“You break my heart.”
“You don’t have a heart!”
“All I want from you is help convincing my grandfather that this contract should never have been written, not for your sake or mine but for his. He is old and I love him, and I would not hurt him for the world. Do you understand?”
She wanted to make a clever response but her brain didn’t seem to be working.
Lucas Reyes was a mass of contradictions.
She’d accused him of having no heart but he did, when it came to his grandfather. But when it came to everything else…How could he kiss her and fake all that passion?
Better still, how could she have responded to him when she hated him?
“Now,” he said coolly, “I ask you again. Is there a better road to the airport?”
She wanted to tell him the road to hell was the best road for him, but she wasn’t stupid.
Lucas Reyes was the enemy but for now, it would be best not to take him on. Instead she kept her voice as toneless as possible.
“Take the left fork at the end of the driveway, then the first road after that.”
“And where will I end up, amada? On my way to the airport—or on my way to hell?”
The look on her face made Lucas want to laugh.
But he didn’t.
Reading Alyssa McDonough’s thoughts was easy—but there was little to laugh about tonight.
His grandfather lay ill. He was bringing home a woman he distrusted. Who knew what was truth and what was deceit? Finding the answer seemed as elusive as chasing moonlight.
And, come to think of it, how was he going to get home? His plane would not be waiting for him. He’d sent it to New York, hours ago.
Lucas’s jaw tightened. Madre de Dios, what a mess!
He dug out his cell phone, mentally crossed his fingers and flipped it open. Four transmission bars appeared. Four beautiful, big transmission bars. Quickly, before the gods of mischief could erase them, he punched in 4-1-1 and asked for the airport’s number.
Luck stayed with him.
The office was open. And yes, there was a plane available for rent and yes, its range was sufficient to get to New York City.
Lucas made the necessary arrangements, phoned his pilot in New York, told him to be ready to go as soon as they arrived at JFK. When he flipped the phone shut, he found Alyssa watching him.
“Do people always do as you tell them?”
It was a cool statement, not a question, and he knew better than to take her words as a compliment. Instead he leaned across the console, caught her face in his hand before she could pull away and took her mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss.
“Si,” he said softly, “always.”
Then he swung the car back onto the road and gunned the engine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY left Texas in the small jet Lucas had rented, his hand firmly on Alyssa’s elbow as they boarded, as if he thought she might bolt at the last minute.
The truth was, she thought about it but stubbornness and pride kept her moving up the steps and into the plane.
Backing down now would have been a sign of weakness.