Escape to Paradise

by Pamela Yaye

  “I’d never let that happen.”

  Claudia swallowed. His eyes captured her, refused to let her go, and several seconds passed before she remembered how to use her mouth to form words. “There’s only so much you could do as the resort manager, and I didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”

  “I love helping people, and if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable please don’t hesitate to ask.” He leaned in and rested a hand on her forearm. “I’m available day and night, 24/7.”

  Her heart was racing, beating at warp speed. His blinding white smile made her brain short-circuit, and all she could do was stare.

  “Do you do much cooking?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “I’m surprised. Southern women have a reputation for being amazing cooks.”

  “Not me,” she admitted, with a soft laugh. “I’ve burned dinner so many times my aunt has permanently banned me from her kitchen!”

  “I’ll have to keep a close eye on you then.”

  Please do, Claudia thought, moistening her lips with her tongue. Please do.

  Chapter 10

  Santiago leaned in, closing the space between them. Claudia felt his hand on her shoulder, and when it slid down her back, desire scorched her. Her body began to tremble, and her temperature soared to a thousand degrees. All that from a simple caress? she thought, doing her damndest not to faint. God help me!

  “Right this way.”

  He led her through the reception area and turned down a narrow corridor lit by round decorative lights. Off the lobby, tucked discreetly behind a wall of waist-high vases brimming with tropical flowers, was the Sea of Cortez plaza.

  “I never knew there were restaurants back here.”

  “There aren’t, just one. Sueños is reserved for our most exclusive guests.”

  “That hardly seems fair. Shouldn’t everyone at the resort enjoy the same services?”

  “Yes, in theory, but celebrities and high-powered executives don’t like partying with the general public. They can hang out back here without worrying about unauthorized videos of themselves landing on YouTube.”

  Claudia scoffed and made a disgusted face. “Snobs.”

  “Or maybe they just want to have a quiet, stress-free vacation.”

  “Yeah, on somebody else’s dime.” She saw the confused expression on his face, read the question in his eyes, and knew what he was thinking. “I’m an event planner. I know how celebrities are. They can afford to pay for the best, but figure since they’re famous they should have it for free. At least, that’s been my experience working with the rich.”

  “Are you always this harsh?”

  A long, cumbersome silence followed.

  “No,” she began, guilt troubling her conscience. “I’m sick and tired of wealthy people being treated better than everyone else just because they have money. I lived in that world long enough to know that the rich are a selfish, screwed-up bunch.”

  “But that’s not what tonight’s about. It’s about new beginnings, getting to know each other better and sharing a delicious meal.” He smiled. “And maybe a kiss or two.”

  His voice soothed and caressed her. He was wearing an innocent face, but his eyes conveyed his hunger, his need. Claudia recognized it, because she felt the same throbbing ache between her legs. “I’m sorry for going off on you,” she said. “I have a lot on my mind right now, but I promise not to let my personal problems interfere with the celebration bash.”

  His pupils doubled in size. “A few hours ago you were leery about taking on an outside job, and now you’re committing yourself to the project. What happened to change your mind?”

  My credit cards were suspended, I have a hundred bucks to my name, and the bloodhounds at the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission are breathing down my neck. Added to that, her lawyer hadn’t returned any of her calls. Did that mean he’d washed his hands of her?

  Swallowing hard, she touched her throat and discreetly rubbed the knot of fear wedged inside. “I love the challenge of doing something new, and I’ve never planned an event of this magnitude before.”

  Santiago plucked a flower out of the vase, discarded the stem and tucked it behind her left ear. “A rose for a rose.” He seemed to be studying her face, feature by feature. His gaze pierced and stroked. She could almost feel his hands caressing her flesh, could almost taste his kiss. “I have a feeling I won’t be able to concentrate tonight. You’re a living, breathing temptation, impossible to resist.”

  A smile eased its way onto Claudia’s lips. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had paid her a compliment, and had never received one from a man as captivating as Santiago Medina. “I’m starting to think you enjoy making me blush.”

  Santiago drew a finger along her shoulder. “I’m a lover of beautiful things, and you captured my interest from the moment we met. Forgive me for staring at you. I just can’t help it.”

  Tingles danced along Claudia’s spine and careened down her legs. To overcome the devastation of his touch, she inched back, out of reach. “It looks like we’ll have to go somewhere else.” Claudia pointed at the sign in the window. “The restaurant’s closed.”

  “To the general public, yes, but not to us.” Santiago opened the door, and swept his hands along an imaginary red carpet. “Welcome to Sueños. The place where fine dining, outstanding service and Latin culture meet.”

  “You reserved the entire restaurant so we could be alone?”

  “I did one better than that. I asked the head chef to give us a private cooking lesson. We’re going to make an authentic Mexican meal from scratch.”

  Claudia waved her hands as if she was fending off a swarm of killer bees. “Please tell me you’re joking. I’m a horrible cook, and I have no business being near a stove.”

  “I’ll be right by your side, and I promise not to let anything happen to you.”

  “What good will your word be when I’m thumbless?”

  Santiago threw his head back and rocked with laughter. Claudia was a walking, talking paradox. Shy, but witty. Sexy and demure. Equal parts strength and vulnerability. He had his work cut out for him tonight, but he enjoyed a good challenge. Cooking was a great stress reliever, and he hoped that playing around in the kitchen would help Claudia relax.

  “Maybe I should just watch. I started a fire in my aunt’s kitchen last year, and…”

  Anxious to begin their date and to put an end to her protests, Santiago slipped an arm around her waist and gently urged her through the restaurant doors.

  She moved purposefully around the lounge, taking everything in. “The decor is amazing in here,” she praised, admiring the Aztec motifs and colorful table linens. “It’s the perfect venue for a bachelorette party or a family reunion.”

  With mosaic windows, magenta walls and a fortune’s worth of Mexican-themed oil paintings, Sueños looked more like a museum than a restaurant. Glass jars filled with sangrias sweetened the air, and the scent made Claudia hanker for a tall, cold cocktail. The wine-bottle tower was over six feet tall and slanted like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

  “What can I get you?” Santiago asked from behind the raised, crescent-shaped bar. “I don’t know how to make cocktails, but I know how to use a bottle opener!”

  Claudia laughed. “If it’s not too much trouble I’d love a Shirley Temple.”

  “One Shirley Temple coming right up.”

  Still admiring her surroundings, she sat down on one of the oversize wicker chairs in the lounge. Her gaze wandered aimlessly around the room, then settled on Santiago. A jolt of electricity ripped through her. Claudia fought hard against her desire and all thoughts of kissing him senselessly. Santiago had arms like the Incredible Hulk, a body that belonged
on the cover of a men’s fitness magazine and a grin that made her dripping wet. And he was kind, gracious and sensitive to her feelings. It turned out Ana was right. Santiago Medina was one of a kind.

  Settling back into her seat, Claudia crossed her legs and glanced outside the front window. A stocky man with aggressive chest hair was chomping on a cigar. He looked greasy, like a human French fry, and he had the nerve to wave a beefy paw at her. Scared he’d come inside to talk, she sprung to her feet and hustled over to the bar.

  “Here you go.” Santiago rested her glass on a coaster. “I hope you like it.”

  Smiling her thanks, she slid onto the metallic bar stool. “I wish you could make margaritas, because I’d feel a whole lot better about cooking if I had some alcohol in my system.”

  “Try not to stress about it. It’s going to be fun.”

  “If you say so. I wasn’t kidding about being the world’s worst cook.”

  “I’ll be at your side, every step of the way.” A smile curved his mouth. “Just think of me as your guardian angel, Saint Santiago.”

  “Quit teasing me,” she said, pointing her straw at him, “and fill me in on the details of the celebration bash.”

  “What do you want to know? Ask away.”

  “You can start by telling me what happened to the other event planner.”

  His eyebrows slanted in a frown. “Have you been talking to Ramón?”

  “Who’s Ramón?”

  “Never mind. What makes you think there was someone else?”

  “Because you take your job very seriously, and you’d never leave something this important to the last minute. That leads me to believe you either fired your previous event planner, or she quit. So, which one is it?”

  “There’s no fooling you, is there? Sexy and perceptive. I like.”

  Claudia’s whole body—from the top of her head to the tip of her toes—was inflamed with desire, a passion so fierce tremors tickled her hot flesh. “The other event planner…” she prompted, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

  “It’s a long, boring story, so I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version.” Santiago told Claudia everything. About the resort upgrades, his desire to keep the project on budget and Ms. Ortega’s exorbitant fee. “I don’t mind paying for a job well done, but my suspicion is that she’s taking advantage of the owners. I could be wrong, but that’s my gut feeling.”

  “Her fee is high, but not outrageous. Top planners often charge that much.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “I charge according to the nature of the event, not according to my client’s net worth.”

  “How long will you be in Cabo? I’d hate for you to start planning the celebration bash, then leave midway through the project.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. I always finish what I start.”

  “Is that just in business, or in your personal life as well?”

  His gaze held her still. Every time their eyes met butterflies gathered in her stomach and she broke into a sweat. “Is there a good selection of specialty stores in Cabo or do I have to travel to Mexico City to purchase what I need?” she asked, determined not to buckle under the weight of her desire. Nailing out the details of the job—not making googly eyes at Santiago—was priority number one. “I have a few ideas in mind, but I have to see what’s available first before I decide on a theme.”

  “You’ll find everything you need right here in Cabo,” he said, leaning in toward her. “I’m glad that you’re taking the job.”

  “How can I pass up such a lucrative offer? With the holidays just around the corner, that extra money is going to come in real handy.”

  “I’ll pay you half of the money tomorrow, and the balance the day of the party.”

  Claudia took a sip of her drink. Something Santiago said earlier came back to her. Her only hope of emerging unscathed from William’s fraud case was by being honest, so she said, “That’s fine, Santiago, but I want things to be done by the book, so no cash payments.”

  “You’re a woman of incredible integrity,” he praised, his tone filled with surprise and awe. “Even accountants aren’t that honest!”

  Claudia brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles, but one broke free.

  “Seriously though, I’m looking forward to picking your brain about the most effective ways to promote the fantasy suites and our new wedding packages.”

  “Sure, count me in. Destination weddings are all the rage these days, and if you can find a way to tap into that market the resort will grow in leaps and bounds.” Claudia took a sip of her drink. “Is there a vacant office I can use to work?”

  “It’s real busy around here with the renovations and the constant influx of arriving and departing guests,” he explained, “but I’ll see what I can do. Tomorrow’s my day off, but I’ll have the assistant manager look into it.”

  “Thanks, Santiago. I can hardly wait to get started.”

  “The next few weeks will consist of long days and even longer nights. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  His stare was bold, as provocative as the hand he’d rested precariously on her thigh. The anticipation of his kiss was unbearable. And waiting to taste the sweetness of his lips made Claudia feel hot, feverish, like she’d just stepped out of a pressure cooker.

  “I can handle it,” she said in a confident tone of voice. “I only have one job on the go right now, and once I tie up a couple of loose ends I’m all yours.”

  “That’s music to my ears.”

  “I know the renovations in the grand ballroom won’t be finished for a few more days, but I’d love to take a quick look around if at all possible.”

  He gave a nod of assent. “What about first thing in the morning?”

  “Works for me.”

  “I’m going to grab some more water. Would you like me to refresh your drink?”

  “No thanks. I’m good.”

  Santiago returned to the bar and ducked underneath the limestone counter. Seconds later, soft music flooded the restaurant. Claudia instantly recognized the low, melancholy voice. It was Lucho Gatica, one of the greatest Latin singers of all time. The heartfelt ballad reminded her of happier times and took her back to her college days, when she was young and free and didn’t have a care in the world. Singing along, she swayed her body to the rhythm of the timbales. “I haven’t heard this song in years.”

  “I’m surprised you even know who Lucho Gatica is,” he confessed, resting his arms on the counter. “Few people outside of the Latin community do.”

  “In college, I roomed with a Colombian girl, and we used to listen to her Spanish tapes on my cheap stereo for hours. Valencia was like a big sister to me. She helped me study, made the most incredible gazpacho and taught me how to say dirty words in Spanish!”

  Santiago chuckled. “Are you still friends?”

  “No, unfortunately, we lost touch when she returned home, but I think about her all the time. I bet she’s a busy wife and mother with a bunch of kids.”

  “Or a happily single career woman like you.”

  “This is not the life I wanted.” Claudia winced. Wishing she could cram the words back into her mouth, she furiously stirred her drink with her straw. “I love what I do, but growing up I always dreamed of being a stay-at-home mom. I was going to have two girls and a boy.”

  Santiago stared into her eyes, saw the flicker of regret that darkened her face. “You’re still young. You could have ten kids if that’s really what you want!” he joked. “You have plenty of time to shape your destiny and—”

  “I’ve been knocked down so many times that it’s getting harder and harder to get back up.”

  “I know how you feel,” he confessed, slowly nodding his head. “S
etbacks are a part of life, a part of being human, and I’ve had more than my fair share. If it wasn’t for my faith, my family, and a really great therapist I wouldn’t be here today!”

  Claudia cranked her head to the right and studied him intently for several long seconds. “Just how old are you?”

  “Guess.”

  “When you first approached me at the airport lounge, I thought you were my age, but now I’m not so sure.” As stressed out as a game show contestant in the dreaded lightning round, she gnawed on the inside of her cheek. Santiago exuded the essence of Latin culture—the passion, the vibrancy, the warmth—which lead her to believe he was older than he looked. Following her hunch, she said confidently, “You’re thirty.”

  “Tack on ten more years.”

  Claudia gripped the side of her stool to keep from sliding off. Sitting there, with her mouth open, she stared wide-eyed at Santiago. “No way,” she stammered, shaking her head. “You’re lying.”

  “It’s true. I was born on a sweltering August day in nineteen seventy-two.”

  “But you look so young…younger than me, even!”

  Santiago chuckled.

  “I can’t believe you’re forty,” she said, still trying to wrap her brain around their ten-year age difference. “What’s your secret?”

  “You mean aside from having good genes?” Smiling good-naturedly, he shrugged a muscled shoulder. “I live a healthy lifestyle, I don’t stress out about things I don’t have control over and being with you makes me feel like I’m on top of the world.”

  Claudia faked a scowl. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “No, just you.”

  Silence fell between them as the song playing reached its crescendo. His gaze gripped her, and Claudia knew if she didn’t do something fast they were going to end up crossing the line. Santiago must have had the same thought, because he wiped down the counter and walked around the bar. “The resort chef should be here any minute,” he told her. “What do you say we head into the kitchen and get washed up?”