The Most Expensive Lie of All Page 3

  And maybe he was here now to let bygones be bygones. She didn’t know, but why pre-empt anything with her own guilt-riddled memories?

  Because it would make you feel better, that’s why.

  ‘As are you.’

  As she was what? Oh, looking well. ‘Thank you.’ She ran a nervous hand down the side of her dress and then pretended she was flicking off horse dust. ‘So...ah...are you here for the polo? The last chukka just finished, but—’

  ‘I’m not here for the polo.’

  Aspen hated the anxious feeling that had settled over her and raised her chin. ‘Well, there’s champagne in the central marquee. Just tell Judy that I sent—’

  ‘I’m not here for the champagne either.’

  Even more perturbed by the way he regarded her with such cool detachment she felt as if she was frying under the blasted summer sun. ‘Well, it would be great if you could tell me what you are here for because I have a few more people to schmooze before they leave. You know how these things go.’

  He looked at her as if he was seeing right inside her. As if he knew all her secrets. As if he could see how desperately uncomfortable she was. Impossible, she thought, telling herself to get a grip.

  Cruz could almost see the sweat breaking out over Aspen’s body and noted the way her cat-green eyes wouldn’t quite meet his. He didn’t know if that was because he was keeping her from an assignation with Billy Smyth, or someone else, or because she could feel the chemistry that lay between them like a grenade with the pin pulled.

  Whatever it was, she wasn’t leaving his side until he had won over her confidence and figured out a way to handle the situation.

  His brother’s silky question about ‘handling the lovely Aspen Carmichael’ came into his head. He knew what Ricardo had meant and looking at Aspen now, in her svelte designer dress and ‘come take me’ heels, her wild hair curling down around her shoulders as if she’d just rolled out of her latest lover’s bed, he had no doubt many men had ‘handled’ her that way before. But not him. Never him.

  So far he’d drawn a blank as to how to contain her money-grabbing endeavours without alerting her to his own interest in Ocean Haven. Until he did he’d just have to rein himself in and keep his eyes away from her sexy mouth.

  ‘I’m here to buy a horse, Aspen. What else?’

  ‘A horse?’

  Aspen blinked. That was the last thing she had expected him to say, though what she had expected she couldn’t say.

  ‘You do have one for sale, don’t you?’ he continued silkily.

  Aspen cleared her throat. ‘Gypsy Blue. She’s a thoroughbred. Ex-racing stock and she’s gorgeous.’

  ‘I have no doubt.’

  Aspen frowned at his tone, wondering why he seemed so tense. Not that he looked tense. In his bespoke suit with his hands in his pockets, his hair casually ruffled by the warm breeze, he looked like a man who didn’t have a care in the world. But the vibe she was picking up from him was making her feel edgy—and surely that wasn’t just because of her sense of guilt.

  ‘Are you hoping the horse will materialise in front of us, Aspen, or are you going to take me to see her?’

  ‘I...’ Aspen felt stupid, and not a little perturbed to be standing there trying not to look at his chiselled mouth. Which was nearly impossible when the memory of the kiss they had shared on that awful night was swirling inside her head. ‘Of course.’ She glanced around, hoping to see Donny, but knew that was cowardly. It was really her responsibility to show him the mare, not her chief groom’s.

  ‘She played earlier today, so she should be in the south stables.’ It was just rotten luck that she happened to be in the building where she had kissed Cruz on that fateful night. ‘Hey, why don’t I take you past the east paddock?’ she said, using anything as a possible distraction. ‘Trigger is out there, and I know he’d remember you and—’

  ‘I’m not here on a social visit, Aspen.’

  And don’t mistake it for one, his tone implied.

  No polo, no champagne, no socialising. Got it.

  Still, she hesitated at his sharp tone. Then decided to let it drop and listened to the sound of their feet crunching the gravel as they walked away from the busy sounds of horse-owners loading tired horses into their respective trucks. It was all very normal and busy at the end of the afternoon’s practice, and yet Aspen felt as if she was wading through quicksand with Cruz beside her.

  She cast a curious glance at him and wondered if he felt the same way. Or maybe he didn’t feel anything at all and just wanted to do his business and head out like everyone else. In a way she hoped that was the case, because the shock of seeing him again had worn off and his tension was raising her stress levels to dangerous proportions.

  But then he had a reason for being tense, she reminded herself, and her skin flushed hotly as the weight of the past bore down on her. Years ago she had promised herself that she would never let pride interfere with the decisions she made in her life, but in avoiding the elephant walking alongside them wasn’t that exactly what she was doing now?

  Taking a deep breath, she stopped just short of the stable doors and turned to Cruz, determined to rectify the situation as best she could before they made it inside.

  Shading her eyes with one hand, she looked up into his face. Had he always been this tall? This broad? This good-looking?

  ‘Cruz, listen. This feels really awkward, but you took me by surprise before when I ran into you—literally.’ She released a shaky breath. ‘I want you to know that I feel terrible about the way you left The Farm all those years ago, and I’m truly sorry for the role I played in that.’

  ‘Are you?’ he asked coolly.

  ‘Yes, of course. I never meant for you to get into trouble.’

  Cruz didn’t move a muscle.

  ‘I didn’t!’ Aspen felt her temper flare at his dubious look, hating how defensive she sounded.

  She’d gone down to the stables that night because Chad—now thankfully her ex—had stayed for dinner so he could present his idea to her grandfather that he would marry her as soon as she turned eighteen. Aspen remembered how overwhelmed she had felt when neither man would consider her desire to study before she even thought about the prospect of marriage.

  She’d known it was what her grandfather wanted, and at the time pleasing him had been more important than pleasing herself. So she’d done what she’d always done when she was stressed and gone down to be with the horses and to reconnect with her mother in her special place in the main stable.

  Gone to try and make sense of her feelings.

  Of course in hindsight letting her frustration get to her and kicking the side of the stable wall in steel-capped boots hadn’t been all that clever, because it had brought Cruz down from his apartment over the garage to investigate.

  She remembered that he had looked gorgeous and lean and bad in dirty jeans and a half-buttoned shirt, as if he had just climbed out of bed.

  ‘What’s got you in a snit, chiquita?’ he’d said, the intensity of his heavy-lidded gaze in the dim light belying the relaxed humour in his voice.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ she’d thrown back at him challengingly.

  Inwardly grimacing, she remembered how she had flicked her hair back over her shoulder in an unconscious gesture to get his full attention. She hadn’t known what she was inviting—not really—but she hadn’t wanted him to go. For some reason she had remembered the time she had come across him kissing a girlfriend in the outer barn, and the soft, pleasure-filled moans the girl had made had filled her ears that night.

  Acting purely on instinct she had wandered from horse stall to horse stall, eventually coming to a stop directly in front of him. The warm glow of his torch had seemed to make the world contract, so that it had felt as if they were the only two people in it. A
spen was pretty sure she’d reached for him first, but seconds later she had been bent over his arm and he had been kissing her.

  Her first kiss.

  She felt her breathing grow shallow at the memory.

  Something had fired in her system that night—desperation, lust, need—whatever it had been she’d never felt anything like it before or since.

  Looking back, it was obvious that a feeling of entrapment—a feeling of having no say over her future—had driven her into the stables that night, but it had been Cruz’s sheer animal magnetism that had driven her into his arms.

  Not that she really wanted to admit any of that to him right now. Not when he looked so...bored.

  ‘This is old news, Aspen, and I’m not in the mood to reminisce.’

  ‘That’s your prerogative. But I want you to know that I told my grandfather the next day that he’d got it wrong.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’ But her grandfather had cut her off with a look of disgust she hadn’t wanted to face. She looked up at Cruz now, more sorry than she could say. ‘I’m—’

  ‘Truly sorry? So you said. Have you become prone to repeating yourself?’

  Aspen blinked up at him. Was it her imagination or did he hate her? ‘No, but I don’t think you believe me,’ she said carefully.

  ‘Does it matter if I do?’

  ‘Well, we used to be friends.’

  ‘We were never friends, Aspen. But I was glad to see your little indiscretion didn’t stop Anderson from marrying you.’

  Aspen moistened her parched lips. ‘Grandfather thought it best if I didn’t tell him.’

  Cruz barked out a laugh. ‘Well, now I almost feel sorry for the fool. If he’d known what a disloyal little cheat you were from the start he might have saved himself the heartache at the end.’

  Oh, yes, he hated her all right. ‘Look, I’m sorry I brought it up. I just wanted to clear the air between us.’

  ‘There’s nothing to clear as far as I’m concerned.’

  Aspen studied him warily. He wasn’t moving but she felt as if she was being circled by a predator. A very angry predator. She didn’t believe that he was at all okay with what had transpired between them but who was she to push it?

  ‘I made a mistake, but as you said you’re not here to reminisce.’ And nor was she. Particularly not about a time in her life she would much rather forget had ever happened.

  She turned sharply towards the stables and kept up a brisk pace until she reached the doors, only starting to feel herself relax as she entered the cooler interior, her high heels clicking loudly on the bluestone floor. Her nose was filled with the sweet scent of horse and hay.

  Cruz followed and Aspen glanced around at the worn tack hanging from metal bars and the various frayed blankets and dirty buckets that waited for Donny and her to come and finish them off for the day. The high beams of the hayloft needed a fresh coat of paint, and if you looked closely there were tiny pinpricks of sunlight streaming in through the tin roof where there shouldn’t be. She hoped Cruz didn’t look up.

  A pigeon created dust motes as it swooped past them and interested horses poked their noses over the stall doors. A couple whinnied when they recognised her.

  Aspen automatically reached into her pocket for a treat, forgetting that she wasn’t in her normal jeans and shirt. Instead she brushed one of the horses’ noses. ‘Sorry, hon. I don’t have anything. I’ll bring you something later.’

  Cruz stopped beside her but he didn’t try to stroke the horse as she remembered he might once have done.

  ‘This is Cougar. Named because he has the heart of a mountain lion, although he can be a bit sulky when he gets pushed around out on the field. Can’t you, big guy?’ She gave him an affectionate pat before moving to the next stall. ‘This one is Delta. She’s—’

  ‘Just show me the horse you’re selling, Aspen.’

  Aspen read the flash of annoyance in his gaze—and something else she couldn’t place. But his annoyance fed hers and once again she stalked away from him and stopped at Gypsy Blue’s stall. If she’d been able to afford it she would have kept her beloved mare, and that only increased her aggravation.

  ‘Here she is,’ she rapped out. ‘Her sire was Blue Rise, her dam Lady Belington. You might remember she won the Kentucky Derby twice running a few years back.’ She sucked in a breath, trying not to babble as she had done over her apology before. If Cruz was happy with the way things were between them then so was she. ‘I have someone else interested, so if you want her you’ll have to decide quickly.’

  Quite a backpedal, Cruz thought. From uncomfortable, apologetic innocent to stiff Upper East Side princess. He wondered what other roles she had up her sleeve and then cut the thought in half before it could fully form. Because he already knew, didn’t he? Cheating temptress being one of them. Not that she was married now. Or engaged as far as he knew.

  ‘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.’