"Very." She laid her palm against his for a moment before interlacing their fingers, locking them together.
"I'll introduce you to my cousin Kimberly, then I'll see about getting you and César both settled for the night."
She wanted to press herself into him and kiss him, then and there. Remind him that she didn't want to be settled. That what she wanted was to have his arms around her, sifting through her hair and parting the zipper on her dress. She wanted to take chances and throw caution to the humid Texas wind.
"That sounds good." Realistically, she knew she didn't have to wait much longer to touch him. But she didn't know how she'd make it through much more social chitchat. To distract herself from the kiss she wanted, she asked him about his relatives. "Tell me about the Texas Reynauds. How come I never met any of your cousins when I visited your family at the big ranch?"
Memories of the endless spread of hill country returned. There had been long afternoons of hiking trails or horseback riding, nighttime picnics under the stars, and the heady pleasure of being the only girl with four handsome older boys to keep her entertained. Before they'd grown older and started to pursue their own interests, leaving her to Jean-Pierre's care, her ten-year-old self had been a little in love with them all.
"My grandfather, Leon, did a great job stepping in to raise my brothers and me after our parents divorced. But the reason Leon worked hard to get it right with us is because he screwed up his own sons so thoroughly. His words, not mine, by the way." Jean-Pierre's gaze followed Lucinda, his sharp eyes missing nothing as she stepped into a waiting golf cart with César and they sped off toward the looming ranch house in the distance.
Gervais commandeered a small luxury bus for the rest of them while giving instructions for the luggage. Tatiana admired that no matter how wealthy and powerful the man was, he still oversaw details himself, taking no chances with his pregnant wife or his family.
"Leon blames himself for his sons' shortcomings? Keep in mind, I don't know anything about your uncles and I've only met your father a few times." She'd only spoken to Theo Reynaud once, at a long-ago birthday party for one of the boys. The man had touched down by helicopter, stayed long enough to have a few drinks and departed with his latest girlfriend within the hour.
Tatiana had been decidedly unimpressed.
Following Jean-Pierre toward the waiting vehicle, she noticed Adelaide tucked under Dempsey's arm as they sat on a bench on the dock, her eyes closed as she tipped her head against his chest. Fiona and Henri were quiet, too, talking softly in the back of the bus when Tatiana entered with Jean-Pierre. So it didn't feel rude to continue their own conversation while the family boarded.
"Leon thought it would make his sons tougher to pit them against each other." Jean-Pierre slid into a leather captain's chair midway up one aisle of the bus. He reached up to turn off the reading lamp above the seat, plunging them into darkness before he tugged her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. "He started rivalries when they were young, pushing them to outdo one another on the football field and on the ranch since he was based in Texas back then. Once, a bull-riding contest between them nearly killed my Uncle Michael."
"That's awful." She relaxed against him, her cheek pressed to the hard muscle of his chest, his body warming her.
She felt the slow thud of his heartbeat beneath her ear and she couldn't resist laying her hand on him, feeling the hard ridges of muscles in his abdomen beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.
He responded by stroking her hair away from her face. A gentle gesture that might appear sweet to a casual observer, but the sensual heat it roused was enough to set her on fire.
"Eventually, Christophe, Michael and my father cut all personal ties and moved to different states. But since the shipping empire is still a family business, they are bound together professionally." He nodded to Gervais as his brother boarded with his fiancée. The couple took the front seat behind the driver and signaled him to begin the short trip to the main house while Jean-Pierre wound up his family primer for her. "Kimberly, who we'll meet when we get to the house, is one of Christophe's daughters. She doesn't get along with her father, either, but she deals with him well enough that he lets her run this place. The island ranch is a self-sustaining subsidiary of the main ranching operation and also a stop on many of our cruise ships' Gulf of Mexico itineraries."
Tatiana lifted her head from her comfortable position to peer up at him. "You're such a successful athlete, I forget that you have a whole other side to you as an heir to the family's business."
"It's a lot to keep up with since the company interests are so diverse, but considering the short career of an NFL athlete, I know that the business will keep me employed long after football is done with me."
The luxury bus hit a pothole and pitched enough to one side that she fell against him again. Not that she minded. And from the way his eyes glittered in the dim lights outlining the walkway on the floor, she'd guess he didn't mind, either.
"You're only a year older than me," she teased, smoothing a hand along his shoulder and upper arm to grip his biceps. "I think you've got a few years left in your arm."
"If I'm lucky," he said, in all seriousness. "Injuries can happen at any time in the game. I don't count on a paycheck from the Gladiators or any other team, but no matter what my future is in football, rest assured our son will be well provided for. Always."
"I don't want to think about you being hurt." She closed her eyes tight, knowing he spoke the truth. She'd been around football long enough to understand the dangers, to see young, vital men halted in their athletic careers because of irreversible damage that decreased their speed or mobility.
"I'm a realist. I account for as many possibilities as I can foresee, and that's a skill that has served me well." His hand slid beneath the collar of her cashmere sweater to massage the bare skin of her shoulder. "But I can honestly say César was an outcome I never accounted for and I should have. I'm sorry about that, Tatiana."
The soft words, spoken into her hair as the bus slowed to a stop, caught her off guard. She hadn't expected him to apologize for not checking in with her after that explosive encounter ten and a half months ago, but she appreciated the thought nevertheless.
"We were careful at the time. You had no reason to suspect-"
"It's always a possibility." The brusque statement left no room for argument. "I should have called afterward, when I'd cooled down..." She sensed a hesitation. As if he didn't want to confide whatever he was thinking.
And he didn't.
Instead, he straightened, bringing her with him. As they followed his brothers and their significant others from the vehicle, Tatiana shoved aside her troubled thoughts so she could meet their hostess.
The Tides Ranch was a massive complex with a central hacienda-style adobe main house that glowed a bronze shade of pink in the landscape lights. Native plantings on terraced beds hinted at the ranch's self-sustaining practices, as did the solar panels on the roofs, evident even in the dark from the way they glinted in the moonlight. Although Tatiana had read that the ranch housed some of the owner's family year-round, the front entrance had the feel of a hotel, complete with a staffed front desk, since the island received a high number of annual visitors thanks to being a stop for cruise ships.
Warm mesquite wood furnishings and Saltillo tile floors enhanced the Southwest appeal of the house. Exposed beam ceilings and bright woven rugs drew her eye toward a large entertaining space, a family room that looked as though it would hold sixty people easily.
"Welcome to the Tides." A willowy blonde with cool gray eyes appeared in the reception area as they entered, opening her arms to Gervais and each of the Reynaud brothers in turn, then greeting the women briefly. "I can't tell you how thrilled I am to host a wedding this weekend instead of our usual tourists," she said, squeezing Erika's hand warmly. "Not that we don't appreciate all our visitors, of course. But it will be fun to take our level of entertaining up a notch. As a foreign princess, your options for wedding sites must have been limitless."