Blogger Bundle Volume I: Dear Author Selects Unusual Heroines

by Jo Leigh, Kathleen O'Reilly, Kay David

  “Tell me more, Emma,” he said softly. “Tell me who you really are…”

  Although she didn’t know what she was going to say, she opened her mouth to answer him. But she never got the words out. A loud crash shattered the silence into a thousand pieces. From the sound of metal on metal, it was clearly a car wreck, followed by a screeching alarm. With a loud curse, Raul whirled, bounded over her fence and ran toward the street.

  RUNNING INTO THE CENTER of the boulevard, Raul shut off the car alarm with his remote, barely giving his vehicle a second glance. Whatever had happened, it didn’t matter. Who was the more important question. His eyes searched the road, first one way and then the other. He caught the barest glimpse of a set of taillights careering around the corner, but that was all. He cursed again. Had Kelman somehow followed him to Emma’s? The man knew where she lived, but the thought of Kelman following them home, watching them together, left a bad taste in Raul’s mouth.

  Slowing to a walk, he looked across the street at his truck. The driver’s side door was caved in, a long slash of stripped paint evidence of the other vehicle’s progress from the back of the parked SUV and then along the side. It seemed to be a warning: I don’t know what you’re doing, but I know you’re doing it. Next time you might be inside the car when this happens.

  This was Kelman’s way. Aggressive and nasty, but indirect. Staring at the damaged vehicle, Raul wasn’t really bothered by the destruction, because he knew the man too well. Kelman would do nothing to jeopardize whatever plans he had—he’d only wanted to send Raul a message.

  He crossed the pavement and reached the truck the same time as Emma. She raised her hand to her mouth in dismay. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe this!” She stared down the street. “Did you see who did it?”

  “They were already gone when I got here.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?” Her expression was horrified. “It’ll cost a fortune to repair this. And take forever, too!”

  “It’s only a vehicle,” he answered.

  She looked at him with an incredulous expression, then blinked, his meaning becoming clear to her. Without saying a word, she gazed again at the bashed-in door and bit her bottom lip. When she spoke, her voice sounded shaky. “Come inside and we’ll call the police.”

  “No, that’s not necessary,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”

  “But you can’t—”

  “I’ll take care of it, Emma.” Her startled look made him realize too late that his tone was sharper than it needed to be. “It’s just not worth the hassle.”

  “But it’s the law,” she said stiffly. “You have to report accidents in Bolivia, or things get really sticky for you later. Raul, you don’t want to mess around with the police here—”

  “You’re right,” he interrupted gently, “I don’t. So let me deal with this for now, and I’ll contact them…later.”

  “All right.” Her words held all the reluctance of someone who followed the rules.

  Not of someone who broke them.

  “All right,” she said again. “If that’s really what you want to do.”

  “It is.” Walking around to the passenger side of the SUV, he opened the door. It wasn’t easy—the car’s frame must have been bent—and the door protested with a metallic screech. Reaching inside, he stuck his keys in the ignition. The engine turned over instantly just as he’d thought it would. If the wheel was free, he’d be able to drive.

  Standing up, he turned to Emma. “Not a very good ending to our evening, huh?”

  She wore an expression of distress. “I’m really sorry about this. It’s usually a very quiet street. Nothing ever happens here—” She broke off abruptly, her words stopping awkwardly.

  Stepping closer to the sidewalk where she stood, Raul sensed she’d been going to say more, but at the last minute, had thought better of it. He waited to give her another chance, but she stayed silent.

  “Has something else happened here lately?” he pushed.

  She started shaking her head even before he finished speaking. “No, not that I know of…”

  She was so clearly lying and so obviously shaken Raul reacted without thinking, one thought foremost in his mind. What in hell has Kelman done to her already? He reached over, tilting her chin up, so he could look into her eyes. “You could tell me, you know. It would be all right.”

  She looked so startled that Raul wondered just what in hell he was doing. She recovered before he could answer that. “Nothing’s happened.” Her voice was stronger, more determined. “Absolutely nothing.”

  His reaction made no sense at all, but a sudden sweep of protectiveness, then anger, came over Raul.

  He recognized at once how ridiculous the emotions were. He was here to use Emma, just as Kelman was, but emotions were emotions. They came without reason.

  Just like the craving to kiss her. He didn’t even bother to fight it this time; he simply gave in, leaning toward her and brushing his lips over hers, telling himself it would be enough.

  But it wasn’t. Her mouth was as soft as it looked, and instead of satisfying him, the kiss only made him want more. More of them. More of her. More. He pulled back abruptly, met her gaze, then climbed into the damaged truck and drove off.

  EMMA COULDN’T REMOVE Raul’s kiss from her brain, in fact, with each passing day, the moment seemed to grow in importance and take even deeper root. It had been nothing, a mere brush of his lips against her own, but she wasn’t able to erase the sensation, no matter how hard she tried. It wasn’t the feeling as much as the gesture; the brief touch had held the promise of more, and she had to remind herself she didn’t want it.

  She had a goal and nothing could stand in its way, including a romantic entanglement. Especially a romantic entanglement with someone like Raul, she amended quickly. A relationship with a man that intense, that focused, would be like standing under a magnifying glass. They’d burn up from the heat they’d generate. She could tell that just from his kiss.

  But the more she thought about him, the more confused she got, especially when she realized he’d never asked her about his trade. Had he merely wanted to go out with her? He’d called several times since then, inviting her for drinks or dinner, but each time she’d turned him down.

  If she didn’t know better, she might think he was trying to court her. He’d brought her flowers, sent her candy…and the thoughtfulness of the newspaper! Only someone who’d been away from home for a long time knew what that meant. It wasn’t just a paper; it was a bridge to everything familiar, a little link to the stores and the politics and the things you took for granted when you saw them every day. She’d read every inch of it, including the ads.

  That night, he’d even invaded her dreams. Finally, about six in the morning, she drifted off into something close to rest only to have the phone sound an hour later. She wanted to ignore the baleful ringing until she remembered it was Sunday and Todd’s turn to call her. She snatched up the receiver quickly; missing the call would have been awful.

  Jake’s voice reached across the miles and immediately captured her. “Mommy? Is that you? You sound funny…”

  Sitting up in bed, she pushed the hair out of her eyes. “It’s me, sweetheart. I was asleep, that’s all. Remember how I told you it’s not the same time here as it is there? We don’t have daylight saving time like you do—”

  He was too excited to listen. “Mommy, guess what I’m getting?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “You’ll never guess. Not in a gazillion years.”

  “Okay, then, tell me.” She blinked and tried to wake up more. “What are you getting?”

  “A pony!” His words rang together in a string.

  “Charlotte’s gonna move in here after she and Daddy get married, and she’s bringing all her horses and she said I could pick out one just for me. Not one too big or anything, but one for my very own. Isn’t that neat? I’m gonna call him Ranger. What do you think?”r />
  He stopped to draw a breath, and Emma spoke in the gap, her heart suddenly in her throat. “Are you going to take riding lessons, honey?”

  “Charlotte’s gonna teach me.” His voice was puffed up with importance. “She tol’ Daddy she wanted to spend time with me. I heard her tell him. She hugged me and she smells nice.”

  The rest of the conversation was more of the same. Charlotte this and Charlotte that. Even Sarah had mumbled something about “’Lette,” her young tongue unable to get completely around the other woman’s name. Hanging up the phone twenty minutes later, Emma spent the rest of Sunday in a fog of depression. She should have been happy that Charlotte was treating the children so well, she told herself, but instead, she was jealous. She wanted to be the one teaching Jake to ride. She wanted to be the one holding Sarah’s hand when she toddled around the yard.

  Sitting at her desk at home the next morning, unable to face the day, Emma picked up the phone, called Felicity and told her she’d be working from there.

  But she accomplished nothing. Her thoughts tumbled around like clothes in a dryer, going from Raul, to her children and back to Raul.

  The memory of the kiss occupied most of her thoughts, but the car accident troubled her, as well. Her unlocked gate was nothing compared to the damage to Raul’s vehicle, yet to have them both happen so close together was unnerving. She’d wanted to mention the open gate to Raul, then at the last minute had decided not to. The incident was so minor she felt foolish even to be worried about it, much less mention it to him.

  To top it off, there had been the fight between Kelman and Raul. What kind of woman would those two men have fought over? Emma had called Reina that evening and told her more about the conversation she’d overheard. For the first time in their friendship, they’d exchanged angry words, Reina insisting that Raul was someone Emma should avoid. They’d apologized to each other before hanging up, but the tension was still thick between them.

  Emma held her head in her hands and stared out the window. The monkey who lived in the trees next door was scampering from one branch to another, screeching and screaming as he shook the limbs and sent the leaves trembling as if in a storm. The irritating sound echoed inside her head, and for a minute, Emma thought about howling, too. The phone beside her jangled, saving her from her thoughts.

  “Emma, I need to talk to you about something.” Christopher Evans spoke without a greeting, and behind her boss’s voice, Emma heard a note of unusual urgency. Typically unflappable, he sounded as if he was trying much too hard not to be worried.

  But he was failing.

  She couldn’t imagine what might have upset him, but she felt her stomach knot in response, a cramp of nervousness she couldn’t ignore. “What’s going on?”

  “That account you opened a few weeks ago for Raul Santos. Have you checked the funding on it?”

  “I had Felicity look at it on Friday. She talked to the bank in El Paso and they said everything was fine—or at least that’s what she told me.” Emma hesitated. “Why do you ask? Is there a problem?”

  “A problem?” His voice rose slightly. “Oh, no, there’s no problem. Unless you think not having any funds to cover the check presents a problem.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EMMA SWALLOWED, her throat suddenly tightening. “It hasn’t gone through?”

  “Not as of this morning. I got our list of potential problems when I came in, and it was at the top. There were no funds in that account as of Friday at 7 p.m. I think you’d better talk to Felicity and find out exactly what the other bank said. And then you’d better contact Mr. Santos.” He stopped again, then spoke. “You haven’t traded on that account yet, have you?”

  “No.” She hated to explain, but she didn’t have a choice. “He came last week to execute a trade. I didn’t have some information he’d requested, though, and he didn’t want to do the deal until he had that packet.”

  “Well, you’d better thank your lucky stars it worked out that way. Otherwise this conversation might be going down a much different track.”

  Emma’s stomach took a dive. “I understand.”

  “Then you’ll take care of this.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Absolutely. I’ll handle it, Christopher. Immediately.”

  RAUL CLIMBED into the rented Range Rover and started the engine. His SUV was still in the repair shop and probably would be for the next six months. As often as accidents happened in Santa Cruz, he would have expected faster service; then again, this was South America. The parts had to be imported, and the skilled labor necessary to install them was scarce. He had to wait his turn. In the meantime, the Rover would actually work out better, he decided. Kelman would have no idea now what Raul was driving.

  He made his way through the convoluted traffic circles to Las Palmas, the suburb where Kelman lived. He tried to concentrate, but his thoughts were on Emma more than they were on the traffic. Since the last time they’d been together, she’d turned down all his invitations, and his frustration was growing. How could he find out what Kelman was doing if Emma continued to avoid him? He cursed himself for the kiss he’d stolen; the taste of her lips still lingered and the smell of her perfume haunted him at night. It’d been a mistake, and a big one. Getting close to Emma—hell, being attracted to her as he was—definitely muddied the waters. He’d have to watch himself in the future.

  The entrance to Kelman’s subdivision came into view, and Raul turned the big SUV left, his thoughts shifting back to where they should be. It’d been easy to find out about the mansion Kelman bought, because there were only two Realtors in town who handled expatriates. Prepared to go to them both, Raul had lucked out with the first one. The agent had bragged about the sale, even though it hadn’t been hers. She’d been very helpful, in fact, even driving him past Kelman’s house to show Raul what he could get for his money when he decided to buy, as he’d implied to her he would.

  The subdivision wasn’t huge, but the houses certainly were. Mostly stucco with pools and lush landscaping, the compounds were surrounded by towering brick fences that marked each property’s perimeter. They kept out everyone and everything, including prying eyes.

  Raul eased down the street until he was almost opposite Kelman’s home. On the sidewalk just outside the wall sat a tiny shack. It housed a series of guards whose primary task seemed to be visiting the maid next door. The only break in the brick came where the driveway intersected the fence. A set of double gates, made of iron and highly ornate, led inside to a garage. Raul knew the layout of the house and yard.

  He had been inside twice.

  Driving by slowly, he glanced toward the guardhouse. The guard was inside. Asleep. Raul circled the block, then parked, along with a line of waiting mothers, in front of a nearby school. Kelman would be out sooner or later.

  Within a very short time, a horn sounded inside the gates, and the guard jumped up to open them. A shiny green Jeep—without any scratches—slipped through them a second later. Raul let several cars by, then he pulled into the street and followed a safe distance behind the Jeep.

  Twenty minutes later, both vehicles pulled up outside the Banco Nacional.

  Raul watched as Kelman exited the Jeep and headed up the sidewalk. He walked with a purposeful stride and rudely brushed off the Quechua, who had the misfortune to approach him with her palm outstretched. The bright spring day sparkled as he entered the bank through the side door, the door that led directly to Emma’s office.

  EMMA’S HAND shook as she disconnected the line, then reached out to redial her own office number. Felicity answered after three rings.

  Emma spoke quickly. “Felicity, when you called that bank in El Paso to check on the Santos account, what exactly did they say?”

  The secretary answered in Spanish, and Emma interrupted her impatiently. “In English, Felicity, please!”

  Ignoring Emma’s request, the young woman spoke a second time, still in Spanish. “You have a visitor, Ms. Toussaint,” she said.
“I’m telling you in Spanish because he’s sitting right here. He’s very unhappy that you are not in your office.”

  “Who is it?”

  Instead of giving his name, the secretary described the man. She clearly didn’t want to let him know she was talking about him. “He’s older,” she whispered, “with short gray hair. He looks…intense.”

  “Did he give you his card?”

  “Sí.”

  “Is it William Kelman?”

  “Sí, sí, exactamente.”

  Emma closed her eyes. God, why had he come in now? When she wasn’t even there. When everything was going wrong. She wanted to cry that the timing was bad. On the other hand, if there was a problem with Raul’s account, she had a feeling Kelman’s dividend could more than make up for the difference.

  Taking a deep breath, she spoke rapidly. “When we hang up, tell the gentleman I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Offer him coffee or wine or whatever he wants, but for God’s sake don’t let him out of there. Do you understand?”

  “Sí, sí.”

  “Okay, now tell me about the bank in El Paso. In Spanish, please.”

  “I called them, and they said there were no funds in the account, that it often ran close. They expected a deposit by the end of the day.” Her voice turned fearful. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “You told me they said everything was fine.” Emma spoke through clenched teeth.

  “That’s what they said.” The girl sounded near tears. “They said it would be fine, so that’s what I told you.”

  “In the future, I need the details. I need to know exactly what they say, all right? Not your interpretation.”

  Crestfallen, yet clearly relieved, Felicity answered, “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”

  “Good. Now please give Mr. Kelman the message, then I want you to call Raul Santos and tell him I need to speak with him. Set up a meeting at any time and place he wants, but make it today. If he asks, tell him I need to firm up some details about his trade.” She paused. “I really need to talk to him, Felicity, so I don’t care how he wants to arrange it. Just make sure I get to see him today. I have to.”