McKettricks of Texas: Tate by Linda Lael Miller

hands and faces.
    Ambrose and Buford followed them, but Hildie paused, turned and scanned the yard, then trotted toward Libby with something like relief when she spotted her.
    Touched, Libby bent to pat the dog’s head.
    Esperanza had outdone herself, preparing supper. There were tacos and enchiladas, seasoned rice and salad.
    Libby enjoyed the food almost as much as the company,and she was sorry when the meal ended and Esperanza herded the twins into the house for their baths.
    Overhead, the first stars popped out like diamonds studding a length of dark blue velvet, and the moon, a mere sliver of transparent light, looked as though it had come to rest on the roof of the barn.
    Libby was totally content in those moments, with Tate at her side and Hildie lying at her feet, probably enjoying the warmth of the paving stones.
    When Tate squeezed her hand, Libby squeezed back.
    And then they drew apart.
    Libby stood and began to gather and stack the dishes.
    Tate got to his feet and helped.
    Libby had forgotten how big the kitchen was, and as they stepped inside, she did her best not to stare as she and Tate loaded one of several dishwashers and cleaned up. The pool was visible on the other side of a thick glass wall, a brilliant turquoise, and looking at it, Libby couldn’t help remembering the skinny-dipping episode.
    She smiled. They’d been so innocent then, she and Tate.
    So young.
    And such passionate lovers.
    Tate took her gently by the elbows and turned her to face him. Kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Thanks for saying ‘yes’ to tonight, Lib,” he said. “It’s good to have you back here.”
    Libby’s throat tightened with sudden, searing emotion.
    Tate cupped her chin his hand and tilted her face upward, looked into her eyes. “What?” he asked, very gently.
    She shook her head.
    He drew her close, held her tightly, his chin propped on the top of her head.
    They were still standing there, minutes later, not a wordhaving passed between them, when Esperanza returned, the front of her dress soaked, her lustrous, gray-streaked hair coming down from its pins. Barking and the laughter of little girls sounded in the distance.
    “The dogs,” Esperanza told Tate breathlessly, “they are in the bathtub, with the children.”
    Tate sighed in benign exasperation, then stepped away from Libby. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said. As he passed Esperanza, he laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezed.
    “These children,” Esperanza fretted. “I am too old—”
    Libby hurried over to help the other woman into a chair at the table. Brought her a glass of water.
    “Are you all right?”
    Esperanza hid her face in her hands, and her shoulders began to shake.
    It took Libby a moment to realize the woman was laughing, not crying.
    Relieved, Libby laughed, too.
    Tears of mirth gleamed on Esperanza’s smooth brown cheeks, and she used the hem of her apron to wipe them away.
    Then, crossing herself, she said, “It is just like the old days, when the boys were young. Always in trouble, the three of them.”
    Tate returned, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene. Like most men, he was probably wary of female emotion unleashed.
    Libby took in every inch of him.
    Tate McKettrick, all grown up, was still trouble.
    The kind it was impossible to resist.

CHAPTER FIVE
    L IBBY WAS UP EARLY the next morning, feeling rested even though she’d only had a few hours’ sleep. After driving her home and walking her to her front door the night before, like the gentleman he could be but sometimes wasn’t, Tate had kissed her again, and the effects of that tender, tentative touch of their mouths still tingled on her lips.
    The sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon when she took Hildie for the first walk the poor dog had enjoyed since Ambrose and Buford had come to stay with them weeks before. It was good to get back into their old routine.
    All up and down Libby’s quiet, tree-lined street, lawn sprinklers turned,