Dearest Enemy (7 page)

With his eyes shielded by his hat brim once again, only the muscle tightening in Luc's jaw revealed his displeasure.

"Miss Patterson has offered to continue the rental payments should we renew, but the plans for the valley, my dear, and the conflict...."

"There should be no conflict, Nando. We must protect the house for as long as we can."

Which house
was the woman
referring to, Callie wondered. Maybe they had similar agendas.

Fernando glanced at Callie. “You must see we cannot guarantee the land indefinitely. You would have only a short reprieve should the community plan work out.”

Her heart lifted in her chest. She smothered a smile of triumph along with a twinge of guilt that she’d taken advantage of Dorotea’s kind nature to achieve her goal. Then again, if Mrs. Moreno wanted to protect her own home, guilt was a misplaced emotion. They would be helping each other.

 
“If the development goes through, the house is rubble,” Callie said. “I understand.” These people seemed kind and simple. What had the Morenos done to Grandma Lucy to earn her lifelong enmity?

“Very well,” Fernando said. “We will grant an extension.”

About to say something, Luc simply shrugged.

His mother turned to Callie. "I hope you can stay for lunch, Señorita Patterson."

"Please call me Callie. And thank you for the invitation, but I have to get back and arrange for the first phase of the restoration."

"Can you not spare one hour for some food? You will work with more vigor after a good meal."

Callie smiled in spite of her growing discomfort. "My Great Aunt Hattie would have agreed with you. She didn't hold with skipping meals."

"She was a smart woman." Dorotea nodded emphatically. "So, you will stay and eat. Then you will return to your work."

"I caution you," Fernando said. "Even the most casual of meals are special occasions to my wife. She believes they turn strangers into friends and friends into family. And she doesn't often accept no for an answer."

Callie turned to Luc. "Will staying for lunch inconvenience you?"

"Not nearly as much as
your
staying in the valley will."

 
Mrs. Moreno clicked her tongue. "Where are your manners,
hijo
? And how is it that you turn away from my table without so much as a single bite?"

"What are you serving, Mamá?"

"
Camarónes
grilled with lime."

He bowed, kissed her hand and helped her to her feet. "If you've gone to the trouble of grilling shrimp, how can I refuse?"

"How indeed?"
With a chuckle, she motioned to her husband and to Callie. "Come. Everything is waiting."

Dorotea seated Callie opposite Luc, which proved only marginally more comfortable than sitting beside him. Every time she looked up from her plate or turned from his parents during a lively conversation she found his gaze on her, examining, probing, even at times admiring, an expression she'd seen before and still found disconcerting coming from an enemy. And although it was exactly what Gram would have wanted, Callie suspected she would never have understood the excitement humming through her granddaughter’s body. When several subjects had been thoroughly discussed and discarded, Fernando said, "Do you miss New York?"

Callie thought for a moment and shook her head. "I miss the friends I made there. I'm looking forward to seeing them when they come out to work on the house."

"Work?"
Dorotea asked. "I thought someone from this area had the job."

Callie barely had time to wonder where Mrs. Moreno had gotten her information. "J.D. Connor and her husband are handling restoration of the structure and systems, but my friends will be decorating the interior."

Dorotea gave her son a brief glance tinged with concern,
then
turned to Callie again. "These friends — do you trust them to do a professional job? Sometimes such arrangements prove unwise."

"They're professional interior designers. We met when they hired my firm to do their advertising. The Crew, that's their company name, was my first account when I set up shop in New York. We've worked together for eight years and have been friends for nearly that long."

Dorotea nodded. "And you went to New York from...?" She tilted her head to one side as she waited with a questioning look and a lively curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"
Por Dios,
Mamá," Luc interrupted.
"You're as subtle as a sledgehammer. Maybe
Call
— Miss Patterson doesn't want to tell you her entire life's story the first time you meet."

"I'm just interested, Lucero. You haven't brought a young lady home in a very long time."

Callie could have sworn Luc squirmed in his seat, but whether he had or not, his discomfort was unmistakable.

"I didn't 'bring her home'," Luc said. "She and Papá needed to talk business."

Luc glanced at Callie who seemed to be fighting a smile. Damn her gorgeous hide. She was enjoying this. Any other time, he also might have seen the humor in his mother's machinations. But the lovely Miss Patterson made him too aware of how long it had been since a woman had put even a small dent in the defenses he'd erected after
J.D..

Callie's kind of beauty only made things worse, sending his internal systems into overdrive like a supercharged engine and his common sense fleeing to God knows where. He’d never understood his affinity for Nordic goddesses, especially because they tore a hole in his gut every time. Yet even now, when his future seemed as murky as his vision had become, he felt the pull of cool blue eyes and sunlight hair.

He knew this wasn't the time to give in to his impulses and definitely not with this woman. He needed to concentrate his energies on making sure the family had what it needed to survive, even if that meant working overtime before the worst happened.
Which would leave no time for distractions like the one sitting an arm’s length away.
Could he find some reasonably effective way to short circuit his newly inflamed hormones?

Realizing he'd drifted, he turned back to the conversation.

"...in fact, I don't mind your mother's questions," Callie was saying. "I'm sure she's tactful enough not to ask anything really personal."

She laughed a throaty chuckle that started his heart hammering at his insides. If he wasn't careful, Callie Patterson would wreck his constitution.

He glanced at his mother, whose face showed her eagerness to learn more about the new "young lady".

"I come from St. Louis," Callie said. "Born and raised."

"Your great grandfather moved the family back there when the economy here failed," Fernando said. "Apparently they never left."

"Is that where your parents are?" Dorotea asked.

"My folks died when I was a teenager, but there are some relatives still there. And....” She sipped her coffee. “...I have cousins on the west coast and a brother in Boston."

"And what does he do?" the older woman asked.

"Brian teaches English Lit at Harvard."

Luc tried to keep his features impassive. Apparently he failed.

"And you were thinking what?" Callie asked.

"Nothing," he said with a shrug. "It just fits somehow."

"What? Some stereotype you harbor?"

"We all have them. You know, the way we expect people to be instead of the way they are."

Callie rolled her eyes. "Heaven only knows what you think of me. But when you're picturing my brother, make sure you add the third degree black belt and an Olympic bronze in the shot put."

Luc smiled. "Big guy, is he?"

"Size isn’t everything."

He stared at her for a moment, wondering whether the double entendre had been deliberate. She arched one eyebrow, causing him to roar with laughter.

"Touché, Ms. Patterson."

"You will be happy out here?" his mother asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

"I don't know. I hope so. My grandfather and his father hated it, but my grandmother and Aunt Hatt loved it. I think it's sad they never came back, even for a visit."

"Perhaps the sadness would have been even greater if they had," Fernando said.

"Forgive me," Callie said, "but it sounds as though you have reason to know."

"No life is free of sorrow," the old man said. "Or regret."

 
His usually vital father suddenly looked all of his 90-plus years. Luc wondered what regrets would haunt his own life decades from now. In an attempt to refocus on the conversation, he turned to Callie. "The dream you mentioned earlier, was it yours or theirs?"

Callie returned his gaze. His eyes had gone as soft as his voice; his features had relaxed and for once, he seemed truly interested.

"I'm sure it began with them, but over the years it became mine. I wouldn't be able to separate the two, even if I wanted to."

"Which you don’t."

"Which I don’t."

"You burned your bridges when you sold your agency,” he said. “What happens if this venture fails?"

"I'll build new bridges if I have to, but I don't think that will be necessary. The extension on the lease gives me time to make the project work."

Luc drained his cup and poured more coffee from the red ceramic pot sitting on a trivet. "More time isn’t the answer."

“What is?” Callie asked.

“Take the resources you would have sunk into The Mansion and go up to Santa Fe or Taos. Or even back down to Albuquerque. Start a business that has a chance of surviving.
Because what you propose for the valley sure as hell doesn’t."

Frustration over his refusal to see anything but his own agenda sent a tremor through Callie’s body that had nothing at all to do with the strange chemistry between the two of them but instead echoed the anger generated at their first meeting. If she didn't get out of here, that fury would erupt and destroy any illusions the older Morenos had about the "young lady" who sat at their table. She couldn’t afford to jeopardize the progress she’d made.

With a deep breath she rose. "I will go, Sheriff, not up North but back to Blue Sky and The Mansion.
To my home."
As much to strengthen her own shaky resolve as to make a point with him, she whispered, "I'm here for the duration. No matter how long or short that may turn out to be." She gave Dorotea a smile. "Lunch was wonderful, Mrs. Moreno. Thanks for inviting me."

"We regret you must leave so soon," Fernando said. "Please come again."

"I’m grateful for the extension, Sir. Perhaps before long I’ll be able to prove to you — and to your son — that the decision was a wise and profitable one."

Luc went to his mother, who said something in Spanish. He kissed her cheek.
"Sorry, Mamá.
I'll try to be more of a credit to you in the future."

He clasped his father around the shoulders. "You'll have the new papers in a day or two."

"Thank you, Lucero. Despite your opposition to my decision, my heart tells me we are doing the right thing."

Luc's smile held a tinge of regret. "
Sí
, Papá. Only remember what you told me about following your heart."

Callie and Luc made the return trip from the hilly north country of the Moreno
rancho
in near silence. Through the passenger window she watched the changing scenery. The mountains looming in the distance gave way to sandstone mesas and crumbling canyons tortured by time and weather, exposing layers of purple, pale pink and beige streaked with black that Callie thought might be iron or other metallic stains.

These, too, had eroded into hillsides hemmed with tumbled rock and dotted with the same piñon, juniper and sage that dappled the flat desert land. Above it all, a cloudless sky hung like an azure bowl, its color deepest blue overhead and fading to a pale greenish blue where it met the horizon. The vast open spaces, unbroken by anything manmade except the road, calmed her. She could have drifted off except that Luc chose that moment to shatter the silence and her serenity.

"So," Luc said finally. "You should be happy. You got your extension."

"To your unrelenting displeasure."

"The land belongs to my father. As head of the family, only he has the responsibility and right to decide. All I can do is give my opinion and hope he listens. This time, he followed some instinct I can't begin to understand."

"He called it a matter of honor. As a man of the law, you must be familiar with the concept."

"Earlier, you wanted me to forget I was a lawman. Now you acknowledge my position because it suits your purpose. You can't expect to have it both ways."

"Sure I can," she said with a smile, "if it gives my project the chance it deserves."