Save the Last Dance

Chapter 1—The Fall

Flying should be done in a perfectly good airplane, not while being catapulted off the back of a recalcitrant horse.

Mariah Baker lay spread-eagled on her back, not certain she’d live to ride again. Mud—sticky gooey mud—sucked at her body, soaked her clothes, and covered her face like a beauty treatment gone bad. To heap insult on top of insult, the stuff smelled like rank fertilizer and stale water and quite possibly horse manure. Heaven couldn’t have mud like this, if it even had mud.

She wiggled her toes and fingers to test each one. Lifting her still-spinning head, she scraped mud from her face with her gloved hand. Her blurry eyes focused on two large cowboy boots about a foot away. Angels didn’t have big feet and wear scuffed cowboy boots.

Are you okay? A deep, sexy voice vibrated with concern.

She tried to raise her head higher. A large hand to match those big feet entered her field of vision.

What happened—?

You fell off your horse.

Oh, yeah, she remembered now. An invisible horse-eating troll lurking in the nearby woods scared her ditz-brained gelding. He’d bucked and sent her flying like a rag doll, a short flight which ended with an ungraceful face plant. At least it was a soft landing, as last night’s rain had transformed the footing in her riding arena into a mud bog.

Are you all right? The man sounded rattled.

Mmmm.

Don’t move. You might have broken something.

Nothing’s broken. I just had—the wind knocked out of me. She choked and spit out a mouthful of mud. The owner of the cowboy boots squatted next to her. Long legs, strong thighs, narrow hips, broad chest. Definitely heaven.

With a groan, Mariah pushed herself to a kneeling position and came face-to-face with Adonis. Well, at least he could have doubled for a Greek god. His appearance tickled her memory, yet she was certain she’d never met him. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and stared.

And stared.

And stared.

Heaven wouldn’t have temptations like him. He’d turn any good girl into a very bad girl, and she’d be first in line.

A day’s growth of beard darkened his handsome face. His unruly brown hair begged for attention from a decent stylist. He wore clothes most garage sales wouldn’t bother to sell. His threadbare jeans had never seen a designer label. Yet his disheveled appearance didn’t come close to concealing his model good looks. Suffice it to say, the man fit every clichéd description of a hero in a romance novel, despite his scruffiness.

Too bad she’d sworn off men as of last night. So what if he was kiss-your-heart-goodbye gorgeous? Unfortunately, her heart wasn’t listening. Instead, it told her brain to get lost and snuggled up next to Mr. Scruffy, at least in its dreams.

He might appear scruffy, but he smelled wonderful in a clean, masculine sort of way. His scent actually cut through the smell of rancid mud that clung to her body. Without thinking, she leaned closer to get a better whiff of his expensive aftershave. A dedicated shopper, Mariah knew expensive when she saw it or smelled it. She’d also bet a winning lotto ticket he wore a Rolex watch and Gucci sunglasses.

Raising her gaze back to his face, she found him staring at her. He removed his sunglasses and shifted his gaze from her lips to her eyes. The man had the most incredible brown eyes, as yummy as a chocolate mocha espresso fringed with long, black eyelashes. Guys shouldn’t have eyelashes like that when they never appreciated them.

Those mocha eyes sucked her in like dust bunnies sucked into a vacuum cleaner. She felt light-headed. And hot. Really hot. Taking a deep breath, Mariah gathered her composure—and her dust bunnies—about her like a suit of armor.

Relax, girl, relax. This guy radiated sexual energy like the sun radiated heat. She’d just been gobbled up by his magnetic sensuality. He was dangerous, and she didn’t need a guy like that to complicate her life. She’d get rid of him, and the sooner the better.

I’m Enr— He hesitated. I’m Rodrigo Perez. He studied her with interest, as if waiting for a reaction. I’m staying at the Delgados’ vacation house for a month. That’d make me your neighbor. He held out his hand to her.

She stared at it, while her mind stalled somewhere between fantasy and reality. He cleared his throat to get her attention. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he grinned. His hand hovered in mid-air. Mechanically, she removed a mud-encrusted glove and offered her hand to him. His long fingers surrounded her smaller hand with a firm but gentle hold, and his dark eyes never left hers. The man was a seduction machine, and Mariah fell for his technique, hook, line, and sinker; stupid, gullible woman that she was.

And you are?

I’m Mariah, she croaked, feeling like an idiot.

Well, Mariah, it’s a pleasure to meet you.

Thanks.

Rodrigo straightened to his full height, leaving Mariah to stare at his belt buckle, tight jeans, and... Oh, damn. He tugged on her hand to help her up, but her legs refused to cooperate.

Can you stand? His brown eyes were laced with true concern.

Roused from her stupor, Mariah pulled her hand away, and scrambled to her feet.

Are you sure you’re okay? Concern gentled his brown eyes.

I am. Really. I’ve fallen off many times. It’s nothing. Something in the woods scared my horse.

Can’t imagine what that would be. The picture of complete innocence he shrugged and looked away, shifting his weight from one cowboy boot to another.

Sueño, her gray gelding and the guilty party, wandered over and stuck his head between them. Mariah picked up his reins.

Where did you—? I mean, how did you—? Her brain lost the ability to form words. His amused grin didn’t help.

I was walking along the road and saw you launched into the air like a human missile.

Thank you for helping me. Mariah swiped at her face with her arm, but the action only spread the mud around. Pulling off her riding gloves, she rubbed her face with her hands but that wasn’t much better.

I’m just glad to see you’re okay. A slight accent blended with the rich timbre of his voice. A handsome man with an accent made a freaking deadly combination.

Attempting to be inconspicuous, she rubbed her clammy hands on her thighs. Her horse stirred beside her, and she glanced at him. The big busybody hadn’t missed a thing. One furry ear swiveled to catch each tidbit of conversation. His eyes followed their every move with interest. Mariah glared at Sueño. Maybe you’d like some popcorn and a beer while you watch me squirm? Whose side are you on? After all, who feeds you? Help me out here, will you?

Sueño shook his long forelock over his eyes and ignored her.

Knowing she was on her own, she searched for something clever to say. She turned into a blabbering idiot around most men. She doubted Señor Grunge would be an exception. You’re staying at Max and Carmen’s house? It’s—it’s really nice. I’ve been in it. I did some work for them about six months ago. Carmen wanted the rooms redone in a country style, something relaxed. I looked all over Seattle for just the right— Now, she was blathering.

Great place. I’m enjoying it. Very private and peaceful, he agreed smoothly.

Pulling herself together once again, Mariah put on her polite cocktail-party voice and inquired, Where are you from, Rodrigo? His accent intrigued her, and much to her surprise, she imagined him whispering Spanish to her in the middle of the night.

I spent the first eight years of my life in Puerto Rico. Now I live in LA. I’m here on Orcas Island for a vacation. He paused to look around him. Do you have any idea what a view like this would cost in Southern California?

I can’t begin to imagine. She glanced around, imagining the place from new eyes. The horse arena sat on a bluff overlooking a small cove. In the distance, the San Juan Islands glittered like precious jewels on the water. A green and white Washington State ferry wound its way through the myriad of passages bound for the Orcas ferry landing. To the north, the boats in Deer Harbor floated lazily in the morning sun.

Even in her most tumultuous times, this place had brought her peace. Unfortunately, the taxes and expenses threatened to drive her out. Every month, that stack of bills on her desk increased exponentially in comparison to her meager income.

Rodrigo coughed and brought her attention back to him. He wrung his hands together. I have to confess. I’ve been watching you ride for a few days.

You’ve been watching me ride? Oh, great, her neighbor was a stalker. Even as she considered it, she didn’t actually believe it. He appeared to be a professional heartbreaker, not a stalker. She’d almost married a man like him once so she recognized the type. Besides, tourists from the nearby resort stopped on the road occasionally and watched her ride.

Uh, yeah. Rodrigo pushed his hair off his forehead and looked down at his feet. He seemed worried about how she’d interpret his confession. I was walking by earlier this week, and I saw you through the trees. I’ve never seen anyone ride a horse like that. It’s mesmerizing.

Thank you. Mariah glanced up at him. A shock wave zipped through her system. She stepped away and added more space between them.

I thank you for being such a skilled rider as to capture my attention.

Ah, what a silver-tongued devil. Most people would rather watch concrete dry.

He raised one eyebrow, as he knew she might have his number. What do you call this type of riding you do?

Dressage, a very old equestrian sport. Actually, it’s more of an art form than a sport when it’s done correctly.

How do you steer him? With your thoughts? He seemed genuinely interested.

No, not really. I use subtle signals from my leg and shift my weight in the saddle, but there are times when it seems as if he’s reading my mind. When we’re in sync, it’s the most incredible feeling. It’s like we leave this planet, as if we’re on a different plane of existence. It’s hard to explain. Time slows, has no meaning. It’s almost...holy. Athletes have a term for it. They call it being in the zone. Sueño and I seem to find that zone together more than any horse I’ve ridden. Mariah stopped. She'd told him way too much. To his credit, his eyes didn’t glaze over from sheer boredom.

How long does it take to learn to ride like that?

It takes years. This horse is my baby. I raised and trained him myself. Mariah patted her gelding’s coat.

You’ve done a great job, but it’s more than training; even I can see that.

She looked away for a moment then met his eyes, feeling a little jolt right down to her toes. Yes. Yes, it is, she admitted in a soft whisper. She didn’t speak of her connection with this horse to just anyone. Non-riders didn’t understand. In fact, most long-time riders didn’t understand it either.

Rodrigo reached up to pet the horse. Sueño lowered his head so the man could scratch a preferred spot behind his ears.

"He likes you. He’s very picky about his people. I can’t believe he’s letting you pet him. He's very perceptive about people. I should listen to him more...."

Si, you should. I love animals. Rodrigo interrupted, stroking Sueño’s neck. Her horse gave him a hard push with his nose.

Feel free to smack him when he does that. It’s rude.

Why does he do that?

He wants a carrot.

A carrot? Sorry, big guy, I don’t happen to have one on me. Rodrigo held his hands out, palms up. Sueño sniffed at each hand.

He doesn’t deserve a carrot when he behaves like that.

Expressing his opinion against the no carrot rule, Sueno gave her a hard push and knocked her off balance. Rodrigo came to her rescue again and caught her before she fell, holding her a little too close. Her body betrayed her, and her heart and mind followed. Throwing her good-girl reputation to the wind, she fastened to him like Velcro. His warmth soaked into her pores. That hard, muscled chest pressed against her soft contours. She inhaled the scent of his aftershave and filled her lungs with his essence. Heaven could never feel this good.

Sueño snorted again and tugged on the reins, yanking her back to Pacific Daylight Time. Leaping backwards, she extracted herself from Rodrigo’s arms. Keeping a safe distance from the two males, she studied them warily. Rodrigo didn’t seem to notice or care that his white T-shirt now sported several muddy spots.

You know, you shouldn’t let him get away with that. Humor glinted in his dark eyes. He’s being rude.

Thanks. I’ll remember that. She didn’t trust her voice enough to say another word.

She’d just clung to a strange man like he was a Titanic lifeboat and enjoyed every delightful second of it.

* * *

Wiping his now muddy hands on his jeans, Rico Sanchez, aka Rodrigo Perez, took a second to gather his composure. That close encounter with Mariah flustered him more than he wanted to admit. The feel of her body against his went straight to his dick, and while he boasted a healthy sex life, he usually maintained better control than that. Rico shoved his hands in his pockets and adopted a casual pose. Under that mud was one classy woman. He didn't want to scare her off by acting like an uncivilized ass.

Unfortunately, he’d already earned the title of ass whether she suspected it or not. For starters, he’d been skulking in the woods watching her ride and freaked out her horse. He had no idea horses were such drama queens.

Scaring the horse might have been an accident but lying about his name had been deliberate. He wasn't sure what prompted him to do that. She might not even recognize his name since it’d been so long since he’d made headlines.

Since his popularity had gone down the tubes, the only women interested in him were gold diggers and publicity seekers. The Gold Diggers had no clue that his money had followed his popularity into the toilet. The publicity seekers wanted to exploit him for what it was worth. He figured a little white lie about his identity in exchange for a month of anonymity wasn't too much to ask.

The horse snorted and pawed the ground, demanding Mariah’s attention. Rico studied the animal. It blinked its big brown eyes at him. Perhaps he had an ally in that furry, four-legged beast. "What’s his name?" After all, a guy should know the name of his ally.

Sueño. Sueño Araña. Removing her riding helmet, Mariah plucked a clump of mud and grass from her long mahogany hair.

Dream Weaver, Rico mused. Is he your dream weaver?

I guess you could say that. Mariah chewed on her lower lip. I really need to clean up and finish my ride, Rodrigo, but it was nice meeting you.

Nice meeting you.

She hesitated, as if she were about to say something else, only she didn’t. Leading Sueño, she turned away and walked through the gate toward a small red barn.

Rico watched her go. He knew a dismissal when he heard it, but he didn’t give up that easily on a woman who intrigued him.

Reluctant to let her leave, he hurried after her. She glanced at him but kept walking. Do you need something else?

Uh, yes. What’s the best restaurant around here?

Rosario Resort has good food. It’s not cheap, but the view of the bay is worth the price. They have a piano bar and dancing, too.

Sounds romantic. He winked at her.

She blushed and looked away, increasing her pace. He ran to catch up. Imagine, Rico Sanchez running after a woman, but a damaged ego was a small price to pay for a reprieve from the loneliness, and he hated the loneliness.

Rico quickly checked her left hand and didn’t find a ring. He made it a practice not to mess with another man’s woman. He did have some scruples.

He tagged along into the barn. The wide aisle was neat and tidy with a couple stalls on both sides. Mariah tied the horse to a post and used a wet paper towel to clean her face. Even in her messed-up state, she enchanted him.

What time can I pick you up? He grinned. With an expertise born of practice, he disguised his insecurities behind a wall of cocky confidence.

I don’t even know you. Her green eyes took on a stubborn glint.

Rico focused the full heat of his gaze on her. Have dinner with me tonight, and we can work on that. He flashed his most disarming grin, guaranteed to charm the resistance out of any woman. In his younger years, he’d mastered hustling a woman to the point of perfection then to the point of boredom. He suspected hustling this woman would prove to be anything but boring, especially as out of practice as he was.

His gaze roamed over her killer body. The skin-tight riding breeches and soiled t-shirt did little to hide her delectable curves. In fact, the mud stuck to all the right places. Plus, the black leather riding boots were a nice touch. He grinned with true appreciation as he brought his eyes back to hers.

So, what time?

I can’t, I have plans tonight.

Change them. Please. He smiled and turned on the Latin charm, attempting to disarm her reluctance. Her emotions played across her face, making her as easy to read as a theater marquee. He’d never considered innocence to be sexy before, but it sure as hell was on her.

Sorry. I can’t.

You break my heart, querida. He put his hands to his chest in a dramatic gesture.

I doubt that. It was nice meeting you, Rodrigo. Now I must get back to work. She turned her back on him, dismissing him just like that.

Rico opened his mouth to protest then snapped it shut. He didn’t give up easily, and she’d find that out soon enough.

* * *

Mariah waited several minutes then snuck from the tack room. She peered down the barn’s aisle. Rodrigo had taken the hint and left. Something in the aisle caught her eye. His sunglasses. Picking them up, she studied them. Gucci. They probably cost more than she made in a week.

Putting the sunglasses on the shelf, she decided to finish her ride before she took a shower. A little mud wouldn’t kill her. She led Sueño back to her riding arena, irritated at the man's presumptuous attitude and that she'd have to see him again to return his sunglasses.

Who does that guy think he is, Sueño? I can’t believe he waltzed in here like he owned the place and assumed I’d go to dinner with him. The jerk. The gorgeous, presumptuous jerk.

With resignation, Sueño accepted his role once again as her four-legged confidant. He sighed one of his long-suffering sighs and stood quietly. He let her carry on, taking it like a man, well, actually, like a gelding, while his eyes blinked shut several times.

The nerve of him. Good looks don’t give a guy a license to have anything he wants. Besides, Mariah huffed, did you see his clothes? She stopped and looked down at her muddy shirt and started giggling, her anger draining out of her.

Sueño watched a butterfly flit past his nose and yawned. He nudged her.

It’s time to get down to business, huh? I guess you’ve heard enough of my babbling for now.

Taking in the beautiful morning, Mariah couldn’t help smiling. She'd never regretted her decision to leave Seattle for the peace and quiet of the San Juans. The morning sun peeked through the trees and reflected off the water in the cove. Strips of sunshine formed bright patterns of light on the ground. She savored the warmth soaking into her bones. As a true Pacific Northwesterner, she appreciated sunny days even more than she appreciated gourmet coffee or I-5 without traffic.

Mariah gathered the reins in one hand and swung herself into the saddle. Sueño stood motionless until the slightest squeeze of her legs told him to move forward. She walked him around the arena a few times, giving him time to warm up his muscles. The gray gelding plodded along like an old plow horse until Mariah picked up the reins. Then he came alive.

Sueño’s controlled power surged beneath her. She sat motionless in the saddle because even the most inconsequential movement on her part disturbed their delicate harmony. Sueño’s hooves drummed the ground in a hypnotic, steady rhythm as he floated across the arena. For such a large animal, he was light and graceful, changing his direction and speed with fluid ease.

In a magical union of two species, they danced in the morning light.

* * *

Rico lounged in a deck chair by the pool, oblivious to the million-dollar view laid out before him like a postcard. The Delgado house was nestled in a private cove and bordered Mariah’s farm. The large, two-story cedar home sprawled over a wide expanse of lawn which ended at a small private beach. Rico’s eyes rested on the madrona tree that grew on the bank along the water’s edge. It looked like it’d been on a week-long drunk the way it twisted and turned its burgundy trunk to find sun. Sometimes he felt that way, too, unable to find himself or the sun.

Like a smoker craving his next cigarette, Rico picked up his cell phone and started to dial. He cut the phone off after the first ring. He wasn’t going to give in just yet. He’d made it four days. One phone call from him, and his entire family would descend upon him. He wouldn’t have a moment’s peace. Not to mention they expected him to pay for everything, and that well had almost run dry.

Rico put his head in his hands. The weight of the world, at least his small world, sat on his shoulders. Everyone looked to him to make things right. Except this time, he wasn’t sure how to do that.

Shit.

He sighed. This was why he dreaded vacations. There was nothing to occupy his mind and too much time to think about his empty life, his financial issues, and his uncertain future.

Yet, there was hope. An attractive time-occupier in the shape of a gorgeous female and her mind-reading horse had just tangoed into his life. Nothing like a good old-fashioned seduction to get the creative juices flowing again. Now he needed to map out a strategy.

Seducing Mariah called for unique tactics. She didn’t fit the usual mold of the women he dated, when he dated. He liked them beautiful, easy, and lacking in the intelligence department. No way would Mariah be easy. She fit the beautiful requirement. Now, for the brains... Well, a woman who challenged his mind, as well as his body, might be a welcome change. Not since Carmen had he been interested in a woman with a brain. The dumb ones were easily placated with gifts and flowers. The smart ones demanded more than he was willing to give, but this time he’d make an exception.

His body begged for a little female companionship. He’d denied himself pleasure for too long in favor of work, work, and more work. Funny, most people assumed he partied all night, every night. Wouldn’t they be surprised to learn that his personal life consisted of getting up in the morning and going to bed at night? Alone, he might add.

That horse, Sueño, probably saw more action than he did. He probably had tons of little fillies chasing him around the pasture. Rico shook his head and chuckled. Just when he didn’t think things could get any lower in his life, he’d just sunk to an all-time low. He envied a frigging horse!

Okay, so the horse had proven to be useful. That pushing trick couldn’t have worked out better if he’d planned it himself. Little thrills of excitement vibrated through his body as he remembered the feel of her in his arms. She’d been so soft, pliable, and so female. He couldn’t deny the instant chemistry between them, not when his body still sizzled from the impact. Laughing, he imagined burn marks on his chest where she’d clung to him.

Yet, it wasn’t just her body he wanted. In his old world, women with to-die-for bodies had been a dime a dozen. There was something about her. Something indefinable.

The way she mind-melded with that horse fascinated him, too. He needed to know more about...what did she call it? Sounded like massage. Oh, yeah, dressage. Maybe he’d surf the Internet and do a little research. The logical side of Rico researched everything, dissected it into little pieces, and put it back together in a creative way. It was that creative spirit in him that had suffered lately to the point of non-existence.

Rico felt his old depression seep back in, but he tamped it down. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall back into that trap. He loathed his recent tendency to wallow in self-pity. He had better things to do.

Like seduce his neighbor.

Chapter 2—The Next Move

Mariah ignored the growing stack of bills teetering precariously on the antique oak dining table. Next to them lay Rodrigo’s sunglasses. Skirting around the table, she gave it as wide a berth as she would a rattlesnake sunning itself on a rock.

Long ago she’d perfected the Scarlett O’Hara method of handling problems: she’d think about it later. Or tomorrow. Or never.

Between the mounting expenses on this old horse farm and her shopping addiction, money never stayed in her bank account long. Even when she’d worked in Seattle as an interior designer for a prestigious firm, she spent as much as she made. She had a problem, and she’d always been this way, didn’t know how to be any other way. She loved nice things. Unfortunately, she had Armani taste on a Walmart budget.

There had to be better things to think about. Like Rodrigo Perez, for instance.

Her thoughts hadn’t strayed far from him all day, and she half-regretted not accepting his invitation. Someday she’d learn to be bold and less uptight about stuff like that. Someday. He seemed safe enough, though a little too self-assured and cocky for her taste.

But was he really?

Her intuition warned her not to fall into the trap of judging that book by its cover. Something didn’t jive with him. Despite his brashness, he seemed sad and lost. The man hid some secrets behind his devil-may-care smile, espresso eyes, and shabby clothes. He dressed like he didn’t have a penny to his name, yet he wore designer sunglasses. None of it added up.

The more she tried to talk herself out of being interested in him, the more interested she became. She couldn’t recall ever being this attracted to a man upon first meeting him.

A man like him could be deadly to a vulnerable woman’s heart. Here she was, barely thirty and a hopeless case when it came to sex and romance. From the Warren Disaster to Blind-Date Mike, she attracted the wrong men without exception. Maybe there weren’t any right men. Maybe every one of them had their brains buried down south of their bellybuttons. Maybe some did a better job of concealing that fact than others. Maybe she was just a coward. Or maybe she should just stick with horses and shopping.

Those stupid sunglasses called to her. They needed to be returned, but she didn’t want to subject her heart to Mr. Scruffy. She could sneak over to the Delgados’ and leave the sunglasses where he’d find them.

Grabbing them, she exited her comfortable, old Craftsman-style farmhouse. The original covered porch extended across the front of the house, and the backside had been remodeled years ago. A mishmash of large windows, French doors, decks, and a patio took advantage of the view. The stairs down to the water had rotted so she carefully made her way down the rocky bank. Her aunt’s property and the Delgado property shared the same cove. Mariah pictured Rodrigo sitting on the deck sipping a margarita.

She skirted the shoreline and picked her way through the darkness. Stumbling a few times, she lectured herself for not bringing a flashlight. Craning her neck, she tried to get a better view of the house tucked back in the cove. The house lights reflected off the water and illuminated her path.

She hesitated.

What was she doing? One minute she’d told him to get lost and now she was spying on