What a Rich Woman Wants (7 page)

Chapter Seven

Steven Lambert wasn't in the habit of welcoming casual visitors to his townhouse. In fact, unless it was a handpicked, overnight visitor of the female persuasion, he rarely had visitors at all. In the past year, since he'd decided to make a bid for the state senate, even those casual overnight visits had stopped.

Running for office would be tricky enough given his past difficulties with Lesley and without the Robinson family support. He'd had it all and he'd thrown it away. All his carefully laid plans had been ruined, and he had no one to blame but himself. Deep down he knew this, which is why he never admitted it to anyone. Instead he blamed anyone and everyone else involved. Maria for seducing him. Lesley for throwing him out without a penny. Maria's child for its mere existence.

He'd played Lesley so well for so long, and she'd bought it all. She'd actually believed he hadn't been interested in her for her family's fortune. Of course he'd married her for that, and the connections, and the power he had assumed would all be his one day.

He'd pretended to admire Lesley's intelligence and ambition, but in truth he'd resented it. He wanted a woman to be in awe of him, for her world to revolve around him. Lesley had loved him, but she'd wanted to create a life for herself as well. She'd wanted them to be life partners. Sharing work and family and children and intertwining it all into their relationship.

Steven didn't know what he expected when he looked through the peephole of his door, but it wasn't Maria. Even that brief glimpse of her sent blood pumping to his cock.

Maria was everything Lesley wasn't. Dark haired, sloe eyed, bronze skinned. He could still recall the feel of her full breasts and her rounded hips and thighs. He had done things to and with Maria he'd never done with another woman before or since. She had adored him, stroked his ego as well as his cock, centered her narrow world around him. When Lesley traveled, Maria was there, offering him comfort and understanding along with her body.

But she'd foolishly become pregnant. She'd expected him to leave Lesley and her fortune. Marry Maria. Live in squalor and raise a child with her, and, knowing Maria, she'd expected to have a passel more.

He'd done his best to get rid of her and her unborn child before the shit hit the fan. But the wheels of INS moved slowly even when they'd been greased, and sending Maria packing back to Guatemala or El Salvador or wherever the hell she came from hadn't happened soon enough.

Steven had been in a rage when Maria's baby arrived early, when it had been sick, before INS finally made a move to revoke her visa. Heroic, self-sacrificing Lesley had rescued the baby and, once she'd learned the truth of it all, kicked Steven to the curb. Maria had ruined everything for Steven.

But still he wouldn't mind fucking her.

He opened the door and got a good look at her. His first thought was that she looked good, if you liked that glitzy, overblown look some Latin women achieved naturally. Just the right amount of bling, the blouse a little too tight, a skirt that hugged all the curves, a sheen of silky dark hair swinging across the shoulders. He stared at her without saying anything. Her tentative smile died on her lips. She stared at him, too, giving him a wary yet bold assessment.

He stepped back then to see what she'd do. She stared at him a moment longer, then sashayed across the threshold, removing the designer sunglasses she'd pushed into her hair and stowing them in her designer bag. Probably both knockoffs.

Steven caught a whiff of her scent, probably another knockoff of some designer perfume. He had a quick, brief fantasy of shoving her up against the wall and taking her, slaking his lust in her ripe body and then showing her the door.

A few years ago he'd have done just that. But he was older now. Wiser. Not prone to make the same mistakes he'd made before. At least not with the same woman.

Lesley was away on a business trip the first time Maria captured his attention. He'd barely noticed the quiet, mousy domestic before that. She hovered at the edges of his existence, cleaning or doing laundry. She had a room wherever the servants were housed on the Robinson estate. He'd barely given their accommodations any thought, and he'd hardly noticed Maria because her work schedule coincided with his. Their paths rarely crossed, and if they did, he'd ignored Maria anyway. He was doing his best to keep Lesley content while he mined her social and business network to further his political ambitions.

But then Lesley flew to Pittsburgh for a board meeting and Maria arrived for work early. He'd registered something different about her then without thinking too much about what it was. Her hairstyle? Her uniform? He'd left for the office only to discover her in the kitchen when he returned that evening.

She'd been putting the finishing touches on a small tray that held fruit and cheese and crackers. She'd smiled at him. Maybe that was what he'd noticed different about her that morning. Had he ever seen her smile before? Was the skirt of her uniform shorter? The neckline of her blouse lower?

She'd greeted him. The tray was for him, since Miss Lesley was away, she explained. He worked so hard, after all. Surely he was hungry after a long day. She could pour him a drink if he would like.

So willing. So accommodating. So concerned about him. Not that Lesley hadn't been, but Lesley had demanded equal time for her own needs. If she listened to a recount of his day, he had to listen to hers. He'd never been all that interested.

But Maria had hung on his every word, especially after he'd suggested she pour herself a drink and join him. That's how it all started.

A year later it had blown up in his face.

They squared off to face each other now. Steven waited, but when Maria said nothing, he did. “Why are you back?”

“To visit my father.”

She set her purse on an end table and plopped herself in the middle of his living room sofa, glancing around at her surroundings. Warily, Steven moved into the room. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her, wondering what kind of game she was playing. As far as he knew, she'd been raised by a single mother in small village near San Salvador until she'd obtained a work visa and arrived at the Robinsons to work for him and Lesley.

“Your father,” he echoed, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

She stared at him. “Richard Robinson.”

Steven guffawed, the shock of her statement causing a full belly laugh to erupt from deep inside him. The idea that his business tycoon former father-in-law had sired this Central American domestic struck him as the funniest thing he'd heard in months.

Maria's full lips thinned. Her eyes narrowed. She waited until he stopped laughing. He actually had to swipe at the tears near his eyes.

“Good one, Maria. You're even crazier now than you were six years ago.”

“I am not loco. I can prove it.”

“Really?” Steven shook his head. “I've got to hear this. But first I need a drink.” He poured himself one but didn't offer her anything. He didn't want her to stay and was almost sorry he'd let her in. He'd get rid of her as quickly as possible because, as much as he blamed her for his past mistakes, Maria Delgado did something for him other women failed to do. Maybe it was chemistry or pheromones or his own weakness, but he couldn't afford to get involved with her again.

He slouched into a club chair across from her and took a sip of his bourbon on ice. “So Richard Robinson is your father. Funny, you never mentioned it before.”

“I did not know before.”

“Ah, well, now it all makes sense.”

“I did not know until my mother died.”

“Uh-huh.” Steven sipped his drink. Maria could share her delusions with him. He had no other plans for the evening, and at least her arrival was an interesting diversion. Then he'd send her on her way and hope he never saw her again. Belatedly he remembered his manners. “Sorry to hear about your mother.”

Maria sniffed. “Did Richard have a scar on his arm? His right arm?”

Steven shrugged. “How should I know?”

“You were married to his daughter. You lived in the same house.”

“A scar. On his arm.
That's
how you're going to prove he's your father. All claims to the contrary, if you think that will prove anything, you are crazy.”

“I have a picture.”

“Of him? With a scar on his arm? Why didn't you say so?” Steven took another sip of his drink.

“Part of a picture,” Maria amended.

“This gets better and better,” Steven murmured more to himself than to her. “Tell you what, Maria. Why don't you take your picture and your claim to Lesley? Tell her what you told me. See if she believes you.”

“I already saw her.”

“Did you now? I guess that didn't go too well or you wouldn't be here.”

“She wouldn't let me see him.”

Steven barked out a laugh. “Of course not. No one's seen him in six years except his family and his medical staff.”

“He is…unwell?”

“Practically a vegetable from what I understand. What did Lesley say when you told her he was your father?”

“I didn't tell her. I only asked to see him. I thought if I could see his arm, then I'd know.”

Steven felt a twinge of sympathy for Maria he didn't want to feel. She had no idea what she was up against. The Robinson family empire could destroy people like her. He knew what it felt like to be the beneficiary of their generosity, and he knew how it felt to be frozen out of their privileged circle. “Would you like a drink?” he heard himself ask.

Maria gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes, thank you.”

He mixed her a vodka and tonic without asking what she wanted. She accepted it graciously and took a delicate sip. His cordiality relaxed her. She settled back into the sofa and crossed her legs. Steven noticed. She wore strappy sandals with fuck-me high heels. Her toenails were painted hot pink. He took another sip of bourbon and brought his attention back to her face.

She was a good actress, he'd give her that. Six years ago she'd played the part of the helpless, naïve girl to the hilt. She'd probably pretended to a virginity that didn't exist and an innocence she'd left behind long ago. But he hadn't been sophisticated enough to see through her then. Now, however, he knew her innocent smile for what it was. She pretended she hadn't noticed his perusal of her crossed legs. She thought she could play on his sympathy, but she was wrong. He'd hear her story and then he'd show her the door.

“I think you can help me,” Maria said.

Steven quelled the impulse to roll his eyes. Maria had no idea he was the one who'd gotten her ousted from the country before. If she had, he'd be the last person she'd ask for help.

“I doubt I can be of any help to you at all, but why don't you tell me what this is all about?” Forewarned was forearmed, after all.

“I did not know who my father was. My mother would not say. But after she died, I found pictures. One is only part of a picture,” she amended again. “Of my mother and a man next to her, but it is torn and his face is not visible. Only part of him.”

“The arm with the scar.”

“Yes, but he is white. The other is a picture of my mother and Richard Robinson.”

“Doing what?”

“Nothing. Sitting next to each other.”

“How exactly do you think your mother hooked up with a white guy who may or may not be Richard Robinson?”

“She worked in a factory. Sewing for many American companies.”

Part of the Robinson conglomerate made its money in textiles. Was it so farfetched that Richard would have traveled to El Salvador twenty-five years ago to make a deal, take a look at a factory, seduce some young, unsuspecting señorita? Probably not.

But then a lot of other Caucasian men might also have reason to visit the same factories, take advantage of the hospitality of the local women.

He pointed this out to Maria.

“He sent money.”

Steven couldn't help it. He sat forward in his chair. “Richard Robinson sent money to your mother?”

Her gaze slid away from his. “Someone did.”

Steven sat back. “But you have no proof it was him.”

“No. But it was from an American bank.”

“And we're back to crazy,” Steven muttered to himself.

“The money stopped last month.”

“What else have you got?”

“I have nothing.”

“That's the first smart thing you've said. You have nothing. No proof of anything. Even if Richard Robinson fathered you, he's too smart to get caught. Even if he sent your mother money, there won't be a paper trail. Even if he has a scar on his arm that's a dead ringer for this picture you have, that proves nothing. You'd need a paternity test to prove anything, and I can guarantee Lesley will never agree to it. There's not a court in the country that would force her to do so based on the flimsy evidence you think you have. So let me give you a piece of advice, Maria. Go back to El Salvador and make a nice life for yourself there. Willow Bay is not the place for you.”

“My son is here.
Our
son is here.”

“Ah, geez.” Steven stood and slammed his glass on the bar. “Our son is a mistake that shouldn't have happened. He isn't ours anyway. I never wanted him and you gave him up. He belongs to Lesley.”

“I want to see him.”

“Take it up with Lesley.”

“I already did.”

Steven sneered. “Let me guess. She told you no way in hell would she let you near that kid, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Go home, Maria. There's nothing for you here.” Steven opened the door and waited while Maria gathered her things.

“You are wrong. There is nothing for me there. Everything I want is here.” She trailed her fingertips down his chest. “You think only how I could be wrong. But you can think what if I'm right?” He held his breath until she gave him a coquettish smile and sauntered out.