The Most Expensive Lie of All (5 page)

But some inner instinct warned him that this wasn’t the way to get her to acquiesce, and years of experience in gentling horses rushed through him. He marshalled some of that strength and patience now and gentled her. Sucking at her lips, nipping, soothing her with his tongue. She made a tiny whimper in the back of her throat and he felt a sense of primal victory as she tentatively opened her mouth under his, aligning her body so that her soft curves were no longer resisting his hardness but melting against him until he could feel every sweet, feminine inch of her.

With a low growl of approval he gentled his hold on her and angled her head so that he could take her mouth more fully. When her lips opened wider and her arms urged him closer he couldn’t stop himself from plundering her, couldn’t resist drawing her tongue out so that she could taste him in return.

An unexpected sense of completeness settled over him—a sense of finding something he’d been searching for his whole life—and he didn’t want the kiss to end. He didn’t want this maddening arousal to end.

If he’d had any idea that it would be like this again he wasn’t sure that he would have started it. But now that he had he didn’t want to stop.
Ever.
She tasted so sweet. So silky. So
good
.

He made a sound low in his throat when she circled her pelvis against his in an age-old request and he couldn’t think after that. Could only grab her hips and smooth his hands over her firm backside to mould her against him. ‘Yes,’ he whispered roughly against her mouth. ‘Kiss me,
chiquita
. Give me everything.’

And she did. Without reservation. Her mouth devouring his as if she too had dreamed of this over and over and over. As if she too couldn’t live without—

‘Ow!’

Her sharp cry of pain echoed his deeper one as something pushed the back of his head and bumped his forehead into hers. He pulled back and glared over his shoulder to where the horse he had just agreed to purchase snorted in disgust.

Aspen blinked dazedly, rubbing at her head. Then the stunned look on her face cleared and he knew their impromptu little make out session had well and truly finished.

‘You bastard.’

She raised her arm and slapped his face. The sound echoed in the cavernous stall and he worked his jaw as heat bloomed where her palm had connected.

About to tell her that she had a good arm, he was shocked to see that she had turned white and looked as if she might pass out.

‘Aspen?’

She looked at him as if
he
had hit
her
. ‘Now look what you made me do!’ she cried.

Well, wasn’t that typical of her—to blame him?

‘I didn’t
make
you do anything. You hit me. And if I’m not mistaken all because you enjoyed my kisses just a little too much.’

‘Oh!’

She pushed against him with all her might and he was only too glad to step away from her.

‘I’ve already turned down one slimy rat today and now I’m turning down another.’ Her glare alone could have buried him. ‘Now, get off my property before I have every man available throw you off.’

‘I’m flattered you think it would take that many.’

‘Oh, I bet you are.’ Every inch of her trembled with feminine outrage. ‘But I’m not prepared to take chances with a bully like you.’

‘I didn’t bully you,
chiquita
. You were asking for it.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

Cruz rubbed his jaw and scowled. ‘What?’

‘You know what.’

His brain must still have been on a go-slow because he couldn’t recall what he’d called her. The thought irked him enough that he said, ‘Maybe you should think about the way you act and dress if you don’t want men thinking you’re free and easy in bed.’

‘Oh, my God. Are you serious?’

‘Silky dresses that outline every curve, killer heels and just-out-of-bed hair all tell a man what’s what.’

Fascinated, he watched her pull herself up to her full five feet and four inches—six in the heels.

‘Any man who judges me on the way I look isn’t worth a dime. You and Billy—’

Cruz raised his hand, cutting short her dramatic tirade. ‘I am not like him,’ he snarled.

‘Keep telling yourself that, Cruz.’ She tossed her head at him. ‘It might help you sleep better at night.’

‘I sleep just fine,’ he grated. ‘But if you should decide to change your high and mighty little mind about my offer I’ll be staying at the Boston International until tomorrow morning.’

‘Don’t hold your breath.’ She reefed open the stall door and stomped past him. ‘I’d have to be crazy to accept an offer like that.’

Cruz ran a shaky hand through his hair and listened to the staccato sound of her high heels hammering her ire against the stone floor.

Her words, ‘don’t hold your breath’ rang out in his head. Hadn’t he told his brother the same thing a few hours ago?

Hell
. If he had, he couldn’t remember why.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘D
AMMIT
.
’
A
SPEN
CURSED
as her hair caught around the button she had just wrenched open on the front of her dress. ‘Stupid, idiotic hair.’

She yanked at it and winced when she heard the telltale crackle that indicated that she’d left a chunk behind. Then the pain set in and she rubbed her scalp.

God, she was angry. Furious. She pulled at the rest of her buttons and stopped when she caught sight of herself in the free-standing mirror that stood in the corner of her bedroom. Slowly she walked towards it.

An ordinary female figure stared back. An ordinary female figure with a flushed face and a wild mane of horrible hair. And tender lips. She put her fingers to them. They
looked
the same as they always did, but they
felt
softer. Swollen. And there was a slight graze on her chin where Cruz’s stubble had scraped her skin.

Her pelvis clenched at the remembered pleasure of his mouth on hers. He hadn’t even kissed her like that eight years ago. Then he’d been softer, almost tender. Today he’d kissed her as if he hadn’t been able to help himself. As if he’d wanted to devour her. And never before had she kissed someone like that in return. Thank God Gypsy Blue had tried to knock some sense into them.

She had no idea why she’d acted like that with a man who had insulted her so badly. Maybe it was the fact that seeing him again had knocked her sideways. Somehow he had dazzled her the way he’d used to dazzle the women at polo matches. He was so attractive the crowds had always doubled when he had played, because all the wives and girlfriends had insisted that they simply
loved
polo and had to spend the
whole
day watching it. Really, they’d just mooned over him when he’d been on the field and drunk champagne and chatted the rest of the time. He’d dazzled her friends too.

Unconsciously she licked her tender lips and felt his imprint on them. Really she felt his imprint everywhere—and especially in the space between her thighs.

Heaven help her! She would have had sex with him. Had inadvertently
wanted
to have sex with him. The realisation of that alone was enough to shock her. She hated sex!

So why was she currently reliving Cruz’s wicked kisses over and over like a hopeless teenager? He hadn’t kissed her out of any real passion—he’d kissed her to make a point and to put her in her place and by God she had let him! Putting up a token resistance like the Victorian virgin he had accused her of acting like and then melting all over him like hot syrup.

She scratched the hair at her temples and made her curls frizz. Grabbing the offending matter, she quickly braided it, pulled on her jeans and shirt and stomped down to the stables.

Donny raised a startled eyebrow as she muttered a few terse words in his direction and started work at the other end. The rhythmical physical labour of putting away tack and shifting hay, of bantering with the horses and going through the motions of bedding them down for the night, was doing nothing to eradicate the feeling of all that hard male muscle pressed up against her.

‘Make sure you don’t burn your bridges unnecessarily, Aspen. Pride can be a nasty thing when it’s used rashly.’

Pride? What pride. She had none. Well, she’d had enough to say no to both him and Billy Smyth.

‘Oh, Billy Smyth! There’s no way I would have slept with him even if he wasn’t married,’ she told Delta as she brushed her down vigorously.

But you would have with Cruz Rodriguez. Even without the money.

‘I would not,’ she promised Delta, knowing that if she had sex again with any man it would be too soon.

She stopped and leant her forehead against the mare. She breathed in her comforting scent and stared out over the stall door, looking up when something—a rat, maybe—disturbed a sleeping pigeon.

Her eye was immediately drawn to a rusty horseshoe lodged firmly between two supporting beams. Her mother had told her the story about how it had got there when she was little and it was the first thing Aspen had looked for when she had come to Ocean Haven, missing her mother desperately. Since then, whenever she was in a tricky situation she came out here and sought her mother’s advice.

‘And, boy, do I need it right now,’ she muttered.

Delta nudged her side, as if to tell her to get on with it.

‘Yes, I know.’ She patted her neck. ‘I’m thinking.’

Thinking about how much this place meant to her. Thinking about the dreams she had that would never materialise if she lost it. And she would lose it. To some faceless consortium in five days. Her stomach felt as if it had a rock in it.

Cruz’s offer crept back into her mind for the thousandth time. He was right; it was pride making her say no.

So what if she said yes?

No, she couldn’t. Cruz was big and overpowering and arrogant. Exactly the type of man she’d vowed to keep well away from.

But you’re not marrying him.

No, but she would have to sleep with him. Which was just as unpalatable.

Sighing, she contemplated the peeling paint on the stall door. Her mother’s face swam into her mind. Her tired smile. The day she had died she had been so exhausted after working two jobs and caring for Aspen, who had been sick at the time, that she’d simply forgotten that cars drove on the left-hand side of the road in England and she’d stepped out onto a busy road. It had been horrific. Devastating.

Aspen felt a pang of remorse and a deep longing. She had to keep Ocean Haven if only to preserve her mother’s memory.

Feeling weighted down by memories, she continued brushing Delta. She had eked out a life here. She felt whole here. Protected. And, dammit, if she could keep it she would. She hadn’t worked this hard to lose everything now.

Rash pride.

Rash pride had stopped her grandfather and her mother from reaching out to each other and maybe changing their lives for the better. Rash pride had made her grandfather refuse to listen to her own concerns about Chad after she had mentioned her doubts to him right before the wedding.

Rash pride wasn’t going to get in the way of her life decisions any more. If Cruz Rodriguez wanted her body he could damned well have it. She didn’t care. She hadn’t cared about that side of things for years. And, anyway, once he found out what a dud she was in bed he’d change his mind pretty quickly.

Familiar fingers of distaste crawled up her spine as she recalled her wedding night before she could prevent herself doing it. She swallowed. What surprised her most was that being in Cruz’s arms had been nothing like being in Chad’s. But then Chad had often been drunk during their brief marriage and the alcohol had changed him. After that first night Aspen had frozen so much on the rare occasions he had approached her that he’d sought solace elsewhere. And made sure she knew about it. Always being deeply apologetic the following day when the alcoholic haze had retreated.

She’d stayed with him for six months and tried to be a better wife, but then he’d unfairly accused her of sleeping with his patron. It had been the final straw and she’d fled to Ocean Haven and never looked back.

She shivered.

‘If you should happen to change your high and mighty little mind I’ll be staying at the Boston International until tomorrow morning.’

Had she changed her mind?

There was no doubt that Cruz hated her after what had happened eight years ago, but he must also want her to make such an extreme offer. Could she put her concerns aside and sleep with him? She already knew she responded differently with him, felt differently with him, but what if she froze at the last minute as she had with Chad? What if he laughed at her when he learned about her embarrassing problem?

Rash pride, Aspen...

She groaned. To find out was to experiment, and to experiment meant opening herself up to knowing once and for all that
she
had been the problem in the bedroom and not Chad—as she sometimes liked to pretend when she was feeling particularly low.

‘Coward,’ she said softly.

Delta whickered.

‘Oh, not you, beauty.’ Aspen fished inside her pocket for a sugar cube. ‘You’re brave and courageous and would probably not bat an eyelid if I told you that Ranger’s Apprentice had paid money to mount you if it meant saving The Farm.’

Aspen unwound Delta’s tail from the tight bundle it had been wrapped in for the polo and wondered what would become of her beloved horses if she had to leave. Wondered if they’d be well cared for.

She felt she should warn the unsuspecting mare. ‘If I keep The Farm I probably will be putting you in with him next season. I hope you don’t mind. He’s quite handsome.’

Not that looks had anything to do with the price of eggs.

She sighed as Donny stopped by Delta’s stall and said that his lot were all set for the night and he would help out with some of the others if Aspen needed it.

At the rate she was going Aspen would need an army to get the horses done before the week was out.

She smiled at him. He had worked on the farm for six years now and she’d be lost without him. ‘You’re a gem, but I’m good. You go home to Glenda and the kids.’

‘You’re sure?’ He shifted his gum around in his mouth. ‘You seem a little wound up.’

Oh, she was. Ten million dollars wound up.

‘Donny, what would you do if everything you loved was being threatened?’ she asked suddenly.

He stuck a finger through his belt buckle and considered his shoes. ‘You mean like Glenda and Sasha and Lela? Like my home?’

‘Yeah,’ Aspen said softly. ‘Like your home.’

Donny nodded. ‘I’d fight if I could.’

Aspen smiled. ‘That’s what I thought.’

Donny turned to go and then looked back over his shoulder. ‘You sure you’re all right, boss?’

‘Fine. See you Monday.’

* * *

Cruz was going crazy. When a man let his ego get in the way of common sense that was the only conclusion to make. And the only one that made sense.

What other explanation could there possibly be when he had just offered a woman he didn’t even like ten million dollars to sleep with him?

And what would he have done if she’d said yes? Because he’d had no intention of going through with it. The very idea was ludicrous. He’d never paid for sex in his life.

So he wanted her? Big deal. It was because she was even more alluring than he remembered. And more stuck-up. Her hair was longer too, her cheekbones more defined, her breasts fuller, her mouth— He laughed. What was he doing? A full inventory? Why? There were plenty of women in his sea. Plenty more beautiful than this one when it came down to it.

And, yes, he liked to pit himself against an opponent for the sheer thrill of it, but making that offer to Aspen Carmichael had felt a bit like riding a nag into the middle of a forty-goal polo game without a bridle or a saddle and telling his opponents to have at him.

He certainly hadn’t come anywhere close to finding a way to ensure that she wouldn’t be able to raise the money to buy Ocean Haven herself—which had been his original goal.

Cruz poked at the half-eaten steak sandwich on his plate and stuffed an overcooked chip into his mouth. All he’d done instead was lump himself in with the likes of Billy Smyth and he was nothing like his lot.

No, you’re worse
, his conscience happily informed him.
You’d like to screw her
and
steal her family home out from under her as well.

Yeah, whatever.

Unused to having a back and forth commentary inside his head about a woman—or about his decisions—he shoved himself to his feet and headed outside to see if the answer to his problem was written in the stars.

Of course it wasn’t, but he stood there and let the warm evening air wash over him until memories of the past sailed in on the scent of jasmine and lilac. The sickening ball that had settled in his gut as he’d driven through the stone archway to Ocean Haven returned full force.

Focusing on something else, he listened to the distant murmurs of the light-hearted partying he could hear coming up off the darkened beach. Probably teenagers enjoying yet another stunning summer evening. Light flickered and wisps of smoke trailed in the moonlight. He imagined that many of them would be pairing off before long and snuggling down beside a campfire.

Unbidden, his mind conjured up an image of Aspen flirting with Billy Smyth earlier that day. He’d watched them for a couple of minutes before approaching her, not really wanting anyone to recognise him and start fawning all over him.

Aspen had used all her feminine wiles so the unhappily married Billy would notice her, but it hadn’t been until she had let him run his finger down the side of her face and held her cheek afterwards, as if preserving his touch, that real bitterness and anger had rolled through Cruz like an incoming thunderstorm. Would she have let Smyth kiss her and shove her up against the wall of the stable as she had done with him earlier? Had she
planned
to later on?

‘Damn her anyway.’ He slammed the palm of his hand against the bronze railing and told himself to forget about her. Forget about the way she had caught fire in his arms once again. Forget about the way he had done the same in hers. Unfortunately his body was more than happy to relive it, and he was once again uncomfortably hard as he headed inside and downed the rest of his tequila.

As far as Cruz was concerned the Aspen Carmichaels of the world deserved everything they got. So why was he hanging around his hotel room feeling like the worst kind of male alive?

No reason.

No reason at all.

The hotel phone rang and he crossed to the hall table and picked it up, almost disappointed to find that the number on the display was a local one. Because he knew who it was even before he answered it. And now was the time to tell her that he had no intention of giving her the money in exchange for her delectable body. No intention at all.

But he didn’t say that. Instead he threw his conscience to the wind and said, ‘I’ll pick you up at seven in the morning.’