Hidden Agenda (6 page)

E
ve reentered the living room and found Matt in the dining area staring out the wall of glass. The sky had darkened so much that it was impossible to tell the hour.

He hadn’t changed his clothes and his damp shirt clung to his back, outlining the brown flesh through the finely woven fabric.

A roll of thunder shook the heavens, followed by an ear-shattering crash of lightning, and the distant mountains were brilliantly highlighted by the flash of atmospheric energy. Placing a hand over her mouth, she’d hoped to cut off her scream of terror, but she wasn’t quick enough.

Matt turned, his eyes large and questioning. He was beside Eve in less than a half dozen steps. “What’s the matter?”

Her fingers trembled against her equally quivering lips. She tried speaking, the words refusing to come from her constricted throat.

Grasping her shoulders, Matt shook her gently. “Eve!” He pulled her to his chest, and she collapsed. The fear in her eyes was so vivid that he couldn’t imagine what had put it there. She continued to mumble incoherently against his chest. Lowering his head, he kissed her forehead. “What is it, Darling?”

“Close the drapes. Now!” Desperation vibrated in the demand.

He seated her on the sofa, then turned and made his way to the windows. Within seconds the panoramic view of Mexico City was hidden behind a wall of pale silk.

Retracing his steps, Matt stood over Eve. She lay face down on the sofa, her arms crossed over her head; he sat down beside her and pulled her trembling body into his strong embrace, pressing her face to his shoulder.

“I’ve closed them, Eve. Look,” he urged.

Eve chanced a look at the drawn drapes, her heart rate slowing. The fear she should have overcome as a child had continued to haunt her into adulthood.

“Thank you, Mateo.” Her voice was a breathless whisper. Resting her head on his chest, she closed her eyes, absorbing his warmth and strength.

In the instant she’d whispered his name, Matt had learned more about Eve Blackwell than in the past twenty-four hours or than her dossier had revealed. She only called him
Mateo
in anger or in fear, and he’d seen her fear—stark and vivid.

Holding her gently, one hand caressing her back, he pressed his lips to her moist hair. “Tell me about it,
Preciosa
.”

Eve felt a momentary wave of panic, then it subsided. How could she tell Matt about something so fearful, so trenchant? And what saddened her was that she connected the only thing she remembered about her mother with fear.

“Eve, you must learn to trust me. I have to know how to protect you.”

She had sought to erect a wall of resistance against Matthew Sterling. She wanted their encounter brief and uneventful, not one which meant involvement with this mysterious, complex man.

But she would become involved; and her involvement would be as his wife!

“I don’t remember too much about my mother,” she began quietly, unshed moisture glistening in her eyes, “except that she always wore perfume. I used to tell her that she smelled good enough to eat. She’d laugh because she knew how much I loved candy. She used to threaten me, saying that if I didn’t stop chewing bubble gum and eating candy I’d grow up with bad teeth and an acne-riddled complexion.”

Matt tightened his grip on her waist. Eve’s mother was wrong. She had beautiful teeth and a flawless complexion. What he wanted to tell her was that she, also, smelled good enough to eat. The perfume she favored was light and feminine, the fragrance blending sensuously with her own body’s natural scent. His sensitive nostrils detected the essences of jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, sandalwood, and vetiver.

“Do you look like your mother?” he asked, his voice soft and soothing.

Eve’s smile indicated sadness as she remembered the photographic images of her mother and father on
their wedding day. “Everyone says I do, except that her hair was less curly than mine, and she was at least four inches shorter.”

“She must have been a beautiful woman,” Matt stated simply.

“Everyone said she was. She was placed in a skilled nursing facility. The day she left home was the last time I saw her face.”

Pulling back, he studied her features. “What about the wake? Weren’t you allowed to attend?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “My father thought it would be too traumatic for a five-year-old to see her mother for the last time lying in a coffin.” Closing her eyes, Eve relived the scene which had haunted her for almost thirty years.

“However, I did attend the funeral and burial services.” The timbre of her voice lowered. “It was as if the sun never rose that morning. The sky was gray, and the air was so thick and heavy that everyone kept wiping the moisture from their faces. I complained to my father that the dress I was wearing was too hot for the weather, but he never spoke or looked at me.

“Many of the people who had attended the funeral service did not come to the cemetery, so there was only my father, Uncle Harry, Aunt Dorothy, and, of course, Janice. The sky was so black it could’ve been midnight in December instead of an early June morning.

“My father picked up a handful of dirt and threw it on the lowered coffin. At the same time I leaned over to throw my white rose onto the coffin, a roll of thunder shook the ground. Then a flash of lightning lit up the entire cemetery. I screamed in fear, tripping
over my father’s foot and losing my balance. If it hadn’t been for the ropes encircling the open grave I would’ve fallen in it.

“My father yelled at me—probably more in fright than in anger. I blotted out the sound of his voice, seeing what I thought was rage on his face. The service ended, everyone racing back to their cars. I huddled in a corner of a cavernous black limousine while nature vented her fury. I tried climbing onto my father’s lap, but he pushed me away. It wasn’t until we returned to the house that I realized he’d been crying.”

Vertical slashes appeared between Matt’s eyes. Floyd Blackwell might have lost his wife, but he hadn’t lost his daughter, his only child. The torment of his loss should have been overshadowed by the existence of the child he and his late wife had created; a child who needed his love as well as his protection.

“Now you know,” Eve stated resignedly.

“All I know is that you’re afraid of thunderstorms.”

Pulling back, she stared up at his bemused expression. There were pinpoints of gold in his eyes. “You don’t think I’m silly?”

“No. There’s nothing silly about being afraid of something.” What he didn’t say was that he harbored his own fears, fears he refused to acknowledge.

“Whenever there’s a storm I close all of the curtains and blinds, turn on all the lights, and get into bed,” she admitted.

Matt kissed her forehead for the second time. “Now that I know you don’t like thunderstorms I’ll try to make certain you won’t have to go through them alone. I’ll close the drapes and we’ll get into bed together.”

Eve sat up straighter, staring at the mock sinister grin curving his sensual mouth. “I think you’re looking forward to getting me into bed.”

“Call it a
perk
. I’ve never worked with a
partner
as attractive as you.”

His eyes darkened to a deep green, sending her pulses racing.
I can’t
, she thought. She couldn’t permit herself to feel more for Matt than necessary. She wanted only to pretend enough to fool everyone into thinking they were very much in love.

If I keep him at a distance out of the bed, then I’ll be able to keep him at a distance when we’re in bed
.

“You’re quite a silver-tongued devil, aren’t you?” she drawled, wrinkling her delicate nose.

His eyes widened. “I’m serious, Eve.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She slipped out of his loose grip, adjusting the front of her robe.

An expression of withdrawal shadowed Matt’s features. He’d made a fool of himself. He’d admitted to Eve that he found her attractive
and
looked forward to sharing a bed with her. Again her performance was flawless, while his faltered.

“As soon as
siesta
ends, the salon in the lobby will do your hair and nails. After that we’ll return to Alma’s so you can change clothes for the dinner party.”

Her spine stiffened and she bit back the retort on her tongue. It would take Matthew Sterling a long time, if ever, to stop barking his commands.

Her shoulders dropped in surrender. It was useless to argue with him. She would do whatever he told her to do. She was willing to play the game—to win—if it meant getting Chris back.

“Will it bother you if I wear this down to the lobby,
Matt?” she questioned sweetly, lifting the hem of the robe off the carpeted floor.

His face darkened in annoyance. “You’ll have something to wear.”

“Thank you, my darling.” The words dripped from her tongue like heated honey.

Matt’s gaze swept over her smiling mouth, and he knew he couldn’t stay angry with her. Eve Blackwell challenged and pushed him to limits he’d never permitted other women, yet he still wanted her.

Rising to his feet, he pulled her up hard against his body, startling her with the speed with which he moved. Lowering his head, his mouth covered hers possessively, not giving her an opportunity to protest.

“You’re quite welcome,
Preciosa
,” he whispered against her moist, parted lips.

Releasing her quickly, he turned on his heel, making his way toward the bedroom. Eve collapsed on the sofa, her legs trembling and every nerve in her body screaming from the overwhelming virility that made Matthew Sterling potent and intoxicating.

Play with fire and you’ll get burned
.

And that was who Matt was—a fire god descended from ancient African and Zapotec warriors.

Matt escorted Eve into the courtyard of the sprawling Lopes hacienda, a slight smile touching his generous mouth. He hadn’t missed the startled and admiring gazes directed at Eve by those in attendance. There was no denying his own satisfaction of seeing her coiffed and dressed in the silk chiffon, burgundy dress which clung to every curve on her slender frame. The color of his sun-fired eyes darkened to a deep
moss green, mirroring the ripple of desire pulsing throughout his body.

His arm tightened around Eve’s waist, encompassing more than her body, before he released her and offered his right hand to the man and woman approaching them. He greeted his host and hostess in Spanish, then switched to English as he introduced Eve.

“Diego, Blanca, I’m honored to present my fiancée, Eve Blackwell. Eve, our hosts, Diego and Blanca Lopes.”

Eve smiled, extending her hand. She hadn’t missed the shocked expressions on the faces of the Lopes’s, nor their searching gazes as they peered surreptitiously at the ruby on her left hand.

“My pleasure,” she said quietly, her large eyes dark as black satin. “Señora Lopes, the arrangement of flowers in your courtyard is exceptional.”

The light from dozens of brightly-lit lanterns hanging throughout the courtyard highlighted the attractive flush creeping up to the hairline of the exquisitely gowned and coiffed Blanca Lopes. Her trim figure and barely silver, pale hair belied her role of grandmother.

Extending her hand to Eve, Blanca smiled attractively. “Let me show you around the gardens before I take you inside,” she offered in British-accented English.

Matt watched Blanca lead Eve away, his gaze following until they disappeared. Turning back to his host, he noted the questioning look in Diego Lopes’s eyes.

“You mentioned nothing about marrying last week, Mateo.”

“That’s because I didn’t propose until yesterday,” he countered with a wide grin.

“Eva—”

“Eve,” he corrected quickly.

Diego nodded in apology. “Eve is quite beautiful. Congratulations, Mateo. I hope I’ll …” He didn’t finish his statement, thinking perhaps he’d overstepped the boundary with regard to social protocol.

Matt patted his friend’s shoulder. “Eve
is
beautiful. And yes, you and Blanca will be invited to the wedding.”

Diego exhaled audibly. “
Gracias
, Mateo.”

“Eve and I will marry at the end of April, and hopefully you and I will be able to finalize the sale of El Moro by that time.”

Diego Lopes ran a hand over his straight, graying hair. “I’m just waiting for the bank’s approval. Did I tell you that two other men have approached me to go in as partners?”

Matt shifted his eyebrows. “Equal partners?”

“Oh, no. I’m prepared to offer them only one-third.”

“If you accept, then you won’t have to secure bank financing. Think of the interest you’d save.”

“I’ve thought about it, but something bothers me, Mateo.”

“What?”

“Why would two
very
successful businessmen from Venezuela and Peru want to invest in a hotel in Mexico City? Why wouldn’t they set something up in their own countries?”

Matt shrugged a broad shoulder under his white dinner jacket. “It could be that they have some money they
have
to invest in several foreign markets.”

Diego leaned closer to Matt. “Are you suggesting illegal activities?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. It could be that someone told them that you take in dirty laundry.”

Blood suffused Diego Lopes’s face. “I’m a legitimate businessman, Mateo.” There was no mistaking the pride in his voice.

“I know that, Diego, otherwise I’d never offer to sell El Moro to you. Just make certain others know you’re legitimate. You’ve been conservative with your investments. Try to remain that way. If you go in over your head, then you’ll be inviting people like these two to help bail you out.” Matt’s expression hardened. “Remember, Diego, I offered El Moro to you because I trust you.”

“And I’d never betray your trust, Mateo.”

“Good.”

Diego rubbed his palms together. “Now that we’ve settled that, why don’t we go inside?”

Matt’s gaze swept around the courtyard, recognizing the faces of several prominent Mexico City residents, searching for Eve.

“I’d like to wait for Eve.”