The Playboy Takes a Wife. Crystal Green

told herself it was more because she was that much closer to securing additional money for the orphanage than anything else—like, say, seeing the billionaire again.

      Ridiculous, she thought now as they rode horses over the sun-dappled property. He was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny. Plus, she had more important things than flirting to think about.

      She snuck a look at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. The same wind-ruffled hair. The same piercing eyes.

      He seemed at home, sitting expertly in the saddle in his faded jeans, the reins threaded through his hand. Even though Mr. Chandler had told her that he wanted another gander around the place in order to see how additional donations could be utilized, Alicia found herself tongue-tied right now, unable to “sell” her own ideas about what Refugio Salvo could use.

      But she would get over it…just as soon as she could overcome this strange shyness enveloping her. Was it because there were no cameras and the lack of them made everything much quieter, more real? Less like she was putting on a show?

      “Look west, Mr. Chandler.” She pointed in that direction as they halted their horses. It was an expanse of grassy land, much like what they were on now, but it was cut off by a barbed-wire fence with a sign that said No Trespassing in Spanish.

      “Neighbor’s property?” he said, easily controlling his roan gelding, Ackbar, who was dancing around.

      “Yes, and possibly more land for the foundation to purchase for the ranch.”

      With one last glance at the land, he paused, then prodded Ackbar into motion again. She caught up to him, and they rode side by side. He seemed deep in thought, so she didn’t bother him unnecessarily. She didn’t feel the urgency to.

      And that was interesting. Even though she hadn’t spent more than a few hours with him, there was a certain comfort level in place. It was almost as if she’d known him before and they’d slipped right back into a companionable flow upon his return. Alicia had never experienced anything like it. She was naturally good with people, sure, and that’s why Guillermo was using her as a hostess. Yet there was always that invisible shield with strangers—a force you didn’t see but a barrier that was definitely there, all the same.

      But not with Lucas Chandler. No, there was a different, unspoken something hanging over them…a humid atmosphere she’d been trying to avoid thinking about.

      The sounds of chirping birds and moaning saddle leather accompanied them as he took the lead. He seemed confident in where he wanted to go, so Alicia went with it, ready to correct their course if need be.

      “Ms. Sanchez,” he said, his voice blending with the smooth, grass-laced air, “may I ask you a question? And, if you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.”

      She straightened in her saddle, friendly but on alert. “Ask away.”

      “I’m just wondering, Ms. Sanchez…or Alicia. May I call you that? Alicia?”

      “Of course.”

      He smiled to himself. “I love how everyone says it down here. A-lee-see-a. It’s like a song.”

      She laughed. “Was that your big question?”

      “No. I’m just thinking about yesterday, especially when I asked you about how you came to be a volunteer here. The orphanage doesn’t pay you? Sorry if that’s too personal—”

      “Don’t worry. It’s a part of how Refugio Salvo works, and you’d want to know.” Pancho, her mount, nickered, and Alicia absently patted the horse’s neck. “The orphanage can afford salaries for most of the staff—administrators, cooks, groundskeepers. But the sisters consider their work here to be part of their calling, freely given. Just like I do.”

      “You should be compensated.”

      She flushed, thinking how a paycheck would definitely help in day-to-day living but would also take away some of the significance of what she was doing. Charity. With a salary, her intentions of giving without taking just didn’t seem to count as much.

      “Not to seem ungrateful, Mr. Chandler, but—”

      “The money’s coming whether you take it or not.”

      Alicia didn’t glance at the man next to her, but she didn’t have to. She felt his gaze on her. Her skin heated, flaring to confusion.

      What was driving him to stick around to see the details of what the ranch needed? Some of the orphanage staff whispered it had to do with all the cameras that had followed him yesterday, but Alicia didn’t want to believe that.

      Maybe he was trying to make up for something he felt badly about, just as she was. Maybe he was attempting to find purpose, too. But there was one thing she could guarantee: his trip to Refugio Salvo hadn’t been designed to allow him to hide from the reality of a life left behind. That was her own cross to bear.

      Her father…her mother…her shameful past.

      Many times she’d even wondered if the piety she’d been raised with was forcing her to punish herself for how she’d been born. For her parents’ carnal crimes that her abuelo had told her about. There were so many times she thought that the circumstances of her birth made her less of a person….

      Mr. Chandler had grown quiet in his own right as he gauged the land with narrowed eyes. He wore an expression that gave her pause—so serious, his brows drawn together, his lips tight.

      “Is something wrong?” she asked.

      “I’m just now realizing how much can still be done.” A beat passed, then a mirthless grin settled on his mouth. “Now that the camera flashes have worn off, it’s a clearer view.”

      “You’ve been a true supporter,” she repeated. But somehow she doubted it was getting through to him.

      “I haven’t contributed half as much as you, and that’s humbling, Alicia.”

      For a naked second, she thought she saw a chink in his armor. She’d detected it yesterday, too, but he’d closed it up so fast that it’d almost been subliminal.

      “As long as we all do our part,” she said, “the children will flourish, Mr. Chandler.”

      “Lucas. Just call me Lucas.”

      They resumed their ride, neither of them speaking. He was back to that thinker’s pose, and she wondered what exactly was causing all the seriousness. He seemed to catch on to this, because before she could take her next breath, he sent a sudden, devilish grin to her, encouraging his mount to a trot.

      What had that sudden change of mood been about?

      Not to be outdone, Alicia urged Pancho ahead, laughing, then hunching over her horse’s neck and signaling him to a gallop.

      Almost immediately he did the same, until they were neck and neck, flying over the grass.

      A bubble of amusement expanded in Alicia’s chest, then popped. She urged Pancho on and soon she realized that Lucas was veering toward a massive oak tree, its bare branches spread like a canopy, a haven from the mild sun.

      When they got closer, she saw that there was a picnic table covered with a red-and-white-checked cloth. Silver bowls and a vase of wildflowers dominated the china.

      Flabbergasted, she dismounted, cooling Pancho down. Lucas followed her example, and she couldn’t help glancing at the spread with contained anticipation.

      Laughing at her obvious impatience, he came and took Pancho’s reins, allowing her to sprint to the table to finally get a closer look.

      When the horses had been taken care of, Lucas sauntered over, having given them freedom in the grass.

      “A picnic?” she said, her heart just now returning to a semblance of normal thud, thud, thuds.

      Then again, with every step he took closer, her pulse started picking up again.