Christmas in Texas (18 page)

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Chapter One

We are such stuff as dreams are made on.

—Shakespeare’s
The Tempest

Shaman Phillips wasn’t expecting a blonde bombshell to
show up at the front door of the Dark Diablo farmhouse, but one glance at her
shapely legs, long silky hair and beautiful face made him believe tonight might
be a lucky night for a lone wolf. “Hello,” he said. “Can I help you?”

“Hi.”

Shaman decided the voice of an angel went with her amazing
looks. She was way out of his league—and yet even a man with scars liked to gaze
at beautiful things.

“I’m looking for Chelsea Myers.”

“Ah. The Chelsea Myers who married my brother Gage in July.
She’s Chelsea Phillips now.” Shaman leaned forward, out of the doorway, planting
his well-worn boots on the porch. “They live at the Callahan place, Rancho
Diablo, in Diablo.”

The goddess stepped closer, her high fire-engine-red heels
clicking on the wood porch. “My name is Tempest Thornbury. I met Chelsea and Cat
in July, before I returned to Italy.” She held up a small Louis Vuitton bag,
complete with tufts of tissue paper coming out the top. Shaman knew what Louis
Vuitton was; his sister, Kendall, was a huge fan. “I brought this for Cat. Is
there a possibility you could give it to her?”

“Come on in,” Shaman said, tamping down the wolflike tendencies
fighting inside him. “I’ll get their address and you can send it to her. It’d
probably be quicker. I never know when I’ll see them, now that the school year
has started.”

Tempest smiled. “Thank you.”

Shaman went to get the address, and she followed him into the
house. He handed her a piece of paper. “Cat started school in the middle of
August in Diablo. She’s real happy there.”

“I’m so glad.”

He decided his visitor was even more beautiful close up. The
hot-red suit fit her curves to perfection. She didn’t wear a wedding ring or
jewelry, just some gold hoop earrings that kissed her cheeks.

“She’s a sweet girl,” Tempest added.

Shaman nodded, suddenly uncomfortable and not sure why. His
first thought was to seduce this angel—what man could resist?—but she was too
perfect for him. How dumb was that?

Ten years in the military, most of them spent in Iraq and
Afghanistan, might have left him hungry for female companionship, but it had
also left him with scars on his back, a chunk missing from his shoulder and a
red slash across his sun-browned cheek. He was lucky those were his only visible
scars. Many of his buddies hadn’t fared so well.

A little less perfection in a woman would suit him better.
“Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

Tempest smiled and turned on her heel. “I was hoping to see Cat
and Chelsea, but I suppose they won’t be back until the semester is over?”

“Can’t say.” He wasn’t familiar with Cat’s routine. “Chelsea
and Gage just announced that they’re expecting a baby, so I don’t know how often
Chelsea will be out here.”

Tempest glanced back at him, looking pleased. “That’s
wonderful! I’m glad to hear it.” She opened the front door before he could do
so. “I didn’t get your name?”

“Shaman Phillips.” He held the door for her, and as she walked
out, caught a tease of a light flowery perfume. “You staying in Tempest,
Tempest?” He grinned. “I didn’t realize you were named after the town.”

She leaned into him, catching him off guard. “It’s a stage
name. My real name is Zola Cupertino.”

His brain tried to process that information, along with the
distracting fact that she was dangerously close to him. And he didn’t think it
was an accident. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she—

“Soldier...” Tempest murmured.

“Yes, ma’am?” he said, out of habit. She must have seen his
military bag, and his combat boots in the living room.

“I just got off a plane from Italy,” she announced. “I wonder
if you might be interested in taking me out to dinner?”

He blinked. “Certainly,” he said, trying to be chivalrous and
not sound as surprised as he was by her unexpected invitation.

She smiled at him, a sweet, slow, sexy smile, her angelic eyes
free of artifice, but holding a silent plea. Maybe he didn’t want to see it. But
she was still standing oh-so-close to him, and the next thing he knew, he’d
taken the statuesque blonde in his arms and was kissing her like a dying
man.

She kissed him back hungrily.

“Wait a second,” Shaman said. He was a lucky guy, but not this
lucky. Angels didn’t just drop from the sky into his hard-edged world. “How did
you say you know Gage and Chelsea?”

“Met them this summer. Don’t stop what you’re doing,
soldier.”

He kissed her again, his mind trying to find the hook in the
sweet deal she seemed to be offering him. She could have any guy in the world.
Why would she choose him, instead of running from the sight of his scar-streaked
face?

What the hell. A man didn’t get too many gifts in life, and if
this angel wanted to fly into his arms, he needed to quit acting like a skittish
horse. “Hey, you want that dinner or not?” he asked, giving her one last chance
to back away.

“After,” she murmured, melting into him.

He carried her to his bedroom, taking his sweet time, being
careful with the soft suit and delicate white camisole. Her bra and panties were
angel-wing white and breathlessly lacy, the kind that didn’t do much for support
but everything for a man’s libido. Keeping the lights low, he whispered to her
in soothing tones, expecting at any moment for her to tell him she wanted out of
his bed. But she let him do whatever he wanted to her, and she was sweet like
he’d never tasted sweet before.

And when he finally entered her, Shaman thought he’d died and
gone to some magical place he’d never known existed. In all the dirty, lonely
nights he’d been scared out of his wits—and he’d been plenty scared, tough guy
or not—he’d fantasized about a woman. Any woman. A soft, sweet woman to take
away the pain.

This woman was a velvet-soft gift from the gods, and whatever
he’d done to deserve this time with her, Shaman wanted the moment to last
forever.

Tempest cried his name, and he lost himself in her. She grabbed
at his shoulders, and he didn’t even think about his wounds or his scars. He
held her and kissed her, savoring her like a treasure.

Then they slept—maybe for an hour; he wasn’t certain. A glance
out the window showed a moon that was huge and high in the sky. Getting out of
bed, he said, “Let me shower. I’ll take you for that dinner.”

She smiled at him in the moonlight. “Thanks, soldier.”

Afraid to keep the lady waiting, he took the world’s fastest
shower, dressing like a madman. Yet he wasn’t all that surprised when he came
out and all that was left on the bed was the little Louis Vuitton bag, and a
note that read,
“Just remembered I have a meeting in town.
Rain check for the dinner? Tempest.”

He grunted. She’d signed the note as if it was an autograph for
a book or a photo. “A meeting,” he muttered. Shaman glanced at the note again,
massively disappointed.
Rain check.

I’ll just bet.

* * *

“
W
HO
IS
HE
?”
Tempest asked her dearest friends, Shinny and Blanche Tuck, after they’d hugged
each other. It was so good to be here, in the Ice Cream Shoppe where she’d spent
so many happy hours. The couple had been parents of sorts, shepherding her
through difficult times as a child. Shinny could always be counted on to give
her one of his delicious “specials,” a frothy chocolate milkshake she’d adored
as a kid. Now she knew he’d simply been trying to put meat on her scrawny bones,
but back then she’d thought she was the luckiest girl in the world when he gave
her the scrumptious treats.

Shinny and Blanche sat across from her in the lipstick-red
booth. The store was closed, and soon they’d go home. But for now they were
enjoying catching up.

“He’s one of the Phillips boys from Hell’s Colony,” Blanche
said. “Seems to be a good family, if his brother Gage is any indication.”

Shinny was happy to let his wife tell the story, but filling in
the details was his forte. His balding head with its white tufts of hair shone
under the fluorescent bulb overhead as he leaned back in the booth. “Gage comes
out every once in a while. Shaman and he are trying to fix up Dark Diablo.
They’re the ones Jonas Callahan hired to bring the place to a working
condition.”

“Why’d you go there?” Blanche asked worriedly. “You don’t want
to be around Dark Diablo. Nothing good can come of it, even with him there.”

Tempest conceded she wasn’t quite sure what had happened
tonight. Seduction wasn’t her style, and she hadn’t had a lover in years. But
the man at the ranch had seemed so defenseless, so...sexy. Sexier than any guy
she’d ever seen, in some way she couldn’t identify. His coffee-colored
eyes had had a faraway, lonely, almost vulnerable look in them, and for
some reason she’d sensed in him a safe harbor. “I wanted to take Cat a present.
I thought she and Chelsea would be there. Funny that everything changed in the
two months I was gone.”

“Yes,” Blanche said, her tall dark updo quivering under the
light. She had enough hair to make up for Shinny’s lack of it. “Gage and Chelsea
decided living at Rancho Diablo would be best, to help Cat make the transition
to the area. She adores being around all the Callahan children. We went to their
wedding, by the way. It was so lovely.” Her friends looked at her. “It’s the
kind of thing I hope you’ll have one day.”

“Oh.” Tempest shook her head and stood. “I don’t think so,
Blanche. But thank you for always wanting the best for me.” She looked down
fondly at the people who’d been like family to her. “May I rent the
bed-and-breakfast from you for a few days?”

“No,” Shinny said, standing in turn. “You may stay there free
of charge. It’s your home, now that you’re back.”

Tempest gazed out the window for a moment, thinking of her
villa in Italy and the job she’d been offered in New York. She hadn’t planned to
come out of her self-induced retirement, but something in her had said it was
time to go home for a visit.

While Tempest had been living a life few people would ever
experience, Shinny and Blanche had this small ice cream and soda shop, and a
tiny adobe bungalow they sometimes rented as a B and B. They worked like crazy
for the little they had.

They were getting older, and Tempest felt they should be
slowing down. Most folks their age would be thinking about retiring. Of course,
her dear friends didn’t burn out from their careers, as she had.

But they were so happy to see her that just looking at their
faces revived her. Made her remember that changing from the dull moth Zola
Cupertino to the butterfly Tempest Thornbury was something that mattered to
people who were important to her. And somehow that pride invigorated her, made
her want to swim in starshine again instead of burying herself at her villa.
“Either you let me pay or I’ll have to find someplace else to stay.”

Blanche shooed her to the door, after handing her a key. “We’ll
talk about money another time. Until then, you go rest. And if I were you, I’d
stay away from Dark Diablo.” She looked at Tempest in concern. “There’s no
reason to dig up bad memories by going out there.”

Tempest hugged Blanche. “It’s all right. Don’t worry about
me.”

“We do.” Shinny wrapped the two of them in his big, beefy
arms.

Tempest closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the closeness.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Truly. Thank you for letting me stay with you.” She went
out the door, seeing that the moon hadn’t changed a bit since she’d left the
cowboy soldier.
Only in Tempest does time never seem to
move.

She got into her rental car and drove around back, parking it
in the garage of the only place that had ever seemed like “home” to her, a small
southwestern, Pueblo-style adobe house that was clean and spare. It felt
wonderful to unpack her bag, take a quick shower and melt into the soft bed.

Recalling the hungry way Shaman had kissed her warmed Tempest,
settling her into a hazy place between wakefulness and slumber. Shinny and
Blanche thought he was a solid man, a good man, if a loner. Tempest herself was
a recluse, had been for years. Maybe that’s what she’d responded to—the sense of
isolation people sometimes chose when they didn’t feel they deserved better.

He deserved better than her.

* * *

T
WO
DAYS
LATER
, Shaman hadn’t left Dark Diablo for even a
grocery run. He had too much to do. So he stayed put, even though lust prodded
him to go hunt down the beautiful woman who’d seduced him with sweet kisses.

He didn’t allow himself to think about her much—just about five
hundred times a day. Instead, he worked on the barn Gage was determined to have
torn down, and he spent time breaking the new mare Jonas Callahan had bought.
Her name was Candy, but she was anything but sweet. Jonas was determined that
this ebony mustang he’d gotten from a horse rescue society might be the basis
for his equine program. He said she reminded him of the black Diablo mustangs
that were rumored to run through the canyons of Rancho Diablo, but Shaman wasn’t
sure Candy had anything mystical or magical in her. She was bad-tempered and
stubborn, maybe not even a diamond in the rough.

Only Jonas would want a wild mustang for his equine program.
Not exactly a quality ride—and yet Shaman relished the chance to learn, and to
shape the animal’s spirit. It had to be done just right: slowly, patiently.

One thing a man learned in the military was patience.

He ran his hand lightly over the mare’s neck, making certain
the lead rope wasn’t too tight. She did have a shiny coat and beautiful brown
eyes. It was the attitude that he had to work on.