J.J. had to struggle to keep her smile in place. This dear old lady had no idea that her last comment had struck a nerve in J.J., reminding her that men like Miguel—and men like her own father—wanted sons. Appreciated sons. Loved sons.
Miguel wrapped his arm around J.J.'s shoulders again. "Every man wants a son, Aunt Josephina, but I want a daughter, also."
"Of course you would want a daughter, wouldn't you?" Josephina smiled. "Jennifer, my dear, if you give him a daughter, beware. A little girl will wrap this one around her little finger."
J.J. felt as if a huge boulder had been lifted from her chest and she was able to breathe freely again. She had never expected Miguel to express any desire for a daughter or that this old woman who seemed to know him so well would believe Miguel could be beguiled by a little girl of his own.
"Sit down, sit down." Dolores motioned to them. "I will introduce you and then you must introduce Jennifer as you did on the newscast earlier today."
The next hour seemed surreal to J.J. from the second round of unrestrained applause for Miguel, to his glowing introduction of her as his fiancée. Because he appeared to be besotted with her, his loyal supporters accepted her wholeheartedly. She couldn't help wondering how their breakup, after the election, would affect his popularity with his constituents. The best thing for him to do would be to lay all the blame at her feet, to accuse her of not being the woman he'd thought she was, of running off and leaving him when he needed her most. If he did that, he'd probably have women coming out of the woodwork eager and willing to offer him comfort.
Although everyone had been exceptionally nice to her, J.J. felt uneasy. With her stomach muscles tied in knots and her mind swirling with unexplained apprehension, she nibbled at her delicious lunch. Call it a sixth sense or just gut instinct, but she had the strangest feeling that something was wrong—or soon would be. But nothing seemed out of place. She did her best not to be obvious as she surveyed the dining room, the women in attendance and the numerous waiters and waitresses. This entire event was a security agent's nightmare. But without a staff of agents and a client willing to accept his vulnerability, there was little she could do except stick to Miguel like glue.
As she picked at her dessert, some elaborate chocolate concoction, and listened while Miguel made small talk with the others at their table, a sick feeling hit her in the pit of her belly. Like an animal whose hackles had risen, she sensed danger.
Then it happened.
Someone screamed.
J.J.'s first thought was to protect Miguel.
She shot out of her chair and prepared to hurl herself at him and knock him out of his chair and onto the floor. However, he grabbed her and pulled her down into his lap, as if he intended to protect her, not the other way around.
"Wait." He spoke only that one word.
Another scream echoed from the back of the room. And then another.
"Snakes!" several women cried out.
"There are snakes crawling around on the floor," Dolores cried. "Look. See them. There."
"My God!" Josephina gasped. "Are they poisonous snakes? Does anyone know?"
"There must be at least a dozen of them," Zita Fuentes said. "Someone must do something immediately."
Before she could stop him, Miguel came up out of his chair and planted J.J. on the floor, then barreled off the podium and into the audience. Standing quickly, J.J. jumped off the podium right behind him, landing haphazardly on her high heels. She almost smacked into his back when he stopped abruptly to study one of the slithering creatures near his feet.
With women screaming, some climbing on their chairs, a few already on top of the tables and others trying to escape through the nearest exits, which seemed blocked by even more snakes, Miguel picked up one of the reptiles.
Smiling as he held the cold-blooded creature in his hand, Miguel called out in a loud, clear voice. "They are not poisonous. Please stay calm. These are hognose snakes. They're harmless."
"They're not poisonous?" J.J. eased out from behind him and. avoiding the snake he still held, came to his side.
He shook his head. "Completely harmless, but they seemed to have served their purpose." He glanced around at the panicked women. "Someone released these snakes to make a point."
"To show you how vulnerable you are, how easily they can get to you," J.J. said. "The same reason they shot out the tire earlier today. Scare tactics."
The country club's manager and male members of the staff rushed into the dining room. When they saw the snakes slithering around on the floor, several men balked, but when Miguel assured them the reptiles were harmless, they set about capturing the creatures. Miguel handed over his captive to the manager.
In her peripheral vision, J.J. caught a glimpse of a tall, slender brunette in a striking hot-pink dress as she bent down and grasped one of the snakes and handed it to a waiter. Only after the fact did J.J. realize that Miguel had seen the incident, and now the attractive woman was smiling at him as she walked toward him.
"A fearless woman," Miguel said to her as she approached them.
"Señor Ramirez…" She held out her slender, well-manicured hand to Miguel. "What a shame that someone had to play such a dreadful prank and ruin the luncheon for everyone."
Miguel kissed the woman's hand. She batted her long eyelashes at him and smiled coyly.
"A day is never ruined when I make the acquaintance of such a lovely and brave lady. I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Miguel said. "You know who I am, but I do not know who you are.
"I am Gala Hernandez."
"It is my pleasure, señorita. It is señorita, is it not?"
She giggled. The silly woman actually giggled. J.J. glared at her.
"I'm Jennifer Blair, Miguel's fiancée." J.J. stuck out her hand.
Gala glanced at J.J.'s hand, but quickly returned her attention to Miguel. "I must tell you, before someone else does, that I have ties to the enemy camp."
Miguel lifted an inquisitive eyebrow.
J.J. tensed.
"Your sister … your half-sister, Seina, is my oldest and dearest friend."
Getting close enough to brush her shoulder against Miguel's, she lowered her voice to a whisper, making it difficult for J.J. to hear what she was saying. So J.J. pressed up against Miguel's other side.
"Your sister secretly supports your bid for the presidency," Gala told him. "She does not dare speak publicly on your behalf. I am certain you can understand. So, she has sent me in her place."
Miguel eyed the woman suspiciously. Good for him, J.J. thought. At least he's not buying her story hook, line and sinker. For all they knew, Gala Hernandez could be a spy for the enemy camp.
"Please tell Seina that I appreciate her support and when I am president, I hope that she will be able to publicly acknowledge me as her brother."
"I am sure that is her heartfelt wish," Gala said.
"Miguel, querido…" J.J. tugged on his arm. "I do not mean to take you away from a new convert, but you really should make a statement to the ladies who are still here, then we need to contact Roberto and Carlos to make arrangements for a car to pick us up. We're due at St. Augustine's in less than an hour."
"Oh, please, allow me to drive you back to Nava," Gala said. "It would be my honor."
J.J. groaned internally. Bad idea, she wanted to shout, but kept quiet. Surely, Miguel would decline the woman's offer.
"How very kind of you, Señorita Hernandez. Thank you. But I am sure my driver has arranged for another car and will soon arrive to pick us up."
J.J. breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Miguel with new respect.
A crew of news people had followed Jennifer and him as Juan introduced them to the children at St. Augustine's. His lovely fake fiancée had shown genuine compassion and caring for the residents of the pediatric ward and somehow he had not been the least surprised to find that the lady had quite a way with children. The little ones had responded to her warm smile and gentle touch.
"Whenever I can't be with you, Dom will be. After all, he is supposed to be your cousin and there's no reason for anyone to be suspicious when he's often with you."
Miguel had called in Emilio and Roberto to discuss the two possibly unrelated incidents that had plagued him today. A rifleman shooting out one of the limousine tires and someone releasing a dozen hognose snakes at the Ebano Country Club luncheon. Neither had been life-threatening, although each had been momentarily unnerving.
"What information do you have for us about the limousine?" Miguel asked Roberto. "You kept the incident confidential, as I asked."
"We took the car to a trusted auto shop," Roberto replied. "The tire has been replaced and some of our people are running a check on the bullet. Señorita Blair was correct about the tire being shot by a rifle."
"For what purpose?" Miguel glanced from one man to the other.
"To scare you?" Roberto suggested.
"To make a point," Dom said.
"And that point is what? That they could take a shot at me anytime they choose and there's nothing I can do about it. We already knew that."
"Dolores was very upset by what happened at the club," Emilio told them. "If shooting out the tire on the limo was to scare you, to make a point, what did they hope to accomplish by letting a dozen hognose snakes loose in the dining room during your luncheon?"
"Once again, to make a point," Dom said.
"And perhaps to make a laughingstock of you," Emilio added.
"No, there is more to it than their wanting to show me that they can reach out and touch me at their will. The assassination attempt already proved that is possible." Miguel feared the real reason was far more frightening, but he hesitated voicing his thoughts aloud.
"You can't have overlooked the obvious," Dom said as his gaze connected with Miguel's, the two men sharing a silent acknowledgment.
"And that would be?" Roberto asked.
"They already know that I am willing to put my life on the line, that they cannot frighten me into withdrawing my candidacy," Miguel said. "But what if, now, they want to see if I'm willing to risk the lives of others?"
"You can't mean that you think—" Emilio's eyes widened in shock.
"I think only that it is a possibility." Miguel grimaced. He prayed he was wrong. What if he had to choose between the presidency and the safety of the people he loved? What would he do if he was forced to make that kind of decision?
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
J.J. had intended to soak in the tub for no more than ten minutes. But she had stayed twenty before reluctantly getting out, drying off and putting on her silk robe. Now, she had to choose the proper attire for tonight's dinner party. Miguel had told her that it was not a formal affair, that he wouldn't be wearing a tuxedo, only a suit and tie and suggested she wear something suitable for a cocktail party. As she stood inside the huge walk-in closet, flipping through her choices that hung alongside Miguel's numerous suits, she thought about today's events. While she'd been soaking in the tub, she had deliberately erased all thoughts from her mind, concentrating on total relaxation. If the blown tire and the fiasco with the snakes were any indication of how tonight's dinner party would play out, then she had to be prepared for just about anything. It appeared that Miguel's enemies were trying a new tactic.
Perhaps the first assassination attempt had been solely to frighten him into withdrawing from the race—which it hadn't—and now they were showing him they could get to anyone at anytime, could easily harm his friends and family. That was the most reasonable explanation for what had happened today. But what if they also knew Miguel now had a bodyguard, posing as his fiancée? There would be no way they could prove such an accusation, even if they knew it for a fact. And if they knew the truth about J.J., that meant someone very close to Miguel had leaked the information. She felt certain that if she mentioned her suspicions to Miguel, he would defend Emilio and Roberto with every breath in him. Being a loyal man himself—and she instinctively felt this—Miguel would trust his two closest friends, would never question their allegiance to him. But she would and did question their loyalty. After all, it was her job, wasn't it, to distrust everyone associated with Miguel?
"Jennifer?" Miguel called to her from the bedroom.
Her heart lurched halfway out of her chest. Damn, she had to stop reacting like an idiot every time he got near her.
"I'm in the dressing room, choosing something to wear to tonight's dinner party."
"Before you choose, come out here, please. I have something for you, something that may help you make a final decision about your attire for Anton's party."
Taking a deep, get-hold-of-yourself-girl breath, J.J. tightened the belt on her robe, opened the dressing-room door and walked into the bedroom. Miguel had removed his jacket and tie and undone the first three buttons of his shirt, thus revealing a peek of the dark curling hair on his chest. She was so engrossed in his handsome face, his charming smile and his to-die-for body that at first she didn't notice the jeweler's case he held in his hand.
"What's that?" she asked.
"A gift from Nava Jewelers," he replied. "An engagement gift for you."
"You—you bought me a gift?" She froze half a room away from him, unable to make her feet move any farther.
"It would be expected," he told her.
"When did you have time to—"
"I telephoned them this morning and placed a specific order." He held out the large jeweler's case.
Move feet, damn you, move! Taking slow, deliberate steps, she made her way across the room and when she neared him, she held out her hands and accepted the gift. When she opened the case, she noted that there were three smaller cases nestled inside, one obviously a ring box. Her heart did a nervous pitter-patter. Several years ago, she had sworn to herself that if she ever did find a man she wanted to marry, she would tell him that if he wore a wedding band, she would, but that she did not want a fancy engagement ring. She'd been engaged once, had worn her fiancé's one-carat diamond solitary for several months before coming to her senses and breaking things off with the man her mother had chosen for her.
J.J. flipped open the lid on the ring box. Her mouth gaped as she gasped silently. Oh, my God! The center jewel was an oval-cut amethyst, at least four carats, and was surrounded by small half-carat diamonds. A ring that size should have been gaudy and ostentatious. But it wasn't. It was exquisite, like a ring belonging to a princess.
"Miguel, this is…"
"You don't like it?"
She glanced up at him. "No, I mean yes, of course, I like it. It's exquisite."
"It will be expected," he told her by way of an explanation.
"Yes, certainly. I understand."
"Here, let me help you." He reached out and removed the ring from its velvet bed. While she held the large case in her right hand, he took her left hand, held it up and slipped the ring on her third finger. "Ah, a perfect fit. And the perfect ring for you. If only there was a touch more blue in the gem, it would match your beautiful eyes."
Oh, please, don't say something like that to me. She might not be a silly, gullible woman, easily influenced by flattery, but she was discovering that she wasn't completely immune to Miguel's Latin charm.
"That's a good line," she told him. "Very convincing. It's something you must tell people when they aah and ooh over the ring."
"Yes, you are correct. If I repeat that line, everyone will be convinced that I adore you." He snapped open the lids on the other two boxes within the jeweler's case. "The necklace and earrings are an engagement present. Everyone will expect to see you wearing them tonight and for every special occasion from now until our wedding."
The earrings and necklace were d
iamonds. Breathtakingly beautiful diamonds, the settings simple and classic.
"I am told that diamonds, like pearls, go with anything a woman chooses to wear," he said.
"Yes, you're right. That's exactly what my mother always said. A woman can wear pearls or diamonds with a designer gown or with a pair of blue jeans."
"Later, when you are dressed for the evening—" His eyes raked over her silk robe, lingering on her pebble-hard nipples "—if you need my help with the catch on the necklace, let me know." His gaze locked with hers.
A tingling sensation spiraled out from her central core and radiated through her body. No wonder the man was such a successful politician. He possessed an overabundance of charisma.
"I … yes, thank you."
They stood there and stared at each other for what seemed like endless minutes. Finally Miguel broke the silence.
"Ramona has unpacked and put away your things satisfactorily?" he asked.
"Oh, yes. Yes, thank you."
"Will you require a maid to help you prepare for this evening?"
"Huh?"
He smiled, apparently amused with her puzzlement.
"An unnecessary question, I'm sure. I cannot imagine you would want someone to assist you in dressing."
"Oh, no. You're right about that." She chuckled softly. "Even my mother doesn't have a lady's maid."
"Most of the younger women in Mocorito do not use lady's maids, either, only the older ladies, such as my father's wife and her kind."
J.J. caught just a hint of resentment in his voice, a subtle trace of ridicule. "You're not old-fashioned about everything, are you?"
He eyed her questioningly. "You consider me old-fashioned?" He shook his head. "The people of Mocorito think of me as a very modern man, even a liberal to some degree."
"You—a liberal?" J.J. laughed out loud.
"And what do you find so amusing about that?"
"In America you would be considered an old-fashioned, conservative, male chauvinist. But surely you know that since you went to college at Harvard."
RAMIREZ'S WOMAN Page 8
