by Pamela Yaye
A blast of laughter, and then he resumed speaking. “Claudia Prescott is a scheming liar just like her husband, and I hope they both get a lengthy prison sentence. I say lock ’em up and throw away the key!”
Claudia’s eyes burned and her nose itched. She coughed, ran a hand over her chest to alleviate the burning. It felt like someone had poured Russian vodka down her throat, and the more she swallowed the stronger it burned. Their words cut with the precision of a blade, sliced so deep she’d never be whole again. Stealing went against everything she’d been taught, and although Claudia didn’t know the two men, for some crazy reason she cared what they thought.
“The Prescotts used investors’ money to fund their extravagant lifestyle. They have luxury cars, residential properties and even a three-hundred-foot yacht. Can you believe that? Their victims are penniless, left with nothing but crippling debt, and they’re living the good life.”
Claudia dug her fingernails into her armrest. She didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare open her mouth to defend herself. Let them talk. They didn’t know about her charity work, or the community projects she’d donated her time to. She was innocent, and that was all that mattered. Then why do I feel like curling into a ball and sobbing into my travel pillow?
Overcome by a strong, distinct scent, Claudia shot up straight in her chair. Terror struck, causing fear to ricochet off the walls of her chest. It couldn’t be… He couldn’t be here in the first-class lounge, could he? Circa 1840 wasn’t just any cologne. The scarcity of the ingredients and the six-month fermentation process made it the most unique fragrance in the world. And, at a thousand dollars a bottle, the most expensive. Her ex-husband wore it because he liked flaunting his wealth. And obviously someone else in the first-class lounge did, too.
“How are you today?”
Claudia blinked and turned toward the man with the rich, deep voice. His tone was soft, as smooth as honey. She narrowed her eyes and hit him with a leave-me-the-hell-alone look. He didn’t budge. Instead of making himself scarce, he extended his hand, offering a white cup brimming with whipped cream.
“You look like you could use a warm drink. How about a cup of hot chocolate?”
“No, thanks.”
“Please, take it. I insist.”
Stepping forward, he rested the drink on the table beside her. His scent drifted over her, hitting her square in the nose. Her stomach heaved, pitched from left to right, coiled in a knot so tight she couldn’t swallow.
“I’m Santiago.”
“Good for you.”
“I brought lunch.” He held up a clear plastic bag. “I hope soup, sandwiches and chocolate brownies are okay.”
“Do I know you?”
“Not yet. I’ve been here for hours, and if I keep playing solitaire on my iPhone I’ll go crazy,” he confessed, sporting a grin that revealed straight, white teeth. “To pass the time I thought we could talk.”
Claudia rolled her eyes. What was the matter with these guys? This was the fifth one to hit on her since she’d arrived at the lounge. Only this man in the tan sports coat, white button-down shirt and dark slacks was dreamy. Gorgeous, actually. A Hollywood casting director’s dream client. He had a full head of short, wavy black hair, grayish-brown eyes that twinkled with mirth and a smile as blinding as a solar eclipse. Over six feet of lean, muscular man and not a gold tooth in sight. Certainly a step up from the gangster who’d swaggered over earlier. “Look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but I’m just not interested. I don’t want to get to know you better or hook up the next time I’m in town, either. I just want to be left alone. Got it?”
“We’ll have lunch together, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“I’m not hungry.” As the lie fell off her lips, her stomach erupted in protest, howling louder than a band of coyotes. If she didn’t eat soon, lounge security would be peeling her up off the floor, and the last thing Claudia wanted was more public humiliation. She was starving, but she didn’t want to break bread with this immaculately groomed pretty boy with polished shoes. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”
Another howl, but this one was accompanied by a sharp hunger pang.
“You’re not going to let a nice guy like me eat all alone, are you?”
Coughing to disguise the rumblings in her belly, she opened her wallet and fished out a twenty-dollar bill. “Fine, but I insist on paying you for the food. Will this cover it?”
“Miss, please put away your money. Buying you lunch is my pleasure.”
Before Claudia knew what was happening, he sat down and rested the plastic bag on the table between them. A savory aroma filled the air. Growing hungrier with each passing second, she licked the dryness from her lips and accepted the container he graciously offered.
“When I flew in this morning the skies were clear and blue, but now the rain is giving the city a beating,” he said, settling comfortably in the chair beside her. “I hope the weather advisory lifts soon. This is a nice lounge, but I don’t want to sleep here!”
He chuckled, but Claudia didn’t join in his laughter. She concentrated on eating her minestrone soup. Spooning baby carrots into her mouth, she pretended not to notice him watching her. His eyes were laser beams, piercing her flesh and heightening her fear. Something about him was gnawing at her. It was…his cologne. “Are you wearing Circa 1840?”
His eyebrows fused together. “Wow, you really know your colognes.”
“My ex wore it for years. It’s a nice fragrance, but I think it’s way too expensive.”
“Do you think there’s something wrong with people enjoying the fruits of their wealth?”
“Not if it’s earned by honest means, but most millionaires make it rich by exploiting others.” Claudia paused, thought a moment and said, “The cost of one bottle could feed a hundred people in my city Thanksgiving dinner, and I think providing the basic necessities of life is far more important than smelling good.”
He didn’t respond, just nodded and leaned back in his seat.
“I’m sorry,” she said, with a small shrug of her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to lay a guilt trip on you. What you choose to do with your money is none of my business.”
“No harm done. We’re just talking, right?”
Still hungry, she reached into the bag and unwrapped one of the sandwiches. She took a bite and sighed in contentment. Claudia didn’t bother to hide her pleasure. Loaded with vegetables and barbeque sauce, the sandwich was delicious and tasted even better than it looked.
“Now that we’re friends, I think it’s only fair that you tell me your name.”
To buy herself some time, she picked up the hot chocolate and tasted it. This Santiago guy isn’t half bad, she thought, as the hot, creamy liquid warmed her body. He was generous, outgoing and seriously cute. Back in the day Claudia would have given him her number, but now she knew better. Knew that no matter how nice a guy seemed he was still just a man. Someone capable of breaking her heart, and killing her hopes and dreams.
“I’m still waiting for that name…”
“It’s Claudia.”
“A lovely name for a lovely lady.” A smile pinched his cheeks, and a set of dimples emerged. “What part of Mexico are you going to?”
“What makes you think I’m going to Mexico?”
He pointed at her purse, and Claudia followed the route of his gaze. The travel book she’d purchased at the terminal’s bookstore was peeking out from behind her makeup case.
“I was born and raised there, so if you have any questions just ask.”
Claudia cleaned her mouth with a napkin. She wanted to tell him to get lost, wanted to send him on his way, but she didn’t. How could she when he’d brought her such a tasty lunch? They were stuck in the airport, marooned until the storm passed, so why not
use the time chatting with this sexy Latino guy about Cabo San Lucas?
Chapter 3
Santiago cursed under his breath.
The men sitting behind him were talking so loud he couldn’t hear what Claudia was saying. He thought of telling Beavis and Butthead to shut up, but he didn’t want her to think he was rude. Keeping his frustration in check was harder than riding a mechanical bull on quicksand, and when the pair erupted in boisterous laughter, drowning out Claudia’s melodious voice, he almost snatched them both up by the collar. How was he supposed to get to know the Southern beauty with these two clowns guffawing every five seconds?
Glad she was finally starting to relax, he carefully studied her appearance. The short, bouncy hair, that shapely body clad in pink-trimmed workout gear. Claudia was the kind of woman his friend Chaz Romero would call a dime piece. Claudia wasn’t a nine or a ten, she was a twenty. He’d dated some in his life, and had even been in love a time or two, but he’d never been this drawn to a female, never been so enamored with anyone. “Does everything taste okay?” Santiago saw the deep frown on her face, and worried he’d bought the wrong thing. “I can run and grab you something else if you’d like.”
“This sandwich is delicious, but I can’t believe it cost fifteen dollars,” she said, staring at the red price sticker on the wrapper. “That’s really expensive for a chicken-turkey club.”
She spoke so softly, so quietly, it was impossible to hear her over the noise. Santiago leaned forward in his chair. Her accent was subtle, distinctly Southern, and rich with femininity.
“If my sister hadn’t given me her Priority Pass I wouldn’t have even known this lounge existed. I can’t believe the daily rate is a hundred dollars. That’s highway robbery!”
“You’re right, but it’s great having somewhere quiet to go to when the airport’s packed and you have an extended layover,” he said, inclining his head toward her. “And they make the best steak subs here. I’ve already had three!”
His iPhone rang. Offering an apologetic smile, he slipped a hand into his shirt pocket and hit the End button. He’d bet it was the same woman who’d called an hour ago. The stick-thin cosmetics heiress his mother was trying to set him up with. No way, no thanks. If he ever decided to settle down he’d do the choosing. Not his matchmaking mom.
“Aren’t you going to answer your phone?”
“They’ll call back.”
“Won’t your wife worry if you don’t pick up?”
Santiago displayed his left hand. “I’ve happily single.”
“Sure you are.” Her laugh carried a hard, bitter edge. “That’s what they all say.”
“Are you meeting up with someone in Mexico?” He found her eyes, saw how the edges darkened, and tried to reach her with his smile. “Or are you traveling solo?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
He shrugged. “I’m just curious.”
“Curious is a polite word for ‘nosy.’”
Santiago chuckled. So much for her being shy. She’s as feisty as a caged lioness! “My mother is a very social person, and I guess I inherited that trait from her.” At the thought of his mother a grin pinched his lips. She was dying for him to get married, anxious to begin spoiling her first grandchild, but he wasn’t in the market for a bride and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. “Excuse me for being so forward. I mean no harm.”
“I don’t know anyone there. I’m on my own.”
He waited, expected her to say more, but she didn’t. “You’re going to love Cancun,” he began, fishing for information. “There’s tons to see and do, and they have some great nightclubs.”
“I’m not going to Cancun. I’m—” She started and stopped twice, then released a long, deep sigh. It was if breathing was too much for her, a boring, arduous task that she’d rather not do. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she said, “I’m going to Cabo San Lucas.”
His ears perked up. “What a coincidence. So am I.”
Claudia said nothing, just put a hand to her hair and ran her fingers through her bangs.
“If we ever leave this airport and make it down there I’d love to see you again. Maybe we could go out for coffee.” Santiago smiled. “Or would you prefer hot chocolate?”
“I won’t have time.”
Reaching into his attaché case, he retrieved one of his business cards and offered it to her. “If you change your mind or need someone to show you around, give me a call.”
Claudia stared at the card as if it was covered in germs. “My week is pretty full.”
“I understand.”
When she turned away, he eased forward in his chair and dropped it into her purse.
“Do you know much about the resorts in the Tourist Corridor?” she asked, her voice low and filled with hesitation. “I don’t care about the bars or restaurants in the area. I just want to be somewhere safe. And quiet.”
A grin claimed his lips. She was staying in the heart of the city? What a stroke of good fortune! He thought of asking the name of her hotel, but didn’t want to be accused of being nosy again. “You’ll be perfectly safe in and around the peninsula. Because of the surge in celebrity tourists over the last few years, the police have upped their presence in the area.”
“Can’t afford to let anything happen to the rich and famous, huh?”
Santiago frowned. There was that edge in her voice again. I wonder what that’s all about? “Tourism is big business in Mexico, and in these hard economic times, every dollar spent in the country counts.” He studied her for a moment, trying to make all the pieces of the puzzle fit. “I’m surprised you’re not interested in checking out some of the clubs.”
A scowl pinched her lips. “Why? Do I look like the kind of woman who enjoys dancing on tables and stumbling around drunk?”
“No, but you look like a dancer, and all of the ones I know love a good party.”
“I haven’t danced in years. And,” she stressed, “pirouettes aren’t exactly a crowd-pleaser.” Claudia crossed her legs, shifted around in her seat as if she was sitting on a cold, hard cinder block rather than on a plush chair. “Did you study dance, too?”
Santiago cracked up, but when he thought about all those sweltering afternoons he’d spent in that airless dance studio, his laughter fizzled. He’d never see Marisol dance again, never hear the excitement in her voice when she spoke about her passion for the arts. She was gone, forever, and he was to blame. Memories of that fateful night weighed on his chest like a slab of steel, making every breath a fight, a struggle.
“Karate was more my speed, but my younger sister studied ballet for years.” He tasted sadness in his mouth, and swallowed hard to wash it away. “Did you ever consider making a career out of it or auditioning for Julliard?”
Her eyebrows rose. “You’re very knowledgeable about ballet.”
“And you’re skilled at evading questions.”
A smile caressed her lips, but it was gone so fast Santiago was sure he’d imagined it. He watched her pick up her cup of hot chocolate. Why was she shaking? Was she cold, scared or both? “It might help to talk about it,” he said quietly.
Hot chocolate sloshed onto the table when Claudia slapped down her cup and surged to her feet. She was breathing hard, fast, as if she’d just finished sprinting up a flight of stairs.
“Where are you going?”
Claudia tossed her things into her travel bag and yanked violently on the zipper.
“They haven’t made any boarding announcements yet.” Angry at himself for scaring her off, he rose from his seat and offered a sincere, heartfelt apology. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Claudia. Please stay and finish your food.”
“I’m done, now if you’ll excuse me—”
Santiago
did the unthinkable. He rested a hand on her arm and gave a light squeeze. Her flesh was warm, supple, and her fragrance wrapped itself around him like a wisteria vine.
Time crawled to a stop.
Their gazes locked, and for a half second Santiago forgot where he was. Her eyes drew him in, seduced him as surely as Eve and that shiny red apple. He could almost see the energy pulsing between them, could almost smell the perfume of her desire. It was so crippling he felt like he’d been struck by lightning. Lust barreled through him, rooted his hands to her arms and his feet to the ground. Unable to move, he waited for the temporary paralysis to lift, waited impatiently for his thoughts to clear.
Thunder clapped, shaking Santiago out of his dreamlike state.
“I—I have to go.”
With a heaviness in his heart, he stepped aside to let her pass, but not before saying, “God is bigger than your problems.”
She hesitated a fraction, as if considering his words.
“He’ll give you the strength you need to overcome—”
A laugh fell out of her lips. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say.” Wearing a scowl that could scare the devil, she grabbed her bag and fled the lounge as if it was engulfed in ten-foot flames.
His eyes followed her every move. Through the restaurant, past the spa and back out into Terminal One. Claudia was as mysterious as the pathway of the wind, and the polar opposite of the women his mother forced on him, but he found her candor refreshing. And her beauty only enhanced her appeal. Santiago loved his mom, but he was sick of going out on dates with fake, pretentious women who cared only about caviar, champagne and shopping sprees in Milan. He was taken by this soft-spoken Southern beauty. She was real, honest, interested in the well-being of her fellow man. He had to see her again.
Santiago returned to his seat. There were a lot of perks to being a Medina, and he planned to use every connection he had to track her down. And hopefully the next time he saw Claudia she wouldn’t run from their undeniable connection.
