California Royale Read Online Free PDF Page A

here?”
    “Yep. Like to drive. How do most folks get here?”
    “We have a small plane that shuttles them up from San Francisco, or we send a limo to pick them up. Cisco’s the nearest big city.”
    “I own an air field?” he asked incredulously.
    “A little one.” She pointed toward the western hills covered with a mixed forest of redwoods and oaks. “Beyond those.” She started to stand. “If you want to see it, let’s go get a golf cart.”
    “Later, later,” he said, reaching out to grasp her wrist gently. She gave him a wary look and sat back down. Her skin felt like fine silk beneath his calloused fingers. Mud baths. Maybe they were worthwhile, he thought. Duke turned her hand palm up and studied it. “I see private colleges, debutante balls, and lots of marriage-minded young yuppies in your past.”
    “You’re checking the wrong lines. I worked my way through UCLA with the help of a scholarship, I was never a deb, and yuppies, marriage-minded or otherwise, aren’t my type. I’m a loner, I fear. Not very social.”
    “No man, ever?” He shook his head. “A beautiful, mature woman. No, it can’t be.”
    “Which line tells you that?” Shea asked dryly.
    “Male intuition.”
    “There was someone, a couple of years ago.” Without thinking, gazing off into the distance, Shea turned her palm over and lightly grasped Duke Araiza’s hand. “Hewasn’t a yuppie; he was a bohemian ex-hippie. He did woodworking; he made sculptures as well as utilitarian pieces such as bowls and furniture. He had a shop in Mendocino.”
    “You loved him?” Duke asked, carefully hiding his surprise.
    “We were … very close. He was the most gentle, the sweetest man.…”
    “But you didn’t love him.” Duke knew he was on the verge of sounding both rude and nosy, but he had a gut wrenching need to learn whether she’d ever been in love before.
    “I loved him enough to grieve for months after he was killed,” she answered softly.
    “Killed?” Duke gently rubbed the back of her hand with this thumb.
    She nodded. “He liked to roam the woods.” A bitter cast came over her features. “He was accidentally shot by a hunter. It was one of those awful accidents that happens almost every year during deer season.”
    “Shea, I’m sorry I pried.…”
    “It’s all right.” She looked at him calmly, her violet eyes almost grateful. “Everyone who knew him wants to forget that he ever existed, and I never get to talk about him anymore. If feels
right
to discuss him with you. You look like a good listener.”
    “That’s because I want to know everything about you.”
    She was disconcerted by that remark and squinted at him in mild rebuke.
    “Want to change the subject?” he asked.
    “Yep.” She mimicked his way of talking, which bordered on a John Wayne drawl.
    “Folks still living?”
    “Nope.”
    “Want to talk about mumsy and daddy?”
    “Nope.”
    Duke sighed. “The lady becomes a clam on personal subjects.” But at least she was holding his hand as if she’d never let go. “Okay, what’s it like to be manager of this prissy sand trap? What do you have to do?”
    “Supervise reservations, supervise a staff of about fifty people, supervise one hundred and twenty-three guests.” She gave him a challenging look. “We’re always booked months in advance. We don’t even have to advertise to do it. We have that kind of prestigious reputation.”
    “Well, la di da,” he said dryly, crooking one brow at her superior tone. “What do the well-off and well padded do once they get here?”
    “They’re not here to lose a lot of weight. We don’t even talk about that. We emphasize healthy eating and good fitness routines. The guests hike, they do aerobics, they practice stress reduction techniques, they have massages. In short, they learn better habits and relax.”
    “Sounds like a lot of work just to relax.”
    “So, hulk, what’s your health and fitness regimen?” She pulled her hand away.