by Pamela Yaye
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to put away your cell phone.”
Claudia kept her eyes glued to the screen. She read her sister’s text message again, unsure what to make of it.
The suite isn’t ready yet but hang tight.
What was that supposed to mean? If there was an issue with the room, she wanted to hear about it. Now. Before the plane took off. Lynchburg was a far cry from staying at a luxury resort in Cabo San Lucas, but it was better than nothing.
“Ma’am, did you hear me?”
Claudia held up a finger. “I’ll just be a minute. I need to call my sister.”
“I’m not going to ask you again.”
Stunned by the flight attendant’s rudeness, she cranked her head toward her, wondering how a woman with dimples could be so evil. “It’s an emergency.”
Glaring at her as if she’d been caught coloring on the cabin walls with permanent marker, the bony redhead stuck a hand to her size zero waist and tapped her high heel impatiently on the floor. “This is nonnegotiable. Everyone has to adhere to the safety policies in place, including you.”
What is this? “Dump on Claudia” Day? She wanted to cry—to release all the pent-up emotion she’d been holding inside—but after spending six miserable hours at the Dulles International Airport she didn’t have the strength crying required.
Summoning a smile, she eased forward in her seat and struck down all thoughts of yanking the attendant’s frizzy hair. “I’ve just discovered that—”
“If you don’t put your cell phone away right this minute I’m going to call airport security and have you escorted off this flight.” She talked with her hands, flapping them around like an inebriated traffic cop. “Now, what’s it going to be?”
Realizing she was fighting a losing battle, Claudia closed her phone and stuffed it into her pocket. “I don’t understand what the problem is. Passengers are still boarding the plane and the pilot announced that takeoff wouldn’t be for several more minutes.”
“New rules. Take it up with the airline.”
Claudia wanted to smack the smirk off the stewardess’s face, but instead she grabbed the trashy tabloid magazine from the pocket in front of her. Things could be worse, she decided, scanning the salacious headlines. At least I’m not stuck in Richmond.
A leggy flight attendant sidled up to Ms. Bossy Pants.
“I got one more in first class,” she whispered, fanning her face with her hands. “And he’s so friggin’ sexy I could lick him all over!”
Seated behind the curtain that separated the two cabins, Claudia had a clear view into first class and spotted the new arrival the moment he stepped onto the plane. It was…Santiago. The guy who’d bought her lunch. Claudia prayed she’d go unnoticed in her cheap economy-class seat. No such luck. His gaze zeroed in on her, and a searing, blistering heat spread from her ears to her toes. He sure is easy on the eyes, she thought, feeling a rush of desire. He had the classic facial features of a model, a cluster of jet-black curls, and a chest her hands were desperate to kiss and caress. Great, now I sound like that horny flight attendant.
Santiago flashed a thousand-watt smile, one intended to make her drool. And she did. All over her scoop-neck shirt. He waved as if they were dear old friends, and like a fool, she waved, too. Claudia pushed a hand through her hair and swept her bangs up off her face. She was attracted to him, but that didn’t mean she was interested in making a love connection. Chemistry was overrated. So was confidence, charisma and all of the other qualities he possessed. Forget sexual attraction, fiery French kisses and earth-shattering sex. That stuff was for Hollywood. In the real world, love didn’t last and desire waned faster than quick-drying paint.
Sliding the magazine down past her nose, she combed her eyes over his lean frame. Claudia felt an instant connection to him, something she’d never experienced, and the more she stared at him, the higher her temperature rose. He had a handsome face, a perfect body and a voice dripping with sensuality. Too bad she wasn’t impressed. She’d met dozens of men like him before and had been disappointed by each and every one. From now on she was only dating regular guys, blue-collar workers who understood the value of a dollar earned and spent responsibly. And she was staying the hell away from that Holy Bible thumper sitting in first class. What was it he’d said? Some mumbo jumbo about God being there in times of need. I bet he believes in the tooth fairy, too! she thought, smirking. Her life had been full of setbacks, one after another, and she’d experienced heartbreak at every turn. No, God definitely didn’t care about her. If he did, he wouldn’t allow bad things to keep happening to her.
Her gaze slid from Santiago to Ms. Bossy Pants, and when the redhead disappeared into the gallery, Claudia sprung into action. Tossing the magazine aside, she opened her cell phone, punched in her sister’s number, and waited impatiently for the call to connect. “Pick up, pick up,” she chanted, crouching down in her seat. “Come on, dammit. Pick up.”
“Hello?”
Claudia exhaled. “Max, it’s me. What’s wrong with the suite?”
“Hey, girl. What’s up? Are you still stuck in Washington?”
“I don’t have time to chitchat. Tell me what’s going on.”
“One of Royce’s old college buddies is staying in the suite.”
Her spirits plummeted, fell so fast she felt dizzy. “Why didn’t you check with Royce before you offered it to me?”
“It’s not my fault,” Maxine argued. “He never said a word to me about Dimitri being there until I mentioned that you were headed to Cabo.”
“When’s this guy leaving?”
“In a couple days. He’ll probably be gone before you get there, but I wanted to give you a heads-up just in case.” Her voice brightened. “Everything’ll be fine. Don’t sweat it.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who could end up out on the street.”
“And neither will you. The suite has two master bedrooms, an enormous living room and more than enough space for the both of you.”
Shaking her head, Claudia decided her sister was even crazier than she thought. “Forget it, Max. I’m not going to stay in the suite with a perfect stranger.”
“He doesn’t have to be…” Max giggled. “Dimitri’s tall, supercute, and built like a Ram truck. What more could you want in a sex buddy?”
“I’m not interested.”
“Milk’s not the only thing that does a body good. Hot sex does wonders, too!”
“Now I know how you managed to get knocked up on your second date.”
“Don’t hate, congratulate!” Her voice turned serious. “There have been some new developments in William’s case that I thought you should know about. He was deemed a flight risk by the judge this afternoon in court, and was denied bail.”
“Good. I hope he never gets out.”
“The feds confiscated his computers, but they haven’t uncovered anything incriminating yet.”
Hearing a noise at the rear of the plane, Claudia twisted around in her seat. Fear surged through her, causing her heartbeat to thunder in her ears. The flight attendant from hell was stomping toward her, gaining on her with each step. “I have to go! She’s coming!”
“Who—”
Click.
Claudia tossed her cell phone into her purse, snatched the blanket off the vacant seat beside her, and dragged it up to her chin. Scared the flight attendant would make good on her earlier threat, she closed her eyes and started to snore.
The lights dimmed and a hush fell over the cabin.
“Excuse me, miss. Can you hold this open for me?”
Opening one eye, Claudia watched as Santiago slid in front of Ms. Bossy Pants. His muscles flexed, drew taut against the light fabric of his shirt as he hoisted his travel ba
g into the overhead bin. He glanced over his shoulder, and for a long, heart-pounding moment Claudia couldn’t breathe. Every time he looked at her she experienced respiratory failure. What was up with that? To keep from slobbering all over herself like one of her sister’s chocolate Labs, she turned her face toward the tiny cabin window.
Thick, somber clouds blackened the sky, and as the plane inched down the runway, torrential rains beat violently against the windows. The last time I was in a storm this bad was that night I was rushed to the hospital. Being strapped down on that cold, hard gurney had made her feel helpless, powerless. Just like now.
Claudia crossed her legs at her ankles. For now, the mess in Richmond was behind her. She was safe, free to do whatever she wanted without public scrutiny. The realization should have calmed her, should have bolstered her spirits, but as her eyes grew heavy with sleep another terrifying thought gripped her. What if those reporters camped out on my lawn discover the truth about my past?
Chapter 4
This is paradise, Claudia decided, stepping out of the green Volkswagen taxi and drinking in the lush scenery of the Sea of Cortez Resort. Tranquility showered over her, filled her with such peace that the tension radiating through her body began to subside. If everything I read in that travel book is true I may never leave!
Nestled on golden sands that stretched for miles, the five-building structure drenched in white and gold was a lavish display of luxury and wealth. Designed to reflect the rich heritage of the Mexican culture, the Sea of Cortez Resort had been constructed with such historic flair, it stood out from the dozens of other hotels along the Tourist Corridor.
Two uniformed men with bodies like Chippendale dancers appeared at her side. One placed a cocktail glass in her hand while the other scooped up her lone travel bag. “Deje todo para trás y escape al paraíso!”
Claudia didn’t know what they said, but did it matter when they sounded dreamy and smelled like tropical fruit? Deciding it didn’t, she hitched herself to her attractive escorts. Wishing she’d paid more attention during her high school Spanish classes, she strung together the few sentences she knew and hoped for the best. “Gracias tanto. Usted es el más amable.”
“It is my pleasure to serve you, señorita. Now leave everything behind and escape to paradise,” one of the men said in a deep, silky baritone. “Your adventure awaits!”
That’s music to my ears, she thought, discreetly cleaning the dots of perspiration along her hairline. Carrying the scent of the water lilies floating in the pond, the evening wind blew hot and fast against her sweaty skin. To quench her thirst, Claudia sipped from the pink, candy-flavored straw. The lemon tickled her taste buds, and the combination of tequila and grenadine packed a powerful punch. Navigating her way through Cabo’s bustling airport had been an exercise in stamina and patience, and after a forty-minute wait for a taxi an ice-cold cocktail was just what the doctor ordered.
“¿Puedo despertar su interés en otro Amanecer de Cortez?”
Claudia blinked, and when her escort traded her empty glass for a new one, she smiled sheepishly. Then gulped it down in ten seconds flat. Knocking back cocktails wasn’t the answers to her problems, but they sure did taste good!
Lit by the warm glow of tiki torches, the cobbled pathway flowed through wide arches and spilled on to manicured lawns rimmed with leafy bushes. Claudia felt like she was walking through the pearly gates. Palm trees waved their arms in greeting, sunshine rained down from the sky and the scent rising from the garden was more intoxicating than the cocktails she’d downed.
The glass doors slid open, revealing an atrium drenched in bright, vibrant colors. High ceilings, topped with mosaic tiles, filtered in natural sunlight and created the sensation of still being outdoors. Oozing with charm, the main floor lobby featured bronze chandeliers dripping with crystals, oil paintings on crimson walls, and velvet couches that looked cozy enough to sleep on. Or cuddle on. And couples were doing just that. It was almost nine o’clock in the evening, but the resort was teeming with life and activity. Everywhere Claudia turned guests were laughing, chatting and living it up.
Grateful to her escorts, she generously tipped them and joined the line in front of the reception desk. While Claudia waited, she retrieved her wallet and selected two pieces of ID. Traveling had exhausted her, and she was anxious to see the oceanfront suite Maxine had bragged about. She only hoped it was available. If not, she’d just stay in another room because there was no way she was shacking up with Mr. Ram Truck.
“Buenas noches, señorita. Bienvenido a la Estación de Mar de Cortez. ¿Cómo le puedo ayudar?”
Claudia offered a weak smile. She hoped the concierge spoke English, because the little Spanish she knew wasn’t enough to carry her through check-in. Before she could speak, he asked for her last name. Relieved that she wouldn’t have to break out her travel book, she inquired about Suite 97. “Is it available?”
“Yes, Ms. Jefferies, it is.”
Claudia wanted to jump for joy, but smiled instead.
“Is this your first time in Cabo San Lucas?” he asked, punching the necessary information into the computer. “Or are you a regular?”
“I was in Mexico many years ago, but I’ve never been to Cabo before.”
He held up her passport, intently studied her picture. “How long will you be staying with us, Ms. Jeffries?”
“I’m not sure,” she told him. “Probably a month.”
“That’s wonderful! Four weeks is more than enough time to see Cabo and the surrounding cities as well. Might I make a few recommendations of things to do?”
Claudia knew he was just doing his job—making conversation to speed along the process—but after a day filled with delays and disappointments she didn’t have energy for small talk. “No thanks. It’s been a long day and I’m really looking forward to relaxing in my suite.”
“I understand, Ms. Jeffries. All I need is a credit card to cover the incidentals, and then you can be on your way.”
Nodding, she unzipped her wallet and handed over her Platinum MasterCard.
“For an additional fee you can add a Luxury Services package to your stay. It features twenty-four-hour housekeeping, private butler service and unlimited access to our world-class spa for the low, low price of only five hundred dollars.”
Claudia’s mouth hit the limestone counter. Did she look like a sucker? Instead of laughing in the concierge’s face, she said, “I think I’ll pass.”
“Very well. You can always add the service later if you change your mind.” The computer beeped, and the smile slid off his face. “I’m sorry, Ms. Jeffries, but there seems to be a problem. Your credit card has been declined.”
“What?” Shame burned Claudia’s cheeks, made her body so hot she could start a forest fire. “That’s impossible. I’m nowhere near the limit.”
“Have you made any large purchases in the last few hours? Sometimes that may cause—”
“There must be a problem with your system. Swipe it again.”
He did, and this time the computer beeped twice. “I’m sorry. It still won’t go through.”
Hoping no one had witnessed her humiliation, Claudia peeked over her shoulder. Three suit-clad men holding briefcases stood behind her, dead quiet. They were listening in and were every bit as annoying as those pesky reporters who’d made themselves at home on her front lawn.
Hanging her head, she shielded her face with her hands. What if one of them recognized her and alerted the press? She could see the headlines now:
Claudia Jeffries-Prescott spotted in Cabo San Lucas!
Ex-wife of disgraced CEO can’t pay bills!
Investors forced to eat in soup kitchens while Prescotts party at world-class resort!
“Do you have another credit card I can charge?”
Claudia dodged the question. “I don’t understand what’s going on. I’ve been using this credit card all day,” she confessed, pushing out a breath of frustration. “I’ll have to call MasterCard and have them straighten this mess out.”
He gestured to the end of the counter. “Please, use our house phone.”
“Now?” Claudia checked her watch. Nine thirty-seven. No way she was calling MasterCard at this time of night. Forget that. She’d sooner sleep in the lobby than subject herself to an hour-long wait. “I don’t plan to order room service or eat from the mini bar, so having my credit card on file is not necessary.”
The concierge reared back like he’d been burned with scalding water. Claudia read his facial expression, saw the veins stretched tight in his neck and the lines of doubt etched in his forehead. He didn’t trust her any more than those detectives did back in Richmond.
“I simply cannot check you in without a valid credit card, Ms. Jeffries.” He must have heard the harshness in his tone, because he softened his voice. “We’re not supposed to take cash to cover the cost of the incidentals, but I’m willing to do it to help you out. There’s an ATM machine to the right of the guest services booth and…”
Claudia strangled a groan. Even if she had the energy to walk back through the lobby—which she didn’t—thanks to the SEC she didn’t have access to her bank accounts. And her emergency fund account, which she’d wisely registered in Aunt Hattie’s name years earlier, was accessible only through commercial banking. “Can we straighten this out in the morning? I’ve been traveling for the last eight hours, and I’m exhausted.”
A voluptuous brunette, who looked like she’d been stuffed into her tangerine-colored uniform, appeared beside the concierge. “Is there a problem, Luis?”
He spoke quietly, in rapid-fire Spanish.
A minute passed. Then two. Were they still talking about her credit card problems or their plans for the weekend? Claudia wished she spoke Spanish, or knew someone who could help her out of this mess. I should have taken that Santiago guy’s business card, she thought, mentally berating herself for insulting him and fleeing the airport lounge without his number. It wasn’t every day that a perfect stranger bought her lunch, and the Mexican native was sincere and charming. He seemed like the kind of man who made things happen and got things done.