Her sleek dark hair was slicked back in a severe ponytail that gave her already exotic brown eyes a tug. Without so much as lip gloss, she relegated most models to the shadows.
Once he had her name on the dotted line of divorce papers—official ones this time—he would have nothing to do with her ever again. That had been the plan anyway. He didn’t need round two of her hot-cold treatment. So he’d misread the signs, hadn’t realized she was drunk during the “I do” part. That didn’t mean she had to slap his face and fall off the planet. He was over Eloisa.
Or so he’d thought. Then he’d seen her and felt that impact all over again, that kick-in-the-gut effect he’d thought must have been exaggerated by his memory.
He tamped back the attraction and focused on seeing this through. He needed her signature and for some reason he refused to leave it up to lawyers. Maybe it had something to do with closure.
Eloisa inched her heel from between the planks and set both feet as firmly as her delicate jaw. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to accompany you to your sister’s engagement party.” He hooked an elbow on the open limo door, the chauffeur waiting up front as he’d been instructed earlier. “Can’t have my wife going stag.”
“Shhh!” Lurching toward him, she patted the air in front of his face, stopping just shy of touching his mouth. “I am not your wife.”
He clasped her hand, thumb rubbing over her bare ring finger. “Damn, I must have hallucinated that whole wedding ceremony in Madrid.”
Eloisa yanked her hand away and rubbed her palm against her leg. “You’re arguing semantics.”
“If you would prefer to skip the party, we could grab a bite to eat and talk about those semantics.” He watched the glide of her hand up and down her thigh, remembering well the creamy, soft texture under his mouth as he’d tasted his way up.
She stared at him silently until he met her eyes again. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Climb into the car and see.”
She glanced back at the boat, then at him again, her long ponytail fanning to rest along her shoulder. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
“Afraid I’ll kidnap you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She laughed nervously as if she’d considered just that.
“Then what’s holding you back? Unless you want to continue this conversation right here.” He nodded toward the boat full of partyers. “I thought you wanted me to be quiet.”
She looked back over her shoulder again, and while it appeared no one noticed them, who knew how long that would hold? Not that he gave a damn what anyone thought, unlike his enigmatic wife. He’d learned a long time ago he had two choices in this world. Let others rule his life or take charge.
The second option won hands down.
He cocked an eyebrow and waited.
“Fine,” she bit out between gritted teeth.
She eyed him angrily as she angled past and slid into the car without even brushing against him. Eloisa settled into the leather seat.
Jonah tucked himself inside next her, closed the door and tapped the glass window between them and the chauffeur, signaling him to drive. Just drive. He would issue a destination later.
“Where are we going?” she asked as the limo eased into motion, the tinted windows closing them in their own private capsule.
“Where do you want to go? I have a penthouse suite farther down on Pensacola Beach.”
“Of course you do.” Her gaze flicked around the small space, lingering briefly on his computer workstation to her left before moving on to the minibar and the plasma screen TV.
“I see you haven’t changed.” He’d forgotten how prickly she could be about money. Still, it had been refreshing. He’d had plenty of women chase him because of the Landis portfolio and political influence.
He’d never had a female dump him because of it. Of course back then he hadn’t known she had access to money and influence beyond even his family’s reach. Mighty damn impressive.
And confusing since she hadn’t bothered to share that even after they married.
He put a damper on the surge of anger, a dangerous emotion given the edge of desire searing his insides. To prove to himself he could stay in control, he slid two fingers down the length of a sleekly straight lock of her black hair.
Eloisa jerked her head away. “Stop that.” She adjusted the air-conditioning vent nervously until the blast of air ruffled her ponytail. “Enough playing, although you certainly seem to be an expert at recreation. I just want to know why you’re here, now.”
With all he knew about her, she still understood so little about him. “What’s wrong with wanting to see my wife?”
“Ex-wife. We got drunk and ended up married.” She shrugged casually, too much so. “It happens to lots of folks, from pop stars to everyday Joes and Josephines. Just check out the marriage logs in Las Vegas. We made a mistake, but we took steps to fix it the morning after.”
“Do you consider all of it a mistake? Even the part between ‘I do’ and waking up with a hangover?” He couldn’t resist reminding her.
A whisper of attraction smoked through her dark eyes. “I don’t remember.”
“You’re blushing,” he noted with more than a little satisfaction, grateful for the soft glow of a muted overhead light. So he was smug. Sue him. “You remember the good parts all right.”
“Sex is irrelevant.” She sniffed primly.
“Sex? I was talking about the food.” He turned the tables, enjoying the cat-and-mouse game between them. “The mariscada en salsa verde was amazing.” And just that fast, he could all but taste the shellfish casserole in green sauce, the supper she’d shared with him before they had after-dinner drinks. Got hitched. Got nak*d.
He could see the same memory reflected in her eyes just before her mouth pursed tight.
“You’re a jackass, Jonah.”
“But I’m all yours.” For now at least.
“Not anymore. Remember the morning-after ‘fix’? You’re my ex-jackass.”
If only it were that simple to put this woman in his past. God knows, he’d tried hard enough over the past year to forget about Eloisa Taylor Landis.
Or rather Eloisa Medina Landis?
He’d stumbled upon the glitch in a church registry, a “minor” technicality she’d forgotten to mention, but one that had snarled up their paperwork in Spain. The sense of shock and yeah, even some bitter betrayal rocked through him again.
No question, he needed to put this woman in his past, but this time he would be the one to walk away.
“Now there you’re wrong, Eloisa. That fix got broken along the way.” He picked up a lock of her hair again, keeping his hand off her shoulder.
Lightly he tugged, making his presence felt. A spark of awareness flickered through her eyes, flaming an answering heat inside him. He looked at the simple gold chain around her neck and remembered the jewels he’d once pictured there while she’d slept. Then she woke up and made it clear there would be no summer together. She couldn’t get out of his life fast enough.
Her breath hitched. He reminded himself of his reason for coming here, to end things and leave.
Now he wondered if it might be all the more satisfying to have one last time with Eloisa, to ensure she remembered all they could have had if only she’d been as upfront with him as he’d been with her.
He glided his knuckles up her ponytail to her cheek, gently urging her to face him more fully. “The paperwork never made it through. Something to do with you lying about your name.”
Her eyes darted away. “I never lied about my name—” She sat up straighter, her gaze slamming back into his. “What do you mean the paperwork didn’t go through?”
She seemed to be genuinely surprised, but he’d learned not to trust her. Still he would play this game out in order to achieve his ultimate goal—a final night in her bed before leaving her forever.
“The divorce wasn’t finalized. You, my dear, are still Mrs. Jonah Landis.”
Two
He had to be joking.
Eloisa dug her fingers into the leather seats, seriously considering making use of that bottle of bourbon in the limo’s minibar. Except indulging in a few too many umbrella drinks had landed her in this mess in the first place.
She’d taken pains to cover her tracks. Her mother had warned her how important it was to be careful. Keep a low profile. Stay above reproach. And never, ever invite scrutiny.
Eloisa looked out the window to see where they were headed. They passed nail salons and T-shirt shops along the beachfront, nightlife in full swing on open-decked restaurant bars. The chauffeur truly seemed like he was simply driving around, not headed anywhere specific—such as Jonah’s hotel.
She simply couldn’t pay the price for being impulsive again. “We signed the divorce paperwork.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “Apparently there’s some–thing you neglected to tell me, a secret you’ve kept mighty close to the vest.”
Eloisa bit her lip to hold back impulsive words while she gathered her thoughts and reminded herself to be grateful he hadn’t stumbled upon her more recent secret. Her empty stomach gripped with nerves. She tried to draw in calming breaths, but had to face a truth learned long ago. Only when working at the library could she relax.
Best she could tell, there weren’t any books conveniently tucked away in this superbly stocked luxury ride. Although the backseat area was packed with enough technology to provide a command central for a small army. Apparently Jonah preferred to have the world at his fingertips. Odd, but she didn’t have time for distractions right now.
“What secret?” she asked out of a long-honed habit of denial. To date, no one had pressed the point so the strategy hadn’t let her down yet. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His jaw went tight with irritation. “That’s the way you want to play this? Fine.” He leaned in closer until she couldn’t miss the musky scent of him mixed with his still-familiar aftershave. “You forgot to mention your father.”
Her chest went tighter than her hands twisting in the skirt of her dress. “My dad’s a tax collector in Pensacola, Florida. Speaking of which, why aren’t you home in Hilton Head, South Carolina?”
He gripped her wrists to stop her nervous fidgeting. “Not your stepdad, your biological father.”
Apparently, Jonah wasn’t easily diverted tonight.
“I told you before about my biological father.” A shiver passed over her at even the mention of the man who’d wrecked her mother’s life, the man she lied about on a regular basis. “My mother was a single parent when I was born. My real father was a bum who wanted no part in my life.” True enough.
Her dad—no more than a sperm donor as far as she was concerned—had broken her mother’s heart then left her to raise their child alone. Her stepfather might not have been Prince Charming—wasn’t that damn ironic?—but at least he’d been there for her and her mother.