Teresa sighed. “That’s not what I meant, Papa. Tesoro is Rico’s. Being here, stealing from his guests, you might as well be lifting his wallet. You’re tempting fate, Papa. Rico is not exactly an understanding man.”
“Ah, Teresa,” Nick said, carrying his crystal flute to the terrace where he refilled his glass and took a sip before continuing. “You were always too nervous. Too…” He paused, tipped his head back and tried to come up with the right word. Finally, he added sadly, “Honest.”
A wry smile curved Teresa’s mouth. Where else but in her family would honesty be considered a fatal flaw? She’d lived on the fringes of the law since she was a child. Before she was five, she could identify a plainclothes police officer as well as a possible mark with alacrity. While other children played with dolls, Teresa learned to pick locks. When her girlfriends were taking driver’s education, Teresa studied with her uncle Antonio, the master safecracker.
She loved her family, but she’d never been comfortable with stealing for a living. At eighteen, she had broken it to her father that she had gone on her last job. Instead, she became the first Coretti in memory to go to school and be legally, gainfully employed.
Her father still considered it a tragic waste of her talents.
While her mind raced, she watched her father settle on the chaise and stare off at the resort spread below.
Rico had built something amazing here, she thought, but that didn’t surprise her. He was a man who never settled for less than the best, no matter the circumstances. She’d learned that when she first met him so long ago in Cancún.
At his hotel, Castello de King—King’s Castle—Teresa had been one of the innumerable chefs in the immense hotel kitchens. In her first real job after culinary school, she was excited simply to be a part of the hustle that took place in that amazing kitchen. Teresa had believed that working in that hotel was the best thing that had ever happened to her—until she met Rico himself.
She’d worked late one night and before heading to her apartment, Teresa had treated herself to a little relaxation. She’d carried a glass of wine out to one of the beach lounge chairs and sat to enjoy the night, the moon on the water and the lovely sensation of being absolutely alone.
Then he had appeared, walking along the water’s edge, moonlight shining on his dark hair and making the white shirt he wore seem to glow. He’d worn tan slacks and his bare feet had kicked through the water with every step. She couldn’t seem to look away from him. He was tall and dark and as he came closer, she realized he was gorgeous. He was also her employer. Rico King, playboy, gazillionaire, hotelier and at the moment, as alone as she.
In an instant, her mind replayed that scene.
He glanced up as if sensing her gaze on him and when he saw her, he smiled and headed for her. “I thought I was alone on the beach.”
“So did I,” she managed to say.
“Shall we be alone together?”
Teresa still remembered that faintest hint of an accent coloring his words. His eyes were a piercing blue, his hair as black as the night and his smile was temptation personified. She couldn’t have said no to him even if she had tried—which she hadn’t. Rico had sat on the sand beside her and they’d shared her glass of wine and spent the next couple of hours talking.
Teresa came out of the memory and mentally warned herself to stop reliving the past. To stop indulging in thoughts of him and what might have been. She was here on Tesoro—in Rico’s hotel—for one reason only: to get her family out of there before Rico discovered them. If only her father had listened to her. But Nick Coretti was a force of nature and when the prize was rich, no risk was too much.