She understood what Rico was trying to tell her. But in the soft light of the breaking dawn, she looked at him and saw him for exactly what he was.
The love of her life.
Eight
A week later, Rico stood in his office at the hotel, staring out the window at the sprawling view beyond the glass. From here he could see most of the village, the harbor and all the way to the horizon. He wasn’t noticing the inherent beauty of the view at the moment though. Instead, he was trying to focus on the myriad problems facing him.
Running a luxury resort such as Castello Tesoro meant that there were small crises in the making at all times. Usually he accepted them as simply a part of his world. But with Teresa back in his life, he was less focused and so, less prepared to handle it all.
In the last few days, he had already dealt with a small fire caused by a candle left burning in one of the bungalows. No injuries, thank God, but a chaise and several throw pillows were toast. Then there was the tourist who broke an ankle jumping from the top of a waterfall on the property. He was in pain but he was lucky he hadn’t broken his neck instead. Naturally, the hotel would pay for his hospital bills and Rico was arranging for private transport back to the States.
There were the small, everyday problems, as well: sunburns, jellyfish stings, drunks and the occasional brawls between guests. It was the sort of thing you expected to deal with as a hotelier. What you didn’t normally come up against was an executive chef with appendicitis.
Rico turned his back on the window and faced his general manager, standing on the opposite side of his desk. “How long will Louis be out of commission?”
“According to the doctor, at least a week.” Janine Julien, a woman of about sixty with the organizational skills of a general, tapped her computer tablet. Janine had been with him since Cancún. She’d chosen to leave her home in Mexico for the island of Tesoro and Rico had been pleased by the decision. The woman kept her finger on the pulse of the hotel and was often able to anticipate and prevent problems before they happened.
“Louis will be fine,” she added. “But with him out of commission for a while, I’m more concerned about what’s going to happen here. As you know, the hotel is booked solid for the foreseeable future. There’s a wedding scheduled this weekend and I can’t stress enough how much time Louis spent with the bride’s mother going over the selected menu. She is not going to be happy.”
“We have other chefs.” Rico shrugged. “They are more than capable.”
“Sure they are,” Janine agreed. “But Louis keeps the kitchen running. He’s more than a chef. He’s the one voice amid the chaos that people listen to. We’ve got a problem, Rico.”
He had more than one, he told himself grimly. But at the moment, straightening out the mess in the hotel kitchen took precedence over Teresa.
“And I think I’ve found the solution.”
“What?” Rico came around his desk and perched on the front edge. Folding his arms over his chest, he asked, “A solution already?”
The woman met his gaze and said, “Your wife.”
Since she had been here on the island, Teresa had become known to everyone. If they’d been surprised to discover he was married, no one had mentioned it. Rico only hoped they were as discreet when the marriage was over and Teresa was gone from the island and his life.
That thought made him frown, so he pushed it aside and turned his focus back to the older woman.
“What about Teresa?”
“She was in the kitchen helping the staff prepare when Louis collapsed.” Shaking her head, Janine said, “I happened to be there, too, to discuss the individual cakes for the upcoming wedding. I saw how she took charge.” Shaking her head, she continued, “I was flustered, I’ll admit it. But Teresa? She checked on Louis, had someone call the hotel doctor, then had another chef drive him to the hospital. And while all of this was going on, she got the kitchen moving again.”
Janine shook her head, still clearly impressed with what she’d witnessed. “Everyone was shaken, but Teresa just stepped up and took charge. No one questioned her. They got back to work, and in spite of what had happened to Louis, the staff never missed a step. She’s still down there now, running things. I thought you should know.”
Rico didn’t know whether to be grateful or furious. Once again Teresa had proven herself to him and to his staff. She wasn’t cowering in his room, as a proper hostage should be. Instead, she was making herself a part of the fabric of Castello Tesoro. He knew, too, that the fabric would unravel once she was gone.
And she would be gone.
He couldn’t risk believing in her again. Couldn’t take the chance of keeping her here with him, knowing that her thieving family might show up at any time. But that wasn’t the truth at all. He didn’t give a damn about Teresa’s family and knew he could handle them if they ever showed up on Tesoro again.
This was about her. The woman he’d once married. The woman he had trusted. Believed in. Only to be betrayed.
Well, if she was trying to ingratiate herself with him now, it wouldn’t work. Of course he’d allow her to help; he wasn’t an idiot and a talented chef didn’t fall out of the sky when needed. But her help was all he was interested in.
Pushing up from the desk, he barked out orders. “Contact the hospital. Take care of Louis’s bill and get him whatever he wants. I’ll go see him later.”
“Right.” Her gaze tracked him as he stalked across the room toward the office door. “Where are you going?”
“To the kitchen.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I’ll see for myself if Teresa is working out as head chef or not.”
A few minutes later Rico stood in a doorway, watching the choreographed confusion in the gigantic kitchen and couldn’t help but be impressed. The first thing he noticed was that the classical music Louis insisted on piping through the room had been replaced by rock, with a beat that kept the entire staff moving from station to station at a busy pace. The pastry chefs worked at a mound of dough, the salads were being prepared at a long marble counter and the prep chefs were busily preparing tonight’s soup selections, as well as setting up the ingredients for the rest of the menu.
And in the middle of the chaos stood Teresa. Her black hair was pulled back and tucked up under a chef’s hat. She wore a white coat over her street clothes and directed traffic in the big room like a traffic cop at a particularly busy corner.