“Would you?”
“No.”
She hesitated, but he’d asked about Toby. Besides, if they were going to be married, they’d obviously need to know about the exes—at least the important ones. “I know you’re angry, but . . . do you still love her?”
“No. I don’t even like to think about her, let alone discuss her. But you did ask.”
“I thought I should know.”
“Sure.” He pushed himself up and moved to the chair behind his desk, pulling open a drawer and taking out a folder. “These are the terms my lawyers drew up. Certain settlements are provided after short increments of time—to cover the salary I mentioned. By the end of the summer, if not sooner, Mom and Dad will have made their decision. Hopefully, if that bastard Harper or any other make-believe father comes forward, we’ll have been able to debunk their stories and be sure Justin isn’t taken away.”
“And we all live happily ever?” Esme asked.
He cocked his head. “That’s the plan. Why wouldn’t we?”
She shrugged. “Plans don’t always work, Rafael. What if the woman you marry decides to hang on to you?”
“She won’t. At least, she shouldn’t, and I’ll make that very clear. Whoever I choose will need to be able to take the money and run.”
“It is a lot of money for a few weeks’ work. But you’re worth a lot more. I can see someone not being willing to go. I assume the longer you’re married, the more a woman could get.”
“Yes, but the pre-nuptial limits the money for two years. I thought that would be safer. She wouldn’t have to agree to leave me in order for me to file for divorce.”
“And there’s no sex, no wild passionate love?”
He grinned. “Should make leaving a little easier, shouldn’t it?”
Oh, yeah. “Your method has madness. Good.” She nodded. “So, a hands-off marriage. Is that written in the contract?”
“Of course not! That would be stupid,” he retorted. “My mom and dad aren’t going to look at a pre-nuptial that says, ‘no physical contact of any kind allowed’ and believe it’s a real marriage, are they? I mean, most pre-nuptials set amounts of money for the time spent married. The way mine is written specifies the two hundred thousand and expenses for up to two years as a settlement amount. In other words, if the marriage lasts for a period from one month to two years, the two hundred thousand is what my wife would be entitled to—she couldn’t try to collect more money from me. Amounts after two years would have to be agreed upon by both parties, with stipulations about things like children and length of time the marriage lasts. But since I’ll file for divorce at the end of the summer, there won’t be any long-term implications. And in addition to the pre-nup, I’ve drawn up an employment contract for a summer assistant’s job, where the two hundred thousand is listed as a salary. Of course, my parents would never see that contract.”
“Why are you so sure the marriage will be hands-off?” she pushed. “What if whoever marries you can’t keep her hands off you, or vice versa?”
“Obviously we’re not going to be able to avoid everything. A kiss, holding hands—we’ll have to go through the motions.”
“And what if going through the motions gets out of hand? Because in my experience—and I do have experience, Rafael—a little hand-holding and a few kisses can lead to more. A lot more. In no time at all.”
He drummed his fingers on the desk, apparently considering his answer, then sighed. “Why does everything sound like a dare with you?”
“Surely you’ve thought about it.”
“Yeah.” His lips twitched. “And considering your self-proclaimed experience, I’m sure you’d consider it a sacrifice. I’m not saying it will be a great marriage. But it’s a terrific job for the right woman. Are you interested, Esme?”
She laced her fingers together. She could help her aunt. Maybe with money problems put to rest, Tina would be more approachable. Maybe she could develop the relationship with her aunt that she’d coveted as a teenager. She unlocked her fingers and stood.
“Before I can tell you that, I need to know one last thing.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Hit me.”
“The day we met, at Tia’s, you said something to Angel as I left.”
“Okay. What’s your question?”
“Who did you swear to kill, Rafael? My aunt—or me?”
• • •
She’d heard? Damn. He knew when he uttered the words that he shouldn’t have. In fact he’d worried about Angel not letting him in and out of Tía’s office the next time he asked her. And he hadn’t imagined Esmeralda could have heard him.
“Why the hell would I want to kill you?” he asked, stalling.
“Why would you want to kill anyone? You didn’t sound like you were kidding. You meant it.”
He stood and walked around the desk, but stopped several feet away.
“No, I wasn’t kidding. I also wasn’t serious about doing it.”
Esme stood there, so close, clearly suspicious. Her lips were pursed and she stared at him, unblinking.
“You said when we talked the first time that my aunt’s recommendation wouldn’t help me. What did she do to Cody?”
What didn’t she do? Used her, lied to her, gave access to the scum who would make sure she never could beat the demons of music, drugs and fame . . . He didn’t think Esmeralda had a clue about her aunt’s manipulative, uncaring character. What if he was wrong? Tía had sent her to him. But he couldn’t tell her that. He’d have to talk about Cody, and he didn’t want to. Not right now. Maybe never. Guilt haunted him, cold fury threatened to undo him every time he went there. So he’d just believe that Tía’s only interest was the finder’s fee she’d insisted he pay if he chose her candidate. He wondered what Esme would think knowing that her aunt had bartered for her. If sex were involved—which he would not let happen—he might be crass enough to say the older woman had pimped her niece.
He tried to temper his hostility when he spoke again. None of this was Esme’s fault, unless he was judging yet another woman wrong. There was no reason to hurt her. And she could be so perfect with Justin, able to relate with him without letting him become too attached. A few weeks, limited encounters—Justin would be fine. He’d manage.
“Your aunt knew that Doug Harper—an off and on boyfriend—and others were destroying Cody. The drugs and alcohol—Tía’s. Cody was her own woman, though, legally old enough to be there and choose her friends. I couldn’t find a way to stop her. Sometimes I’d distract her, then your aunt or Harper would call, and off she’d go.” He didn’t want to continue, but Esmeralda’s unflinching stare told him he hadn’t said enough.
“Since I couldn’t talk any sense into her, I made a deal with your aunt. I hired security—guards, a bouncer, I put in a security system—all at my expense. But security doesn’t work when the bad guy runs it. Doug Harper and Cody’s other so-called friends kept getting in with the drugs. The booze.” He shrugged. “That was pretty simple. It was already there, just waiting. Your aunt claimed to love Cody, but she wouldn’t lift a finger to help save her. Just gave and gave—every damn thing my sister shouldn’t have had.”
“And weren’t there authorities—people who could have intervened?” She looked upset, as if hearing the hard truth about her aunt had shocked her. He was relieved to think that she didn’t seem to know the real Tina Cervantes, but also a little worried. About her.
“The sheriff dropped in a couple of times, but didn’t find anything he could act on. Besides, I didn’t want to hurt Cody and my mom and dad even worse than they already had been. That’s one reason I blame myself along with your aunt. Maybe I should have pressed for more police action of some sort, but I let it slide. For them, I told myself.”
“Lots of people wouldn’t turn in a family member,” Esme said, her expression sympathetic.
He opened his mouth to tell her he couldn’t talk more about Cody, but Esmeralda’s stomach rumbled loudly. Sh
e glanced down, startled, then blushed furiously. “Sorry,” she muttered, then lifted her eyes to glare at him. “It’s all your fault. I asked you to take food.”
“I took food. We just had too much fun fishing to take a break.” He picked his phone up and glanced at the time. “Would you like to run into town?”
“We could just eat whatever you packed so it won’t go to waste.”
“But no one will see us,” he protested.
“And that’s a bad thing? Who do we want to run into, anyway? Lillie Mae?”
He grinned. “Yes, actually. If we wind up married, we have to date once or twice, don’t you think?”
“Rafael, have we actually gotten anywhere? We keep talking, but I don’t know how serious you are about whether I’m your first choice. And if I am, what do we still need to do?”
Her persistence might be a problem. He couldn’t seem to escape from cold, hard facts with her. Usually he liked that in a woman, especially if she were going to work for Benton Energy Resources. But when you were planning a temporary marriage that had to work perfectly, persistence was just a pain in the ass.
“You’re my only choice, which puts me in a bad spot if you say no.” He let himself lay it on the line for her, making it clear that she held all the cards. “Look, Esme, this isn’t one of those jobs with specific duties and hours.”
She grinned a little. “Well, seeing as how the primary wifely duty is out, I just wonder what takes its place. I only wash my own dishes, and I only cook if I’m in the mood. For cooking,” she clarified. Then her humor faded again. “Seriously—you have to expect something for that much money.”
“Of course. When my mom and dad come, you’ll have to be the world’s best actress. You’ll have to make them comfortable that you’re my wife because you care about me, not money. You’ll have to show an interest in Justin.” He hesitated, not sure how she’d take his next demand. “You’re not going to be able to sing karaoke at your aunt’s. And you have to promise never to sing ‘Cowboy Casanova’ again.”
She looked surprised. “You didn’t like it?” she asked, disbelief in her voice. “That song is my best—”
“That song is the one she’d sing to Doug Harper whenever he came around. The one he used to help draw attention to himself when he decided he could sing.”
“Oh. I didn’t know.”
“So . . . could you give up everything? I mean, you wouldn’t have to give up riding . . . ”
“My aunt probably won’t let me sing if she knows you don’t want me to,” she muttered. “Look, I’m not sure I want to give up Tía. My whole reason for coming to Truth was to get to know her. And to be honest, if I take this . . . gig . . . it’s to help her.”
He frowned, not missing the slight emphasis on the gig word, nor the stubborn set of her chin when she refused to stop seeing her aunt. “This whole job is about family,” he reminded her curtly. “I’m trying to save mine. You don’t have to sacrifice yours. But you do have to put me first once we’re married, in front of the public, at least.”
He went to his desk and opened the drawer again, pulling out a single sheet of paper with the BER logo. He felt uncomfortable asking her for her personal information, and if she asked, he’d have to admit he’d run a background check on her. He’d hired an employee once with few references and a couple of questionable incidents in his past. The company’s personnel director had tried to override him, but ultimately, he’d used his position to insist. Doug Harper had come on board, and a month or so later, he himself had introduced the country singer wannabe to his sister. To Cody. Never again.
“I’d need you to fill this out. I’m going to handle the job application outside the company, but I need to check references and be sure there aren’t any criminal complaints.”
He’d expected some sharp remark about lack of trust. Or about the damned experience she kept bringing up constantly.
Instead she took the paper, glanced at it, and looked at him. “Got a pen?” she asked.
Chapter Ten
Esme walked around the screened back porch with its comfortable furnishings and bright flower arrangements, admiring the artwork on the walls. She didn’t recognize the artist’s name, but the paintings were beautiful. She lingered in front of one depicting an old gray mare knee deep in bluebonnets, a scene she’d seen from time to time over the years. She thought Cody might have chosen it, because it seemed too dainty for Rafael, in spite of his usual good nature.
He’d gotten a call from his parents just as they were leaving to go eat, and told her he’d be down in a few minutes. Maybe he was right about them being able to keep a safe distance from each other. He seemed to be interrupted by business fairly often.
She heard the door open, but Marie came across the room, her heels clicking loudly on the tiles. In spite of herself, Esme couldn’t help but compliment the shoes: tall, elegant heels in a popular taupe color. “Really pretty shoes, Marie,” she offered. Didn’t all the advice books say to make friends with your husband’s secretary? That thought almost made her snort, which probably wouldn’t have helped patch things up with the woman. But even if she wound up married, he wouldn’t be her husband, just her boss.
“Thank you,” Marie said, pleased. “I came to see if you wanted something to drink while you waited for Rafael.”
“No, I’m good.”
Marie nodded. “Okay. I’m in the library downstairs if you need me. Through the living room and back at the end of the hall.” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Are you going down to Laredo with Rafa?”
“No.” Esme shook her head. “Well, I don’t think so. He hasn’t mentioned it.”
“Hmm. Well, he’s had this trip planned for weeks,” the assistant volunteered, walking over to arrange the throw cushions on the wicker sofa. “You should ask him to take you.”
“I’m from there. It wouldn’t be a pleasure trip,” Esme assured her.
Marie smiled. “All the more reason. He’s from there, too. Look at the time you’d have alone together. To talk. Or whatever.”
“Maybe he’ll ask. We’re going out to eat.”
“He probably won’t,” she disagreed. “He’s always loved to drive off somewhere alone. I guess you’ll be trying to change those habits.” She gave another smile, this one clearly forced. “Besides, he’s used to making plans and not changing them. He won’t think to ask you himself.”
She made another slight adjustment to a coffee table book on birds sitting on a glass table, then nodded again. “Have a nice evening.”
Rafael didn’t come down for another five or six minutes, so Esme kept running the pros and cons of asking to go to Laredo with him. Her only argument against was that she wouldn’t get to spend any time with Domatrix. The pros were the four or five hours alone with him. He’d be forced to talk.
He might expect her to talk, too. That wouldn’t matter. She’d told him about Toby, the most important part of her past. She really didn’t have to discuss any of her other life experiences with him.
“Have you fainted from lack of food yet?” Rafael had changed into a knit shirt and slacks, and she looked down at her T-shirt and jeans with a frown.
“I should have gone home to change.”
“You look fine.” He smiled. “Did you know that the Truth city council voted unanimously to name T-shirts and jeans Truth’s official clothing?”
“You’re kidding me. We couldn’t even wear jeans at school unless we were taking field trips to a farm.”
“Well, here, they’re welcome everywhere. Although there was an amendment; jeans cannot ‘ride low enough to expose objectionable parts of the buttocks to public display.’”
“You are kidding me, right?” she insisted as he escorted her outside.
“No, really. That’s the official language. Marc and I were there because the council had a complaint about Witches Haven, and Cody was out of town. When we heard that, we cracked up. He finally got escorted outside to wait for me.
Now and then I get a picture of somebody’s butt labeled ‘Code Violation.’”
She laughed. “Small towns are something else, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but generally the people are as good as they come.”
“Did you grow up in a city? After your parents adopted you?” They paused by the trucks.
“Houston, yeah. Crazy big city. There’s a lot there, but I always wanted to leave. Coming here has been like coming home, even though I had never lived here.”
He opened the door to her truck. “Meet me at Rosita’s? I thought we might as well take our own vehicles so you wouldn’t have to drive back so late.”
“Okay. I’ll just run home and change.”
“You look fine,” he repeated. “You might not make it back if you go home. Hey, let’s stop at Elrod’s Western. They’re a block away from the restaurant.”
“I’ve seen them from Tía’s. But—”
“I did say I’d cover expenses,” he reminded her. “Our dinners out to attract attention should be covered expenses.”
“We can argue about that later, if it comes up again.” Esme jerked her door open and climbed in. “An hour?”
“Don’t be late, though. I’m starving. If I get through at the bank first, I’ll save you a place.”
In the end, with only an hour, she decided to do just what Rafael had suggested, except that she paid for the filmy, off the shoulder dress she changed into at the store. “Thanks,” she called to the middle-aged woman at the cash register. “I didn’t want to have to go home and come back!”
The woman dismissed the gesture. “No problem. See you around, honey.”
She had parked across the street at Tía’s, and walked over to drop off her T-shirt. Two pick-ups and a delivery truck dotted the parking lot. Even for a weeknight, business was bad. She went back to the restaurant, hoping customers would come later on. She hated to see what the financial worries were doing to her aunt.
Rafael’s empty truck was at the last space on the corner of the block, so he’d apparently beaten her. She walked in and looked around, almost deafened momentarily from the clamor around her. The rough paneled walls sported all kinds of memorabilia ranging from high school and pro sports uniforms to hundreds of pictures of actors and faded movie posters. A high wood counter ran most of the length of the structure, separating it into two eating areas. Well-worn saddles straddled the counter, some of them looking as if they might belong in museums rather than this noisy place.
Nashville Nights Page 72