The Rebel

“Oh, Gabriel! Thank heavens you’re home. Do something! Do something!”

“Good lord, Mother!” a younger blond woman said as she charged outside, a large German shepherd at her side and a tiny, yapping Yorkie dancing behind. “We have a guest.”

“Calm down, everybody!” a third woman yelled. “I killed it with the broom!” This one, smaller and darker than the first two, hurried out still clutching the red-handled straw broom.

“Exactly what did you kill?” Gabe asked as he extricated himself from the screamer.

“A puny, little scorpion,” the executioner said. “Wasn’t even full grown.”

“But you know how I hate those awful things, Gabriel. It was in my bathroom. Why, I almost stepped on it. And the awful creature reared up and was about to attack me. I do believe it hissed at me.”

“Mother,” the blonde said, “it wasn’t going to attack, only defend. And scorpions don’t hiss.” The tall woman stuck out her hand to Belle. “Hi, I’m Skye Walker, Gabe’s sister. Welcome to Bedlam.”

Belle smiled at Skye and returned the firm handshake. Skye, who looked to be about Belle’s age, was dressed in jeans, sneakers and a faded blue jersey that advertised dog food. Even though her fair hair was cut short and she wore very little makeup—maybe lip gloss—Skye was stunning.

“Belle,” Gabe said, “this slightly hysterical woman is my mother, Flora Walker.”

“Oh, my dear,” Flora said, capturing both Belle’s hands in hers, “we’re so delighted to have you here while you recover. You have the most magnificent cheekbones. And I love your eyes. They’re the exact color of storm clouds. You must let me paint you.”

The woman with the broom cleared her throat loudly. “I’m Suki, Ralph’s wife. Now, everybody stand back, and let’s get the poor girl in off the porch. She looks a mite peaked to me. Ralph, take them bags to the guest quarters.”

“Wait!” Flora stepped in front of Ralph. “Don’t take them up yet. Have Manuel spray in there first.”

“Manuel is over at the kennel,” Skye said. “And he just sprayed two days ago.”

“Then he didn’t do a very good job. We have an infestation of scorpions.”

“Mother, one baby scorpion isn’t an infestation,” Gabe said.

“Where there’s one baby, there’s another. Or more. Those little beasties are prolific breeders.” Flora grabbed Belle’s arm. “You must be very careful, dear. Don’t put on your shoes without shaking them. They love to hide in shoes. I’ve lived here for over thirty years, and I’m still not used to them.”

If Belle had been in better form—and less polite—she would have laughed at Flora’s theatrics. “Thanks for the warning. But I’m familiar with scorpions—and worse…beasties. I’ll be careful.”

Gabe’s mother repinned the long braid that had slipped from its coil atop her wispy tendrils of gray-blond hair. “Why are we standing here on the porch? Let’s all come inside and get Belle settled. Gabe, dear, it’s good to have you home.” She tiptoed to kiss her tall son’s cheek, then sailed inside, leading the way.

Gabe glanced at Belle, shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

“I’d like to tell you that things aren’t always so chaotic around here,” he whispered, “but I’d be lying.”

“Gabriel, what terrible secrets are you whispering to our guest?” Flora asked. “Belle, would you like something to drink? The sun is over the yardarm as they say somewhere or the other. You know, I’ve never been exactly sure what a yardarm is. In any case, we can offer you coffee, tea, a soft drink or something stronger. But I suppose that you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol since you’ve been ill, though I don’t imagine that a bit of wine would hurt. We have some excellent local wines, you know. I’m fond of the white zinfandel myself. And we have all kinds of juice. Orange, apple, grape.”

“Mother,” Skye said, “you’re dithering.”

“Oh, sorry. I suppose I am.” Flora touched Belle’s arm. “I do that when I get excited. Most of the time I’m calm as a cucumber. Or is that cool? I meditate, you know. Keeps me centered and serene.”

Rather than be irritated by Flora’s dithering, Belle found herself fascinated—and a bit charmed. The woman seemed to radiate a joie de vivre that enveloped everything in her sphere.

“I like white zinfandel myself,” Belle said.

“Wonderful.” Flora clapped her hands. “A kindred spirit. Suki, do we have plenty of zinfandel?”

“I reckon so. There’s a case in the basement. Maybe two.”

“Oh, wonderful. Gabriel, you’ve had several phone calls from the office. Your secretary is fit to be tied.”

“Martha is always fit to be tied,” Skye said. “Belle, how about I show you to your room before the wine starts to flow? You might want to freshen up and rest a bit from the flight.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

The dogs accompanied them to the stairs. Skye scooped up the Yorkie. “This is Tiger. Rub his tummy, and he’s yours forever. And this fellow is Gus.” She stroked the shepherd’s head. “He’s my sidekick and is very protective of me.”

Belle held out the back of her hand to the large dog. Gus sniffed, then looked up at Skye, who nodded before he licked Belle’s hand. “German shepherds are like that. My family had one when I was a kid. Tripoli used to sleep at the foot of my bed, and he saved my bacon a couple of times.”

“We also have a couple of cats around—and assorted other creatures from time to time. I hope you’re not allergic to animals.”

“Nope,” Belle said. “Gabe already asked me. I grew up around all sorts of critters from bullfrogs to Brahma bulls.”

Skye stopped at a door upstairs. “This is the guest room. If you need anything, just give a yell. Come down when you’re ready.”

BELLE’S ROOM TURNED OUT to be rooms—a suite with a sitting room, bedroom and bath. With its soft gold-washed walls and hardwood floors, the suite, like the rest of the house she’d seen so far, looked as if a decorator had done it. The furnishings, done in creams, golds, soft blues and persimmon, were an eclectic mix of country French and contemporary with a few rustic pieces thrown in for interest. The result was quite beautiful. And expensive, she guessed. The Persian rugs looked like the real deal, and the artwork on the walls, from prints to paintings, was all signed.

Even so, the cream-colored couch looked cushy and comfortable and the king-size bed positively sumptuous and inviting. Nothing said, Don’t sit on me or put your feet on the furniture.

And the bathroom was to die for. Done in stonelike tile and accented in the same colors as the rest of the suite, it had a glass-enclosed shower and a bathtub with jets. A real tub. She’d had nothing but sponge baths and showers for ages. Her sore muscles and aching bones would love this.

Before she did anything else, she started the water running in the tub and added a bit of lavender scent she found on the ledge. By the time she’d located a change of clothes and her shampoo, the tub had filled. She stripped and climbed in.

Ah, heaven. She could get used to this.

A LOUD BANGING on the door roused Belle.

“You okay in there?” a woman yelled.

It sounded like Suki. Belle noticed that the jets were still running, but the water had grown cool.

“I’m fine,” she called. “Thanks. Just a minute.” She punched off the jets, climbed from the tub and wrapped a persimmon-colored bathsheet around her before she opened the door.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Suki said, “but we was worried about you, you being sick and all.”

“No problem. I couldn’t resist that tub, and I fell asleep.”

“Supper’s in an hour. You want me to bring a tray up to you?”

“Oh, no. I’ll dress and be right down.”

“We don’t fancy up for meals around here except on special occasions. Just put on whatever you’re comfortable in and come on down. We’ll eat on the sunporch at the back of the house. You like tamales?”

“I adore tamales.”

“Good. That’s what we’re having. Maria makes some of the best ones in these parts, and she knows how Gabe loves them. Course Skye’s a vegetarian, and Miz Flora is almost one—she only eats chicken and fish—so they’ll be having something else. I don’t guess you’re a vegetarian?”

“Nope. I like steak too much.”

Suki laughed. “Me, too. And pork chops. And did you ever try to eat chili without any meat in it?”

“Not lately.”

“Let me tell you, it’s not the same with that tofu stuff. Maria—she does most of the cooking—can do wonders with just about anything, but even she can’t perform miracles. You need any help getting dressed?”

“No, I’m fine,” Belle said. “I’ll be down in a shake.”

Suki left and Belle finished drying off and dressed in khakis, loafers and a blue cotton sweater. A shampoo would have to wait. She brushed her hair, wound it and clipped it up, then slapped on a bit of makeup. In ten minutes, she was on her way downstairs.

She followed the sound of voices from the back of the house to a large den with big leather couches and the same eclectic mix of furniture. A fire was burning in the oversized stone fireplace—more for the ambience, Belle suspected, than for warmth.

Gabe, sipping from a drink, stood with his back to the fire. Skye, perched on a couch arm, had a wineglass, as did Flora, who was relaxing in a wing-backed chair. Gus lay at Skye’s feet, Tiger and a cat lay napping together by the fire, and another cat dozed in Flora’s lap.

Gabe noticed her first and smiled. “Feeling better?”

“Absolutely. Sorry I conked out. I couldn’t believe I went to sleep when I slept most of the way here.”

“Don’t apologize,” Skye said. “It’s perfectly natural. Your body is still recovering, and sleep is a great healer.”

“You just make yourself at home, dear, and think of us as family,” Flora said. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“I’d love one.”

“Gabe?” Flora said.

“Zinfandel?” he asked Belle.

She nodded and went to stand near the space that Gabe left. When he returned with her glass, she said, “I love the fire.”

“Me, too,” Gabe said. “We won’t be able to enjoy it much longer, but while the nights are still cool, we’re using the last of the firewood.”

“Ha!” Skye said. “Don’t let him kid you. My brother’s been known to light a fire and turn on the air-conditioning.”

Gabe grinned. “Guilty.”

“Belle,” Flora said, “Gabe tells us that you’re a spy. I don’t think I’ve ever known a real spy. How very fascinating!”

Gabe shook his head. “I didn’t say that she was a spy. I said that she was an FBI agent.”

“Well, isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not really,” Belle said. “You might be thinking of the CIA.”

“CIA, FBI, SPCA. I get all those initials mixed up.” Flora held out her glass toward Gabe. “May I have just a tad more? Anyhow, I think it’s exciting. What exactly does an agent do?”

Skye looked amused.

“A number of things that involve investigation of federal crimes,” Belle said. “But I’m no longer an agent.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. What do you do now?”

“Nothing at the moment. All the people in my family are in law enforcement, but I’m not interested in pursuing the field anymore. I discovered I wasn’t cut out for chasing bad guys. I want to explore other areas and find something that suits me better.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Flora said. “I adore new beginnings. They’re so exciting. I’ve made several of them myself. Mostly with husbands. I’ve had three, you know.”

“No,” Belle said, “I didn’t know.”

“Yes, indeed. I’ll tell you all about it some morning over coffee. Or while you’re sitting for me.”

“Sitting for you?”

“For your portrait.”

Skye chuckled. “Mother paints everybody’s portrait who’ll sit still long enough. She’s quite good.”

“I do soul paintings,” Flora said. “I find them very insightful.”

“Soul paintings?”

“Don’t ask,” Gabe said.

“Now, children, don’t make our guest nervous. Belle, is your room comfortable?”

“Very much so. It’s beautifully decorated, as is the rest of the house.”

“Lisa did it,” Skye said. “Your suite was her last project before she flew the coop.”

“Lisa?”

“Gabriel’s former fiancée,” Flora said. “She was a gifted decorator.”

“And a real snot,” Skye said.

Amused, Belle glanced at Gabe, who seemed to find the fire much more interesting than the pre-dinner conversation.

Chapter Three

Belle wanted to hear more about Lisa and her flying the coop, but she didn’t ask and nobody volunteered any more on the subject. Just as well, she thought. She wasn’t eager to discuss her failed love life, either.

They all ate together, along with Suki and Ralph, who seemed to be part of the family, at a long harvest table in the sunroom. Since it was well after dark when they dined, there wasn’t a sun to see. Maria’s tamales were indeed among the best Belle had ever eaten. Everything was delicious and when the meal was over, Suki and Skye cleared the table.

Everyone scattered to tend to various tasks, leaving Flora and Belle alone in the den.

“Let me show you around the house so you’ll be familiar with everything,” Flora said.

Belle followed her on a tour of the downstairs, through the formal living and dining rooms.

“Down that hall is Gabe’s domain. He has his home office and private rooms there. And here is the library. We have quite a collection of popular fiction as well as classics. I like mysteries myself. And romance.” Flora winked. “Help yourself to anything that suits your fancy.”

“I will. I love to read,” Belle said, selecting a couple of books that looked interesting.

“Upstairs Skye and I each have a suite, and I have my studio. Tomorrow, if you feel like it, I’d love to have you sit for me. You can read and I can sketch.”

“You said something about soul paintings. Exactly what is that?”

“It’s a bit hard to explain. It’s probably best if you experience it. Anyhow, feel free to have the run of the place, but we do set the alarm system at night, so don’t go wandering outside without the code. I never can remember what it is, but Gabe can explain all that later.”

“Do Suki and Ralph live in?”

“Well, sort of. They have their own separate apartment over the garages. And Manuel and Maria have a place near the clinic. Other employees live off premises. Would you like some coffee or an after dinner drink?”

“No, thank you, Flora. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go upstairs and read for a bit, then make an early night of it. I can’t seem to get enough sleep.”

BARKING ROUSED BELLE. Piercing screams made her shoot straight up. Bounding from her bed, she grabbed the Glock from her bag and ran to the hall.

She heard a noise behind her and swung around, both arms extended and ready to shoot.

“Whoa, whoa,” Gabe said. “It’s me.”

Belle lowered the pistol. “Sorry. Old habits. I heard barking and screaming. Did your mother find another scorpion?”

He smiled and shook his head. “It was Skye this time. A nightmare, I think. I was just going to check on her.” He went to Skye’s door and unlocked it.

As Belle watched him, she realized that he was barefoot and wore only pajama bottoms, flannel ones in Black Watch plaid. His hair was rumpled from sleep. How in the world had he heard Skye all the way in his distant rooms? And why was Skye locked in her suite? Strange. Very strange.

He’d left the door open, and she was tempted to follow him inside. Instead she waited. She heard Gabe calming Gus and praising him. She also heard soft murmurs as if he were calming his sister as well. A few minutes later he came out, pulling the door shut behind him.

He seemed surprised to find Belle still there. And the rake of his eyes over her reminded her that she wore only a long T-shirt and socks. Her eyes did a little raking of their own. The man had a lovely chest and wonderful shoulders and an—

Gabe cleared his throat, and she quickly glanced up from his navel. What in the world was she doing staring at a man’s navel and wondering about all sorts of things that could only get her into trouble?

“Is Skye okay?” Belle asked.

“She’s fine. She has nightmares sometimes, especially when our routine is disturbed.”

“Oh, is my being here causing the problem? Because if it is, I—”

“No, no. Not that at all. Something else entirely. In fact, I think your being here will be good for Skye. All she does is work, and she doesn’t have many friends her own age. Say, I’d better let you get back to bed.”

“No problem. With all the sleep I’ve had lately, I’m wide awake. I’ll probably read some more of my mystery.”

“Are you eager to return to it, or could I interest you in a cup of hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate sounds wonderful. Let me get a robe, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Besides slipping on a robe, Belle took long enough to run a brush through her hair and brush her teeth. Adding makeup would be a bit obvious, so she passed on that—though she was tempted to at least use a little lip gloss.

When she got to the kitchen, she noticed that Gabe had pulled on a T-shirt, but he hadn’t brushed his hair.

“Is the instant kind okay?” he asked. “I’ve got milk in the microwave.”

“Instant is fine. I don’t think I’ve had the regular kind since I was about six. That’s the year my mother started back teaching.” Belle sat on a barstool at the granite-topped center island.

“I didn’t realize your mother was a teacher. What did she teach?”

“She taught in elementary school. We teased her that it was BK, BK and AK. Before kids, between kids and after kids. She was a wonderful teacher.”

Gabe poured the milk into two waiting mugs. “Want a marshmallow?”

“Sure.”

He plunked one into each mug, then brought them to the island and sat on a stool next to her. “Does she still teach?”

“No, she retired and bought the Double Dip. It’s an icecream shop on the square of Naconiche. Since my dad’s retired as well, they turned our big house over to my brother Frank and his family, and they live in an apartment over the shop.”

“Your father was a sheriff, wasn’t he?”

“For years and years. Now my brother J.J. has the job. What about your father? I assume that, since you’re Burrell, and Skye and your mom are Walkers, you have a different father.”

Gabe sipped from his mug before he answered. “Right. He and my mom were flower children who traveled around here and there in a minivan. Typical of the times. I was only a toddler when he tripped on LSD and flew into the Grand Canyon. Needless to say, his flight had disastrous results.”

“Oh, Gabe, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. I don’t even remember him. He was from Wimberley, and I got his name and his inheritance. My mother and I lived in various communes that were popular at the time, and she met Charlie Walker, who was a brilliant potter. They married, left the commune life behind and moved to Wimberley. For a long time we lived in my grandparents’ old house. It had stood vacant for a couple of years after my grandmother Burrell died.”

“Did you ever meet your grandparents?”

“My father’s folks? Once, I think. At my dad’s funeral. He was their only son, and they didn’t approve of his lifestyle. Or my mother’s.”

“So sad for them,” Belle said, laying her hand over his. “They missed knowing you.”

“True.” He smiled and stroked her hand with two fingers, tracing the veins and leaving a tingling trail to the end of each nail and back up again.

Her other hand squeezed the mug in a death grip. His touch felt much too…sensuous. Much too good. She tried to break the tension by sipping from her drink, but the chocolate was gone.

“Want some more?” Gabe asked.

“More?”

“Hot chocolate.”

She jerked her hand away, “No. No, thank you. We need to get to bed. I mean, I need to get to bed. You need to get to bed. It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

He chuckled and winked. “Gotcha. By the way, is it loaded?”

“What?”

“Your gun.”

“Of course it’s loaded.”

“You’re a handy lady to have around.”

“I suppose that depends on your point of view,” Belle said.

“From my point of view, it’s excellent. I’m glad you’re here. Shall I walk you to your room?”

She smiled. “I have a good sense of direction. I think I can find my way.” She carried their mugs to the sink and rinsed them. “Good night.”

THE HOT CHOCOLATE didn’t calm Gabe. In fact, his time in the kitchen with Belle had revved him up. As he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, every cell in his body stood on red alert.

Belle Outlaw was one hell of a woman. He’d never met anyone quite like her—certainly not while staring down the barrel of a gun. He’d known she was a former FBI agent, but he’d only seen her helpless and ill in the hospital. It hadn’t sunk in that she was a formidable female. And gorgeous. His mother had seen the good bones immediately. He’d noticed the bones and the curves over them.

Gabe felt very comfortable with Belle, more so than with any woman in a long time. Even more so than with Lisa. But he dared not entertain the thought of any sort of serious relationship with Belle. He’d learned that lesson. Women expected more from him than he was able to commit. They weren’t prepared to live with the entire family that he was responsible for. Lisa had made it abundantly clear that she intended for them to have a life and home separate from his mother and Skye, but that simply wasn’t possible. He’d promised Charlie Walker, his stepfather, before he died that he would take care of the women. He meant to keep that promise to the best of his abilities. He’d fallen down on the job a couple of times with disastrous results and didn’t intend to make the same mistakes again. Flora and Skye needed him. He was their rock, their protector, and if it meant sacrificing a life of his own with a demanding wife, then so be it.

In their last big fight before Lisa walked out of his life for good, she’d called him a sanctimonious martyr giving up his own happiness for two neurotic women. Still, not even for her could he shirk his responsibilities.

Of course there was the chance that Belle might not feel the same way. She didn’t strike him as a high-maintenance type.

BELLE WAS WIDE AWAKE. The hot chocolate hadn’t helped. Maybe the caffeine in the chocolate offset the calcium in the milk. She felt wired. And a bit foolish for charging to the rescue, gun in hand. She’d almost blown away her host. Not a good thing.

She already admired Gabe, and hearing the gentle manner in which he calmed his sister added points to his score. He was a genuinely nice man. Too bad she hadn’t met him before she’d met Matt. But she hadn’t. And no way was she going to consider a relationship with another man. In the first place she wasn’t even divorced yet. In the second, she understood the dynamics of the rebound effect, and she refused to involve herself in such a situation. She wasn’t the sort of woman who needed a man to complete her. She could take care of herself—or at least she’d be able to when she figured out what she was going to do careerwise. Getting her strength back and making some decisions about employment were her priorities. Complicating things with a man would be foolish. Even a guy as appealing as Gabe Burrell.

BELLE COULDN’T BELIEVE the time when she glanced at the clock the following morning. She never slept so late. Throwing back the covers, she was about to spring from the bed when she remembered that she didn’t have anywhere to spring to. She didn’t have a job to go to or chores to do. Instead of getting up, she stretched broadly and lolled around for another fifteen minutes before she rose and dressed in jeans and a light sweatshirt.

She followed her nose downstairs in search of coffee and found Suki in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Suki said. “How about some coffee?”

“I’d love some. I’m addicted to the stuff.”

“Me, too. Go on in the sunroom. Flora’s in there, and I’m rustling up some breakfast for her. I’ll fix some for you as well. You fussy? Flora likes that cereal with nuts and berries and seeds she gets at the health food store.”