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A Baby Changes Everything
Marie Ferrarella
After five years of loving and honoring her husband, Savannah Perez worried that her marriage to Cruz was doomed. She loved him so much, but felt that his backbreaking devotion to their new ranch was ruining their relationship.Cruz Perez felt he had something to prove, so he pushed himself beyond his limits. He wanted the best for his wife and son, but tried to forget the pained looks they gave him when he returned home late at night. He knew he had to show his pregnant wife that she meant everything to him–before it was too late.



Praise for Marie Ferrarella:
“Ferrarella has penned a guaranteed page-turner!”
—Romantic Times on Internal Affair
“Time and again, Marie Ferrarella demonstrates her gift for storytelling in the romantic suspense genre, and Crime and Passion is no exception.”
—Romantic Times on Crime and Passion
“…the saucy quips will draw a laugh, and the chemistry will make you shiver. Marie Ferrarella does it again!”
—Romantic Times on Mac’s Bedside Manner
“Great romance, excellent plot, grabs you from page one.”
—Affaire de Coeur on In Graywolf’s Hands
“…the pleasure of this journey is in the getting there. Reading about warm, caring people and watching relationships mature under stressful situations is a pleasurable way to spend an afternoon. As usual, Ferrarella’s dialogue is in voice, crisp, and moves the story along without ever bogging down in the emotional angst each brings to the relationship. Once a Father is a hearty recommend for a skilled writer.”
—The Romance Reader on Once a Father

A Baby Changes Everything
Marie Ferrarella

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
It isn’t often that we get a chance to see if happily ever after is all it’s cracked up to be. When I was invited to do the second book in THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS: REUNION continuity, I discovered that I was being reunited with two characters I had brought together in Expecting in Texas and they were having problems. Although they still loved each other as much as ever, life and reality had found a way to put a wedge between them. Cruz worked too hard to create the kind of life he felt his family deserved and Savannah felt as if she was being taken for granted. (Sound familiar? Yeah, me, too.) Juggling as fast as they could, they had no energy left to devote to the marriage they had created. And let’s face it, marriage takes work. Constant work. Changes were going to have to be made. But I’m betting that Savannah and Cruz are up to it. How about you?
I wish you love,


To Stella Bagwell, who no longer has a brain, because I’ve picked it clean.
Many thanks, Stella, for all your help.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Bonus Features

One
“H ey, I’d given up on you two.”
Vanessa Fortune Kincaid threw open the door on the first ring and immediately hugged her dearest friend in the world as the latter began to cross the threshold. Stepping back, Vanessa took a closer look at Savannah Perez and decided that she didn’t like what she saw. Savannah’s bright, sunny smile was conspicuously absent.
Ushering her five-year-old son, Luke, in front of her, Savannah sighed. Luke hadn’t stopped talking or moving since he’d opened his eyes this morning. The word lively, she had come to believe, had been created expressly to describe her son.
Savannah forced her lips into a weak smile. It was the best she could offer her friend. “You wouldn’t be the first one.”
Vanessa had dropped down to one knee to give her godson a huge embrace. The boy smelled faintly of raspberry jam and peanut butter, his sandwich of choice. “How’s the handsomest man in three states?”
Luke beamed. “Fine, Aunt ’Nessa.”
He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, just like his father, and cocked his head, his dark eyes huge as he asked, “Got something for me?”
“Luke!” Embarrassment brought the only visible color to Savannah’s pale cheeks. “You don’t ask someone to give you a present.”
“I’m not ‘someone,’” Vanessa said, winking at the boy. “I’m Aunt ’Nessa.” Rising to her feet, Vanessa waved her hand at Savannah’s protest. They’d been friends far too long to leave any room for embarrassment over imagined neglected niceties.
Vanessa walked to a credenza and opened one small door. “And, as a matter of fact, I do have something for Luke.”
Taking out an object, she tucked it behind her back as she turned to face the boy.
Luke was dancing from one foot to the other, his dark eyes shining.
With a pleasure-filled laugh, Vanessa handed her godson the very latest in action figures. The buffed character breaking out of his painted-on shirt was from a new movie that was yet to be released but was already a hit among the under-twelve set.
Luke gave a loud whoop of joy. “Wow, it’s Big Jake, the monster killer.”
“And he even comes with his own monster to kill.” Vanessa pointed to a lesser figure that was included, easily overshadowed by the hero.
“Wow,” Luke echoed. He tugged at the packaging, eager to get at his prize. Vanessa helped him. Freed of their plastic prison, the two figures popped up into the air.
Savannah shook her head. “You’re spoiling him, Vanessa.”
Luke sat down and was soon happily immersed in a fantasy reenactment of a battle royal between the hero and the monster, apparently oblivious to his mother and her friend.
Watching him, Vanessa smiled broadly. “Hey, I like roaming through toy stores. Shopping for Luke gives me an excuse to be there.” After her miscarriage, she wanted a baby more than ever. Now that her husband, Devin’s, desk job at the FBI only took him away occasionally, there was a better chance to make that happen.
She ruffled the boy’s jet-black hair, then walked over to Savannah, taking a seat beside her on the wide, cream-colored leather sofa. Savannah was huddled to one side, leaning against the upholstered arm as if she intended to use it to help keep her up.
Concern flitted through Vanessa as she sat down. Savannah hadn’t sounded quite like herself on the telephone when she’d asked to come over.
Seeing her didn’t alter that impression.
Vanessa grew serious. “What did you mean when you said I wouldn’t be the first?”
Savannah looked from her son to her friend. “What?”
Vanessa had a pitcher of iced tea standing at the ready on a tray on the coffee table. Without bothering to extend an invitation, she poured a tall glass for Savannah and one for herself. Two bottles of chilled soda waited on Luke’s pleasure.
“When you walked in,” she reminded Savannah, handing her a glass. “I said I’d given up on you two, and you said I wouldn’t be the first. What did you mean by that?”
Wrapping her hands around the glass, Savannah shrugged carelessly. It was a subject she’d just as soon dismiss. But she knew better. Vanessa had a way of hanging on to something once she’d gotten her teeth into it.
Savannah took a long sip of the cool liquid before offering a vague answer. “Just me, feeling sorry for myself, that’s all.”
Vanessa gave her a long, penetrating look. This wasn’t just a passing mood, she thought. This was something more. Was there trouble on Paradise Island? “Want to talk about it?”
Savannah stared at the amber liquid. In the background, Luke’s monster gave a bloodcurdling yell as Jake killed him. “No.”
Vanessa glanced in Luke’s direction to make sure everything was all right. The boy had started a new scenario. She looked back at Savannah.
“Yes, you do,” Vanessa said firmly. Savannah began to protest, but the words never left her mouth, halted by Vanessa’s knowing look. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. You know I won’t leave it alone until you tell me. When you walk in here—” she gestured around the house with her free hand “—or anywhere near me, you do not have the right to remain silent.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice even though she doubted that Luke could hear. He was too busy being Jake and the monster. “Now, what’s wrong?”
Feeling empty, weary beyond her years and lonelier than she could remember being in a very long time, Savannah murmured, “It’s nothing.” She stared again at her tall, frosted glass, noting the tiny rivulets of water had begun to run along the sides.
Like tears, Savannah thought. Just like my tears.
Vanessa frowned. “‘Nothing’ wouldn’t have you looking like a wilted flower.” Her eyes swept over her friend’s form. Five months pregnant and barely a discernible clue from her body. How did she do it? “You’re supposed to be glowing by now.”
Glowing, ha. Most mornings Savannah felt like ashes from a day-old campfire. With a shake of her head, she laughed dryly. “Whoever made that assessment of motherhood was obviously a man. On my best day, I don’t ‘glow.’ I manage.”
And just barely, she added silently. Between doing the bookkeeping for the ranch, handling Luke, morning sickness and the housekeeping, she was coming perilously close to losing it on all fronts. The faster she juggled, the more certain she was that she was going to drop something. Or everything.
But in her heart she knew that if she just had a little support, she could do it.
She might as well be wishing for the moon, she thought sadly.
Savannah could feel her friend studying her. Vanessa always seemed to know just what she was thinking. Now was no exception.
“But it’s not just the pregnancy getting you down, is it?” she asked.
“No, it’s not.” Taking another sip of her iced tea, Savannah put the glass back on the tray. “You know, the police force could use your clairvoyance. You’re going to waste here.”
Vanessa put her hand on top of Savannah’s, forcing her friend to look at her instead of avoiding her eyes. “Stop trying to change the subject. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Savannah knotted her fingers together in her lap, staring down at them.
“Everything,” she finally whispered, so quietly that, even sitting next to her, Vanessa had to strain to hear.
Tears suddenly filled Savannah’s eyes, spilling out. Annoyed, she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “Damn, I still haven’t gotten the hang of riding this emotional roller coaster. You’d think that the second time around would be easier, not harder.” She sighed, feeling as if everything was conspiring against her. But she knew that if only Cruz would love her the way he used to, everything else would fall into place. “There should be a way to put your hormones in cold storage for the duration, get them back after you push out the baby.”
Feeling for her, Vanessa put her arm around Savannah’s small shoulders. “Have you told Cruz what you’re going through?”
Savannah drew back and laughed. The sound had no pleasure in it.
“Cruz?” He was the whole problem, not a solution. Although if he’d only change again… “I’d have to make an appointment to talk to him. And even then he’d probably only break it or, worse, forget to show up altogether.”
Vanessa was very quiet for a moment. There was something in Savannah’s face that had her heart freezing. She tried to read between the lines and hoped fervently that she was wrong. “My God, there’s isn’t another woman, is there?”
Another woman, Savannah thought. If only…
“Well,” she said slowly, “yes, in a manner of speaking there is another woman.”
There might as well have been, for all the time Cruz spent away from the house, Savannah thought. A slight trace of bitterness entered her voice. Who would have thought that the promise of success would do this to them? Money had never meant anything to her. Only love and Cruz had.
“He spends almost all his time with her.” Savannah laughed shortly, recalling the last few months, so awful in their loneliness. “By the time I get him back, he can hardly make conversation, much less act like the man who made my head spin and my pulse race.”
Vanessa curled her fingers into her palms, trying to curb the desire to beat on Cruz even though she’d grown up liking him. Until he’d married Savannah, Cruz had worked on her father’s ranch, the Double Crown. She and her brothers and sister had grown up playing with Cruz and his sisters, calling him friend.
Now she was calling him something a whole lot less flattering in her mind.
“Well, who is she?” Vanessa demanded. “Have you tried confronting her?” She put herself in Savannah’s shoes. “I know if there was some woman who was trying to get her hooks into Devin, I’d knock her into next Tuesday.” She looked at Savannah, suddenly mindful of her condition. It was so hard to remember she was pregnant, given what Savannah looked like. “I could do that for you, you know. You’re pregnant, you don’t want to get yourself upset. But I could certainly handle this bitch for you. What’s her name?”
“La Esperanza.” Hope, that was what he’d named it. Hope, because that was what it represented to both of them. Hope for a new start, hope for the future. And now it had taken all hope away from her.
Vanessa stared at her. “The ranch?” she asked incredulously.
“The ranch,” Savannah confirmed. “Cruz refers to our ranch as ‘she.’” The more she thought about it, the more fitting it seemed. “And La Esperanza is a hell of a lot more competition than any flesh-and-blood woman I ever knew.”
At least, if it had been another woman, she’d like to think she’d know how to compete. But the ranch had been her husband’s dream ever since she could remember. How could she possibly compete against a dream?
“But he’s just doing that for his family. For you,” Vanessa argued.
No, not for her, Savannah thought. Because if it was for her, he would have stopped knocking himself out a long time ago. He would have tried to fit her into his day, into his night, instead of living and breathing work on the ranch.
“He’s doing that for himself,” Savannah said firmly. Ever loyal to the man she loved with all her heart, she softened slightly, as if she couldn’t help but take his side, at least to a minor degree. “Oh, he wants to be a good provider and all, but part of being a good provider is being there in more than just body. And he’s not.” She sighed, looking past her friend, focusing instead on the last few months. Maybe even years, she amended. This had been going on and steadily getting worse for a long, long time. “He hasn’t been for a long while now.”
Trying to lighten the moment and do away with the dark look in her friend’s eyes, Vanessa patted Savannah’s stomach. “Well, he must have been there in body and spirit at least once.”
Savannah shook her head. “I need more than just once. I need more than just a part-time husband, although at this point I’d settle for that. What I have is a husband who’s there ten percent of the time. And usually that ten percent is spent in bed.”
“Quality, not quantity, has always been my motto.”
“Sleeping,” Savannah emphasized. “And although he looks really cute that way…” She looked toward her son, who had once more dropped down onto the rug. Jake was smashing in the monster’s face. “A little like Luke, really. But it’s hard to maintain a two-way conversation with a man who’s doing a fairly good imitation of a corpse.”
Savannah took in a deep breath, knowing that she was coming very close to crying again. That wasn’t why she’d come here. She didn’t want to cry; she wanted to forget about everything for a little while.
“Cruz is up and out of the house before sunrise, back after sunset—sometimes long after sunset.” Sadness twisted her soul. “I have to show Luke pictures of the man just to remind him what his father looks like.”
Vanessa shook her head as she laughed. “C’mon now, you’re exaggerating.”
Savannah sighed. There was sadness in her eyes as she looked up at her best friend. “Not as much as I wish I was.”
Communication was the only way, Vanessa thought. It certainly worked for her and Devin. “Have you told him how you feel?”
Savannah looked at her. Hadn’t she been listening? “I just said—”
“I know what you just said,” Vanessa interrupted, squelching a minor bout of impatience. The solution, or at least a start, seemed pretty clear to her. “That you’d have to make an appointment to see him. Well, make one. Do whatever it takes. Grab him by the arm when he walks in tonight and say, ‘Cruz, we have to talk.’” She waved her hand, as if trying to bring about a magic spell. “And then talk.”
“He’ll probably fall asleep while I’m talking.”
Cruz had done that just the other night. Right after dinner. He hadn’t even got up from the table. He’d laid his head down for a second, just to “rest my eyes,” and boom, he was out like a light. It took everything she had not to put on the radio and blast him. But she hadn’t. She’d gently prodded him to his feet and then, with his arm slung across her shoulders, she’d somehow managed to get him up the stairs and into bed. During the one occasion when he’d been intoxicated and the same thing had happened, he’d pulled her down on top of him and they’d made love.
This time, though, he’d gone straight back to sleep.
Leaving her out in the cold.
“It won’t be the first time,” Savannah concluded, keeping her voice low for Luke’s sake. It throbbed with emotion.
Vanessa glanced at the iced tea container. “Then keep a pitcher of cold water handy and douse him if you have to.”
Despite the situation, Savannah heard herself laughing. “You’re a radical woman, Vanessa Kincaid, you know that?”
Vanessa winked in response. “Maybe, but I get results.”

He had begun to think that today was never going to be over. Since before sunup, the day had felt endless.
Which, he supposed, made it no different from all the others that had come before it in the last few months. His days were stretched to the maximum, filled from beginning to end with work. By the time he finally walked up to the house each evening, Cruz Perez felt as if he barely had enough energy to put one foot in front of the other.
Certainly not enough to sit and talk the way Savannah always wanted to do when he walked in through the front door.
He wished he had the energy she required of him.
He wished she could understand.
Getting the life he wanted for them required a great deal of sacrifice on his part. And part of that sacrifice meant not doing what he would rather be doing.
Which was being with Savannah.
He loved his wife. He really did, he thought as he drove up the winding lane to his house. Loved her with every fiber of his being.
But at the same time, the very sight of Savannah made him acutely aware of all his shortcomings. They came at him from all directions, illuminated with glaring headlights. They made him ashamed, because he couldn’t give her what he wanted to give her.
A woman like Savannah deserved to have things, things he couldn’t find a way to give her no matter how hard he tried. How hard he worked.
He always knew that running a ranch wouldn’t be easy, but he had lusted after it as far back as he could remember. Having a ranch made you your own man, gave you something to make you proud.
If it was successful.
Lately, though, there were more headaches, more bills than there was joy. A lot more.
And then there was the new baby coming—a baby that hadn’t been planned.
Lightning certainly did strike twice, he thought, driving his Jeep into the garage. Getting out, he began to walk toward the house. Luke had certainly not been planned. His firstborn had been the result of a night of passion, the kind that most men only dreamed about.
Cruz’s mouth curved as he remembered. He’d been working for the Fortunes then, with a chip on his shoulder and an army of women trailing after him. He’d had more than his share, but from the first moment he laid eyes on her, he’d seen something special about the quiet beauty who was Vanessa Fortune’s friend.
Savannah was genteel, refined, not like the other women he’d bedded. Women who wanted a wild ride with the rebel stallion, who hadn’t seen him for who he really was. Savannah had looked into his eyes, and he’d felt that she was seeing things inside of him that he had only been wishing were there.
She made him want to be a better man.
Still, when she’d left soon afterward, he’d locked her memory away and gone on with his work, being a horse whisperer. Gone on with his life, bedding every willing woman he came across. But even then, Savannah had haunted the perimeters of his mind, making him long for her even though she was an unattainable dream.
After she’d lost her teaching position in a prim and proper private school, she’d returned, to work for the Fortunes as the Double Crown’s bookkeeper. He’d been stunned to see her belly slightly rounded with child. His child, although pride had her denying it at first.
Pride was the one thing they had in common. Her pride wouldn’t let him marry her out of a sense of obligation, so she’d lied to him about the baby’s father. And his pride wouldn’t allow Savannah to be married to anyone but a success.
It still didn’t.
He was determined to be that success for her. And for his son. Honor demanded nothing less.
He’d expanded on the original ranch’s one hundred acres, buying more land to the east, planning on having more horses, planning to put the name of La Esperanza on the map. This ranch would never rival in size anything the Fortunes had, but in quality…well, that he could strive for. That would be something worthy he could give Savannah and Luke and whoever else was joining the family in six months. No, four, he mentally corrected himself after ticking off the months in his mind.
Damn, it was hard to keep that straight. Hard to keep anything in his life straight these days, what with one thing after another. Just the day-to-day chores were overwhelming now that Paco had left for reasons that had nothing to do with Cruz.
Didn’t matter what the reasons, he thought, walking up to the front door. He still felt the man’s loss. Paco had been with him since the beginning and had remained more out of loyalty than the pay. Cruz was down to three hands. The money he’d set aside to hire a new man had been eaten up by vet bills when one of his mares had been bitten by a rattlesnake. He’d come close to having to put her down, but now she was out of the woods. And he was very close to being out of money.
That left him a man short, with him having to take up the slack, since in clear conscience he couldn’t ask anyone else to do it. He wasn’t that kind of a boss, wanting his hands to do more than he did himself.
It was after nine. The last bit of July daylight had been siphoned off, and night had descended, sitting oppressively over the terrain along with its humidity.
He felt more dead than alive, but he remembered to stomp his boots on the doormat with its faded Welcome sign. He knew how Savannah hated having dirt tracked into the house.
Lately, there seemed to be a lot of things Savannah hated, he thought.
He followed the trail of lights, shutting them off as he went. Electric bills didn’t pay for themselves.
He found her sitting at the table in the small dining room. She turned her face toward him as he entered. The table was set for two.
A sad smile twisted his lips. Savannah had given up setting it for three. Luke had long since gone to bed.
Cruz missed his son. Missed his wife. Missed enjoying his life. But sitting back and enjoying things was for dreamers. Not for men with responsibilities.
Someday, he promised himself, he would be able to kick back a little and enjoy the fruit of his labors, like the Fortune men he’d grown up with. Right now was his time to prosper.
But only if he kept after it.
He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Hi,” he said wearily.
Savannah forced a smile to her lips. He looked as tired as she felt, she thought. “You made it home,” she murmured.
His broad shoulders moved in a careless shrug beneath a faded denim work shirt that was damp with sweat. “I always do.”
He said that as if he resented coming home to her, she thought. She took a breath. “Hungry?”
Yes, he was hungry. Hungry for a lot of things. Hungry for more than food. But all his body begged for was some place to drop so that it could finally, finally rest. Cruz shook his head.
“No, I’ll just turn in.”
She looked at the food, which had long since cooled, waiting on his arrival. After leaving Vanessa’s, she’d returned home, determined to be more patient. To be the loving wife she wanted to be. That had entailed making an elaborate Mexican dish her mother-in-law had taught her how to prepare. “But I made your favorite.”
Cruz forced a smile to his lips only because he was too tired to do it naturally. He looked at the meal. Chewing took more effort than he could give it.
“Thanks. Save it for tomorrow.”
She struggled to hide her hurt. He was rejecting her. Again. “It won’t taste the same.”
“You made it. It’ll still taste good.” Cruz felt his temper threatening to spike. It took all the energy he could muster to keep it in check. “Look, I’m exhausted. If you don’t mind, I’m going to turn in.” He was already walking away from her toward the stairs.
“Yes, I do mind,” Savannah said under her breath, but Cruz was too far away to hear.
Angry tears stung her eyes as she began to clear the table.

Two
S avannah made it upstairs less than half an hour later, after clearing the table and putting away all the untouched food. She’d gone to the trouble of cooking mainly for Cruz. The way her stomach was behaving, it didn’t welcome eating no matter what time of day she tried. The best she could hope for was to keep down a few crackers at a time.
Crossing the threshold into their room, she found him facedown on the bed, his face pressed against a pillow. Cruz was sound asleep.
She sighed. Her husband looked as if he’d crashed on the bed the second he came into the room. His body was sprawled on top of the covers, his opened shirt fanned out on either side of him like denim wings. Savannah shook her head. Cruz hadn’t even bothered getting undressed, except for his boots.
The air in the master bedroom was oppressively heavy. It felt sticky, still ripe with the day’s humidity. Savannah walked to the windows on either side of the king-size bed and opened them as far as they would go, hoping to get a little air circulating through the room.
Nothing happened. If there was a breeze in the vicinity, it was avoiding them.
Not bothering to shed the loose-fitting sundress she had on, Savannah lay down on the other side of the bed and pretended that all was well in her life.

“Why didn’t you put your nightgown on last night?”
It was the first question she heard when she walked into the kitchen the next morning.
Savannah felt groggy. Her stomach was just now inching its way down from her throat after being lodged there for the better part of the last fifteen minutes, as she’d knelt over the toilet bowl. She’d then crept down the darkened stairs, making her way through the all but pitch-black house, guided by the light coming from the kitchen.
Cruz was sitting at the table, eating. He’d fixed his own breakfast. Again.
So now she felt useless as well as harried and ignored.
“You noticed.” Savannah hadn’t meant to let the cryptic words escape, especially in that tone, but they had.
A piece of toast raised to his lips, Cruz looked at her as if he thought her pregnancy had somehow loosened a few screws in her head.
“Of course I noticed. You were lying right there beside me.”
Savannah shrugged as she opened the refrigerator and moved a few things around. “Since you were wearing your clothes, it seemed like the thing to do.”
Taking out a container of milk, she poured the glassful she forced herself to drink every morning. As she raised it to her lips, she felt her stomach tighten in rebellion.
Taking her words to be a criticism, Cruz did his best to stifle the annoyance that rose up like a tidal wave inside of him. He’d never had a long fuse, but lately his temper was exceedingly short. “I was exhausted.”
Savannah put the container back in the refrigerator and sat down at the table, joining him. “You’re always exhausted.”
His back went up, even though he continued eating. “Running a ranch takes a lot out of a man.”
Savannah set the glass down after only two sips. She absolutely hated milk. “Then let someone help you run it.”
He used the edge of his toast to coax the last of his scrambled eggs onto his fork. “You mean like you?” He shook his head as he took another bite. “You’re already doing the bookkeeping. And you’ve got Luke and the house, not to mention that you’re—”
Savannah cut him off. How could someone so smart be so thick? “I know exactly what I’ve got to do.” The words rang a bit too sharply in her ears, but she couldn’t seem to control the tone of her voice this morning. “And I didn’t mean me. I meant one of the hands.” She thought a second. “What about Paco?”
Cruz could literally feel annoyance creasing his brow. In the next minute it was gone as he reined in the frustration that seemed to appear more and more quickly these days whenever he was home.
“I told you before, Paco left.” Impatience returned despite his best efforts to keep it in check. “Don’t you listen to me?”
“I listen to you,” she said with indignation. “I can count every word you’ve said to me in the last month. There haven’t been many.”
Was she going to start in on that again? “Look, Savannah—”
She didn’t want to argue. She wanted to find a solution. Desperately, she went over the names of the other ranch hands. “What about Hank?”
Cruz stopped and stared at her. Just what was his wife up to? “Hank?”
“Why can’t he share some of the burden in running the ranch?” she asked slowly. “Maybe you can make him your foreman.”
He had never appointed a foreman. It was something he’d meant to do, but found himself putting off time and again. Naming a foreman meant giving someone else a share of the responsibilities that he viewed as his own. It was his ranch. His brand on everything. His good name that hung in the balance if anything went wrong.
Cruz frowned, looking down at his plate. “Hank’s not ready for it.”
Why not? Savannah asked herself. Just the other day her husband had mentioned how well the man was working out. Didn’t Cruz remember? “He’s been here almost two years—”
“I said he’s not ready for it.”
She pushed herself away from the table, glaring at Cruz. Damn it, he was doing this on purpose. “In your opinion, no one’s ready for it. I think you’re just using the ranch as an excuse not to come home to us at a decent hour.”
Like a man standing on one leg on a tightrope, Cruz felt as if he was being pushed beyond his endurance. “You want decent hours, you should have married some fancy businessman who clocks in from nine to five, not me.”
She stared at him. Where had that come from? There’d never been anyone but him in her life. “I didn’t want a fancy businessman, I wanted you.”
He caught hold of the one word that threw everything they had into jeopardy. “‘Wanted?’”
“Want. I still want you,” she amended, realizing what her slip must have sounded like. “But I never get to see you.”
He finished his cup of coffee and put it back on its saucer. “What are you talking about? We see each other every day.”
That didn’t count and he knew it, Savannah thought. “For what?” she demanded. “Ten, fifteen minutes at a clip? You’re always either on your way out the door or too tired to keep your eyes open.”
“If that’s true, how did that happen?” Cruz shifted his eyes toward her belly and the child who was growing there.
Picking up his plate and empty coffee cup, Savannah took both to the sink. “Once in five months doesn’t count.”
His manhood insulted, Cruz required a hefty dose of self-control to keep his temper and reaction in check. “It’s been more than once,” he corrected hotly.
She ran hot water on the plate and left it in the sink to soak for a moment. Then she shut off the tap and wiped her hands.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean,” he retorted, addressing his words to the back of her head. “You make it sound as if I’m having fun out there.”
Tossing the towel aside, Savannah swung around. “Well, aren’t you? In a way, aren’t you having the time of your life out there? Horses are your first love, aren’t they?”
Angry words sprang to his tongue. Cruz pressed his lips together, struggling to hold them in, knowing that once they were said, there was no way to take them back. He tried to cut her some slack because of her condition, even though she seemed bent on not cutting him any.
“I’m beginning to think the horses understand me better than you do,” he said darkly.
Her eyes narrowed. They were fighting. The fight was unfolding in front of her and she felt like a bystander at a train wreck, unable to stop what was happening. Unable to curb the words that kept flying up to her lips, demanding release.
“That’s probably because they get to see you more often.” Taking the glass of milk, she threw the contents down the drain, then clutched the sides of the sink, trying to pull herself together. None of the words being exchanged were ones she’d meant to say this morning. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself. “Look, Cruz, I don’t want to argue.”
Standing up, he threw down the napkin he’d used to wipe his mouth, echoing the movement of knights of old when they threw down a glove as a silent challenge.
“For a woman who doesn’t want to argue, you do a damn poor job of reaching your goal.”
And then, because he truly did love her, Cruz made his own attempt to smooth things out. Maybe he hadn’t been supportive enough, but hell, he was busier than God these days. Every time he turned around, there were more bills to face, more problems to smooth out. And that didn’t even include the training. Cutting horses required a great deal of time and attention.
“Look,” he began again, “you’re pregnant. Your hormones or whatever are all over the map. Why don’t you leave Luke with one of my sisters today and take a bubble bath or something?”
As if soapy water could somehow magically change everything between them, she thought.
Well, she amended, maybe it could at that. Or at least it could help her take a stab at starting over.
Turning from the sink, she crossed to him, then smiled. “I’d like to take a bubble bath. With you.”
He felt the effects of her smile. It was like watching sunshine rise over a darkened land. “That’s too girlie.”
Another wave of nausea threatened to overtake her. Savannah concentrated on pushing it back. This was far more important. She wound her arms around her husband’s neck, playing with the dark locks of hair at his collar.
“Not if I’m in the tub with you…”
He could feel the heat from her body. The heat from his own. “Yeah, well…”
Sensing her advantage, Savannah pressed herself against him, her eyes taking him prisoner. “Like we used to, Cruz.”
“We never took a bubble bath together,” he protested, but not too vehemently.
“No,” she agreed, grinning. “But we took showers together. Don’t you remember soaping up each other’s bodies?” Her voice was soft, low. It stirred him. “Don’t you remember what it was like, Cruz, drying each other off?”
His body was rebelling, betraying him. Now wasn’t the time or the place! “Savannah, you know you’re making me crazy.”
“Am I, Cruz? Am I?” Hope lit a tiny candle in the dark center of her soul. She pressed her body against his, feeling the imprint of it along her own. Feeling him harden. She had him, she thought in heady triumph. She just needed to press her advantage. “Why don’t you take the morning off? We can drop Luke off at one of your sisters, just like you said.” She raised herself on her toes, her face turned up to his. “Spend a little time together.”
Her mouth was seductively close. Temptation leaped out at him, taking hold.
He wasn’t made out of stone and he loved his wife. From the moment she’d returned to the Double Crown Ranch, there hadn’t been another woman around who could even remotely tempt him. He didn’t want anyone else. It was as if he’d buried that part of him that had searched for answers in other women’s beds. Savannah was the only answer he’d ever wanted or needed.
But right now he was needed elsewhere, not here, giving in to his own desires.
Cruz struggled to hold himself back. He knew that if he gave in to the ever-increasing wave of desire within him, if he even kissed Savannah, he’d be sunk.
He couldn’t afford to let that happen. There was so much to do today.
Very gently, he took hold of the arms around his neck and untangled himself from her. He saw the confusion, the disappointment in her eyes and felt something twist within his gut.
But she’d been his wife for over five years now. She understood about this life they led. What was required. “Honey, I just can’t today. I’ve got five new horses coming in.”
Frustrated beyond words, she wanted to scream, to rant. For the first time in her life, she wanted to throw a full-scale tantrum. “And you have to greet them personally?”
He tried to put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. They were back in their corners again. “Savannah, you know better than that.”
Stepping away from him, she sighed. “Yes, I know better than that.”
He couldn’t stand to see the sadness in her eyes. Allowing himself one final moment before hurrying out the door, Cruz paused to take her chin in his hand. Tilting her head back just a little, he lightly brushed his lips over hers.
“Soon,” he promised. “Just be patient a bit longer.”
“What choice do I have?” Savannah murmured, feeling dejected. She saw another endless, frustrating, lonely day stretch out in front of her. A day without Cruz. She dearly loved her son, but she needed a break from him. A break from him and time with her husband. But that wasn’t going to happen.
Her eyes met Cruz’s, willing him to stay. “I love you.”
“And I love you,” he told her. “This is all for you, you know that. For you and Luke.” Grabbing his hat, he started to leave the kitchen.
“No,” she said sadly to his back. “It’s all for you. Because I could live in a mud hut, as long as you were right there beside me.”
Wearily, Cruz spun on his heel to look at her. She was spouting romantic nonsense and he was in no mood for it. “No,” he said evenly, “you couldn’t. Because you can’t wear mud, you can’t eat mud, you can’t hand a bucket of mud to the doctor. It takes money, Savannah. Everything takes money and I’m earning it the only way I know how.” And he was getting damn tired of having to justify himself to her on top of everything else he had to do. “Go call one of my sisters. Take that bubble bath,” he instructed. “You’ll feel better.”
She said nothing as the sound of his boots receding on the wooden floor echoed through the silent house. The next moment, she heard the front door closing.
“No, I won’t,” she countered. “The only thing that will make me feel better is knowing that you’re still in love with me.”
And she had grave doubts about that. Doubts that her giving in to her heart and marrying Cruz had been the right thing to do, after all.
Maybe she had made a mistake.
She’d held out in the beginning because she hadn’t wanted what her parents had had. Theirs was a marriage forged by guilt, held together by desperation, and eventually disintegrated by mutual loathing. All because they’d set out to “do the right thing” in the beginning. Her mother had been pregnant with her when she and her father had gotten married, and not a day went by in her childhood that they allowed her to forget it. To forget that she was the reason for their misery.
She had grown up feeling responsible for generating the unhappiness of not just one person, but two. She’d also grown up vowing that when it was her turn, she was not going to marry for any other reason than love.
Everlasting love.
And when she’d looked into Cruz’s ruggedly handsome face, that was exactly what she’d felt. She’d known that she was always going to love him all the days of her life, no matter what.
But as far as being assured that he would feel the same…well, that had taken some convincing on his part. But he’d worn her down, making her believe that he truly wanted her, not because it was the honorable thing to do, but because he loved her.
Maybe he was a better actor than she’d given him credit for.
Or maybe she’d just talked herself into it. After all, if Cruz did love her, would he be using the ranch as an excuse to be away from her except for a few hours a day? Would he be so caught up in his horses that he didn’t have any time to spare for her or the child he’d given his name to?
Cruz had been extremely fussy when it came to hiring men to work on his ranch. Right now they had three very capable hands, two who lived on the property in a mobile trailer Cruz’s parents had given them. Men he’d told her he relied on.
So why wasn’t he delegating any responsibility to them? Why did he have to be personally involved in every single tiny aspect of running the ranch? He was so completely hands-on. From the feeding and handling of the horses right down to the maintenance of the fences that kept his herd of twenty-five within the five-hundred-acre ranch, he was there for everything.
First one up, last one down.
It was as if he had something to prove. Over and over again, every day. As if he was the last man hired instead of the one who handed out the paychecks.
Despite the summer heat, which was still stifling in the early-morning hours, Savannah poured hot water over the tea bag she’d plunked into her cup. Maybe tea would help soothe her stomach, although she didn’t hold out much hope.
She took the cup back to the table, hoping to pull herself together before Luke bounced out of bed.
Clutching the cup with both hands, she brought it to her lips and blew before taking the smallest sip and letting the liquid wind down into her stomach.
Granted, she’d known when she married Cruz that he would never be a gentleman rancher. That he wouldn’t be just marginally involved in the day-to-day activities but would plunge into them, full steam ahead. That was what she loved about him—that he could get involved with something wholeheartedly.
She just never thought that it would ultimately be to the exclusion of her and their child.
Cruz had been a horse whisperer when she’d first met him, a man who had an almost uncanny affinity for the animals he trained. He could take a horse with a broken spirit, a horse that seemed infused with the very devil himself, and somehow find a way to reach the animal. To form a bond and communicate with it until that animal had completely transformed into a horse that could be trained, managed. A horse that any owner would be proud to have.
First Cruz would breach the chasm, then became one with the horse, and the horse would become one with him. It was a thing of beauty to watch.
But now it seemed that he had thrown her over for the horses.
The horses and everything that went with them. The care, the cleaning, the feeding and the mucking out of the stalls, every aspect of the animals’ lives came before sharing time with his family.
And she hadn’t a clue how to change that.
Savannah felt tears stinging her eyes. How had she lost him?
Why didn’t he love her as he used to?
She thought of the tiny moment they’d shared just before he’d left. The old Cruz was still in there somewhere. She just needed to find a way to bring him out again.
To have him want her again.
Savannah glanced at her reflection in the darkened window just above the sink as the first rays of dawn began to materialize along the horizon. She turned sideways, critically studying herself. Her body wasn’t misshapen yet.
Maybe she could seduce him.
A hopeful smile curved her lips. The idea had merit.

Three
T he second Savannah finished making the last of the new entries into the computer program she used to track La Esperanza’s expenses, she saved the data and turned off her computer.
Closing the laptop, she turned toward her son, who was still very enamored with the action figures Vanessa had given him yesterday. Both monster and monster eradicator were making awful noises, courtesy of Luke. Any other time it might have been enough to get a bad headache rolling in Savannah’s skull.
But not today. She had a plan to get rolling instead. And a marriage to get back on track.
Glancing at Luke, she saw that he was perched on top of the sofa, a figure in each hand. Obviously the fantasy he was acting out had taken the two characters and their orchestrator up to the top of some mountain.
“You know the rules, Luke,” she called out to him. “No flying off the sofa.”
Clutching his figures to him, he pushed out his bottom lip. “Aw, Mama.”
She gave him her best no-nonsense look. “No ‘aw, Mama.’ Down, mister.”
Luke scooted his bottom down along the upholstery, then scrambled off the cushion. Before she could blink, he was on the floor, using the massive coffee table as a new battlefield.
Satisfied that Luke was safe for a nanosecond, she picked up the receiver and dialed Rosita’s home phone. Her mother-in-law was always her first choice when it came to Luke. The woman and her husband doted on the boy. If, by some wild chance, Rosita and Ruben were busy tonight, she knew she could always fall back on any one of her four sisters-in-law, or Vanessa, for that matter. Luke felt equally comfortable with all of them.
Tonight, Savannah decided, her firstborn was going to be sleeping in a bed other than his own. And she was going to reclaim what was rightfully hers.
Theirs, she amended, as she listened to the phone on the other end ringing. Because Cruz had been happy once, too. Happy making love with her. Happy with just loving her, the way she did him.
All married couples went through doldrums, Savannah told herself as she silently counted off the number of times the phone rang. Discord was only natural. It was up to her to see that they carved out a little island of time for themselves, recharged their batteries, so to speak.
It wasn’t that she had less to do than Cruz. In her own way, she firmly believed that she had just as much if not more to do than the man she’d promised to give her love to for all eternity. He had the ranch to run, she had everything else to run. The house, the books, their son and any emergency that might come up.
But then, women were far more resilient than their male counterparts and capable of multitasking on top of that. Ordinarily she was that way herself, when she wasn’t pregnant. Lately, though, she kept flagging, as if she couldn’t hang on to her energy for more than a few minutes at a time.
She didn’t remember being this exhausted when she was carrying Luke.
The phone on the other end was finally picked up. She straightened, eager to set her plan in motion.
“Hello, Mama?” The woman had insisted that she call her Mama after the wedding, and in truth, Savannah felt closer to Rosita than she ever had to her own mother. The name rolled easily from her tongue.
“Savannah?” There was immediate concern in the other woman’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
Savannah did her best to sound as cheerful as possible. Anything less and Rosita would be over in a flash, thinking the worst. It was Rosita’s belief that she had far too much happiness in her life, and she was always anticipating a reversal.
“Nothing’s wrong, Mama. I was just wondering if you’d mind taking your grandson for the night?”
“You know I’d love to have Luke over here anytime, but why tonight? Are you two going somewhere?”
To paradise, I hope. Savannah gauged her words carefully, not sure just how much Cruz would appreciate her telling her mother-in-law. He was very proud and this might offend his sense of independence. “Cruz has been working very hard lately—”
She could almost see Rosita nodding her dark head in agreement. “Takes a lot to run a ranch.”
“Yes, I know, he said the same thing.” Savannah suppressed the sigh that tried to rise to her lips. “But he’s forgotten how to unwind.”
“Unwind?”
The woman was probably unfamiliar with the term. “To relax. To enjoy himself.” Savannah paused. Then, because she liked the woman and because she had a feeling that Rosita would guess anyway, she added, “To be a husband again.”
Rosita caught on immediately, as Savannah knew she would. “Ah, I see. Of course. I can have Ruben come by and pick the boy up now if you’d like. It would give me extra time with my beautiful grandson—and you extra time to do whatever it is you need to do to help Cruz…unwind.”
Savannah didn’t want to seem as if she was eager to ship her son off, but in reality, Rosita had a good point. She’d get twice as much done without having Luke in tow. “Well…”
“Consider it done,” Rosita said, taking the decision out of her daughter-in-law’s hands. “Ruben will be there in less than half an hour. Have Luke and his favorite toys ready. And, Savannah?”
“Yes?”
“Good luck.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t bother commenting that if she had to rely on luck to make Cruz come around, then her marriage really was in serious trouble.

Cruz was well pleased.
The four quarter horses he’d arranged to buy looked even better walking off the back of the transport than they had when he had first seen them running free on Eric Tyler’s ranch. All four were fine specimens of their breed. And intelligent.
He could tell that the horses he’d picked were intelligent just by moving among them, the way he was now. He was getting a bead on them and they were getting one on him. He liked that.
Nothing worse than a dumb animal, he thought, at least for what he had in mind. He trained quarter horses to become cutting horses, animals specifically intended to herd cattle. A good horse could even prevent a stampede from getting under way, separating one frightened steer from the others before the mindless pounding of hooves and the surge of escape began.
Not that he couldn’t handle an animal blessed with less than the intelligence he saw on display today. Very slowly, he wound a lariat around his arm as he eyed the newest additions to his herd.
He had a way of communicating with horses that at times surprised even him. Had he been one of the Plains Indians, he might have said he was bonding with his brothers. But no such thought crossed Cruz’s mind when he walked into the small, tight corral to transform yet another horse from a skittish, rebellious animal to one that was willing to work for its master. To bring the fruit of its abilities to the man or woman who fed and cared for him or her.
However, something happened when Cruz was alone with a horse, something he could not explain. Something that almost allowed him to form a spiritual bond with the creature, to feel what the horse was feeling, to understand what caused its distrust or its pain.
When he had worked for the Double Crown, he had been given the toughest horses to break. Horses that had long since been given up on were brought to him in hopes that he could turn them around.
He’d never had a single failure. Sometime it took weeks, even months, but the object was not to rush, rather to succeed.
That was when he’d had the luxury of working for someone else, however. Now that he was his own master, now that what he accomplished put food on his table and clothes on the backs of his family, it was a slightly different matter. There was an urgency inside of him, an urgency to succeed, to build up the ranch, as well as his reputation. To have the kind of things he had always dreamed about having, not because he wanted them—he couldn’t care less about fancy cars or pricey clothing—but because those outer trappings meant that he, Cruz Perez, was a success.
A man to respect.
A man who could not only compete in a world populated by the likes of the Fortunes, but could also carve out a sizable place for himself.
That took dedication and work, tireless work. Not an easy matter when he was far from tireless. Especially when he walked into the house and heard recriminations thrown his way. Or when he saw the disappointment in Savannah’s eyes.
She never seemed happy anymore when he did have a moment to spend with her. That meant he was failing her somehow. More than anything else, he didn’t like failing.
A fifth horse was being led off the transport. The hand was having a difficult time bringing him over to the corral. This was the horse that Tyler had thrown in for a song.
“You’ll be doing me a favor taking it off my hands,” Eric Tyler had told him. Tugging off his hat, the older man had scratched his thinning hair and shaken his head. “I purely don’t know what to do with him.”
Even though he’d seen the other four as a sound investment of his time and money, Cruz had been drawn to the last animal immediately.
There was something about the black horse, an air that separated him from the others. There was the same amount of intelligence in its eyes as the other four—more, really—but also something else. A wariness coupled with fire.
He seemed almost human.
This one, Cruz had thought, watching as several of Tyler’s hands scattered after trying to herd the horse into a smaller corral, was a prize. A warrior.
Turning him into a working cutting horse wouldn’t be easy.
But Cruz loved a challenge.
“What’s his name?” he had asked, approaching the corral.
“Diablo,” Tyler had told him.
Diablo. The devil. It fit.
Inside the corral now, Diablo shook his proud head, his deep brown eyes locking with Cruz’s across the length of the field. Cruz found himself smiling.
“You think you’ll come out on top, don’t you?” he murmured almost to himself. “You’re in for a surprise, my friend.”
But taming and training Diablo was going to take time, and right now he needed to get busy with the four he’d purchased. He had a contract with the Flying W to turn over four fully trained cutting horses by the end of the month. That meant focusing his day a little differently, but it could be done.
The July sun beat down mercilessly.
Cruz could feel the line of sweat forming around the rim of his worn Stetson. Taking it off, he wiped his brow, then set the hat back on his head as his eyes swept over the field. One of his hands was still in the stables, mucking the stalls out before spreading a fresh layer of straw. The other two were caring for the horses that had been led into the corral. Horses needed to be washed down, especially in this heat.
Two of his mares were expecting. One had given birth to a dead colt last year. He hoped that her luck would be better this time around. There wasn’t anything to do but wait and see.
A thousand details to keep tabs on.
He thought about what Savannah had said about Hank. That he should consider making the wrangler a foreman. That he should give serious thought to entrusting others with more responsibility rather than shouldering it all himself. It would make life easier, he thought. But it was just that he did everything better than anyone.
It wasn’t vanity that prompted his feelings, it was training and ability. He’d been a cowboy all of his life, and he knew exactly what it took to run a ranch. He’d waited all his life for the chance.
And here it was.
Still, he knew damn well that he couldn’t be everywhere at once. When it came to the daily chores, he figured he’d be safe enough assigning those to the others without having to stand over them to make sure everything was taken care of. Feeding, bathing, exercising the horses and cleaning out their stalls took time. Cruz made up his mind to allow the others to take care of those details.
But training the horses, putting them through their paces until he was satisfied that they were the best they could be, was another matter entirely. Training horses was careful, almost artistic work. That was his domain.
Still, he had to start letting go somewhere, he thought. Going into Red Rock was on his agenda today, but he couldn’t do that and get the horses comfortable around him at the same time. He looked toward where a tall, rail-thin cowboy with bright red hair stood talking to another hand. Catching the redhead’s eye, he waved the man over.
“Hank, we need some more horse liniment and I’m going to have to buy saddles for these four. Why don’t you take one of the boys and go into Red Rock and pick them up for me?” He took the ranch credit card out of his wallet and handed it to Hank. “And while you’re at it, we’re running low on feed.”
“Yes, I know.” Taking off his hat, Hank ran a hand through his hair. He looked at his boss a little uncertainly, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly. It was a known fact that Cruz, although a fair man, was a control freak. “You want me to pick out the saddles?”
Cruz took Hank’s hesitant look to mean that he wasn’t up to the task. But since he’d asked him to handle it, he couldn’t very well back off. “Why? Don’t you feel you can?”
“Well, hell, yeah, they’re only saddles.” He looked at Cruz curiously. “But you always wanted to do it before.”
Cruz blew out a breath. This letting go wasn’t going to be easy, no matter what Savannah thought. She was clearly the smarter one, he’d give her that, but he was the one who knew what it took to operate a ranch. Still, he supposed he owed it to her to give this some kind of trial run.
“I’m delegating.” The word felt like hardened peanut brittle in his mouth. “Something my wife keeps telling me I should do.”
Hank nodded his head, no doubt pleased with the idea. A grin curved his mouth. “Well, seeing as how you’re ‘delegating’ stuff, I could help you with the training.” He nodded toward the corral, where all five horses stood, four in relatively close proximity and Diablo over to the side.
It was no secret that Hank had set his cap on becoming a trainer, that he’d spent hours of his free time watching Cruz as he put horses through their paces.
But Cruz knew watching and feeling an instinct were two different things. You couldn’t learn instinct. Even the thought of sharing the responsibility of training the horses didn’t sit well with him.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he replied, in the same tone of voice that parents used to make children believe they had a ghost of a chance of something coming true, when in reality the exact opposite was more likely.
Hank ran his hand along his neck, nodding. The look in his eyes when they met Cruz’s said he knew that what he’d just suggested wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.
Hank blew out a breath as he set his hat far back on his head. “Yeah, well, it was just a thought.” Putting the credit card into his shirt pocket, he stuck his hands into his back pockets. “Want me to take the Mustang?”
“No, take the truck,” Cruz told him. He dug the keys out of his jeans and tossed them to the other man. “You’re going to need the space,” he added.
“Yeah, right.”
Hank closed his hand around the keys. Walking off toward the parking area, he called one of the other hands over to join him in his trip to Red Rock.
Watching him go, Cruz frowned.
The man hadn’t even asked to take the proper vehicle. How was Cruz going to make him a foreman if he didn’t have enough sense to take a truck instead of a small, vintage Mustang when he went to get four saddles and fresh feed for the horses?
And this was the man Savannah wanted him to put in charge directly under him? No way. Cruz was going to have to stay on top of everything—unless he wanted La Esperanza to quickly become the property of the bank that held its mortgage.
He knew he had to get started, but he took a second to walk over to Diablo. The stallion was at the far end of the corral, separating himself from the other quarter horses as if he knew he was special.
No failure of ego here, Cruz thought, amused.
He climbed up to the top rung of the fence, holding on to it as he leaned over the railing. Eyeing him, the horse took a few steps back, but not enough to display fear. The horse, Cruz sensed, had a will every bit as strong as his own.
That made them both fighters.
“This is your new home, Diablo. You’d better get used to it.”
As if to show that he understood and that he was displeased, the stallion pawed the ground, tossing his mane in a gesture that could only be called defiant.
In a way, Cruz knew how he felt. As a young man, he’d refused to allow himself to be sublimated into the Fortunes’ world, even though for the most part he both liked and respected the members of the family.
Sublimation was for his parents, but not for him.
“You’d better know now,” he told Diablo, “that kind of behavior doesn’t put me off. You might have been top dog at the last ranch, but you’ve met your match here. We’re going to get together, you and me, and be friends. That’s a promise.”
He made no attempt to reach out to touch the horse, or even to enter the corral. The horse required his space. For now Cruz would respect that. But the animal did need to get accustomed to his presence in his world.
Training would begin early tomorrow morning, before he even started working with the others. Half an hour, twice a day. He didn’t have the time, but he’d find it. Even if it meant doing some more delegating.
An excitement pulsed through Cruz. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time.

While watching her reflection in the wardrobe mirror, Savannah realized that her hands were shaking ever so slightly as she smoothed the sides of her dress.
She stared down at her hands. They were also tingling. And damp.
She shook her head and silently laughed at herself. You’d think she was going out on her first date. There had to be a hundred butterflies all vying for airspace inside her stomach.
For once, she didn’t feel like collapsing or throwing up. The newest Perez-in-the-making had decided, for now, to cooperate with its mother.
Thank God for small favors, she thought.
The moment her father-in-law had come for Luke, she’d dashed off to Red Rock to buy things for the dinner she wanted to make for Cruz.
But before going to the supermarket, she’d stopped by the mall. Not to buy a new dress, but a new nightgown. Something just sheer enough to get his blood pumping in double time.
She’d picked out a full-length one that had a network of lace across her breasts and two layers of sheer, light blue nylon swirling around her hips down to the floor.
She couldn’t wait to see the expression on Cruz’s face when she wore it.
Returning home, she’d cleaned the house and started dinner going before finally going upstairs to change out of her jeans and into her dress for the evening.
Right now she had both dinner and herself warming, waiting for Cruz to make his appearance. She glanced at the clock. It was a little after seven.
She’d already called him on the cell phone she’d insisted he carry with him when he was on the range. It had taken eight rings before he’d finally answered. The second he came on, she’d launched her assault.
“Cruz, I need you to come home.”
The preoccupied note immediately left his voice, replaced by concern. “Why? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Luke?”
“No, nothing happened to Luke—”
“You? Did something happen to you? Is it the baby?”
“No, honey,” she interjected before his imagination took him to terrible places. “It’s not the baby, or me. Luke and I are fine.”
“Then why are you calling?”
She never used the telephone to get in touch with him. They had agreed that it was strictly for emergencies. As far as she was concerned, saving a marriage that was about to break apart came under that heading.
“Because I do have kind of an emergency here and I need you to come home.”
Suspicion and concern vied in his voice. “What kind of an emergency?”
“It’s too hard to explain, Cruz. You’ll understand when you get here. Please just hurry.”
She’d heard him sigh. “Okay, I’m on my way.”
That had been over half an hour ago.
Obviously the man was a lot farther away that she’d thought. Savannah reached for the cell phone again, then stopped. She heard the sound of the Mustang pulling up to the front of the house.
He was here.
Butterflies launched another attack as she took a deep breath and waited.
Within a moment, Cruz was opening the front door. “Okay, so what’s the big emergency?”
The question faded into the air as Savannah moved out of the shadows to greet him. She was wearing the same drop-dead gorgeous dress she’d had on the night he’d met her at the party at the Double Crown.
The night he’d lost his heart to her.

Four
F eeling a little like a man who had just stepped through some kind of time warp, Cruz closed the door slowly behind him. There was music wafting from somewhere on the first floor. Something soft and romantic, setting the mood.
Nodding a greeting, he continued staring at the deep green clingy dress. Memories came crowding back, bringing with them feelings he hadn’t entertained in a long time.
Fear that she was ill melted into anger at being taken away from his work under false pretenses, then finally ebbed into confusion. “What’s this all about?”
She couldn’t gauge his reaction by his tone. It gave nothing away.
Savannah forced herself to erase five years of marriage from her conscious behavior. Tonight she was not the frustrated wife and harried mother she’d been for so long she couldn’t easily remember what it was like otherwise. Tonight she was attending a party at her friend Vanessa’s house and had just seen the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on.
A man who radiated sheer animal magnetism with every move he made, every smoldering look he sent her way. From the first moment she’d seen him, Cruz Perez had made her blood rush through her veins just by being near. She desperately needed to recapture that sensation.
Needed to recapture, too, that essence within herself that had made him want her so much he was willing to forsake all the others who had come before her. And those who wanted to come after her.
With slow, measured steps, taken in strappy high heels that were, if she wore them at all, usually shed the second she walked in the front door, Savannah moved toward him. She looked every bit the huntress who had staked out her next prey and was confident of its capture.
Never mind that she was nervous, that she was afraid he’d laugh at her efforts, that she feared that what they’d had was now behind them. She masked those worries and did her best to look like a determined woman.
A determined, sexy woman.
“It’s about getting to know each other,” she told him in a sultry voice.
Well, this was new. Cruz looked at her a little uncertainly. “You feeling all right, Savannah?”
“I’m fine.”
She trailed the back of her hand along his face, then slid her fingertips down his throat, lingering where it dipped in. Savannah became aware of his pulse. It felt as if it had accelerated.
Good!
Before she could press it against his chest, Cruz caught her hand and held it for a moment. Savannah was stirring things up and he wanted to be able to think clearly.
“Then what’s this talk about getting to know each other?” he asked her. “We already know each other. I know everything about you and you damn well know everything about me.”
He had no secrets from her. She was the other half of his soul, and filled his thoughts. Didn’t she know that?
“Everything?” Savannah teased, her breath dancing along his cheek.
She moved her head nearer, bringing her lips achingly close to his. At the last possible second she drew back, just when she judged Cruz was going to kiss her. A little effort, a little pursuit helped to spice things up. She didn’t want this to be too easy, even though part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms and make love right here and now until there wasn’t a breath left within her body.
The look in her eyes challenged him as she took him up on his claim. “If you know me inside and out, what color underwear am I wearing?”
What had come over her? He spread his hands wide, trying to harness his confusion. “I don’t know.” And then, because she looked as if she was waiting for some kind of an answer, he gave one. “White?”
She moved her head from side to side slowly, her eyes never leaving his. “No.”
He made another stab, picking her favorite color. “Blue?”
That was the color of the nightgown she was going to wear for him tonight. If clouds could be called blue. “No.”
Exasperated, he held back his temper. “Okay, then, what color?”
Instead of answering, she took his hand and lightly placed it against her hip. With her eyes on his, her hand covering his, she slowly rotated his palm toward her buttocks.
Savannah watched with pleasure as a light came into her husband’s eyes. He lifted his brow as a surprised, sensual smile came to his lips.
“You’re not wearing any.”
“The man gets a prize.” She moved her body against his, silently indicating that she was the prize he had won.
Tired though he was, Cruz could feel himself responding to her. After all, until life and its myriad details had caught up to them and dragged them both down, burying them beneath a ton of responsibilities that only insisted on multiplying, they’d had an incredible sex life.
For all her innocence, Savannah had turned out to be the best natural lover he’d ever had. Considering the fact that he was far from a novice, this was saying a great deal.
Yearning seized him the way it hadn’t for a long time. But even as he lowered his mouth to hers, Cruz suddenly stopped himself and looked around uneasily.
“What’s wrong?” Didn’t he want her anymore? The question feverishly throbbed in her head, ushering fear in its wake.
“Honey, what if Luke walks in on us?”
She offered up a silent prayer of thanks. He did want her, he was just being a good father. Her mouth softened into a smile. “Then I’d ask him what a five-year-old was doing walking all the way over from the other side of Red Rock.”
Cruz’s brows knitted together in a confused line. “I don’t—”
Poor darling, he really was tired, not to immediately make the connection.
But not so tired that she hadn’t gotten to him, Savannah congratulated herself. She could feel his body hardening. Wanting her. At least she still appealed to him, she thought with not a little relief. She’d begun to have her doubts.
“Our son is staying at your parents’ house tonight, bless them. Your dad came by earlier today to pick him up.”
Cruz stiffened slightly. “You told them you were doing this?”
She knew what a private man her husband had turned out to be, even about something as natural as this. She framed her words carefully. “I told them we needed some time alone together. Maybe they think we’re painting the baby’s room.”
Cruz laughed and shook his head, relaxing. “My parents are not dumb people.”
No, they were smart beyond books and very in tune to what was happening around them. She’d seen more than one display of affection between her in-laws. Not like with her own parents. All the years she’d spent growing up, she had never witnessed so much as a chaste kiss between the two. The only thing that had ever been remotely hot had been the words they had thrown at each other.
“Maybe that’s why your parents have such a long, healthy marriage.”
Cruz took her into his arms, toying with the tendrils of hair along her neck. How long had it been since he’d seen her like this? Soft, relaxed, stirring. “You saying our marriage isn’t healthy?”
It wasn’t terminal, Savannah thought, but it certainly was ill. Using humor, she allowed snippets of honesty to come through.
“I’m saying it’s in danger of having rigor mortis set in.” Savannah wiggled against him, deliberately tempting him. “Use it or lose it. The way I see it—” she let her eyes dip down his torso “—all the parts are still under original warranty.”
“Okay, let’s see what we can do about wearing out a few of those parts.” Cupping her face, Cruz lowered his mouth to hers. He was utterly surprised when, instead of kissing him, Savannah moved back and took a few steps away from him. Confused, he stared at her. “Now what?”
Savannah nodded toward the dining room behind her. “We eat first.”
“Eat?” He said the word as if he didn’t fully fathom what it meant.
Turning on her heel, she began to lead the way. “I made all your favorites—”
Cruz caught her hand, turning her around again until she faced him. “Good, then let me start by sampling my very favorite.” He kissed her shoulder, causing the butterflies that had been in her stomach to spread their wings and take to the air.
Her very skin was sizzling.
It was working.
He was beginning to sound the way he had when she’d first met him. When she’d first married him. He’d been sexier than hell back then. All she wanted was to have him back, and now here he was.
She moved out of his reach again. “I want to draw this out, make it last.”
He winked at her, that grin she loved so much curving his mouth. “I’ll do my very best.”
A laugh bubbled up in her throat. “I meant by eating dinner first.” As if to mark his place for him, Savannah leaned into Cruz and lightly brushed her lips against his. When he started to kiss her, she pulled back. “Dessert will be served upstairs.”
Cruz caught her in his arms and kissed her, his mouth hard against hers. The kiss made her melt. Made her body temperature rise several degrees in wild anticipation of what was to come.
They hadn’t made love in so long, she’d lost count of the days. Of the weeks.
She could feel her body rejoicing.
Savannah wound her arms around his neck, cleaving to the warmth of him, losing herself in the mind-spinning effect that his mouth had always had on her. To hell with her carefully laid plans; she was seizing the moment.
And then she felt his hands on her shoulders, moving her back.
Stunned, dazed, she all but stumbled backward. It took her a second to focus on his face.
Cruz smiled, pleased at what he saw. Two could play the game she’d come up with, and maybe she had something there at that. Maybe making her the slightest bit unattainable did heighten the stakes, did increase the anticipation rather than simply gratifying himself instantly.
He was willing to go along with that, even though, when he’d walked into the house, he’d been more tired than an eagle after a three-day, nonstop flight.
He loved seeing the effect of his kiss on her, loved seeing how her lips were pink and slightly swollen. “Consider that a retainer.”
It took Savannah a moment to process his words. And then she laughed. “I want payment in full, the second we cross that threshold.”
He gave her a quick, two-finger salute. “Consider it done.”
As he walked with her into the dining room, Cruz placed his hand on her hip, silently reaffirming not just the emotional but the physical bond that existed between them.
About to sit down, he stopped himself at the last moment and went to help Savannah with her chair. Her surprised look melted into a pleased one, making the extra effort worth it.
When had all the niceties eroded between them? Had they been erased by the comfort of familiarity, or had he and his wife just become too tired to care?
This was better, he thought.
“Everything smells good,” he stated as he sat down. “Especially you.”
There was hope, she told herself, pleased that she’d thought to do this. Pleased with his response. She’d begun to think that maybe they had gotten beyond salvaging. That they’d become an old married couple years before their time, taking each other for granted and just existing side by side instead of actually living each moment fully the way they had when they’d first gotten married.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Pleasure brought color to her cheeks. She could feel it spreading.
Cruz flashed her an apologetic smile as he helped himself to the burritos rancheros Savannah had carefully arranged in the serving dish. They were smothered in sour cream and guacamole sauce. He took a good portion of each.
“I’m afraid I smell a little ripe.”
She grinned. That had never bothered her about him. “I don’t mind a little perspiration,” she told him. “On you, it’s a very manly smell.”
He put the spatula back in the dish. “You’re easy to please.”
Her eyes met his. God, but she loved this man. “In some ways,” she agreed, then felt compelled to add, “in others, not so easy.”
There was chilled wine waiting on his pleasure. He took only a little, feeling bad that she couldn’t have any. The wine felt good as it slid down his throat, enhancing the mood.
“Is that a riddle?” he asked, setting his glass down.
“You can work it out later.” Her voice was low, husky, full of promise.
To his surprise, Cruz felt himself getting excited again.
He found himself hurrying through the meal, barely aware of what he was eating, only that it was tasty. His plate was cleaned within fifteen minutes of sitting down at the table, the contents washed down by a little more wine.
Cruz noticed that Savannah’s plate was clean, as well. But in her case it was because she’d taken next to nothing to begin with.
He nodded toward her plate as he pushed his own back. “Not hungry?”
She gave a little shrug, the light dancing off her bare shoulders. “I ate while I was making it.”
It was a lie, but one that she was allowed, she thought. If she made him aware of just how little she consumed during the course of a day, he’d worry. The truth was, she was afraid that if she ate more than the small portion of plain rice she’d prepared for herself, all her plans for the evening ahead would be ruined.
There was little doubt in Savannah’s mind that she would wind up spending the night in the bathroom, being ill.
As it was, ever since she’d become pregnant with her second child, waves of nausea kept assaulting her at the most inopportune times. They were at their most predictable shortly after a meal.
Shortly after this meal, she intended to be naked and entertaining her husband, as well as being entertained by him. A sudden run to the commode did not come under that heading.
Finished with his meal, Cruz began to rise with his plate.
His mother, Savannah mused, had trained this man well. But tonight that didn’t make any points.
“Leave it,” she told him, guiding the plate back to the table. “They’ll keep.”
Rising to her feet, she took his hand and began to walk toward the stairs.
He surprised her by abruptly stopping in the foyer before the staircase, just shy of the living room. When she turned around to look at him quizzically, Cruz took her into his arms.
Ever so slowly, he began to sway with her, in time to the music.
“We danced that first night, remember?” He enveloped her hand with his own, pressing it against his chest as he danced.
Against his heart, she thought, feeling the rhythm of its beat.
“On the terrace,” he continued. “Music from the party was drifting out of all the opened windows, and we danced the last time you wore this dress.”
That he remembered such a small detail thrilled her beyond measure.
“Yes,” she said softly, leaning her cheek against his chest, “I remember.”
Anticipation paired off with adrenaline, creating all sorts of delicious havoc within her body as she moved to the strains of the slow love song. She was happy enough to cry.
Damn her hormones, she thought. The smile didn’t leave her lips.
“This was a good idea.” Cruz’s breath wafted through her hair.

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