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Claudia didn’t know what to believe, and everything she read bordered on lunacy. She was stunned by the arrest, absolutely blindsided by it. William was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a crook, was he? The question ran through her mind again when the two plainclothes detectives arrived later that day to interview her.
Or rather, to interrogate her.
They questioned her about William’s business dealings and eyed her suspiciously when she didn’t give them the answers they were looking for. Then, after an hour in the hot seat, they accused her of being his accomplice. Burning with indignation, she vehemently denied the accusation. The detectives were convinced she was lying and threatened to haul her down to the precinct for further questioning. Images of being handcuffed, booked and fingerprinted attacked her mind. What would her clients think if she was named as a coconspirator in the case? And how would it affect her company? When it was all said and done, would she even have a business to worry about?
Claudia cleared all thoughts of her ex-husband and his troubles from her mind. Like she’d told the two detectives who’d interviewed her, William wasn’t her problem anymore, and she had better things to do than waste time pondering his guilt or innocence.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I’m not sure. A month. Maybe longer. It all depends on how things play out. I was thinking of going to Lynchburg to see Aunt Hattie, but I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“But the last time you went down there you vowed to never go back.”
“I know, but I’m desperate,” she admitted. “I haven’t done anything wrong, but I’m being made out to be the bad guy. You’d think I was the one who embezzled two million dollars from Qwest Capital Investments.”
“The only reason the media’s taken an interest in you is because you’re the beautiful, much-younger trophy wife.” Maxine shrugged and offered a sympathetic smile. “Your rags-to-riches story makes for good TV, and it will probably sell a ton of newspapers, too.”
Thinking about the state of her event-planning business made Claudia’s hopes crumble and her shoulders sag in despair. “I’ve lost three jobs in one week.”
“You’re planning the mayor’s luncheon, and that’s bound to be great for business.”
Claudia cleared her throat. “Someone called yesterday from his office and said my services were no longer needed.”
“I don’t understand why you’re being punished for something William did. He’s the one who stole from his investors, not you.”
The tears Claudia had been holding in finally broke free. “I feel terrible about what he’s done,” she confessed, covering her face with her hands, “and I can’t help feeling responsible. I was his wife. I should have known what he was doing, I should have stopped him.”
The car jerked forward violently when Maxine slammed on the brakes.
“Don’t you dare blame yourself for what he did,” she scolded, twisting around in her seat like a human pretzel. “William ruined those people’s lives, not you. You were surprised by his arrest, just like the rest of us.”
“I wish there was something I could do to help his victims.” Sniffling, Claudia cleaned her mascara-stained cheeks with her fingertips. “If my accounts weren’t frozen I’d—”
Maxine gasped. “The banks froze your accounts? They can’t do that!”
“They can if there’s a court order. The Securities and Exchange Commission filed a request with the court on Monday, and there was nothing my lawyer could do to stop it.”
“I don’t understand why the authorities are pursuing you. You’re innocent.”
“The investigators are convinced I was in on it, and since we were married for ten years and only recently divorced, they argued for additional time to substantiate their case against me.” Hearing herself repeat her attorney’s words made the situation more real, made her realize that things were going to get a whole lot worse before they got better. And that brought a fresh batch of tears. “Mr. Tibbs said I’ll probably be subpoenaed to testify in William’s case.”
“I can’t believe these people. Next thing you know they’ll be fitting you with an ankle bracelet and confiscating your passport.”
“They tried, but the judge refused.” Claudia forced a smile. “It’s a small victory. At least I’m free to come and go as I please without fear of being hunted down.”
“If you need anything, just ask. Money’s been tight ever since Royce lost his job, but I don’t mind dipping into my savings to help you out.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’re pregnant.”
“I know, but it’s the least I could do. I was the one who encouraged you to date William and look how things turned out.” Maxine made a clicking sound with her teeth. “If I had known he was a lying scoundrel, I never would have advised you to marry him.”
“That’s in the past. I’ve moved on, and despite everything that’s going on right now I’m in a really good place.” Claudia tugged on her cap, pulling it down so low it covered her eyebrows. Okay, so she was lying, but she didn’t want Max to feel guilty about something that wasn’t her fault. William was her past, and as of last Thursday they were officially done. That painful chapter of her life was over and she was determined to move on.
To escape the thoughts crowding her mind—thoughts of losing her house, her business and her sanity—Claudia shut her eyes and leaned back in her seat. “I wish I could disappear. Just go somewhere where nobody knows my name.”
“Oh, that’s right, they don’t have TVs or newspapers in Lynchburg,” Maxine quipped, her tone ripe with sarcasm. “You know how much Aunt Hattie likes to talk. The whole town will know you’re coming before your plane touches down!”
They drove in silence for a moment, and then Maxine let out an ear-piercing shriek. It was so deafening Claudia was surprised the windows didn’t shatter into a million pieces.
“You should go to Cabo San Lucas!”
“I can hardly afford the plane ticket to Lynchburg, let alone to Mexico.”
Weaving in and out of traffic like a NASCAR driver going for broke, Maxine took the exit marked Departures, zoomed up the ramp and flew into the first available parking space. “Royce and I had such a great time there during our honeymoon that we purchased time shares. It’s a good thing we did when the market was strong, because we could never afford it now.”
Claudia screwed her face into a frown. “I don’t want to go to a resort that’s packed with kids and rude tourists. I need to rest, clear my head.”
“And you think you can relax in Lynchburg? I love Aunt Hattie but she yaks nonstop. You’d get more peace and quiet staying at an amusement park!”
A giggle tickled the back of Claudia’s throat. It didn’t matter how bad she felt, Max could always make her laugh. “Don’t bad-mouth Aunt Hattie. She’s the only family we’ve got left.”
“Then we’re in really bad shape!”
Claudia didn’t laugh, but Maxine did. Her laugh was smooth, easy, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. And she didn’t. Despite her present financial woes, she had a husband who loved her, a home in a gated community and not a single reporter camped outside her house.
“Picture it,” she said, spreading her hands out in front of her. “You stretched out on a beach, sipping cocktails under the hot Mexican sun, and being served fresh fruit by an Antonio Banderas look-alike with rock-hard abs and a tight ass!”
“That’s no way for a pregnant woman to talk.”
“Girl, please, I’m only a few months along. The babies can’t hear anything!”
Claudia shook her head at her sister.
“Go to Cabo and enjoy yourself,” Maxine instructed. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”
Famous for its breathtaking waterfalls and endless blue skies, Cabo San Lucas was reputed to be one of the most beautiful peninsulas on earth and a place Claudia had always wanted to see. But her furious work schedule left few hours to sleep, let alone travel to faraway lands.
“The Sea of Cortez Resort is world-class all the way. I damn near fainted when Royce carried me into our oceanfront suite. And who knows,” she said with a devilish smirk, “maybe you’ll meet someone while you’re down there. A night of passion with a sexy tourist is exactly what your sex-deprived ass needs.”
“I’d rather swim in shark-infested waters than indulge in a seedy holiday fling. After everything I’ve been through, the last thing I want is to get caught up with another no-good man.”
“There are still some good guys out there, and it’s high time you met somebody new.”
“My divorce was only finalized two weeks ago.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been legally separated for a year,” Maxine challenged, her tone accusatory. “I don’t know how you’ve gone that long without having sex. I need a man to keep me warm at night, or I’ll go insane!”
Claudia shrugged, conveying how little she cared about having a man in her bed. Since they were teens, her sister had treated dating like an amateur sport and, if not for getting knocked up by her boyfriend-turned-husband four months ago, she’d still be racking up numbers in her little black book. “Maybe I should go down to Cabo for a few weeks.”
“Of course you should!” Maxine nodded her head fervently, as if she was praising a small child. “The suite is in my name, but if you show two forms of ID you should be fine.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
Her smile was sly. “Then flash some skin! That always works for me!”
“Could you be serious for one moment? I don’t want to fly all the way down to this resort only to be turned away.” Annoyed that her sister was making light of her being stranded, she decided to stick to her original plan. “Forget it. I’m going to Lynchburg. I don’t need any more stress, and I could see this whole Cabo thing blowing up in my face.”
“I’ll call the resort to let them know that you’re coming. How’s that?”
Maxine put the car in Park and hopped out. “I can’t wait to hear what you think of the suite, so give me a ring as soon as you get settled.”
Claudia didn’t know why, but getting out of the car took enormous effort. The strain of the last two weeks had finally caught up to her, and when she stood up she had to grip the door to keep from falling. Her travel bag felt heavy, as if someone had snuck twenty-pound weights inside, but she tossed it over her shoulder and smiled. “Thanks for everything, Max.”
“Have a safe trip and try not to worry about all the craziness that’s going on down here.” Maxine hugged her tight. “You’ve done nothing wrong, so stop persecuting yourself.”
Claudia nodded, told herself that her sister was right, but that didn’t stop her from feeling like a fugitive. And when she boarded the United plane bound for Washington, D.C., and saw her ex-husband’s picture on the front of the Richmond Times-Dispatch newspaper, her fears of being arrested and traipsed in front of the news media returned with a vengeance.
Chapter 2
Santiago Medina didn’t make it a habit to stare. Or to approach strangers at the airport, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman who had just entered the Dulles International Airport first-class lounge. He loved long hair, but her short, trendy hairstyle was stunning. And so were her almond-shaped eyes. They were so bright, so luminous, it was impossible for him to look away. She had to be a dancer, a performer, someone who made a living thrilling audiences on a Las Vegas stage. No way she was stuck behind a desk working a regular nine-to-five. Not with that radiant butterscotch skin, that oval face and those pretty, luscious lips.
His mouth dried, but Santiago doubted that water could quench his thirst. Ridiculously beautiful, she had a unique, ethereal look that made her stand out in the thick crowd of commuters. Her face was free of makeup, scrubbed clean, but her beauty was undeniable. He wanted to touch her. And not just because she had the slender shape of a ballerina and legs that stretched on for miles. He’d always been able to see with his heart what others couldn’t see with their eyes, and he sensed that this woman was in enormous pain. Sadness seeped from her pores. It enveloped her, hovered like a ghost. Her grief was palpable, real, so heavy the entire luxury lounge was cloaked in it.
The overhead lights flickered, and for a moment Santiago feared the power would go out. He glanced outside the window and released a heavy sigh. Rain shot down from somber gray clouds, and lightning bathed the sky in a blinding white hue. Thunder boomed, crashed, roared like a train flying down the tracks. His flight to Cabo San Lucas had been delayed—twice—and if the weather advisory for D.C. was lifted in the next twenty-four hours he’d consider it a divine act of God.
Leaning back in his seat, he cleared his mind of all stress, of all worries. He was anxious to see his family, but he couldn’t help wondering if the brutal weather was a sign of things to come. Were stormy days ahead? His mother was booked to have abdominal surgery at the end of the month and she would be out of commission for weeks. His workaholic father would rather travel the country brokering new deals than help manage the resort. It was up to him to oversee the renovation project, and he was already dreading every minute of it.
Santiago calculated the number of hours he’d spent waiting at Dulles International Airport and strangled a groan of frustration. He was stranded, but at least he was comfortable. The spacious first-class lounge had all the comforts of home—semireclining chairs, plush oversize couches, and a restaurant that carried everything from crab salad to Peking duck.
He picked up the Newsweek magazine lying on the glass table and started to read. Two sentences in, his gaze strayed back across the room. He guessed that she was in her midtwenties, but from ten feet away it was hard to know for sure. She looked wounded, broken, but she walked into the lounge with unparalleled grace. She moved with poise, confidence, the elegance of an Oscar-winning actress. And when she sat down in his line of vision, only a few rows away from him, he caught a whiff of her fragrant perfume.
Santiago watched her on the sly. Filled with compassion, he wondered why she looked so sad, why she had such a heavy heart. Was she flying home to care for an ailing relative? Or to attend the funeral of a close, dear friend?
Santiago saw a slim man slide up to her. The woman frowned, said a few words he couldn’t make out, and resumed staring out the window. Shoulders hunched in defeat, the stranger slunk off alone toward the bar. A second later another guy showed up. He was a dead ringer for 50 Cent, and his jeans were so low he was waddling like a pregnant woman in her last trimester. This time, the woman didn’t even turn around. Off the guy went with his tail between his legs. On and on it went until Santiago lost count of her suitors.
Amused, he watched as the woman dissed and dismissed every man who approached her. What was the matter with these guys? Couldn’t they see that she was upset? She needed a friend, someone to tell her that God was bigger than her problems. And he was just the man to do it.
Tossing down the magazine, he straightened his shoulders and adjusted his clothes. Opening his carry-on bag, he fished out his favorite cologne and sprayed some on his shirt collar. Just because I can’t take a shower doesn’t mean I can’t smell nice. He started his workday as early as six o’clock, sometimes earlier. Before most people got out of bed he had already showered, changed and reviewed the morning’s agenda. Being a freelance business consultant was a taxing job, filled with enormous stress and long hours, but he derived great pleasure from fixing companies on the brink of financial ruin. And his six-figure fee wasn’t chump change.
Santiago stood, but didn’t make any moves toward her. Second thoughts set in, pelting him in the back like rocks. You saw what she did to those other guys, his conscience jeered. What makes you think she won’t humiliate you, too? He shrugged off his doubts. There was nothing to fear. After all, he wasn’t trying to make a love connection. His motives were pure; his desire was to help, to reach out. Two years ago he’d been entrenched in the depths of grief, so consumed with pain he was convinced he’d die of a broken heart. But then he’d had the good fortune of meeting Father Francis, and the Catholic priest had helped restore his faith. That was why he had to reach out to her. It’s my Christian duty, he told himself, forcing his eyes away from her sinful curves.
Wallet in hand, he strode purposely through the private seating area and joined the line for the snack bar. As Santiago placed his order and then collected the food, he was attacked by a severe case of self-doubt. His limbs felt weak, like they were coated in papier-mâché. He couldn’t remember ever being this nervous. Not even when— Santiago steeled himself against those painful memories. He wasn’t going there. Not today. He had to move forward, had to keep living. He planned to tell this to the beautiful young woman staring aimlessly out the window. He’d lived through a devastating tragedy, but he was still here. He was still standing.
His confidence came roaring back. I can do this, he told himself. It’s no big deal. But when she glanced his way and their eyes met, Santiago knew his mission was in jeopardy before it had even begun.
Half-dead with exhaustion, Claudia dropped into her seat hungry, tired and shivering with cold. The turbulence on the United flight was so severe, she could hardly think, let alone sleep, and although the Boeing 747 had landed safely at Dulles International Airport, she’d stumbled off the plane feeling more stressed out than ever.
Her stomach grumbled, rumbled like the thunder wreaking havoc outside, but Claudia didn’t even consider getting up from her plush chair. Sleep first, food second. Crossing her legs, she nestled her chin inside her sweater and closed her eyes. The darkness provided a reprieve, a much-needed break from her thoughts.
Her mind cleared.
Her breathing slowed.
Her limbs relaxed.
Imagining herself on a white sandy beach, stretched out on a comfy lounge chair, brought an indulgent smile to Claudia’s lips. Sunshine rained down from the sky, the wind carried the scent of calla lilies and she could hear the waves lapping softly against—
“It’s over. The company’s finished.”
“You think so?”
“Hell yeah! And the CEO and his bandits are to blame. Damn crooks.”
Claudia’s eyes flapped open. Her daydream came to a screeching halt, and fear shot through her veins. It was hard to breathe. No, impossible. The men sitting behind her in the first-class lounge were discussing the collapse of Qwest Capital Investments. The news of William’s arrest had reached Washington? Of course it had! her inner voice screamed. The Dow plunged the day her ex was indicted and, according to published reports, the company had lost millions.
“The wife’s definitely in cahoots with him.”
“Not necessarily. Sometimes the spouse is the last to know.”
“If you believe that,” the man with the gruff voice said, “then you’re even dumber than that greasy-haired kid on Jersey Shore!”
A blast of laughter, and then he resumed speaking. “Claudia Prescott is a scheming liar just like her husband, and I hope they both get a lengthy prison sentence. I say lock ’em up and throw away the key!”
Claudia’s eyes burned and her nose itched. She coughed, ran a hand over her chest to alleviate the burning. It felt like someone had poured Russian vodka down her throat, and the more she swallowed the stronger it burned. Their words cut with the precision of a blade, sliced so deep she’d never be whole again. Stealing went against everything she’d been taught, and although Claudia didn’t know the two men, for some crazy reason she cared what they thought.
“The Prescotts used investors’ money to fund their extravagant lifestyle. They have luxury cars, residential properties and even a three-hundred-foot yacht. Can you believe that? Their victims are penniless, left with nothing but crippling debt, and they’re living the good life.”
Claudia dug her fingernails into her armrest. She didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare open her mouth to defend herself. Let them talk. They didn’t know about her charity work, or the community projects she’d donated her time to. She was innocent, and that was all that mattered. Then why do I feel like curling into a ball and sobbing into my travel pillow?
Overcome by a strong, distinct scent, Claudia shot up straight in her chair. Terror struck, causing fear to ricochet off the walls of her chest. It couldn’t be… He couldn’t be here in the first-class lounge, could he? Circa 1840 wasn’t just any cologne. The scarcity of the ingredients and the six-month fermentation process made it the most unique fragrance in the world. And, at a thousand dollars a bottle, the most expensive. Her ex-husband wore it because he liked flaunting his wealth. And obviously someone else in the first-class lounge did, too.
“How are you today?”
Claudia blinked and turned toward the man with the rich, deep voice. His tone was soft, as smooth as honey. She narrowed her eyes and hit him with a leave-me-the-hell-alone look. He didn’t budge. Instead of making himself scarce, he extended his hand, offering a white cup brimming with whipped cream.
“You look like you could use a warm drink. How about a cup of hot chocolate?”
“No, thanks.”
“Please, take it. I insist.”
Stepping forward, he rested the drink on the table beside her. His scent drifted over her, hitting her square in the nose. Her stomach heaved, pitched from left to right, coiled in a knot so tight she couldn’t swallow.
“I’m Santiago.”
“Good for you.”
“I brought lunch.” He held up a clear plastic bag. “I hope soup, sandwiches and chocolate brownies are okay.”
