Fierce Passion (34 page)

Ana was chopping chili peppers when she made the mistake of touching her eye. “Oh damn,” she cried.

“Did you get pepper in your eye?” Carol grabbed a clean dishtowel and wet it. “Just press this to your eye and let the tears wash away the sting. I’ll get the eye drops.”

Ana was seated at the kitchen table, and while she didn’t need another reason to cry, she struggled not to be overwhelmed by tears after the burning sting finally abated. “I haven’t cooked anything for myself in so long, I’d forgotten to be careful. I won’t forget again.”

Her mother smoothed back her hair. “You should visit us more often. This is the real world, not the make-believe paradise I raised you in.”

“I know the difference, Mother. Now what can I do for the salad that won’t involve peppers?”

“First scrub your hands to get rid of all the juice and cut the tomatoes.” When they sat down to eat, Carol paused after taking a few bites. “There’s the nicest young man working at the bookstore near Claude’s café. We should have stopped there the other day.”

“I’m sure he’s a sweetheart, but I don’t belong with a man from the ordinary world. He’d soon tire of the attention I receive, and it wouldn’t last long.”

“He’s a poet, so he might be more understanding.”

Ana speared a bite of cucumber with a fierce jab. “A poet? That’s even worse. They’re such sensitive souls and need to comfort themselves. They have little time or emotional strength to sympathize with anyone else.”

Carol swallowed a sip of tea and added more lemon. “No one from the ordinary world, nor poets? Who does that leave? Only the men you meet on jobs?”

“I’m not looking, so please let it go.” The plea worked until Claude came home carrying a tabloid with Alejandro and her on the front page.

Claude handed it to her. “One of the waiters saw this and showed it to me. If you went on a cruise with your husband, where is he? Why haven’t you mentioned him? Did you think we didn’t care? God help us, did he fall overboard and drown?”

Ana sighed unhappily and quickly scanned the story. They’d been photographed on the deck of the
Siren
. Alejandro had knelt beside her wheelchair, and they were laughing at some shared joke. Anyone could have taken it, but the comments on how little she ate had to have come from someone seated at their table. Linda Suarez was the likely source, and she hated the fact the psychologist had pretended a friendly interest simply to gather material to sell to a tabloid.

She looked up at her mother and stepfather. They were all the family she had and deserved the truth. “Why don’t we make tea, and I’ll tell you all about Alejandro Vasquez.”

Carol put on the teakettle, and Claude produced a box of pastries from his café. “I need more than a tepid cup of tea.” He opened a bottle of his favorite chardonnay and poured himself a glass. “Please begin,” he urged.

They stared at her as though expecting a damning confession, but she hadn’t done anything wrong. Fatima had met Alejandro and knew most of their story, so Ana hadn’t had to provide more than a few details of the end of their romance. She couldn’t use the same verbal shorthand with her mother and stepfather. “I should start at the beginning.”

Claude refilled his glass. Carol poured Ana a cup of tea and fetched a stemmed glass to join her husband with wine. The box of pastries sat unnoticed on the table.

Ana fortified herself with sips of sugar-laced tea and began her story in a calm, detached manner, without prejudicing them against Alejandro until she disclosed his lie about their marriage. “It doesn’t matter what the tabloids say. We aren’t married.”

Carol reached across the table for her daughter’s hand. “I’m astonished. A man who’d lie about something so important would lie to you again and again. You’re better off without him.”

“Wait just a minute,” Claude cautioned. “He’s from one of the wealthiest families in Spain, so clearly he can afford you. He’s handsome, so he’d be an attractive partner. He wanted to marry you, which is honorable, even if he went about it poorly. I think you should give him another chance.”

“Another chance at what?” Carol responded. “To create another preposterous fabrication? No, you did the right thing to leave him, sweetheart.”

“If she did the right thing,” Claude countered, “she wouldn’t look so miserable. You must listen to your heart, regardless of what your mother says. Men make more mistakes than women, and you should be generous with your forgiveness.”

Carol got up to wash out her wineglass. “I think I’m going to be ill.”

Ana had felt ill for a long while and understood completely. Alejandro kept leaving her phone messages, and she was disgusted with herself for listening to each one more than once. He had such a marvelous voice. She wished she could trust what he said. “Can we agree not to talk about him?”

“Of course,” her mother replied.

Claude looked between them and shrugged. “If you insist, but if you’re heartbroken without him, you already know what to do.”

“It would be like walking into a burning building,” her mother chided.

“We just agreed to drop the subject,” Claude replied. “I need to go back to the café for the dinner hour. I’ll see you both later. I may stop at the cathedral to pray for wisdom on the way home.”

Once he was gone, Carol returned to the table. “I knew there was something wrong. Why didn’t you tell us about Alejandro when you first arrived?”

“I’d rather you didn’t think me a fool.” She opened the pastry box and removed a cherry tart. “These are always so good.”

Carol leaned back in her chair. “At least you’re eating. That’s good. Do whatever you truly want to do about Alejandro, and we’ll back you either way.”

“Thank you. I’ve been here a week and should think about going home.”

“Stay forever if you like. You’re safe here.” Carol reached for the pastry box. “Oh good, he brought two cherry tarts.”

Ana didn’t think of her personal calendar until she returned home and found it in her lingerie drawer. When she realized her period was three weeks late, she quickly recounted. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter how many times she checked the days. She was still late. She’d been in a serious accident, had anesthesia, taken pain meds, and maybe the combination had upset her body’s rhythm. But with the way her life had been going lately, she doubted such a convenient explanation would prove true. Condoms weren’t 100 percent effective, and things had progressed so quickly with Alejandro, she hadn’t even had time to think about going back on the pill. Clearly it had been another gigantic mistake on her part.

Fatima wasn’t there on a Sunday afternoon to go out for a pregnancy test, and while some pharmacies delivered, she’d have to use an assumed name and ask Juan at the security desk to watch for it. She could send for a whole list of health supplies—Band-Aids, cotton balls, antibiotic ointment, her favorite hand cream and bubble bath. That would fill up the bag, but the pregnancy test would be all that mattered, and whoever filled the order would know it.

She wondered if Alejandro would be glad to hear the news. With her leg in a cast, she couldn’t dance away her choking fear, but she’d wanted a clear break, not an everlasting tie to him. He’d left a message for her when he’d picked up the cats.
After
he had them. He’d not asked beforehand. If he had asked, she’d probably have let them go rather than return his call. His calls since had all included an update on Romeo and Juliet’s welfare. He certainly knew how to hang on when she wanted to let go. She lay down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling for more than an hour, but no escape for her newfound dilemma appeared. No matter how much she didn’t want to do so, she’d have to get up and call Alejandro. Her voice shook as she said hello.

“My God, Ana, have you finally returned one of my calls?”

“I’m home, and I need you to do a favor for me.”

“Do you want the kittens back? They’ve made themselves at home with me, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to disrupt their lives again so soon.”

“Shut up and listen. I need you to buy a pregnancy test and bring it to my condo.” She ended the call before he could give her a smart reply, and he didn’t call back. Maybe he’d been so shocked he would stay home and pretend she hadn’t finally called him after all.

Piles of papers and files were stacked on his father’s desk, and he’d only worked halfway through them. He got up and stretched. Unlike Ana, he’d had time to adjust to her pregnancy, but that didn’t mean he’d found the best way to respond. He’d played out a dozen dialogues in his mind, and each always ended with her furious with him. If he admitted he’d known since she left the hospital, she’d damn him for keeping the secret. If he played dumb, he’d be lying to her. There was no way to win, but he’d have to face Ana all the same. He wouldn’t keep her waiting and grabbed his coat to run her errand.

Along with the pregnancy test, he bought pink roses and a box of chocolate-covered almonds. His mouth was so dry when he knocked on her door, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to speak.

Ana hopped to the door and welcomed Alejandro with an impatient nod. “Thank you, but you needn’t have brought flowers and candy.”

He carried everything into the kitchen, found a glass and took a drink before she could toss him out. “I thought if we had something to celebrate, we’d need candy and flowers.”

“Possibly. In your many messages, you didn’t mention you were growing a beard.”

“You listened? I thought every word zoomed straight into the ether. I need to look mature and solidly responsible to run the Ortiz Line. Does it work?”

His beard grew low on his cheeks and accented his features handsomely. That he was even better looking twisted her insides. “I’m not the one to ask. The vases are under the sink. If you’ll put the roses in one, I’ll go and take the test.”

He handed her the box. “Do you want to talk about options first? That way there won’t be any pressure afterward.”

She leaned against the counter. “I’d rather not speculate.”

He opened the box of candy. “Have a chocolate almond or two first. Maja told me chocolate works wonders.”

She took them and hopped away. He was equally on edge and ate a couple. He trimmed the stems of the roses the way his mother had, placed them in an elegant crystal vase and carried them into the living room. If he were going to tell the truth, and damn the consequences, he’d have to do it before she told him what the test showed. He didn’t want to hover outside her bathroom door, but thought he could sit in the chair in her bedroom corner without upsetting her too badly.

When she came out of the bathroom wiping tears from her cheeks, he spoke softly so she’d notice him without being frightened. “I already know what the test shows. Dr. Pallares ran tests when you entered the hospital, and one showed you were pregnant.”

Astonished, she eased down on the foot of the bed. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She thought we should wait until you felt better.”

“We? Oh, I’d almost forgotten, you were pretending to be my husband. So you’ve known all this time and didn’t tell me?” She closed her eyes for a moment and sniffed away the last of her tears. “What’s your excuse? You’ve had plenty of time to dream up something really creative.”

No excuse would justify his silence. “I don’t have one.”

She glared at him. “I’ll give you one. If we married on board the
Siren
, then you’d have a claim to the child before I even knew I’d have one. Perfect. You don’t need a beard, although it’s attractive, as everything about you is, but you’d remain darkly sinister without it.”

He didn’t move. “I wanted you and the baby and still do.”

She looked away. “Will you please go? My life keeps lurching out of control, and I need time to think.”

“My life isn’t going as well I’d hoped either, but we’ll make great parents.” He stood and leaned down to place a light kiss on her hair. “What do you want for dinner? You ought to eat, and you don’t look in the mood to cook.”

“Must I summon security to make you leave?”

“No, of course not. Besides, offering to fix dinner isn’t a threat. Do you want to have a gallon of the vegetable stew you like delivered?”

“Another attempt to seduce me with vegetables?”

“I’ll use whatever I have to.” He laughed in spite of himself. “I know a place that makes the best pisto manchego and artichoke rice cakes. If you don’t feel up to going out, they deliver.”

“Are we living in the same universe?” she countered. “When we met, I was a successful model. Now with a scar, a broken leg and pregnant, I’m barely photographable. I’ll probably have to work as a hand model. I’ve also been married and unmarried with amazing haste, to say nothing of being on the fringe of a murder investigation. My life has fallen into dismal chaos, and you want to go out to dinner?”

He nodded. “It would be a good distraction.”

“You’re driving me to distraction right here.”

“I’ll consider that a vote for the manchego. I’ll let you know when the food arrives.” He walked out of her bedroom before she could insist he had to leave. She was talking to him, so things weren’t going too badly.