cuff links, nice diamond ring on his pinky—now this one screamed big money and big trouble, didn’t he?
He nodded to Trinity.
She managed to nod back, but felt her cheeks coloring. Old Trinity was still hard at war with New Trinity.
She let her gaze drift over the party guests, trying to calm herself. It had been good to see Noah, as well as other old friends. Her thoughts turned to her first days back in the United States, when she’d stayed a few days with another good friend, Chloe Somerville.
Two years ago, Chloe had interviewed Trinity about the software projects she was supervising for Wildgames, and they’d hit it right off. Chloe was a journalist with a popular San Francisco magazine, but she was going through one hell of a messy divorce. Her ex-husband was a cheating bastard. Damn, but Chloe needed a good man.
Holiday music and laughter filled the room, and Trinity smiled as she watched couples dancing to a country-western tune. The room glittered with all the women dressed in brilliant sequined dresses and from the hundreds of Christmas lights and decorations.
Scents of pine, cinnamon, and hot wine punch started to compete with the cologne, along with the smell of burning mesquite wood in the fire blazing in the corner hearth. Sounds, sights, and smells of holidays that reminded Trinity of growing up in Arizona, and made her feel like she was home.
Home...
No. Home was wherever she decided to go—and that would probably be straight back to England, one of the hubs for DropCaps. And home would be with Race once he got around to asking her about sharing his life forever.
If she said yes.
Trinity sighed and tasted her wine again.
Why wasn’t she sure about Race? They’d be good together. She’d never want for anything, never have to worry about her security—so why did the word no keep flashing through her mind in pink neon whenever she thought about tying the knot with him?
Was it fear of commitment?
Inability to accept who she was now instead of who she had been?
“You look like a lady with much on her mind,” said a low, enticing, accented voice to her right.
Trinity startled, and her wine nearly sloshed over the edge of her glass.
The gorgeous man with the dark hair, expensive suit, and obviously expensive hat caught her elbow and held it steady. “Careful. That is very good wine.”
His accent was light, but definitely Hispanic, and his dark eyes sparkled as he smiled at her. “My name is Francisco Guerrero, though my friends call me Cao. I very much hope you will be my friend.”
Trinity felt the man’s gentle grip on her elbow, and the reality of his touch made her cheeks flush even more. “Cao. Doesn’t that mean gardener?”
“One of the interpretations, yes.” The man’s smile would have dazzled even a seasoned harpy.
In England, she would have been enjoying this exchange, taking control of it—but here, she was folding like a cheap lawn chair.
Old Trinity.
God, she was starting to hate herself all over again.
“I’m clumsy with my glass sometimes.” She tried to smile as she extracted herself from his warm fingers. “Well, I’m clumsy with a lot of things.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Guerrero said, and he sounded like he meant it.
Hair prickled at Trinity’s nape, as though she was being watched from a totally different location, and a slight shiver skittered down her spine. She knew she was acting slightly rude to Guerrero, but she couldn’t help pivoting, searching for the source of the sensation—and she came to an abrupt stop.
Caught her breath.
Heard Nevaeh’s voice bouncing through her mind, whispering , One gorgeous hunk of cowboy.
Okay, yeah, this must be the guy.
Because he was the most rugged, most handsome cowboy she’d ever had the pleasure of viewing.
He was standing a few yards away from her, sometimes hidden from view by the flow of the crowd. The look on his face was nothing short of feral.
Instinctively she took a step
He nodded to Trinity.
She managed to nod back, but felt her cheeks coloring. Old Trinity was still hard at war with New Trinity.
She let her gaze drift over the party guests, trying to calm herself. It had been good to see Noah, as well as other old friends. Her thoughts turned to her first days back in the United States, when she’d stayed a few days with another good friend, Chloe Somerville.
Two years ago, Chloe had interviewed Trinity about the software projects she was supervising for Wildgames, and they’d hit it right off. Chloe was a journalist with a popular San Francisco magazine, but she was going through one hell of a messy divorce. Her ex-husband was a cheating bastard. Damn, but Chloe needed a good man.
Holiday music and laughter filled the room, and Trinity smiled as she watched couples dancing to a country-western tune. The room glittered with all the women dressed in brilliant sequined dresses and from the hundreds of Christmas lights and decorations.
Scents of pine, cinnamon, and hot wine punch started to compete with the cologne, along with the smell of burning mesquite wood in the fire blazing in the corner hearth. Sounds, sights, and smells of holidays that reminded Trinity of growing up in Arizona, and made her feel like she was home.
Home...
No. Home was wherever she decided to go—and that would probably be straight back to England, one of the hubs for DropCaps. And home would be with Race once he got around to asking her about sharing his life forever.
If she said yes.
Trinity sighed and tasted her wine again.
Why wasn’t she sure about Race? They’d be good together. She’d never want for anything, never have to worry about her security—so why did the word no keep flashing through her mind in pink neon whenever she thought about tying the knot with him?
Was it fear of commitment?
Inability to accept who she was now instead of who she had been?
“You look like a lady with much on her mind,” said a low, enticing, accented voice to her right.
Trinity startled, and her wine nearly sloshed over the edge of her glass.
The gorgeous man with the dark hair, expensive suit, and obviously expensive hat caught her elbow and held it steady. “Careful. That is very good wine.”
His accent was light, but definitely Hispanic, and his dark eyes sparkled as he smiled at her. “My name is Francisco Guerrero, though my friends call me Cao. I very much hope you will be my friend.”
Trinity felt the man’s gentle grip on her elbow, and the reality of his touch made her cheeks flush even more. “Cao. Doesn’t that mean gardener?”
“One of the interpretations, yes.” The man’s smile would have dazzled even a seasoned harpy.
In England, she would have been enjoying this exchange, taking control of it—but here, she was folding like a cheap lawn chair.
Old Trinity.
God, she was starting to hate herself all over again.
“I’m clumsy with my glass sometimes.” She tried to smile as she extracted herself from his warm fingers. “Well, I’m clumsy with a lot of things.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Guerrero said, and he sounded like he meant it.
Hair prickled at Trinity’s nape, as though she was being watched from a totally different location, and a slight shiver skittered down her spine. She knew she was acting slightly rude to Guerrero, but she couldn’t help pivoting, searching for the source of the sensation—and she came to an abrupt stop.
Caught her breath.
Heard Nevaeh’s voice bouncing through her mind, whispering , One gorgeous hunk of cowboy.
Okay, yeah, this must be the guy.
Because he was the most rugged, most handsome cowboy she’d ever had the pleasure of viewing.
He was standing a few yards away from her, sometimes hidden from view by the flow of the crowd. The look on his face was nothing short of feral.
Instinctively she took a step
Similar Books
My Texas Sweetheart (book one)
Pauliena Acheson
Cheri Red (sWet)
Charisma Knight
Angel Stations
Gary Gibson
Wings of Lomay
Devri Walls
Five Parts Dead
Tim Pegler
Can't Shake You
Molly McLain
A Cast of Vultures
Judith Flanders
Charmed by His Love
Janet Chapman
Through the Fire
Donna Hill
The Hen of the Baskervilles
Donna Andrews