Escape to Paradise

by Pamela Yaye

  “You go ahead. I’m going to finish my drink.”

  “You’re stalling.” Santiago pointed at the sip left in her glass. “If you don’t join me in five minutes I’m coming to get you.”

  That’s one threat I hope you make good on. Claudia inhaled his scent, felt herself getting drunk off of his smoldering gaze and disarming grin. She had a serious weak spot for the tall, dark and sexy resort manager, one that crippled her every time she was in his presence. He was all man, all muscles, and he had a physique that triggered hot flashes, rapid heartbeat and dry mouth. At least, that was what happened to her when he was around.

  “You should see the spread back here,” Santiago announced, his voice rich with humor. “There’s enough food here to feed the royal family!”

  Following the sound of his voice, she strolled through the lounge and into the bright open kitchen. When Claudia saw Santiago’s chef’s hat and apron she laughed. “‘Kiss me I’m Mexican’? You’re either hard up for kisses or a player extraordinaire,” she teased.

  “None of the above. I’m just a guy who enjoys having fun and making you laugh.” Santiago offered his cheek and tapped at the designated place. “Plant one right here.”

  Claudia giggled. It was impossible not to feel good around Santiago. He never failed to make her laugh, always had a word of encouragement and made her forget her problems back home. Claudia stepped forward, lifted her head and pecked his cheek. “Happy now?”

  “Thrilled, actually.” Puffing out his chest in pride, he picked up the pink chef’s hat from off the counter and placed it on her head. “Perfecto! Now you look like a woman ready to do some damage in the kitchen.”

  Claudia read the block letters splashed across the matching apron. “‘The World’s Sexiest Cook’? Ha, ha, Santiago. Very funny.”

  “I’m not trying to be. You’re gorgeous.”

  His smile filled her with warmth and made her body so hot, Claudia feared she’d pass out.

  “Allow me.” Santiago lowered the apron over her head, then slid behind her to tie the strings. What an amazing view. To keep from caressing her shoulders, he stepped back and buried his hands in his pockets. He feared if Chaz didn’t arrive soon, he’d fall victim to his desires and ravish Claudia from head to toe. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Good, because we’re preparing a feast tonight guaranteed to set your taste buds on fire.” He added, “That’s if the resort chef ever gets here.”

  Claudia fingered her earrings. It gave her something to do besides staring at Santiago’s mouth. He was leaning against the counter, his legs crossed at the ankles, the picture of cool. She’d never dream of making the first move, but their chemistry was growing stronger by the second and the urge to kiss him was crushing.

  “I apologize for the holdup. There was an emergency in the main kitchen.”

  Claudia glanced over her shoulder and regarded the Latino man marching briskly toward them. He was as tall and as slim as a palm tree, with hazel eyes and long limbs.

  “Let’s get the show on the road,” he announced, rubbing his hands furiously together. “Lobster paella waits for no man!”

  Santiago chuckled. “Claudia, this is Chaz Romero, our award-winning chef and host of Mexico’s most popular reality cooking show, So You Think You Can Cook?”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she said with a polite nod of her head.

  Chaz lifted her hand to his mouth, then paused, his perfectly groomed eyebrows jammed together in a crooked line. “Chaz and Claudia. It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think? Rolls off my tongue like whipped butter.”

  An amused expression filled her face. “I hope you’re a patient teacher, because when it comes to cooking I’m hopeless!”

  Santiago looked on in horror as Chaz kissed Claudia on both cheeks, then lobbed an arm around her waist as if she was an old college girlfriend.

  “I can perform miracles in the kitchen and another room as well.” Chaz grinned like a used car salesman. “By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be applying for Rachel Ray’s job!”

  Chapter 11

  An hour later, the trio was hard at work—chopping, mixing, sautéing—but Santiago was boiling mad. Chaz was monopolizing the conversation, and his nonstop chatter made it impossible for him to get a word in. It wasn’t all bad, though. Thanks to Chaz, he’d learned some important information about Claudia. She’d been raised in Virginia, was the first person in her family to graduate from college and used to be the lead soloist in her church choir.

  “I bet you sing like an angel,” Chaz praised. “You certainly look like one.”

  Santiago ordered himself to relax, to keep his cool, but his frustration was snowballing into something fierce. He wanted to punch Chaz, but he tried to remind himself that Chaz was his friend and would never intentionally steal his new love interest.

  “Sing something for me.”

  “I can’t. That was ages ago. Back when I had more confidence than talent.” Claudia licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Is there anything cold to drink?”

  Chaz opened the fridge, picked up a juice pitcher and retrieved a glass from the cupboard. “You have to try my Paradise Punch,” he said, shoving the drink into her hand. “It’s all Jennifer Aniston drinks when she’s here, and Kanye West calls it liquid crack!”

  Claudia lifted the glass to her mouth and didn’t stop drinking until it was empty. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted! Can I have the recipe?”

  “Of course,” he said, winking at her, “but you have to pay me in kisses.”

  Santiago flexed his fingers, then clenched them in a ball so tight he’d need pliers to undo them. What was the matter with Chaz? There was no rational explanation for his behavior. None whatsoever. The head chef was one joke away from getting body-slammed.

  “The squash enchiladas are done.” Chaz placed the casserole dish on the counter and whipped off his oven mitts with dramatic flair. “All it needs now is a touch of adobo and a sprinkle of parmesan. One taste of this, and you’ll be in culinary heaven!”

  Claudia inhaled, then moaned her approval.

  Santiago saw her quick intake of breath, saw the rise and fall of her chest. Her cleavage swelled right before his eyes. His mouth drooped open, wet with an all-consuming desire. I’m no better than Chaz, he thought, staring at the outline of her perky breasts.

  “Those smell delicious,” Claudia gushed. “I can hardly believe I made them.”

  “Believe it, baby. You’re a natural in here.” Chaz gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “Let’s move on to dessert. I love churros, but they’re tough to make. If you don’t wrap them just right the filling will ooze out.”

  Santiago dropped his knife on the cutting board and wiped his hands on his apron. “I’ll help Claudia. I’m a pro at folding churros.”

  Chaz shook his head, but his gaze remained pinned on Claudia. “Keep chopping the vegetables,” he ordered. “Those pieces are still way too big. Mince, my good man, mince!”

  “I’ll show you mince,” Santiago grumbled, chopping the head off the eggplant and hurling it into the garbage. Gritting his teeth in silent rage, he stalked Chaz with his eyes, watching every sneaky move he made. The head chef had a reputation for being touchy-feely, but Santiago had never seen him behave inappropriately and pegged the rumors as idle gossip. Now, he realized they were true. His talk was filled with sexual innuendo, so provocative it would be banned on HBO. But the most shocking thing of all was Claudia’s response. She was flirting right back. It was unlike her, and it made Santiago wonder what exactly was in that Paradise Punch.

  A cell phone rang, stopped, then started up again.

  Claudia took her BlackBerry out of her purse, checked the number and sighed in
relief. “I’ve been waiting for this call all day. Please excuse me.”

  Chaz nodded with a jerk of his head. “Don’t be long,” he said in a singsong voice, waving a wooden spoon at her. “We still have two courses to make.”

  Putting the phone to her ear, Claudia hustled through the lounge and out of sight.

  “I hate to see her leave, but I love the rear view,” Chaz murmured, wetting his lips. “She’s nothing but legs and ass and thighs. A real whiplash chick if I’ve ever seen one.”

  Santiago almost tripped over his feet in his haste to reach the stove. “Watch your mouth,” he ordered, snatching Chaz up by the shirt collar. “I’ve had about all I can stand of your lewd jokes and come-ons, so scram. We can finish up dinner by ourselves.”

  Breaking free, a scowl twisting the corners of his mouth, Chaz straightened his crooked chef’s hat. “I can’t leave now. I have to finish the dessert.”

  “I can handle it. I’ve been helping my mom make churros since I was a boy.”

  Chaz stirred the pot of caramel sauce then reduced the heat. “Any chef worth a grain of salt doesn’t leave his kitchen in the hands of an amateur, and certainly not in the middle of creating his signature dish. A dessert, might I remind you, that Shakira can’t live without.”

  “Go home.” His voice was firm. “It’s not a suggestion, Chaz, it’s an order. Now get out of here before Claudia returns and starts asking questions.”

  “I didn’t mean any harm, really, I was just trying to make her laugh…you know…help her loosen up so she’d have a good time.” Chuckling nervously, he used the tail end of his napkin to clean the sweat skidding down his forehead. “You’re not going to fire me for flirting with a pretty guest are you? It was all in good fun, man.”

  “The next time I hear you being lewd with a guest you’re getting your walking papers. I won’t let anyone ruin my family’s business, and your behavior is bound to bring trouble.”

  Chaz nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and finish up?”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  “All right, then, I guess I’ll be going.” Chaz snatched his jacket off the counter and stuffed his arms inside. “Take the sauce off the stove in ten minutes,” he instructed, pointing at the stainless-steel pot. “Use the cast-iron skillet to fry the churros and—”

  Santiago broke in. “Like I said, I’ve got it.”

  “Right, cool. Guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

  As Santiago stood in the middle of the kitchen, watching the flirtatious chef depart, he had an epiphany. If he wanted to get closer to Claudia, he had to quit tiptoeing around their attraction and deal with it head on. His mother’s words came roaring back to him: Wishy-washy guys never win the girl, but strong, assertive ones always do! A lightbulb went off in Santiago’s head. He had to up the ante, had to show Claudia how he was feeling, and as Santiago glanced around the room, he knew exactly what he had to do.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Jeffries, but my hands are tied.”

  “But you’re my attorney.”

  “Exactly, I’m your lawyer, not your fairy godmother!” Sawyer Tibbs chuckled. “I can’t snap my fingers and miraculously make things happen. The judge granted the order, and until I can draft an appeal, your accounts will remain frozen. That’s just the way it is.”

  Convinced she’d misheard the stout, husky-voiced attorney she’d hired weeks earlier, she jacked up the volume on her cell phone and pressed it to her ear. “You have to do something before the Securities and Exchange Commission ruins me. For all I know, they’re digging around in my business finances as we speak.”

  “No doubt about it,” he promised, his deep, raspy drawl climbing an octave. “The SEC has a reputation for being ruthless, and I won’t be surprised if they subpoena your taxes for the last ten years.”

  Claudia wanted to scream, to kick something with all the anger raging through her, but she refused to lose it in the restaurant corridor. Her gaze fell across the framed, floor-to-ceiling pictures displayed on the red walls. A dancer in traditional Mexican clothes twirled onstage. In another, the same woman picked flowers. The model was featured in all of the images and was beaming in each one. Claudia wished she had something to smile about, but the more she thought about her situation, the more hopeless she felt.

  “I don’t understand why the SEC is pursuing me. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Her voice wobbled, cracked with emotion, and it took a moment before Claudia was composed enough to continue. “My only crime was marrying a man I thought I knew.”

  “Don’t go gettin’ all teary-eyed on me, lil’ lady. That won’t help matters none. Besides, I specialize in fraud cases. I haven’t won any yet this year, but it’s only October.”

  “Things are only going to get worse for me, aren’t they?”

  Claudia heard Mr. Tibbs sigh. She pictured him behind his oak desk, a frown wedged between his eyebrows, a fleshy hand stroking one of his three chins. He did everything at a slow, leisurely pace, but since he charged five hundred dollars for phone consultations, Claudia nudged him out of his musings. “Do you think I’ll be named as a coconspirator in the case? Is that what this is leading up to?”

  “Can’t say for sure, but I am worried about the recent motions the SEC has filed.”

  You’re worried? Try being in my shoes, she thought, massaging her throbbing temples. I could lose everything in the blink of an eye.

  “Judges rarely grant financial injunctions against family members of the accused, so that means either the SEC presented strong evidence of wrongdoing on your part or William sang like a canary and implicated you.”

  The floor fell out from under Claudia’s feet. To make the corridor stop spinning, she slumped against the wall and drew some air into her lungs. She took slow, deep breaths. One after another. Until the wave of nausea passed.

  “Are you sure you’ve told me everything?”

  Claudia gripped her cell phone so tight a sharp pain stabbed her forearm. “What are you implying?” she asked, her teeth clenched, her lips pursed. “You think I plotted with William to steal from his company, then helped him cover the financial trail?”

  “No need to get upset, lil’ lady. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things. Your husband’s created quite the mess and—”

  “Ex-husband,” she corrected, wishing she could reach through the phone and smack the plump, condescending attorney upside the head. How many times did she have to remind him that she and William were legally divorced?

  “William never mentioned where his offshore investments and accounts were?”

  “For the final time, no.”

  “You were only married for a month when William started embezzling from Qwest Capital Investments, which leads many people to believe you hatched the scheme together.”

  “Anyone who knows me knows that I’m incapable of stealing from anyone.”

  Mr. Tibbs pressed on. “But he must have told you something.”

  “Why, because the SEC says so?”

  “No, because you were husband and wife, and most couples discuss everything with each other, especially their finances.”

  “We didn’t have a conventional marriage,” Claudia said, knowing her confession was sure to raise his thick, fuzzy eyebrows. “William had his life and I had mine, and the only time our lives intertwined was during the holidays.”

  “That reminds me. Your husb—” He stopped midword and corrected himself. “William’s about to make bail. From what my sources tell me he could be out as early as Monday.”

  “I—I—I thought his bail was set at a million dollars.”

  “His lawyers argued that it was excessive, and the judge reduced it by half.”

  “Who’d be stupid enough to h
elp William? He’s a flight risk.”

  “Your husband has a lot of friends,” Mr. Tibbs reminded her.

  “William’s getting out of jail, and my accounts are being frozen. How is that fair?”

  “I understand your frustration, Ms. Jeffries, but look on the bright side. You’re free to travel, and you haven’t been formally charged.” His voice was rich with cheer. “See, lil’ lady, things aren’t all bad. In my opinion, you’re in darn good shape!”

  Irked by his easy, breezy, life’s-a-bowl-of-cherries disposition, Claudia wondered if it was too late to ditch the Tennessee-bred attorney for someone else. Someone who could stand up to those jerks at the SEC. Disappointed in herself for hiring Mr. Tibbs after their free ten-minute consultation, she made a mental note to shop around for another attorney this week.

  “What part of Mexico did you say you were in again?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You shouldn’t be keeping things from me, Ms. Jeffries. I’m your lawyer. What if I need to conference with you about something or—”

  “Don’t call me,” she told him, cutting in. “I’ll call you.”

  Feeling emboldened by her thoughts, Claudia clicked off her phone and switched off the ringer. She didn’t have time to fret about the fraud case or what her ex-husband might have told the SEC. She had work to do and no time to waste. The resort was paying her handsomely, and planning the celebration bash was sure to increase business. And right now Claudia could use all the clients she could get.

  Back in control of herself and her emotions, she strode down the corridor with her head high and her shoulders squared. Humming along with the song playing, she swayed her body in time with the infectious beat. The rhythm of the drums and the heady aromas drifting out of the kitchen lifted her spirits. And it didn’t hurt that there was a dreamy guy waiting to have dinner with her. Mr. Tibbs was right after all, she decided, smirking. Life isn’t all bad.

  “Perfect timing,” Santiago said, as she entered the lounge. “Dinner’s ready.”