What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(56)
Maybe she’d be ready for a change of scene, but would she want to live with him? She liked him as a sex partner, but would she be willing to formally unite her august heritage with the son of the Meanest Man in Texas?
He supported his head on a bent arm as he studied her face.
He was moving too fast. Five days did not a courtship make. He knew he was good in bed—Marguerite had made damn sure of that—but good sex didn’t necessarily make for a good marriage. Laurel had said she loved him, but that just might be a leftover teenage fantasy speaking. She might not be ready for another legal commitment so soon after whatever had gone wrong with her first marriage. And when he thought of it, their lives were vastly different: She was a schoolteacher—a music teacher no less, the gentlest profession of all—and he was a real estate speculator—a shark who ate other sharks.
Yep, a marriage proposal this soon would probably scare the pants off her. He smiled and caressed her hip. Maybe he’d better reword that—the pants were long gone.
On the other hand, he didn’t want to lose her.
He leaned back in bed and closed his eyes. This one he’d have to play by ear.
*
Ray Espinoza was Jase’s first appointment of the day. After they ran the Shallows down and back, he followed Ray to the Lynnwood area to look over the new section that Espinoza and Son was opening up.
“I ran into Rafe McAllister, and he said he’s working on house plans for you.”
“Yeah. We’re buildin’ for the high-end trade here, dude,” Ray explained. “More upper-middle than the first section of Lynnwood. Media rooms, three-car garages, larger lots, optional pools—all the trappin’s. Thinkin’ of putting in a country club and an eighteen-hole golf course. People in Bosque Bend are makin’ money now, and they wanna move up. We got a lot of wealthy retirees comin’ to town too. Overflow from Sun City down in Georgetown.”
Jase pulled the brim of his Stetson lower against the morning sun. “How are you gonna get this off the ground, man? Who’s financing you?”
“First National has faith in us.”
“First National? But I thought—”
Ray laughed. “You thought they wouldn’t loan to anybody named Espinoza, right?”
“No offense, man, but that’s the way it was when I lived here.” He shook his head. “Gotta admit, they wouldn’t have loaned to Growler Red’s son either, and now they’re almost watering at the mouth to hand over the cash.”
Ray looked out over his kingdom. “Dad and I built the first section of Lynnwood with private financin’, and it sold so well the bank couldn’t turn us down. Besides, we got an attorney who knows our rights better’n we do.”
Jase nodded, understanding perfectly. “And success is sweet, especially when you’re sticking it to The Man, right?”
The two men looked at each other, grinned, thumped fists, and knocked elbows.
*
Laurel woke up late and took her time getting dressed, pairing a lime green tee with yesterday’s shorts. The world hadn’t exploded yet, so she thought she’d risk baring her legs again. Maybe she’d even get herself a couple more pairs of shorts, which would certainly be a lot cheaper than turning up the air-conditioning.
She posed in the standing mirror, twisting from one side to the other to study herself. Her legs looked okay—slender but not skinny, and her ankles were narrow. Her knees were nice too, their bones well-defined, with no extra flesh alongside. She hoped Jase had noticed.
A rush of heat suffused her. Last night he’d noticed everything.
She pulled up the sheet and topped it with a light summer spread. Why did she even bother? It seemed a futile, given the amount of time they spent rumpling the covers.
Going downstairs, she made herself some coffee and read the latest Retriever. Sawyer was on a new campaign, this time to have Bosque Bend High School resurrected as a museum housing memorabilia from the town’s past, going as far back as the Huaco Indians. Laurel didn’t hold out much hope for this particular project succeeding, but, on the other hand, she hadn’t thought the Shallows would ever be turned into a riverside park either—and the Retriever had been the first to propose the idea.
Art had also written a long diatribe on the indolence of Bosque Bend youth, one of his favorite topics.
Where did the drive come from to publish what was basically a personal-opinion tabloid? Everyone knew advertising was tight and that Sawyer operated on a shoestring budget, but, for as long as she could remember, the Retriever had appeared on the doorsteps of Bosque Bend every Wednesday and Saturday. Arthur Sawyer could be cranky, but he was also an idealist, and Bosque Bend needed his voice. Besides, he’d been kind when Daddy fell into disgrace, not mentioning a word about it in print. He hadn’t run obituaries for Mama or Daddy either, which would have riled up the populace all over again.
She finished the paper and laid it aside for Jase when he returned from his meeting with Ray Espinoza.
Taking another sip of her coffee, she leaned back against the counter. Would this be the day when her idyll came to an end? She was becoming more and more fatalistic. If Ray said something to Jase about Daddy, there was nothing she could do about it. The truth was bound to come out sooner or later.
The phone rang. Her Realtor? She put down her cup and raced to the den.