The Bride Tamer (15 page)

“See, you're jealous. Because you love him.”

“I don't want to drag him down, when one of those other women could make him happy.

“Don't be such a little fool. Call him. Let him decide.”

“Trust me on this. It's better this way.”

“What idiot is it better for? You? The baby? Miguelito? Cash?”

For moments the air was charged. Then Isabela said, “I'm dating someone you know. An American. Aaron. You were teaching him Spanish. He came by looking for you. We started talking and we couldn't stop. He's too old, but we've been having lots of fun together. He's teaching me how to sail.”

“Isabela, I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“You can come home anytime you want, you know.”

When they hung up, Vivian felt very very alone.

Dear Isabela. Even though Vivian had stolen Cash from her, she'd surprised Vivian by how quickly she'd put Vivian's and Miguelito's welfare before her own. Vivian's plane had hardly landed in the Big Easy before Isabela flew up to Louisiana and begged her forgiveness. Once Vivian had let her inside her apartment, they'd both collapsed in each other's arms in tears and laughter.

Then Isabela, who'd seen how bare her tiny apartment was, had taken her shopping and been more generous than ever
before. She'd bought new clothes for Miguelito and darling knickknacks for the apartment.

Maybe with time, Vivian would accept her condition, would get on her feet and turn the apartment into a real home. Maybe with time, she'd become independent. But first she had to find a way to remove Cash McRay from her heart and mind.

No way could she call him and tell him about the baby.

San Francisco

C
ash was sprawled behind his mammoth desk in his airy office with its dazzling views of the bay. He was feeling nuts after a long day. Not that he wanted to go home or to any of the parties penciled under today's date on his calendar.

One minute, Cash was idly sifting through his personal mail and listening to Roger flirt with Leah, Cash's secretary, beyond his open door. The next, his hand shook when he slid a long, pale blue envelope from the bottom of his mail. His eyes narrowed on the return address of the classy antique shop in the French Quarter printed in precise, small letters.

Vivian worked at the shop. He'd learned this from Marco, whom Isabela kept informed. Thank God Isabela's jealousy was like a hot fire that burned like unholy hell but went out quickly. She'd called him. They'd had a friendly chat about a party they were both going to. But mostly they'd talked about Vivian.

It was the first of the month, so Cash should have been expecting Vivian's check. She hadn't returned his calls. As a result Cash had been hell on wheels for the last few days. His staff, even the usually unfazable Roger, had taken to walking out of rooms when he entered.

Not that Cash blamed them. He didn't like himself much either most of the time these days. The trouble with a bad mood was how everybody bounced it back in your face.

Cash slashed the envelope open, hoping for a note, but as always, a single green slip of paper, her check—for one hundred dollars—fluttered onto his desk. He grabbed it and wadded it up, only to look up and see Leah and Roger standing together in the doorway, watching him.

Carefully, Cash unwadded the check.

“That bad, huh?” Leah said.

He waved the crumpled check at them. “Deposit this before it bounces,” he growled. “The woman who wrote it is not to be trusted.”

“You must have met her in Mexico,” Roger said.

“I like her already,” Leah added.

Leah was in her forties and had lots of self-confidence. She was tall and long-waisted, with short wiry brown curls. She could be beautiful or not, depending on her clothes or her mood or her hairdo. She was smart and efficient, and when she smiled and meant it, she could brighten a man's worst day.

Today she wore a stretchy black sheath. She looked so good Roger couldn't stop looking at her.

She picked up the check and purred the last name, rolling the final
r
in an infuriating way. “Escobar-r-r-r? Any kin to Isabela and Marco Escobar-r-r-r?”

Roger's permanent smile was way too bright. “Escobar,” he repeated, pronouncing it correctly.

Leah lifted her thick, penciled auburn brows when Cash didn't look up. “Does she have anything to do with what's been eating you lately?”

Bingo.

“You're supposed to be my secretary, not my therapist,” Cash snapped.

“You don't have a therapist, so I'm pinch-hitting.”

“Well, stop it, Leah.”

“You should take a day off,” Roger said.

“You're driving all of us crazy,” Leah began. “Ever since Mexico, when you visited the Escobar-r-r-rs. Which reminds me, Isabela Escobar-r-r called while you were at lunch.”

“The plot thickens,” Roger said, grinning.

“The r-trilling is getting on my nerves,” Cash growled.

“I'm taking Spanish in night school,” Leah said. “Just practicing, sir.”

Roger laughed. Cash didn't.

“Well, your Miss Escobar-r, oops, well, she said her plane landed safely, and she and her father would meet you at the gala tonight for the opening of the hospital wing you designed.”

“Wilhelm Meredith also called about the Berlin project,” Roger began.

The huge project his firm had bid on for Meredith had been rejected last week. “I've got his number.” Cash's voice was grim.

“Maybe when you see Isabel Escobar-r—”

Cash glared, and she quit trilling instantly. Roger had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.

“Out! Both of you!” When neither of them budged, Cash got up and slammed the door. Then he began to pace.

His love life was the problem and he knew it. Knowing that didn't make him any happier with them or himself. They shouldn't joke or tease. This wasn't funny.

He was behaving like a fool. He needed to move on. But how?

He'd called Vivian after the first check arrived. She'd hung up on him. He'd called her the next month. She'd hung up on him. The next time he'd called, she'd had an answering
machine—and it had been on ever since. Ever since Julio's call, he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything. His designs were off. Hell, his whole damn life felt off.

He broke his pencil and pitched it into the trash. Then he opened his door and stormed out past Leah and Roger, knocking a trash can into the blinds. The can rolled, banging against a long window beside her desk.

“Have a nice evening,” she called after him cheerily.

Cash was too afraid of Roger's big, annoying grin to turn around.

When he reached the exit, it was all he could do to resist slamming the door closed behind him.

 

It was a beautiful night, clear and cool. The hospital wing was beautifully landscaped, with a long bar set up near some high hedges. Tables and chairs were scattered beneath small blue and white party tents. Hundreds of people were clustered together, talking loudly.

Isabela was beautiful in black silk and gold jewelry. She stood out like the brightest jewel in a sumptuous crown, even in that dazzling crowd. Even though she was at the bar surrounded by at least a dozen admiring men, she beamed when she saw him. He went up to her, and she kissed him.

“You look wonderful,” he murmured, inhaling her perfume.

“You look like you're working too hard,” she replied. “You have terrible circles under your eyes.”

He frowned.

“You've lost weight,” she continued. “You look positively gaunt.”

“Have you seen
her
lately?” Cash asked, leading her away from the others.

“Oh, yes. As I told you, we made up almost immediately. Imagine—she stole you from me, and my servants took her side. She called them on the phone all the time. They told me
Miguelito was crying for Julio and me every night. I couldn't stand it.”

“Neither the hell can I,” he said woodenly.

“I couldn't lose you and her and Miguelito. So, one day I just went out to the airport and got on the first plane to New Orleans. The ticket cost a fortune. What can I say? I guess I realized I was marrying you because of who you were, and you were doing the same thing. She honestly fell in love with you. She's stubborn and opinionated, but she's very honest.”

“She said it was just sex.”

“She's a crazy
gringa.
After Julio, she's running scared. She thinks you're way up on some pedestal and she's just a little secretary in an antique shop going to night school.”

“I don't know if I believe you.”

“You should see her apartment. Awful. Tiny. Soulless. But I guess it's all she can afford.”

“She sends me a hundred dollars a month.”

“She can't afford to, and she's too proud to take a dime from me now. She says I supported her too long. I told her, she repaid me a hundredfold by running the house and the servants. Besides, she's family.”

“I call her, but she won't take my calls.”

“Back to that first visit. I took Maria with me because I was afraid to face her alone. When we got there, Maria rang the doorbell. Miguelito opened the door and ran into my arms while Vivian stood behind him just inside the apartment. Finally, I dared to look up at her. She has the softest eyes when they're full of tears…like crushed blue violets.”

“I know that look. She forgave you, then?”

“In a heartbeat. We hugged and cried and then we laughed that we'd behaved like such idiots.”

“Did you talk about me?”

“I'm not that crazy.”

He felt hurt and left out, so he hardened his jaw in an attempt not to show it.

“But she loves you, you big
idioto,
” Isabela said. “And she loves me.”

“How can you be so sure—I mean about me?”

“How can you both be crazy? She would never sleep with a man she didn't love.”

“But I'd only known her one day.”

“So? Don't you believe in magic? In love at first sight?”

“Hell, no.”

“Not even when it's happened to you?”

He stared at her.

“
Gringo. Estùpido.
You two belong together.”

“I miss the hell out of her. I dream about Botticelli a lot,” he said. “Vivian's always stepping out of the paintings wearing nothing. Only then I wake up, and she vanishes.”

“You love her?”

“I think about her all the time. I want to tell her about my day, ask her stupid questions. But—love at first sight? That's a stretch.”

“For a genius, you're not too bright. And another thing—if you don't go see her immediately, Julio is going to turn up on your doorstep.”

“Why?”

“
Hola.
Hello. One plus one sometimes equals more than two.”

“She's not…”

“Pregnant.” Isabela raised her brows and began to nod at him. When he froze, she smiled. “You've made me a
tía
again.”

“Oh God.” He bolted for the exit.

At the sound of his dropped glass breaking, heads turned, and Isabela doubled over with laughter.

 

Vivian was on the phone in the cramped back office of the luxurious antique shop where she worked in the Quarter, when the deliveryman arrived with two large vases of white lilies decorated with Mexican rattles and red and blue ribbons.

“But the porcelains didn't arrive, and we have to have them,” Vivian was saying.

“Where do you want the rest of the flowers?” the deliveryman asked.

“The rest?”

“Our van is full, and they're all for you.”

“What?”

“You've got a wealthy admirer,
chère.
”

“I'll have to call you back,” she said into the mouthpiece.

Thirty minutes later the deliveryman had his van unloaded. The antique shop brimmed with exotic Mexican blossoms. Vivian went from bouquet to bouquet of lilies and hibiscus blossoms and inhaled the sweet fragrance of the lilies as she read the cards. The flowers were from Cash, and every card said “I love you.”

A second truck pulled up with still more flowers, and they were all for her too. When she stepped outside to direct the deliverymen, she gasped in wonder. A tall man with gorgeous black hair and a broad chest was striding toward her. He looked sleek and powerful, even in his elegantly cut gray suit, and even though he was smiling at her uncertainly.

“Cash—” Her voice cracked. Then she backed into the brick wall and froze. “W-why aren't you in San Francisco where you belong?”

“Because you aren't there.” Then he touched her bare arm with the back of his knuckles, and her body shook all over with want and need and anguish.

“Because I missed you,” he said in that velvet tone that undid her.

She caught the smell of his starched cotton shirt as well as the scent of his skin and cologne, and sighed. “I know what you mean.”

“You didn't call.”

“You shouldn't have sent all the flowers. They're way too expensive.”

“I can afford them. I'm rich remember?”

She was thrilled he was here, but her pleasure was laced with the terrible tension that stretched between them. “You should have just called or something.”

“You don't answer your phone.”

“Well, you shouldn't have come all this way.”

“Don't you have something important to tell me?” he asked.

Her gaze darted fearfully to his face. “Did Julio or Isabela tell you, because if they—”

“What does it matter? I'm here, willing to start where we left off…if you are.”

“Cash…”

“Can we go somewhere? A café or something?”

“I—I'll ask my boss.”

A few minutes later, she led him to the café around the corner. He ordered them black coffee and beignets as if they were an ordinary couple.

“Just my luck,” she said after she told him about the baby. “We go to bed once and I get pregnant. I know you couldn't possibly want…and I don't expect—”

He pulled a velvet box out of his pocket and pushed it across the red-checkered tablecloth toward her. “For what it's worth, I do want.” His gaze locked on her face. “I'm asking you to marry me, Vivian.”

She stroked the soft velvet but didn't open the box. “I thought you'd be furious because I didn't tell you.”

His knuckles went white. He was very still. “I'm not saying we don't have a lot of things to work on in our relationship.”

His face was cast in bitter lines. If he were anyone other than who he was, she might have believed she'd hurt him deeply. But he was big and important, and she'd seen pictures of him with famous beauties.

“But I'm willing to try,” he finished.

She told herself she'd hurt his pride, not him. “It wouldn't work…for so many reasons.”

“It won't if you don't give us a chance. It is surprising what challenges can be conquered if you decide to face them head-on.”

“Is that really all it takes?” she asked hesitantly.

“Sometimes.”

“You're famous.”

“You will be too—if you marry me.”

“That's not funny. Everybody will be counting the months.”

“I don't care. Do you?”

“This isn't some fairy tale. We knew each other a couple of days. Guys like you pay doctors to take care of problems like this when you get girls like me pregnant.”