Hidden Agenda (5 page)

E
ve stirred on the bed and shifted her prone position as ribbons of sunlight seeped through the shuttered windows, threading their way across her neck, cheek, and forehead. The heat penetrated her body through layers of silk, bringing with it a wave of moisture.

Her lips parted as she struggled to open her eyes. Another surge of heat and an oppressive weight held her captive, not permitting her to move or escape.

“No,” she groaned, struggling to free herself from whatever was holding her prisoner.

“It’s all right,” crooned a soft, masculine voice.

Eve came awake immediately, her senses stimulated by the warmth of the hard male body, the subtle yet sensual fragrance of aftershave, and the firm grip of Matt’s hands on her shoulders.

Rolling over onto her back and peering up at him,
she frowned, discerning the brightness of the morning sun through the shutters.

“What time is it?” Her voice was low and husky from sleep.

“It’s nearly eleven,” he replied.

She tried scrambling from the bed, but he tightened his hold on her arm. “Why did you let me sleep so late?”

“You needed the sleep.” Shifting her effortlessly, Matt pulled her across his lap, cradling her cheek to his shoulder. “I can assure you that once we share a bed you won’t have to worry about oversleeping,” he teased.

Her head came up quickly and her fathomless dark eyes widened in surprise. Then, his mocking statement forgotten, Eve stared numbly at him. If it hadn’t been for his startling, hazel-colored eyes and the drawling Southwestern cadence in his speech she would not have recognized him.

His hair had been cut so that thick, black strands lay close to his scalp, barely grazing his forehead. The thick mustache was also gone, revealing a strong, sensual mouth. His top lip was firm, while the lower was fuller, and drooped with enough petulance to make it hypnotically attractive.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, his lids lowering slowly over his brilliant eyes.

Eve lowered her chin, smiling. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Matt ran a hand over his head. “I thought I’d affect a different look for our official engagement photo session.”

Her head snapped up again. “What photo session?”

“The photograph we’ll send to all of the daily and weekly newspapers announcing our upcoming marriage,” he explained, gently easing her off his lap. He
stood up, walked over to the windows, and opened the shutters.

Matt didn’t have to turn around to see Eve’s stunned expression. She still had not come to terms with their upcoming nuptials. He didn’t know why, but her reluctance to marry annoyed him. Did she see him as a monster? Or—did she see him as beneath her? Would she have preferred him to come with foreign-service credentials, like her ex-husband?

Turning slowly, he noted her slightly tilted chin and her dark eyes filled with contempt and another emotion he couldn’t identify. His own eyes narrowed as a realization shook him to his very center. Eve Blackwell was spoiled and used to giving orders, not taking them.

The boarding school she claimed was a prison without bars was one of the most exclusive in the northeast. And he knew enough about the private Harry Blackwell to glean the prominence of the Blackwells of Virginia and Connecticut.

The Sterlings of Texas may not have had the progeny of the Blackwells, with their ties to politics and the foreign service, but on the other hand Matt’s father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had made names for themselves throughout the States with their knowledge of animal husbandry. His father, Clayton, had bred a milk cow that was resistant to most bovine diseases while yielding lean, tender beef.

His anger spiraled. Eve Blackwell reminded him of another woman he once thought himself in love with and had offered marriage. She’d laughed in his face, saying she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life on a farm wearing flannel instead of silk and smelling of
fertilizer rather than imported perfume. It was the last time he had asked a woman to share his life—
until now
—even if it was only temporary.

His sensual mouth, no longer hidden under a mustache, tightened. “Now that you’re up, get dressed and be ready to leave within the hour,” he ordered. “We have a lot of things to do
today
.”

Eve frowned, confused. She stared at Matt as he stalked out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind him. What was wrong with him? What had she done or said to make him growl at her? And he had ordered, not asked, that she get dressed.

Their so-called marriage was in trouble even before they exchanged vows. If Mateo Arroyo thought she was his chattel, then he was seriously mistaken. She had no intention of being ordered about; he would find out quickly, very quickly, how difficult his life would become.

Matt’s hand halted filling a cup with strong Mexican coffee the moment he spied Eve approaching the table where he sat on the loggia with Alma. Without warning, his pulse quickened and his gaze narrowed. Seeing Eve Blackwell in the full light of day was astounding, and he was momentarily paralyzed as well as speechless. The startling effect of her dark beauty dazzled him once he finally rose to his feet.

All of the gold in his eyes vanished, leaving them a deep verdant green. He smiled his approval.
The wait was worth it
.

Eve was fully aware of the impact she had made on Matt. She’d washed her short hair, applied a styling gel and brushed the naturally curly strands off her
forehead, molding them to her scalp and showing off the delicate bones that made up her exquisite face. Her subtly applied makeup, white linen, short sleeve blouse and tailored black linen slacks, her imported lizard-skin loafers and matching narrow belt around her slim waist, were all classic and elegant.

Grasping her hands, he pulled her closer and pressed a kiss at the side of her mouth. “You look beautiful,” he said softly, but not softly enough. Alma had overheard the caressing compliment.

Eve smiled, patting his lean, clean shaven jaw. “Thank you, Darling.” She permitted him to seat her. “Good morning, Alma.”

Alma glanced down at the watch on her wrist. “
Buenas tardes. Cómo está?
”

“
Muy bien, gracias
,” Eve replied quickly.

“
Bueno
,” Matt complimented, pleased that Eve hadn’t hesitated to reply to Alma’s greeting in Spanish. “I don’t mean to rush you,
Preciosa
, but we must leave as soon as possible. I’d like us to do some shopping before the
siesta
.”

Eve noted the thin gold watch on her own wrist. “What time is
siesta?
”

“Usually two to four.”

“Do I have time for coffee?”

Matt hesitated and Alma smiled at him. “Lighten up, Matthew, and let her eat something, or else she’s going to faint in this heat.”

“She’s not pregnant,” he countered, glaring at his cousin before his gaze dropped to her rounded belly.

“You don’t have to be pregnant to faint, Matthew,” Alma shot back. “In case you’ve forgotten, Eve’s not used to this altitude, or our polluted air. Here, Eve,”
she persisted, pushing a plate full of freshly baked rolls across the table. “Eat.”

Matt clenched his teeth. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Eve to eat. He’d delayed having his own breakfast because he wanted to share the meal with her. He’d planned to take her back to the hotel and introduce her to a variety of breakfast and lunch foods before they visited the upscale boutiques in the
Zona Rosa
.

He hadn’t known until he’d watched her sleep earlier that morning that he wanted to spend as much time as he possibly could with her. There was something silent, mysterious, and almost hypnotic that drew him to her, and he wanted to find out what that
something
was.

Reaching into the pocket of a pale gray linen jacket on the back of his chair, Matt withdrew a flip-open cellular phone. He punched in several numbers, spoke rapid Spanish, then pressed a button, terminating the call. His conversation lasted less than ten seconds.

Alma’s embarrassment was apparent. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I had no idea you’d made plans to eat with Eve,” she apologized.

Matt’s fiery gaze was fixed on Eve’s face. “How soon you forget, Alma,” he stated quietly. “Sterling men always take care of what belongs to them.”

This time Eve did not misinterpret Matt’s statement. He didn’t see her as chattel, but as someone he had promised to protect, and that was what she’d sought all of her life—to feel safe.

Her father had taken care of all her material needs, withholding what she wanted most—nurturing protectiveness. She had wanted him to hold her—when she woke up crying from her nightmares, when she fell
and skinned her knees, when the boy she worshipped from a far treated her as if she had a contagious disease, and most of all when Alex openly flaunted his affairs in her face. She’d wanted Floyd Blackwell to put his arms around her and tell her that everything would be all right, and that he would never let anything harm his baby girl.

But she was no longer a little girl. She was a thirty-four year old woman who had her own child. A child she’d carried to term, nurtured and loved. A child who was wrested away from her, and hidden where she couldn’t find him.

Recalling his statement, Eve smiled at Matt.
Sterling men always take care of what belongs to them
. Even though they weren’t married, she knew he would take care of her; he would protect her
and
return her son to her.

“We’ll have the rest of our lives to breakfast together, Matt.”

He stared at her, complete surprise freezing his features. He knew her words were spoken for Alma’s benefit, but for him there was a hidden meaning. Just for a brief moment he’d wanted to believe her. This beautiful, sensual woman with whom he would exchange vows within a month made him forget that they were only playing a game. A game where, he prayed, there would be
only
winners.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Alma pushed back her chair, rising to her feet. “I’ll tell Mariana to prepare something.”

Matt rose to acknowledge his cousin’s departure, his gaze never leaving Eve’s face.

It was apparent that Eve Blackwell was a much
more accomplished actress than she realized. More adept than he’d ever been or would be.

The labels on Eve’s new wardrobe equaled the ones which once hung in her closet in Washington, D.C. As a diplomat’s wife she’d been expected to make the rounds of the endless parties in the capitol city.

The elegant little shops in the trendy
Zona Rosa
carried creations by Von Furstenberg, Givenchy, Ungaro, Missoni and Chloé, and a larger shop yielded leather treasures of Gucci, Bally, and Cole-Hann.

She tried on dresses, suits, and accessories, giving her approval and not permitting herself to succumb to the excitement of being graced with exquisite, eyecatching fashions many women dream about.

Matt escorted her into a jewelry store, unaware that her monosyllabic responses were due to heat exhaustion. Her body hadn’t adjusted to Mexico City’s unusually high spring temperatures.

“What kind of ring do you want?” he questioned, grasping her hand and helping her sit on a delicate chair in a corner of the shop.

She tried smiling. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Diamond, ruby, sapphire, emerald. It’s your call.”

She stared at him, marvelling at how he still appeared alert and unruffled by the extreme heat. His white cotton shirt was crisp and wrinkle free. He hadn’t removed his jacket in any of the shops or made an attempt to loosen his tie.

All of the upscale shops were air-conditioned, but once they stepped outside onto the overpopulated streets with the smog and thermal inversion, she experienced difficulty breathing normally.

Matt took a chair beside her and she placed a hand on his arm. “You make the selection.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You trust me?”

Her smile was spontaneous for the first time in more than two hours. “Of course.”

He splayed one hand possessively at the small of her back while gesturing for a salesperson. Eve waited as the salesman measured her finger, listening as Matt described his preferences. He favored rubies set in yellow gold, and she lost count of the number of rings slipped on and off her finger.

They listened to the salesman extolling the superior quality of a two-carat oval ruby surrounded by a double row of channel-set diamonds. She spread her outstretched fingers under a lamp on the antique table, admiring the flawless quality of the blood-red stone.

Matt cradled her fingers in his larger hand. “I’ll take it.”

Her gaze lingered on his face. “You like the color red.” It was more of a statement than a question.

He leaned closer, his warm breath sweeping over her ear. “Only on you. It complements your beauty.” Their gazes met and held. The rich, vibrant color emphasized the gold undertones in Eve’s flawless skin.

“Thank you.” The two words were so simple, yet conveyed all of the appreciation she felt for Matt at that moment. It wasn’t the clothes or the jewelry—she had had those with Alex. It was Matthew Sterling—the man.

He was offering her hope.

T
he onset of
siesta
began in practiced precision as shopkeepers closed their doors, dimmed lights, drew shutters, and unfurled awnings.

Eve and Matt walked out of the jewelry shop, stopping abruptly. A blackened sky and large drops of rain greeted them. Pedestrians quickened their pace to get out of what was certain to become a torrential downpour.

“Wait here,” Matt suggested. “I’ll bring the car around.”

Eve moved closer to him under the shop’s awning, curving an arm around his waist. His car was parked three blocks away.

“No. I’ll go with you.”

He stared down at her bowed head. “You’ll get wet.”

“I don’t care.” She didn’t want him to leave her.

He hesitated, then said, “Okay. Let’s go.”

Holding her hand, he half-jogged along the
sidewalk, skirting others in their rush to get out of the rain. Eve, quickening her pace, followed Matt’s lead. Both of them were soaked by the time they were seated inside the Lincoln, the sounds of their heavy breathing reverberating in the confined space.

Matt glanced over at Eve and went still. Her thin white blouse was plastered to her chest, clearly outlining her bare breasts. His body reacted swiftly and he groaned aloud. He had almost forgotten that she did not wear a bra.

He’d scrutinized her after she’d tried on formal and casual dresses, slacks, blouses, skirts, shoes, and accessories, but he had given her complete privacy when she selected her intimate apparel.

Gritting his teeth, he had hoped there would be at least
one
bra in the purchases scheduled for delivery at the Navarro residence later that evening.

“Are you cold?” he asked her, unable to pull his gaze away from the outline of her dark areolas.

Eve saw the direction of his gaze, and liquid fire ignited her face, spreading to her chest. His gaze traveled slowly upward over her face, then retraced its path down her body just as slowly.

The tingling in the pit of her belly inched lower, becoming an intense, heated throbbing; a throbbing, raging force that spread and scorched the essence of her femininity.

No!
she screamed inwardly. She couldn’t let it happen; she did not want a physical attraction between herself and Matt. This was a game they were playing and she wanted no memories once they separated.

“No, I’m not cold,” she replied in a choked voice. Turning her head, she stared out the side window.

Matt also glanced away, starting up the car. His features were deceptively composed as he tried not to concentrate on what was happening in his groin. His reaction to Eve was so swift, violent, and totally unexpected that he wanted to make love to her—right in the car!

He wanted to taste her swollen nipples and kiss her sexy little mouth until she begged him to stop.

But it would not happen, because he’d promised her uncle that he wouldn’t touch her. He would marry Eve, perhaps even share her bed, but would never consummate their union.

“Why aren’t we going back to Alma’s?” Eve asked Matt as he maneuvered the car into his private parking space at El Moro’s underground garage. It was the first time she’d spoken since they left the
Zona Rosa
.

He turned off the headlights and the ignition, not bothering to look at her. “The local roads are dangerous when it rains. We’ll stay here until it stops.”

“I need dry clothes.”

“You’ll get dry clothes.”

She folded both hands on her damp hips. “From where?”

Matt slipped from behind the wheel, came around the car, and opened her door. Reaching in, he helped her out. The tenuous rein on his temper snapped.

“Why do you always have to question me, Eve? I told you I’d get you something to wear.”

Her temper also ignited. “I question you because you bark demands as if I were a trained pet,
Mateo Arroyo
. You never ask or explain anything.”

She was right. He did bark orders at her. It wasn’t
his style, but Eve had no way of knowing what she was doing to him. She didn’t know how difficult it was for him to pretend he felt nothing for her when just being with her disturbed him.

There had been times earlier that afternoon when he actually enjoyed watching her emerge from the dressing rooms wearing dresses or gowns that flattered her figure. It filled him with pride when he noticed other men staring at the woman who was to become his wife.

A little voice had taunted him, saying:
She belongs to me. She is mine. And only mine
. He didn’t know where the rush of possessiveness had come from. All he knew was that he wanted Eve Blackwell, and wanted her for more than the lust she summoned from him.

“I live by my own set of rules, Eve,” he began in a hushed tone. “And because I do, I’ve managed to stay alive. I
will not
risk losing my life because you refuse to listen to me. You’re going to have to get out of the habit of being Daddy’s spoiled little princess. I—”

“In order words, you want me to
obey
you,” she interrupted.

He nodded slowly, a smile replacing his frown. “I think you’re beginning to understand me.”

“What I understand is that you want a puppet.”

Moving closer, he lowered his head, their noses only inches apart. “I want you to be
anything
I ask you to be. I’ll take an obedient, affectionate, and passionate fiancée for starters.” He noted the narrowing of her eyes and knew she wasn’t going to concede without an argument.

“You forget that I’m the one who’s been married. I know how to play the game, Matt, and that means I’m much more experienced when it comes to making concessions. It can’t be all your way,” she argued.

Matt straightened, his smile becoming a wide grin. “You’ll be given the opportunity to ‘play the game,’ as you say, later tonight. A business associate has invited me to his home to celebrate his daughter’s acceptance into Spain’s most prestigious school of classical dance. The timing couldn’t be more perfect to introduce my friends to
mi novia
.”

Eve’s delicate jaw tightened in frustration. She didn’t want to attend a party; she wanted to find her child.

“I can’t go anywhere looking like this,” she snapped, refusing to relent, and glaring challengingly at Matt.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared back at her. “What do you need?”

She noted his tender expression, the total absence of gold in his luminous eyes, and for the first time she realized his eyes reflected his mercurial moods; she preferred the deep jade-green to the fiery amber sparks.

“I usually have my hair and nails done before a social event.”

“You
will
have your hair and nails done,” he stated with quiet finality. Turning, he made his way along the corridor to the private elevator, leaving Eve rushing to catch up with his long strides.

She preceded him into the elevator, averting her gaze. She knew very little about Matthew Sterling, but she’d discovered that he wasn’t as unaffected by her presence as he pretended. What his lips did not say, his eyes did. They told her he enjoyed the roles they’d opted to play. They also missed nothing. She was certain he could recall every dress, formal gown, and shoe she had tried on.

“What do you want me to wear tonight?” she queried, deciding to test his memory.

His eyebrows inched up in surprise. “You want me to decide for you?”

Biting down on her lower lip, she concealed an emerging smile. “These people are your friends, Matt. I don’t want to embarrass you.”

Matt studied her for a moment and they exchanged subtle looks of amusement. First she lashed him with the whip she called her tongue. Then she purred like a satisfied kitten.

“I’d like you to wear the burgundy dress.”

Eve was pleased. It would’ve been her choice. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

“You’re very welcome,
Preciosa
.” They shared a smile, he shaking his head. He knew the time he would spend with Eve would never be boring. However, what he didn’t want to do was become too comfortable with her; he didn’t want to miss her once they parted.

The elevator doors opened to Matt’s suite and Eve followed him into the air-cooled space. Wrapping her arms around her body, she shivered noticeably.

“You’d better get out of those wet clothes,” he suggested, hanging his own soggy jacket on the back of a chair in the dining area. “Use the bathroom in the bedroom. You’ll find a bathrobe on a shelf that will fit you.”

She walked to the far end of the suite and into his bedroom. Her gaze swept over the neatly made king-sized mahogany bed, large masculine dresser, and matching armoire. She barely remembered the pearl gray and white color scheme of the wall-to-wall drapes and bed dressing by the time she stepped into the
bathroom. The entire space was covered with smokey gray mirrors. Even the ceiling was mirrored!

She slipped out of her shoes, slacks, and blouse. Every time she shifted she caught a glimpse of her naked upper body.

“Hedonist,” she whispered. Whoever had designed the bathroom had to have been a hedonist.

Glass shelves cradled thirsty towels and an ample supply of thick, white velour bathrobes in varying sizes from men’s extra large to women’s petite.

Eve wondered how many other women had selected robes from the supply in Matt’s bedroom when he conducted liaisons in the privacy of his hotel suite.

Well, there was one thing she was certain of—she would
not
be one of Matt’s women.