Prologue
Madrid, Spain: One Year Ago
He wanted to drape her in jewels.
Jonah Landis skimmed his fingers along the bare arm of the woman sleeping next to him and imagined which of the family heirlooms would look best with her dark hair. Rubies? Emeralds? Or perhaps even a string of fat freshwater pearls. His knuckles grazed from her shoulder to her collarbone, his five-o’clock shadow having left a light rasp along her creamy flesh.
He usually didn’t dip into the family treasure trove. He preferred to live off the money he’d made with his own investments. But for Eloisa, he would make an exception.
Early morning light streaked through the wrought-iron window grilles in the seventeenth-century manor home he’d rented for the summer. A gentle breeze rustled the linen draping over the bed. At first he hadn’t even realized she was American, she’d looked so at home walking among the Spanish castle ruins. And exotic. And hot as hell. While she’d picked her way through the scaffolding making notes, he’d lost track of his conversation with fellow investors.
Most labeled him the impulsive one in his family, not that he cared much what others thought of him. Sure he took risks on a regular basis in his work realm and private life, but he always had a plan. And it had always paid off. So far.
Last night, for the first time, he hadn’t planned a damn thing. He’d simply jumped right in with both feet with this coolly intriguing woman. He wasn’t sure how the decision would pan out in the long run, but he knew they were going to have one helluva summer.
The rest? They could take a day at a time.
“Uhmmm,” she sighed, rolling to her side and draping her arm over his hip. “Did I oversleep?”
Her eyes were still closed but their dark, rich color had cloaked the hauteur of an Ottoman empress. He’d lost plenty of time wondering about the woman behind them during historical reconstruction meetings.
He checked the digital clock resting on a carved walnut end table. “It’s only six. We still have a couple of hours before breakfast.”
Eloisa burrowed her head deeper in the feather pillow, her black hair fanning a tempting contrast across white cotton. “Am still so sleepy.”
She should be. They’d stayed up most of the night hav**g s*x…catnapping…showering…and ending up tangled together all over again. It didn’t help that they’d had a few drinks.
He’d limited himself to a couple, but those two seemed to hit her harder than him. He stroked back her long black hair, so smooth it glided through his fingers now as it had when she’d been over him, under him.
He throbbed from wanting her all over again when he should be down for the count for a while yet. She needed the rest more.
Jonah eased from the bed, fresh morning air from outside whispering over his skin. “I’ll call down and have someone from the kitchen send breakfast up here. If you have any preferences, speak now.”
She flipped to her back, eyes still closed as she stretched, her perfectly rounded br**sts on amazing display as the comforter slipped to her waist. “Hmmm, anything is fine with me.” Her words were slurred with sleep. “I’m having the most wonderful dream—”
Eloisa paused, scrunching her forehead. She peeked through barely open inky lashes. “Jonah?”
“Yeah, that would be me.” He stepped into his silk boxers and reached for the phone.
Her gaze darted around his room quickly, orienting. She grasped the comforter and yanked it up, bringing her hand closer to her face. Suddenly she went stock-still and frowned.
“What’s the matter?”
She couldn’t possibly be shy after last night. It wasn’t as if they’d kept the lights off.
“Uh, Jonah?” Her voice squeaked up a notch.
He sank to the edge of the bed and waited, already thinking through at least five different ways he could distract her throughout the summer.
She extended her arm, splaying her fingers wide. Sunshine through the window glinted off the simple gold wedding band he’d placed there last night. Eloisa blinked fast, her eyes going wide with horror.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, thumbing the shiny new ring around and around. “What have we done?”
One
Pensacola, Florida: Present Day
“Congratulations to the bride to be, my little princess!”
The toast from the father of the bride drifted from the deck of the paddleboat, carried by the muggy Pensacola breeze to Eloisa Taylor back on the dock. Eloisa sat dipping her aching feet in the Florida Gulf waters, tired to the roots of her ponytail from helping plan her half sister’s engagement party. Her stepfather had gone all out for Audrey, far more than a tax collector in a cubicle could afford, but nothing was too good for his “little princess.” Still he’d had to settle for a Monday night booking to make the gala affordable.
The echo of clinking glasses mingled with the lap of waves against her feet. Dinner was done, the crowd so well fed no one would miss her. She was good at that, helping people and keeping a low profile.
Putting together this engagement party had been bittersweet, forcing her to think about her own vows. Uncelebrated. Unknown even to her family. Thank God for the quickie divorce that had extracted her from her impulsive midnight marriage almost as fast as she’d entered it.
Usually she managed to smother those recollections, but how could she not think about it now with Audrey’s happily-ever-after tossed in her face 24/7? Not to mention the cryptic voice message she’d received this morning with his voice. Jonah. Even a year after hearing it last, she still recognized the sexy bass.
Eloisa. It’s me. We have to talk.
She swept her wind-whipped ponytail from her face, shivering from the phantom feel of his hand stroking her face. A year ago, she’d indulged herself in checking out the heritage of her real father. A summer indulgence had led her to one totally wrong man with a high-profile life that threatened her carefully protected world. Threatened secrets she held close and deep.
Eloisa blinked back the memories of Jonah, too many given how little time she’d spent with him. They were history now since she’d divorced him. Not that their twenty-four-hour marriage counted in her mind. She should ignore the call and block his number. Or at least wait until after her sister’s “I do” was in the past before contacting him again.
A fish plopped in the distance, sailboat lines clinking against masts. The rhythmic, familiar sounds soothed her. She soaked up the other sounds of home, greedily gathering every bit of comfort she could find. Emerald-green waters reflected a pregnant moon. Wind rustled through palm trees.
An engine growled softly in the distance.
So much for a late-night solitary moment. She shook dry one foot, then the other and glanced over her shoulder. A limo rolled closer. Late arriving guests? Really late since after-dinner dancing was well underway.
Reaching for her sandals she watched the long black stretch of machine inching beside the waterway. The shape of the sleek vehicle wasn’t your average wedding limo. The distinctive grille glinted in the moonlight, advertising the approach of an exclusive Rolls-Royce. Tinted windows sealed off the passengers from view, but left her feeling like a butterfly pinned to the board of a science project. The private area should be safe. Yet, was anywhere totally secure, especially in the dark?
Goose bumps stung along her skin and her mouth went dry. She yanked on her shoes, chiding herself for being silly. But still, Audrey’s fiancé was reputed to have some shady connections. Her stepdad could only see power and dollar signs, apparently unconcerned with the crooked path that money took.
Not that any of those questionable contacts had cause to hurt her. All the same, she should return to the floating party barge.
Eloisa jumped to her feet.
The limo sped up.
She swallowed hard, wishing she’d taken a self-defense class along the way to earning her library studies degree.
Okay, no need to go all paranoid. She forced her hands to stay loose and started walking. Only about thirty yards ahead, and she would alert the crew member at the gangway. Then she could lose herself in the crowd of dancers under the strings of white lights. The engine grew louder behind her. Eloisa strode longer, faster.
Each breath felt heavier, the salt in the air stinging her over-sensitive pores. Her low heel caught between planks on the boardwalk. She lurched forward just as the car stopped in front of her.
A back door swung wide—not even waiting for the chauffeur—and blocked her getaway. She couldn’t continue ahead, only sideways into the car or into the water. Or she could back up, which would take her farther from the boat. Frantically she searched for help. Would any of those seventy-five potential witnesses in party finery whooping it up to an old Kool and the Gang song notice or hear her?
One black-clad leg swung out of the limo, the rest of the man still hidden. However that Ferragamo python loafer was enough to send her heart skittering. She’d only met one man who favored those, and she hated how she still remembered the look and brand.
She backed away, one plank at a time, assessing the man as he angled out. She hoped, prayed for some sign to let her off the hook. Gray hair? A beer belly? Anything non-Jonah.
But no such luck. The hard-muscled guy wore all black, a dark suit jacket, the top button of his shirt undone and tie loose. He wore his brown hair almost shoulder length and swept back from his face to reveal a strong, square jaw.
A jaw far more familiar than any shoes. Nerves danced in her stomach far faster than even the partiers gyrating to the live band on the boat.
He pivoted on his heel, facing her full on, the moonlight glinting off the chestnut hints in his wavy hair. Sunglasses shielded his eyes from her. Shades at night? For a low profile or ego?
Regardless, she knew. Her ex-husband wasn’t content with just calling and leaving a message. No, not Jonah. The powerful international scion she’d divorced a year ago had returned.
Jonah Landis whipped off his sunglasses, glanced at his watch and grinned. “Sorry I’m late. Have we missed the party?”
To hell with any party. Jonah Landis wanted to find out why Eloisa hadn’t told him the entire truth when she’d demanded a divorce a year ago. He also wanted to know why his passionate lover had so dispassionately cut him off.
The stunned look on Eloisa’s face as she stopped cold on the dock would have been priceless if he wasn’t so damn mad over the secret she’d kept from him, a secret that he’d only just found out was gumming up the works on their divorce decree.
Of course when he’d met her in Madrid a year ago, he’d been distracted by the instantaneous, mind-blowing chemistry between them. And looking at her now, seeing her quiet elegance, he figured he could cut himself some slack on missing details that could have clued him in—like how much she’d fit into her Spanish surroundings.
The woman was a walking distraction.
Wind molded her tan silk dress around her body. The dimly lit night played tricks with his vision until she looked nearly nak*d, clothed only in shifting shadows. Had she known that when she chose the dress? Likely not. Eloisa seemed oblivious to her allure, which only served to enhance her appeal.