The Most Expensive Lie of All

‘I’ve made you angry,’ he said, backpedalling himself.

This wasn’t at all the way he needed her to be if he was going to get information out of her. It was just this damned place. It felt as if it was full of ghosts, with memories around every corner that he had no wish to revisit. He’d closed the door on that part of his life the minute he’d carried his duffel bag off the property. On foot. Taking nothing from Old Man Carmichael except the clothes on his back and the money he’d already earned.

Of its own accord his gaze shifted to the other end of the long walkway to the place where Aspen had approached him that night, wearing a cotton nightie she must have known was see-through in the glow of his torch. He hadn’t been wearing much either, having only thrown on a pair of jeans and a shirt he hadn’t even bothered to button properly when he’d heard something banging on the wall and gone to investigate.

He’d presumed it was one of the horses and had been absolutely thunderstruck to find Aspen in that nightie and a pair of riding boots. She’d looked hotter than Hades and when she’d strolled past the stalls, lightly trailing her slender fingers along the wood, he couldn’t have moved if someone had planted a bomb under him.

It had all been a ploy. He knew that now. He’d kissed her because he’d been a man overcome with lust. She’d kissed him because she’d been setting him up. It had been like a bad rendition of Samson and Delilah and she’d deserved an acting award for wardrobe choice alone.

His muscles grew taut as he remembered how he had held himself in check. How he hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her with the desperate hunger that had surged through him and urged him to pull her down onto the hay and rip the flimsy nightie from her body. How he hadn’t wanted to take her innocence. What a joke. She’d played him like a finely tuned instrument and, like a fool, he’d let her.

‘Like I said before.’ She cleared her throat. ‘This feels a little awkward.’

She must have noticed the direction of his gaze because her voice sounded breathless; almost as if her memories of that night mirrored his own. Of course he knew better now.

About to placate her by pretending he had forgotten all about it, he found the words dying in his throat as she raised both hands and twisted her flyaway curls into a rope and let it drop down her back. The middle button on her dress strained and he found himself willing it to pop open.

Surprised to find his libido running away without his consent, he quickly ducked inside the stall and feigned avid interest in a horse he had no wish to buy.

He went through the motions, though, studying the lines of the mare’s back, running his hands over her glossy coat, stroking down over her foreleg and checking the straightness of her pasterns. Fortunately he was on autopilot, because his undisciplined mind was comparing the shapeliness of the thoroughbred with Aspen’s lissom figure and imagining how she would feel under his rough hands.

Silky, smooth, and oh, so soft.

Memories of the little sounds she’d made as he’d lost himself in her eight years ago exploded through his system and turned his breathing rough.

‘She’s an exceptional polo pony. Really relaxed on the field and fast as a whip.’

Aspen’s commentary dragged his mind back to his game plan and he kept on stroking the horse as he spoke. ‘Why are you selling her?’

‘We run a horse stud, not a bed and breakfast,’ she said with mock sternness, her eyes tinged with dark humour as she repeated one of Charles Carmichael’s favourite sayings.

‘Or an old persons’ home.’ He joined in with Charles’s second favourite saying before he could stop himself.

‘No.’ Her small smile was tinged with emotion.

Her reaction surprised him.

‘You miss him?’

She shifted and leant her elbows on the door. ‘I really don’t know.’ Her eyes trailed over the horse. ‘He had moments of such kindness, and he gave me a home when Mum died, but he was impossible to be around if he didn’t get his own way.’

‘He certainly had high hopes of you marrying well and providing blue stock heirs for Ocean Haven.’ And he’d made it more than clear to him after Aspen had returned to the house that night that Cruz wouldn’t be the one to provide them under any circumstances.

‘Yes.’

Her troubled eyes briefly met his and for a moment he wanted to shake her for not being a different kind of woman. A more sincere and genuine woman.

‘So what do you think?’

It took him a minute to realise she was talking about the mare and not herself. ‘She’s perfect. I’ll take her.’

‘Oh.’ She gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘You don’t want to ride her first?’

Oh, yes, he certainly did want to do that!

‘No.’

‘Well, I did tell you to be quick. I’ll have Donny run the paperwork.’

‘Send it to my lawyer.’ Cruz rubbed the mare’s nose and let her nudge him. ‘I hear Joe is planning to sell the farm.’

She grimaced. ‘Good news travels fast.’

‘Polo’s a small community.’

‘Too small sometimes.’ She gestured towards the mare. ‘She’ll ruin your nice suit if you let her do that.’

‘I have others.’

So nice not to have to worry about money, Aspen thought, a touch enviously. After the abject poverty she and her mother had lived in after her father’s desertion, the wealth of Ocean Haven had been staggering. It was something she’d never take for granted again.

‘Where are you planning to go once it’s sold?’

‘It’s not going to be sold,’ she said with a touch of asperity, stepping back as Cruz joined her outside the stall. ‘At least not to someone else.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re going to buy it?’

‘Yes.’ She had always been a believer in the power of positive thinking, and she had never needed that more than she did now.

Gypsy Blue whickered and stuck her head over the door and Aspen realised her water trough was nearly empty. Unhooking it, she walked the short distance to a tap and filled it.

‘Let me do that.’

Cruz took the bucket from her before she could stop him and stepped inside the stall. Aspen grabbed the feed bucket Donny had left outside and followed him in and hooked it into place.

‘It’s a big property to run by yourself,’ he said.

‘For a girl?’ she replied curtly.

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Sorry. I’m a bit touchy because so many people have implied more than once that I won’t be able to do it. It’s like they think I’m completely incompetent, and that really gets my—’ She gave a small laugh realising she was about to unload her biggest gripe onto him and he was virtually a stranger to her now. Why would he even care? ‘The fact is...’ She looked at him carefully.

He had money. She’d heard of his business acumen. Of the companies he bought and sold. Of his innovative and brilliant new polo-inspired hotel in Mexico. He was the epitome of a man at the top of his game. Right now, as he leant his wide shoulders against the stall door and blocked out all sources of light from behind, he also looked the epitome of adult male perfection.

‘But the fact is...?’ he prompted.

Aspen’s eyes darted to his as she registered the subtle amusement lacing his voice. Did he know what she had just been thinking? ‘Sorry, I was just...’ Just a bit distracted by your incredible face? Your powerful body? Way to go, Aspen. Really. Super effort. ‘The fact is—’ she squared her shoulders ‘—I need ten million dollars to keep it.’

She forced a bright smile onto her face.

‘You’re not looking for an investment opportunity, are you?’

CHAPTER THREE

SHE COULDN’T BELIEVE she’d actually voiced the question that had just formed in her mind but she knew that she had when Cruz’s dark gaze sharpened on hers. But frankly, with only five days left to raise the rest of the money and Billy Smyth firmly out of the picture, she really was that desperate.

‘Give you ten million dollars? That’s a big ask.’

Her heart thumped loudly in her chest and her mouth felt dust dry. ‘Lend,’ she corrected. ‘But you know what they say...’ She stopped as he straightened to his full height and she lost her train of thought.

He shoved both hands into his pockets. ‘They say a lot of things, Aspen. What is it exactly you’re referring to?’

‘If you don’t ask you never know,’ she said, moistening her lips. ‘And I’m desperate.’

Cruz’s eyes glittered as he looked down at her. ‘A good negotiator never shows that particular hand. It puts their opponent in the dominant position.’

Heat bloomed anew on her face as his tone seemed to take on a sensual edge. ‘I don’t see you as my opponent, Cruz.’

‘Then you’re a fool,’ he returned, almost too mildly.

Aspen felt her hopes shrivel to nothing. What had she been thinking, approaching a business situation like that? Where was her professionalism? Her polish?

But maybe she’d known he’d never agree to it. Not with the way he obviously felt about her.

‘What would I get out of it, anyway?’

The unexpected question surprised her and once again her eyes darted to his. Had she been wrong in thinking he wouldn’t be interested? ‘A lot, actually. I’ve drawn up a business plan.’

‘Really?’

She didn’t like his sceptical tone but decided to ignore it. ‘Yes. It outlines the horses due to foal, and how much we expect to make from each one, and our plans to purchase a top-of-the-line stallion to keep improving the breed. We also have a couple of wonderful horses we’re about to start training—and I don’t know if you’ve heard of our riding school, but I teach adults and children, and—well... There’s more, but if you’re truly interested we can run through the logistics of it all later.’ Out of breath, she stopped, and then added, ‘It has merit. I promise.’

‘If it has so much merit why haven’t any of the financial institutions bankrolled you?’

‘Because I’m young—that is usually the first excuse. But really I think it’s because unbeknownst to any of us Grandfather hadn’t been running his business properly the last few years and—’ Realising that yet again she was about to divulge every one of her issues, she stopped. ‘The banks just don’t believe I have enough experience to pull it off.’

‘Perhaps you should have thought about furthering your education instead of marrying to secure your future.’

Aspen nearly gasped at his snide tone of voice. ‘I didn’t marry to secure anything,’ she said sharply. Except perhaps her grandfather’s love and affection. Something that had always been in short supply.

Upset with herself for even being in this position, and with him for his nasty comment, Aspen thought about telling him that she was one semester out from completing a degree in veterinary science—and that she’d achieved that while working full-time running Ocean Haven. But she knew that in her current state she would no doubt come across as defensive or whiney, and that only made her angry.

‘If you have such a low opinion of me why pretend any interest in my plans for The Farm?’ she demanded hotly, slapping her hands either side of her waist. ‘Are you planning to steal our ideas?’

That got an abrupt bark of laughter from him that did nothing to improve her temper. ‘I don’t need to steal your ideas, gatita. I have plenty of my own.’

‘Then why get my hopes up like that?’

‘Is that what I did?’

Aspen stared him down. ‘You know that’s exactly what you did.’

He stepped closer to her. ‘But maybe I am interested.’

His tone sent a splinter of unease down her spine but she was too annoyed to pay attention to it. ‘Don’t patronise me, Cruz. I have five days before The Farm will be sold to some big-shot investment consortium. I don’t have time to bandy around with this.’

‘Ocean Haven really means that much to you?’

‘Yes, it does.’

‘I suppose it is the easiest option for a woman in your position,’ he conceded, with such arrogance that Aspen nearly choked.

Easy? Easy! He clearly had no idea how hard she worked on the property—tending horses, mending fences, keeping the books—nor how important Ocean Haven was to her. How it was the one link she had left with her mother. How it was the one place that had made her feel happy and secure after she’d been orphaned. After her marriage had fallen apart.

She was incredibly proud of her work and her future plans to open up a school camp for kids who’d had a tough start in life. Horses had a way of grounding troubled adolescents and she wanted to provide a place they could come to and feel safe. Just as she had. And she hated that Cruz was judging her—mocking her—like every other obnoxious male she had ever come across. That she hadn’t expected it from him only made her feel worse.

Hopping mad, she had a mind to order him off her property, but she couldn’t quite kill off this avenue of hope just yet. He was supposed to be a savvy businessman after all, and she had a good plan. Well, she hoped she did. ‘Ocean Haven has been in my family for centuries,’ she began, striving for calm.

‘I think the violinist has packed up for the day...’

Aspen blinked. ‘God, you’re cold. I don’t remember that about you.’

‘Don’t you, gatita? Tell me...’

His voice dropped an octave and her heartbeat faltered.

‘What do you remember?’

Aspen’s gaze fell to his mouth. ‘I remember that you were...’ Tall. That your hair glints almost blue-black in the sun. That your face looks like it belongs in a magazine. That your mouth is firm and yet soft. She forced her eyes to meet his and ignored the fact that her face felt as if it was on fire. ‘Good with the horses.’ She swallowed. ‘That you were smart, and that you used to keep to yourself a lot. But I remember when you laughed.’ It used to make me smile. ‘It sounded happy. And I remember that when you were mad at something not even my grandfather was brave enough to face you. I rem—’

‘Enough.’ He sliced his hand through the air with sharp finality. ‘There’s only one thing I want to know right now,’ he said softly.

If she remembered his kisses? Yes—yes, she did. Sometimes even when she didn’t want to. ‘What?’ she asked, hating the breathless quality of her voice.

‘Just how desperate are you?’

His dark voice was so dangerously male it sent her brain into overdrive. ‘What kind of a question is that?’ She shook her head, trying to ward off the jittery feelings he so effortlessly conjured up inside her.

He reached forward and captured a strand of her hair between his fingertips, his eyes burning into hers. ‘If I were to lend you this money I’d want more than a share in the profits.’

Aspen felt her chest rising and falling too quickly and hoped to hell he wasn’t going to suggest the very thing Billy Smyth had done not an hour earlier.

Reaching up, she tugged her hair out of his hold. ‘Such as...?’

His eyes looked black as pitch as they pinned her like a dart on a wall. ‘Oh, save us both the Victorian naïveté. You’re no retiring virgin after the life you lived with Chad Anderson—and before that, even. You’re a sensual woman who no doubt looks very good gracing a man’s bed.’ He paused, his gaze caressing her face. ‘If the terms were right I might want you to grace mine.’

Was he kidding?

Aspen felt her mouth drop open before she could stop it. Rage welled up inside her like a living beast. Rage at the injustice of her grandfather’s will, rage at the way men viewed her as little more than a sexual object, rage at her mother’s death and her father’s abandonment.

Maybe Cruz had a reason for being upset with her after she had failed to correct her grandfather’s assumption that they were sleeping together years ago, but that didn’t give him the right to treat her like a—like a whore.

‘Get out of my way,’ she ordered.

His eyes lingered on her tight lips. ‘Make sure you don’t burn your bridges unnecessarily, Aspen. Pride can be a nasty thing when it’s used rashly.’

She knew all about pride going before a fall. ‘It’s not rash pride making me reject your offer, Cruz. It’s simple self-respect.’

‘Whatever you want to call it, I’m offering you a straightforward business deal. You have something I’ve decided I want. I have something you need. Why complicate it?’

‘Because it’s disgusting.’

‘What an interesting way to put it,’ he sneered. ‘Tell me, Aspen, would it have been less disgusting if I’d first said that you were beautiful before taking you to bed? If I’d first invited you out for a drink? Taken you to dinner, perhaps?’ He took a step towards her and lowered his voice. ‘If I had gone down that path would you have said yes?’ His lips twisted with mocking superiority. ‘If I had romanced you, Aspen, I could have had you naked and beneath me in a matter of hours and saved myself a hell of a lot of money.’

Aspen threw him a withering look, ignoring the sudden mental picture of them both naked and tangled together. ‘You can save yourself a hell of a lot of money and skin right now and get off my property,’ she said tightly.

His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply and she suddenly realised how close he was, how far she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. ‘And for your information,’ she began, wanting to stamp all over his supersized ego, ‘I would never have said yes to you.’

‘Really?’

He stepped even closer and Aspen felt the harsh bite of wood at her back. Caged, she could only stare as Cruz lifted one of her spiral curls again; this time carrying it to his nose. Her hands rose to shove him back but he didn’t budge, and almost immediately her senses tuned in to the warm packed muscle beneath the thin cotton of his shirt, to the fast beat of his heart that seemed to mirror her own racing pulse.

A flash of memory took her back eight years to the feel of his mouth on hers. The feel of his tongue rubbing hers. The feel of his hands spanning her waist. Heat pooled inside her and made her breasts heavy, her legs unsteady. She remembered that after they’d been caught she had been so shocked by her physical reaction to him and so scared of her grandfather’s wrath she’d fallen utterly silent—ashamed of herself for considering one man’s marriage proposal while losing herself in the arms of another. Cruz hadn’t raised one word of denial the whole time and she still wondered why.

Not that she had time to consider that now... He leant forward as if her staying hands were nothing more than crepe paper. His breath brushed her ear.

‘Let me tell you what I remember, gatita. I remember the way your curvy backside filled out those tight jodhpurs. I remember the purple bikini top you used to wear riding your horse along the beach. And I remember the way you used to watch me. A bit like the way you were watching me stroke the mare before.’ His hand tightened in her hair. ‘You were thinking about how it would feel if I put my hands on you again, weren’t you? How it would feel if I kissed you?’

Aspen made a half coughing noise in instant denial and tried to catch her breath. There was no way he could have known she’d been thinking exactly that.

‘Have you turned into a dreamer, Cruz?’ she mocked with false bravado, frightened beyond belief at how vulnerable she suddenly felt. ‘Because really a dream would be the only place I would ever want something like that from you.’

Dreamer?

Cruz felt his jaw knot at her insolent tone. How dared she accuse him of being a dreamer when she was clearly the dreamer here if she thought she could buy and hold onto the rundown estate Ocean Haven had become?

Memories of the past swirled around him and bit deep. Memories of how she had felt in his arms. How she had tasted. Memories of how she had stood there, all dazed innocence, and listened to her grandfather rail at him. He’d been accused of ruining her that night but it was her—her and that slimy fiancé of hers, Chad Anderson—who had tried to ruin him. She and her lover who had set him up for a fall to clear the way for Chad to take over as captain of Charles Carmichael’s dream team.

There’d been no other explanation for it, and he’d always wondered how far she would have taken things if her grandfather had turned up five minutes later. Because that was all it would have taken for him to twist her nightie up past her hips and thrust deep into her velveteen warmth.

His eyes took her in now. Her defiant expression and flushed face. Her rapidly beating pulse and her moist lips where her pink tongue had just lashed them. Her hands were burning a hole in his shirt and he was already as hard as stone—and, by God, he’d had enough of her holier-than-thou attitude.

‘You would have loved it.’ Cruz twisted her hair into a knot at the back of her head and pulled her roughly up against him. ‘Will love it,’ he promised thickly, wrapping his other arm around her waist and staunching her shocked cry with his mouth.

Her lips immediately clamped together and she pushed against him, but that only brought her body more fully up against his as her hands slipped over his shoulders. She stilled, as if the added contact affected her as much as it affected him, and with a deep groan he ran his tongue across the seam of her lips. He felt a shiver run through her and then she shoved harder to dislodge him. He told himself he wasn’t doing his plan any favours by forcing himself on her, but the plan paled into insignificance when compared to the feel of her warm and wriggling in his arms. He wanted her to surrender to him. To admit that the chemistry that had exploded through him like a haze of bloodlust as soon as he had seen her again wasn’t just one-sided.

But some inner instinct warned him that this wasn’t the way to get her to acquiesce, and years of experience in gentling horses rushed through him. He marshalled some of that strength and patience now and gentled her. Sucking at her lips, nipping, soothing her with his tongue. She made a tiny whimper in the back of her throat and he felt a sense of primal victory as she tentatively opened her mouth under his, aligning her body so that her soft curves were no longer resisting his hardness but melting against him until he could feel every sweet, feminine inch of her.

With a low growl of approval he gentled his hold on her and angled her head so that he could take her mouth more fully. When her lips opened wider and her arms urged him closer he couldn’t stop himself from plundering her, couldn’t resist drawing her tongue out so that she could taste him in return.

An unexpected sense of completeness settled over him—a sense of finding something he’d been searching for his whole life—and he didn’t want the kiss to end. He didn’t want this maddening arousal to end.

If he’d had any idea that it would be like this again he wasn’t sure that he would have started it. But now that he had he didn’t want to stop. Ever. She tasted so sweet. So silky. So good.

He made a sound low in his throat when she circled her pelvis against his in an age-old request and he couldn’t think after that. Could only grab her hips and smooth his hands over her firm backside to mould her against him. ‘Yes,’ he whispered roughly against her mouth. ‘Kiss me, chiquita. Give me everything.’

And she did. Without reservation. Her mouth devouring his as if she too had dreamed of this over and over and over. As if she too couldn’t live without—

‘Ow!’

Her sharp cry of pain echoed his deeper one as something pushed the back of his head and bumped his forehead into hers. He pulled back and glared over his shoulder to where the horse he had just agreed to purchase snorted in disgust.

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