Her Forbidden Cowboy. Charlene Sands
a damn fool.
* * *
Jessica took Zane’s advice and chose the guest room at the end of the hallway. Not for the amazing sunsets as Zane had suggested, but to keep out of his hair. Privacy was a precious commodity. He valued it, and so did she now. A powerful urge summoned her to slump down on the bed and cry her eyes out, but she managed to fight through the sensation. She was done with self-pity. She wasn’t the first woman to be dumped at the altar. She’d been duped by a man she’d loved and trusted. She’d been so sure and missed all of the telling signs. Now she saw them through crystal clear eyes.
She busied herself unpacking her one suitcase, layering her clothes into a long, stylish light wood dresser. Carefully she set her jeans, shorts, swimsuits and undies into two of the nine drawers. She plucked out a few sleeveless sundresses and walked over the closet. With a slight tug, the double doors opened in a whoosh. The scents of cedar and freshness filled her nostrils as she gazed into a girl cave almost the size of her first-grade classroom back in Beckon. Cedar drawers, shoe racks and silken hangers were a far cry from the tiny drywalled closet in her one-bedroom apartment.
Deftly she scooped the delicate hangers under the straps of her dresses and hung them up. Next she laid her tennis shoes, flip-flops and two pairs of boots, one flat, one high-heeled, onto the floor just under her clothes. Her meager collection barely made a dent in the closet space. She closed the double doors and leaned against them. Then she took her first real glimpse at the view from her second-story bedroom.
“Wow.” Breath tunneled from her chest.
Aqua seas and the sun-glazed sky made for a spectacular vista from the wide windows facing the horizon. She swallowed in a gulp of awe. Then suddenly, a strange bone-rattling feeling of loss hit her. She shivered as if assailed by a winter storm.
Why now? Why wasn’t she reveling in the beauty surrounding her?
Nothing’s beautiful. You lost your sister, her unborn baby and your fiancé.
“Would you like to go out onto the balcony?”
She whirled around, surprised to find Mariah, Zane’s fortyish blonde assistant standing in the doorway. She’d worked for him since before he had married Janie. Jessica and Mariah’s paths had crossed a few times since then. “Oh, hi.” She glanced at the narrow glass door at the far end of the wall that led to the balcony. It was obviously situated there to keep from detracting from the room’s sweeping view of the Pacific. “Thanks, but maybe later.”
“Sure, you must be tired from the flight. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve unpacked. A shower and a nap and I’ll be good to go.”
Mariah smiled. “I’ll be leaving for the day. Mrs. Lopez, Zane’s housekeeper, is here. If you need anything, just ask her.”
“Thank you... I’ll be fine.”
“Zane will want to have dinner with you. He eats dinner just before sunset. But he’d make an exception if you’re hungry earlier.”
“Sunset is fine.”
Mariah studied her, her eyes unflinching and kind. “You look a little like Janie.”
“I doubt that. Janie was beautiful.”
“I see a resemblance. If you don’t mind me saying, you have the same soulful eyes and lovely complexion.”
She was pale as a ghost, and ten freckles dotted her nose. Yep, she’d counted them. Though, she’d never had acne or even a full-fledged zit to speak of in her teens. She supposed her complexion wasn’t half-bad. “Thank you. I, uh, don’t want to cause Zane or you any trouble. I’m basically here because it would’ve been harder to convince my mother otherwise, and I didn’t want her to worry about me off in some deserted location to search my soul. Mama’s had enough on her plate. She doesn’t need to fret over me.”
“I get it. Actually, you might be exactly what Zane needs to get his head out of the sand.”
That was an odd statement. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of it.
“He’s not been himself for a while now,” Mariah explained without spelling it out. Jessica gave her credit for the delicate way she put it.
“I figured. He lost his family. We all did,” Jess said. She missed Janie something awful. Sometimes life was cruel.
Mariah nodded. “But having family around might be good for both of you.”
She doubted that. She’d be a thorn in Zane’s side. A kink in his plans. She would bide her time here, soak up some fresh sea air and then return home to face the music. Humiliation and desperate hurt had made her flee Texas. But she’d have to go back eventually. Her face pulled tight. She didn’t want to think about that right now.
“Maybe,” she said to Mariah.
“Well, have a good evening.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
After Mariah left, Jessica plucked up her shampoo and entered the bathroom. Oh, boy, and she’d thought the closet was something. The guest bathroom came equipped with a television, a huge oval Jacuzzi tub and an intricately tiled spacious shower that was digitized for each of the three shower heads looming above. She peered closer to read the monitor. She could program the time, temperature and force of the shower and heaven knew what else.
After she punched in a few commands, the shower spurted to life, and water rained down. Jess smiled. A new toy. Peeling off her clothes, she opened the clear glass door and stepped inside. Steamy spray hit her from three sides, with two heads spewing softly and one pulsing like the pumping of her heart. She turned around and around, using the fragrant liquid soap from a dispenser in the wall. She lingered there, lost in the mist and jet stream as pent-up tension seeped out of her bones, her limbs loose and free. Eventually, she got down to business and worked shampoo into her hair. Much too early, the shower turned off automatically. As she stepped out, the steam followed her. She dried herself with a cushy white towel. How nice.
She dressed in a pair of tan midthigh shorts and a cocoa-brown tank top. She hoped dinner with Zane wasn’t a formal thing. She hadn’t brought anything remotely fashionable.
After blow-drying her hair, she lifted the long strands up in a ponytail, leaving bangs to rest on her forehead. A little nap had sounded wonderful minutes ago, but now she was too keyed up to sleep. The time change would probably hit her like a ton of bricks later, but right now, the sandy windblown beach below beckoned her. She slipped her feet into flip-flops and headed downstairs.
Lured by the scent of spices and sauce wafting to her nose, she headed in that direction. Inside a magnificent granite-and-stone kitchen, she came face to face with an older woman, a little hefty in the hips, wearing an apron and humming to herself.
The woman turned around. “Hola, Miss Holcomb?”
“Yes, I’m Jessica.”
“Hola, Jessica.” She nodded. “I’m Mrs. Lopez. Do you like enchiladas?”
She was Texan. She loved everything Mexican. “Yes. Smells yummy.”
Mrs. Lopez lowered the oven door, and a stainless-steel rack automatically pushed forward.
“They will be ready in half an hour. Can I get you a drink? Or a snack?”
“No, thank you. I’ll wait for Zane. Well, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, retreating from the kitchen. “I’ll be back in—”
A boom sounded. “Double damn you!” Zane’s loud curse echoed throughout the house.
Jessica froze in place.
Mrs. Lopez grinned and shook her head. “He cannot dress himself too well. He will not let anyone help him. He is not such a good patient.”
They shared a smile. “I see.” But when