From Here to Texas Read online

  Making the house fit to live in again was something she’d been looking forward to. And though she wasn’t a big shopper, she’d been excited about picking out towels and sheets, spatulas and mixing bowls. But some of her pleasure had been dampened by Oscar’s call and she chewed on the information he’d given her all the way into town.

  So far it wasn’t a fact that Niles had been the person in her house. That was only Oscar’s supposition. But she had a sinking feeling that the lawyer was right. Ninety-nine percent of the time Oscar was right about things. That’s why her father had hired him many, many years ago. He’d respected the man’s instincts.

  What would it mean if Niles had broken into her home, she asked herself. If he hadn’t found the box with her keepsakes from Quito, she couldn’t think of anything else that would lead him here. She’d carefully erased every message on her answering machine. She had not left any paper notes by the phone or on the fridge. She’d given notice to the post office to hold all her mail. There was no way Niles could follow her trail.

  By the time Clementine had pulled into the parking lot of a discount store, she felt a bit perkier and as she walked toward the entrance, she forced herself to look up at the wide blue sky and smile. She was here, after all. Here with Quito. That was enough to make her happy.

  It took her over two hours to finish her shopping and since it was so late, she decided to stop by the sheriff’s office to see if Quito was nearly finished for the day. If he hadn’t gotten the message this morning that she wanted him to stay with her in the Jones House, she intended to repeat it.

  Which was probably a mistake, she thought sadly. Continuing a physical relationship with Quito would only make things worse once she had to say goodbye. She realized he construed their being together as being together for always. And under any other circumstance he would be right. More than anything she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Quito. But she couldn’t make him such a promise now. And she didn’t know how she was going to make him understand without telling him about Niles.

  A young male officer named Justin was on duty at the front desk and he eyed Clementine with appreciation as she inquired about the sheriff.

  “Sorry, ma’am. Sheriff Perez is out on a call. I don’t look for him to be back anytime soon. There’s been a shooting over toward Shiprock and he went to help with the investigation.”

  Clementine frowned. “Oh. Isn’t Shiprock on the reservation? I’d think the tribal police would be handling that. From what I understand they usually resent outside law.”

  “Usually that’s the case. But Sheriff Perez is half Navajo. They consider him one of their own and he’s good friends with the tribal policemen. They value his help.”

  “I see,” she said as her spirits sank once again. Obviously she wouldn’t be seeing Quito tonight. “Thank you anyway.”

  “Would you like to leave him a message?” the officer offered as though he could read disappointment in her face.

  She smiled wanly. “Just tell him Clementine dropped by.”

  Except for one dim light, the big house on the hill was dark. But in spite of the very late hour, Quito was certain Clementine was home. Her car was parked near the rock steps.

  He climbed them slowly, tiredly, until he crossed the short yard and walked up on the porch. Calling her name, he rapped his knuckles against the closed door.

  Only seconds later, he heard the rapid thud of her feet as she hurried to the door. And after a quick peek through the small window on the door, she pulled back the wooden panel and smiled at him as though he was the most special thing on earth.

  Hungrily his eyes drank in the sexy sight of her blond hair piled upon her head and spilling from a messy bun. The shiny strands fell onto the white cotton robe covering her tall, curvy body. The ruffled neckline veed low between her breasts and exposed just enough skin to make his fingers beg to reveal more. But it was the warm light in her blue eyes that heated him the most.

  “Quito! I had given up on seeing you tonight!” she exclaimed with surprise. Stepping back, she motioned him in. “I was told you’d gone to Shiprock.”

  “I did go. I just made it back,” he said as he moved past her. She smelled like lilac blossoms and some underlying musky scent that shouted she was a woman. Quito simply wanted to turn and pull her into his arms. But that would tell her just how eager he was to have her again and he didn’t want her to know just how smitten, how consumed with her he’d always been. If she had to leave with his heart again, at least he could hang on to his pride.

  “Justin told me you’d dropped by the office.”

  Clementine shut the door behind her and on second thought, locked it. Niles might not know where she was, but there was still someone out there who’d tried to kill Quito. As far as she was concerned it would be negligent not to be careful.

  “I did. I went to town today to do some shopping for the house. And I stopped by to see if you were nearly finished with work. Obviously you weren’t.”

  He nodded and she could see the lines of weariness around his eyes and mouth. At that moment it struck her just how very much she wanted to soothe him, love him, to make everything about his life better. Yet she feared that the more she touched, the more she loved, the more she would eventually hurt him.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a long drive from Shiprock to here in the dark. You have to keep a keen eye out for antelope and deer on the highway. One of the law officers there tried to get me to stay the night. But I told him I wanted to make it back home.”

  And back to her? she wondered. No. She couldn’t let herself start thinking she was the axis of Quito’s world. It would only start making her dream and want all the things she couldn’t have.

  Slipping her arm through his, she led him into the living room and toward the chintz couch where a lamp glowed at one end. “Come and sit down,” she told him. “You must be exhausted.”

  He sank onto the middle cushion and Clementine stood in front of him and motioned for him to give her his foot.

  “Let me pull off your boots,” she said.

  One black eyebrow arched upward beneath the brim of his gray Stetson. “You mean I’m staying here tonight?”

  Laughing softly, she said, “I wouldn’t want you to stay anywhere else.”

  As she dealt with his boots, he pulled off his hat and tossed it on the end table nearest to him.

  “I am tired,” he conceded as she placed his boots at the end of the couch.

  “What about hungry?” she asked. “Have you eaten?”

  She was treating him like a husband, Quito thought. And he didn’t understand it. This morning she’d told him she needed to go slowly, to think about things. Yet she clearly wanted him with her. Were her mixed signals just those of a fickle woman or was there some underlying reason for her vacillating attitude? he wondered. Whatever the cause, it was driving him crazy.

  “No. I haven’t had time. But don’t bother making me anything,” he added quickly. “It’s too late to be messing up the kitchen.”

  She laughed again. “Who cares if the kitchen is messed up? Remember, my mother doesn’t live here anymore. I can stack dirty dishes to the ceiling if I want to. And I just might want to,” she added with a dimpled grin.

  A wan smile quirked his lips. “Hmm. You’re feeling sassy tonight. You must have had a nice day.”

  “I’m sure it was better than yours,” she said. “You can tell me all about it after I fix you something to eat.”

  She left the room and Quito leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. The day had been long. It seemed like hours and hours had passed since he’d eaten lunch with Neil at the Wagon Wheel. He’d barely finished the meal with his friend when his pager had gone off and he’d discovered that Yuma Spottedhorse needed him over on the reservation.

  Normally he wouldn’t have involved himself in one of Yuma’s investigations, but his friend had asked for his help and he wasn’t about to turn his back on a fellow N
avajo.

  Quito was close to dozing off when Clementine’s quiet tread returned to the living room. Lifting his eyelids, he was surprised to see that she was carrying a meal on a tray.

  “Clem, I’m not that tired. I can eat at the table,” he protested.

  “Nonsense,” she said with a gentle smile. “You can sit right here and eat. Just be careful with the iced tea. I filled the glass too full.”

  She carefully placed the tray on his lap and then so she wouldn’t shake the couch, she sat down at his feet.

  The plate she’d served him was filled with warm tamales topped with shredded longhorn cheese. Next to those were two tacos, soft, flour tortillas oozing with meat and sour cream.

  He first attacked the tamales. “Did you already have this prepared?” he asked as he shoveled a forkful toward his mouth.

  “I cooked it for myself. Leftovers, so don’t worry,” she teased. “I didn’t knock myself out over the stove.”

  He smiled and she scooted closer so that her shoulder was resting against the side of his leg. His first inclination was to reach over and stroke her shiny hair, but he didn’t. He knew that once he touched her there would be no more food or words. The idea surged excitement through him and pushed away all the weariness he’d been feeling on his drive back from Shiprock.

  “What did you buy today?” he asked as he continued to eat.

  “Sheets, towels, food, all the things I needed to stay here comfortably,” she told him. “The house has cooled down now that the air conditioner has been turned on. Feels nice, huh?”

  “Very nice.”

  “Your officer told me there had been a shooting over on the Navajo reservation. Was anyone hurt or killed?”

  “Killed, unfortunately. A thirty-three-year-old male.”

  “That’s terrible. What happened? Do you know yet?”

  Quito shook his head. “Not yet. But it looks like there was drinking involved and a woman. The shooter is still on the loose and Yuma thinks he’s headed up into Mesa Verde to try to lose himself in the mountains there. Or he might have stopped on the Ute reservation and talked a friend or someone he knows into hiding him there.”

  “You know who this man is?” he asked.

  Quito shook his head. “Yuma has a suspect in mind. But neither one of us can be sure.”

  “Mesa Verde is a National Park,” Clementine said, twisting her head around and looking up at him with concern. “If a killer is running lose there—well, it would be awful.”

  “It would be worse than awful if a tourist was taken hostage by a dangerous criminal. But we’re not sure if that’s where he’s gone or not. In the meantime, Yuma is out with his tracking dogs.”

  Clementine suggested thoughtfully, “Maybe this Yuma ought to call in the FBI for help.”

  Quito laughed. “Not Yuma Spottedhorse. It chafed him enough just to ask for my help. He’d rather eat fried crow than step aside to the white man’s government agency.” He took a long drink of the iced tea, then looked down at her. “But that’s enough about the shooting. Tell me what else you did today.”

  She shifted around so that she was facing him and looped her arm around his jean-covered leg. Touching him had become a delicious habit. One that she had no inclination to break. Having him close steadied her in ways that nothing or no one ever had. Feeling the warmth of his body next to hers made her believe that everything was going to turn out right and good.

  “Oh, nothing special. You’d think it was all boring stuff.”

  “As long as you enjoyed it, that’s all that matters.”

  Her eyes fell to the cushion next to him as a dismal expression crossed her face. “I did enjoy it. But, well, I wasn’t going to tell you about this, Quito. You already have enough of this sort of thing to deal with. But I guess I’ll tell you anyway. Maybe it will help me get it off my mind.”

  His expression grew serious as he studied her drawn features. “What? What’s wrong? You look upset.”

  She nodded solemnly. “I have been,” she admitted. “Earlier this morning, I received a call from Oscar. He’s a lawyer in Houston and a friend of the family. He works for my father in a legal and business way. Sees that everything is running smoothly, that sort of thing. And he sort of acts as a standin father for me.”

  Quito nodded that he understood. “Okay. What was this call about? Your parents?”

  Clementine shook her head, then pushed at the fallen hair that had dipped over her eye. “No. They’re fine. Um, someone broke into my house last night. The police were called out and Oscar was contacted.”

  His face suddenly grim, Quito raised up from his relaxed position against the couch. “What was taken?”

  “Nothing,” Clementine said bleakly. “As far as Oscar can tell nothing was taken. Only my…my undergarments were strewn everywhere. And I suppose some of them might have been taken.”

  A deep frown furrowed Quito’s brow. “Sounds like the perp was a pervert. Have you noticed anyone following you, calling you? That sort of thing?”

  Only Niles, she thought bitterly. But that had been going on for years now. “No. Besides, Quito, I’ve been gone. I’d only been home from Afghanistan for less than a week when I left to drive up here.”

  He was silent for several thoughtful moments before he finally said, “That worries me, Clem. Do you need to go check on things? If you do, I can go with you. Jess will be glad to take care of the office while I’m away.”

  Dear God, how wonderful it would be to always have strong, capable Quito to take care of her. Since she’d been a very young child, it seemed as though she’d been on her own. Of course, she had parents who’d always been good to her. But there had been many more times than not that she’d needed them and they had been away on pleasure trips, business trips, or at work and social events. She’d gotten used to taking care of herself and whatever needs or worries she’d been presented with. So Quito’s offer to help was very precious to her.

  Clementine slowly shook her head. “Oscar says there isn’t any need for me to drive back down there. He’s taking care of everything. At least, what little can be done.” She drew in a long breath and let it out. “And I suppose nothing was harmed. I need to forget it.”

  “Look, Clem, anytime someone’s house is invaded it is something. And frankly, I’m glad that you weren’t there to find it that way. You would have felt very violated to see your things had been gone through by some stranger. Especially your intimate clothing. The bastard. He needs to be—well, I won’t say what he needs in my opinion. At the very least he needs to be caught.”

  She studied his angry face. “You don’t think it was teenagers?”

  Shaking his head, he stabbed his fork into one of the tamales on his plate. “No. Teenagers always take things. Especially things they can sell. This person who broke into your house has—” Breaking off he lifted his head and leveled his dark eyes on her. “He has you on his mind.”

  Oh, God, help her, he was saying all the things Oscar had been saying. Only Quito didn’t know that Niles was obsessed with her, that he’d vowed to get her back one way or the other.

  A violent shiver rolled down her back and she tightened her arm around his leg. “Quito, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Okay? I’m here with you and that’s more than a thousand miles away. It doesn’t matter.”

  His dark eyes were gentle as he reached out and stroked the top of her head. “All right, honey. We’ll put it aside for now.”

  She encouraged him to finish his meal and once he was finished, she carried the tray into the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee.

  When it had finished dripping, she carried two cups back out to where Quito was still resting on the couch.

  “If you feel up to it,” she said, “let’s take our coffee out on the back patio and I’ll show you some of what I’ve been doing today.”

  Grinning lazily at her, he reached for his boots. “After a long day’s work, I always like to take midnight strolls.”r />
  She pulled a face at him. “If I didn’t think you were teasing, I’d throw this coffee right on you,” she warned good-naturedly.

  Chuckling, Quito rose to his feet and reached to take one of the cups from her hand. “I am. Don’t get your hackles up.”

  Smiling, she took him by the hand and led him through a sliding glass door and onto a red stone patio. A halogen light with a sensor blinked on the moment they stepped past the door and flooded the whole backyard with a soft, yellow glow.

  “See, I’ve been doing all sorts of cleaning,” she said, waving her arm around her. “This whole place was piled with dead leaves and limbs. I raked them all up and carried them away. And then I started on the pool. That took even longer.”

  “You’ve been cleaning the pool?” he asked with surprise.

  She urged him toward the kidney-shaped swimming pool that ran for at least thirty feet along the back of the house. A garden hose was thrown over the side and Quito could hear water trickling.

  “I’ve not only cleaned it, I’ve been filling it. I bought chemicals today. So as soon as it gets full, we can jump in.” She laughed then. “But you and I both know it will take a day or two for it to fill.”

  He sipped his coffee and tried to ignore the lifting of his spirits. If she was filling the pool that meant she was going to stay for a while, at least. The idea ought not make him so happy. If he had any gumption at all, he’d simply tell her he didn’t have time for fun and games and just walk away. But his heart was in her hands and her body was like a sinful drug to him. He couldn’t get enough of her. He’d never be able to get enough of her.

  “My, my,” he murmured. “You have been busy. I honestly didn’t know you had this work ethic in you.”

  Playfully wrinkling her nose, she pretended to push him toward the pool. Instead she squeezed his hand and urged him over to a lawn swing with a padded seat.

  They sank onto the swing together and Quito pushed it into a gentle motion as they sipped from their coffee cups. The night was unusually warm for the high desert, a slight breeze drifting in from the west. The Jones property extended three miles in all directions. Not a huge lot for western standards, especially for Texas folks, but it was a nice plot of land, which with a lot of work could be turned into a small ranch.