Sweat slicked her skin.
‘Didn’t you give him a middle name?’
That was when she realised Javier already knew. He already knew Luke was his. Terror transfixed her. How long had he known and what had he planned? Because he clearly had something in mind. Him walking into her shop was no moment of chance. She had no idea what to do or say in response—all she knew was that she couldn’t trust his handsome visage.
‘Lucero Ramon Jones. Isn’t that right?’ Javier confirmed her fears with dangerously gentle accuracy.
‘You’ve seen his birth certificate?’ Her voice barely sounded.
‘You left the father’s name blank.’
How had he seen that certificate? How long had he been here?
‘Emerald?’ he prompted.
‘For good reason,’ she tossed back on a rush of adrenalin and anger. ‘I’m not sure who the father is.’
‘Are you not?’ He cocked his head. ‘Emmy, we both know the dates fit. I was your first lover and you’ve even named him after me.’
Heat surged. ‘I named him after the man who lied to me. Who didn’t even tell me his real name. “Ramon” was nothing but a lie—a fake persona from some entitled sociopath. You’re not him.’
He was nothing like the man he’d passed himself off as—funny and charming, carefree yet caring. Javier Torres was none of those things.
For a long moment he was utterly silent, but emotion enlarged his pupils so much that the black-coffee core almost obliterated the cocoa-coloured iris completely.
‘What’s my name, Emmy?’ he finally asked in a bloodless, shocked-sounding whisper.
Too late she realised she’d given herself away. Now he knew that she knew he’d lied to her. She straightened, determined to hide her fear because surely, in the shades of grey in this mess, he was the worst liar between them? And even if he wasn’t, she had to be completely honest now. ‘Javier Torres.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Javier Ramon Torres.’
She closed her eyes. That name had been the only tribute she’d been able to offer her son at the time of his birth. She’d felt so betrayed when she’d learned ‘Ramon’ was really Javier and humiliated that she’d given it to Luke. But now it was relevant again? It was their common middle name and, while that should be a soothing symmetry, stupidly it hurt her more.
‘How long have you known?’ His question now had an edge and she couldn’t blame him.
‘Not long.’ She lifted her chin bravely. ‘Since the media release about the Flores property.’
The property she’d shown him—her most favourite place in the world. Her sanctuary. She’d been naive to share something so special with a stranger. Those moments of lust and excitement had made her brainless. Because he’d bought it and was now transforming it from budget retreat to swanky hotel. He was a brutal, ruthlessly acquisitive businessman. Nothing like the carefree sea god who’d held her spellbound that evening on her precious beach.
‘That was mont
hs ago.’ His mouth compressed. ‘Yet you’ve not got in touch since.’
‘You lied to me,’ she muttered.
‘It seems we’re both liars.’
She pushed down her rising panic.
‘How could you just try to tell me you didn’t know who his father is?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t—not for months anyway and even then I found out little more than your real name.’
‘You should have contacted me the second you found that out.’
He was right and yet wrong, because she’d learned more than his real name, she’d discovered his lack of integrity too.
‘I don’t know you at all, nothing other than that you lied to me that night,’ she defended herself desperately. ‘I couldn’t even be completely sure that the jerk written about in the paper was actually the guy from that night.’