Escape to Paradise. Pamela Yaye

       “Won’t your wife worry if you don’t pick up?”

       Santiago displayed his left hand. “I’ve happily single.”

       “Sure you are.” Her laugh carried a hard, bitter edge. “That’s what they all say.”

       “Are you meeting up with someone in Mexico?” He found her eyes, saw how the edges darkened, and tried to reach her with his smile. “Or are you traveling solo?”

       “You ask a lot of questions.”

       He shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

       “Curious is a polite word for ‘nosy.’”

       Santiago chuckled. So much for her being shy. She’s as feisty as a caged lioness! “My mother is a very social person, and I guess I inherited that trait from her.” At the thought of his mother a grin pinched his lips. She was dying for him to get married, anxious to begin spoiling her first grandchild, but he wasn’t in the market for a bride and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. “Excuse me for being so forward. I mean no harm.”

       “I don’t know anyone there. I’m on my own.”

       He waited, expected her to say more, but she didn’t. “You’re going to love Cancun,” he began, fishing for information. “There’s tons to see and do, and they have some great nightclubs.”

       “I’m not going to Cancun. I’m—” She started and stopped twice, then released a long, deep sigh. It was if breathing was too much for her, a boring, arduous task that she’d rather not do. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she said, “I’m going to Cabo San Lucas.”

       His ears perked up. “What a coincidence. So am I.”

       Claudia said nothing, just put a hand to her hair and ran her fingers through her bangs.

       “If we ever leave this airport and make it down there I’d love to see you again. Maybe we could go out for coffee.” Santiago smiled. “Or would you prefer hot chocolate?”

       “I won’t have time.”

       Reaching into his attaché case, he retrieved one of his business cards and offered it to her. “If you change your mind or need someone to show you around, give me a call.”

       Claudia stared at the card as if it was covered in germs. “My week is pretty full.”

       “I understand.”

       When she turned away, he eased forward in his chair and dropped it into her purse.

       “Do you know much about the resorts in the Tourist Corridor?” she asked, her voice low and filled with hesitation. “I don’t care about the bars or restaurants in the area. I just want to be somewhere safe. And quiet.”

       A grin claimed his lips. She was staying in the heart of the city? What a stroke of good fortune! He thought of asking the name of her hotel, but didn’t want to be accused of being nosy again. “You’ll be perfectly safe in and around the peninsula. Because of the surge in celebrity tourists over the last few years, the police have upped their presence in the area.”

       “Can’t afford to let anything happen to the rich and famous, huh?”

       Santiago frowned. There was that edge in her voice again. I wonder what that’s all about? “Tourism is big business in Mexico, and in these hard economic times, every dollar spent in the country counts.” He studied her for a moment, trying to make all the pieces of the puzzle fit. “I’m surprised you’re not interested in checking out some of the clubs.”

       A scowl pinched her lips. “Why? Do I look like the kind of woman who enjoys dancing on tables and stumbling around drunk?”

       “No, but you look like a dancer, and all of the ones I know love a good party.”

       “I haven’t danced in years. And,” she stressed, “pirouettes aren’t exactly a crowd-pleaser.” Claudia crossed her legs, shifted around in her seat as if she was sitting on a cold, hard cinder block rather than on a plush chair. “Did you study dance, too?”

       Santiago cracked up, but when he thought about all those sweltering afternoons he’d spent in that airless dance studio, his laughter fizzled. He’d never see Marisol dance again, never hear the excitement in her voice when she spoke about her passion for the arts. She was gone, forever, and he was to blame. Memories of that fateful night weighed on his chest like a slab of steel, making every breath a fight, a struggle.

       “Karate was more my speed, but my younger sister studied ballet for years.” He tasted sadness in his mouth, and swallowed hard to wash it away. “Did you ever consider making a career out of it or auditioning for Julliard?”

       Her eyebrows rose. “You’re very knowledgeable about ballet.”

       “And you’re skilled at evading questions.”

       A smile caressed her lips, but it was gone so fast Santiago was sure he’d imagined it. He watched her pick up her cup of hot chocolate. Why was she shaking? Was she cold, scared or both? “It might help to talk about it,” he said quietly.

       Hot chocolate sloshed onto the table when Claudia slapped down her cup and surged to her feet. She was breathing hard, fast, as if she’d just finished sprinting up a flight of stairs.

       “Where are you going?”

       Claudia tossed her things into her travel bag and yanked violently on the zipper.

       “They haven’t made any boarding announcements yet.” Angry at himself for scaring her off, he rose from his seat and offered a sincere, heartfelt apology. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Claudia. Please stay and finish your food.”

       “I’m done, now if you’ll excuse me—”

       Santiago did the unthinkable. He rested a hand on her arm and gave a light squeeze. Her flesh was warm, supple, and her fragrance wrapped itself around him like a wisteria vine.

       Time crawled to a stop.

       Their gazes locked, and for a half second Santiago forgot where he was. Her eyes drew him in, seduced him as surely as Eve and that shiny red apple. He could almost see the energy pulsing between them, could almost smell the perfume of her desire. It was so crippling he felt like he’d been struck by lightning. Lust barreled through him, rooted his hands to her arms and his feet to the ground. Unable to move, he waited for the temporary paralysis to lift, waited impatiently for his thoughts to clear.

       Thunder clapped, shaking Santiago out of his dreamlike state.

       “I—I have to go.”

       With a heaviness in his heart, he stepped aside to let her pass, but not before saying, “God is bigger than your problems.”

       She hesitated a fraction, as if considering his words.

       “He’ll give you the strength you need to overcome—”

       A laugh fell out of her lips. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say.” Wearing a scowl that could scare the devil, she grabbed her bag and fled the lounge as if it was engulfed in ten-foot flames.

       His eyes followed her every move. Through the restaurant, past the spa and back out into Terminal One. Claudia was as mysterious as the pathway of the wind, and the polar opposite of the women his mother forced on him, but he found her candor refreshing. And her beauty only enhanced her appeal. Santiago loved his mom, but he was sick of going out on dates with fake, pretentious women who cared only about caviar, champagne and shopping sprees in Milan. He was taken by this soft-spoken Southern beauty. She was real, honest, interested in the well-being of her fellow man. He had to see her again.

       Santiago returned to his seat. There were a lot of perks to being a Medina, and he planned to use every connection he had to track her down. And hopefully the next time he saw Claudia she wouldn’t run from their undeniable connection.