“She is a part of our family.”
“Says you. I’m still not sure what you’re talking about.”
“It’s her choice to live this way rather than claim her birthright.” He tipped his head to the side. “You didn’t know that? She and her mother chose a long time ago not to accept anything from him. He slipped help how he could. Surprise prize winnings, bonuses at work, even a fellowship to travel to Europe.”
Eloisa would spit nails if she found out the whole trip was a setup. But given her prickly ways about money, that would have been the only way to get her to accept anything. “Most women I know wouldn’t like being manipulated that way.”
“Then don’t tell her.”
“Why are you telling me?” That put him in a tough position, forcing him to keep secrets. He hated lies. Always had. His father had hammered that into his head from a young age. His dad had been in the military before he’d gone into politics. He’d prided himself on being a rarity—a guy who shot straight from the hip, no matter what.
He’d always said the measure of a man was how he acted when no one was looking.
“I am hoping you can hold some sway over her to see my father for what may very well be the last time. She needs persuading. She’s a stubborn woman.”
“Wait. Hold on for just a damn minute. You say you haven’t seen her, but you know all about her personality?”
He shrugged. Did this dude ever relay any emotion? “I never said we haven’t kept close watch over her.”
She definitely wouldn’t like that. Even if this guy was on the up and up, another possibility still existed. He might be a stalker. Family could stalk. And dealing with that possibility took precedence. “It’s time for you and me to leave.”
“You and I?”
“I’m not letting you walk away until I am one hundred percent sure who you are. I have connections of my own.”
“Fair enough. Just one question first.” Duarte’s dark eyes narrowed as if zeroing in for the kill. “Who did you think I was when you entered?”
The sound of a key rattling in the front door jarred the silence between them. Damn it all. He should have moved faster. The hinges creaked and Jonah put himself between this man and the path Eloisa would take.
Eloisa filled the open French doors, two grocery bags in her arms and her mouth open wide.
“Duarte?”
Shock nailed her feet to the floor.
Eloisa blinked fast twice, unable to believe her eyes. It couldn’t possibly be one of the Medina brothers…. Did he even go by Medina?
But she’d seen a few pictures over the years and she would never forget the faces of her faraway brothers. That summer she’d visited, Duarte had told her of his dream to take a new last name, maybe his mother’s maiden name, and move out of the compound, into the world. Duarte had been emphatic about making his own way in the world.
She’d understood that, even at seven, when he’d talked about his plans for “getting the hell off this island.”
Island? Until just this moment she’d forgotten that part of talking with him.
From his slick suit, gold watch and some kind of signature cologne, it didn’t seem he’d done too badly for himself. She was glad for him if he’d managed to fulfill those dreams of leading his own life.
Although he had managed to send all her evening plans up into smoke.
Eloisa juggled bags of groceries in her arms as her purse dangled from her elbow. She would have set them on the counter when she’d entered the apartment, but she’d heard two voices on the patio and rushed out there, food and all.
She’d traded a favor at work and clocked out early. She was always the one staying late for others who had surprise dates.
It was fun to be on the other side of that for a change. So much for fun.
Both men stepped forward to take a sack from her arms, the food she’d bought with such grand ideas for her evening. She’d taken great care in making her selections at the market. Deciding had been tougher than she expected because what could you serve a tycoon world traveler?
She’d opted for a simple regional classic that might actually have a chance at being heavy enough for a big guy like Jonah—shrimp and grits, with slaw and biscuits on the side. She’d splurged on a bottle of good wine. Well, what she considered good, which could very well be swill by his standards. Not that it mattered now since they had an extra guest.
Her hands shook with nerves and she nearly dropped her purse. How silly to be this uptight about making dinner for a guy.
Dinner for her husband.
She felt the smile on her face before she ever realized she’d reacted. Seeing him made her happy. Wow. What an awesome—and scary—notion.
Especially with this huge distraction between them. Before she could do anything, she needed to find out why her brother had shown up here so unexpectedly.
The space between them might be short—the patio was microscopic, after all—but there might as well have been a mile between them. Hugging this distant man she’d only spoken to once seemed awkward, even if they shared the same DNA.
And now that she thought about, how strange for him to be here. A trickle of unease tickled inside her stomach. “Come into the town house, gentlemen. Let’s get those groceries inside before the shrimp spoils in this heat.”
Eloisa flashed a grateful smile to Jonah. She couldn’t miss the tic in the corner of his eye, but wasn’t sure what put it there.
“Duarte,” she touched her brother’s arm lightly, “welcome. You might as well stay for supper. Unless you’ve already made other plans?”
Once in the kitchenette, Jonah’s somber gaze stopped her midramble. “Your brother said he needs to talk to you.”
“Right, of course. We have a lot to catch up on, I’m sure.” God, this felt so surreal, having her brother here after so many years.
She put away groceries on autopilot. Holding a wrapped and taped bag of shrimp in her hands, she pivoted toward the refrigerator and almost slammed smack into her brother. “Sorry, uhm, not much space.”
“How did you recognize me?” Duarte asked simply, with no preamble.
She looked into dark eyes identical to her own, ones that had also stared back at her from her father’s face during that memorable encounter years ago. “You look just like him.”
“Our father?” Duarte blinked slowly, his eyes more enigmatic than their dad’s. The old king’s eyes had been mostly sad. “You were only seven years old.”
“But Enrique was younger then.” Although in her childish view he’d seem so very ancient. “And my mother kept a picture of him from when they, uh, knew each other. She let me hide it in my sock drawer sometimes. I mixed it in with fan clippings and posters so no one would ever guess. And it’s obvious I’m right.”
She couldn’t bear this standoff positioning. Eloisa strode past to shove the bag of seafood into the refrigerator. She had to be in control of something, even if it was making sure the shrimp didn’t spoil. “Why are you here? Now?” Eloisa froze as a horrible possibility avalanched over her, far more chilling than the blast from the fridge. She spun back around. “Is he dead?”
“He’s alive,” Duarte reassured her quickly, even though his somber face gave her pause. “I’m here because you contacted the lawyer. And we would have been in touch with you soon anyway. Our father is sick, most likely dying. He wants to see his children.”
“How many of us are there?” Damn, where had that cruel response come from? From the deep recesses of her late-night childhood fears and tears, no doubt.
Jonah placed a comforting, steadying hand between her shoulder blades, while nudging the refrigerator closed with his foot.
Duarte stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. “Just you, our two brothers and, of course, me.”
“Pardon me if I’m not so sure.” Eloisa breathed deeply to expand the tightness rapidly constricting her rib cage with tension. “I am sorry he’s sick, but I don’t think we have anything to say to one another. Not after so many years.”
She expected an argument, smooth persuasive reasons why she was wrong. But Duarte simply shrugged.
“Okay then. I’ll let him know the message was delivered and you declined. Since you don’t have any questions, I’ve completed my task.”
That was it? He was leaving?
Duarte slid a card onto the sofa end table, simple white vellum with a number printed in raised, black ink. He anchored it with a paperweight. “You can contact me when you decide to see him.”
When?
Another decade or two?
Duarte had simply shown up, rocked her balance until she didn’t know what she thought, and then he was gone again before she could gather her thoughts. He hadn’t come to see her. He’d come to pass along information. God, she was such an idiot, still hiding hopes deep in her heart like those pictures of her biological family tucked under her socks.
She wanted to cry but her eyes were dry after all these years.
Jonah stepped around her, nearly nose to nose with her brother. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“No need.” Duarte nodded to Eloisa, starting toward the front door. “I’ll let our father know you will be visiting soon.”
She stifled the urge to scream out her frustration. Who did these Medina men think they were to blast into a person’s life once every decade or so and wreak total havoc? “You’re assuming a lot.”
He pivoted back toward her fluidly. “There are many times when my life has relied on my ability to read people.”
Duarte Medina slipped out of the door as quietly and quickly as he’d arrived.
Jonah rubbed between her shoulder blades. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Totally fine. Why wouldn’t I be? It was just five minutes out of my life. No big deal. Now he’s gone and everything’s back to normal again.” She pulled away and yanked open the refrigerator. “I’ll start supper.”
His hands landed on her shoulders, squeezing gently with a sympathy and comfort that swept away her defenses. She shattered inside from endless vows that she didn’t care if her father never fought for her. And when her brothers struck out on their own, they never even bothered to contact her. Years of being everyone’s support and nobody’s princess crashed down on her until she hurt so bad inside she couldn’t find any corner of her soul to hide and escape.
She had nowhere to go except straight into Jonah’s arms.
Nine
Eloisa blocked out the ache in her heart left from her brother’s shocking visit and focused on Jonah. Just Jonah, with her, both of them hopefully nak*d very, very soon.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and flattened herself to him. He stumbled back a step and nearly slammed into the kitchen counter.
“Whoa.” He gripped her hips, steadying them both so they didn’t knock off the remaining groceries or tumble to the tile floor. “Let’s slow this down a minute and think things through. I know you’re upset—”