The Most Expensive Lie of All

by Michelle Conder

  Aspen released a shaky breath and heard Gabriella do the same.

  ‘Doesn’t he scare you when he frowns at you like that?’

  His sister was right. His anger should have scared her. Terrified her, in fact. Her grandfather had wielded his temper like a weapon and when Chad had been drunk he had been volatile and moody. But Cruz didn’t scare her in that way. Other ways, yes. Like the way he made her feel shivery and out of control of her senses. As if when he touched her he consumed her, controlled her.

  That scared her.

  Pushing her troubled thoughts aside, she sought to reassure Gabriella. ‘No, he doesn’t scare me that way. I think his bark—or his look—is more ferocious than his bite.’

  The sound of the back door opening drew Aspen’s gaze from Cruz’s retreating figure and she watched Ricardo back out of the doorway, an elaborate birthday cake resplendent with pink icing and brightly coloured flowers held gingerly in his arms.

  ‘Where’s Cruz?’ he asked, casting a quick glance at the now vacant chair.

  There was a bit of low murmuring that Aspen understood, despite not speaking Spanish, and she felt a guilty flush highlight her cheekbones. It was her fault that Cruz had stalked off.

  ‘I’ll go and get him.’

  Ricardo looked as if he was about to argue with her but then changed his mind. ‘Thank you.’

  Following the path Cruz had taken, she found him out by the small vineyard, his head bent towards a leafy vine laden with bunches of purple grapes. The bright sun darkened his olive skin as he stood there, which was extremely unfair, Aspen thought, when her skin was more likely to turn pink and blister.

  A bee buzzed lazily past her face and she stepped out of its way.

  Cruz must have heard the sound of her steps on the dirt but he gave no indication of it, putting his hands in his pockets and staring out across the ocean like a god from the days of old. Strong. Formidable. Impenetrable.

  ‘I was hoping for a moment’s peace,’ he said without turning around, his deep voice a master of creation.

  ‘They’re about to serve the birthday cake,’ Aspen informed him softly.

  ‘So they sent you to find me?’

  ‘No.’ She stood beside him and watched tiny waves break further out to sea. ‘I volunteered.’

  He made a noise that seemed to say she was an idiot. And she was—because she had an overpowering urge to reach out to him.

  ‘They don’t know how to treat you, you know.’ She glanced up at him, no longer able to ignore what had been going on since they arrived. ‘Your mother seems to be suffering. From guilt? Remorse? It’s not clear, but it is clear that she loves you. They all do.’

  Cruz tensed and dug his hands further into his pockets. Aspen had inadvertently picked a scab off an old wound. He knew his mother felt guilty. He’d told her she shouldn’t but it hadn’t worked. He had no idea what to do about that and it made being around his family almost impossible, because he knew that without him around they would be up singing and dancing and having a great time.

  ‘Don’t start talking about what you can’t possibly understand,’ he grated harshly.

  ‘I understand that you’re upset...maybe a little angry about what happened to you,’ she offered gently.

  He swung around to face her. ‘I’m not angry about that. When my father died it was my job as the eldest boy to take care of my family while the girls ran the house. It’s what we did. Rallied around each other and banded together.’

  ‘Oh, dear, that must have made it even harder for you to leave them.’

  Cruz scowled down at her. ‘It’s not like I had a say in it. Old Man Carmichael offered my mother money and she preferred to send me away than to let me provide for the family my way.’

  ‘Which was...?’

  Mostly he’d worked at a nearby hacienda and tended rich people’s gardens. Sometimes he’d done odd jobs for the men his father had become involved with, but he hadn’t been stupid enough to do anything illegal. Anything criminal.

  ‘Boring stuff.’

  ‘And your mother didn’t work herself?’

  ‘She cleaned houses when she could, but I have one brother and four sisters. All were under ten at the time. My father’s family were what you would politely term dysfunctional, and my mother had been an only child to elderly parents. If I hadn’t stepped up, nobody else would have.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Cruz. That’s a lot for a child to have heaped on his shoulders. You must have really struggled.’ She grimaced. ‘I guess that’s why they treat you like you’re a king now.’

  He looked at her sharply. ‘They don’t treat me like a king. They act like it didn’t happen. They tiptoe around me as if I’m about to go off at them.’

  She paused and Cruz caught the concern in her gaze. Something tightened in his chest. What was he doing, spilling his childhood stories to this woman? A person he didn’t even like.

  As if sensing his volatile thoughts she murmured half to herself and he had to strain to capture the words. ‘...not real.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ He glanced at her sharply. ‘Are you saying my feelings for my family are not real?’

  ‘Of course not. Though it might help them relax a bit if you scowled a little less.’ She shot him a half-smile. ‘I can see that you love your family. Which is strangely reassuring though I don’t know why. But there’s no hugging. No touching.’ Her pause was laden with unwanted empathy. ‘Truthfully, you remind me of my grandfather. He found it tough to let anyone get close to him as well.’

  His eyes narrowed. Nobody in his family talked about the past—not even Ricardo. Cruz had come back from Ocean Haven eight years ago angry—yes, by God, angry—and he’d stayed that way. And he liked it. Anger drove him and defined him. Made him hungry and kept him on his guard.

  He looked at Aspen. Unfortunately for her he was really angry now. ‘I don’t remember reading anywhere in that makeshift document of yours that pop psychology was part of our deal.’

  Her eyes flashed up at him. ‘I was only trying to help. Though I don’t know why,’ she muttered, half under her breath, inflaming his anger even more.

  ‘Helping wasn’t part of it either. There’s only one thing I want from you. Conversation before or after is not only superfluous, it’s irrelevant.’

  She gave him that hurt look again, before masking it with cool hauteur, and he felt his teeth grind together.

  Dammit, why couldn’t he look at her without feeling so...so much?

  All the time.

  Lust, anger, disappointment, hunger. A deep hunger for more—and not just of that sweet body which had haunted more dreams than he cared to remember.

  He reminded himself of the type of woman she was. The type who would use that body to further her own interests.

  She’d used it to good effect to deceive him years ago and hadn’t cared a damn for his feelings. That was real. That was who she was. And once he’d had her in his bed, had slaked his lust for her—used her in return—then she’d be out of his life and his head.

  Hell, he couldn’t wait.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WAS EARLY evening by the time Cruz turned onto the long stretch of driveway that led to the Rodriquez Polo Club. A hotel, Aspen had heard it said, that was a hotel to end all hotels.

  She didn’t care. She was too keyed-up to be impressed. And, anyway, it was just a hotel.

  Only it wasn’t just anything. It was magnificent.

  A palatial honey-coloured building that looked about ten storeys high, it curved like a giant horseshoe around a network of manicured gardens with a central fountain that resembled an inverted chandelier.

  As soon as their SUV stopped a uniformed concierge jumped to attention and treated Cruz with the deference one usually expected only around roya
lty.

  Expensively clad men and women wandered languidly in and out of the glassed entrance as if all their cares in the world had disappeared and Aspen glanced down at her old top and jeans. Despite the fact that her grandfather had once been seriously wealthy, Ocean Haven hadn’t done well for so long that Aspen couldn’t remember the last personal item she’d bought other than deodorant. Now she felt like Cinderella before the makeover, and it only seemed to widen the gulf between her and the brooding man beside her.

  ‘Well, I can see why it’s rated as seven stars and I haven’t even seen inside yet,’ she said with reluctant admiration. ‘And, oh...wow...’ she added softly. A row of bronzed life-sized horses that looked as if they were racing each other in a shallow pool with shots of water trickling around them glowed under strategically placed lights, adding both pizazz and majesty to the entrance. ‘There’s so much to see. I almost don’t want to go inside.’

  ‘Unfortunately we’re not allowed to serve meals on the kerb so you’ll have to.’

  Aspen switched her gaze to Cruz at his unexpected humour and her pulse skittered. He was just so handsome and charismatic. What would it feel like, she wondered, to be with him at the hotel because she wanted to be there and he wanted her to be there with him?

  The unexpected thought had her nearly stumbling over her own feet.

  Why was she even thinking like that?

  The last thing she needed was to become involved with a man again. And Cruz had told her in no uncertain terms that he expected sex and nothing else. No need to pretty it up with unwanted emotion.

  How had she convinced herself that she’d be able to do this? Not only because of her own inherent dislike of sex but because it was so cold. What would happen once they got upstairs? Did they go straight to the bedroom? Undress? Would he undress her? No. Probably not.

  Fortunately she didn’t have much time to contemplate the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as the doorman swept open the chrome and glass doors and inclined his head as Cruz strode inside. Aspen scurried to keep up and couldn’t help but notice the lingering attention Cruz garnered with effortless ease.

  Another deferential staff member in a severely cut suit descended on him and Aspen left them to stroll towards a circular platform with a large wood carving of a polo player on horseback.

  ‘Aspen?’

  Having finished up with his employee, Cruz waited impatiently for her to come to him but Aspen couldn’t help returning her gaze to the intricate carving.

  ‘Did you do this?’

  He looked startled. ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘I just saw some smaller versions in your mother’s house and they reminded me of the wood carvings you used to do in your spare time. Were they yours?’

  He paused and Aspen felt a little foolish.

  ‘I haven’t done one of those in years.’

  It was the most he’d said to her since leaving his mother’s and her curiosity got the better of her. ‘You don’t play polo any more either. Why is that?’

  For a minute she didn’t think he had heard her.

  ‘Other things to do.’

  ‘Do you miss it?’ she asked, imagining that he couldn’t not, considering how good he was.

  ‘Mind your step when you come down,’ he said, turning away from her.

  Right. That would be the end of yet another conversation, she thought, wondering why she’d even bothered to try and engage him. Her natural curiosity and desire to help others was clearly wasted on this man.

  She thought back to his angry response to her gentle prodding at his mother’s house and shook her head at her own gumption. What did she really know, anyway? Her own relationship history wasn’t exactly the healthiest on the planet.

  Following Cruz to the bank of elevators, she decided to keep her mouth shut. It was hard enough contemplating what she was about to do without adding to it by trying to come up with superfluous conversation.

  When the lift opened directly into Cruz’s private suite Aspen gasped at the opulence of the living area, but Cruz ignored it all, striding into the room and throwing his wallet and keys onto a large mahogany table with an elaborate floral arrangement in the centre. With barely a pause he pushed open a set of concertina glass doors that led to a long balcony. Beyond the doors Aspen could just make out a jewel-green polo field.

  Stepping closer, she saw that beyond the field there was an enormous stone stable with an orange tiled roof and beyond that white-fenced paddocks holding, she knew, some of the finest polo ponies in the world.

  ‘Wow....’ She breathed hot evening air that carried the scent of freshly mown grass and the lemony scent of magnolia with it. ‘Is that a swimming pool out there to the right?’

  ‘Yes.’ Cruz had his hands wedged firmly in his pockets as he stood behind her. ‘It’s a saltwater pool the horses use to cool off in.’

  ‘Lucky horses.’

  ‘If you take ten steps to your left and look around the corner you’ll see a pool and spa you can use.’

  Happy to move out of his commanding orbit, Aspen followed his directions.

  ‘Oh...’ She stared at a sapphire-blue lap pool which had a large spa at the end of it. The pool was shielded on one side by a thick hedge and from above by a strategically placed cloth sail that would block both the sun and any paparazzi snooping around. ‘You don’t do things by halves, do you?’

  ‘Mexico is a hot place.’

  Then why did she feel so cold?

  Shivering, she glanced back at him, her attention caught by piercing black eyes and the dark stubble that highlighted his square jaw. Those broad shoulders...

  She shivered again, and tossed her head to cover her reaction. ‘Time to get this party started, I’d say.’

  ‘Party?’ He raised a cool eyebrow at her. ‘In the pool?’

  Aspen cast a quick glance at the inviting water, alarmed as an image of both of them naked and entwined popped into her head. It was so clear she could almost see them there—his larger, tanned body holding her up, the silky feel of the water lapping at her skin as it rippled with their movements, her arms curved over his smooth shoulders as she steadied herself, his hands stroking her heavy breasts....

  She felt her face flame. She had the romantic—the fantasy—version of sex in her mind. The real version, she knew from experience, could never live up to it.

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Have you ever made love in the water, Aspen?’

  Had he moved closer to her? She glanced at him with alarm but he hadn’t moved. Or hadn’t appeared to.

  She inhaled and steeled her spine. ‘The pool doesn’t appeal to me.’

  ‘Pity. It’s a nice night for it.’

  Aspen didn’t want to complicate this. A bed was more than adequate for what was about to happen between them. And she could close her eyes more easily in a bed.

  ‘A bed is fine.’

  She wondered if Cruz would put a towel down, the way Chad had done.

  A muscle ticked in Cruz’s jaw and he stared at her as if trying to discern all her deepest thoughts. Then he turned abruptly away. ‘Actually, I find I don’t enjoy making love on an empty stomach.’

  ‘This has nothing to do with love,’ Aspen reminded him assertively.

  Halfway to returning indoors, Cruz stopped and his black eyes smouldered. ‘When I touch your body, Aspen, you’ll think it does.’

  Oh, how arrogant was that? If only he knew that all his Latin charm was wasted on her.

  Aspen hurled mental daggers at his broad back and wondered why he didn’t want to get this over with as soon as possible. By all accounts he seemed to want her—but then so had Chad in the beginning. Oh, this was beyond awful. She hated second-guessing Cruz’s desire. Hated hoping that with him it would be different. Sh
e knew better than to count on hope. It hadn’t brought her mother or her father back into her life. It hadn’t made her grandfather love her for herself in the end.

  This time when she looked around the vast living area she noticed a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket on the main dining table. Maybe that was what she should do. Get drunk.

  As if reading her mind, Cruz tightened his mouth. ‘Come—I’ll show you to your room.’

  Aspen felt her heart bump inside her chest. He’s just showing you the room, you fool, not asking you to use it.

  Yet.

  Standing back to let her pass, Cruz indicated towards a closed door. ‘The bathroom, which should be stocked with everything you’ll need, is through there.’

  Aspen nodded, feeling completely overwhelmed.

  When it became obvious she wasn’t going to say anything Cruz turned to go. ‘I’ll leave you to freshen up.’

  She noticed a book on the bedside table. ‘This is your room,’ she blurted out.

  ‘You were expecting someone else’s?’

  ‘No. I...’ She spared him a tart look. ‘I thought you might like your own space.’

  ‘I like my bed warm more.’

  Right.

  ‘Dinner should be served in twenty minutes.’

  After he closed the door behind him Aspen sagged against the silk-covered king bed and wondered how long it would be before he realised she was a dud.

  Feeling completely despondent, she picked up the novel beside the bed and noticed it was one of her favourites. Surprised, she flicked through it. Could he really be reading it or was it just for show? Just to impress the plethora of mistresses who wandered in and out of his life?

  An hour later she was wound so tight all she could do was pick at the delicious Mexican dinner that for once didn’t include tacos and enchiladas.

  ‘Something wrong?’

  Her eyes slid across Cruz’s powerful forearms, exposed by his rolled shirtsleeves.

  Was he serious? She was about to embarrass herself with a man who didn’t even like her in order to save her home. Of course there was something wrong.