Page 35 of A Good Prospect

Sal quickly explained, “Fire opals from Mexico. It was my mother’s, and her mother’s before her. Here, let me.” He whisked the box from her hand and went to stand behind her. “Hold your hair up. I’ll get you a looking glass later so you can see how enchanting you look.”

When his fingertips brushed the fine hairs at the back of her neck, Tamasin’s entire body became electrified. A shiver shot down her spine, blooming in her tailbone and spreading out through her pelvis. Without meaning to, she gasped and shut her eyes. Her entire face vibrated with the excitement and stimulus of something as simple as Sal’s fingers on her neck. It struck her that she had never been touched by a man other than Niall—and this was the first time ever she had welcomed it. Her nipples stiffened against her linen chemise as Sal fiddled with the necklace clasp, his slightest touch more intense than any full-blown coitus with Niall had ever been.

After he fastened the necklace he put the box on the ground and turned her to regard her. He seemed to like what he saw, for he smiled handsomely, and told her, “You should keep your hair up, to show your lovely white neck.”

It was all coming back to Tamasin, the need to attire one’s self and attend to one’s coiffure in accordance with a husband’s wishes. But this time, she wanted what Sal wanted. His desires did not disgust her, nor would she resist them. “I like to braid it, and knot it up in a bun covered with a kerchief.” She touched her fingertips to the smooth stones. “And it would show off this impressive necklace.”

A sudden voice at the glassless window made them both jump. Ophir stuck his head and naked torso into the open and said merrily, “Come inside, instead of standing around for the world to hear your romancing and devilment. Tamasin, I’ve got you some aguardiente.”

Tamasin squatted to pick up the mortar with the chile paste, and Sal squatted to pick up the wooden box. Their eyes met and they smiled secretively at each other. However, once inside Ophir’s apartments, the pugilist noted, “So you’re to be wed now, is it?”

His question forced Tamasin and Sal to look bluntly at him. He must have been issuing Salvador a challenge, for he was clad only in the muddy pants he’d worn for the bout, green grass stains on the knees and hips, and his lower lip was somewhat outthrust. He cocked his hips forward as he unknotted the red silk sash at his waist. It was extremely stimulating to be in the same small room as two such masculine fellows, and Tamasin weakly went to the table to pour the aguardiente.

Sal waved a dismissive hand at Ophir. “Oh, no. I just gave her a necklace.”

Just gave her a necklace?Tamasin narrowed her eyes at Sal, and he must have caught it, for he amended stiffly, “I asked if I could court her, is all. She agreed…to wear the necklace.”

“Courting, eh?” Ophir looked at Sal skeptically as he loosened his pants and dropped them to his feet. The large, hefty penis she had viewed slapping up against Sal’s erection was heavily pulsating. Perhaps to cover up such a bold moment, he dampened the excitement in the air by asking, “Does your mother approve of this?” He swaggered to the bath tub, the globes of his ass swaying with a meaty weight, and Tamasin sat in a chair with a relieved exhalation.

One sultry, sensuous man was enough to overwhelm her senses. But two in the same room, no, she would surely faint. “I have a poultice for you…” she said weakly, but Sal was taking the bait of Ophir’s challenge.

He strode right up to where Ophir was splashing his feet in the tub. “I don’t need my mother’s approval, Ophir. I am a Californio male, of upright heredity and bearing. I am the patriarch of Las Oliveras. We don’t ask our mother’s opinions.”

A flicker of a smile flitted across Ophir’s face as he looked sideways to Tamasin. “But I’d venture to say, Carmen would approve.” Lightly, he added, “She approves of Tamasin.” And abruptly dropped to his ass in the tub, perhaps wanting to bathe before the water got cold. Tamasin was relieved she didn’t have to view the girth of his long, purple penis. Although now, if she scooted up and straightened her spine a little, she could see the shiny glans breaking the surface of the bath water.

But Salvador seemed agitated. Slapping himself on the abdomen with frustration, he started walking in little circles, the saucer spurs around his heels jangling with each step. “You know, Ophir, would Carmen’s opinion have any weight at all? You know how she’s been lately. Well, you didn’t know her before, before I saved you from those bárbaro arrows. But believe it or not, she used to make sense, be halfway lucid, act like a regular person. But now? No, I have full authority to make up my own mind.” He grinned at Tamasin, and his voice became softer. “And I choose Tamasin.”

Oh, Lordy. How strikingly handsome he was when he tilted his head and seemed somewhat shy. Oh, darnation. He was handsome in any attitude. How she wanted to kiss him! What would it be like, kissing a man one actually had warm affection for? She wanted to envelop him in her arms, to hold a man and not tense in fear. Would she relax? Actually fall asleep? She imagined how she could tenderly stroke his beautiful, glossy hair.

Now Ophir seemed vaguely irritated as he soaped his athletic arms. “I’m glad to see you bothered asking my opinion.”

Sal’s eyes grew clouded. Tamasin had always loved how his wonderfully arched nostrils flared when emotion rose in him, and now he narrowed his eyes at Ophir. “And why should I have bothered asking your opinion? You’re my business partner, not my father.”

Ophir shrugged casually, seemingly intent on the mud he was sluicing off his forearms. “I’ve told you before that I would like a chance to court Señorita Tamasin.”

What?What was going on? Were these two men actually…dueling over her? Tamasin opened her mouth to speak and rose halfway to her feet, but Salvador was locking horns with his partner.

“Well, the race is to the swiftest, amigo! I got there first.”

“No, the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong,” Ophir corrected Sal’s quotation. “Don’t you read your Bible?”

Flustered, Sal carried on. "Well, the rules of fair play do not apply in love and war.” He pointed at Ophir. “And that I read in one of my father’s books.”

Ophir sloshed his bath water so stridently, some spilled over the lip of the tub. “Aren’t you supposed to be horse racing?” he groused.

Now Sal pointed at himself, poking himself in the chest. “I had better things to do with my time than to waste it on pointless masculine posturings.”

“Right,” Ophir said agreeably. “You just wasted your time pointlessly posturing by my front door.”

Now Sal seemed genuinely angry. He seethed, “I did not waste my time, amigo. You see the lady is wearing the necklace, don’t you?”

Tamasin took a few steps toward the bath tub. “Muchachos, muchachos. Why are you arguing?” She sat on the edge of the tub to placate Ophir, but Sal only sat behind her and put a protective hand on her shoulder. My, were these men actually in competition to win her hand? Nobody had ever wanted her hand before, not in a serious, romantic way. Tamasin supposed it was the complete absence of tolerable women in California that made men so desperate. And she was a hard worker. “I don’t want you fighting. You two are partners, and you get along so well, usually.”

“Yeah,” Ophir grumbled, soaping and rinsing both his grass-green knees in turn. “Until Señor Adonis here decided to claim you for himself.”

“Adonis?” Sal protested. “What does Adonis have to do with it? I didn’t get killed by a wild boar.”

Ophir closed his eyes patiently. “No, Adonis means a handsome hot fellow who—”