Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (89 page)

“In a few days.”

His breath whooshed out. “Did Dr. Ramos make any guesses? Is the cancer back?”

“He said to wait for the results.”

“If it’s cancer, we need to act fast.”

“I know, honey. That’s what your father and I want to talk to you about.”

“I think we should tell Charlie too.”

“No.” Her tone was that of the schoolteacher to a disruptive student. “I won’t spoil his day.”

Michael’s hand fisted in frustration. “What about Rick?”

“Analise isn’t feeling well. It’s too hot for her to be working outside when she’s seven months pregnant, so Rick is running her company in the evenings.”

“I didn’t know cemeteries were open after dark.”

“He got special permission from most of the ones in Dade County because of her condition. I’m sure it helped that he’s a policeman.”

“That doesn’t mean he knows how to take care of graves or plant flowers.”

“Analise tells him what to do.”

Damn it, it was time his brothers shared some of this burden. Why did it all fall on
his
shoulders? “I’ll be there tonight. You can count on me.” As usual. It sucked being the oldest child.

“I know we can, honey. I love you for it.”

“I love you too, Mom. See you later.” Michael disconnected before he could get choked up.

Damn it, not the cancer again. What good was all his growing wealth if it couldn’t stop his mom from getting sick? He hadn’t been able to stop his brother Billy from dying. What if...? He ruthlessly squelched that thought.

Something snapped. He looked down to see his mechanical pencil now in two pieces in his hand. He already paid for his mom to see the best oncologist in Miami. Should he fly in the country’s top doctors if the tests came back positive for cancer? Hell, he could afford it. That’s what he was making money for.

Determined, he called up his inventory on his laptop. He had to sell everything they’d imported and at a profit. If his mom needed an experimental treatment anywhere in the world, or anything else to make her well, he’d get it. And if someone was stealing from one of his warehouses, that person had better beware. Michael needed all the profit he could get to protect his mom.

It took the entire drive back to the Calderon Consortium to cool Ileana’s hormones and that was with the air conditioner blowing full blast. She hadn’t felt this aware of a man since her
novio
Roberto. She didn’t know how she was going to have a reasonable conversation with Michael Ziffkin over dinner when all she could think about was his hands on her breasts and then his mouth.

She groaned. How could she face her father all flushed like this? He’d know something was going on. She’d have to avoid him for a little while, at least until she got her body under control.

The large warehouse that housed her family’s offices had been the locus of the Calderon Consortium for nearly forty years. Her family should have moved into the new millennium by finding a more modern building, but this one was the heart and soul of their company. She was the third generation of Calderon in the company, the first to be born an American citizen. This building and what it represented was why her grandparents had fled Cuba in 1961. In America, they’d found a future.

Ileana patted the wooden building with affection as she pulled open the door. Two stories of offices greeted her, as well as her young cousin Carona, manning the reception desk.

“How did the meeting go?” Carona asked. She was eighteen and engaged to be married. She’d leave the company as soon as she was wed.

“Very well. Some very nice things have come in from overseas. I predict a good sales year for us.” Ileana continued past reception as she answered.

“That’s good to hear. Very good.”

Ileana strode down the left corridor to her small, cramped office. Calderon did not waste money on overhead, so she was used to her family’s close proximity.

Unfolding the copy of the order Michael had printed, Ileana studied the list. Some of the items were a break from tradition. She’d have to justify the gamble to her father. But she felt tourists would buy them. Stock had gotten a little old-fashioned, she’d thought. It was time to update. But a risk to Calderon was a risk to the family.

A part of Ileana wished she could tell her father she’d seen this move in one of her dreams. He’d bluster, but he wouldn’t argue. But she never lied about her dreams. That would be worse than sinful.

By avoiding thoughts of Michael, Ileana eventually felt calm enough to mount the stairs to the second floor to face her father. He had the biggest office on the second floor with windows in the front to look out over reception, and a glass wall in the back that overlooked the warehouse. It also had a private staircase down to the warehouse below.

Her father saw her through the windows and waved her in. He’d grown thicker in the past decade, and his black hair was liberally salted with gray. He’d turned sixty last month, too young to have to step down from the presidency. But having many younger family relations to do his legwork combined with his love of good food had conspired to unseat him.

She studied his face as she walked around his desk. His cheeks were florid, a sign of high blood pressure. She wondered whether he’d followed the doctor’s diet at breakfast.

“How did your first buying trip go, Ileana?” He spoke in Spanish, as he usually did with her.

Ileana handed him the order. “It went well, Papá.”

He scanned the piece of paper, his stout finger running down the items. His still-black brows crimped together. Finally, he looked up at her, his dark eyes intent.

“What is this? There are items on here we do not usually buy. I thought you knew what we sell in our stores.”

Ileana took in a breath. “I do know, Papá. I also know what our competition is selling and they’re carrying more modern merchandise. They’re selling it too. We need to update. We need cell phone covers, ear buds, chargers, and jump drives, just to name a few. ”

“We have grown every year since my papá started Calderon. We must be doing something right. There is no reason to change.”

“Papá, the tourists shopping in our stores aren’t Cubans. They’re Americans, modern ones. They have cell phones, iPads and MP3 players. They have DVD players in their SUVs. If they don’t find what fits their lifestyle in our stores, they’re going to spend their money at our competitors.”

“Modern,
pah
. Modern does not mean better. Look at how you speak to me, with your modern ways.”

“I’m not disrespecting you, Papá. This is business. Smart business.”

“I am the papá. I am supposed to tell you what to do. A dutiful daughter would obey me.”

“I am dutiful. I work every day for Calderon.”

“You should be married and taking care of your husband and your children and your household, not Calderon.”

Ileana pulled herself to her full height, towering over her father. “Roberto is dead. My chance of having a husband and children died with him. But he loved Calderon. He would want me to carry on in his place.”

Her father took hold of her hands. “
Niña
, you did not die with Roberto. There are other good Cuban men you could marry. Your brother has many friends, respected doctors like him. Juan Carlos and your cousins know many eligible young men.” Excitement laced her father’s next words. “The Hernandez heir has finished his period of mourning for his wife. His father and I have talked about a merger. A blood tie would seal the deal.”

Ileana slipped her hands free. “Hernandez is fifteen years older than me and has three teenage daughters.”

“He can give you children of your own, Ileana. It is time, past time, for you to marry. I have put off this task long enough, giving you time, respecting your grief over Roberto. But your grief is excessive. If not Hernandez, then what of the other merchant families: Gutierrez, Reyes, Suarez—all good Cuban families. Calderon would do well to merge with any of them.”

“Papá, I have met no one who moves me the way Roberto did.” If she didn’t count Michael Ziffkin.

“My precious daughter,” her father’s eyes were warm with love. “Perhaps a lesser love would do for you. You and Roberto—I have never seen two more suited people than you two. But you could find another Cuban man who shares similar interests, and you could build a good life with him.”

“I want what you and Mamá have.” The flame of love between her parents was strong.

“Love can grow,
chica
. You must give it a chance.”

She gritted her teeth in frustration. She did not want a cold marriage to a stranger and have to allow him to touch her as Roberto had. The thought of what she and Michael had done in her dream heated her cheeks. She still felt the resonance of his forceful intrusion between her thighs and inside her body. Flames of passion had consumed them both. It had been no cold claiming, but an inferno of desire. Even if she fought it because it was wrong, how could she tie herself to her own kind knowing she could not share what she had with Michael?

And yet she owed a duty to her family.

“Juan Carlos’s wife is with child,” her father added. “He has done his duty to his family. If he were to become president of Calderon, he would have an heir for the company.”

For a moment, despair washed over her. Her cousin would win the presidency. Then she straightened her spine. “I know my duty, Papá.”

“Good. Very good. These new items,” he waved the order form, “We will watch to see how well they sell.”

“They’ll do well. You’ll see.”

Ileana escaped to her office. She’d met no man in her circle of acquaintances that interested her enough to accept a date. Her mind strayed to Michael and tonight’s dinner, which was not a date. Had she been as modern as she portrayed herself to her father, she’d have accepted Michael’s invitation, knowing full well that she would go home with him afterwards. But she wasn’t nearly as modern as she wanted to be. Even if she were, Michael wasn’t Cuban.

Hours later as she collected her purse to leave, her desk phone rang.

“I have wonderful news,” her mother exclaimed. “Caridad is pregnant.”

Her
youngest
sister. Ileana forced a smile. “That’s wonderful, Mamá. I know she’s wanted a baby for awhile.”

“I am a lucky woman to be blessed with another grandchild. Do you not agree?”

“Yes, Mamá.”

“Even your brother Federico, as busy as he is with his medical practice, has given me a beautiful grandson. Little Fico was here today. Does my news not make you want a little one of your own,
niña
?”

“Yes, it does.” But her brother had a wife, whereas Ileana had no husband. She’d been robbed of the chance to have one. “Mamá, you know why I have no children.”

“It is time you turned away from Roberto’s grave and began to live again. There are many good Cuban men who would gladly give you children and a home. You are a little old, but you still have your looks.”

“I have a home already, Mamá.”

“There is no man there. It is not truly a home until you share it with a man.”

Ileana despaired of ever teaching her Cuban parents that there were more options for a woman than getting married and having children. Although that had been her dream, too, when Roberto was alive, she’d grown beyond that now.

“Mamá, I have a business meeting I have to go to. I’ll call Caridad tonight and congratulate her.”

“Business,
niña
, after hours?” Her mother sounded horrified.

“Yes, Mamá. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Gently Ileana hung up the phone.

She loved her family. They were the foundation of her life. They’d kept her going after Roberto died, when all she’d wanted to do was lie down next to him in his grave and make the pain stop. But they thought they owned her body and soul. She’d tear herself in half trying to prove they didn’t.

Ileana arrived at The Wharf Restaurant early, hoping for time to compose herself before she met Michael again. But he was the first person she saw as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. As he paced towards her, her lungs seized and her pulse threatened to gallop out of control. He wore the jacket to his navy suit and looked delectable.

“Hi.” His smooth voice welcomed her. His warm brown eyes appraised and approved.

She had to swallow to unlock her throat. “Hi.”

He was near enough for her to smell his clean scent, to feel the warmth of his body invade her tight muscles and begin a melting sensation inside. Surely he could hear her heart pound. Ileana wanted badly to be pressed against his flesh.

“You look beautiful in that dress.”

“Thank you.” Darn, she felt flustered. She shouldn’t have changed clothes. This wasn’t a date. He would get the wrong idea.

“Navy suits you.” The words slipped out of her mouth, and she was horrified he might guess her wanton thoughts.

“Your table is ready, Mr. Ziffkin.”

Ileana hadn’t seen the hostess approach. In fact, she hadn’t noticed anything but Michael since she’d set foot in the door. Her face burned.

She was preternaturally aware of Michael’s warm hand at her waist as he guided her to their table. As he seated her, she brushed against him, and her nerve endings went haywire.

How was she going to hold an intelligent conversation with him? She was grateful for a few moments’ respite as the waitress appeared and took their drink orders. Ileana sipped her water to moisten her dry mouth. The Wharf was a mid-range restaurant, a little pricey for families, so the atmosphere was hushed, yet not ostentatious.

Ileana watched Michael drink his water and her mouth dried all over again. She could imagine his lips on hers, consuming her with kisses until they were out of breath. His long fingers circled the slender glass stem. She pictured it full of wine and him tilting it over her naked body. Then he’d follow the liquid down to sip at her flesh with those same lips. Her nipples pebbled painfully with yearning.

“Do you know what you want?” he asked.

You.
It was a cry from her painfully awakened body. She’d been encased in ice for more than a decade and it hurt to thaw. She ached wanting what she should not have.