His Texas Touch

No man is more irresistible than a Texan in love!

Heiress Avra Ross has made a name for herself while working at her family’s newspaper, which is known for uncovering lies and corruption. But an ongoing murder investigation brings her into the crosshairs of Samson Melendez, heir to one of the Lone Star state’s most famed dynasties. Determined to resist the gorgeous executive’s commanding charm, Avra realizes that far more than the truth is at stake.

Because the Ross and Melendez families have been close for years, Sam has always hidden his secret desire for Avra. But now he and the willowy beauty must work together to uncover a shocking truth that could turn their powerful Western clans into bitter rivals. Soon passion ignites as a breaking scandal unfolds. Sam and Avra must unmask the unseen enemy threatening to bring down both their families…or risk losing a love they can no longer deny!

“There’s something you enjoy about giving me a hard time, isn’t there?”

Appearing to contemplate her words, Sam tapped his fingers on the seductive curve of his mouth and smiled faintly.

Avra felt helpless to direct her gaze away from the gesture.

“I think you’re right,” he muttered.

“That’s a first.”

Any more that she might have said was silenced when his mouth crashed down on hers, and he proceeded to kiss her hungrily. Resisting never occurred to Avra. She was determined to find out whether his build was due to great tailoring or genetics.

Quickly she discovered it was all him. Heatedly she participated in the kiss, caressing his tongue over and under as she moaned unashamedly.

Eventually it was Sam who pulled back, but only briefly. When he spied the wetness on her mouth, he couldn’t resist another taste of her.

Faintly, very faintly, Avra realized she wasn’t refusing him. She didn’t want to refuse. Sam realized it, as well. Big hands cupping her delicate face, he drove his tongue deeper, craving more of her unique taste.

He ordered his need to cool and broke the kiss, stroking the tips of his thumbs across her moist, swollen lips. He waited until she brought her eyes to his. The smile he directed her way wasn’t gloating, but tender. “I’m gonna have to work on changing your perception of me.” He left her alone soon after.

Dazedly, Avra stumbled back to her desk and leaned on one corner. It was some time before her breathing slowed.

ALTONYA WASHINGTON

has been a published romance novelist of contemporary and historical fiction for eight years. Her novel Finding Love Again won the RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Multicultural Romance 2004. In addition to teaching a community college course entitled Writing the Romance Novel, she works as a senior library assistant, resides in North Carolina and is currently working to obtain her master’s in library science. Writing as T. Onyx, AlTonya also pens erotic romance. Her latest novel with the Harlequin/Kimani label was the January 2012 title Pleasure After Hours. She will release the twelfth installment of her popular Ramsey/Tesano series, A Lover’s Hate, in 2012.

His Texas Touch

AlTonya Washington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Thanks for returning to Houston, Texas, where a mystery is about to be solved. When Harlequin Kimani’s editors approached me last spring about this project, I was instantly motivated by its possibilities. The chance to craft this story over the course of two books was especially thrilling.

You’ve already met the devastating Samson Melendez and his stunning counterpart Avra Ross. Now discover how these two balance their competitive streaks and bickering with the chemistry and hunger that has lurked beneath the surface of all that unrest. The sensual unrest between Samson and Avra was especially fun to create as I envisioned the take-no-prisoners heroes and strong, outspoken heroines of the nighttime soaps that so many of us enjoyed back in the day. I hope you’ll settle in, enjoy this tale and share your thoughts with me: altonya@lovealtonya.com.

Love,

AlTonya

For my readers who recall the nighttime soaps of the ’80s.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Prologue

Houston, Texas—One Week Ago…

Samson Melendez silenced his truck’s soft engine and bumped one fist against the black leather braiding that protected the steering wheel. He debated. Go home, Sam. Just as his voice of reason sounded, another reminded him that he was a fool to pass on the chance to be alone with her—even if the reason was for something other than what he most wanted from her.

Rolling his eyes then, Sam made his choice. Hell, he rarely listened to his voice of reason anyway. Why pick now to start? he thought. Leaving the sleek Dodge Ram parked at an angle spanning two spaces, he headed toward the high-rise Avra Ross called home.

Avra had arrived at her condo only a few minutes earlier. She hadn’t even stepped past the threshold, but stood leaning against the open doorway. Deep in thought, she scraped a glossy, round thumbnail across her chin. She was still doing that when the elevator opened to her private floor.

Samson stepped out into the hallway and saw her there. A lone, heated curse settled to his tongue but made no sound. At that point he knew his earlier concerns from the evening were well-founded. Something was up. The only question now was whether he could get her to tell him what was going on.

Not likely, he thought with a blank look. Chances were he’d have to piss her off and bully it out of her—a thing he dreaded since she thought that was all he was good for. Still, he’d come to know her well since they’d entered each other’s lives two years prior, when they began working on advertising for Machine Melendez in the Ross Review.

Given that fact, the last thing he wanted to waste time on was discussion about the threat to his family and, quite possibly, her own. There was, in fact, only one thing he wanted to spend his time on. His smirk curved a perfectly sculpted mouth provocatively set above a strong, square, dimpled chin. The midnight gaze narrowed wickedly even as he schooled himself. It would be easier to coax her into telling him whatever it was she suspected than getting her to give in to another, more preferable way of spending their time. Maintaining his stance near the elevator, Sam cleared his throat softly at first and then a tad more loudly when she didn’t register his presence.

A hard knock in the distance jerked Avra out of her thoughts. She turned around to find Sam Melendez standing just down from her door.

“Damn, you…scared me to death,” she muttered, lashes fluttering in mild relief. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Told you I was following you from the club,” he said, sounding matter-of-fact while pushing his broad frame from the wall.

“Oh.” She left him with the simple reply and then walked on into the condo.

“You want to tell me what the devil is wrong with you?” He slammed the door, grimacing then at her thoroughly dazed demeanor.

The harsh sound of the closing door was another effective method of jarring Avra from her heavy thoughts. It did nothing to improve her attitude toward Sam’s presence in her house, unfortunately.

“Why the hell are you so interested?”

Her snappish tone did nothing to dissuade him. One wide shoulder rose in a barely there shrug beneath the knit sandstone shirt that complemented his copper skin. “When you get quiet, I get suspicious.”

“Well, don’t you worry, Sam. You won’t hear a peep out of me over the campaign.”

“Hell, Avra, you know I’m not here for that.”

“Then what are you here for, Sam?”

His lips parted again on the verge of response. Admirably, he caught himself before telling her the truth.

“What happened tonight—Arroyo dead after going after my sister. Do you think it’s over?”

Her almond-shaped brown eyes narrowing, Avra regarded the man filling her living room with a mix of curiosity and something else unidentifiable. “No,” she admitted simply. Turning to face him more fully, she folded her arms across the front of the gold-tone backless silk number she’d worn for the engagement party.

“I think Carson Arroyo Holloway was a scapegoat,” she said, referring to John Holloway’s son. John Holloway was a former Melendez employee who died under suspicious circumstances.

“Why?” Sam breathed, selecting that moment to move farther into the room.

Her gaze wavered. “Something that his mother said to me,” she muttered and then shook her head. “It’s crazy anyway—the woman was probably just trying to get me out of her house.”

“Humph. I can’t imagine why…”

Avra pursed her lips for a few seconds. “And I wish you’d do the same.” Gathering the chic folds of her dress, she made a move for the door.

“Hey?” Sam’s voice was hushed then. He caught her arm, covered by the tight sleeve of the frock that hugged her willowy form. “I’m sorry,” he said, dropping her arm after giving it a slight squeeze. “Talk to me, please.”

For Avra just then, talking or even breathing, for that matter, was impossible. Subtly, she massaged her arm, hoping that he hadn’t noticed how his touch had affected her.

Sam kept all emotion out of his expression. Of course he had noticed her reaction.

Coolly, Avra left his side.

“I really need for you to tell me what you think about this. Will you do that?” His very deep voice was most coaxing in its softness.

Silently, Avra admitted that she needed the venting outlet. “When Khouri made the connections between Carson Arroyo and John Holloway, I went to see Holloway’s widow, Vita Arroyo. She told me to check Wade’s notes.” Hugging herself, Avra walked the room. “According to her, they contained information—truths absent from his final story on her husband’s death.”

Sam walked the room as well, thinking. “Did you find anything?”

“Yeah.” Avra’s words carried on a light laugh. “I’ve been through the stuff four times already. Only problem is, none of it makes sense.”

“You sure you’ve got it all? All of his notes?”

“Positive.” She slapped her hands to her sides. “Wade used to joke that he spent more time at the office than at home. He tended to keep his most important stuff at Ross. Besides, we’d have heard about it if the police found something after Wade…died.”

Regardless, Sam made a mental note to ask Chief of Detectives Bradley Crest to confirm that. He studied Avra more closely then. She looked dead on her feet, but he knew she’d admit to no weakness—not in his presence anyway.

“Maybe that’s all there is.” He took the other side of the argument then. “Maybe the whole thing really does end with Arroyo.”

Avra was already shaking her head in disagreement.

“Why the hell not?” Sam harbored the same dismal prediction as Avra but wanted to hear her thoughts.

“Carson went to Setha not just because she was your dad’s prize but because she was listening to him. This was about his father’s pride and his mother’s dignity. That’s what he told her.” Again, Avra began to nudge her chin with her thumbnail. “He wanted her to know something so why didn’t he just tell her…?” She sighed the words almost to herself.

“Because he was an idiot?” Sam suggested.

Avra made a face, but she couldn’t completely dismiss the idea. “Dammit,” she groaned, dropping to the gray suede settee in the corner.

Sam watched her cover her face with her hands. The last thing he wanted was to leave but it was the only thing to do. They rarely went long without breaking into full argument. Their current chat had already lasted fifteen minutes—well beyond the limit.

Avra raised her head when she heard him move. “You’re leaving?” She pressed her lips together, instantly regretting the question.

“You’re beat.” He eased a hand into a trouser pocket. “It’s been a long night. You should be goin’ to bed anyway.”

Avra straightened, holding her hands clasped primly in her lap. “I’m surprised you’re not making a move or comment about joining me there.”

Go, Sam, he silently urged himself but couldn’t resist the opportunity to spar with her just a little longer. “Don’t worry.” He walked over to lean against the settee where she relaxed. “You’ll have me there,” he promised.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a jackass.”

“And you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.” He could’ve laughed when stunned amazement crossed her coffee-brown face. Never had he complimented her so seriously without the teasing element that usually accompanied his words. Slowly, he leaned in, caressing her oval face with nothing more than the strength of his pitch stare.

“I’d like very much to have you in my bed…” He cast a cool, meaningful look over the chair she occupied. “Or anywhere else.”

She swallowed. Her wide eyes were riveted on his alluring face. “Would you leave me alone, then?”

Rising to his towering height, he offered a casual shrug. “Depends on how good you are.”

Don’t hit him, she told herself and almost broke the skin in her palms when she drew fists.

“Night, Av.” He brushed his knuckles across her jaw and then walked out the door.

Chapter 1

“You’re crazy if you think I’m just gonna let you drive home after you almost fainted right here in front of me and Brad.” Samson’s face was a picture of exasperation.

Danilo Melendez, owner of the auto-parts-and-

accessories giant Machine Melendez, spat a curse in his native tongue. “Bradley saw no need to call the paramedics before he left. You, however, are acting like a mother hen and I’m fine!”

“Pop, you almost—”

“I’m fine.”

Raising both hands in a defensive gesture, Sam stifled his reference to his father’s reaction. “Maybe you’d like to tell me what’s so special about Martino Viejo?”

Dan’s expression appeared vicious as he observed his eldest son. “Have you no respect for the dead?”

“Pop, you know that’s not—”

“I won’t have you question my concern for another human being—an employee at that. Am I understood?”

Sam looked down at the invisible pattern he traced into the top of his pine desk. “Who was he, Pop?” Sam rolled his eyes as Danilo began to rattle off a profile that he himself could have gotten from the Melendez HR department.

Following the brief rundown into Martino Viejo’s career with Machine Melendez, Dan bade his son a good-afternoon and made a hasty departure from the ranch. Sam made no argument and simply placed a call to the home of his assistant, June Elliott.

“Did you know him?” Sam was asking once he’d greeted the woman and engaged in a few moments of idle chatter. Sam couldn’t decide whether he was pleased to have the information or peeved over the fact that the recent murder victim had such an impressive employment reputation and had flown completely below his radar.

“Sounds like he was a golden boy.” Sam settled back into his desk chair when June took the time to breathe amid her rave review.

“Well, the community-relations department was very lucky to have him. All the programs he helped implement…” She sighed. “He did such fine work helping to acclimate MM employees who were also new to the country. He was even instrumental in working with area organizations where focus was on single moms—educating them, preparing them for the workforce, providing child care…”

“Hell.” Sam propped one elbow on the desk chair and massaged his forehead. “June—he’s dead.”

“What?” The woman’s already soft voice had taken on an even softer current. “Was this connected to all the others…? Of course it was,” she answered herself.

Sam’s expression remained grim but he appreciated his assistant’s quick mind.

“What’s happening, Sam? Are we going to have to dismiss all of our immigrant workers in order to protect them?”

“I don’t think we’ll have to go that far, June.” At least I hope we won’t. Sam groaned inwardly. “Can you get me the names of all the newest immigrant employees?”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“And, June? Keep as much of a lid on this as you can, all right?”

“I understand.” June’s words came through the line following a brief silence.

“I’m sure the cops’ll be round there soon enough. With any luck we’ll have the chance to formally address the crowd before that.”

“Does your father know?”

“He does. He’s not a happy man.” Or a well man. Sam made yet another silent observation but shook it off. “I appreciate this, June.”

“Take care, Sam.”

Once the call with June ended, Sam went right ahead and made contact with his brothers. During the conference call with Paolo and Lugo Melendez, he broke the news about Martino Viejo.

“Does Pop know?” Lugo asked.

“Yeah…” Sam swiveled his chair to take in the massive rear expanse of his ranch several miles outside Houston. “He wouldn’t even let me talk to him about it. We need to check out this Viejo—beyond his job responsibilities. Maybe everything Pop wouldn’t tell me is wrapped up in this guy.”

“You think it’s wise to go behind Pop’s back on this, Sam?” Paolo decided to play devil’s advocate.

Sam had no desire to tangle with Danilo. “The cops are damn well gonna find somethin’. Pop knows it. I could see it on his face when Brad told us about Viejo. If all this could damage Pop or the business, we need to do all we can to get ahead of it.”

“So what’s our next move?” Lugo asked.

“I’ve got June pullin’ all the files for the new immigrant employees. Maybe we can find some kind of connection the cops haven’t stumbled onto yet.”

“They’re not idiots, Sam.” Again Paolo played the advocate. “They already found out all the vics shared the same address.”

“An address nobody can find,” Lugo reminded his big brother.

“It’s the only real clue they have. I still hope it’ll lead somewhere—pun intended,” Sam said.

Lugo sighed. “I pray it’s anywhere except back to us.”

“Amen,” Paolo muttered.

“Chances are it’ll all lead back to us.” Sam took his turn at playing devil’s advocate.

“What are you sayin’?”

“You know exactly what, Pow. Papa didn’t make his money by bein’ Texas’s most upstanding citizen. We all know he’s got skeletons in his closet.”

“Then what do we do when it leads back to us?” Lugo queried.

“Pray.” Sam’s voice sounded monotone and grim. “Pray it doesn’t ruin us all.”

* * *

Paul Tristam entered his boss’s office carefully, as if he expected something to be thrown at his head. Avra had been even more demanding than usual. The funny thing was he didn’t think her mood had anything to do with the Ross Review.

He’d brought in a tray laden with her favorite tea and Danish. His plan was to relax her while trying to probe into what was going on with her. From the corner of his eye, he saw her across the room on the sofa. Papers of all shapes, sizes and colors were spread about her. His voice of reason told him to set the tray down and go. He only half listened. He set down the tray and then crossed the room to her.

“Avra?”

“Hmm…”

Encouraged by the absent reply, Paul expelled the breath he’d been holding. “Need help?”

“Yeah.” She shoved aside a page and dragged all ten fingers through the hoard of short, unruly onyx curls atop her head. “’Cause I must be out of my mind

wastin’ so much time on this mess.” For good measure she swiped a few papers from the coffee table.

“I’m sorry.” She groaned the words while holding her head in her hands.

A frown crossed Paul’s sun-kissed features. Now he knew for sure that something heavy was going on.

“Avra—”

“Thanks for the tea, Paul. Why don’t you go ahead and take off for the night?”

“Avra, are you sure everything’s all right?”

She had to laugh, knowing she was making her assistant more nervous than usual.

“I promise everything’s fine. I’m just trying to prove something to myself.” She tugged on the cuff of her pin-striped shirt and cast a woeful look toward the strewn papers. “I’m pretty sure it’s a lost cause.”

“And it’s something you need to handle alone.”

“Yeah.” She nodded and looked up at him with a weary smile.

Paul reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Thanks, hon.” She patted the hand on her shoulder.

Alone in her office once more, Avra left the whirlwind of papers and went to help herself to a cup of the fragrant tea. There she debated over taking her own advice.

She brought the mug to her mouth but didn’t sip. Instead she studied the mess she’d made in the office living area. Huffing, she set down the cup and went to tidy up. While gathering papers, she took another look at the oddly shaped page that had warranted a closer glance. Actually, it was a number scrawled between two sentences: 14918.

“What the hell are you?” Avra tried to make sense of the numbers again, thinking that they had something to do with the sentences they had been written between.

Unfortunately it seemed that the note was written as an afterthought. It had nothing to do with the paragraph that was part of the story on the John Holloway suicide. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the papers, she thought about what she’d told Paul about it all being a lost cause.

“14918.” She muttered the numbers again before slapping the page to her thigh. “Dammit to hell,” she cursed, at last completely discouraged.

* * *

“Carson always suspected there was someone else on this besides him. I should have listened to him.” Shane Arroyo said his words tightly into the receiver.

“This was important.” The voice on the other end of the phone line sounded grated, crackling through a poor connection. “You know as well as anyone that your brother was…disturbed.”

“And now he’s dead.”

“We’re sorry, Shane, but this is bigger than all of us.”

“Would you have taken my brother out had the cops not beat you to it?”

“I know you’re on the edge, Shane.” The voice sounded soothing, patient. “It couldn’t have been easy having to ID Carson’s body, so I’ll just forget your implications.”

Shane’s mouth tightened.

“Your brother didn’t die for nothing. The Melendezes will pay for what they did to your family—for what they’ve done to so many families.”

“You’ll have as much to lose as the Melendezes when all of this comes out.”

“But it still must come out.” The voice acknowledged Shane’s prediction. “It’s gone on too long and Dan’s making no move to stop it.”

“But his sons—”

“I can’t risk them moving in and playing heroes. That’s not in the plan and would not be in our best interest. The timetable will have to be upped in light of your brother’s passing. Do you understand?”

Shane nodded before offering verbal confirmation. “I understand.”

The call ended shortly afterward.

* * *

“Sorry, Daddy,” Avra was saying when she walked into Basil Ross’s office after applying a quick knock to the door. “Miss Doris wasn’t at her desk.” She cited the man’s assistant, Doris Shipman.