‘Hello, Cruz, welcome back to Ocean Haven. You’re looking well.’ Which was a half-truth if ever she’d uttered one.
The man didn’t look well. He looked superb.
His thick black hair that sat just fashionably shy of his expensive suit jacket and his piercing black eyes and square-cut jaw were even more beautiful than she remembered. He’d always had a strong, angular face and powerful body, but eight years had done him a load of favours in the looks department, settling a handsome maturity over the youthful virility he’d always worn like a cloak.
The apology she’d never got to voice for her part in the acrimonious accusations that had no doubt contributed to him leaving Ocean Haven eight years ago hovered behind her closed lips, but it seemed awkward to just blurt it out.
How could she tell him that a couple of months after that night she had written him a letter explaining everything but hadn’t had the wherewithal to send it without feeling a deep sense of shame at her ineptitude? It was little comfort knowing she’d been distracted by her grandfather’s stroke at the time, because she knew her behaviour that night had probably brought that on too. After he had recovered sending Cruz a letter had seemed like too little too late, and she’d pushed out of her mind the man who had fascinated her during most of her teenage years.
And maybe he was here now to let bygones be bygones. She didn’t know, but why pre-empt anything with her own guilt-riddled memories?
Because it would make you feel better, that’s why.
‘As are you.’
As she was what? Oh, looking well. ‘Thank you.’ She ran a nervous hand down the side of her dress and then pretended she was flicking off horse dust. ‘So...ah...are you here for the polo? The last chukka just finished, but—’
‘I’m not here for the polo.’
Aspen hated the anxious feeling that had settled over her and raised her chin. ‘Well, there’s champagne in the central marquee. Just tell Judy that I sent—’
‘I’m not here for the champagne either.’
Even more perturbed by the way he regarded her with such cool detachment she felt as if she was frying under the blasted summer sun. ‘Well, it would be great if you could tell me what you are here for because I have a few more people to schmooze before they leave. You know how these things go.’
He looked at her as if he was seeing right inside her. As if he knew all her secrets. As if he could see how desperately uncomfortable she was. Impossible, she thought, telling herself to get a grip.
Cruz could almost see the sweat breaking out over Aspen’s body and noted the way her cat-green eyes wouldn’t quite meet his. He didn’t know if that was because he was keeping her from an assignation with Billy Smyth, or someone else, or because she could feel the chemistry that lay between them like a grenade with the pin pulled.
Whatever it was, she wasn’t leaving his side until he had won over her confidence and figured out a way to handle the situation.
His brother’s silky question about ‘handling the lovely Aspen Carmichael’ came into his head. He knew what Ricardo had meant and looking at Aspen now, in her svelte designer dress and ‘come take me’ heels, her wild hair curling down around her shoulders as if she’d just rolled out of her latest lover’s bed, he had no doubt many men had ‘handled’ her that way before. But not him. Never him.
So far he’d drawn a blank as to how to contain her money-grabbing endeavours without alerting her to his own interest in Ocean Haven. Until he did he’d just have to rein himself in and keep his eyes away from her sexy mouth.
‘I’m here to buy a horse, Aspen. What else?’
‘A horse?’
Aspen blinked. That was the last thing she had expected him to say, though what she had expected she couldn’t say.
‘You do have one for sale, don’t you?’ he continued silkily.
Aspen cleared her throat. ‘Gypsy Blue. She’s a thoroughbred. Ex-racing stock and she’s gorgeous.’
‘I have no doubt.’
Aspen frowned at his tone, wondering why he seemed so tense. Not that he looked tense. In his bespoke suit with his hands in his pockets, his hair casually ruffled by the warm breeze, he looked like a man who didn’t have a care in the world. But the vibe she was picking up from him was making her feel edgy—and surely that wasn’t just because of her sense of guilt.
‘Are you hoping the horse will materialise in front of us, Aspen, or are you going to take me to see her?’