The Most Expensive Lie of All

When he’d asked her to meet him after the game she had jumped at the chance, knowing she’d dance on the sun in a bear suit if it would mean he’d lend her the last ten million she needed to keep Ocean Haven. Though by the gleam in his eyes he’d probably want her naked—and she wasn’t so desperate that she’d actually hawk herself.

Yet.

Ever, she amended.

So she continued to smile and present her plan to turn ‘The Farm’, as Ocean Haven was lovingly referred to, into a viable commercial entity that any savvy businessman would feel remiss for not investing in. So far two of her grandfather’s old friends had come on board, but she was fast feeling as if she was running out of options to find the rest. Ten million was small change to Billy and, she thought, ignoring the way his eyes made her skin crawl as if she was covered in live ants, he seemed genuinely interested.

‘Your grandpop would be rolling in his grave at the thought of the Smyths investing in The Farm,’ he announced.

True—but only because her grandfather had been an unforgiving, hard-headed traditionalist. ‘He’s not here anymore.’ Aspen reminded him. ‘And without the money Uncle Joe is going to sell to the highest bidder.’

Billy cocked his head and considered his way slowly down to her feet and just as slowly back up. ‘Word is he already has a winner.’

Aspen took a minute to relax her shoulders, telling herself that Billy really didn’t mean to be offensive. ‘Yes. Some super-rich consortium that will no doubt want to put a hotel on it. But I’m determined to keep The Farm in the family. I’m sure you understand how important that is, being such a devoted family man yourself.’

A slow smile crept over Billy’s face and Aspen inwardly groaned. She was trying too hard and they both knew it.

‘Yes, indeed I do.’

Billy leered. His smile grew wider. And when he rocked back on his heels Aspen sent up a silent prayer to save her from having to deal with arrogant men ever again.

Because that was exactly why she was in this situation in the first place. Her grandfather had believed in three things: testosterone, power, and tradition. In other words men should inherit the earth while women should be grateful that they had. And he had used his fearsome iron will to control everyone who dared to disagree with him.

When her mother had died suddenly just before Aspen’s tenth birthday and—surprise surprise—her errant father couldn’t be located, Aspen had been sent to live with her grandfather and her uncle. Her grandmother had passed away a long time before. Aspen had liked Uncle Joe immediately, but he’d never been much of an advocate for her during her grandfather’s attempts to turn her into the perfect debutante.

So far she had been at the mercy of her controlling grandfather, then her controlling ex, and now her misguided, henpecked uncle.

‘I’m sorry Aspen,’ her Uncle Joe had said when she’d managed to pin him down in the library a month ago. ‘Father left the property in my hands to do with as I saw fit.’

‘Yes, but he wouldn’t have expected you to sell it,’ Aspen had beseeched him.

‘He shouldn’t have expected Joe to sort out the mess of his finances either,’ Joe’s determined wife Tammy had whined.

‘He wasn’t well these last few years.’ Aspen had appealed to her aunt, but, knowing that wouldn’t do any good, had turned back to her uncle. ‘Don’t sell Ocean Haven, Uncle Joe. Please. It’s been in our family for one hundred and fifty years. Your blood is in this land.’

Her mother’s heart was here in this land.

But her uncle had shaken his head. ‘I’m sorry, Aspen, I need the money. But unlike Father I’m not a greedy man. If you can raise the price I need in time for my Russian investment, with a little left over for the house Tammy wants in Knightsbridge, then you can have Ocean Haven and all the problems that go with it.’

‘What?’

‘What?’

Aspen and her Aunt Tammy had cried in unison.

‘Joseph Carmichael, that is preposterous,’ Tammy had said.

But for once Uncle Joe had stood up to his wife. ‘I’d always planned to provide for Aspen, so this is a way to do it. But I think you’re crazy for wanting to keep this place.’ He’d shaken his head at her.

Aspen had been so happy she had all but floated out of the room. Then reality at what exactly her uncle had offered had set in and she’d got the shakes. It was an enormous amount of money to pay back but she knew if she got the chance she could do it.

The horn signifying the end of the last chukka blew and Aspen pushed aside her fear that maybe she was just a little crazy.

‘Listen, Billy, it’s a great deal,’ she snapped, forgetting all about the proper manners her grandfather had drummed into her as a child, and also forgetting that Billy was probably her last great hope of controlling her own future. ‘Take it or leave it.’

Oh, yes and losing that firecracker temper of yours is sure to sway him, she berated herself.

A tiny dust cloud rose between them as Billy made a figure eight with his boots in the dirt. ‘The thing is, Aspen, we’re busy enough over at Oaks Place, and even though you’ve done a good job of hiding it The Farm needs a lot of work.’

‘It needs some,’ Aspen agreed with forced calm, thinking she hadn’t done a good job at all if he’d seen through her patchwork maintenance attempts. ‘But I’ve factored all that into the plan.’ Sort of.

‘I just think I need a bit more of a persuasive argument if I’m to take this to my daddy,’ he suggested, a certain look crossing his pampered face.

‘Like...?’ A tight band had formed around Aspen’s chest because, really, it was hard to miss what he meant.

‘Well, hell, Aspen, you’re not that naïve. You have been married.’

Yes, unfortunately she had. But all that had done was make her determined that she would never be at any man’s mercy again. Which was exactly where arrogant, controlling men like this one wanted their women to be. ‘For just you, Billy?’ she simpered. ‘Or for your daddy as well?’

It took Mr Cocksure a second or two to realise she was yanking his chain and when he did his big head reared back and his eyes narrowed. ‘I ain’t no pimp, lady.’

‘No,’ she said calmly, flicking her riot of honey-coloured spiral curls back over her shoulder. ‘What you are is a dirty, rotten rat and I can see why Grandpa Charles said your kind were just slime.’ Who gave a damn about proper manners anyway?

Instead of getting angry Billy threw back his head and hooted with laughter. ‘You know. I can’t believe the rumours that you’re a cold one in the sack. Not with all that fire shooting out of those pretty green eyes of yours.’ He reached out and ran a finger down the side of her cheek and grinned when she raised her hand to rub at it. ‘Let me know when you change your mind. I like a woman with attitude.’

Before she could open her mouth to tell him she’d mention that to his wife he sauntered off, leaving her spitting mad. She watched him pick up a glass of champagne from a table before joining a group of sweaty riders and willed someone to grab it and throw it all over him.

Of course no one did. Fate wasn’t that kind.

Turning away in disgust, she cursed under her breath when a gust of hot wind whipped her hair across her face. Too angry to stop and clear her vision, she would have walked straight into a wall if it hadn’t reached out and grabbed her by her upper arms.

With a soft gasp she looked up, about to thank whoever had saved her. But the words never came and the quick smile froze on her face as she found herself staring into the hard eyes of a man she had thought she would never see in the flesh again.

The air between them split apart and reformed, vibrating with emotion as Cruz Rodriquez stared down at her with such cold detachment she nearly shivered.

Eight years dissolved into dust. Guilt, shame and a host of other emotions all sparked for dominance inside her.

‘I...’ Aspen blinked, her mind scrambling for poise...words...something.

‘Hello, Aspen. Nice to see you again.’

Aspen blinked at the incongruity of those words. He might as well have said Off with her head.

‘I...’

CHAPTER TWO

CRUZ STARED DOWN at the slender woman whose smooth arms he held and wished he hadn’t left his sunglasses in the car. At seventeen Aspen Carmichael had been full of sexual promise. Eight years later, with her golden mane flowing down past her shoulders and the top button of her dress artfully popped open to reveal the upper swell of her creamy assets, she had well and truly delivered. And he was finding it hard not to take her all in at once.

‘You...?’ he prompted casually, dropping his hands and raising his eyes from her cleavage.

She glanced down and quickly closed the top of her dress. Clearly only men offering part of their vast fortunes were allowed to view the merchandise. The realisation of his earlier assumption as to what she might be using as leverage to raise her cash was for some reason profoundly disappointing.

‘I...’ She shook her head as if to clear it. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Old Charlie would roll over in his grave if he heard you greeting a polo patron like that,’ Cruz drawled. Even one he didn’t think would ever be good enough for his perfect little granddaughter, he added silently.

Cruz’s velveteen voice, with no hint at all of his Mexican heritage, scraped over Aspen’s already raw nerves and she didn’t manage to contain the shiver this time.

She couldn’t tell his frame of mind but she knew hers and it was definitely disturbed. ‘My grandfather probably feels like he’s on a spit roast at the moment.’ She smiled, trying for light amusement to ease the tension that lay as thick as the issues of the past between them.

‘Are you implying he’s in hell, Aspen?’

He probably was, Aspen thought, but that wasn’t what she’d meant. ‘No. I just...you’re right.’ She shook her head, wondering what had happened to her manners. Her composure. Her brain. ‘That was a terrible greeting. Shall we start again?’

Without waiting for him to reply she stuck out her hand, ignoring the racing memories causing her heart to beat double time.

‘Hello, Cruz, welcome back to Ocean Haven. You’re looking well.’ Which was a half-truth if ever she’d uttered one.

The man didn’t look well. He looked superb.

His thick black hair that sat just fashionably shy of his expensive suit jacket and his piercing black eyes and square-cut jaw were even more beautiful than she remembered. He’d always had a strong, angular face and powerful body, but eight years had done him a load of favours in the looks department, settling a handsome maturity over the youthful virility he’d always worn like a cloak.

The apology she’d never got to voice for her part in the acrimonious accusations that had no doubt contributed to him leaving Ocean Haven eight years ago hovered behind her closed lips, but it seemed awkward to just blurt it out.

How could she tell him that a couple of months after that night she had written him a letter explaining everything but hadn’t had the wherewithal to send it without feeling a deep sense of shame at her ineptitude? It was little comfort knowing she’d been distracted by her grandfather’s stroke at the time, because she knew her behaviour that night had probably brought that on too. After he had recovered sending Cruz a letter had seemed like too little too late, and she’d pushed out of her mind the man who had fascinated her during most of her teenage years.

And maybe he was here now to let bygones be bygones. She didn’t know, but why pre-empt anything with her own guilt-riddled memories?

Because it would make you feel better, that’s why.

‘As are you.’

As she was what? Oh, looking well. ‘Thank you.’ She ran a nervous hand down the side of her dress and then pretended she was flicking off horse dust. ‘So...ah...are you here for the polo? The last chukka just finished, but—’

‘I’m not here for the polo.’

Aspen hated the anxious feeling that had settled over her and raised her chin. ‘Well, there’s champagne in the central marquee. Just tell Judy that I sent—’

‘I’m not here for the champagne either.’

Even more perturbed by the way he regarded her with such cool detachment she felt as if she was frying under the blasted summer sun. ‘Well, it would be great if you could tell me what you are here for because I have a few more people to schmooze before they leave. You know how these things go.’

He looked at her as if he was seeing right inside her. As if he knew all her secrets. As if he could see how desperately uncomfortable she was. Impossible, she thought, telling herself to get a grip.

Cruz could almost see the sweat breaking out over Aspen’s body and noted the way her cat-green eyes wouldn’t quite meet his. He didn’t know if that was because he was keeping her from an assignation with Billy Smyth, or someone else, or because she could feel the chemistry that lay between them like a grenade with the pin pulled.

Whatever it was, she wasn’t leaving his side until he had won over her confidence and figured out a way to handle the situation.

His brother’s silky question about ‘handling the lovely Aspen Carmichael’ came into his head. He knew what Ricardo had meant and looking at Aspen now, in her svelte designer dress and ‘come take me’ heels, her wild hair curling down around her shoulders as if she’d just rolled out of her latest lover’s bed, he had no doubt many men had ‘handled’ her that way before. But not him. Never him.

So far he’d drawn a blank as to how to contain her money-grabbing endeavours without alerting her to his own interest in Ocean Haven. Until he did he’d just have to rein himself in and keep his eyes away from her sexy mouth.

‘I’m here to buy a horse, Aspen. What else?’

‘A horse?’

Aspen blinked. That was the last thing she had expected him to say, though what she had expected she couldn’t say.

‘You do have one for sale, don’t you?’ he continued silkily.

Aspen cleared her throat. ‘Gypsy Blue. She’s a thoroughbred. Ex-racing stock and she’s gorgeous.’

‘I have no doubt.’

Aspen frowned at his tone, wondering why he seemed so tense. Not that he looked tense. In his bespoke suit with his hands in his pockets, his hair casually ruffled by the warm breeze, he looked like a man who didn’t have a care in the world. But the vibe she was picking up from him was making her feel edgy—and surely that wasn’t just because of her sense of guilt.

‘Are you hoping the horse will materialise in front of us, Aspen, or are you going to take me to see her?’

‘I...’ Aspen felt stupid, and not a little perturbed to be standing there trying not to look at his chiselled mouth. Which was nearly impossible when the memory of the kiss they had shared on that awful night was swirling inside her head. ‘Of course.’ She glanced around, hoping to see Donny, but knew that was cowardly. It was really her responsibility to show him the mare, not her chief groom’s.

‘She played earlier today, so she should be in the south stables.’ It was just rotten luck that she happened to be in the building where she had kissed Cruz on that fateful night. ‘Hey, why don’t I take you past the east paddock?’ she said, using anything as a possible distraction. ‘Trigger is out there, and I know he’d remember you and—’

‘I’m not here on a social visit, Aspen.’

And don’t mistake it for one, his tone implied.

No polo, no champagne, no socialising. Got it.

Still, she hesitated at his sharp tone. Then decided to let it drop and listened to the sound of their feet crunching the gravel as they walked away from the busy sounds of horse-owners loading tired horses into their respective trucks. It was all very normal and busy at the end of the afternoon’s practice, and yet Aspen felt as if she was wading through quicksand with Cruz beside her.

She cast a curious glance at him and wondered if he felt the same way. Or maybe he didn’t feel anything at all and just wanted to do his business and head out like everyone else. In a way she hoped that was the case, because the shock of seeing him again had worn off and his tension was raising her stress levels to dangerous proportions.

But then he had a reason for being tense, she reminded herself, and her skin flushed hotly as the weight of the past bore down on her. Years ago she had promised herself that she would never let pride interfere with the decisions she made in her life, but in avoiding the elephant walking alongside them wasn’t that exactly what she was doing now?

Taking a deep breath, she stopped just short of the stable doors and turned to Cruz, determined to rectify the situation as best she could before they made it inside.

Shading her eyes with one hand, she looked up into his face. Had he always been this tall? This broad? This good-looking?

‘Cruz, listen. This feels really awkward, but you took me by surprise before when I ran into you—literally.’ She released a shaky breath. ‘I want you to know that I feel terrible about the way you left The Farm all those years ago, and I’m truly sorry for the role I played in that.’

‘Are you?’ he asked coolly.

‘Yes, of course. I never meant for you to get into trouble.’

Cruz didn’t move a muscle.

‘I didn’t!’ Aspen felt her temper flare at his dubious look, hating how defensive she sounded.

She’d gone down to the stables that night because Chad—now thankfully her ex—had stayed for dinner so he could present his idea to her grandfather that he would marry her as soon as she turned eighteen. Aspen remembered how overwhelmed she had felt when neither man would consider her desire to study before she even thought about the prospect of marriage.

She’d known it was what her grandfather wanted, and at the time pleasing him had been more important than pleasing herself. So she’d done what she’d always done when she was stressed and gone down to be with the horses and to reconnect with her mother in her special place in the main stable.

Gone to try and make sense of her feelings.

Of course in hindsight letting her frustration get to her and kicking the side of the stable wall in steel-capped boots hadn’t been all that clever, because it had brought Cruz down from his apartment over the garage to investigate.

She remembered that he had looked gorgeous and lean and bad in dirty jeans and a half-buttoned shirt, as if he had just climbed out of bed.

‘What’s got you in a snit, chiquita?’ he’d said, the intensity of his heavy-lidded gaze in the dim light belying the relaxed humour in his voice.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ she’d thrown back at him challengingly.

Inwardly grimacing, she remembered how she had flicked her hair back over her shoulder in an unconscious gesture to get his full attention. She hadn’t known what she was inviting—not really—but she hadn’t wanted him to go. For some reason she had remembered the time she had come across him kissing a girlfriend in the outer barn, and the soft, pleasure-filled moans the girl had made had filled her ears that night.

Acting purely on instinct she had wandered from horse stall to horse stall, eventually coming to a stop directly in front of him. The warm glow of his torch had seemed to make the world contract, so that it had felt as if they were the only two people in it. Aspen was pretty sure she’d reached for him first, but seconds later she had been bent over his arm and he had been kissing her.

Her first kiss.

She felt her breathing grow shallow at the memory.

Something had fired in her system that night—desperation, lust, need—whatever it had been she’d never felt anything like it before or since.

Looking back, it was obvious that a feeling of entrapment—a feeling of having no say over her future—had driven her into the stables that night, but it had been Cruz’s sheer animal magnetism that had driven her into his arms.

Not that she really wanted to admit any of that to him right now. Not when he looked so...bored.

‘This is old news, Aspen, and I’m not in the mood to reminisce.’

‘That’s your prerogative. But I want you to know that I told my grandfather the next day that he’d got it wrong.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ But her grandfather had cut her off with a look of disgust she hadn’t wanted to face. She looked up at Cruz now, more sorry than she could say. ‘I’m—’

‘Truly sorry? So you said. Have you become prone to repeating yourself?’

Aspen blinked up at him. Was it her imagination or did he hate her? ‘No, but I don’t think you believe me,’ she said carefully.

‘Does it matter if I do?’

‘Well, we used to be friends.’

‘We were never friends, Aspen. But I was glad to see your little indiscretion didn’t stop Anderson from marrying you.’

Aspen moistened her parched lips. ‘Grandfather thought it best if I didn’t tell him.’

Cruz barked out a laugh. ‘Well, now I almost feel sorry for the fool. If he’d known what a disloyal little cheat you were from the start he might have saved himself the heartache at the end.’

Oh, yes, he hated her all right. ‘Look, I’m sorry I brought it up. I just wanted to clear the air between us.’

‘There’s nothing to clear as far as I’m concerned.’

Aspen studied him warily. He wasn’t moving but she felt as if she was being circled by a predator. A very angry predator. She didn’t believe that he was at all okay with what had transpired between them but who was she to push it?

‘I made a mistake, but as you said you’re not here to reminisce.’ And nor was she. Particularly not about a time in her life she would much rather forget had ever happened.

She turned sharply towards the stables and kept up a brisk pace until she reached the doors, only starting to feel herself relax as she entered the cooler interior, her high heels clicking loudly on the bluestone floor. Her nose was filled with the sweet scent of horse and hay.

Cruz followed and Aspen glanced around at the worn tack hanging from metal bars and the various frayed blankets and dirty buckets that waited for Donny and her to come and finish them off for the day. The high beams of the hayloft needed a fresh coat of paint, and if you looked closely there were tiny pinpricks of sunlight streaming in through the tin roof where there shouldn’t be. She hoped Cruz didn’t look up.

A pigeon created dust motes as it swooped past them and interested horses poked their noses over the stall doors. A couple whinnied when they recognised her.

Aspen automatically reached into her pocket for a treat, forgetting that she wasn’t in her normal jeans and shirt. Instead she brushed one of the horses’ noses. ‘Sorry, hon. I don’t have anything. I’ll bring you something later.’

Cruz stopped beside her but he didn’t try to stroke the horse as she remembered he might once have done.

‘This is Cougar. Named because he has the heart of a mountain lion, although he can be a bit sulky when he gets pushed around out on the field. Can’t you, big guy?’ She gave him an affectionate pat before moving to the next stall. ‘This one is Delta. She’s—’

‘Just show me the horse you’re selling, Aspen.’

Aspen read the flash of annoyance in his gaze—and something else she couldn’t place. But his annoyance fed hers and once again she stalked away from him and stopped at Gypsy Blue’s stall. If she’d been able to afford it she would have kept her beloved mare, and that only increased her aggravation.

‘Here she is,’ she rapped out. ‘Her sire was Blue Rise, her dam Lady Belington. You might remember she won the Kentucky Derby twice running a few years back.’ She sucked in a breath, trying not to babble as she had done over her apology before. If Cruz was happy with the way things were between them then so was she. ‘I have someone else interested, so if you want her you’ll have to decide quickly.’

Quite a backpedal, Cruz thought. From uncomfortable, apologetic innocent to stiff Upper East Side princess. He wondered what other roles she had up her sleeve and then cut the thought in half before it could fully form. Because he already knew, didn’t he? Cheating temptress being one of them. Not that she was married now. Or engaged as far as he knew.