Hidden Agenda by Rochelle Alers Page B

don’t mean to rush you,
Preciosa
, but we must leave as soon as possible. I’d like us to do some shopping before the
siesta
.”
    Eve noted the thin gold watch on her own wrist. “What time is
siesta?
”
    “Usually two to four.”
    “Do I have time for coffee?”
    Matt hesitated and Alma smiled at him. “Lighten up, Matthew, and let her eat something, or else she’s going to faint in this heat.”
    “She’s not pregnant,” he countered, glaring at his cousin before his gaze dropped to her rounded belly.
    “You don’t have to be pregnant to faint, Matthew,” Alma shot back. “In case you’ve forgotten, Eve’s not used to this altitude, or our polluted air. Here, Eve,”she persisted, pushing a plate full of freshly baked rolls across the table. “Eat.”
    Matt clenched his teeth. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Eve to eat. He’d delayed having his own breakfast because he wanted to share the meal with her. He’d planned to take her back to the hotel and introduce her to a variety of breakfast and lunch foods before they visited the upscale boutiques in the
Zona Rosa
.
    He hadn’t known until he’d watched her sleep earlier that morning that he wanted to spend as much time as he possibly could with her. There was something silent, mysterious, and almost hypnotic that drew him to her, and he wanted to find out what that
something
was.
    Reaching into the pocket of a pale gray linen jacket on the back of his chair, Matt withdrew a flip-open cellular phone. He punched in several numbers, spoke rapid Spanish, then pressed a button, terminating the call. His conversation lasted less than ten seconds.
    Alma’s embarrassment was apparent. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I had no idea you’d made plans to eat with Eve,” she apologized.
    Matt’s fiery gaze was fixed on Eve’s face. “How soon you forget, Alma,” he stated quietly. “Sterling men always take care of what belongs to them.”
    This time Eve did not misinterpret Matt’s statement. He didn’t see her as chattel, but as someone he had promised to protect, and that was what she’d sought all of her life—to feel safe.
    Her father had taken care of all her material needs, withholding what she wanted most—nurturing protectiveness. She had wanted him to hold her—when she woke up crying from her nightmares, when she felland skinned her knees, when the boy she worshipped from a far treated her as if she had a contagious disease, and most of all when Alex openly flaunted his affairs in her face. She’d wanted Floyd Blackwell to put his arms around her and tell her that everything would be all right, and that he would never let anything harm his baby girl.
    But she was no longer a little girl. She was a thirty-four year old woman who had her own child. A child she’d carried to term, nurtured and loved. A child who was wrested away from her, and hidden where she couldn’t find him.
    Recalling his statement, Eve smiled at Matt.
Sterling men always take care of what belongs to them
. Even though they weren’t married, she knew he would take care of her; he would protect her
and
return her son to her.
    “We’ll have the rest of our lives to breakfast together, Matt.”
    He stared at her, complete surprise freezing his features. He knew her words were spoken for Alma’s benefit, but for him there was a hidden meaning. Just for a brief moment he’d wanted to believe her. This beautiful, sensual woman with whom he would exchange vows within a month made him forget that they were only playing a game. A game where, he prayed, there would be
only
winners.
    He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
    Alma pushed back her chair, rising to her feet. “I’ll tell Mariana to prepare something.”
    Matt rose to acknowledge his cousin’s departure, his gaze never leaving Eve’s face.
    It was apparent that Eve Blackwell was a muchmore accomplished actress than she realized. More adept than he’d ever been or would be.
    The labels on Eve’s new wardrobe