Determined to Protect, Forbidden to Love. Beverly Barton

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      “I didn’t have time to do more than skim it before we left. It took me four hours of intensive shopping to find a suitable wardrobe for this assignment.” She adjusted the neckline on the simple beige crepe-knit dress she’d worn on the plane. “I must have missed the part about him living in a palace.”

      The cabby turned off the street onto a brick driveway that led to a breathtaking two-story, white stucco house, with a red-tiled roof and a veranda that appeared to span the circumference of the mansion.

      Speaking in Spanish, the cabby said, “Is Señor Ramirez expecting you? If not, you will not be able to get in to see him without passing inspection.”

      “Miguel is my cousin,” Dom replied. “I live in Miami and when he was visiting there this past spring, he invited me to come for a visit.”

      “A cousin, you say.” The cabby’s mouth opened in a wide, friendly smile as he parked the car and turned around to look at Dom and then at J.J. “This lovely lady, she is your wife?”

      “No, she’s a friend of mine and of Miguel’s,” Dom said. “Her family has entrusted me with her care while we are visiting here.”

      The cabby looked J.J. over thoroughly, then nodded. “It is good that her father did not allow her to travel alone. Too many young women are acting like men these days, ruining their reputations and making them unsuitable for marriage.”

      J.J. had to bite her tongue to keep from making a comment, but when her eyes widened and she clenched her teeth, Dom grinned, knowing full well that she was more than a little irritated.

      After they got out of the cab, Dom helped the driver take their suitcases to the veranda, then he tipped the guy generously. “We’ll just leave our luggage here for now,” Dom said. “Thanks.”

      As the cabby drove away, Dom rang the doorbell. “Get ready for the performance of your life.”

      “My playing a lovesick fool will require an Academy-awardwinning performance.”

      A heavyset, middle-aged woman opened the door. Without any expression on her slightly wrinkled, makeup-free face, she sized up the two guests.

      “I am Domingo Shea,” he said in Spanish. “I am Señor Ramirez’s cousin from Miami. And this—” he indicated with a sweep of his hand “—is Señorita Jennifer Blair.”

      “You are expected?” the woman asked.

      “Yes, I believe he’s expecting us tomorrow,” Dom told her. “But we were able to get away earlier than anticipated. I do hope our early arrival will not be an inconvenience.”

      “Please, come inside and I will announce you.”

      Dom and J.J. waited in the massive, marble-floored foyer. Overhead a huge chandelier shimmered with what appeared to be a hundred tiny lights, all reflecting off the crystal gems. A wide, spiral, marble staircase led from the foyer to the second level, the wrought-iron banisters circling the open landing.

      “This is some place,” Dom said. “I can’t imagine any presidential mansion being more impressive.”

      “Actually, it reminds me a little of my Grandmother Ashford’s place in Mobile.”

      “Poor little rich girl.”

      “My mother is rich. My stepfather is rich. Me, I’m just an ordinary woman who works for a living.”

      Moments turned to minutes as they waited. And waited. And waited. After a good ten minutes had passed, a tall attractive man, with thick salt-and-pepper hair and a thin, dark moustache, appeared and greeted them. J.J. guessed his age to be somewhere around forty. Mentally reviewing the photos she’d been shown of the people closest to Ramirez, she realized that this was Roberto Aznar.

      “You have arrived a day early.”Aznar seemed genuinely agitated.

      “I hope that won’t be a problem.”

      “No. No problem. I’m sure the servants can prepare your rooms tonight. I’ll ask Ramona to see that your bags are taken upstairs and if you’d like to freshen up—”

      “We’d like to see Miguel,” Dom said.

      “Yes, well…you see, he has guests. He’s giving a small dinner party for—”

      “Wonderful.” J.J. sighed. “I’m starving. You know how airline food is. Like cardboard, even in first class. Please, be a dear and lead us to the dining room.” J.J. slipped her arm through Roberto’s, much to his astonishment. “Besides, I know Miguel will be thrilled to see us. I’m sure he’s missed me as much as I’ve missed him.”

      Dom followed as Roberto led J.J. down the hall and into the dining room. The table sat twenty, but this evening the guests were placed at the far end of the table, the two men and two women flanking the head of the table where Miguel Ramirez presided.

      When Roberto entered, bringing J.J. with him and Dom coming in behind them, Ramirez rose from his chair.

      Impressive, J.J. thought. The man’s photographs didn’t do him justice. He was one-hundred-percent male, from his wide shoulders to his lean hips and long legs. He was handsome without being pretty. His bronze skin was a shade darker than Dom’s, but he had the same blue-black hair, only his was cut conservatively short and neatly styled. But it was his unique golden-brown eyes that captured J.J.’s attention. Large, expressive eyes, the color of dusty topaz.

      “Your cousin Dom has arrived a day early,” Roberto said. “And look who he has brought with him.”

      Ramirez hesitated for a moment as he studied J.J. Then he smiled, scooted back his chair and walked hurriedly around the table and straight to her. He opened his arms in an expression of welcome, then reached down and grasped both of her hands in his.

      “Querida, it is so good to see you again.” He kissed first one hand and then the other. “Please, come in and let me introduce you to everyone.”

      They stood there in the dining room, just beyond the threshold and stared at each other, his gaze locked on her face. J.J.’s heart skipped a beat. Uh-oh, that wasn’t a good sign. As a general rule, most men didn’t have this effect on her, but when one did, that meant she was in trouble. She had hoped the man she would be protecting wouldn’t set off a frenzy of crazed butterflies in her belly. So much for hoping. The little buggers were doing a Saint Vitus dance in her stomach right now.

      He led J.J. farther into the room, then paused while the others stared at her.

      A very pregnant, black-haired woman glanced from J.J. to Miguel. “Who are these people?”

      Dom spoke up first. “I’m Miguel’s cousin, Domingo Shea, from Miami.”

      “And this is Jennifer.” Miguel’s voice embraced her name. “She is—”

      “I am Miguel’s fiancée,” J.J. said, deciding on the spur of the moment that she did not intend to spend the next month being treated like a mistress. Then she turned and looked Miguel right in the eyes, daring him to contradict her. “That is, if your proposal is still good and you still want me.” She batted her eyelashes.

      His СКАЧАТЬ