Escape to Paradise

by Pamela Yaye

  A spine-chilling scream shattered the morning silence.

  Claudia’s head whipped up. Spotting the female hiker on the ground, she sprinted through the meadow and crouched down beside her.

  The woman’s eyebrows merged together. Dirt smudged her cheeks, and twigs were poking out of her thick, ash-brown hair. She was breathing heavily, rapidly, as if each breath was a fight. “Hola. ¿Cómo está?” said Claudia, fumbling to recall her Spanish.

  A look of relief washed over the woman’s thin, oval face. “Estoy bien, pero pienso que puedo haber torcido el tobillo. Tropecé en....”

  Claudia was listening intently, but found herself distracted by the woman’s animated hand gestures. Add to that, she was speaking a mile a minute. What was the word for help again? “Soy norteamericana.”

  “You’re American?”

  Claudia smiled sheepishly. “As you can see, my Spanish isn’t very good.”

  “And neither is my English!” Soft lines kissed her mouth when she laughed, but she had radiant skin and a slender frame. “I’m sorry I startled you. I slipped on a rock, but I’m okay.”

  “Do you need some help?”

  “No, all I need is a moment to catch my breath.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll just take a quick look at your ankle.” Resting the woman’s foot on her lap, she untied her laces and slowly removed her cross-trainer sneakers. “There’s no swelling, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t broken.”

  “It feels okay,” she said, rotating her foot.

  Claudia slid the woman’s sneaker back on.

  “Thanks for stopping to check on me. That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “It’s no problem. If the roles were reversed, I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

  Squinting, her gaze as strong and intense as the sun’s blinding rays, the woman tilted her head up. “I know your face,” she said. “I can’t remember where I’ve seen you before though.”

  Panic choked Claudia’s windpipes. Had the collapse of Qwest Capital Investments gone worldwide? Was her picture in the local newspaper? Turning away, she lowered her eyes to the ground and pretended to be studying the granite rocks scattered along the trail.

  “You’re that actress! Halle something-or-other.”

  Releasing the breath she’d had trapped in her lungs, she smiled sheepishly and ruffled her bangs with her fingertips. “The only thing Halle Berry and I have in common are our short hairstyles and a series of failed relationships.”

  “My abuela was married five times, and she used to say, ‘The more beautiful the woman, the more unlucky she is in love!’”

  “I’m hardly beautiful.”

  “You must not have mirrors at home!” A smile touched her lips. “You’re slim and youthful and have a warm aura.”

  “Thirty might be the new twenty in Hollywood, but I feel every one of my years,” Claudia quipped, massaging the tenderness in her legs. “And that brutal hike didn’t help any!”

  “I know just how you feel. Every time I watch an episode of the Real Housewives of Guadalajara I feel ancient! Getting old is terrible, and worse still, my husband won’t let me go under the knife to fix what’s wrong!”

  Claudia laughed. After only a few minutes in the woman’s presence, she felt comfortable, at ease. The hiker’s fun-loving, feel-good persona made her think of Aunt Hattie and all the good times they’d shared. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I think you look great. You have the figure of a teenager and not a wrinkle in sight.”

  “Thank you.” Her hazel eyes twinkled when she smiled. “I’ve been talking your ear off, but I don’t even know your name. I’m Ana.”

  “Claudia.”

  “What part of the States are you from?”

  “The South.” Claudia liked Ana, but she didn’t feel comfortable divulging personal information. To deflect attention from herself, she steered the conversation back to Ana. “I bet your grandkids just adore you. You’re so energetic and full of life.”

  The light in her eyes dimmed. “No grandkids yet. My daughter passed away two years ago, and despite my best efforts my son refuses to settle down.”

  “I am so sorry for your loss.”

  Ana dabbed at the corners of her eyes, then raised her head toward the sky. “Marisol probably would have had three or four kids by now. She always wanted a big family, and she would have been an incredible mother.”

  A long, cumbersome silence followed.

  Using a rock as leverage, Ana pressed her hands against it and pushed herself up. Pain streaked across her face and a groan shot out of her mouth.

  “Do you need my help?”

  Ana waved off the offer with a flick of her hand. “I’m fine. I think I may have tweaked my ankle, but after a couple aspirin and a shot of tequila, I’ll be as good as new!”

  “There’s a home remedy I’ve never heard of. Tell me, does the aspirin-tequila trick cure back pain, too? I’m so sore it hurts to move.”

  “This must be your first time on Cardiac Mountain.”

  “What a suitable nickname,” she joked, a smirk teasing her lips. “I don’t think I’ll be hiking this trail again. I came to Cabo to relax, not to torture myself.”

  “These trails are harder than they look, and I see banged-up tourists like you at least once a day. Bathe in chamomile tonight, and you’ll be fit to tango in the morning!”

  Claudia laughed. “You must hike a lot.”

  “Every morning, seven days a week.”

  “Wow, that’s dedication.”

  “I like to get my workout in before the day gets crazy. I’m in the hospitality business, and since my husband’s away a lot, I have to oversee the day-to-day operations of the family business alone. I love what I do, but it’s a lot of work!”

  “I know just what you mean. I have my own business as well, and some days I’m so busy running around I don’t even have time to eat.”

  Ana laughed. “I wish I had that problem!”

  Claudia watched Ana. Her movements were unsteady, and she was huffing and puffing like a sprinter powering across the finish line.

  “I don’t think I can finish the trail,” she confessed, staring at her leg. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you use your cell phone and call my son? I left mine at home—”

  “I can help you.”

  Her face was wrinkled with doubt. “But you’re just an itty-bitty thing.”

  “I’m a lot stronger than I look. We’ll go slow and stop whenever you need a break.”

  “Are you staying nearby? I’d hate to put you out of your way.”

  “I’m staying at the Sea of Cortez Resort,” she told her.

  “What a small world. So am I!” Ana laughed. “Tell me, what do you think of the resort?”

  “It’s incredible. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen. And the resort manager has been so kind and gracious. If not for his help last night, I would have had to stay somewhere else.”

  Beaming brighter than a ten-carat diamond, she clasped her hands together like a mother silently applauding her child. “Ramón is great, isn’t he? He’s the heart and soul of the—”

  “I haven’t met him yet. I was referring to the other guy, Santiago Medina.”

  “Santiago?”

  A smile crept over Claudia’s lips. “We met at the airport lounge in Washington, then ended up on the same plane headed to Cabo.”

  “Santiago?” Ana looked bewildered, but nodded and smiled. “Yes, of course, Santiago, the other resort manager.”

  “He escorted me to my suite and was kind enough to order dinner for me as well.”

  Ana’s mouth fell open. “You don’t say?”

  “You seem surprised.”


  “Not at all. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders and you have great, positive energy. It’s no wonder my…” She coughed, rubbed a hand over her chest as if she had a serious case of heartburn. “I’m not surprised that Santiago’s interested in you. In many ways, you’re just his type. Tall, fit, curvy.”

  “He’s not interested in me romantically,” she insisted, ignoring the butterflies pelting her stomach at the thought of the dreamy resort manager liking her. “He was just doing his job.”

  “I think he went above and beyond.” Ana lowered her gaze to Claudia’s left hand. “I find it hard to believe that a pretty young thing like you doesn’t have a lot of male admirers. Or a boyfriend back home in the States anxiously awaiting your return.”

  A scowl curled the corners of Claudia’s lips. “Men are trouble, and I could do without every last one of them.”

  “Santiago’s not the typical Mexican guy. He’s sensitive, open-minded and a man of incredible faith. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone better.”

  “You know a lot about him. Do you work at the resort as well?”

  Ana sideswiped the question. “You do find him attractive, don’t you?”

  In her haste to deny the charge, Claudia tripped over her tongue. “I don’t know.” It was a whopper of a lie, but what else was she supposed to say? Admitting to this woman—and herself—that she was attracted to the sexy resort manager was out of the question.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? Either you do or you don’t.”

  “I haven’t taken a good look at him.”

  “Sure you haven’t.” Ana waved Claudia over and hooked a hand through her arm. “Be a dear and escort me back to the resort. I just remembered there’s something important I have to do, and time is of the essence!”

  Chapter 8

  Santiago threw down his pen and watched as it skidded off the mahogany desk. Now he knew why his mother had asked him to meet with Ramón to review the renovation budget. And why she was absent. Balancing the books was a long, painstaking task, and after crunching the numbers for hours there was no end to his suffering in sight. He’d rather be back outside, hanging out at the bar with his friends. Or with Claudia. Thinking about her and how she’d ditched him that morning made a grin curl his lips. Getting even with the sly Southern belle was on the top of his to-do-list, but first he had to finish the task at hand. “It doesn’t matter what I do, I still end up hundreds of thousands of dollars in the red.”

  Ramón stared at the spreadsheets on the desk, but didn’t speak.

  Santiago gestured to the financial statements. “Either the numbers are wrong or someone’s been using the account as their own private piggy bank. We made a sixteen percent profit last year, but half of it is gone.”

  The resort manager glanced around the office as if it was his first time in the room.

  “Where is the money, Ramón? The builders will be finished at the end of the month, and they’re expecting to be paid in full.”

  “Yo no sé.”

  “You don’t know? But you’re the resort manager. If you don’t know, who does?”

  Ramón shifted around on his chair like he had ants in his khaki pants. Mumbling to himself in Spanish, he fiddled with the knot on his tangerine tie.

  “I want to know what’s going on around here, and I want to know now.”

  Nothing. Not a blink, not a scowl, not a fiery, passionate denial.

  “Have you been dipping into the bank accounts?”

  A look of horror flashed in his eyes. “Dijo que me podría despedir si dije algo.”

  “Who’s ‘he’?” Deep down, Santiago knew who the culprit was, but he wanted to hear what the manager had to say. Only four people had access to the resort’s bank accounts, but only one bullied and threatened the employees. “Who said he’d can you?”

  Ramón grabbed his mug then chugged a mouthful of coffee. “Se padre.”

  A growing sense of dread filled Santiago. His deepest fears had been realized and were now playing out in his mind like a real-life nightmare. Remembering that Ramón was more comfortable speaking in his native language, he said in Spanish, “Tell me exactly what my father said.”

  Ramón’s shoulders collapsed. After what seemed like an hour, he slowly recounted the conversation he’d had with his boss weeks earlier. His voice was tight, constricted, but he told his story with more flair than a seasoned crime writer.

  It took a moment for Santiago to process what the resort manager said. He didn’t know the middle-aged man well, but he believed him. His father had strong-armed Ramón into withdrawing two hundred thousand dollars from the resort’s accounts and threatened to fire him if he talked. It wasn’t the first time his dad had siphoned funds from the business, but it was definitely going to be the last. “Did he say what he needed the money for?”

  “Dijo que la estación en Acapulco no hace dinero y él debe pagar sus préstamos.”

  Stroking his chin, he considered what Ramón shared. It’s possible he needed the money to cover the bills at the Acapulco resort, but why not go through the proper channels? Why keep secrets from me and Mom?

  “¿Qué haremos ahora?”

  That was a good question. What were they going to do? The resort was hemorrhaging money, and if he didn’t put a stop to it there would be nothing left. And where would that leave his mom? He’d disappointed her in the past, but not this time. Confronting his father would have to wait until he returned from Acapulco. This was not something to discuss over the phone, and since they hadn’t spoken in months, waiting a few more weeks wouldn’t make much of a difference. The fantasy suites would be completed by the end of the month, but it wasn’t too late to trim costs. He’d worked miracles at larger companies, and he’d do it again at his parents’ business.

  “Let’s look at these numbers again.” Energized by his thoughts, he pulled his chair closer to the table and reexamined the spread sheets. “There are several areas where we can trim costs, without spoiling the integrity of the project. For example, using standard, low-emissivity windows instead of custom-made coverings will save us twenty grand.”

  “Good thinking.” The resort manager nodded and tapped a fat index finger on the last column. “We’d save even more money if we fired that snooty event coordinator your mother hired last week. During the consultation, she flicked a finger at me and demanded I fetch more ice cubes for her lemonade. I have never been more insulted!”

  Santiago was laughing on the inside, but he wore a sympathetic face. “I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it, Ramón. Mrs. Ortega has a lot on her plate right now. She’s designing the destination wedding packages, as well as planning the celebration bash.”

  “I have a feeling Miss High and Mighty is going to be a royal pain in the butt.”

  “How much is she costing us?” Santiago asked, tapping his fingers absently on the desk.

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  “That sounds reasonable to me. After all, she’s—”

  Ramón broke in. “That’s what she’s charging us per week.”

  “What?” The word shot out of his mouth. “That’s highway robbery! No wonder the renovation budget is skyrocketing through the roof.”

  A scowl wrinkled Ramón’s face. “I think she’s ripping us off, but your mom is a huge fan of her work. Apparently, this Ortega woman has good aurora or something.” He frowned, shrugged his shoulders. “At least I think that’s what your mother said. I can’t quite remember.”

  Oh, brother. Not this again. Having her palm read last year at the Cervantes Festival had turned his sane, practical mother into an energy-loving nut. To ward off evil spirits, she’d moved around the furniture, plastered framed quotes on the walls and beautified the desk with photos. Santiago thought the
office was crowded, packed tighter than a socialite’s suitcase, but the hand-painted pottery and scented candles did give the space a warm, welcoming feel.

  “I don’t have a problem paying for a job well done, but planning parties isn’t rocket science. I bet if we looked around we could find someone more affordable.”

  “But your mom has already hired her.”

  “Then, I’ll be the one to fire her.”

  “Santiago, it’s too late in the game to be making huge changes,” Ramón said, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “Mrs. Ortega is flying in on Wednesday morning from Monterrey.”

  “Then, that gives us three days to find a suitable replacement.” His gaze strayed to the open window, and the sweet scent of the afternoon breeze made Santiago think about Claudia. She was probably in her suite, luxuriating on the balcony with a magazine and a fruity cocktail. Or maybe she was working in the office on that winter charity ball she’d mentioned earlier—

  Santiago bolted upright in his chair.

  That was it!

  Excited about the idea taking shape in his mind, he realized he’d just found the answer to his problem. He’d hire Claudia! She had experience, was as thrifty as the Grinch and wouldn’t treat the budget like her personal wish list.

  “I don’t feel good about this,” Ramón grumbled, dragging a hand over his head. “And Señora Medina is going to be angry when she learns that you axed her favorite event coordinator.”

  Santiago patted his shoulder. “Have some faith. I know what I’m doing.”

  “But Mrs. Ortega is the best in the business and a personal friend of your mother’s. If she doesn’t plan the celebration bash, who will?”

  A Southern belle with a keen eye for detail and the best pair of legs in all of Cabo. Hiring Claudia would not only save the resort money, it would give him an opportunity to get to know her better. And that was a definite bonus.

  Standing, he smoothed a hand over his hair and adjusted his shirt collar.