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Spanish Lies
Margaret Blake
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Ginny has a terrible secret buried inside her and it has the potential to ruin her life. She loves her son and is still attracted to the man who broke her heart. If she goes to Spain, she knows she will be putting all she holds dear in harm’s way…yet she feels she has to take the chance.

He was a man of fierce passion and she was a woman with a terrible secret.

Luis Diego Carlos St. Juan Mendoza glanced up from the files he was examining. There was something about the road that seemed familiar. The cluster of Georgian cottages opposite a typically English green evoked a long-buried memory. He switched on the communicator and spoke to his driver, telling him to turn left and, when his driver did so, told him to make a right turn.

“Stop here,” he said tersely. He slid the file onto the cream upholstery at his side, then opened the door and left the car.

Baker’s Ford—of course that was why he had recognised the main street. It was a small enclave, hidden away from the urban sprawl. He went down a familiar path and there was the cottage. It stood on its own, very old, with whitewashed walls. There had been some subsidence at some time and there were two iron, crossed bars that had pulled it back into line. He saw the latticed windows and a sprawl of dark green ivy scrambling up the wall and over and around the front porch. The garden was untidy, not exactly to his taste. However, in late summer, it bloomed with roses, honeysuckle and an erratic mob of ungainly sunflowers. It was attractive in an unkempt way.

There was a noise—laughter—before the gate opened and a boy pushed his way through. He ran, not toward Luis, but around the side of the cottage and up a footpath. Someone called a name—Luke—then the gate swung open again and a woman ran through it. She was laughing, and there was a little nondescript dog at her heels joining in the fun.

Luis stepped back. He felt his heart give a sudden jolt. It could not be. He heard them coming back, the happy shrieks of the boy and the yapping of the dog. The woman was holding the boy by his hand, though not really pulling him along because he seemed to be a willing prisoner.

Luis stepped back farther, seeking the shade of a large oak tree, wanting to observe but not be observed. The woman had a honey-coloured mass of hair, thick and wavy, and it rippled over her slender, tanned shoulders. A hand clasping his shoulder startled him. He turned, irritated. It was Manuel.

“It is time to go, Don Luis,” the man said.

“I know that.” Luis was imperious, giving the man a haughty stare.

Manuel stepped back.

The boy and the woman had gone into the cottage, swinging the gate closed behind them.

“Do you know who that was?” Luis asked.

“Who, Don Luis?” Manuel asked.

“You didn’t see her, the woman with the boy?”

“I glanced,” the man said.

Luis sensed a lie there. “I think it was Ginny,” he said, more to himself than to Manuel. “But if it was she, why is she here…now?”

Manuel did not reply. Luis had not expected him to.

“Don Luis?” Manuel murmured carefully, gently reminding in the question that they should go.

“Of course.” Luis straightened. “It was merely an illusion. I am tired.”

“Of course, Don Luis,” Manuel agreed. “It was a long flight.”

It had been a long flight, almost twenty-four hours from New Zealand to England. Even the comfort of first class travel failed to still the energetic capering of Luis’ mind, making sleep impossible. The trouble was he did not know how to switch off any more and worked harder than he needed to.

* * * *

They were all waiting for him. He was minutes rather than hours late, yet the crowd of greeters had obviously been there some time. Luis was to open an exhibition of Spanish art. He’d loaned several paintings and, as guest of honour, Luis was expected to make a speech. It did not take too long.

Back in his hotel suite, he felt the tension ease. The bed looked welcoming, yet he knew if he went to bed too early he would be out of sorts for days. Manuel was established in a room away from his. The man’s obsequiousness had long ago become an irritant to Luis, but his mother liked the man. Manuel had been with the family since she was newly married.

5 Stars! “Ginny was not happy when Luis came back into her life. It had been seven years, since they had seen each other and held each other in their arms. He wanted her to return to Spain, but the mere thought brought her pain. Nevertheless, she does return, and secrets are revealed.
Margaret Blake offers readers a spine-tingling mystery. It is so obvious that Ginny and Luis have never stopped loving each other, but both have strong pride. Isabella was fun to dislike. Blake kept me on the edge of my seat as I eagerly turned the pages anticipating what would happen next.” Reviewed by Debra Gaynor for ReviewYourBook.com

Fiction Books :: Romance Books :: Contemporary Books

ISBN: 1603134590
ISBN(13-digit): 9781603134590
Copyright: 2009
Book Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
Binding: Perfect
No. of Pages: 248
Paper Weight (lb): 10.4

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