Do You Love Me? Page 4

  “Yin Yang? Susu, you’re a big girl now. Let’s hear you say it. Come on, you can do it.” She mouthed the words. Savanna shook her head, laughing down at her lap before she sobered.

  “And money? You think I’m going to pay him money for having sex with me?”

  Carol gave up on the pronunciation. “Certainly. If he’s going to be your gigolo, you have to pay him more than you pay a yard man. We can call it an allowance, if that makes you feel better.”

  “This isn’t like that, Carol. Under our arrangement, he’s asking me to…”

  “Well, you certainly don’t expect him to pay you.”

  Pay was a wrinkle Savanna hadn’t anticipated. Of course, if the man were an artist and she were his patron, she would certainly expect to support him, provide some sort of work/study stipend, but she hadn’t thought of giving Pedro money to be her paid companion. She planned to pay him hourly wages as a day laborer, but she hadn’t even thought about his nights.

  Earnings from his labor would provide him spending money and she would, of course, provide room and board. And clothing. Yes, she’d definitely provide his wardrobe. He’d need to dress well, to be presentable to accompany her places.

  This was getting complicated.

  The two women were still discussing the project when the telephone rang. Savanna answered on the cordless at poolside.

  Murphy Eth’s voice rasped on the other end of the line. “Ms. Cavendish, I’ve got our embezzler narrowed to one of three. I ran these damned books until I was cross-eyed before I found it.”

  “How is he doing it?”

  “Phantoms on the payroll. Five of them pulling down eight hundred dollars a week. I’ve seen it done but the guy doing the embezzling usually gives ‘em all the same address or social security number. This guy’s good. He’s got ‘em set up with automatic deposits. Each of these phony employees has his own bank account, his own social security number, and the accounts are all in different banks.”

  Savanna stood, but didn’t speak, waiting for him to continue.

  “The weird thing is, having automatic deposits on their pay should’ve tipped me from the get-go. That was what finally caught my attention. Most of the out-of-towners on the assembly line take their money in cash. They like to keep their assets on ‘em in case the naturalization people catch up to them.”

  He paused again, allowing an interruption but she was too surprised to speak. She had hoped there was a valid explanation for the shortfall, something other than embezzlement. She still had nothing to say and the silence seemed to prompt Eth to continue.

  “Anyway, all the phantoms’ bank statements go to one post office box. That’s how I tumbled to it.

  “All three of my suspects are men. Any one, or even any two, of these guys has access to what’s necessary. It’s a sweet deal. If it’s just one guy, he probably thinks he’s got a bird’s nest on the ground. He’s been working it two or three years.”

  Savanna wandered through the French doors into the great room and switched from the cordless to her desk phone. She stared straight ahead, not wanting her consternation to show, if Carol should notice. She kept her voice low. “Murphy, can you identify him?”

  “Pretty soon. Like I said, I’ve got it narrowed to three. I might get snapshots and take ‘em to the banks, see if anyone knows what this customer looks like. Of course, he probably never darkened the doors after inking the signature cards. I’d bet money he banks absentee. Like I said, it’s a sweet setup.”

  “Maybe you could ask a bank officer to write one of the phantoms a letter, say there’s a glitch in the system and the bank needs him to come in personally to straighten it out.”

  Murph’s chuckle rippled from the other end of the phone. “That I could. Clever. Then I could be at the bank on the appointed day to see who shows up. Good thinking. Might work. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Let me know?”

  “Right.”

  As she cradled the phone, Savanna ducked her head to revamp the expression on her face. She didn’t want her concern to show. She and Carol were friends, but Carol loved being the center of attention too well to keep secrets, especially juicy ones. No, Savanna wanted this embezzlement business kept hush-hush.

  “Will you call Pedro’s foreman?” Carol asked as Savanna returned to the deck. “You’ve got the cordless right there in your hand. Where’s the business card he gave you?

  Savanna regarded the phone, thinking. Carol scowled. “What’s the matter? Change your mind?”

  “No.” Embezzlement. It made her suspicious of every employee. She was glad Murphy had his culprits narrowed to three, and male employees at that. At least she could get back to trusting everyone else, everyone except those three.

  Who were they? It was foolish of her not to have gotten the names of his three suspects. She’d call him back later, after Carol left. Of course she’d know the man, the criminal among them. She winced at that realization.

  Through the company’s computer system, almost any of the twenty executives and/or staff people could have set up the scam. But the executives themselves drew big salaries, big enough not to take this kind of risk. No, the thief must be a staff person. Maybe she wouldn’t know the culprit personally, only by name. She hoped that was the case.

  Carol took the cordless from her hand and motioned Savanna onto her chaise, again interrupting her thought process. “Come on, call, while you’ve got the nerve.”

  Mr. Gonzales had a beeper and called back almost immediately.

  “What about Pedro’s job there?” Savanna asked, well into the conversation.

  “I have told him he may return any time. Not many bosses can keep the big machines moving the way he can. He says he won’t be back, that he’s going to be an American dude. He wishes that no one will call him wetback ever again.”

  “Is he, then? I mean, is he in this country legally?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he is. He got his citizenship two years ago. He still has the strong accent and there are prejudices. Many Texans remember the Alamo. They will not forgive us for Santa Ana. If you will be fair with him, Pedro will make you a good hand. He is a fair man, honest, hardworking. He wants this opportunity very badly.”

  “When is he coming?”

  “Monday. He is to supervise crews day and night all weekend. The owner does not object to the overtime. He needs all the work from Pedro he can get. Like I said, his job will be here if things between you do not work out.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Knowing Pedro had a job to go back to would salve her conscience, in case there were complications in their arrangement. She could foresee there could be complications, many of them.

  Neither Angus nor Merriam Bonito came out of their quarters before seven-thirty in the mornings. During warm weather, sunrise found Savanna swimming nude at six, when she had no overnight guests.

  As she finished her laps Monday morning, she grew disgruntled that her routine would have to change to accommodate Mr…? She stopped stock still, holding onto the side of the pool. She didn’t even know the man’s last name. Anyway, this would have to be her last morning for skinny dipping, since Pedro would be around.

  She’d talked Carol out of staying the night, since her friend had not come prepared, but she promised to return, to be in and out for the next several weeks.

  Savanna waded out of the shallow end shaking excess water from her arms and scrubbing her fingers through her short, dark hair.

  Standing on the side of the pool, she inhaled deeply and straightened. Her breasts swelled and she tipped her head forward to see her waist and abdomen flatten. Not bad, for her age. Her legs were browned, some of it suntan, most of it from the sunless tanning lotion she used after her nightly bath.

  What difference did it make how she looked? Who was there to notice or care?

  She had felt a little confused about things since she agreed to be a fairy godmother, updated…and revised. Still, it was an opportunity
to do something helpful with her particular gifts and to witness the results firsthand, assuming there would be good changes to see.

  She snugged into the heavy terry cloth robe, shivering a little in its warmth as she tied the thick sash. Early mornings now found a hint of fall in the air. The cottonwoods below the hill were shedding leaves.

  She breathed deeply and hated to think of winterizing the pool next month, October, sometime before Halloween. Thoughts of how quickly the summer had slipped by made her melancholy. As she turned around preparing to go inside, she was startled to see a familiar form step out of the shadows near the back gate. So startled she couldn’t speak immediately, she recovered a little and finally said, “How long have you been there?”

  Biting back a wicked smile, Pedro responded in perfect English. “Not long.”

  Chapter Five

  Savanna stifled her first reaction, anger. “How did you get in here?”

  A mischievous grin teased the ends of Pedro’s mustache as he moved closer. His emerald eyes glittered. “The gate.” He indicated the area behind the cabana. “It was open.”

  Her surprise was heightened by his able command of English. She’d assumed at first that he didn’t speak English at all. Later she had suspected he understood the language well enough. “How long have you been standing there?”

  The mustache ends twitched again. “Not long.”

  Had he watched her come out of the water? Seen her standing there nude, admiring her own body?

  She was in it now. But for how long, exactly, was she obligated? She’d do what she could. she might give it two or three weeks, a month at most.

  As he got closer, she frowned. She hadn’t remembered his being quite so tall. Or so muscular. Or his eyes so…

  She straightened and gave her sash a tightening yank. She was being ridiculous. However long he was going to be around, she would need to establish and maintain a businesslike relationship.

  She scanned his clothing, clean, presentable, khaki work clothes and boots, properly laced and tied, before she allowed herself to look into his face again.

  She cleared her throat. “Follow me.”

  Savanna led Pedro through the French doors in the wall of glass at the south end of the great room of her home.

  “First, I want us to sit down at the computer and work up a curriculum vitae, a biographical sketch for you. It will help us become better acquainted now and will enable us to prepare your resume later.” Why was he grinning?

  His eyes narrowed as he peered down at her. “First, perhaps, you would like to dress.”

  She looked down at herself. Chilled, her nipples pressed the damp robe and the ample globes stood vividly outlined. She wrapped her arms over her chest and her eyes shot to his. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

  Now why was she apologizing? She hadn’t barged into his private domain before seven-thirty. “I only need ten minutes. Go on into the den.” She gestured in the direction of the hallway. “Look around, get familiar with the house.” Her voice caught. “The downstairs, I mean.” Her stammer was ridiculous.

  She tossed a warning glance behind as she hurried toward the stairs, then turned full around to face him squarely. “Pedro?”

  He set the bright, watchful eyes on her.

  “You may have free access to this floor, but you are never, never to come upstairs in this house. Is that clear?”

  He gave a solemn nod before the mustache twitched again and she could swear his eyes twinkled. She whirled and bolted up the stairs.

  She darted in and out of the shower, toweled her dark hair and coaxed curls from the new perm that gave her a tousled, youthful look she liked. She had decided the night before on clothing for this initial meeting and the workday, attire that would be conservative and tasteful, with special emphasis on not appearing provocative.

  A pair of blowzy silk slacks, burgundy, with a pale pink pullover, a short-sleeved sweater and canvas sandals that picked up the mauve needlework in the sweater seemed just the right touch. Ignoring the subconscious prod that told her she needn’t be so concerned about her appearance, she turned her back to the mirror to check the rear view.

  “Vanity, vanity…” She shook her head sadly and, at the same time, smiled approval at her reflection.

  She swiped on some make-up and lipstick, moving quickly, thinking if she didn’t take her usual pains with the application it wouldn’t be considered primping.

  Nine minutes had passed from the time she ran up the stairs until she descended. “Pretty darn good.” She didn’t consider it prideful to compliment herself when no one else was around.

  She walked hurriedly through the entry hall and into the den. He wasn’t there.

  “Pedro?” she called, returning to the entry.

  “I am here.” His voice came from the direction of the kitchen. The rich tone sent shivers down her spine, goose bumps over her arms, and made her heart flutter. She liked having him here and that realization annoyed her. He might be a thief, a rapist, a murderer even. At the very least, he might be a fortune hunter preying on single women.

  When he stepped into the kitchen doorway, the morning light framing his glorious physique, it was hard to think ill of him. He was magnificent, except, of course, for all that hair. Her thoughts tumbled over one another. The first order of business, she decided, prioritizing his activities for the day, would be to eliminate that ridiculous mustache.

  “You were to wait for me in the den.”

  He flashed a sheepish smile. “Mrs. Bonito invited me into the kitchen. The coffee?”

  Savanna looked to Merriam for confirmation and noted the giddy look on the woman’s face. Lord, another conquest and the man had been in the house scarcely ten minutes. Savanna jammed her hands deep into her trouser pockets, set her mouth and took a businesslike tone. “Come into the den. We have work to do.”

  Merriam cleared her throat, signaling she had something to say before Savanna and Pedro adjourned.

  “Mr. Rivera asked if he could prepare your coffee, Susu.” Merriam used the pet name as a matter of course. “He has done so.” She indicated the second cup in his hand. “Shall I call when breakfast is prepared or shall I serve it in the den? Or on the deck, perhaps?”

  The questions surprised Savanna. Of course, she would have to get used to taking meals with the man. She hadn’t really thought of the impact of his sharing her entire life. Except, of course, her nights, when she could climb the stairs and return to her private sanctum. She’d been wise to set that boundary, to reserve a haven of her own.

  Merriam called him “Mr. Rivera.” That must be his last name. Good. She needed to know that.

  “Call and we’ll come to the table, Merriam. Mr. Rivera is here to study our ways, including our table etiquette.” She motioned for him to follow.

  Carrying the two mugs of coffee, he fell into step behind her. When she glanced back, Savanna turned to take her own cup. He looked disappointed. “Is it not proper for me to carry your cup?”

  “No. It was inconsiderate of me to allow you to do that. You are a guest in my home. I should wait on you.”

  He smiled. “Of course, it is the same in my family home in Tijuana. That is as my mother taught.”

  Great, he was comparing her to his mother.

  In the den, Savanna moved a straight-backed chair to the side of the desk and turned on the computer, then placed her coffee cup on a coaster. She sat in the desk chair and motioned him into the straight back facing her. Before sitting, he moved his chair from around the corner of the desk where she had placed it, to align it beside hers. Without really intending to, she scooted her chair slightly away from his. From the corner of her eye, she detected another twitch at the ends of his mustache.

  She gritted her teeth and looked at the keyboard. “Why did you not speak English when we drove together in your truck?”

  “I did not want you to laugh at my accent.”

  She intentionally put a tone of in
difference in her voice. “You sound fine.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Do you mean fine for a wetback?”

  Startled, her frown deepened. She had thought of him that way in the truck, but didn’t recall having said that word. She bit her lips and made a silent promise never to use the epithet in the future.

  She turned her head to look directly at him. His face was uncomfortably close. She hadn’t realized he’d draped his arm along the back of her chair.

  “Pedro, I think it would be wise for us to maintain a certain distance from one another physically.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  He grinned. “I can understand a person better when we touch.” He tapped an index finger on her shoulder. She shivered involuntarily and his expression darkened. “Do you have a…what is it called? A phobia of touching?”

  “We need to concentrate on a resume for you right now.” Again she frowned at the computer screen.

  “First, I need your full name, address, social security number, and some family background, where you were born, your parents’ names, things like that.”

  “My name is Pedro Dominges Rivera. Presently, I live at this address.”

  A little annoyed, she typed her own address, along with the social security number he recited.

  “I was born in Tijuana on March 20, 1988.”

  That made him twenty-eight years old, four years younger than Savanna. She had thought him much younger and found the proximity in their ages unsettling. “Do you have siblings?”

  “Yes.”

  She waited, her fingers poised over the keys, her eyes on the screen but he didn’t volunteer. “How many?”

  “Eight.”

  She typed. “Where are you in the lineup?”

  “I am number five.”

  “A middle child.” Her comment was a statement rather than a question.

  “ Yes.”

  “How much formal education have you had?”

  “A GED, the high school equivalency.”

  “No college?” She felt herself struggling against her own bias about the importance of a college education.