem. I can help.”

  He put away silverware and she went for odds and ends: a mixing bowl, a glass pitcher, two mismatched serving plates.

  As Lourdes stood on her toes and attempted to open the cupboard above the stove, Juan came up behind her.

  “Let me do that. You can barely reach it.”

  “No, it’s okay. I can—”

  He leaned into her, and suddenly she couldn’t talk. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

  His fly brushed against her rear.

  Juan froze, and Lourdes remained on her toes, poised like a plastic ballerina in a jewelry box, waiting for someone to turn the key.

  To play a song. To make her dance.

  He breathed against her ear, and her nipples went hard, almost as hard as the ridge beneath his zipper.

  Neither said a word. They didn’t dare.

  Obviously he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

  Finally he backed away, leaving her wobbling on her toes.

  Now what?

  Should she turn around? Act casual?

  She steadied herself on her feet and faced him.

  In the silence, they gazed at each other.

  Will you lie down with me? Will you kiss me?

  Yes, she thought. Yes.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, and she crossed her arms, pressing them against her breasts, shielding her distended nipples.

  “We better finish cleaning the kitchen,” he said.

  She nodded, then moistened her lips and tasted her own saliva.

  Maybe it was safer that he was moving into the bunkhouse.

  Much, much safer.

  The twins padded the floor with a blanket and decided Juan had to lie directly in front of the TV with them, their faces practically pressed to the screen. Both girls wore pink pajamas, and their pigtails had been combed out, leaving waves in their hair. They smelled like buttered popcorn and apple-scented soap.

  As the animated feature started, they snuggled closer, making him feel sort of dadlike.

  Lourdes took a spot on the couch, and Juan glanced back at her. She’d probably seen the movie at least a hundred times, but she had her legs curled under her, ready to watch it again.

  She smiled at him, and at that quiet, cozy moment, they seemed like a family.

  But they weren’t, he reminded himself. He was only a guest in their home.

  He focused on the movie, on a romantic adventure with a redheaded mermaid and songs and dialogue the girls knew by heart.

  Nina insisted on telling him everything before it happened, and Paige swooned over the dark-haired prince and shuddered every time the sea witch appeared.

  It was a fairy tale on land and sea, a story Lourdes’s little girls couldn’t resist.

  Juan suspected the movie ended with a happily ever after kiss, but he didn’t get the opportunity to find out. Nina and Paige fell asleep before the love-and-marriage finale.

  He figured it was just as well. He didn’t need to get sappy over a cartoon.

  He turned and looked at Lourdes. “I can help you get the girls into bed.”

  “Thank you.” She rose and knelt to pick up Nina, leaving Paige in his care. The child stirred in his arms, but didn’t waken. Nina flopped her head over her mom’s shoulder, grinned groggily at Juan and went back to sleep.

  That family notion came back, but this time he let it linger.

  The twins’ room was as pink as their pajamas, with chenille bedspreads and Barbie dolls in every corner. He saw a few Ken dolls lying around, too.

  Suddenly he got a familiar feeling.

  Over Barbie and Ken?

  That didn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense. Unless—

  Unless what? There had been a young girl in his life? A daughter?

  No way. He knew he didn’t have kids. What about a little sister?

  Yes, he thought. A sister.

  Still balancing Paige, he pulled back the covers and placed her in bed, adjusting the blanket around her.

  He smoothed her hair, and bits of choppy information crowded his brain—dance classes, slumber parties, prom dresses.

  His sister wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was a woman now.

  And she was dead.

  Oh, God. He took a step back, watching Lourdes tuck Nina into bed. She kissed both children. Soft butterfly kisses. So sweet, so light and airy.

  Juan’s sister had drowned. A dark, cold river had swallowed her.

  He stood like a zombie. He didn’t want to remember this. He didn’t want his mind pulling him into a myriad of pain.

  Lourdes glanced up. “Are you all right, Juan?”

  He managed a quick nod, wishing he could kiss her children, too. Press his lips to their foreheads the way she’d done. “I’m fine.”

  She left a night-light on for the girls. A golden glimmer, he thought, in a mist of pink.
r />   “Will you sit on the porch with me?” he asked, after she closed the door.

  She gave him a concerned look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I just need some air.”

  She followed him outside, and they sat in wicker chairs. The sun had set hours ago, leaving the sky dark and scattered with stars. A live oak in the center of the yard made a ghostly shadow, and the air smelled of fields, farms and ranches.

  “I’m starting to remember things.” He gazed at Lourdes. The porch light cast a buttery glow, illuminating the streaks in her hair. “I think I have a sister. Or had a sister. I’m pretty sure she’s dead now.”

  “Oh, Juan. I’m so sorry.”

  “I can’t see her in my mind. She’s just a feeling. An emotion, I guess.” A dark cloud tugging at his heart, a nameless, faceless body floating in a river somewhere. “I don’t want to remember anything else.”

  “You can’t stop your memories. They’re part of who you are.”

  “I know.” As the moon slipped behind the ghost-tree, Juan closed his eyes. “Cáco told me that I might start recalling bits and pieces. She told me to be prepared.”

  “I wish I could make it easier.” Lourdes brushed his hand, offering warmth and comfort.

  He opened his eyes to look at her, to drink her in. “Tell me about your past,” he said suddenly, wanting to know everything. All the secrets in her soul. All the mysteries of a young rancher with two small children. “Tell me about Nina and Paige’s father. Why you married him. Why you wanted to divorce him. How he died.”

  “Oh, my.” She drew an audible breath. “His name was Gunther Jones, and I met him when I was in college.”

  “Was he another student?”

  “No. Not Gunther. He didn’t think being book smart mattered. Life was fun and fast to him. He got bored easily, so he was always trying to make his own amusement.”

  “And that attracted you to him?”

  “Yes, I suppose it did. He was so different from me. So wild, so aggressive. Gunther went after the things he wanted.”

  Juan tilted his head. “And the thing he wanted most was you.”

  She nodded. “Being with him was like riding a roller coaster with no safety bars. Thrilling, but frightening, too.”