A Spanish Seduction (3 page)

Chapter Three

I am an idiot.

The words played repeatedly in her mind like a litany, yet here she was. Even though each nerve stretched and every shred of DNA she possessed quivered with uncertainty, she’d disregarded all common sense. A misplaced sense of obligation and curiosity had won. Now she was in the opulent home of the first man who’d ever made her feel as though her lungs were constantly on the verge of seizing up.

‘Coffee?’ he asked.

‘No, thank you.’ Her voice was prim, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The formal lounge room looked like something from the pages of a designer homes glossy magazine. All the furnishings screamed of a degree of wealth which was totally foreign to her.

Sternly, she willed herself to relax and to slow her rapid inhalations. ‘Say whatever it is you have to say, because I want to go home.’

For a few seconds he said nothing. Then, he reached behind him to the suit jacket draped over his chair, and withdrew some papers from the inside pocket. ‘I’m a public figure and I’m on the board of directors of a large corporation. What I have to tell you is personal and must remain strictly confidential.’

Jess felt her eyes narrow as she looked at him in mild irritation. ‘Mr Garcia, I have absolutely nothing to do with the corporate world so I’m very confused.’ Confused and growing more curious by the second. ‘Are you sure I’m the person you’ve come to speak to?’

‘You’re Jessica Harris and, as well as working at the cocktail lounge, you’re a remedial masseuse?’

‘Yes, but I don’t see how that —’

He gestured for her to stop. ‘There’s no mistake. You’re exactly the person I need to speak to. Let me explain.’

Her mind raced at a speed that would probably have lapped his racing car on the track. Without false modesty she knew she’d built up a brilliant reputation as a remedial masseuse. After successfully helping a national football legend recover from what could have been a career-ending lower back problem, she’d received many referrals from the richer end of town. Ricardo Garcia must want to engage her professionally for an injured friend or relative. There wouldn’t be any other reason for him to seek her out.

Jess had to get a firm grip back on reality and not allow Tiffany’s whacky suggestions take root. She was plain Jessica Harris — over-her-head-in-debt Jessica Harris who worked two jobs just to make a dent in the debts Jett had left her. Whatever Ricardo had to discuss with her must be related to her day job.

‘Are you listening, Jessica?’ the Spanish heart-throb asked.

Ooh gosh
. The way he said her name was an invitation to sin and every ounce of charisma he exuded had her heart hammering hard behind her ribcage.

‘Yes. Go on.’

‘The matter I’m about to disclose is extremely sensitive. I require you to sign these documents agreeing not to repeat anything we discuss.’

This type of request wasn’t entirely new to her. She’d signed confidentiality clauses when treating famous sporting stars, but nobody had ever approached her at her evening job. ‘Why did you come to the club? Why not see me at the clinic tomorrow?’

‘This must be dealt with tonight.’

That didn’t make any sense.

‘Before I came here, I had you investigated, Jessica.’

Initial surprise at his statement eased almost immediately. She supposed that was reasonable if he wanted her to treat someone he cared about. ‘You asked around about my reputation as a remedial therapist.’

‘No. I hired a private investigator to prepare a detailed report for me about every aspect of your life.’

‘What?’ Outrage made her sit forward on the edge of her seat. ‘Why go to such lengths? If you want to hire me to treat somebody, the clinic can vouch for my treatment record.’

‘This has nothing to do with your job.’

Her jaw slackened. ‘Then, why am I here?’

‘I know you’re in more debt than you can cope with. I’m guessing from the incident tonight that your attacker was telling the truth — you’re behind in the repayments.’

‘Only by a day. I’ll have the money by next week,’ she said defensively. ‘Thank you for intervening tonight, but this has nothing to do with you.’

‘I know you’re sinking in debt, barely making ends meet.’

‘How dare you dig into my private concerns! It’s none of your business, and it’s not my fault! My hus...husband accrued that debt. He deceived me and forged my signature on loan papers.’

‘Why haven’t you defended yourself legally?’

Her shoulders sagged. ‘The way lawsuits drag out, I’d probably end up paying more in legal fees than the amount of Jett’s loan. Besides, I can’t prove my innocence when Jett isn’t around to be questioned.’

‘
Mierda
! Your husband was a bastard.’

Chill leeched into her bones. ‘Did you know Jett? Did he owe you money, too?’

‘No.’

‘Then —’

‘That loan shark will come back and if you can’t pay him, I hate to think of the consequences.’

Tension knotted the muscles along every vertebra in her spine. Her voice was almost a whispered thread as she said, ‘He’ll be back. Your warning only served to inflame him and you won’t be there to stop him next time.’ But she’d have the money. She always managed to scrape just enough together, even if she had to go without other things.

Ricardo got up and paced to a bar. He poured a drink and sat back down opposite her. ‘I have a business proposition for you. Sign these confidentiality papers, stay here and hear me out. If you do, I’ll pay half the debt.’

She gawped at him as the ramifications of his words sank home. He couldn’t possibly mean it. Gripping the edge of the seat she asked, ‘Why would you do that?’

‘We’ll get to my reasons when you sign the papers.’

‘What’s the catch?’

‘No catch.’ He sat back looking more reassured — like a fisherman who’d just hooked a fish and was prepared to let the line run out before he reeled in his prize.

‘I don’t buy it,’ she said warily. ‘There’s always a catch.’

‘Stay and listen and half your debt will be paid. Agree to the proposal I outline and I’ll pay the rest of the debt.’ He crossed his arms over his chest. The unyielding body language underlined he wouldn’t relent on his stipulation. ‘First, sign the confidentiality agreement.’

A jarring reverberation pounded through her temples. Jess interpreted the drumbeat like a primitive tribal warning. Her eyes narrowed as they shifted to the papers he placed on the coffee table. This man could well be the devil in disguise asking her to sell him her soul. None of this made any sense at all.

He tapped the papers. ‘It’s all there in simple terms. Read it and if you have any questions I’ll answer them.’

She regarded him with innate scepticism but reached slowly for the papers. Her hand shook so badly anyone watching would think she was about to stroke a cobra. She could be stepping into a trap but, with the threat of unpaid debt looming over her, she simply couldn’t dismiss this opportunity.

She read and re-read the document, looking hard for a hidden clause or a double meaning. Everything seemed clear cut and she couldn’t find any pitfalls, but it was still unbelievable. Fraught and more than a little exhausted, she slumped back in her chair.

What did she have to lose?

‘Do you have a pen?’

The instant he passed it to her she signed both copies before she could change her mind.

The split-second flash of relief on his face was masked quickly, but it shot her sense of apprehension up a notch.

‘Okay. Tell me whatever it is that’s worth so much money to listen to and keep secret,’ she said.

His fingers raked through his thick, black hair. ‘A week ago I met a woman.’

What?
‘I don’t see what your love life has to do with me.’

One long, brown finger traced around the rim of his glass. His hands were lean and capable. The sort of large, tanned, masculine hands that would contrast against the soft, pale flesh of her abdomen...her breasts...

Oh no. She wasn’t going there!

‘This is an involved story,’ he admitted.

The furrow between his eyebrows drew Jessica’s immediate attention. She got the impression he struggled for words. That surprised her. Ricardo Garcia struck her as a man who had the intelligence to express himself clearly, and the arrogance to give no regard for the consequences of voicing his opinion.

‘I’ve been put in a compromising situation.’

Although she didn’t want to be, she was curious. She couldn’t imagine anyone getting the better of him. He looked like the sort of guy who’d never relax, never let his guard down — not even in sleep.

‘I met this woman at a masquerade ball in Venice, then afterward in that city, very discreetly.’

‘Why discreetly?’ The use of that last word made her bristle. ‘Is she married?’

Anger carved into his features and he replied through clamped teeth, ‘Yes.’

The four letter word she uttered was not part of her usual vocabulary, but infidelity made her feel violent. His admission cut close to the bone because Jett had betrayed their marriage vows and had an affair. ‘That’s inexcusable in my book, Mr Garcia,’ she bit out. ‘If she’s unhappy in her marriage she should leave her husband, not have an affair on the side.’

‘Thankfully, Miss Harris, it didn’t develop as far as an affair. She lied to me. I would never have met with her had I known she was married.’ He glared at his glass and his fingers gripped it so hard she feared it might break.

‘What does this have to do with me?’

His fingers released their grasp. He flexed them and looked from the glass to her. ‘I had no reason to suspect she lied, and she didn’t wear any rings.’

Jessica sat back and folded her arms across her chest. ‘I’m a remedial therapist, not a professional counsellor.’

Just for a second, his jaw tightened. ‘The woman told me her name was Jessica Harris.’

She frowned. ‘It’s a common enough name, I suppose.’

‘Except that it wasn’t her name.’

Jess felt her eyebrows rise.

‘She did more than use your name,’ he almost growled.  ‘She stole your identity.’

‘What?’ She jerked forward, uncrossing her arms and gesticulating helplessly. ‘I don’t understand. Are you saying she pretended to be me?’

‘Apparently, before I met her at the ball, the woman — Carla — spoke to a friend who’s a client of yours. This friend recommended you as a remedial massage therapist. Carla didn’t want to give me her real name – for reasons that are now blatantly obvious. She claims yours was the first name that entered her head. She gave me your name and told me she was a remedial masseuse.’

‘That’s just incredible!’ What a story! Could she believe him? ‘I still don’t understand why you’ve come to London to tell me this. I’m sure it won’t affect me in any way.’

‘At the beginning of the week, a photographer took a picture of Carla and me together. Two days ago it appeared in a gutter tabloid in Spain. Yesterday it was picked up by several other trashy newspapers here in the United Kingdom and across Europe. The repercussions could be disastrous.’

‘Was my name in the papers? Is that how this involves me?’ She pressed a hand to the base of her throat where her pulse drummed erratically in sheer panic. ‘Will I be besieged tomorrow morning by the paparazzi when I turn up at the clinic?’

Hell!
How was she supposed to deal with this?

‘Jessica, listen to me.’ His tone was one a parent would use when trying to calm an excited child, but it had no effect on soothing her raw nerves.

‘I just can’t believe it! I suppose in the circumstances, I should be thanking you for taking the time to come here and warn me in person. Good grief! I guess I can—’

‘That’s not why I sought you out.’

His declaration stopped her rush of speech. ‘It isn’t?’

‘No. The story’s more complex than it first seems. I need you to understand the stakes.’

What could be worse than facing the paparazzi pack? She shook her head and logic asserted itself. The moment photographers saw her they’d be certain there was no truth to the allegation. They’d go away and not bother her. 

She gulped as another possibility struck her. There could be cruel headlines proclaiming — “Racing Legend dates Ugly Duckling”. People would wonder just how this hunky racing legend could ever be involved with her.

Seemingly oblivious to her inner panic, Ricardo let out a long breath. ‘Garcia Corporation manufactures top of the line sports cars. My uncle is CEO, but he had a heart attack last week. His doctors have advised him to retire. He’d like me to take over as CEO, but there are those on the board who believe I’m unsuitable for the role.’

Jessica frowned and shook her head, trying to make sense of this complete change in topic. ‘I don’t mean to sound uncaring about your uncle’s health, Mr Garcia, but I want you to get back to what has happened with the press, and how it will affect me.’ As hard as she tried to sound polite, it was impossible to conceal her impatience.