CHAPTER ONE
JAVIER TORRES IGNORED the paperwork strewn across his lap and gazed out of the tinted window of the SUV, absently watching his driver walk into the small store to stock up on refreshments. It was late afternoon, the weather was glorious, and he ought to feel like a king. He was back on the threshold of paradise—Santa Cruz, the most populated of the Galapagos islands and arguably one of the planet’s most isolated and fascinating places. He was here to oversee the start of the hotel rebuild he’d recently invested in. Yet instead of feeling satisfied, he was distracted by an uneasy, prickling sensation. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the recollection of the last time he’d been here. More precisely, the redhead he’d ravished. There really wasn’t any other word for what had transpired between them. But she’d ravished him right back—with such rare intensity that she’d haunted his dreams every night of the eighteen months since.
It wasn’t as if he’d never had a one-night stand before. It was pretty much all he had. She hadn’t though. A wisp of wicked amusement flickered through him as he remembered there’d been a number of firsts for her that night. She’d been travelling, all the way from Australia, and who knew where in the world she was now? Certainly not Javier. She’d not been there when he’d woken the next morning and he’d had to return to mainland Ecuador that evening in time to catch his flight home to New York.
It wasn’t supposed to matter. He’d not meant to care. Only he’d been unable to forget. Searing memories tormented his nights and teased in unwanted, unsummoned daydreams. Javier had rarely daydreamed before meeting her. And the impact she’d had on his sex life was frankly appalling. He was stuck in the longest ever stretch of abstinence. He told himself it was because he was busy with work projects and plans. In reality no woman he’d met since had aroused him. It was infuriating. He could do with a fantastic, physical night of unfettered pleasure; the stress release would be good and being back on this island only brought those memories to the fore even more.
And just like that she appeared—walking out of the shop—an erotic vision with her stunning solar-flare-red hair and fantastically generous curves. Javier groaned. Of course his tormented mind would conjure her here. It was the ultimate in wishful thinking and the craving was so strong he simply sank back into the seat, helpless to do anything other than enjoy the mirage. His skin tightened as his muscles surged at the sight of her lush body. That first night he’d seen her before she’d seen him and the artless confidence with which she’d walked from the water, bold in her bright green bikini and owning her space, had made her the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Now she turned as a young couple followed her out of the store. She pointed something out down the road and the other woman handed her a phone. The couple posed beside the store sign while the redhead took their picture. Then the redhead turned as Javier’s driver emerged from the shop. He sent her a massive smile. Of course he did, who wouldn’t when passing a woman that stunning? But all this interaction meant she wasn’t a hallucination.
The universe went mute. Javier didn’t blink or breathe. His heart didn’t beat. He stared intently, watching her walk in those slightly too snug jeans that strained to contain her gorgeously shapely hips and thighs. His mouth dried. Her loose khaki linen shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white tank top beneath, giving the merest, most tantalising glimpse of her other blessedly bountiful curves. And that glorious riot of red was barely holding up in a half-tumbling topknot, revealing her high cheekbones and freckled skin. Every muscle clenched at the sight of her intensely feminine frame while the memory of her soft, silken heat consumed him.
His driver opened the door.
‘Wait a moment, please,’ Javier instructed hoarsely.
The redhead’s smile had just gone nuclear. Javier’s tension sky-rocketed and he turned to see who warranted such a warm welcome. His burst of strain was soothed as he saw an elderly woman slowly walking along the path. She was carrying a baby—a dark-haired, smiling bundle who stretched his tiny arms out and wriggled impatiently as he saw the redhead run towards them.
Noise returned in a jangling cacophony, pummelling Javier as he watched the reunion. He drew a sharp breath while his brain whirred—registering that relationship, calculating the passage of time with precision, computing the shocking combination of facts in a nanosecond and coming up with a conclusion that was utterly appalling.
Cold panic clashed with wild horror. Because he knew with absolute certainty that the redhead was the woman he’d seduced all those months ago—Emerald, the sweet siren from that beautiful beach. And that baby was definitely her child. And with equal unequivocal, icy conviction, he knew her child was also his.
An awful crevasse opened within, rapidly filling with a hot lava of guilt. She’d had his baby and he’d not known. Because she’d not been able to contact him. Because that night he’d been careless and he’d not told her his true name.
Now he studied her again—not seeing the sexy curves of her body and the striking colour of her hair this time, but the frayed, faded edges of her shirt, the worn patches of her jeans, the strain around her eyes. At the signs of her struggle, that guilt within him grew, as did utter regret for her and for her child.
Children had never been on Javier’s to do list and, frankly, would never be. As for marriage? Well hell, no. He’d not just witnessed the worst of those intimate wars, he’d been collateral damage. So no, his life was rich enough with work, any instinctive need to leave a mark sated by the creation of his own little business empire, any inner restlessness soothed by travel. He had no need and no desire for deep relationships or emotional responsibilities. The concept of fatherhood was so far from his realm of knowledge it was like a bad joke—how could he possibly do a decent job of parenting when he’d had such a rubbish example in his own life? Well, not a rubbish example, more like no example at all.
He’d never wanted some other poor kid to be rejected and neglected the way he had. Yet—albeit inadvertently—he’d done exactly that to his own for months. Anger surged at his incompetence, but so did something primal. The need to protect. And the need to make things right. But that sense of duty wasn’t backed up by paternal knowledge or skill. He clenched his jaw, biting back his disappointment in his own failings. He was no hero, but he’d provide what he could, as soon as he could. He just had to figure out the best way how.
* * *
Emerald Jones glanced at her watch. Less than twenty minutes and she’d have Luke back. It had only been an hour but she missed him already. Such long shifts at the small store were hard, but she was incredibly grateful for the chance to keep her dignity and her boss, Connie, adored spending some time with Luke in the afternoons. The rest of the time Emmy was able to keep him occupied in a little playpen behind the counter, though she worried she wouldn’t be able to for much longer given how adventurous and alarmingly mobile her curious little boy was becoming. That was a problem she was too tired to think of a solution to yet. Honestly? She was surviving one day to the next.
She glanced up as a tall figure stepped through the shadowed doorway. As he moved into the light a hit of pure exhilaration soared, a leap of joy so powerful she almost cried out with delight. Instead she froze—that sound trapped in her throat.
Eighteen months ago the world had tilted, never returning to rights. Now it tilted again, taking another rotation and rendering everything upside down.
‘Ramon?’ she breathed.
Dark brown eyes—a decadent mix of cocoa and coffee—stared into her soul. Vaguely she absorbed details—the charcoal linen trousers, the white shirt, the sleeves rolled to three-quarters, revealing tanned, strong forearms—but it was those eyes that stunned her. She trembled from tip to toe with a powerful whole-body reaction. She’d suffered this shudder of raw recognition that first night too. He’d captured every iota of her attention in a way no other person ever had. And look what had happened.
Hormones. Her own chemistry had failed her. Because with another micro blink of time she’d remembered. He wasn’t ‘Ramon.’ He’d deceived her, he’d lied about his identity and his reason for being on the island. Nothing had been real. He’d used her so completely. She’d shown him the most perfect place and then he’d stolen it. She hated him for that.
But at the same time, more memories stirred—those secret ones she’d tried to bury. Because while he’d taken the place she loved, she had to admit he hadn’t stolen that other deeply personal thing from her. She’d given him her body, her virginity, more than freely. In that moment she’d been so willing, and it had been so magical she could never brand it a mistake, despite discovering his dishonesty since. And most importantly, he’d given her something beyond priceless.
Luke.
Her small son. His son. The one he knew nothing about.
Icy terror destroyed her equilibrium as she realised this man could take everything—as quickly and easily as he’d taken her innocence that night. Her heart pounded as the remnants of elation from that unthinking rush of recognition were sucked away by fear and the worst, worst guilt. She should have told him, she had to tell him. But not here, not now, not when Luke was due back with Connie at any moment. She needed to get ‘Ramon’ to leave and she’d tell him later when she’d figured out how...
She should have figured out how already.
‘Emmy.’ His smile was tight, but still devastating.
She blinked. She didn’t want to respond to his looks and charm. Not knowing the truth. Because she’d learned ‘Ramon’—her carefree surfer-dude tourist—was really Javier Torres. Billionaire investor. Billionaire playboy. Billionaire jerk.
When she’d learned his true identity—a few months after Luke’s birth—she’d never wanted to see him again. Her already bruised heart had broken on finding out he was so lacking in integrity. And not only was Javier Torres a man who lied easily, he was terrifyingly powerful. Initially she’d been too angry to contact him, then she’d grown too scared as she’d realised the implications of his assets and while she knew it was wrong, she’d had no choice. Her childhood had been marred by lie after lie. She’d been deceived before, but, worse, she’d also been the liar. And when Javier discovered that last? He’d be furious. She knew well that angry people lashed out in a variety of ways. None of them good. Integrity was everything and trust, once lost, wasn’t regained. But she couldn’t have another dishonest person wreck her life, even if she had to be dishonest herself to keep him out. Because she wasn’t having what had happened to her happen to her son.
Yet even as she mentally rejected Javier, she was hit again by that terrible chemistry. That hidden, secret part of her weakened with want. She’d ached for him for months. He’d starred in her dreams night after night after night—indeed every night since then.
Feeling sick with guilt, she was conscious of the empty playpen behind her and the ticking clock on the wall. Protecting her son’s future—and her own part in it—was paramount.
‘It’s been a while...’ She forced her parched lips into a smile so he wouldn’t suspect anything. As far as he knew, she still thought he was ‘Ramon.’ ‘How may I help? Did you want to buy something?’
He didn’t take his intense gaze off her. ‘No.’
To her horror he was more stunning than she remembered, with the sort of superhuman good looks that everyone normal couldn’t help but stare at. But as she watched him move closer, she realised he’d become sharper. There was a slight shadow beneath his eyes and stubble on his jaw and an edginess about him that was new. Perhaps it was the stress of his business? Were all those wolfish property takeovers designed to amass his personal fortune wearing him out?
The intensity of his gaze strengthened. He’d looked at her this way when he’d seduced her that night—powerfully mesmerising. Yes, there was still that tiny part positively revelling in being in his presence again. Desperately she dragged that wild piece within her back beneath her control. She couldn’t let him seduce her again. She couldn’t let herself or Luke down like that.
‘It’s been far too long, Emerald,’ he said softly. ‘Why don’t you shut up the shop early?’ But his tempting smile didn’t quite meet his too attentive eyes. ‘Come for a drive with me so we can catch up properly.’
‘What?’ She froze, shocked by the invitation. Panic tightened her throat. ‘I—I can’t leave.’
‘No? I thought you were a woman of freedom and spontaneity.’
Cold sweat slicked her skin. ‘I have work.’ And she had Luke. The baby she’d not told him about.
Bile burned the back of her throat, because she was going to have to tell him and she should have already. As soon as she’d discovered his actual identity she should have reached out—there’d been no barrier to finding him then. She was, after all, the one determined to live a life of integrity and not follow the path of lies and deceit of her own family. But she’d been too scared of his reaction. Not just to the news he’d had a son, but how he’d react to her. She’d been burned before, when people had learned the truth about her background, and she’d been too hurt by his needless lie. Why had he needed to fake who he was?
‘I never expected to see you here,’ he muttered watchfully. ‘I imagined you travelling around the world ticking off that bucket list, but have you been in the Galapagos all this time?’
Nervously she swallowed. ‘Yes.’
‘I didn’t realise you worked on the island.’
‘It didn’t come up in our conversation.’ She looked anxiously to the door. Any minute now Connie would arrive with little Luke. ‘And I really need to get back to it...’