Hidden Agenda (9 page)

“Yes, Eve?” He still had not risen from the bed.

Her delicate eyebrows inched up a fraction. “Our guests are preparing to leave,” she informed him in a calm voice. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the bedroom.

It took Matt seconds to reach her, his hand going to
her waist and pulling her possessively against his body. He couldn’t leave her. He
wouldn’t
leave her or send her back—
not now
.

He cradled her face between his palms, a callused thumb caressing the smooth flesh over her cheekbone. “Well, Señora Arroyo, are you ready?”

“I only have to get my purse,” Eve replied softly. She returned to the bedroom to retrieve the small, white, ostrich-skin shoulder bag.

Matt never acknowledged that he was disobeying a directive. What the hell did it mean to him, anyway? He was a private citizen, not an employee of a governmental agency, and Eve
was
his wife.

He would uncover the mole for Blackwell and Kirkland
and
get Christopher Delgado for Eve Arroyo.

Matt never was one to play by the rules, and that was why he had been so successful.

“W
here are we going?” Eve asked, not opening her eyes. She didn’t see the frown creasing Matt’s smooth forehead.

He slipped on a pair of sunglasses while he waited for traffic to inch along at an intersection. “Puerto Angel.”

The blistering late April sun hurled bolts of fire from the heavens, while the darkening clouds suspended above the smog-filled air hinted of rain. Matt doubted whether they would be able to arrive in Puerto Angel before encountering a tropical thunderstorm. In two days it would be May, the hottest month of the year in Mexico, and the beginning of the rainy season.

“What’s there?”

He gritted his teeth in frustration. The traffic and burgeoning population of Mexico City were incredible.
The city had become a place of refuge for Mexicans from all over the vast country.

“We’ll be living there for the duration of your stay,” he explained in a harsh tone which prompted Eve to open her eyes. She stared at his stoic expression. “I have a friend who allows me to use his house whenever he’s out of the country,” Matt continued. “It makes it very convenient, because the Delgado-Quinteros also reside in the south. I should be able to pick up enough information about your ex without attracting too much suspicion.”

“Stop calling him that.”

Matt raised his eyebrows behind the dark lenses. “What? Your ex-husband?”

“Yes,” she replied quietly.

“I don’t see why not, Eve. After this is over, I’ll also be your ex-husband.”

Eve visually explored Matt’s nose and strong chin. He was right—he soon would become her ex-husband. “That’s true,” she conceded.

He gave her a long, penetrating look. “The only difference is that I won’t make love to you or give you my child. Other than that, we’re as married as any other couple.”

Eve didn’t know why but she felt oddly disappointed. She’d married Alex because she thought herself in love with him, and she’d married Matt because she needed him. It was as if she was destined not to marry a man who loved her as much as she loved him.

She’d learned to shield herself against the advances of many of the glib-tongued politicians, aides, and other influential Washingtonians who came into her
shop for gifts for their wives or mistresses. One or two proved quite insistent until they heard the name Blackwell. Harry’s name and his position with an intelligence branch of the government had insulated her until she met Alejandro Delgado.

Alex was not put off by her cool demeanor, and seemed unaffected by Harry’s reputation. He’d waited a year before he asked her to share dinner with him for the first time. She refused, but finally consented to attend a reception with Alex at the White House, in honor of the visiting Mexican president.

Eve found herself swept up in a whirlwind of parties and passionate encounters with the elegant diplomat, and within a month she found herself exchanging vows with a man who had unlocked her heart to love.

It took her less than six months to discover that Alex was unable to give her what she had sought: love. Alex was unable to love her because the only love he was capable of exhibiting was directed inwardly. Alejandro Delgado-Quintero only loved himself.

Once she discovered herself pregnant, Eve overlooked Alex’s selfishness and his discreet infidelities. He moved into a spare bedroom and she welcomed the estrangement. All of her love was transferred to her infant son as Alex became bolder, no longer bothering to conceal his affairs when strange women called the house, leaving cryptic messages. It was as if he wanted her to confront him; he wanted her mindless with jealousy and rage.

Eve surprised even herself when she’d returned home after visiting her uncle and his wife and found a pair of lacy underpants on the floor near her bed. Alex had made love to a woman—
in her bed!

She didn’t unpack her luggage, but gathered enough clothes for Chris and checked into a D.C. hotel. She’d had enough of the shouting episodes. Her son was old enough to realize that his mother cried after arguing with his father, and Eve had no intention of raising her child in a volatile environment where there was more acrimony than love.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Matt suggested as Eve closed her eyes. Nodding, she leaned back against the leather seat.

“Where does your family live?” she asked in a drowsy voice after a lengthy silence.

“Puerto Escondido, Veracruz, Cuernavaca, and of course Mexico City.” Matt loosened his tie with one hand, and unbuttoned the top button on the shirt. “I have a few stray cousins in the north but most of them still live in the south.”

“Why did you give me the earrings?” Opening her eyes, she watched Matt staring at her as if she were a stranger.

“Alma told you?”

“Yes, she did.”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he returned his gaze to the taillights of the car in front of his. “I don’t know,” Matt lied smoothly. “Call it an impulse.”

He did know. Not when he had offered the earrings to her, but now. Only now, after exchanging vows with her, did he realize that he’d fallen in love with Eve.

Once she’d become his wife, he wanted everything to be real. He wanted their pretend engagement and marriage to last forever. The month had passed quickly, too quickly, and he hadn’t wanted to leave Mexico City’s glittering social arena, knowing that
the pretense would also disappear with their departure. There would be no need to exhibit their passion once they closed the door to the house where they would take up residence in Puerto Angel.

Eve had played her part well, so well that Matt had been taken in by her beauty, charm, and passion. There were times when he wanted to strip away her clothes, and lose himself in the silky smoothness of her body. His need to mate with Eve went beyond a burning need to exist.

He’d offered her the earrings because she was his wife—before man and God—and he was committed to having her as his wife until he ceased to exist.

“I’ll return them before I leave for the States,” she said, breaking into his thoughts.

“Keep them,” Matt countered.

“I can’t keep them.”

He gave her a quick glance. “Then return them to me after you receive the annulment papers.”

“Okay,” she agreed. Closing her eyes, she tried relaxing.

Once they left the crowded avenues of the city and sped along a modern highway, she felt herself succumbing to the hypnotic motion of the car and the cooling air flowing from the vents. She couldn’t fall asleep. She was filled with an unending feeling of hope and peace; she was closer than she’d ever been in the past six months to her son; she was going to get her child back!

Matt shook Eve gently. “Wake up,
Preciosa
.”

Thick lashes fluttered several times before they swept upward, revealing large, velvet black eyes softened with sleep. She had fallen asleep, and it was nightfall.

“What time is it?” She ran her fingers through her curly short hair, then massaged the back of her neck.

“Here, let me do that.” Matt’s strong fingers circled her stiff neck, massaging the tight muscles. He smiled as she moaned softly. “We’ll stay here for the night.”

Matt had selected a converted convent for their overnight stay.

“Where are we?” Her voice was a seductive throaty whisper.

“Oaxaca.”

Eve raised her head, her eyes narrowing in skepticism. “I thought you wanted to get to Puerto Angel today.”

His hand went from her neck to her hair. “I did,” he admitted close to her ear. His warm breath made her shiver. “But I doubt if we’ll get there tonight. Most people don’t drive along Mexican roads at night, especially during the rainy season, when there’s always the threat of falling rocks created by the wet conditions, or animals wandering into the path of cars or trucks.”

A feather of apprehension whispered through Eve. She was going to have to share a bed with Matt. She undid her seat belt and stepped out of the car. The air in Oaxaca at night was hotter than in Mexico City because of the latter’s higher altitude. Turning, she stared at the rugged mountain ranges of the Sierra Madre del Sur still visible in the waning light. They rose majestically above the deep gorges and hot arid valleys.

After they registered, a young man dressed in a loose-fitting white blouse and matching slacks escorted them to a spacious room with a large bed. Arched windows with shutters opened out to a veranda, and a lantern-lit courtyard below.

Matt spoke to him in rapid Spanish, informing him that he and his wife would dine in their room instead of in the converted convent’s dining room. The young man smiled and bowed to Matt after placing their bags on a leather trunk at the foot of the bed.

Matt removed his jacket and tie, hanging them on the back of a chair, and stared at Eve as she walked out to the veranda. It wasn’t going to be easy. He’d asked for a room with two beds but the proprietor had apologized profusely, saying none were available. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share a bed with Eve. He was just realistic enough to know that making love with his wife was out of the question. He had to get her to want him as much as he wanted her; he wanted Eve to love him.

Eve returned from the veranda and sat down on the bed, her back to Matt. “If it won’t bother you, I’m going to bed. You don’t mind eating alone, do you?”

He noticed the taut curve of her spine. “No, I don’t mind. But may I suggest you drink something? I don’t want you to become dehydrated from the heat.”

Moving over to the bed, Matt lay on it and pulled Eve down beside him. Molding her gently against his body, he smiled and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry so much, Eve. Everything is going to work out all right.”

She snuggled closer to his chest, not seeing a knowing smile lift his mouth. “I don’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Doing what?” he questioned, feigning ignorance.

“Sleeping together.”

A soft laugh rumbled in his chest. “I wouldn’t call it sleeping together. It’s more like sharing a bed.”

“And I suppose you’ve shared a bed with a lot of women.”

Matt arched an eyebrow. Could he hope that Eve was jealous of the women in his past? “I did happen to
share
a bed with one woman who pretended to be my wife,” he confessed.

“Did you—” Eve broke off suddenly, realizing what she was going to ask Matt.

“
¿Celosa, Preciosa?
”

“I don’t understand the word, Matt.”

As he lowered his head, his mouth hovered over hers. The warmth of his breath and the solid press of his large body fired explosive currents throughout her celibate body.

“Jealous,” he said, watching her face intently. In the month since Eve had walked into his life, Matt had found her more beautiful each day. Her hair had grown enough to curl softly over her forehead and upper ears, she had gained weight and her cheeks had filled out, and her body had ripened with a slim lushness. He’d noticed other men staring at her whenever she walked into or across a room.

Her naturally arching eyebrows lifted as her lush mouth softened in a smile. “You wish,” she teased.

Matt sobered quickly. “You’re right, Eve. I wish.” Rolling over quickly, he stood up and stared down at the shocked expression on her face. “I’d like to shower before eating, but you’re welcome to use the bathroom first.”

She needed no further prompting. Leaving the bed, she opened her luggage and withdrew a change of clothing. She had to get away from Matt—even if it was only a few feet.

He had verbalized what she didn’t want to acknowledge. Some way and somehow, Matthew Sterling had
slipped under the barrier she’d erected to keep him at a distance. How long could she keep up the pretense before he realized she lusted after him?

She hadn’t known many men, and never had she experienced what she felt whenever she lay in Matt’s arms. He summoned desire with only a look, and whenever he touched her she thought she would dissolve in a mass of heated passion.

She had to keep away from him, praying they would find Chris soon, before she was tested further.

“Careful, Matt,” she warned quietly. “You’re becoming a bit too zealous in this role as my husband.” Blowing him a kiss, she made her way to the bathroom and closed the door.

It was another three minutes before Eve was able to bring her emotions under control. She sat on a small stool, her face in her hands, hyperventilating.

“Damn you, Matt,” she whispered over and over. Why couldn’t he play by the rules? They were only to pretend for other people that they were in love.

Rising slowly, she made her way over to a mirror and looked at the strange expression of the woman staring back at her. Her eyes appeared unusually large, her delicate nostrils flared, and her full lips parted; all of her seemed to be flushed with a wanting and a waiting.

Turning away, she stared at the minute cracks in the adobe walls. The charade she’d been involved in for the past four weeks had taken its toll; she’d played her part too well.

Matt had projected a virility and power that was impossible to ignore, and there were times when, without warning, she craved his touch and his kiss. They were now husband and wife, and there were no boundaries
to keep them from consummating their marriage, except the ones they had imposed on themselves.

Eve showered and changed into a pair of taupe cotton slacks with a matching blouse. She left the bathroom, her face free of makeup, her hair brushed off her forehead. The bedroom was dark, the only illumination coming from the lighted courtyard. Matt’s shadowy figure was silhouetted as he leaned against the veranda’s wrought-iron railing, smoking. The aromatic smell of tobacco lingered in the air.

He shifted from his lounging position, and she saw that he’d unbuttoned his shirt. The breadth of wide shoulders and a broad back which tapered to a narrow waist were outlined in the wavering light from below.

Making her way across the room, she stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, watching him.
Magnificent
was the only word she could come up with to describe her husband. She closed her eyes briefly, hoping to shut out the awesome sight of his half-naked body.