“I apologize, but my heart is with someone else,” Alejandro said. “I’m just waiting for her to gather her courage and accept what I offer.”
Mrs. Foster laughed. “Ah... I’ve been there. But alas, it’s your loss.” She turned to Elise and said in English, “Shall we go? I have a guest who is dying to meet you. He says he owns a huge garden and needs a designer for it. Think you can handle a big job?”
Elise was still hearing Alejandro’s words in her mind. His heart? How could that be?
To him, they’d known each other a very short time. They’d never had so much as a conversation. How could he talk of hearts when they didn’t know each other?
On the other hand, she’d known Kent since she was a child and look how that had turned out.
When Mrs. Foster walked ahead, Elise stayed where she was, standing close to Alejandro. She wanted to say something to him. Spanish, English, she didn’t care which. But no words came to her mind.
Instead, with her eyes straight ahead, she reached out and entwined her fingers with his. It wasn’t a full handhold, just fingertips.
Like her, he kept looking forward, but there was promise in their hands. It was time for them to be together.
When Mrs. Foster started to turn back, Elise dropped Alejandro’s hand and hurried forward, the shopping bag held tightly.
This is it, she thought. She was really and truly starting a new career. She’d never thought about being a garden designer, but she liked the idea. And she’d have Alejandro, Diego, and Miguel and the men. Maybe even Carmen would help.
Mrs. Foster opened the door to her house and stepped back to let Elise go in first.
On the threshold, Elise paused to look at Alejandro. He was standing exactly where she’d left him. There was an expression on his beautiful face that she’d never seen on a man before—or at least not directed at her. True, there was a look of lust, of sexual excitement, but also of... Elise took a breath. Love? Was that what she was seeing in Alejandro’s dark eyes? Was it possibly how she was looking at him too?
She wasn’t only starting a career. This was a new life!
Reluctantly, she turned away and went into the cool darkness of the interior. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust—and when they did, she didn’t believe what she saw.
Her father was standing at the end of the big living room—and coming swiftly toward her were two of his hired guards.
“Elise, I’d like you to meet—” Mrs. Foster began. But Elise was already headed for the door.
She wasn’t fast enough. The guards grabbed her, one on each arm, and pulled her back into the room.
“What the hell is this?” Mrs. Foster yelled. “I’m calling the sheriff.”
One of the guards, still holding on to Elise, took the phone from Mrs. Foster’s hand.
“Get out of here!” Elise said to Mrs. Foster in Spanish. “Get Alejandro to go after the sheriff.”
“Really, Elise,” her father said, his voice sounding long-suffering. “Such dramatics. Where did you pick up that awful language? You sound like the cleaning woman. We just want to get you some help.” He turned to Mrs. Foster. “I apologize for the subterfuge, but this is my daughter and she has some serious mental problems. I need to get her to a doctor. Immediately!”
“Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Foster said. “I had no idea. The poor thing.” She looked at Elise with sympathy. “I’ll get the bastard for you,” she said in Spanish, then turned back to the men. “Do you need a car?”
“No,” Elise’s father said. “We brought one.” In the distance they could hear sirens. “What did you do?” he yelled.
Mrs. Foster seemed genuinely puzzled.
Elise’s father look
ed at his daughter with a sneer. “If you think those illegals you’ve latched onto can get you out of your family duty, you’d better think again. Take her to the car!” he ordered the men.
As soon as they were outside, Mrs. Foster ran to the landline phone in the kitchen and called 911, but she was told that the sheriff was already on the way.
Outside, Elise was trying to keep her dignity. The two guards were holding tightly onto her arms and leading her toward a big van with a third man as a driver. Even though she could hear the sirens, they were still too far away to reach her before she was taken away by her father.
She knew that what her father was doing was illegal, but how was she going to get away? She knew from experience that telling people she wasn’t insane got her nowhere. People tended to believe the calm, well-dressed, successful man, and not the girl who was hysterical with fear, her hair, clothes, and face a mess from days of tears.
When they got within a few feet of the car, she saw Diego. He looked worse than she felt. It was as though he was watching all the hope of his life being taken away from him.