The Most Expensive Lie of All (11 page)

‘He told me I wasn’t good enough for his granddaughter. He didn’t want your lily-white blood mixing with that of a second-class
Mexicano
.’

‘But my blood isn’t lily-white. My mother saw to that in a fit of rebellion. My grandfather could never get past her decision and because they were both stubborn neither one could offer the other an olive branch. My mother wanted to go home to The Farm
so
many times.’

Aspen swallowed past the lump in her throat.

‘But my grandfather had kicked her out. It was the same with you. Two days after you left he had a stroke and I’m sure it was because he had lost you. Of course no one outside the family knew about it, but I knew it had to do with what happened and I felt terrible. Ashamed of myself. But I was scared, Cruz.’

She looked at him with remorseful eyes and no matter what he thought of her it was impossible to doubt her sincerity.

‘You know my grandfather’s temper. I didn’t know what he’d do to me.’

‘Nothing,’ Cruz bit out. ‘He was angry at me, not you. He thought the world of you.’

‘As long as I did what he wanted.’ She shivered. ‘I was so frightened when I arrived at Ocean Haven. I’d heard about the place from my mother and I’d loved it from a small child. I’d never met my grandfather before and I was determined that he wouldn’t hate me. And he didn’t. But nor did he like me questioning him or going against his wishes. At first that was okay, because I was little, but as I got older it became harder to always be agreeable. That night...’ She stopped and looked at him curiously. ‘Why didn’t you defend yourself against him? Why didn’t you tell him that it was
me
who had kissed
you
?’

‘It hadn’t exactly been one-way.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘And you looked...frightened.’

Aspen gave him a small smile. ‘I was that, all right. I’d never seen him in such a rage. I didn’t know what to do and I froze. It’s a horrible reaction I’ve never been able to shake when I’m truly petrified. That night, if he had found out that I instigated things with you after he’d told me I was expected to marry Chad, I thought...I thought...’

Cruz briefly closed his eyes. ‘You thought he’d disown you like he had your mother.’

The truth of what had happened that night was like a slap in the face.

‘It seems silly now, but...’

‘It was like history repeating itself. Your mother with the ski instructor...you with the lowly polo player.’

‘
I
didn’t think that, but he was so angry.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘And I never wanted to leave the one place my mother loved so much. She used to talk about it all the time. Do you know that skewed horseshoe wedged between two roof beams in the stable?’

Cruz knew it. Old Charlie had grumbled about it whenever he was in a bad mood.

‘Apparently years ago Mum and Uncle Joe were playing hooky with a bunch of them and when she was losing she got in a terrible snit and aimed one at his head.’ Aspen laughed softly, as if she were remembering her mother recounting the story. ‘Unfortunately she was a terrible shot and released it too soon. It went shooting up towards the roof and somehow it got stuck. Which was lucky for my uncle because she obviously put her back into it.’ She smiled. ‘Every time I see it, it’s as if she’s still here with me.’

She looked at him.

‘That night I was so angry with my grandfather for ignoring my wishes that I went to the stable to talk to her. When you showed up and you weren’t dressed properly I... I can’t explain it rationally.’

Her eyes flitted away and then she seemed to force them back to his.

‘I had wanted to kiss you for so long and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I know you don’t want to hear this but I am sorry, Cruz. I should have stood up for you. But I was selfishly worried about myself and—’

Cruz cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Lightly. ‘It’s okay. I remember his temper.’

Aspen gave him a wobbly smile. ‘I think I inherited that from him.’

He shook his head, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. ‘You’re not scary when you’re angry. You’re beautiful.’

She made a noise somewhere between a snort and a cough and he couldn’t resist kissing her again, his lips lingering and sipping at hers.

This time the noise she made was one of pleasure, and Cruz slid his hand into her hair to hold her head steady, nudging the toolbox out of his way with his knee so that he could shift closer. She pressed into him and he wrapped his other hand around her waist, deepening the kiss. Slowly. Deliberately drawing out the sweet anticipation of it for both of them.

Aspen’s arms rose, linked around his neck and time passed. How much, he couldn’t have said.

Slowly she drew back, lifting her long lashes to reveal eyes glazed with passion. ‘Wow...’ she whispered.

Wow
was right.

She moistened her lower lip, her eyes flitting from his, and he frowned. He could have sworn he saw a touch of apprehension in them. He nipped at her lower lip, kissed her again.

With a thousand questions pounding through his head—not least why she seemed nervous when it came to intimacy—he reluctantly ended the searing kiss and leant his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled, hot and heavy.

‘I don’t hate you, Aspen,’ he said, answering her question of the previous night. Her bewitching green eyes returned to his and he found himself saying, ‘I have a formal dinner at the hotel tonight. Come with me.’

Aspen felt dazzled. By the conversation. By his sweet, tender kisses. By the piercing ache in her pelvis that made a mockery of her previous experiences with Chad. ‘I’d like that...’

* * *

And she did—right up until she found an emerald-green gown laid out on her bed next to black stiletto sandals still inside their box.

Standing stock-still in the centre of the spare room Aspen stared at the exquisite gown.

‘Don’t wear that. You look awful in it. Here. Put this on.’

Aspen shivered
.
Chad’s voice was so clear in her head he might as well have been standing beside her.

Cruz wasn’t Chad. She knew that. But somehow her stomach still felt cramped. Because the dress symbolised some sort of ownership. Some sort of control. And she knew she couldn’t give him that—not over her.

It made her realise just what she’d been thinking when he had invited her to the dinner. She’d been thinking it was a date. That it was real.

But this wasn’t real. She wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for the deal he had offered her. A deal she had accepted and still hadn’t fulfilled. Which she needed to do to keep Ocean Haven. How had she forgotten that? How had she forgotten that he was trying to steal it away from her?

But she knew how. He’d kissed her so tenderly, so reverently, it had been as if eight years had fallen away between them. And she couldn’t think like that. Because as much as she hated the coldness of the deal they had struck she also knew that she couldn’t afford to feel anything. She couldn’t afford to want anything from him other than money. That way was fraught with disaster. It would turn her from an independent woman in charge of her own destiny back into the people-pleaser she had tried to be for her grandfather. For Chad.

She stared at the dress. Cruz was an extraordinarily wealthy man who was used to getting what he wanted. For some reason he had decided that he wanted her. For a night. But that didn’t mean she had to wear clothes he’d chosen as well.

Before she could think too much about it she strode out into the living room. The sun was hanging low in the sky and it illuminated his fit body as he stood in front of the window, talking into his cell phone.

As if sensing her presence he turned, scanned her face and the dress she was holding, and told whomever he was talking to that he had to go.

She held the dress out to him. ‘I can’t wear this.’

He frowned. ‘It doesn’t fit?’

‘No. Yes. Actually, I don’t know. I haven’t tried it on.’

He smiled. ‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘The problem is—’ She dropped her hand and paced away from him. ‘The problem is that I’m not a possession you can dress up whenever you like. The problem is I’m an independent woman who has some idea about how to dress herself and doesn’t need to be told what to wear by some high-powered male who has to own everything.’

A heavy silence fell over the room as soon as her spiel had finished but somehow her words hung between them like a hideously long banner dragged through the sky by a biplane.

‘I take it your grandfather didn’t like your choice in outfits?’ He dropped into a plush sofa. ‘Or was it Anderson?’

For a minute his astute questions floored her. ‘Chad has
nothing
to do with this,’ she bit out.

His beautiful black eyes glittered with confidence and Aspen was suddenly embarrassed to realise that she had just exposed a part of herself she hadn’t intended to.

‘At some point we need to talk about him.’

Aspen felt her heart hammer inside her chest. ‘We so do not.’

His eyes became hooded. ‘We will, but not now. As to the other.’ He waved his hand at the emerald silk crushed in her hand. ‘It’s just a dress, Aspen. I assume you didn’t pack anything formal?’

‘No.’ Deciding to ignore her embarrassment, she forged on. ‘But I can buy my own clothes if I need to.’

Clearly exasperated, he looked at her from under long thick lashes. ‘Fine. I’ll forward you the bill.’

Aspen could tell he had no intention of doing that. ‘You may have bought a night with me, Cruz, but that doesn’t mean you own me.’

‘I don’t want to own you.’ He laid his arm along the back of the sofa. ‘Wear it. Don’t wear it. It’s irrelevant to me.’

‘What
is
relevant to you?’ she asked, goaded by his nonchalant attitude. ‘Because it seems to me that you’ve cut yourself off from everything that could have meaning in your life other than work. Your family. Your polo playing—’ Aspen stopped, breathlessly aware that he had risen during her tirade and that he was nowhere near as relaxed as he had appeared.

‘The dress was a peace offering.’ He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the nearby chair. ‘But you can bin it for all I care.’

Feeling all at sea as he stalked out of the penthouse, Aspen returned to her room and leant against the closed door.

A peace offering?

She felt stupid and knew that she had acted like a drama queen. And she knew why. She was tense. The thought of sex with Cruz was hanging over her head like a stalactite. And felt just as deadly.

Glancing at the bed, she ignored the tight feeling in her chest and tossed the dress onto it. Then she stripped off and scalded herself with a hot shower, all the while knowing that as she plucked and preened and soaped herself with the delicious vanilla-scented soap that she was doing so with Cruz in mind. Which made her feel worse. This wasn’t a romance. It was a deal.

A deal that would end as soon as they’d slept together.

A deal that could still go wrong if her uncle decided that he needed the money Cruz was willing to part with to turn Ocean Haven into a horrible hotel.

Trying not to dwell on that, she rolled her eyes at herself when she realised she’d changed her hairstyle five times. She looked at the spiralling mess. All her fiddling had turned her hair to frizz.
Great.

Salvaging it as best she could, she stomped back into the bedroom and spied the offending gown she had flung onto the bed. Even skewed it rippled, and dared any woman not to want to wear it.

And given the contents of her suitcase what choice did she really have? None. And she hated that because she’d had so little choice in what had happened to her growing up on Ocean Haven. After Chad she had vowed she’d never be beholden to anyone again—especially not a man. But one night with Cruz didn’t make her beholden to him, did it?

Once he’d lent her the money and she’d paid him back, as she would the other investors, they would be back on an equal footing. She exhaled. One night, straight up, and then she was home free.

Why did that leave her feeling so empty?

She looked again at the dress. Grimaced. Trust him to have such superb taste.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘A
RE
YOU
EVEN
listening to what I’m saying?’

Cruz glanced at Ricardo, who was debriefing him on who was attending the formal dinner that night and how impressed the Chinese delegation were with the facilities. The Sunset Bar, where they had decided to catch up for a drink before the evening proceedings, was full to bursting with excited players and polo experts from all over the globe.

‘Of course,’ he lied. ‘Go on.’

Ricardo frowned, but thankfully continued working his way through the list.

Cruz studied it also, but his mind was elsewhere. More specifically his mind was weighing up how he was going to steal The Farm out from under Aspen’s gorgeous fingertips when he now knew the truth about that fateful night.

He took a healthy swig of his tequila. He’d been
so
sure she had done him wrong eight years ago he’d been blind to any other possibility.
Tainted
, he realised belatedly. Tainted by his own deep-seated feelings of inferiority and hurt pride.

Hell.

He couldn’t escape the knowledge that seeing Aspen again had unearthed a wealth of bitterness he hadn’t even realised he’d buried deep inside himself—resentments he’d let fester but that no longer seemed relevant.

What
is
relevant to you?

Hell, that woman had a way of working her way inside his head. But as much as he hated that he knew in good conscience he couldn’t take Ocean Haven away from her. He’d never be able to face himself in the mirror again if he did. But what to do? Because if he also let her continue with her foolhardy plan to borrow thirty million dollars to keep it she’d be bankrupt within a year.

Of course that wasn’t his problem. She was an adult and could take care of herself. But some of that old protectiveness he had always felt towards her was seeping back in and refused to go away. He wanted to fix everything for her, but she was so fiercely guarded, so intent on doing everything herself. It was madness. But so was the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. That he even
wanted
to fix things for her in the first place.

Realising that Ricardo was waiting for him to say something, Cruz nodded thoughtfully. ‘Sam Harris is playing tomorrow. Got it.’

‘Actually,’ Ricardo said patiently, ‘Sam Harris is sick. Tommy Hassenberger is taking his place.’

‘Send Sam a bottle of tequila.’

‘I already sent flowers.’

Cruz shook his head at his brother. ‘And you think you need a
wife
?’

Normally his brother would have returned his light ribbing, but to Cruz’s chagrin he didn’t this time.

‘What’s up?’ he said instead.

Cruz rubbed his jaw and realised he should have shaved again. ‘Nothing.’

‘You’re a million miles away. It wouldn’t have anything to do with Aspen Carmichael, would it?’

Bingo.

‘If I say no, you’ll assume I’m lying, and if I say yes, you’ll want to know why.’

Ricardo shook his head and laughed. ‘
Dios mio
, you’ve got it bad.’

Cruz dismissed Ricardo’s comment. He
wanted
her badly, yes, and he was happy to admit that, but he didn’t
have
it bad in the way his brother was implying.

A hush fell over the bar at the same time as the skin on the back of his neck started to prickle. Then Ricardo let out a low whistle under his breath.

‘Mi, oh, mi....’

Slowly Cruz turned his head to find Aspen framed in the open double glass doorway of the bar like something out of a 1950s Hollywood extravaganza, the silky green gown he’d bought her flowing around her slender figure like coloured water. His mouth went dry. The halterneck dress was deceptively simple at the front but so beautifully crafted it lovingly moulded to her shape exactly as it was supposed to. She’d pinned her hair up in a soft, timeless bun—which must mean she had a fair amount of skin showing, as he was pretty sure the dress dipped quite low at the back.

Okay, make that completely backless, he corrected, fighting a primitive urge to bundle her up in his arms and return her to his room. His bed.

She hadn’t spotted him yet, and when a male voice called out her name Cruz watched her turn her head, the wispy tendrils of hair she had left to frame her face dancing golden beneath the halogen lighting. Her expression softened as she spied a few of his polo players lounging in the club chairs that circled a small wooden table.

She walked towards them and Cruz tried not to react, but it was impossible to stop his gut from tightening as the men watched her with unrestrained lust in their eyes.

She looked so delicate.

So sensual.

So
his
.

The need to stamp his ownership all over her took hold and he didn’t bother to contain it. For right now, for tonight, she was his—and he didn’t care who knew it. In fact, the more who did the better. It would save him from having to keep tabs on her during dinner, and the four European jocks already halfway to being tanked would, he knew, be the best candidates to spread the news.

As conversation once again resumed in the bar he ignored Ricardo’s keen gaze and went to her.

She had her back to him and he felt her jump as his thigh lightly grazed her hip. She looked up and he bent his head, let his eyes linger on her mouth, gratified by her quick intake of breath.

If it were possible, the more time he spent with her the more time he
wanted
to spend with her. It was a sobering thought, if he’d been in the mood to care.

He cupped Aspen’s elbow in his palm. ‘Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us?’

Slowly each man registered Cruz’s proprietorial manner, but only Tommy Hassenberger had the nerve to look disgruntled. ‘Looks like I’m too late,’ he complained.

‘You were too late when you were born, Tommy,’ one of his friends joked, making the others laugh.

Aspen grinned, said she’d catch up with them at the formal dinner, and then felt intoxicated as Cruz placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her from the room, the heat of his palm scorching her bare skin.

She hadn’t known what to expect when she had entered the bar but she had decided to try and relax. To try and forget about their deal and her fears and just brave it out. Cruz had invited her to dinner—a formal event, not a date—and for all she knew that was a peace offering as well.

‘You wore the dress,’ he said, his gravelly voice stroking her already heightened senses.

‘Yes. I couldn’t not in the end. Thank you.’

‘You look stunning in it.’

The look he gave her made her burn.

Aspen took in his superbly cut tuxedo. ‘You look—’
Simply divine.
‘Nice too,’ she croaked.

He gave her a small smile. ‘Aspen, I need to tell you something.’

Cruz gazed down at the utterly stunning woman at his side and a ball of emotion rushed through him. Seeing her like this...having her beside him...all the animosity of the past fell away and he just wanted to take her upstairs and make love to her with a need that floored him.

‘What is it?’

Aspen tilted her head and Cruz heard a roaring in his ears as their eyes connected. Reality seemed suspended and—

‘Señor Rodriguez, sir, the first lot of guests are assembled in the Rosa Room.’

Cruz turned towards his head waiter. ‘Thank you, Paco. I’ll be along in a minute.’

‘Certainly.’

The waiter inclined his head and left and Cruz lifted Aspen’s fingers to his lips. He could see her pulse racing and his did the same.

‘I wish I’d never planned this idiotic dinner.’

‘It’s not idiotic.’ She smiled up at him, her eyes almost on a level with his chin because she was wearing the stilettos. ‘It’s to welcome honoured guests to your flagship hotel for tomorrow’s tournament. It’s important.’

Not half as important as what he wanted to be doing with her upstairs right now.

His nostrils flared as he fought to control the urge to drag her into the nearest darkened corner. On one level he thought he should be concerned about the intensity of his hunger for her, but on another he just couldn’t bring himself to examine it. There was something about her that sent his baser instincts off the scale.

Nothing a night of straightforward, short-term hot sex wouldn’t cure.

He smiled at the thought and, with the situation once again under his control, he tucked her elegant hand in the crook of his elbow and prayed for the evening formalities to fly by.

* * *

The dinner took all night. As it was supposed to.

The first course had been Mushroom-something. Aspen couldn’t remember and Cruz, possibly noticing her picking at it dubiously, had swapped it for his goat’s cheese soufflé. Then there’d been the main course. Beef or chicken. This time Aspen had swapped with him when she’d seen him eyeing her steak.

He’d smiled, grazed her chin with his knuckles and then resumed talking to two well-dressed Asian men, who’d nodded with polite restraint. Now and then he’d twined his fingers with hers when she’d left her hand on the tabletop while he talked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do. As if this really was a date.

Aspen had chatted to the wife of the Mayor, who was very down to earth and full of Latin passion, and their daughter who was studying to be a doctor. They’d swapped war stories of bad essay topics, boring lecturers and horror exams and then it had been time for dessert.

She was full. Even though she’d hardly eaten a thing.

Her dinner companions excused themselves, and Aspen was just contemplating whether she should move to the other side of the table to speak with an older woman who sat on her own when Cruz slid his fingers through hers again. His hand was so much bigger than hers, his skin tone darker, the hairs on the back of his wrists absurdly attractive.

He stroked his thumb over her palm and goosebumps raced themselves up her arm.

He glanced in her direction, brought her hand briefly to his lips and then answered one of the Asian men’s questions.

The Mayor’s daughter returned and Cruz dropped Aspen’s hand as the girl produced a photo of her horse on her phone. Aspen made polite responses, all the time disturbingly aware of the man beside her.

Something had changed between them since she’d come downstairs. He was behaving as she imagined a man in love would behave. Little intimate glances, tucking her hair behind her ear, pouring her water, holding her hand...

Chad had seemed nice in the beginning too. Wooing her. Treating her lovingly. Somehow it had all come unstuck the year Cruz had left and her grandfather had been too sick to send the team to England. Chad had been unable to get a permanent ride that year and had started drinking more. By the time their wedding had rolled around she’d barely recognised him as the man who had courted her and treated her so deferentially. He’d moved back home when his father had threatened to halve his trust fund, and his father had used the opportunity to encourage Chad to get a real job. Aspen had tried to smooth things over but that had only seemed to make him resentful.

On their wedding night— No, she didn’t want to remember that.

She glanced at Cruz to find him deep in conversation. Would he be rough? She swallowed, her gaze drawn to his hands, wrapped around a wine glass. He stroked the slender stem with the pad of his thumb. Aspen recalled how he had stroked her lips the same way and heat erupted low in her belly. For a man with such size and strength he had been gentle. Suddenly his thumb stopped moving and Aspen felt the air between them shift even before her eyes connected with his.

Her mouth dried and her heart thumped. Fear and desire commingled until she felt emotionally wrung out.

‘Aspen?’

She glanced up but didn’t really see him.

‘Everything okay?’

Oh, God, that deep, sensual voice so close to her ear. She couldn’t help it. She trembled. Then pulled herself together.

‘Fine.’
Just me being a nincompoop.

Nincompoop?
Her mother had used that word when she’d been laughing at herself.

A wave of sadness overtook her and immediately made her think of Ocean Haven. Her horses. Her mother. Aspen had gained wealth by moving in with her grandfather but not love, and certainly not security.

Cruz moved his hand to the back of her chair. ‘You look miles away.’

A wave of panic washed through her and she made the mistake of glancing up at him.

As soon as their eyes met his sharpened with concern. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ She forced a smile. ‘I just need to go to the bathroom.’

He scanned her face but thankfully didn’t push her. ‘Don’t be long. We’ll go when you get back.’

Oh, help.

She got up, stumbled and snagged the tablecloth with her leg. Cruz leaned over and held it while she straightened up. The deliciously sexy gown he had bought her swayed around her body and settled. She felt his eyes on her as she started to walk away, the dress floating around her legs as light as butterfly wings. Of course that was nothing compared to the butterflies using her belly as a trampoline.

Once in the bathroom she told herself to calm down and splashed cold water on her wrists, dabbed it on her cheeks. She checked her make-up, shocked to see her face so flushed. It was because every time he touched her she thought of sex.

A woman smiled at her in the mirror and Aspen dropped her gaze lest the woman accurately read her mind. Then she realised how rude that was and raised her eyes only to find the person had gone.

She let out a shaky laugh at her absurd behaviour. She felt like... She felt like... She frowned. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this nervous.

Well, maybe she could. On her wedding day. She’d had a similar fluttering feeling in her stomach then that had turned out to be a bad omen.

She stared at herself. Fear knotted her insides. She couldn’t do this. Her eyes looked like two huge dots in her face. She just couldn’t do it. She was so anxious she’d probably throw up all over him.