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“Gracias, Senorita.” She signed another program for a young woman who told her she wished she could be as brave.
And another.
And on – and on.
As grateful as she was for her acceptance, she wasn’t in this for notoriety. Isabella much preferred her time with the bulls than signing autographs and meeting fans. But this was the critical juncture, here is where she could use her kind words and gentle spirit to change people’s minds about the blood sport. Taking up her father’s banner to change the world of bullfighting was not done all at once, it was done one person at a time.
Isabella didn’t have to check to know the line was unbelievably long. She’d be here forever. Still, she smiled and spoke to each person. Most were strangers, but some were casually acquainted with Isabella Cortez and to those folks she kept her head down, making sure they didn’t gaze into her eyes behind the mask. She did her best to be…different. Different hair styles than she normally wore, more makeup. Isabella even endeavored to change her voice, making it a bit huskier, and more modulated.
Living in two worlds was a challenge.
Hearing a bit of shouting, Isabella glanced up – and when she did, her eyes collided with a familiar face. She couldn’t help the smile that came so naturally to her lips. “Benedict,” she breathed. Her cowboy had found her.
Isabella hadn’t allowed herself to formulate a plan concerning him, she’d only followed her heart’s dictates to see him again. She raised her hand in welcome. But her happy moment suddenly went to hell in a handbasket.
“La Diosa!” A man’s harsh shout rose above the din and a couple of people screamed.
In the line, impatiently waiting his turn to approach her, Bull reacted to the commotion, whipping around. To his horror, he spied a man step out of the queue and lunge toward his beauty with an object in his hand. Bull didn’t have to plan his next move – he just moved. Throwing himself on the much slighter individual, he flattened him, knocking whatever was in his hand to the ground. Amid screams, cries, and shouts, Bull struggled with the idiot. “Be still, jerk!” he growled as he hauled the creep to his feet. Most of the crowd scattered, causing a small stampede of people all running for the exit.
Isabella watched in horror. Everything was a blur. She’d seen the young man with shaggy hair and a goatee pull something from his jacket and point it straight at her. Other people saw him too and they began to yell and flee. A greater fear than she’d ever felt in the bullring overwhelmed her. Like a deer in the headlights, she froze. Isabella tried to get her feet to move, tried to force her body to obey her and dive to the ground – but nothing worked. What seemed like the passing of hours was only a fraction of a second; her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she waited for a bullet to take her down. But to her absolute shock and amazement, the American cowboy fulfilled every girlish dream she’d ever harbored. Just like in one of the television shows or movies she watched over and over, he took control, tackled the man and saved her.
Her hero.
Bull contained the assailant, holding his hands behind his back, keeping the struggling man still by forcing his arms behind him tightly enough to cause pain. “Somebody call 9-1-1! Where’s security?” he bellowed. To his surprise, no one came running to his aide.
“Fuera del camino, Gringo!” A deep voice sounded in his ear and Bull felt what he assumed to be the hard, cold tip of a gun sink into his ribs.
“I don’t speak Spanish, hombre,” he said, softly.
“Put your hands up or die, cowboy,” the same voice said. “Better, American? Comprende?”
“Got it.” Dammit! He lifted his hands, releasing the bastard who wanted to harm his beauty. Every muscle tensed and he bristled with anger, glancing back over his shoulder to see who was threatening him. But what he saw instead was La Diosa making her way through the crowd toward him. “No!”
“I help you, Senor!” A small man came forward, followed by two or three more. The lady bullfighter’s fans were coming to her rescue.
Faced by more opposition than they bargained for, the duo fled. Bull was almost sure it was the same men who’d jumped him the night of the festival. “You’re not getting away with this!” He was about to take off after them when he felt a touch on his shoulder.
“Let them go, Benedict. Let them go.” Isabella picked up the weapon from the ground.
“Hell, no! They tried to kill you!”
“No, it was just a paint gun.” She held out the object, then tossed it to the ground. “Harmless.” At his confused expression, she tugged on his hand. “Please. Come with me. I will explain.”
Amid the chaos, Bull allowed the object of his desire to grasp his hand and move toward an exit. He went with her, but his eyes were constantly scanning the crowd. “Damn, I need a gun.” He had a collection of forty firearms at home, and here he was without one when he really needed it.
“You’d just get into trouble. I couldn’t allow that. Hurry!”
The grasp of her small hand felt just right and if she but knew it, Bull would follow her to the ends of the earth.
Darting into a storage room, she was relieved to see it had two entrances, so there was an escape route, if need be. She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Indirect sunlight came through a small window and she could see him plainly. Isabella had never been more aware of a man before. Benedict was so big, so powerful. Even here, away from the danger, he seemed to use his body as a shield, standing close enough she could feel his heat. Her body reacted, tingling at the prospect of touching him. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Don’t thank me, yet.” Bull couldn’t keep from touching her, not if his life depended on it. Grasping her hands in his, he held them over her head. “You were magnificent and you scared the fuck out of me.” He bent his head and kissed a path from her cheek to her neck. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or spank your ass for putting yourself in such danger.”
“Kiss me now, spank me later,” she whispered. Isabella couldn’t resist her teasing remark. Just gazing at his face and hearing the concern in his voice shattered any resolve to withhold herself from him into a million fiery particles.
Hearing the green light in her voice, he captured her mouth. The heat she gave off scorched him. As soon as their lips touched, her passion erupted like an exploding volcano, her lips drinking greedily from his as if she were quenching a raging thirst.
“My God,” Bull groaned as he dragged his mouth from hers so he could search her beautiful face. Even obstructed by the damn mask, he thought she was exquisite. He was stunned. “You want me?”
