Hidden Agenda (3 page)

Matt was shocked at her response, and his own. The pleasure he’d derived from Eve’s mouth was euphoric. Beneath the dark, fragile beauty, Eve Blackwell was an inferno.

Raising his head, he stared down at her. Her eyes were large pools of polished onyx, while her mouth was pouty and swollen from his passionate kiss.

He cupped the back of her head in one hand, smiling. She was perfect. “We’re going to make a helluva couple, Eve Blackwell. No one will suspect that we’ve just met.”

Releasing her, he reset the button on the panel, and the elevator continued its descent.

Eve glanced up at his profile. He appeared totally unaffected by what had just occurred between them, while her heart pumped wildly against her rib cage. Matthew Sterling was too virile, too potent, to shrug off or ignore as a man, and he was the man she had to pretend she loved enough to marry.

It’s only temporary
, a silent voice reminded her. They would marry, find her son and bring him back to the States. Then they would go their separate ways, to live their separate lives.

The elevator stopped at the hotel’s lower level and Matt grasped her hand firmly and led her down a narrow corridor and out to an underground parking area. “Your clothes have been packed and are in the trunk of my car,” he informed her. “You can’t stay here with me.”

Eve took quick steps to keep up with his longer strides. “Why can’t I stay here?”

“It’s not proper. Some of my very conservative family members will assume that I’ve been sleeping with you, and that our hasty marriage indicates that you’re
embarazada
.”

“Embar—”

“Pregnant, Eve.” He glanced down at her. “What are you smirking about?”

“Somehow I didn’t think you would be that concerned about propriety.”

He pushed open a door, and they stepped out into the warm night. “What did your uncle tell you about me?”

“Not much,” she confessed.

“Sure, I bet.”

She studied his bold profile. “Do you really care, Matt?”

He stopped suddenly, facing her. “Yes!” His gaze caught and held hers in the brightly lit parking lot. “I care very much,” he added in a softer tone.

She touched his arm. “He said you’re the best. He also said there is something wild, almost savage, within you that will not permit you to acknowledge
fear. And it is this lack of fear that makes you a winner, over and over again.”

Matt caught her wrist in a firm grip. “Harry Blackwell is a liar. He thinks he knows me. No one will ever know the real Matthew Sterling.”

Eve withdrew from him without moving. Whatever closeness they had shared vanished quickly.

T
here was an uncomfortable silence as Matt drove through the crowded streets of nighttime Mexico City. Twenty minutes later the streetlights dimmed and the traffic thinned as he maneuvered his spacious Lincoln sedan along a winding mountain road.

At the higher elevation Eve barely made out the sparkling lights of the city that reminded her of New York City. Mexico City refused to go to sleep, although the blazing sun had long sunk behind the mountains, ending the day.

She tried to, but could not ignore the man sitting beside her. Matthew Sterling’s double life intrigued her, and she wondered how he was able to shed his everyday persona once he went undercover.

There was so much she wanted to know about him and so much she didn’t need to know about him.

She chanced a surreptitious glance at him. Again, she encountered his impassive expression, wondering what was going on behind his mask of stone. How was she to pretend she loved this enigmatic man? Would she feel comfortable enough to spend a month with him, then feign passion after they married?

A month! The time Matt had set for their courtship and length of engagement startled her into awareness. “I’m scheduled to return to Virginia on Thursday,” she informed him quietly.

“That’s impossible,” he replied quickly, concentrating on the dark road in front of the automobile.

Eve felt a rush of heat in her face as she leaned forward, straining against the seat belt restraint. “I have things to take care of—”

“Your uncle can take care of your
things
,” he countered, interrupting her.

“I need clothes,” she insisted.

“I’ll buy you what you’ll need. We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

Easing back against the leather seat, she closed her eyes in resignation. It was only then that she realized her life was not her own to plan or control. It was as if she had surrendered her future to Matthew Sterling, a stranger, who would dictate every phase of her existence until she was reunited with her only child.

An emotion swept through her, and she recognized it as rebellion. She had always felt the need to rebel—against her father and stepmother for sending her to the boarding school, and against Alex for his blatant infidelity.

Alex had sought to absolve himself of guilt by blaming her for his infidelity. Every time he came
home with the scent of another woman’s perfume clinging to his clothes, Alex had reminded Eve that he couldn’t make love to her after he’d witnessed the birth of their son; she found it impossible to comprehend that he was repulsed by his own wife’s body though he slept with other women who had given birth to children.

She told Alex to seek professional help in overcoming his aversion to her body. He’d laughed, declaring there was nothing wrong with him, even though she’d threatened to leave him if he continued with his adulterous affairs. The threat became a reality when she moved out of their opulently decorated house and into a small apartment in Alexandria, Virginia. The day she moved, Alex was served with divorce papers.

“How did you meet your ex-husband?” Matt queried, breaking into her musings, and again reading her mind.

The dossier her uncle had forwarded to him revealed substantial details of her childhood. However, entries about the adult Eve Blackwell were sketchier. It was as if she had become more guarded, mysterious.

And, despite the information he’d gleaned about her, he wanted and
needed
to know more about her. If she were to become his wife, he had to be able to react to every facet of her personality. He had to know what she liked, didn’t like, what frightened her, and whether he could trust her to not disclose his double life.

He had become involved with only one woman after he accepted an assignment in the past, and the distraction nearly cost him his life. A muscle in his lean jaw twitched noticeably. This was to be his last mission, and Eve Blackwell would be the last woman
he would permit himself to become involved with as an independent agent for the U.S. government.

“I owned a gift shop in the D.C. area, and Alex would come in whenever he needed something,” Eve began, her voice low and soothing in the cloaking darkness of the luxury sedan.

“What did he buy?” Matt questioned.

“Collectible figurines. Lladrós.”

“Who did he buy them for?”

She smiled in the comforting darkness. “His mother.”

Nodding, he filed away this information. “What else did you carry in your gift shop?”

“Fine china, crystal, silver, and estate jewelry. Most of the business was generated through our bridal registry.”

“How long did you know Delgado before you became involved with him?”

Her head spun around, and she stared at Matt’s profile. He looked as if he had been carved out of granite, the distinctive features of his Mexican ancestry quite obvious. The jutting of his bold, aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and strong, square jaw complemented the darkness of his skin and heavy, wavy hair.

“What do you mean by
involved?
”

He glanced to his right, his sensitive hearing picking up the increase in her respiration. “Sleep with him,” he said before directing his attention back to the road.

Eve bit down hard on her lower lip, feeling the heat stealing up her neck to her face. She’d tried for years to control the reaction. She was grateful for her dark coloring, because a lighter hue would have revealed her uneasiness immediately.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Alex came into the shop for almost a year before he asked me out.”

A small smile softened Matt’s mouth under his mustache. “How soon after he
asked you out
did you marry him?”

“A month.” The two words were barely audible.

Throwing back his head, he roared with laughter. It was the sound of undeniable masculine triumph. “A month,” he repeated in a high falsetto, mimicking her. “I can’t wait a month, Matt,” he continued. Glancing over at her averted face, he sobered. “It is apparent you couldn’t wait to become Señora Alejandro Delgado.”

He didn’t know why, but he was annoyed that Eve would marry Delgado after dating him a month, while openly balking at his offer of marriage.

As a Sterling he exemplified stability. His family heritage claimed an important link in Texas and Louisiana history, with slaves, ex-slaves, and free people of color adding to its past and present; and with his recent purchase of land in New Mexico, where he intended to breed Thoroughbreds, he would sink Sterling roots deep within another state.

“There’s a big difference between meeting someone for the first time and agreeing to marry them,” Eve argued. “And more importantly, to marry someone who earns his money the way you do,” she continued, not caring whether he heard the censure in her voice.

His eyes burned amber liquid fire in the dimness of the car. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I don’t ever want to hear you say that to me again for as long as we’re connected to each other.” His voice was soft
and
lethal. “Do I make myself clear?”

Her fury almost choked her. “Don’t tell me what to say.”

“Eve!”

The sound of her name exploding and vibrating in the automobile shocked both Matt and Eve, and there was a strained, uncomfortable silence.

Her anger dissolved into shock before old fears and uncertainties surfaced. Matt sounded exactly like Alex.

“Matt, please don’t ever raise your voice to me again,” she warned quietly.

He glanced up at the rearview mirror, signaled, and maneuvered off the road to an unpaved shoulder. Unbuckling his seat belt, he pushed open the car door and stepped out into the blackness of the Mexican night. A sprinkling of stars, a slip of a last quarter moon, and the steady beam of the Lincoln’s headlights provided the only illumination.

He walked around the car, opened the passenger-side door, and in one motion unbuckled Eve’s belt, eased her gently off the seat, and pulled her up close to his chest.

“Let’s get something straight, Miss Blackwell, before we go another kilometer. Don’t ever mention how I earn my living outside the States, and I won’t yell at you again.”

Matt’s hold on her upper arms was loose enough for her to break, but for some foreign reason she wanted him to hold her. Despite her disastrous marriage she needed to feel a man’s strong, protective arms around her. It had taken her a while to realize she had substituted Alex for her father.

However, that would not happen with Matt. He would become her husband in name only. There would be no promise of love, no passion, and no protection.

Leaning heavily against him, she nodded. “Okay.”

Gathering her closer, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Good. I hope this means that we understand each other.”

Eve nodded again. “Yes.”

They returned to the car and there was an unspoken agreement and a comfortable silence until Matt turned off the road. A large house, surrounded by outdoor lights, loomed in the distance.

“Is your cousin expecting us?” she asked him.

Matt drove into a driveway and turned off the engine. “No.”

“But—”

“It’s all right,” he cut in. “Remember, you’re my
novia
. My fiancée,” he translated quickly.

She gave him a skeptical look, permitting him to help her from the car and escort her through a courtyard and loggia, and to the entrance of a two-story, Spanish Colonial style villa.

Towering cactus and piñon trees surrounded the pale adobe walls, and even in the velvet darkness of the night the structure’s beauty was obvious.

“What’s your cousin’s name?” Eve queried, hoping Matt’s relatives wouldn’t resent her unplanned stay at their home.

“Alma Sterling-Navarro.”

“Sterling?”

“Our fathers are brothers,” he explained.

Ceiling fans turned slowly from a deep overhang of cypress in the loggia, while wrought-iron lanterns attached to the adobe walls bathed Matt and Eve in a soft, flattering light as their gazes met and held. Night sounds shattered the stillness of the warm spring night.
She inhaled the fragrance of the different flowers blooming and creeping up one wall near a massive, decoratively carved iron door.

“It begins
now
,” Matt whispered.

A frown furrowed Eve’s high, smooth forehead as a rush of unanswered questions attacked her. How could she have forgotten?

“What if your cousin asks about us? How we met? Shouldn’t we at least get our stories together before we go in?”

He smiled down at her. “Don’t worry so much. There’s no need to rehearse a script. Just follow my lead.” Reaching for her hand, he squeezed her fingers gently. “Ready?”

She hesitated, studying his shadowed features. “Let’s do it.” Her voice was steady and filled with newfound confidence.

Matt shifted a thick, black, arching eyebrow. He knew Eve Blackwell was ready. She was ready to play any role assigned her to hold Christopher Delgado in her arms again.

He pulled the chain to the clapper attached to a large bell beside the iron door. A dull peal echoed melodiously before fading. Unconsciously, Eve moved closer to his side, and his left arm went around her waist.

A massive, inner oaken door opened, spilling more light out onto the loggia. A slender young woman with chemically straightened, chin-length black hair and velvetly dark brown skin peered at them through the elaborate swirls of iron.

“Matthew?”

“Please close your mouth, Alma, and open the door,” Matt ordered in a teasing tone.

Alma unlocked the iron door, blinking rapidly. “I hardly recognized you without the beard,” she continued in a Southern drawl reminiscent of Matt’s. “You’re beginning to look civilized, dear cousin.”

Leaning over, Matt kissed Alma’s cheek. “And hello to you, dear cousin,” he teased.

Alma patted his lean jaw. “The mustache makes you look like a
bandido
.”

“I am a bandit, Alma. I steal the hearts of all beautiful women. And that includes you,
prima
.”

Matt shifted slightly and Alma noticed Eve for the first time. The shock at seeing her American cousin garnered all of her attention as her dark eyes now darted from Eve to Matt. “Have you stolen this one’s heart?” she questioned in rapid Spanish.

His arm tightened around Eve’s waist. “This is Eve,
mi novia
.”

Alma’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re going to marry him?” she asked Eve, switching smoothly back to English.

Eve, smiling, peered up at Matt. “Yes, I am.”

Alma crossed herself and rolled her eyes upward. “My prayers have been answered.” Stepping aside, she motioned for them to enter the house. “Please come in.”

Following Alma, Eve glanced up at a two-story skylighted atrium. A plaster, low relief above the archway was complemented by a tile wainscoting and floor, lending a Hispano-Moresque ambience to the area. Ebony Anglo-Indian armchairs and gray-blue upholstery on the sofa, lounge chairs, and several ottomans added to the eclectic furnishings.

Matt’s left arm curved around her waist in a natural
gesture of affection and she stiffened, feeling the bite of his strong fingers against her ribs. Inhaling deeply, she relaxed against his side.

“Alma, this is Eve Blackwell, my fiancée. Eve, Alma Navarro, my American cousin,” he stated, introducing the two women.

Alma extended a hand, smiling. “Welcome to the family.”

Eve took the proffered hand, returning the warm smile. “Thank you, Alma.”

The other woman was about an inch shorter than Eve’s five foot, seven inches, and a loose-flowing red and gold caftan artfully concealed the roundness of her thickening waist and belly. Her haircut was simple yet sophisticated. Bangs were feathered over her forehead, while the blunt-cut ends curved gently along her delicate jawline.

Alma’s gold-brown eyes crinkled as her smile became a wide grin. “Matthew has chosen well. The two of you will have magnificent children.”

Eve’s smile faltered momentarily before it was back in place, while Matt’s laughter rumbled deep in his chest, adding to her apprehension.