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How could this have happened? After Arturo’s letter, she’d believed it was safe to go ahead with the adoption. She’d started making a lifetime of plans for her stepsister’s son. Now a dark-eyed stranger who’d appeared out of nowhere could change everything. Had Arturo sent him, or had Emilio Santana come on his own?
More important, what did he want?
Settling Zac in the safety of his crib, she pulled off her soiled shirt and replaced it with a clean, black V-necked top. That done, she yanked off her terry cloth sweatband, splashed her face clean and gave her shoulder-length hair a few licks with the brush—after rinsing away the traces of carrot mush. Even as she tidied up, she knew her appearance didn’t matter. She wasn’t the one her visitor had come to see. Her instincts told her that Emilio Santana had come for Zac.
And she meant to fight him with everything she had.
He rose as she returned to the living room with Zac in her arms. In faded jeans, an open-necked white shirt and casual black jacket he looked as elegant as a movie hero. It occurred to Grace that she could’ve taken the baby, crept out the back door and driven away in her car. But she knew it wouldn’t have made any difference. A man like Emilio Santana would have the means to track her down anywhere.
“Will he come to me?”
“He’s not used to strangers. Sit down. I’ll give him a chance to check you out.” Grace lowered herself to the ottoman and put Zac on the rug. “Sorry I don’t have a drink to offer you, Mr. Santana—unless you’d settle for iced tea. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Please call me Emilio. And don’t worry about the tea.” He took his seat. His English was flawless, his accented voice deep and rich. If she’d closed her eyes, Grace might have pictured Antonio Banderas. But this unsettling man was even better-looking.
Zac had decided to investigate the visitor. He was crawling on all fours toward the chair where Emilio sat. Grace resisted the urge to reach out and pull him back. She’d been present at Zac’s birth and first held him when he was only minutes old. She had loved him from the moment Cassidy told her she had a baby on the way. If this presumptuous man thought she was just going to hand over her child and walk away...
“What’s his full name?” Emilio was studying the baby. “Izac? Zachary?”
“It’s plain Zac—Cassidy’s choice. Zac Miller, legally, although I plan to change the last name to my own when the adoption becomes final.” Grace emphasized the word when.
“I understand you’re no blood relation to the boy.”
The knot in Grace’s stomach tightened. “No, but Cassidy wanted me to raise him. And I have a letter from your brother, consenting to the adoption.”
“I know. I’ve seen a copy of that letter. I found it when I was going through my brother’s files.” His voice went flat. “Arturo’s dead. He was killed in a car crash last month.”
Grace felt her heart drop. She stared at Emilio, waiting for the second blow that was sure to come.
“I checked the status of Zac’s adoption. I know it hasn’t been finalized. As the executor of my brother’s estate, I’m asking you to put it on hold.”
“Why?” Grace’s question emerged as a croak. Her heart was pounding. She felt vaguely nauseous.
“My brother agreed to the adoption on condition that the boy have nothing to do with our family since he planned to marry and start a family with his wife. But his death has changed everything. As far as I know, this boy is Arturo’s only child.”
Zac had reached the chair and used the padded arm to pull himself to his feet. He stood looking up at Emilio with eyes that would melt granite. Emilio brushed a fingertip across the silky curls—a subtle gesture of possession.
Grace snatched the baby into her arms. “So you want to take him. What if I say no?”
His stony expression answered her challenge. “I’ve already contacted my lawyers in Los Angeles. If necessary, they’re prepared to block the adoption and bring the matter to court.”
Grace’s arms tightened around Zac’s warm little body. The adoption had already cost her thousands. She had no resources left for a prolonged legal battle. But how could she give up this precious child to be raised by strangers?
“There are stronger ties than blood,” she said. “One of them is love. Zac is my son in every way that matters. Nothing could force me to let him go.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“And do you, Grace?” His obsidian eyes drilled into hers. “To my knowledge, my brother sired no other children. This boy could be the heir to more than you’ve ever dreamed of. You love him like a son—don’t you want what’s best for him? I have a plan in mind. At least hear me out.”
“We don’t need your family’s money, if that’s what you’re implying. I earn enough to get by, and Cassidy left a trust fund for Zac’s education.”
“Listen to me.” His voice rasped with impatience. “This isn’t about money. It’s about the boy. You seem to be the only mother he knows. Separating the two of you would be cruel—and whatever you may think of me, I’m not a cruel man. I cared for Cassidy as a friend and I want her son to be happy.”
Grace stared at him in confusion. Now what? Did he intend to leave and let her keep Zac?
“I’m proposing to take the two of you back to Peru with me,” he said. “You could see the estate where Zac would grow up and the privileged life he’d enjoy. After that you’d have three choices. You could give him up to my custody and go home, you could work out some kind of visitation arrangement with me, or you could choose to stay in Peru and raise the boy to manhood.”
As his words sank home, Grace felt the shock all the way to her bones. This, then, was her reality. Emilio Santana was Zac’s biological uncle. He intended to take his nephew. Her only option was whether or not she would agree to go with him, and leave her life in Arizona behind. If she tried to keep Zac there with her, this man had the power to raise an army of lawyers against her.
She inhaled shakily. “You’re saying, if I stayed in Peru, I could take care of Zac, but I couldn’t adopt him.”
“That’s right. It would be your choice.”
She rose to face him, holding the baby tight. “But I wouldn’t be his mother. I’d be more like his nanny.”
Emilio’s eyes narrowed. His look was dark and dangerous. “You’d be part of his life. The only other option is to let him go for good.”
Two
Grace pressed close to the window as the Gulfstream G500 dropped toward Lima. Far to the west, the setting sun streaked the clouds with rose and flame. Below the plane, breathtakingly close, the craggy peaks of the Andes jutted into the thin air like ice-tipped daggers.
“Unbelievable,” she murmured.
“Isn’t it? I never get tired of flying home.” Emilio emerged from the cockpit where he’d been consulting with his private pilot. Grace was still getting used to his way of making things happen. Within a few hours of their first meeting, he’d pulled strings to secure the couriered delivery of visas from the Peruvian consulate for her and Zac. Grace had been given just one day to pack and recruit a friend to house-sit. The next morning she and Zac had been picked up and driven to the airport in a chauffeured limousine. Bypassing the hassle of ticket and security lines, they’d been whisked along a side road to Emilio’s private plane. Almost before she’d realized it, she was having hot coffee and flaky cheese croissants in the air, served by a slim young man who fussed over Zac and smiled at her efforts to make herself understood in her high school Spanish.
To paraphrase Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, she wasn’t in Arizona anymore. She and Zac had been swept up by this cyclone of a man and transported to another world—a world that, for Grace, was still shrouded in unreality.
“How is the boy doing?” Emilio slid into the leather seat across the aisle. He’d spent much of the flight in the office section of the plane, leaving Grace to tend Zac in the main cabin. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to impose his presence on her; or, more likely, he simply hadn’t had much interest in her company. As his nephew’s caretaker, her status wasn’t far above a servant’s.
Grace glanced toward Zac, who lay strapped in his car seat, sound asleep. “The little pill spent most of the day wearing himself out,” she said. “I’m hoping he’s down for the count. I know I am.”
Emilio’s gaze lingered on the sleeping baby, as if examining each feature for traces of his brother. “He’s a beautiful child, isn’t he?”
“He had a beautiful mother.” Grace squelched the urge to remind him what Cassidy had gone through to carry and deliver her baby, refusing needed medicines to treat her cancer that might have caused him harm. All that Arturo had given up was a minuscule blob of DNA—and that while thoroughly enjoying himself. Emilio had contributed nothing at all. The idea that this man was entitled to storm into her life and snatch away the child she loved was unthinkable. But that was her new reality.
“You look tired, Grace.” Emilio’s gaze took in her drooping hair and tired face. Even after the long day, he looked maddeningly fresh and unrumpled in khakis and a simple polo shirt that matched the black armband he wore as a sign of mourning. Even the faint stubble on his jaw looked as if it was meant to be there.
“In my house you’ll have all the help you need,” he said. “You’ll be able to see the countryside, pursue your art, anything you like—an advantage I suspect you didn’t enjoy at home.”
Grace hummed noncommittally. Admittedly, the thought of having some help sounded nice. So far, Zac had been a full-time job. But was there more behind Emilio’s offer? If Emilio were to marry—as he almost certainly would—his wife would most likely push her aside, forcing her to leave the boy. Was Emilio preparing for that possibility by increasing Zac’s dependence on the household servants instead of her?
Emilio glanced out the window. “We’re coming into Lima, Grace. Come over here. You’ll see more from this side of the plane.”
He rose, giving her room to slip into the space next to the window. She felt the hot tingle of awareness as her body brushed his. He was warm and solid through his clothes, his skin smelling lightly of sage-scented soap.
Pulling past him she took her seat. Did he know that her pulse had surged as they touched? But why even speculate? Emilio Santana was well aware of his effect on women—even on this woman who had every reason to dislike him. For such a man, seduction would come as naturally as breathing.
But Grace had no intention of falling under his spell. Simple wariness of his wealth and influence had been enough to get her to uproot her life and halt proceedings on the adoption she wanted more than anything. If she actually gave in to his charm, who knew what he could convince her to do?
“Down there.” His hands framed her shoulders, turning her toward the view. The mountains had fallen away to a pale ribbon of coastline, surprisingly bleak.
“The mountains keep the rain from reaching the coast.” Emilio’s hands remained on her shoulders, the contact triggering subtle whorls of heat. “In Lima, the precious little water we get comes mostly from fog and wells. Look, you can see the city lights from here.”
The twilight mist was rolling in from the sea, softening the vast river of light that was the capital city of Peru. As the plane glided in on approach, the city unfolded below—a panorama of ancient churches, towering skyscrapers, open plazas and streams of evening traffic. On the outskirts of the city ramshackle slums clung to the barren hillsides.
“Will we be staying in Lima tonight?” Grace asked.
“We’ll just be touching down to refuel, check you and the boy through immigration, and load some supplies. Then we’ll be flying on to Cusco. My driver will be waiting there with the car. It’s a spectacular flight. You won’t be seeing much tonight, but there’ll be plenty of other chances.
“So we’ll have to deplane for immigration?” Grace glanced over at the sleeping Zac, a sigh escaping her lips as she imagined standing in a long line with a cranky baby in her arms.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just show your papers to the right people. They know me. If there’s any question, they can board the plane and meet you in person.”
So easy. No doubt some cash would be changing hands. Grace had heard it was the accepted way of getting things done in this part of the world. She had never approved of what she viewed as bribery. But tonight she was too tired to stand on principle.
Minutes later the landing gear dropped and the wheels touched down. The tanker truck was waiting on the tarmac. By the time the refueling was finished, Emilio had taken care of the paperwork and returned to the plane. “All done.” He handed Grace her stamped passport. “I told you there would be no problem.”
“I must say I’m impressed,” she countered. “But whatever you did to speed things along, I don’t want to know about it.”
“You Norteamericanos! So proper!” He chuckled, his grin a white flash in the darkness of the cabin. “Look at it this way, Grace. You are happy because you didn’t have to wake the baby and wait in line for your papers. My friend in Migración is happy because he can now pay his rent. Our pilot is happy because he’ll be home in time for dinner. And I am happy because everyone else is happy. What do you see here that is not good?”
Grace’s only answer was a weary sigh as she buckled her seat belt for the takeoff. “How long will we be in the car once we land?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Not long. It’s an hour’s drive from Cusco to Urubamba. You can sleep on the way if you get tired. There’ll be blankets and pillows in the backseat, and some fresh baby formula in case the boy wakes up hungry.”
“His name is Zac.”
There was a beat of awkward silence. “But of course,” Emilio said.
As the plane rose skyward again, Grace studied his profile against the window. For a powerful, confident man, he seemed ill at ease with his newly discovered nephew. She suspected he’d never spent time with children before. If the jet-setting, thrill-seeking lifestyle she’d seen highlighted in the tabloids was accurate then she doubted he’d ever taken responsibility for another person in his life.
If that was true, she already had her work cut out for her. It wouldn’t be easy, helping a man change the habits from a lifetime of no consequences and disposable relationships, but this was one relationship Grace intended to see Emilio take seriously. If he was going to claim custody of Cassidy’s precious son, she would make sure the Peruvian Playboy learned to be a father to Zac. Not just a father, but a dad.
* * *
The silver-gray Audi purred along the mountain road, gearing down on the hairpin curves. The narrow highway from Cusco to Urubamba could be dangerous after dark, and Emilio had warned his driver to take extra care. Tonight there was precious cargo on board.
On the far side of the backseat, Grace had fallen asleep, her tousled blonde head pillowed in the corner between the seat and the window. Feeling an unaccustomed tenderness, Emilio had tucked a blanket around her as she slept. She’d had her whole life uprooted, but she’d kept her complaints to herself. All she’d asked of him was to let her be with the child she loved—a child who wasn’t even hers. He couldn’t help but admire that kind of devotion. For all her stubborn independence, Grace Chandler was a genuinely good woman. Arturo’s son was lucky to have her.
The baby slumbered between them, securely buckled into his car seat. In the semidarkness, Emilio studied the chubby features—the pert nose and dimpled chin, the straight brows and feathery black eyelashes. He saw more of Cassidy than his brother in the child. But that would change. Like all Santana males, young Zac would grow to be a tall, handsome man. By the time he came of age, he would already be learning to run the estate and the Santana business empire.
Such big responsibilities for a little boy. Little Zac should have his father here to teach him. Tio Emilio would have to fill the void. Heart skipping, Emilio brushed a fingertip across the soft ridge of knuckles. Zac stirred and whimpered, causing Emilio to pull away. Had he done something wrong? Por diós, he didn’t know the first thing about babies.
With Arturo gone, duty demanded that he be a father to this niño precioso. But how could he even begin?
Emilio remembered his own father as a busy, distant man who’d suffered a fatal heart attack at fifty, leaving a mistress in Callao and a twenty-year-old son as the head of the family. Arturo had been yanked out of Harvard and forced to grow up fast. Emilio, barely seventeen, had been left to drift.
Their mother, a pampered society beauty, had been little help. She’d taken to her bed for the first few months, then flung herself into a series of sad affairs that ended one night in a fatal mix of pills and alcohol.
In short, Emilio had barely ever known what it was like even to have a parent—he’d certainly never learned to be a parent. To him, this small lump of humanity was more intimidating than a boardroom full of corporate rivals bent on eating him alive.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Grace’s husky voice startled him. She’d awakened and was studying him with her extraordinary hazel eyes. Tangled hair framed her sleepy face. She looked surprisingly sexy, he thought. He was struck by the intimate feel of the moment—the dark, close atmosphere of the car’s backseat; her presence beside him, warm, drowsy and more relaxed than he’d ever seen her, speaking to him in a soft, languorous voice.
“I asked you what you were thinking.” She spoke as if explaining her previous question. Knowing she might not be pleased by the truth, Emilio scrambled for a diversion.
“Tell me about Cassidy,” he said.
“Didn’t you know her when she was here?”
“We had a few conversations. But she didn’t mention her family or her illness.”
“There wasn’t much family to tell you about. We were teenagers when her father married my mother. At first we had nothing in common. She was the beautiful, wild one. I was the older, serious one. We alternated between fighting and ignoring each other. But after our parents died in a plane crash we became close. I took care of her until she was old enough to leave home and get modeling work. Wherever she went, we kept in touch.”
“What about the brain tumor?” he asked. “Cassidy had headaches in Peru, but she never mentioned...” He shook his head. “I keep wondering if she knew, even then.”
“Cassidy had surgery and radiation for the tumor six years ago, when she was twenty-two. The doctors said it might come back. When she started having headaches again, yes, she knew what it was.”
“And the baby?”
“Soon after she got home, she discovered she was pregnant. The doctors advised an abortion. Cassidy wouldn’t hear of it. She even made us promise that if we had to, we’d keep her body on life support long enough to safely deliver the baby. But that turned out not to be necessary. She lived to hold her son and name him...and to give him to me.” Grace gulped back a surge of tears. “She sacrificed so much to bring him into the world.”
Emilio pondered what she’d told him. “She’s not the only one. It’s a big sacrifice you’ve made, too, uprooting your life to bring him here, to a strange country—”
Her eyes flashed in the darkness. “Zac is my life. There’s nothing I’ve left behind that matters as much to me as him.”
“But your house, your work—”
“My house will be there. And once my art supplies are unpacked, I can work almost anywhere. All I need is a little space.”
“If you wish to work, of course, there’ll be room for you to set up a studio.” Emilio said. “Not that you’ll need the income. If you decide to stay, you’ll receive pay and lodging for being in charge of my brother’s son.”
Her body went rigid, jerking her bolt upright in the seat. Emilio knew at once he’d said the wrong thing. But he didn’t know how make it right.
He spoke against the icy wall of her silence. “You’ll also have a car and driver at your disposal. A pretty woman driving alone in this country is asking for trouble.”
Of course he would see to it that she had everything she required while she was here and taking care of the boy. It was only fair. No matter what she said, he knew she’d given up a great deal. Room and board, plus an income for whatever else she needed, were little enough for him to provide.
Her full lower lip quivered. “Is that all you think I am to Zac? Just his hired caretaker?”
So that was what he’d said wrong. Emilio exhaled, easing the frustration that had surged like heat in a volcano. “Of course not. I’m just trying to do the right thing—for you, for Zac and for my family’s future.”
She was silent for a moment, studying him with those arresting eyes. They still danced with anger, but she seemed to be holding it in. “Tell me about your family,” she said, surprising him.
“As you said about your own family, there’s not much to tell. I lost my parents fifteen years ago. My firstborn brother died when he was four. Then there was Arturo...and me. That’s all.”
“What about Arturo’s wife? He told me he was getting married.”
