eyes and Santiago snarled, “Because that money belonged to Eduardo, not me. I paid for every last penny, Esmerelda, paid for with my own blood and sweat. With the cries of my mother. I learned the hard way, when I asked for Tobias’s help, that the money would always belong to Eduardo Cruz. Taking it then would have meant that I approve of his business practices. I don’t. I didn’t then and I don’t now.”
O-o-okay. Not the time to bring up family money. Esme stepped back from the front desk. “So the surfing…?”
Santiago carefully stacked the envelopes, put them in a desk drawer and placed the 10-key under the desk before he answered.
“A means to an end. It was something I was good at, that I could earn money doing, and that my father had absolutely no control over. I escaped Napa with a competition in Hermosa Beach and then dropped out of grad school for a competition in Hawaii. Before I knew it I was surfing my way through Australia and Thailand. I found that, for the twenty or so seconds I rode each wave, I could just be me. Not Eduardo Cruz’s son. Not the guy who ruined Marinelli Vineyards. Nobody but Santiago Cruz. I’d never had that experience before.” He reached across the desk, but stopped short of taking her hands in his. The scant inch between their fingers seemed to pulse with electricity and Esme had trouble concentrating.
“When you’re on the water, Esme, it’s a whole new world.” Finally, he took her hand and her pulse rate shot up. “Everything gets quiet as you ride up the slope and then, at the crest, you have two choices: stand up and surf or lie down and swim.” He motioned to the room. “No grey walls, no time to wonder what would happen if. You stand up or you lie down. I stood up as often as I could and took some good crashes because of it, but after a while those crashes weren’t as bad and I stood up more than I lay down.” His grin, completely happy for the first time since she’d come home, made Esme catch her breath. Their gazes met and she wondered what it would be like to only have two clear-cut choices instead of a hundreds of options leading to thousands more questions. Santiago caressed her thumb with his forefinger.
“Was it easy to leave surfing behind when Constance asked?”
“I knew surfing wouldn’t last forever, at least competitively. I started looking into property development a few years ago, figuring that it was a business I knew a little about. I’ve bought, developed, and sold property all over the world, so when Constance offered me a way back into normal life I grabbed it.” His gaze shuttered and she realized he’d told her more than he wanted to. “And none of this can be news to you so why don’t we get to the real conversation.”
She swallowed. “R-real conversation?”
He nodded. “What do you want from me, Esme?”
Oh, no, that was so not the question she was ready to ask. But there was another. Before she could lose her nerve she asked, “Would you teach me? During one of my enforced mini-vacations from the office, I mean? I know you think I need to relax, but if you make me lie out in the sun for hours and hours day after day my workaholic side might just explode. Since we’re stuck together anyhow it might be a fun way to pass a few hours.”
“You can’t wear a suit on a surfboard, Esmerelda.”
Esme stepped back, grabbed a fistful of material in each hand and did a short curtsy. “Does this look like a suit to you?”
As he studied the sundress, his pupils darkened and her face flamed even hotter. “Dios, no. But you are still way overdressed for a surfboard.”
“What am I dressed for, then?” she asked breathlessly. He stepped around the front desk, freed her hands from the sides of her dress and threaded their fingers together. She tilted her head to look up at him and very nearly swooned. His look said everything but his next words still took her breath away.
“Today, you are dressed for sin,
O-o-okay. Not the time to bring up family money. Esme stepped back from the front desk. “So the surfing…?”
Santiago carefully stacked the envelopes, put them in a desk drawer and placed the 10-key under the desk before he answered.
“A means to an end. It was something I was good at, that I could earn money doing, and that my father had absolutely no control over. I escaped Napa with a competition in Hermosa Beach and then dropped out of grad school for a competition in Hawaii. Before I knew it I was surfing my way through Australia and Thailand. I found that, for the twenty or so seconds I rode each wave, I could just be me. Not Eduardo Cruz’s son. Not the guy who ruined Marinelli Vineyards. Nobody but Santiago Cruz. I’d never had that experience before.” He reached across the desk, but stopped short of taking her hands in his. The scant inch between their fingers seemed to pulse with electricity and Esme had trouble concentrating.
“When you’re on the water, Esme, it’s a whole new world.” Finally, he took her hand and her pulse rate shot up. “Everything gets quiet as you ride up the slope and then, at the crest, you have two choices: stand up and surf or lie down and swim.” He motioned to the room. “No grey walls, no time to wonder what would happen if. You stand up or you lie down. I stood up as often as I could and took some good crashes because of it, but after a while those crashes weren’t as bad and I stood up more than I lay down.” His grin, completely happy for the first time since she’d come home, made Esme catch her breath. Their gazes met and she wondered what it would be like to only have two clear-cut choices instead of a hundreds of options leading to thousands more questions. Santiago caressed her thumb with his forefinger.
“Was it easy to leave surfing behind when Constance asked?”
“I knew surfing wouldn’t last forever, at least competitively. I started looking into property development a few years ago, figuring that it was a business I knew a little about. I’ve bought, developed, and sold property all over the world, so when Constance offered me a way back into normal life I grabbed it.” His gaze shuttered and she realized he’d told her more than he wanted to. “And none of this can be news to you so why don’t we get to the real conversation.”
She swallowed. “R-real conversation?”
He nodded. “What do you want from me, Esme?”
Oh, no, that was so not the question she was ready to ask. But there was another. Before she could lose her nerve she asked, “Would you teach me? During one of my enforced mini-vacations from the office, I mean? I know you think I need to relax, but if you make me lie out in the sun for hours and hours day after day my workaholic side might just explode. Since we’re stuck together anyhow it might be a fun way to pass a few hours.”
“You can’t wear a suit on a surfboard, Esmerelda.”
Esme stepped back, grabbed a fistful of material in each hand and did a short curtsy. “Does this look like a suit to you?”
As he studied the sundress, his pupils darkened and her face flamed even hotter. “Dios, no. But you are still way overdressed for a surfboard.”
“What am I dressed for, then?” she asked breathlessly. He stepped around the front desk, freed her hands from the sides of her dress and threaded their fingers together. She tilted her head to look up at him and very nearly swooned. His look said everything but his next words still took her breath away.
“Today, you are dressed for sin,
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