He didn’t answer, and in the quiet, she remembered his words. You can trust me. Without any warning at all, she suddenly wanted to pour out her heart and tell him what had happened. To ask his advice. Kelman’s words had left her breathless, but now she was confused. Was she imagining things or had the man really been talking about her children? It seemed impossible for him to know her background—Reina knew, yet would have never told him—but what else could he have been referring to? And even more importantly, why?
She started to speak, then all at once, the parade began with firecrackers and booming music. A colorful crowd of marchers—and watchers—surged into the street just outside the windows. Conversation was now impossible. The café, so silent a second before, filled almost instantly with the overflow from outside, the narrow walkways suddenly packed as the procession reached the closest corner.
Emma turned to watch, her words on hold. On the shoulders of half-a-dozen men, now coming up the pavement, rested a statue of the orphanage’s patron saint. Painted in bright colors and tinted with gold leaf, the carved wooden image commanded a position above the throng. Behind it, the girls walked hand in hand, their white dresses starched and ironed, gleaming in the dying light of evening.
Above the music and shouts of the crowd was another noise, something more pressing. Emma looked at the clouds over the cathedral. Just as she did, a jagged streak of lightning lit up the sky. A moment later, the rain began.
THEY REMAINED in the café while the crowds in front of the window fled from the downpour. Raul studied Emma as they waited. She could feel his steady stare and knew he wanted to ask her what was going on with Kelman. But he didn’t.
After an hour, it was clear the rain was not going to quit. It came down in sheets, cold and without mercy. The street was already flooded, the muddy water floating over the curb to splash along the sidewalk. They discussed the situation, Raul deciding finally they couldn’t wait any longer. He dashed outside into the rain to retrieve the truck only to return a short time later with bad news.
“There’s something wrong with the Rover.” He shook his head, which sent out a flurry of raindrops. “I can’t get it started. I seriously doubt I can get it looked at this late, either. Is there somewhere we could stay the night?”
Her pulse quickened. “There’s a small hotel over by the orphanage.”
“I suggest we head for it,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming. “There doesn’t seem to be another alternative right now.”
She nodded once, her eyes on his. If there was a different option, she didn’t really want to know what it was.
The small hotel had been a convent a hundred years before. They ran into the lobby, dripping wet from their dash from the cab they’d taken. With cash in hand, Raul quickly made his way to the front of the line, and a minute later, he returned with two keys.
They followed the bellboy out of the lobby and down a dark corridor. After a few minutes of twisting turns and blind corners, the hallway unexpectedly opened into an interior atrium. The wind and rain hadn’t relented and, in fact, seemed to be growing. The roses planted in the tiny, protected area whipped about under the cruel onslaught, their bloodred blossoms trembling as they brushed the ground. The temperature had dropped, as well, and Emma found herself shivering.
They continued down the hallway, making so many more turns that Emma was completely disoriented. She thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but it was only shadows, perhaps the ghosts of the long-ago nuns. Finally, at the end of one particularly dark corridor, the bellboy stopped in front of a set of double doors. They looked heavy and solid, and were made of carved wood. Taking Emma’s key, he unlocked them and pushed them open to reveal a tiny room.
It was as spare as it had been when the nuns lived in it. Whitewashed walls. One lone window set high up. Two twin beds with a small chest between them. A single door led to an even smaller bathroom. There was nothing else.
“It’s all they had,” Raul told her. “Mine’s down the hall—even smaller, they said.”
“This is fine,” she said. “Just fine.”
But it wasn’t.
It was lonely and stark and totally without warmth. She’d go nuts in there by herself, and she didn’t like it a bit. She wanted one room and one big bed.
And Raul’s arms around her the whole night long.
He looked down at her, and that was all it took. He turned and gave the bellboy a handful of bolivianos and the key to the other room. Neither of them heard the doors close.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EMMA DIDN’T SPEAK. She simply moved into his arms and laid her head against his chest. Raul wanted to tell her to stop, that what they were doing was wrong, that she’d hate him later, but he couldn’t. She was too beautiful and too warm and too sexy, and if keeping secrets from her was what he had to do, then he’d just have to add that to his growing list of sins and pray for mercy later.
He folded his arms around her and pulled her closer. Kelman had done or said something while Raul had been away from the table, and it had sent Emma over the edge. He was a bastard for knowing this and taking advantage of it, but he was a man, as well. He’d been able to think of little else but holding her in his arms ever since the last time they’d made love.
She moved into his embrace and made a sound deep in her throat, a sound that echoed inside him, then she lifted her face to his and started to speak. He stopped her by kissing her. Whatever she wanted to tell him, he didn’t want to know. All he wanted was to feel her body against his and somehow ease the pain he saw in her eyes. Nothing else mattered but that. The feel of her lips, so soft and giving, swept away the very last chance he had at resisting.
She accepted his kiss and opened her mouth to his. Beneath her sweet taste, he could sense her trembling desire. She wanted to forget as much as he wanted to erase.
They stood that way for another moment, consumed with the need to feel, then Raul picked her up and carried her across the tiny room to one of the beds. He set her down and began to undo her buttons, but she shook her head almost impatiently and replaced his fingers with her own. In seconds, she’d shed her blouse and her slacks and stood before him in a pale pink bra and panties edged with lace.
She was so beautiful, so perfect, and all she wanted from him was himself. She wasn’t getting who she thought she was, though. Once he had been a man a woman like her might have loved, but not now. He was too hard, too cold, too unforgiving. Women like Emma Toussaint didn’t make love with the kind of man he’d become, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.
Instead, in the cold darkness of the tiny hotel room, as the thunder rumbled and the rain pounded, he took off his own clothes. And then he reached for her.
HIS HANDS WERE COLD as they gripped her shoulders, but almost immediately, they warmed against the heat of her skin. Emma let Raul bring her closer, the wall of his chest flattening her breasts. The first time they’d made love she’d registered nothing but the passion inside her. This time, the details came into focus. His body was lean, hard and trim. Underneath the expensive clothing and polished appearance, he had the physique of a man accustomed to physical labor. She wondered about it briefly, then all thoughts fled as she was consumed by the sensations assaulting her—his fingers brushing her neck, his mouth pressing her own, his broad back beneath her hands.
Once again, his touch was magic, and the feel of his heated caress was more than she could handle. He seemed to sense her reaction and started to pull back…but she tightened her hands on his waist and murmured her assent. He moaned his own answer and cradled the back of her head in his hand, kissing her even more deeply, demanding she give just as much.
And so she gave—her tongue sought his, and her fingertips smoothed his body. She couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t fill herself with his strength as quickly as her heart demanded. Her hands flitted over his body, stopping here and there, the contact both hot and cold at once. He met each of her strokes with one of his own
, his hands playing against her skin and making her tremble with a need she hadn’t ever known until meeting Raul.
A moment later, he lowered her to the bed behind them. The rest of her clothing—the bra and panties—disappeared under his expert touch until there was nothing between them. In the barest light coming through the high window overhead, his dark muscles gleamed against her pale skin.
After that, it was all a blur. She felt him kissing her, felt him touching her most private parts, felt herself giving to him everything she’d been holding back. Her secrets, her pain, every hurt and every ache, she relinquished them all to the heat of Raul’s passion. He took them, as she’d known he would, and turned them into pure desire.
His mouth covering hers, he rolled over on the bed and brought her to her side, tucking her back against his front. It was the only way they could both fit on the bed, but it didn’t matter to Emma. She was past the point of caring. All she could think about was the heat of his body as it pressed into hers. From her shoulders to her hips, to the bottoms of her feet, she felt consumed by this man—which was exactly what she wanted.
He threw a leg over her hip and she responded, fitting her body more comfortably against his. He rained kisses on her bare back, sending shivers up and down her spine. Reaching around, he cupped one breast and then the other. His touch was urgent and grew even more so as it slipped downward.
As his fingers came to the juncture of her thighs, she arched into his hand with a gasp. He murmured in her ear, his breath at once hot and sweet as he spoke. Her name, she realized through a haze. He was saying her name. Then she heard nothing, nothing but the blood rushing in her veins, nothing but her pulse as it roared, nothing but the call of her heart as he moved his hand quickly and increased the rhythm of his touch. She cried out and collapsed against him.
He didn’t wait for her to recover. Instead, he coaxed her around to face him. Limp with desire, she stared into his eyes. They were black and endless, and in them she read what she’d suspected all along. He was as lost as she was, and needed this almost more. Reaching down between them she grasped his erection with her hand. He was already prepared. She guided him toward her and a moment later her world exploded.
EMMA WOKE UP in the middle of the night, gasping and desperate. The room was so dark she felt as if she were underwater, in a tunnel, with no way out. Her heart pounding with fear, she struggled up from the twisted covers and started to scream.
Then Raul reached for her. “Emma…Emma. It’s okay, darling. Calm down!”
The words reached through the panic and returned her to reality. She fell back against the mattress, her pulse still racing, her breath coming fast. “Oh, God…” she moaned. “I…I didn’t know where I was for a minute. It was so dark…”
He patted her bare shoulder comfortingly, then pulled her closer to him. The bed seemed even smaller now than it had been when they were making love, but she didn’t mind. She wanted to absorb as much of his warmth and presence as she could.
“It’s okay,” he said again. “It’s all right.”
She laughed, a little self-conscious. “I’m sorry. I woke up and I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” he answered. “I was already awake.”
She turned his wrist to look at his watch. “It’s 2 a.m. Why weren’t you sleeping?”
He took a slow, deep breath. She could feel his chest rise with the movement, and behind the motion she felt the weight of a decision he seemed to be making. She tensed.
“I was thinking…” he said.
“About what?”
“About you,” he answered. “And William Kelman.”
She lay perfectly still within his arms.
“I want to know what’s going on between the two of you. It’s time for you to tell me.”
“I could say the same,” she shot back. “I think you share some secrets with him, as well.”
He propped himself up with his elbow, then reached out with his other hand and pulled her chin toward him. When she was finally facing him, he spoke again. “William Kelman and I go back a very long way. I know what kind of man he is. Do I need to say more?”
“I don’t know,” Emma replied. Her heart was doing a funny dance. “Is there more?”
“Yes…but it’s not important.”
“I don’t believe you. I think it’s very important.”
He ignored her. “Tell me what’s going on between you two.”
She shook her head, then stopped. She’d just shared her body with this man, her body and her passion. Like some kind of a surgeon, he’d taken the pain from her heart, excised it cleanly—if only for a little while. She owed him.
But not this.
“I can’t,” she said quietly. “What happens in my office has to stay there. It’s the same kind of trust you talked to me about before—that’s what I have to have between myself and my clients.”
“Even if I can help you?”
“You can’t,” she said bluntly. “No one can.”
His eyes pierced hers in the darkness. “I know men like Kelman,” he told her. “I’ve fought them, too.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway.” She shook her head. “It’s over.”
“Did he win?”
“Win?” She looked at him curiously. “No…I wouldn’t say he won. But it wasn’t some kind of contest or anything.”
“Maybe not to you.” His expression was grim.
A shiver passed through her. “What do you mean?”
“He’s not the type to give up, Emma. If you didn’t provide him with what he wanted, whatever it was, he’ll return—and stay until he gets it.”
“I don’t think so.”
He had his hand on her arm, and when she answered, his grip tightened almost painfully. “Listen to me,” he said. “You don’t know this man like I do. He’s ruthless. You need to tell me what’s going on. I can help you.”
Something in his voice scared her. It was his intensity, she realized with a start. It was as strong as the passion they’d shared a few hours earlier. She pulled away and stared at him, then almost immediately, he seemed to realize what he was doing. He backed down, but only slightly.
“He uses people, Emma, and he doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as he gets what he wants. I’ve known lots of men like him, but he’s the worst.”
Emma took a deep breath. “Did you know these men…in prison?”
In the tiny line of light coming through the nearby window, his eyes glittered. “Why do you ask me that?”
“I’ve heard things,” she answered. “Santa Cruz is a small town. There’s gossip.”
“Would you care if it was true?”
She’d already asked herself that question, but the answer was as elusive as ever. “I don’t know,” she confessed.
“Then take it for what it is, and someday, if you still care, I’ll explain. Right now, you need to think about what’s going on, and it boils down to this—if William Kelman is doing something he shouldn’t be, and you’re involved, you need to tell me.”
He waited for her to say something—anything—but no words came. She was relieved he hadn’t answered her question, relieved yet frightened, and she struggled to know how to respond. Finally, he reached out and pulled her closer. With his hands on her body and her name on his breath, he took her back to the place where she felt safest….
THE DAWN WAS so beautiful it seemed as if the night before had been a dream. Raul would have thought he’d fantasized it all, except for the evidence—Emma sleeping beside him when he’d awoken.
He’d been tempted to tell her the truth earlier, the words right on his tongue. Who Kelman really was. How he’d framed him. What he would do to her, allowed half a chance.
But the fragile trust she’d given him would be instantly destroyed by that harsh reality. Emma was a smart woman, and she would figure out everything immediately. The consequence of that was obvious; she would never fo
rgive him, and both of them would lose. He’d never get Kelman. And that was still his main goal, right?
No, Raul was going to have to hope for the best—that he’d be able to protect her when the time came and Kelman’s trap was sprung.
And there was a trap. There had to be, even if she wouldn’t tell Raul it was. He eased himself up in the bed and slowly pulled away from Emma’s still form. Reaching for her purse, he dug around until he found the proof he needed. The small black disk, disguised as a button, gleamed malevolently in the darkness.
A bug.
Kelman had had his man bump into Emma in the street to distract her. Then he’d slipped the tracking device into her purse and she hadn’t even known it. It was the only way he could have found her in Samaipata. But he hadn’t counted on Raul.
He looked at the tiny disk in the palm of his hand and nodded his head. This explained the truck. He hadn’t wanted to upset Emma, so he’d kept it to himself, but someone had tampered with the engine; it hadn’t been a simple mechanical breakdown that had stranded them last night. Now he understood. But why keep them here in Samaipata? The question left Raul uneasy.
Levering his thumbnail under the rim of the bug, he popped the plastic edges apart. The wires were thin and he snapped them with one twist.
Emma stirred as he put the bug back together and dropped it into her purse. When she finally opened her eyes, he was sitting in the chair opposite the bed, looking at her.
“You’re awake already,” she said. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
He shook his head. “Not when there’s a beautiful woman nearby.”
In the subtle light of early morning, she smiled softly, sensually. “If that’s how you feel, then what are you doing on the other side of the room?”
He answered her by putting the rest of his thoughts on hold, and crossing the space between them.
THE COBBLESTONE STREETS were washed and clean. Raul had left the hotel early and found a mechanic, and now Emma, heading for the newly repaired Range Rover, bag in hand, listened as the peal of the cathedral bells filled the square. The air felt different than it had yesterday, sharper and fresher, but glancing at Raul, Emma realized she was mistaken; it wasn’t the air that was different. It was her.
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